Shadow Runners

by Shadow Runners (lit)

  “Take care you do not get lost,” Byron replied absently without even glancing toward her.

  Thorne and Rafe both grunted.

  She supposed, wryly, that that was their idea of agreeing, although she couldn’t be certain. It might merely have been a comment on the play upstairs.

  Arman, she discovered, was absently rubbing his cock—and what a lovely, inspiring tower of flesh, she thought a little enviously!

  Letting herself out, she paced the porch for a few moments, but she dispensed with the pretense of merely restless pacing fairly quickly since there was no one to impress. Shrugging inwardly, she decided to take that little walk after all.

  * * * *

  Sonja was so blissfully sated she felt completely drained and the urge to simply allow herself to drift away was strong. Stronger than that, however, was a need to know that they’d banished all the things that needed to be lain to rest. She didn’t think she could bear to awaken feeling as if she’d finally come home and discover that she was still only a visitor.

  Lying face to face with him, she traced the furry mat of dark hair along the center of Jarek’s chest with one finger, trying to decide how to voice her fears. He caught her hand after a moment, lifted it, and bit down lightly on the tip. “Speak,” he said in a rumbling voice tinged with amusement.

  “We’re truly mated?”

  “Well and truly mated.”

  She wiggled a little closer. “It does not bother you? What I did?”

  He tensed abruptly. In the next moment he had rolled, trapping her beneath him. All traces of amusement were gone. His expression was hard and unyielding. “Do not believe that for one instant, woman! You will not, ever, do anything that dangerous again or I swear when I catch up to you—and I will—you will rue the day!”

  Resentment flickered through her briefly, but it was hardly worth arguing about when she’d already decided that she was through with the life of an assassin. “How will you make me rue the day?” she murmured.

  That seemed to throw him. “I don’t know,” he growled. “I will have to think about it.” Some of the tension eased from him. “Mayhap, I will give you no dick!”

  Sonja gaped at him for a moment and then chuckled. “Gods! Not that!”

  Amusement flickered in his eyes and vanished. “I am dead serious, Sonja! You are my woman now. You can not throw your life away when it is mine!”

  “If I am yours, you are mine!”

  “I was always yours,” he said gruffly. “From the moment I spied you teasing me racing along the border just beyond my reach, I thought, ‘I want that beautiful woman for my own.’”

  Sonja smiled up at him. “Did you?”

  “Aye, I did. That is why I grew tired of waiting for you to come to me and went out to chase you across the border.”

  She liked the sound of that—whether it was true or not. She sighed. “Actually, what I was trying to ask is if it bothered you that I had been a paid assassin.”

  He grunted. “It bothers the shit out of me!” he growled. “That tightfisted bastard would have emptied his gods damned coffers hiring an army and he would still have run the risk of losing his realm if not for you! He should have paid you twice what he did and kissed your toes for saving his sniveling, worthless hide!”

  Sonja gaped at him and then began to chuckle in relief. “I feel guilty for demanding twice what we’d agreed upon.”

  “Well, you should not! He was a cheap bastard or he would’ve offered it to start with. Mind you, Sonja! I am dead serious about the work. The gods willing, you will give me sons and I will not have them motherless. If you want more things I will try my hand at that business to get what you want—I have an idea that I could be very good at it—but I won’t have you risking your neck.”

  Sonja lifted her arms and laced her fingers along the back of his neck. “I can not imagine wanting more. And there is nothing in this world or the next that I value above your lovely skin! I love you.”

  He swallowed audibly, studying her expression doubtfully. “Truly?”

  “Deeply.”

  His cock hardened against her thigh. “How deeply?” he murmured, laughter in his voice.

  “Very, very deeply.”

  He slipped between her thighs, pressing the head of his cock slowly inside of her. “That deeply?”

  “A little deeper.”

  He curled his hips, giving her another inch. “That much?”

  “More.”

  “You are a demanding wench,” he growled. “How about now?”

  “Almost there!”

  He dipped his head to kiss her lingeringly. “You’d better not be. I’ve still got several inches and a good five minutes to go, my love.”

  She sighed in feigned disappointment. “Only five?”

  He chuckled. “And then mayhap five more when I’ve caught my breath. I may have to call in reinforcements if that doesn’t satisfy you, wench!” He considered that and grimaced. “That may cause a riot. You’d best brace yourself, woman. There is a thundering herd of romance minded wolf men in your future.”

  The End

  Read an excerpt from Jaide Fox’s bestseller from her bestselling Shadowmere series

  THE DEVIL’S

  CONCUBINE

  By

  Jaide Fox

  Chapter One

  Talin’s keen gaze was captured by a flutter of movement on the roof of King Andor’s palace as he guided his mount through the castle gates and into the inner courtyard. The brightly colored veil of a maiden flashed again as he looked up and he saw a cluster of young women along the waist high walls that topped one wing of the palace. They returned his perusal with unabashed interest and his lips curled faintly, for he knew, being mere man children, they could not see him nearly as well as he could see them and no doubt thought subtlety was unnecessary.

  A nervous flutter of feminine giggles tickled at his ears as one turned to look at someone beyond his view. “Princess Aliya! You must come to see!”

  His interest instantly sharpened. Tilting his head, he listened for a response, frowning when he heard nothing and wondering if she’d only spoken so softly he’d failed to hear, or not at all.

  No matter. The maid had spoken to her, the one he’d come so far to see, the great beauty the man children were crowing about and gathering to squabble over. He knew exactly where she was and it would be no great feat to join her there.

  He’d intended to confront King Andor about the insult to the people of Goldone head on, but upon consideration he decided he was more interested in assuaging his curiosity about the Princess Aliya.

  After studying the façade of the palace for several moments, he handed off the reins of his mount absently to a stable hand and casually strolled away from the crowd that had bottle necked at the main entrance to the castle. The crowd thinned as he walked, peared to a handful and then only the occasional passerby. Moving to a small outbuilding, he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest and pretending no more than a mild interest in the wall before him as he assessed it. When no one passed after several moments, he discarded his boots and peeled his breeches off, tossing them aside.

  He was on the point of shifting fully when it occurred to him that doing so might make climbing through the narrow window above him a little difficult. Shrugging, he merely focused on morphing wings and talons for gripping and launched himself skyward. The climb was harder than he’d expected, for he’d moved into a narrow cul-de-sac and there was little in the way of air currents to aid him.

  He was only slightly winded when he grasped the window ledge with his sharp talons, however. Morphing from wings to arms once more, he grasped the edges of the window and leapt down onto the stone floor of a corridor.

  There were two guards standing stiffly erect outside a set of doors some ten feet from where he’d landed. Either he’d made more noise that he’d thought, or the movement caught the eye of one of the guards, for he turned his head curiously. Un
hooking the whip coiled at his waist, Talin flicked. The leather snaked out, the tip curling tightly around the man’s throat. Gasping, his eyes widening, he caught at the leather around his throat instinctively even as Talin yanked on the whip, jerking the man face down on the tiles.

  Leaping forward and upward at almost the same instant, he caught the second guard with his talons around the throat, choking off a half uttered cry of alarm. His momentum slammed the guard backward into the wall. Talin released the man as he began to slide to the floor.

  After staring down at his prey for several moments, he grabbed the man’s armor and slugged him in the face with his fist. The guard’s eyes rolled back in his head and, satisfied, Talon turned to the first. That one, he saw, was already turning blue in the face. Shrugging, he balled up his fist and knocked that guard out, as well.

  Retrieving his whip, he glanced up and down the corridor and finally opened the door and peered inside. Finding the room empty, he morphed into full man once more, grabbed a man in each hand and dragged them inside. One was already beginning to come around. A quick search of a chest nearby turned up a marvelous collection of scarves. Using those, he bound and gagged both men, then strode across the room, checking at each window for guards.

  There were two more guards on the roofs overlooking what he now saw was a garden of some sort, for potted trees and flowers grew there in profusion. It took a little longer than he liked to dispatch the last two guards because he was forced to climb the walls to get to them. Finally, however, he had neatly disposed of the possibility of interruption and merely vaulted over the low wall of the last post, landing lightly on the garden tiles.

  * * * *

  Emerging briefly from her own thoughts, Princess Aliya smiled absently at the maid who’d spoken to her. It seemed to be the response the maid had expected. She flitted away again, leaving Aliya to her thoughts once more.

  The roof top garden was not a place for meditation at any time that her ladies were present. Today it was even less peaceful than usual. The maids flitted from one spot along the low wall that protected the outer edge of the garden to another, looking, and sounding, like a small flock of excited birds as they watched the activity below them, exchanging observations about the dignitaries arriving for the tournament.

  Wryly, Princess Aliya thought that, from their behavior, one might almost believe one, or all, of them were watching the arrival of their own suitor.

  She almost wished that were the case, but she wasn’t entirely sure of why she wished it.

  Almost two years to the day before, when preparations had been underway for her sixteenth birthday celebration, she had been as excited as any of her ladies were, certain that her father meant to settle her and that she would soon be overseeing her own household. She had been tremendously disappointed when that was not the case. She had reached marriageable age the year before and had not been settled, but she had been brought up to understand that her marriage would be of political significance. As disappointed and impatient for life as she was, she’d understood that her father needed time to weigh his decision carefully when there had been no less than three princes who had offered for her. She also understood that the decision was made even more difficult by the fact that others offered for her in the time that her father, King Andor, pondered his decision--powerful men that he had no wish to offend. She’d convinced herself that the celebration planned for her sixteenth birthday was also to be the occasion when she would at last be told who had been chosen for her. Again, she had been disappointed and so it had gone since. Each time her father had considered her suitors and concluded which would be best to choose to protect the interests of his kingdom and his daughter, a new suitor would appear upon their doorstep and he would go back to examining the situation.

  She’d begun to think she would never be wed, or if she was that she would be long in the tooth and perhaps too old to bear children.

  She had enjoyed the courtships. With each new suitor, she had found something to admire about him, something to appeal to the woman in herself, the mother, the princess and, occasionally, all three. It had not always been an easy task. Some had been young, barely old enough to be considered men at all, others more ‘seasoned,’ and still others quite old. Few of them were actually handsome, but they were quite presentable and only a couple had been completely unappealing physically.

  Her opinion mattered to her father, but she was a woman full grown now, and she realized that her personal feelings could not be allowed to get in the way of a sound political decision so she preferred to keep those to herself.

  In truth, she didn’t feel more particularly drawn to one above another.

  She supposed she wasn’t as excited as her ladies because she had been disappointed so many times before and, although her father had announced that she would be bestowed upon the winner of the tournament, that he would allow ‘right of might’ to determine her fate, she didn’t entirely believe that would settle the matter when she had girded herself so many times before and been disappointed.

  After a time, she realized there was a niggling of disenchantment at the heart of her strange moodiness. As unnerving as it had been to imagine men fighting over the honor of her hand, it had also been exciting. There had been a sense that fate would choose the perfect man for her, that she could not make the wrong choice, or her father. She would be wed to the strongest and bravest warrior among them.

  Politics had again intervened. The oldest and the youngest and least experienced of her suitors had complained that that was not a fair way to conclude the matter and they had been allowed to send their champions to fight in their place.

  Now she might well end up with a man who was not strong and brave at all, but rather the man who’d paid the best warrior. And, regardless of her sensitivity to the issues at stake, she hardly felt that that was fair to her. She might end up with a grandfather … or a boy!

  That had always been a possibility, of course, because the young and virile did not always inherit a powerful kingdom, but it was very disappointing to be allowed to think she would have a skilled, fearless warrior as husband and then discover that might not be the case at all.

  Sighing, she decided to try to put those anxieties from her mind. Now was not the time to be moping. There was to be feasting and entertainment of all sorts.

  The tournament would be far more exciting than it had ever been before for the simple reason that she would wed whoever emerged as the best.

  By her next birthday, she might well have a babe in her arms to cuddle!

  That was almost as frightening a thought as it was thrilling, though, and she rose abruptly from the lounging couch where she’d been perched almost from the time she had come up to the gardens with her ladies.

  Her beautiful gown, commissioned by her father especially for the occasion, was creased she saw in consternation when she looked down to smooth it. She was not generally prone to be so careless with her dress. Particularly not those things she owned that were as lovely as this gown, which had been fashioned of the finest silk and brocaded all over the bodice, the long, fitted sleeves, and the bell shaped skirt, and then sewn with seed pearls and tiny diamonds in a cunning floral design. From the moment she had had her first fitting, it had been her favorite, for the pale color seemed to her the perfect foil for her dark skin and the style was both fashionable and very flattering to her figure.

  Sighing with irritation at herself for crimping it, she finally dismissed it and crossed the garden to join her ladies at the garden wall.

  Leesa, the daughter of one of her father’s highest advisors, turned at her approach. Her face crinkled with barely suppressed merriment. “I thought you would not be able to resist long!”

  Aliya chuckled. “It is almost as frightening to watch as it is exciting,” she confessed, keeping her voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear her.

  Several different emotions flickered across Leesa’s face. “You are soon to be a bride. You should
have no other thought in your head but the thrill of having so many magnificent warriors vying for your hand!”

  Aliya smiled but shook her head. “It is here--I think,” she said, kneading the coil of tension in her ribs. “But....” She broke off, staring down at the mass of humanity and carts and animals below. “It is a little overwhelming, too, don’t you think?”

  “I would be absolutely petrified if all of this were on my account,” Leesa responded with a chuckle. “But you are Princess Aliya! The most beautiful princess in all the known world. You should be accustomed to this sort of--adoration!”

  Aliya’s lips flattened. A faint frown drew her brows together. “That part is almost as scary as the rest, if you must know,” she muttered. “It would almost be easier to think they had only come because they were so anxious to ally themselves to my father. It would not matter then if I was hump backed or lame--no one would be expecting perfection. What if … what if the one chosen for me does not find me the least appealing as a woman? I had expected a wedding of political significance from the time I was a small child, but I am a woman now. I may have been born a princess, but I am still a woman and I want the same things that every woman wants; a husband whom I can love and respect that will care for me.”

  Leesa stared at her in genuine confusion. “But … you are beautiful!”

  Aliya rolled her eyes. “I am a princess! Do you think I do not know that that is why I am considered beautiful? My father loves me. That is why he thinks I am beautiful. And everyone else--well they would not like to displease him, I am sure.”

  “Your grace, please forgive me if I am too familiar, but--that is just plain silly! Have you not looked in your mirror?”