Ramsay uncurled his arms and stepped forward, nostrils flared. “Because you’ve got information and I want it.”
The blood rushed from his head and his knees threatened to give way. Of course, that’s why Galena had saved him. She’d thought of her race. Of her brothers, and saved him for what he knew. Not some spark of mercy or kindness.
The door flew open and the thick wood cracked against the stone wall. “Ramsay, let him heal.”
“Not now, Galena.” Ramsay kept his gaze locked on Reese.
She swayed, her face pale. Whatever she’d done to heal him, her empathic gift had taken its toll.
Ramsay stalked toward Reese. “You’re well enough. I’ll bet I can find a way to get what we need out of you.”
“Ramsay.” Galena darted forward and stumbled.
Reese dodged to the side. His legs gave out beneath him, but he broke her fall, his good shoulder snapping against the stone floor.
Galena twisted in his hold and studied his injury, her eyes flared in alarm and her mouth parted. “Reese.”
Screw the pain. Every bit was worth it to have her this close. To have her lips this close and her breath on his face. To feel her soft breasts pressed against his against his chest and let her flowery scent cart his mind miles and miles away from here.
Ramsay scooped her up and out of Reese’s arms.
“I’m fine.” Galena shoved Ramsay and tried to wiggle free. “I’m fine. Put me down.”
“You’re not fine.” Ramsay shifted her in his arms. “You look like hell.”
Reese pushed himself from the floor on wobbly legs, his breath shallow and huffing.
“I just need some rest.” She still struggled. “Now put me down.”
“No.” Ramsay spun for the open door, his guards hovering outside the door. He paused at the entrance and scowled at Reese. “She saved your ass. Not once, but twice. If you care so much about her, you’ll thank her for her efforts in the form of answers when I get back.”
The door slammed behind him and quick footsteps faded into nothingness.
Reese dropped to the cot and the wooden legs grated against the floor. What in histus was wrong with him? He was a POW, would probably hang within twenty-four hours, and all he could process was the way Galena felt next to him. He couldn’t twist the scenario more if he tried.
He fisted the cot’s coarse brown blanket. Galena shouldn’t have wasted her energy to heal him. The zeolite negated his gifts, but it also sheltered him from Maxis. The minute he stepped free of the protective crystal Maxis would find him via link and shred his brain the same way he had Phybe’s.
He laughed and banged the back of his head against the wall. What was he thinking? Ramsay and Eryx would hang him for treason whether he gave them the information they wanted or not. Even if they offered mercy in exchange for what he knew, he’d spend the rest of his life behind zeolite, which was worse than death.
Two death sentences or a lifetime in prison. He let out a harsh exhale and hung his head. No matter which way things went, he was well and truly screwed.
* * * *
Galena bolted upright in bed and gasped. Her pulse thrummed at either side of her neck and her breasts ached, tight and heavy. Cool air hit her sweat-slick skin as she blinked her eyes into focus. Emerald curtains framed a window open to dark skies. A favorite painting hung along the far wall. Her room at the castle.
Now she remembered. Ramsay hadn’t let her go home. Had insisted she sleep at the castle instead of her cottage.
Plucking the damp silk against her belly, she took a slow steady breath and dropped back to the pillows. Wisps of erotic images clung to her thoughts. Her and Reese, lips and tongues, tangled and sweaty. She pressed her legs together and groaned at the lingering ache between them. In her dream, he’d devoured her. Touched her in a way no man had in real life. Bold. Decadent.
A traitor.
She flicked the covers aside and shoved upright. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. So what if her subconscious put Reese’s face on her desires? It didn’t mean she wanted him literally. Just that she wanted to be desired. To be more than someone’s political advantage or empty-headed house warmer. Completely reasonable.
Pulling her hair off her neck, she plodded to the window and rested her elbows on the stone ledge. If she’d minded her manners and stayed out of Reese’s head in the first place, her imagination wouldn’t have had so much material to work with.
Her cheeks flared hot and a strangled cough bubbled up. She’d just wanted to gauge his intentions at the battlefield. To see if he’d meant her harm. Boy had she ended up with a surprise. Her image. Front and center in the bulk of all his last memories.
Did he really see her that way? That sexy? Voluptuous?
The wind coiled around her neck, teasing the damp stands. The barely lightening skies fell out of focus. What would it feel like to have Reese touch her there? To feel his hands in her hair? His breath at her neck?
She pushed away from the window and stomped toward her closet. Nursing those ideas wasn’t healthy. Or realistic. Dawn was close, so she’d been out what? Twelve? Thirteen hours? Plenty of time for her to bounce back. The Great One knew, she had enough to catch up on.
With a tiny mental push, she set the candles in her room to light. Bold colors and soft fabrics lined her closet. Some elegant gowns, but mostly tunics and comfortable leggings. Other women stuck to the old ways of formal attire, but those outfits didn’t serve well for her line of work.
She tugged on an emerald set and brushed her hair in quick, efficient strokes. What in histus was wrong with Ramsay anyway? Out of everyone in her family, Ramsay was the happy one. The playboy who wrestled panties from women with a wink and a smile. Even in battle, he’d find something to joke about. So, why was he angry? Yes, Reese had served the rebellion. Yes, Reese was hiding something. But this level of anger? It didn’t add up.
She tossed her hairbrush aside. The wood clattered against the marble countertop and muffled her frustrated huff. Was she being shortsighted? Siding with the enemy? Ramsay and Eryx were the only two living relatives she could call her own. How could she betray them by even thinking about someone who served the rebellion? Let alone fantasize about them.
She shoved the thought away and grabbed her toothbrush. She needed to check on Brenna, not piddle around in her room sulking. Eryx healing the brave human who’d saved Lexi during the battle was a gutsy move. No one knew what the impact on a human would be, and the intervention put Eryx in a tenuous place. Malran or not, violating the Myren law prohibiting intercession in human destiny was a death sentence.
A few guards nodded at her on her way to the kitchen, but most kept their gaze locked straight ahead.
So many warriors. Maxis might have gotten to their family once, but Eryx clearly wasn’t taking chances for a second bout. She’d bet there were guards stationed at her cottage too.
The scent of freshly baked bread and something sweet tempted her nose before she reached the kitchen. As she turned the corner, the warmth from the fire ovens wrapped her in a fierce hug.
“What on Earth are you doing up?”
Galena shrieked and spun. “Orla.” Galena rubbed her palm over her agitated heart and glared at the silver-haired woman. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Orla flicked her hand in Galena’s direction.
A snap of electricity shot across the room and zapped Galena in the butt. She jerked her hip to one side, more in reflex than in pain.
“Manners, Galena. Human slang from your brothers is one thing. It’s not nearly as appealing on a young lady.” She shut the pantry door with her hip and bustled to the island countertop with a fresh box of yeast. Her long hair swished free behind her, and she grinned far too brightly for this early in the morning.
Galena rubbed the sting Orla’s shock left behind. “You don’t correct Lexi and she curses more than most of the men.”
“Of
course, I don’t correct her. She’s the malress. Besides, she needs to speak in a way they can relate to if she’s going to keep their attention.” She stepped around the counter and tapped Galena’s cheek. “On you, however, it’s like graffiti on a fine piece of art.”
Galena let out a sigh and leaned into the island.
Orla bustled to a cabinet for a bowl.
So much for being hungry. She’d be better off snipping thorns or yanking weeds from her garden. Why everyone put her in the classic art category she’d never understand. “Graffiti has its own beauty.”
Orla turned, head slanted in a questioning angle.
“Is something wrong?” She set the bowl aside and gave Galena her full attention. “You look a bit…out of sorts.”
Well, that wasn’t surprising. If her outsides matched her insides, she probably looked like she’d been on a five-day strasse bender.
Galena hesitated and rubbed her hands together. Orla had a warm heart and bubbly personality, but was one hundred percent old school. “Until your brother takes a mate, you have to fill your mother’s role,” she’d said. “Royals set the standard. You, in particular, for our next generation of women.”
She stifled a harrumph, the sound coming out like a half-hearted sneeze. No. Orla wasn’t the best candidate for a heart-to-heart. She pushed from her perch and gave Orla a warm hug. “It’s nothing. I’m just off my schedule. I’ll be fine once the sun’s up.”
“Well, get some food while you’re here. There’s fresh bread and briash on the stove. Lexi begged me for lastas again, but I won’t start those for another few hours.” She glanced around the kitchen and patted the pockets on her apron. “Galena can you run and get my hair clip? I think I left it near the rear entrance when I came in this morning.”
Galena nodded and snagged an end cap off the loaf of bread on her way.
Yep, right on the side table near the coat hooks at the back door. She snatched it, turned for the kitchens, and drew up short.
The dungeon entrance loomed just ahead, sealed tight with no guards or witnesses in sight. It made sense, really. Eryx was worried about intruders getting in, not getting out. The zeolite cells had never required guards before. Why now?
Temptation wrapped around her waist and gave a none-too-subtle tug. She could check on Reese. No one was there to report she’d been by. And if he wasn’t there, what difference would it make?
No. Reese was none of her business. If Ramsay or Eryx needed her help, they’d call. She beelined it for the kitchen. “Got it. Right where you left it.” Was that too bright? Too bubbly? She laid the clasp aside for Orla and grabbed another slice of bread. “Call me when it’s time for lastas. I’m headed to check on Brenna.”
Orla barely glanced up from her dough. “Of course, dear. Let me know if you need my help for anything.”
Galena strode toward the guest wing and Brenna. This was where her time was best spent. She’d done what was necessary to keep Reese alive for his knowledge, but now her time with him was over.
She paused at the bottom stair. What if Reese hadn’t given Ramsay the information he wanted? Ramsay had been awfully angry when he left her. She backtracked, skirting the kitchen on quiet, swift feet. Two guards stood outside the rear entrance, faced away from her. Mindful of the noisy latch, she opened the door.
A dank draft swooshed her hair off her neck. Her sandals patted down the stone steps and the scent of torch oil and pitch filled her lungs.
No guards waited in the hallway, just a long stretch of cells, each with their doors closed. One slow-burning torch smoldered outside Reese’s cell.
She inched closer, fingers trembling at her sides. No sound came from the cell, at least none louder than the pound of her pulse in her head. She traced the iron latch and its chill ran clear to her shoulder. Her brothers would be livid.
She stepped back and clutched her hand at her chest. This was insane. If she did this she’d be a traitor, no different than Reese. She spun for the exit.
“Galena.”
Reese’s ragged, low voice rumbled and pulled her to a stop. Was his infection back? Had Ramsay tortured him to get his information? And how did he know it was her?
“Don’t leave.” His request barely reached her, rough and pitched with pain. “You have my vow, I won’t hurt you.”
Chapter 4
Reese braced himself against the cell wall, his knuckles hard against the smooth, cold crystal. It had to be Galena. Warriors wouldn’t have such quiet footsteps, and they damn sure wouldn’t carry the soft, flowery scent that crept beneath the cell door. He strained his ears against the silence. His eyes stung, trained on the motionless iron latch, like his constant stare might somehow will her to lift the lever.
“I only want to talk. To thank you. I never would have set the strike free.” It wasn’t an outright confession he’d sought to end his life, but it still stung to admit. Reese shoved away from the wall. She wouldn’t open it, and he sure as histus couldn’t blame her, but at least she’d heard the truth.
Metal clunked on metal, and Reese’s heart lurched.
The door creaked open and Galena’s scent whooshed through the still widening gap. Shadows hid her face and the torchlight cast her outline in an otherworldly, gold glow. Her long tunic and leggings hugged her body in the backlight. Perfect curves. Hips made for a man’s grasp.
His throat caught on a swallow. He should say something. Thank her at least, but his jaw wouldn’t cooperate. He edged to the furthest wall, giving her space.
She took two steps across the threshold and stumbled.
Reese darted forward to catch her.
Galena gasped and jerked away, hands raised in defense.
He backpedaled. “Sorry.”
Smoothing the front of her tunic, she straightened and dipped her chin. A subtle tremor shook her voice. “The zeolite caught me off guard.”
“If you stay in it long enough, you adjust.” He motioned to the cot. “You can sit if you like. I’ll keep my distance.”
She gauged the space between him and the makeshift bed and frowned.
Hard to blame her hesitation. Few women would deem a POW and a cot a safe combination. He slid to the ground, the smooth crystal wall chill against his bare back. He drew his knees up and rested his forearms along the tops. “What time is it?”
Her tension loosened and she folded her hands in front of her, formal and a little uncertain. Though, a one-on-one in a dungeon had to rank pretty high on the scale of awkward situations. “It’s a little before dawn.” She glanced around the room. “Has Ramsay been back?”
He shook his head. “You haven’t seen him?”
She peeked at the cot again. “Not since last night.”
“I gave you my word. I’ll stay where I am. If you’d rather, I can move the cot closer to the doorway.”
Something in her demeanor shifted. A mantle of certainty settled into place just as powerful as the confidence her brothers wielded, but quieter and more graceful. She waved him toward the plain narrow bed. “I’d rather you sit on the cot and let me check your wound.”
He stood, slowly so as not to frighten her, and shifted to the rickety cot. “You’re very trusting.”
She froze halfway to him and quirked her head to one side. “What makes you say that?”
He motioned toward the still open door with his chin. “I don’t know many women who’d walk into a cell without a guard. Let alone leave the door open.”
She scowled and strode to the small side table, dragging it and the lone candle closer. “You gave your word. My instincts tell me you wouldn’t break your promise. If that makes me trusting, then so be it.”
“Ramsay would disagree.”
“I’m not Ramsay.”
“I see that.” He grinned. Hard not to with the quick fire he’d lit with their conversation.
“He’s not himself right now. We’ve got a lot to contend with between Maxis and t
he rebellion.” All business and matter of fact, she dropped to her knees and reached for his shoulder.
Reese caught her by the wrist before she could make contact. “You don’t have to justify his behavior, Galena. I deserve everything he gives me and then some.” Praise the Great One, she was beautiful. Earthy and sensual, but innocent too. Beneath his fingertips, her pulse tripped fast and furious. “You’re also smart. And brave. None of the warriors thought to spare me for the information I hold, but you jumped in and saved me.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.” She tugged her arm free and touched the edge of his mending wound. “I didn’t think, I just acted.”
Reese hissed and shuddered beneath the contact.
Galena jerked away. “Did I hurt you?”
Did sensual torture count? She may as well have stroked between his legs. “I’m fine.”
She frowned and leaned back in, albeit more cautious than before.
“Healer’s instinct then?”
No response.
“If not for my knowledge, then why?” he asked.
Her gaze was the only thing that shifted, a quick, sideways peek, then back on the wound, but a sweet flush spread across her cheeks. She checked the pulse at his wrist and averted her face. “Why try to label my actions? Why not just be grateful you’re alive?”
“Because it’s a temporary reprieve at best. I’ll either die in this cell, by your brother’s mandate, or at Maxis’ hand.”
She froze.
He should tell her. Ramsay was right. She’d saved him not once, but twice, and deserved the truth. “Your willingness to heal me meant something. To me, anyway. No matter what your reasons.”
With only the candle’s glow her hair gleamed more chestnut than auburn. She dipped her head and the flowery scent he’d struggled to name registered with a kick. Lotus flower. A fitting match for her exotic eyes, like water off a white, Caribbean shore.
He’d never dreamed he’d get this close to her. Not even when he’d visited the castle with Ramsay all those years ago. “I used to watch you.” Probably not his wisest confession. Then again, he’d be dead in who knew how many days. As repercussions went, they couldn’t get much worse.
Healing Eden Page 3