by Ryvr Jones
He trusted me. He let me see him in a vulnerable moment. Whatever the end may be, she’d always have that trust in her heart.
“Are you okay?” Rhys stopped in front of her and touched her forehead, speaking softly. “You’re flushed and your face is hot. Does your head hurt? Are you remembering again?”
Only your naked body. “Uh…I’m fine.”
His smile reached his eyes, transforming his face from handsome to breathtaking. “Okay, but if you feel pain, tell me.”
She put her hand over his, savoring the warmth of his fingers. “I will,” she whispered. And felt guilty. She’d promised she wouldn’t lie to him, and he was concerned with her well-being. The least she could do was to be honest. “I’m hot because I was thinking about…” What was the expression Seersha used? “…jumping your bones.”
Rhys froze. “What?”
Caeron burst out laughing. “I get why Rhys is happy when you’re around, Tamerah. You’re a lot of fun.”
She closed her eyes, already regretting her words. Shame burned her ears. “I remembered jumping your bones.”
Caeron made an inhuman sound, as if he were drowning. He clutched his ribs, his face completely red. “Tamerah,” he gasped, “you’re killing me.”
Apparently at a loss for words, Rhys sputtered, opening and closing his mouth without making any sound.
“I didn’t say it right, did I?” Tamerah covered her face with her hands, curled into a ball and wished she’d disappear.
“I think you said it exactly right,” Caeron wheezed.
“Shut up, dickhead!” Rhys finally barked. He sat beside her, gently prying her fingers from her face. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes the things you say sound funny, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re not upset with me?” She peeked at him with one eye.
“Why would he be upset?” Caeron chimed in. “I’d be happy if you were thinking about me.”
“Caeron,” Rhys warned.
“Is he right?” She tilted her head. “Are you happy?” She hoped he was. She’d do almost anything to make him happy.
Rhys shot Caeron a murderous glance, shutting him up, before turning back to her. He caressed her face, a hint of a smile curling his lips. “Yes. I’m happy you’re here, thinking about me.”
Tamerah got to her knees and hugged him with all her strength, trying to convey her feelings. She kissed his temple. “I missed you. I’ve already said it, but I missed you so. It makes me happy to see you smile.” She rested her forehead against his. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, you know,” she whispered. “Walk away from you.”
A shudder wracked his frame. He crushed her to him, touching her lips with his own. “Promise me you won’t do it again,” he murmured. “Promise you’ll stay with me. Please.”
His distress, his pain, his fear thundered in her chest. All she wanted was to make his pain go away. She’d fallen for him centuries ago, and now that she could be with him, take care of him, she’d never walk away again. “I promise.”
Rhys took her mouth in a ferocious kiss, plunging his tongue inside, devouring her with licks and bites. She surrendered, granting him entrance, sucking his tongue and biting it. He growled and fisted the hair at her nape, angling her head back. Her body molded to his, his heart beating hard and fast against her breasts.
“Ahem,” Caeron cleared his throat loudly. “May I suggest you two seek the privacy of Rhys’s room? Unless you want company. I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
Rhys hid his face in the crook of her neck. “The only reason I won’t kill you is because I know you’re not serious.”
“I’m serious. If you ever want company, just say the word.”
Tamerah giggled. “You’re so funny. I can see why Rhys likes you.”
Caeron winked at her. “I know, right?”
“I don’t like him,” Rhys said, his words muffled by her hair. “I endure him, and only because I don’t have any other options.”
“You love me, you just won’t admit it.” The hurt was back in Caeron’s eyes, but Rhys seemed oblivious to it. There was a story there, and Tamerah decided she’d ask about it. Later. After we save the world.
“Shut up, Caeron,” Rhys said.
“I would shut up and go back to my research, but you two are too entertaining. You could go upstairs, but then I’ll hear you and I’ll still be distracted.”
Rhys brushed his lips over her temple and stood. “Okay, the show is over.”
“Spoilsport,” Caeron huffed.
Tamerah sat back and recalled the memory from earlier over and over, trying to discover anything else. Seersha and Brianna had talked about the Shadow Word—whatever it was—and destruction, death, fire…He is dangerous.
“Wait.” She sprung to her feet. “They talked about someone. They didn’t know who he was, but the Sheramath said ‘he is dangerous’, and she needed to warn…us, I guess, about him.”
“Anything else?”
“No. She said she’d write about the vision.” Tamerah deflated, her shoulders slumping. She resumed her position on the couch, hugging her knees. “At least we know there’s a he.”
“Maybe he’s connected to the rotten souls,” Caeron said. “I’ve been going over a lot of texts and Internet pages, and I haven’t found anything remotely related to them. Either they are a recent development, or someone has been keeping them hidden.”
Caeron sensed someone entering his front gate and got up to open the door, grateful for a little reprieve. After spending so much time going over ancient manuscripts and ugly websites, his eyes had all but melted, and his brain was fried.
He needed a break from research. And from Rhys. Caeron took it in stride, but Rhys’s constant refusal to acknowledge their friendship pained him. When they’d been together, they hadn’t been in love, but they had cared about each other. They still did, despite Rhys’s denial.
Rhys believed their relationship put Caeron at risk, and had ended it to protect him. Was still denying he cared, for the same reason.
As if I couldn’t take care of myself. He snorted. Not only was he perfectly capable of keeping himself safe, but he would protect Rhys with his last breath. Rhys knew he could count on him. And yet, he was unwilling to drop the we-are-not-friends bullshit.
Caeron just wanted his friend back, the camaraderie, the trust and openness they’d shared. But Rhys was a stubborn ass.
Sighing, Caeron opened the door. A redheaded woman stumbled back, her hand poised to ring the doorbell, and he wanted to slap himself. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t waited for her to knock. Dumbass. “May I help you?”
The woman’s spiky red hair reached her chin, making a nice contrast to her pale skin and blue eyes. She was tall and lean, dressed in brown leather pants and jacket, a tan shirt and knee-high boots. Instead of a satchel, she was carrying a backpack, but everything in her made her think of a female version of Indiana Jones.
“Wow, you look nice. Not what I expected at all, to be honest,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “I have this bad habit of trying to throw people off their game. It makes life interesting, but there are moments when it’s better to be nice.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Nell Higgins. Can I come in?”
I don’t think so. He didn’t trust anyone as far as he could throw Rhys, and Rhys was as heavy as he was stubborn. No way in hell would Caeron let someone in without good reason.
Instead of shaking her hand, he leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Caeron Staffard. What do you want?”
“This,” she said, showing him a slip of paper with his address written by hand, “mysteriously appeared in my bedroom last night. I believe I have a delivery to do here.”
Caeron narrowed his eyes. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. “Who the fuck are you?”
“You should know. You’re looking for me.” She winked. “And for the box I’
ve brought.”
Well, fuck. Caeron straightened. He needed to find out what she knew about the box, and if she was a danger to them.
“Get in,” he barked, trying to intimidate her. And apparently failing. She brushed by him and entered his home, smiling.
“Nice digs,” she said, staring at the high ceiling. Her casual attitude set off alarm bells in his head.
“You have sixty seconds to explain why the fuck you’re here before I kick you out. Or bury your body next door.” He showed his teeth. “Haven’t decided yet which one is going to be.”
“Right, you’re the gravedigger.” She was still smiling, and didn’t seem a bit scared of him.
“Let me see the box.”
Nell shook her head. “It doesn’t belong to you. He has black hair and eyes, and he’s taller than you. Just to be sure, though,” she stepped closer to him and smelled his neck. “Nope. Not you.”
“What the hell?” Caeron’s eyes widened so much, he was sure they were about to fall off his skull. “Did you just sniff me? Why?”
“I have some gifts.” She shrugged. “Foresight is one of them, and my visions engage all five senses. Not all of them every time, but I often experience scents and tactile sensations, besides the classic vision-sound combo. You don’t look like the man I’ve seen, and you also don’t smell like him.”
“No shit.” He was clearly out of his league here. “Rhys.” he called through the bond, “get your ass over here. We have a situation.”
“No shit,” she agreed. “It’s weird at first, but I got used to it a long time ago.”
A moment later, Rhys entered the hall. He seemed calm, but Caeron knew he was poised to fight.
Nell turned to Rhys, and there was that annoying grin again. “Well, hello. You’re most definitely the man I’ve seen.”
“Aren’t you going to sniff him? To be sure?” Caeron asked, unable to resist mocking her.
“What?” The way Rhys’s face wrinkled in confusion was almost worth the annoying woman’s presence.
Caeron ran with it. “Apparently she needs to sniff us to be sure of who we are. C’mon, Rhys, help her. Bend a little. You’re too tall for her to reach your neck.” Caeron turned to her. “It must be the neck, or any body part will do?”
Nell laughed. “I can feel you’re annoyed by my presence, Caeron, but I think we’re going to get along just fine, me and you.”
“Caeron!” Rhys thundered, shooting daggers at the woman. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Forgive me.” Nell sobered. “I’m Nell Higgins. I have something for you. The box you’re looking for.”
“Who the hell is this woman?” Rhys asked through the bond.
Caeron shrugged. “She says she’s a seer. Someone left my address to her, and here she is.”
“Guys,” Nell called. “You can talk out loud. I know you’re suspicious, rightly so.” She put her backpack on the floor. “Let’s skip the bullshit. I come from an ancient line of special women. A long, long, looooong time ago, there were others like me. Something happened, and a lot of knowledge and magic were lost. Not everything, though. I have visions about the past and the future, and I sense emotions and thoughts.”
“You can read thoughts?” Oh Gods, no, please, no.
“No. Don’t worry.” She winked at him. “I can feel if you’re thinking happy thoughts or not, for example. Right now, I’m feeling your dislike for the idea of someone reading your thoughts. That sort of thing.”
Relief washed over Caeron in a tidal wave, making his knees weak. He locked them in place and straightened his spine. “Go on.”
“I know there’s something big happening. Something bad. I haven’t seen any specifics, but I saw you,” she pointed to Rhys, “in the ruins near Tarmanagh, holding a box, and I knew you’d be looking for the one I have. That’s why I’m here.”
“If that’s true,” Rhys said, his expression grim and forbidding, “you won’t be opposed to let us check the veracity of you words, will you?”
“I guess not. Go ahead.” She opened her arms. “Do your worst.”
Caeron gave her a predatory smile and took a step closer. She shuddered but stood her ground.
“Don’t worry. It will only hurt a little.” He was starting to enjoy himself around her.
His brooding friend wasn’t amused. “Cut the crap, Caeron. See what’s in there so we can decide what to do.”
“Okay, okay.” Caeron touched her face, and she recoiled. “Seriously, don’t worry. It won’t hurt at all. I was messing with you.”
“Very funny,” she muttered. “Hilarious, in fact. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll see what’s hiding in your soul. Look into my eyes.” She did, a small shiver shaking her body. Caeron held her face gently and reached for her soul through her eyes.
There were some small smudges, the kind of pain and slightly evil things most human beings carried. No deception about what she’d said was apparent.
He dug deeper and a huge grin split his face. “She likes Indiana Jones.” he told Rhys. It not only explained her attire, but it made Caeron happy. He loved pop culture and Indy was one of his favorite characters. Rhys, of course, didn’t give a shit. “You’re no fun, Rhys.”
Deeper. Flashes of visions—about mundane things, her life, her mother’s death. Then…Jackpot! Rhys at the ruins, holding the box. As she’d said, the vision was filled with sensations. The chill of the night they’ve been there, moonlight filtering through the broken windows, the smell of the fields below.
“She’s telling the truth,” he informed Rhys.
The vision shifted to a redheaded woman holding the box, instead of Rhys. She gave it to Seersha. “Keep it safe,” the woman whispered, sadness swimming in her eyes. The Sheramath.
“Nell is definitely telling the truth.”
Caeron was ready to get out, when a smell caught his attention. Something was burning. It could be a memory, even a vision, but there was something off about it. He went even deeper, searching for the source, and heat washed over him. It felt like real fire, too real to be an echo.
What the…
He found the source and jerked, stunned. He lost the connection, stumbled back and almost fell on his ass.
Nell’s eyes were as wide as his mouth, and she finished his sentence. “…hell. What the hell.”
Caeron shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He felt as if he’d stuck his tongue in an electrical outlet. “Do you know what that is?”
“What what is?” Rhys asked, then frowned. “I mean, what that is what?” He closed his eyes, and if Caeron hadn’t been out of his wits, he’d have mocked his friend mercilessly. Rhys tried again. “I mean, what the fuck are you two talking about?”
“The Fire was lost, the Fire comes first.” Tamerah’s voice came from the doorway. She entered the hall, her gaze landing on Nell. “Hello. I’m Tamerah. And I think you’re the Heir of the Fire Lineage.”
“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Nell pursed her lips. “I’m Nell. Nice to meet you, Tamerah.” She stuck her hand out in greeting.
Tamerah stared at Nell’s hand for a moment before grasping it briefly. “I’m a demon. But I’m not evil.”
Nell laughed. “No, you’re not. I can feel your light, it’s strong.” She leaned into Tamerah and whispered as in confidence, “I can feel all kinds of things. Emotions, intentions. Desires.”
Tamerah arched a brow and smiled mischievously, her eyes going from Rhys to Caeron and back to Nell. “That’s convenient.”
Rhys and Caeron looked at each other. They were no match for two smart, mischievous women. They’d be wrapped around their fingers in no time.
Caeron was the first to admit it. “We are screwed.”
Rhys nodded almost imperceptibly. “We are so screwed.”
Chapter Fourteen
Back to Caeron’s library, Rhys realized he was starting to think of it as their central quarters. Their refuge.
It was so weird, he almost laughed out loud. They were on a fast pace to utter destruction and his soul was literally dying, but he felt more and more human with each passing hour. As if he was recovering the parts of himself he’d lost in the Abyss.
He knew it was because of Tarani. The darkness had quieted since she’d come back. She’d made him remember how to be human.
And she had given him a reason to fight.
You need something to fight for. Caeron’s words came back to him.
Rhys watched him banter with the seer, arguing about some movie. Nell had been right—they were getting along just fine. But then again, Caeron seemed to get along with everybody. Even with Seersha. Even with me.
We’re friends. Rhys had to admit, grudgingly, it was true. Caeron was the closest thing to a friend he’d ever had, since…Since all your brothers in arms died. Since you let them down. Since you betrayed them, abandoning your duty.
Shoving his memories back where he couldn’t feel them, he swallowed his regrets and asked, “Where’s the box?”
Nell rummaged in her backpack and gave him a leather bag. The box inside the bag was identical to the first one. The same fragrance, the blood in the runes preserved by magic.
“Where did you find this?”
“It’s been in my family’s care for centuries.” Her eyes darkened. “I got it when my mother died.”
Rhys blinked. “It wasn’t hidden in the town archives?”
She shook her head. “My vision told me you’re the box’s rightful owner, and after a lot of Internet searching, I discovered the ruins I saw were located in Tarmanagh. I came here and looked everywhere for you, but it’s like you don’t exist.” She scowled and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You gave me a lot of trouble. I’ve been going to the archives to try to find some information about you. I’m a historian, so I told them I’m doing research for a paper.”
Which meant Seersha knew about Nell, and was the one who’d given her Caeron’s address. Rhys felt a sliver of guilt burrowing into his skin. Seersha had screwed him, but she’d taken good care of Tarani, and now this. I’ll think about it later.