Cormorant Run

by J. C. McKenzie

  Under the new moon, they’d fled Alara with the limited light from the stars. For the last four days, they’d travelled on the roads at night, banking on the humans’ fear of the dark and the unknown to keep them relatively safe.

  Frankly, Cora was amazed they hadn’t run into anything.

  The only benefit to travelling in almost near darkness was if anyone did spot them, they were unlikely to make out their wings as long as they kept Ronin’s dirty.

  After nights of hard travel and days of restless, broken sleep, filled with tense fear of discovery, they’d found a little bathing nook off one of the feeding rivers. With no signs of recent visitors, they decided to make camp for the day to rest at the private location.

  In case they had to leave quickly, they made camp on the southern side of the bridge so they could flee in the direction of their destination without having to cross the river.

  Cora ran more cool water over her neck and shoulders and rolled her head back and forth. If only she could sneak off into the ocean and let the salt water heal her. She couldn’t let Ronin discover her secret though. One of many, he’d start asking questions and she had no answers.

  Instead, content to enjoy the freshwater, she stretched her muscles to the point where it felt good, but almost painful. She moaned softly as she worked the tension from her shoulders.

  “If you moan any louder, I’m going to have to ask you what you’re doing over there.” Ronin growled from the campsite. He’d left to collect wood for a fire but returned remarkably fast.

  Cora dropped down, covering herself with the water so only her head bobbed above the surface.

  Ronin stalked into the campsite with an armful of dry branches and driftwood. He scowled at her hasty attempt at setting up the bedrolls. She’d wanted to bathe in private.

  Ronin dropped the wood, turned his back to the water and started to set up the campsite.

  Cora eyed her clothing resting on a rock near the shore. She wasn’t a shy woman. Days filled with flying and nights spent abroad meant her body was a lean, mean flying machine. Even if she did have soft jiggly parts, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Something about being naked in front of Ronin, though, set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t embarrassment or vulnerability. Oh no. And she certainly wasn’t scared. Ronin was many things, but abusive or manipulative wasn’t on the list of faults.

  Nope. She didn’t want to be naked around Ronin because she didn’t trust herself. One heated look from him and she’d try to slap her body onto his. It had been too long without the companionship of a man. If Ronin showed any interest, any inclination he planned or wanted to seduce her, and she’d forget how much she hated him. She’d forget his arrogance and pig-headedness. She’d forget the painful past. All those things would get shoved out of the way so she could feel his body on hers, his hands stroking her skin, his tongue tasting her mouth, his—

  “Cora?” Ronin called out from the shore. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She splashed some water around and scrubbed her already clean arm with a cloth. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your face went red. Very red. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Did your injury get infected? I could take a look.”

  “Of course, I’m all right.” She turned away. Why did he pick now to grow attentive and concerned? Why couldn’t he mind his own business and let a girl fantasize in the bath?

  “It’s just…”

  She stopped scrubbing and turned to Ronin. He’d moved to the edge of the water and considered the river as if he contemplated diving in. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

  “I was really dirty.”

  “Your skin or your mind?”

  Said mind chose that moment to go blank and forget words. She sputtered.

  “Because it looks to me like your daydreaming turned naughty.” He removed his belt and reached behind him to unbutton the back of his shirt before pulling it off.

  Oh, no. Why was he undressing?

  “I think you’re the one lost in a fantasy,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrow and pulled off his pants. The muscles in his arms and chest contracted and relaxed. “Did I mention in addition to your red face, you were caressing your breast and breathing hard?”

  Her mouth suddenly became dry. “Lies,” she croaked.

  Ronin stepped into the water. He still wore his underwear, but it did little to hide his growing erection. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I think you’ve been reminiscing about that kiss.” He waded into the water, sucking in a breath when the cold river hit groin level. “I know I have.”

  Her face heated more but she refused to look away from his stormy gaze. The grief was gone. For the first time since leaving Alara, he saw only her, and the potency of his look shook every bone in her body.

  Ronin was mesmerizing in predator mode. Devastating. He’d zeroed in on his prey and had sensed her weakness. She waded to the section of the river beside a massive boulder that jutted out of the water. Ronin changed his path to intercept her.

  “I’ve been thinking about how good you felt in my arms.” He stopped a foot away, the river rushing between them. “And now I can’t help but wonder what other things would feel like.”

  “It’s probably a good thing, then, that you chose to come into the cold water. You need to cool off.” She crossed her arms over her bare chest. This close, Ronin could see below the surface of the clear water.

  “It’s not exactly what I would choose to come into.” His lip quirked.

  She bit the inside of her mouth and tried not to laugh.

  From the dance in Ronin’s gaze, she failed to hide her amusement.

  She lifted her chin. “I don’t particularly care where you come.”

  “You kinky minx.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. That’s not what she meant, and he knew it. Her face grew warmer. Why did she have to blush so easily? She was a badass messenger spy. This was ridiculous. “Behave.”

  “Make me.” He shot forward in the water, gripped her face in his hands and crushed his mouth against hers. None of the tender tease from earlier existed. This wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a demand, an admission of want and longing, a line drawn in the sand. It was bone-melting perfection.

  He snaked one hand behind her neck to grip her hair at the back of her head and raised his other hand to squeeze her hip and pull her into the heat of his body. In the cold rushing river, his body was an inferno of need.

  The numbness in her skin disappeared and she grew warm, very warm. Ronin’s kiss travelled from her mouth to taste her skin. She wanted more. She wanted all of him.

  She ran her hands along the hard planes of his back and grabbed his tight ass. She ground against his hard erection, wanting, begging. The thin layer of clothing doing nothing to dull the sensation of his member rubbing her most sensitive skin. God, she could ride him like this and come.

  Ronin growled into her shoulder and nipped the skin. His erection strained against his underwear. She reached down, snaked her hands inside the thin material and gripped the hard shaft. She stroked him, up and down, and he growled again.

  With quick, fluid movement, he grabbed her arms and pulled her up on the rock. She had to let go of his shaft but his mouth sucking on her nipple took away any complaints. His hot mouth on her cold skin stoked the fire inside. She burned with need. Need for him to be inside her. Now. She wrapped her legs around him and tried to pull him closer, to grind along that hard shaft again.

  He smiled, lips twitching on her breast, and nipped her nipple. Instead of ending her torment, he pulled her farther out of the water and splayed her over the rocks. Water dripped down her body in rivulets. The wind playing on the surface of the river rushed by her exposed breasts. The ache between her legs intensified. She was so wet and ready. She needed him. Wanted him. And instead of giving her what she wanted, he slowly kissed his way down her body.

  Her breast
s grew heavy with desire. Her skin, hyper-aware tingled with anticipation. The ache between her legs became an almost painful throb.

  He glanced up at her before lowering himself in the water to place his mouth on her. His hot tongue stroked her from the inside. He sucked on the sensitive nub. He devoured her passion and still she wanted more.

  “You taste like perfection.” Ronin continued to lick and suck.

  She gripped his head, tangling her fingers in his silky hair and held him to her as he growled and consumed. The pressure inside built and built, threatening to explode. “Yes,” she gasped, not sure what she was saying or responding to. All she knew is that if he stopped now, she would die.

  “Did you hear that?” A man’s voice cut through Cora’s daze.

  Ronin moved swiftly, pulling back and yanking Cora into the water. The freezing cold water extinguished the burning lust. Ronin pressed her into the large boulder he’d splayed her over moments ago.

  “Probably some randy ducks. It’s mating season,” another man said, voice not as deep as his companion’s.

  Cora dropped her head back on the rock and squeezed her eyes shut. Though he made no sound, Ronin’s chest rumbled against hers with supressed laughter.

  “I see smoke,” the first man said.

  Water splashed. Damn it. They spotted the campfire.

  Ronin released her and eased away, stepping to the side, while still using the giant boulder for cover. He flicked his hands in the air.

  She leaned forward and squinted. Was that supposed to mean something?

  Ronin’s expression grew pained.

  “Do you see anyone?” one of the men hissed.

  “It could be them.”

  Cora held her breath and inched her way to the edge of the rock.

  “Probably some locals, sneaking away from their parents.”

  “This far from Cladding and Zircaloy? Doubtful,” Guy One said. “We should check it out anyway.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not getting our gear wet. It’s getting dark. Our stuff will never dry in time.” With one of those ambiguous tones, Guy Two could actually be a woman with a low voice. Hard to tell.

  “No, you nimrod. We’ll take the bridge.”

  The nimrod groaned, probably realizing there’d be a delay in getting his or her dinner. Guy One said something else, but it was too faint for Cora to catch. Boots scuffed the river rock and a horse nickered. Were they actually going? Or was this a trap?

  “Come on,” Ronin whispered, suddenly standing beside her. “We need to move.”

  “Are they gone?” It would only take one arrow shot from the tree cover.

  A horse snorted farther away, answering her question.

  Thanks, horse.

  Ronin peeked around the boulder. The tension eased from his shoulders. “They’re gone.”

  Without another word, they bolted for the shore. Water splashed and sprayed. The drag slowed her down. They had to get to shore, get dressed and get away. Right now, they were naked and defenceless.

  The trail around the river via the bridge would take the men at least ten minutes to complete. That wasn’t a lot of time.

  Cora scrambled up the rocky shore and pulled her pants on. The leather stuck to her dewy skin. With a curse, she hopped up and down, shoving her legs farther through the clothing. Some skin went along with the pants, but she got them on and quickly slapped on her flying vest. Normally she wore her shirt under the vest, but she’d worry about that later. Since the vest clasped together to accommodate her wings, it was easier to put on in a hurry. She clutched her shirt in one hand and turned to the horses, shaking out her wings in the process.

  Already dressed and appearing unfazed, Ronin threw her bedroll at her. She snatched the bedroll from the air, grabbed her boots and ran for the cow horse.

  The demon spawn raised her head from munching grass and eyed her approach.

  “Come on, beast. Look lively.” She strapped her gear to the horse and untied the reins. The horse’s ears pricked forward. Laying the long boots and shirt over the back of the cow horse’s neck, she gripped the saddle horn and swung up into the seat. The instant her ass hit the seat, her inner thighs and butt muscles complained.

  She ignored the dull ache, tucked her boots and shirt under one of her arms and squeezed her legs.

  The horse sighed and swayed side to side. Definitely not forward.

  “Stop pissing around.” Ronin hissed over his shoulder, his horse already on the move. Of course, he was a natural at this crap.

  She clicked her tongue. The horse’s ears pinged back, and she swished her tail.

  Cora leaned forward, squeezed her legs again and gave the horse’s belly a little nudge with her heels.

  The horse shot forward. The quick, unexpected motion flung Cora back and almost out of the saddle. She flailed her free arm and wings. With her heart in her throat, she grabbed the pommel and held on for life, raced past Ronin and hurtled through the forest. The horse cleared a log and abruptly slid to a stop.

  Cora flew forward, straight over the horse’s head. She instinctively flung out her wings. Pain lanced through the injured bone. Her wing faltered. She threw her hands out and braced her fall as she face-planted in dense moss. She skidded to a halt a foot away from two sets of hooves. Her boots thumped on the ground beside her.

  “I’d give that dismount a nine,” someone said.

  “Most impressive tactical maneuver. I’d give her a perfect ten,” another man said with a much deeper voice.

  Their voices didn’t sound familiar, but their accents did. The men from the river.

  “Cora,” Ronin hissed. “Get up.”

  She groaned and scrambled to her feet. Dirt and strings of dry moss coated her mouth and she spat out a leaf. She tucked her wet wings in tightly against her back and ignored the scream of pain reminding her of her injuries. When the pain eased to a dull throb, she straightened and lifted her chin.

  Two hunters, a man and a woman, sat in their saddles on almost identical horses. Brown horses. Big stalky horses. Horses that looked like they listened to their riders. Guess that made the “nimrod” from the river a woman. They wore leather armour made for moving quickly and blending in with the forest…and not to hunt pheasants. The swords strapped against their backs spoke of a different prey.

  As Cora continued to study them from the wrong end of a notched arrow, she had an inkling of what they hunted. Their scarred faces showed exposure to the elements and the creases around their eyes spoke of times when they weren’t so serious. But they weren’t old, probably only a few years older than Cora or Ronin. They were experienced hunters.

  The man on the left made eye contact with her and cursed. The arrowhead aimed at her chest dipped a fraction before he corrected it.

  His partner looked over at him and raised a dark bushy eyebrow. “You okay, Phil?”

  Phil narrowed his eyes and scanned Cora’s body, head to toe and back again. “Do all female sapavians look like you?”

  She stiffened. What the hell as that supposed to mean?

  Phil turned to his companion. “We’ve been missing out.”

  The woman snorted but kept her aim trained on Ronin.

  The crown prince was somewhere behind her, probably firmly mounted on his horse without a white hair out of place. She didn’t need to see Ronin to know he’d be scowling.

  Cora leaned forward. She needed to focus on more pressing things, like what other weapons did these hunters carry?

  “That’s close enough,” the woman aiming the arrow at Ronin grumbled.

  Phil sighed. “Ease up, Karla. We have a message.”

  Karla looked at the sky as if divine intervention would save her from this situation.

  Cora waited. They all waited. Nothing happened.

  Cora carefully took a step back. Then another. And another. She made it to where her stupid cow horse sniffed the moss, looking for food.

  Ronin pulled up beside her on his black mare, concern fl
ashing in his gaze briefly before he turned to the hunters. “Are you King Aeneas’ hunters?”

  They nodded.

  Somehow, the news didn’t reassure Cora.

  “If you’re here to finish the job, why haven’t you released the arrows yet?” Ronin asked.

  Karla sighed, long and dramatic. “We’re not here to kill you. We’re here to deliver a message.”

  “Your notched arrows are doing a mighty fine job doing the delivery for you.”

  Karla and Phil exchanged a glance and lowered their bows and arrows together.

  “Your surprise attack startled us,” Phil nodded at Cora. “I’ve never seen a woman used as a sapavian missile before.”

  Cora ignored him and grabbed her boots to stuff her feet into them. Once booted, she shoved her foot in the stirrup and hefted her aching body into the saddle. Everything complained. Even her vagina throbbed, but for completely different reasons.

  The cow horse snorted. The vicious beast probably already planned her next attempt at murder. These last four days hadn’t been filled with joyful riding.

  “What’s your message?” Ronin drew himself straighter in the saddle.

  Karla spoke this time. “He’d like to meet with you in Giga.”

  A bark of laughter erupted from Ronin. “His men drugged and abducted me the last time we were to meet. They planned to torture me before slitting my throat. They spoke of how they’d do it, too. Right in front of me. How they’d make a spectacle out of my long, drawn-out, humiliating demise.” Ronin’s jaw tensed and anger flashed in his gaze. His free hand rested on the pommel of the sword and during his speech, he’d wrapped his fingers around the grip.

  Though Ava had provided a different narrative for the abductors’ actions, they still couldn’t trust she told the truth. Cora knew Ronin a little too well, it seemed. He’d lay the blame at the human king’s feet until someone else corroborated Ava’s information.

  Karla shook her head. “That’s the second part of our message.”

  “Maybe you should’ve led with the second part,” Phil muttered.