by Linda Kage
With a snort, I said, “No way in hell will I ever get a High Cliff tattoo.”
Her eyebrows lifted over my judgmental tone. “Fine,” she said, notching up her chin loftily. “If you need proof you can see with your own ignorant, unmarked eyes, I’ll give you proof.” She pointed toward her temple. “Tap it five times. Only my soul mate and I can make the mark respond.”
I eased a step back, eyeing the tattoo untrustingly. “Respond how?”
A smile lit her face, transforming her irritated features into one of pure beauty and reassurance. “Don’t worry, my love. It won’t hurt you.”
Great. Now I’d look like a coward if I didn’t fucking touch her tattoo. I raised my hand, only to hesitate. I had no idea what to expect here. But the princess didn’t seem concerned, so I hovered my hand over her temple for a moment before bringing the tip of my index finger into contact with her mark.
She gasped in surprised delight, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from exposing my own response. But a hot, edgy thrill of anticipation darted through me, causing me to hold my breath as I touched her skin four more times, slowly so I could draw out the delicious sensation.
As soon as I finished the fifth tap, her tattoo crackled and ignited, shooting red sparks a couple inches from her temple.
“Holy shit.” I jerked my hand back and skittered away from her.
Nicolette laughed, charmed by my reaction.
I could only blink. “It…” I pointed toward the mark. “You…”
She nodded. “Yes. You are my match.”
Unable to control the punch of feeling I experienced, I drew in a shocked breath, letting the lure of that possibility consume me. But true love? A perfect match? Soul mates? I couldn’t say the idea was bad. Having one person belong to me completely—as mine and mine alone—someone who would never leave me, always love me, be my family, my home…
An ache so frantic and full of wild craving spread like wildfire through my chest before I realized how stupid such a desire was. Because who was I kidding? I was the son of a monster and a courtesan. I didn’t get true love or happy endings, especially with beautiful, exotic princesses from distant lands.
With a jolt of awareness, I returned to reality. “You could just be putting one over on me,” I told her, unable to trust what I’d just seen. “Maybe anyone who touches your tattoo can make it do that.”
She tipped her head to the side. “But what goal would lying to you bring me? The only thing I have to gain here is you, and I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re a good person or bad. I have no idea if you’re wealthy or poor or what kind of family you come from or morals you have. I just left a life of complete luxury where everyone loved me and listened to my thoughts and ideas and respected me. I was happy there, but I gave it all up in an instant to be with you. Why would I do that unless I was telling you the truth and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are my future?”
“I…” I gulped, feeling a fear I’d never felt before. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. But I could not accept this. If I accepted it, it would mean this girl was mine. My future. My family. My responsibility. It would be my duty to protect her and not bring her to my father.
So I couldn’t accept what she was saying.
She read my expression—or maybe she really could feel my swirling emotions—because she sighed. “Okay, fine.” She turned toward her horse to dig into one of her satchels. “You’ve at least heard of true love’s kiss, have you not?”
I nodded, even as I said, “Of course, but that’s just a myth.”
“Is it?” Her voice was soft and amused as she rotated back to me, holding up a small blade.
“Wha—” I sprang forward to stop her, for surely, she meant to stab me and try to escape.
But she surprised the shit out of me when she said, “Heal me,” just before she sliced open the back of her own forearm.
“What the hell?” I exploded, snatching the dagger from her hand. “Are you insane?”
“Oh God,” she choked out, slapping her hand over the cut and sucking in a breath. “That stings. That really burns. I didn’t realize it’d hurt so badly.”
“Of course, it bloody hurts,” I yelled, tucking the knife into my belt and grabbing her arm to see for myself just how deeply she’d gone. “You just filleted your arm open. What did you think it was going to feel like?”
“I didn’t. I was too busy knowing you could heal—what’re you doing?”
“Let me see it.” I tugged her closer, even as I dug my free hand into my own satchel of supplies. “I have some healer’s rags we can use to bind it and stop the bleeding.”
“We don’t need to bind it,” she argued, hissing when I gently lifted her hand from the wound, exposing it to open air. “You just need to kiss me and make it go away already.”
“A kiss isn’t going to heal something this deep, princess.” Jesus, she’d made a tidy little mess of herself. If we didn’t get this cleaned soon, it could become infected.
“Of course, you can fix it. I’ve seen true love’s kiss bring people back from the dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “In some farce of a theatrical performance, no doubt.”
“In real life!” A growl rose from her throat as I pressed my own fingers against the cut to stop the flow of blood. “Lord have mercy, are you always so stubborn and bullheaded?”
“I’m telling you,” I started logically. “A kiss is not—”
She was done arguing with me, though. Reaching out, she grabbed the leather strap I had situated diagonally across my chest, the one that held my war staff in its sheath on my back. Clutching it hard, she used the strap to jerk me forward.
Unprepared for the move, I went stumbling into her until my mouth brutally slammed against hers. Rasping out a sound of surprise, I grabbed her shoulder to steady us both, fully prepared to pull directly away. But she opened her mouth, and her tongue sought entrance.
And just like that, I fell victim to her allure. I let her in and plundered right back, tasting honey and heaven.
Before I realized what I was doing, I gripped a handful of her luscious long hair in one hand and backed her toward the wall. Except the wall was actually Caramel, and once Nicolette backed into the horse, it whinnied in protest and shifted away, which unsettled our balance and caused us to break the kiss in order to catch each other.
Meanwhile, the cut still under the protection of my thumb moved as if stretching or—something. I’m not sure what it did, but it startled the hell out of me.
“What the…?” I lifted my fingers and blinked, only to find the cut gone. “But that’s not—”
It just wasn’t possible.
I wiped the blood from her flesh, thinking to reveal the wound somewhere, except it was truly and honestly gone. Not even a scar remained. I looked up at Nicolette, trying to make sense of what was happening here, because none of this was logical.
All she could do was smile at me and whisper, “True love’s kiss.”
10
Nicolette
I think Farrow was in shock. Or more likely complete denial.
After giving him irrefutable proof that he was indeed my mate, he backed away, gave his head a quick shake as if to clear it, and then said, “We need to set up camp before the sun’s full in the sky.”
I let him use his evasion tactic because we had the rest of our lives for him to get used to the idea, and honestly, I was a little worried about him. A dull roar of emotions wafted off him in unrelenting waves. They were jumbled together so tightly I couldn’t distinguish one from the other; I wasn’t even sure if they were mainly positive or negative feelings.
I guess he needed a bit of time to process.
But his silence bothered me to no end.
“Want to know something ironic?” I asked as he pulled a large spool of leather from his pack and then bent to spread it on the ground. Realizing the covering was actually the roof of our tent for the day, I moved to the opposite end as him to h
elp straighten it. When he didn’t answer my question, I shrugged. “I got my mark not even a fortnight before your army invaded Donnelly.”
When he extracted some bamboo poles from his supplies next, I knelt when he did and mimicked his actions, assisting him as he elevated the bamboo walls into the air and levered them into place so the leather roof would provide a nice area of shade underneath.
“If I’d waited even a moon cycle to get my tattoo, I never would’ve been drawn away from my bedchamber that night and down to where you were being held captive. I never would’ve helped free you. And you…” I gulped as I glanced at him. “You would’ve died with the rest of the prisoners my brother executed.”
He grunted, saying nothing, just leading the horses under the tent so they’d be out of the sun as well.
“My brother Caulder was so upset when he found out I’d gotten the mark. I thought he was going to banish me from the castle altogether. Then again, he was never as easy going as Brentley is with me.”
Farrow paused to send me an odd glance as if he wanted to inquire about something I said, but then he lifted his brows briefly and went back to work, ignoring me as he stripped the horses of their loads and stroked their backs to massage their sore, strained muscles.
The action looked sensuous and relaxing; my mouth went dry as I watched. I had sore, strained muscles if he wanted to massage something.
But I had a suspicion the suggestion would only freak him out more, so I cleared my throat and kept talking.
“I knew Caulder wouldn’t be happy even as I snuck out to get the mark, but I didn’t care. I was determined to find my true love. I would’ve suffered through any kind of reprimand. I guess it’s a good thing I took the risk, too.” I watched him as I added, “It’s the only reason you’re alive today. Kind of makes you think destiny had a hand in my actions, doesn’t it?”
He glanced at me, his gaze brooding. “You should get some rest. We’ll sleep during the day to stay out of the sun and then ride at night.” And he went back to preparing the camp, flipping out bedrolls on either side of the horses and placing them on the sand under the shade.
Hmm, using animals to separate us. I guess this meant he didn’t want to sleep beside me.
I shook my head in awe. “You still don’t believe, do you?”
Stubborn was an understatement when describing Farrow, I realized. No proof was going to convince him of anything until he was ready to accept it.
He didn’t speak, merely pulled a leather flagon with a sturdy metal bottom from his supplies, uncapped it and took a healthy drink. When he was done, he held it out to me. “Thirsty?”
“God, yes.” I was parched beyond thirst. “Thank you.” Taking the flask, I gulped greedily, only to force myself to stop and send him a guilty wince after I took more than I felt was my fair share. “Sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it?” I went to hand it back, as the flagon wasn’t all that big; I didn’t want to hog all our water supply, especially since—
Oh hell.
I glanced around the desert. Who knew when we’d cross another water source? Was this all we had to get us by for the next handful of days?
Farrow waved me on, however, refusing to take the flagon back and encouraging me to keep drinking. “Take all you need,” he said.
So, I did, unable to help myself.
“The canteen’s infused with magic,” he explained as I chugged. “It holds an endless supply of water.”
Wait. Had he just said magic?
I jerked the pouch from my lips and spat out what water I had left in my mouth. “This is magic water?” I accused, wiping away as much as I could with the back of my hand and then spitting out even more.
But seriously, how dare he feed me something magical without my knowledge?
My reaction merely caused him to laugh. “The water’s just water,” he assured, taking the flagon from me and pouring it out into a tub he’d fashioned on the ground so the horses could have a drink. “Only the container’s been enchanted.” He paused and looked at the flagon. When a feeling of extreme despair washed over him, he quietly admitted, “This flask was the last thing my mother ever gave me.”
His grief filled me until I had tears in my own eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling his loss as if it were my own. He still mourned for her greatly. I knew exactly how it felt to lose a parent, yet I think he missed his more than I ever had my own.
Clearing his throat, he removed a cup from his supply satchel and poured a liberal amount of water into it before holding it my way. “Here,” he offered. “This way you won’t have to touch anything that’s been charmed.”
His consideration was so thoughtful, my heart skipped a beat. What a sweet, sweet man. If I hadn’t already known he was my true love, I think I would’ve gotten an inkling right then.
“Thank you.”
He turned away with a grunt.
And he seemed to withdraw into himself even more.
If he’d seemed distant and quiet with me last night while helping me load my things onto the horses, he was doubly so now. He ignored me completely as he bent and dug through his satchels, searching for something.
I focused on his back as he worked, watching the stretch and pull of muscle with each shift of his shoulders. Such powerful shoulders. So thick and massive. The sun-bronzed color gave his skin a nice, healthy, masculine glow.
I licked my lips as I wandered closer. But the nearer I drew, the more detail I could take in, like the whitened marks that crisscrossed over the backs of his ribs.
My lips parted on a silent gasp when I realized what I was seeing. He’d been whipped. A lot. And running up the back of his neck, a symbol of two twisted vines facing each other—Far Shore’s crest—had been branded into the skin with what could only be a hot iron.
Boiling anger poured through me; I wanted to hurt whoever had hurt him. But when I reached out, my touch was soft and gentle. I wished my lips could heal this. But a wound had to be fresh for it to mend under true love’s kiss.
I placed the tips of my fingers against the old scars, anyway, needing to share them with him in any way I could.
He jolted at the contact and sprang to his feet, spinning around so abruptly that I lurched back, snapping my hand to myself in guilt.
His gaze glistened with reprimand, but he said nothing, just stared at me until his breath settled. Then he held out a bundle of cloth. “To pillow your head while you rest.”
“Oh! Um, thank you.” I took the lump and returned the cup. “And here. You can have this back now.”
Our fingers grazed when we exchanged items, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he chose to ignore the sensations it wrought. It certainly made my heart beat hard in my chest, unable to ignore even the slightest contact. I kept sending him glances as I sat on my bedroll and braided my hair for sleep, preparing for a day of rest. But he kept his attention avidly away, punching at his own bale of clothes that was doubling as a pillow and lying down on his side, facing away from me.
He must’ve been having a very hard time accepting that we were mates.
I hoped he didn’t try to reject it; he’d find out he had an equally stubborn and relentless partner, if he did. I wouldn’t easily give up on him.
But still, my mind worried through it all, anyway, wondering what was going on in his head. He was still a muddle of emotions; it was impossible for me to put a bead on him and figure out what he was thinking.
I flopped onto my back and studied a small hole in the tent covering where daylight began to stream through. Sleep eluded me, causing my brain to stir. I was so intent on trying to discover if he was pleased or upset or even disappointed by learning of our match that it took me far too long to question one major point. But suddenly, there it was: the most important question of all.
I bit my bottom lip. “Farrow?” I said uneasily.
“Hmm?”
He was still awake. Thank God.
“If you don’t believe me,” I star
ted, “about the love mark, and you weren’t even aware of its meaning until I told you the significance this morning, then you didn’t come to take me away to your home and marry you. Did you?”
He was so silent my heart began to beat hard.
Because oh…
No.
This couldn’t be good.
“Why did you come to Donnelly, Farrow?”
A flare of regret wafted off him.
Before he could say anything, though, I said, “You’re feeling guilty again. And afraid.” I frowned. “Yet unbearably sad and—”
“Could you please stop doing that,” he cut in, nearly barking the command. “I’m not a fan of people being in my head.”
“I’m not in your head,” I countered. “If I were in your head, I’d already have the answer I so desperately need right now. And besides, it’s not my fault you’re practically screaming your feelings at me. They’re so loud that it’s all I can hear. Seriously, I had no idea you’d be so emotional.”
“I’m not—” he started, only to stop suddenly. Then he sighed, long and loud.
This journey was wearing on him. And I still had no idea what it was even about.
“You really need to answer my question,” I said with the utmost of seriousness now. “Why did you come for me? And why wait five years? The last time you stole into my land, it was because of a war, to attack my people.”
And Donnelly would very eagerly enter into another fray with Far Shore if they thought Far Shore had taken their princess without her cooperation.
More guilt layered the air around Farrow. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions, but this was all beginning to look really bad.
Farrow finally said, “Well, that’s not what this time’s about.”
I shook my head, not sure what to believe—the word of my soul mate or my irritatingly persistent instincts.
I had no idea if he was telling the truth. Lying wasn’t an emotion I could read from him, but guilt was, and he was practically drowning in that. Except he’d felt guilty for a while now, so I couldn’t ascertain whether this case came because he was lying or for another reason. I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was that he was my perfect match in life—the mark said so—so I kept trusting that.