by Ryvr Jones
A shadow passed on his eyes, but it was quickly gone. He gave her a once over, and nodded. “I’m glad you like them.” His brow wrinkled. “Why are you still wearing my shirt? It’s too big for you.”
“You said you don’t care.” She closed the shirt over her chest, hugging it to herself. She hadn’t realized how a simple piece of clothing made her feel safe, close to him, until she’d taken it off. “I like it, so I’m keeping it.”
He stared at her with something she couldn’t define in his gaze. Please don’t take this little piece of you away from me. She wondered if he could see the pleading in her eyes.
Maybe he did, because he nodded and said, “It will help to keep you warm.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Wear this.” He grabbed a dark gray scarf from the duffel bag and gave it to her. “And the coat and gloves. We’re taking my bike, and it’s going to be bitter cold on the road.”
The scarf wasn’t soft as her new clothes, the wool slightly rougher under her fingers. “Is this yours?”
“Yeah, it’s mine, why?”
Crap. She’d already lied to him once. About something small and stupid, but still. How could she hope to ever gain his trust, if she was constantly lying to his face?
Bracing herself, she lowered her head, hiding from his scrutiny. Say it, Tamerah. “Because I like wearing your clothes.” The burning came back to her face, full on. “And I lied to you before.” Even with her eyes downcast, she could feel him getting tense again. “It wasn’t important,” she rushed to add, “but I shouldn’t lie to you. I told myself to shut up, and when you asked about it, I told you it was nothing. That was a lie, and I’m sorry.”
“Why did you lie?” There was a slight disappointment in his voice.
Tamerah wrung the scarf in her hands, unable to meet his eyes. “I was ashamed. I can’t seem to avoid asking too many questions and making inappropriate comments.”
“Your questions and comments don’t bother me,” he said softly. “You don’t need to lie to me.”
“I won’t lie anymore, I promise.” She lifted her head and glued her eyes to his, trying to show him she was being honest. “Not even about small things.”
Silence stretched between them, a million things swirling in his eyes. Finally, he nodded and broke the spell. “Let’s go.”
An hour later, Rhys was in hell.
Tarani was plastered to his back, cradling him with her thighs, her arms around his torso. She rode his bike as if she’d been riding motorcycles her whole life, accompanying his movements with seamless grace and strength, never endangering his equilibrium.
He couldn’t squash the streaks of jealousy that coursed through him every time he wondered where the hell had she learned to ride. How many lucky bastards had felt her breasts pressed to their backs. Fuck.
She squeezed his waist, silently asking what was wrong. With the helmets they had on, and the wind howling as they tore down the road, they couldn’t talk, but somehow she knew.
He shrugged, and she caressed his stomach. She just meant to reassure him, but he wanted to close his eyes and revel in her touch. His dick stirred. Oh fuck, no. If she didn’t stop, he was going to end up killing them in a crash. Well, unfortunately not him, but her.
As if she understood, she stilled her hand. Rhys lectured himself. Get your shit together, bonehead. Problem was, getting his mind focused and out of the gutter was becoming more and more wishful thinking when he was near her.
The “why do you hate seeing me naked” fiasco was a good example. He’d almost swallowed his tongue when he saw her breasts swaying gently as she struggled to put her pants on. His dick had roared to full life so fast it made him dizzy. And then her little moan…Jesus fucking Christ. He’d pictured himself over her, kissing her neck, palming her breasts…
His dick perked up again, and Rhys cursed. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex. He still didn’t know shit about her. He tried to focus on the road, on the curves snaking between the green hills that rolled around them in a blur.
But his thoughts kept going back to Tarani. He was a stubborn fool.
I like wearing your clothes. Why the fuck had she said that? And why the fuck it made him happy? Her eyes had said she wanted to have a piece of him with her, and he’d choked, warm pleasure spreading through his limbs because she seemed to like him.
It was more than that, though. There was something honest about her that called to him. The way she looked at him, touched him, made him feel almost human again. As if he was worth a damn. He wasn’t, but Tarani made him want to remember how to be gentle. How to give a fuck. How to connect with another being and have someone to care about him.
He couldn’t. He’d let down all the people he’d ever cared about, in the worst possible way. After he came back with the darkness, all he’d felt was hate and misery. He’d tried to go back to his life of service to his king and the Goddess, but he’d lost himself in the Abyss.
The desire to die, to be free of the darkness, had consumed him, until he’d abandoned his sacred duty. He was one of the Medjah-Merah, the warriors born to protect the last descendant of the Goddess—Brianna. He was their leader, but he’d gone away, leaving his brothers in arms without their commander, and Brianna without his protection. He hadn’t even said goodbye to his family.
He didn’t even know what happened to any of them after he’d disappeared from their lives. If they’d been happy, if they had needed him. How they’d died, or when.
I betrayed them all. He couldn’t risk making the same mistakes. He wasn’t worthy of affection or feelings. Not anymore.
Rhys tensed all over again and Tarani squeezed him. She could read him too easily. This is not good. He forced his muscles to relax, even though his dick wasn’t listening. She sighed against his back.
Knowing he was perfectly capable of controlling the bike with one hand, he put the other one over hers and squeezed back. She entwined their fingers for a moment then let go, tightening her embrace and burrowing a little more into him.
Fuck everything to hell and beyond, Rhys didn’t want her to ever let him go.
Yep. Not good at all.
It was mid-afternoon when they got near the ruins. Tarmanagh was about ten miles ahead, but Rhys wanted to stop by the ruins’ entrance and see if there was anything suspicious at the location.
He turned right, slowing as he took the dirt road through the hill. Less than half a mile later, he parked the bike in front of what had been the castle’s gates. Only the imposing stone columns had survived the centuries.
Tarani got off the bike, and he mourned the loss of contact all the way to his toes. She took her helmet off, a huge grin splitting her face. “This is beautiful.”
He took off his own helmet and looked at the massive, thirteen feet high columns, topped with sculpted dragons. They framed a stone path that led directly to the inner ruins, three hundred feet ahead. The ruins didn’t seem anything special to him, just a big pile of gray stone. “I guess.”
“Come on,” she beckoned. “I want to see the rest.” She approached the columns and touched the cold stone with awe, gazing up to the dragons. “They seem almost alive. Can you imagine?” She turned bright eyes to him. “How they would stretch their magnificent wings, preparing to fly?”
“Dragons aren’t real.” If they were, he’d have seen one at one time or another. He climbed off the bike and found her with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “What?”
“I know they aren’t real. At least, these ones are not. That’s why I was imagining them moving, instead of saying ‘they’re moving’.”
Rhys couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “You’re right. Forgive me.”
She smiled at him, then lowered her gaze. “I like that sound.”
“What sound?” He walked to her and looked around, worried. He hadn’t heard anything.
“The almost-laugh sound you make when you find something funny.” She shuffled her feet and fiddled with her scarf. “It’s
not an actual laugh, but it seems happy nonetheless, and I like it.”
His chest constricted and he rubbed the spot, trying to ease the ache.
“You don’t laugh much.” She caught his gaze with her own, keeping him captive with those silver beams. “Why is that?”
“I had forgot how to laugh.” The words were out before he could think it through. “Haven’t had much reason to laugh until…” Until you came to my life. Until you said I was ugly. Until you made me remember what it’s like to be human. He shook his head sharply, trying to focus before he blurted all that shit out. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get going.” He turned back to the bike, ignoring the questions in her eyes. Coward.
“Wait,” she said and Rhys turned to her. She was staring at the ruins, her back to him, her head tilted sideways. “We should go there.”
“We will.” Rhys frowned. “After we get settled in Tarmanagh. Besides, there’s someone in the village I need to talk to.”
She didn’t move. “We should go to the ruins now.”
What the hell? “Excuse me?” He walked to her side, needing to see her face. “Why?”
“I feel it here,” she said, touching her chest. “We need to go before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” Rhys stiffened. Maybe I was right and she’s part of Seersha’s schemes. But what could be her goal? He scanned the surroundings, trying to see anything out of the ordinary. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
“I don’t know.” She pursed her lips and touched his forearm. “I won’t ask you to trust me, but maybe you can indulge me.”
“Maybe,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “But how do I know you’re not leading me into some kind of trap?”
Tarani reared back, hurt in her eyes. “I’m being honest with you. I can’t force you to believe me, but you know what?” She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. “You can go to Tarmanagh if you want. I’ll be here when you come back.” She crossed the gates, walking with the determination of an invading army.
Fuck. He couldn’t let her go alone. He didn’t know if there was danger inside the ruins. Maybe there was a trap, but maybe Tarani wasn’t aware of it. He couldn’t risk it. Cursing, he went after her, catching up in a few strides.
“I’m not trying to deceive or harm you,” she said.
“You don’t know if that’s true,” he growled.
“You’re right.” She bowed her head and kept walking in silence.
As they walked without saying a word, he realized he missed her voice, her absurd comments and questions. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and risked a sideways glance at her.
Tarani’s eyes were wide, taking the landscape in. Her lips were pursed, as if trying to keep something from getting out.
Curse myself to hell and beyond. He couldn’t trust her, but maybe he didn’t need to be a jerk about it. He sighed. “You can talk to me, you know.” Yeah, so I can fuck it up again.
“I know,” was her only answer.
He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to talk to him anymore. He kept saying she could, but he always ended up shutting her down, none too gently. Let her be, you moron. It doesn’t matter how much you enjoy hearing her voice, you don’t have the right to wish she’d put up with your crap.
But wish he did, so he scrunched up his courage and insisted. “You need to tell me when I’m being an asshole.”
“I don’t understand.”
If he looked at her, he would lose his nerve and screw up again, so he kept his gaze on the path ahead. “There’s the issue of trusting you. There are things I can’t tell you. There are things I shouldn’t tell you, and things I don’t know how to say. When one of those things comes up, I shut you down. I want you to tell me when I’m being a jerk.”
“Why?” Her steps got closer to his.
Of course she was going to ask exactly that. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Because I don’t want to be an asshole to you.” He lifted his arm, silencing her next question. “Because you deserve better.” He shoved his hand back to his pocket. “And also…because I like you, Tarani. I haven’t liked anything or anybody in a long, long time. But I like you.”
He was sure she was going to question him further, but she didn’t. She twisted her arm through the crook of his elbow, entwining their arms, and leaned her head on his shoulder without breaking the rhythm of their walk.
They made the remaining distance like that, and Rhys found himself wishing the ruins were miles away.
Chapter Six
Much too soon for Rhys’s liking, they were at the castle’s entrance, and Tarani let go of him.
The doors were long gone, but the stone and bronze threshold was still there, waiting patiently for their steps to cross it. For the second time in as many days, something akin to fear twirled up his spine.
He didn’t sense any presence near, but his gut was telling him there was danger beyond the entrance, and his instincts had never steered him wrong. They had screamed at him every time he’d made one of his catastrophic mistakes. He hadn’t listened. Lesson learned. Twice.
Stepping inside, his body on full alert, he scanned the perimeter. Stone walls and floors surrounded him, the wooden ceiling a distant memory. Only the beams remained, slowly rotting away. To his right, a stairway curled over itself, disappearing inside the wall.
High, narrow windows filtered the sun through colored glass, drawing patterns on the floor. He took a couple of steps ahead, his boots echoing in the empty circular hall. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet, everything in him was screaming to grab Tarani and get the hell out of there before it was too late. Fucking hell, too late for what?
Her footsteps approached, followed by a whisper. “This is beautiful.”
“I guess.” He went deeper into the hall, looking for any nook where someone could be hiding.
Tarani’s voice carried to him. “Maybe if we go to the upper gallery we could make out the pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“The sun light.” She walked to him, her gaze upturned to the gallery that encircled the hall on the second level. “It forms a pattern on the floor, but I can’t decipher it. Maybe from up there,” she said, pointing to the gallery, “we can see what it is.”
Examining the colors on the floor, he realized she was right. “Stay there,” he ordered, and went to the stairs.
“But—”
“Please.” Without waiting for her answer, he climbed the stone steps. She disappeared from his sight for long moments, until he got to the second floor and stepped into the gallery.
Tarani was at the exact center of the hall. She smiled at him, and his heart rate went up, drumming furiously in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the colors on the floor, and his knees went week. Foreboding engulfed him.
His fear must have shown in his eyes, because Tarani’s face tightened with apprehension and she hugged herself. “Rhys? What’s wrong?”
“There is a pattern,” he managed to say, grabbing the gallery’s rail to remain upright.
Under Tarani’s feet, he could see the figure he had tattooed on his lower back. The mark of the Seareh Medjah-Merah, the symbol that proclaimed Rhys as commander of the warriors born to protect the Sacred Lineages. And there was only one person who could have created this display, besides himself. Brianna.
A few others knew the symbol and what it represented, but this particular rendition of it—with the silhouette of a fire bird entwined within the tribal lines—was something only the two of them knew. The fire bird had been one of Brianna’s gifts to him, visible only when it had been bestowed upon his flesh, an unseen mark on his soul since then.
What do you want from me, Brianna Sheramath? Rhys closed his eyes, feeling once again the whisper of Brianna’s fingers on his skin as she’d traced the fire bird over his tattoo. I failed you. I just want to be left to rot. The darkness moved inside him, looking for a way out.
“No!” Tarani’s scream was punctuated
by an improbable thunderclap. Dark clouds closed rapidly over them, the pattern on the floor gone. “Don’t give up!” Her voice was almost overpowered by the escalating rumbles of the sky.
Rhys tore down the stairs, took her hand and dragged her until they were standing under the gallery. In the next second, day turned to night as the rain started to pour, drenching everything around them. He tried to get her deeper into the gallery’s protection, but she yanked her arm back and gripped the front of his coat in a death hold.
“You can’t give up.” She touched his jaw softly, the gesture at odds with the fierceness on her face. “We’ll find a way.”
Feeling her touch all the way to his soul, he jerked and took a step back. “A way to what, Tarani? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t know!” Frustration high in her voice, she stepped forward. “You said we’re going to figure things out. I believe you. We’ll find a way to…whatever is that you need,” she finished in a whisper.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His hands balled into fists.
“Then tell me!” She gripped his arms with bruising force, as lightening turned everything into a blinding day for a moment. Another thunder made the windows shake, but her gaze never wavered from his.
“I want to die!” Her face filled with horror, but he let the venom that poisoned his soul drip from every word. “I should’ve died a long time ago. I’ve spent centuries trying to end my miserable life. I’ve failed, time and again, and that’s the only reason I’m still here. That’s what I need—to die.”
Tarani went silent, pale as death, but the sky spoke for her. A deafening thunder exploded above them, shaking the ground. The windows’ colored glass trembled and burst from their frames, raining over the hall’s floor with the downpour.
Rhys grabbed her and spun her around, pressing her back against the wall and shielding her from the falling glass. She hid her face against his chest, her entire body shaking. He tightened his hold around her and dipped his head to talk near her ear. “I’m sorry. It’s the truth, but I shouldn’t have told you. I apologize.”