by Inez Kelley
“No, they’ll make you sick.” At her frown, he raised his brows. “Or maybe not. The birds don’t seem bothered by them but if humans eat wert berries, they get sick. I’d rather not risk you trying them. But I’m glad you found some. I’ll use them later.”
He popped a raspberry in his mouth and watched Salome take dainty bites of the loin. She fed Leaf from her fingers, giggling at the kitten’s rough tongue and sharp teeth. Once Leaf came to him and pawed at his boot. He glowered and the kitten scurried back to her with a mewl. She called him horrid but the smile in her tone removed the heat.
The honey surprised him. She explained how she’d retrieved it and his mouth fell open, marveling at her. She’d been covered in bees? The beekeeper at Thistlemount used a smoke can, wore netting over his face and thick leather robes to collect the nectar. Bryton scoured her arms, her face, the exposed shoulder, looking for welts or stings. There were none, just orange silk and satin skin in cream with a hint of pink. The spice-rubbed venison lost flavor as he remembered the taste of her.
“What do you think of the venison?” He had to think of something, anything but how she felt in his arms. He forgot the question when she smiled widely at him. Her mouth moved, words were spoken but he heard nothing but the pound of his blood, the sizzle of electrified air between them. The storm that had been brewing gained strength and approached with a rapidness that stole his breath.
Firelight set a vivid color aflame in her gown, the color and sparkle licking at her skin. His tongue grew jealous. The high swells of her breasts drew his gaze and his mouth watered. He might have never abused caralic but he could understand the lure, the addiction that inflicted others. He craved Salome like a thirsting man craved wine. Escape, he had to escape.
His metal plate hit the stone floor. “While it’s still light, I’m going to go wash. The deer blood is making me itch.”
She should have left Bryton to his privacy. She knew it. But she couldn’t. His gaze had caressed every inch of her, longing, lust and hunger skittering over her skin like a feather’s stroke. She shredded bits of venison for Leaf, stacked the utensils and plates near the water and trailed after him. He did not go to the nearby stream but ducked deeper into the forest, slipping between trees and bushes. The light began to wane, the sky deepening to periwinkle, and the day’s heat fled. Soft peace settled into the forest.
In tune with his soul, she did not need her eyes to follow, tracing his path as if it were marked with torches rather than the subtle scents he carried. The rush of a waterfall filled the evening, a muted roar in an endless roll. A moist humidity seeped into the air, steam rising through the foliage. Salome bent a ferny branch down and watched.
A fissure in the earth heated the water. Tendrils of misty steam floated across the dark green, bubbling at one edge of an irregular inlet. White froth mixed with pale lime foam, spreading in widening circles. A flash of copper broke the surface. Bryton swiped wet hair from his face and swam, long strokes barely breaking the surface.
Pulse thudding in her throat, mouth dry and palms damp, Salome’s breath came in short soft pants. He swam leisurely and she could feel the tensions seeping from his muscles. The warmed water lapped at him. His soap sent iridescent lather thinning along the current. He ducked to rinse his hair and she swallowed. She should turn, walk away, allow him his relaxation. The long line of his back tempted her to stay.
Water sluiced over hardened muscles as he moved to cooler waters. The depth must have lessened because he walked and each slowed stride brought the inlet’s cloak lower and lower on his chest. The dark dagger mark glistened and tiny droplets traced down his sternum, trickling into the concave valley of his navel. Each rounded hip bone flanked a furrow of muscles, narrowing, angling downward.
Salome turned her head and nibbled her lip. A splash reclaimed her gaze. He stood beneath the pouring waters. The waterfall rained down with a torrential shower. It cascaded over broad shoulders, down the dipped groove of his spine, caressed over tight buttocks, licked across corded thighs. A heavy ache formed between her legs, and wetness gathered. The venison, berries and grains with honey still filled her belly but a hunger whipped thorough her.
He raised his arms, stretching, and the bones of his shoulder blades pointed then flexed like burgeoning wings. Her tongue grew thick with desire and she slicked it across too-dry lips. She’d felt the strength in him, in his firmed arms and back, the tightly bound ridges of his stomach, but always through clothing. The thin layers of wool or hemp had masked far more than his captain’s marks. They hid his beauty. Bryton seemed carved from stone, each detail captured at the peak of masculine prowess.
Gooseflesh erupted on her arms as the need to feel him, touch him, taste him raged inside her. The storm between them echoed with internal grumbles of denied thunder. Salome spun on her sandaled heel and fled, ripping through the brush as if she were hunted. She was hunted, by her own need for what he would not give. Her mind raced faster than her feet. Peace, she needed her peace, to find the solitude of gentle nature and uncomplicated existence.
Her birds. The tiny new lives that needed nothing but scraps of food and a mother’s care. She needed her birds. Fronds and leaves slapped at her as she ran, pushing the shades of green away, her feet digging into the dirt. The cliffside came into view and she sprinted toward the pine, toward the small nest. It lay shattered and scattered at the base.
Frantic and shaking, she dropped to her knees, clawing at the bits of straw and grass. Jagged shells bit into her hands, crushed into a thousand pieces as she searched for the hours-old hatchlings. Little brown feathers and moist pink blood stuttered her heart. Gone. Her baby birds were gone, the mother either some mammal’s dinner or chased off by another larger bird.
Nature had no cruelty, just a fight for survival, and predators sought only to live, but her essence shrieked in torment. The hatchlings scarcely had time to live, had never opened their eyes to the brilliance of day, never felt the wind on their wings. Injustice and loss boiled in her soul and she let loose a scream of pure misery.
Bryton pulled the wool breeches over damp skin and reached for his shirt when a fierce wind smacked at him, stinging his eyes with sand and dirt. The scorched scent of burnt honey accompanied an eerie gale that stabbed at him. Panic bled through him, a venomous poison that buzzed in his veins. Salome. He left everything behind but grabbed his sword and dagger, jamming his boots on as he ran. Her name tore from his throat as he barreled toward the cliffside.
Terror burrowed into his soul, forcing power and speed into his legs. A twig snapped and lashed his cheek but he didn’t pause to wipe the sting away. His battle cry blended with her name. Not again, I can’t lose her, too, not again.
Dusk cast shadows on the mountain from the dying rays of the sun. In the purple-smudged gloom a tight cyclone swirled around Salome, and crystal tears streaked her cheeks. Seeing her alive eased the pain in his chest, but the turmoil on her face kept the adrenaline pumping in his blood. The winds raged around her with snapping strength. Bryton didn’t think, he reacted, rushing headlong into the whirlwind, to Salome.
Pebbles and debris pelted him, the fierce winds pushing against him. He ducked his head, squinting to keep her in his sights, and drove forward. Salome never took her gaze from the pine. Inside the funnel’s center the air was calmer, a gentle whisper surrounding her that twanged with agony. He dropped his weapons, reaching for her. The instant his hands touched her arm, the wind stopped.
“Salome, what’s wrong?”
“They’re gone,” she whispered, a haunted void in her tone.
“Who?”
“The birds, the babies, they’re gone.”
The torn nest and shell remains brought his frown. He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her, unable to feel anything but relief that she still breathed. “I’m sorry, sweetling. It was probably a crow or maybe a blue jay. Things like that happen.”
“I know, but they were…I saw them hatch, watched them in t
he first seconds of life. They had no chance. It’s not fair.”
She clung, sobs racking her shoulders, tears pooling hotly against his chest. Her arms trembled and her knees shook. Murmuring soft words that meant nothing, he simply held her and let her sorrow wash through her, giving the only comfort he could, his strength. The sun slipped behind the earth and the first twinkling stars appeared. Her hair wrapped around his forearm, tickling with little curls. He feathered soft kisses along her brow, rocking her as he might Jana while she wept.
The tears dried and she drew slow, strengthening breaths. The moist heat blew across his chest and his thoughts slipped to things other than gallantry. Her breasts pressed tight against him, her waist curving under his hands, the softness of her cheek on his bare skin. He pulled away before his growing firmness could hint to his distraction. She laced her fingers with his as if unwilling or unable to be alone. Understanding let him stroke her flushed cheek. This was the first loss she had ever tasted and he knew well the soured flavor.
He bent to gather his weapons then tugged her up the rough steps. Golden flickers bathed her as he stoked the fire, the increasing light showing shadowed eyes and hollowed, stained cheeks. Leaf stood on hind legs against her calf, biting at the ties of her sandals. Salome removed her shoes, dangling the laces for the kitten to bat, then she scooped Leaf up with a small sob. She cuddled her until the animal squirmed in protest. Salome released her and she jumped down, chasing an acorn across the floor, into the shadowed corners of the room. Salome’s longing gaze followed the fluffy kitten’s play.
She startled when he swiped a dampened cloth over her face, then took it from him and pressed it to her eyes.
“I’ve seen you angry but I’ve never seen you cry.”
A sad shade passed over her eyes, darkening the gray to soot. The wry lift to her lips fascinated him. “Today I have wept twice. I hope to never weep again.”
“Twice? When was the first?”
Shock quickly shifted to anger and then to fear as she described her discovery of the Skullman hideout. An itch like biting ants crawled through his muscles. She’d allowed Karok to touch her, assuming the role of his demigoddess then venting her anger. Tremors of frenzied alarm gripped him. She could have been seized. An arrow could have ended her life or a dagger sliced her throat. Karok could have wrung her neck and tossed her broken body aside.
His fingertips bit into her upper arms, the urge to shake her battling the urge to crush her to him. He could not swallow his dread. She’s a spell, can mist to wind and heal, Karok would never be able to hurt her. His logical mind battled his rampant emotions. He’d known she was hurting, had felt the jagged edge of her pain, tasted it in the wind. What if the threat had been real and he was too far away? What if she was injured and he couldn’t find her? What if she left him?
Clarity swept through him with stunning realization. It forced him to his feet, back against the cool rock wall. Yes, Salome was sent to bring him peace but instead had become more. She had brought him comfort and joy, reawakening his laughter. She was more than his friend, more than a voice that soothed him, more than a beautiful woman who tempted him. She’d burrowed under his resolve, beneath his shields, below his guard. She’d wedged into his heart. Acknowledgment left him stunned. He loved her.
Salome sipped the plain cup of water he’d pressed into her hand then raised her gaze to his. Dove-gray eyes became a beacon, drawing his awareness like a lightning strike of power and heat. Lust arced with a blue-white sizzle. The cup lowered to the floor and she stood, never dropping her eyes from his. He drank in the splendor of her grace. The dulcimer notes of her voice stretched toward him, caressing him with a vibrating need.
“This day has shown me happiness and anger, contentment and rage, wonder and death. So many things, all new and vibrant, but there was one constant, one steady thread that tied them all together.”
“What?”
“You are my constant, Bryton. Through every feeling, every experience, every thought, you were there, in my heart and in my soul. You are my charge and I came to bring you peace but you, you spin my mind and my emotions like a hurricane.”
A dry lump formed under his jaw and he swallowed it down with force. No words would spring from his tongue.
Her gown borrowed light from the fire. She stepped toward him, each motion like liquid flame licking across her curves. His body pulsed in awareness, desire surging to want. One slender hand rose to stroke his jaw. Her touch scalded to his senses. Sweet honey carried a darker fragrance, one tinged with the sultry spices of need.
“I watched you bathe,” she whispered.
His eyes widened and a warmth formed on his cheeks. Her fingertips slid to his neck, fingers delving along the cords and valleys. A trail of heat sizzled beneath her path. Part of him yelled, fighting the deliciously intoxicating lure of her touch. Another part reveled in it and wanted to gorge on the brewing lust. He couldn’t move, frozen, held by conflicted desires.
Her hand left his skin, and loss swamped him. Her braided belt fell to the stone. The muted thwap of leather striking stone closed his eyes. He was too weak for this temptation. The deep breath he desperately sucked in wound her deeper into his soul until she permeated every inch of his skin. His eyelids sheltered his fear but his body raged and he needed to see her, to drown in her tranquil beauty.
Bravery and valor were nothing compared to the determination it took to open his eyes. Drunk with longing, his gaze locked on her hand as she reached for her shoulder and the clasp of her chiton. Sunrise silk rippled as it fell from her body, pooling at her feet in a splash of daybreak on the dark stone floor. Carnal hunger roared and his blood surged.
Drenched in firelight, her bare skin glowed in shades of apricot, peach and amber. Yearning thickened his tongue and he slicked it across his lips as his eyes lowered. Gilded cream slipped to soft breasts tipped in dusky rose. A jerking started in his spine but slammed into his gut when she took his hand and brought it to one soft swell. Her name crossed his lips but no sound came, just a low sound of pleasure torn from his weakening resolve.
His thumb brushed a slow arc against her breast and the nipple drew tighter. He dropped his head back, banging it on the stone, and a strangled plea rasped from his dry mouth. “Salome, please…”
She brought his other hand up, molded them both to her breasts. Beneath her skin, her heartbeat pummeled with an echo to his. “Can you feel it, Bryton, the force that grows between us? It rolls like thunder, scorches like lightning, churns with the power of storm clouds. Can you sense it?” Her hands moved his, down her rib cage to her waist, to her hips, lower. “The winds caress us, the air sizzles on our skin, the rains make us wet.” Her fingers drew his down to slick hot flesh and a groan peeled from his throat.
Unable to breathe, his vision grew hazy. Nothing existed but her, all sunbeam cream and twilight eyes. His blood boiled and his body betrayed him, reaching for her. Soft curves in molten heat touched him, pressed against his chest, pushed along his hardness, curled around his neck.
Bryton surrendered to the tempest of temptation. A white flag waved in his befuddled mind and he took her mouth, gentleness a memory. Her kiss seared into his brain, into his soul, like a branding iron. For him, there was no escape. She had marked him with some invisible claim and he belonged to her. It was the sweetest defeat he’d ever tasted.
Chapter Ten
A fever spread through him, the burning fervor to possess, to claim, to make her his. His mouth never parted from hers, but he bent, slid his arm beneath her knees and lifted her. Three steps and he lowered her to his pallet, covering her body with his. One delicate foot curled around his calf, her leg creeping higher, opening to cradle him in the sweet contours of her intimate embrace. Salome twined her arms about his shoulders and drew him closer. Salty tears lingered on her lips, and he licked each one away, longing to erase the torment from her soul.
The tight confines of his breeches twisted him with a painful bite but
he relished the pain, clung to it. He toed off his boots, the heavy-soled leather hitting the stone with deafening thuds. Still, he did not reach for his waistband. Bryton clenched his teeth, biting back the urge to rip his clothing away and plunge inside her. If he stripped now, he’d give in to the driving urge coursing through him.
The temptation to move too fast, to say things he dared not think of, promise things he had no right to promise, hovered just out of reach. To silence the urge, he took her mouth, found hers waiting. A fizz coated his skin, heightened by the glide of her leg along his, the skim of her mouth against his. He had to slow his need, control his thirst, rein in his hunger. She was too innocent, deserved softness and care, not lusty fury.
Somewhere deep under his sternum, his pulse thundered with such a furious tempo he feared it would explode. Her hands touched his chest and he froze. As if she knew, her palms cradled above his heart and it slowed, responding to her touch.
Without raising his face from the curve of her neck, he murmured, “Be sure, Salome. This cannot be undone.”
“I am sure. Love me.”
I do, his heart whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
Bryton stilled. He wouldn’t. He would do everything in his power to ease her, to please her, to make her ready for him. Drawing on strength he never knew existed, he tamped down his hunger. His surrender was also his victory, would be her pleasure. This gift of innocence would not be hurried, would not be rushed. Unseen hands had crafted her specifically for him. She was magic beyond her powers, beyond her song. She’d breathed new life into him with a kiss.
He stroked a gentle finger across her cheek, twining that stubborn lock of hair around his knuckle. “I won’t, I promise.”
Petal-pink lips widened with her smile and she leaned up, kissing him with infinite softness. Her fingers sank in his wet hair and her mouth slid along his jaw. Hard nipples grazed his chest and his eyes closed, pleading for mercy. The feel of skin on skin crackled with a lightning strike, echoing the burning flashes raging in him. Salome’s breasts filled his palms perfectly. Nipples beaded by lust and kissed by the chilled air stiffened more. He stroked with a single finger, fascinated by the tightening flesh. His thumb joined his finger and rolled the tip. Heaving gasps lifted her chest and a whimper sounded above the pounding of his blood.
