Teague whistled. “Shit. That’s a … lot. So Joran … why don’t I remember him?”
Kallan shook his head. “Because you never cared for politics. He was the creator of the criminal exiling.” Kallan jerked. “I remembered that.”
Yeah, it seemed learning from his Foraltae was opening all of their minds. Like simply one of them speaking the truth helped others see it too. She was saving their lives and didn’t even know it.
“Thank you, Ash.”
She frowned at Heath. “For what?”
“For helping us.”
“Oh, that’s right. Invisible,” Teague commented. “I am Teague, a bard Unseelie.”
“And I am Kallan, holder of rivers.”
“Merry met, Kallan and Teague,” Ash greeted.
“She said, ‘Merry met,’” Heath passed on.
Kallan crossed his arms over his chest. “So we are going to this Forgotten Tower and going up against a Norn to get your Foraltae.”
“It seems like it.”
“Heath, you always find yourself in the worst of problems.”
Heath couldn’t argue with Kallan. For once, though, he was sure of why he was going. “Let’s get out of this place and rest up before making the trip. We’ve got plenty of running to do.”
“What he means is, let him spend time with his woman,” Cynes added.
Yep, I’m going to kill this fucker one day.
Chapter Ten
The familiar sunny home and piled firewood sprawled before Heath as he stalked toward the front door. If he was here, he knew Ash was too. Every mile he got closer to her, she became more real, spent more time at his side, and that made him happier than he ever thought possible.
He set a punishing pace for he and his cadre during his waking hours, pushing his body to exhaustion until he could sleep.
And Ash was always beside him.
Through every curve and turn, Cynes marked their progress on his map, Kallan tested the boundaries of his portal making to get them out once they had Ash, and Eiravel watched for enemies. Even Teague helped with camps and provided snacks.
He’d traveled with some in a sack, and they rationed the food between the five of them. Each bite was like heaven, filling cells Heath hadn’t known were starving, but at least it made things easier. As much as Heath wanted to drink from his Foraltae, he was nervous about sharing that part of him.
She knew he was Unseelie and had to know what they did to survive, but knowing and seeing were two very different things. He didn’t want to make her fear him, and they could face joining as a Fated Pair should once he knew she was safe. For now, he let his armor fade to the white linen pants he always wore, and he only thought for a moment of adding a shirt.
Why? He hadn’t worn one yet, and if his Fate enjoyed seeing him half dressed, he’d oblige.
He found her sitting on the end of a feather-filled mattress covered in black sheets.
An image of what I imagined before.
Maybe he should have left his armor on. She’d see how much he wanted her soon enough. But the way she twisted her hands in her lap worried him.
“Ash?”
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I must tell you something.”
The gravity of her voice made his heart sink. “Are you Joran?”
“What? No. That is not what it is.”
“Then I think you’ll be safe to tell me.”
But she didn’t speak, just kept wringing her hands.
With a sigh, he approached the bed and got on his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Speak, female. You are my Foraltae, and nothing will change that. If there is something I must know, then fine.”
She blinked, delicate tears tracing down her face, and he thumbed them away. He resisted, just barely, the urge to put them in his mouth and taste her again.
“You will feel more guilt. But not telling you has become a struggle.”
Well, that could be … bad. But whatever it was, they’d face it. “Tell me.”
With a deep breath, she intertwined their fingers. “You once asked me my name, and I gave you Ash. It was only part right.”
Okay. “I think I can deal with a name change.”
“My name is Asherah Danaan, Princess of Seraph.”
Fuck.
He sat back on his haunches, his heart pounding. Danaan. She was of House Danaan. The same House as Silva. The royal house. He’d been sharing all his memories and had told her how he’d hurt Silva. She’d seen him go after and nearly kill someone of her line because of what he’d believed. Watched his anger and rage boil over until he’d put so many in danger.
She’d watched it fucking all.
Princess? She wasn’t just part of the House. “You’re her sister.”
Ash nodded, and it broke his heart. “We were close when we were young. Inseparable. Then our parents died. It broke something in her. It was like she had to run into responsibility, but she hid from it as well. She let advisors make so many decisions. I was powerless to stop her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
This was important. No, she wasn’t Joran, but she could have let him know who she really was. Let him face the shit he’d heaped on her family. For fuck’s sake, she was Silva’s sister. He’d almost killed his Foraltae’s sister.
“You were so angry and heartbroken over what you were learning. If I had told you who I was, it would have only made this worst. You would have been guilt-driven to save me from the Tower. I did not want that.”
She wasn’t wrong. After what he’d discovered, Heath had no doubt he’d have run into the Tower, even if it meant his death, to pay back what he’d done. But the idea of hurting his Foraltae like that …
“Damn, Ash. I’m sorry.”
“I knew it would be this way. I wanted … I wanted you to come for me because of what we were. The Fated bond we shared, not because of duty. My sister hurt me too, and I was angry at her, so angry. She disappeared and became someone I did not know. I could not reach her, no matter how hard I tried, and Skuld found me in that place. We both had reason to hate her. The Tower is filled with enemies, Heath. After seeing you with the giant, I am afraid. You can release me.”
What? No. “I’m not turning my back on you.”
“It may be for the better. Heath, I am her sister, and Skuld wants nothing more than to see Silva dead. When you fought that giant, he could see me. Even if you get to me, Skuld has put protection in place to keep me there. You know your truth now and can make things right. Tell Silva I’m alive.”
Not happening. His female was used to being cast aside and he wasn’t going to add himself to that list. She was afraid, unsure of how he’d take the news. He could see it in the way she held her body rigid and struggled to maintain eye contact.
He wouldn’t have abandoned her, no matter what she said. In fact, her confession made him more determined. Skuld had to pay for what she’d done, the games she continued to play, twisting all of them around into nothing. He refused to let his Foraltae face that alone. Heath would not be some fucking coward who left her standing.
“Have you ever taken anything for yourself, baby? Was your whole life service to others?”
“I am the spare for the throne of Seraph in a country that hadn’t seen war in eons. My sister was loved by the populace because they pitied our predicament, and the advisors loved her because she was malleable. She was going to bring Seraph and Daemon together.”
He heard a lot about Silva in that whole statement. “I didn’t ask about your sister.” He cupped her face in his warm hand and brought her closer to his body. “You are my Foraltae, not Silva. You have walked beside me as I’ve traveled to you, even though it drains your power. You were with me through those memories that could have painted your sister as the villain, and you by association. I don’t see a woman alive I could want more than you.”
She sucked in a breath, h
er eyes widening. “Heath?”
“It’s time I show you, Foraltae, just how much I want what is right in front of me.”
She had always been the spare, ensuring the throne was protected for their House. Before Niamh became queen, they’d been so close. But once things changed, Asherah could not find her place.
This male, this Unseelie, grounded her and created a spot for her no one else could fill. He was hot skin and power, his lips commanding as he took hers. She moaned, the smoky taste of his shadow coating her tongue, the burn of his fire sizzling her insides. He got his fire from Lorack, whom he had forgotten, but his soul had remembered, mirroring the young Fae’s magic as if it were an homage.
This was the sort of man her male was.
One who was fiercely loyal and put himself in danger for those he cared about.
And he was coming for her.
For so long, Asherah had run, sleeping with one eye open. She’d waited for the axe to fall, for Skuld to grow tired and decide she was not worth the effort. Asherah had fought for so long, a lonely battle waged in her stasis sleep.
Now she felt safe, protected, and watched over. Heath’s heartbeat was a soothing, steady beat her heart matched. She stroked across his skin, giving herself license to touch. To feel. Her fingers danced over the flat plane of his stomach as his tongue dueled with hers, and she heard a swift intake of breath.
Asherah found herself pushed back and pinned by a half-naked Heath as she struggled to open her eyes. Gods, he was strong. Heath rose above her like an avenging god. His silver-sparked gaze pierced her soul, and an electric shock zinged through her system. She was on fire as his legs slid between hers and he rested in the cradle of her thighs. He felt so unbelievably good.
His full lips were set in a hard line, and she could see a tic in his jaw where the muscles worked. She thought for a moment about what he felt when he looked down at her, and then his big, warm hands framed her face, and she stopped breathing. She could do nothing but focus on the slow descent of his mouth toward hers. He lifted her to meet his mouth.
“Ash,” he whispered right before his lips claimed hers, and she crumbled. If he had looked at her with disgust when she told him who she was, she would have been able to fight. If he had called her a liar, she would have left him to return to the Tower no matter what her treacherous body wanted.
But he had done none of those things.
As his soft but demanding mouth sought to conquer hers, he had spoken her name and growled with desire, his anger a dangerous reminder that she belonged to him.
And he belonged to her.
He wanted Ash as well as Asherah. He wanted her.
She didn’t have the willpower to deny him.
His tongue slid into her mouth smoothly as if it belonged there. He tasted of lust and spice. Her heart pounded when a callused hand gripped the back of her head, forcing her mouth tighter to his, and his other hand squeezed between her and the bed to grasp her bottom. He pinned her hard against him and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
The first kiss they shared had not felt like this. There was a promise here of pleasure beyond their stolen moments within this dream. It was real, a moment of them coming together and forgetting the outside world. Here, they were speaking their commitment to each other.
Somehow, she knew Heath intended to take her, and she was powerless to stop him. In the privacy of her own mind, she ached for Heath. She had waited for desire to flare between them. Asherah wanted to know her male. Craved being marked by his touch to obliterate anyone who may have come before.
To erase the long years of loneliness as if they had never happened.
She needed to know what his possession would be like. Asherah wanted to experience this, so when she was lonely, if he failed, she could pull the memory out to warm her. She would have it to sustain her. She wanted to experience passion, true passion, for once in her life. Heath could give that to her.
“When I’m done with you, Foraltae, you will have no doubt how much you belong to me,” he whispered and then kissed his way down her jawline. As soon as he met the resistance of her dress, he stopped kissing her skin long enough to rip it from her body.
She moaned as he moved back to her neck. He sucked at her pulse, and her toes curled with the sensation. His fangs danced over her skin, a sharp bite of power and danger to push her desire to the edge. Heath’s hands worked on her back, massaging in slow circles. He had deadly hands, hands which could and had killed men, but he touched her with awe-inspiring care.
Attacking with viciousness, he had shattered a giant before her eyes, the stain of his blood down his chin and over his neck, but he touched her like she was priceless. The control he had made her gasp.
Her muscles went liquid as his coarse fingers dug into her flesh and found the band of her undergarments easily.
Yes. Expose me. Make me yours.
Rising up slightly on his knees, Heath pulled the material away from her. His hot gaze raked down her flesh, and her nipples hardened in response. But as he looked his fill, so did she. If she had not known he was a warrior before, she could see it on his body now. He was hard planes, soft muscle, and smooth skin. Every part of him had been strengthened for battle, to use his blades with precision.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said roughly as he held himself up on his arms above her.
Ash gripped his sides and pulled herself up against his body. She sucked in a breath as her nipples touched the plane of his stomach, and she pressed her mouth to his chest, right over his heart. Her world stopped. So many memories flashed through her. Slippered feet slapping against the white-and-silver marbled floor of the Palace. Little hands digging into bowls of food with a much younger Heath smiling, despite his bruised eye and split lips. Silva playing in her hair before a mirror when Asherah wore her first gown for a ball. Screaming men not stopping Heath’s laughter as he raced between stalls with crumbling bread in his hands.
Over and over they filtered through.
Memories.
The stories of their past. The time before things had gone to hell. The joy of family, the happiness of life. They had both known it, no matter how fleeting, and his heart sang to her about them.
Ash was crying by the time the memories faded away, and Heath clutched her to his chest. He shifted her, and then his mouth melded with hers. He tasted of desperation now. Every swipe of his tongue was to conquer, every glide of his lips to plunder. White-hot desire sparked through her, chasing away the sadness. His touch sent shocks of light through her. Somehow, the feel of him was different, deeper. She dug her nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as she rebuilt the memory of him with all she had.
Heath laid her back on the bed, pressing his body into her. His hands were rough when he pushed away everything between them. Asherah kept kissing him as she kicked away her clothes and ran her hands over his chest and down the rippled waves of his abdominal muscles. He tightened under her touch. She could feel the indents above his hip bones that led to his groin, where more muscles were defined. They were like horns curved over his hips.
She would trace them with her tongue later. For now, she wanted to get him out of his clothes. Nimble fingers found the tie of his pants until she could push at them as well. His shaft, long and thick, pressed against her. She could feel the heat of it through the fabric as if he were on fire. She pushed harder at his pants, and his cock hit her stomach.
A smear of liquid burned her as surely as an inferno. Heath groaned into her mouth, tilting his head until their teeth almost clicked together. But she didn’t mind. She needed this. They might have wanted a slow, easy burn just moments before, but something had happened. Their pasts and the present blended until Ash could feel emotions pouring from her heart. She could feel her urgency to have him inside her mirrored in his kiss and in the grip of his fingers.
Heath wrapped his arms around her, one palm cradling her head while he kissed her, and she pushed his pants over his
hips. Ash helped him as best she could to get his pants down as he kicked them off his body, and then he was free. She ran her hands over the broad expanse of his back, memorizing the dips and curves of his muscles, loving how they flexed and tightened as he moved. She found the slope of his buttocks and gripped the globes, pulling him harder into the cradle of her thighs. She gasped into his mouth. His cock slid against her clit as if it had always belonged there.
Heath growled against her mouth, rolling his hips. Ash clung to him, matching his motions. She knew the pleasure he could give her, knew the reckless abandon he could incite. She wanted more, much more—deeper, harder, and stronger—from him.
“No, not again, I need you. I need …” He trailed off as he broke their movements. Heath held her hips with rough hands and pushed away from her. “Let me taste you.” He palmed her wrists, dragged them above her head, and held them in place on the bed. He kissed his way down her throat, over her collarbone, and then to the curve of one breast.
“Priceless. Mine.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth.
Ash arched beneath him and wrapped her legs around him as he laved the tip. His other hand held her hips firmly to the bed, away from him, and she felt the loss. She was in agony. Her body was throbbing with need. The air was filled with the scent of them, of their essence, and she wanted to wallow in it. This dream had become a place of raw emotion and passion. Everything dimmed until she thought they were surrounded in darkness, and only the two of them remained. Even the scratch of the sheets against her back was sensual.
She shifted as he switched his attentions to the opposite breast. Heath nibbled around her nipple softly before drawing it back into his mouth. He bit down on it gently, and her back left the bed. Ash was drawn tight as a bowstring, her only grounding points his hands at her hip and wrists. Her head thrashed. She had never felt pleasure like this. Nothing had ever felt so right. It was as if her body was made for him.
“I need just a bit more. Are you wet for me, Ash? Do you crave me as much as I crave you?”
Fated to the Traitor (Portal City Protectors Book 4) Page 9
