Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle - Books 7-9

by Hart, Melissa F.

  “Do it,” he whispered, and responding to the tone of rough command in his voice, she did, falling over the edge into a climax that ripped through her body like fire, like lightning, like the high winds that he had used to carry her to safety the night before.

  She didn't realize she was shouting until she heard the echoes of her voice on the cave walls, and she didn't realize that she was digging her nails into his shoulders until they ached.

  She was still in the throes of her own passion when he shouted, thrusting into her one last time before collapsing on top of her. Despite his exhaustion, he had the presence of mind to rest his weight on his elbows, keeping most of it off of her.

  Now it was Marcie's turn to reach up and kiss his face, running her fingers through his hair over and over again.

  “I think you should marry me,” he said, coming to rest by her side, and Marcie laughed.

  “Damn, I knew I was good, but I didn't know I was that good,” she said jokingly, and in amazement, she saw an expression of hurt cross his face. “Wait, I don't...”

  Whatever she was going to say was lost as a distant boom make the cave tremble, and she and Benedict both scrambled to their feet. The cave wasn't coming down, but it didn't stop Marcie from picking up her unpleasantly sodden clothing and dashing for the cave mouth, Benedict just a few inches behind her.

  When she gained the open air, the forest was still again, and she frowned as she shimmied into her jeans and T-shirt. She had lost her waders the night before, but there were a pair of boots that she had grabbed without thinking about it from the pile of supplies inside. They were a bit big, but with enough tight lacing they would at least stay on her feet.

  “What the hell was that?” Benedict asked with a growl, and in her head, she imagined an enormous golden eagle lowering its head with that impressively ferocious glare.

  “I...”

  There was another boom, closer this time, and Marcie realized that she did know what it was. With a muffled swear, she darted back into the cave for one of the ranger's jackets and a flare gun, shoving the later into the waistband of her jeans. She started running toward the lake with Benedict in hot pursuit.

  “Are you planning to tell me what's going on?” he demanded.

  “Fishermen,” she said grimly, dodging around a large oak tree. “It sounds like the kind of morons who use dynamite to knock out or kill a lot of fish and then just pick them off of the water.”

  “I know the kind,” Benedict growled. “I've made that kind very, very sorry.”

  Marcie laughed bitterly as she ran. “Sometimes you can make them stop if you convince them you're a ranger.”

  “Are you a ranger?”

  “No, but I can convince them that I am...”

  Marcie skidded to a stop at the edge of the water, and she took in the scene in a moment. The surface of the lake in the early morning light was flat and glassy. There was so little breeze that it almost looked like a mirror, but not so far from shore was a small boat in which she could see two men. They were methodically picking stunned and dead floating fish from the water's surface, and she knew with boiling certainty what kinds of fish those were and how illegal it was to even be fishing in this lake.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth to shout at them, but with a whoosh of air, Benedict transformed into a golden eagle and swept up into the sky. She stared, her mouth hanging open, as Benedict soared high above the lake until he was nearly a speck in the sky.

  Marcie wasn't sure what he was doing until he started to dive, and then she knew that he was going to tear straight into those hunters with all of the terrifying accuracy of a bird of prey and all of the righteous anger of a human man.

  She held her breath as he grazed over the men, causing one to drop an entire bucket of fish overboard. The men swore and ducked, and she could see one's jacket get torn under the power of those enormous, sharp talons.

  Benedict lofted himself in the air again, and the men straightened up, staring after what they could only imagine was some kind of insane bird. Marcie and the fishermen watched the eagle ascend, and she could imagine that they thought it was a bird's mistake, that the golden eagle would simply move on.

  Benedict's second lunge was even quicker, and this time, she could see one of the men lose his fishing tackle over the edge of the boat. She wondered if they would start to leave, but from her place by the shore, she could see their faces turn to rage. There were enormous fines for hurting a golden eagle, but it wasn't as if these men knew or cared. She saw the light glint off something in one man's hand, and she realized with her heart in her mouth that it was a knife.

  She knew she had to do something, but she didn't know what, and Benedict was already on his third dive as she looked on helplessly. Just before he hit, however, her eye was drawn in the water. The early morning stillness was entirely gone, and now the waves were dark and choppy, though nothing was getting thrown into the water and the boat was still. For just a heartbeat, she watched a dark shape rise up through the water, and then, just as Benedict was a few feet above the men, and the men were braced to drive him off, the water erupted.

  Froth and water flew everywhere as an enormous dark gray shape broke the surface. It was enormous, easily the size of a Clydesdale stallion, and with her heart in her chest, she recognized the sleek shape of its body, the slender neck and the blunt head.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, but her awe was quickly pushed away when she realized that the thing was turning toward the men and Benedict.

  Benedict's eagle shape was amazingly strong and deadly, but his broad wingspan that could keep him up in the air for hours made it difficult for him to change direction with anything resembling grace. In another world, it would have been hilarious to see the enormous bird flop in the air, nearly fall into the water and flap desperately for altitude, but she knew that Benedict was in very real danger.

  The beast's first strike broke the boat in half neatly, and she saw both men flailing in the water. The beast seemed unsure of which of them to chase, but then it seemed to notice the golden eagle that was struggling so hard to get away. With a roar that seemed to belong to a different age of the world entirely, it arched its neck and lunged for Benedict. With her heart in her mouth, she could see its strong jaws come within a hand's-breadth of Benedict's tail feathers. It snapped hard at him, but it seemed to lose no time at all on taking a second lunge. Benedict's frantic efforts to dodge only made him slow, and with no space at all, he couldn't turn and fight. Marcie could see that he was tiring quickly.

  I need something to distract that things. As if a ray of light had shone down from the sky on her, she remembered the flare gun that she had brought along. She had been hoping to use it to scare off the fishermen, but now she wondered if she could use it to scare off something much bigger and nastier.

  She found the gun, and after a terrifyingly slow moment, managed to flick off the safety. She took careful aim, making sure that she was not going to hit the bird, lake monster or the two fleeing men, braced herself on the sandy shore, and fired.

  The noise was deafening, and she wanted to scream, but the results were immediate. The lake monster, because now she could see that that was what it was, spun around with incredible speed. For a split second she saw one eye, orange and glowing as an ember before its body bowed and it darted into the water.

  Marcie felt herself go weak with relief, and she sunk to her knees in the marsh by the lake. Benedict darted back up into the sky, and she grinned to think about his ruffled dignity. He had saved her the night before, what would she think about her saving his tail feathers this morning?

  The thought of it was unaccountably funny, and she started to laugh, letting the flare gun drop from her fingers. The fleeing fishermen were already at the shore, and she watched quietly as they sprinted for where they had presumably left their transport.

  Good riddance. They swiftly vacated the scene, and she started to climb to her feet, still aware that she was
shaking and trembling.

  A split-second before it happened, she saw the tumult in the water, and then the beast was rising up out of the shallows right in front of her, that head coming up with the speed of a striking snake, and now she could see how lucky she had been the night before. Even as she was flailing her way backward and trying to get away, her organized mind noted details regarding the animal's body that she would want to write down later. Even as she shouted and flailed, and even as the thing floundered up the bank toward her, she could tell how important it was.

  Just when the animal was getting ready to take a proper lunge at her, there was a high, furious whistle of wind, and it was as if there were a thousand cool hands bearing her up and pushing her up high in the air.

  Her wail of fear turned into a shriek of surprise as she was lofted high into the air, and she watched dumbly as the ground fell away beneath her feet. In the blink of an eye, she was racing through the air, and in a heartbeat, she was level with the tallest trees.

  The night before, Benedict had borne her away from danger, but this time, she was half-frozen. She could feel the wind that lifted her up, and now she could feel how effortlessly the wind held her. Impulsively, she spread her arms out, and the position allowed her to stretch out as if she were truly flying.

  There was a high piercing cry, and when she turned her head, she could see Benedict, his eagle form dark and proud, keeping pace with her easily. She grinned at him, and in return, she could feel an intense and fierce joy sweeping through her. He lifted her higher and higher until the forest was a gorgeous patchwork of greens below, with splotches of red and gold where the leaves had started to change colors.

  No man had ever been capable of unaided flight, but now Marcie knew that she was far closer than anyone else had been. Benedict swept her through the air, and when she only laughed with glee, he told the winds to let her dive like he did, though that feeling of support never wavered.

  For a timeless moment, she didn't think about anything at all besides the wonder of her flight and the amazement of what was happening. There was nothing in the world but the morning sky, the way she glided through the air and the powerful bird of prey who hovered close.

  Finally, though, her flight slowed, and she nodded a regretful agreement to the golden eagle. It was time to come down, and she knew it.

  However, instead of settling her down on the ground, Benedict instead deposited her in the limbs of a tall tree. The limb he dropped her own was very wide, but when she looked down, she could see the ground nearly a hundred feet below her.

  With a frightened yelp, she clung on to the tree trunk, and with chattering teeth, she slid down on the branch until she was sitting on the branch. Just when she thought she had caught her breath, she would look below her dangling feet to see the ground. It was so far away that it was nearly dizzying, and she felt her stomach slowly knot in fear and apprehension.

  “What's wrong?”

  She looked over her shoulder to see Benedict standing on the branch beside her as casually as she would stand on the sidewalk. She saw with irritation that there was absolutely no fear in him at all, and why should there be if he was a master of the wind and could change into an eagle?

  “I... I can't,” she managed between chattering teeth. “I can't, Benedict?”

  “Are... are you afraid?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I thought we would be safe up here.”

  “There are about one hundred feet between me and the safe ground, Benedict, I don't think that's very safe!”

  “Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't think. Let me get you down...”

  She felt the winds again, strong and forceful, but all it made her do was cling more firmly to the trunk. She couldn't take her eyes off of the ground between her feet, and she couldn't make her arms loosen from the trunk. She was like a knot of fear and terror, and she could see in a distant way that her knuckles were tight and white where they clung to the rough bark.

  “Darling, darling, you need to let go,” Benedict said, his voice rough with worry.

  “I can't, I can't,” Marcie wailed. In the sane part of her brain, she couldn't believe that she was acting like this, but in the bigger part of her brain that seemed to be in charge of commanding her limbs, all she could see was that there was still a completely unacceptable amount of space between her and the ground.

  The wind swept up even harder, trying to pull her from the tree, but when tears started to run down her face and her nails began to splinter on the wood, the wind ceased.

  “I won't pull you away like that,” Benedict said. “I'll hurt you...”

  Marcie's only response was a strangled sob as the stress of the last twelve hours started to work on her body. Her shoulders shook with fear and shock and panic, and she felt a great tightness in her chest that threatened to choke her.

  “No, no, darling, please...”

  Marcie could only cry harder, but then Benedict's hands were there, large and strong her shoulders, and he was sitting beside her, his chin resting on her head, and his arms wrapping her into a tight embrace.

  “It's fine, it's fine, I would not say that to you unless it were true, darling,” he whispered. “You're fine, you're safe, and all you need to do to get to where it is safe is to let go. Okay? Just let go.”

  Marcie's body relaxed a little when she heard him speak, when she felt his hands on her, and when she felt his body against her back, she relaxed further. However, she still couldn't let herself fall, and when she felt his hands tighten as if to pull her away, she clung even harder to the tree, shaking her head.

  “Okay, okay, that's fine, that's fine, dear. I'm not going to leave you, I promise, okay?”

  “Why not?” The words were small and whispered so quietly that perhaps a human would not have been able to hear them at all. However, Benedict, with his shape-shifting ability and his mastery over the winds, was not a human at all, and he heard. Against her back, she felt him shift, and then he held her even tighter. Instead of making her panic again, it made her relax into him.

  “Why not? Because you're you. Because you are an amazing woman who pleases me better than I've ever been pleased, and you decided that you wanted to draw the attention of a lake monster that was going to tear me apart. You're beautiful, and brave, and I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “Aw...awfully sudden, don't you think?” Marcie asked, trying to be funny, but shaking too hard to really manage it.

  Behind her, Benedict snorted, and she realized something she should have from the first moment he had settled on the branch next to her. The stress in his voice wasn't about the fact that they were up so high or that she was in danger. In fact, she was not in any danger at all. He was only afraid for her, afraid for her fear and her pain. The thought made her loosen her grip further, though she was still not entirely ready to let it go.

  “I'm descended from men and women who called themselves the quick of the skies. There is nothing stronger than us that flies, and if there is anything faster, we do not care about it.”

  “Tell me more about your people,” Marcie said impulsively, and against the back of her neck, she could feel him smile.

  “We're strong, and we're quick, but we're not really known for our senses of humor. Instead, unfortunately, we're known for our bad tempers. They take forever and a day to rouse, but when they do, they can destroy worlds.”

  “How-how bad can it be?”

  “Ever heard of a town called Pompeii?”

  Marcie's laugh was a little shrill but real, and now she was feeling brave enough to look at Benedict behind her.

  “So it's not that you don't have senses of humor, it's that you have bad ones, I guess?” She found that it was far more comforting to look at him than it was to look at the ground far below, and so she locked eyes with him. His were dark as the deepest part of the ocean, but they were so kind, and she remembered what he had said about marriage and love.

  “You said you migh
t want to spend the rest of your life with me...”

  “As I said, we're quick. We grow up fast, and we are quick when we hunt and when we fly. Why should falling in love be any different?”

  “We've known each other for less than one day,” she pointed out.

  “And tomorrow we'll have known each other for two days, and in ten years, we will have known each other a decade. I'm not sure what you're saying.”

  There was that teasing smile on his face again, and she was sure that every time he did it, it was making her fall just a little more deeply in love with him. Love was a strange thing to be thinking, but it was there. She shook her head.

  “Marcie?”

  “Yes?” she asked, distracted.

  “Your hands are easing off of the tree. Now, don't get spooked, but maybe you could lean toward me? Could you put your arms around me instead?”

  Marcie didn't hesitate for a moment. Her hands were loose enough that she could move them again, and now she did exactly as he said. She let go of the tree trunk, where she had left deep gouges in the bark, and she wrapped her arms around Benedict's lean frame. He folded her comfortingly into his embrace, and nothing mattered at all, not what was going on in her tumultuous heart, not the fact that she was still high in the air.

  “I'm going to lift you up now, is that okay?”

  She nodded silently, her face buried in his chest, and slowly, so slowly she might have been imagining it, she felt them both lift off of the branch. She could feel the breeze on her face, and slowly, they pulled away from the tree.

  “Now we're going to fly, all right?”

  “Do you have to let me go?”

  “Not if you don't want me to.”

  “Don't.”

  He chuckled at her insistent response, the sound rich and oaken, but he held her tighter, and together they lofted even higher.

  When Marcie could open her eyes, they were far above the forest, and she was being carried in Benedict's arms as he flew.

  “You're like Superman,” she commented, and he laughed again. She loved that sound. She could listen for it forever.