Betrayal and Yearning_A Fantasy Romance

by Eve Redmayne

  “I thought you had to embody him to”—she paused and glanced around, lip clenched between her teeth— “Can anybody else see you?” This had to be the outpost Willow and Orrin had mentioned. She couldn’t let Braum’s men see her talking to herself.

  “Only if I want them to, which I don’t. Besides, Klieg’s soul’s as good as mine. He’ll slowly madden and give in to me.” He spoke offhand, as though maddening someone meant nothing at all.

  “You’re disgusting,” she hissed, sickened by his presence. “Will I see you or Klieg when you’re… in him?” She had to know when the beastly goblin lurked nearby.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Black eyes-a-glimmer, he reached out a bony hand to stroke her cheek. She flinched. “I wanted to leave you with some information our esteemed Monarch failed to provide. Call it my final restitution for wronging you. No mortal in Orygin will recognize you as fae—” he began only to have Jessica interrupt him.

  “So, I’ve been told.”

  “Silence!” His nostrils flared as he looked at her with a hostile sort of affection. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t other fae creatures who won’t recognize you for what you are. Shadow fae and verks, especially. I’d hate for the woman who bested me to die not knowing what got her in the end.”

  He’d mentioned the shadow fae back in Faerie, blood-drinking, bad fae, but verks? And how the hell were they here? It seemed to her that Monarch was a bit of a shoddy monarch.

  “Explain. And don’t touch me again.” She smacked his hand away. Gah, fae were so obnoxious with all their riddles. She refused to give in to that inclination.

  Teeth bared, Beedle chuckled, a sharp sound that sent shivers down her spine. “I’ve been to Earth, you know,” he said this as though it were an answer. “Humans aren’t my favorite targets, so I don’t go very often, just when I’m desperate for a quick fix.”

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed.

  “But you know perfectly well what the shadow fae and verks are.”

  Tired of his going around in circles, she glared. “I assure you, I don’t.”

  “Stupid.” He smiled cruelly, then asked, “Were you team Jacob or team Edward?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he faded to nothingness, leaving her alone.

  What did all this have to do with a book series and its crazed fans back on Earth? “Team Jacob, obviously,” she answered then immediately paled. Oh, shit, werewolves and vampires? She shook her head. They didn’t really exist, right?

  Heart thumping, she decided not to think about it and instead look for Braum. He was here, just… where? She burst into the fort. A stunned soldier pointed her in the right direction. Without a word to the witches or Grif, she charged into Braum’s room and knelt by his cot.

  Even within the fire’s glow, Braum’s skin gleamed a mottled gray. And with every breath, his chest rose and fell raggedly. Tears collected beneath her lashes, seeing him like this. She cupped a hand over his heart and urged his soul into place. Her breaths mingled with his as she waited for the moment his soul and body again became one.

  But nothing happened. She’d expected some miraculous, spontaneous healing, instead, he lay still as death, a low rattle reverberating from his throat. She looked fretfully from him to the witches and back again. Her fingers twined through his chest hair, silently urging him to heal.

  The stillness grew unbearable.

  CHAPTER 42

  Braum rocketed to a sitting position, shoving something aside. He heard a thump and a squawk but couldn’t focus. His heart pounded with a steady vigor and a sudden bloom of heat scorched his flesh. When his head cleared, he recognized his quarters in the fort and looked down. Jessica sat on the floor, scowling up at him before a sudden smile lighted her face.

  “I’m so glad to see you!” she sobbed and flew into his arms. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, brows knit as he made a mental inventory of his body, before nuzzling his face into her tresses. “I feel great, actually. Gods, I’ve missed you.” His mouth crashed into hers, causing her to gasp in surprise.

  Someone chuckled as another person cursed. And he recognized Willow’s voice as she breathed, “Fae magic.”

  Need pulsed through him. He pulled Jessica tight, desperate to feel every inch of her. This was his woman, and nothing would tear them apart again.

  “Ahem,” Willow said. “We’re still here, you know.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled away. Jessica blinked at the others, her hand clutched in his. He squeezed, reassuringly.

  Willow’s eyes darkened as Braum stood, and Orrin turned away with a curse. He followed the witch’s gaze. Standing completely naked except for the iron medallion around his neck, he sported quite the erection. With a rueful smile, he yanked the quilt about his waist, his eyes meeting Grif’s. “Gods if I know what happened, but thanks for bringing me through.”

  Grif shook his head. “I did nothing.” He nodded at Orrin and Willow. “It was the witches. They poured potion after potion into you, always grinding herbs and medicinal bark. I couldn’t say what they gave you, but it obviously kept you vital.” A dubious eye glanced downward, and Braum adjusted the quilt.

  Eyes grave, Braum strode to Willow, careful to keep the blanket wrapped around his waist. Instead of kissing her hand or bowing, as was proper, he drew her close. She smelled of fresh herbs and pine, and a dozen pungent scents he couldn’t name. “Are you the one who insisted I lay naked?” he asked close to her ear, enjoying the flush creeping across her cheeks.

  Going from embarrassed to bold, she cocked a hip to one side and placed a hand at her waist. “It was for your benefit, Prince, and only a bit for mine.” Her freckled face split into a grin.

  “Well, thank you all the same,” he said and kissed her heated cheek.

  The blush deepened, and she backed away.

  When he turned to Orrin, he refrained from touching the witch. “Thank you,” he said solemnly with a quick nod. It was possible to appreciate and hate the bastard at the same time.

  “Don’t make a habit out of this,” Orrin said before striding from the small room without a backwards glance, steps echoing down the hall.

  Message received. This was the last time Braum could expect any help from him.

  With a sigh, Jessica rose from the bed, trying to cover herself with the tatters of her gown. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help him, right?”

  Willow shook her head. “Orrin’s got to work things out for himself. Don’t worry about him.”

  “You didn’t happen to bring my things, did you?” She plucked at the ragged bodice.

  Willow folded her arms and gave Jessica a smirk. “You do seem to enjoy going about the countryside in your all-together, don’t you?”

  “Are you feeling missish suddenly?” Jessica tossed back.

  “Missish?” Willow grasped her bosom. “Goodness no. I just found it remarkable that you were covered at all.”

  “Shut up.” Jessica grinned. “Do you have my things or not?”

  “Of course.” Willow smacked her lightly on the arm. “Come on, I’ll help you dress while your man here does the same.”

  Jessica gave Braum a quick wave.

  He winked, eyes lingering as she left arm in arm with Willow.

  Grif stayed behind to help, but Braum was healthy as he’d ever been, aside from the limp that still plagued him. A frown darkened his face as he threw on his clothes, attention focused on his gait. “Shit,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against the stone wall. “I am a cripple.”

  “What?” Grif asked.

  “Nothing. Just feeling sorry for myself over a goddamned limp, when I should be grateful to be alive.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I hate this weakness.” He wanted to be strong and stand by Jessica’s side, tall and able-bodied.

  “That’s goddamned right!” Grif snarled. His words came out raw, filled with hurt as well as gratitude. “I won’t sit here and listen to you bitch about your bloody l
eg! You should be buried in that mountainside alongside your ancestors. With your parents weeping and your wife in the arms of another man because you’re dead. You’re lucky to be alive. And I’m lucky to still have my best friend to berate for being a fool! So, you walk with a limp? Guess what, you can still walk. Now act like a man and go see to your wife. I’m tired of looking at you.”

  Grif was right. After squeezing his shoulder, Braum strode to the war room where he told a guard to direct Jessica to him. Before anything else, he’d ensure their defenses were intact. He wasn’t going to let anything else happen to her.

  As expected, everything was running smoothly. His soldiers, the best trained in the land, were on alert for any sign of the elves.

  When Jessica entered, his countenance lightened. Her hair was pulled into two braids—in the dwarven manner—and brushed the scarlet gown as she walked.

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears that lingered on her lashes. And a feeling of expectation filled the room. This was their moment to come together as a married couple. To move forward with their lives.

  Arms outstretched, she hurried towards him until he clasped her in his arms. The men in the room politely averted their eyes.

  “Let’s go somewhere else.” Braum pulled her into the hall. She trailed behind, skirts scooped into one hand.

  The fort was dark, with stone walls several feet thick and only arrow notches letting in light. He needed to look at his wife, and the dim fortress wouldn’t do. What they needed was privacy. They raced through the corridor until they came upon a door, barred securely.

  “Wait here.” He turned and left Jessica alone. Blast, he was a horny bastard, but he was also a soldier. A minute later he returned, armed with sword and pike, a guard close on his heels. “Lock it behind us,” he ordered. The young man nodded solemnly.

  “Come.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside.

  ***

  As Braum marched them uphill through budding trees, Jessica watched him move. Though pronounced, the limp didn’t seem to hurt, and his movements were steady.

  She smiled wearily. They were both altered from who they’d been so long ago when they’d met in the dark corridors of Britarre. But the passion between them hadn’t dimmed. In fact, it felt stronger and so much more meaningful now that she found herself looking forward to the future.

  Eventually, he came to a stop in a copse of fruit tree, just beginning to bloom, the petals still furled about themselves. It took her a moment to catch her breath. “Did you have to go so fast?” she gasped, fanning herself.

  Without waiting to answer, he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her against him, his face buried in her neck. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he pleaded while his lips explored tender flesh, pulling, and sucking until she moaned out loud.

  No worries there. She wasn’t planning on letting him go, anytime soon. Besides, his touch sent trills of delight all the way to her toes and back to collide between her legs, leaving her hungering for more.

  But knowing his kisses would be the end of rational thought, she pressed her hands to his chest. “Wait,” she said breathlessly and pulled away, noting the confusion creasing his brows. “Watch.” He had to see who she’d become. No more secrets.

  As though conducting a symphony, she snapped her arms out. Every fruit tree blossomed at once, a profusion of pink. Several plums, now fully ripe, clung to the branches.

  Braum’s eye widened. When he turned to face her, a question on his lips, he couldn’t speak.

  Ready to show him more, Jessica’s hair whipped about her face and her gown thrashed against her legs, though there was no breeze. Plush grass grew, morphing from green to purple. Fir trees and shrubs uprooted themselves to gather around, further secluding them.

  A slight smile played about her lips as she swayed to an internal tune. Clouds built above them, plunging the sky into grayness. A sudden clap of thunder heralded a heavy rain that doused everything, but them.

  A cool breeze sent a shiver through her, so she snapped her fingers and a barberry bush burst into flames, banishing the chill. As a final act, she parted the clouds above them with a nod. A beam of sunlight shone through a rainbow of impossible brightness.

  Heart pounding, she stepped close to Braum and considered his golden eyes. Would he accept her now that he’d seen all she’d become?

  He blinked in silence.

  Jessica reached out a hand. He took it, and together they sat. Relieved he hadn’t dismissed her outright, a tremulous smile grew. He was shocked and who could blame him. She might’ve started small, made a flower bloom or something, but she wanted him to truly understand the strength of her powers, and still, this had only been a taste.

  Grass cushioned their seats as they held hands and passed shy looks, the hungry passion from a moment before, dimmed. “So, what do you think?” she bit her lip and waited for his answer.

  Pillowy mushrooms softened his fall as he fell back and considered the weather phenomenon raging around them. “What do I think? Gods if I know.” He squinted against the sun. “Maybe you can explain it to me… using small words. I know what I see, and I don’t bloody understand it, but you’re my wife, so we’ll figure it out together.” His deep voice sounded strained.

  She snuggled beside him and presented all the changes she’d undergone, one-by-one: the firebrand on her palm and her fingers in their ice-blue glory. “I’ve changed.” She peeked his way, trying to assess his thoughts. Was he disgusted, curious?

  He nodded, curly. He didn’t say obviously, but she realized what a huge understatement that’d been.

  “My hair.” She lifted a bright pink curl from her breast. “And feet.” She kicked off her boots to show him the swirls grooved deep into her flesh. “My face.”

  He closed his eyes and spoke after a long silence. “I can’t figure it out. I’ve seen transitioned humans and they never exhibited such symptoms. I suppose there’s the possibility”—he pinched the bridge of his nose— “that I made a mistake during the wedding ceremony…”

  She realized he must not remember anything after Beedle took his soul.

  “I’ll put your mind at ease,” she interrupted, “it wasn’t you. I’m fae now.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” He leaned closer. “You don’t just become fae, and they’ve been gone for hundreds of years, everyone knows that.”

  “You’re wrong and you’re right.” As she explained about the fae magic finding her, her time with Willow, and what it took to save his life, a sense of catharsis enveloped her. “And I’d do it all again, bear the changes happily.”

  When she told of the deal he’d made with Beedle, he swore and slammed his fist into the soft ground. “I knew the bastard was acting strange. I’m going to kill him.”

  “It’s probably a bad idea to kill your brother. We’ll just help him expel the goblin. He’s a real asshole, anyway.” She ran her hand over his chest and plucked at the soft fabric of his shirt to expose the medallion. Even looking at the iron charm gave her an uneasy shock though she went so far as to grab it. A growing ache spread from her hand up her arm.

  Willow had explained, as Jessica dressed earlier, that iron repels faeries. And that once somebody makes it to the fae realm, they forever crave to go back. So that explained why if Braum always wore the medallion, he wouldn’t inadvertently find himself back in Faerie.

  “You’ll want to go back,” she explained as her flesh burned from within. “This medallion serves two purposes. It’s charmed to ensure your wellbeing by the witches. And it’ll also keep you from going back to Faerie. It’s iron so Willow said you’d never get through the barrier while wearing it.” She set it down on a wince and ran her fingers through the soft hair of his chest.

  Monarch had insisted she pay attention, so she better drill it home.” So,” she tapped him sharply on his sternum, “don’t take it off unless you want to set up shop in the fae realm.”

  His fingers wrapped around the charm. �
��It feels a part of me somehow.” Then all seriousness, he considered her eyes. “Does it hurt you? I saw you flinch.”

  She shrugged and brushed her fingers down his stomach, over the trail of dark hair, flicking his shirt open as she went. The muscles in his abdomen flexed. “A bit, maybe.” She tugged at the hairs around his navel and watched him squirm. “But I think I’ll be fine if I don’t handle it too much.” Her voice trailed off to a husky whisper as she slid her palm beneath his waistband. “Besides, there are other things I’d like to handle, instead.”

  His entire body stilled as her fingers found him and lingered, squeezing the rapidly stiffening shaft.

  “You mean to kill me,” he rasped. “You say my wife’s a faerie, show me magic I never dreamed possible, tell me I’m going to wander off to the fae lands, and that my brother’s possessed by a goblin, no less. And now, you want me?” His eyes burned into hers, his voice getting deeper with every word, “But gods help me, I want you, too!”

  In one motion, he stood and shucked off his clothes. Her eyes lingered on every hard delineation.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered as he laid boldly atop her, yanking the medallion behind his neck. “I don’t want you to feel any burn, but me.”

  The mood changed instantly upon his words. Her sex clenched, already wet, ready to accept him. His eyes grew heavy with desire as his nostrils flared. He pulled her tight and scorched her with his lips. This man was desirable as sin and would possess every inch of her, soul included. When his expression changed from fierce lust to one of desire partnered with love, she stopped breathing. They’d tested one another, certainly, but somehow, they’d learned through trial what it meant to love.

  His lips brushed hers again, ever so lightly, and she begged, with eager gasps, for more. With her face cradled in his hands, his tongue brushed over her upper lip. Then he grasped her lower lip with his teeth and nibbled softly.

  A victorious look crossed his face, and she understood—deep in her bones—he was going to drive her out of her mind.