Exiled

by Nina Croft

  He picked her up and laid her down on his cloak. Bending low over her, he licked her breast through the silk, then took the nipple in his mouth and suckled her. Small whimpers emerged from her throat as he moved on to her other breast. He kissed down over the flat plain of her belly. Pushing the material out of the way, he dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel then kissed her hip bone, the hollow beside it. Finally, he blew gently on the soft curls guarding her core.

  Her hips rose from the ground. Her back arched, her thighs falling open to spill the musky scent of her arousal into the surrounding air. He breathed in deeply and his cock jerked, already impatient to sink into her hot slick depths. He kissed her between her thighs, his tongue slipping between the folds of her sex. His mind reeled at the remembered taste of her. She writhed against him as he stroked his tongue over her and then sucked the sweet bud into his mouth. He bit down gently and she came.

  They were even.

  She yanked on his hair and he could sense the urgency in her.

  He came up over her, and thrust into her with one firm flex of his hips.She wrapped her long legs around him. She pulled him closer, urging him on. Callum kept his strokes slow and steady, holding his need on a tight rein until he heard the whimpers low in her throat that signaled she was close. He picked up speed, pumping into her and grinding his hips against the bundle of nerves between her thighs. She kept perfect time with him until he could feel her reaching for her release. Sliding a hand between them, he massaged her with the ball of his thumb as his eyes stared down into hers.

  “Mine.” For the first time he allowed himself to speak the word out loud. Then he thrust into her hard and carried them both over the edge. He lowered his head and silenced her scream with his mouth on hers.

  “Always,” she murmured against his lips.

  He rolled over taking her with him, so he lay on his back with Cass sprawled across his body. He knew they had to move. But he wished they could lie here forever beneath the witches’ moons.

  But the sullen red glow mocked him. If they stayed here, how long would the moons continue to shine? “We have to go,” she said as though reading his mind.

  They didn’t speak while he pulled on his clothes. All Cass had to do was add the cloak and she stood watching him dress.

  For the first time since his return, she seemed almost happy. The hardness had gone from her features, and he could see glimpses of the carefree girl she had been.

  He slid his palm in hers and they walked hand in hand back to the spot they had left Tallon and Shayla. They found them standing at the edge of the tree line staring at the dark shadow of the Keep. The sun was rising behind the high stone walls outlining the darkness. As they stepped up to stand beside them, a lantern flickered in one of the windows. Once, twice, three times.

  The signal.

  “Let’s go,” Tallon said.

  ~*~

  They walked almost touching across the open ground, skirting around the edges of the Keep. For the first time in so long, Cass felt at peace. This time with Callum was something she had never expected, a gift, and she would treat it as such and not yearn for more.

  Right now, it was enough to be with him, her body still warm and sated from his lovemaking. But as they walked, a sense of pervading evil stole over her. Out here, there was more evidence of the destruction of Arroway. When she had known this place, it had been a meadow of wild flowers. Now only a sparse blanket of dried grass covered the bare soil. Up ahead, where Shayla’s footsteps fell, flowers sprang from the ground as though she bought life to the land. But there was no such reaction to Cass and sadness welled up inside her. This place was no longer her home, the very ground beneath her feet rejected her. She shivered in the warmth of the night.

  “Are you all right?” Callum asked.

  “Maybe coming face to face with what I did is harder than I imagined.” He slid his palm in hers and squeezed but didn’t attempt to deny her words. Why would he? He was part of her and could feel her emotions.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll do what is needed.” She hoped she could. Inside her, the moon magic rested, slow and sullen, sleepy. Would it be enough? They came to a halt around the back of the Keep where a small wooden gate broke the monotony of the smooth black wall.

  It swung open as they approached revealing Jarrod and Freya.

  Jarrod’s eyes widened. He looked at her then at Callum and back to her. “Hey, sis, you look like...” He trailed off.

  “Like I just got laid? Mind your own goddamned business.” She strode past him, scowling as she heard him chuckle. Inside the Keep, her sense of evil increased.

  “We’ll head straight for the tower,” Freya said, standing aside to let them pass. “Hopefully if anyone sees us they won’t think three pleasure slaves an odd sight. The other slaves have promised to help us. They’re keeping watch and will intercept anyone who heads this way. Most of the Keep is asleep now anyway, and the tower is at the opposite end from the living quarters.” Cass slipped off her cloak and tossed it to Callum. He grinned and caught it, his gaze immediately sliding down over her body.

  The grin faded to be replaced by hunger. God, she wished she could drag him back to the forest and make love to him again.

  “Get that expression off your face,” she said, then turned and stalked after Freya. But she could feel his gaze on her ass and couldn’t resist adding a slight sway to her walk.

  This part of the Keep was a sprawling maze of interlocking courtyards connected by narrow alleyways, which twisted and turned. Little light penetrated but Tallon led the way easily; he knew the Keep better than the rest of them. Cass walked behind him with Freya and Shayla on either side of her. Callum and Jarrod brought up the rear.

  They saw no one and finally they stepped out into the courtyard at the far north of the Keep and stood at the base of the tower.

  A round structure built out of the same black rock, it reached to the sky like a pointing finger. According to Freya, this was where they brought the baby girls soon after birth, to be stripped of their magic. It stood tall, looming over the rest of the Keep, a dark sym-bol of misery. Despair and guilt washed through her. She forced it down; guilt was self-indulgent. It wouldn’t help them now.

  A plain black door at the base faced into the courtyard. Tallon stepped forward but the door swung open before he reached it.

  Her breath caught in her throat as men spilled out into the courtyard. Cass counted at least twenty and each carried a sword and a staff.

  And behind them Malachai stepped out, tall with dark hair and dark eyes, his staff held out in front of him. When she’d known him before, he’d been careful to hide what he was; now, nothing could hide the miasma of evil hanging over him.

  He hesitated when he saw Cass, his eyes widening. No doubt, he’d believed her long dead. Deep, dark hatred rolled over her and she reached for her magic.

  And nothing.

  Beside her, Callum stepped closer and rested a hand on her arm. She cast him a brief forced smile, to show she was okay. But she wasn’t; the moon magic refused to respond to her call. And without her magic, she’d be useless.

  Was this the end? “Kill them,” Malachai ordered.

  But before they could make a move, figures flooded out of the alleyways around the courtyard. Women. Some dressed in black showing they were house slaves, others in the scarlet of the pleasure slaves. They came to stand between their group and the warlocks. A tall woman, in red, stepped out. Her body trembled but her voice was firm. “You’ll have to kill us first.”

  “Not a problem,” Malachai snarled.

  This could turn into a bloodbath. But Cass could see the warlocks were not happy. They glanced from one to another, small frowns flickering across their faces. Obviously, they didn’t like the idea of killing unarmed women—besides, who would they get to suck their cocks if they slaughtered the pleasure slaves? Malachai moved closer. “Do you know who this is?” he asked, waving a hand in Cass’s direction.
“This is the woman responsible for destroying this world. The woman responsible—”

  “Liar,” Freya shouted.

  Malachai’s mouth clamped shut as he stared at her his eyes black with hatred.

  “You know who’s responsible,” Freya continued. “Responsible for everything that has happened on Arroway.”

  “Silence her.” Malachai growled the words. He lifted his staff and spoke a word, aiming a killing spell at Freya, but she lifted her hand and deflected it with ease.

  “You.” She pointed her finger at Malachai. “You have brought this world to the very brink of destruction.” A movement at the edge of the courtyard caught Cass’s attention. Three figures strode toward them. More warlocks by the looks of them. Great.

  Tallon edged closer. “They are the council members,” he said in a low voice. “The leader, Roark, is a good man—we need to convince him to listen to us.”

  “Malachai,” the tallest of the men spoke, “what is the meaning of this?”

  “Intruders.” Malachai’s tone was silky smooth. “No problem, Roark. I’ll deal with them.”

  “And the slaves?” Malachai’s hands fisted at his side. “They will be dealt with as well.” The man, Roark, studied their small group, his gaze didn’t falter as it passed over her, but his brows drew together when he reached Tallon. “Tallon? What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Malachai has betrayed you all.” Malachai’s lips curled into a smile. “Obviously, he’s lying.

  He’s been seduced by the witch’s lies, bewitched by their evil ways. I warned you he’d betrayed us.”

  “The proof is in the tower,” Tallon replied.

  Freya stepped forward. “Malachai is holding the Goddess prisoner in the tower. We’ve come to awaken her.” Roark frowned. “It is true the Goddess sleeps in the tower.

  She is there for her protection, until she wakes.”

  “We can wake her.” Cass stepped forward. She took a deep breath. “I am Casterix.” A gasp went through the crowd.

  “And I’ve come to sort out the balls-up you lot have made.” She pointed at Malachai. “And to bring him to justice for the murder of my chosen mate.” Freya and Shayla moved to stand at her back, and she saw the warlocks shock as they took in the moon marks on their cheeks.

  “Witches.”

  “Yeah, witches who are going to save your asses. We can wake the Goddess. Malachai has been keeping her in an enchanted sleep using the magic you steal from the witches.” Roark turned to Malachai. “Is this true?”

  “It’s all lies,” Malachai drawled. “The witch has no doubt returned to gloat over what she has brought our world to.” Roark’s glance switched between the two of them. “Then let’s go see.” Cass had expected more of an argument; then it came to her.

  “You’ve known all along, haven’t you? And you did nothing.”

  “Not known, but we had begun to suspect.”

  “Quick of you. And what—you thought if you ignored it the problem would just go away.” She shook her head but said no more. After all, what right did she have to chastise anybody? She’d known what was going on and told herself she could do nothing. She was more to blame for this than anyone else.

  Were they too late? Once more, she searched for her magic, but it remained locked down tight inside her.

  Chapter Nine

  “Take his staff,” Roark said, waving a hand toward Malachai.

  Malachai snarled and backed away. He turned to his guard who stood arrayed at his back. “Fight them.” But the guards looked from him, to the slaves, to the council members. As one, they shook their heads.

  Callum strode forward and snatched the staff from Malachai’s hand, flinging it to the ground.

  The door at the base of the tower led into a circular room.

  An archway at one end revealed a narrow spiral staircase, which wound around the tower leading upward. Malachai took the lead, with Callum and Roark at his shoulders. Cass followed with Freya and Shayla still at her back, and Tallon and Jarrod behind them. The council members brought up the rear. Pale, early morning sunlight filtered in through slits in the bare stone wall lighting their way.

  Malachai should have been helpless without his staff but suddenly he leaped two steps ahead, whirled around, and stretched out his hand. In that second, Cass remembered the moon magic, twisted and warped to his control. A bolt of crimson lightning flew from his fingertips and blasted into them throwing Callum against her. They tumbled backward, crashing into Freya and Shayla. Cass managed to right herself and then Callum was on his feet and dashing up the stone steps. She raced after him, heart pounding. She was gasping for air by the time they halted in front of a wooden door. This one wasn’t plain but inlaid with the swirling, glowing lines of runes of power.

  She pressed her hand to the wood of the door and felt the pulse of magic, but nothing happened. Freya came up beside her and she stepped aside. As Freya touched the door lightly, the runes shifted, realigned and the door swung open.

  Cass stepped into the room. The air prickled with magic and she rubbed her arms. Regular narrow slits punctuated the walls of the circular stone chamber. At the far end, part of the wall had been blasted away and through the breach, she could see the pale ochre of the dawn sky beyond. The gap spilled light into the room clearly illuminating the woman on the low stone couch at the center. She wore a long dress of black cobweb lace and she lay as still as death.

  The Goddess.

  Malachai crouched over her, a long silver dagger in his hand.

  He glanced up an expression of malevolent hatred on his face.

  Callum slowly raised his staff and whispered a word. Malachai flew across the room, slamming into the wall opposite, the knife dropping with a clatter to the flagstones. Callum stalked after him, drawing the sword from the scabbard at his back as he moved.

  Reaching down, he then grasped Malachai by the throat and dragged him to his feet and across the floor. They stood poised at the edge where the gaping hole showed the sky beyond. Callum lashed out with one foot, knocking Malachai’s legs from under him, so he collapsed to his knees.

  Releasing his hold, Callum took a single step back and swung the sword. The blade hardly faltered as it sliced through Malachai’s neck. His head flew from his body and vanished down toward the courtyard below. The rest remained poised for a moment, then Callum kicked him in the chest and the body followed.

  Cass ran to the edge and watched as it spiraled down toward the ground, twisting and tumbling, raining a spray of blood from the severed neck. She’d hated Malachai for so long, and now he was dead. It seemed unreal. She waited to feel something, but her mind remained numb.

  And there was still work to be done. She turned back to where the Goddess lay in enchanted sleep.

  Now Malachai was gone, she would waken as the charms weakened, but who knew how long that would be? Years...centuries. Arroway was dying and they didn’t have the time. They had to waken her.

  They stood at the Goddess’s head. Cass held out a hand to Freya and Shayla and they each slid a palm into hers. She could feel the pulse of magic from the points of contact, but from herself—nothing. She searched deep inside, but her magic refused to respond to her call. Through the gap in the wall, she could see the witches’ moons setting low on the horizon and she willed them to help her. But there was no answer.

  A sense of helplessness invaded her; she’d never considered her magic would refuse to come to her call. “What’s wrong?” Shayla asked. “Why isn’t it working?”

  “Arroway has rejected me. It doesn’t recognize my magic.” She tugged her hands free and touched the small scar on her cheek where the mark had once been.

  “Well make it,” Shayla said.

  Cass nodded. Moon magic was also blood magic. Deep down, she’d always known it would come to this.

  A hand came down on her shoulder as Callum tried to give her comfort. The warmth of his love flooded through her; she was glad he was with her at the end.
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  “This finishes, tonight,” she said.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I know.”

  “What are you talking about?” Freya said. “This isn’t the end.

  It’s the beginning of a new life for us all.”

  “For you. You’ll bring back life to the land. But all I bring is death.” She shrugged off Callum’s hold and crossed the room to where the light glinted off the silver blade Malachai had dropped.

  Picking it up, she held the dagger up to the light. It was sharp; she would hardly feel the cuts.

  She carried it back to where Callum stood. His face filled with sadness but also acceptance. They’d at least had this time to say good-bye.

  “Hold me,” she said.

  He turned her so she faced the Goddess. After wrapping his strong arms around her waist, he pulled her back against the long length of his body as though they were one. It felt so good to be held.She sliced the blade across her right wrist. There was no pain and suddenly the magic awoke inside her. Power streamed along her veins and out of her body through the cut. The sweet, coppery scent of blood permeated the air. Cass shifted the knife and slashed her left wrist, the cut more uneven this time as her hand shook.

  Dropping her arms to her sides, she glanced down at the crimson blood pooling around her. Magic was a tangible thing now, filling the room as it drained from her body. Through her heavy lashes, she could see Freya’s tears.

  Her legs gave way. Callum scooped her up in his arms and sank to the floor with her cradled against him. He stroked her hair from her forehead, and she curved her lips into a smile.

  “I love you.”

  “And I you,” he murmured.

  The dim light was fading as darkness grew behind her eyes.

  “I would have chosen to stay with you, if I could have found a way,” she whispered.

  “I know.” His arms tightened around her. She’d thought she would never feel his touch again and she wanted to stay with him. But this would be enough.