“I doubt it.”
Her dark jewel eyes were level with his and he saw a new found boldness there, something intrinsic, the darker side of the sacred feminine. He looked away. She tapped into that strength and fierceness, confirming her true destiny, and for some reason it upset him greatly.
“Do you think I speak an untruth?” he prompted in annoyance.
“Regarding this, aye I do,” she said firmly.
“What do you know about illness?” He struck out like a wounded beast. Resentment of his body’s growing weakness unknowingly fueled the magical poison.
“I have lived on a farm and cared for animals all my life, Keegan. I am able to recognize fever, sweat, and chills, not to mention bloody wounds. Why are you so angry with me?”
“I am not angry with you,” he ground out, pushing her hand away from his arm. “Why do you insist on caressing me?”
Her eyes shined with hurt. It tore him up inside. He did not know how to deal with these feelings, this caring and need for her.
“Even guardians can be injured,” she said compassionately.
“It is ill-timed right now,” he grumbled, and glared at the green paste in her small hand. “What are you planning to do with that?”
She motioned to his stomach. “ ‘Tis that time again. The green paste has turned brown.”
He shook his head, not wanting the mushy stink on his hurting flesh, no matter its purpose.
A delicate brow arched in reproof. “I always thought our fey kin invincible; it seems they are not.”
“It was a Darkshade dagger,” he grumbled again, unable to help himself from being ornery and bad-tempered.
“What is a Darkshade dagger, Keegan?”
“It is a magical dagger meant to stop a guardian.” He chose not to elaborate on the poisonous ridges of the short blade, the newborn pain in his joints and muscles, or the fever boiling his blood. “They knew we were coming, knew how to cut me. They were there to stop us.”
She rested the back of her other hand on his forehead. He pulled back, glaring at her. Why is she not listening to me?
“You feel warm to me, Keegan,” she said with a frown of worry.
“I am fine,” he stated again, masking his wretchedness. To demonstrate his strength to her, he decided to stand. Holding the pelts to his hips, he attempted to climb to his feet and to his eternal shame, failed miserably.
“Aye, I can see how fine you are, you stubborn oaf.”
Head sagging, overwhelmed by queasiness and blistering fever, he rasped, “Listen to me, Lana.”
“I will not leave you, Keegan.”
Cool fingertips caressed his cheek. He grabbed her wrist and held her with the last of his ebbing strength. “You must.”
“We will find the sword together. Now let go of my hand.”
He released her.
“I will not leave you like this,” she insisted, “weak and unable to defend yourself.”
“I am not weak.” He felt his voice trailing off into oblivion where his being would soon follow. His eyelids were getting heavy. He turned away, the shame within spreading into full disgrace.
“Hold still while I change your dressing.”
He felt her pull the pelts off him and closed his eyes. Gentle hands unwrapped the bandage around his stomach wound. She removed the old paste and smeared that monstrous green stink on him again. He would probably die from the reek of it, but he could not deny the false coolness it brought to his burning flesh and the ease and drowsiness that came after.
———
Finally, he sleeps, Lana thought, shaking her head with concern. Her hands dropped to her lap. She stared at a brown lock of hair clinging to the sweaty slope of his shoulder and released a small sigh.
His manner confused her.
Sometimes, his eyes were cold, shutting her out. Other times, she caught him watching her, a smoldering gaze of promise, a yearning that reached into her dreams and shut out her loneliness. She felt more alive with his nearness than at any other time in her life. Yet, the moment she responded to his need, he erected a shield between them. There was a large part of her that wished to be held in Keegan’s strong arms. She wondered if he sensed that, causing him to withdraw even more. What truly mattered to her lay within the spirit, not the body. Although, she had to admit, his body was extremely pleasing.
The most important thing right now was for him to get well. The other uncertainties she would deal with later.
She reached over and took his limp hand in hers, letting him know she was still there. “Rest now, Keegan. I will watch over you.”
Into the night and the next day, Lana kept her vigil. He slumbered fitfully in silence, a fevered delirium taking hold. Poisons leaked from the ragged flesh, seeping into the green paste and turning it brown and crusty. She fought off the despair at his prolonged condition, keeping hope close to her heart. In her mind though, she knew he was getting worse and not better.
She cleaned the paste off every few hours, but even in the grip of oblivion he turned away, his jaw clenched in pain. When she carefully spread the healing paste liberally over his wounds, his nostrils flared, but never a sound did he make.
“I am sorry, Keegan,” she said, holding him down when he tried to move away from her touch yet again. “MacLir said it must be done, and I believe her.”
She stayed close beside him, tending to her own needs only when necessary. Often times she held his head in her lap, aware of the agony he suffered from those who had intentions to hurt them. His body shivered disjointedly, gone was the innate grace of movement, the vigor of his being. His head rolled from side to side, lashes splayed dark against fine cheeks turned hollow. Fear and anxiety nipped at her composure.
“Why are you not healing?” Her voice came out half-strangled in desolation. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his sweaty temple. “Keegan, my love, can you hear me?”
He did not answer and she rested her cheek upon his forehead.
It came upon her like a hot breeze, this insight, and sudden realization. “I love you,” she murmured, amazed at the clarity of that one single thought. It did not matter what he was, a guardian, a being of magical embrace. “I love you,” she whispered again, and straightened. “You must battle this dark illness.” With his head in her lap, she reached for the small pail filled with water from the river. Cupping her hand, she sprinkled it onto his dry lips.
He did not respond.
She did it again. “Please, Keegan, you must drink.”
The life sustaining droplets remained untouched, glimmering like clear jewels on his cracked lips.
Her throat tightened in despair and she lifted her face to the twilight sky. “Please,” she implored, calling out to the Gods and Goddesses, “you must help him.” Her vision blurred in anguish. “I doona know what to do. I love him.” Her plea turned into a whimper. “Please, help him. I will do whatever you wish.”
Night came and went, leaving only silence. Lana watched the sunrise in growing misery. Exhaustion and worry pulled at her. Keegan’s sword lay close to her hip, the hilt near her hand. She studied her palm as if it belonged to someone else. She had the power to cut a fey born cheek with a slap, but she did not have the power to rid a guardian of the poison stealing his life. There was more of the sacred female’s magical darkness in her than the light.
She eased Keegan’s head from her lap and stood. “MacLir,” she called out. Mayhap the water faery could help. “MacLir!”
“I BE HERE.”
Lana turned toward the river. In the shallow waters, MacLir stood expectantly. In each hand, she held a silver pail and doth.
Lana climbed down to the river’s edge and wrinkled her nose at the strong odors that assailed her senses. “I need your help.”
“I KNOW.” The girl faery held out the buckets to her.
“What are these?”
“HEALING FROM THE DRUIDESS.”
The only druidess Lana knew was Derina. “Derin
a?”
“AYE, SOUGHT HER HELP WHEN GUARDIAN NOT HEAL.”
Lana detected traces of garlic and comfrey root for wound healing and other healing scents she did not recognize. She glanced at the other pail. Purple bit, she thought, a remedy for fevers and poisons. Growing in the meadows, it was a plant of dark leaves with rounded heads of purple flowers. Mixed with honey and water, the druidess and tribe simplers often used it for pestilent fevers and poisons. They said it was an old remedy passed down from simpler to simpler.
MacLir handed her the pail with the strong scent of garlic. “CLEAN MY HEALING OFF HIM AND PUT THIS ON HIM NOW.”
Lana looked down into it. This, too, looked like lumpy green paste. “Why did you go to Derina?”
“GUARDIAN NOT RECOVERED.” MacLir frowned. “METHINKS DARKSHADE DAGGER CUT HIM.”
“Aye, he said they used a Darkshade dagger on him.” The faery’s jewel tone eyes widened. “WHY DID YOU NOT SAY BEFORE? NEEDS DIFFERENT KIND OF FEY HELP.”
“I dinna know it was important.”
She huffed. “TRAVEL WITH GUARDIAN. SHOULD KNOW WEAKNESS AND STRENGTH OF HIM. DERINA KNOWS OLDEN WAYS. HER HEALING BEST. “
Lana climbed back up the incline to dry land. She knelt beside Keegan and glanced over her shoulder. “MacLir, I need you to hold him for me. Sit by his head and doona let him pull away from my touch.”
“CANNA LEAVE THE WATERS.”
“What do you mean?”
The faery gestured in front of her. “POUR WATER FROM RIVER TO THE GUARDIAN. I COME THEN.”
Without questioning the faery further, Lana took a half full pail of water and walked back to the edge of the river.
“POUR WATER.” MacLir pointed impatiently in front of her.
Lana scooped more water from the river into the pail. As she walked back to Keegan, she tilted the pail and poured water in a thin stream to the ground.
MacLir followed, her small feet never leaving the trail of water.
Lana did not give the faery’s odd behavior a second thought. She knelt down near Keegan’s right hip. In a muddy pool at her guardian’s head, MacLir knelt as well.
“Hold him, MacLir.”
When the faery had done as she directed, she quickly cleaned Keegan’s arm wound of the browning paste and slapped the new garlic paste on the wound, which was greeted with a low male hiss.
“HERE, WRAP WITH FEY CLOTH.”
Lana took the silver cloth from MacLir and wrapped her guardian’s arm. Steam rose from the arm wound and the strong smell of healing filled the air.
Next, she turned her attention to the much larger and ragged stomach wound.
“I HOLD HIM DOWN FOR YOU,” MacLir said, her small hands locked on Keegan‘s shoulders. “DO IT NOW.”
Lana did not think MacLir could hold Keegan, but there was no choice. She cleaned the wound quickly. Cupping a large amount of the warm mixture in her hand, and with a silent prayer on her lips, she smeared the new green mush generously over the stomach wound.
Keegan’s jaw clamped shut.
He tried rolling away from the pain, but the faery held him down.
“STRONG STILL.” MacLir strained, putting her knee on his shoulder. “WRAP WITH CLOTH. HURRY.”
Lana took the other shimmering cloth MacLir held out to her. She eased it over the steaming wound, and almost immediately he calmed.
“DONE,” MacLir said, breathing heavily. She sat back on her heels, her toes buried in the mud.
“What is in the cloth?” Lana asked, feeling reassured by his reaction.
“SERENITY, A GIFT FROM THE RIVER.” The faery stood, her shins and knees brown with mud. “I WATCH NOW. YOU MUST REST.”
Lana started to protest.
“REST,” MacLir commanded sternly, holding up her hand. “NO GOOD TO HIM ILL.”
Lana wiped her hands in the grass to clean them. She knew MacLir spoke the truth. She felt worn out, drained to the core of her being.
Reluctantly, and with one last look at Keegan who now rested peacefully, she lay down on her side and fell into a profound slumber.
———
Lana awoke immediately at the sound.
“MUST FIND VALOR,” her guardian mumbled in a fey tone. “NO TIME.”
She bolted upright to a sitting position.
MacLir was gone.
Fading light brushed across the horizon, marking the return of twilight. She must have slept through the day. Edging closer to her guardian mate, she touched his shoulder tenderly. “Keegan?”
His skin felt cool.
He kicked the pelts off and Lana blushed at the sight of his aroused state.
His head lolled languidly to the side. “NOT FAIR. DOONA BELIEVE IT.”
His inflection had reverted to the ways of his fey brethren. “SWORD HOST MUST BE STRONG,” he rasped, “LANA FRAIL, CANNA BE TRUE.”
Sitting back, Lana covered her mouth and listened intently.
“LANA,” he groaned. His hands clenched and she choked back a sob at the desolation in his voice. “NEVER MINE.”
He rambled on incoherently for a few minutes in a language she did not understand, and then turned away in silence.
With trembling hands, she changed the dressings and sat back, silently praying to the mother goddess for help. She lay down beside him once again and kept vigil through the night and next morning.
When the warm sunlight of afternoon filtered through the tree branches once more, Lana felt the worst of the Darkshade illness was over.
Cupping cool water in her hands, she brought it to his cracked lips. Most of it spilled down his chin and cheeks, but his tongue captured some.
Encouraged, she grabbed the pail filled with the honey water and purple bit and attempted to pour the syrupy liquid into him, but she got more on his chin than in his mouth. His tongue shot out again, seeking the moisture.
She brought the rim of the pail to her lips then and filled her mouth so that her cheeks puffed out. Leaning over him, she pressed her lips to his and carefully let the sweetly bitter, healing liquid trickle into his mouth.
He drank from her, ravenous in his need.
She alternated between the pail of cool water and the gooey healing liquid. Filling her mouth repeatedly, she pressed her lips to his, careful that every drop went into him. His famished mouth opened under hers, demanding in his body’s thirst.
The final time, when nothing but water was left, she leaned on his chest. Holding his chin in her hand, she placed her lips over his and gave her last offering.
Dimly, she became aware of a hand cupping the back of her head and the lips that moved sensually under hers. She tried to pull back and was astonished at the strength which held her there.
He tasted of the slight bitterness of the healing herb. The dryness within him rapidly disappeared and a satiny tongue thrust into her mouth. It seemed as if he could not get enough of her taste, as if she ended the drought within him. Her world careened into his insistence, and she felt devoured.
Arms tightening around her, he twisted and rolled over.
Lana found herself on her back, caught in a guardian’s spell.
Reality ceased.
Dark magic and desire rose sharply.
His large hands moved downward. A bright, magical heat flashed between them and then she became as naked as he was. His body fluid and supple against hers, he molded the fullness of her breast with his left hand, sending darts of fire across her skin.
Warm kisses licked at her collarbone, the center of her chest and then captured her nipple. She gasped and he suckled her, taking his time, moving from one breast to the other until she could bear it no longer. Hands fisted in his hair, she moved against him, her legs entwining with the hard columns of his.
His mouth returned to her neck, teeth scraping against the mating bite on her jaw. A large knee coaxed her legs apart.
His body poised above hers in mystery and danger.
And then…
Lean hips lowered.
/> A sudden hardness pressed into her dewy softness.
Teasing at first, seeking entrance.
Slipping away only to return.
Testing her response.
Pushing.
Harder.
A sharp burning ache surged through her womb followed by an empowering fullness that lodged within her.
Lana cried out more in surprise than in pain. His mouth came down, smothering her distress, drinking in her discomfort. His breath and tongue caressed her, a kind of gentling, a preparation for what was to come next.
Slowly, his hips began to move.
Sliding out.
And back in.
Enticing her with long, liquid strokes meant to tame her. He murmured to her, soft endearments against her cheek.
Lana’s world narrowed to him, to the throbbing wetness centered between her legs.
A deep rhythm…
A reaching within her female being.
He licked at her jaw, the place of his mating claim, a re-affirmation.
Hands guided her knees up, giving him better access to her.
He drove himself deeper, giving her pleasure.
His weakened body, soaked with a new sweat, answered her body’s siren call.
She strained against him, her thighs opening wider, seeking release from the growing conflagration within.
And he answered.
His forehead lowered to hers and he melded with her in the way of the guardians.
Lightning jolted through her womb and through her limbs, pouring hot flowing fire into her bloodstream. Lana shuddered uncontrollably. Gasping against his lips, bright lights exploded behind her eyelids like a thousand glorious stars only to fall like tears down her flushed cheeks.
Keegan drank deeply of the nectar of her ecstasy, feeding the insatiable hunger which drove him to claim her for his own.
Releasing her sweet mouth, he licked at a salty tear. Throwing back his head, her breath in his lungs, her body clenching around him, he gave into the demands of his body. His root swelled. Blood boiled with lust, hunger, and need. He took her over the edge. Spewing his seed into her womb, he pumped until there was nothing left to give her. Only then… only then did he collapse in exhaustion. Along with the sensual sweat of his body, the Darkshade poison evaporated from the pores of his skin.
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