by Bonnie Vanak
Quivering with sensual anticipation, she watched him wash his arms, the cloth stroking over strong muscle and sinew. So handsome and virile, this man of hers.
“And I told you, I cannot cease worrying and watching for you while you are gone.”
Next, he sat on the bench near the table and removed his boots and stockings, and then he stripped until he was nude. He washed his thighs, belly and buttocks, running the cloth slowly over his skin.
He gave her an intent look as he washed his genitals. His other weapon, which had slain her with such pleasure after their first joining.
Throwing aside the cloth, he turned to her. “You are stubborn, wench.”
Nikita smiled. “One who is wearing too much clothing.”
“Take it off.” His voice was soft and steely, but passion fired his eyes.
“Are you not hungry?”
“Aye. Hungry for you.”
The heat of battle fired his blood, and he needed her. She would be his second conquest this day, but a willing one.
Slowly, she shrugged out of the gown, letting it puddle at her feet. Nikita removed her shoes, underclothing, and stockings. He watched, his dark gaze intent. From a thick nest of black hair at his groin, his sex swelled.
He was a powerful man, a warrior who killed, but he would not hurt her. She knew this. Even when his lovemaking grew fierce and rough, he never hurt her, for he had made a promise.
She lay back on the bed, her arms open wide, her legs splayed in invitation. His gaze darkened as he stared between her thighs.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “Pink as a rose, wet with dew.”
Placing a knee on the bed, he kissed his forefinger, then pressed his finger to her cheek. Nikita smiled as memory stirred. Upon their first meeting, he had made the gesture, a symbol of his feelings from the start. It was his first gesture to her before they made love, and his last when he left her to fight yet again.
With a soft growl, he lay upon the furs and took her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his own. He forced his tongue past her lips, and she trembled beneath the insistent pressure of his kiss. Though she had been a virgin before he claimed her, she knew how to please him and teased his tongue with light flicks, enjoying his groan and the way he quivered in her arms. Niki kissed him back with equal fervor, glorying in the feel of his damp, hard flesh pressing her against the furs.
Too long they had been parted.
He tore his mouth away and feathered light kisses down her neck, licking her earlobe. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, working down to her left breast. Her warrior licked the cresting nipple and a bolt of lightning shot between her trembling thighs. Nikita moaned as he suckled her, his fingers drifting between her legs. The gentle strokes made fire come there, and she writhed with pleasure.
She needed him inside her, now.
He raised up and looked at her, his gaze smoldering. “It was a hard battle, well fought, and my blood fever is up. My need of you is so fierce, I cannot be gentle.”
In answer she spread her thighs wide. “Take me.”
With a low growl, he parted her slick folds with trembling fingers and then positioned his sex at her soaked entrance. Nikita shivered with excitement. Snarling, he thrust deep inside her. She gasped, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Always, the first time he entered her he met with resistance, as if she resented the intruder who claimed her body, her heart. And then her female flesh grew soft and welcoming, and eager to receive him.
Going still, he looked down at her, expression filled with concern. “Am I hurting you?”
“Never.” She writhed beneath him. “But I shall hurt you if you delay any longer.”
The smile upon his face was filled with satisfaction, and a gleam of mischief. Then his expression turned intent as he began to move, driving hard and fast inside her. She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his flesh slap wetly against hers. And then she felt the climax shimmer in her loins and Niki arched back and screamed as he took her.
Shouting, his head thrown back, the cords on his strong neck straining, he poured himself deep inside her body, claiming his victory.
They lay upon the furs in each other’s arms, as he stroked her hair. A feeling of deep unease mingled with the pleasure, and she shifted her weight, wincing at the soreness between her legs, and the discomfort of muscles she had not used for a while.
“You’re mine. No one else will ever have you.” His dark gaze was fierce, filled with passion.
“No one,” she whispered. “I’m yours, always.”
I love you.
The emotion was so intense, her chest hurt.
He took her into his arms and made love to her again, slower this time, and when she cried out her completion, he joined her, shouting her name as he pumped his seed deep inside her.
Afterward, Nikita drowsed on the furs, filled with contentment, refusing to examine the unease winking deep inside her, like a torch in the dark distance.
He smiled and placed a warm palm on her flat belly. “You are in heat and I believe we conceived our son today. We shall have our babe at last, my love, the babe you have longed for, the son who shall carry on my legacy.”
A babe of her own. A child, created in love. Her lover was strong and virile. It had not taken long for him to impregnate her. She already could feel her womb quicken with tiny, new life.
He leaned over her, and rubbed a thumb over her still crested nipple. “I can see you now, your belly big with our child, and then suckling our son. He will be a fine, strong lad.”
Niki laughed and playfully swatted his hand. “You forget I must give birth first. I have heard that is less than pleasant.” She smiled, though dread filled her as she recalled the whispers of the midwives in the castle. “Some women have died birthing their firstborns.”
The passion faded from his gaze, replaced with intensity. “I will never allow anything to happen to you, my sweet. Even if I must leave you, you will be safe. You are my heart and my soul, and I would die without you.”
“Don’t you dare ever leave me.” She reached out for him, her lover, her life, the one who came to her every night, who claimed her body and her heart.
And then as he reached for her, the tenderness in his expression turned to sharp panic. Something grabbed him from behind, something with sharp and wicked claws. He screamed in pain and fought, but the unseen thing kept dragging him, hurting him…
This time, the dream did not turn to mist. She could see clearly.
His face bloodied, wearing his customary black tunic, and leggings, her mate stood on a wood platform. One eye was swollen shut from beatings. They had poured salt into his wounds, the bastards, to ensure he would keep bleeding and would not heal. The black-clad executioner flanked Tristan on bloodied platform.
A tall man with long silvery-blond hair sat on a throne behind Tristan. He was dressed in blue robes, his cold eyes green as glass. He tapped the armrest of the throne.
“I give you one last chance to confess, Tristan Kearney. Tell us where the dragon eggs lie and you will be set free.”
Nikita broke through the crowd and reached the platform, her fingers reaching up to touch his. Chains rattled as Tristan stretched out his hand to her.
“Tell them, my love,” she begged. “Tell King Emer what he wishes, and return to us. I need you. We,” she put a hand on her bulging belly, “need you. Must your son grow up without a father?”
“I love you,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to her. “I shall love you through eternity, Nikita. Heaven and hell may never separate us. Stay strong for the sake of our son.”
“Tristan, please…confess. Do not forsake me or your child! Beg mercy from Emer and he will grant it. Stay with me.”
Tristan closed his eyes and she felt his resolve, and his regret. “I cannot betray nor forsake our people, Nikita. After my death, they will rise and defeat the Fae.”
“And you would forsake me fo
r a cause? I matter not to you?”
“Not true. I do this for you, for our child, so he may have a future as a free Lupine, and not be enslaved to Fae.”
“You do it to become a martyr,” she told him, bitterly. “What of the promise you made to me on our mating day? I promise to put your welfare above all others. Think of me, Tristan. How am I to live without you?”
“Think of the greater good, and what this means for our people.”
“The greater good?! What about me? Our child? Our life together?” She stared in stunned disbelief as Emer’s men dragged her backward, away from her mate, her love, her life. He cared not for her, only for the great, almighty cause.
She begged him with her eyes, but he turned from her.
“Tristan? One last chance. Do you confess?” the king called out.
Tristan raised his head and faced Emer, his chains rattling. “Never. Our people will win this war, and be free of your tyranny, Emer. All shifters deserve to live in freedom, not enslaved to Fae.”
The king’s mouth curved into a cruel smile. “Very well.” He signaled the executioner.
They chained Tristan to the poles and stretched out his arms, forcing him to face the jeering crowd of taunting Fae.
And then the black-robed executioner stepped to a wood table covered with a cloth. He pulled back the cloth, revealing a row of sharp instruments. The man selected a hook and approached.
Tristan paled.
The Fae executioner ripped open her mate’s tunic, exposing the taut muscles of his back. She remembered caressing those muscles as he moved inside her, smiling down upon her as they made love and created the babe inside her belly.
Sunlight gleamed upon the wicked curve of the hook as the executioner raised it again, and then slashed…and pulled…
Tristan cried out, his eyes wild… “Nikita,” he screamed. “Nikita!”
“No, please! Don’t leave me, you promised to never leave me!” she shrieked. “Don’t leave me!”
Don’t leave me! You promised…
She awoke, screaming, clawing at the bedcovers in panic. She had seen in brutal reality the agony suffered by her mate, had seen how he died in horrific pain…
“Nikita!”
Two strong arms surrounded her, pulling her against a hard, warm chest and the beating heart of an immortal wizard. A beating heart…she tried to center her scrambled thoughts, push away the terror. His heart still beat. He was alive.
Sobbing, she clung to him as he stroked her hair. “Oh Nikita,” he whispered brokenly. “My sweet. Do not dream of losing me. I am here. I am here.”
Murmuring soothing words, he held her tight as she curled her shaking body around him, fear coagulating in her veins, her stomach in knots. When at last she lifted her tear-streaked face to gaze upon him, he looked at her with sorrow.
Tristan gently wiped away one tear with the edge of his thumb. His touch felt soothing and cool to her flushed skin.
“You promised,” she whispered, fisting her hand in his shirt, grief forgotten amid the raging sense of betrayal. “We had a life together. I remember it well now. We had a lovely life and a passion and fire each time we made love. We had a child I was to bear you. You promised me on our wedding day that you would always be there for me, for our children, that I would come first, before all others. And you broke that promise.”
Chapter 6
She had remembered the passion and the fire in their relationship.
Nikita also remembered the betrayal and the lies. Heavy with regret, he watched her leave the bed and stand by the window.
“I had hoped we would have more time together before you recalled that time and what I said to you,” he told her, joining her.
Niki folded her arms and stared at the ocean. “You warned me. The most powerful and emotional memories surface first. Breaking a mating promise…that’s a very emotional memory, Tristan.”
“I did not break it. I put you first, Nikita, and our child.”
“You put war first, Tristan. Your ego first, as you flew off to fight.” She pressed a shaking hand to her temple. “I can still recall the cheers as you flew away on Drust to fight the Fae. Mighty Tristan! Our savior!”
Anger flashed in her blue eyes as she turned to face him. “Their savior, while I was left in the castle, wondering if you would return to me. Wondering if the Lupine I promised to honor and obey and share my life and my body with, would ever do the same. I was pushed into shadow, the shadow of doubt and fear, knowing you’d placed yourself in grave danger! I had no future!”
Guilt stabbed him but he pushed it aside. The cause had been noble, and the shifters had won after he had died. “You had no future without war, for what future is it for shifters to live under the thumb of the Fae? King Emer was determined to keep us enslaved. We could not hunt on our own damned land without his permission! We were forced to serve them, to till the soil of their farms. We had no freedom to raise our young, to form packs.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I did not enter the Drakon War lightly. It was not for my ego, as you think. It was to rally the clans and the races of shifters to overcome Emer’s forces.”
“I begged you to rally them with Drust leading the forces. He was dragon and would have made a good general. And you jumped upon Drust’s back and flew off, and from that moment, the war was all yours.”
She stood, arms folded, looking as severe and accusing as she had hundreds of years ago. Ah the irony of being scolded for something he had done in a past life. Tristan shoved a hand through his hair.
“I want to go home,” she said. “Now.”
Damn. “You cannot.”
“Fine, I have no home. I’ll remain here.”
“You have to accompany me to Tir Na-nog. You have no choice.”
He paced the room. “The potion I gave you changes your cell structure, and it saved you. You must come with me to Tir Na-nog to renew your body and purge the potion in four days, or you will die.”
Whirling, he narrowed his eyes. “A very painful death, for no mortal can endure the blood of the Brehon and the magick of the dragon’s heart, and survive for long here in this world. Or the Shadow Lands.”
Niki stared at him with huge eyes. “Maybe you should have let me die of the parvolupus disease. I would have been better off.”
Fury filled him. In two strides he was at her side, his fingers upon the soft flesh of her upper arms. “And watch you die? Never! I swore I would do everything, anything, to save you from that godsdamn disease!”
“You failed to save me centuries ago because you weren’t there.” Her voice broke. “If you’d been there, I would have lived. I would never have drunk the potion, for you always brought me everything. All my food, my water, you checked everything because you feared someone poisoning me. But you weren’t there and I missed you so much, so very much….”
Grief, guilt and shame rushed inside him like the ocean tide. He released her arms, feeling as destroyed as the crushed sandcastle she’d conjured on the beach. “I was not. I am so sorry, Nikita.”
Blinking hard, she turned from him. And then she spoke in a quiet voice. “Drust was responsible for the potion. I saw it in my dream. He was very pleased to see I was dying, and our child with me.”
Tristan went very still. “What else do you remember?”
“I was given a magick potion that was supposed to make our baby grow stronger. I’d had a little bleeding and was worried. Instead, it contained poison.” She took a deep breath. “Drust had obtained the potion himself from a Fae…to kill me and our child.”
Deep inside he knew Drust was responsible, but Tristan lacked the magick to see clearly into her past after he had died. He had only seen a cloudy vision of Nikita’s death after he’d become the Silver Wizard.
All the Brehon could not clearly see their own futures or the past or the future of their loved ones. The goddess Danu told them it was to keep them focused on their duties.
You will pay, Drust.
You will live forever in shadow, your name forgotten through the ages.
Silently, he vowed to proceed with his plan for revenge. He would crush the dragon in the afterworld and Drust would always walk alone.
Just as Tristan had walked alone all his time in the Shadow Lands.
Tristan fisted his hands, recalling the agony of his torture and execution. Helpless and powerless, his fate at the whim of those who tortured and executed him.
I will never be that helpless again, never without the kind of power that makes me feel like that. I will always be in control. Always. And I shall not lose Nikita again, ever. To the last drop of my blood, I will see you are safe, Nikita.
“And you will never be there for me again, will you?” She traced a rune on the window, the same protective rune he had drawn.
He doubted she was even aware of what she did.
“You are the Silver Wizard, guardian of shifters. You have responsibilities and duties that will always take you from my side. You wish to become my lover again, and father a child with me, but you will leave us alone once more.”
“I will always watch over you. I will never allow anything to harm you or our child,” he said softly.
She sniffed. “Skype via wizard style doesn’t cut you out for Father of the Year, Tristan. You only care about your powers as the wizard and your damn responsibility to save the world.”
Tristan had always prided himself on control, but the thin thread he held regarding Nikita was beginning to fray. “It is not all I care about, and if you are not careful, my sweet, you will find out. You are sorely testing my patience and you do not want to see me angry.”
He felt the rise of his powers, felt his irises begin to glow ice blue. He heard Nikita’s heart beat faster, but she held her ground.
“And what are you going to do to me, Tristan? Abduct me? You already did that. Punish me for making you angry?”
“There is one thing I have not yet done,” he said in a deep, low voice. “I’ve been patient, but my control goes so far. I am more than a wizard who judges shifters. I am a wolf who has desired his mate for more than nine godsdamned centuries, a wolf who needs you to claim you in the flesh.”