Sleeper (Rise of the Fianna Book 1)

by Amy Brock McNew

  Makenna really hadn't known what she was. It had been evident in her reaction, in her confusion.

  Blood loss.

  Fuck.

  His wolf howled in agony, wanting Rhys to ensure she was alive, that they hadn't lost their mate.

  He quickly checked her pulse. A solid beat bounced back against his fingers. He rested back on his heels on an exhale, holding her close and pressing a hand to her stomach to help stop the blood flow. She should have already begun to heal. She'd been able to avoid shifting when in a highly emotional state, which he was beginning to think was due to more than practiced control. Her strength and speed were intact, so he could only hope her gift of quick healing was intact as well.

  Makenna felt right in his arms. She belonged there. He'd pushed her away with his anger. With his belief she was a liar. He hadn't trusted her, trusted his own gut. Hadn't eased her into this life. No, he'd tossed her in the deep end and expected her to swim. Hadn't protected her like he should have.

  Why had he let her fight? The truth weighed heavy on his heart. Because he wanted proof. Wanted to see her in action and have her prove him right.

  Somehow, he'd have to calm her fears and explain away tonight, for the moment. She wasn't going to be in a mental state to deal with the truth. There wasn't much time left, so he'd have to use all the finesse and tricks he owned.

  Rhys glanced up at the moon. He shifted and laid her down so she was bathed in its light, allowing the warm rays to help accelerate her healing. He sucked in a breath at her creamy skin, exposed for all the world to see with her dress barely hanging from her body. Even though there was no one around, he ripped his shirt off and covered her with it the best he could. No one would see her beautiful body but him. He kissed her cheek and stood.

  He had a mess to clean up.

  Rhys moved to the female's severed head. He picked it up carefully, with reverence. Karianna. He'd known her as a child, before the war. They'd played games together in the field beside his home. She was one of the many who'd fallen under Kylian's spell.

  His heart ached for his childhood friend. He wished she'd left with them that fateful day. But she'd refused, choosing to stay with her elderly father even though she knew there was a good chance she'd be pressed into service for Kylian.

  She'd made her choice.

  Now, she'd done unspeakable things in Kylian's name, killed many of his warriors. She'd been a high-ranking officer in Kylian's ranks.

  He rested Karianna's head next to that of his own opponent, a warrior he'd never seen before but who had been a worthy adversary. Rhys went back and hefted Karianna's body, lying it next to her head. He paid them respect in their native tongue, as was fitting for a valiant warrior. Even though they'd fought for the other side, Karianna had once been his friend, and the male had fought with honor.

  The weight of being king rested heavy on his shoulders. People thought being king was glorious. They had no concept of the truth. The decisions to be made. The lives held in one hand.

  But those two had made their choices. It was out of his hands.

  Tugging the small pouch from his pocket, he arranged the còmhdhail crystals around the bodies and murmured the chant to transport them back to their home. To their families. Never would he send them back to Kylian. They deserved peace as they rested. Not having Kylian's mages toying with their corpses.

  When it was done, Rhys collected the crystals and retrieved his keys and Makenna's small bag from the Ducati. Then he made his way back to her and gently picked her up, cradling against his chest. He needed to assess her wounds and get her cleaned up. The sight and smell of her blood lanced fear through him. Yes, she was a warrior, but she was his. If he could, he'd keep her from battle.

  But it was her legacy, her purpose. One not even he as her mate could interfere with.

  He took the steps two at a time, grateful none of her neighbors made an appearance. One good thing about being in a big city, nobody wanted to get involved. They saw nothing and heard nothing.

  Balancing her in one arm, Rhys fished her keys from the bag and unlocked the door. He flicked his hand, using his magic to close and lock it as he scurried down the hall. He went straight for the lone bedroom.

  Rhys laid her carefully on the bed, then stared at her for a moment, suddenly anxious. They'd been somewhat intimate the other night, but he hadn't earned the level of intimacy he was about to assume. He had no choice, though. She was unconscious, and he couldn't leave her wounded and covered in blood. Her healing might possibly not be one of the gifts she enjoyed yet and he couldn't take the chance.

  Taking a deep breath, he moved to slide the one remaining intact strap of her dress from her shoulder. Her soft skin was coated in dried blood and the strap stuck. He wedged his finger under it and pulled it away. He gripped her hip with one hand and tipped her onto her side so he could work what was left of the zipper. His big hands fumbled with the tiny thing, but he finally wrestled it free, releasing the fabric. He carefully rolled her back over. She never even stirred.

  He sucked in a breath as he peeled the tattered dress off her torso. The silk stuck to yet more dried blood, tugging at her wounds, tearing some open again, no matter how gentle he was. Though unconscious, he could feel her pain arcing through him. They were already connected enough to be on the same wavelength.

  The fact he'd caused her more pain punched his gut. His wolf paced in a circle inside him, whining.

  He ran into the bathroom and soaked a wash cloth. Softening the dried blood with the wet rag, Rhys was able to remove the dress with no further damage, wiping at her wounds as he went. Finally, he tossed the destroyed garment behind him.

  He stood back and looked her over, keeping his gaze clinical. It wasn't difficult. Though she lay before him in only a slip of silk she apparently called panties, she was covered in wounds, blood, and muck. His only thought at the moment was erasing the remnants of battle and getting those wounds healed.

  Could he do it, though? Was their connection strong enough yet for him to take her wounds? He had to try. He wasn't patient enough to wait and see if her powers kicked in or if the moon had done its job. This was his Makenna, and he needed her whole. He was the king, or, soon would be. Surely he could heal his own mate.

  The mate he'd put in danger to begin with.

  If not, he'd die trying.

  Rhys opened the curtain and moonlight sliced its way inside, landing perfectly on the bed and casting a glow around her. He closed his eyes as he stepped into the light, letting it charge his magic and soothe his wolf. After breathing deeply and finding his center, he moved back to Makenna and knelt beside the bed.

  Drawing in the power of the moon, and all the power he could muster from his bones, he laid one hand on her forehead, the other on her torn-up abdomen. Her wounds weren't healing nearly as quickly as they should. Some were still actively bleeding. They should be closed by now. Panic lit him on fire for a brief moment. He stuffed it down.

  Rhys could do this. His magic was strong by virtue of blood and station. He had more power than some mages, would have still more once he mated with Makenna. He could heal her.

  Finding his center again, he chanted. Low and quiet at first. The moon seemed to shine brighter as his fingers glowed, healing power flowing through him to her. It was working. His heart rate picked up and excitement tore through him as his voice strengthened. The chants flowed from him like water, rushing over the wounds.

  Within minutes, every wound had closed and vanished. With the exception of the dried blood, her skin was perfect again, as if the cuts, gouges, and abrasions had never been there.

  Rhys heaved a sigh laden with relief and staggered to his feet. He’d be weaker for a little while as his magic recharged, but it was worth it. Brushing tangled hair from her brow, he kissed her softly and turned to the bathroom to get a clean cloth to scrub the remaining blood from her skin.

  A scream pierced the silent night. Rhys left the water running and dropped the cl
oth to the floor with a splatter as he shot back into the room. A quick glance revealed no enemies.

  Makenna sat straight up, eyes wide, raven hair flying in all directions as she swiveled her head back and forth, scanning the room. Seeing him, she leapt from the bed and dropped into defensive posture. Clad only in a tiny pair of panties.

  That was his woman.

  Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he stayed where he was. He didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. His wolf was pained and offended that she would fear them, even though he could faintly sense her own wolf did not share her feelings.

  “Kenna, it's me.” He used the softest voice he owned. “Rhys. You're safe.”

  “What happened?” She shivered. Looking down, she covered her bare breasts with her arms. Fire licked her eyes as her shoulders drew back. “What did you do? What did I do?” Fear and rage laced her voice, which trailed to a whisper on the last words.

  “I was only tending to your wounds.” He had to think quickly. Now wasn't the time to reveal the whole story. “But it was mainly her blood. You fought well. You're uninjured.” At least only a little of that had been a lie. Still, it pricked him.

  Makenna shook her head as she looked down at herself. Apparently unconcerned now with her near nakedness, she ran her hands over her body, turning to see as much of her back as she could, patting as she went. She whirled to the full-length mirror and gasped when she saw her reflection.

  “What did I do?” she repeated.

  Rhys took a chance and inched toward her. As he came closer, she didn't move away or flinch, so he rested his hands on her shaking shoulders. “You did what you had to. She would've killed you if you hadn't acted first. Same as with the man who came at me. We had no choice.”

  “We, uh, we should call the cops. We can't just leave them there. Like that.”

  He could see her mind flicking back to the scene, so he twisted her to face him. “It's not necessary. Their friends came for them and I let them go.”

  Again, not technically a lie. He had been a friend to one of them. Long ago.

  A deep crease appeared in her brow as she shook her head. “I can't believe I─I did that. I cut off─” she choked and he pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to his waist.

  As Makenna sobbed, a soul deep, mournful sound, he whispered soothing words in their native tongue. His limbs shook with the effort to remain calm for her. Seeing her cry broke him. He smoothed her hair with one hand and held her to him with the other. He knew what she was feeling. Though they were born and bred for war, that first kill was the worst. It had made him question his very existence. It was no small thing to snuff out a life. It shouldn't be. After the first, it got easier, in a way. But you never forgot. He remembered his down to the very last detail.

  Finally she pulled back and looked up at him with her red, swollen eyes. If it was the last thing he did, he'd ensure she never cried again. He was the king. Leader of a race of warriors. Nothing shook him. Except for her tears.

  “Rhys?” her voice was hardly a whisper.

  “Yes, Kenna.”

  “What was that language you were speaking?”

  Now that wasn't what he expected.

  “It's Gaelic. The language of my people.”

  “It was pretty.” Makenna spoke the words almost absently. There was more she wanted to say, but she pressed her mouth closed.

  Why did he think there was more she wasn't telling him? No. He couldn't go down that road again. He'd let her tell him what she knew in her own time. To a point. Although the riddles and half-truths between them were beginning to wear on him. After fucking up so bad and landing her in danger, he'd bear it. He wouldn't let any more harm come to her before she came into her power.

  Now if Rhys could only figure out how to make that happen. Was the mating the trigger for her? Was her magic restricted until they bonded? Or was it simply reliant upon the moon and its powerful sway over them?

  Those were questions for another time. Right now, he needed to care for his Kenna.

  At the moment, she was swaying in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. Taking her shoulders again, he rubbed up and down her chilly skin.

  “You should get in a hot shower. Once you wash it all off, you'll feel better.” He forced himself not to look down at her body. Now that the danger had passed, and she was healed, his desire for her was coming alive again. He had to stay focused on caring for her. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold back from marking her after everything that'd happened tonight.

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  When she didn't move, he wrapped an arm around her and led her to the bathroom. Makenna leaned into his side, resting her head on him as she curled in. When she stumbled, he stopped and scooped her up. She twined her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest with a sigh, effectively cutting his heart in half.

  His need to protect her swelled his chest, and he held her tighter.

  He sat her down on the stool and she clung to him for a moment, as if afraid to let go. “I'm just going to get the water warm for you.” He kissed the top of her head as she nodded, then huddled, shivering, as he shut the faucet on the sink off and opened the sliding door.

  “Come here, love.” He spoke quietly, not wanting to startle her as he held a hand out to help her up. “I'll turn around while you finish getting undressed.”

  He turned his back, feeling her hair graze his skin as she slid the scrap of fabric from her body. Rhys closed his eyes, trying not to imagine her naked body glistening in the moonlight. This wasn't about him or his needs. It was about making sure she was safe, warm, and whole. Now that she was healed, his wolf had calmed and was completely entranced by the sight of his mate, by her wolf. The one he could see in her eyes. Hidden deep, but present.

  “Okay.”

  At Makenna’s simple word, he turned, again keeping his eyes level with hers. He took her hand and guided her into the large stall. When she was steady under the warm cascade of water, he turned to close the door.

  Her arm shot out, grabbing his in a panic. “Don't leave me.” Her voice shook and tore at his heart.

  “I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Please, come in with me.”

  Nothing could've made him ignore Makenna’s desperate plea. He hadn't earned her trust in him yet, but he'd take it. He'd care for her in every way he could.

  “As you wish.”

  Sliding her hand from his arm and giving it a sweet kiss, Rhys moved back and stripped off his bloody pants. He'd leave the boxers on. There was no way he could control himself if he was skin to skin with his queen.

  He stepped in behind her, and she immediately turned to lean against his chest. “You're still dressed.”

  Her slight giggle warmed his heart and worried him at the same time. Was she coming out of her fog or losing her senses?

  “It's better this way.” He gritted out the words, commanding his dick to behave as her smooth, wet skin rubbed against him.

  “You're covered in blood too.” He wouldn't have heard the words if not for his enhanced hearing.

  “Kenna...” He nearly groaned as she looked up at him, pleading.

  “Rhys, we're adults. We can control ourselves.” Though the flare in her eyes said she didn't want to control herself.

  Damn. She was making it hard to be a gentleman.

  He pulled strength from deep within. “Kenna, I just want to take care of you. You've been through something most people couldn't handle. I'm not taking advantage of that.”

  Her face scrunched up and she moved back enough that they no longer touched. He missed her warmth. Wanted it back immediately.

  “You don't want me?” The hurt in Makenna’s voice cut through him like a jagged blade.

  “Of course I want you. But now isn't the time. You're probably still in shock.”

  Her eyes cleared and narrowed. “I'm fine. I'm shaken up, but I'll get over
it. You can help me do that.” A flick of anger licked his mind and she must've seen it cross his face. “That's not all this is about and you know it. I want you too, Rhys. I don't use people.”

  He sighed. “I know. I just don't want our first time tainted by what happened.”

  “It's not.” She eased back into him, circling his neck with her hands. “This is about us. Nothing else.” She pulled his head down and kissed him softly. “Just take care of me and we'll see where it goes. Okay?”

  Rhys closed his eyes. He wanted her. Gods, did he want her. She was willingly giving herself to him. But she didn't know everything. Didn't know how hard he'd have to fight to not mark her. She didn't even know what the mark would mean. Wasn't aware of who they were to each other. And he'd have to be careful. So careful. She hadn't come into her powers. For all intents and purposes, she was human. At least, humanlike. She didn't have her full powers or access to her magic for some reason. There was no way of knowing if she could take the full force of him yet.

  He opened his eyes, taking her in.

  Her wet, raven hair fell over her shoulders, barely covering her breasts. He dared not look farther down. His body was already responding to her as it never had to anyone before. He inhaled a long breath. Rhys could do this. He could care for her, love her, and keep himself in check. He had to have this taste. Who knew what would happen when she discovered the truth? Discovered he'd kept it from her.

  When she found out who they were, what they were, would she run from him? Would she even want him still?

  “You're thinking too hard.” Makenna smoothed a finger over his furrowed brow.

  He grinned and set her back from him. Her face fell until he reached for the waistband of his boxers with shaking fingers. Gods, what the woman did to him. He stepped out of the boxers and tossed them out onto the floor.

  His logical side told him it wasn't smart. That he'd never be able to control himself with her. The other side found it impossible to deny her anything. If she wanted him, she'd get him.