by Chris Lange
She panted hard. The striking, unfamiliar force grew inside her like a flesh-eating tide, and she feared for her sanity. Would it kill her, or devour her until she choked from suffocating pleasure? Then he touched the same place again, and the words tumbled out of her mouth.
“What’s happening to me?”
Stupefied by the unstoppable power ravaging her body, she didn’t even notice he had ceased fondling her. Not until his bulky shadow made the moon disappear, and he sank his head into her neck.
“It’s all right, flower. Wrap your legs around me and enjoy.”
She felt his erection against her quivering flesh, his yearning tip eager to penetrate the tight sheath.
Her legs seemed made of lead, but she gritted her teeth, and hooked her stiff thighs around his back. She groaned as the brusque movement shoved his huge cock deep inside her. His rough grunt spurred the pull twisting her guts. His throaty voice set it ablaze.
“Hang on to me.”
She finally relinquished her grip on the blanket to seize his shoulders. He had found his way back into her and all she wanted was to keep him there forever. To become delirious from the excitement of his engorged shaft cramming her, pounding her. To die under his forceful, rhythmical thrusts.
Body shivering, he drove his cock into her hole again, and she clenched her fingers. His speed increased, his stabs intensified. The harsh noise of his panting faded when she felt herself lifted up toward the ether.
Nails digging into his shoulders, she released a long wail as a sweltering heat latched onto her. The moon blurred, the stars turned hazy, the skies dropped. His rocky shoves propelled her to the limits of her awareness, and when he imbedded himself into her, an explosion shattered her.
Knuckling under the staggering blast, she shouted and writhed. Her body shuddered, limbs trembling so hard that she raked his skin to check the violent rapture she couldn’t contain. It poured out of her in long, intense surges, blinding her to everything that wasn’t the cock inside her.
The big member now quivering and discharging. She knew because his coarse grunts penetrated her bliss, and his heavy body bore down on hers as if he had been slain. She clung to his shoulders, to his sweaty belly wracked with spasms. She hung on to him even when the profound tide abated.
He had been right. He wanted to bring her to this exact place since their first mating, but she’d turned a deaf ear to his odd attitude. Realising that he viewed her lack of pleasure as his failure, she finally grasped the reason behind his grumpy mood these past days. A misplaced sense of male pride. Now she knew. Now she had felt the orgasm. The real one.
She ran her fingers through his hair, barely able to breathe from the passion he’d given her. In the aftermath of their incredible mating, an unusual emotion infiltrated her ecstasy. A deep longing for something that frightened her. She wished to shackle him in her arms. To cradle without end her stricken giant, motionless and still implanted inside her.
He raised his head. He looked at her and the brilliance of his silver gaze stabbed her. She didn’t have the means to keep such a mighty man. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t belong to his world. Fate had thrown them together but soon their paths would split.
She’d go back to Kelton after healing her aunt. He’d scour the Four Kingdoms to protect his people, whether the war started again or not. Although they shared an intimate, unbelievable moment, she couldn’t claim him as hers. Whatever she did, he would always be the Lord of the Clans.
She bit back her emotion as he left the warmth of her embrace to sit up. Already feeling like she’d lost him, she picked up the shirt he had taken off her body a while ago, and covered her bare breasts. She needed to tell him how she felt before he walked away from her.
“You made me very happy.”
He gave her the largest smile she’d ever seen. The lines of his face softened and he appeared almost carefree.
“So did you, little witch.”
He didn’t shock her with baffling news this time because his tone sounded affectionate. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done.
“To tell you the truth, I can’t believe that someone who blushes with every gust of wind would show so much passion.”
She dropped her head to hide the rush of heat rising up her cheeks. Although he said it as a compliment, his appreciation meant a lot more to her than she was willing to confess. She got up to find her pants, rattled by the intensity of his voice. She didn’t dare glance at him while she put them on, but the sensation of his eyes on her tickled her flesh until he spoke.
“Are we playing coy again? I thought we were past this stage, given that you’re irresistibly attracted to me.”
Why did he have to twist her meaning? Did he always feel the compulsion to turn her words around and throw them back in her face? She had just lived the best moment of her life as she quivered and wailed under the hard strokes of his cock. Yet it appeared that she was the only one to deem their coupling as sacred, and his offhand comment slashed her heart.
“Do you think telling you has been easy for me? Can’t you imagine that I’ve been wrestling with this, and all you can say is... is...”
He flinched when he heard her high-pitched voice and ragged breaths. While she stared at him through blurry eyes, he sprang up to his feet, pulled on his pants, and came to take her into his arms.
“Hey, flower, don’t get all worked up over trifles. I appreciate your honesty. Really, I do. I’m just having a little fun.”
“I don’t like your fun.”
His chest pressed against her breasts before he exhaled a long sigh. One finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. Their eyes met. Her distress died down as soon as she saw something in his gaze she wasn’t prepared for—an understanding and wisdom well beyond his years.
“You need to toughen up, Ariana, or people will hurt you all your life. Whether they mean to or not, they’ll trample on your feelings because you’ll open the door and let them. I know it isn’t easy to accept, but it can be done. Take it from someone who’s respected as much as hated.”
A shiver ran down her spine as he lowered his face, his tantalizing mouth inches from her parted lips.
She craved his kiss and wondered what his tongue would feel like against hers. Discovering and caressing and hers. How come he hadn’t kissed her yet? Did he save it for his real mates?
More than that, she yearned for him to share the deeper emotion ruling her blood, the scary sentiment blossoming in her since he'd given her the orgasm. But he briefly brushed his lips over her brow before letting go of her and pointing toward the ground.
“Look at that, you ripped my blanket. By the Mighty Gods, I must have been damn good.”
Her gaze flew from the torn fabric to his face. A sly grin creeping up his scarred cheek, he gently slapped her buttock.
“Don’t you dare blush!”
Snared in the crossfire of his teaching and taunting, she figured this was his style to show her the world, the darker boundary of a universe where people didn’t always play nice and fair.
Instead of maintaining her in her innocent ways, her shaman might have been more advised to show her the other side. He hadn’t and the Lord of the Clans now took over his duties. She’d learn, with time and patience. Lured into his pattern, she found her voice.
“Witches don’t blush.”
“I’m glad to see you’re finally coming to your senses.”
She wavered. Her jibe fell right into his convictions, so she couldn’t tell if he took it as such. Loath to let him believe a lie, she decided to clear the air about this magic crap once and for all.
“I’m not. I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
Eyebrow cocked, he nonetheless nodded with solemnity. Then he took her shoulders to hold her at arm’s length.
“So you still don’t believe you have magic?”
She shook her head. He seemed to ponder her silent answer for an instant before gliding a finger along her cheek.
In spite of the softness of his touch, she sensed a hardening in his stance. She remained still, vaguely alarmed, until he stepped aside to move closer to the fire.
“You want proof, huh? Then I’ll give you proof.”
He knelt on the ground to grab the cooking knife. Fingers firm around the hilt, blade pointing toward him, he rammed it into his shoulder.
Chapter Eighteen
“Dear Creators, what are you doing?”
He grunted as she shouted and rushed to his side. Heart pounding with the force of a blacksmith striking metal, she threw herself at his feet. The knife stuck out of his shoulder, but he kept his grip on it. His knuckles whitened around the hilt as a wince of pain rippled across his features.
“It hurts to make you see the truth.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.”
“We shall see.”
The shadow of a smile tipped his lips. Then he tightened his grasp and wrenched the blade out of his flesh without a sound. Beads of sweat dampened his forehead as blood spurted out of the wound. When he dropped the long cooking knife, she reached for the pouch at her belt.
“Don’t, Ariana! No herbs, no mud, no whatever you have in mind to use. Just you. Now, heal me.”
She started at the harshness of his tone. Obviously convinced she was some kind of witch, he wouldn’t let it go unless she did what he asked. And why not? Failing to heal him might make him realise his mistake. With any luck, he’d get off her back after that.
She let loose the strings tying her pouch with a sigh, and showed him her empty hands.
“I can’t heal you without my herbs, and we both know it. You’ll get nothing from your stubborn attitude, but I’m warning you. Don’t turn grumpy on me again when this doesn’t work.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Suit yourself, my lord.”
A thick trail of blood stained his muscular chest. Had he been any other man, she might have slowed down her movements to let him suffer a little while longer. He was in great pain, even if he concealed it well, and she didn’t have the heart to act offended or full of resentment.
His eyes shimmered as if he braced himself for victory when she placed her palm over the sticky wound. Although this wasn’t a battle, she got a glimpse of his state of mind whenever he fought enemies.
Sharp-edged and implacable. Ruthless and relentless. While she repressed the flush of admiration threatening to shade her brow, his anticipating whisper sent a tingle down her spine.
“Open your eyes and watch this.”
Sure, but she didn’t see anything. No glow, no sensation of heat or cold, not even the tiniest impression of healing him. Just like it happened every time she treated an injury. The herbs cured, not her. Still, she left her hand over the wound and gazed at him.
“How long would you like me to do this? The longer you wait, the more blood you lose. But by all means, take your time to think about it. Just let me know when you’re satisfied.”
Her sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on him because he cocked his head in a comical way. His reaction startled her, given that she expected to exasperate him, or at the very least rouse a sulky expression on his face. Deep in the throes of pain, what could possibly be funny to him?
“Thank you very much, Ariana. I’m entirely satisfied with your work. You may let go of me now.”
She removed her hand and her stomach lurched. She had never fallen from heights, but she reckoned that the reeling in her belly would feel similar. His flawless shoulder glinted in the moonlight. The unmarred skin seemed to taunt her, to warn her of an unforeseen future. Magic lived inside her.
Guts twisted with dread, she wrenched her gaze away from his perfect limb to look at him. No mockery showed on his features. No hint of boasting triumph. He regarded her with the utmost seriousness while she forced the question out of her mouth.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the first morning. My medicine man wanted to cut off my leg. You treated me instead, and I woke up without so much as a scar.”
“The power of plants doesn’t rank high in your mind, does it? Don’t you have faith in healers?”
“As I said, herbs can do a lot of good but within limits. Although I was already certain you are no ordinary person, the bloody incident at the barn confirmed my convictions.”
The arrow imbedded in his flesh. The pierced lung inexorably drawing him toward the deep silence of eternity. She’d pulled him back from the brink of death and into the world of the living. Except that her training and teachings hadn’t saved him. Her magic had.
The aching beat of her pulse disturbed her thoughts. What was she supposed to do with this newfound, frightening knowledge? Why didn’t her shaman warn her? Although he might not be aware of her condition, she felt more and more positive he had kept things from her.
Cameron folded his large hand over hers as if her unanswered interrogations were written on her forehead.
“Do you realise your shaman has a hidden ploy? At least, regarding your extraordinary abilities.”
“I assure you he’s a good man.”
“He may be. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that he deliberately kept you in the dark, and never mentioned your powers.”
No, her shaman never suggested she might be special, although she’d often had the unclear impression that he treated her somewhat differently than the other girls. Maybe she should have paid more attention at the time.
When she missed a lesson because Kelton asked her to meet down at the river, her absence didn’t seem to matter much to her teacher as long as she healed wounds with efficiency. On the other hand, he’d yell at the other students without restraint for much less than that.
“Ariana, I’m convinced he was fully aware of your potential when he sent you on this quest.”
“I hardly think healing my aunt can be considered a quest.”
“Neither do I.”
The simple touch of his fingers warmed her and helped shake off a confused sensation of duplicity, sadness and loss.
She had always put her trust in her mentor since she was a little girl. Although the idea of him lying and manipulating her would be hard to accept, her faith in the powerful man currently holding her hand prompted her to search deeper. Then the answer came.
“He wants the disc.”
“In all probability, yes.”
She blew out a long breath. She drew comfort and courage from the strength of his calloused palm. The sudden leap from being a simple healer to a woman wielding magic would be enough to terrify anyone, but from the look of it, worse was coming her way.
“He believed I’d be able to find and retrieve the disc. Maybe my aunt isn’t even sick, but he needed an excuse to send me toward the Shrine of Fate. He knows all about the Ancients and their scriptures.”
“I wouldn’t have put it better.”
Tears rose up, but she bit them back and swallowed the knot wedged in her throat. Acting on impulse, she bent sideways to seize the hem of her cloak. She fished the disc from the large pocket, and held it in the centre of her palm. Black as night, the strange object didn’t appear ominous.
“I wonder what it’s for.”
“I’m sure your shaman has a pretty good idea concerning the nature and the proper use of this disk. Given that you can’t ask him, I guess we’ll just have to find out for ourselves.”
The small, magical object suddenly lost its appeal as her throat dried from the power of his words. Whatever mystical forces were at work, she only cared about the term he had just employed.
We.
He included himself in this bizarre quest, whereas she had feared he’d leave her to fend for herself as soon as they got to Frahern. Especially if they discovered her aunt active and blooming.
Notwithstanding the fact that she’d get lost on many occasions during her journey back home, she didn’t have the strength to overcome pitfalls. If anything, the encounter with the soldiers at the barn
proved it. They’d have raped and killed her if Cameron hadn’t been around.
The time of drawing a veil over her feelings had reached its completion. Like it or not, she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She enjoyed his company, she loved the way he made her feel. Teasing and stubborn as he could be, she wanted him by her side as long as possible.
We’ll find out.
He’d stay with her. He’d protect her, and the sun would shine forever, even under torrential rains. Although very conscious she shouldn’t nurture unattainable dreams, she felt so warm inside that her mind thrived on happiness. Let tomorrow be another day.
“How far are we from Frahern?”
“It’s a day and a half ride to the border of Agravar. That’s if nothing unexpected comes up.”
“Like what?”
“Soldiers on patrol are my main concern, but with you, anything can happen. Abandoned temples, inaudible noises, you name it.”
She smiled as she spotted the sparkles in his eyes. He stood up, went to fetch his goatskin, and used water to wash off the blood drying on his shoulder. Avoiding the unsettling image of his glistening chest, she put the disc back into the pocket of her cloak. When she looked up, he was stretching his muscles.
“I think I’ll go get some rest now. As you’re well aware, I haven’t been sparse with my bodily fluids tonight.”
His casual tone belied his true meaning. Try as she might, she didn’t succeed in subduing the hot flow shooting up her cheeks before he chuckled.
“Ah, so easy.”
She dipped her head down. The need to revise her judgment about his teasing being pleasant gnawed at her, but she gathered their belongings instead. He’d never stop provoking her.
Once inside the tent, he spread the blankets and coats over them to erect a barrier between them and the chilly night air. Then he stretched out an arm and she had to repress a sigh of satisfaction. Nestled against him, she slept until he gently shook her awake.
Dawn holed up behind a curtain of rain, so they shared bread and water in a hurry before setting off. They’d been riding almost all morning when a shrilling sound perforated her skull.