by Marie Hall
“Who?” Doing a full-face squint, John glanced quickly over his shoulder, as if he could conjure Nixie up by thought alone. “Marian? The woman in the glass? But I saw no—”
“It is as I’ve said, she was cursed by Crispin. I know not how, but he wished to keep her beauty as his own, and so trapped her years within a wall of glass. I found her.”
“When?” He didn’t look quite convinced.
There wasn’t a story of a woman trapped in glass, but sometimes making someone believe a story was as simple as doling out just enough honest facts as possible while portraying a look of total honesty while doing it.
“When you and Maurice were out on a hunt. I surveyed the castle—”
John growled. “You went to the castle alone?”
Robin shrugged. “I’m not your child, John. Friend or no, if I’ve a mind toward investigation, I will. But no, I did not go to the castle. I saw a caravan not five miles from here. I too was sussing out game that day. The caravan held a tarp-covered wagon, and I moved in to investigate. There were only two men, and easily dispatched.”
John’s eyes widened. “You could have been caught, Robin.” He snapped his fingers. “You could have been—”
“Aye. But the fact was I wasn’t. No trail will lead Crispin’s men here.”
Swallowing hard, John’s nostrils were flared, but his shoulders were no longer so tense as he asked, “And how did you free her?”
His mind instantly flashed to the moment he’d seen Nixie come out of the lamp. Surrounded by the glow of genie magic, her beautiful, ripe body beckoning him. Her wide, guileless brown eyes—so gentle and graceful looking, reminding him of a majestic doe—that long spill of inky hair down her breasts and shoulders.
“I broke the glass. It was the only thing I could think to do. Upon its shattering, she stepped out and—” The world turned completely off its axis.
“Don’t worry, my friend.” John clapped his shoulder. “I understand the rest. If you truly believe her your mate, then I shall guard her life with my own.”
“Thank you.” John punched his friend in the shoulder. “Now, let us go and eat and tell tales.”
Chapter 13
Nixie wanted to hunch in on herself as she went to sit at the campfire with Robin and some of his men later that evening. They’d all been laughing, and generally having a good time, until she’d sat down with her plate of food. And like someone had switched off a light switch, all talking ceased.
Looking at the faces of men, both young and old, and reading clearly their mistrust of her.
The boys had accepted her, but it seemed the men’s minds hadn’t changed at all.
Robin sat beside her, his leg brushing against her own. Just that small touch helped to settle her nerves a little.
Little John took a seat directly opposite her and Robin, firelight cast deep shadows into the hollows of his face, making him appear larger than normal and twice as sinister.
She picked at her meat—something pinkish and smelling sort of like steak, but not really—not sure if she was brave enough to try it, when a voice interrupted her silent musings.
“Well then, woman, tell us a tale.”
“What?” She glanced up, wondering who’d said that, shocked to discover that it was none other than John.
Her first few meetings with him hadn’t exactly been cordial. To put it mildly. Crazy, that even with his memories stripped, he still seemed determined to not like her. And yet…
“You want me to tell a story?”
Robin licked his thumb, setting a half eaten leg of meat down and nodded. “‘Tis customary to tell tales around the campfire. And since you’re new—”
“It means you’ll have stories to tell we haven’t heard a thousand times over.” A short, dark skinned man of maybe forty years (although in Kingdom, who the hell really knew) smirked at her. One of his eyes was completely clouded over with obvious cataract, but the other was a very striking shade of tawny yellow.
His laughter seemed to ease some of the tension of the others. There were several other campfires with other men around, and it’d not gone unnoticed by her that the one Robin had led her to didn’t have near so many men. As though he wanted to try and put her somewhat at ease.
There were just three sets of eyes she didn’t know. She could do this. Nixie had never been the storyteller in her house. It’d always been her father, but his ability to captivate an audience had been innate.
Praying that she’d somehow gotten even a tenth of his storytelling skills, she gave John and the others a brief smile.
She was being tested by these men. To fail now wasn’t an option. Settling her plate of untouched food onto her knees she nodded.
“Stories, I’ve got a few. Though,” she shrugged, “I’ve been…erm,” she glanced at Robin from the corner of her eye, they’d discussed that to his men she was a woman who’d been cursed into a mirror, which helped because they wouldn’t exactly expect her to have tons of stories to tell, “I was cursed for so long that I may be a little rusty.”
John’s smile grew wide and devilish. “Aye, but even so, you weren’t born in that mirror.”
Wishing she could reach over and kick him or smack him for continuing to try and bait her to screw up she gave him a swift nod.
“Of course, John, I was just trying to figure out which one I wished to tell.” Her words were saccharine sweet, but dipped in poison.
Snorting, obviously realizing she jabbed him back, John lifted his tankard of ale as if to say “touché”.
Remembering how her father would always start his stories, she settled in. “Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a Kingdom far away…”
One of the men snorted.
“There lived a boy. A very special boy.”
“Oh yeah, what was so special.” A man with a large gold earring in his right ear snickered. “Don’t you know, lassie, they’re all special here?”
He guffawed, which caused a few others to guffaw with him. She well knew what people here thought of their stories.
Waiting until most of the laughter died out, she nodded. “Sure, but this boy was really special. See he was born on a planet far from ours. A planet that was dying. And his parents, knowing they would not survive, put him into a…a…” she frowned, how the hell could she describe a space craft to them, “magical bird,” she smiled, almost wiping her brow with relief, “that would take him through space and time until he arrived at a place where it would be safe for him.”
Jeez, trying to tell a story about a super hero in words they would understand was proving a little more difficult than she’d imagined.
“But when this boy got there, he was different. Stronger. Faster. In short,” she shrugged, “He was god like.”
And so she regaled them with tales of Superman for the next few hours. Making their eyes go wide with disbelief at certain points and then snort with disgust when his weakness was little more than a glowing green rock.
But somehow, by some miracle, she discovered that not only did they all (to include Robin himself) seem to be clinging to her every word, she was actually having fun.
Thank God for Eric’s comic book obsession. Thinking of him no longer hurt so much, now she felt nothing but gratitude for a man she’d never see again, but whom, she’d never forget.
And when it was all over, and the men had departed to their tents for the night, Robin leaned into her.
“Was that true, my pet? Is there truly such a man?”
She could almost hear the hope in his voice. She giggled. “Of course not, Robin. But you put a girl on the spot, and her mind will pretty much always stray toward Henry Cavill.”
“Who?” he frowned.
“Never mind,” she smiled and patted his shoulder, “just never mind.”
~*~
Four days had passed since that nght, and unbelievable as it was, the mood of the men had shifted. Done an almost complete one-eighty. They no longer looked at her as a curi
osity or with hostility, but with hope and frank appraisal.
Not only did she like it, she loved it. Loved mingling with the men, getting to laugh and banter with them. Especially the young boys.
Robin had told her that his men were comprised of all sorts, anyone who wished to fight against the tyranny of Crispin for the freedom of the people.
He still really wouldn’t share with her why they were bringing Crispin down, or what he’d done. Maybe, like in the stories, he was a greedy, corrupt king. Which would be more than enough to want to bring him down.
But she suspected there was a lot more to the story that just that, because the way he spoke of Crispin, there was violence behind it. Pure hatred. Like the kind that could only be achieved from having actually known someone intimately once before, it was just a theory of course, but she’d bet anything she was right. However, anytime she tried to inquire to anyone about it, they’d all suddenly seem to tiptoe on eggshells about it and either not answer or try to distract her with something else.
As much as she enjoyed her days, though, the nights were another matter entirely. When the camp went to bed, only a few sentries were posted, and the world was silent and expectant and she would lie down beside Robin, her body tingling and on fire, waiting, hoping that he might do something. Only to then be terribly disappointed come morning when he remained the gentleman he promised to be.
She was under a no sex curse; it wasn’t like they could really do anything, and if they tried, more than likely Robin would just be walking around with a serious case of medieval blue balls.
But at night, when she smelled his clean scent of soap and mint, when he’d bathe her, when she’d bathe him, and the flickering glow of candlelight kissed his body, it was getting harder and harder to remember the burn of pain from that night that now seemed a lifetime ago.
She sat to her knees when Robin tied his scabbard on and turned to her. The glow of the candle reflected off his hair in a way to make it seem like threads of it were dipped in gold.
“You’ve been in the same gown for days now.” His eyes traveled slowly down the length of her body.
She sat on the deer pelts, dragging her fingers through the soft fur as his piercing stare raked her nipples, making them poke up instantly.
“We’ll be going down to the market tomorrow to find you a new gown.”
Nixie touched her top. “I don’t need anything else, Robin. You and I both know I’ll not be around long enough to justify it.”
His jaw clenched at the reminder and he took a step toward her.
She notched her chin, feeling a lot like a deer caught in the sights of his arrow. Yesterday she’d watched him practice his bow shooting. Robin was as amazing as the tales had always made him out to be. He’d even done it twice with a scarf wrapped around his eyes.
He was deadly accurate, with or without his sight.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to shove off. But not because she was angry. No, take that back. She was angry. Nixie was furious. But not at him. Each night lying with him, hearing him breathe, feeling him shift, her needs and desires had become nearly unbearable.
If she dared to even brush her fingers across her sensitive nipples right now she’d probably come right on the spot.
“I said”—he took another step nearer—“get. Up.”
Jutting out her jaw, she punched her fist onto the skins and shoved her way to her feet.
She didn’t even have a moment’s warning before Robin was on her. His fingers wrapping around her wrists and reversing his position, so that he was back-stepping, stopping only once his back rested against the desk.
It wobbled precariously.
“Let me go,” she growled.
“No.” And to prove his point, he yanked her more firmly against him. Molding her lower half to his.
She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of steel pressing against her thigh.
“You drive me mad, pet. Ask me why I haven’t wished another wish yet?”
Nixie thinned her lips. She didn’t want to hear this. She couldn’t hear this. Shouldn’t hear this. “Why?” she croaked, damning her curiosity.
His hold on her wrists was absolute. Tonight, there’d probably be a bruise, and as offended as she pretended to be—by wiggling and yanking against his hold—it was all for show. Because right now all she wanted to do was bury her nose in the side of his neck and then bite down.
Hard.
Really. Freaking. Hard.
Wanted to punish him for making her want him this way.
His lips twitched. “Your lips say no, woman, your body says yes.”
She could deny it, but things were starting to feel too bodice-rippery for her, so she kept her mouth shut instead.
“Kiss me.” He lowered his head, his lips hovering millimeters from her own. “End this madness.”
The fluttering warmth of his sweet, sherry-tinted breath feathered across her mouth, making her sigh and tilt her neck back. Her body so primed for his, so desperate for his already.
She shook her head slowly when his eyes began to glow.
“Gods, my beauty.” He released one wrist, tracing the length of her cheek with a knuckle. “I feel your desire. It burns straight through me.”
All coherent and rational thought started to flutter out the window of her mind. The only thing she could seem to say was “Nugh,” which she wasn’t really sure was much of a word.
“One kiss, my dark temptress. One kiss to drive this lunacy away.”
“Drive it away?” she rasped, chuckling as the neon blue heightened in intensity, along with the firm rod poking into her thigh, “I’ve tasted you once before, my Master.”
His eyes were only on her mouth, roving back and forth, and Nixie could practically hear the words ringing in his head.
Take her.
Want her.
Need her so damned much.
She knew it, because those were the words in her heart too.
“I’ve tried. I’ve tried so bloody hard, but I can’t, I just can’t,” he said in a broken whisper, then, with a groan full of longing, he dipped his head and stole a kiss.
At first she tried to resist him, but once his tongue brushed her seam, she forgot herself.
“I hate this. Hate this,” she growled and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, digging her nails into his scalp.
“Oh Gods,” Robin hissed, his now digging frantically into her hipbones. Making her wince in pain and pleasure.
Her body lit up like a firecracker, coming alive beneath his passionate touch.
Even as she shook her head, she spread her thighs so that his hard length nestled between her.
Jerking against her, his lips stopped working. “Shove me away, Nix. Make me stop, for I fear I am not strong enough.”
But it was her turn to ignore him.
He couldn’t touch her between her thighs, there would be no peace for her, but maybe it was possible she could at least help him end his torture. She rubbed her body against his, creating a delicious friction of tension in her lower body.
“You must, oh dear Gods.” He shuddered as her undulations increased.
Feeling suddenly empowered by his wondrous expression, Nixie laughed. “What’s the matter, dear?” She nipped at his nose. “Didn’t know your little pet had claws?” With an angry, hungry growl, she took his lips again.
Their teeth knocked and the desk rattled as she slipped her hand under his shirt, raking nails down his chest as she writhed more fully upon him.
And when he tipped his neck back, exposing his Adam’s apple, well…it wasn’t her fault that the sight of it turned her on so much she gave into the cravings and bit down roughly on the side of his neck, right above the throbbing beat of a vein.
An animalistic roar went up from him and then he stopped moving completely, except for an occasional spasm of his hips.
His breathing was wild and gasping
when he finally turned to her several heartbeats later. The blues of his eyes were no longer electric, but still seemed to pulse with energy. Not from excitement, but maybe…maybe something else.
With a jerk, she moved away from him. Her body was still a livewire of emotions. Her need had only intensified, but along with it, her awareness of him.
Of what they’d done.
“That was…it was…”
Giving a pitiful laugh that was half crazed and half groan, she wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head violently. “You need to change, I’ll wait for you outside.”
Then without looking back, she exited the suddenly claustrophobic confines of the tent and stared up at the night sky.
She needed to get away from here. From him. But until he made his wishes she was stuck.
A tear slid down her cheek.
~*~
Robin couldn’t believe how little self-control he had over himself when it came to her.
All his men were gathered around separate campfires eating their dinner and talking about their plans to infiltrate the castle. But the men around the fire he and Nixie sat at were content simply to tell stories.
“Oh, bugger off,” one of them men dressed in a green smock and tights snorted. “Ye did not clubber that ogre with yer wee fists. I’ll nae believe it.”
Rupert, a small lad of fifteen who had the misfortune of looking almost half that age, snorted. “Humph. And how would you know, you old fool. Not like you were there.”
John shook his head before nudging a shoulder against Robin and whispering with humor laced behind his words, “That boy’s got his head up his arse.”
He nodded in agreement.
Nixie must have heard them, for she coughed and pressed a hand to her lips. But Robin was beginning to understand her ways; she’d not coughed at all. That’d been a barely suppressed chortle.
The two squabbling men glanced up, their irritated faces suddenly breaking out into wide smiles as they looked at her.
It’d not gone unnoticed by Robin how his men suddenly seemed to be infatuated with Nixie. How with just one smile, one blush, she’d entranced them just as she’d entranced him.