Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  “We will conquer this challenge.”

  “You’re very calm for losing four days.”

  “What use is anger right now? I cannot channel it towards my enemies from within the tower,” he replies. “My armies are on the border of Brown Sun Lake. They await us.”

  “Okay.” It kills me to say that word, knowing he wouldn’t back down if I kissed him.

  Releasing me, he flips open a nearby trunk with his foot and leans down to grab clothing. “You will have to wear these. Your boots are here.” He points to the hearth, where the boots made for me are sitting.

  Breathlessly, I watch him, my whole body humming with desire strong enough that I’m afraid to walk, lest my shaky thighs betray me.

  Tossing the clothing to me, he places his hands on his hips and waits.

  “Hel-lo.” I do my best to glare at him and twirl my finger in the air for him to turn around. “Privacy.”

  “I have already seen every inch of you with more intimacy than any other woman I’ve ever –”

  “I know.” My face is hot again. “Humor me.”

  He turns his back to me.

  Not trusting him, I yank on the pants and fasten them before tugging off the nightgown and replacing it with the tunic.

  Ugh. I hate the idea of not wearing a bra. My boobs are too large for me to run comfortably without one. Tucking in my shirt, I grimace at bunching it up over my hips. While comfortable, the snug pants aren’t anything I’d choose to wear. They’re stretch pants, made of leather, thick enough to smooth out my thighs and ass.

  A vest similar to that Disney Princess helped me put on is the last thing in the pile, also made of leather and much stiffer than the pants.

  “I’m ready,” I say, lifting the vest. “Not sure I need this, though.”

  Three large steps bring him to my side of the room. He takes the vest. “Arms up.”

  I lift them obediently.

  He tugs the vest over my torso, releases then begins fastening the buttons along the front, from the bottom up. “You adjust it depending on the size of your breasts.”

  He’s fastening their version of a bra. Beyond embarrassed again, I try not to notice the way his long fingers deftly button the bodice-hugging vest.

  “Different. Where I’m from,” I manage, too aware of the fact he’s nudging one of my breasts up to fasten a button beneath it. “I can do it!” The words are louder, sharper than I intend.

  I whirl my back to him and fumble with the final buttons, about to lose any sense of cool I might’ve retained during this rough morning. The vest is moderately comfortable and will keep my boobs still.

  Bathroom! I look around expectantly and spot the magical outhouse that appears when I order it to. My fingers fumble with the lock, my thoughts too scattered by images of the Shadow Knight naked for me to focus on any one thing. I manage to open the door and sink against one wall, sighing, cursing, and willing myself to act like a grown woman instead of a horny teen.

  When I’ve done my business and recovered my composure enough to face him once more, I emerge.

  The outhouse disappears.

  “Ready,” I proclaim with more confidence than I feel. “Now what’s the plan?” I avoid looking at him and go to my boots by the hearth.

  “Jumping will likely render us dead. So we go up.”

  “Up?” Sitting on a stool, I wrestle one boot on then the next. There’s no blood anywhere. While stiff, they fit. “You cleaned these, didn’t you?”

  “Aye.”

  A weird sensation is sliding through me, one I can’t identify. This man I’m struggling to keep my distance from spent four days watching over me, cleaning me up, and caring for me, down to my boots. It’s never happened before and not only because this is my first time getting thrown into another world. I’ve never really known anyone – except my mom – who would’ve done similar.

  I don’t want him to have redeeming qualities. I want him to be obsessed with war and physically attractive – but no more.

  You have a reason to stay. The battle queen’s words repeat in my mind.

  It can’t be him. If that’s remotely true, it’ll be because I’m a good person who wants to save a world from dying, not because I’m starting to fall for a man I can never have.

  Pure. Physical. Attraction. It can be nothing else. Being with him is getting under my skin, and his kindness while I was dead or healing stirs a powerful emotion I’m not ready to deal with.

  “I will help you return to your home, if you face the curse,” he says in the quiet.

  I blink away my pensive silence and stand. “Can you even do that?”

  “I may know a way.”

  Frowning at him, I scour his features. “You told me you didn’t!”

  “You will not leave now that you understand why you must stay. ‘Twas not true before. I lied to keep you here.”

  “So assuming we can save the world, you’ll send me home?”

  “Aye.”

  My pulse quickens. I want to go home, but . . . Sneaking a look at him, I try to determine if he’s interested in me staying. He’s emotionless and I’m distressed to think I might like him more than he does me.

  Like every other relationship I’ve ever been in.

  It’s not possible to have a relationship with him, I remind myself. “Sounds good.” The words are forced.

  With a nod of satisfaction, he crosses to the bed and yanks off the bedding, pulling a sheet free. He wraps one end around his waist and ties it then moves to me and does the same around my waist. “This time, if one of us falls, we both do.”

  I meet his gaze, not sure how to take that statement. Threat? Reassurance? There’s no telling with this man.

  He goes to the window and leans out, twisting his torso to look up. “This is how we escape.”

  I mirror his movements and see a thick black chain extending from the top of our tower into the mist, where it appears to be connected to the sky.

  “How is that possible?” I breathe, squinting to see what the chain is hooked to at the top. It goes on forever and disappears into the fog far above.

  “Ancient magic.” The Shadow Knight vaults onto the sill and stretches upward to the roof of the tower. He pulls himself up effortlessly with strength I know better than to assume I have. “Come, witch.” He’s lying on the roof and offers me a hand.

  I look down. The bay might as well be a million feet below. “You sure about this?”

  “Do you intend to use your magic?”

  Not purposely. I wipe my hands on the pants. “You won’t drop me because I’m a terrible battle-witch?”

  “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

  I know as much. He’s twice my size and strong enough that I don’t stand a chance, despite the self-defense class I took in college. Reaching up, I take his hand with both of mine.

  Seconds later, I’m dangling a billion feet over an ocean. He pulls me up to the edge of the roof and eases back from it, wrapping an arm beneath my breasts to pull me the rest of the way onto the solid tile.

  “I’m not normally afraid of heights but this is . . .” I push back from the edge deeper into his strong body. My stomach flutters.

  His arm is tight around me, his breathing tickling my ear. “I got you, witch,” he replies, unconcerned. “The roof is flat.” He draws me back a little more and then releases me to stand.

  I’m shaky for more than one reason. Shifting to my knees, I move far enough from the edge that I feel semi-safe and look straight up.

  The chain to the invisible ceiling where it attaches is long, almost as long as the drop to the ocean. Its links are the height of my half and wide enough for me to fit two feet in.

  “What’s at the top?” I ask, fascinated by the latest form magic has taken in this world.

  “We will find out.” He starts to climb, a powerful combination of speed and strength that’s mesmerizing. His footing is sure, the muscles beneath his thin pants shaping and contractin
g while his biceps and shoulders bulge.

  I watch him, more intrigued by the way his body moves than I can remember being about anything else in a long time.

  The sheet between us grows taut. He stops and leans back, hanging on with one hand while he waits. “Witch, come!”

  I plant my hands on my hips. “I think we need a better plan than to climb up and see. We could climb forever without reaching the ceiling or cloud or whatever it is we’re anchored to.” I’m also in terrible shape to be climbing. Running is bad enough.

  “Have you a plan, witch?”

  “Would you please stop calling me a witch?” I complain. Shielding my eyes, I look around us and notice the other hanging tower prisons. They’re in a line between the shore and us.

  The tower shudders beneath his weight as he leaps rather than climbs down. I drop to my knees, fear flying through me at the thought of plunging to my death in the scary gray-black bay.

  Guess that answers one question. There’s some give in the chain and another idea forms.

  “You wish me to call you Naia?” he asks uneasily.

  “I know you all have weird laws about using names, but it’s just us out here. No one will hear you if you do. I’m not hitting on you or disrespecting your betrothed or anything.”

  “Very well, Naia.”

  I kinda like the way he says my name. Ignoring that thought, I focus on the line of towers leading to shore. I walk around the top of our tower, taking in everything before I dare voice my idea out loud. I’m not sure I could take him laughing at my idea, the way Jason used to.

  “I have an idea,” I say finally. “We get this thing to swing like a pendulum towards the next tower and make our way to land by hopping from tower to tower.” Without looking at him, I brace for his rejection.

  “’Tis a worthy idea.” He joins me at the edge where I stand. “We will need to start it rocking.” He takes my arms and maneuvers me in front of him before releasing me to tighten the sheet around my waist. “If this works, we’ll need a longer sheet or rope.”

  “If what works?” I ask, flustered once again by having his large hands on me.

  “We need a pendulum to start the pendulum,” he replies. Double knotting the sheet, he turns me to face the edge. “Prepared to obey me, witch?”

  “Depends on the command.”

  “As I thought. You need another lesson, and since I swore not to dismember you . . .” The Shadow Knight shoves me off the roof.

  My screech stops short as I hit the extent of the sheet. Heart slamming into my chest, I grip my lifeline and stare down at the bay below.

  “If it comes loose, tell me quickly,” he advises.

  You’re such an asshole. I’m facing the wrong way to see his expression, but he sounds a little too amused shoving me off the roof to be an act of necessity only.

  These lessons of his leave much to be desired. Is this how he trains his foot soldiers? How is anyone left alive to fight?

  From the rooftop, he begins swinging me back and forth. I close my eyes, not about to throw up in the middle of my idea for rescuing us and pray he doesn’t drop me.

  At first, nothing happens, not until I’m swinging out far enough to reach the same level as the Shadow Knight. I open my eyes at the sickening sensation of free falling before the sheet catches me and glance towards him. He’s focused and balanced atop the roof, his stance wide and the muscles of his arms straining.

  The heavy tower starts to swing shallowly at first and then farther.

  “Bringing you up!” he calls.

  No argument here.

  The Shadow Knight pulls me back to the top of the tower and steadies me on the swaying tower.

  “We may succeed,” he grunts, hanging onto the chain with one hand to keep his balance.

  “If we don’t fall or get crushed against the next tower over.” I grip his tunic, not liking our precarious position at all. He’s sturdy-footed enough that I almost believe he’s immune to any sort of human weakness. We gaze at each other too long, as usual, his intensity making me want to wilt.

  “Do not give up yet, Naia.” He turns his body until my back is to the chain. “Hold onto the chain. I shall fetch more.”

  I release him with a nod and wrap my arm around the chain. With no hesitation, he lowers his center of balance and moves towards the edge, lying down on his stomach. He’s reaching for something beneath his perch – wooden beams maybe? – and then lifts his body up and over with control I’ve only seen watching the gymnastics portion of the Olympics on television.

  Incredible. His sheer strength makes me shiver and his otherworldly agility causes my blood to light on fire.

  He lowers himself until his belly is facing the sky and then drops, disappearing from my vision. I’m not about to venture close enough to the edge to see if he’s made it and wait.

  Moments later, an arm reappears. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and kneel. Looping one leg through the chain, I stretch out with my body to help him. He tosses an armful of sheets over the rooftop. I snag them and draw them back, then sit on one hip as close to the edge as I can get in case he falls.

  He’s too strong to fall. I should know better. When he hauls himself up onto the roof once more, I inch away to give him space. He moves around me and sits close enough for our thighs to press together.

  “Tie the ends together,” he says.

  We sit and fashion a longer rope.

  With some dread, I realize what exactly comes next. He’s about to toss his battle-witch off the roof again. We finish up and crawl on our knees to the edge. The tower has lost some momentum but is still swinging.

  “Ready?” the Shadow Knight asks.

  I don’t think it matters whether or not I am.

  He double-checks the ties at my waist and stands, pulling me with him. The impact of our bodies meeting jars me more than I’m expecting. There is something here that wasn’t there before, when I didn’t realize I’d started to like him enough to sacrifice my life for his.

  “You really need to learn not to manhandle a woman,” I tell him, pushing his hands off me. “It might be acceptable here, but it’s not where I’m from.” I take a small step back to put distance between us. “In fact, from here on out –”

  He takes a step towards me and I instinctively move back.

  My foot hits air and I tumble gracelessly head over heels off the roof. I don’t have time to scream this time and grunt when the sheet snaps tight around me and I hit a sudden stop.

  “You learn slowly,” the Shadow Knight calls. “Obedience, witch.”

  I mutter a few curse words. Hanging a good fifteen feet below the tower, I decide I’d rather not curse him loudly and risk he leaves me here. He’s got a really weird sense of humor, barbaric, one I don’t comprehend completely.

  The first two attempts to swing me end with my sheets colliding with the tower and jolting me. My eyes go to the ocean below and I start to feel sick.

  “Have you no sense of rhythm!” I shout at him.

  “Mayhap you can show me rhythm when we are through this,” he responds.

  “Not without your man parts falling off!” I twist to glare up at him. I can’t see him beyond the roof and brace myself for another jarring. It comes and I grit my teeth. Please hold! I’m not ready to die! I will the sheet.

  “You will not die, Naia,” the Shadow Knight calls, his voice firm. “I will not let that happen.”

  “If you want to do me a favor, stop reading my mind,” I retort.

  “You believe . . . me capable?” he returns, grunting as he begins swinging me in concert with the swaying tower.

  “You’ve done it more than once!”

  “’Tis a good sign.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Since you are my battle-witch, then ‘tis a fair sign indeed. You may have some use yet.”

  In bed, god willing. I hope he doesn’t hear what I think about his body.

  “I do,” he re
sponds.

  Oh, god.

  I struggle to twist enough to see his face but can’t. I’m swinging in rhythm with the tower. Dread settles into my stomach for a reason other than the fact I’m dangling several hundred feet above the ocean.

  If I live through this tower incident, I’m renewing my determination to do no more than save his world and go home. I’m not falling for him more than I have, not about to risk any chance at happiness by diving down that rabbit hole.

  I swing like a rag doll. The tower is moving. I’m not sure how much effort it’ll take to reach the next one but am hopeful. I’m proud and starting to think that I’m getting better at this life thing. Not even Jason could find fault with my plan.

  Chapter Fifteen

  This is a bad plan. The Shadow Knight shifted his weight and observed as the battle-witch swung farther this time than last. He eyeballed the distance between them and the next tower, wanting his calculations to be incorrect.

  If they were able to generate the momentum needed, which he highly doubted, they’d smash into the next tower. He had no way of judging how much damage that would cause or if they would survive. Adding to his concern was the groan of a link above, one that had begun to pull apart with the strain of the swinging weight of the homemade pendulum.

  The tower dropped a foot, a sign the chain was starting to give. He shifted to his knees and began hauling up the witch.

  His plan, aside from climbing into the gray mists, was to push his witch until she snapped, and the magic emerged. He’d felt it when she fell off the fortress of the Red Knight. She had used it against him in an attempt to save his life, which was an improvement over the trap where she had not channeled it any direction at all and her bizarre use of power against Green Dawn Cave.

  There was a theme to when she used her magic: when either she or he was in danger. He was relying on provoking that instinct to get them out of this mess once more. All he had to do was put them both in mortal danger, and they would be back on land.

  As he steadily drew her up, hand over hand, his mind went once more to the sight of her dying at the Red Knight’s hold. He had witnessed many men – and quite a few battle-witches – die in battle. None of those deaths hit him the way hers did. Beautiful, witty yet an absolute coward in battle, she was not the kind of woman he ever would have considered for his army, had they not been thrust together.