His steps never faltered. “You get used to it.” Reaching the end of the tunnel, he stopped before a set of gilded doors and glanced back at me. “This was a gift to my parents. I repurposed an unused room of theirs as a gift for their last anniversary. It belongs to Lourdes now, but I borrowed it for us.”
“Borrowing your sister’s things,” I teased. “Now I must see it.”
“Go ahead.” He stepped aside. “Open it.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I twisted the knob, pushed the door open and gasped.
Stepping inside fooled me into believing I had stepped into a sunlit meadow. Soft lights glowing overhead faded into the treetops gracefully arching across the ceiling. Elegant tree trunks surrounded us. Through them, I spied a meadow on one wall and grazing pecora in sight of a canis on another. Mist and ether drifted through the forest floor of the third wall. The fourth wall—I turned a careful circle and my hand went to my throat. “You did this?”
“I arranged for it.” Henri walked to the center of the room. “This place exists, in Siciia. This meadow was Father’s favorite hunting ground when he was a boy. He loved Erania, but he spoke of Trajer’s Meadow often and fondly. I sent our clan’s most gifted artist there to survey the area personally. This is the vision he brought back with him, and it became Father’s favorite room in the nest.”
“I can see why.” The sun and trees ignited a sweet ache in my chest. “As someone well acquainted with homesickness, I can tell you any remembrance of home is a welcome salve when it’s so far away. You gave him a treasure.”
He grinned. “It was worth the effort to steal Father’s attention from Lourdes for a few days.”
“Sweet rivalry,” I said. “I appreciate the sentiment well.”
Noticing my fascination with the fourth wall, Henri reached up and traced the gentle curve of a delicate waterfall as it trickled into its basin, then curved sinuously in its creek bed over the forest floor and out of sight.
“Don’t touch it,” I scolded him. “The oils in your hand will corrode the surface.”
He arched an eyebrow, but I took it as a compliment.
“There are several artists among my people. I had my hand slapped for touching for years.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I will do my best to keep my hands to myself.”
Walking slowly to him, I let my crutches hit the floor. “I didn’t say you had to go that far. There are other things in this room that might benefit from you putting your hands on them.” My approach was less graceful than I might have wished. Niggling doubts murmured in my ears that I was the one propelling us toward this moment. Then I decided my brothers had been right for once. I enjoyed the pursuit. I enjoyed taking what I wanted, and I wanted Henri.
He must have noticed my hesitation, torn between the desire to chase or be pursued.
He saved me the trouble of going to him. He came to me, wrapping his arms around me.
I reveled in his warm embrace, in the need making his breath ragged at my ear.
“I am grateful to Lailah for one thing,” he said against my neck. “She brought you to me.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I nuzzled him. “I might have made my way up here eventually.”
His arms tightened around me. “What would I have done without you?”
“Gone on to live a productive life free from chaos?”
His fangs slid down my throat. “I’m finding I have a taste for chaos.”
Chills dotted my neck.
“Oh?” I let him cup my jaw and turn my head aside.
His fangs pierced me. Heat spread from those two punctures through my limbs. I clutched his shirt to get more, get closer. He obliged, biting deeper, drawing me nearer. He fit our bodies together, and the hard proof of his arousal pressed against my thigh. I eased a hand between us, stroking him until his groan turned to gentle kisses over his bite marks. His lips moved lower, almost brushing my shoulder, and he struck a second time. Venom singed my veins, setting my flesh on fire.
“You’re venomous?” I gaped at him. “But you’re Araneidae.”
His grin was sly. “Only on my mother’s side.”
I writhed against him, seeking relief, unable to do more than cling to him and moan for release.
“Let me help,” he murmured.
“Yes.” My nails bit into his shoulder.
Henri scooped me into his arms and carried me across the room.
I squirmed in his hold. “How is this helping?”
“You’ll see.”
He strode toward the section of mural where mist swirled onto the floor. He knelt there, seating me on the plush ledge of a low bench I hadn’t noticed. Its pale fabric mirrored the wispy grays in the wall behind it. Once seated, I realized the bench hugged the walls of the entire room, complementing the section of mural above it while blending the seating seamlessly into the painting from a distance.
“Better?” he asked.
I fisted his collar and pulled him closer. “Not yet, but it has potential.”
I melded our lips together, tasting Henri and craving more. While my hands unfastened his shirt buttons, my mouth paid tribute to his. I shoved his shirt past his shoulders and linked my arm behind his head. He laughed while I bent him to me, one hand caressing his nape while the other eased down his chest, over his stomach, to tangle with the buttons holding his pants on hips I wanted to savor.
Cool air whispered over my skin. Henri had unbuttoned my shirt. My jacket was…I’m not really sure where my jacket went. He parted the fabric and guided it down my arms. The chill of the room made my nipples pebble when he touched my breasts. Warmth from his mouth as he tasted each taut peak arched me against him, desperate for more of his decadent heat.
His hands traveled down my stomach, past my navel, to the waist of my pants. “Can you stand?”
I nodded and used his shoulders to brace as I went to my feet.
Henri flicked the buttons open, slid the pants past my hips and drew in a sharp breath when he noticed my lack of undergarments. I should have teased him, taunted that if he had selected those intimate items I would have worn them—for him.
But his lips pressed to the skin beneath my navel, and my stomach trembled in response.
“You are perfect,” he said between kisses.
“Are you sure?” I panted. “Not too tall for you?”
His response was to rid me of my pants, leaving me to tower over him nude. The sight of Henri with his pants half off and his shirt half on shot tremors racing up my thighs. I tightened my grip on his shoulders.
“If I kiss every inch of your legs in apology,” he asked, “will you forgive me that comment?”
“Hmm.” I stroked his cheek. “Why don’t you try to convince me of your sincerity?”
Starting at my knee, he kissed his way upward. He parted my thighs while his lips strayed to the inside of my leg where his fangs rasped over supple flesh. Cold sweat blossomed over my skin as he tormented me. My eyes shut as I tried blocking out my anticipation, but sweetened the sting instead.
He struck, sheathing his teeth and flooding me with more venom, until I was drunk on him.
My knees buckled, and I slumped down his back. He cupped my bottom, setting me on the edge of the bench and pinning my shoulder against the wall with his right palm as his left hand smoothed the spot throbbing from his bite. As his hand drifted higher, I scooted farther off the bench, meeting his seeking fingers with my eager sex. The first touch made me whimper. The second made me come undone. His venom circulated through me, awakening each nerve ending until I ached.
Burying his face at my neck, Henri pressed tender kisses there.
“No.” I shook my head. “Keep your fangs to yourself.” Pleasure was a nip away, and it was all I could do not to arch my throat and beg for more. “If you bite me again, I’ll have to tie your fangs in a knot. I can barely feel my toes.”
His response was a red-faced grin.
“Now this…
” I shoved his pants down below his knees, “…this I want to feel.”
When my hand closed around his erection, Henri jolted. Each stroke after that glazed his eyes. It was addictive to bring him pleasure, to watch while desire darkened his gaze and strangled his voice.
“Come here.” I patted the spot beside me, grinning at his dazed expression.
Once he sat next to me, I planted my palm in the center of his chest and urged him on his back, climbing up his body as he reclined on the bench. His head hit the cushion, and I braced my knees to either side of his hips. He gripped my thighs, fingers digging into my skin. Holding my gaze, he eased one hand between us, brushing his fingertips across my sex before fisting his erection and sheathing it in me. I braced on Henri’s shoulders, unable to look away from him. He guided my hips in a rhythm he met with hard thrusts designed to wring harsh moans from me. With his venom pumping in my veins and his body beneath mine, I was lost. I clung by a thread until his grip tightened and he pulled me flush against him. He groaned my name when he came, and his pleasure tipped me back into orgasm.
I slumped over him, resting my chin on his shoulder, feeling his heart thump beneath my hand. “We should have brought my chair.” I pressed slow kisses to his salty skin. “I can’t walk after that.”
He turned his head and brushed his lips over mine. “I’m not sure if I can either.”
“Let’s just lie here then,” I suggested. “Someone will notice we’re missing and come looking.”
We shared a look. “Ghedi,” we said in unison.
Henri grasped my hips before I rolled off him. “Let’s stay a moment longer.”
Easily persuaded, I stretched languorously over the top of him. “If you insist.”
He cupped my arse and squeezed. “I like this agreeable side of yours.”
I snorted. “I don’t think that counts as a side. It’s more of a bottom.”
“So it is.” He stroked his fingers up my spine. His teeth scraped the column of my throat.
I gasped, forcing my mind back on task. “No. Absolutely not. Not again.”
He did it again.
Fangs slid into my skin. Venom tingled through me, reawakening my desire for him.
“All right,” I said, sinking my hands into his hair. “Maybe just once more.”
A Veil of Secrets
Araneae Nation, Book 5
A Veil of Secrets Blurb
Some secrets are best forgotten.
Fresh from the battlefields of Erania, Marne rides south with Edan, headed for the city of Beltania. Among the Mimetidae guards accompanying them is Asher, who’s been a thorn in her side since the day they met. He’s rude and abrasive…yet he was the first to volunteer as escort.
Marne dreams of a fresh start where no one knows who—or what—she is. But first, they must cross the veil. Rumor has it spirits haunt that grim stretch of road, and unwary travelers who enter are never heard from again.
Veil or no veil, Asher is honor bound to see Marne safely to her new home. Though truth be told, Marne leaving Erania is the last thing he wants. This journey is his final chance to convince her distance will only make his heart grow fonder.
When Edan is lost to the mists, Marne is trapped in a strange land with no allies—with a man who draws her closer every day. Closer to her heart, and her secrets. Secrets she must reveal if they are to save the one man bent on tearing them apart.
Warning: This book contains one heroine willing to fly into the face of danger and the hero who gives her heart wings. This adventure is BYOM, Bring Your Own Meal. Trust me, where we’re going, takeout is to die for. Literally.
Chapter 1
Winter was the maw of a ravenous beast who raged against those foolish enough to venture into the frigid northland forests. It gulped them down through thin patches of ice or devoured them with a frostbitten sickness that spread through their limbs, blackening them until the cold sank teeth in their hearts and they expired. The northlands were a harsh, miserable territory I could not wait to escape.
After penning those words, I snapped my journal closed and stuffed it into my saddlebag.
For the first time in months, my heart was light and the city of Erania lay behind me.
“I have another blanket if you require it.”
I reined in my ursus and glanced over my shoulder. “Then what will keep you warm?”
The male who rode straight for me shifted in his saddle to free the thick fur wrapped around his waist. He wore black leather pants, a white silk shirt and a heavy overcoat trimmed in fur. He was as pale as the snow banked around us, and even the thick ridges of scars crisscrossing his face failed to dull his beauty in my eyes. His sow bumped noses with mine when he pulled even with me. Our mounts were twin sisters, both as black as pitch. Both unimpressed to be a part of our frozen caravan bound for the southlands.
He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “The love of a good female?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I do love you, Edan, but I fail to see how that will warm you.”
“I said a female.” He grinned and tossed the fur to me. “Not a spoiled little girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “And who, dear brother—”
He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Hush.”
I startled then gave him a slow nod. He released his grip after a quick glance around us.
We shared dangerous secrets now. Leave it to me to be the one who spilled them.
If we were to play at being husband and wife, I would do well to act my part.
“I’m sorry.” My exhale left a plume of white fog between us. “I forget.”
Edan took my hand and kissed the top of my glove. “You weren’t designed for treachery.”
“And you were?” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth.
Our former master had trained Edan in the art of duplicity, to be a pawn for his machinations.
That we were no longer slaves did little to alter the parts of our pasts still chained to our hearts.
“We are what we are, Marne.” His smile faltered. “Nothing can change that.”
“What are we then? Slaves to our pasts or masters of our own fates? I no longer know.”
A shrill whistle sounded behind us. I twisted in my saddle to see who had raised the alarm. Asher.
Of all the males who could have volunteered for this detail, why had he lifted his hand?
Asher ran his boar hard. From here I spied the white foam rimming its jaws. He barreled past his fellow guards while barking sharp orders over his shoulder. He sped for us, yanking on the reins and spraying snow across my face when his ursus slid over the ice in front of ours. His mount blocked the road.
Asher’s eyes were chips of black ice, bleak and frigid when he inclined his head toward me.
The heat that flash of his regard ignited in my belly made me shift miserably on my mount.
Dismissing me in the next instant, he addressed Edan. “The risers have spotted us.”
Edan set his jaw. “Are you not as concerned for my wife’s safety as I am?”
I flinched at the word. How the title of wife grated on my nerves. Lies beget more lies…
“If I weren’t concerned for Marne,” Asher said, “I would have let the risers catch us and—”
The steady rumble in Edan’s chest made Asher bristle.
“Do not take such reckless action again.” Edan’s gaze slid over me, over the snow I had swiped from my face. Fine powder dusted the blankets covering my lap. “Marne has a delicate constitution.”
Working his jaw over what he might have said, Asher spared me a sharp glance. “I apologize.”
“I understand your urgency.” I dared smile at him. I could not help myself. “Please, continue.”
“Report,” Edan snarled.
Asher glared daggers at him. “The risers are a quarter day’s walk behind us and gaining.”
“How is it we are just now learning of this?” Edan’s fists tightened on the reins. “Well?”
“I first noticed them as we left Erania. You saw yourself the dozens of risers scattered after their harbinger was killed. I thought they would disperse. Even when they began following us, I thought it was the act of a simple mind taking the path of least resistance. I heard risers originated in the south, harbingers too. I figured they were following the road to the warmer climate.” He shook his head. “I was wrong. They are set on our trail. They stop now to scent the air. They are tracking us in earnest.”
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. “Can we outrun them?”
Asher’s gaze riveted to my mouth, until he caught me staring and resumed his darkest glower.
“Not before we reach the veil,” he said. “Gods know I don’t want to cross it with them.”
“He’s right.” Edan grimaced. “From what I saw at the battle for Erania, they are capable of great speed when given an incentive.” His head fell back as he scanned the skies. “Are they under orders?”
Asher’s gaze shot right to me. “Can’t you tell?”
Edan’s sword was drawn and the naked blade braced at Asher’s throat before I formed a reply.
It was true that I could sense harbingers. After all, I was one. A fledgling, not fully transformed, but I was a harbinger all the same. I was not a mindless, bloodthirsty monster like others of my kind.
Though I knew few would accept my word for it before separating my head from my neck.
Voicing such pointed questions where others might overhear Asher put my life at risk.
“It’s almost as if you want to die.” Edan tilted his head. “If I hold my blade at your gut, will you impale yourself upon the tip? Would you like me to leave you here, bleeding out on the ice as bait?”
“Edan,” I warned. “Our patron would not take kindly to us returning his guard full of holes.”
Henri of the Araneidae had graciously gifted us guards and provisions to ensure our treacherous journey was swift and that our reception in Beltania was warmer than it might have been otherwise. Though Edan and I were not of the Araneidae, we were under the protection of Henri’s sister, Maven Lourdes, and her husband, Paladin Rhys. Their hospitality alone spared us from the jaws of winter.
Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection Page 113
