Willing Sacrifice

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

  Grace was struck again by how beautiful he was. Lean animal strength poured from him, making her wish she could soak it in. Even in his concern he was stunning. His worry seemed to brighten his amber eyes and gave him the feral look of a male predator.

  She shivered again, and this time it was due more to some innate feminine response to his nearness than to her ordeal.

  “My ankle is the worst. The rest are just minor scratches and bruises.”

  His hands moved along her leg, gently unlacing the leather straps covering her calves. Once her leg was bare, his fingers stroked her skin, carefully probing as he inched down to her foot. She closed her eyes and reveled in how good his touch felt.

  Right up to the point where he prodded a tender spot.

  She sucked in a hissing breath. “There. I think it’s sprained.”

  “Okay. Let’s just sit here for a minute and see if the pain eases.” He sat behind her, positioning himself so that his long legs spread out beside hers. He wrapped his arms around her, urging her to lean back against him and tuck her head under his chin.

  Grace didn’t resist. She was still so shaken and terrified that the idea of wrapping herself in his strength seemed like the best idea in the world.

  Every breath she took was filled with his scent. The solid bulk of his body behind her put off waves of heat that made coiled muscles unclench. As the seconds flowed by, she began to relax. With each shuddering series of tremors, he stroked her arms and helped ease her through it. Finally, after what was an embarrassingly long time, she got control of herself enough to stop shaking.

  “Please tell me you knew this ledge was here when you jumped,” he said. His tone was gentle, but there was a tension in his body that told her to tread carefully with her answer.

  “I didn’t jump. I just stepped down.” A long way down, but that wasn’t something she thought she needed to remind him of.

  “And you knew the ledge was here?”

  Her need for honesty and her desire not to upset him started a brief war in her gut. She settled for “I was pretty sure.”

  He let out a short strangled sound, then cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with exaggerated calmness. “How sure is pretty sure?”

  “I’d been here several times. There’s a cave a little farther down the ledge where some mushrooms that Brenya likes grow.”

  Some of his calmness faded. “That’s not an answer.”

  “I knew the ledge was long. I thought I was in the right spot.”

  “But you didn’t look first, did you?”

  “And take my eyes off that thing?”

  His arms tightened around her for a second before releasing the pressure. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”

  Grace knew the power of a promise, the innate magic it held. That was one of the first things Brenya had taught her: never make a promise she wasn’t certain she could keep. Doing so was a form of slavery she would never escape.

  “I don’t know you well enough to promise you anything,” she said. “But I have no intention of going cliff-diving again anytime soon. It scared me to death.”

  “You shouldn’t risk your life like that. You have no idea how valuable you are, how much pain your absence would cause.”

  “I’m no more valuable than anyone else, including you.”

  “That’s why you jumped. To save me.”

  “I wasn’t smart enough or fast enough to think of a better plan. I’m just glad it worked out.”

  “You’re injured. That’s hardly what I would call working out.”

  “My ankle is already feeling better.”

  “It doesn’t look better. It looks broken.”

  She glanced down and saw the obvious swelling. “It’s not broken. It looks worse than it is. Once I’m on my feet, I’ll just walk it off.”

  His thighs tightened against her hips. “You can’t walk off a broken bone, no matter how advanced your skills at denial are.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know my own limits.”

  “Apparently not, seeing as how you thought you might be able to fly.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I knew I couldn’t fly.” As soon as she said the words and felt his body tense against hers, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

  She turned her torso enough that she could look up at him. “Can we please just let it go? I did what I thought was right.”

  He looked down at her, which put his mouth only inches from hers. It was the perfect angle for a kiss—at least she thought so. She couldn’t remember ever having been kissed, but her lips still tingled in eagerness, as if they knew exactly what to do.

  Torr cupped her cheek. His hand was so big it nearly covered the side of her face. His thumb stroked along her cheekbone, awakening some deep awareness she’d never felt before.

  Once again, that odd sense of familiarity assaulted her, shoving out all other thought.

  “You touch me like you’ve done so all your life,” she told him.

  His eyes darkened. He licked his lips, and her gaze was drawn to the curved indentation above his top lip. The urge to dip the tip of her tongue in the groove was almost more than she could resist. She had the strangest sense that if she did so, he would taste sweet and forbidden, like hidden memories.

  Beard stubble shadowed his jaw, lending him a harsher edge. Curiosity lifted her hand until she was touching the roughness riding his skin. A strange shock of excitement rocketed along her spine until her pain was a distant, meaningless thing.

  His hand slid to encircle her throat in a touch so gentle she had to concentrate to feel more than a tingling heat. His forearm settled between her breasts, and she was sure her heart sped up to match his pulse.

  “You would have looked so pretty wearing my luceria,” he said.

  She didn’t know what that was, but the way he said it, it hardly mattered. “If you want me to, I will.”

  A sad smile curved his mouth. “I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s impossible. Like so many things.”

  Before her head cleared enough for her to ask him what that meant, he helped her sit up and he stood, all in one fluid movement.

  With his strength and heat out of reach, the horrible cold of her shock and fear began seeping back in. She suppressed a shiver until his back was turned before she gave in to it.

  He surveyed the area. “When you’re ready, we’ll see if you can stand, or if you’re more damaged than you think. If you can walk, we’ll head back to the village.”

  “If I can’t walk, you should go back for help.”

  He turned toward her then, his gaze intense against the backdrop of the orange sky. “I know you hardly know me, but do you really think I’d leave you out here to fend for yourself, wounded and alone?”

  “What other choice do you have? You have to be back before nightfall.”

  “I can carry you.”

  “It’s too far. I’ll be fine here. I’ll just hide in the cave over there until you can get back.”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration and started pacing. Low, angry words spilled from his lips, too quiet for her to hear.

  Seeing him mad made that old queasy fear lurking within her lurch to the surface. Instinct took over, and she curled herself into the smallest space possible.

  The movement caused her ankle to shift, and pain shot up her leg, but she bit back the scream and remained silent.

  He won’t find you if you’re quiet.

  The words came to her in a sweet but terrified voice—one she recognized but couldn’t place. All she knew was that she trusted the voice absolutely and would do whatever it told her to.

  “Grace? Are you okay?” Torr. That was him speaking to her, not some phantom memory she couldn’t grasp.

  A hand landed lightly on her shoulder and she jerked away. Terror radiated out along her limbs, until she was quivering with the need to hide.
>
  “Grace, honey, you’re okay now. You’re safe. Look at me.”

  Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that she’d shut her eyes.

  His hand stroked her face, the touch achingly gentle.

  Grace pulled in a shuddering breath and forced herself to open her eyes. Torr was crouched beside her, touching her, but still keeping his distance, thanks to his long arms.

  “There you are,” he said. “I thought I’d lost you for a minute.”

  She swallowed hard to shove the fear down where it belonged, only to have it replaced by shame. Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She gave a shaky nod and took an equally shaky breath. “I’m a nutcase, but I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not a nutcase.”

  She started to sit up, and Torr hurried to help ease her upright. “I don’t know what else you’d call it.”

  “You’ve been through some terrible trauma.” He said it like he knew it was true, rather than as though he was guessing. “You’re allowed to be afraid sometimes, especially after jumping off a cliff to avoid being killed by ugly demon-cicles.”

  The metallic taste of fear at the back of her throat began to fade. Each slow breath was a victory, strengthening her just in time to pull in the next. “It shouldn’t matter what I’ve been through. I don’t remember any of it, so it shouldn’t bother me.”

  “But it does, and that’s okay.” He wiped away a tear, and until that second she hadn’t realized she’d let herself cry.

  She wanted to stand up and slip away where she could pull herself together in private, but with her ankle throbbing, that wasn’t an option. “No, it’s not okay. I keep telling Brenya she should help me remember so I can face whatever makes me like this and move on.”

  “But she won’t?”

  “She keeps saying that some things are best left forgotten and that the things I no longer know are a gift.” Grace let out a frustrated growl. “Her control over my life makes me so furious sometimes. I know she saved me, but it’s my life. My memories. I should get to pick what happens in my own head.”

  He actually smiled at her, and for a split second she wanted to punch him in one of his amber eyes.

  “That’s good,” he said.

  “What’s good?”

  “That you know how to be mad.”

  “How can you possibly think being mad is good?”

  “Because it beats being afraid.”

  “I don’t like being either.”

  “Sure. No one does, but if you have to be one or the other, mad is definitely better.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “A few hundred years of experience in combat.”

  A few hundred? “Really?” she asked. “You’re that old?”

  “Yep. And Brenya calls me ‘young Theronai,’ which makes me wonder just how old she is. And how much she’s learned in that time.”

  Grace had never really thought about it. Some rule in the back of her head told her it was rude to ask another person their age, so it had never come up. Until now. “So you’re saying I should trust her.”

  “No, I’m just saying that there’s a chance she’s wiser than either of us. Maybe when she says that some things are better left forgotten, you should listen. And so should I.”

  “You? Do you have lost memories, too?”

  His lips clamped together, like he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Torr leaned down close, moving slowly so she wouldn’t freak out again, no doubt.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he said.

  The iridescent necklace he wore shimmered with his pulse. Thick muscles and tendons stood out, drawing her eye down to the gleaming curve of his shoulders. So much of his skin was bare, dotted with perspiration. She knew if she did as he asked, he’d be hot to the touch, driving away the chill of fear that lingered just below her skin.

  His altered shirt was even more tattered than it had been before their mad dash through the woods. All it managed to do was hide enough of his body to make her stare on the off chance that the breeze would pick up and she’d get more of a peek at the man beneath.

  “Grace,” he said, her name a dark temptation coming from his lips, “grab your shoe and wrap your arms around me.”

  There was nothing she wanted to do more than touch him, so she did as he asked, uttering a halfhearted, “Why?”

  He lifted her into his arms, forcing her to tighten her hold. “That’s why. No more waiting around to see if you can put weight on your ankle. It’s time to go. I don’t think we should be out here alone in the woods together. Not when there’s so much danger, and not when you look at me like that.”

  She almost asked him, Like what? but she already knew the answer. She was looking at him like she wanted him, like she’d never known what it was like to want a man before he’d shown up. Because it was true. Her body was melting from the inside out, growing warm and soft in a way that made her want to lie back and give in. To what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew that with Torr it wouldn’t matter. He could do whatever he pleased, and she would enjoy it.

  There was no reason for her body to respond to him that way, and yet she couldn’t seem to make it stop. All she could do was try not to think about how good his solid strength felt as he lifted her. “I’m sure I can walk.”

  “I’m not. This first bit on the narrow part of the ledge is going to be tricky, so I don’t think you should argue with me.”

  Because he was right, and because the fall to the river below was one that would kill them, she clamped her lips shut and held on for dear life.

  Chapter 10

  The walk back to the village was the sweetest kind of torture. After so many months of wondering whether Grace was alive or not, she was in his arms, clinging to him like she couldn’t get close enough.

  Part of him still couldn’t believe she was safe and whole. No matter how tightly he held her, no matter how close she got, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t sure it ever would be when it came to Grace. He wanted all of her. Forever.

  Having her body against his made him so erect he throbbed. Each awkward step made him ache, but he didn’t want the trip to end. Once it was over, he’d have to let go of her again, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to.

  She’d nearly killed herself today. That she would be so careless with her safety made him want to protect her and paddle her all at the same time. Though if he ever got her over his lap and put his hand on her ass, punishing her would be the last thought on his mind.

  Another harsh spike of lust surged through him. His step faltered, but he regained his balance immediately and forced himself to pay attention.

  He hated it that she was hurt and that there wasn’t a thing he could do to ease her pain. If she’d been a female Theronai and able to wield his power, she would have been able to tap into his vast stores of magic and heal herself, or at least mute the pain.

  But she wasn’t a Theronai, and her fragile human body healed slowly. An injury like this could lay her up for weeks.

  How many more times would she be injured because she had the misfortune of being close to him and the danger that surrounded his life? And the next time it happened, would it be something as simple as a sprained ankle?

  The answers to those questions were bleak, painful things reminding him of just how dangerous it was for her to be around him.

  Maybe that was what Brenya meant when she said some things were best left forgotten. Maybe she knew that if Grace remembered her love for him, it would put her life in danger. If she loved him, she’d want to be near him. And the humans who were near men like him were almost constantly in jeopardy.

  There were no Synestryn here. If there had been, Brenya would have warned him. Even if she hadn’t, his blood would have drawn them out that first night.

  This place was as close to
safe as he could imagine finding, and within a day of his arrival, Grace was already damaged.

  There were no safe places in the universe, and even if there were, Torr’s vow to fight and protect would not allow him the luxury of staying there long. He would be compelled to return to Earth, where he could perform his duty. Because of that duty, danger was a part of his life, as it would be for any woman who chose to be near him.

  If he truly loved Grace, he needed to find a way to let her go. And if there was one thing he knew to be true without a single doubt, it was that he loved her.

  They entered the village, greeted by several children. One of them was the tiny girl with the white-blond hair who’d almost been eaten by the lizard he’d killed yesterday—the girl Tori had scooped up and saved.

  The little girl wrapped her arms around his leg and held on while he kept walking toward the hut where Grace had tended his wounds. Each step had the girl squealing with delight, until a second child joined in the game and tackled his other leg.

  The extra weight slowed his steps, but he welcomed the delay. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of their simple joy. It had been years since he’d had much of a chance to play with children, and he’d forgotten how healing they could be for the soul. There was something about their innocence that made the world clearer, hard decisions easier and heavy burdens lighter.

  By the time Torr reached the hut, Brenya appeared, gently shooing away the children.

  “How damaged is she?” Brenya asked.

  He set Grace down on the cot and let her go. The patch of skin that had been against hers went cold. A sickening sense of loss churned in his gut, and he had to fight the need to hold her close again.

  “I’m fine,” said Grace. “I think it’s just a sprain.”

  Brenya glared at Torr. “You allowed this.”

  “I did,” he admitted, unwilling to lie to the older woman.

  “It wasn’t his fault,” said Grace. “I did this to myself.”

  “And he allowed it.”

  Grace looked at Torr. “Tell her that’s not true.”

  “But it is,” he said. “It’s my job to protect humans. You got hurt. That means I failed.”