by Nalini Singh
“We will have to gamble,” she said, then suddenly grinned. “I prefer the city, because we will be more likely to find a soft bed to pass my moon night in.”
Kavik’s chest tightened. And he would be more likely to find the help he needed to persuade her that he could not be tamed. She might not abandon her quest, but if she did not touch him, he could continue standing firm.
Her grin faded when she glanced at his face. “Kavik?”
He forced himself to nod, his voice rough. “I agree. A soft bed.”
She watched him a moment longer. “You are truly Karn’s son?”
“I am.”
“And so that is why Barin amused himself with you.” With a sigh, she looked ahead. “My mother spoke well of your father. They met once when she was young. Before the Destroyer. Was that who killed him?”
“No.” Kavik stared at the river, seeing nothing. “Barin came to Blackmoor ahead of the Destroyer. He was instructed to persuade my father to give him the location of a passageway beneath the mountains. My ancestors had trapped the demon there during the time of the ancients. Barin said the Destroyer wanted to use the demon’s power, and such an alliance might save Blackmoor, but my father refused. At first.”
“He was tortured?” Mala’s dark gaze was solemn upon his face. “But that is not all Barin does to those he wants to hurt.”
Of course she understood. Though the details were not always the same, this story was a common one from during the time of the Destroyer. “I had brothers, a mother. Barin gave them to his soldiers. My father revealed the passageway’s location, hoping to save them.”
“Did he?”
His throat burning, Kavik shook his head. “She had been heavy with child—with me. I was all that Barin returned to him. Then he let us go.”
“Because it amused him,” Mala said flatly.
“It did.”
“Where did you go?”
“The Weeping Forest. Not as I live there now. There was an inn at the edge of the forest. My father still had gold, a few servants. But Barin had taken most of his fingers and he couldn’t hold a sword. So I held it for him the first time I returned to the citadel.”
Jaw clenched, she looked ahead again, but held her tongue. He knew what she would say. His father must have been mad. Kavik had only seen eight winters then.
“He was mad,” Kavik said softly. “But the hope of freeing Blackmoor from Barin’s reign was all that he had. And I knew nothing else. Nothing but trying to discover a way to kill him.”
“Until your fourteenth winter, you said. What happened then?”
“We tried an ivory blade under a full moon. It failed, but before we left, Barin decided that would be my moon night. My father died trying to stop them from putting the collar on me. His heart gave out. And I left Blackmoor to earn gold for my army.”
Eyes glistening, she looked away from him again. Kavik had no tears left for his father, or for the boy he had been. All that remained was the icy ache in his chest.
Her throat worked before she spoke. “I vow to you that it will never be a collar,” she said, and the hoarse catch in her breath scraped over his heart. “And Vela will not ask it of me.”
“I pissed in her temple.”
Mala’s shocked gaze flew to meet his. “You did what?”
“I pissed in her offering bowl. Do you think Vela would put me on my knees in front of Barin for it?”
The goddess possessed cruelty enough to punish him that way. Mala knew it. Uncertainty flashed over her face.
His throat seemed full of grit. “If you will not have me in a collar, take off the robe. Abandon your quest.”
“I cannot.” Breath shuddering, she shook her head. “And the taming will not be that. I have to believe it won’t be. I know you don’t trust her. But trust in me, warrior. Please.”
He couldn’t answer. Nudging his mount’s sides, he rode ahead. But as soon as he dismounted, she came to stand before him. Rising onto her toes, she captured his face between her hands, her gaze fixed on his lips.
He caught her hair. “Down.”
“Kavik—”
“Now,” he said. “I have no need for your mouth except on my cock.”
Fire lit behind her eyes. Holding his gaze, she slid down. His shaft hadn’t been hard when he’d given the command, but the touch of her fingers started a brutal ache in his flesh. She raised his stiffening length to her lips.
And kissed him, so gently. Kavik froze. Again, a reverent press of her mouth. Releasing her hair, he ripped himself away from her touch. His chest was heaving, each breath tearing raggedly from his lungs.
Still on her knees, she looked up at him. Her dark eyes were haunted. “Do you have no need for any part of me, warrior?”
He could not stop his harsh laugh. She was everything he needed. All of her.
But he turned away from her. “Not if I can’t fuck it. I’ll wait for your moon night.”
And wait for his end.
IT was three days’ hard journey back to Perca. Mala wasn’t surprised when Kavik retreated into silence again. He didn’t share her bed. Instead she was left alone with her thoughts and the growing ache of the distance between them.
Mala had known this quest would be painful. But she’d thought it would be her body that suffered, not her heart.
But the pain made her hopeful that she was on the right path. If this had been easy, it wouldn’t be a quest, and she could think of few more difficult tasks than winning Kavik’s trust—which made her wonder if the answer to his taming had lain before her almost from the very beginning. She had befriended another beast who hadn’t been easy to win over. And although she didn’t consider Shim tamed, many others would. Just as some thought a collar meant its wearer was tamed, and Mala called it cruelty, instead.
It only mattered what Vela intended the taming to mean. If Mala was right, then she only had to be patient. She had to be stubborn. And she had to remember Kavik’s anguish as he’d charged into the water to save her. She had to remember his tenderness as he’d kissed her.
He hadn’t covered his heart in iron to hurt her, but to protect himself. She’d seen his pain after she’d refused to abandon her quest, and knew that he expected more agony to come. If it did, the agony would not come from her hand, and she would help him fight its cause. Though he could be hard, and the distance between them painful, Mala trusted that he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her; she could wait until he trusted her in return.
And she hoped the single night remaining before the full moon passed quickly. Though Kavik had been quiet these past days, his ravenous hunger for her still burned in his shadowed gaze. Taking him would not be easy, either. But she didn’t care if he was rough, or tried to persuade himself that he hadn’t softened toward her. Mala would find her pleasure in every merciless touch, in each brutal thrust.
She was just as hungry as he was.
Until the full moon came, however, she suspected that her only need to be sated would be her thirst. The sun had been warm, their ale had run dry two days before, and watered mead never satisfied as well. She was glad to see the Croaking Frog’s familiar banner with its lucky lily pad. Dally birds squawked in the stable yard behind the inn, bald pink heads bobbing, and their scraggly gray and white feathers floating everywhere. The ugliest birds that Temra had ever created—but also the most delicious.
As soon as she removed Shim’s saddle, the stallion trotted into the yard and began to snort at the swirling feathers. She glanced over to find that Kavik was already seeing to the packhorses. The furs he’d worn over his shoulders had been shed days before, leaving his steely arms bare. Her bottom lip between her teeth, she watched the sinews flex in his strong forearms as his long fingers tugged at the leather ties.
Without looking up, he said gruffly, “Will you go and see if there’s a private bed available for us?”
Swift joy rose through her. “Will we be sharing it tonight, then?”
“We will.” H
e came nearer, his gaze hot on hers. “And add this.”
He pressed a thin gold coin into her palm. She glanced up curiously.
Kavik turned to the horses again. “Ask Selaq to join us in the bed tonight.”
Did he think his fingers and tongue weren’t enough? Mala grinned at his back. “I prefer your touch, warrior. Not hers.”
“I want her there for me.”
Her brows rose. “Do you not realize she prefers women?”
Easily he lifted the heavy grain baskets balanced over the animal’s withers. “But she will lie with men for extra coin. I’m desperate for your sheath, but there’s no need to wait. I can fuck another tonight.”
No, he could not. “Why would you say this to me, warrior?”
“Because one sheath is the same as any other.”
The edges of the coin bit into her fingers. “I told you that I would not share you after I had you.”
“I’ve not had you yet. That is why my cock aches for waiting.” His gaze was shuttered when he looked up. “And that is why I will have another tonight.”
“Do you believe that we’ve not already had each other just because my moon night hasn’t come? We’ve had each other over and over these past days, warrior. We had each other when you kissed me. When you rode by my side. When you slept by me and held me close.” She didn’t mistake the sharp agony in his gaze before he looked away. “Do you intend to hurt me or are you simply being a stubborn fool? Because I promise you, this will injure me.”
It would shred her heart more quickly than a pack of revenants.
Determination hardened his expression again. Catching her wrist, he took back the coin and started for the inn. “I will pay her myself, then.”
She stared at his retreating back. Her face seemed hot and numb all at once, as if repeatedly slapped. He’d been devastated when he’d thought she’d been poisoned at the river. And yet . . . this.
Maybe he would truly do it, maybe he wouldn’t. It mattered not. She’d told him this would hurt her and he intended to carry on anyway.
She’d been wrong about him. So wrong. Swallowing hard, she said after him, “If you give her that coin, you will not touch me again.”
For an instant, his step faltered. His fists clenched. But he continued on.
And she had not expected agony like this. Never had she imagined Kavik would slip a blade between her ribs and leave her bleeding. Throat burning, she blindly turned toward the packs, vision wavering with hot tears.
Vela. I need your strength now. Help me, please.
But the pain did not ease.
HIS legs barely seemed able to carry the crushing weight in his chest. It was done. She would not touch him. He would never touch her again. Even if she continued her quest and followed him until the end of his days, he would stand firm.
Except he could barely stand now. The heat from the ovens in the inn’s brewing chambers seemed like a demon’s breath on his face. As soon as he moved out of sight of the stables, he leaned back against the support of the walls.
“Kavik? Are you unwell?”
Selaq, with a blue cloth covering her yellow hair and a wooden tub propped on her hip. Her appearance made the coin in his hand seemed heavier than any boulder. He would never give it to the innkeeper. Mala never needed to know.
Whatever her injuries, they couldn’t be deep. Her pride had been damaged. Not her heart. She hadn’t known him well enough or long enough to feel more.
Except that she felt everything deeply. He’d never seen anyone possess such ferocity and passion. Who was so quick to grin—or to make him laugh.
His throat a knot, he said, “I would ask for your help.”
Eyes widening, Selaq stared at him. “You would ask? Has the sun risen in the west? Or has the truly impossible happened, and Barin is dead?”
Kavik could never joke about Barin’s death. “I need you to let Mala believe I have paid you to come to my bed tonight.”
“Oh, no.” She hefted the tub up onto a table. “She’ll kill me.”
“No. It would not be you that she hurt.” And Kavik would take any punishment she gave him. Had already given him. You will not touch me again. “She would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“You don’t deserve a collar.”
The coin seemed to burn in his palm. “She has vowed never to put one on me.”
And she wouldn’t. Kavik knew she wouldn’t. She’d felt deeply then, too, when he’d told her of his father. Of his moon night and what Barin and his soldiers had done.
Selaq scoffed and lifted a ball of brown dough from the tub. “Even if Vela demands it?”
“She believes the goddess wouldn’t ask it of her.” The image of cold silver eyes flashed through his memory. “I do not believe the same.”
“Do you think she would defy the goddess? Abandon her quest?”
“She will have to.” Because Kavik would never give in. “Or never complete it.”
Her brow furrowed. “You say that very easily. When I heard of the taming, I wished her no success. But I would still never wish what would come upon her if she abandoned it.”
“She will be marked. But she has no vanity. And she wears other scars.” Almost as many as Kavik did.
Selaq’s kneading hands stilled, and she stared at him. “Kavik, you fool. You utter fool.”
Tension gripped his chest. A stubborn fool. “Why?”
“A quest is a promise made to Vela. Do you think she accepts a broken vow lightly? Mala will be forsaken. Shunned. Never allowed to return home. Never allowed to stay in any one place because anyone who offers her shelter or aid will risk Vela’s wrath. Any village she enters, they will drive her away with dogs and stones. You think Barin plagues you? It is nothing to what the goddess will do to her.”
Ice splintered through his veins. And he had shoved her away? Sworn never to give in? He would crawl into the citadel with a bit between his teeth if it pleased Vela.
And beg Mala to forgive him.
His legs found their strength again but as soon as they carried him into the stable yard, a vise seized his heart. Mala was sorting through the packs, adding items to the pouches on Shim’s saddle, her head bowed and her movements slow. Leaving.
Her head shot up when the stallion gave his nicker of warning. She wiped her cheeks.
The tightness in Kavik’s throat became a burning knot. “Mala—”
“You can keep the black gelding and the other two horses. They will only slow me down.” Without looking at him, she opened a jute sack and began dividing the contents. “They will be compensation for your assistance in searching for the demon tusker.”
“Don’t, Mala. Please.” Voice broken, he reached for her.
She whirled on him, her hand flying to her sword. Her blade pressed against his throat.
Kavik stilled. It was not the weapon that stopped him. Her dark eyes swam with tears, but the expression in them was a spear through his chest. Not just pain. Devastation that matched his own.
“You have no permission to touch me now,” she said through gritted teeth.
With desperate hope, he opened his hand. Though it had weighed so much moments before, the gold in his palm seemed like nothing now. A boy’s trinket. Yet he had risked her life and her quest with this worthless thing. “I would not have given it to her,” he rasped. “I never would have.”
“That matters?” Her hollow laugh told him it mattered not at all. Tears slipped over her cheeks. “I thought I finally knew what Vela wanted. I wouldn’t call Shim tamed, because he is free. But others would call him that, simply because I ride him. Even you said he was.”
Kavik had. And he would still say it. But he couldn’t speak past the pain in his throat.
Her fingers trembled as she continued. “I began to believe that was what Vela meant. Not a collar, but trust. Shim and I ride together. One day, though, I know we will part ways. He will return to his herd. But I thought . . . I thought if that was wha
t it meant to tame you, then we might have so much longer.”
If that was taming, then Kavik would give anything to be tamed. “We will.”
“No.” Her simple response shattered his hope. On a sobbing breath, her hand dropped to her side, her blade falling away from his throat. “When I first began to ride him, he would throw me. He never meant to hurt me—he was just unused to the weight on his back. Sometimes I surprised him, or treated him like any other horse, and he needed to remind me that he was free, not just another animal to be tamed. But never did he turn on me. He never bit at me. He never kicked at me. He did hurt me, but he never meant to.”
And she had warned Kavik that he was hurting her. No wound from a blade could have matched the agony of the emptiness spreading through him now.
“He was never deliberately cruel,” she continued softly. “If he had been, I would have left him behind—because how could I have trusted him at my side if he might turn and kick me in the chest? So it is not that you might have touched another woman, because I knew you might try to throw me. I knew you didn’t want to soften toward me. But you meant to hurt me tonight.”
No. He hadn’t known it truly would. But it mattered not, because she’d warned him—and he’d been so determined to stand firm that he hadn’t listened. Hadn’t seen.
He’d had everything. She’d told him that, too. Her kiss. Her warmth at his side. Her heart. Now he had nothing.
Except he could make certain she wasn’t hurt again. “What of your quest? You have my trust. I will ride at your side.”
Or behind her. Anywhere she went. Even if she never spoke to him again, he would follow her until the end.
“You no longer have my trust, warrior. I’m not traveling that path anymore. So I pray that I was wrong, and that was not what Vela meant, because you are not worth the pain you would do to me.” Her eyes were dull as she turned away. Sheathing her sword, she picked up Shim’s saddle and moved out to the stable yard. “And there is another kind of tamed, one I didn’t begin to consider until I learned you were Karn’s son. It simply means to bring something wild into a home, and that wild thing takes a place within the household. Perhaps my task is to return you to your place in the citadel. I would need to kill Barin—and I have already made a vow to see him dead, so I was on that path. Or perhaps I am meant to tame the demon. That was what I first believed when I came to Blackmoor. Perhaps that was the road I was supposed to take.”