He was insane. “You’re crazy. But if this makes you feel better about groping up on me, then fine. Whatever.” I made to turn away.
“Ogres never share their food,” he said. “They don’t share their personal space, and they don’t prepare food or drink for another female. Not unless they consider her mate material.”
I froze. The cocoa, the bunk, the stew … Shit. I turned back to face Hyde. “He wants to mate with me?”
“Ogres mate for life, Justice.” He looked pained. “Brady’s a good guy and you two … You two work well together. If that’s what you want, then move forward.”
“Move forward.”
“Consummate.” Hyde cleared his throat. “Consummation seals the deal. After that, he’s yours. Forever.”
He’s mine? “What about my being his?”
“The mating bond is rarely two-way. Not unless you can find a female ogre-tainted. They’re super rare.”
Oh, God, that had to suck for Brady. He could find his mate, have sex with her, and seal the deal, but she could decide she didn’t want him in a year or so. It was unfair and painful.
And he wanted to give himself to me? The thought was warming, comforting, but frightening too.
I cared about him. He was my safe zone, my happy place, but that was all … right?
Hyde was studying me with a guarded expression. “I want you to be happy, Justice. And that won’t be with me.”
He meant it. He believed it. “Why? I don’t understand?”
He tucked in his chin. “I can’t give you what you want, and you can’t give me what I need.”
“But Deana can?” There was bitterness in my tone.
He locked gazes with me. “Yes.” He took a deep breath and backed away from me. “Get some rest. There’s a long week ahead.”
* * *
Brady was nowhere to be found when I crawled into the top bunk, but the room smelled of him, and my heart ached for him. To be bound like that, to be a slave to this mating instinct.
I couldn’t lead him on.
I’d set the record straight when I saw him.
The sun was coming up in a few hours and forging was a day chore, so I’d be lucky to get a couple hours of sleep. Still, I didn’t need much.
I closed my eyes and switched off my brain.
Blood in my mouth and on my hands, but this time, it was Hyde beneath me. His hands on my waist, his body moving beneath mine, but there was something wrong. He was moaning, but not in pleasure. In pain. His hands weren’t gripping me; they were trying to push me away. I pulled back and looked down at his face, twisted in disgust. Get away from me. You’re not what I need. I need Deana. Not you. Never you. His words were like knives stabbing me in the chest, and the tears that I’d held back earlier spilled down my cheeks now.
I turned and ran.
Arms around me, thighs beneath me.
“Hush, hush, it’s all right,” Brady crooned in his soothing baritone.
The final vestiges of the dream slipped away, and the heat of Brady’s body registered. My tearstained face was pressed to his bare chest. Cedar filled my head and calmed my nerves.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded against his pectoral, feeling small, protected, and safe.
He rocked me. “Was it the same dream?”
I opened my mouth to lie, to tell him yes, but the word wouldn’t come.
He shuffled back onto his bed, taking me with him. I needed to protest. I needed to pull away, but he felt so good. It felt good in his arms.
He lay back, and my head was pillowed in the crook of his shoulder. I could take the comfort. I could take advantage, but guilt swirled in my chest.
“Brady?”
“Huh?”
“I know about your ogre mating thing …”
His body tensed, and then he sighed and relaxed against me. “I was going to talk to you after orientation week. I tried to fight it. I can’t.”
Why did it feel so natural lying here with him like this? I ran a hand over his abs, reveling as they tightened beneath my fingers.
“Indigo.” He sounded pained.
“I’m sorry. I like you a lot, but my heart—”
“I know. I don’t care,” he said. “I can’t stop this.” His hand cupped my hip, fingers warm imprints through the fabric of my shirt. “The ogre doesn’t care. It wants you, Indigo, and I can’t fight it. So … you have me, if you want me, for however long you want me.”
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. I lifted my face to his. “For now, all I can give you is friendship.”
“And snuggles?” he said, deadpan. But the word snuggles coming from Brady’s lips was just ridiculous.
I bit back a laugh. “Snuggles.”
His dark eyes were filled with stars as he looked down at me, and something sweet and unnamed twisted inside me. I reached up to run my fingers across his jaw, down his throat, and across the scars that marred his perfect skin. He didn’t even flinch as I caressed him. He didn’t pull away this time. Instead, the stars in his eyes grew brighter.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s a first.”
I frowned. “Seriously? No one’s ever told you that?”
“You don’t call an ogre-tainted beautiful and walk away on your own steam.”
Crap, had I said something offensive. “Oh.”
He smiled. “But coming from you … I’ll take it.”
Silence stretched between us, during which his lips were suddenly a most interesting feature. My hand was on his jaw again, fingers tracing the curve of his bottom lip, body tightening unexpectedly with a need that surprised me.
He took a shuddering breath and pressed his forehead to mine. “Cocoa and the sunrise?”
I breathed in his cedar scent. “Sounds perfect.”
Nine
Heat blasted against my face as we entered the forge. It was a huge stone-walled area beyond the courtyard, housing several kilns, anvils, and a shedload of tools. A barrel-chested, stocky man with a beard plaited like a Viking’s greeted us.
“This is Gunthar,” Venerick said. “He’s the master blacksmith at the fortress. He’ll be teaching you all you need to know about forging your own weapon. I’ll leave you in his care.”
Venerick walked off, leaving us standing in the intense heat, staring at the master blacksmith who studied us all with his beady, deep-set eyes.
“Three days,” he said finally. “You got three days. Axe, sword, spear tip—whatever you decide, you get three days. You’ll be using fomori steel taken directly from Dagda’s cauldron. You know about the cauldron?”
There was silence.
He hawked and spat on the ground. “Figures. Got to teach you to forge and educate you in the way of the world too.” He was grinning good-naturedly, though, and it softened his words. “Fomorians can only be killed by fomorian steel. Where did we get fomorian steel, you ask?” He held a hand to his ear in an I-can’t-hear-you gesture. “You got to ask.”
“Where did we get the steel?” Thomas asked.
“Thank you, young man,” Gunthar said. “Many o’ you don’t know this, but fomorian and Tuatha history is entwined. Lots of interbreeding going on. Lots of warring and whoring. Fomorians living on Tuatha lands and vice versa. And one such fomorian was Dagda. Famous in the annals of Fae history, even made it into a couple of human texts along with a few of the other big names. Anyway, this Dagda had a magical cauldron that would never run empty. One of the four treasures of Eirean, it is.”
“Who has the other three?” Harmon asked.
“Good question. I assume the Tuatha have them. They parted with the cauldron because it was regenerative and would help us in this war. We were also given a fragment of the sword of light, the only element that can cut into the cauldron. Then they sealed their doors and left us to our fate. Nice of them.” He didn’t sound impressed. “We slice metal we need for forging from the ca
uldron, and the cauldron regenerates.”
“What about the fir bolg?” The question was out before I could stop myself.
“The what?” He squinted at me. “The fir what?”
“The other occupants from beyond the mist.”
“Never heard o’ them.”
“It’s a name for the raiders that come into the mist,” Henrich said, appearing as if out of nowhere. He looked at me through speculative eyes. “I understand it was you that came across a fomorian in the mist and that he marked you so that he could communicate with you.”
My hand went to my forearm where the strange symbol the violet-eyed fomorian had marked me with still marred my skin. I’d known that Hyde had passed on the information of the attack, but to have the shadow master himself address me about it had panic swirling in my stomach.
I nodded. “He told me the fir bolg were trying to take out the AM posts, and he was there to find salvation.”
“A religious zealot of some description, no doubt,” Henrich said. “And this fir bolg must be the name they give their warriors. The fomorian army.”
It sounded logical except the fomorian had said the formori didn’t hurt women, but the fir bolg did, insinuating that the fir bolg were a different breed. I opened my mouth to explain this, but Henrich cut me off.
“We have been keeping the world safe from the fomorian threat for long enough to know what we’re dealing with, cadet. I understand that all this can seem overwhelming, and Master Venerick will be covering the history of shadow knights with you later this week. The information we pass down isn’t fiction. We’ve seen the damage the fomorians have done. Of course, there may be small sects who have a different view, who may cross over out of curiosity, but the majority of the fomorians want nothing more than to end us. To take over the human world.”
What I didn’t understand was why? “Why do they want this world?”
He smiled indulgently. “Power, of course. When invasion is threatened, the reason is always greed and the pursuit of power.”
So, basically, they didn’t know. I bit back the jibe, though. Pissing off the shadow master on my first day wasn’t a good idea.
“Get to work,” Henrich said. “The weapons you forge today will see you through to graduation, upon which you will be gifted a weapon forged by the master blacksmith himself.”
Gunthar grunted in agreement.
Henrich dismissed us with a flick of his hand, and Gunthar fixed his beady eyes on us.
“Now, who wants to go first?”
* * *
Hammering at fomori steel was exhausting. Hammering for hours on end in severe heat with the clang, clang of others hammering alongside me was ear numbing. But watching steel form, watching it take shape, was undeniably addictive.
Three days it had taken. Hours upon hours in the forge and countless questions to Master Blacksmith, but I was done.
I looked up. I was also the only one left in the smithy. When had the sky turned pink? Dawn was a heartbeat away.
I held up my blade, wicked and curved and sharp. I could do some damage with this, and it was the perfect size and weight to carry flush against my back. Master Gunthar had helped, of course, making sure I had the balance right, but the hard work had been mine, and that felt amazing.
“It looks good,” Hyde said from the entrance to the forge.
I set the steel down and pulled off my gloves. “Thanks.”
He stood watching me almost awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know what else to say. The last time we’d been together, we’d dry humped and then argued. How had things become so complicated, and why did I want him to step closer?
I pulled off the faceguard that was resting on the top of my head and placed it on my workstation. “I’ve enjoyed making it.”
“I can tell. Gunthar told me you put in extra hours.”
I shrugged. “It was … fun.”
“Not what most cadets would call it.”
“I’m not most cadets.”
“I know.” He took a step toward me. “Listen, Indigo. Venerick has asked me to help with the sector two barracks duty until we get a fresh sweep of first years next term. Which means we’ll probably have to work together at some point. I wanted to make sure you were okay with that?”
My throat pinched. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it if I wasn’t, but we’d said what we had to say, and this was the olive branch.
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
A shadowy figure appeared behind Hyde. I recognized the muscular shape a moment before the forge fires cast their glow onto a face cut from granite.
“Troop meeting,” Brady said. He crossed his arms and fixed his dark eyes on Hyde.
Hyde tucked in his chin, and a small smile played on his lips. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Hyde melted into the night, leaving Brady and me staring at each other across my anvil.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You want to see something amazing?”
“How can I say no to that?”
His almost-smile grew a little wider. “You can’t.” He held out his hand and then thought better of it, thrusting both into his pockets and jerking his head. “This way.”
I followed him away from the heat, reveling in the kiss of cool twilight air on my skin. He led me around the smithy and down a crooked path that led to an incline. There were buildings below. Low squat ones that reminded me of barracks pushed together, but there was also an enclosed paddock, and in the paddock were figures loping about.
We drew closer.
Oh, God.
Hounds.
There were fomorian hounds in the paddock—massive, fierce beasts with ridged snouts and paws the size of my head—and sitting atop them were riders. Shadow knights. They were riding the fomorian hounds.
My pulse picked up the pace as Brady led me all the way down to the training grounds until we were close enough for me to smell the sweat, feel the heat rising off the beasts, and feel the kick of dirt on my shins as they barreled past.
They ran in circles. Some had manes, others didn’t. And the riders wore full armor and no saddle. How the heck were they staying on?
“Younglings,” a female voice said.
I looked away from the beasts in surprise to find a slender, silver-haired woman standing a little way to our right. She looked young, probably not much older than me.
“They’re training,” she said. “Magnificent, aren’t they?” She smiled at me. “The female cadet. Nice to know you.” She didn’t hold out a hand, and the wording of her greeting told me she was feyblood. Tuatha descended. Maybe not so young then? Because the Tuatha descended aged super slow.
“Jemima runs the stables,” Brady explained. “She’s a natural with the hounds.”
Jemima’s cheeks flushed. “Ah, it’s nothing. They’re smart creatures.”
“But docile?” I looked to the pen. “They aren’t wild.”
“Born here, on this side of the mist. Raised by yours truly,” she said with a hint of pride. “They know our scent and our ways. They’re loyal to us. Ones born in the mist are mutated and mostly unhinged. And those from the other side are loyal to the fomori.” She looked to Brady, and her eyes lit up. “Would you like to introduce your friend to Athos?” There was a teasing note in her voice. “He’s missed you.”
Brady looked uncertain. “I don’t think he’s ready for visitors yet.”
Jemima shrugged, looking almost smug. “I suppose you may be right. Bringing a stranger into his pen may be unwise.”
I was intrigued. “Who’s Athos?”
“A pain in the butt,” Jemima answered for Brady. “An arse to train. Wants to do things his way or no way. Henrich wanted him put down. But then Brady took a shine to him.”
Brady chuckled. “More like he took a shine to me.”
“True,” she agreed with a conspiratorial smile. “Athos is now Brady’s hound. He was assigned to him last term. But we’re still working on get
ting him to play nicely with other cadets. Aside from Brady, I’m the only other person who can step into his pen and not get attacked.”
My scalp prickled at her tone. It was possessive, smug, almost as if she reveled in the fact that she shared Athos with Brady, and yeah, it was probably a dumb move, but suddenly, I wanted to know the hound too. I wanted to be in the pen with it and not get attacked.
“I’d love to meet him.” I looked up at Brady. “Please.”
He looked torn, but Jemima jumped right in.
“Oh, let her see him, Brady. We’ll be right there with her. Between us, we can calm Athos down if need be.” There it was once again, that tone that suggested they were a team of some kind.
And maybe they were.
Who was I to judge or get annoyed? But heck, I was irritated by it, and that pissed me off more.
Brady looked unconvinced, but Jemima was already heading off toward the stables.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder.
Brady sighed and then shrugged. “Let’s do this.”
The stables smelled of hay and manure and something sweet and pleasant. Young men dressed in britches and tunics hurried to and fro carrying buckets of raw meat.
“Feeding time,” Jemima said.
The door to each pen was huge, and I caught sight of snouts and intelligent red-rimmed eyes peering over the top. There was enough space for them to stick out their heads but not enough room to jump out. And the walkway between the pens was wide enough to avoid getting chomped on if one of them decided to try for a bite.
Good to know.
We stopped outside the final pen.
Brady stepped forward with a slight smile and peered in through the rectangular gap in the door. “How you doing, Athos?” His voice was low, soothing, and filled with a warmth that sent a tingle of awareness through me. There was a low answering rumble from the pen.
Brady chuckled, opened the door, and stepped in.
I glanced at Jemima to see a soppy smile on her face. It was an I-adore-you smile, and I doubt it was aimed at Athos. Damn, she had the hots for Brady. Something jagged twisted inside me.
Shadow Weaver: The Nightwatch Academy book 2 Page 6