by AJ Nuest
That was, right up until a low growl gathered in his chest and he tossed the scarf over his shoulder. Two long strides and he was holding her cheeks, lips searing a path across her mouth and neck, her eyelids and chin.
A brush of his bottom lip and his tongue swept in. She grabbed his wrists and hung on. Heart pounding. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his teeth, everything he poured into her making her soar higher than any wind rider or Dregg or magic could ever take her.
“I love you, as well. More than Helios’ diamonds offerings number in the sky.” His hand left her cheek and he studied the necklace, the chain still wound through his fingers. “Which is why you must grant me this one favor.” He curled his hand into a tight fist. “Wear the key. Let me gift you all your worthy heart deserves. Redeem your memories and, together, we shall share the history of our beginnings.”
Closing her eyes, she turned her cheek to his chest. She couldn’t deny he had her there. Of all the memories she’d get back in the process, the real first time they’d met would definitely be one of the best. “Okay. If it makes you happy, I’ll wear the key.”
She looked up and a smile creased the stubble on his face as he lowered the chain around her neck.
A creak came from the left and she turned her head as the armoire swung open. Inside hung the mirror. Shattered glass surrounded by a gilt-edged frame.
Flashbulbs exploded before her eyes. Caedmon tightened his arms as her knees gave. The shards melded together. A groan leaked from her lips.
The armoire. The key.
A weight lifted. So huge, gravity no longer tugged at her feet.
Caedmon in the mirror.
Her parents and the antiques shop.
She clamped her hand over her mouth. Tears fell.
Oliver. Dear God, he was her best friend.
The images rushed in with such force, her ears rang. The floor spun. She pushed at Caedmon’s chest and tried to catch her breath.
A shrouded legend. A room of pantalooned men.
Caedmon’s horrible poem. She laughed and tossed her head back. Playing that damn lute.
Laser light zipped around the frame. The earth trembled.
Accepting his mother’s ring. Tumbling into his arms.
Caedmon carrying her to his bed before they’d made love.
How…how could she have forgotten? All the stories he’d told her. The beautiful moments they’d shared.
A spin and he grunted as she leapt into his arms.
The key. The armoire. Yes, yes, everything finally made sense. The armoire was the chest and she was the key. They were one and the same. The mirror didn’t work without her and she didn’t work without it. All this time. Caedmon had been right. She was the magic. The blinding white light of the future was her.
“Caedmon.” She grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him but good luck with that. “The mirror leads to the future. It’s our way out of here. We can go through the mirror into my world.”
He frowned. “I cannot go, my heart. Only you and the key may cross the veil.”
“No.” She laughed and tried to shake him again. “That was before. When I came through the first time, I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. Gaelleod and Braedric. That’s why they couldn’t get the armoire to open. That’s why they want me and why my memories took off for parts unknown. I’m the key. Just like you said. I decide who goes and when because the key and I are the same thing. The light of the future is me.”
He searched her face, glanced at the shimmering glass and refocused on her. “Do you know where it leads?”
“No, but I have friends on the other side. Wherever we come through, they’ll help us. I know they will.”
His jaw firmed, and he slowly exhaled. Then nodded. “We stay together. Always and forever together.”
She grinned. “Until Helios no longer reigns in the sky.” Offering him her hand, she held on tight as he laced his fingers through hers. “Ready?”
“Lead on, my love. I shall follow.”
Heart racing, Caedmon keeping pace at her side, she ran for the mirror and leapt.
Part 4—Braedric’s Bane
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Oomph.”
The impact drove the breath from his lungs. A wave of nausea unfurled through his system, and Caedmon gritted his teeth as he waited for his faculties to realign.
Down the narrow hall at his feet, dim light cast enough illumination to explain the patterned texture scratching his back. He and his lady lay on a decorative rug, her petite form sprawled along the length of his.
The first air of her realm expanded his chest and the tight arm he’d banded about her waist went slack. Thank the Nine, she’d landed on top. Flung as they’d been across the cosmos, he’d been hard-pressed to maintain what little control he had left.
Her sigh warmed his neck and he frowned as her bare foot slipped between his. Her hair sheeted under his palm as he tracked the arc down to her lower back and curled his fingers into the giving flesh of her perfectly round bottom.
Goddesses wept, what had happened to their clothes?
As if hindered by the ether of worlds crossed, his memories slammed into place and he slumped. Of course. Nothing save her and the key could bridge the veil…and based on his inauspicious arrival, those fated souls she chose to traverse with her.
She shifted to his side and a grumble left his throat as she dragged the heated stretch of her inner thigh up his cock. By Helios’ golden blood, the woman had no idea the riot she could incite within him. Had not their safety been paramount, he would’ve have greedily flipped her beneath him and set about bending her pliant body to the will of his.
Gathering her hair, he swept his hand up her spine and applied a slight squeeze to her shoulder. “My heart—”
“Sh-h-h…”
Caedmon froze, his senses honed to the fine point of a needle. The hushed demand for silence had come from above and to his right.
In whatever place they’d landed, they were not alone.
He strained for any additional sound past the din of his pulse in his ears.
Rowena yawned and his teeth met with a sharp clack as she reached down to stroke the full length of his straining shaft. “Well, hello there.”
A frenzied thrashing, and the ominous crash of shattering glass had him clutching his lady close.
Scrambling to his feet, he stood her on the floor, steadied her shoulders and spun as two stinging claps bathed the room in a bright glow.
The wizard who’d summoned the light sat bolt upright on his sleeping pallet, bare-chested and the blankets crumpled about his waist. He locked onto Caedmon and his lips formed a perfect round “oh.”
Yet it was the shocked pallor of his narrow face, the cropped sandy hair and unlined brow which so aptly prodded the back of Caedmon’s mind.
They’d met before. He was certain of it. Though in what capacity, he could not prompt his memories to recall.
The steady drip of water from a broken glass upon a small bedside table kept time with the weighted beat of his heart. His love ran her palm down his arm and her breasts skimmed his back as she stood on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
The wizard sharply inhaled and smacked his palm to his chest. If possible, his blue eyes widened farther still. “Rowena?”
Her soft chuckle alleviated a small portion of the tension that had wound tight every muscle in Caedmon’s body.
“Hey, Ollie. Thanks for hanging on to the armoire.” She nodded toward the far wall and Caedmon tracked her gaze to the door hanging open at his left. Within the gilded frame, the veil shimmered, the far end of Gaelleod’s ritualistic chamber centered in the glass. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
Yes, yes, Ah-lee. Caedmon darted another assessing squint at the thin man who seemed all but perched on the edge of hysteria. Not a wizard, but a friend. The same who’d so vigorously leapt to her defense after she’d fallen victim to Braedric’s schemes.
>
ʼTwould seem the Dregg leader had spoken true. Cocking a brow, Caedmon straightened from his defensive stance and released the tight clutch of his hands. The Nine Goddesses had blessed their purpose, delivering he and his lady into the embrace of a trusted ally.
The rumpled covers shifted beside Oliver, and Caedmon’s gut clenched as a muscled arm stretched high into the air.
Or mayhap their true safety yet remained to be seen.
“What’s with all the noise?” A young man rose to sitting and raked a tousled mop of dark hair back from his brow.
A glance at Caedmon, and his jaw came unhinged. He sprang forward and slapped a tight grip to the slender bones of Oliver’s wrist. “Oh, my God. I knew you were planning something, but this is too much.” His feet bounced the mattress. A slight turn, and he placed his palm upon Oliver’s cheek. “Happy anniversary, darling. One whole year and going strong.”
Sweet goddesses’ tits. Snatching a small pillow off a nearby chair, Caedmon crammed it over his crotch. Whatever wanton romp these two men were on about beneath the sheets, his participation should not be counted upon in the least.
“No, Jon.” A sigh heaved Oliver’s shoulders and he gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Remember how I told you about the magic mirror in Rowena’s armoire?”
“Oh, that.” The young man waved his hand aside. “And here all this time, I thought her trip to another realm was some sort of metaphor for falling in love.”
The two men faced Caedmon and his shoulders bunched as Jon’s gaze heated, lingering over Caedmon’s torso and chest. A small portion of the blankets tented near his hips. “You were right, though. He is a sexy English panther.”
A growl of warning vibrated the lining of Caedmon’s throat, and he darted a scowl between them. Whatever liberties they dare pursue, they would do so at their own risk.
“Oh, and he purrs.” Jon clasped his hands under his chin.
Oliver narrowed his eyes at his companion. A tense moment passed before he swiveled to face the room.
“My God, doll, you look fabulous.” One of his brows rose, and he crossed his arms. “Now, would you care to tell me where the hell you’ve been?”
* * *
Eyes wide, unblinking, Oliver stared at Caedmon and his lady each, in turn, from across the glossy span of a kitchen table. Though how the sterile confines of this room could ever be mistaken as a “kitchen,” Caedmon was hard-pressed to comprehend.
Despite being warm enough, he’d been unable to locate any source of heat, and the lone hearth located within Oliver’s chambers was a bizarre monstrosity stationed along one wall of a gathering space known as the “living” room.
It required neither wood nor the spark of a flint, yet still produced flame at the mere flip of a switch.
Oliver sat forward, arms crossed over the folds of his dressing gown. “And then what happened?”
Easing back in his chair, Caedmon firmed his grip on his lady’s hand, fingers woven through hers and the backs of her knuckles resting upon his thigh. Throughout her entire discourse, she’d detailed the events which had led them here with an accuracy that had left him humbled. Their contest in the Gantlet. Her flight from the castle. The Dreggs and their subsequent subterfuge to reclaim the key.
She stole a glance in his direction and pride swelled in his chest that she had not contrived one falsehood at his expense. If questioned in the least, Caedmon would set about ensuring these two men fully grasped the details of her tale. “We jumped through the mirror and landed bare-ass naked on your bedroom floor.”
And yet, another truth he would’ve gladly consented to change.
Much to his annoyance, the matching white shirts and diminutive breeches Oliver had given them had done little to waylay Jon’s languid perusals. Nor did the confining stretch of the “boxer briefs” go any distance toward curtailing Caedmon’s unease.
A dreamy sigh lifted Jon’s shoulders, chin propped on his hand and his eyelids set at half-mast. “That has to be the most romantic story I’ve ever heard.”
“You just jumped through the mirror, huh?” Oliver aimed a sharp finger at the table. “Not a single thought to what might’ve happened had you not come through on my side?”
Irritation prickled his nerve-endings, and Caedmon leveled a fierce glare at his lady’s lanky friend. The man would be wise to remember he addressed a princess of the Austiere realm. What’s more, a sorceress of the highest order. “There was no easy about our arrival. Or did you miss Her Radiance’s apt description of how we combated our way through Seviere’s men?”
“God, I love it when he calls her that.” Jon wrinkled his nose at Rowena. “Doesn’t your heart just melt when he calls you that?”
“That’s exactly my point.” Oliver tossed his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you would let her do something so dangerous. Flying around with some hairy animal? Fighting off a bunch of armed men? Good God, are you completely insane?”
“Ollie.” His love frowned and gave a diminutive shake of her head, but Caedmon simmered under the weight of such ill-aimed disproval.
ʼTwould seem Oliver had nary a clue the determined female to whom he referred. Or mayhap his doubts lie more in the strength and precision of her battle-won talents.
“If you assume for one heartbeat I would willingly concede she charge straight into peril, you are the one whose reasoning is flawed.” Releasing her hand, Caedmon placed his palms on the table and met Oliver scowl for scowl. “My objections held no more sway over her decisions than that of yours.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Oliver scoffed. “I don’t give a hot damn how much training she’s had. The woman can’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds. You couldn’t tie her to a chair? Try talking some sense into her?”
“Whoa, hold up.” His lady held up her palm. “Did you just say tie me to a chair?”
“And then what?” To employ such tactics was ludicrous beyond measure. “Perchance deny her food and water until she consented?”
“Okay, guys, that’s enough.”
Oliver wagged his finger at Caedmon as if he were no more than a disobedient child. “Listen, you…you big, medieval—”
“I said that’s enough.” His lady sprang from her seat and spun, plucking knives from their slots inside a wooden block and apples from a bowl. She tossed one after another into the air, the blades embedding in the skin and each discordant twang pinning a piece of fruit to the far wall.
Oliver squeaked and ducked low. Jon gasped, and then clapped. The last of the fruits firmly skewered in place, she whirled and reclaimed the chair she’d occupied only moments before.
A dull thump echoed off the metallic surfaces in the room and Oliver flinched as she planted the final blade in the table between them. “Now, you got any more questions about what I should or shouldn’t be doing?”
Excellent. Crossing his arms, Caedmon aimed a pleasant smile across the table. That should stem the tide of any residual discontent.
“I have a question.” Jon tentatively raised his hand in the air. “Has Caedmon ever tied you to a chair? And if so, what happened?”
Oliver’s shoulders fell. “Can you please try to focus?”
“What?” Jon frowned at his male counterpart. “That’s a legitimate question.”
Oliver sighed and shook his head. “Fine, I apologize.” He nodded at Caedmon before peeking askance at the dark-haired man at his side. “For both of us. I obviously didn’t realize she’d become a knife-wielding circus performer while she was gone.”
The edge of his lady’s knee nudged Caedmon’s thigh. A quick scan of her face and he released an exasperated breath.
But he could no more fault her request than he could continue to bide his tongue. Merely a span of days earlier, he’d believed much the same. And as a result, had nearly lost the love of his heart due his doubts she could protect herself with a blade. “Apology accepted, and I offer mine as well.”
“Good.” Rowena dipped her
chin as if to close the matter and scooted forward in her chair. “Now, for the real reason we’re here. Caedmon and I need your help, Ollie.”
“Of course, doll.” He traded a frown with Jon and Caedmon stretched his neck as the two men reached a silent accord. “Anything you need, you know that.”
Her eyes softened at the corners and his love reached past the protruding knife to gather Oliver’s hand in hers. He smiled and laced their fingers together. Caedmon’s brow twitched as they clung to one another so tight their knuckles paled. And though he could not describe the ache in his chest as the taint of jealousy, the ease of their familiarity did usher in a shadow of regret.
The two years they’d been apart had caused them much suffering. And rightly so. At a time, their friendship surpassed a bond of sibling love Caedmon had never been blessed enough to understand.
“The information we need relates to the history of Caedmon’s country, if such information even exists. Everything from his father’s reign forward, including anything we can find out about his brother, Prince Braedric, the reigning King Seviere, and a wizard by the name of Gaelleod.”
“Hmmm…” Oliver propped his elbow on the table, fingertips drumming and his lips pursed. “We may need to call in reinforcements. That kind of research sounds right up Violet’s alley.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. But, how much does she know about me?” Rowena offered her free hand to Caedmon and he firmly clasped it in his. “About us?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure what she believes.” Oliver grimaced and Caedmon studied the pale man out of the corner of his eye. “It sucks being the one to tell you this but, after you left, things at the shop got a little…strange.”
The first fingers of foreboding began their strangling squeeze about Caedmon’s throat. A frown creased his lady’s brow, and she wrapped her ankles around the legs of her chair. “What do you mean?”
Returning her palm to his thigh, Caedmon held it in place to remind her of his support. Most assuredly, a woman in her position would have been missed. The thing he did not yet know was to what extremes the higher powers had gone to search her out. Whether the veil had been discovered during their quest, and the dire consequences Jon and Oliver had been made to face.