Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I

by Shelby Morgan

  She wasn't sure Seanen saw her slide the little dirk into her hands, but she didn't dare leave it exposed long enough to make sure she had his attention. Élandine stood before Seanen, just out of reach, slowly disrobing. "It won't do you any good to fight me, big man-thing, but go ahead and try. I shall enjoy your efforts."

  "He doesn't understand you," Yarwyn commented blandly. "He doesn't speak our language."

  Élandine turned to face her, his naked body revealing the strength of his desire. "Too bad. Perhaps if he understood me he might fight me even harder."

  Seanen's eyes fixed on her over Élandine's shoulder, calm and steady. She relaxed just a little. Seanen had seen her draw the little dirk and he was ready. She moved in on Élandine, running her hands over his chest. "I won't fight you at all." She lowered her lips to his chest, circling the areola with the tip of her tongue before she bit down hard.

  Surprised by the sudden pain, the Dark Elf took a step backward, away from her, and much too close to Seanen. Strong muscled legs clamped around the small, dark head like a vice while those mighty forearms supported Seanen's weight against the wall. Yarwyn plunged her knife between the ribs and pushed and twisted toward his heart, hoping she'd hit hard enough to finish things off quickly. Fury blazed from the pale silver eyes, then hatred as they gradually grew dim. Yarwyn pulled her little dirk free and wiped it clean on his shimmering silk robe as Seanen let the body slide to the floor.

  In the robe's pocket she found what she was looking for. She dangled the iron ring from her finger as she turned back toward Seanen. "Now I have the keys."

  He said nothing, his eyes fixed on her as she unlocked first his left wrist, and then his right. His wrists were raw and bloodied, and she would have healed him, but when she tried to capture those wrists again he captured her instead, wrapping his arms around her possessively.

  She was as unfamiliar with the emotions pouring off of him as she was with the way his arms wrapped around her. There had been few hugs in Yarwyn's life. She stood absolutely still for a moment, unsure how to respond, but the simple affection was her undoing. Her arms rose, almost of their own volition, to tighten fiercely around him, holding, possessing, sheltering, protecting, even as he protected her. All the emotions she'd kept carefully in check since she'd seen the worm drag him under came crashing through, until her fear burned itself out against his chest in hot, angry tears.

  * * * * *

  Seanen held her, satisfied for now to know that they were both safe. The feel of her body against his, small and soft and whole, reassured him that they were both alive and relatively unscathed. He didn't expect the sudden strength with which she returned his embrace, couldn't have predicted the way it would overwhelm him with a jumble of unfamiliar emotions, all soft and tender and protective. Her tears against his chest sealed his fate. He slid one arm down, behind her knees, scooping her up to carry her gently toward the bed.

  She curled herself around him under the covers, her head against his chest, her arms and legs entwining with his, as if she needed to touch him as badly as he needed to feel her skin pressed against his. He whispered her name softly, then again.

  "Yarwyn."

  "Seanen." She smiled up at him, her eyes wet with tears. "You see, I still remember your name."

  He kissed each eye, admiring the soft, beautiful skin of her eyelids. "I know the timing isn't good, but I need to tell you something."

  She pulled back a little, sudden fear in her eyes as she looked up at him. "What?"

  He was a fool. He was going to frighten her, chase her away, destroy the closeness that had built up between them. What had he been thinking? He was but a child to her, a toy she'd soon tire of.

  "What?"

  Fear tinged her voice. He recognized the sound of it. Not the fear of death in battle. A far stronger fear. The kind of fear that could only happen when you trusted someone with your heart. Seanen caressed her head with one hand, trying to reassure her even as he found the courage to speak the words. "I'm falling in love with you."

  "No." She shook her head, like a dog trying to clear its ears. "No. You love making love to me. You love the way my body feels in your hands. You might even like being chained up occasionally as long as I have the keys. But you don't love me."

  He wasn't sure what response he'd expected, maybe none at all, but whatever it was, he'd never expected the fierce, almost angry denial she threw back at him. He kept his tone low and even, trying not to frighten her any more than he already had. "I admire your body, and your spirit, but you don't need chains to hold me, little Elf. You have my heart."

  "No–"

  "I love you, Yarwyn."

  She drew up into a tight little ball, hugging her knees to her chest as she rolled away from him. Hard, angry sobs shook her slender frame. "You don't even know me. I am a lie, built upon lies. I am nothing anyone could ever love."

  Seanen jackknifed his knees under hers, his arms encircling her as she cried out her grief. "I love you, Yarwyn. No matter who or what you really are. It doesn't matter, Yarwyn. I love you." He kissed her ear, where he knew she was the most sensitive. "Unless…"

  She turned toward him, her sobs quieting, her eyes desperate. "Unless what?"

  "You're not really an Orc, are you? That would take very strong magic."

  She blinked once, twice, a hint of a smile appearing. "I'm not an Orc," she murmured.

  "Or a troll?"

  Despite herself she was beginning to giggle. "Or a troll."

  "Good, because I really don't go for green skin." He kissed her lips, tasting them thoughtfully. "I suppose an Ogre might be feasible, though we'd have to be careful, or you'd crush me."

  Her voice came through low and frightened and even sexier for its breathiness. "How about the bastard daughter of a tavern wench who sold her child to the temple priestesses for the price of another bottle of meade?"

  This–this was the secret she'd tried to keep hidden from him? He did his best not to laugh. Instead he kissed her gently on the forehead. "How about you give me a lifetime to think it over?"

  "A lifetime?" Her voice caught, then steadied. "What shall we do while you're thinking?"

  Seanen glanced at the traces of light beginning to filter in through the slits of the castle walls. "Well, we could kill the King and another Dark Elf or two and get the hell out of here. Then if there's anything left of our armies we could help clean up the mess and get an escort back to House Yarishet or House Lochinvar or just about anywhere in the known world you'd like to go next."

  "Anywhere?"

  "Anywhere."

  "I'm not fond of cold."

  "Mmm." He kissed the top of her head. "What about the desert cities, then? Too hot?"

  "You would leave Lady Lochinvar's household for me?"

  "Lady Lochinvar has been more than an employer to me. Almost a mother at times. Her faith in me kept me from losing my hand, and gave me the means to become whatever I have made of myself. I would not like to part company with her, though I would, if it were necessary to keep us together. But I was thinking of a post she asked me to take some time ago. Ambassador to Port City, on the ocean at the edge of the desert. She felt my talents might prove useful there."

  Yarwyn pressed her face against his chest. "Seanen?"

  "Mmm?"

  "If I tell you something, will you try not to laugh at me?"

  He held her slender form tightly, lest she feel him tremble. "I will not laugh at you."

  Her breath came out in a hot rush against his chest. "I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. My knees went so weak I had to sit down. I thought my heart might fall right out of my chest at your feet."

  "Ha." For some reason the image pleased him enormously. "I though you were still a child. But your voice…your voice had me wanting things a man has no right to want from a child."

  Worry crept back into her voice. "Seanen, I've never…that is, I don't know if I'm any good at–I've never felt more for a man that jus
t the need of the moment. The idea of a relationship…I'm frightened."

  He blinked hard at the picture. "A relationship. I guess that's what this is. The thought has never occurred to me. I never expected to find a woman who'd consider me as more than a temporary diversion. Perhaps we shall have to learn how this works. Together."

  "It will mean a change in our lifestyles."

  Seanen glanced around the small stone walled room, taking in the manacles hanging from the wall, the blood pooling around the corpse on the floor. "Maybe our lifestyles could use a change."

  He felt more than heard the laughter that shook her. "You think?"

  "Yea." Seanen ran his hand over the long, dark length of her thigh and up the curve of her hip until it rested on her waist. "You know, I never properly thanked you for preserving my virtue."

  She snorted. "Your virtue had nothing to do with it. I was jealous. I don't share what's mine with anyone."

  "Good." He kissed her tenderly, a sweet, soft, bonding of lips that brought his blood to a slow, languorous boil. "I think I'm going to like being yours." He kissed her eyelids, working his way slowly across to her ear, feeling her shiver in anticipation as he touched his tongue to the lower lobe, lifting it into his mouth to suckle gently before he moved on to the sensitive upper tip. He rolled over her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he looked down on her small, fragile body. "And who do you belong to?"

  Tremors shook her body as he drew the point of her long, delicate ear into his mouth. "Seanen," she breathed. "Only you."

  She was ready when he entered her, already tight and wet and hot as the fires of all the hells. He moved slowly, sinking into her welcoming flesh, then pulling back, savoring, tasting, enjoying the feeling that was so much more than anything he'd felt with any other woman. "You make me feel like a virgin again," he whispered.

  "You make me feel like I'll die if I can't have all of you now."

  He pushed in again, plundering her depths, finding a better fit than he had with any other woman. "I've had sex before. You know that. But I've never made love to any woman but you."

  Her hands moved to frame his face as she kissed him, her eyes soft and damp around the lashes. "I've never loved anyone before. I love you, Seanen. Only you."

  He stilled within her, feeling her pulse beating frantically against him in long, shimmering waves. She'd said she'd fallen in love with him, but this, this was different. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the depth of this emotion. "No one's ever loved me before," he whispered.

  "Well, I do. Maybe we have a lot to learn together."

  He laughed at that, happier than he could ever remember feeling. She moved against him, trying to pull him further into her hot, wet depths. Instead he withdrew, just a little, giving her more room to move. "Yes? Is there something you want?"

  "You. I want you."

  He grinned at her, sliding out, then slowly back in, feeling every ridge of her as she pulsed against him. He ran his tongue over her eyebrow, watching her shuddered response as he moved closer to the ear he'd neglected so far. She cried out as he pushed farther into her, then withdrew again, picking up the pace just slightly. She was almost there. He could feel his slow, careful movements pushing her over the edge. She tightened around him like a fist, building the answering need within him until the pace he'd set for himself seemed unbearably difficult to maintain.

  "Seanen." She thrust her hips against him, urging him to increase his pace.

  "Not yet, my love." He withdrew completely, sliding slowly down her body until he held her hips in his hands. He spread her lower lips, caressing her thighs as he sucked her juices into his mouth. His tongue circled her clitoris, tracing its outline while her hands fisted in his hair.

  "Seanen!"

  He blew soft, warm breath onto her sensitive flesh, holding her when she would have twisted away, then licking gently, loving the torture he'd created for her. Another hot flood of juices poured from her, and he licked them up, exploring her flesh with his tongue. She thrust against him, her hands grasping at him, her voice a whimpering moan as she burst under his gentle, slow ministrations. He ran his tongue around her clitoris, wetting her with her own juices.

  "I want you," she whimpered as she broke under him again.

  "And I want you."

  She cried out as he thrust into her again, no longer gentle, and she clenched around him as he felt his own need build to the point of no return. He set a furious pace, giving her everything she asked for, suckling her ears in turn as they moved toward the final precipice.

  She came beneath him with a final spasm, clenching so tightly around him that he felt as if she'd pulled the final response from him. His orgasm shook him so that he felt the room go dim for a moment, felt himself collapsing over her, without the strength to support his own body weight.

  When he finally remembered to breath again, she still held him fiercely, as if determined not to let him get away, apparently not at all concerned that he might crush her. Which was just as well, for he still hadn't the strength to move.

  "You shall be the death of me," he managed. "But what a way to die."

  Chapter Six

  "The sun's up."

  "I know."

  Yarwyn propped herself up on one elbow so that she could study his face. "Have I ever told you how much I enjoy looking at you?"

  He snorted softly. "You're daft, woman."

  She cupped his chin to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "That's one of the things I like about you. You really have no idea how incredibly attractive you are."

  His eyes closed when she kissed him, and a look almost like pain stole across his face. The emotions she felt from him now were alien to her experience, but so comforting. Possessiveness, mixed with something akin to lust, but softer and yet more powerful. If this was love, it would surely be her undoing. She snuggled down in his arms for a few stolen minutes, not wanting to be the one to move first.

  * * * * *

  She fit into his arms so perfectly. Who'd have ever thought that such a fragile creature could take such a powerful hold on him. Seanen sighed. "This is like a dream world, and as soon as we move, it's over." And if anything happened to her, more than these few stolen minutes of peaceful intimacy would be lost. If he'd had it in his power, he'd have done the job alone, kept her somewhere safe and protected.

  "I wish I could do this alone, without putting you in so much danger," she whispered against his chest.

  Seanen snorted softly. "Aye, girl, I feel the same. I guess we shall have to learn to trust one another to do our jobs. If you're busy worrying about me you won't have your mind on your work, now will you?"

  Yarwyn curled a little tighter against him, her ear pressed against his chest. "I love listening to your heartbeat. It sounds so strong. So alive."

  "Yarwyn."

  She sighed, the sound an admission of defeat. "I trust you. You're the best. I came for you because you are the best. But if anything happens to you, how will I live with myself?"

  He ran his fingers through her short silver hair. "I checked on you, you know. You're very good at what you do. Remember that. Do your job, and trust me to do my job. Once we leave this room, we're two professionals. That means the mission comes first. If you want to keep me alive, focus on the job at hand."

  Yarwyn kept her ear pressed to his heart. "You have my word. Now you promise me. No unnecessary risks. No more unarmed water-worm hunting."

  He stroked her head again. "You have my word. No unnecessary risks."

  But then, part of his job was to keep her alive. Toward that end, there were no unnecessary risks…

  * * * * *

  The door clicked softly shut as the Dark Priestess lead her slave from the room. Behind them, the form on the floor that had been Élandine slowly shifted. He was tired. So tired. But, as he had heard the others remind themselves, there was a mission at hand. He drew in the blood that had pooled around this body, consuming it as fuel for his magic.

&nbs
p; The current illusion took too much energy. He let it go, shifting forms once again. His bones ached from the torture of being pent up so long. He laid one long, bronzed finger over the wound in his chest, his eyes pressed tightly closed.

  Slowly, so slowly, the wound drew together, from the inside out, until at last the skin sealed itself shut. When he could draw his breath again without the burning pain, he crawled to the bed, throwing aside the soiled sheets as he wrapped himself in the bedcovers.

  Even if a servant entered the room, they would not know. He was just another dark creature, sleeping off a night of too much wine. He'd recover. He just needed some sleep. He'd be better in a short time. Time enough to finish his mission.

  * * * * *

  Even in full daylight the corridors were dark and dank. Yarwyn followed in Seanen's footsteps, moving as he moved, marveling at his stealth. She knew how to glide quietly through the forest, making herself almost invisible as she traded shadow for shadow. Seanen could do the same thing here, blending into the stone walls until he was part of the floor, so that at times even she couldn't find him with her eyes.

  Her skill at hiding was not nearly so adept. Instead, she used her own small magic to wrap herself in a mist the color of the stone, dissipating the shadow of her body. She kept her breathing slow and even, even as the stone itself breathed in the early morning breeze, and they moved at the speed of a cat stalking its prey.

  The corridors were a maze that made little sense to her, though she had the feeling that Seanen led her up and towards the west with each progressive twist and turn. They had studied the same drawings together, and she understood in theory where she needed to go, but she didn't feel it the way Seanen did. The forests were her place. She felt no affinity for the cold stone walls.

  The castle was nearly deserted. They occasionally glided by a household servant, but she could sense the massed body of the Orcish troops had swarmed from these corridors not long ago, in the early hours of the morning, massing, she knew, to face the army of Northlanders and Humans who now stood across the moat before the front gates.