“Was?”
His gaze dropped. “She died a few years ago, when the boys were infants. They don’t even remember her.”
“I’m sorry. Do you mind me asking—”
“There was a landslide. I was away, and she was alone with the twins. She made it to the cellar with them, but the ceiling caved in under the weight of the debris. She managed to place a table over their crib, giving rescuers a few extra minutes to reach them. They found her dead beside them.”
“Oh Dax. That’s—”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Rhetahn’s somber statement made her jump. Engrossed in the story, she hadn’t noticed his approach. He joined them in silence, taking a sandwich from the pile and settling on the bench opposite her.
“I’ll give you two a moment.” The ground shifter hopped off the helm and strode across the deck to the bow.
Libby watched him go, sympathy making her heart ache.
“Can I choose which ear you clip?” the god inquired.
Her attention whipped back to him. “I thought you were asleep.”
He shrugged. “I woke up.”
She glared. “You could have said something.”
“Like what? I’m awake, so stop talking about me?” Rhetahn glanced at Dax. “He’s wise beyond his years, that lad.”
She followed his gaze. The young man stood motionless at the prow, staring into the water. “Yes, I believe he is.”
“I owe you an apology, Lissabet.”
“You...you do?”
He gave her a solemn nod. “My brothers and I created laws concerning the treatment of human sacrifices. They should be accorded the utmost respect, venerated for their courage and selflessness. Even when faced with a terrified or enraged sacrifice, our response should be firm, yet civil.” He sighed. “With you, I have broken that rule many times over.”
He paused, and she hoped he wasn’t expecting a response, because she’d lost the power of speech.
“I have shown you contempt, impatience, and anger,” he continued somberly. “I have mocked you, frightened you, and taken advantage of your fear and exhaustion. I allowed my worries, plus my physical discomfort, to overrule my common decency. Dax and the dwarves have shown you thrice the consideration I could muster.” He folded his hands in his lap. “My brothers would be disgusted with me, rightly so.”
She couldn’t take her gaze off his bowed head. Her sandwich sat forgotten in her hand as he carried on.
“To be selected as the sacrifice is a great honor, yet it’s also a terrifying experience. Your death should have been as swift and painless as possible. Instead, you witnessed rampage, murder, and panic, which I blamed on you.” He shook his head and finally made eye contact, his jaw firming. “Regardless of the ritual going wrong, your part was clearly unintentional. I swear for the rest of this journey, I will treat you with the respect you deserve. I hope you can forgive my behavior thus far.”
She shuffled her feet. “Apology accepted. You’ve been through a great deal and I understand why you’re grouchy.”
“Grouchy?” he said. “Did you just call me grouchy? I’m a grouchy god?”
She swallowed her giggle. “I apologize too, for calling you an egotistical bastard.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “That’s not inaccurate.”
“True.”
He chuckled. “Shall we attempt civility from now on? Perhaps even amenity?”
“I’d like that.”
“As would I, little cat.”
His voice reminded her of the warm blankets she’d awoken in earlier. Her belly swooped when his deep blue gaze swept across her. For a single moment, his expression filled with something—surely not possessiveness?—then he turned back to his sandwich. As she did the same, the question plaguing her since the ritual burst from her lips.
“Why do you believe I can use the amulets’ power?”
He sighed, like he’d been expecting the question. “To be honest, I’m not certain. Have you ever summoned magic before?”
“No. I’ve seen it used by Thassa and the other sorcerers, though.”
“You never made things happen and couldn’t explain why? Moved things without touching them? Created invisible tripwires?”
“Like the one I fell over in the throne room? Definitely not. Why?”
“Lissabet, please don’t take offense, but is there a chance your father is...not your father?”
She stared at him, a thousand questions swirling in her head. “Why?”
“Because you’re not just channeling the amulets’ magic. They are helping you utilize yours.”
“I don’t have any magic.”
“You’re summoning it from the realm. I recognize your ability, because I have the same. The amulets must have unlocked your power. They’re amplifying and channeling your magic as well as theirs, which is only possible if you have a sorcerer’s bloodline.”
“Is that why the ritual went wrong?” Dax had composed himself and wandered back. “Because Libby has power of her own?”
“It must have something to do with it. I need to ask the high sorcerer.”
“How is that possible, if her parents were regular humans, not sorcerers?”
“I’m adopted.” Her voice echoed in her ears.
The men stared.
She blinked back tears. “Thassa found me as an infant and gave me to my parents. I have no idea where I came from.”
“Well then,” the god mused, “it’s likely Thassa, or another sorcerer, is your real father. That would explain your magic, but not why he arranged for you to be chosen as sacrifice. Or Mhaljett’s reaction during the ritual. You’re not the first offspring of a sorcerer to be sacrificed, yet his response was unprecedented.”
The lump in her throat grew larger. “I should have mentioned my adoption earlier, I suppose.”
“You weren’t to know. It’s my fault for not questioning you properly—oh, you’re upset...” Rhetahn wrinkled his brow.
Even swallowing hard couldn’t stop a large tear trailing down her cheek. She brushed it away, only for another one to fall in its place. Dax’s face was full of sympathy. The god, on the other hand, oozed discomfort, shuffling around on the bench.
“Please excuse me for a moment.” She stumbled off the helm and almost fell down the ladder to the cabin.
She sank onto a berth, embarrassment warring with dazed anger. She didn’t want to be this distraught. She’d known from a young age she was not of her parents’ lineage. Her mother was a useless liar, so they hadn’t attempted to hide it from her, but she’d been too cherished and content to give much thought to her real kin. So, to be told the strict, cold, ever-disapproving high sorcerer could be her father...
She massaged her temples. Had her parents known? She suspected not. If true, Thassa’s betrayal in the Sanctellium was even more brutal. Why would he engineer the death of his daughter? And what of the magic she apparently now possessed?
“Lissabet?” Rhetahn’s deep, hesitant voice came from above. “May I join you?”
She hiccupped and nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her in the dimness. “Yes.”
The god squeezed down the ladder, pursing his lips at the cramped conditions and bending himself in half at the bottom. He sat beside her on the bed, radiating enough discomfiture she would have laughed if she’d been in a better mood.
Passing over a tiny white handkerchief he’d obviously found in the supplies, he cleared his throat several times. “It’s a lot to comprehend. I should have explained my hypothesis with more tact.”
“It’s not your fault.” She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I asked about the magic. The answer just took me by surprise. The idea of someone like Thassa being my father is difficult to accept.”
“I understand. I’m sorry I upset you. My vow to be nicer hasn’t started well.”
She huffed. “I suppose not.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek. Her skin tingle
d under his touch and she took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured.
She bit her bottom lip. Didn’t he realize that was the worst way to comfort someone already crying? Unbidden tears fell again, and he swept them away, pushing damp tendrils of hair from her face at the same time.
“Please don’t cry,” he repeated. “I don’t like it at all.”
“I can’t help it.” She sniffed. “And you’re not helping.”
“I know. I admit this isn’t my area of expertise. What should I do?”
She shrugged and wiped her eyes again. “I don’t know. Distract me.”
His breath hitched, the crimson rims around his irises flashing. She realized instantly that was the wrong thing to say to a red-blooded dragon male feeling uncharacteristically helpless. He leaned in and she stiffened as his ashy, alpine scent curled around her like a cloak.
“You want me to distract you?” His darkening gaze drifted to her lips.
She swallowed. It was time to rise now, take leave of the man who, despite the apology for his behavior, intended to kill her. She should walk away...
At her tiny nod, he shook his head and trailed his fingers across her cheek. “Not good enough. Say it out loud, little cat.”
Oh gods.
She closed her eyes. “Distract me. Please.”
At the first brush of his lips, her breath caught in her throat. He traced his mouth across hers, curving one hand around the nape of her neck and the other on her shoulder. Her lips parted of their own accord and he slipped his tongue inside to play with hers. She grasped his broad shoulders with trembling hands, his muscles tensing under her fingers. Heat radiated through his shirt like she was touching his bare skin. The urge to skim her palms across his powerful body took her breath away.
Abruptly, he hauled her sideways into his lap. His manhood thrusted against her hip and yearning dampness rose between her legs in response. Her nipples tingled against the constriction of her clothes. Her mind was a jumbled, fervid haze; all she knew was that she needed this man with a desperate longing that overwhelmed any caution.
He kissed her deeply, overpowering any thoughts of Thassa, her parents, or magic bloodlines. The two-day stubble on his chin tickled as he kissed his way down her neck and wrapped his fist in her tresses. Tugging her head back with gentle insistence, he grazed his teeth across her vulnerable throat.
She heard a soft whimper and realized it came from her.
He released her hair, caressed her shoulder, then went lower.
“Rhetahn...” She gasped as he brushed his thumb over her nipple, pure sensation ricocheting through her body despite the two layers of clothing.
He pulled back to catch her gaze. His eyes were ravenous – blue rimmed with burning crimson, devouring her with their intensity. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
She blinked, his scent wrapping around her, compelling her to submit in every way.
“Say it again,” he commanded, raining kisses on her throat then moving to her upper chest, the amulets thrumming with heat.
“Rhet...Rhetahn...” She panted as he thumbed her nipple again.
He made a pleased sound, tracing the lines of his godly symbol marked on her skin. He unfastened her shirt buttons with deft, confident fingers, to reveal most of her bandeau.
Heart pounding, she closed her eyes, surrendering to his dominance and passion.
The god faltered.
After a few seconds, she opened her eyes.
He looked chagrined and she flinched, expecting him to castigate her again. Instead, he lifted her off his lap and placed her beside him.
Spotting his obvious excitement beneath his pants, she averted her gaze, trying to ignore the warm pulses in her lower belly.
He sighed. “I’ve lost count. Will this be my third or fourth apology?”
“Apology?”
“I shouldn’t have done that. It was not respectful, and very much against our laws. I took advantage of you again.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking rather lost. “I’m not sure why this keeps happening. My control is impeccable, as a rule.”
“I did ask you to distract me.” She fastened her shirt buttons with trembling hands. “It was my wrongdoing.”
“No, you’re an innocent. The blame lies with me.”
For some reason, this annoyed her. “Look, despite my inexperience with these situations, I can take ownership of my actions. I requested you distract me. It’s not your fault you’re useless at comforting distressed women.”
He raised his brows. “I thought I was quite proficient, in the end.”
The knowing warmth in his voice made her blush.
“I meant before we started...you know...I mean...”
A smile crept across his face at her gabbling, then he took a steadying breath. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Lissabet.”
He rose to his feet but apparently forgot the low roof, hitting his head with such force the crack echoed around the cabin.
“Fuck!” Clutching his scalp, he collapsed on the bunk and bent double, groaning.
She clapped her hands across her mouth. “Are you all right?”
“If I were at my full strength, I would’ve barely noticed that,” he moaned.
An uncontrollable giggle escaped from her.
He cricked his neck and surveyed her in mock-suspicion. “Are you laughing at me?”
She shook her head, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
He sat back with a grimace, rubbing his scalp. “At least my severe head injury has cheered you up, you wicked little cat.”
She snickered, stilling when he trailed his fingers across her cheek.
“Remind me to make you pay for it later.”
The wicked lilt to his tone sent her stomach into somersaults and she bit her lip. “Lord—”
“Rhetahn.”
Heat infused her cheeks. “Rhetahn. It’s not a good idea for us to—”
“Agreed. I was teasing. This will not happen again.”
His sensual tone changed to unyielding resolve, his gaze steely yet distant, like he was talking to himself.
“Oh.” She fidgeted. “Good. I—”
“Lord Rhetahn! Libby!” Dax’s excited whisper came through the vent. “Come see this!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Rhetahn
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Rhetahn followed the girl out of the cabin, rubbing the painful lump on his head. He couldn’t believe he’d lost control again. He’d spent his time on watch reliving his interactions with her and concluding Dax was right. Lissabet was as guileless and genuine as they came. Her reaction during their first embrace was the innocent awakening of a virgin, not a calculating seductress’s performance. Her kisses had been real, her timid passion authentic. In response, he’d behaved like a derisive, high-handed boor.
His promise to treat her with dignity was sincere. He’d sworn to himself, whatever happened at their journey’s end, whether she died under his blade or not, he would not disrespect her again.
Then she’d looked at him with those beseeching hazel eyes and he couldn’t resist. Couldn’t stop himself embracing her. Why was she so enticing? Throughout his extensive lifetime, he’d slept with untold women across the realm and rejected plenty too. None had ever made him this maddened. Even now, the memory of her succulent curves took his breath away. He wanted nothing more than to drag her back below deck and make love to her until they were both spent.
His inner dragon growled when she scampered to Dax. He didn’t want her near the ground shifter. She belonged to him, dammit, her luscious body was quite literally marked with his symbol. She was untouched by any man bar him, now and for eternity.
He stopped dead in the middle of the deck. What the fuck was he saying? She was the sacrifice. A young, naïve human, not some new courtesan throwing him coy glances across the throne room. She was out of bounds, fated to die—should already be dead
, if the ritual had worked—and he would not touch her again.
Full of renewed resolve, he studied his companions, who were focusing open-mouthed at something ahead of them. He trudged across, resisting the ridiculous urge to wedge himself in between them. They didn’t react to his presence, staring across the water ahead of them. He followed their gazes, surprised at their sudden quiescence.
The chain on the opposite riverbank followed the line of the wall, grinding through the bull-wheels as it headed upstream. The flickering torches around the mechanisms created amber glints across the waterway’s surface. Above the chain, several tiny blue lights fluttered.
A cold hand wrapped around his heart. He knew those lights.
“Beautiful,” Libby said in awe.
Dax nodded in slack-jawed agreement. “I wanted to show you. I wanted you to see them too.”
“Turn away from them,” Rhetahn said urgently.
The girl blinked. “What’s wrong?”
“Dax, look away!”
The ground shifter ignored him, transfixed by the darting lights, which increased until more than fifty danced and bobbed, heading toward the water. “Exquisite. Fascinating. I must—”
“Look away, damn you!”
“What’s wrong with him?” Libby demanded. “What are those things?”
“Bluecaps.” Rhetahn waved his hand in front of the young man’s face. “Subterranean sprites.”
She gaped. “I thought they were a myth.”
“They are, to most. They live deep underground, even farther than the dwarves. Keep your eyes averted until we’re past them.”
The girl obeyed, but Dax kept staring, mesmerized. The sprites were opposite them now, dipping to touch the water and soaring up again, taking it in turns to drink. No bigger than his index finger, their gossamer wings twinkled in the torchlight. Their eerie luminescence came from their azure-colored skin and hair, glowing in the dim tunnel. Their cherub-like faces consisted of button noses, large pointed ears and enormous eyes. Black irises blended with their pupils, like the dwarves.
“Beautiful.” Libby repeated her earlier statement, her dreamy gaze locked on the bluecaps again.
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