Free Savage Want (Wicked Wants, #3) by Annice Sands Page A

beauty, nearly full. Hearing nothing further from the Northman, I drifted off to a troubled sleep filled with dreams of blood and pointed teeth.
    Morning brought cold rain, which freshened the smell of shit and piss in the yard. My morning meal was a lukewarm bowl of gray gruel. I ate despite my stomach’s objections because of what Torsten had said. Had he wanted to merely brush off my inquiries? Did he actually have a plan in the works? I couldn’t see how he could think he would escape. The bars on the cell doors and windows were thick and looked to be old already. Torsten had strength, but he wasn’t Herculean. Perhaps reinforcements were dispatched in order to free him. But Eron had said that Torsten’s camp was considered the backup.
    I would not be kept in the pen for long, the law wouldn’t allow it. Either I would face punishment or I would be put to death for what I had done to Cecil’s face. I wanted to be afraid. Any woman in my place surely would have feared for losing her life. Somehow, being free meant everything to me. Freedom was even worth dying for. To never have to be at Cecil’s or the Duke’s every whim any longer and to love who I wanted, in all honesty and heart. My love for Torsten felt real, more valid than any other fleeting ardent crush I’d had in my past. His body fit with mine, even better than Phillip’s had, rest his soul. Torsten and I went together as if we were two pieces of an intricate but rough-cut mosaic. I needed him to be alive and I’d do anything to be within reach of his existence. For the first time, I fully understood what need felt like. Aside from my father, I hadn’t felt real care for another, not beyond standard societal expectation.
    Torsten was a massive, long-haired and bearded insurgent. I imagined his flesh had never lain upon fine bedding or worn satin and frills. The furs he wore, strapped to his body in no real discernible order, suited him best. He was a wild man, ferocious in heart, granite in the mind and...
    I smiled to myself as I thought of his hardest feature. The memory compelled me to look around for his easily-recognized bulk, but he had not been permitted to walk about the pen. Even though I stood ankle-deep in mud and filth, under the rather invasive watch of the guards, I could look up at the sun and see the sky. Day had meaning for me, even though I could be spending my last minutes in life. My former hopes and wishes blew away like drifting sands in a desert, exposing the true value in life: Self-fulfillment. What would make me happy?
    Perhaps a song sang in the rain. A ride through a mysterious but beautiful forest. Holding my first-born child. Bathing in the moonlight. In each of those scenarios, I imagined Torsten at my side as my eternal partner.
    And before, I’d been so intent on ending his life. I was rather embarrassed at my ignorance. Magus may have considered me Torsten’s charge, but Torsten did not. The words he said to me while inside me were not of a warden to his prisoner. His face softened towards me even though his words were indifferent at times.
    “Time to go back to your cell, my lady,” a gruff voice said behind me, rattling me from my internal debates.
    I glanced back at the guard, a young man, paid well-enough that his armor was in good repair and his allegiance to the Penbroke family was still intact. Yet being a lady meant I could expect small things as courtesy and a nearly-biased portion of privileges. Repayment would most likely be expected later. I chose not to think of such things as we walked back into the low structure where Torsten waited like a caged beast.
    * * *
    T he guards allowed Torsten to have water that night and he drank from the cup offered to his lips in great draughts. I recalled how heartily he’d partaken of his mead and ale. His breaths were ragged though he refused to speak, as if he couldn’t take in enough air. Once he had taken his fill of drink, he was left alone, as were the rest