DarykCraving

by Denise A. Agnew

  Tamina, shawls in hand, left with a grin and a wave and moved toward her friends.

  Aknada turned her disapproving gaze on him. “Come on, it’s off to the healer for you.”

  “I’m well enough.”

  She shook her head as a new anger grew. “Do not defy me on this.”

  He took a step toward her, and that brought his big, muscled body near. She sucked in a breath, half expecting her body’s usual reaction of overwhelming panic when a man stepped too near, too quickly. Instead, she marveled at how commanding and strong he looked, even when dripping wet, his hair a tangle around his strong features.

  His gaze danced over her face, and when his voice came, it was a low, soft rumble that skated across her skin like a caress. A very wanted and needed caress. “Worried about me?”

  She opened her mouth to retaliate and couldn’t think at all. It took her a moment too long, and when he started to chuckle, she almost cracked him in the jaw.

  “I think I like that,” he said quietly.

  But even low and soft, his voice sounded intimate and as if he were stroking a woman into submission.

  His voice echoed inside her, doing strange things to her that she couldn’t define. She found her voice but it was shaky. “What?”

  “I like you being worried about me.”

  Anger replaced her concern. “You could have torn your wound open jumping in after Tamina. What were you thinking?”

  He shook his head. “Hopefully saving Tamina. You don’t swim, remember?”

  “I could if I had to.”

  He sniffed. “I was not assured of that. All I remember is—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to remember. Don’t you dare remind me of that time you tried to give me a swimming lesson. It was a complete disaster.”

  “So it was. Why do you insist on being embarrassed by things that happened when you were so young?”

  She poked his chest with her index finger. “Because I was a fool then. I trusted too much. I trusted you.”

  Amusement played with his lips, and her gaze fell on that mouth with a hunger that rocked her.

  “You cannot hide from me, Aknada.” His gaze turned serious and intent.

  “Of course I can. I’m not the same woman you knew three years ago.”

  “There are parts of you that are the same. Beautiful and wonderful parts I refuse to believe are destroyed.”

  She flushed, felt the heat rising in her cheeks and wanted to cover her face with her cool palms.

  She covered her discomfort and made a tsking sound in her throat. “Other than Rayder, you have to be the most stubborn, pain-in-the-arse man I know.”

  “So you’ve told me many times.” He winked, heat mixing with joviality. “Or have you forgotten?”

  When she didn’t speak, his expression fell a little. As if he expected something she wouldn’t provide. He might be dripping wet, but he still managed to appear strong, fearless and more masculine than any man she’d known.

  “Come,” he finally said. “If you’re concerned about my wound, you can check it for me.”

  Chapter Two

  Aknada wondered if she should do this. She followed Marc through the mob of people in the great two-story entrance. Light filtered in from a window high above, and despite the blackish clouds outside, she felt safe in the room with so many people. If she left it, if she went to another room and found herself completely alone with a man—well, that was another thing altogether.

  Ahead of her lay the huge central staircase that spread out at the top into two wings. Coming down the massive steps was a female figure, graceful and tall. Bavarda Himalan. The woman’s garment, a long tunic that reached to mid-calf, was flowing, filmy and pure white with the barest hint of gold threading. She seemed to float down the staircase, her thin body accommodating the angelic way she came down the steps. She had a narrow face to match, but it was still striking. She smiled and no one could deny she had great appeal. Men wanted her, and from the tales Aknada heard, they had the woman often. But men who wanted her had better be able to afford her cost. Bavarda was an expensive and greedy whore with tricks up her sleeves aplenty. Many a man, according to Xandra, had found himself without money and sometimes without a dick if Bavarda decided to snap it off with her teeth. Apparently Bavarda had earned her nasty reputation well when she’d taken Farcam’s and Oscan’s cocks and tossed them out the window. The men would never be the same and had almost died. When Rayder had explained how the men had treated Xandra on the ship, Marc had banished the eunuchs from the property.

  Aknada’s stomach tumbled. If there was one person who never made her feel comfortable, it was Bavarda and her arrogant, haughty expression and airs. Her long, blonde hair was thicker and smoother than Aknada’s out-of-control tumble. And Bavarda coveted Marc without modesty or pretense. Aknada’s blood boiled at the thought. God Draconus forgive her, but Aknada wanted to peel the woman’s hide.

  Xandra Shorenus Tyrus descended the steps behind Bavarda, and when she saw Aknada, she smiled brightly. Xandra’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. Her beautiful red-blonde hair lay in a fringe across her forehead and flowed over her shoulders in thick waves. She was younger than Aknada, but then Aknada often felt older than time. Her experiences seem to have carved themselves into her skin and bones.

  Xandra passed Bavarda at a quick pace and gave both Marc and Aknada a hug.

  “Someone ran up to my room and said you’d both almost drowned,” Xandra said, her eyes bright and worried. “I thought you couldn’t swim, Aknada.”

  Aknada sighed. “I can paddle around with a feebleness that is most painful to see. Other than that…I cannot swim. A strange affliction for a Daryk One, no?”

  Marc laughed. “A feckin’ damn exaggeration. You know to never believe half of what people say around here. Not only did we not drown, Aknada didn’t even get wet.” He threw her a teasing glance.

  “Rumors of our demise are highly exaggerated,” Aknada said with a smile.

  “Thank Magon.” Xandra sighed and smiled. “The storms are awful. They’re keeping me awake.”

  “You really should go back to sleep and rest.” Aknada sometimes worried about her new friend’s health. With Rayder gone, Xandra didn’t have anyone to look out for her.

  Xandra stepped away. “With everyone coming in out of the storms, I’ll need to help get beds set up. It doesn’t sound like this storm is going to leave soon.”

  Xandra was right. For a few moments Aknada had ignored the storm, but thunder seemed to roll continuously, and lightning sent harsh light dancing against the walls. Xandra hurried away and left them with Bavarda. Maybe Xandra didn’t care for the woman either.

  Bavarda stopped in front of Aknada, her sharp features, cool green eyes and blonde hair giving her an angelic appearance the woman hadn’t earned. The woman took in Aknada as if she lacked something essential. “Darling, you have been working your muscles like a man. I thought I told you ease up on that. Men just don’t want women who can pick them up.”

  “Good afternoon to you as well, Bavarda.” Aknada brushed by the woman as quickly as possible, but Marc’s chuckle stopped her.

  Marc stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Bavarda, I don’t want to hear any more rumors of men missing their cocks. It’s bad for your business. Cease or I’ll have to ban you from the compound.”

  The woman frowned, but it was more a pout that emphasized the lush lines of her red lips than real disapproval. Bavarda trailed her hand down his arm and ended at his fingers. She brought his big hand to her mouth and kissed the back. “My dear Master, you know I’d never do anything to displease you.”

  Aknada bristled as the woman pressed Marc’s hand to her right breast. He drew back immediately, but that didn’t stop Aknada from wanting to slap the whore silly.

  Marc shook his head and started up the stairs. “You heard me, Bavarda. Keep your hands on the men’s cocks if you want, but leave your teeth out of it.”

  Bavarda’s
laugh—a cackle really—reminded Aknada of an old woman with a pointy nose and a bad temper who had been housed near her on Aramus’ slave ship three years ago.

  As Marc came alongside Aknada, she threw him a doubtful glance. “Are you sure that woman isn’t a danger?”

  Marc threw her an unsure glance as they proceeded up the staircase. “No, but then I cannot be sure about that with anyone here, can I?”

  Her fingers smoothed over the dark wood railing, her boots tapping against the solid stone steps. “You can count on me.”

  Why had she said that?

  Marc laughed softly. “I know. You are the most reliable of people.”

  His phrase went straight to her heart and warmed it. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t speak while they finished climbing the stairs. She glanced around the structure. So many times when she and Rayder were children, they visited here. When times had seemed simple and complete. Of course no time was simple or complete. Time faded memory enough to make everyone forget.

  “This place is still beautiful,” she said softly as they reached the landing.

  He turned, and she couldn’t help but take in his height. She was tall, but he was taller, and the breadth of his shoulders made her feel small. Almost delicate. Something she’d never felt around another man. She hated it. Not that he was larger than her, but that she felt vulnerable. She wanted desperately to erase the unreasonable fear. She knew Marc wouldn’t hurt her, and yet her fear of men ran deep.

  Those eyes, so blue and as mysterious as the Protican Ocean, warmed. “Thank you. My father would be proud, I would hope.” He winked. “Hurry up. We have wasted much time getting here.”

  He headed to the left, passed several doors on the landing and reached double, dark wood doors belonging to his chambers. She’d never been in there before, not even when she’d visited as a girl.

  “Are you certain about this?” she asked with a breathy need to pull in air.

  He turned and looked her quizzically. “What is it?”

  “Your room?”

  For a moment he looked confused then his gaze cleared. “Ah, I see. You are concerned people will talk if you are in there alone with me.” He nodded and placed his hands on his hips. “As well they might.” His eyes turned serious. “You know I would never harm you.”

  She nodded.

  Marc opened his bedchamber door and gestured for Aknada to enter. “After you.”

  She hesitated just long enough to signal more discomfort.

  “I am sorry.” He held up both hands. “If you would prefer to check my wound in more neutral territory—”

  “Do not be ridiculous.” She waved one hand, not willing to show additional weakness. She stepped into his chambers and he followed her. “You need dry clothes.”

  “What about you? You’re not exactly dry yourself.”

  “Merely damp. I can change when I return to my room.”

  With a nod, he walked past her to a huge dark wood wardrobe where she guessed he housed his clothing. She glanced around his quarters, impressed by the size and grandeur of the rooms. But they weren’t really his taste. His father had liked the grandiose and made certain the entire compound hinted at opulence.

  The huge bed against the far north wall was simple, but several pillows graced the head. Two small windows shaped in a quatrefoil allowed murky sunlight to spill into the room. Rain splashed the glass. A flash of lightning followed by a crash of thunder made her jump. A table near the windows caught her attention, and she wandered toward it. A book sat between two large candlesticks. Surprise and a wave of pleasure engulfed her when she recognized a volume of her poetry. Only a few copies had ever been made. She didn’t know he’d purchased one. A bookshelf along the south wall featured many other books. Why was this one by itself?

  Clutching the book in her hands, a smile ready on her face, she turned and stopped cold. Marc stood next to the bed, facing away from her. He pulled the tunic over his head, revealing his naked back.

  Broad, muscular shoulders moved with power. But it wasn’t only the strength that shocked her. A pattern of scars, slightly pink and raised, crisscrossed his back.

  “Marc.” She gasped his name softly, horrified.

  He turned quickly, his dark brows a slash over his concerned gaze. If she thought his back took her by surprise, she also wasn’t ready for the rest of him. Dressed only in his fitted trousers and knee boots, he took her breath away. She’d always known a strong body resided under all those clothes, but she wasn’t ready for the reality. She’d never seen him without his shirt. Over the years, she’d seen him cutting wood and building things, but never without a shirt.

  When he planted his hands on his hips, chest muscles flexed and bunched under a sprinkling of dark hair that trailed down to rippling stomach muscles. Hair arrowed toward his waistband and disappeared. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Even the bandage that covered his ribs couldn’t detract from his impressive build. He was beautiful. No. He was so amazingly compelling that her entire body reacted. Something she never expected to feel again in her life stirred low in her belly. A hot yearning blossomed to life. With that sensation came a spark of hope. Perhaps… Just perhaps…

  No. She was damaged. Ruined for all other men. None would want her. And she wanted none of them.

  He walked toward her, and that’s when she saw more than concern in his eyes. Curiosity and perhaps even embarrassment filled his face.

  “Your back.” She couldn’t hold back the words as he took a couple of steps toward her. “What happened?”

  He stopped a fair distance from her. He shoved a hand through his hair and it tumbled across his shoulders. “I didn’t mean for you to see it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am…” He drew in a slow breath. “How do I explain this?” Pain flickered in his eyes. “Remember when I was fifteen and a madman held me for ransom?”

  “Oh Draconus. Yes. I was… I feared for your life.”

  He smiled gently, his eyes shimmering with memories. “Father paid the ransom and found me, but not before the madman had me for three days.”

  Tears rose in her eyes. “How could I have forgotten? The man beat you, whipped you. That’s why you never take your shirt off.”

  “Not in public.” He smiled but it vanished quickly.

  “Not even for women?” Heat filled her face at her own impertinent question. “I mean—”

  “No. Not for the last three years.”

  Disbelief filled her. “You haven’t been with a woman in three years?”

  “No.”

  Another question popped into her mind, but she didn’t ask it. It simmered inside her. Three years? As long as she’d been gone from his life?

  He took another step forward and nodded toward the book she still clutched. “Your poetry.”

  “I didn’t know you had a copy.”

  Again he moved forward, each step measured. He held his hand out, and she handed him the book. His big hands smoothed over the cover, and a soft, quivery burn tingled in her stomach She caught her breath.

  “I actually had two copies. I gave one to Xandra. Rayder had a copy and while Xandra was on Aramus’ ship she read your work and loved it. But I will not part with this one.” His gaze snapped up to hers, those eyes so warm and compelling. “I want to read more of your work. Did you write while you were with Pian’s caravan?”

  She shook her head as those tears burned her eyes again. “No. I wanted to. I yearned to, but…” She shook her head.

  “But?”

  “It’s as if I cannot manage to get the words past a barrier. Past pain.”

  The understanding in his eyes urged her to say more, but instead she switched topics. “Your side. We need to tend to it.”

  The spell hovering around them broke, and she returned the poetry to his table.

  “Wait. I’ll clean up in the bathing room and then you can bandage the wound.”

  He entere
d the room connected to the south wall and closed the door. Feeling almost weak, she settled on a chair near the bed. Emotions rioted through her. Fear. Apprehension. A strange excitement. Overwhelming tenderness. This man did so many things to her. She’d fought the feelings for so long it was second nature for her to deny them. Seeing him vulnerable with evidence of physical pain still marking his body—by Draconus, she could barely stand it. That craving, both indefinable and undeniable, made her yearn to touch him. At the same time, she feared his touch.

  She sat for a long time before he left the bathing room. He wore clean buff-colored trousers, but he was bare-chested and barefoot. His freshly clean hair hung in wet tendrils around his shoulders. Only a man as masculine as Marc could have thick blond hair that long and still appear all man.

  She stood and reached for the medical kit she’d found next to his bed. He sat on the bed, and she scooted the chair up to the bed. With quick efficiency she cleaned the long cut. The healer’s stitching and special salves had worked wonders on a wound that should be far worse. As she started to touch his wound with salve, she hesitated.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly. “If you want me to do it—”

  “No. I can do it.” And she could.

  She’d thought touching him might frighten her. Instead, her concern for him brushed aside any worry. After all, she’d half carried him off Aramus’ ship after they helped free the slaves. Still, she moved quickly. After she dabbed the salve, she realized she’d have to wrap a fresh bandage around him. She reached for the bandage roll.

  Her breath froze. But not with fear. With an unbearable awareness of him as a man. Even though she was a Daryk One, nothing about him was weak or in need of her protection. He was tall, powerful, utterly masculine. He smelled clean and intoxicating. A heady combination of feelings bombarded her. Her hands shook as she wrapped the gauzy bandage around his middle. She tied off the bandage, making sure it was tight.

  “Aknada.” His voice, so deep and husky, rasped close to her ear.