by Lara Adrian
Steam hazed her vision, wreathing them in a humid, dreamlike mist. The torchlight that bathed the chamber in a golden glow now cast illicit shadows on the far wall, muted images of a couple sensually joined together, lost to passion, drowning in ecstasy. The water of the pool lapped at Ariana's stomach and thighs, churned to a frenzy by the rhythmic tempo of their lovemaking. The air around them echoed with an earthy song of muffled sighs and grunts and wordless gasps, and the steady friction of their bodies twined together and moving in the throes of climbing bliss.
Braedon growled her name like a curse and lifted her hips higher, drawing her to him so that she was farther up on her knees. He pressed her head down with a guiding kiss at her nape and drove in deeper, this new angle having tilted her to better accommodate his fervent thrusts and freeing his hands to roam her body in tactile worship. Ariana took him in, every hard pulsing inch of him. She felt her womb expand and contract with the rise of another release, felt his sex react, growing harder, thrusting deeper. She braced herself beneath him, weathering the storm of his passion, thrilling in the savage unleashing of his rigid control as he ground his hips against her bottom, then drew back, only to fill her again and again.
She splintered apart that instant, the swell of rapture breaking over her in wave after wave of mindless, bone-numbing bliss. And all the while he rode her, urging her toward a greater pleasure, branding himself on her very soul with the fierce animal joining of their bodies. Ariana sobbed her joy, going slack beneath him in quivering wonder as he chased his own release.
"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, Braedon, yes...don't stop..."
Her breathless coaxing seemed to speed him toward completion. He pumped with wild abandon, clutching her to him like he would cling to life itself. She felt him surge harder, stronger, tighter inside her, before he shouted a savage oath and filled her with the sudden, hot rush of his seed.
* * *
"Ah--God," Braedon snarled, shuddering against the delicate arc of her spine as his body spasmed around and within her, suspended on a plane between the very heights of heaven and an earthbound hell. His fevered pulse thrummed in his temples and in points lower, as Ariana's silken sheath molded around him, seducing him of all his strength and self-control. "Ariana...sweet Christ, woman."
She had milked him of every dram of resolve, with her sweet entreaty to join him in the bath, her devastating siren's song. He was spent and shaking, and still he wanted her. His sex was greedy for her still, more hard than waning, more hungered now that it had feasted on her once again.
God's blood, but if anyone was doomed, Braedon thought, surely it was him. Doomed to always feel her, to always search for her in his mind, as he had in the moments before he found her wandering the cavern passageways alone on her way to find her chamber. He had hardly been aware that he was hunting her until he came upon her in the corridor. And then it had been too late for him to turn back.
His hunter's senses, so long denied, seemed to heighten with every moment since his arrival at the cavern sanctuary. In truth, they had been heightening from the moment he first set eyes on Ariana of Clairmont. With her, there was no denying his true nature. She had seen through him at every turn, refusing to let him hide from her or scare her off with his bluster and growling. She brought out a fierce possessiveness in him, an animal need to keep her near, to claim her as his own and keep her by his side forever.
Impossible desires. He knew that from the beginning, when he had lusted for the intrepid girl who had thrown his world into chaos with her fool's quest to save her brother. He knew it all the more now, when he ached with joy to be there holding her in his arms, loving the enchanting woman who had somehow managed to scale the lightless fortress he'd constructed around his heart and knocked it down, brick by damnable brick.
Aye, he was doomed for certain. Ariana was in his blood, in his soul. With all the reverence he felt for her, Braedon carefully turned her around in his arms. The edge of the pool was hard at her back; he cushioned her with his arm, bringing her farther down onto the submerged seat of the pool, letting the warm water and the muscles of his forearm hold her aloft.
She smiled with lazy pleasure as she reached up and smoothed a lock of hair from his brow. Her blue eyes still smoldered, indigo dark and glossy in the flickering light of the torches. Her skin, so flawless and pure, glowed a heavenly shade of ivory, save the dusky peaks of her breasts, which bobbed prettily above the steamy surface of the pool.
"Tell me it can always be like this for us," she whispered. "So long as I am with you, it doesn't matter where we are. I never want to lose you, Braedon. I love you so much. Promise me we'll always be together."
"Ariana," he said, choked by the selflessness with which she gave herself to him. She held nothing back from him, trusting him with her emotions as she trusted him with her body. She was an angel in the flesh, and Braedon had never felt more the devil-spawned blackguard than he did in that moment, when he whispered his promise against her mouth, knowing he could not keep it.
Never had he felt more despicably unworthy than when he pressed her down beneath him and buried himself in her warmth. For he'd spoken true when he said he had not sought her out to seduce her. It had not been part of his plan at all. Indeed, he had come to find her for a far less pleasing reason.
He had come to tell her good-bye.
He was leaving on the morrow to seek Calasaar, the Stone of Light from the Dragon Chalice. He had to do what he could to put a stop to the madness the treasure had unleashed. If he could do nothing else of worth in this lifetime, he would do this.
And as he made love to her slowly in the ancient sanctuary of the pool, attending her every gasp and sigh, claiming her with a reverence that bordered on the sublime, he pledged himself to give Ariana every ecstasy, to fill what remained of the night with only pleasure. He loved her as though it were the first time...the last time, for indeed, it was that.
Morning--and a day of reckoning that had been stalking him all his cursed life--would come soon enough.
Chapter 21
He was gone.
Ariana knew it even before she woke up, alone in her chamber some hours later, after Braedon had carried her there and made love to her until she was delirious with satiation. The ache in her heart was keen as she sat up in the bed they had shared, a bed that was tangled and disheveled from the tirelessness of their passion.
Braedon had loved her thoroughly, and now he was gone. She dressed quickly then quit her chamber, deluding herself with the idea that she might find him somewhere in the caverns, and that the coil of dread she was feeling was all for naught.
It wasn't, of course. All her hoping and praying as she dashed along the maze of passageways, peering into empty quarters, calling his name, was wasted. No amount of wishing would conjure him up. The same way that no amount of her loving--no matter how deeply she felt it, or how freely she gave it to him--could have held Braedon at her side when something stronger called him.
His honor.
She had wanted nothing more than for him to see his own worth, to know the core of strength and dignity that ran so deeply within him. Ironically, it was that same gift that tore him from her now. What a fool she had been, making plans to be with him--plans to run away together or hide there in the caverns, secluded from the rest of the world. Plans that would force him to exist in the shadows, no different than the life he knew before she met him. And all the while he had let her spin her flimsy dreams, knowing he could not settle for that. Nor would he permit her to make that sacrifice herself, no matter how willing she was to make it.
The cruelest jest was that she had meant every word. She would have turned her back on Clairmont and all the people she knew. She would have left all of it behind, including Kenrick, if she could only have been with Braedon. As his mistress, his bride, his whore...it wouldn't have mattered what she was to him so long as they were together. But he had not given her the choice. He had not given them the chance.
The tears that had been threatening since she woke finally overtook her as she found his empty chamber in the caverns and realized, without a doubt, that she had lost him. She entered on weakening legs, a soft sob hitching in the silence of the place. His bed was unturned, his sword and satchel of meager belongings gone. Not a single trace of him remained behind.
"Damn you, Braedon," she whispered, but it was she who deserved the blame. She was the fool who had been wishing he would be there, trusting that he might love her enough to keep her at his side no matter what they might face. She should have known she would wake this morning to heartache. He had left her, as she had been warned he would that first day she met him in London.
Angered as much as she was hurt, Ariana turned on her heel and fled the empty chamber.
Kenrick's quarters lay not far down the same corridor. She rushed for his chamber and found him already out of bed as well. Fully dressed and washed, he crouched on the earthen floor of the cavern room, a small chunk of charcoal in his hand. Around him on the floor was a scribbled series of words, markings, and diagrams. He looked up as Ariana entered, his coloring much improved from when she saw him last.
"Kenrick, we must--"
"You'll not believe this, Ana," he interrupted, his eyes gleaming with the spark of discovery. "'Tis been here before me all along. How could I have been so blind?"
"Kenrick, Braedon is--"
"Come here," he said, getting to his feet to take her in hand and guide her farther into the room. He pointed to a series of figures and lines he had drawn on the floor. Their cryptic meaning was incomprehensible to her, but evidently quite illuminating to Kenrick. "Have you any idea where de Mortaine found the first piece of the Dragon Chalice?"
"No."
"Here," he said, indicating a point that sat at the top of the charcoal diagram he'd drawn. "Saint Michael's Mount in Cornwall. It was there that I first heard the name Silas de Mortaine, when I was sent to chronicle purported miracles on the Mount. In my work for the Templars, I had been sent to many such sites in England and in France, but at the time, the Order was particularly interested in my findings from this one place. They had a large benefactor, you see, and he was offering a good deal of silver for these reports."
"De Mortaine."
Kenrick nodded soberly. "I turned over my information before I realized the true weight of what I was doing. All it took was one meeting with the man to know he could not be trusted, so I refused to continue the association with de Mortaine. The Templars were upset, of course, but none more than de Mortaine himself. I secretly resumed my work without the Order's knowledge, and within a few months, I found myself staring at the dank walls of de Mortaine's dungeon."
"Your findings are what led him to the Chalice stone?"
"Yes. I may as well have handed him Avosaar with my own two hands. But I'll be damned if I will help him claim anything more." He turned his attention back to the charcoal scribblings on the cavern floor. "Indeed, that is precisely what Braedon and I have been discussing here."
"Braedon and you?" she asked, confused. "The both of you have been working on this together?"
"Aye. Since he woke me some hours ago and asked me to help him assemble what we know of the Dragon Chalice thus far. Actually, without Braedon's help, I might not have seen the connection. Certainly not as clearly as it seems to me now. As soon as he mentioned Avranches, the place where de Mortaine caught up with him and Lara, the thief who had stolen Avosaar from him, I realized what it meant."
"I don't understand."
"The location of another of the Chalice stones, Ana. Combining what we both have gathered of de Mortaine and the treasure, we think we know where one of the remaining three is located. Did Braedon not tell you when he fetched you to come down here?"
"No," Ariana said sharply, realizing now what Braedon's leaving was about. "Kenrick, he did not tell me anything at all, nor did he send me here. I have not seen him since last night."
"What do you mean?"
"That is what I came here to tell you--he is gone. I checked his chambers down the hall before I came here. He's left, no doubt to retrieve the Chalice stone on his own, now that you say he has an idea where it might be."
Scowling, Kenrick raked a hand through his overlong hair. "Christ on the Cross. 'Tis suicide to do this alone."
"Especially for him," Ariana added, worry tightening in her breast at the very thought of it. "If what his mother said is true, Braedon cannot touch any piece of the Dragon Chalice. Part of him is like these people in this cavern--half shifter, Kenrick. What happened to Lara could happen to him, too."
Her brother released a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "This is madness. What have I dragged you into, Ariana? You cannot know how sorry I am that you are involved in all of this."
"No," she said. "Do not apologize. You are my brother and I love you. I would do anything for you."
"And Braedon le Chasseur?"
"He is my life. Oh, Kenrick. He is my everything."
Kenrick's mouth curved with understanding. "He was right. My little sister has grown up in my absence. I should have been there more for you. I didn't know how things were for you at Clairmont."
Ariana shrugged, no longer haunted by the disappointments of the past when her future was still within her grasp. A future with Braedon at her side, God willing should he want her. "None of that matters anymore. All that matters to me now is Braedon."
"Then I reckon we'd best cease talking about it and go after him, eh? He cannot be too far ahead of us yet." Kenrick moved forward to embrace her in a brotherly hug. "Don't worry. Gather up our things while I fetch our mounts."
He strode out of the chamber, leaving Ariana to collect her mantle from her own quarters and the rest of their meager belongings. She had just stepped into the corridor when she was met by a vision of quicksilver eyes and pale white silk. "You are leaving," said Braedon's mother, beautiful in the flickering torchlight of the passageway.
"Yes."
"I have lost him twice now," she said, a frank-sounding statement when her eyes were shimmering with regret. "The first time I lost my son, he was just a frightened boy. He could not understand why he was different than other children. He wasn't prepared for the legacy he had inherited from me. The legacy he had inherited from the place of my birth."
"Anavrin."
Braedon's mother smiled a bittersweet smile. "Yes. Anavrin. I could not conceal the truth from my son. He had to understand his ability--his hunter's skills--if he was to learn to use them effectively once he became a man and the corruption of the Outside sought him out. It was important that Braedon accept what he was...but would that I had known to conceal those skills, and their true source, from his father."
"What happened?"
"I toyed with something I could not fully comprehend--human emotion. I fear Braedon paid the price. He was young, making a game of his gift. Often he commanded his friends to hide various objects from him so he could divine their location. At first, his father paid no mind to Braedon's antics, but then people outside the keep began to notice. Folk came to Braedon with pleas for him to find all manner of misplaced things: coffer keys, books, lost hounds, even straying children and spouses. Braedon's gift was unexplainable, and his father grew fearful and suspicious of him. He punished Braedon severely and too frequently. Finally I could bear it no more. I had to make him understand how special his son was."
"You told him about Anavrin?"
"I tried. He believed none of what I said. I knew the only way he would, was if he saw with his own eyes that what I told him was true." The lady took a steadying breath. "There, in the bedchamber I shared with my husband, I shifted my glamour to another form. I had no idea the grave mistake I was making. My husband drove me out that very night, shouting such ugly words. He threatened to kill me, and Braedon, if I ever returned."
"Braedon thought you left because of something he had done," Ariana told her. "His father told him you were mad, and that it was your madness
in him that gave Braedon his hunter's skills. He thought himself some brand of devil's spawn, for that is what he was told until the day he finally left his father's keep."
"Yes, I know. As I said, my mistake that day was grave. I tried to make it right, but I could not risk it. I did come back to see my son, but not even my glamour was enough to protect me from Braedon's father. He discovered me in the woods outside the keep and loosed his arrows on me."
Astonishing as it was to her, even though she had seen it herself the day before, Ariana nodded in understanding. "The white wolf...Braedon told me of the she-wolf who befriended him, and how his father wanted to slay it before his eyes. How did you escape with your injuries?"
"My clan--well, the few you saw here, that is--found me in the woods. They took me in, for they knew I would not last long on my own."
"Your wounds must have been severe."
"They were, but that is not what would have killed me."
Ariana frowned. "I don't understand."
"I had broken a covenant of my clan. I had fallen in love with an Outsider. It is forbidden of our kind, one of the conditions of our magic here on the Outside. Because my heart belonged to my husband, and to my son, I was marked for the hunt by the Seekers of my clan. Indeed, the most perilous of them all. You see, we are to seek the Dragon Chalice, above all else. I had failed in that mission. In allowing myself to love, I had become a Shadow, as are the rest of the shifters that share these caverns with me."