“Gregor Meritis,” she growled, “are you completely incapable of following the simplest of commands?” She tried to pull herself to a sitting position—she couldn’t stand to see him hovering over her—but the slightest movement sent a flare of pain starting from her leg and rippling through her entire body. She stifled a gasp and fell back on the bed.
His hands were cool and gentle, and the white magic that flowed from his fingers eased her pain. “I couldn't let you die.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. Why did you follow me into the woods? I told you to run and hide. You were seen by the Azekborn.”
“But they’re dead now. They won’t be coming after me again.”
“They’re dead because I killed them. Now I have this to show for it.” For the first time since the initial injury, she looked at the wound on her leg. The edges were black, but it didn’t seem as severe now as before. Still, it would leave a nasty scar. “I saved your life in repayment for you saving mine. We were even. My obligation had been fulfilled. I was no longer indebted to you. Then you have to go and save my life again.”
He had the gall to grin. “Ah, so that is what this is about? You don't want to owe anything to anyone?” He stood and retrieved a wooden cup from the table. “I thought you were upset because you wanted to die.”
She snatched it from him and sniffed the contents. A sangous potion to restore her strength. She chugged the contents and hurled the cup in the direction of the table. Duke cowered on the other side of the room.
Gregor retrieved the cup. “Just because you're upset doesn't mean you have to act like a child.”
“Maybe you're too young to understand this, but there are many situations that are worse than death.”
“Are you suggesting my company is worse than death?” The downward turn of his mouth doused some of her anger.
She sat up and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She was trapped here by her injury and further imprisoned by her obligation to him. “How long do you think it will take for my leg to heal?”
He avoided eye contact with her. “Maybe a week or two,” he mumbled.
She sighed. “I suppose I can tolerate your company for that long. Provided you don't do anything else to upset me.” She flashed her sharp canines and took some delight in seeing a bit of fear in his face.
He turned his attention to gathering a cloth, water-basin, and a branch of hykona leaves. She was familiar with this routine and rolled slightly to her left side, allowing him access to her wound. She lifted up the edge of the tunic to her hip, and he blushed. Had he never seen a naked woman before? As if her fur-covered body could ever be compared to a woman's.
“I—um—suppose we—I mean, I—should—um—”
“—clean the wound while the spell still working?” she finished for him.
He nodded and began removing the clumps of blackened leaves from the wound. He was about halfway done when he asked, “Why didn't you talk to me when you were here before?”
She thought for a moment before admitting, “I didn't know if I could trust you.” Her voice sounded less bitter than she’d anticipated.
“Me, personally?”
“You, as a human.” The bitterness was as full as she intended that time.
“I see. We humans have absolutely no redeeming qualities except for, due to our ridiculously short lifespan, we decompose quickly after we die and fertilize the flowers.” He smiled at her. “Am I correct?”
“You’ve heard the lectures of Elisus, then?” The Elvan Elder was well known for his dislike of humans and for his doctrine of keeping elves separate from the other races.
He dropped his eyes. “Well, I've read some of them. Quite an interesting man, actually. I think the only race he hates more than humans are faeries.” Gregor began packing the wound with the leaves. “So why did you decide to trust me?”
How could she explain to him all the little things that made her feel safe enough to be in the same room with him? “You saved my life, to start with. Then I watched you. I watched you for days from a safe distance.” She focused her mind on her eyes, willing them to become large and golden. She even allowed a few white feathers to sprout from her head.
He grinned. “So you were the owl. I thought as much.”
“I watched you long enough to know you weren’t a threat to me.” Or anyone else, for that matter. Day after day, she watched him sit alone in this study, pouring over his books and scrolls. The only human contact he had was the daily meal exchange with his housekeeper. His studies absorbed every moment of his day.
The other thing she noticed about him was his clumsiness, as if he never learned how to use his long limbs. She had seen him trip over his own feet, walk into trees, and even get knocked to the ground by Duke. Yes, there was absolutely nothing threatening about him. She stretched and slowly relaxed.
“No, I won't hurt you. That is, as long as you don't attack me or anything like that. I am a Master Mage, you know.”
She resisted the urge to laugh. She could rip his heart out before he cast his first spell. “I'll keep that in mind.”
He finished cleaning her wound. “Can I get you something to eat?”
Her eyes grew heavy. Must be from the potion. “No, I think I need to sleep for a bit longer.”
“You've been asleep off and on for almost a week.”
“A week?” Her fingers dug into the mattress.
He nodded. “Well, you had a fever for most of it, talking out of your head in Elvish. I discovered, though, that if I brewed tea from the hykona leaves and made you drink it—”
“A week?” she repeated. She had never stayed in one place for that long a time. It was too risky. Someone may discover her and alert Azekborn.
He pouted. “You're much better now, if that's any consolation.”
She flung her arm over her eyes. She would have to trust him and hope his reclusive lifestyle wouldn’t betray them.
***
Ranealya sat up and hissed few hours later. Her leg throbbed in with each beat of her heart, erasing the last remnants of her sleep. Across the room, Gregor dropped his quill and rose from his chair, but her growl stopped him before he took a step. She didn’t need his help. She took a deep breath and focused on something other than the pain until it slowly subsided. Then she tried to stand.
Gregor caught her as her leg gave out from under her. She didn’t expect him to move with such speed, and she was even more surprised he was able to wrap his arms around her without dropping her in the process. “Careful, Ranealya.” His voice sounded soothing in her ears.
He pulled her to her feet, and she leaned most of her weight on him. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for,” she said.
“And you’re just as stubborn as I thought you were.” He guided her to the table and lowered her into a chair in front of a plate of food. “Eat.”
She waited until he sat down across from her before she picked a small morsel of bread off the loaf. Her stomach growled in response. When she finished the contents of her plate, she gave the scraps to Duke, who lingered at her feet for them. “How long was I asleep this time?”
He shrugged. “A few hours.”
An awkward silence filled the room. He fidgeted, reaching for a quill, then stopping halfway and returning his hands in his lap. His eyes pleaded with her.
“Is there something you wish to ask me?”
“Quite a few questions, actually.” He grabbed his quill and a piece of paper from his desk and went back to retrieve a bottle of ink, spilling it in the process.
As he sopped up the mess, she peered at his notes. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had plenty of questions. She dangled the paper in her hand. “Shall I be expecting a formal Inquisition?”
The tips of his ears turned red. “While you were sleeping, I jotted down a few things I wanted to ask you, things I’d like to find out before you—er—disappeared again.” He snatched the paper from her and organized his writing
supplies on the table.
“And how honest do you expect me to be?”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “You could always ask.”
“True.” He shuffled his papers. “So, um, you’re a—”
She raised one brow, curious if he would admit to knowing what she was.
“A shape-shifter?” He jumped up from the chair when she nodded. “I knew it!” His hazel eyes glowed in excitement. “Is it true you can take whatever form you want?”
She grinned and focused on morphing her features to mirror his.
He cringed and backed away from his clone.
His reaction amused her, and her body shook as strange sound escaped from her lips that she had not heard in years—laughter. “Anything,” she said as she returned to her normal form.
He circled the table. “There’s something different about you, though.” He shoved his glasses up his nose and stroked his chin. “Your eyes! That’s the difference.”
She frowned. She hadn’t expected him to be so observant. For a second, she toyed with the idea of slitting his throat.
He was in her face now, studying it closer, and she resisted the temptation to claw his eyes out. “Your eyes never quite look human. They are still very bird-like—golden with large black centers. Remarkable, actually.” He ran back to his papers and began writing, mumbling to himself and glancing at her from time to time.
“Am I to be the subject of a dissertation?”
“There’s just so much that’s unknown about your race.” He spoke without glancing up from his notes. “I want to document all I can—”
“Perhaps there’s a reason so little is known.” A faint growl seeped into her voice. “Maybe I prefer to keep it that way.”
“But why?”
“Because you don’t have a crazed king trying to wipe out your entire race.” She snatched the piece of paper he was writing on and crumpled it. “You don’t have demon-infested drae chasing after you every place you go. You—”
“Drae? What are drae?” Panic silenced him as she threatened to throw his notes into the fire. “No, please don’t destroy them.” He seized the wad from her hand and held it close to his chest, smoothing it out.
“You’re strange, even for human. Most men value gold and jewels. You treat these papers as if they were treasure.”
“I just value things differently.” A hint of anger laced his voice. “To me, knowledge is far more precious than those objects. I think we’ve talked enough. It’s late, and I should go to sleep. You can get back to bed on your own.” He locked his notes away in a drawer and slammed the door behind him.
So, he actually has a backbone. Although she didn’t look forward to the pain of crawling back to bed on her injured leg, she felt a spark of respect for Gregor Meritis.
***
He was already gathering the supplies to clean her leg when she awoke the next morning. A few minutes passed before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry I lost my temper last night.”
Ranealya said nothing and allowed him to continue working. He was a mystery to her—or rather, her feelings about him were mystery to her. For centuries, she had hated humans, yet here she was at the mercy of one. He had saved her life twice now and had managed to discover some of her secrets. Any other human would have been covered in blood by now, permanently silenced.
Worse, she couldn’t stop wondering would it feel like to have his hands elsewhere on her body. Would he blush? She couldn’t help but inwardly laugh as she thought about how his eyes filled with lust when he looked at her while his cheeks flamed. Then she frowned. Damn it, I’m beginning to think this human is attractive.
“I was thinking about your situation as I lay in bed. It must be difficult for you, being hunted and not being with those of your own kind. I’m sure being wounded and helpless in a sense doesn’t help either. You strike me as the type that doesn’t like to be dependent on anyone.”
She waited a moment before nodding. “I like my privacy.”
“As do I.” He pulled her to her feet and escorted to the table.
“So I’m not allowed to perform my own interrogation? After all, I might like to know a bit more about you.”
His brows rose. “Most people find me rather boring.”
“I don’t. Humans are social creatures, much like wolves. I find it odd that you would stray from the pack and live alone.”
“I’m not alone—Sal and Ben are here, too. And don’t forget Duke.”
“You hardly say three words at a time to your servants. And Duke is your pet. I’m talking about true interaction with another of your race.”
Gregor turned his back to her. “Perhaps I despise members of my race as much as you do.”
She’d unearthed yet another touchy subject with him. He was growing more complex than she’d first thought. “And why is that?”
He shuffled through his papers, ignoring her question.
“Do you think you’re better than most of them?”
“Let’s just say I’m happiest with my books and my scrolls and without interruptions.”
“I’m sorry to be an interruption.” She stood, wincing at the pain of her action. “I suppose I should just leave you to your books and your scrolls.”
He pushed her back in her chair, knocking the wind out of her lungs in the process. “Sorry—I didn’t mean—” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m hopeless. I can’t even say what I mean.”
He paced in front of her chair, his hand on his chin. “I don’t like being with other humans because they don’t understand me. They demand my attention and try to make me do certain things that they decree as acceptable. Here, I am the king of my own world. I do what I want, when I want. I can focus on my studies and not worry about anything else.” He paused and considered her. “You, on the other hand, are different than most humans. I—um—don’t mind your company at all.”
She raised one corner of her mouth. “And why is that? Because I shed less than Duke?”
He grinned and looked away. “I can’t exactly explain why, but…” He furrowed his brow. “I suppose it’s because you think you could probably order me around, but you don’t. Does that make sense?”
She laughed in her mind. He was quite amusing, even for a human. “No, but I’m sure you’ll think of a better way to explain it.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but Sal called from below that breakfast was ready. When he returned, he sat across from her and divided the contents onto the two plates. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, Ranealya,” he said without looking up.
For a moment, she considered his offer. What would it be like to have a place to call home, to not have to sleep on the ground every night? To be near someone who didn’t consider her to be little more than a beast?
Then she remembered the harsh lessons she’d learned over the centuries. Memories of the Great Hunt filled her mind, and a knot formed in her gut. “My kind are solitary in nature. We possess the ability to blend in wherever we want, yet we wander throughout life. If we stay too long in one place, we’re discovered for what we truly are and shunned. We never have a place that we can call home.” Her heart grew heavy as she admitted, “It’s better to be alone than to be rejected.”
He nodded, his expression one of understanding. “I couldn’t agree more.”
They ate in silence. She felt an odd connection to this human, one that she both welcomed and feared. She’d been alone for so long. When would he reject her? Perhaps it would be better to keep him at a distance. That way, she couldn’t get hurt in the process.
“Just out of curiosity, how many shape-shifters are there?”
So, he had resumed the interrogation. “One hundred and twenty-eight, at one time,” she replied. “Now I think I am the last one.” The words of Elios echoed in her mind, and she added without realizing, “I was told I would be the last one.”
She
looked up at him and grew angry at the pity in his eyes. “Not that we were social race anyway. I’m the last one because I am the strongest, the most cunning, the deadliest of my race.” She lifted her lips and felt the cold air touch her fangs. “And I won’t disappear without a fight.”
His pity changed to fear. “I don’t doubt you there.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, satisfied that she’d pushed him away from the subject. “Do you have a book I can read so I have something to fill my time while my leg heals?”
“You can read?”
Anger flared deep within her. “Just because I look like some malformed beast doesn’t mean I am completely without higher intelligence! For your information, I can read—several languages in fact—as well as write. I suppose you would like to put that in your notes, too?”
He swallowed hard. “Well, if—if you don’t mind.”
She yanked the book he offered her out of his hands and sighed. It took too much energy to stay angry with him. He caught her when she tried to stand and steadied her as she crossed the room back to her bed. Her head throbbed as much as her leg by this point. He retreated behind his desk and scribbled furiously, no doubt analyzing every piece of their conversation. She stared at the pages of the book, unable to concentrate on the words in front of her. If every day was going to be as intense as this, it would be a long two weeks.
CHAPTER 7
Gregor tapped his quill on the scroll. He’d enjoyed Ranealya's company over the last few days, despite her occasional outbursts of ferocious sarcasm. Unfortunately, her wounds were healing faster than he had anticipated. He suspected she’d disappear as quickly as before once she had the strength to do so.
For now, though, she sat on the bed, reading a book of Elvish poetry. Her long legs stretched out in front of her, and he visually traced their curves from the tips of her toes, along her shapely calves, past her knees, along her thighs to where they disappeared under the short tunic she conceded to wear when he was present. His body grew warm at the slight curve of her breasts peeking through the opening of the tunic.
The Tears of Elios Page 5
