by Caris Roane
And the moment Quinlan saw Lorelei’s blood flowing into Henry, he sat down. Batya moved so that she could put her hand on Henry’s head, closing her eyes, and even from several feet away, Quinlan felt her healing power flow into the troll warrior.
He breathed hard, hating that she was touching another man then despising himself for even having the thought.
He pulled up his knees, angling his forearms to rest over the top of them, then dropped his forehead into his hands. What the hell had just happened?
A few minutes later, Batya’s hand was once more on his shoulder. “He’s going to live, Quinlan. See for yourself.”
He lifted his gaze to Henry and watched as his chest rose and fell and his color took on a more normal hue. “I would have let him die. Sweet Goddess, I would have let him die.”
“I don’t believe that, not for a second. But what happened? I’ve never heard your voice like that before and you created a wind like Margetta’s.”
She drew close, then lowered herself to the ground to sit next to him. Quinlan, what’s going on?
He couldn’t look at her as he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t get it.” He met her gaze. “What the hell is this, Batya? What kind of sick game are you playing with me?”
She leaned her head back as though he’d struck her. “I’m not playing a game. Why would you say that?”
“Because I’ve felt your power and I think you’re using it to undermine who I am, to try to break down my commitment to Grochaire. You want to destroy me.”
* * * * * * * * *
Batya stared at Quinlan unable to believe these words had just come out of his mouth. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why, not? You don’t approve of Grochaire. You’ve said yourself that you’ll never live in my realm again. Why not destroy me at the same time?”
Batya glanced around. The troll brigade had begun re-forming at a distance, taken in hand by several team leaders. At the same time, Henry continued to receive a healthy dose of Lorelei’s blood.
“You’re mistaken. I just needed something different, something Grochaire Realm or any of the other realms couldn’t give me. And I have a purpose in Lebanon. A lot of realm-folk can’t be part of things in the Nine Realms right now. Many of them fear the Invictus to the point of paranoia, so they live in the United States. That doesn’t mean we hate Grochaire, not even a little.”
He seemed to settle down, but he appeared distressed. She suspected he didn’t like feeling out of control and that for a long moment, that’s exactly what he’d been, making it impossible for her to give what she could have so easily donated to Henry.
But if Lorelei hadn’t intervened, Batya also knew she could have reached Quinlan, helped him to tone down his caveman instincts. She also knew that his refusal to allow her to donate had more to do with their lovemaking last night than he understood.
“I can’t believe I prevented you from helping Henry.” Once again, he shaded his face with his hands.
“Quinlan, look at me.”
He scowled, but he lifted his face to her. “You know damn well that if Lorelei hadn’t offered, you would have relented.”
He gripped her hand. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I wouldn’t have. There’s something inside me now that won’t allow another man to touch you or to take from you.”
The ferocity of his gaze tore at something inside Batya, something that recognized and really liked what Quinlan was saying.
Her fingers moved against his palm, a sensual stroke. And I don’t want any other woman to have even a drop of what you can give. She stroked his hand again, running a finger down to the tip of his middle finger.
She heard a soft growl at the back of his throat, rumbling deep, something only a shifter or a vampire could do. The sound, full of vibration, went straight through her, forcing every ounce of her attention on him. No one but Quinlan existed.
With her free hand, she touched her throat, rubbing her thumb up and down her vein.
His gaze tracked the movement and his nostrils flared. I’m smelling exotic flowers, heaps of it. Do you know that your blood tastes like that as well, like I’m drinking nectar from flowers that grow in the tropics? His gaze slid past her, his brows low on his forehead as he watched everyone.
He pressed her hand harder. I’m taking you tonight. Do you understand? When we’re bedded down, I’m taking you.
She nodded.
Good.
He rose and offered a hand to her, lifting her easily to her feet. He crossed to Henry, now sitting up, though he still looked pale. But his gaze was fixed on Lorelei. “That’s some blood you’ve got there.”
Lorelei nodded. “Do you feel better, Henry?”
“You brought me back from the brink. Thank you, mistress.”
“All right, you troll bastard. I see you’ll live to fight another day.”
“I will, indeed.” He jumped to his feet. “The woman has restored me. In fact, I feel better than new.” He glanced around. “This is one big motherfucker of a cavern. Which way to the meadow?”
Quinlan pointed in the direction the river flowed, amazed that in a very realm way, he connected with these unknown parts of Grochaire. “About fifteen miles north. According to the legends about the Pickerne Caverns, there’s a well-worn, ancient path that tracks along this side of the river. I think we should walk, conserve our strength for later battle or necessary flights.”
Henry glanced around. “I agree. What do you think? Fifty in front? The rest behind and the women and support teams in the middle, spears at the ready?” He glanced up at Quinlan. “Will that do, mastyr?”
“You read my mind.”
He turned and issued a sharp whistle, delivered the split-force order, then waved his men forward. The first half of the troll brigade moved by at a brisk clip, and one of the team leaders set up a chant. Batya was taller than all of them, but something about their strong, soldierly manner, and natural troll charisma, made them a formidable force.
At Quinlan’s direction, she and Lorelei fell into line just in front of the medic unit.
Henry, she knew, would bring up the rear, forever on guard.
* * * * * * * * *
Quinlan followed behind Batya, watching her long, thick hair sway as she walked. She had a strong, elegant stride and kept up with the troops like she’d been made for camp life. Both women seemed oddly fit for this journey, another thought that kept him in a state of turmoil.
He wished Batya was a weak-spirited person so he could despise her, or maybe just plain stupid so he wouldn’t respect her as much as he did. As it was, her character forced him continually into a state of frustration because, damnit, he liked her.
A lot.
And his thoughts kept drifting into the future, decades ahead of this moment in time. He had grandchildren clustered around him, a lot of them, or maybe they were great-grandchildren and he was Papa Quinlan to all of them.
The image made him gag. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Batya turned back and grinned. “Stub your toe again because I’m sure hearing a lot of cursing behind me.”
He grimaced. “You just turn around and watch where you’re going.”
She chuckled and shook her head, then caught up with Lorelei. The women chatted more often than not. They’d been friends for two years. Each kept looking around at the river, the vaulted ceiling of the massive cave system, realm-made stacks of rocks indicating that at some point in time their ancient forebears had also been here.
He marveled as well that he marched through the Great River Caverns of Pickerne, a fabled underground river system that had until now belonged only to stories told to children.
The river and cave took many twists and turns. Though the ceiling sometimes crept lower, it never narrowed to an impassable point, not once.
After being on the march for several hours, a black expanse at the horizon began to grow and eventually filled with stars.
“Looks like it.”
“This is wonderful.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ve just made it through the second leg of the journey. But how sure are we that Margetta won’t find us?”
“It’s unlikely even though Gem Meadow was never part of the enthralled section. Henry and his troops have run maneuvers here many times, which is why there are several permanent tent structures. But Margetta will have no idea where we went and covering hundreds of square miles, even for her, and especially through mountainous terrain, will be extremely difficult. However, Henry will keep scouts in the sky the rest of the night and through the day. We’re in good hands.”
A few more steps and he walked out of the cavern for good. He breathed in the grass-scented air and watched as the brigade immediately began setting up camp.
“There are three large tents.” He waved his hand in the direction of each. “One down river to the left and two higher up the feeder stream.” Turning to Lorelei, he asked, “Which one would you like? You should have first choice.”
Her gaze shifted to each one in turn, then chose the one highest up on the stream, the farthest point east.
Batya touched his arm. “Henry has the map. I think he’s setting up a table in the middle tent.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Wow,” Batya murmured.
“What?”
“Well, I’m amazed at the order and industry of your brigade. Some of your men are already bringing back kindling and logs from the nearby forest.”
“Fires are important in any woodland setting, for cooking and for security.”
She watched several take a different track. “Where are they off to?”
“We’ll be dining on venison tonight. You’ll see.”
Two trolls, laden with packs, approached Quinlan. “Mastyr, we’ve been told to set you up down river, near where the stream joins the river.”
“Yes, that will do.”
The trolls headed toward the open-air tent.
“Wait, what are they carrying?”
“A couple of furs, some padding. Pillows.”
Batya drew close and asked quietly. “Will Lorelei’s tent be as nicely appointed?”
He nodded.
“And you arranged all this for our comfort?”
“Of course.”
Lorelei offered her hand. “I want to thank you, mastyr, for all you’ve done for me. You’ve been incredibly kind.”
But before he could take her hand, Batya stepped between Lorelei and Quinlan. She stared at the proffered fingers until Lorelei withdrew the simple, if very human gesture.
Lorelei chuckled. “Batya, you’re much more than you know you are right now. Have a care.” She then wheeled in the direction of her tent. When she’d walked ten feet away, she called out over her shoulder. “See you at dinner.”
Quinlan stepped around Batya and saw the look of astonishment on her lovely features. She blinked several times before lifting her gaze to Quinlan. “Did you see what I just did?”
“Not quite as simple as you thought, is it, this thing between us.”
“But why did I do that? I mean, I really trust Lorelei. That was just rude. I’ve got to apologize to her.” She turned as if to move away, but he caught her elbow.
“She already knows and right now I need you.”
Her gaze shot back to his and her hand went to her throat. “Your stomach is cramping, isn’t it? I can feel it now.” She glanced past him, down river. “The Guards have finished with the tent. We can be private in there.”
Chapter Six
Batya walked beside Quinlan, surprised yet not, that he took hold of her hand. Whatever this was between them, seemed completely mutual and just as incomprehensible.
Earlier, he had blocked her from offering a vein to save Henry’s life and just now, she would have clawed Lorelei to pieces if she’d touched Quinlan.
Neither spoke.
She remembered her father’s word about ‘embracing the mystery’, but she swore if he were here right now and said the same thing to her, she’d punch his lights out. She felt controlled by things way beyond her understanding and Quinlan also resented this similar experience invading his world.
“You’ve grown very quiet.” He squeezed her hand. “Not a good thing.”
“I’m not a quiet person, am I?”
“No, not even a little.” He smiled. “You have a wonderful laugh, almost boisterous and you voice your opinions freely.”
“I guess I do. Oh, this is very nice inside. There’s even a platform for the bed. It’s not very wide, though, is it? One of us is likely to push the other off the side.”
“I’ll just have to prepare myself for a hard landing.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad.” But she laughed.
“The first night, when I was recovering from mortal wounds, mind you, I woke up with you draped over my chest and my thigh. I could hardly breathe.”
Her heart seized at the memories, not just of waking up with him when he’d finally healed, but of having seen him fly through the plate glass window, of the depths of his burns, and that she knew he would have died without her help. “I’d apologize but I’m just too grateful you survived.”
She sat down on the side of the bed and held out her wrist. “I’d offer a different vein, Quin, but I doubt we’d be able leave the tent after that.”
When he didn’t respond, she frowned. “What?”
“You called me, ‘Quin’.”
“I did? Oh, I guess I did. You don’t like it?”
At that, he dropped down to sit beside her, something that caused the wood-frame to creak. He was a lot of vampire to hold up anything on four posts of wood and a few one-by-fours.
“That’s the problem, I guess, the thing I’ve been grappling with. I like a lot of the stuff you do and I even like you calling me Quin. You keep surprising me.”
“Ditto.” But she sighed heavily. She met his gaze, those large dark eyes of his now reflecting her own concern. “Does any of this mean anything? I just feel so confused by my behavior and yours. I feel desperately out of control.”
He nodded slowly and without taking his gaze from hers, he picked up her wrist and began stroking the veins very slowly with his thumb. “The worst part of that moment for me was that it made me hot as hell. I knew you’d claimed me earlier, but right then you’d proved it. I’m the land you want.”
She glanced down at his thumb, which had set up an erotic vibration at her wrist. Such a small movement, yet she shifted where she sat, needy for him all over again.
Lifting her gaze once more to his, she drew a breath slowly. “But I just reacted, that’s what bothers me, like something new lives inside all that I am and keeps driving me toward you. I’ve never been in this place before and it maddens me.”
He lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed where the vibrations had been touching her. His eyes closed. Does this madden you? He kissed her skin over and over, his sensual lips warm, soft and moist, increasing her desire.
You know it does.
He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his dark brown, almost black eyes piercing her as he drew back his lips. Her gaze fell to the sharp points of his fangs, glistening with purpose. She blinked several times and for the life of her she’d forgotten how to breathe.
He turned her wrist gently, then angled his fangs. He moaned softly. Your mouth is open, begging for me.
Then don’t leave a girl hanging. Give me something of yours to suck.
He growled softly, then lifted his free hand and rimmed her lips with his thumb. She gave a soft cry as he penetrated her mouth and struck her wrist with his fangs at the same moment.
She suckled his thumb as he removed his fangs and attached his lips to her wrist. He groaned as he drew in her life’s blood.
Desire flowed over her in heavy waves, up through her abdomen and
into her chest, gripping her heart. How heavily her heart thudded as he sucked greedily, pulling into his body what she willingly gave.
But it was the level of her desire that confounded Batya. She’d always wanted Quinlan. What realm-woman in her right mind hadn’t lusted after his extraordinary physique, his sexiness, his almost troll-like charisma, and that something very dark of his that spoke of dominance in the night?
I don’t want to give in to you.
He met her gaze once more and his dark eyes flashed in the non-existent light of the tent. But her fae-vision held him in a glow. He sucked harder and thrust his thumb deeper into her mouth. Then what do you want from me, Cha? Why are you here, in this tent, feeding me and sucking on me?
She pulled harder on his thumb, her sucking sounds almost vicious in the enclosed space. I want you moving over me and thrusting into me hard, but I don’t want to surrender all that I am to you or to anyone.
He released her wrist suddenly, and in flurry of movement, vampire fast, he threw her onto the bed and landed on top of her, pushing her thighs apart with his knees.
He pinned her arms over her head. “You’re a fool to say things like that to me. You know what I am, the reputation I have. I take what I want where women are concerned.” And you will surrender.
He kissed her once, invading her mouth with his tongue, letting her feel his desire. But just as she was ready to strip naked, and let him do what he wanted, he flew backward to stare at her hard from the open flap of the teepee, then disappeared into the night.
Batya lay trembling with a combination of fear and desire.
She understood something about herself as she continued to stare at the space Quinlan had just vacated: she’d always had the upper hand in every relationship she’d been in, that the men she’d chosen were, without question, men she could subdue or at least resist.
But Quinlan, sweet Goddess, who could ever command him and what would it be like to truly surrender to him, to be commanded by him, to be told what to do from one moment to the next?