In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3

by Lisa Blackwood

  He bent down and brought their lips together, a feather-light touch, the ghost of a kiss. She wanted more, needed more. But he held her face framed between his hands and continued to brush his lips along her cheeks, her brows, and her forehead in a slow, meandering trail. He took his time until she grew frustrated and turned her head, capturing his lips in a demanding kiss.

  Fingers tangled in her hair, Sorntar returned her kiss, his lips sweeping across hers. When she opened her mouth for him, his reaction was strong and fierce. There was an edge of aggression in how he dragged her against his hips, so close she could feel his heat along the length of her abdomen.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his tone gentling. “You’re so much smaller, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She groaned and nipped at his throat, just under his jaw. “You won’t.” She tugged and pushed at his blanket, cursing it for preventing her from brushing her heated skin against his. She didn’t stop until it was down around his waist and she could lay her hands on the firm muscles of his chest. “I want you too much.”

  His smile turned predatory. With no more warning, he pressed her back against the ground and parted her blanket. Warm fingers brushed across her sensitive breasts. Shifting his weight, he nudged her knees apart farther and reached down between them, his fingers teasing at her mercilessly while his mouth closed over a nipple.

  His gentle assault dragged a moan from her. Flames hotter than Sorntar’s elemental fire licked at her belly. If he didn’t do something soon, she was going to burn.

  A deep, masculine chuckle caressed her overheated skin.

  “Sorntar, please...”

  In answer, he started a sensuous glide against her, until her hips bucked with need. Heat swirled up from her core—hot, tingling. Desperate now, she arched her back, her body demanding something instinct and her magic said only Sorntar could fulfill. She growled his name in growing frustration, but he seemed content to merely stroke and tease her until she was gripped by a mindless, raging need. Then finally, he glided into her, filling and stretching her one slow bit at a time. And at last they were one.

  “Ash, my beloved,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck, his thoughts leaving no doubt of his love.

  ***

  After they were both sated and their sweat had begun to dry, Sorntar stroked a finger along the upper swell of her breast. “This is new.”

  She tracked his finger. A faint mark darkened her skin, growing as she watched, forming a knot-like pattern composed of many individual colored threads. It reminded her of a tattoo. Sorntar was running fingertips across his own chest now, too. He had a matching pattern.

  “It’s the mark,” he said, his tone neither worried nor surprised.

  “The one denoting members of the Twelve?” she asked sleepily.

  “Yes.” His voice sounded stronger, renewed. “We’re healed, blessed by both the Great Mother and the All Father.”

  Ashayna stroked her tattoo and marveled. “Does it mean we can go home?”

  “Yes.”

  Ashayna got to her feet and mulled over his words for a moment while she arranged her blanket into a dress. She didn’t want to think about the real world at the moment, not when Sorntar’s scent still coated her like the finest perfume, but it didn’t look like she had a choice in the matter. “What about the creature Dakdamon created?”

  He stood up and stretched. “One problem at a time. The other members of the Twelve will find their way to us.”

  “What about Lamarra?” she asked around the tight knot in her throat. “The Dead King still has her.”

  “We will find her and together, we will face what comes.”

  “With Itharann’s help?”

  “Yes, the three of us together,” Sorntar agreed, drawing her forward until Ashayna stood looking up at him.

  She studied his face for some moments, then reached up to stroke his jaw, just to reassure herself he was real. “There is something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time now—should have said before.”

  He leaned into her and rested his chin against the top of her head. “Some things don’t need to be said. They are understood.”

  “Yes, but it’s still nice to hear it, I imagine.” She nipped his shoulder in a playful kiss. “Some emotions are so powerful words can’t describe them. That is how it is for me. I lack the words to even begin to convey how much I love you.”

  “Ash. While you might be lacking in words, your actions speak clearly.” He caressed her bare arms, and then, curving a wing around her shoulder, he tucked her against his side. “And I plan for my actions to speak as clearly as yours, for the rest of our lives. Hum, I think we need more practice.”

  A chuckle bubbled up within her. “First, I need to thank your god and goddess for bringing us together.”

  As she took in the beauty of their quite glade, she sent a silent prayer to the gods. She stayed like that, her body touching his, until the shadows stretched out long behind them. And for the first time Ashayna could remember, she felt whole.

  The End

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  Keep Reading For Herd Mistress

  HERD MISTRESS

  In Deception’s Shadow Book 2

  By Lisa Blackwood

  Herd Mistress © 2015 by Lisa Smeaton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Rebecca Frank

  http://rebeccafrank.design/

  Edited by Perry Constantine

  http://larksandkatydids.com/

  First eBook Edition *October 2013

  Back Cover

  A Fantasy Romance by Lisa Blackwood

  Magic. It turned Sorsha Stonemantle's world on its head. Yet she can't hate magic for without it Shadowdancer, the Santhyrian ambassador, would never have come into her life.

  In the days following their first meeting, Sorsha knows Shadowdancer completes her soul. There's only one problem. Any relationship beyond friendship is an impossibly.

  From the moment Shadowdancer encountered Sorsha, he knew she was a Herd Mistress—a rare worker of magic, key to the Santhyrian nation's survival. His first obligation is to protect her and bring her back to the safety of the herd, but when Sorsha is threatened by Lord Master Trensler and his priesthood, they soon discover Trensler serves a darker master, one willing to devour all magic until the world dies. And that evil wants Shadowdancer and Sorsha.

  When a second ambush set by Trensler cripples Sorsha’s magic and traps Shadowdancer in the form of a man, they barely escape with their lives. Unwilling to allow her lack of magic to rule her life, Sorsha sets out to teach Shadowdancer that being human isn't a curse. The proud Santhyrian stubbornly tries to push Sorsha away, but when they are endangered once again, they realize they must work together to find a way to heal themselves. If they fail, Trensler’s master will devour first them and then everything else Sorsha and Shadowdancer ever loved.

  Chapter One

  Sorsha’s fingers bit into the stone ridge above her head. The slight strain in her shoulders edged up another notch as her entire weight dragged on muscle, bone, and joint with familiar discomfort. The dull pain wasn’t new or particularly unexpected seeing how her body wasn’t designed for hanging suspended four floors above the ground. But never one to let small things like limitations thwart her, Sorsha denied defeat this night, like all the ones before.

  She shifted positions and lowe
red herself with a slow caution at odds with the reckless elation building in her blood. The ever-present coastal winds buffeted her, yet she bit back a joyous laugh. Focusing, she bent a knee and envisioned her toes finding a hold.

  Arms aching, shoulders on the verge of popping from their sockets, she fought past the pain and stretched farther. Just when she thought she’d shrunk, or the Stonemantle residence had suddenly grown like a tree stretching toward the sky, her bare feet found the ridge she sought.

  With stone once again under her toes, Sorsha released a sigh of relief. The top portion of her downward climb always tested her skills. It wouldn’t be such a chore if she had her sister’s height. Luckily, a couple of well-placed trellises below her window made the rest of the climb a gentle outing.

  Sorsha’s feet hadn’t yet touched the ground and excitement already quickened her pulse. A hurried survey of the ground below, and another along the pale stone path skirting the manor, reassured her she hadn’t been seen. Her reputation wouldn’t survive if someone glimpsed her sneaking out of her bedroom window at night. She couldn’t bring herself to worry over such a mundane thing for long. Not when for the first time in her life, she’d found another soul who matched her own. The knowledge made her brave and a tad foolish. Though she didn’t truly fear getting caught. She’d long since made a nightly habit of escape and could practically hide in a guard’s own shadow if she wished—one of many valuable skills she’d learned from her sister, Ashayna. Dressing in a stolen set of her sister’s scouting leathers never hurt either.

  Movement to her left, barely more than a hint of motion on her peripheral vision, caught Sorsha’s attention. She held her breath as a deep purple shadow, two shades darker than night, darted between the trees skirting the manor.

  Though her nighttime trips had, in the past, involved meeting a clandestine lover, these last few nights were for a completely different purpose. And perhaps more fulfilling than anything she’d known in all her life, for they hinted at the possibility of adventure, of freedoms she’d never experienced or dreamed possible—a feasible escape from the tedium and limitations of a noblewoman’s sheltered life.

  A foolish grin pulled at her lips. In a hurry, she dropped the rest of the way to the ground. Freshly turned earth and a recent rain softened her landing. She wiggled her toes in the dirt for a moment, enjoying the sensation and the rich, loamy scent. Then she ducked her head, swung her boots from around her neck, and untied the knotted laces while she waited.

  At the sound of hooves on gravel, she turned and cast a smile in the direction of the noise. Her accomplice stepped out of the darkness and nudged her with his velvety muzzle, searching until he found the carrot she’d hidden in her back pocket for him. The santhyrian ambassador stood eighteen hands high, his dark bay coloring more a velvety black at night. His long mane flowed across his arched neck, brushing against her shoulder and arm as he stepped alongside her. As always, the silky texture enticed her to groom it, and for the hundredth time, she reminded herself not to touch without an invitation. Shadowdancer wasn’t a horse, as much as he looked like one.

  “Well, little mane ornament, shall we ride?”

  Sorsha grinned at the name, and his mental tone—half-term of endearment, half-insult.

  “I’ve been waiting on you, big brute.” She was inordinately pleased her mind-speech sounded clear and strong. With the help of his nightly training sessions, she was starting to learn and understand her magic, though she still found it odd to think another creature lived within her. Larnkin, he called it—a creature from the spirit world. As if her Larnkin knew her thoughts, it stretched within her, molten power flowing under her skin.

  “Wait, little one.” Shadowdancer bobbed his head and shoved her shoulder with his muzzle. “Do not call your power here. We might be found out by an acolyte, and I do not like how those priests look upon my brethren and I. Sorntar doesn’t trust the priests either.”

  At the reminder of the Crown Prince of the Phoenix, Sorsha narrowed her eyes. While she had Sorntar to thank for introducing her to Shadowdancer and the other Santhyrians, she was still annoyed with him. She bent to pull on her boots, jerking them on with more strength than needed.

  “I thought you liked your sister’s bondmate?”

  Sorsha crossed her arms and remained silent.

  “Well?” he asked with an accompanying bump to her shoulder.

  She huffed out a breath. “First he abducts my sister, then he returns to his own people for months and I get no word from Ashayna—she could have been dead for all I knew. Then he comes prancing back here with her, but he won’t even say how long they’re staying.”

  “Actually, he flew here.” Shadowdancer snorted and tossed his head. His hooves dug furrows in the gravel. “Get on, you little faker—we must talk.” He continued to butt her chest until she mounted.

  Her anger ebbed once she was astride, the wind and fields calling her to race.

  “You’ve the soul of a santhyrian, little one.”

  “Thank you for the compliment. Now, are we going to ride or stand here all night?”

  In reply, Shadowdancer broke into a trot, navigating the night-shadowed world by the light of two crescent moons.

  When they were clear of the settlement of River’s Divide, Shadowdancer lengthened his stride into a full gallop. The ground sped past in a heart-pounding blur. She clamped her legs against Shadowdancer’s barrel, turned her face up to the moons, and lifted her arms above her head, her eyes drifting closed. It was dangerous—which intensified the thrill—and yet it was not dangerous at all. With each strike of his hooves against the ground, the stallion gathered power until his magic echoed up into her body and they were one, a merging of mind and soul.

  Seen through his eyes, the path was clear before him, the ground level. As her mind settled more firmly in his, the smallest imperfections in the terrain became visible. She could feel each of his footfalls, sense the current of magic in the ground, and stronger still, feel the tightly knotted core of his power—his Larnkin—just out of reach. Joined this way, she imagined she could talk with his Larnkin, communicate with it almost as well as Shadowdancer could.

  Yet doubt held her back. Fear of destroying such an utter sense of completeness stopped her from asking if Shadowdancer felt the same. No matter how much she hated to admit it, the closeness she felt could be nothing more than her imagination. While she could see what Shadowdancer saw, his emotions were shuttered.

  Sorsha drifted in her own thoughts as Shadowdancer galloped onward, leaving the Stonemantle residence far behind. Ahead, the dark forest waited with its seductive promise of freedom.

  * * * *

  They rode in silence for a time. With her eyes still closed and her fingers buried in his mane, Sorsha listened to Shadowdancer’s breath, the thunder of his hooves, the wind in her ears—the sounds of life and joy and love. Her power built within her, twisting upward and higher still, a burning weight which sought… something. There lay another problem. She didn’t know what she, or her power, really wanted. Perhaps if they rode just a little longer or faster, the knowledge of what she sought would come to her. It was as if her fate was just beyond her reach, waiting for her to find her purpose and claim it.

  When Shadowdancer slowed his pace, Sorsha opened her eyes and lowered her arms. Frustration enveloped her, but she didn’t give it voice. It might be nothing but her fantasy to escape life as a noblewoman and return with him to the Elementals’ city and find another life—one with more meaning. Just like her sister, Ashayna, had found with the Crown Prince of the Phoenix.

  “I think I should be jealous.” Amusement colored Shadowdancer’s mental voice. “You’ve thought of Sorntar at least three times tonight.”

  “Oh.” Sorsha frowned, annoyed with herself for allowing private thoughts to bleed across the link. But Shadowdancer didn’t seem ruffled in the least. Maybe blunt honesty was best. “I don’t covet Ashayna’s bondmate. Prince Sorntar is handsome to be sure, but
his personality is a little… bland. Too tame for my tastes. I love a good challenge. While I’m on the topic of challenges, I demand you tell me how you read my thoughts so easily without me knowing.”

  “I must keep a few secrets from my little trellis monkey.” Shadowdancer snorted in humor when she slapped his neck. “And you do realize you just called a phoenix bland—they’re fiery by their very natures.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “For your sake, I hope you never do.” Shadowdancer halted when he came alongside a stream. “Before we started out, you were going to tell me why you were angry at Sorntar.”

  Sorsha dismounted. Kneeling, she stared at the stream in silence for several moments before she scooped up a handful of water and drank. Thirst slaked, she splashed refreshingly cold water on her face. Shadowdancer dipped his nose in the stream next to her, and she didn’t miss how he rolled an eye in her direction.

  “Fine.” She huffed, embarrassed all over again at the memory of the pitying look Sorntar had bestowed upon her the last time she’d cornered him. It was as if the damned phoenix could see all the way to her soul, and had known the impossibility of her heart’s desire. “I asked if I could return to the Elementals’ city when you and your people leave.”

  “Prince Sorntar wisely said no. And I agree with his decision.”

  She drew in a sharp breath at his words, surprised by the twinge of pain. She’d thought Shadowdancer would side with her—they were friends, were they not? Apparently not. But then… it would mean whatever strange power engulfed her when he was near was a one-sided phenomenon. Perhaps that knowledge was the cause of Sorntar’s pity. To her great embarrassment, her throat tightened and her eyes filled with tears.