Rogue Belador: Belador book 7

by Dianna Love

  ~*~*~

  Twice as many shadow versions of this man, Tzader, had returned. They rushed Brina one at a time.

  She fought furiously, striking each shadow’s sword and blocking a hit, but never feeling a solid resistance even though she could hear metal clash with metal. Keeping track of their leader in her peripheral vision, she fought hard, slashing back and forth. Every time she made a clean strike, the shadow burst into tiny gray pieces that rained to the ground.

  Another one attacked her. A third one wound its filmy hands around her neck and tightened its grip, strangling her. This would be a good time for those powers her memory had hinted at, if only she knew what she could do to these things. More waited in the forest.

  Was Tzader calling them one at a time to wear her down?

  She clawed at the hand clamped around her throat, wielding her sword with one hand. Anger rode her hard until power ripped from her. It blasted toward the woods, smashing shadows that stood in the way. But more stepped into the empty spots and waited.

  For what?

  She’d fought her way over to Tzader.

  He stood there, staring at her as if he could see inside her mind. Good luck finding anything there. Still, his face and name stirred something deep in the recesses of her mind.

  Who was he?

  This was the dream world. Why couldn’t she push her power out again and make him and the rest of his army hovering among the trees go away?

  She wished for that with all her might. Nope. That one burst had happened all on its own.

  Why was this happening? What did this man want?

  Still, Tzader stood there without moving a muscle. He hadn’t lifted the sword. He’d made no attempt to harm her, but all the shadow soldiers wore his face. At this rate, confusion would beat her to a pulp.

  She let out a weary breath and asked Tzader, “What are you doin’ here?”

  “I always come for you here. I was here yesterday, the day before, and the day before. We’ve been doing this for many weeks. I’m here to remind you who I am and who you are. I’m here to help bring your memories back.”

  Her heart thumped at his words. Were they true or was this some hoax? Should she lay down her sword and trust him?

  The shadow soldiers sucked in closer, murmuring. She listened, sorting out words until she heard, “Give up. All is lost. Treoir castle is mine.”

  Those shadows belonged to him, and they were moving in as one unit this time. She didn’t bloody care who Tzader was anymore.

  If she cut him down, would his army vanish?

  Her mind might have doubts, but her body knew exactly what to do. She swung her sword to attack.

  And look at that.

  He dodged, and the shadows started receding. She’d made the right decision.

  For a man of Tzader’s muscular build, he surprised her with lightning-fast reflexes. He snatched up his sword with a curse, and blocked her next strike.

  He met every swing of her blade, blocking with enough force that her teeth shook. Battling felt good, felt right. Her body had been dormant too long. Getting in better physical shape had to help her mind, but at the moment she was breathing hard.

  Why? What did she do with her days if not train?

  On the other hand, what training could she have been doing in that stupid gown?

  How was she to know? She couldn’t recall anything at will, but she’d had a fleeting vision of growing up in a castle when she’d heard the name Treoir.

  She remembered this location, too, where a giant oak stood above a thick forest surrounding a lake, but not why this spot felt so important to her.

  With a new surge of energy, she continued her attack, and it struck her that Tzader had yet to take an aggressive action. He could clearly handle a weapon. Out of nowhere, a memory flickered of fighting this same man ... but with a younger face and a cut body, though not as beefed up.

  Not fighting, but sparring.

  She stumbled at the realization, and he pulled back.

  Brina warned, “Lower your guard again and I’ll not be apologizin’ for drawin’ blood.”

  “You never have.” His eyes twinkled, taking attractive up to devastating. He was enjoying this?

  She knew him and recalled practicing this way. Tzader had acted as if he hadn’t seen the shadows. A sick thought churned her insides. Had she been hallucinating? That would be one step worse than having no memories.

  Swinging right, then left, her blade clashed with his.

  More images came to mind, of sparring in this place with him, but had that been in this dream world?

  Was he a friend after all?

  He challenged her for two steps, always careful not to make a deadly hit.

  Her next strike surprised him. She expected anger.

  He grinned and acknowledged her expertise with a nod.

  The tension in her chest eased. Her lips twitched with a smile. She felt more alive than she had ... in a long time. Yes, she had done this before, and with him. Her attack changed to practiced moves, because she began to sense truth in his words.

  She hoped she was not being a fool, but she wanted to believe he could help her.

  Tzader met every swing, strike for strike, still never fully using the power in those massive biceps.

  He hadn’t even broken a sweat. He toyed with her, and though she didn’t remember how she’d gained the skill, she was no pushover with a sword.

  Tzader moved with the agility and confidence of one who had fought many battles, and won.

  The more she sparred with him, the less she wanted to harm any of that smooth, ebony skin. She stumbled, more fatigued than she’d realized. She should have been paying attention instead of looking at the handsome man.

  At her falter, his demeanor changed in a flash. His voice came barreling out with an edge of irritation. “Stop, Brina. I understand you’re frustrated, but—”

  She scoffed, cutting him off. He thought he knew what she was going through? Try living with no mind to call up the simplest things. Swinging again, she struck hard, and he blocked her. No mind, no energy, and no patience.

  She snarled, “What do you know about frustration?”

  Tzader blocked her next swing. “You of all people should know better than to ask me that. I—” He parried, spinning and moving faster, too fast for her to get a decent strike on him.

  She had her own supply of irritation. “What, Tzader? You say you know me. What do you know that you think I should?”

  He lost his smile. “Never mind.”

  “No!” she shouted, driving him back and striking harder with each word. “You will tell me what it is I should know.”

  With one mighty swing, he knocked her sword flying and chucked his to go with hers.

  Glory to the gods, he was furious, deadly and magnificent. His deep voice shook when he told her, “That I waited four years to be with the woman I love, then I watched her disappear after being attacked with Noirre majik, with no idea when she’d come back.” By the time he took a breath, he was grinding out his words. “Now you don’t even know me.”

  Fire should be bursting from his mouth.

  She had nothing to say, but she heard the sincerity in his voice. And the hurt. This man held his pain deep inside, but it was there. His last words hit her.

  Now you don’t even know me.

  Waiting four years for the woman he loved ... who didn’t know him. Is that me?

  Couldn’t be. She’d remember someone like Tzader.

  Wouldn’t she?

  “Brina.” One word, pleading from a man whom she knew without a doubt begged no one for anything. The emotion in his voice sliced across her heart. He whispered, “Please don’t fight me, muirnin, when we have so little time left.”

  Taking a slow step toward her, he kept talking. “This is our place, where we hid from the world when you were a teen. I stole my first kiss from you beneath this tree.”

  Images floated free in her mind, exactly the w
ay he described it. The more he talked, the faster the images came to her. He said, “You laughed at me when I missed the target with my knife.”

  “You told me later you had been throwin’ left-handed.” She touched her lips, surprised at how that popped into her mind.

  When he stopped right in front of her, Brina’s gaze flitted across his face and the gleaming perspiration on his chest.

  She lifted her gaze to those brown eyes that looked at her as if she were the only woman alive. Those eyes had always looked at her that way. Her breath caught. “Tzader?”

  That’s all it took for a sigh filled with relief to escape him. He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly touched a kiss to her forehead.

  Warm sensation rushed through her. Her body knew him. She wished her body would teach her mind a few lessons.

  He tilted her chin up and kissed her gently.

  That triggered a rush of memories. Images of this man kissing her in this very clearing assaulted her.

  And of doing … so much more here.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss. He growled, and his mouth claimed her now, demanding more the longer they touched. Or had she been the one to deepen the kiss? Who cared? She might not remember every detail of her life, but she knew this man. Knew his body. Knew that he had stood between her and danger.

  He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, swinging her around. He smiled and the world came to life. She laughed, enjoying the way her body sang with happiness.

  When he finally lowered her, he murmured, “If I could only hear your laugh every day for the rest of my life, muirnin, I would die a happy man.”

  With him holding her and kissing her, the meaning behind that Irish term of endearment rattled another memory loose. He’d called her that many times before, in this very spot. And in the castle.

  Still not sure of all that had happened in the past, she asked, “We are friends?”

  “No.”

  She pulled up short. “What?”

  His eyes filled with tenderness that tugged at her heartstrings. When he spoke, his voice came out rough with emotion. “You are far more than just my best friend in all the worlds. You are my love. You are life itself. You are everything I have ever wanted.”

  “The woman you’ve waited four years for,” she repeated.

  “The woman I would wait a lifetime for,” he said, then studied her, making a decision of some kind. “Feel the bond of our power.”

  In the next moment, power surged around her and wrapped her body in a blissful cocoon of warmth. She felt him inside, where no one should be but her. “I feel—”

  “I do, too. The day we swore our love to each other, we bonded, but this is the first time I’ve felt it since then.”

  Frustration boiled inside her. “Why? What’s happened? Why do memories slip through my fingers?”

  “Shh, muirnin.” He kissed her and wrapped her in his arms. “You are the Belador warrior queen. You were stuck in Treoir Castle for four years after the last of your family died in a battle. The castle was warded against immortals except for you and Macha.”

  Argh, that annoying goddess. Of course, Brina would recall Macha. “The castle should have been warded against her, truth be told. She’s irritatin’.”

  He chuckled.

  Brina sighed. “I’m so tired of thinkin’ and thinkin’ and thinkin’, only to come up blank. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  He’d been so quick to offer that she asked, “Have you done this before? Filled me in?”

  “Yes. A few times.”

  She sensed he wasn’t telling her the truth about how many times. “For how long?”

  He hesitated, then hugged her to him. “For almost two months, but I’ll do it every day for the rest of my life if I have to, just to have you near me.” He held her tight, but in a careful way.

  Her body wanted him to do so much more. He could start with her breasts. They ached for his touch.

  But what kind of woman would tell him that?

  A woman who missed him and whatever they’d had. Hopefully, still had.

  He continued explaining, “For four years, I couldn’t get through the ward on the castle to reach you physically, until a battle between the Medb and Beladors broke out on Treoir.”

  She leaned back. “You said it prevented immortals from passing through.”

  “I’m immortal, just like you.” He brushed a loose tendril of hair away from her face.

  “Oh.” She thought on that for a moment. “I’d best be gettin’ my mind back soon if I’m goin’ to live indefinitely.” Tzader grinned. But the idea that he would also live and could be with her brightened her day. “What were you sayin’ about our enemy?”

  “I’ll tell you about that another time, but when I finally managed to reach you, a traitor in our midst was casting Noirre majik on you. And Lanna. I killed the traitor.” He asked, “Remember Lanna?”

  A young woman’s face came to Brina’s mind. Curly blond hair. Full of energy. Busybody personality and scary level of power, but she had no idea exactly what the girl could do. Brina said, “Yes, I know Lanna. She was with me in a strange realm. I remember it looking like nothing ... no land or trees or sky, just gray.”

  “Right. You two disappeared in front of my eyes. It’s a long story, but a Skinwalker named Storm, and Evalle Kincaid, one of your Belador warriors, helped bring you back. That was the good news. The bad news is that your memories have been corrupting ever since.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder and let him hold her. “Could be that’s why I’m so bloody tired all the time, and gettin’ worse every day.” Fatigue from mental stress made sense. The brief sword fight had also stolen her energy. She’d enjoyed the battle, even though it was clear now that Tzader had been careful not to harm her.

  He loved her.

  She opened her heart and her mind. She felt the flow of his love inside her.

  Pieces of memory shifted around and fit together. She recalled a battle going on around the castle, then darkness, then Lanna’s face and ... nothing. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’m not done. I will find a way to return your memories. Do you recall this spot?”

  She lifted her head and looked at the peaceful setting that gave her comfort now. “Yes. It took a bit, but I know it.”

  A hot gleam burned in his gaze. “Do you remember why we declared this our special place years ago?”

  Images flashed in her mind of him wearing nothing but that intense gaze and driving into her. Damp heat swirled between her legs. Her damn breasts ached again.

  More flashes of memory returned. A very graphic memory rose up and caused her nipples to tighten. “Tzader, did we ... make love here?”

  Relief rolled over his face. He kissed her sweetly. “Yes. The day we committed ourselves to each other, we said the words we planned to repeat in front of a druid on our wedding day.”

  She might not recall every little detail, but the second his power had swept inside her body to greet hers, she’d known this was her man.

  The one she loved.

  A man she wanted to feel inside her again, physically, before her mind took another vacation.

  She ran her hands over his carved chest, feeling warm skin flowing over the ridges of hard muscle. Hooking his neck, she pulled his mouth to hers, pausing long enough to say, “Touch me, Tzader. I need you.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice.

  His hands gripped her at the waist and pulled her up as he kissed her with single-minded determination.

  Rubbing her hips against him, she moaned at the feel of his erection, recalling how she’d been a bit daunted at the first glimpse of him naked.

  But once he’d filled her with a powerful stroke, nothing had ever felt so perfect.

  His hard member thumped against her, clearly just as ready to replay that memory in real time. She wanted him now. Heat and moisture p
ooled between her thighs.

  “I’ve missed you, muirnin.” He kissed her with the mouth of a raider determined to lay claim to everything he put his hands on.

  Finally, she let go of her cares, content to live in the moment where she knew the man holding her. She knew her feelings, and cared nothing for the rest of the world.

  His hand slipped under her loose shirt and caressed her breast. His thumb brushed across her sensitive nipple and she cried out, jerking at the shock that raced through her body.

  Good goddess. That was ...

  ~*~*~

  “It’s been way too long,” Tzader murmured, wanting to feel every inch of Brina’s smooth skin. He missed ... them. Just the two of them together.

  Why did life have to be so damned difficult?

  Not life, but Macha.

  Brina made a noise that sent heat rifling through him to his groin.

  He couldn’t think about the goddess right now. Not while he had Brina warm and soft in his arms.

  He pulled back, wanting to see her, and let his gaze rake her from head to toe. He’d touched her only once in four years, and that had been two months ago while they were dream walking. He started to comment on how she’d changed in those years, but sometimes back in the castle the most innocent comment had brought on panic that more was changing than just her memory. Even her breasts seemed different now.

  He kissed her, loving her with his mouth. “You’re so perfect. Every inch of you.”

  When her nails dug into his back, he grunted, but with a sound of pleasure.

  She whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “The girls miss you as much as I do.”

  Oh, man, she was killing him. He said, “It’d be so much easier if you had your gown on again.”

  “I don’t want that stupid gown back on.” Energy buzzed, and she’d removed her pants and boots, leaving her in only a shirt and panties.

  Shock, then pleasure, spike through him. He looked down, then back up at her face, and knew she wanted him. “This place definitely likes you better than me. I could never get it to do anything like that.”