Caller of Light

by Tj Shaw

  From the shelter of Marek’s arms, she remembered what happened. She’d never been so terrified, but not for herself. She shuddered at how close she’d come to losing the man she loved more than life. When she had stepped in front of Marek, her only thoughts were of protecting him. She smiled at her foolish, self-sacrificing courage. Not even the mighty Criton Queen had expected her to jump between them. She closed her eyes at the memory of Naya’s voice booming inside her head and the pain cascading through her body. Naya had forged some mental connection between them, and in a strange way, a part of her now missed Naya’s reassuring presence.

  A deep sense of contentment washed through her knowing Marek was safe and asleep beside her. She inhaled his earthy smell and savored the soft rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful with his long eyelashes pressed against his skin. She reached up to touch his face, but winced when a spasm shot through her right hand. She rolled off him to look at her injured appendage and gasped at the puffy red Criton staring back at her. The angle of the Criton’s head reminded her of her mother’s pendant and her hand drifted toward the necklace. With a groan, she bolted upright. A small sob escaped her lips when each hand cradled a separate piece of the pendant. Somehow, she’d broken the necklace—ruined it. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  She heard a rustling of sheets and found herself surrounded by a wall of muscle as Marek leaned into her. “What’s wrong?”

  She gazed into his concerned eyes—eyes that offered her sanctuary when she needed to disappear—but couldn’t find her voice. So, she stared at him, holding the broken necklace.

  ****

  Marek’s lips twitched into a soft smile. With gentle thumbs, he wiped her tears away before framing her face with his hands. “Caden told me this would happen.”

  “What?”

  His fingers roved through her jumbled hair then drifted to the back of her neck. He noticed the slight catch in her throat and the rosy flush in her cheeks. He loved how his touch could affect her. He unhooked the clasp to her necklace, but lingered to enjoy her fluttering pulse reverberating through his fingertips before focusing on the pendant.

  With the medallion in two pieces, each Criton head cradled a separate eye crystal. He intertwined the heads so the crystals overlaid each other to become one, and then pulled them apart again, marveling at the intricacy.

  “According to Caden, after the Matriarch marked us, the medallion was designed to separate. We are each supposed to wear one because they’re magic.”

  Carina slid her hand down his arm and interlaced her fingers within his, trapping the two pieces between their marked palms. The sandwiched pendants throbbed with power.

  “See?” Marek pulled her against his chest. “Do you feel it?”

  “Yes.” She gazed up at him. “I do.”

  “We’re bonded,” he whispered against her ear. She shivered, and images of his hands stroking other parts of her body filled his mind, the necklace forgotten. He brushed featherlight kisses down the beautiful curve of her neck and collarbone.

  “What do you mean, bonded?”

  Her breathy voice encouraged him. “You’re the Caller and I’m your lifemate,” he murmured, his lips never leaving her skin.

  She twisted and stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

  He frowned, and leaned against the mahogany headboard. Obviously, he needed to explain what he knew before his perusal could continue. “You are the Caller of Light.”

  Her lips puckered. “I already know that part,” she grumbled. “What about the bonded mate part?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “And how do you already know that?” Unable to deny himself, one hand traveled to her breast.

  She hesitated, but pushed him away. Curling her legs underneath her, she rested her knees against his thigh. “Because Naya told me,” she explained as if to a child.

  His hand settled on her knee, not his first choice of placement. “She spoke to you?”

  Carina nodded. “In my head. I also heard her when we were in the Bridal Lands, but thought I was dreaming.”

  He exhaled, trying to wrap his mind around the enormity of the journey he was about to undertake. He wanted to think finding Carina had been a coincidence, but knew better. His fate had been preordained, just like hers. They were meant to be lifemates, each a half to make a whole.

  Her beautiful eyes stared at him, expecting his answer. But her lips captured his attention. They pouted because he hadn’t yet told her what she wanted to hear. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those teasing lips. He shook his head in a feeble attempt to clear the picture of her naked body pinned beneath him from creeping into his mind.

  “You claimed me when you challenged the Matriarch. Naya sealed that claim by marking our hands.”

  Carina’s eyes dropped. She fiddled with the necklace. “You’re bonded to me?”

  “We’re bonded to each other.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  His brows furrowed. Cupping her face, he lifted her chin. “Why do you say that?” She squirmed and tried to glance away, but he refused to release her.

  “Because I’m mixed. And because Naya forced the bond on you.”

  “Is that it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. He could almost see her mind churning as she decided whether to be angry or relieved. He needed to improve his odds. Without considering the enormity of what he was about to say, he blurted, “Caden said the Matriarch would only bond us if the feelings were mutual. Alaine was your mother, and you’re actually a Tiwan of full royal blood. Alaine must have bedded King McKay in order to claim he was your father so you’d have a birthright.”

  The blood drained from her face and he grimaced. Maybe he could’ve been a little more tactful, but he really needed to kiss her.

  “My mother was Alaine, the Caller?”

  “Aye.” He smiled. Rubbing her cheek with his thumb, he fought the urge to drag her to him.

  “And Naya bonded us because we feel the same about each other?”

  He nodded. His eyes never leaving her full lips as a small smile curved them deliciously upward.

  “Regin isn’t my real father?”

  He shook his head.

  “And you want me just as much as I want you?”

  “Aye.” He could stand it no longer. He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and crushed her to his chest, kissing her firmly on the mouth.

  She mumbled something against his lips, but he was done talking. “Later, Carina. We can discuss this later.” He rolled so her body lay trapped underneath his, and buried his fingers in her thick hair. Pushing her shirt up, he squeezed her breast to a hard peak.

  She moaned and wrapped a leg over his calf to secure him in place. Her fingernails grazed down his back igniting the blood in his veins. He plundered her mouth, biting her bottom lip and tasting her with his tongue. She returned his kiss with an urgency that multiplied his spiraling desire. Her touch and lips seduced him and his cock hardened in response. Fire shot to his groin in a savage, primitive need to claim her. He lost all sense of control as her body writhed beneath him.

  A rapid knock on the door stopped the journey of his mouth to her breast, and stilled his hand from seeking entrance into her welcoming heat. She groaned in discontent, and he smiled. “Leave us,” he shouted. He would deal with the fool who had disturbed them later.

  “I’m sorry, Sire.” Damon’s muffled voice filtered into the room. “But King McKay and a King Remy are waiting for you in the receiving room.

  Carina’s body tensed. Concern flooded her chocolate eyes.

  No one should have that power to cause her discomfort. “I’ll be down in a moment,” he snapped.

  “Very good, Sire.”

  “What does he want?” she asked.

  “Shhh.” He nuzzled her neck one last time before climbing off the bed.

  Carina pulled a sheet up in front of her as if hiding behind it would shield her. “What if he wants to take me back?”
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  He shook his head. “That won’t happen. We have an agreement.”

  “But, I don’t want to go back.”

  The anxiety in her voice pierced his heart. He sat on the bed beside her. Her bottom lip had disappeared between clamped teeth. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand before digging his fingers into her tangled hair. She rested her head in his hand and a fierce protectiveness rose inside him. King McKay would never get her back.

  Reluctant to leave, he brushed his lips across hers. He meant for his kiss to be reassuring, but passion burned just under the surface, hot and demanding. Carina’s instant reaction as she grabbed his shirt and pressed her supple body against him fueled his burning blood. With a silent curse, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Rest your mind, Carina. I won’t let anything happen to you. No one will take you from me.” He spoke with a quiet, but deadly conviction. When she nodded, he stood and left her warmth, smell, and body alone in his very large bed.

  41 – TIME to CHOOSE

  Marek stormed down the hall, anger seething underneath his skin. And leaving Carina alone when he should be lying naked beside her just infuriated him more. What in Criton’s breath was King McKay doing here? He could think of only one possible reason, and the rage he’d contained with Sampson once again crashed against its cage, screaming for release. The beginnings of a battle strategy formed in the back of his mind. If Regin planned on reclaiming Carina, he’d go to war to defend her. Regin was on very precarious ground.

  He vaulted down the stairs and threw the receiving room doors open without regard for decorum. Marissa squeaked in surprise and bolted out of her chair at the sudden entrance. He scanned the long, narrow room. Light spilling in from the bank of windows along the western wall reflected across the ceiling in sparkling shimmers. In front of the stone fireplace, at the opposite end of the doors, a circular rug dominated the wood floor. Chairs and tables were scattered across the plush throw and situated in small groupings to foster conversation.

  Both men stood at Marek’s entrance. Regin puffed out his chest, but even at his full height, the top of his head didn’t reach Marek’s shoulder. Regin wore a red, velvet cloak with a fur-lined collar that billowed behind him as he strode over to clasp Marek’s forearm in greeting. Regin smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

  “Welcome King McKay,” Marek said in a clipped tone as he disengaged from Regin’s grip. “I would’ve offered a proper welcome, but didn’t realize you were coming.”

  If Regin noticed Marek’s irritation, he ignored it and pointed to the man standing behind him. “Marek, this is my new son-in-law, King Villar Remy.”

  At the mention of his name, Villar nodded and summoned Marissa with an outstretched hand. Marissa hurried over to take his arm.

  Marek assessed King Remy with a passing glance. Villar appeared to be the exact opposite of Regin. From his tall, lanky build to his calculating eyes and self-assured manner, Marek’s instincts urged caution.

  “Welcome King Remy,” he said with a curt nod, but didn’t extend his hand. Marek noticed Villar’s eyes flash at the inadequate greeting. “And Marissa, congratulations on your marriage.”

  Marissa blushed and her eyes fluttered down. “Thank you.”

  Marek admired his restraint as the bonds of being Carina’s protector hummed through his veins like wildfire, demanding justice for Marissa’s betrayal. But now was not the time to confront her, and like a panthera stalking its prey, he could wait. Still, he had to ignore the mental image of his fingers closing around her delicate throat and squeezing until he choked a confession out of her. Marissa had acquired a formidable foe.

  “So, I don’t mean to sound abrupt, but what brings you?” He walked over to a high-backed chair and dropped into one before gesturing to the other chairs stationed around him. While the men settled into their seats, a servant placed a tray of pastries and a decanter of ale on a table before scurrying from the room.

  Regin’s eyes lit up. “How delightful.” He grabbed a small candied delicacy with powdery sugar and popped it into his mouth before pouring ale into his goblet. “We’re here to check on Carina,” he mumbled with a mouthful of sweets.

  “Really?” Marek struggled to control the rage. “You could’ve sent a runner.”

  Regin waved a chubby hand in dismissal. “I prefer to see how my daughters are doing in person. He leaned over his belly and pinned Marek with his best glare. “To make sure they’re happy.”

  Marek dug his fingers into the armrest and ignored Regin’s inference of mistreatment. With a sideways glance, he focused on King Remy. “And you Villar?”

  Villar motioned to Marissa who stood behind him with her hands resting on his shoulder. “My adorable wife wanted to see her beloved sister and I couldn’t deny her.”

  Marek glanced at Marissa who stared at the floor. In addition to Marissa’s discomfort, she seemed different as if the fire within her had dampened. From her defeated look, he might’ve pitied her…once.

  “So, where is my daughter?”

  She’s not your daughter, you pompous ass. Marek pressed his lips in a firm line and prayed his voice sounded sincere. “She’s not feeling well.”

  “Oh my. I hope nothing serious.”

  Marek didn’t have the opportunity to answer. Like a cool breeze soothing the rage within him, the receiving doors swung open and Carina stepped into the room. She paused just inside the entrance, surveying everyone with a quick glance. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but remained silent as her gaze settled on Marek. He could sense her anxiety. Drawn to her, he jumped from the chair and moved to stand protectively beside her.

  Regin clapped his hands together and pushed out of his chair to waddle over to Carina. Pulling her from Marek’s grasp, Regin hugged her like a lost loved one, and then stepped away to give her a thorough up-and-down appraisal. “My.” He smiled. “You look beautiful.”

  ****

  Carina glanced at Marek. Apprehension curled up her spine. Never in her life had Father offered any sort of praise. Dread coursed through her, a dark foreboding chilling her heart.

  “Thank you, Father,” she murmured with a slight curtsy. Her eyes shifted to Marissa and the man Marissa stood next to. He was impeccably dressed in a black doublet with a single-breasted closure and gold trim. A short, black fencing cape covered his shoulders. He seemed pleasant enough, but something in his bulbous eyes and the way they darted back and forth, fueled a disquiet within her. He whispered something to Marissa who blushed before darting forward.

  “Father is correct. You look like a proper mistress.”

  Marissa would never give a compliment without throwing a dagger behind it. Although she covered it in flattery, Marissa had just reminded everyone of her mixed heritage. Carina forced a smile.

  “It’s nice to see that you haven’t changed. Should I use your proper title?” Carina glanced at the man whose smile caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

  “She’s Queen Remy now, my wife.” Villar approached and extended his hand.

  Carina placed her hand into his and dipped into a shallow curtsy. He pulled her up and raised her hand to his mouth. When Villar’s dry, thin lips touched her skin, energy pulsed through her, singeing her nerves and leaving her feeling exposed. His black eyes bore into her as if trying to worm his way into her mind.

  She eased her hand from his grasp, but the chill continued to spread through her body. The beginnings of a headache throbbed in her temple, matching her rapid heartbeat. She fisted her marked palm and quelled the urge to run.

  As if on cue, Marek’s muscular frame pressed against her back. His touch was like water to flame, cooling her body and quashing the intensity of emotion swirling through her. But warning bells reverberated in her ears, cautioning her that King Villar Remy was not as he appeared.

  Unnerved, she looked away from Villar’s piercing gaze. The land had not completed a full seasonal cycle yet, so the agree
ment between Father and Marek was still in effect. Did Father intend on breaking the arrangement? Her chest tightened at the idea of going back to Brookshire. She didn’t even think of it as home anymore. She belonged in Stirrlan with Marek.

  When in the company of royalty, etiquette dictated she remain quiet unless spoken to, but she’d never been one to follow protocol. “Father, why are you here?”

  Regin spread his hands wide. “I’ve come to see how you are adjusting to your new life, my dear. But before we catch up, I need to discuss some important business with King Duncan. Maybe you could show your sister the palace in the meantime?”

  Carina glanced at Marek who gave her a reassuring smile. Although ripping out her fingernails seemed more enjoyable than escorting Marissa, the words spilled out of her. “Of course.”

  Before she could move away, Marek’s arm slipped around her waist. Her body shivered when he bent and whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you later.”

  His lips brushed across her cheek causing a fire to ignite in her belly. Desire, swift and hot, wove through her. He released her, but his impact rippled through her like an unending wave. Remembering they weren’t alone, her cheeks flamed. Except for Marissa, whose mouth hung open, no one else acknowledged the possessive display.

  Marek’s attention was meant to calm her, but it had the opposite effect. Although she doubted anyone noticed, the tension rolling off his shoulders vibrated through the air. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and hold him close, to shield him with her body and ease his distress. But for now, they seemed destined to play the part Father and Villar had scripted for them. So, when Marek stepped away and motioned for Villar and Father to sit, she turned to Marissa.

  “Shall we go?”

  “Yes.” Marissa smiled, her eyes glittering.

  As she led Marissa from the room, the image of a white-footed lemming being lured into a venomous urutu pit popped into her mind.

  42 – HIDDEN MEANINGS

  Since the queen mother had made it clear that the castle fell under her jurisdiction, Carina rushed through the indoor tour by sticking to the main hallways and avoiding the upper floors. Only when they were outside on neutral ground did she relax, grateful to have avoided Nareen altogether.