His nostrils flared.
Tracing a circle on her upper leg. “I find your wit beguiling. You’re resourceful and independent. Two things I am unaccustomed to finding in a woman.”
Her pride reared. “You need to associate with better women.”
“Of that, you’ve made me abundantly aware.” He didn’t blink. His breathing came uneven, mirroring her own.
If she leaned forward an inch, their mouths would meet.
When was the last time she had entertained kissing a man? No doubt it had to have been during her time at court. Even though she was the mixed-race laughingstock, she had a few affairs. She supposed that the men at court had found her a delightful perversion from the norm with her short frame, billowing wings, and sharp tongue.
Another of his fingers joined the circles on her thigh, determined to drive Aileen out of her mind.
He stopped. “I can’t deny that you have hypnotized me.”
Her nerve-endings sang from his proximity. What would kissing him feel like?
Blast it all. She leaned forward, and their mouths touched. Sparks ignited her blood in an inferno. She moaned.
Loran’s lips parted hers, tongue delving and warring for exquisite dominance. His taste was erotic spice and high winds. His hand moved to her neck, pulling her closer in.
He could have taken advantage of her right then and there. But he didn’t. He kissed her so thoroughly, her thoughts spun out of control, away from her good sense. She wanted him to touch more of her. To explore her.
Her spine bowed, a natural arc to her body that begged attention. Still, his hands stayed at her neck.
Aileen growled her displeasure. He growled right back, pressing her against the log. Her meal scattered to the dirt.
A stick in the fire crackled, and they flew apart. Aileen clutched her throat in an effort not to reach for him. What tantalizing feelings!
Surely, she had never felt anything like this before. She had forgotten how to embrace her sexuality. The drugging sensations that affected everything from her fingertips to her toes and everything in between.
“That was…” Loran ran a hand over his shorn hair. “Unexpected.”
“Agreed,” she replied huskily.
“I couldn’t help kissing you.” His eyes widened. “Not after seeing you so close to death. I needed to…reassure myself.”
“I’m fine.” Aileen smoothed her hair back from her face. She needed time to think.
She stood on shaky legs. Walking to the pile of bedding, she’d packed, gaining momentum. She tossed Loran a blanket over her shoulder and got one for herself. Unnoticed, the eyes in the distance came a little closer.
“Have I angered you?” He had started to slump, his forehead beading with sweat.
Aileen had forgotten he wasn’t all the way healed. No doubt, the day had taken its toll.
She whirled away, lest he sees the lust that she felt. He needed sleep. “No.”
She found she was disappointed, but not irate. Tonight wasn’t the time to explore this path, although she ached for it.
They didn’t talk anymore while readying for bed.
On the unrelenting hard ground, she beat her bag into a serviceable pillow. She gazed at Loran across the fire, longing to touch him again, but she knew she must keep the fire between them. They were hunted and had no time for lovely distractions.
He lay on his back, arm under his head, looking at the few visible stars to through the branches. He was so handsome, in that rugged club-over-the-head-dragged-to-cave kind of way that had never appealed to her before now.
Closing her eyes, she prayed sleep would find her quickly.
It didn’t. An hour stretched to infinity. She recounted herbs and their uses until her mind had begun to spin in a hazy state.
Exhaustion finally slowed her mind enough to sleep.
◆◆◆
Loran shook himself awake. When had he fallen asleep?
His body ached. His side burned.
The fire had gone out. Darkness lay thick on the land. Crickets sang their nightly jib. A lone wolf howled in the distance. Lone, looking for his pack. He wanted to howl back, to run with the pack.
What had awoken him?
A rustle in the underbrush forced him upright. He ignored his muscles, screaming at him. He looked over at Aileen. Her deep, even breathing brought his attention to her breasts, distracting him.
A branch snapped.
Loran palmed his sword. He rolled over into a crouch. In the bush near where his head had been, beady eyes glinted.
To the right, a form stood from the underbrush. Then another. A baker’s dozen worth of stumpy, hobbled beasts surrounded them. Elongated skulls ended in a point. Tall, thin ears reminded him of jackals. They stayed on their bulbous knuckles attached to short arms, leaning forward. Their claws clacked as they shifted, unbothered by Loran’s attention.
Could he get to his woman, before the ghouls did?
As he shifted, and so did they. The ones closest to Aileen scurried closer toward her prone form.
“Aileen,” he whispered. He called her again.
She rolled over, muttering obscenities at him for waking her. Her green gaze stuttered as she blinked. First focusing on his face, then behind him. She gasped.
She looked around sleepily. Suddenly startled awake. Her hand tunneled in her bag, but her torso hid the action from the beasts. “Goblins.”
Loran pursed his lips. In battle, he had met many red caps and hobgoblins. But never the base species that bred like rats and acted as the like. They had no place in battle. They hid from the light—cowardly creatures.
A particularly humpbacked goblin stepped into the shred of moonlight. His left eye was much bigger than the right. They moved in different directions. One eye landed on each of the sidhes.
Then Aileen had the goblin leader’s full attention. His skinny wrists cracked as he clasped his hands in front of him. A strangely humanoid action. “Drycs’Nid been wanting you, pretty green-eyed sprite.”
Aileen sat up, drawing her bag with her. “But, did he ever stop to wonder if I wanted to see him?”
Loran growled his agreement. Loran didn’t know this Drycs’Nid, but his attentions toward the woman would be severed if he had anything to say about it.
The goblin bared his teeth, rows upon rows of them. “Wanting you all the same.”
Another slew of goblins appeared in the darkness.
Loran gauged his chances of success in battle low. The warrior in him sat back, studying the scene. The drawbacks came first. Such as Aileen’s inconvenient positioning, several feet from him. Why had he allowed her distance? Did he chance a grab and run scenario?
Aileen sighed with gusto as if they were a mere annoyance. “What are the chances you let us leave, and we don’t fight?”
“You come with us,” the goblin chittered, voice high and nasally. “Or you die.”
“I just knew you would say that.” Aileen pulled out a frosted glass jar, pulling out a crystal. The gem glittered, then caught an unseen light, reflecting the rays in every direction.
The lead goblin reeled back, clutching his face. He had been closest to the light bomb and the most wounded. Pustules rose on his skin as the putrid scent of charred flesh and hair wafted through the clearing.
The goblins’ screams were music to Loran. A song of wars waged and won. He found himself grinning.
“Every time you come to me, and the sunstone damages you more as I improve on my spell,” Aileen called into the chaos of the fleeing adversaries. “Again. Think you’ll learn? No. Never.” Then, in a whisper. “No challenge whatsoever. Who do I have to pray to get an adequate nemesis?”
Pride lanced Loran’s chest, and he took the wound with admiration. The woman was a take no prisoners sorceresses. She’s a warrior wielding magic and herbs, and she raises the bar even further than he thought possible.
Chapter Six
Aileen gathered up every sign that they had bee
n there. She was always careful to leave as little trace as possible.
She kicked at the long-extinguished kindling, scattering it across the hardpacked dirt. Running a log over the scorched earth, she knelt in the soil.
She plunged her hands into the dirt, focusing her energy to expand into the ground—her spirit connected to Mother Nature’s and the Goddess’ souls.
“Bring forth nature, to close the wound to the land. Take from me the strength needed to replenish, restore, and rebalance.”
She nodded to Loran, who poured the essence of Tranglam root. The elixir held all that was pure and organic. Blades of new grass sprang into being. They raced over the ground, as moss climbed over the fallen logs.
By the time they finished, the clearing had sprung wildflowers that swayed in the breeze. No one would ever realize they had been there.
Aileen straightened, wiping her hands on her apron.
Loran patted the stirrup, and she allowed him to lift her on top of the horse.
Once he climbed up behind her, she leaned into him more. He accepted the weight of her and rested a hand on her hip and smiled.
The Tranglam turned into the Dul Fialin. Trees becoming more spaced apart. The sun shone in earnest.
Pretty trotted through the last vestiges of the forest, which gave way to knee-high grasses that tickled their legs. Great twisted oaks softened into the occasional pine or cedar, sprinkled throughout waving cherry trees which scented the air, heavy with the promise of sweet fruit.
They had entered the Marbh Glenn, the valley that stretched from the Dul Fialin to the Aerouant, the caves of dragons.
“The cherries look like they will be ready soon. We should get some on the way back.” Aileen bit her tongue. The words slipped past her euphoria before she could catch them, implying a relationship after their mission was complete.
“Indeed. I haven’t had fresh cherries since I was a boy.” He snagged a cherry blossom that had fallen on her hair, bringing it to her fingers, letting his hand stay there.
Aileen exhaled, wondering at herself. Here she was acting like a youth, all smitten and flabbergasted. The unbridled sunlight shone on her face, and she paused to relish the feeling. She caught Loran looking at her.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen someone light up within as you do, just from something pure and simple as sunlight,” he breathed the words, soft as a whisper, gentle as a caress. “I am proud to call you mine.” He stopped. “I apologize. We discussed this.”
Aileen stilled in her seat. “Why do you have this obsession with ownership?”
“It is my people’s way.” His face darkened, and she cupped his cheek, amazed at the ability to touch someone so wild. “It is my nature. My mind and body scream for me to stake my claim. It is how my people have been for longer than I can remember.”
Her heart skipped two beats. Her cheeks stained red, something the ladies of the court would never allow to happen to them. She snickered to herself.
Loran’s face lost all emotion. Awash with arrogance. “Do you find me funny?”
Aileen hushed him. “Don’t be silly. I was laughing at court ladies of Eadrom. They would never lower themselves to blush like this.”
His silence stretched. Then he burst out laughing. “My people do not blush.” He brushed his fingers across her cheekbones. “I like that you blush when you’re overwhelmed, nervous, or angry. I like that your freckles look darker after an hour in the sun.”
Rolling her eyes. “My mother used to rue my freckles. They were spots that marred an otherwise perfect complexion.”
“Perfect is in the eyes of the beholder.”
Aileen purred. He knew just what just to say.
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed things at the Clan of the Rose, especially at court. The Eadrom embody perfection, visual, physical, and emotional,” Aileen said bitterly. “Their walls have shining white marble and mirrors, all the better to reflect their flawlessness. Though I loved my mother, it was a miserable place for me to live.”
“The Ciaran castle is built with bloodstone encrusted walls. A mineral that is the green of jade, but with red veins that throb like the beating of a heart. It glows eerily. The legend says bloodstone absorbs the souls of enemies killed in battle.”
Aileen shuddered. “To think that those you killed were stuck watching you live out your life is dreadful.”
Loran shrugged, a magnificent display of hard-won muscle. “You and I were raised very differently. My parents preferred wolves to people. I was raised on the outskirts of society, with beasts that taught me honor and loyalty. Because of this, I am more beast than man. This also forged me into the perfect killing machine.” Pride filled his voice. “I soared above my brethren in battle. The youngest general to serve.” This explained some of his mannerisms. He touched her hair. “Tell me of your court, your past.”
“I was always the outsider,” Aileen began. “Even if I was not short, and tanned from all my gardening, my wings from my pixie father marked me as other. When I was a child, I’d stayed to myself, because the other court children didn’t understand me.” She paused to snag a few of the ripest looking cherries from a passing limb. She popped a couple into her mouth and the others into Loran’s. Keeping the seeds, she placed them in her bag. “The degree I became the oddity, mirrored my mother’s attempts to primp me into the next princess. I have two sisters who slipped into the delicate intrigue that comes along with the title. Yet, my mother, the Queen, never gave up on me. The King only cared that I am useful enough to marry off someday. No doubt, my family was overjoyed when I finally left court.”
Loran’s brow rose. “At least at my court, when someone tries to stab you, they do it to their face.”
Aileen laughed, albeit darkly. “Not Eadrom. They would hire someone who would, in turn, hire an unscrupulous individual to do their dirty work.”
A dark shadow moved from the forest-line, followed by another. Dread filled her mind.
Loran shifted, his hand going to his sword. “What is it?”
“Someone is following us.” Aileen mentally ran through her remaining spells. What had she packed away that would fit such an occasion?
Loren kicked Pretty into a gallop. A high cry sounded from behind them.
“Did you see who they were?” Loran clung to the reigns. His thighs tightened around Aileen’s as if to glue her to the horse.
“Sidhes.”
That one word chilled his expression. He turned to look behind them. “My men have found us. I’d rather it was the goblins and syrens at once.”
“We can outrun them.”
“They have warhorses. Pretty is fast, but she bears us both. She will tire long before they do.”
“We can beat them.”
As they watched, another battalion joined the first.
“There is no doubt more to come.” Loran ground out the words. “I can’t possibly fight them all.”
“Maybe we won’t have to.” Aileen brought out a draw-string bag. She fished out little bulbs that, when held to the light, flared gold and burgundy.
“What are those?”
“Corbuis balls, a special recipe I concocted one night, while especially bored,” Aileen drawled. She tried to cover her fear. “I don’t know exactly how powerful they will be since they haven’t been field-tested before now.”
“While your words tremble, I have the utmost faith in you.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
They raced through the valley. Pretty began to slow and tire.
Aileen handed the bag of bulbs to Loran. Turning back to Pretty’s neck, hugging her, she instilled a quiet strength into the horse’s mind. She laid thick some of her energy and gave a gentle push.
A quick but temporary fix to say the least.
Pretty surged forward.
The soldiers grew nearer. There was another spell she could try. But, if it went wrong, the consequences were dire. Perhaps worse than being capt
ured.
Aileen took back half of the bulbs.
“Wait until they get a little closer, then toss one of the balls as far as you can.” Nervousness bubbled bile in her throat. Would the balls work?
It didn’t take long for the warhorses to gain an advantage.
Loran reached back and lobbed the bead. As the chemical and magical components dissolved, they reacted. An explosion the size of a small house rocked the valley. Men toward the front blew off their horses, a small crater formed at the center of the blast, and bits of flesh and dirt landed around the hole. The second line pulled on their horse’s reigns. Chariots careened out of control.
Aileen hollered over his shoulder. “Better than sex.”
He jerked his head back as the gush of heat singed their faces. “Not with me, it isn’t.”
She laughed. They would win. Together, their success was imminent.
“We only need to get to that ridge.” Aileen pointed at a rocky outcropping a few thousand feet away. “That’s the Aerouant border. They wouldn’t dare cross into it.”
◆◆◆
Loran realized they weren’t going to make it. Even with the bulbs. He couldn’t keep her with him for extra moments that could cost her life. Now was the time to act to save her and the orb.
He hadn’t told Aileen about the third battalion that cut through the mountains ahead of them. She hadn’t noticed. Not yet.
She did not understand a Ciaranian warrior. Let alone a hundred of them. They would never stop. Culture be damned. They didn’t have his code of honor. They would tear Aileen and Pretty apart, looking for the Comhacht. Thinking of what they would do with her afterward that steeled his resolve.
Aileen noticed Loran scowling as he assessed the enemy gaining on their position. She studied his face as each realization took hold. “If we get to the border, the dragons will intercede! You have to trust in that. We can make it.” She begged him to agree.
Having made his decision, he turned to the sorceress he had grown to cherish so wholly. Loran leaned down and kissed her. Putting all his budding emotion into the act, he kissed her tenderly at first and then with growing passion. A kiss that encapsulated dreams of a future lost to them. Riveted, Aileen clung to him and melted with his kiss. Promises leaped between them as their lips parted. They both knew what had to be done.
Entwined (The Rose and The Sword Book 1) Page 4