by Rae Monet
"Eliminating your fear of injury and blocking the fury coming from your enemy is crucial.” She watched each dagger as she continued to juggle them. “Now,” she commanded, and Richard sent the dagger flying.
He immediately stepped forward.
A sharp order from Serena stopped him. “Do not move, Roan.” She said it with certainty, her eyes briefly left the daggers in the air, to catch the one Richard had thrown, flawlessly integrating it into the flow of daggers in front of her.
"It is only when you can do this that you will be successful in your quest to master your senses and be a true Wolf Warrior.” Her words were calm, as were her actions. Her motions were practiced, leaving him with the impression that she had completed this exercise more than once in the past.
She began to manipulate her body slightly around so she was within visual range of her target. Then, with deft movements, she heaved the daggers high into the air. As each one came down, perfectly timed, she threw it toward the tree and her target. In a matter of seconds all five daggers were secure within millimeters of each other dead center in her target.
"Now you do it.” She looked pointedly at him.
Roan groaned at her command. “Jesu,” he murmured.
* * * *
Serena attempted to remain composed as Roan moved forward to take her place. She had trained many Wolf Warriors in her day, but this man was by far the most difficult. It was not that he was undisciplined or even unskilled, but rather the opposite; his talent was superior even to hers. It was simply his presence that distracted her. Her hands reached up and anchored on his shoulder. She turned him so he was within visual range of the tree.
Even when she touched him, for the uncomplicated task of arranging his body to complete the exercise, she sharply inhaled. She had seen him bare-chested on many occasions, however, today her senses were attuned to him from their rousing kiss. He was not the only Wolf Warrior challenged this day with mastering his emotions. She could use a good lesson herself. Her hands remained on the huge breath of his shoulders as she twisted him just slightly. Reaching around from behind, she placed three daggers in his hands and instructed him on how to hold his hands. Suppressing the urge to lean her cheek against his back, she stepped around him several paces back, so she could observe his technique.
"I would advise that you not stand so near,” he counseled, as he struggled to perfect the rhythm of juggling the daggers. He mastered it within seconds, his hands moving with an ease that amazed her. He had perfect balance, even for a man his size.
She watched his hands and wondered at their tender nature. She knew those hands had killed many an enemy, yet when he touched her, she felt a gentleness she had never experienced with another. It always saturated her senses, even the thought of his hands running over her body sent a tingle searing down her spine and she shivered.
He faltered momentarily then hastily regained his tempo.
"A mistake like that in battle could cost you your life and the lives of those warriors who fight with you.” Her voice hardened as she chastised him, despite the fact it was her thoughts that had distracted him.
"I know, Serena, it is just...” He tried to make an excuse for his error.
"Is there any defense for letting other's thoughts distract you, when you have the will to resist?” she barked, using the same forceful technique she would on one of the young Wolf Warriors she trained.
He let the daggers come to rest in his palms as he stopped. Setting one dagger handle first at his hip, he regarded her. He was angry.
She could sense his frustration.
"How?” His manner was dripping defiance.
"Observe.” She unwound a wide, long leather strip from around her wrist. She moved around the back of him carefully securing the strip over his eyes. She heard him growl in response. He reminded her of an injured bear when he voiced his displeasure. She placed her hands on the back of his neck to face his head forward. Then she ran her hand down his arm to gently lift it. “Your target is off this side, can you sense it?” She let her hands trail away.
"Yes."
"Concentrate your senses on your task, on your purpose. Place all other distractions in the back of your mind, including me,” she instructed him as she moved back around to the front of him. “Now.” She took a deep breath. “Balance them. Then throw them."
"Serena.” His tone told her he was not happy with her request.
"The only barrier that lies between you and that target is your reservations. Trust your senses and hone in on your ability to concentrate. Your path is clear.” She took two steps back and waited.
Although she was apprehensive, she didn't block her emotions. She wanted him to feel them. Just as she had felt his when Richard had thrown her that fifth dagger. She wanted him to use his skills to block her fear for him. She took another deep breath and projected her unease to him. She watched his body physically tense.
"Serena, I am not sure that I can master this particular skill.” His hand moved up to touch the blindfold.
"Leave it!” She was giving him no quarter, and he dropped his hand immediately.
"You can do it once you place your doubts and my fear in its rightful place.” She clasped her hands behind her back.
"Roan, when you are in battle, can you not sense the enemy's fear and anger when you battle with him?” She watched him incline his head at her question.
"Absolutely."
"And how does that affect you? How do you use that emotion?"
He straightened. He said nothing, then finally spoke. “I use it against him to defeat him, giving him mercy if needed, but killing him if his intent is to do the same to me.” She sensed his sudden comprehension. “They say I am gifted in that way, and I am most assuredly undefeated in battle."
"Humph,” she said as she watched him, “then show me this warrior."
His hands reached out, and she felt he would be successful the moment he began to flawlessly juggle the knives. Then with quick movements, he copied her earlier technique of spacing out each dagger by throwing it higher and higher each time. He neatly cast each one at the tall sturdy oak. The blades landed with precision in the exact center of the target. He remained still after he had finished. She smiled.
He stayed quiet and unmoving as she reached behind his head, projecting her pride and her affection as she removed the blindfold.
Richard was clapping Roan's shoulder in congratulations, but he didn't seem to notice. He had only eyes for Serena, as he casually dropped his arms around her.
"You made your target."
"Yes.” His fingers moved from her face to run the length of her jaw. Richard, very subtly, left.
"Do you want to see?"
"I have no need. I know they all made it dead center on the target,” he replied, his hand running to the back of her neck, behind her hair.
"I told you. I knew you could do it.” She smiled at his serious expression.
"Yes, you did. You were right."
He was distressed.
"What is it then?” she laid her hand on his cheek to comfort him. His eyes closed.
"Sometimes, this...” He shrugged his shoulders. “It unsettles me. You unsettle me."
She understood. She had spent most of her life mastering her senses. He was doing it in a very short time period.
"We are in fear of the unknown. You just have to learn to embrace it,” she told him, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Hum, all right then.” He hugged her body to his. “I'll work on this embracing concept, immediately."
"You do that.” She instructed him with a stern voice but couldn't help her chuckle in the circle of his arms.
* * * *
Much later, Serena finished her sword practice and departed to wash at the river, Caine trailing behind her. Roan was left alone with Richard.
"I have seen men down for a least a fortnight with wounds as grave as hers, yet she ignores it as if it does not exist.” He reflected back to ten
minutes earlier when he had finally placed a stern hand on Serena's shoulder, during her relentless swordplay. He had noted that her sword hand was lagging, and he had demanded that she stop and rest.
"It is our creed. Strong in body and spirit. She would have it no other way,” Richard explained as he carefully sharpened one of Serena's blades.
"Yet she would re-injure herself to prove this motto.” He tossed another log onto the fire. He checked his shirt for dryness. Satisfied that it was wearable, he pulled it on.
"Would you be any different?” The question made his shoulders drop.
"No."
"You are two of a kind, you and Serena. Talented, stubborn, passionate and uniformly disturbed and unsettled about those traits in each other.” Richard's quick, accurate insight on his and Serena's relationship left him chuckling.
"You are right, and wise,” he added, smiling. He turned toward Richard and studied him.
Although on the outside he seemed calm and relaxed, the perfect picture of the healer he was deemed to be by his people, on the inside Roan sensed an innate restlessness and pain that Richard was trying very hard to hold from him and Serena, maybe even from himself.
"So,” he said casually while unsheathing his own blade and studying it for imperfections. “What is it that disturbs your senses so deeply that you feel you must withhold it from your sister?” His relaxed question had Richard's head snapping up from his task, his hand slipping on Serena's sharp-edged blade. He hissed as the blade bit into his flesh and moved swiftly to cover his hand with a cloth to stop the bleeding. Roan raised his eyebrows, as Richard dropped the sword and held his injured hand with the other.
"I do not understand your question,” Richard lied, and scowled when he realized that he would not believe him.
"No, I think you do.” He nonchalantly polished his blade. He watched Richard slump back against the log that was supporting his back and sigh in resignation.
"Clearly, if I am trying so hard to cloak my senses, I have no wish to speak of my concerns.” He noted the insolent timbre of Richard's voice.
"Clearly.” He turned then to give Richard his full attention.
"Know that I am available, should you feel the need to unburden."
"Yes, Roan, I am sure with the hundreds of lives you are already responsible for, you desire to shield another.” Richard's grunted laugh disturbed him.
"So what is one more? I am here for you. I owe you a great debt for your assistance and support over the last week. A debt I could never repay by simply listening to your troubles.” He watched as Richard broke away from his gaze, and his eyes traveled over the forest.
"Thank you, and I must say your senses are getting too sharp for your own good.” Richard didn't say any more, and Roan assumed he was not yet ready to let go of his concerns. He watched as Richard rose and began to gather their clothing and belongings.
"These are dry. We'd best douse this blaze and be on our way.” He was avoiding the issue now, but Roan would give him the space he needed.
* * * *
When Serena returned, she saw Roan lounging and a clearly agitated Richard. She dropped down next to him, watching Richard as he moved stiffly, packing his belongings.
Roan didn't acknowledge her. Finally, he spoke to Richard. “I think we need to rest a little longer, Richard. Some of our clothes have yet to dry. Perhaps you should scout the area. I think a bit of fresh air might do you well,” he proposed.
She watched as Richard angrily dropped the leather satchel he had been packing onto the ground and stalk off with a passing remark, “Perhaps it would."
She straightened as she watched the usually calm Richard stride from camp with an expression that nearly screamed he was angry. She signaled to Caine, and he loped off after him. Then she turned her head toward Roan.
"What happened to his hand?” she asked, settling back against the log.
"He cut it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and settled against the log with her.
"Did you two have a quarrel? Why is he so angry?"
"I honestly don't know. I must have asked the wrong question. I queried him about his unease."
"Ahhh.” Crossing her arms in front of her, she settled back even farther against the log. She closed her eyes. She was very weary, with a deep fatigue that went beyond normal, most likely due to her still recovering injury and her fear that Ziem would invade her sleep.
"I have sensed it also. So ... he is unwilling to discuss it?” she asked, smiling when Roan's arm fell around her shoulders and pulled her into his warmth. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed one ankle over another and settled against her.
"Apparently."
She heard him let out a long sigh and felt his body relax. She liked seeing Roan at ease. His pleasure radiated from him. She glanced over at him, and peering at him from under her half closed lids, smiled. He smiled in return as he closed his eyes. He knew she was watching him.
She couldn't conceal anything from him. Even underdeveloped, his senses were bordering on superior. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she stared at his relaxed face.
Ohhhh, he was a beautiful man.
She sighed. He had left his hair loose and it blanketed his shoulders. Dark, shiny, beautiful, it called to her, urging her to run her fingers through its thick tendrils.
His finely chiseled face looked serene now, however, she had seen his brow furrowed in concern and worry on many occasions. The unreleased power of his body looked peaceful, but she knew the strength that lay beneath his tunic. She had seen the bulging muscles of those huge arms raise his heavy sword with the ease one might lift a light piece of kindling. Oh, how she wanted to—
"He will calm down. It's his way,” she added, picking back up on their conversation, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart.
"Humph,” was the only response he gave.
She smiled at his answer. “You look fairly at ease right now, my warrior.” Leaning back, she pulled her eyes away from him and attempted to settle.
"Aye,” was his only answer, but his arm tightened against her. “Try and rest a bit, Serena."
She sighed at his request. She felt his hand playing with the hair at the back of her neck and it sent small shivers through her.
"I...” She tried to explain her fear of falling asleep. She was ashamed to confess what she was feeling. She felt his hand slide from her neck to bury in her hair as he tugged her head against his body to rest it against his chest. She shifted to her side to accommodate the position. His other hand came up to lie against her head, stroking her hair.
"Rest, little one, I will try my best to protect you.” His voice was slurred, his fatigue evident. He was as tired as she was. He had been her rock this last week. His strength, his alertness, had kept her safe. He sacrificed his own sleep for their cause and to protect her. She closed her eyes. Even if she did have a nightmare, she would do as he asked because she knew he also needed rest. She felt his arm relax against her and his breathing deepen as he fell into an exhausted slumber.
* * * *
Roan couldn't wipe the grin off his face when he decided it was finally time to sleep. He sensed Serena's longing in her perusal of him. She watched him from under her half-closed lids, and he let her.
Making sure he remained awake and alert for her sake had finally taken its toll. After a week of plucking her off her horse and riding endlessly throughout the night on the trail of Ziem, he had finally succumbed to the natural and much needed requirement for rest.
Of course, the warm sensual bundle attached to his side had something to do with it. Her body heat burned into his side, seeping into his tunic and finally warming his skin. He sighed in contentment as he gently stroked her hair.
He had no liking for holding women, let alone slumbering with them. He had never felt close enough to any woman to want her warmth next to him throughout the night. He gentled his way into their beds because he needed to fulfill a hunger that, however
hard he tried, never seemed to be sated. After they satisfied their mutual sexual need, he always sent his willing women on their way. It was an unspoken rule with him and his bedmates. They didn't even ask or attempt to lure him into holding them. The women at the castle had an understanding with him, one that was no longer questioned.
However, with Serena, it was different. So vastly different that it worried him. With her warmth next to him, he never wanted to sleep alone again.
He had used every excuse he could imagine to have her near him, to touch her with his hands and his mind. Now when they were apart, he felt an immense loneliness. It had taken such a short time to become attached to her. A short time, he tried not to chuckle, was an understatement. It took a single glance, a single smell of her unique scent, a single touch of his eyes to the sea green of hers.
If he was honest with himself, he knew that first glimpse of her charging into the clearing to rescue him was all it had taken to bond him to her. She was in his soul now, in his heart, and all from one projection of his fear, his silent cry for help that had compelled her to him a week ago.
And he had never been so happy in his life, or so fearful. To have this type of possessive, all encompassing feeling for another was, at times, debilitating. Not only did he feel immeasurable contentment but also extreme terror with the thought that something terrible could befall her. That she could be harmed with the simple projected thoughts of another person. He tightened his hold on her as he drifted off. He vowed he would not let anything happen to her.
Chapter Five
Serena was dreaming. It began like a gentle whispering in her ear—the dream. She was floating in a cloud of mist. Her hands came up to test the air.
Is this real? she wondered.
When she commanded it to, her hand fell through the white haze. It chopped a wedge in the murkiness like one might cut off a slice of meat from a particularly succulent spit-roasted boar.
Where was she?
She spun around in an attempt to gain her bearings. As the mist settled around her, a slow panic began to take hold. Her breath came rapidly and she could feel the dampness of her own sweat forming on her forehead. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her rapidly beating pulse.