He sighed. “Lissabet. You ask far too many questions, you know.”
She huffed a laugh. “I’m too curious for my own good, I admit it. My father says I’m part cat.”
“I think I agree with him.”
Silence fell again. He glanced sideways, taking in the curve of her cheek, the upturn of her nose, and found himself wanting to see her smile again.
“You acted with courage against the nalfies,” he said. “You showed steadiness and sound judgement.”
She fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“Am I not permitted to give you a compliment?”
“It’s a rather strange one.” She wrinkled her nose. “More like a military report.”
“Ah, you prefer traditional flattery. The usual things a woman likes to hear. Admiration for her face, her hair, her curves—”
“That’s not necessary, thank you.” Her cheeks pinked. “Anyway, that’s not all we like to hear. If anything, it’s rather uninspired.”
“Really, little cat?” He should call a halt to this dangerous conversation, but he was enjoying himself too much. He leaned in. “What aspects of you should I compliment?”
“You should already know.” Her blush deepened. “You’ve been alive for eons. You should be an expert in these matters.”
“Oh, I am,” he purred. “Would you like to...”
“Would I like to what?” She looked both nervous and intrigued.
“Quiet.”
She stiffened. “Nalfies?”
He shook his head, straining his ears. At the faint stomp of boots and voices, he jerked to his feet, dragging her with him. “Into the alcove. Someone’s coming.”
She skittered into the fissure. He followed her, angling his shoulders and wedging his scabbard against his body to stop it scraping on the wall. He winced when his bruised arm hit the stone. The cramped recess was deeper than it appeared, wide enough for single-file movement. His inner dragon growled its displeasure. He shoved Libby onward, away from the jagged entrance.
She hit the back wall and grunted. Turning blindly, she brushed her hands against his chest then jerked them back. Heat ripped through his body at her artless touch. He put his hands on the damp rock face either side of her, as the sounds grew louder.
“I can’t believe I’m hiding from my own supplicants,” he muttered.
“Well you are, so stop talking.” Libby shuffled in place.
Rumbling voices echoed around their hiding place. The travelers had entered the antechamber. He discerned four separate voices, speaking Dwarvish in anxious tones. He willed them to choose a tunnel and move on. They remained in the chamber, clamoring in their own language. He recognized the word “demons” and not much else. He tensed when a voice became louder; one dwarf was in front of the recess. Rhetahn pressed against the girl, shielding her instinctively.
Libby wriggled as the dwarves continued talking. Rhetahn closed his eyes, inhaling her heady scent of strawberries and mountain-mint. Having her in such close proximity was akin to torture.
His hands moved of their own accord, trailing from the wall to her upper back. She seemed so small, so fragile, yet her spirit and fortitude hinted at a core of steel. He held her against his chest, her breath warming his skin. The amulets vibrated as if enjoying their nearness. She squirmed again, and he realized she could feel his manhood pushing against her. There was no way she could avoid it.
Powerful instincts rose inside him, compelling him to subdue her reluctance and drown her in pleasure until she begged for more. Unbidden, his hands drifted to the curve of her backside, earning a gasp and another wriggle for his troubles. He drew her closer. She didn’t protest, glancing up uncertainly.
He couldn’t resist. He dipped his head and kissed her.
She froze.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a virgin in his arms, let alone kissed one. He brushed his lips against hers, ignoring the instincts demanding he lead her to the inferno beyond this tentative, flickering spark. She wasn’t responding but wasn’t pulling away either. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed before and found himself hoping she hadn’t.
He increased the pressure, and she tilted her head back, keeping her mouth closed. He nipped her lower lip with gentle insistence. Finally, they parted, and he slipped his tongue inside. She gasped again, but still didn’t retreat, as if fascinated. He continued to play in her mouth, soothing yet purposeful. Slowly, tentatively, she responded, her fingers landing like butterflies on his sides. Her little tongue touched his, recoiled, then crept back for more, much to his approval. He deepened the kiss, pulling her lower lip between his teeth, and a moan escaped her.
Shit. Too loud.
He dragged his mouth away with effort to listen. Silence in the antechamber, and in the distance, the sound of voices moving away. He studied the trembling girl in his arms. She remained rooted to the spot, her eyes glimmering like jewels in the darkness.
Releasing her with reluctance, he shifted sideways and shuffled to the alcove entrance. She hesitated then followed him. They re-entered the antechamber, their embarrassed silence broken by the crackle of the torches.
Studying her flushed cheeks, he sighed. “I apologize.”
Her gaze flew to his face.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I take full responsibility and it won’t happen again—” He stopped, listening. “Oh, damn. Get back in.”
“What?”
“More people are coming.”
He shooed her to the alcove again and she clambered back inside, grumbling under her breath. They scuffled back to their previous position. This time, he kept his distance, leaving half an arm’s length between their bodies.
Voices approached and they both stiffened. The second set of travelers didn’t stop, passing through the chamber in a clatter of boots and babbling voices. The sounds died away, leaving them alone once more.
His vision adjusted to the darkness enough to perceive her diffident expression. Without thinking, he closed the space between them. She tensed, then tilted her face in shy, unspoken invitation. His surprise lasted a mere moment. He wrapped his arms around her and claimed her mouth again. This time she parted her lips straight away, standing on her tiptoes and clutching at his shirt. Her guileless enthusiasm was contagious, and he kissed her back with equal measure.
Burying his hands in her tangled hair, he tilted her head to taste her better, deepening the kiss even further. He broke away from her mouth, ignoring her whimper of objection. He trailed his lips across her cheek, her jaw, nuzzling into her neck, unable to prevent his possessive growl.
Desire thickened her sweet scent, clouding his mind. His inner dragon urged him on, driving him to claim her as his own. Her head fell back as he flicked his tongue over her fluttering pulse and grazed it with his teeth. She tightened her hold on his shirt, offering her throat in automatic submission. Ravenous instinct warred against common sense as he left her neck and returned to her eager, swollen lips.
What in the realm was he doing? What was his plan? To take her right there, in a freezing, uncomfortable alcove, shushing her every time a dwarf wandered past? Would she want that? A naïve innocent who told him to go fuck himself yesterday? She seemed keen now, accepting his kisses with alacrity, so different from her diffident reluctance of earlier.
Outrage mixed with bitter comprehension rose inside him, washing away his lust like an ice-cold shower. He broke the kiss, slapping her hands off his chest and storming away as best he could in the small space.
After scrambling from the alcove, he crossed his arms and waited for her to follow.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he sneered when she sidestepped out.
She flinched, brushing her hair behind her ears. “Is...is something wrong?”
“I don’t respond well to machinations, little cat.”
“Machinations?”
“Did you assume if I fucked you, I wouldn’
t kill you?”
Her cheeks, already pink from their kiss, deepened to crimson. “Pardon?”
He made sure his voice was frigid. “You will die at my hand, girl. When the high sorcerer fixes whatever is wrong with you, I will stab you in the heart and restore my power. It will happen regardless of whether I bed you in the meantime.”
She gawped. “You think I was trying to seduce you into sparing me?”
“Deny it if you wish.”
“I do deny it,” she shouted. “You kissed me first, you egotistical bastard! You even apologized for it!”
He shrugged, steeling himself against her fake devastation. “It doesn’t explain the second kiss, which you initiated. Rather bold behavior for a virgin, don’t you agree?”
She blushed even harder. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”
“No?” he said mildly. “Overcome with desire, were you?”
“What can I say?” she snapped. “Apparently, I have terrible taste in men.”
She stomped to an archway and wavered, her wish to flounce off clearly vying with her fear of getting lost in the tunnels. She did the next best thing, crossing her arms and turning her back on him, practically vibrating with anger.
He brushed away his doubt. Her acting skills were not good enough to fool him. He was a two-thousand-year-old god, and he would not be duped by a pretty face and a pair of luscious lips.
Another silence fell, cold and stony as the walls around them. His aching loneliness crept back from the distraction of passion like a mounting shadow. He wondered if Mhaljett had woken yet. Had his sanity returned? What of the female who sidetracked him, did she live? How many people had been attacked by demon patrols while he’d been traipsing through dwarf tunnels with a secretive ground shifter and a scheming human? Was Brand coordinating the defense as he’d instructed? Worrying, unanswerable questions plagued him, and he could speak of them to no one.
Over the next hour, neither broke their stalemate, even when they reentered their hideaway as more dwarves passed by. For each spell in the cramped recess, they stayed as far away from each other as possible. Her hostility was palpable. For his part, he wasn’t sure if he was angrier with the girl for trying to trick him, or himself for falling for it. On the fourth time, a familiar voice called into the alcove.
“Lord Rhetahn? Lissabet?”
“Dax.” Libby’s voice was full of relief. “You’re back.”
Despite the narrowness, she managed to squeeze past him, elbowing him in the stomach with enough force to make him grunt. He followed her and stopped in surprise. The ground shifter wasn’t alone. Blouzst, sporting a white bandage around his head, accompanied him, along with four other unfamiliar dwarves. Each one prostrated themselves, murmuring in awed disbelief.
Rhetahn’s brow furrowed as he surveyed his devoted worshippers. He flicked a glance at the smiling Dax, surprised at his taciturn guide’s ebullience. “Has there been a change of plan?”
The young man’s smile grew into a grin. “You could say so. Come see.”
Chapter Eighteen
Libby
Arrogant, thoughtless, belligerent god.
Mistrustful, sarcastic, obnoxious, downright rude...
Outraged names barreled around Libby’s mind as she followed Dax, Blouzst, and the object of her vehemence through the dark tunnels. Rhetahn was pretending their row hadn’t happened, striding ahead and questioning the ground shifter on their heading. She hung back with the other dwarves; whose gazes were locked on their deity while they trotted after him.
These were the other town elders, whom Blouzst had told of the god’s presence and the fight with the nalfies. She wasn’t sure where they were going. Dax’s mysterious explanation was the dwarves wanted to gift Lord Rhetahn something to assist them in their journey. In her opinion, the only thing he deserved was a hard kick to his family jewels.
The passageway opened into a ledge bordered by a crude wooden barrier. It jutted halfway up a massive stone wall, with the bare ground at least fifteen feet below. She’d never been too concerned about heights, but when the rest of the dwarves joined them on the suddenly crowded platform, she wiped her damp palms on her shirt.
When she finally took in her surroundings, her jaw dropped. Nerves forgotten, she beheld the cavern in the mountain’s center. The town of Taglemeiss sprawled across the massive grotto, beneath enormous stalactites hanging from the roof, some sparkling with gems, others gleaming and smooth as if made from pure steel. Cluttered, uneven buildings and tapered streets made up the settlement, the cavern walls encircling it holding up at least twenty torch-lit platforms, including the one on which she now stood. Stone and wood staircases rose from the ground to meander among them, allowing access to the network of tunnels around Taglemeiss.
The metropolis was well-lit for being so deep underground. After some confusion, she spotted a multitude of glittering stalagmites rising from the ground, shining with enough brilliance to illuminate the area around them.
“Lusterstones,” the dwarf with the longest beard said, following her gaze. “The town is built around them. They catch the light from the torches and stalactites, reflecting it back tenfold.”
“They’re beautiful. The whole town is stunning.”
Another dwarf gave her a bow. “A pretty compliment, Sacrifice.”
She hid her flinch at the moniker and followed them down the steep steps, clutching the wooden railing. A huge crowd waited for them at the base. When they reached solid ground, the group of at least a hundred men, women and tiny children prostrated themselves. Svalzi was at their head, apparently none the worse for his fracas with the nalfies. It would appear the excited boy had failed to keep quiet regarding the god’s presence.
Rhetahn’s gaze traveled across the dwarves as he bade them to rise. Memories of her own encounter in the throne room made her shiver. The weight of his gaze, the power in his deep voice, her awe and reverence.
Of course, that was before he’d transformed into a complete asshole.
Despite Blouzst’s order for the observers to disperse, many followed them as they headed away. She assumed they would head for the town center. Instead, they kept to the outer streets, toward the back of the cavern.
The diminutive buildings along the narrow road appeared sturdy, the tiled roofs level with her eye line. She caught glimpses of the interiors; the windows too small to discern much beyond them. They passed what appeared to be a small bakery and her mouth watered at the scent of fresh bread.
The two largest lusterstones loomed ahead above the roofs, radiating effervescent light as if worshipping the stalactites above them. She wanted to ask Dax where they were going but doing so would mean pulling alongside Rhetahn. She scowled at his broad back.
Throughout her life, The Three had been transcendent in her mind. She’d believed with unwavering certainty that her faith ensured a peaceful eternal sleep after death, safe from the dark magic whispered to consume souls. Her worship of the warrior brothers was reverent and boundless. She’d pictured the omniscient deities watching over their devoted supplicants from on high; majestic, illustrious, serene.
Now she understood the truth. Rhetahn was a flesh-and-blood man as well as a god: dominant, wickedly charming, and oh so enticing. His teasing, amiable side surprised and captivated her. She couldn’t believe how she’d let her guard down. How she’d permitted—no, enjoyed—his flirting and banter, and...his kisses.
Gods, those kisses. Those glorious, soul-stealing kisses.
She recalled the timid brush of lips she’d shared with Karlo last year and bit back a laugh. She’d labeled that realm-shattering? Mind-blowing? One single moment with Rhetahn contained more heat, more passion, than the entire duration of Karlo’s awkward embrace.
Then Rhetahn had turned on her. She cringed when she recalled his caustic tone, his cruel accusations. Such manipulation hadn’t even crossed her mind. Alone and afraid, she’d just craved more of his distracting, exhilarating touch. Her em
barrassment and hurt when he dismissed her shy desire with such finality reverberated inside her. As did the speed at which he’d transformed back into the aloof, forbidding god of earlier, rather than the affable companion she’d begun to see.
“You will die at my hand, girl.”
“No, I bloody won’t,” she muttered.
“Eh?” The dwarf who had explained the lusterstones scrutinized her. “You speak to me, Sacrifice?”
“No,” she said hurriedly. “I was talking to myself. Sorry.”
“Oh.” His attention sharpened on the amulets around her neck. The chains were too short to tuck them out of view in her shirt. “Why are you wearing those sacred talismans?”
“I’m...holding them for safekeeping.”
He didn’t question her further despite his narrowed gaze. Hiding her relief, she glanced around, marveling how her life had changed in such a short time. She’d gone from a trainee principal in her small, peaceful village, to a doomed sacrifice in a castle ruled by gods, to a nalfie fighter in the wild Shifterlands, and now she was strolling through an underground community accompanied by dwarves. If she ever made it home, she’d have tales to put the best storytellers in Paskyll to shame.
“Is Taglemeiss known for its beauty or are all dwarven townships this splendid?” she asked the dwarf.
He flashed her a smile. “Every dwarf settlement has its own beauty, but Taglemeiss is one of the oldest and most glorious. You have a keen eye for elegance, Sacrifice.”
“Oh, please call me Libby.”
“Libby.” He repeated her name, as if savoring a new flavor on his tongue. “I am Spreitl, Blouzst’s cousin. Have you ever been to our capital, Furacht?”
She shook her head.
“Furacht is a new city compared to Taglemeiss. The architects based the design, in part, on our town.”
“What a wonderful homage.”
“Indeed.” The dwarf stroked his beard importantly. “Although our capital has its own charm, of course. Where do you hail from, Libby?”
“A village in south Paskyll, called Firstocket. I doubt you’re familiar with it.”
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