Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3)

by Linda Kage

  “I think I’d like to read a book like that,” I murmured.

  “I’m not so sure you’d be the bookish type,” she countered, eyeing me with a considering squint. “You’re much too…” A flush stole over her as she coughed and muttered, “Physical.”

  When a surge of arousal flooded me through my mark, my cock grew so uncomfortably constrained in my pants. I kind of worried it might pop the stitches in the fabric open.

  I shifted slightly to make more room in the lap area and also to ensure that my thigh landed just a little closer to hers. Not about to let on that I knew she was currently desiring me, I innocently asked, “What was your favorite book?” Then I leaned in, just a fraction closer, guessing, “The Princess Bride one?”

  Our knees brushed.

  She noticed. Her gaze strayed down, and she couldn’t seem to look away. “No. I…” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I watched that one as a movie.”

  “Hmm.” I reached out and caught a piece of hair that fluttered into her face with a gust of breeze. Her eyes jerked up. I smiled innocently and gently tucked the blond tresses behind her ear, then dropped my hand again, as I asked, “Then your favorite book was…?”

  Blinking once, then twice, she had to shake her head before answering, “I don’t think I had just one…” Her hands turned busy as she gathered her empty plate and fork in her lap as if she were getting ready to stand. “There were so many; it would be impossible to play favorites. But there was this one series of books. Aunt Taiki read the first two to me, a chapter every night before bed. It was about a boy, who received a letter from a horde of owls and then this bearded giant, telling him he had magical powers.”

  I wrinkled my nose. An owl? Delivering letters? Everyone knew only ravens or pigeons were capable or smart enough to transport missives from place to place. But owls? How peculiar.

  Then I realized, wait…

  “You read a book about magic in a world where it doesn’t even exist?”

  “Yes!” Her smile bloomed. “But that’s what made it so spectacular.” In her animated excitement to tell me more, Quilla turned her body toward mine and leaned closer, making my nostrils flare when the scent of her skin reached my nose. “The author had no idea how real magic—the kind we have here—worked, so she had to make up what she thought it would be like. It was so bizarre and backward compared to what it’s like here, that I wished her version was the true way.”

  “It sounds interesting,” I allowed.

  “It was stupid,” Melaina spoke up from the other side of Quilla. “But do you want to know what’s even stupider than those books?”

  You, I wanted to snarl, for rudely interrupting this moment I was having with my one true love just as I was finally getting her to open up and talk to me.

  But what she said was, “You,” as she looked right at me. “And your pathetic attempt to flirt so innocently and purely with her while your damn cock is practically leaping out of your trousers because you’re so aroused.”

  “Melaina!” Quilla scolded, surging to her feet and scowling at her aunt while I shifted my empty plate to cover my lap. “Enough.”

  “Enough what?” Melaina asked, fluttering her lashes pertly. “Enough speaking the truth?”

  “Enough baiting us and intentionally stirring up unease. And besides, he wasn’t flirting.” When she glanced my way with raised eyebrows to confirm her own words, I set a hand over my heart, supporting her claim.

  “Right,” I agreed. “It’d be completely obvious if I was flirting.”

  “Oh, brother,” Melaina muttered. “Of course, he’s going to agree with you. The man wants to get inside you like he wants his next breath. As if he’s going to dare disagree with anything you say right now.”

  I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about, old woman? I disagree with her all the time.”

  “I am not old.” Melaina gasped even though she had to be somewhere around Quilla’s and my age combined. She immediately began to stroke the deep red curls of her hair as if I’d somehow insulted her flaming locks. “And I’m not talking about the you from earlier today, before you murdered your cousin and went all sulky, oh-woe-is-me.”

  I scowled at her because an arrow of pain sliced through my gut, making me remember earlier and what had happened with Axel.

  “I’m talking about right now, while you know she’s worried about you and being nice to appease her own guilt. No way in hell are you going to do anything wrong in her eyes while she might throw you a pity fuck.”

  “Seriously,” Quilla barked. “You need to shut up. Right now. Go clean the dishes or something.” She shoved her plate into her aunt’s arms. “And don’t come back until you can behave.”

  “Ordering me around now, are you, child?” Melaina pushed to her feet and stepped close to her niece, challenging her. “Still doesn't change the fact that I’m right.”

  I sighed and rubbed my face wearily as I realized I’d probably be playing peacemaker again and pulling them off each other—literally—in a few moments.

  “Do the dishes,” Quilla growled.

  I pushed to my feet to prepare for my intervening duties, but Melaina huffed out a breath and snagged my plate from my hand, adding to the pile she already held. “It’s now or never time, lover boy,” she hissed to me. “You want her cherry? Well, it’s more available for the popping than ever before.”

  “You really are a crude bitch,” Quilla called after her.

  Melaina blew her a sneering kiss and strolled regally away from the campsite.

  We watched her long after she was gone, not saying anything or looking at each other until I cleared my throat and ran an uneasy hand over the back of my neck. “I promise I’m not looking for a pity fuck,” I announced.

  Quilla turned to me, rolling her eyes. “Nor would I give you one.”

  “When you finally come to me, it’ll be because you want me more than you want your next breath. Not because you feel bad or obligated out of guilt or worry.”

  A deep thrum of appreciation rumbled through my mark.

  But she only nodded, not telling me in words how much she liked my stance. I drew out a long breath. “Well, then…”

  What the hell did we say now? She just continued to stand there, quietly. So I cleared my throat.

  “I guess that’s that, then.” And I turned away to get my bedroll ready, snapping it out and onto the ground next to hers.

  The wound in my side kept pulling as I kneeled on the bedding and stretched to straighten my blanket, reminding me that I hadn’t tended to it yet.

  Once I pushed back to my feet, I stripped off my tunic and wadded it into a ball, soaking it in water before I pressed it to the dried blood on my side. Axel’s sword had scratched a pretty long trail through my rib cage, but thankfully it wasn’t very deep.

  Behind me, however, Quilla sucked in a breath as if it were the nastiest wound she’d ever seen. I looked up as she stepped toward me, her gaze stuck on my side. “You haven’t even cleaned it yet. Dammit, now it’s going to get infected.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I started. “It just needs a little—”

  “Shut up,” she snarled. “Just shut up.” And before I knew what she was about, she grabbed my arm roughly and jerked me toward her.

  I stumbled, losing my balance, and basically fell against her mouth as she rose up on her toes to smash her lips to mine. The kiss took me by surprise so badly I didn’t even have time to enjoy it before she pulled away again a second later.

  “There,” she murmured, slipping her fingers over my rib cage where my wound was now mended together and healed. “Much better.”

  Shuddering under her touch, I looked down at her hand on me. “Yeah,” I rasped, growing hard all over again. “I’m good as new again. Thank you.”

  Her thumb shifted and moved along my flesh, probably just making sure I was back in one piece. But it felt like the most sensuous damn touch I’d ever experienced. I almost came in my fucking p
ants. I shuddered out a breathless groan and lifted my face to hers just as she looked up too.

  Our gazes met. She was going to kiss me again. I could see it in her eyes and feel it from her gut. And it wasn’t because she wanted to heal me but because she just wanted me. I leaned closer. She wetted her lips, temptation coating her features. This time would be like our true first kiss. It’d be about passion and longing and affection.

  My skin buzzed with awareness. I was so damn turned on, I probably could’ve—

  “Christ almighty,” Melaina exploded, appearing in the clearing and making both Quilla and me jump out of our skins. “I was gone all that time, and this is only how far you two have gotten? You’ve barely removed his shirt? Jesus. Watching you two rut is like watching grass grow.”

  “We’re not going to rut, you meddlesome hag,” Quilla snarled, jerking her hand off me and taking a decided step back. “I was just healing his wound. Not that it’s any of your damn business. But that’s all that was happening.”

  As she turned her back to me and climbed into her bedroll, I glanced toward Melaina, who offered me a sly grin and thumbs-up as if she thought she’d somehow just assisted me with some seduction attempt.

  I rolled my eyes.

  At this rate, Quilla would never be willing to have sex with me, if for no other reason than to defy her intrusive aunt.

  With a deflated sigh, I crawled into my own bedroll and prepared for a long, painful night full of blue balls.

  Chapter 26

  Quilla

  I swear, it took me forever to fall asleep. The events of the day just kept running through my head. It was unsettling to learn I could be caught in a trap like the perimeter magic those men had used to target my mark.

  When they had broken through the tree line earlier, I had thought that was it. Game over. But I hadn’t really had time to process everything that happened afterward because I’d gone straight into worry mode over how Indigo had to be dealing with killing his cousin.

  Except now he seemed okay. I turned my head to the side and checked on him in the full moonlight. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing easily, nothing keeping him awake and stressed.

  The lucky shit.

  The extremely handsome and lucky shit.

  Damn, he even looked good in the moonlight while he slept. Without his hands bound together, he’d curled up on his side and tucked one under his face, pillowing it. It made him look more youthful and innocent. Awake, there was always this aged kind of worldliness in his eyes as if he understood all the darkness in the world, even if he opted to focus on the light side. But here and now in his sleep, he looked damn-near pure and angelic.

  A bit of remorse shifted through me. I came from the darkness, the cursed underbelly of the Outer Realms. I’d been raised by possibly the most heartless, unstable woman to roam this land, and here was this freaking beacon of hope and goodness who’d been stuck with me as his partner. It wasn’t fair. His love mark should’ve found him a woman more deserving, one just as wholesome and respectable as he was.

  Reaching out before I knew quite what I was doing, I caught a piece of his hair and ran it between my fingers. It was as silky soft as it looked. So absorbed in watching my hand pet him, I didn’t realize his breathing had changed until I shifted my attention back to his face and found his eyes open.

  I nearly yanked my hand away, guiltily, but he’d already seen me touching him, probably felt it too. So I kept on, even moved my fingers until I ran them over his eyebrows, smoothing one down, then the other. When I shifted my thumb over his cheekbone, he caught my wrist and kissed my palm.

  “Can’t sleep?” he guessed.

  I shook my head no and tugged my fingers away to tuck them back under my cheek. We watched each other about a full minute before he sucked in a startled breath and whispered, “You changed your mind.”

  I frowned in confusion.

  A slow smile spread across his lips as he added, “About us. You’ve changed your it’s-never-going-to-happen stance about us.”

  Sniffing, I said, “No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

  “Yes, you have,” he countered, still grinning like a fool. “I can feel it. There’s this warm acceptance where it used to be cool, brittle wariness.”

  His explanation made me scowl even as I reluctantly admitted, “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I sighed.

  He gave a low chuckle before growing serious and asking, “What made you change your mind, though?”

  I could’ve gone on denying it, I guess. But he’d never denied anything to me. He’d always been open and honest about everything. It seemed like I should be the same. So I drew in a deep, bracing, brave breath and answered, “Today. Today changed my mind.”

  Eyebrows quirking with confusion, he grew thoughtful before saying, “So Melaina was right? It’s just about sympathy? Because you feel responsible for Axel’s death? But you’re not, you know. Don’t ever feel like it was your fault—”

  “That’s not why,” I cut in. When he grew quiet and just watched me, I took a second to collect my thoughts. Then I tried to explain it. “I guess I do feel responsible. But maybe not for what you’re thinking. It happened after he died when you grew so quiet and withdrawn. The way you were acting; it was all just wrong. You weren’t being you. And I felt like I should do something to at least try to help you return to yourself because you were my responsibility. I felt accountable for you. So I guess I—I don’t know—I guess I finally accepted the truth to myself that you’re mine. And we are soulmates, no matter what.”

  “We are,” he affirmed quietly.

  I glanced away, up toward the moonlight, because this felt so incredibly awkward and embarrassing for me to admit. “And…” I went on, my voice cracking. “I guess, if I was going to accept that fact, then I should start accepting other facts, like…”

  Shit. I couldn’t say this.

  “Like…” he drew out for me. “The fact that you like me, and you’re actually okay with me being yours and you being mine?”

  I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, then muttered, “Maybe.”

  He released an audible breath. “I like you too,” he admitted. Then, with a much more teasing tone, he tried to coax, “So maybe you might also want to accept the fact that you want me as much as I want you, too, huh?”

  Eyes flashing open, I glared. “Don’t push it, Moast.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, fine. I won’t make you admit that one aloud. Even though we both know it’s true.” His eyebrows lifted as if daring me to deny it. When I didn’t, he blew out another long release of air, and rasped, “Oh, boy,” to himself.

  I knew he could feel my rising arousal. So I just lay there, waiting for his reaction.

  Sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, he nodded to me. Then he glanced across the low glowing embers of the campfire toward Melaina’s bedroll, and after concluding that she was asleep, he turned back to me and lifted the front of his blanket.

  “Come here. It’s late, and I know how to help you find rest, empress.”

  I should’ve declined. The typical Quilla would. But for some reason, with the truth out in the open and my heart beating hard in my chest along with my hands trembling with anxious excitement, I climbed out of my bedroll and crawled over to his. He welcomed me warmly, tenderly tucking the blankets around me as I settled in against him.

  He hadn’t put on a tunic after I’d kissed him and healed the wound in his side; I’d forgotten that. So when I pressed against warm flesh stretched over taut muscles, it was a surprise.

  Not a bad one, though. I quite liked him being shirtless.

  “Comfortable enough?” he whispered in my ear once he had me tucked up against him.

  I nodded. “Mmm.”

  “Good.” As his low voice vibrated through me, I sighed.

  Why was I doing this?

  I wasn’t sure, but cuddling felt good, anyway. And even though we we
re literally pressed against each other in order to fit into the bedroll, I wasn’t squished. He was just so warm and big and safe. And he smelled good. I wanted to be as close to him as was humanly possible.

  I turned my nose toward his throat, where his smell lingered the strongest, and he kissed my cheek in return.

  Then his hand moved up the outside of my arm, stroking flesh. When he reached my shoulder, he gave a soft squeeze, gently kneading muscle.

  I shuddered, coming more awake and not at all getting sleepier as he had promised I would. But the massage felt so good I didn’t even care.

  Releasing a breath, I began to breathe a little faster. Under my clothes, my body strained, my breasts tightened, and the insides of my thighs tingled.

  “You like that?” he asked, his fingers working their way to the side of my throat before he cupped my jaw.

  Groaning a little, I mumbled, “Yes.” And my eyes slid closed.

  His lips pressed against my neck. “I’m going to give you a little massage with nothing but this one hand. And when I’m done, you’re going to sleep harder than you’ve ever slept before. Okay?”

  My head bobbed in answer. “Okay.”

  He kissed my neck again, a little higher this time, almost behind my ear. Toes curling as a heated current moved through me, I found myself arching toward him. My breathing could no longer resemble anything steady or regular now.

  And all the while, the only thing he moved was that one hand, a thumb shifting briefly over my lips, just enough to make them tingle before the other four fingers slid up my jaw, around my ear and into my hair where he scraped short, blunt fingernails over my scalp. I shivered at the intense reaction my body had to him.

  His breath hissed against my neck, coming a little shallower as well, but he didn’t kiss me, since he’d promised to touch me with only one hand. His rough fingers moved with gentle dexterity through the long locks, combing with a relaxing quality that about made my bones go liquid.