by Jessi Gage
“Is that right, little one? You know ruling an entire realm is not a simple matter.” The warning was gentle, his smile transcendent.
“I know. But I shall study hard and learn everything so I can be a good goddess.”
“You already are a good goddess, my precious one.” He made her feel so loved. More than anything else in all the realms, she wanted to make him proud. He kissed her head, his beard tickling her ear. “As long as you treasure love, as you do now, I will always be proud of you.”
She liked when he understood her thoughts. He was her papa, and he knew her. She liked being known. “I will, Papa. I will treasure love forever and ever.”
Wisps of memory taunted Danu.
In one memory, she was a young goddess on her father’s lap in his study, which overlooked the sparkling Sea of Realms. In another, she was plunged into darkness and consumed with anger, but couldn’t remember what had upset her. In yet another, she was falling and unable to command the air. She searched the milky gray sky above for something to grab onto, finding no handhold, no answers. Her most recent memory was of darkness.
Darkness was familiar. For a very long time, she’d known only darkness and cold.
Why did daylight suddenly push at her closed eyelids? Why did her head ache and her ears ring with noise?
She called forth her power, an act as natural as breathing, to heal what ailed her. Her power did not respond! With more intention, she summoned relief for her pain. Still, it did not come.
Panic fluttered like a wounded bird behind her breastbone. Where was her power? Why was she hurting so?
Despite her discomfort and confusion, she felt oddly safe. Warmth supported her on all sides. Papa?
Gentle rocking eased her panic and lured her away from her cares. She might be hurting, but she had an unshakable feeling she was protected. Whatever had transpired before didn’t matter. She was safe now, and she was loved. This assurance filled up a dry place in her soul with rushing, cleansing waters.
The illusion lasted a few precious minutes. Then recollection rolled over her like a storm.
Hyrk’s dungeon. That was the darkness that had become her world. Duff visiting her. Bringing tidings of her captor’s disappearance.
Her moonstone! That trickster had given it away! To a mortal!
“What have you done, you sly mongrel?” Her voice sounded weak. And the tone of it was all wrong. Huskier and lower than it should be.
Her cocoon of warmth tightened. “What have I done?” said an authoritative male voice. Not her father’s. “If anyone has the right to ask that question, it is I.”
She opened her eyes. The brightness of a cornflower blue sky made her wince. Slowly, a bearded face came into focus above her. Hair like flames of gold licked at a strong brow and fierce cheekbones. As the strands shifted in a cool breeze, silver streaks showed at the man’s temples. The pleasing bulk of teeth behind the man’s lips marked him as wolfkind.
My realm!
Somehow, she had come to be in the mortal realm she had created. But how? Why couldn’t she use her power?
As she worked the problem through, her aches and pains took on new meaning. The evidence suggested she was not only among her mortals but that she was one of them.
The rocking she felt was the movement of a horse at a brisk walk. She appeared to be a lump of cargo on the rider’s lap. Winter-bare trees surrounded them, and a handful of other riders rode ahead and behind.
What a way for a goddess to be transported! She ought to have chariots and trumpets, an army to escort her on streets strewn with flowers. Instead, she got a small contingent of riders making their way through a cold, gray forest. Fitting, perhaps, since she had failed so miserably at being a goddess. And since she appeared to be mortal at the moment.
She glanced over her body. The cloak she was wrapped in made it difficult to ascertain much detail, but breasts made plump mounds beneath the wool. Clearly, she occupied the body of a woman. She ran her tongue over her teeth. They were small and even, like those of her truest form.
Having created her people from the immortal Fae and the mystic wolves she so adored, she’d carefully molded them into a mortal race that reflected her favorite qualities from both. Beauty and long life came from the Fae. Fierce protectiveness and strong community ties came from the mystic wolves. Their physical appearance was, in her opinion, the perfect marriage between grace and power. This body she inhabited did not belong to one of her precious wolfkind. It was too small, for one, and as her legs rubbed together beneath the silky undergarment, she could tell they lacked even the light coat of hair typical of wolfkind females.
Strange, since the only intelligent life in her realm was the life she had created.
Except the humans Duff had mentioned.
His words from what seemed like only moments ago filled her memory. It was a human woman who slew Hyrk’s servant Bantus . . . Another is said to have appeared to Magnus in a vision as the mother of his future heir. Wherever Hyrk is, I’d wager he’s plotting to reclaim his relic and prevent this vision from unfolding.”
If Duff’s assumption was correct, she might not be the only immortal present in her realm. Hyrk might be here.
Her pulse kicked at the terrifying thought. In this mortal body, she would be easy prey. But wait. According to Duff, Hyrk had lost his followers. And his relic. He would be next to powerless. Depleted of power, he wouldn’t be a danger to her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat to her realm.
She must learn where he was and what plans he was making, for if she’d learned anything from the last two thousand years, it was that Hyrk never gave up. But thwarting Hyrk would have to wait. First, she must understand her surroundings and work out what in all the realms had happened to her.
She expanded her attention to the regal specimen holding her. With his shoulders pinned back and his chin jutting confidently, his air of command was clear. A man like this could only be a king. Since Hyrk’s king, Bantus, was dead, this must be the one Duff had told her about.
My king, she thought, recalling her friend’s teasing. “Magnus.” It came out as a whisper.
Piercing, gold eyes narrowed on her. “Which is it, Lady Seona? Sly mongrel or Magnus? I admit I prefer the latter.”
Lady Seona. He’d just given her the name of the mortal she inhabited. And he had no idea who she really was.
Heavens, if she was here, where had this Seona gone?
Magnus interrupted her thought. “I regret to inform you your coconspirator is dead. You are once more in the care of the man you would rather die than belong to.” He ground his teeth. “Thanks to Hyrk, you almost got your wish. But it seems my goddess has other plans for you.”
My goddess. She felt her eyebrows rise. He truly had no idea he held his goddess in his arms.
Putting the strangeness of that aside, she tried to make sense of all he’d said. It was Hyrk she would rather die than belong to, not Magnus. But, of course, he thought he was speaking to the mortal, Seona. This woman must have hated Magnus to have uttered such words. Odd, since Danu could find nothing displeasing about him. Odder still was his emphasis on my goddess. Perhaps Seona had allied herself with Hyrk in some way, thus pitting herself against Magnus. But why would she do so? Hadn’t Magnus rescued the human women from Hyrk’s Bantus? Then Magnus had said that thanks to Hyrk, Seona had almost gotten her wish—to die rather than belong to Magnus.
Of course! The fall.
Duff had said Hyrk hated Magnus and the human women, since one of them had killed his Bantus. Hyrk must have tried to kill Seona. In fact, the fall should have been fatal, but somehow, she’d survived. And her body was not broken, as it had been when she’d hit the ground. Whose power had healed her? Not hers, because she had no power at the moment.
There was so much she didn’t understand. So much she must learn if she was going to stop Hyrk once and for all.
Clenching the muscles in her abdomen, she pulled herself up straighter. �
�Tell me all that has happened.”
Magnus’s arms tightened around her. “Easy, Lady. Do not struggle. I know you would prefer death to my touch, but I will not allow it. You’ll not flee from me again. I swear it. If I must keep you by my side the rest of my days to prevent your harm, I will do so. You may not be one of my subjects, but make no mistake. You are mine in every way that matters.” His voice held no room for compromise. The strength in it thrilled her. The words themselves thrilled her, for no man had ever spoken to her thusly, claiming possession of her.
She should find such a claim repellent, but to the contrary, something feminine and greedy sparked to life within her. Longings that had lain dormant a long, long time began stirring.
She ignored the feelings. This was no time for frivolities. Magnus had mentioned Hyrk. She must learn all that he knew. “Tell me about Hyrk, mortal—Magnus,” she corrected, remembering he did not yet know her true identity.
“You think to command a king? In this way, you are like your sister.” His mouth twitched in an almost smile. “However, I shall be the one conducting the interview, and I shall wait until we are safe in Glendall.”
Glendall. The palace in Chroina. She remembered it from the days of Lachlan.
It rankled to be scolded by a mortal, but she bit her tongue. Keeping her deity a secret might give her an advantage, especially where Hyrk was concerned. Once he caught wind of her escape, he would stop at nothing to find her. What better place to hide than in this human skin?
“Very well,” she said. “Will you tell me this? You said ‘safe in Glendall.’ What danger do we face outside the palace?” Besides Hyrk, what other players were at work in her realm? If she’d been a proper goddess and not fallen into her enemy’s hands, she would already know. It was time for her to stop failing her people and begin saving them.
“Too many to count,” Magnus said grimly, his gaze sweeping the trail before them. “And the number seems to grow with each new day.”
Chapter 6
Magnus’s feelings toward Seona were not the only thing that had changed. The woman herself had changed. She no longer curled her lip at him or glared when in his presence. She didn’t fight to free herself from his hold. Her hatred of wolfkind had disappeared, or so it seemed. The most dramatic change of all was that she chose to speak. To him. Since her rescue from Bantus’s lair, she’d said not a word to anyone save Anya, and even then never in the presence of another.
Perhaps her ordeal with Hyrk had made her see her situation in a new light. Or perhaps she was regrouping and preparing for a new attempt to flee from him. He would get to the bottom of it soon enough. In the meantime, he would not let down his guard.
As his knights escorted him past Chroina’s walls and through the city to Glendall, Seona seemed to grow stronger and more alert. Tawny, doe-wide eyes took in the crofter buildings, the shops, the men in the streets, and the five-story Fiona Blath that stood on the castle grounds.
This was her first time seeing the city, he realized with a start. Like the other rescued women, she’d been brought directly into Glendall through the magical doorway opened by the red gemstone—Hyrk’s gemstone. The other human women had been shown to the Fiona Blath soon after their rescuing. They would have at least seen the grounds separating the castle proper from the stately manor where the ladies lived. But Seona had been placed under guard in the Orange Blossom chamber adjoining his. She had not been outside as yet.
If she had asked, he would have allowed it, under guard of course for her protection, but she had not. Or at least, Anya had not passed along such a request to him. Perhaps, once they sorted out that she would not be running from him again, he could escort her on a tour of Chroina. But such pleasures would have to wait. There was much to do in light of Hyrk’s attack.
Holding Seona secure with one arm, he dismounted. She made it easy for him by wrapping her arm around his neck. Tingles raced up and down his spine at her touch, but he had no time to dwell on it. Cradling her close, he commanded his guards while stablemen took care of the horses.
“Riggs, Cadeyrn, you shall accompany me and Lady Seona. The rest of you, inspect the dungeon. Find out how Bilkes escaped. Then round up all my knights, and summon my war chieftain. We’ll conference in my solar in one hour.” He felt Seona’s gaze on him and liked being the center of her attention. Perhaps he stood a little taller as he found Daly, his head of household, awaiting instruction at his usual spot by the kitchen door. “Have a bath prepared in the Orange Blossom chamber then summon my physician.”
“Right away, Sire.” The elderly man raised his brows at the sight of Seona docile in his arms, but his manners were too impeccable for him to comment on it. Daly disappeared into Glendall, and Magnus followed. He strode to his private quarters with the footfalls of his knights in his wake.
It was no surprise to find Anya pacing his solar. As he passed the large, private sitting room, she bolted out and stopped short. Her mouth dropped open—probably because Seona still held on around his neck.
He did not acknowledge her as he continued into the Orange Blossom chamber and laid Seona on the high, elaborate bed.
“What happened? Is that blood on Seo—?” Behind him, Anya’s questions were cut off. He heard Riggs quietly assuring her, but his attention was all for the lovely, rebellious miracle before him.
Seona settled into the bed pillows. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves of glossy walnut. Dried blood streaked sections of it but did not mar her beauty. The paw print scar stood out starkly lavender against her porcelain cheek. Her eyes, much like Anya’s but lighter in color, fixed on him, inquisitiveness in place of their usual hostility. Despite her torn dressing gown and blood-caked skin, she held her head at a regal angle.
She looks like a queen.
Never before had she so closely resembled the portrait he’d commissioned after his prophetic dream. There was no doubt in his mind she had changed. But how much of it was an act meant to gain his trust until she chose to run again? Her betrayal stung anew.
By Danu, he’d almost lost her. He couldn’t bear for something like this to happen a second time. He wouldn’t stand for any more of this foolishness.
He paced alongside the bed. “Have I not fed you? Clothed you? Lavished upon you every imaginable luxury?” He motioned at the finery all around them before raking both hands through his hair. “Have I not saved you from that vile cell and the depraved whims of a madman?” His voice broke at the memory of how he’d found her and the other women. Huddled in the filthy dungeon beneath Castle Blackrock, tattered clothes hanging off bony bodies, faces branded with Bantus’s paw print marking. Worse was the fear in the eyes of some of them. And the abject nothingness in the eyes of a few, Seona included.
“Haud your wheesht! I’ll not have you raising your voice to my sister!” Anya’s voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, but just as quickly, Riggs made apology and whisked her out. No easy task, for Anya was not as fragile as her smaller human body suggested. Magnus would never forget she’d slain four of Bantus’s trackers and the king himself two moons ago, all to protect Riggs. Now she would fight to protect her sister.
He would assure her when he was finished here that no one—no one—would keep Seona safer than he would. And not just in body, but in mind. Just as he would not forget Anya’s bravery, he would not forget Seona’s suffering. Out of respect for all she’d been through, he reined in his temper.
Magnus turned to see the door close, leaving only Cadeyrn inside with them. After calming himself with a few breaths, he faced Seona again. “My apologies—”
But she was not sitting back against the pillows any more. She was on her knees on the bedcovers directly in front of him. The height of the bed put them eye to eye.
Her lower lip slid free from the hold of her small, even teeth.
He stared as the rosy flesh turned even redder after the mild abuse. How beautiful her mouth was. How beautiful she was. She needed to put on more weig
ht to be truly healthy, but even malnourished and disheveled from the morning’s events, she stirred warmth in his core—in that place that only ever awoke when he indulged in fantasies of making the woman from his dream his lifemate.
She placed a slender hand along his cheek. The coolness of her touch thrilled him even through the coarse hairs of his beard. Her breasts, generously plump beneath her dressing gown, nearly brushed his chest. If he had taken time to put on armor today, he would have been deprived of the tingling awareness filling the space between them.
He cleared his throat. “My lady—” He stopped, unsure what he meant to say. He wanted to apologize for losing his temper with her. He should not have raised his voice. But he did not regret the sentiments he’d expressed. He would demand she answer for her actions. But the gradual swelling of his cock made it difficult to order his thoughts.
It was not like him to lack clarity of thought in the presence of a woman.
“You are magnificent when riled,” Seona said. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
All thought fled at the sensual press of her mouth on his. His body simply reacted, overwhelmed at having Seona act this way with him. His arms gathered her close. His hands roamed her head, her shoulders, her delicate face. His thumb stroked the paw print that perfectly matched the marking he’d seen in his dream.
Tender longing made him rub his mouth along hers. Back and forth, slowly. Their noses brushed. Their breath mingled. This was not the scripted kiss he opened with when he must bed a lady out of necessity, meant to turn both their thoughts to carnal activities so they could enjoy what was about to transpire.
This was sweetness in motion. This kiss burgeoned with a fullness of joy unlike anything he’d experienced with another woman. Seona was heaven in his arms. Pure, undiluted heaven.
Until he remembered himself. And he remembered Seona’s hatred and betrayal.
