Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  His mouth twitched. “Fine, love.”

  I was in disbelief, ethereal as he may have been, nothing about him screamed immortal but the underlying age and coldness in his weighted gaze. “If you’re one of her children, where are the others? Why were you alone in the forest?”

  “I felt your aura; I told the others I was going to investigate and report back. Imagine my surprise when I found you, stunning, sweaty, and utterly clueless by the riverbank.”

  “Liar,” I hissed.

  “Why would I lie to you? Do you think I fancy looking like a dirty ruffian just for fun? Telling stories for my own amusement?” He gave a humorless laugh. "One thousand years in a container with no sun, no moon, no fresh air, only the company of my friends and the voices in my head." He paused, his face flashing an expression between devastation and ruin before settling back into a cold mask. "Now I have been separated from the family I have been with for over a thousand years, the only family I have left. So, forgive me if I'm coming across as ill-tempered, but in all honesty, I could care less how unimaginable this may seem for you." His sentence ended on a low growl and his fists clenched at his sides.

  Despite the seriousness of his outburst, I snorted a hysterical laugh, slapping a hand over my mouth in consternation. A ghost of a smile flitted across his full mouth before his eyes flicked back to the horizon once more. It would be too much for me to process, if he were what he said he was. Too otherworldly, too close to the goddess for me. It felt sacrilegious to even be in his presence. No, no way could he be telling the truth. He’s trying to play me for a fool, that’s all. A con.

  Then it hit me. “Show me your mark! If you are who you say you are, you’ll have the mark on your hip, right?”

  He nodded slowly, standing so that his lean, sculpted frame filled my vision. His silver eyes seemed to glow as he tugged the loose hem of his trousers down, exposing his creamy pale flesh and the sharp jut of his hip bones.

  I drew a sharp breath, gaze traveling over his flat, lightly muscled stomach before following the path to his hip. It was there I saw Sinaia’s rune, a pale silvery full moon filled with an eight-pointed star and surrounded by several other small celestial designs.

  “Holy gods!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

  He gave a deep laugh. “Eloquently put.”

  I crouched down to trace the outline of the star, watching as it shimmered in the path of my finger. His skin rippled with a shiver, and all at once, I realized where my face was, how warm and soft his skin was against my hand, and how uncomfortably intimate it was. “Sorry,” I muttered, springing away from his body, and blushing furiously.

  “Don’t apologize, love. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been intimate? I’ll take what I can get.”

  The closeness of the moment broke, and I was reminded of just what a fickle, frustrating creature he was. “Bastard,” I hissed, trying to ignore my racing heart. I had not touched another intimately in so long, and I ached looking at his warm skin.

  “Damn straight,” he muttered, pulling his trousers back over his hip.

  “So that’s it, huh? Am I getting the help of an immortal warrior?” I could hardly believe it, hardly fathom that I was speaking to a man from legend, an otherworldly being. A warrior, a murderer, a descendent of the gods.

  “It’s in my best interest, so… yes.” I rolled my eyes, dismissing his flippant attitude and tiptoeing over the sharp rocks back to our temporary camp.

  During our short walk back, I peppered him with questions. “Did you need to sleep? Eat? What did you do?”

  “No. The wards were very thorough. No appetite, no need to sleep, nothing to do. We existed like wraiths, fighting, and fucking and staring at the walls until we lost our minds.”

  I felt an intense rush of pity and turned my head so he could not see it on my face.

  ‘Wait,” I frowned. “I thought you said you hadn’t been intimate?”

  “I did, didn’t I?” He sighs. “Maybe emotional intimacy was the better term. I have fucked, yes. There was nothing else to do for entertainment, but no emotions were involved, no rush of adrenaline or euphoria, no sweet words whispered over heaving sweat-slicked bodies. Most definitely no intimacy. The last hundred years or so have been spent celibate.”

  I met his eyes, gauging the level of truth to his words. I saw a flash of desolation, weariness. “I understand.”

  His laugh was a rough thing, filled with incrimination. “I’m not sure I do. I’m not sure how to live again.”

  “What is your plan now?”

  His face shuttered, features turning impassive and cold once more. His silver eyes filled with menace, and for a moment, I recognized him as the predator he was. “I can’t tell you.”

  Of course, I thought. Stupid, obviously he can’t divulge his plans to a stranger. Bastard he may have been, I couldn't help the small inkling of hurt. There was a certain sense of intimacy that came from sleeping close to someone under the stars, to divulging secrets in the early hours of the morning. I cursed the part of myself that clung to that connection, that yearned, and cried out for acceptance and approval.

  “Fine, it’s no concern of mine anyway.” I winced and hoped he couldn't detect the slight bitterness to my words. He lifted a pale brow and continued walking, blessedly ignoring my change in attitude.

  CHAPTER 4

  We trekked through the brightly lit forest. The sun shone down overhead, filtering through the treetops, and illuminating the foliage around us. I rubbed the leaf on one of the unique deep green trees between my fingers and sighed at the satiny feel. Azael walked slightly ahead, brushing branches out of our path, and acting as the navigator.

  I had been filling the periods of quiet with questions, unable to keep my curiosity subdued. I had always been inquisitive, sometimes to my detriment. I broke the silence once more with another question. “Won’t they be looking for you? How can you all be safe here?”

  He groaned, throwing his pale head back in an exaggerated fashion. “Good gods, do you ever stop talking?”

  “I haven’t spoken for a half-hour!”

  He scoffed. “Half hour, five minutes, it’s all the same to me.” He hiked on, letting the silence drag before he reluctantly replied. “Yes, they are hunting us; we should be safe for the time being. We have wards enabled around the camp to disable any potential tracking.”

  I hummed my understanding, lamenting that it was such an arduous process to get the answers I craved. A day ago, I was drying herbs and admiring the mountains; now I would be meeting up with a group of immortals? How had this become my life?

  I cleared my throat. “Will you tell me who is chasing me now? And why?”

  “No.” His reply was curt and emotionless.

  “Then when?” Much to my embarrassment, my voice came out as a low whine.

  “When we reach the group. Now stop talking before you attract the woodland creatures, and I let them eat you.”

  The blood drained from my face. I picked up a sizable branch from the forest floor, about the length of my arm, and chucked it in his direction so that it clipped him in the shoulder. Splinters of wood and bark broke off and went flying from the impact, and his tall frame jolted forwards.

  He whirled around, his silver eyes wide and mouth open.

  “You’re unattractive when you gape like that.” I arched my brow smugly.

  “Did you just hit me? With a branch?

  “Sure did,” I smirked. Should I be afraid of the scary murderous immortal? Yes. Yes, I should. Would I let him bully me, me who has been running my entire life from things out of my control? Absolutely not.

  “You’re absolutely mad, woman.”

  “I think we’ve established that you’re the mad one. We’ve been walking for hours, don’t you want to bathe?”

  “Are you telling me that I stink?”

  “You said it. Besides, you’re covered in dirt. How far is the camp from here?”

  “About a day.” He s
ighed, stretching his arms up and over his head languorously, then twisting to face me.

  “Are you sure?” My eyes flicked to another branch lying nearby.

  "Don't take my word for it, love. I'm positively mad." He backed away, hands held up in a placatory gesture, chuckling deeply with each step.

  I rolled my eyes then frowned, glancing over his body, noting his dirtied stomach and unkempt, tangled hair.

  The brisk forest air brushed over our bodies, ruffling our clothes, and cooling our perspiration.

  He sighed, tipping his face towards the sun, and soaking in its warmth. His pale hair practically glowed in the light, and the resulting shadows deepened the angles of his face.

  "I can hear a river nearby," I suggested, raising an eyebrow.

  "That body? Soaking wet and glowing from the sun?" He groaned loudly, biting his lip theatrically and twirling to face me with his hands in his pockets. He was walking backward now, not slowing his pace, though he was still a good five feet ahead.

  I scowled, making sure he saw my lip curl in disgust. "Alone. You can bathe alone. I will go at a different time."

  "Why? Think you can't resist this?" He purred, gesturing mockingly at his stained and ripped clothes.

  "Turn around," I growled while rolling my eyes, "before you trip and break something important."

  "Oh love," he said, gesturing at his body, "you think I'm important?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "which part?"

  “I’m going to hit you with another branch if you don’t stop.”

  “Fine, fine, consider me properly chastised. Yes, let's go to the river.”

  I pulled my damp white hair from my face and huffed my exhaustion as we stumbled onto a small clearing near the water. I examined my dirty, ragged nails and winced. Though on the move often, I took routine care of my appearance and hygiene. I could probably stand to exercise more, though, I thought acerbically.

  I dumped my pack onto the ground and collapsed next to it, savoring the feel of the cool grass against my heated skin.

  Azael continued through the trees, making his way toward the water, and humming a jaunty tune.

  His footsteps faded as the sun beat down on me. The contrast with the brisk autumn air was exquisite. The birds’ chirping and the rustling of the leaves made a lulling soundtrack, and though I knew I should remain vigilant, I quickly succumbed to sleep.

  The sun was much lower in the sky when I woke, my body stiff from the hard ground and the length of the impromptu nap. I scanned my surroundings, surprised that Azael hadn’t returned yet. Hope a naiad didn’t drown him, I thought wryly. I gathered my drowsy wits and forged down the path to the river. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, maybe Azael was injured or in trouble, but that’s not what I stumbled upon as I approached the water.

  The water stretched across the land, framed by trees, and glistening from the sun. A large grassy bank was all that separated me and the figure in the middle. The water lapped at his naked form. He was facing away from me, face upturned towards the sun. He was deadly still and silent; his pale skin and hair shone incandescent under the fading light. He looked like a statue, like a god. His back dimples were pronounced, just barely exposed over the lazy waves. He looked so peaceful. I noticed his damp clothes lying over the nearby rocks, full of holes and dirt.

  To avoid disrupting a private moment, I tiptoed back the way I came, carefully avoiding the fallen leaves and twigs. He’d never let me live it down if he knew I saw him.

  I had no way to track the time, but I sat for a good while before he came trekking out of the forest. Long enough that the clothes he had washed and set aside were nearly dry. The sun hung low in the sky, practically disappearing behind the horizon, and I decided to bathe the next day instead.

  I didn’t say anything, but the look on my face must have spoken for me.

  “I bathed a lot, when I was locked away.” He murmured. I had not expected the sudden honesty from him, but sometimes it seemed like he was busting open at the seams with words unspoken. He lowered himself to the ground pulling his long limbs to his chest. His solemn eyes landed on me. “There wasn’t much to do, and I could control when I bathed. So I bathed often. It was a reflective time for me.” A ghost of a smile hovered on his firmly pressed lips. “Most of the time was reflective for me.”

  I felt a pang of sadness in my chest. I had seen so many cities and towns, met so many people, I had been flitting to and from for years. What would it have been like to be locked away for so long? Suffocating, I surmised. It must have been suffocating. I was careful to school my pity, unwilling to ruin our fragile peace.

  He looked suddenly vulnerable, and I wanted to pull him from those melancholy memories.

  “How has it been adjusting to being hungry?”

  His mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgment of my intentions, and he allowed the subject to change. “It’s an improvement from nothing, but it’s damn hard to adjust to my body's needs.”

  My laugh was loud and clear, startling both of us. “I can imagine,” the mirth was evident in my tone, and his eyes were dancing with shared amusement.

  “Are you ready to settle down for the night?”

  “Am I ever,” he replied. “We should run upon everyone midday tomorrow unless they’ve moved locations. I can’t see them doing that, though. They know to wait for me.”

  I tied my hair back from my face, stretched my legs out before me, then pulled the dried venison from my pack and handed him several pieces.

  “This is all you have?” His tone was indolent with a trace of gaiety.

  “Greedy bastard.” I withdrew my hand and waved the meat back and forth. “I can eat it all. Would you like me to eat it all?”

  “You wouldn’t.” His disbelief was apparent. I could see he believed me to be more selfless than I was—time to fix the misconception.

  My eyes narrowed. “I would.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  I took one piece and popped it into my mouth, humming happily.

  “Okay!” He exclaimed. “Give me.”

  I leveled a stare, meeting his reproachful silver gaze. “Alright,” he rolled his eyes, “please.”

  I sighed. A little progress was better than none. I had to lean slightly to hand him the meat, then hastily pulled my portion from the pack. I was ravenous. Used to hiding in heavily populated areas, I could usually access food whenever I wanted. I had never gone without for very long; I was spoiled in that respect. My curves filled out, and my stomach soft. My height helped balance my eating habits, and I tried to remain diligent in my exercising. Never knowing when I might need to defend myself.

  I broke my fastidious consumption upon hearing a low moan. I jerked my head up and met his eyes. An intense unwelcome blush spread across my cheeks. He licked his slender fingers one by one, his tongue darting out to the tips to gather the grease left behind. “That was amazing,” he groaned.

  “Filthy man,” I muttered, ignoring his antics and returning my focus to my portion. His low chuckle soothed my senses. Though he was frustrating, I had been alone for so long I craved the presence of someone for longer than a brief greeting.

  We sat in companionable silence as the sun set and the stars filled the clear sky. I once again used my pack as a pillow, only that night, I could use my compact wool blanket to stave off the chill in the air. My arms itched irritably, and I could feel the raised welts on my skin from the bugs earlier. A cool breeze rushed over me, bringing with it the sounds of nocturnal creatures and the rustling of branches. It had been so long since I’d gotten to enjoy nature. Not just from a window or a quick trip for herbs, but really experience it. It was reasonably peaceful, for all the squirming and sore muscles. It was different having someone with me, someone who understood, someone capable. Like a weight I didn’t know I had was lifted from my shoulders.

  I turned over to face Azael’s direction, tucking my arms into the warmth of my blanket, and felt a brief flash of shame. His pale
hair was haloed around his head, reflecting the moonlight, and the shadows on his face were artfully pronounced. I could see his limbs tremble slightly with the cold, and he looked uncomfortable flat on the ground as he was.

  I knew that he was only with me as long as it suited him and that he was in no way compassionate or caring, but I still fought the urge to give him my overcoat. I sighed inwardly, stretching my limbs in my stiff clothes and climbing to my feet slowly.

  “Here.” I paced over and shrugged my coat off, then draped it over his shivering form. Hopefully, my body heat would work quickly to warm his chill. Something about him lying there so vulnerable and exposed made me want to wrap him up and stick him in a cottage somewhere, overlooking the ocean so he could wade in the sea at his leisure. The logical part of my brain scoffed. Immortal warrior, remember?

  His eyes glowed as he looked at me with a bemused expression.

  “Keep it.” His voice was gruff and unsteady.

  “I was sunburnt today, I’m too hot for both the blanket and the coat, and I’m using my pack as a pillow,” I lied.

  His expression told me that I wasn’t entirely convincing enough, but he must have been uncomfortable enough that he avoided the back and forth and accepted the coat with a muttered thanks.

  I trotted back to my spot, the ground still warm from my body heat.

  I tried to hide my feelings regarding the uncomfortable interaction. “You’re awfully quiet, no quips for me?”

  Moments passed before he spoke. His voice was low and soothing, like he was preserving the sanctity of the moonlit space around us. “It’s been a while since I’ve gazed at the stars. I’d almost forgotten how bright they are.”

  I winced at the insensitivity of my question. Of course, if the man had not seen the sunrise, he wouldn’t have seen the stars.

  He broke the silence with a random question “What’s your favorite memory?” Then softer, “I’ve spent so long with my thoughts I didn’t know if I’d ever get to experience life again. I’m hungry for stories, for experiences. I’m sure times have changed greatly since I was imprisoned.”