Sweet gods, she loved this male.
Loved him so much she felt she might die in his arms right that second.
She fought her instincts and the hunger running rampant in her veins, and managed to slow her drinking.
A strained groan left his lips.
His fear spiked.
She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, slipped them beneath his arms and then wrapped her arms around him, pressing her palms against his back as she settled herself astride his thighs. The hunger that raged in her began to ease, transforming into a different need as she sucked on the wounds on his throat, taking sips of blood from him, and her head cleared enough that she could pinpoint his feelings in their bond.
She grew aware of something, and it broke her heart.
She needed to be gentle with him, as gentle as he was being with her, because he was fragile, broken in a way. She could see it now and it undid her, had sorrow sweeping through her in response, together with a need to hold on to him and never let go.
He drew her closer and murmured, “I am sorry… I am sorry I did this to you. I should not have.”
That tore at her and she wrenched herself away from him, passion flaring hot in her veins, a need to tell him that he was wrong that only grew stronger as she caught the pain in his eyes.
He thought the sorrow he had felt in her was for herself, because she drank from him.
Because he believed he could taint her.
She cupped his sculpted dirty cheeks in her trembling palms. “I am not sorry. What you felt in me, Fuery… it’s because of what you have been through… how you have suffered… and I was not there for you. I have been living my life oblivious to your pain, your suffering. Gods… I am a monster for that.”
“No,” he croaked and shook his head, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he fiercely gathered her to him, his grip bruising. Desperate. “I am the monster. You must see that now.”
Shaia looked at him when he pushed her back, the link between them wide open, and his face hiding nothing from her, baring all of himself to her.
“All I can see is the male I thought I had lost,” she whispered and brushed her thumbs across his cheeks as he tried to look away from her, keeping his gaze on her. “I see you, Fuery, and I want a second chance at the life we should have had.”
He closed his eyes and tilted his face away from her. “I’m not the male I was back then.”
“I know that.” She feathered her fingers lower and caressed his strong jaw. “I’m not the same either… and I won’t let you slip through my grasp again. I am done being everything society expects of me or my family want for me. I know my mind, and I know my heart… and it belongs to you, Fuery.”
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression softening as the darkness faded from it and their bond relayed his feelings to her, easing her fear and lightening her heart as she felt that he believed her.
She focused as she drew her right hand away from his face and he looked down at it just as the silver clasp he had returned to her appeared in it.
He didn’t stop her as she gathered the top half of his hair and closed the clasp over it.
Her hand lingered on it, her body pressed close to his and his breath washing over her face as he stared at her.
“It was a token of my love, Fuery… and that love is the same today as it was all those centuries ago.” She swept her hand down his hair to the nape of his neck and shook her head. “No… that is not true… that love is stronger now. It grows stronger every day, and nothing will stop that. I love you… now and forever… all of you.”
He growled and gathered her to him, one hand pressing hard between her shoulder blades and the other fiercely gripping her nape as his mouth descended on hers.
She relaxed into him, holding him to her as she kissed him back, savouring the desperate way his lips moved across hers, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
She had missed this.
But she would never have to miss it again.
Their love had stood the test of time, and they would triumph over whatever lay ahead of them too, and would seize that future they wanted together.
Someone cleared their throat.
“Guess you don’t really need this now.”
Fuery growled at Hartt as his lips broke away from hers and he gathered her closer still, concealing her body by pressing it hard against his.
“I thought as much, so I brought this too.” Hartt held her cloak out to her.
Fuery was quick to snatch it and wrap it around her as Hartt turned his back to give her some privacy. Her mate’s motions slowed as he looked down at her chest and the dark pink line darting across it, and she felt the fear go through him again. She clutched his hands and squeezed them, bringing him back to her before the darkness could take hold.
“I’ll be sure to keep out of trouble from now on.” She smiled when he lifted his beautiful eyes, filled with worry and love for her, and settled them on hers.
He nodded, his relief flowing through their bond and shifting into another emotion as his eyes darkened. “I will protect you… I will never let anything happen to you. Never again. I swear that.”
She wrapped her arms around him and sealed that promise with a kiss, making her own at the same time, swearing that she would do the same for him. She would always be there for him, to take care of him, to help him in whatever way she could, and if he ever needed her, she had a dagger and knew how to use it.
And perhaps he could teach her how to use a katana too.
The sour look on his face when she pulled back said that he knew her thoughts and it wasn’t going to happen.
She would just have to change his mind.
She fingered his chest, running the pads of them over the small scales of his armour and the patches of exposed skin where it had been cut with an elven blade.
The heat that began to blaze in his eyes said that he wouldn’t take much convincing.
Hartt cleared his throat again.
Fuery tugged at her cloak, holding the side of it nearest Hartt in a way that concealed her body from the elf’s gaze, and looked at his friend.
“Thank you for being here for her,” he said, and then added, “and for me.”
Hartt scrubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “No problem. Just… tell me where you’re going next time so I can help. You don’t have to fight all your battles alone, Fuery.”
Her mate seemed to consider that as he looked between Hartt and her as she finished fastening her tunic as best she could and called her trousers to her, covering her legs.
He nodded.
Hartt held a metal canister out to him. “Now, both of you drink this, or I get elf medicine.”
The face Fuery pulled and the flicker of fear that went through him warned her that elf medicine was not something she wanted to try.
He snatched the canister, unscrewed the cap and shoved it towards her. “Drink.”
She wanted to refuse and make him drink first, but took the container and lifted it to her lips. The blood was cold and tasted sharp, and she shuddered as it slipped down her throat.
“You get used to it.” Fuery looked around as she sipped the blood, dark eyes scouring the fortress, and when they stopped on something, he snapped his fingers and pointed to it.
Hartt tossed him a scowl. “I’m not your dog.”
But he went to fetch whatever it was Fuery wanted anyway, grumbling the whole time. Fuery’s eyes drifted back to her, darkening as he watched her drinking the blood and his hands slipped beneath her cloak to palm her backside where it rested on his legs.
His left hand suddenly shot up beside his head and he glared at Hartt. She lowered the canister from her lips and frowned as Fuery uncurled his hand and revealed the set of steels Hartt had launched at him.
She watched as he nimbly unlocked her remaining cuff, took the set of shackles and eyed them, and then half-smiled as they disappeared together with the steels. He looke
d quite pleased as he lifted his eyes to meet hers and took the canister from her.
“It’s expensive to get shackles impregnated with such a powerful spell,” he said it casually and then began drinking.
“They could probably hold a dragon,” Hartt chimed in and Fuery nodded enthusiastically. “You know my bond with you means we get to share them.”
Fuery scowled at that. “Some things I don’t share.”
Hartt’s expression remained unreadable as he folded his arms across his chest.
Fuery tossed the canister over his shoulder.
Shaia didn’t get it until he wrapped his arms around her, gathered her to him and growled low in his throat.
Hartt grinned and waved his hand through the air. “I was kidding. She’s not my type.”
A slow smile curved Fuery’s lips. “You mean, elf and female? I thought that was your type?”
Hartt glared at him. “Pushing your luck now. I don’t have to teleport your arse home.”
Shaia wanted to mention that she could probably teleport Fuery back to the guild but held her tongue. This was clearly a standard threat between Hartt and Fuery, in what seemed to be a rather strange but normal round of banter. She had a lot to learn about this new world she was stepping into, one where a procured set of shackles was met with excitement and glee. But then, she supposed finding a set of shackles that could hold a dragon might come in handy for an assassin, and could just save their life.
That had her feeling as enthusiastic about them.
Fuery gripped her waist and helped her onto her feet, setting her down in front of him.
She gasped as he swung her up into his arms a moment later, cradling her against his chest with one arm around her back and the other under her knees, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He stared at her, his black-to-violet eyes beautiful in a way in the morning light as they shone at her, showing her all of his feelings.
“Ready to go?” Hartt said and placed his hand on Fuery’s arm.
Shaia nodded and smiled as she spoke the words in her heart and stared into Fuery’s widening eyes.
“Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER 31
Fuery prowled back and forth along the grassy bank, his eyes never leaving his foe as he wrestled with the darkness that pulsed in his veins, blazed in his blood. He growled and pivoted on his heel, swiftly turning to pace back the way he had come. His muscles coiled tight beneath his black armour, the pale sunlight catching the tiny scales and making iridescent colours ripple over them.
He breathed through his nerves, vanquished his fear, would let nothing stand in his way as he mastered the darkness, pulling back on the reins to force it to yield to him.
He had been training for over two weeks for this mission, had been mentally preparing himself the past day, and now it was time.
The broad wooden door of the elegant pale stone mansion slowly opened.
His heartbeat jacked up, hammering in his throat, and he curled his fingers into fists at his sides as he turned towards the two-storey building and bravely strode forwards, through the open gate that intersected the stone wall and into the grand garden that suited the house it embraced.
Shaia appeared from the shadows, stopping on the doorstep, looking radiant in a pale lilac dress and a wrought silver corset that hugged her torso, arcing beneath her breasts to push them upwards and cinching in her waist.
This was it.
He blew out his breath, tipped his chin up and marched towards her.
His nerve faltered as her mother appeared behind her and he spotted her father lingering in the vestibule.
Shaia said something, her sweet smile capturing his black heart and easing his nerves as she turned from her mother and came to face him. She held her hand out to him and he went to her, couldn’t stop his feet from carrying him towards her to close the distance between them. He needed to touch her. He needed to hold her.
It consumed him, drove him onwards despite his fears and the insidious words whispering at the back of his mind, born of his past.
He lifted his hand when he neared her, wanting to slip it into hers and clutch it, but hesitated when eyes landed on him. It was only for a heartbeat before he conquered the fear that had birthed it, but it was a hesitation nonetheless.
The feel of Shaia’s soft warm hand in his drove all fear out of his heart and the way she slipped her fingers between his to lock their palms together eased his nerves.
“You remember Fuery.” Her tone was matter of fact, bright despite the anger he could feel in her.
His little viper.
He had worried about bringing her to the guild when she had announced it was their home now, hadn’t been able to sleep a wink the first two nights, forever on alert and waiting for something terrible to happen, something that would drive her away from such a dangerous place. He had imagined it all, tormenting himself with visions of her being harassed by the other assassins, or harmed by them.
But on the third day of her being there, when he had been called to Hartt’s office and had left her unattended for the first time, she had shown him that he had no reason to worry about her.
His worst fear had come true, and one of the newer assassins had dared to block her path when she had been coming to find him, trapping her in the corridor and speaking disgusting things to her.
He had felt her fear go through him.
Had burst from Hartt’s office.
But by the time he had reached her, she had laid the wolf shifter out on his back and had been poised on top of him, her dagger pressed against his throat and her other hand fiercely gripping the male’s hair, pulling at it as she growled at him, flashing fangs in warning.
Gods, he had been hard in an instant.
His gorgeous, surprising little viper.
She had a mean streak in her, one that stole his heart.
He had helped her stand, had kicked the wolf’s arse until he had been little more than a whimpering, apologising mess on the floor, and had then started her training.
She was a natural.
Even Hartt was impressed with the skill she displayed at such an early stage in her training with sword and spear.
Fuery had warned his friend that she wasn’t going to become their first female assassin.
Although he wasn’t sure how long he could stick to his guns on that one.
The thought of Shaia coming with him on missions was appealing, always there when he needed her calming touch, or hungered for her.
Her gaze landed on him during a lull in her conversation with her parents, and he burned as an electric sizzle chased over his skin, cranking his muscles even tighter.
He slid his eyes to land on her, breathed harder as he spotted the unmistakable flicker of desire and need in her violet ones and felt it ripple through their connection.
Oh gods, yes, he could imagine taking her on missions with him. It would be glorious.
She would watch his back, and he would tear apart any foe who tried to reach hers.
“Fuery?” she whispered and subtly widened her eyes as she jerked her head a little towards her parents.
He shook his wicked thoughts away and focused on his mission.
They had decided to continue where they had left off all those centuries ago, starting with telling her parents they were mated and she was leaving with him. That had been her idea. Her parents already knew she was his fated one, and they were bound, and that had been enough for him, but it hadn’t been enough for her.
So here he was.
Trying to play nice to appease her.
Because despite the things her family had done to her, they were still her family, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom, she loved them and wanted to remain in touch with them. This was important to her, and so it was important to him.
But he was only going to let her visit once every decade and he was coming with her when it happened. He wouldn’t put it past her parents to attempt to fin
d a way to take her from him and hand her over to a noble male of their choosing.
“Shaia is mine,” he growled, a little harsher and more possessive than anticipated, and weathered her glare that told him he was doing this wrong. He cleared his throat and told himself again to play nice. “Your daughter is my ki’ara, and we are bound. She is no longer your pawn or your possession to do with as you please. She is mine now, and I will protect her by any means necessary.”
A little harsh again judging by how Shaia sighed emphatically.
“Very well,” Sarea muttered and barely spared him a glance before she turned and swept imperiously away from them, disappearing into the house.
Fuery half-expected Aylen to do the same.
The male surprised him by coming forwards and extending a hand to him.
He eyed it.
Shaia nudged him in the ribs.
He sighed, released her hand and clasped the one the male offered.
“Hurt her, and I will hunt you down like the tainted beast you are,” Aylen growled.
Fuery grinned, flashing his emerging fangs, and gripped the male’s hand harder, squeezing his bones. “You wouldn’t see me coming.”
Shaia placed one hand on his arm and her other on her father’s and broke them apart. “No one is killing the other one today. This was meant to be a happy occasion, Father.”
Aylen looked at her, a sombre edge to his expression. “You love him?”
She nodded. “I love him, and I have loved only him, and I will love only him. Even if he hadn’t been my fated one, I would have loved him… because he is my soul mate… my one true mate.”
The older male sighed. “Very well. I have seen the error of our ways with you, Shaia, and although your mother would never say it, I do believe she is happy for you. Seeing you in this visit, seeing how happy you are, has made us both realise that this is what is best for you.”
Tears lined her eyes, and Fuery wanted to growl at the male for upsetting her, even when he knew they were tears of happiness, because her family weren’t such utter bastards after all. His desire to rip them to pieces to make them pay for everything they had put her through faded a little.
Just a little.
Unchained by a Forbidden Love Page 32