by A. J. Nuest
Rowena gasped and clasped her hands in both surprise and joy. “How did you know it was in there?”
His smile morphed into a devilish grin. “You must wear the key to find out.”
Arms extended, either side of the necklace twined through his fingers, he closed the distance between them and lifted the chain over her head.
“Wait.” She placed a hand on his chest.
His arms dropped as if they’d suddenly filled with lead. “Wait?” He searched her gaze and one of his eyebrows rose to a dangerously sharp peak. “Pray, do tell. What is the nature of my delay…exactly?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. This comment should be welcomed with all the enthusiasm of a Dregg in heat. “The thing is… I’ve just recently decided…”
He crossed his arms. “Yes?”
“I don’t really need it…exactly.”
“What!” He stalked away, ripped the scarf off his head and shook it at her. “Of all the infuriating, confounding, imbalanced conclusions, why not?”
“I just don’t, Caedmon.” She opened her hands at her sides as if they could somehow magically offer him the answer. “I don’t need the past any more. The only thing that matters to me now is you…us…our future. Don’t you see? You’ve already given me everything I need. And that’s more than enough. Because I love you.”
He stood frozen, not blinking. Hell, he didn’t even appear to be breathing. His low growl gathered momentum and he strode forward, tossing the scarf aside. His hands cupped her jaw and his lips descended, searing a path of ecstasy over her mouth and cheeks, her eyelids and chin. A brush of his bottom lip along hers and his tongue swept in. Happiness cascaded through her heart. She grabbed his wrists and hung on as their souls mated and danced. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his full bottom lip bespoke the strength of his devotion, until she soared higher than any magic or moonbeam could ever carry her.
“I love you, as well,” he whispered. “More than Helios’ diamonds offerings number in the sky.” His hand left her cheek and he leaned away from her, the necklace tightly clenched in his fist. “Which is why you must grant me this one favor. Wear the key, my love. Let me gift you all your worthy heart deserves. Redeem your memories and together we shall share the history of our beginnings.”
She closed her eyes and cinched her arms around his waist, placing her cheek to his chest. How could she deny him? How could she turn away the opportunity of knowing him from the first day they had met, or the chance to relive everything they had shared before she came through the veil?
When she demanded her freedom, he offered her aid to defend herself. When she spoke her desire to reclaim the key, he stood strong and loyal at her side. How could she say no after all the selfless love he had shown her?
The answer was, she couldn’t. “Okay. If it makes you happy. So I can remember everything we once shared, I’ll wear the key.”
He withdrew a step, a gentle smile creasing the stubble on his face, and lowered the chain around her neck.
A creak broke the silence in the room as the armoire door swung wide. A mirror hung on the back, shattered glass inside a gilt-edged frame.
Starbursts exploded before her eyes. She clamped her hands on top of her head as the shards of her past coalesced and scrambled for placement. A moan leaked from between her compressed lips. The armoire. The key. Caedmon in the mirror. Her parents. An antiques shop. Oliver!
The images rushed in with the force of a hurricane. They eddied and churned. Voices clambered in her ears.
A shrouded legend. A group of garishly dressed men. The glass swirled and melded into one solid sheet. Caedmon failing to play that damn lute. Braedric’s deceit. A pinpoint of laser light zipped around the edge of the frame. Accepting his mother’s ring. Tumbling into his arms. Declaring her love.
Delight surged and crested the base of her throat. Her laughter rang out like the chime of a bell. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. They’d made love! Before she lost her memories, Caedmon had carried her to his bed. Sweet tits, how had she ever forgotten the beautiful moments they’d shared?
She spun to face him and leapt into his arms. The key! The armoire! Yes, yes, everything finally made sense. The armoire was the chest. And she was the key. All this time, Caedmon had been right. The blinding white light of the future was her.
“Caedmon!” She wrenched back from him, grabbing his shoulders in both hands. “The mirror leads to the future. It’s our way out of here. We can go through the mirror.”
His brow furrowed, concern darkening his gaze. “I cannot go, my love. Only you, remember? Only you and the key may cross the veil.”
“No.” She stomped her foot and then laughed again. “That was before I believed. When I came through the first time, I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t understand. But I do now. I’m the key. Just like you said. The key and I are one in the same. The light of the future is me.”
He slowly straightened, searching her face. A quick glance at the darkened glass and he refocused on her. “Do you know where it leads?”
“No, but I have friends on the other side.” The excitement of seeing Oliver again, of hugging her dear friend, nearly stole her breath. “Wherever we come through, they’ll help us. I know they will.”
His jaw firmed and he slowly exhaled. Nodded. “Right. We stay together. For the rest of our days.”
“Until Helios no longer reigns in the sky.” Holding her hand palm up, she grinned when he slid his hand home, twining his fingers through hers. “Ready?”
“Lead on, my love. I shall follow.”
Heart pounding, Caedmon keeping pace at her side, she raced straight for the mirror and they leapt.
Bonus Material
A sneak peek inside
Braedric’s Bane
Book IV of The Golden Key Chronicles
Chapter One
“Oomph!”
A breath punched from his lungs upon impact. Caedmon clamped his jaw shut against a wave of nausea as he waited for his faculties to realign. He blinked and quickly took stock of their surroundings.
Down the narrow hall at his feet, a 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 tight grip he held on her waist went slack with relief. Thank the nine she’d landed on top. His weight would have assuredly crushed her had their positions been reversed.
He frowned as he trailed his focus over their bare feet, along their tangled, naked limbs, to the most enchantingly pert bottom he’d ever been blessed to admire. His scowl deepened. Goddesses wept, what had happened to their clothes?
As if they’d been hindered by the ether of worlds crossed, memories of when his lady had first come through the mirror slammed into place. Of course. Nothing of either realm save her—and apparently those fated souls she chose to travel with her—and the key could bridge the veil.
To complain of her state of undress held all the appeal of slicing his tongue out with a sharp blade, as did the departure of her luscious breasts warming his chest. Yet the circumstances behind such an inconvenience could not be ignored. Until their location and level of safety was determined, his first task was to ensure their needs were well met.
Her soft moan heated the side of his throat and she shifted against him. He smoothed a hand up her back, her skin a velvet shroud against the rough rasp of his palm, and applied a slight squeeze to her shoulder. “My love—”
“Shhh!”
Caedmon froze, all his senses honed to a fine point. The hushed appeal 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 roar of his pulse in his ears. Rowena yawned and his teeth clacked together when she ran the delicate tips of her fingers up and down the sides of his swiftly lengthening shaft.
“Well, h
ello there,” she whispered.
A frenzied thrashing and the ominous crash of shattering glass had him scrambling to his feet. He stood his love on the floor, steadied her shoulders, and spun as two stinging claps bathed the room in a bright glow.
He held up a hand, fingers splayed to shade his view. The wizard who’d summoned the light sat bolt upright on a sleeping pallet, bare-chested, the covers lying crumpled about his waist. His wide blue eyes locked onto Caedmon, his narrow face pale with shock…and the barest hint of recognition tickled the back of Caedmon’s mind.
He squinted. Where had he seen this man’s face before?
The moment stretched as they assessed each other across the room. The steady drip of water from the broken glass upon a small beside table kept time with the weighted beat of Caedmon’s heart.
“Hey.” His lady ran her palm down his arm, the pointed tips of her breasts prodding his back as she stood on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
The wizard sharply inhaled and slapped a hand to his chest. If possible, his eyes widened farther still. “Rowena?”
Her soft chuckle alleviated a small portion of the tension pervading Caedmon’s shoulders and he slowly straightened from his defensive stance. This stranger knew her, but in what capacity?
“Hey, Ollie. I see you kept the armoire.” She pointed toward the far wall and Caedmon glanced to his left.
The door hung open, the veil shimmering inside a gilded frame, the glass smooth and intact. Visions of the past flickered across his mind’s eye—an enchanting sorceress standing opposite the veil and, seated at her side, a false god by the name of … Oliver.
Caedmon jerked his head back around and studied the wizard’s closely cropped sandy hair, the patrician nose and high unlined brow. Yes, yes, this man and the one who’d accused him of betraying his lady’s trust were one in the same. Not a wizard, a friend. He relaxed his fisted hands. Thank Helios, they’d emerged within the shelter of a close ally.
The rumpled blankets on the far side of the bed shifted and a muscled arm stretched high into the air. “What’s with all the noise?”
A form rose to sitting, and Caedmon’s gut clenched when a young man raked a tousled mop of dark hair back from his forehead. He glanced between Oliver and his chamber mate. Goddesses’ tits, were the two engaged in buggery?
The dark eyebrows adorning the young man’s face shot into the air and he grasped Oliver’s forearm, surprised delight parting his lips. “You silly, romantic fool. Our anniversary’s not for another two months.”
And evidently, they expected participants in whatever depravity they’d concocted beneath those satin sheets. Caedmon grabbed a small pillow from a nearby chair and crammed in over his crotch.
“No, Jon.” Oliver rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Remember I told you about the magic mirror in Rowena’s armoire?”
“Oh, that.” The broad shoulders of the dark-haired man lowered to a more natural position and he wiggled his fingers at Oliver. “I thought you were speaking metaphorically, not literally.” The two men faced Caedmon and his lady, and the one named Jon let his focus linger over Caedmon’s chest, his torso and arms. A small portion of the blankets tented near his groin. “My God, you were right. He is a sexy English panther.”
Or mayhap they preferred only Caedmon join their wanton romp through debauchery. For all the tits in paradise, what revelations were next? A growl of warning vibrated the lining of his throat and he slung an arm backward around his love, inching them away from the bed toward the hall. Friend or foe, these men dared pursue such liberties at their own risk.
Jon clasped his hands before his chest. “Oh, and he purrs!”
Oliver crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at his companion. A tense moment passed between them before he swung back around to face Rowena. “About time you’re finally back. Now, would you care to tell me where the hell you’ve been?”
Available February 13th 2014
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013
Copyright © AJ Nuest 2013
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Nuest, Caedmon’s Curse