Betrayal and Yearning: A Fantasy Romance (Changeling Desires Series Book 1)

by Eve Redmayne

  Jessica coaxed a burning twig into the shape of a heart, turning her face to the side as the flame flared.

  The short days of winter meant she’d had hours to sit and reflect and, as a result, had worked through why Braum had betrayed her a dozen times over and always with the same result—he’d wanted to protect her.

  Lord, she had to stop thinking about him. She was becoming far too empathetic! What if her feelings moved beyond understanding back to something more?

  The flames rose higher, in tune with her thumping pulse. She tightened her fist into a ball, and the twigs crumpled into ash.

  Needing a distraction, she waved a hand before her nose. “Phew, what’re you cooking on your Bunson Burner? It stinks.”

  “Whatever a Bunson Burner is,” the witch mumbled, ignored the question, and hunched closer to the tin plate she had balanced over a candle.

  Well, that hadn’t worked. Mindlessly, Jessica manipulated more burning twigs within the hearth, fighting the need to obsess about Braum and his actions. But, she sighed, realizing it was a futile battle.

  Bastard never should’ve tricked her into saying the marriage spell, even if it was because he wanted to protect her. She bristled. A gentleman would’ve asked her to marry him, and maybe she’d have said yes.

  No, that wasn’t true. Who in their right mind married some guy they’d only just met?

  Of course, there was her desire for him. Not that it was all about that. They’d truly liked each other, wanted to spend time together. And, he’d respected her education and skill-set, asking dozens of questions, pondering how he could use her knowledge to improve the lives of his people.

  The truth was, he’d wanted to make her his wife and treasure her always.

  Though still furious, she could admit she missed him. Her gaze softened as she peered into the flames, envisioning one of those rare, boyish grins. Asshole really should smile more. When he did, the warrior melted away to reveal something irresistible. Would she ever see him again—

  She closed her eyes. When they blinked open, she started and looked around. She still sat before the hearth, but her consciousness seemed to have lifted free of her body. A scream rose in her throat and froze. Unable to so much as squeak, she looked down and saw what made her, her, now floated in the air, a vaguely Jessica-shaped haze. Her soul? Stranger yet, she still felt the closeness of the fire across her cheek and the sharp edge of the stones against her thighs. But how…

  Panic building, she closed her eyes to get her bearings. A moment later, she looked up, but instead of Willow’s cottage, she saw stone walls, a huge bed covered in furs, and… Braum lying still, his golden eyes staring listlessly at the ceiling.

  Heart hammering, she jumped back and found herself instantly returned to her body. Soft light filtered through the windows, and Willow sat twisting a lock of hair around a finger, concentrating over her work. But Jessica would swear she’d been in Braum’s room.

  Unable to calm her rapid pulse, Jessica leaned back against the hearth, closed her eyes, and concentrated on Braum again. Had she really been there? Could she get back? She gripped her hands until they were white with strain, and focused. Nothing.

  She closed her eyes and breathed deep, like she’d learned in yoga. Once her heart stopped racing and her thoughts quit colliding chaotically, she blinked her eyes open and found she was again the misty figure, cloaked in shadows, and beside Braum. Back home, her physical-self shivered.

  Pulled by a force stronger than willpower, she floated towards the bed. Towards him. Her eyes widened in dismay, instead of the animosity she’d expected. And her shock echoed within her throat as her mouth dropped in silent anguish.

  Braum lay pale, a ragged beard shadowing the hallows of once-healthy cheeks. His hair hung in dull hanks, looking like it hadn’t been combed, much less washed, in weeks. Golden eyes stared lifelessly. He didn’t move, but for an involuntary twitch in one leg that had slipped from the fur coverings.

  Bile thickened in her throat. Bruises dotted up and down grayish-green flesh, crisscrossed with stitched-up wounds, seeping blood and worse.

  Though she found it difficult to look, she couldn’t turn away. Tears stung, which didn’t make sense as she wasn’t corporeal. Her hand rose and tried wiping away moisture that wasn’t there.

  Her anger had brought him to this. She’d injured this once vibrant man, had reduced him to a weakened shell. Certainly, his actions earned him some reprimand, but she wasn’t a cruel person, and this was inhumane.

  He’d feared for her safety. That’s why he’d married her. She could be mad at him for not communicating and for disregarding her wants in favor of his, but she could also see the reasoning behind his actions.

  Oh lord, she thought with a pang and floated down to perch by his side, I did this to the man I love.

  A lock of hair drifted over his brow, partially obscuring one golden eye. When he didn’t move, she tried brushing it aside, but nothing happened, of course. Until his eyes flicked towards her. Her heart tripped. Did he know she was there? Limbs trembling, she rose from the bed.

  With a weak hand, he swept the hair away, and his face crumpled. “Oh, gods!” he cried through a dry throat. “What’ve I done?” His hand clenched, and bicep flexed as though to punch something. Then, with alarming speed, he did punch something, himself. Again, and again, he pounded

  Stop! She tried crying out. Please, stop!

  But he couldn’t hear her and continued striking.

  “My love!” The words ripped her heart. Finally, he ceased his attack, smearing blood from his split lip with the back of his hand.

  She shook her head. Because she’d let magic take control and use her, Braum was…

  Unable to stand the suffering any longer, Jessica concentrated on home and forced herself to return to her body.

  When she came to, she sat just as before, except now, tears slipped down her cheeks. She glanced over sharply, Willow still worked at the table, paying her no mind.

  Somehow, she’d traveled to Braum. She swallowed thickly, considering what she’d seen, what she’d done to him. Something burned deep in her bosom, and she realized she must gain absolute control of her magic and help him. While the deep snow made travel impossible, she’d continue learning until the day came she could return to Grayweather. To Braum.

  The next day, things didn’t go smoothly. Willow drilled her all morning, coming after her unmercifully, one spell after another, specifically to test her patience. Finally, fed up and frustrated, the anger crested—scorching pinpricks just under Jessica’s skin.

  NO! Jessica commanded. She wouldn’t lose it. The image of Braum, burned into her mind, helped her fight back. Her eyes lost their heated glow, and Willow grinned up at her.

  “Good job, faerie queen. You’re getting it! I’ll give you a break while I head to town. We’re low on flour, beans, as well as wartsbane, coltsfoot, and devil’s shoestring.”

  Jessica shook her head at the shopping list. What the hell was devil’s shoestring?

  After Willow strapped on the snowshoes and left, Jessica sat before the hearth, rocking, and commanding herself to, Go, just go, dammit! She couldn’t waste a perfect opportunity to figure out what had happened yesterday.

  Her hair stuck out a hundred different angles as she ran her fingers through the brown locks. When nothing worked, she slammed her hands down on the chair and stood to pace before the darkening coals. What did a person need to do for their spirit to travel to their sick husband? She kicked a basket, and several balls of yarn bounced free, unraveling across the room.

  Unable to recreate the phenomenon, she stormed up the ladder to the loft and slumped into bed, cursing until she was breathless. With her mind racing in complete disorder, she tried focusing on the white puffs of her breath. She should go stoke the fire. Instead, she dragged the pillow over her face and screamed into it.

  Feeling a bit better, she stuffed the pillow back under her head, and her mind wandered to Braum.
While at the keep, a day hadn’t gone by when he didn’t tell her how beautiful she was. He’d looked at her with those golden eyes like she was his everything, and she’d known it to be true. If only he’d given her more time. She hadn’t been ready to commit then but could see now she’d loved him. She hadn’t idolized him. In fact, he’d infuriated her many times. But there was just something about his gruff exterior. He didn’t suffer stupidity or laziness and was so masculine and authoritative. And she’d known he’d never let anyone hurt her.

  A shiver pulsed down her spine. Until he’d hurt her.

  Her body grew still. He’d hurt her. The man who’d treated her so gently. The man who’d loved her for her. The man she’d loved.

  At once, everything went hazy. She blinked, finding herself back in Braum’s room. He sat propped in bed, staring at her. She spun around to glance behind. No one else was there. But, a look crossed his face like he’d realized something important.

  His eyes didn’t follow as she floated closer, so she knew he wasn’t looking at her. She swallowed thickly. It felt wrong, spying on him like this, but she couldn’t leave. Her eyes softened as he picked up a bite of bread and nodded his head as though resolved to something.

  Time drifted by. He wrote furiously, drank some wine, and gritted his teeth against the pain as he peered under the bandages, assessing the damage.

  Her head turned as she heard the front door back home open then close as though through a fog.

  “She let the fire go out?” Willow grumbled, though the words were faded as though she spoke through a snowstorm. “Jess, come help me bring everything in. Are you sleeping?” Her voice rose an octave, as though she’d never consider a mid-afternoon nap. “I’ve brought walnut cake.”

  Cold gripped Jessica. If Willow knew what she could do, would she make her stop?

  CHAPTER 21

  Jessica pulled the last breakfast spoon from the suds-filled basin and handed it to Orrin to dry. She’d missed his company this last month. With travel restricted due to an ice storm blanketing Moonstone, Orrin hadn’t made the treacherous hike to Willow’s until yesterday and again today, following a sudden thaw that’d broken through the bitter cold.

  She gazed at her friend fondly, glad for the warm-up allowing his company. But during his absence, she’d honed her magic, learned control, and expanded her powers. And whenever Willow had allowed her free time, she’d traveled to Braum’s side, unable to leave him be. She hadn’t forgiven him, exactly, but couldn’t stay away, either. To say she was conflicted, was, to put it mildly.

  Fading, as she’d come to think of it—because astral projection was a mouthful—became easier the more she practiced, and she could now come and go at will. Though, she’d not yet told Willow about her ability, as she was still unsure about her own desires. Did she want Braum or not? What she did know was the red streaks on his legs had grown even more pronounced.

  When not worried about his health, memories of the sexy, goddamned bastard warmed her belly, reminding her of things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hard hands on her body. The rush of desire between her legs. But she didn’t want to think about that. What she wanted was to help him get better and then move on with somebody else, right? Orrin?

  Her gaze flitted over Orrin’s linen shirt—loosened at the neck. Red chest hair showed through the lax ties, and she realized how relaxed he was around her.

  With spring rapidly approaching, he’d likely spend more time at the cottage. And, yesterday, he’d finally asked her about her powers. She’d remained vague, saying she didn’t have magic one minute and the next, she did.

  He’d shrugged, saying he’d heard of stranger things than a spontaneous magicking. But something in his eyes told her he suspected more to the story.

  She handed him a bowl. “What does Mystia think about you spending time here?”

  His eyes darkened at the question. “She doesn’t know, nor do I care to tell her. Besides, she’s caught up in her own crisis, trying to get released from her punishment and doesn’t concern herself with me.”

  “Right.” Not exactly a fountain of information on that subject.

  When the silence grew stifling, she cleared her throat. “What’ve you made of fire and water not manifesting on demand? I think I’m confident with wind and earth because they’re everywhere.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” he scratched his beard, leaving behind a stray soapsud, “and decided you simply need a source for those. I don’t think there’s any way around it.”

  “That’s so frustrating. I want fire and water to come at my command.”

  “Well get over it,” he teased, his face brightening.

  Jessica splashed soapy water his way, aiming for the bubbles in his beard.

  He laughed, dodged to the side, and crashed into a bunch of dried lavender.

  “Stop that!” Willow snapped, crushing a handful of sprouts she’d gathered that morning. She tossed them into the fireplace and glared at the two, red-faced from laughing. “You’ll wreck the house.”

  Jessica winked at Orrin. “Right, because it’s not already a wreck, you hoarder.”

  Orrin tried to stifle a smile but failed, earning him a quick scowl from Willow.

  “You know it’s organized chaos! A witch never knows what she might need so we keep everything,” Willow squawked. “Now, out!” She threw open the door and glared as they slinked passed.

  Once outside, Jessica searched for a weapon. This game had been a particular favorite of theirs before the deep freeze had kept Orrin away. Orrin came at her with what he called ‘evil intent,’ and she had to fight him off with her powers, always using something harmless and usually silly. Her senses prickled. She peered sideways and tipped over a bucket beside the cottage, knocking snow to the ground.

  Without hesitation, Orrin charged. But before he even got close, she summoned a gust of wind. The pile of acorns she’d found rose in the air, hurtled towards him, and bounced off his face.

  “Alright, alright. Enough!” He held his arms up, blocking the assault.

  She grinned. “Pretty good, huh?”

  His eyes flashed with a vengeance, and she swallowed a squeak as he raced towards her. He caught her about the waist and twirled her around, her blue skirt fanning about them in a wide circle.

  A frown creased her brows when she noticed the look in his eyes no longer conveyed a friendly need for revenge but burned with something more. He brought her down slowly, deliberately sliding her curves against his solid body until his hands clutched her hips. His breath tickled the hair tucked behind her ear as he pressed his face against her dark tresses, lips nearly grazing her skin.

  When his gaze lifted, those blue-green eyes of his burned like a man starved. The color darkened as they shifted over her flushed cheeks down to her lips. Before she could move, his mouth dipped, and to her surprise, pressed to hers. A tender kiss, but full of intent.

  She stiffened and pulled away, trying to laugh it off. “Stop teasing.”

  “You know I’m not,” he said, voice low. He reached up to brush the edge of her scar, now pink and fully healed, his eyes never wavering from hers. His touch dipped to trail over her lips. “I want more. I want you.”

  Heart pounding, she turned away. She’d not pursued Orrin after he’d piqued her interest, last fall, but hadn’t discouraged him either. She’d wanted to hurt Braum in the most essential way because of what he’d done. But now, she didn’t want to hurt Orrin. He had no idea she was married and maybe still loved her husband—despite everything the bastard had done.

  Orrin pulled her back around and caressed her cheek, revealing the tenderness he felt. When his gaze grew too intense, she closed her eyes, but he reached down and grasped her hands, coaxing her eyes back to his.

  Tears brimmed as she leaned in. It had been so long since she’d felt the loving touch of a man. Her resistance faded, and she let him pull her close. Could she choose Orrin over Braum? Everything would be so much simpler.<
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  Her lashes drifted down, waiting, wanting, knowing he would kiss her again, and she would let him. Need raged in anxious pulses to see if this could be something more than friendship. It was time to decide if she wanted Braum or if Orrin would do.

  He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her within his warmth. Big hands molded her to him as his mouth slanted over hers, every desire made clear. She felt him. Felt the yearning in the press of his arousal against her as he deepened the kiss.

  Again, Jessica broke away, shaking her head. She couldn’t do it. This wasn’t the man she wanted to kiss. Unable to consider his baffled look any longer, she turned and ran into the cottage, slamming the door behind her.

  But he was no coward; she’d give him that. Several paces behind, he followed. Her brows lifted as he yanked open the door and took her hand. After placing a kiss in the center of her palm, he said, eyes heated, “I’ll see you in a few days. Think about what I said. If we’re together, I have the ability to provide for you while allowing you to be whatever you want.”

  He pressed her hand to his chest, and a tangible heat burned through his clothes. When she pulled away, a trembling butterfly made of flower petals lay cradled in her palm, a manifestation of his burgeoning love for her.

  A sudden fierceness seized her as he walked away, strides long and sure. Despite Orrin’s near perfection, it was Braum she wanted. She wanted Braum for his goodness along with his faults, his moods and even his mistakes. She was ready—and willing—to take him back. If he still wanted her, that is. Her heart pinched at the thought of him rejecting her.

  “I’m headed to forage for more early spring plants,” Willow said as she headed out the door.

  Without acknowledging her friend, Jessica raced upstairs to fade to her husband.

  ***

  Braum’s room was the same as always, untidy blankets and an assortment of food and wine on the table. Only this time, he wasn’t lying in bed. She spun and saw him standing before the window. Naked, but for a fur clutched to his chest, he leaned against a wooden crutch.