by Rae Monet
"As this is the single exit in this room, you now have my attention."
"You will not leave!” His command and domineering stance had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.
"And who will stop me?” She slowly rose, her hand moving to hover at the hilt of her sword.
Stephen's action mimicked hers. “I will if need be. I will have you listen first."
She let out a rude noise. “I tire of your babbling, and I am befuddled as to why you stop me. Not a quarter of an hour ago you requested I, hum, let me see if I can recall your exact words, something akin to, return to where I came from.” She raised her eyebrows. Diana sensed regret emanating from him, but she was hard pressed to trust her senses. She had never been good at controlling them and most the time they just confused her more.
He pushed away from the door and approached her. His expression determined, he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. She struggled against his hold and his hand came up to tangle in her hair, forcing her to stop her thrashing.
His lips claimed hers. Try as she might to resist him, she was not able to fight the passion that welled up inside her. She melted against him, her arms rising to encircle his neck as he deepened the kiss. It had begun as possessive, then gentled. His tongue tenderly pressed against her lips, asking permission to enter. She opened her mouth and allowed him in. His tongue danced with hers and suddenly she was limp with the emotions she sensed pouring from him. He was so aroused there was no need to distrust her senses. He wanted her like he had wanted no other, his desire a bright flame inside her mind.
His hands ran down her back to cup her ass, pulling her against his hard shaft. Diana gasped against his mouth. Her contact with men had been limited, but it didn't take experience to determine he was hard with his desire for her. His lips broke from hers then trailed down her neck. As he reached her ear his whispered voice broke through her need.
"Forgive me, Diana, forgive me. Do not leave, please.” His appeal humbled her. In the three months she had known him she had never heard him beg for anything. He was too strong and too proud to beg. Her knees weakened at the implication.
His lips moved back to hers and this time the gentleness gave way to devouring need, too overwhelming to be satisfied by kisses alone.
He pulled back, his hands running over her face. “I have no excuse for my behavior apart from my need to protect you. I fear when you talk of warring with me. I wanted to drive you away so you would be safe. I love you so deeply, I cannot abide losing you. Please say you forgive me."
The tears she had finally rid herself of only minutes earlier began to fall down her face again, but this time they were tears of joy. Had he just said he loved her? That he didn't want to lose her?
She smiled through her tears. “Say it again,” she asked, as she stroked his face.
His expression softened at her words and he smiled back. He drew one of her hands to his lips and tenderly kissed her palm. “I love you deeply, with all my heart, forever, from the first moment I touched you."
Diana cried out and flew into his arms. “Oh, Stephen, you have no idea how much I love you, you stubborn, arrogant fool. No idea."
He laughed against her hair. “Not a flowery confession. Nonetheless, I accept it, and you."
She grabbed him and this time she became the aggressor. Her lips locked to his, she reached under his tunic. He had shed his chain mail and was bare underneath. She ran her hand over the muscled planes of his chest and he moaned against her mouth.
"Diana,” his warning was moot as her hands pushed at the spot just below his breeches. He stopped kissing her altogether. His hands came up to cover hers to stop any further exploration.
"Take me to bed,” she said. “Make passionate love to me all night. I have dreamed of it, I have felt it in your kisses, now I want to experience it with our bodies."
As if her words were a spark to his flame, he growled. He pushed her toward the bed.
"You'll marry me, tomorrow if possible. I will speak to Roan tonight."
"Yeees,” she whispered, as her hands made short work of her breeches. “Wait. Only if you allow me to fight next to you,” she added, managing to pick the thought out of her befuddled mind.
He tumbled her back against her bed. Pulling off his breeches, he followed and landed on top of her. He moved away to quickly divest her of her remaining clothing, then rolled back on top of her. When their flesh met, Diana moaned at the beauty of it.
"I would not have it any other way, my Diana."
She smiled against his mouth, then groaned as his hands began to work her body into a frenzy.
"I doubt you'll be speaking to my brother this eve.” She sighed and arched as his lips replaced his hands.
* * * *
"I think that is the most sensible thing I've heard you say yet.” He grunted when her hand lightly slugged his shoulder. His tongue reached out to stroke her breasts, the ones he had longed to bare from the moment he first touched her, and he lapped each one equally.
Stephen heard her moan. He was inflamed by her responses. She was so passionate, a reaction he did not expect from a maiden. He had met his match with her and he thanked the Gods. He would indeed be spending the entire night pleasing her just for the pure joy of hearing her cry out in gratification.
And so he did until sometime in the middle of the night when Roan broke down the bolted door and demanded a wedding date.
"As soon as your sister arises,” Stephen said.
He chuckled at Roan's open-jawed expression and rolled away from Diana's warmth. The next moment, he was shoving Roan out into the hall. “Now, get out."
Shaking his head, Roan left.
Stephen remained standing at the precariously hanging door, gazing down at Diana. Her dark hair was strewn around her bared shoulders, the top of her breasts peeked out from the coverlet. She reminded him of an angel.
An angel, for all intents and purposes, who was all his.
* * * *
They married the next day. Stephen all smiles, Diana all blushes. He added a promise to the traditional wedding vows to protect her for all of his life. Diana's heart expanded at his words. As her hand joined with his, his love projected to her senses, and she felt warmth in every pore of her body. Stephen's father joined the celebration. He had traveled to Wolfsmoor to escort his new soldiers back to his castle. Diana suspected his trip was an excuse to visit with his sons. He was a lovely forthright man, generous and full of pride for both of his sons. He had clasped Diana against his chest, saying he would pay homage to any woman who could place a smile on his son's face as she had done.
It was a beautiful sunny day. Diana's only cloud was that Roan had not fully enjoyed it. Oh, he had given the customary kisses and shoulder slapping, but when Diana approached him on the battlement that eve, he was gazing off toward the green Scottish hills with the sun slowly sinking behind them. She saw the sadness in his gaze and hugged him from behind. He smiled and patted her arm.
"Are you content, little sister?"
She smiled at his pet name for her. “Truly, more than I can voice."
He laughed at her play on words. “No need, little sister, I can sense it in both of you, and I am happy for you.” His smile turned to a frown as he gazed longingly toward the hills.
"You told him about us? That is why he decided he could not protect me by sending me away?” Diana wasn't angry, she just needed to know.
"I told him very little, but yes, I did give him some insight into our heritage. He had some senseless idea that by forcing you to leave he could protect you. I had to make right that wrong."
She smiled with gratitude and squeezed him. “Thank you, big brother."
He reminded silent and continued to stare toward Scotland.
"How much longer?” she asked tentatively. Someone needed to right his wrong. He turned toward her, and the light of the battlement torches reflected his confusion and dark need.
"How much longer will you live without her?�
� she pressed on. “Will you let your pride be your companion for a lifetime?"
He stiffened and turned back around. No one had dared discuss Serena with him since his return.
"She loved you, you know. I sensed it easily even with my clumsy ability. It was there for anyone to gather.” She laid her hand on his shoulder.
"She said not, she said...” He dropped his head onto his bent arms and leaned against the stone wall.
"And you believed her?” she asked in amazement.
"What would you have me do?” The tears she had suspected were in his eyes fell down his cheeks.
"Fight for her,” she simply said. With one final pat, she left him to wallow in his own pity.
* * * *
Fight for her. Diana's words continued to run through Roan's mind.
The words were so simple, yet so complex. Fight for her. He heard the words as he said goodbye to his father before he began his trek back to the castle.
Fight for her. He repeated the words in his head as he sat in his chair that night, in the room that had been his bed for the past three months. Even as he fell asleep, he continued to repeat the words in his head.
Fight for her.
* * * *
Roan groaned and thrashed on the chair as the nightmare held him in its grasp. Red blazing heat plumed into the air as far as the eye could see. He smelled fire, saw the flames, heard the screams of his people. He saw Serena careen through the forest, attempting to outrun the deadly blaze. Her breath was coming in gasps, her clothes singed. She fell, tumbling to the ground. Then she hauled herself up. Limping, she began to run again.
"Serena!” Roan yelled as the flames licked at her ankles, inching up her body, burning her legs. “Serena!” he yelled.
Someone shook him. He sat straight up in his chair. Sweat soaked his shirt and lathered his face. His body still reacting to the nightmare, he lunged for his weapon.
A strong hand shoved him back down in his chair. “Tis not surprised I am yer havin’ nightmares, mon.” The man eased down into the chair across from him and began picking his nails with his dagger.
"Bruce.” Roan tried to rise again.
Robert's sword pointed at his gut, stopping him. When he seemed convinced Roan would not move, he laid his sword across his knees and continued to clean his nails with his dagger.
"Your men have killed some of my best in this war you have wrought upon my castle."
Robert shrugged. “Och, what a shame. Mayhap, Wolf, ya should have considered that before ya broke yer oath.” He spit on the floor. “Lousy Englishmen are no’ worth a damn."
"She insisted I leave, Robert. She did not request, she demanded it. I simply fulfilled her order."
Robert growled at that answer and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “I ought to slay ya now, where ye sit. A pitiful picture ye are, lettin’ a lass fool ya."
"Robert...” Roan began.
"Her people are dying."
Roan's words died in his mouth.
"Wolf killers are tracking the wolves,” Robert continued, “and burning the surrounding forests. She needs your help. I wouldna be askin but..."
"She will not burden me herself,” Roan answered for him. “I will leave at first light."
Robert the Bruce nodded and rose. “Take that she-hellion with you. Me men fear her. And leave that lovesick whelp of her husband behind. Your keep will be safe enough with him."
Without saying the words, Bruce was telling Roan if he left Stephen he wouldn't attack the castle. How Robert the Bruce knew every coming and going in his castle was disturbing.
"You have your gauntlet?” Robert's accent reverted to English.
Roan raised his arm to display Bruce's leather armband encased on his arm.
Robert nodded and with the blink of an eye he was gone.
Roan shook his head. The castle was guarded at every entry point. How had Robert slipped past the guards?
He closed his eyes. He couldn't care how Robert stole into his castle. Serena needed him. He'd known it, he'd dreamed it. No matter what she said, he had to go. If she died...
A hurt bigger than any pain he'd ever experienced sliced through him. He took deep breaths, pushing down the pain. She was alive now. He had to concentrate on that.
As he thought of all he needed to do, the pain lessened. Finally, he groaned, thinking about the most daunting task ahead of him.
He had to tell Diana and Stephen they would need to separate.
* * * *
Roan rested on his horse inside the bailey as he watched Stephen and Diana. Stephen was slowly strapping various weapons onto Diana's body. His hand lingered on her thigh as he tightened the buckle on the leather scabbard. She looked at him, her lids lowering in the way of lovers. Finally he swung her cloak around her shoulders and laced it under her chin. His hand lifted to rest on her cheek.
Pretending he couldn't hear every word, Roan waited as Stephen clutched Diana to him, commanding her to take care, telling her how much he loved her and that he was sending someone in his stead to protect her. There was wetness in Roan's number one knight's eyes before Stephen closed them and buried his face in Diana's hair. He made a fierce sound filled with emotion, then he kissed her.
Roan turned away to allow them solitude. In a short time Diana was in her saddle next to Roan, wiping the tears from her eyes, a determined look on her face. She turned toward Stephen and he lifted his hand as they rode out the gates.
* * * *
Roan spat in disgust when they continued to pass one burned village after another as they made their way toward the Highlands. Not only were the villages burned, but also many of the surrounding forests. The marauders had been hunting for wolves, the peasants told them. They burned the forests to flush them out. Every wolf carcass brought more funds than a year's harvest.
He began to experience a sick feeling in his gut when he remembered his dream. Was the Realm safe, he wondered, from this mad method of burning out the wolves? Diana's sentiments mirrored his, her expressive face showing her distress at the carnage of forests eaten by fire, seeing the black shells of their once green and mossy splendor.
The closer they came to the Realm, the stronger their unease grew. Diana shifted in her saddle, lifting a hand to her head. She frowned, her face contorting in a grimace.
"You feel it also?” he asked.
"Yes, I feel a pronounced disturbance of my senses.” She took a deep breath as if attempting to calm herself.
"Your senses are unreliable.” He tried to make her feel better, even though he couldn't convince himself.
"As have yours been as of late, big brother,” she managed to reply.
He sucked in a quick breath and held his hand to his head.
"And you?” she asked, her voice low, leaning toward him across her horse.
"My senses grow more clear the closer we come to the Realm. But these feelings are not unfamiliar to me."
"Tell me, what is it?"
Roan's breath quickened. He hesitated to tell Diana what he had sensed.
"Roan,” she said, her voice determined.
He sighed. She would not be appeased by his silence. He tugged his horse and turned to her. She did the same.
"Distress calls. Many voices. All Wolf Warriors.” He tried to keep his voice unemotional, as if they discussed battle strategy.
She dropped her head and closed her eyes as if in prayer. “Yes,” she said, “many.” Her eyes raised and locked with his. They communicated with their eyes, and there was no need for words or to even touch their minds. What they mirrored in each other's eyes was raw unadulterated fear.
"Serena?"
He knew her question was coming.
"I cannot determine the origin of them.” He knew what she was thinking. It was the same as him.
Is she safe?
He closed his eyes and groaned as he absorbed more distress calls.
"Diana, let us move, we are needed.” Diana didn't hesitate to follow hi
m when he kicked his horse into a run.
Chapter Thirteen
Serena crept through the black smoke. The forest was a simmering shell of its former glory. Outfitted in full warrior battle paint, she stalked her pray.
One month ago wolf killers had entered the forest outside of the Realm. Their purpose was clear, their orders absolute—kill every wolf they could find for a generous bounty.
Their numbers were strong.
They had carefully tracked the wolf packs in an attempt to determine where others lay. They were successful and gifted trackers. They had gotten too close to the Realm in the forests outside the waterfall. One had even tracked Sasha through the falls on the final trail to their secret forest before he was methodically cut down by a Wolf Warrior guard. Serena's father had been forced to send out their best warriors in an attempt to dissuade them from tracking any closer.
The Wolf Warrior's job was now two-fold, complex in its simplicity. They were to lead the wolf killers away—or kill them. The wolf killers were strong, many of Norse origin. Their mounts were steady and they hunted in groups of huge bulking men. They were skilled fighters, gave no mercy, and in the outcome many Wolf Warriors perished. Serena winced as a tree branch brushed against a cut on her shoulder. Her body was blackened in several places from brushing against the hulks of burned trees.
The wolf hunters had no care for the forest. Most were foreigners with little worry for the Scottish wooded terrain. It was not their home, was it? They only wanted the funds from the wolf carcasses. In that purpose they were true and merciless.
Serena's healing abilities had ceased when Roan had left and her various bruises, cuts, and wounds were now slow to mend and layering on her body. Her senses were also unclear, and she was much less effective in battle than when she had been teamed with Roan.
Hearing unfamiliar voices, she crouched. Wolf killers, she surmised with a sneer. They were an unscrupulous breed of men and she had no respect for them.
She was alone today. Not wanting to take any more warriors, she had convinced her father to allow her to scout by herself. A group of ten warriors had been sent out the previous day after a man was killed on the outskirts of their forest. The group had not yet returned. It was her task to find them.