Power of Five_Book 1

by Alex Lidell

  I open my mouth but no words come. I wonder if River’s magic includes turning me into a mute. If it does, Coal must be jealous.

  A second pair of hands pulls me from River’s grip, and the scent of pine and citrus washes over me as my back hits a hard chest. “If you are looking for someone to ride, Lilac Girl,” Tye whispers, “at least I can promise not to dump you off in a nest of sclices.”

  I elbow the male behind me, cursing as I hit the sting point and my arm goes numb.

  Tye chuckles and sets me back on the ground, his arms still pressing me against him. “Come,” he says. “I smell blood on you, lass. And some of it is yours.”

  I’m about to protest, but a glance up shows River and Shade facing each other with arms crossed, their gazes exchanging more than words. Tye might enjoy being obnoxious, but he knows when to give his friends space—as well as when to rescue me from his commander’s attention. Settling me on one of the larger boulders, Tye crouches down to unbuckle my boots, his green eyes level with mine.

  “What were those hog-beast things?” I ask, shivering at the memory of salivating fangs and the stench of rotten meat.

  “Sclices.” Tye pulls my right boot off and runs his hands expertly over my shin and ankle. Under his wide, rough palms, I look pale, delicate. The latter of which I can’t afford to be as part of this quint. Satisfied that both are in one piece, he moves on to the second. “Mors’s version of rodents. They infested Mystwood a few centuries back and it’s been a chore to keep them contained. Dress off, bonny lass. We are going for a swim.”

  I hug my arms around my shoulders. “You can go wherever the hell you like. I am waiting for a bathtub.”

  “Not an option,” says River, now crouching beside Tye. “Sclices are attracted to their own blood. Returning to the inn as we are would be like ringing a dinner bell. The rodents should be unable to leave Mystwood, but no wards are foolproof.” River grins, showing a set of sharp canines that utterly reverse any calming effect his tone might otherwise have had. “Plus, Shade smells wounds on you. He won’t let you out of his sight until he makes certain you are whole. That’s the hazard of having a wolf along.” The grin fades slowly, and River’s gray gaze lowers to the ground for a heartbeat before swinging up slowly to pierce my soul. When he speaks next, his voice is low and raw. “Thank you for calling Shade back to us. I owe you a debt. We all do.”

  I didn’t do anything. I swallow. “Do all of you shift into animals?” I ask, veering away from a conversation I don’t begin to understand. I examine River with narrowed eyes. “You would be a lion. Coal, I imagine, would be . . .” I turn to Tye. “Which animal kills first and considers why it bothered later? It must be something from your world.”

  Tye throws back his head and laughs, the sun playing in his eyes.

  I’m so mesmerized by the rich sound that I fail to notice River leaning forward to scoop me up until my body is already in the air, my legs kicking. “Bath time,” the bastard intones just as he tosses me right into the freezing pool.

  The icy cold steals my breath the moment I hit the water, paralyzing my vocal cords for several heartbeats. My limbs flail, my back arching against the chill. Once I can draw a lungful of air, however, I screech loudly enough to—if the fates are with me—shatter the immortals’ delicate hearing.

  The water beside me explodes in a fountain of freezing spray. I jump back, my toes vaguely discovering the pool’s bottom as a still-clothed, furiously shaking Tye rises from the liquid depths. He is tall enough that the water only reaches his waist, whereas it laps at my collarbone. Tye’s red hair is plastered to his face and his green eyes flash murder at River, who is still ashore and disrobing calmly.

  “It seemed only fair,” River calls, placidly unrepentant.

  Tye growls.

  I turn my back on River just as the quint commander starts undoing his fly, and I find myself looking at Shade’s naked chest. His black hair spills over his shoulders, dripping water onto a muscled chest, where his nipples are as erect from the cold as mine. The pectorals themselves are harsh, slightly rounded rectangles, contoured perfectly to fit into a girl’s palm.

  “Cold?” Shade asks. He holds his arms out to me and I walk to him like a mouse into a snake’s maw, too hypnotized to think. Shade’s hands encircle my ribcage and lift me up in a smooth motion, settling me comfortably on his hips. My legs wrap around his waist for balance, one of my heels settling into the groove atop his right buttock. The heat of his body seeps through my wet shirt, and I give up all pretense of propriety in favor of pressing myself against him.

  “Tye,” Shade calls over my shoulder, and I feel a second large body approach me from the back. Hands reach for me and there is a sharp ripping sound that I realize too late is my dress. Shade’s warm hand finds the back of my neck, his other arm still supporting my hips. I’ve never been so mindful of my body as I am now, every soft curve and inch of smooth skin making itself known for the first time and singing in awareness. “Easy, cub. Sclices aren’t known for their hygiene, and one of them marked you deeper than any of us like.”

  Tye’s calloused fingers caress my bare back, pouring water from a cupped hand over my tender skin. I have one more brief notion of a struggle, but the cold, the fatigue, and the males’ bullheaded resolve finally win over. I bury my face in Shade’s neck, savoring the way his earth-and-rain scent mixes with Tye’s pine and citrus, while the immortals wash away the morning’s nightmare.

  10

  Coal

  Coal turned his back on Lera. It was all he could do not to run his hands all over her body, checking every bone, every fragile mortal joint. When she’d brought the stallion out from his stall that morning, Coal had been curious, watching from his room’s window as the girl went about brushing down the animal. He’d still been curious when he saw the boy bring the saddle, and when she’d mounted, settling that tight backside into the saddle in a way he knew excruciatingly well, her fiery hair whipping around her face in the breeze.

  He’d watched it all with a male’s irrepressible curiosity. And then it was too late.

  Coal’s fingers curled into fists. He should have known better. He did know better. Czar, the stallion, was sensitive as all hell, with speed and muscle to match his opinionated spirit. Coal had fully expected Czar to dump Lera on the sand—he’d not counted on her hanging on when he bolted. The mortal had more tenacity and courage than any of the quint, himself included, had given her credit for.

  “Are you all right?” River asked, slipping into the pool beside Coal. The waterfall’s cascade drummed a steady rhythm, but the quint commander spoke quietly nonetheless. Coal wasn’t surprised at the question, which didn’t mean he welcomed it either. But that was River for you. The commander knew when something was off—he made it his bloody business to know. River’s eyes were soft now and saw more of Coal than he wanted them to.

  Coal glanced over his shoulder, assuring himself that the girl was still in one piece. She was. And with the way Lera’s wet clothes clung to her body, Coal was immediately grateful for the freezing water. Her breasts, while not especially large, were firm and perfectly matched to the sinful bend of her hips—which Shade was presently supporting. Her eyes, a liquid chocolate, glowed against her pale face and wet hair, making her look like the predator she didn’t know she was.

  Turning his back to the mortal once more, Coal grabbed his clothes and scrubbed them, watching the water around the cloth turn rusty brown before flowing clear again. “I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Save your ‘it’s not real’ reminders for Shade and Tye. I’m fully aware.”

  River rubbed his face, a flicker of pain flashing in his gray eyes. The commander let Coal see more than he showed the others, and Coal respected the male enough to never comment on it unless River himself asked. “I fear I’m the one who needs reminding,” said River. “When I realized she was in Mystwood, what could happen to her, a piece of my soul howled in fear. And when we entered the forest . . .”


  “I felt it too,” Coal said, his attention on the laundry. “The new power coursing through me once we were free of the mortal realm.” More power than I felt when Kai was alive, Coal didn’t add. “Mistake or not, for now she completes the quint.”

  River ran a hand through his hair. A tell. Coal’s commander was wrestling with something and needed time to find the words.

  “When I came up to her,” River said finally, “she feared that I intended to punish her for starting this, for putting the others in danger.”

  “A fair inquiry.” Coal wrung out his hair and knotted it back into a bun. “If it were Tye, you would have had his hide. What did you say?”

  “The truth,” River ground out. “I couldn’t even bring myself to imply otherwise.” The male’s fists tightened. “I had an opportunity to say something ominous, to remind her how dangerous we are. Keep her from getting attached.”

  “You mean to remind her how dangerous you are.” Coal crossed his arms. “Don’t sell me your horseshit, River. You’ve found some noble reason to frighten away every female since Daz left. You’re just annoyed that, this time, you failed.”

  River blew out a slow breath. “She deserves better than this, Coal. We bring her pain and danger, and she brings us Shade and strength.”

  Coal pulled himself out of the basin and pulled on his wet breeches, letting the cold air sting his skin. It was his horse who’d taken off with the girl this morning, and Coal doubted it was coincidence that of all the horses to try and conquer, the girl had chosen that one. River was right, and Coal wanted to give Lera something. Except that the one thing Coal could offer wasn’t nearly as pleasant as Shade’s comfort or Tye’s smiles. “I want to train her.”

  “To do what?” River asked.

  Coal pulled on his shirt. “To ride, to defend herself, to be a force in her own right. To do all those things that no one teaches you when you’re a slave.” He hadn’t meant to say the latter part aloud, but River was discreet enough to feign deafness. The quint commander was royal born, trained to defend and protect since before the magic ever summoned him to the Citadel. He didn’t know what being truly helpless felt like. Coal did. “We owe her that.”

  River frowned, his gaze examining Lera before returning to Coal. “I don’t imagine she will thank you for the experience. Not at first.”

  Coal’s jaw tightened. No, the mortal would little enjoy it. But she had Shade and Tye to soothe away the aches; she didn’t need Coal to do the same thing. Not that he would even know how.

  River sighed. “We could all—”

  Coal snorted, directing River’s gaze to where their quint brothers cared for Lera’s wound. “Tye and Shade won’t have the heart to push her, and you have other responsibilities.” Coal started for his horse. Someone had to ride to the inn to fetch fresh clothes, and he needed the time to think anyway. “We all have our strengths,” he called to River over his shoulder. “Being liked isn’t mine.”

  As Coal mounted his horse, a part of him wondered whether his whole idea wasn’t actually rooted in preventing Lera from sharing his saddle again, which last time had left Coal’s cock throbbing painfully the whole night.

  11

  Leralynn

  There is a set of beautifully made leather-reinforced riding breeches waiting for me outside the door when I wake up the following morning, together with a soft tunic, a pair of fine hard-heeled boots, and an ill-humored Coal. Wearing his usual black in contrast to his blond hair, Coal leans against the wall, his legs crossed one over the other as he studies me with slightly hooded eyes. He looks fresh and alert—and breathtakingly gorgeous. Damn him.

  “Who do I have to thank for the clothes?” I ask, running my hands down the supple brown leather. One of the males must have taken my measurements and spent a small fortune to acquire the pieces on short notice. I’ve never owned anything this fine before, and a small part of me is appalled at the thought of getting the fabric dirty.

  Coal shrugs one rock-hard shoulder in a “don’t know, don’t care” gesture. “River wants to sweep the area for more sclices, so we are staying put for the day. I wanted to see whether we’d need a cart for when we do move out.”

  “A cart?” I raise a brow. “For what?”

  “For you.” Coal picks at his nails. “You ride like a sack of grain, so we might as well transport you like one.”

  “Are you being an ass on purpose,” I croon, “or are you always this delightful in the morning?”

  Coal growls softly, showing his canines. Of the four males, I think Coal is the most immediately deadly, the one willing to inflict—and take—more damage than the others. “Do you want me to teach you to ride or not?”

  My eyes widen even as my chest tightens in excitement. After yesterday’s disaster, I imagined the males wouldn’t let me near a horse, much less offer to help. I cross my arms. The offer, like the clothes, smells too good to be true. “Shouldn’t you be off chasing sclices?” I ask, stepping behind my door to pull on the pants and boots. “Killing slobbery monsters seems more in line with your preferences than teaching a mortal how not to topple from a horse.”

  “We pulled straws and I lost,” says Coal.

  I step back into the hall. “Liar.”

  Coal holds up four fingers, bending them back one at a time as he speaks. “Shade spooks any horse he goes near, River’s in charge and gets first dibs on the good stuff, and Tye . . . Tye is Tye.”

  “What does that mean?” I raise a brow.

  Coal snorts. “It means that it will snow in midsummer before any of us leave Tye alone with a female and expect anything vertical to take place.”

  My face heats and I brush past Coal toward the staircase, jogging lightly down its rickety steps. The scent of coffee and fresh bread tempts me as I rush past the kitchen, but with Coal as finicky as a bloody bride, I’m not about to jeopardize my chance at learning to ride for the sake of breakfast. It’s been a while since anyone taught me anything, Zake’s belt-driven lessons on punctuality and work ethic notwithstanding. Mimi teaching me to read when I was younger comes to mind, though it did me little good for lack of books. I swallow, common sense dampening foolish enthusiasm. I’ll take what Coal offers, but I’ll expect there to be a price. There always is.

  The stable boy is already holding a saddled horse when we walk out to the barn. Not Czar, I note with disappointment, but a dapple gelding whose brown eyes evaluate me suspiciously. Beyond the stalls, a freshly cleaned paddock stands with an open gate. Taking the gelding’s reins, I thank the boy and watch him race away from Coal as quickly as if he’d just filched a roll. With our audience thus gone, I lift my arm to pat the horse’s neck and feel a jolt of pain from the fall. Shade set the shoulder, but the muscles are tight and sore. My stomach shifts, the memory of the wild gallop, the hard ground, the jolting pain suddenly all too vivid.

  “I can smell your fear, you know,” Coal says lazily behind me. “The horse can too.”

  “Do you want me to bathe?” I ask over my shoulder.

  Coal chuckles, the resulting dimple on his cheek transforming his face from handsome to downright unfair. His eyes are more sky blue than stormy ocean today, and I wonder whether it means something. It must, because a bit of my fear melts away. Today is different, my mind whispers. Today, you are not alone.

  Taking the horse from me, Coal holds the gelding under the chin. “Mount up,” he orders.

  Right. With the mounting block I used yesterday nowhere in sight, I raise my right foot, only to discover the stirrup much higher than I imagined and hop about until I finally manage to stick my toe into the little wooden box. At which point a new problem emerges: The only way I can mount now would have me facing the horse’s rump.

  Coal raises a brow at me.

  “You could have told me I was starting with the wrong foot before I got here,” I tell him, removing my right foot from its hard-won hold and replacing it with my left. This time, when my toes find the stirrup, the bloody horse takes
one step to the side, rendering all my efforts in vain. I finally manage to haul myself into the saddle, only to nearly fall over the other side when the horse shifts his weight. My breath catches. “I’m all right,” I tell Coal once I can breathe again. “In case that matters.”

  “It really doesn’t,” says Coal. Liar. I can see him already reconsidering the wisdom of allowing me on horseback. Clipping the end of a long, coiled rope to the horse’s headstall, Coal clicks his tongue and the animal obediently starts moving in a circle around him.

  I grip onto the mane. “Wait. Don’t you want to tell me how to control him first? Where are the reins?”

  “You don’t get reins,” Coal calls out to me. He clicks his tongue and the horse turns into an earthquake. “I control the horse. You stay on.”

  I don’t stay on.

  I fall. Over and over and over again, until my eyes water and sand from the paddock works itself into every crevice of my clothing. It isn’t fun or exciting or anything I expected it to be.

  Told you as much, a dark part of my mind cackles, even as Coal issues more orders.

  “Heels down, head up, mortal. Not the other bloody way around.”

  I climb back into the saddle, my body shaking.

  Coal’s voice is hard, merciless. As if falling, not riding, was the day’s expectation all along. “You do know the difference between up and down?”

  “You are an ass,” I tell him, gripping the saddle as he starts the horse trotting again.

  “So the grain sack speaks.” Coal clicks his tongue and the horse quickens. “Let go of the saddle, grain sack. Holding the pommel shifts your balance. Head up. Get your heels off his sides unless—”

  The horse’s muscles bunch and he leaps into a sprint. I scream and fall to the sand, rolling away from the thundering hooves. Stars damn it. Two bloody hours. I’ve been falling for two hours, my body is one large bruise, and my stomach growls in starvation. The damn males made riding look easy, the horses living extensions of their powerful bodies. I strike the ground with my palm, sending clumps of sand into the air.