A Warrior's Desire (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Pamela Palmer

  “And now they’re barren.” His voice remained rich and deep with awareness, even as he allowed her to pretend the air hadn’t grown thick and charged between them. “So your world has missed those stones.”

  “In some ways, yes. The land still provides when asked, but not otherwise. And not as conveniently. It used to be that all a person had to do was wish for food and a fruit tree appeared. A wish for water created a pond. Now we have to ask, and even then it doesn’t often work if there’s already a stream or a fruit tree nearby.”

  “Such a hardship,” he drawled.

  Tarrys tried to lift an imperious brow as Larsen would have done, but found herself smiling instead. “You don’t think walking to the tree is hard?”

  The smile that crinkled the corners of his hot eyes charmed her. Pleasure fluttered inside her chest. And something else. Excitement. Anticipation.

  “Show me how it works.” His low, softly cajoling tone caressed her senses.

  She cut her gaze at him. “Why don’t you try it first using Kade’s directions. I’ll critique your efforts.”

  “Critique my efforts, huh?” Knowing laughter lit his eyes.

  She motioned him toward one of the trees at the edge of the wide, dense wood. “Come. Let’s test your fruit-calling prowess.”

  As they crossed the blue ground, Charlie walked closer than he usually did, so close that his arm accidentally bumped hers, and their hands caught and momentarily tangled. She was starting to feel winded, her heartbeat quick and sharp, though she was barely exerting herself.

  Together, they approached a large colin tree, its dark blue bark slick as silk, its leaves as orange as the fruit Aunt Myrtle sometimes squeezed for juice at breakfast. Tarrys rested her hand on the bow slung over her shoulder as she turned to Charlie, who was standing so close their hips nearly touched.

  “Do it,” she urged.

  His gaze snagged hers, his eyes burning suddenly with a bright fire. She forgot how to breathe.

  “Call the fruit.” Her words dissipated into nothing, but she ducked away, putting space between them.

  Charlie watched her with those hungry eyes for several more seconds before he turned to the tree, taking a deep, long breath. Finally, he stepped forward and placed his palms against the bark.

  He grunted with surprise. “It’s soft.”

  “Yes. Say the words, Charlie.”

  “I feel like an idiot,” he muttered. “Provide, tree.”

  Tarrys grimaced, then shook her head with a laugh. “You have to say it like you’re asking, not as if you’re disgusted with the whole thing.”

  The look he swung her way was half glare, half amusement. With a put-upon sigh, he tried again, his words monotone. “Please, oh mighty tree. Provide me with the fruit my stomach craves.”

  “You’re going to starve, you know.”

  Charlie stepped back and motioned to the tree with both hands. “Your turn.” Though a smile lingered on his mouth, there was an uneasiness in his eyes that told her he was still very uncomfortable with the strangeness of her world. As she’d once been with his.

  She stepped past him, placed her own palms against the smooth trunk of the tree, and murmured, “Please, oh Esria, provide.” A short distance above her head, two fat colin fruits appeared suddenly.

  With a smile, she turned to find Charlie closer than he’d been a moment before, his gaze not on the fruit but on her smile. Her mouth.

  Her pulse leaped to her throat, a blend of desire and fear that echoed from all those times the Esri had forced that desire. Like those times, she was helpless to pull away when Charlie lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with infinite gentleness, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip, soft as air.

  A desire unlike any she’d ever felt rose inside her, filling her lungs and her chest, sending her heart into a fury.

  He must stop. She had to tell him to stop. But she remained rooted, unable to pull away as he lowered his head to kiss her. His mouth touched hers, featherlight and warm, igniting a fire inside her like kindling torched.

  With a ragged breath, she pressed her mouth against his, desperate for more of the glorious feelings that made her breasts ache and sent damp, throbbing heat to pool between her legs.

  Charlie groaned, one hand sliding into her hair, the other going around her, pulling her against his hard body as the kiss turned from soft to desperate, from sweet to fierce in a hot instant. His need poured over her, driving her own to heights she’d never imagined. A need all the more powerful because it wasn’t wholly physical, but encompassed her spirit, her mind and her heart. Everything inside her longed to immerse herself in this man, to have him immerse himself in her. To get closer to him in every way.

  And he clearly felt the same. His hands were suddenly everywhere. Her hair, her back, her buttocks, pressing her against the hard thickness of his arousal.

  She slid her arms around his neck, holding on as his tongue moved against her lips. When she opened her mouth in surprise, his tongue slid inside. Shock turned quickly to pleasure at the feel of this strange closeness, at the taste of him and the incredible intimacy. A groan of that same pleasure rose from his throat. Their mouths fused, need whipped her about like a flag in a storm, yanking her out of herself, ripping away the control she’d clung to so hopelessly.

  She needed. Sweet Esria, she needed him to hold her, to touch her. To enter her. How could the mere touching of mouths send her body into such a spiral of desire? Never had she felt such a thing naturally.

  And she’d felt it unnaturally too many times to count. Esri males couldn’t mate an unready female without experiencing pain, so they forced that readiness through enchantment—a violent and unnatural desire that never extended beyond that place between her thighs.

  Comparing what she was feeling now, in Charlie’s arms, to that miserable parody of true passion was like comparing freedom to slavery. This hunger overwhelmed and, unlike that forced upon her by an Esri, wouldn’t end with a quick mating, she was sure of it.

  If she ever gave herself wholly to Charlie Rand, their mating would only make the hunger worse. For she instinctively knew it would be a hunger that would haunt her and plague her for the rest of her long, long life.

  The fear of that misery shook her out of the frenzy of wanting and she wrenched away.

  Charlie let her go, though he watched her with eyes that were at once hot and dazed. “Wow. That was…amazing.”

  Taking deep, calming breaths, willing her heart to quit racing, Tarrys slid away from the tree, putting distance between them before she lost the struggle and returned to his arms.

  She didn’t want this. Why was he attracted to her? Why couldn’t they simply enjoy each other’s company without this hunger?

  “Tarrys.”

  Tarrys took a deep, shuddering breath and turned, catching the round green colin fruit Charlie tossed to her. She hazarded a quick look at his face, but he’d managed to shutter his expression.

  “We’d better get going,” he said evenly.

  She nodded and fell into step beside him as they walked along the edge of the woods. The comfortable silence they’d traveled in was gone, awareness coloring every move, every look. But she was determined to find a way back to that easy camaraderie.

  After a while, she asked him to tell her another story from his life and he complied, falling into an account of some of his college exploits. The tension between them slowly eased then exploded again when a flash of gray darted from the brush, a Marceil male dashing out of the woods not twenty yards ahead.

  Tarrys’s startled gaze collided with Charlie’s.

  Moments later, a tall, white Esri emerged from the trees. “Halt, slave!” This Esri wasn’t dressed in the uniform of the Royal Guard as Charlie was, but in a tunic of shimmering, faded blue and brown leggings.

  As the Marceil pulled up, jerked back by the command, the Esri’s white face swiveled toward them, bright yellow-green eyes fastening on them.

  Beside her
, Charlie tensed, the warrior readying for battle.

  Tarrys began to shake.

  Chapter 6

  Even from this distance, Charlie could feel the aggression, the fury, pouring off the Esri male. He was tall, maybe over six feet, his body lean but not unsubstantial. His curly hair and skin were both white as chalk, his eyes as cold as the grave.

  Charlie’s heart rate slowly lowered, his mind turning deadly calm, his blood pumping through his veins in a tight, pounding rhythm as his body readied for battle.

  With the stream on one side and the woods on the other, there was no way to avoid the bastard. He grabbed Tarrys’s wrist, feeling the way she trembled, and pushed her behind him as he continued forward, his walk hard and aggressive. Caution warred with the primitive need to take down the bastard who terrified Tarrys, even as he suspected it wasn’t this man in particular who scared her, but the whole freaking race.

  “Charlie, you can’t let him touch you.” Tarrys’s voice carried to him from behind, low and urgent. “If he reaches for you, break his arm, then his neck and every bone in his body. You won’t hurt him for more than a few seconds, but you’re stronger than he is. He’ll back off if you hurt him.”

  Not a problem, he thought, smiling grimly.

  The Esri turned his attention back to his slave. The Marceil stood ramrod straight, his eyes huge with fear as he stared at his master. He was smaller than Tarrys and looked young, no older than a teenager, his lightly tanned head shiny bald.

  “You ran,” the Esri intoned. “You will administer your own punishment.” He flung a knife at the Marceil, hitting him in the face with the handle of the six-inch blade.

  The slave merely winced and bent to pick up the weapon that had fallen to the ground. Without pause or hesitation, he rose and stabbed himself through the gut, sinking the blade to the hilt. A scream erupted from his throat, but he merely pulled the bloody blade from his body and stabbed himself again. And again. And again.

  “Jesus.” Charlie’s head swam, his own gut clenching at the horror of what he was witnessing, at the bloodcurdling screams that went on and on and on.

  “Don’t react,” Tarrys whispered at his shoulder. “This is common punishment. He’ll heal.”

  Charlie’s jaw clenched until he thought he’d break teeth. His hands fisted until his nails drew blood. Every muscle in his body, every tendon, begged to pummel the Esri bastard until he was the one screaming.

  But the Esri showed no interest in them. Nor was he standing along the line of their path. Instead, he showed every indication that he meant to let them pass without incident, giving Charlie no excuse to attack when doing so could prove suicidal.

  He wasn’t a fool.

  But as they drew close, the Esri’s gaze shifted to Tarrys. The hair rose on the back of Charlie’s neck, a feral sound clawing at his throat. He felt Tarrys move away from the Esri, but he forced himself not to visibly react to her fear. He knew he must treat her as if she really were his slave.

  Their path brought them to within a dozen feet of the Marceil who now lay on the blood-soaked ground, still thrusting the knife into his gut, screaming in agony at the self-inflicted torture, unable to stop until his master freed him. A common punishment, Tarrys called it. How many times had she been forced to suffer the same?

  The thought had his blood boiling, but he struggled to mask his emotion even as the determination to not allow her to become enslaved again set up a pounding beat in his brain and chest.

  The Esri continued to stare at Tarrys as they passed, but he never said a word, never engaged either of them in any way.

  “Tell me if he starts after us,” he told Tarrys softly when they were far enough past that the man wouldn’t hear. Looking over his shoulder was a sign of weakness he couldn’t afford, but he needed some warning if they were about to be attacked.

  “He watches, but does not follow.”

  “He watches you.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “He wants you.” The certainty infuriated him.

  “He wants another slave and knows I’m not bound to you.”

  “Like hell you’re not bound to me.”

  “I have hair, Charlie. No enslaved Marceil has hair.”

  Damn. “So does that mean he knows I’m not Esri?”

  “No. You’re clearly a dark blood with your human coloring. There aren’t many in Esria, but there are some.”

  “Yet he didn’t challenge me for you.”

  “No. But the next Esri might. Charlie, I hadn’t thought my hair would be a problem. It wouldn’t be if I’d remained in hiding. But now that we travel together, my having hair will make them wonder if you’re too magically weak to enslave me. It’s going to put you in danger. I need to scrape it off.”

  “No.” He’d seen the way she touched it, the pleasure her growing hair brought her.

  “Then I need to go back to following you, unseen, so if I’m caught they won’t suspect your weakness.”

  “Absolutely not.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning. “He’s the first Esri we’ve seen in two days. Once we start into the mountains, we probably won’t see another. We should be there by nightfall.”

  The problem was, Charlie didn’t put it past this one to follow them. As they’d drawn close, he’d noticed the cunning look in the Esri’s eyes, a look he hadn’t liked. A look that had him certain he was going to have to watch his back…and his partner’s.

  “What’s he up to, eaglet?”

  “They’re returning to the woods. They may have a camp there. Or perhaps a small village. Few people live in the Banished Lands.”

  When they’d crested the next shallow hill and were safely hidden from prying eyes, Charlie stopped and turned, his gaze searching the horizon even as his arms reached for Tarrys and pulled her tight against him. She came to him willingly, curving her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to his chest. For long moments, they stood like that, holding each other, letting the joint fear slide away as they drew strength in one another’s arms.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  She looked up at him with a gaze that was at once shy and warm. “I am now.”

  Sweet. Beautiful. The words flitted through his head as his gaze roamed her face. The need to protect her rose fiercely inside him. But as his gaze fell to her mouth, she dipped her face and pulled away. “We need to keep moving, Charlie, in case he decides to follow.”

  With a sigh, he let her go, knowing she was right even as longed to kiss her all over again. Never had he had a kiss affect him like that last one had. He could still feel the softness of those lips as sweet as wine, could still feel the brand of her body pressed against his, unresisting. The press of her mouth against his had been artless…innocent. Every instinct told him she’d never been kissed.

  How was it possible she was an innocent?

  They fell into step side by side. “I hate the Esri,” Tarrys said, her words low and pained.

  Any doubt that she’d known the same kind of abuse he’d just witnessed, disappeared. The certainty felt like a kick in the gut. “You’ve had masters like that, haven’t you?”

  Her mouth twisted unhappily as she glanced at him with shadowed eyes. “I had Baleris.”

  Her simple words chilled him. With a sudden clarity, he understood what she’d risked by coming with him. As he stared at her delicate profile, her sheer courage humbled him.

  “You shouldn’t have come. You should have stayed in D.C. where you were safe.”

  Tarrys shrugged. “If you fail, I won’t be safe anywhere.”

  He nodded slowly. She’d said the words before, but he hadn’t truly understood. Now he did. If the Esri took over the human realm, how long before she’d be caught and enslaved again?

  “Then we’re not going to fail.”

  Slowly, so slowly, her mouth curved into one of her Mona Lisa smiles, her eyes shining with a strength and determination that matched his own. “No. We’re not.” />
  He grinned. With a team like this, how could they possibly lose?

  But even as the thought went through his head, exhaustion began to pull at him, the unnatural exhaustion of illness. And he wondered if they really stood a chance at all.

  Two days later, they followed the stream out of the foothills and into the mountains. Charlie ran his hand through hair—hair damp with perspiration, though their pace wasn’t one that should be making him break a sweat. As much as he tried to deny it, whatever bug he’d been fighting was starting to get the better of him. Each day he’d had to stop more and more frequently and sleep for hours longer than normal. And the thirst was becoming a nearly intolerable and constant companion.

  He was still functioning, still moving. But he had to wonder how long until he could no longer do either.

  The ever-present breeze stirred the hem of his cloak and rifled cooling fingers through his hair. As they walked, the terrain became increasingly steep, yet the nearby stream rushed no more quickly than it had on flat ground. Gravity appeared to play no part in it.

  A movement near the water caught his attention and he watched a fish the size of a small catfish waddle out of the water to nibble on the tall purple grasses that grew along the banks. Large red-and-black butterflies floated on the water.

  Charlie’s gaze kept moving as it had since he first arrived, cataloguing his environment, looking for danger. Watching for Esri.

  And watching Tarrys. As much as he tried to ignore her, his gaze kept returning to the woman at his side. As she walked, her fingers toyed with the soft locks that must have grown an inch since that afternoon three days ago when he’d watched her shoot the bow on her apartment building roof. The magic of this place, he supposed. Now her rich, dark hair was long enough to lie soft against her head and tickle the tips of her ears in a sleek, pleasing cap. His admiring gaze shifted to the play of light on her delicate features. How had he gone months without noticing how pretty she was? Delicate and ethereal. Like a ballerina. She even walked like a dancer, every movement filled with grace and certainty despite the sacklike gown she wore.