Bloodflower

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Bloodflower Page 32

by K. J. Harrowick


  Ashe pressed a hand to his mouth. “Are you trying to get her killed?”

  Mud covered his aching back as Jon followed Ashe’s gaze to a tall, silver pole. Blue light flashed at the top. “What the fuck is that thing?”

  “Frank is watching her,” Ashe whispered harshly.

  Andrew crashed into his brother, hugging him tight as Jon rolled to a crouch. Fury gripped his chest, followed by a wave of dark obsession. The invader magic fueled his need to kill Frank as he gestured to Ashe: where?

  With her lover, Ashe gestured.

  “Kale.” Jon clenched his fist and climbed onto his horse. He’d had enough of that asshole for one lifetime, and he wasn’t about to lose Jàden without a fight. He signaled Ashe: show me.

  It was about time he had it out with that bastard. Jon sure as shit wasn’t going to leave her in the hands of her ex.

  Ashe had paled and thinned in the past few days, dark rings around his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. Something in him was different, darker.

  A woman with silver-blond hair stepped onto the path, dark brown lines across her features like tree branches. “You comin’ or what? I still ain’t had my dinner.”

  Ashe retreated toward her. “Shut your damn mouth, woman, and go kill something. You’ve been moaning the whole way here.”

  “Then quit layin’ around being lazy.” The woman punched him so hard Ashe fell flat on his back. “I got a wife to get home to.”

  Dusty and Theryn had their arrows strung and tight, but the woman laughed them off. “Oh your man ain’t hurt. You kill me, and there ain’t gonna be no gator stew for you bastards.”

  Ashe groaned and stumbled to his feet, mumbling curses.

  Jon and his men followed in silence, keeping their heads down and their faces covered. They trotted past the silver, metallic object, and Jon itched to draw his sword and rip it all down. But if anyone was watching, it could give them away.

  Once the silver object was out of sight, Ashe wrangled his horse alongside, telling Jon everything that had happened from Éli’s men to the poison to the buried temple. “Them shifters were following us from sahiranath territory. They may have saved my life, but I still don’t trust ‘em.”

  “Then why the fuck did you leave her?” As relived as Jon was to see Ashe alive, his anger burned deep and hot. And the stronger it got, the harder it was to feel Jàden’s soft breath weaving through him.

  “Because at least two of them assholes are trying to protect her. Including that piece of work.” He gestured toward the blond woman.

  “I don’t like the other guy, but he sticks close to her the way you do. They all got that bird thing of hers inked into their bodies, like they know her or something.”

  Ashe slowed his horse as they ducked under thick kóra trees. “These people are ruled by women who hate Rakir. Keep your weapons sheathed.”

  Clenching the reins, Jon nudged his horse ahead of the others as women in drab browns and bright feathers materialized from the grass.

  “You are not welcome here,” a dark-skinned woman shouted, tiny orange blossoms in a line across her forehead.

  The twins stopped at either side of Jon, Ashe holding out the bow he’d been using. “We’re here for our Guardian. Tell Braygen.”

  “Jon!”

  The unmistakable sound of Jàden’s voice sent Jon’s heart pounding.

  “Jàden!” He tried to wrangle his horse toward her.

  But the shifter women bunched together in a long line, forcing the black to rear up.

  “First one to fire an arrow will become denerada.” An older woman with deep wrinkles in her skin shuffled through the line of women. Leaning heavily on a thick cane, her long, gray hair shed dry leaves with each step. Yet her voice commanded authority.

  The women eased the tension on their arrows and stepped aside, showing deference to the older woman.

  Dropping the reins, Jon slid to the ground, fighting to hold back the nausea. If that bastard Kale was here, Jon wanted him to understand right away that he wasn’t about to give up Jàden without a fight. “I’m here for my wife.”

  “We will not give up our women for your kind.” The orange-flowered woman spat at the ground.

  Jàden pushed through the crowd, her eyes wild with anger. He could almost sense her frustration as she raced to his side and shoved him backward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Grabbing his horse’s mane to steady himself, Jon tried to blink away the dizziness. “Jàden—”

  “No.” She shoved him again. “‘You and I are equals.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

  Fuck, he could barely see straight. He was the captain here and needed to get this situation under control. “I was angry.”

  “Well, now I’m furious. You should have told me about the bond, Jon. I can’t be—”

  “You gutted me, Jàden. You ripped everything out of me without so much as a warning.” This was not the place to have this fight. Jon could practically feel the eyes of every woman boring into him.

  Grabbing the back of Jàden’s neck, he pulled her close, her magic surging brighter the moment his skin touched hers.

  “I know the bond doesn’t mean the same thing to you, but I don’t care. Call me your husband or your bodyguard. As long as I can be near you.” Guardians be damned, he wanted to kiss her again.

  But the old woman was standing so close she was breathing on him. Clenching his jaw, it took every ounce of restraint Jon had not to yell at her.

  “I am Ìana, daughter of the great wind and ruler of Veradóra,” the old woman said.

  He didn’t honestly care who she was. Jon would take his men and leave—but not without Jàden, whose brown eyes filled with angry tears. She’d still said nothing, hadn’t even touched him.

  Jon dropped his hand, and the bright spark that was her essence dimmed, leaving him dizzy and nauseated.

  Ìana laid a hand on each of Jàden’s cheeks. “So the rumors are true. Our Herana lives.”

  Jàden kept her gaze fixed on him, but her words were for Ìana. “If you allow us one more night of rest in your fields, we’ll be gone by morning. I found what I was looking for.”

  As the tears slid down her cheeks, Jon ached to pull her into his arms.

  And yet the sting of her words stabbed his heart. She’d found Kale, and he had every intention of sorting this whole mess out before the next dawn. No way would he lose her to a dead man. Nor would he stay with the certainty that Éli and his men would circle back and find their trail.

  Jàden pulled Ìana’s hands away from her cheeks and stepped back, her eyes now on a man speaking quietly with Ashe.

  “Let Herana’s companions rest, Ìana,” the sandy-haired man said. “At dawn, they will be gone, and so will I.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Veradóra

  Jàden could barely hold herself together as she leaned against the door inside her hut. She was so happy to see Jon and the others, but her anger toward Frank erupted in harsh words she desperately wanted to take back.

  I love you, with every piece of my heart, Kale’s voice whispered through her thoughts. Pressing her hands to her eyes, she tried to stop the tears, but they kept coming.

  She wanted to hold onto Kale’s heart-wrenching words. But Braygen’s revelation had her torn apart inside. I wanted to be the hero that found you.

  “Kale.” Similar physique, same color hair, but all the broken pieces of the man she loved were gone. If it was him, Kale had been born where he could live two lives—disappear with the wind and smile like he held some secret happiness in this world. No Frank, no broken dreams. Just a gentle man with a kind heart.

  She couldn’t let him be broken again. Not because of her. She’d finish this mess first and then either tell him who he was or let him continue his life of peace. All the pieces still didn’t quite fit together in her head, but she was an emotional wreck of anger and desperation.

  Jàden yanked
open the door and stormed onto the bridge.

  “Training in one hour,” Thomas shouted after her.

  “Fuck off, Thomas.”

  He could live another night without smacking a stick against her brand. There was only one way to stop this pain in her heart, to let go of the urge to hide all the anguish while it festered.

  Without bothering to knock, she shoved open the door to the next hut and slammed it behind her. “This argument isn’t over.”

  As long as she’d known him, Jon was like a stallion, charging into everything head on until he was satisfied with the outcome. Jàden wasn’t sure yet what she wanted at the end of this argument, but Jon had seen her at her worst and nothing seemed to shake him.

  As he gripped a nearby chair, his skin paler than usual, it seemed as if he struggled to stand.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have never bonded you if I’d known. I was desperate—”

  Jon crossed the floor in two strides and pressed his mouth against hers.

  Heat ignited in her gut. Jàden shoved his shoulders, but her back hit the door and his tongue brushed across hers.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deeper kiss. The Flame’s power brightened a little more each time her fingers brushed his skin, pushing back the dark oil of Éli’s suffocating power.

  Jàden was forever cursed to be in love with two men. With Kale happy and free, she couldn’t drag him back into the nightmare of her life. Not until Frank and Bradshaw were dead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the bond?” she whispered against his mouth.

  Apparently this was going to be how they argued tonight.

  And her body didn’t complain one bit.

  “I wanted to so many times.” Jon leaned his forehead against hers. He caressed his thumb across her cheek, tracing back a lock of stray hair. His calloused hand was gentle against her skin. “I’ve never wanted any woman so much in my damn life. You are everything to me.”

  She breathed in his earthy scent as she traced the scruffy beard along his jaw. “I’m sorry I got you into this whole mess.”

  “Ain’t any bigger than my own.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “It’s you and me now, and I ain’t never letting you go.”

  Jon tossed her on the bed. His hands lost contact, and his strength in her skin dimmed until she couldn’t feel him anymore. The cold empty void of darkness slid through her as he pulled off his shirt, his branded shoulder glistening obsidian in the hearth firelight.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making love to my wife.” He dropped on top of her and trapped her against the blankets, fierce desire bleeding into his kiss. Tendrils of shadow wrapped around his forearms as he slid his hand beneath her bodice.

  The ache in her heart wouldn’t go away.

  She needed more and wrapped one leg around his, the darker magic absorbing into her. Jàden caressed his arms, the corded muscle tight as his calloused hands wove a gentle spell along her skin.

  As he kissed along her neck and down to her hip, Jàden groaned.

  Two long years she’d withered in the empty cold of her cage, and Jon’s mouth against her stomach filled her with an intoxicating need that burned between her thighs.

  Jon kissed and caressed her until he’d practically torn her bodice off. As he moved up her body again, Jàden curled her fingers in his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss, brushing her tongue along his.

  She needed this, needed him, absorbing his warmth as he slid his hand along her thigh.

  He tugged her breeches, kissing down to her hips again until he had her pants off. The energy between them burned brighter with each new connection, each caress of his mouth against her skin.

  Jon kissed along the inside of her thigh.

  She gripped the blankets tight, years and decades and millennia of loneliness peeling away with each intimate caress.

  With years of pain shedding through her tears, Jàden grabbed his arms and pulled him up so she could see his eyes. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  She tugged the leather belt holding up his breeches, but Jon pulled her hands back to his cheeks. His beard prickled against her fingertips.

  He kissed her palm, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply of her scent. His hands deft and fast, he shed the last of his clothing within seconds. Jon caressed her thigh, sliding his hand between her legs before he pushed two fingers inside her.

  Jàden arched back, a soft moan escaping her lips. A shiver traveled from her thighs up her spine, a faint tingle blossoming in her skull. She kissed his upper arm, lips moving across the strong, muscular definition.

  Her mouth found his again, and she wrapped her legs around him.

  “I can’t live without you,” she whispered.

  The words had slipped out without thought, and yet truth blossomed. She needed Jon, and the thought of dividing herself from him nearly brought a sob to the surface.

  He pushed his hardness inside her, his groan fanning the fire in her belly.

  Jàden tightened her legs and pulled him deeper. She wrapped her tongue around his, the emotional aches and pains bubbling up to the surface.

  As the fire dimmed in the hearth, his intimacy washed away the loneliness she’d endured for too many years. The Flame’s power fed the forged energy tangling them together, breathing his strength into her until the swallowing darkness retreated to the corners of her mind.

  Tendrils of light and shadow circled around them. Binding them.

  The blended magic fueled her desire until sweat covered her body. She leaned her forehead against Jon’s shoulder, feeling him shudder beneath her.

  He pulled her close.

  Caressing a lock of hair, he slid his fingers along the back of her head.

  She stretched out across his chest. Jàden pressed her forehead against his neck and closed her eyes. The steady thumping in his chest lulled her senses. They stayed that way until the fire died down, Jàden more content than she’d been in years.

  “Why does Éli hate you so much?” Jàden traced the scars on Jon’s chest, each one a roadmap to a rough life in the north.

  “I killed his brother.” The ember on the end of Jon’s cigarette glowed brightly, smoke curling from his lips. “I was nine when it happened. My father took my sisters into the city, and before he left, he gave me my first real dagger. Told me I was in charge and needed to protect my mother.”

  She caressed his chest, small rough spots on his skin giving her a glimpse of Jon’s past.

  “A Rakir named Sebastian Hareth came on the farm and demanded my mother make him a hot meal. When she refused, he punched her so hard she flew into the wall.” His hand tightened against her head. “He beat and raped my mother, and I couldn’t stop him. I knew I’d never be able to look my father in the eye again, so I stole his horse and followed Sebastian into the city.

  “I found him in an alley beating an old man, with my mother’s blood still on his knuckles. When he wasn’t looking, I crept up behind him and stabbed him in the back, right where I knew he’d bleed out the fastest.”

  Jon’s fingers traced through her hair, caressing gently as if giving himself comfort from the intimate touch.

  “Years later, I found out Sebastian was Éli’s only remaining family. Éli was taken to the Tower with the other orphans and branded a Rakir.” His hand stopped again, and he flicked his spent cigarette into the hearth. “I stole his life, Jàden. Stole his family. But avenging my mother never erased the memory of what Sebastian did to her.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her forehead against his cheek.

  “I couldn’t live with the guilt of what I’d done, so I left home and joined the Rakir, hoping to shoulder the injustice I’d done to Éli.”

  “But you probably saved so many other lives.” Tears burned on her cheeks at the guilt in his words. “This is his revenge, to make
you suffer for it?”

  Flames crackled in the hearth, burning low on the stack of logs. The hushed whispers outside had ceased, wrapping the world in silence.

  “He wants me to feel his pain. Éli thought I was taunting him when I joined the Rakir. His anger turned to obsession, and for the last twenty years, he’s become darker and crueler.”

  “On my life, I’ll never let him hurt you,” he said. Jon laid his hands on her cheeks and pulled her mouth against his, kissing her deeply.

  Jàden breathed deep of sweat and mountain and sea. This had become her home—her safe space. “I love you, Jon.”

  “You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered, gently kissing her forehead. “This life, next life, it doesn’t matter. I love you with every piece of my heart.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Veradóra

  Be strong, Jàden.

  She jolted awake, Kale’s whispered voice echoing across her sleepy thoughts. Frogs chirruped along the outer banks of the quiet village, only the faintest whisper of voices on the bridge.

  She curled into Jon’s side, his skin cool and clammy.

  Jàden lifted her head. His breath was raspy, and he muttered incoherently.

  She traced her mouth across his, hoping to rekindle the fire in their bond, but her own body had a strange heaviness, as if thick tar covered her arms and legs. “Jon?”

  He didn’t stir.

  Jàden shifted to her elbow and kissed his forehead, but something slick thrummed along her skin. An oily ooze dancing through the lines of theric energy.

  Éli’s power was growing.

  “Hey, wake up,” she said.

  Find the other Flame, Kale’s voice whispered into her thoughts.

  Jàden uncurled Jon’s fingers, black flecks drifting away from his skin as she recalled the words etched on the temple wall. Light cannot exist without darkness.

  She lifted her hand, darkness and light lifting from her palm. She’d bonded with Éli, but even her power hadn’t been right since then. Doing the math in her head, they would need three bonds to create the ‘spark.’

 

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