Lord of the Abyss & Desert Warrior

by Nalini Singh

  To Liliana’s shock, the salamander dipped its head to the side, as if shy. Suddenly unable to bear her own cowardice, she forced her legs to move forward until she was close enough to look into one of those multifaceted eyes. “My thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  Coming around to stand beside her, Micah said, “Fly home.”

  Wings of flame shot out on either side of the salamander and then it was ascending with a roar of yellow flame against the darkening sky. Tracking its blazing progress, she was forced to admit that it was a magnificent being—one that would forever scare her, that much she knew, but at least now the terror wouldn’t debilitate.

  “Come, Lily.” Taking her hand in his, Micah led them to the very edge of the Great Divide.

  A crossing such as this, she thought, must only exist in the Abyss and the Always. It offered passage to all of the realms, but the shimmering wall of magic could not be passed by most mortals. However, Micah, as the Guardian of the Abyss, had the right to cross it at will. “The ability is, I think,” he’d said when she’d brought up the point, “a fail-safe lest one of the condemned manages to slip into another realm.” Now, he touched his fingers to the rippling sparks of color, and it was as if the magic sighed in welcome. “Yes, this part of the crossing will take us to the kingdoms.”

  She came into the protection of his arms and he stepped through the barrier. The experience was… Like being kissed with magic, if such a thing was possible. Yet there was a subtle menace to the sensation—if she hadn’t been held in Micah’s arms, the shield would’ve repudiated her with wrenching violence.

  “It’s done.”

  Liliana saw that they were in a night-dark wood. “What is this place?”

  “The path to a borderland village.”

  “Micah.” She touched his left cheekbone—where he was now marked by the symbol of a sickle and a sword crossed. “The sign of the Abyss.”

  “To ensure no one forgets who it is who walks among them.” He took her little pack. “Come—the screaming pines mark the village boundaries.”

  The trees lived up to their name as they approached, keening and wailing, their arms waving in agitation. As a result, the villagers beyond were waiting for them armed with scythes and pitchforks. A single look at Micah and they dropped their weapons, turning as pale as ghosts. A few ran. However, a sturdy man with a peg leg and a tremor along one side of his face walked forward. “My lord. Do you come for us?”

  Micah put one gauntleted hand on the brave man’s shoulder. “Your soul is not black. I seek the services of Esme.”

  A whispering sounded from the gathered villagers, but the shoulders of the man who’d spoken were suddenly set with pride. “She be my wife, then—I’m her George.” A beaming smile. “Come with me, honored lord.”

  Liliana heard the words ugly and hook-nosed creature as she passed, and though it hurt, it was a hurt she could shrug off. Because Micah didn’t think she was ugly even though he knew about beauty, had seen the stunning women in the village below the Black Castle. “You didn’t tell me about any Esme,” she whispered.

  He angled his head to stare curiously at a fat tabby cat that watched them from beyond the bubbled windowpane of some prosperous tradesman’s house. “I didn’t know if the wind mage lived here still. Bard has been gone from this realm for many moons.”

  “A wind mage.” Bard, I think I adore you.

  “Here we are,” their guide said at that moment, leading them to a small cottage surrounded by cheery blossoms closed up for the night. “Esme! We have guests! Put on the stew!”

  Suddenly realizing how hungry she was, Liliana said nothing to counteract the man’s order as they followed him inside—to come face-to-face with a round dumpling of a woman with red cheeks that turned white as soon as she glimpsed Micah. “Now look here,” she said, though her voice shivered with terror, “I don’t do no evil.”

  “Bard sent us,” Micah said before Liliana could attempt to assuage the woman’s fear.

  Esme’s mouth fell open. “Bard?” Collapsing into a chair, though the Lord of the Black Castle stood in front of her, she gaped. “I did save his life once and he promised to repay me, but to send the Guardian…”

  Micah retrieved a velvet pouch from their pack of supplies. “Payment.”

  Esme watched as her husband opened the pouch to pour a tumble of rubies, emeralds and diamonds onto his palm. He, too, collapsed into a chair. Not waiting for an invitation, Micah took a seat, and so did Liliana.

  “For this much wealth, my lord,” Esme said in a quiet, worried voice while her husband ignored what was a king’s ransom to close his hand over her own, “ye either want my soul or my life.”

  “Neither. Lily.”

  Aware of the couple looking at her with stark curiosity, this odd creature who walked with the dread lord, she said, “We need to reach the heart of the kingdom of Elden before midnight tomorrow. You speak to the winds?”

  Esme swallowed. “I’m no powerful mage, milady. I can only whisper.”

  Her husband shook his head, pride in every sinew and tendon. “My Esme can get you halfway to that godforsaken kingdom—pardon my words, my lord, but that’s the way it is—and from there, ye ask for two night-horses from her sister Emmy’s husband.” He paused. “Night-horses be temperamental.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She knew the powerful animals would serve Micah, for he was as pure of heart as any creature of the land. As for her, oddly enough, most animals seemed to accept her, in spite of her tainted blood.

  “Right, then.” George rubbed his thumb over Esme’s knuckles. “With the night-horses, you’ll be in Elden proper by tomorrow eve, well before midnight.”

  Liliana nodded. “Thank you.” Perhaps her actions in going to Micah had changed the future so events wouldn’t come to pass as she’d foreseen, but she could not—would not—take that chance. Nothing would be certain—Micah’s land, his siblings not safe—until her father was dead.

  NOT LONG AFTERWARD, HAVING eaten a simple, hearty meal, they stood in the flickering shadow of a torch held by George as his rose-cheeked wife said, “If ye would stand closer to one another.” She twisted her hands together. “Close as ye can. Otherwise, the wind might tear ye apart.”

  Micah wrapped his arms around her, strong as iron, as she slipped hers around his waist, his armor warm under her touch. Its presence confirmed her theory that the armor was created from his own innate magic. As such, it would protect him against her father—but not forever, for the Blood Sorcerer was a man malignant with the life force of innocents.

  “Good journey, my lord and lady,” Esme said, and lifted her hands.

  Her face and that of her husband was obliterated by a tornado of wind an instant later, a tornado that ripped them from the earth and made them fly. If she hadn’t been locked tight around Micah, she might well have been torn asunder in a spray of blood and flesh. As it was, she was aware of his body curving over her own in an effort to protect her from the punishing might of the wind.

  Her Micah.

  Strong.

  Honorable.

  Wonderful.

  Liliana couldn’t have said how long they traveled trapped within the windstorm, but she would’ve crumpled to her knees in the empty courtyard of what looked to be a small inn when the journey ended, had Micah not been standing solid as a stone wall beside her.

  “Now maybe,” he said, a touch of wickedness to him, “the salamander doesn’t look so bad.”

  “I wouldn’t go that—” She broke off as a couple, their nightclothes flapping at their ankles, clattered out of the inn, torches held aloft. “Micah, if they do indeed have night-horses, I think we should rest here,” she said to him before Esme’s sister—and with those cheeks, it was surely her—and her husband came within earshot. “It’ll be the only chance we have before Elden.”

  Micah gave a single nod as the couple reached them. Emmy proved not as stout of heart as Esme—she took one look at the Gu
ardian of the Abyss and fell into a dead faint. Scowling, Micah bent down, picked her up without effort and glared at her gaping husband. “Take us inside.”

  “Yes, my lord!” The man hurried ahead, his torch bobbing wildly above a head covered by a long white nightcap.

  “Yes,” he said when Liliana asked about the night-horses while Micah placed the man’s wife on a table, “we host a pair. My Emmy is a healer of beasts—they come to see her, stay awhile, help the travelers they like. Magical creatures, you know, can’t force them to do anything.”

  The inside of the inn explained why they’d caught the couple so unprepared—the place was empty but for the four of them. “We used to be busy as bees, we did,” the innkeeper muttered, his long face mournful. “Then he came and now everyone’s too scared to pass this way. He’s got monsters guarding the roads into Elden, hasn’t he? And most folks, they passed this way toward the kingdom, didn’t they? Such a wonderful place it was—sad what’s become of it. Sad, indeed.”

  He continued to mutter away under his breath, not realizing he’d driven a spike of ice into Liliana’s mind. She hadn’t known about the monsters, hadn’t prepared for them. What were they going to do? The time—

  Fingers closing around the back of her neck, a small squeeze. “We will consider it in a few hours, Lily.”

  “Lord.” The innkeeper bobbed his head. “Here we are. One room for the lady and one room for yo—”

  “One room.” Micah’s tone left no room for argument.

  The innkeeper’s eyes swung to her, but instead of the scandalized reproach she expected, she saw only pity. Her first response was to ignore it, so used was she to that look…but then she caught the fear behind the pity and realized the poor man thought Micah was going to eat her alive or something else horrendous—after all, he was the Guardian of the Abyss.

  Rather than disabusing the trembling man of his erroneous notions, she did her best to look fearful when the innkeeper gave her the keys and showed them to the simple but large room. The Guardian’s reputation did as much to protect the Abyss from encroachment as the dangers of the badlands.

  Kicking off her shoes and tights the instant they were inside, she pulled off her tunic, pushed down the sheet and crawled in. A naked Micah followed at almost the same moment, hauling her against him and throwing a heavy thigh over her own. Safe, she fell into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MICAH WOKE TO THE REALIZATION that dawn remained at least an hour away. Heading out into the dark wasn’t an option—light would be their friend when facing the monsters the Blood Sorcerer had created. Which meant he’d have to use that hour some other way.

  Glancing down at the woman curled up against his side, he told himself she was tired, that he should let her rest. It would be the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the good part of him was totally overwhelmed by the part that wanted to roll her onto her back, part her thighs and slide into her deep and hard.

  Extricating his arm from under Liliana’s head, he nudged her gently onto her back. She mumbled something but didn’t wake. The depth of her trust in him made a quiet, fierce happiness hum through his blood. That trust, the wicked part of him murmured, should make removing her underthings so much easier.

  Peeling down the sheet until it lay at her feet, he smiled in satisfaction as her tight, bitable breasts were exposed to his gaze. Warm and relaxed in sleep, one arm thrown over her head, and with only a whisper of fine cloth hiding the curls between her thighs from his gaze, she presented a luscious picture. He thought about sucking her nipples to wake her up, but he was enjoying the view too much.

  Bracing himself beside her, he looked his fill, running his gaze over those firm little peaks with the dark nipples and wide areole. His cock, already hard, pressed insistent and demanding against her thigh, and she made a restless movement before settling. But she’d cocked her leg, the thin fabric that covered her mound stretching tight.

  Stroking his hand oh-so-gently over her thigh, he got her to straighten up her leg again, and then, not wanting to lose the opportunity, inched down the tease of clothing that covered her until he could pull it off and discard it over the side of the bed.

  Now, she was naked. And all his.

  Braced beside her again, he insinuated his hand between her thighs, waiting until she settled before rubbing one finger along the seam of her flushed folds. A tiny sound, her body arching into the caress. Liking that, he repeated the act. Her breathing altered, and he froze…but she remained asleep.

  He touched her again, so slow and stealthy, felt a slick of dampness.

  Removing his hand, he spread her thighs and moved over her, fitting his cock to the entrance that was so wet and hot for him. Her eyes snapped open as he began to push into her, her hands fisting in his hair when he dropped his head to suck at her nipples, doing that thing with his tongue that had made her clench around his hardness the previous night. It did so now, too. Groaning deep in his throat, he reached down to spread her wider, and then he shoved in all the way.

  A cry muffled against his chest, but it held only pleasure, no pain. He would never hurt his Liliana. Pumping into her in short, hard thrusts, he lifted his head to claim her mouth. She wrapped a leg around him at the same time, attempting to brace herself against the bed with the other.

  Laughing at her frustration at being unable to control the rhythm, he squeezed one breast with a surely proprietary hand—after all, she was his—before flipping them so that she was on top, with him below. “There, Lily. Am I not generous?”

  She brought herself up into a seated position with her palms flat on his chest, moaned. “You’re very hard.”

  Gripping her hips, he urged her into a slow rotating movement that felt very, very good. “It’s morning. You’re naked. There is no mystery here.” The last words were a groan because she was starting to squeeze him with her inner muscles as she moved and, oh, he liked that.

  “Micah, wait.” She pushed at his hands when he would’ve urged her to increase the pace.

  Deciding to occupy himself elsewhere, he cupped her breasts in the curve created by thumb and forefinger, squeezed in to pinch her nipples. “Come closer,” he said, her breasts sweet temptation. “I want to use my teeth.”

  “Horrible, teasing beast.” Pulling his hands off her breasts, she used their handclasp to brace herself and lift up off his cock.

  The exquisite silken suction bowed his back. Then she slid down and the shock of liquid heat had his balls drawing up tight to his body. Knowing he was going to spill sooner rather than later, he broke her hold and reached down to flick that tiny nub between her thighs.

  “Micah.” She shuddered around his cock on her second downward stroke, and after that, there really was no hope for either of them.

  FINISHING HER BATH IN THE shallow tub, Liliana pulled on fresh underwear, part of a set of two that Micah had made a predawn trip into the village to get for her the morning they left the Black Castle. She’d never be able to face the shopkeeper again, but at least she felt decent. That done, she was bending over to grab her tights when she found herself being pulled backward and into Micah’s lap where he sat half-dressed on the bed. Settling in, she wrapped an arm around his neck. They had time yet—the light hadn’t touched the horizon.

  He slid his hand up her rib cage to cup her breast, and while it was a lusty act, as he was an unashamedly lusty man, it was also affectionate and comforting. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, winter-green eyes clear and free of deception, yet no less strong for their purity. “Your father won’t win.”

  “I just…” Drawing in a deep breath of the morning air, she nuzzled her face against the solid warmth of his neck. “He hurt me,” she said, telling him because he was Micah, who would never betray her. “Part of me is still that scared little girl, hoping my door won’t open at night, that I won’t be dragged screaming, sweat-soaked and shivering to—” a huge knot in her throat “—to witness him slit the throats of innocent men and w
omen, watch their blood drip along the channels carved into his killing bench and into the enspelled pots that keep the blood ever-fresh.”

  Micah’s hand clenched tight on the back of her head. “For that alone, I will make him suffer before he dies.”

  “No, Micah.” She couldn’t bear the thought of him becoming tainted in any way by the Blood Sorcerer. “I needed you to know in case I freeze up during the fight.” It was a humiliating and horrifying thought, but she had to consider it. “If I do, please don’t show any mercy in trying to wake me. Slap me if you have to, but get me out of the nightmare.”

  “I won’t slap you, Lily.” A brutal line to his jaw. “I might just kiss you, though—and use my tongue.”

  That suddenly, her worry transformed into a need so intense it scared her. “Save yourself, Micah,” she whispered. “Whatever happens, please don’t let him kill you.” He was someone unique and wonderful and she couldn’t bear to think of the world without him.

  “If you die, Lily,” he said, fondling her breast, “I’ll steal your soul and take you to the Abyss, where I will keep you in my magical dungeon so you can never escape.” The threat was sealed with a Micah kind of kiss. Hot and dark and possessive.

  The pleasure drugged her until she could almost not taste the guilt. Because she’d broken her promise and lied to him again—a lie of omission, but that had been her sin the first time, too. Yet how could she tell him about the death spell when she knew he wouldn’t allow it? No, dishonorable as it was, she couldn’t bring herself to confess her secret—not when it might mean Micah’s life.