“I was curious when I saw you leave the realm. I followed you and…” he tugged at Gardelle’s wrists more, getting the man to ease his grip somewhat, “…Brina fell. I caught her.”
He gasped. “It was real? She fell again?”
“Again?”
Calming, Gardelle flew them to the rooftop and landed, releasing Lazar in the process. “She is prone to sleepwalking.”
“She seemed awake enough to me,” Lazar countered. “Though she mentioned my wings and then fainted.”
Gardelle came at him fast, and Lazar expected the warrior to go to blows. Instead, the man hugged him in a strange manner, almost as one would a long-lost friend or relative, and released him. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
“Who is she?”
A pregnant pause followed before Gardelle spoke. “She is my niece.”
Lazar snorted. “Right. She smells of humanity. She is no shifter. Not to mention the Kingdom of Hawks has been without births until the recent ones of the two nobles and Sachin.”
The look Gardelle gave Lazar made his laughter die on his tongue. “My sister was a half-sister—the product of my father’s affair with a human woman. My mother was less than pleased when it came to light, and she had my sister taken from the human realm and given to your people—to the Falco—as punishment. To teach my father a lesson for daring to lie with another.”
Lazar sucked in a big breath. “No.”
A steely expression stole over Gardelle’s face. “Yes. Much to my mother’s dismay, the Falco warrior who found my sister did not run her through with his sword. He took her home to his wife who, like so many at the time, found herself barren and longing for a child to tend to.”
“You’re saying your sister was raised by a Falco couple?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I was already many cycles when she was born. When I learned of her existence and the circumstances surrounding it, I went to the people who had her with the intention of taking her to raise her myself. What I found shocked me.” He met Lazar’s gaze and swallowed hard. “She was not only being raised by a Falco couple, she was loved and cherished by them. In addition, the couple who had taken her in were not lowborn. No. They were noble.”
Lazar listened carefully.
“Brenya, my sister, grew into a beautiful woman.”
The night seemed to spin around Lazar. “Brenya? As in the Brenya who passed while giving birth to a daughter some twenty-plus cycles ago? Sabrina?”
Gardelle drew back. “How is it you know this information? It is not common knowledge. Only the highest among the Falco are aware a child had been conceived. Great shame was placed upon my sister because of the man she chose to lay with. He was far from a nobleman, but they tell me he was a good man. An honest Falco man.”
“But he was not Latravis,” Lazar said, his words clipped. “And Latravis had decided to take Brenya to his bed. When he learned a child already quickened in her belly, he was livid. He called for her execution and that of the man she had given herself to.” He remembered the day well. The young tailor whom Brenya had fallen in love with had been executed in the courtyard for all to see. Lazar had been ordered to find and kill Brenya but had disobeyed, choosing instead to take her to a safe location before fabricating her death as well.
“A warrior among the Falco took pity upon my sister and helped her escape Latravis’s reach.” Gardelle appeared far away in thought for a moment. “She survived him only to die in childbirth.”
“No,” Lazar added, a long pause hanging in the air. “She did not pass during the birth of her child. She passed directly after. She lived long enough to name the child.”
“And you know this how?” Gardelle demanded, stalking towards him. He stopped in mid-motion. “You were there, weren’t you?”
A tiny incline of the head was all that was needed.
“You look like him,” Gardelle said, glancing him over. “The same eyes.”
Lazar stiffened, already knowing of whom Gardelle referred to.
Latravis.
“Have no fear. Your secret is safe with me so long as you promise to keep Sabrina’s existence to yourself. If Latravis finds her, he’ll use her as leverage.”
“Over?”
Lifting a brow, Gardelle brought attention to his scar. “You tell me, Lazar. Who would be hurt the most if Sabrina were to be taken by Latravis? If he were to impose a forced mating upon her, who would he have power over?”
“Sabrina’s true mate,” he answered without thought.
Gardelle stared harder at him. “And who do you think this mate might be? Think hard, Lazar. Who risked all, most likely unsure why, to assure she was born and kept from harm?”
He did.
Lazar swayed and would have fallen had Gardelle not reached out to steady him. He knew she was his mate, yet hearing it spelled out and knowing the threat that existed to her was overwhelming.
With a shake of his head, Gardelle exhaled slowly. “All this time, you have been right under my nose and I knew not you were the one I seek. A piece of me feared the rumored eldest brother would be even crueler than Latravis—that I would be handing my niece to a monster. One she was born for. You know the Oracles and their prophecies. None have been wrong yet.”
Lazar’s knees felt weak, and he sank to his backside on the roof, the knowledge his mate was not only alive but within the house below him too much to bear. For so long he’d thought his chance at true happiness had been ripped away, that his brother had murdered it along with so many others. Emotions bombarded him, taking root in his very soul. Everything was different now.
“I assumed Latravis had Sabrina executed while I was off on a mission,” he confessed. The emotions he’d felt that day were as real now as they had been nearly twenty cycles ago. “I returned to the castle to find she was gone. And when I questioned Latravis on the matter, he laughed and said he’d seen to the matter—that the little fledging would be an issue no more. The seers had been clear and set when they told me the child was born for me, that she was my chosen one. I tried to see to it she was cared for and raised near me so I could protect her always, but I failed her.” His throat tightened. “The minute I was gone, I thought my brother had her driven through with a sword.”
Gardelle took a seat next to Lazar. “I believe he would have. While on a scouting mission for Kabril, I spotted Sabrina playing near an opening in the castle.”
Lazar’s eyes widened. He knew how high the Falco castle battlements were and where Sabrina had to be shooed away from often. “She cannot shift forms. Should she have fallen, it would have been to her death.”
“She did fall, Lazar.” Gardelle’s every word was careful as if not to lose himself in painful memories. “I stopped my quest for the king and caught the child in midair. She looked up at me with eyes I knew well—eyes identical to my sister’s. I felt it then, the connection to my family line.” He grinned, but it was crooked due to the scar. “She stared at me and called me avunculus—uncle. You know how our family lines are imprinted upon us at birth. She knew. She knew and she trusted me fully. It was then I knew her to be Brenya’s child. When I landed with her, a hag was there, as if knowing I would be as well. I learned long ago to never question the magik of our kind. She told me quickly of a prophecy involving my niece. That Sabrina was born for the rightful king of the Falco, and that she must be guarded from her own kind until the king was ready to claim his throne and his mate.”
Lazar’s shoulders slumped.
“So, here we are. From the age of three, I have raised Sabrina among humans, telling her nothing of our kind, fearing if she knew the truth, she would seek to return because, like so many of us, she is curious and feels as though she belongs anywhere but here.”
Unable to verbalize his emotions, Lazar put his hand on Gardelle’s arm and patted it, nodding.
Gardelle chuckled. “You do not have to thank me. She is my niece, and I love her greatly. Keep in mind that I raised her believing the hag to
be wrong—that there was no son older than Latravis and that Sabrina had no true mate.” He stiffened. “You’ll not think to be taking her from me on this night. You are nowhere near ready to lead anyone, let alone a woman.”
Lazar opened his mouth to protest.
“Was that not you I spotted, again, in the buttery, fucking two of the kitchen wenches just yesterday? Your prowess is well-known in the castle. It is said you have had almost all of the help since you arrived and that you frequent the beds of the village whorehouse often enough.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ll not have that around my niece. She deserves better. A man who desires her and her alone. Not one who fucks anything that moves.”
While his words were harsh, they were also true. Lazar had taken to craving intercourse several times a day, as if he were trying to fill a void that refused to have anything in it.
Not anything.
Anything but Sabrina.
Drawing in a sharp breath, he ran his hands through his blond hair. His chin sank to his chest, a sure sign of defeat. “I am a man without my people, without a title, without anything but myself to offer Sabrina, and even that I have offered to every whore I have come across.”
Gardelle said nothing to contradict him.
“I will go,” he said, standing, preparing to take flight.
Gardelle rose to his feet, regarding Lazar with hauteur. “Do you do that often?”
“Do what?” He paused with a long, searching stare placed firmly upon Gardelle.
Stiffening haughtily, Gardelle returned the look. “Run the moment things become too much for you to bear? I mean, you reside in our kingdom now because you ran from your problems in your own, or am I wrong?”
Yes and no.
“Now you run from a female who is but chest high. Perhaps you should go. I want not for my niece to be mated to a coward.”
Anger seeped through Lazar’s pores. His mouth contorted with rage. He lunged at Gardelle, his intention to inflict as much damage as possible.
The warrior sidestepped him, taking a stance that screamed superiority. Sadly, in this instance he did have the upper hand.
“You are almost too easy to bait, Lazar. Learn to control your temper, or Latravis will use it against you.” Gardelle extended a hand of friendship to Lazar. “Come. I believe it is time my niece met my old, dear, trusted friend from Eastern Europe.”
“From where?”
“Far from here. Go with me on this. Your accent is thick enough to assure she’ll never believe you’re a local. While you may enjoy the human realm, you are certainly not from it.”
Lazar was confused but shook the man’s hand all the same. He hesitated. “Gardelle, there is something you should know.”
“More than you are the half-brother to the crazed king of the enemy and mate to my niece?” he questioned with a sardonic grin.
Lazar considered leaving it at that but took a deep breath and told him the truth. “I have dreamed of Sabrina for nearly five years. Of exactly how she is now.”
Gardelle’s grip on Lazar’s hand bordered on too tight. “Dreamed of her how? Visions?”
He licked his lips. There were many details—too many to count—that Lazar felt were left best unsaid in regards to how he’d dreamed of Sabrina. “You might say that, yes.” He wisely pried his hand from Gardelle’s grip.
The warrior’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “These dreams are not appropriate to speak of with me, her uncle, are they?”
“No.” Lazar prepared to be attacked. Gardelle would be within his rights as only kin to Sabrina and her guardian.
Exercising amazing restraint, Gardelle remained in place. “I believe she has dreamed of you as well. Though she has never told me details of her dreams.”
Lazar grimaced. If she really had shared dreams with him, then it was best she not tell her uncle. “When I caught her and spoke to her, she said she knew my voice.”
“She would, wouldn’t she? From when she was little.”
Lazar hadn’t thought of that. He nodded. “I thought perhaps the legends of mates dream sharing were true.”
With a tilt of his head, Gardelle put a hand on his hip, seeming to ponder the idea. “Mayhap they are.”
“Gardelle?” Sabrina’s voice cut through the darkness. “Did you find a giant birdman yet? I’m going to make some tea. Want a cup, or would you rather keep hunting mythical creatures? Oo, if you find Bigfoot, be sure to call me. I want to meet him. Better yet, anyone with wings? Bring ‘em in, okay, and tell him that I want to be taken flying straightaway, got it?”
Lazar hid his smile. If she only knew.
Gardelle laughed, but it sounded somewhat forced. “Coming, Brina!” He motioned to Lazar. “You and I have some things to discuss, and you will require proper clothing. As you well know, humans do not run about in loincloths.”
Lazar flew behind Gardelle through a large open window. He landed in what he assumed to be Gardelle’s bedchamber.
Gardelle motioned to the wardrobe there. “Find something to wear, and we shall fly down and enter the home the way humans do—through the back door. I’ve worked hard assuring my niece knows nothing of our kind. I’ll not have that ruined just yet. She will need time enough to accept all that will be laid before her. Throwing it all upon her lap on this night will not occur. Am I clear?”
“Of course.” Seemed a waste of time, but Lazar wanted to meet Sabrina and would go to whatever length Gardelle deemed necessary.
Chapter Four
Sabrina exited the expansive kitchen as she heard her uncle coming in the back door. He rarely used the front, which she found to be yet another oddity to pin to Gardelle. She stepped into the hallway. Her uncle wasn’t alone. She froze at the sight of the man with him.
Her jaw dropped.
It was him.
The man from her dreams.
The one with the wings.
The one she was positive was her dream lover.
The man followed her uncle deeper into the mudroom. His chin-length, sandy-blond hair looked slightly windblown. His burnt-umber gaze bore into her, and she had to put a hand on the wall to stay upright.
Whoa. That is a lot of man meat.
She jerked, surprised by her rush of hormones and obvious signs of being influenced by her best friend Lisa. It was Lisa who thought of men as objects to be drooled over when need be. Not Sabrina. Not until now.
“Brina,” Gardelle said, his tone amused. “A friend of mine has stopped past. Since you’re up, I thought you might enjoy it if he joined us for tea.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times. What could she possibly say? She could barely think, let alone form a response.
“Something the matter?” her uncle asked.
“Him,” she muttered, pointing to the newcomer. All actual intelligent thought process seemed to stop working at the same time. Yes, the man certainly had a way of sending her into hormone overdrive. If she wasn’t careful, she’d hear the telltale sound of her biological clock beginning to tick. Man meat wasn’t to be taken lightly, that much was for sure. “He’s the guy with wings.”
Gardelle huffed. “Ah, right. Wings. Aha. You do realize you were just dreaming, right?”
Yes. That didn’t take from the fact the very man she’d dreamt of catching her was now standing in the mudroom, staring at her while he looked like sex on a stick.
“Brina, this is Lazar,” Gardelle said, as if it were no big deal her dream lover was corporeal. “He’s an old friend of mine. I phoned him earlier, telling him to stop past regardless the time. It’s so rare that he’s in the States that I didn’t want to chance not seeing him. He’ll stay with us a bit. I’m sure you understand.”
“In the States?” she asked, finally getting something that resembled sane and coherent to fall from her lips. She was just happy it wasn’t the words man meat.
“He’s from a small village in Eastern Europe,” Gardelle stressed, as if that answer alone should stand on its merit. He had t
o know better. “You wouldn’t know it. It’s near the one I was born and raised in.”
Lazar inclined his head, his gaze still locked firmly upon her. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She nearly swooned at the sound of his voice. Sexy. Rich. Deep. Tinted with an accent she couldn’t quite place yet was familiar to her. It was similar to her uncle’s and very close to someone else she knew.
Latravis.
She stiffened. Fainting was not an option. In her dreams maybe, but in real life. No. Absolutely not.
Her hormones kept stoking the fire inside her, and she actually fanned herself with her hand just to keep from actually falling over.
Darn that man meat.
“Brina.” Gardelle eyed her attire. “I’ll show Lazar to the sitting room while you go change into something more fitting company.”
She glanced down at herself and groaned. “I’d meet him in my nightgown. Perfect. Night keeps getting better and better.”
She winced, realizing she’d spoken out loud.
Grr, stupid man meat!
Her uncle’s laughter echoed behind her as she turned and raced upstairs, changing quickly. The dress she selected came to mid-thigh. It had a high-banded waist, just under her breasts. It was a throwback to the sixties and one of her favorites. She didn’t want to be rude and spend hours primping, so she wrapped her hair in a loose bun and tossed some clear lip gloss on before grabbing a pair of sandals and heading back down the stairs.
She went straight to the kitchen, and the kettle began to whistle. She removed it from the burner and set about preparing a tray to serve tea on. It was heavy and awkward to carry. She entered the sitting room, as her uncle called it, and Lazar’s attention moved to her. He stood from his seat and came at her, putting his hands out.
“Here. Let me help,” he said, moving even closer.
His hands skimmed hers as he took the tray from her. Heat flared up her arms from his touch, and she was pretty sure she’d simply ignite soon. Body temperatures were not meant to run as high as hers currently was. Was it possible to have man-meat heat stroke? She didn’t want to lose contact with him, but she didn’t want to pass out either.
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