by Hazel Hunter
Kayla set aside the blankets and folded her arms. “You touch me, or use your magick to make me want it, and I swear to God I will find a way to hurt you. Even if it takes me the rest of my dumbass mortal life.”
“I don’t have to touch you.” He swept up his hand, and bridles began to fall off their brackets. “Nor does my magick.”
Kayla felt something curl around her ankle, and glanced down to see two coils of rope encircling her boots. Regret finally seeped through her fury, for despite his thick skull and utter unconcern for her feelings, this was Ryan. Ryan, whose passion had taken her apart and rebuilt her. Ryan, who had made her feel hope…and this sick, twisted love that wanted her to go along with his horrible plan.
“Please, don’t do this.” She hated how pitiful her voice sounded. “I can’t take anymore, Ryan.”
“’Tis the same for me, my lovely one.” He flicked his fingers, and the buttons on her jacket fell off and rolled away. He bent down, not touching her at all as he breathed in. “I see you and it seizes me inside, with the gilt talons of your eyes. The dark satin of your hair peace-bonds my heart. I am bound to you by every blink of your lashes, by every crystal ring of your laughter.”
He had her bound by the wrists and ankles, and when the leather and rope tugged her back against the shelves of curry combs, Kayla didn’t fight them. Some perverse part of her wanted to see just how far he would take this.
“I dream of us now, every night.” Ryan unbuttoned his own tunic, stripping it off to reveal his broad, beautifully muscled chest. “In the cabin, in the snow, high atop some icy waterfall. We are naked and the world dwindles as we reach to each other. You whisper my name just before my hand covers your naked breast, and then I awake, alone and cold and hard. So hard.”
Kayla’s jacket simply evaporated, leaving her in her tunic and hose. She kept her gaze locked with his as he stripped off his boots and trousers. His pale white skin took on a subtle glow as he straightened, naked and fully erect. Only then did she feel the rest of her costume peel away from her skin, leaving her in her underwear. She could feel her panties clinging to her sex, which had grown damp and throbbed urgently now.
Ryan moved close enough for his body heat to sink into her skin, and put his mouth beside her ear. “I never have to touch you for you to make me like iron, my lovely one. Then all I must do is what is necessary to find peace.”
The whisper of his breath against her ear and cheek made her swallow a moan. “What do you do?”
He stepped back, watching her face as he reached down and wrapped his hand around his engorged shaft. “This.” Slowly he began stroking the length of his cock, his arm flexing and his chest heaving as he dragged in more air. “I remember how it was in the cabin, that night we first had each other. Touching you. Putting my mouth on you. Fucking you.”
Kayla turned her face away, but listening to his hand pumping made her clit pulse, and her nipples pucker into tight beads. “Is this why you tied me up? To torture me?”
“No.” He murmured something else, and light filled the room.
When Kayla’s dazzled eyes cleared, she saw Ryan bound by rope and rein to the shelves, and she was standing where he had been. Her panties and bra were gone, too. She should have run for the door, but her feet took her to him. “I think that spell backfired, my man.”
“This is how you have me.” He looked down at the full, straining bulb of his erection. “And I can find no relief from it. Not even when I use my hand and pretend it is you.” He lifted his head and smiled wanly at her. “Why should tonight be any different?”
Kayla imagined walking out of the tack room and leaving him there to stew, but her heart brought her closer still, until she could rest her cheek against his smooth skin. She felt the hammering of his heart increase as she brushed her lips over one small, flat brown nipple, and smiled against it before she caressed it with her tongue.
“Whatever is said, whatever is done,” Ryan told her, his voice going so deep it growled against her ears, “I am yours, my lady, to do with as you please.”
Kayla kissed her way across his chest to his other nipple, giving it some attention as she curved her hands over his tight, bulging shoulders. That this huge, brawny man was telling her that he was her toy made all kinds of ideas fill her head. “I like how you taste.”
“Then have me.” His eyes searched hers. “Feast on me.”
Putting her mouth and tongue on his body gave Kayla a heady sense of power. She reveled in it as she ran her hands over him, mapping every long stretch of skin and the delicious strength knotting beneath it. She toyed with him, pinching his nipples until he groaned. She caressed them with her fingertips as she used her tongue on his belly. The columns of his thighs turned to steel as she knelt and shook her hair back, wanting him to see as well as feel the moment she kissed the slick, satiny bulb. It throbbed so strongly now it tapped her chin.
“Hmmmm.” She kissed him, and let her lips linger. A pearl of bitter sweetness seeped from the velvety eye of his cock, and she lapped it up before she opened to engulf him.
“Ah.” Ryan shook, making the shelves rattle behind him. “Now you make me dream again, oh, my lady. More, yes, take more of me. Take all of me.”
Kayla slowly worked her lips down, sucking firmly as he glided in and out. She didn’t know if his hips were thrusting or her head was bobbing. They were one instead of two now. He possessed her, his cock pushing in her mouth, and she devoured him, her lips caressing as she took every inch. He felt so large and hard she wondered if he could last much longer, and prayed that he would. Nothing felt as good as this. Rubbing her palms against his thighs, she reassured him, and then goaded him by cradling the tight bulge of his balls with her curious fingers.
Rope tore, and leather shredded, and when Ryan pulled her up into his arms Kayla wrapped hers around his neck.
“Again I break my promises.” He walked her back until he braced her on the work table, and stepped between her thighs. “You make a liar out of me and I do not care. I must be inside you. Will you let me give it to you now, love?”
Kayla leaned back, using her legs to draw him closer as she tasted him on her lips, and smiled. “Yes, Ryan. Unless you want me to throw you to the floor and–”
He pushed his hands under her bottom as he thrust inside her, his hips jerking frantically as he worked into her clenching opening. “Kayla, help me. Look at me, show me your eyes. I cannot stop, I cannot wait, I cannot think.”
He had filled her so completely that she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. “Then stop trying,” she whispered. “Nothing matters but this.” She tightened around him until he began to move.
Ryan draped her over his arm, urging her back so he could get at her breasts. At the same time he worked between her thighs, plowing in and out with deep, hard thrusts until the table under her began to pound just as rapidly against the wall. Kayla gripped his strong arms and rolled her hips up and down, fucking him back as she heard herself make a soft keening sound. He was going to split her in half soon, and she didn’t care. It meant nothing as the tides of hunger swelled and rose within her. When he came into her in the next moment she jutted her breasts against his mouth and cried out as lights burst behind her closed eyelids. The rest of her exploded in fast and furious surges of pure, hot ecstasy.
Ryan said something as if from a distance, and then released a guttural sound as his big body shuddered over her. Deep inside, his shaft swelled even larger and then pulsed with every thrust as he pumped his creamy seed into her again and again.
They held onto each other until the last of the delight faded, and Kayla shivered and huddled close to him. Ryan held her against his chest, murmuring to her as he rubbed his cheek on the top of her head.
“We do not have to dream in solitude,” he told her as he drew out of her and lifted her from the table to her feet. “We can have what we desire. If you will only hear me, and trust in me, there is nothing that can come between us,
love.”
Kayla looked down as her clothes settled over her naked body, and turned away from him. She took in a breath and smelled the scent of their bodies and sex, blended now like some secret, erotic perfume. This moment should have been glorious and satisfying, but he’d reminded her of what did stand between them. Tara. Nineteen years old, frightened and helpless, and with no one in the world but Kayla. God forgive her, but Kayla found herself wanting to agree with him.
All right. Send Tara away with your friends.
But the words never left her tongue. They soured there as she faced her own selfishness. She wanted him more than her sister. She was tired of taking care of her. Everything about Tara was dark and depressed and a dead end. Tara gave nothing back. She was like a vampire, always demanding more and more because no matter what Kayla did, it was never enough. It never defeated the nightmares, the depressions, the despair. Since they were kids it had always been about Tara. Every time her sister looked at her Kayla could almost hear it: Help me, save me, love me and only me.
If Kayla could have hated Ryan as much as she hated herself in this moment, none of this would have happened. She felt him reach out to her.
“Don’t,” she said, without turning. “You should sleep well enough tonight. I know I won’t.”
What began as a walk quickly broke into a run. Kayla had to get away from him. Her temper was barely leashed. As she passed the stalls, every horse made furious sounds. They reared, kicked, and pounded their stalls. It sounded as if the barn was about to shake itself to pieces.
But as Kayla flew through the door, she didn’t care. Instead all she could hear was Tara trying to explain what she had done. He said some stuff. No guy ever talked to me like that. I thought he cared about me. He made me do it.
Now, at least, Kayla understood. Her sister had been telling the truth after all.
Chapter 9
JANNON FINISHED HAMMERING the last peg into the wooden stand, and gave it a firm shake to assure its sturdiness. Since the Winter Feast joust always proved to be the most well-attended of their shows, the additional seating would be welcome. Jannon only welcomed the opportunity to pound something other than his skull against a wall.
Still, he’d managed to keep away from Tara Rowe for another day.
Tomorrow he would rise before dawn and take a nag and the old logging cart into the woods. Perhaps he’d build a hovel for himself there. Ryan often retreated to his, and if Jannon locked himself inside, in time he might rid himself of this damnable awareness of her. Even now he swore he could feel the willow-o-wisp warmth of her body, and smell the tantalizing scent of her skin.
“I didn’t know you were a carpenter,” a low voice said behind him.
Jannon kept his back to her as he plied his hammer against nothing that needed it.
Tara came around him and stepped under the stand, bracing her back against a strut. “You can talk to me, you know. My sister won’t tear your head off if you do.”
“Think again.” He shoved his sledge into his work belt. Perhaps rudeness would send her away. “Why do you plague me now?”
“Sorry. I wish I wasn’t a disease.” She looked away from him. Regret instantly lanced through his chest. “But I can’t stop being a changeling, right? Can’t hand in my evil little sister card. Can’t escape whatever is coming.”
Jannon tugged her out from under the stand and studied her delicate face. “You are not evil. I could not abide evil in my bed. The slime, the flesh-piercing spines—none of which you have.” He forced himself to let her go, but tapped the tip of her nose. “There. Give back that card.”
Tara didn’t laugh as he’d expected. “Not quite yet. My sister had this woman come to read the tarot for us. My cards were full of swords and prisons and darkness. It was like the worst tarot reading ever.”
Jannon wondered if he should tear off Kayla’s head. “Tell me you did not pay coin for this foolishness.”
“No, it was free.” Her chin wobbled. “I think that makes it worse.”
Tucking her against his chest felt as natural to Jannon as stroking a soothing hand along the delicate arch of her spine. “Prisons can be escaped, and darkness may be defeated by no more than a single candle. As for the swords, I am very good with blades, so you may give them to me.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Have you spoken to your sister about this?”
She shook her head against his chest. “She’s mad at me. Sick of me, too. She wants to be with Ryan, and I’m always in the way. Well, not for much longer.”
Alarmed now, Jannon drew back, holding her at arm’s length. “What are you saying, Tara? You know you cannot leave the camp. Never tell me you are thinking of going to Dirk Blackstone.”
“It’s okay. I’m staying. I have to.” She looked down at his boots, and then jerked her head up, a strange urgency in her eyes. “Will you dance with me at the Winter Feast?”
Jannon grimaced. “I am not much for dancing. Brawling, now, I am your man.” As soon as the words left him he silently cursed himself. “What I mean to say is, there will be others more capable as partners.”
“But no one else likes me but you.” Her smoky eyes filled with shadows. “Just one dance, please?”
The little wench had his battered heart in her grip, Jannon thought, and he was never going to pry it free. “Wear stout slippers tomorrow night.”
“You’d never hurt me.” A sad smile touched her lips before she turned and walked toward the tents.
As Jannon watched her go, he wondered why she left him feeling that her words had meant more. He swatted at something crawling over the back of his neck, and then felt the uneasiness leave him.
“So I am to dance.” Jannon bent to retrieve the sack of joining pegs. “’Twill be easier than brawling, surely.”
Chapter 10
“WE MISSED YOU at the evening meal, my liege.” Wallace carried a tray of food into Ryan’s rooms, but set it down as soon as he saw his face. “What now?”
“The Rowe sisters.” Ryan gestured for the spell tracker to sit in the chair opposite his. “I need you to take a closer look at them. Do you have your crystal with you?”
“I have been carrying it of late.” Wallace removed a black cloth from his vest pocket and unwrapped it to reveal a small, opaque shard. “What do you wish to see?”
“Their past,” Ryan told him. “Take me to their childhood.”
The blacksmith spread the white cloth over his hand, and placed the shard in the center of it. As he murmured in the ancient tongue, the crystal came alive with shimmering light. The shard rose from the cloth to hover over it, slowly turning and sprouting new angles. When he had finished the spell, the shard had expanded into a whirling, glittering sphere.
“Open,” Wallace said, deftly moving his hand through the silver light. The crystal elongated and flattened. When it formed a two-sided oval mirror, he touched his fingers to the crystal surface. “Kayla and Tara Rowe, as children.”
Ryan watched as a young girl appeared. She held a blanket-wrapped infant, and watched an older man packing suitcases in the back of an old car.
“Aren’t we going to wait for Mama?” the girl asked the man. When he didn’t reply, she tightened her arms around the infant. “Daddy, what if she comes back, and we’re not here?”
“She’s not coming back, sweetheart.” The man took the infant from her, which made the baby cry. He ignored her screams as he strapped her into a safety seat. “Now get in the car. Go on, Kayla. I want to be in Georgia by tonight.”
“There,” Wallace murmured, and pointed to a barely perceptible, dark glow surrounding the car seat as well as the young girl. “Spell trace from the curse placed on them. To be so visible it must have been cast just before this event.”
“Can you see earlier?” Ryan asked, but when Wallace passed his hand over the surface it filled with a thick, dark seething smoke.
“More enchantment,” the blacksmith said, drawing back his hand. “The spell not only cloaks
the children, it forms a barricade around the time of the casting. Whoever cursed these children made sure no one would ever discover who did it, or why.”
Wallace didn’t have to tell Ryan that such safeguards were almost always invoked to protect a changeling.
“Take me to their home in Florida, and show me the rest of it.”
The dark mass cleared, and more images appeared on the mirror. This time it showed young Kayla giving bottles to the baby Tara, and changing her diapers, and bathing her. Ryan noticed the man always hovered somewhere in the background, not helping the girl but never taking his eyes off her.
“Would you take her, Daddy?” Kayla asked as she finished feeding the infant. “I need to do my homework.”
The father’s mouth thinned. “Then put her in the playpen. She’ll only scream if I hold her.”
Kayla’s eyes swam with tears, but she carried the baby to a high chair, and put some cereal on the tray before she started reading a text book and making notes on a sheet of paper.
The baby, Ryan noted, didn’t touch the cereal, but watched her sister as closely as the father had.
Wallace summoned more images that showed the father, drinking himself unconscious, the baby teething, and young Kayla falling asleep in class. He watched the times the children had gone hungry as their father spent his wages on drink instead of food. Somehow Kayla always managed to find something to feed Tara, even if it meant asking a neighbor for a cup of milk, or stealing some fruit from a grove on her way home from school.
Many times he saw Kayla crying in her bed, but always sobbing into her pillow so that the baby in the crib beside it would not wake. He also watched her sneaking money out of her father’s wallet while he sat unconscious in his chair, a half-empty bottle still clutched in his hand. Even when she went to the grocer to buy food, Kayla was never alone. Tara nattered happily to her sister from the store cart’s baby seat.
