by C. A. Szarek
“Aye, we’re to report immediately.”
“No’ ye two, though.” The one called Gannon smirked.
Mikhias glared and jolted forward, but Ruark grabbed his upper arm.
Gannon chuckled. “The favored one is no longer such.”
Favored one?
“We must go. Captain Daegus does no’ like to repeat orders,” a warrior urged.
Nay, he doesn’t.
His father wasn’t above punishment if he even perceived disobedience. Xander stood next to the two glowering Fae Warriors, watching the seven other winged soldiers fall into formation, the one who’d received the summons in the front position of leader. They pumped their wings simultaneously and rose as a unit, as they’d been trained.
Mikhias and Ruark looked at each other. Well, glared was more accurate.
Xander smirked. He was no empath but blame was written all over the two warriors that’d been left behind.
They started to argue even before the group of soldiers was out of sight.
“When I catch that traitor, I’m going to rip his wings off,” Mikhias barked.
“Aye, I’m sure,” Ruark scoffed, tossing his auburn braid over his shoulder.
His companion growled, but said nothing.
Xander studied the two. They were distracted, but was staying here going to be helpful? He couldn’t compel them without becoming visible.
They were angry enough at each other to let information slip, weren’t they? Perhaps they knew nothing, since his father and the king were not pleased with them.
He longed to return to his wife’s side, but he was at the Faery Stones with a suddenly light guard; he needed to take advantage of what he could.
Staring at the sword in his hands, he weighed his options. He’d overtaken these two just that morning.
Could he do it again?
Perhaps even retrieve Janet and try to get them home?
Nay.
His gut said it wasn’t worth the risk. Xander needed to know why his father called back the other warriors.
Ruark pumped his wings and rose to prop himself on the edge of the dais, foregoing the stairs that were closer.
“What’re you doing?” Mikhias demanded.
“Xander-the-traitor is far from here. Never liked ‘im much, but the warrior isna’ a fool. If I’m stuck here, migh’ as well make tha best of it.” The redheaded warrior dug in his pocket and pulled out a silver flask.
“You’re the fool. Even he knows when he’s found, he’s dead. The Stones are his only way out of the Realm. He’s probably watching.”
Xander’s heart sped up and he gripped his sword tighter. The Faery Stones were warded against stealth magic, but the area around them was not.
Can he sense me? Is this a trap?
Ruark took a swig of whatever contraband he had in the flask. He scoffed when he looked at his companion. “The lass is human. He’s hidden her away. He’ll no’ be here tonight. Xander-the-traitor is lower than the lowest dog now. Captain Daegus himself has vowed to put him to death.”
Ice slid over Xander’s wings and down his spine. His father would do the deed himself? He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.
“Aye. Blood ties won’t save the traitor.” Mikhias nodded.
“Aye.” Ruark nodded. “Why would he come back here?”
“That tis the question they all want answered.” The dark-haired warrior gestured in the general direction of the palace.
“And who is the lass?” Ruark mused.
Xander narrowed his eyes, growling. He wanted to demand they leave his mate out of their speculations.
Mikhias froze.
“What is it?” Ruark asked, squaring his shoulders. His wings flexed, catching the magic light. Colors of the rainbow danced across the span of his iridescent wing-skin, but Xander tore his eyes away, staring at Mikhias.
“Did you hear something?”
Bollocks.
“Nay. Did ye?”
“Aye. We’re not alone.”
Ruark hopped off dais, scanning the area. “Yer being paranoid, my friend.” He pocketed his flask.
“Nay.” Mikhias shook his head, drawing his sword. He shouted a Fae spellword and Xander cursed.
His magic was nullified.
They saw him at the same time.
“Traitor,” Mikhias spat.
“Ye were right,” Ruark breathed, drawing his sword as well.
Xander squared his shoulders, bracing himself for impact—magical or physical.
“Good, perhaps he’ll answer questions before we turn him in.” Mikhias narrowed his eyes, inching forward.
Both Fae Warriors advanced as if they were going to circle him.
“Nay,” Xander said.
“Nay?” Ruark barked, arching one auburn brow. His overconfidence rolled off him in waves.
“I won’t be answering questions tonight. But you will.” Xander called a ball of light to his palm and flung it at them.
Mikhias dove for the ground, but the stunning spell hit Ruark in the chest and he crumpled to the orange grass.
Xander slid backwards, brandishing his sword at the dark-haired Fae, chanting the words of the strongest compelling spell he knew. Alana had taught him years ago.
Mikhias froze as soon as he made it to his feet.
“Stop!” Xander shouted. He glanced at Ruark to make sure he was still unconscious, but regardless, he hadn’t much time. He strode to Mikhias, staring into his eyes. “Sheath your sword.”
The warrior didn’t hesitate. He shoved his large weapon into its scabbard, squaring his shoulders as if awaiting the next order.
Xander smiled, locking his gaze onto Mikhias’s pale blue eyes. “Now, Sir Mikhias. You will tell me what I need to know.”
Chapter Eleven
Janet awoke shivering. She reached for the blanket, to pull it higher over her body, but paused at the unfamiliar feel beneath her fingertips. It wasn’t the large MacLeod plaid she always had on her bed.
Too soft. Not wool.
“Where am I?” She blinked, staring up at a wide natural—rocky?—ceiling. She could hear the rush of thick water.
Everything came whooshing back, so fast it made her head spin and stole her breath. She shot to a sitting position, trembling from the chill in the air.
A cave.
The Grànnda Falls.
The Realm of the Fae.
“I’m no’ home. No’ at Dunvegan.”
And…she was alone.
“Xander,” Janet breathed. She tried again, this time louder.
Still no answer, even when she shouted his name.
He was gone. Must’ve gone to the Faery Stones, as he said he’d have to.
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Janet could feel the mating bond. His heartbeat still echoed hers.
That means he’s well, right?
Tremors danced across her frame, and she clutched the soft Fae blankets. Janet was cold, and not from temperature alone.
The cavern was dim. Her gaze darted around the walls. Xander’s orbs were still surrounding her, but they were a much softer glow than before. As if he’d blown out candles so she could sleep.
“Soillsich,” Janet commanded, as he’d taught her. The word meant alight, in Gaelic and Fae, and Xander had explained the simple term would make the globes brighten.
Immediately the place lit up, all the orbs as radiant as before. As if the cave was filled with daylight.
It made her feel better. She smiled, looking around the wide space. Her first magic spell and it’d worked. “Shame Xander missed it.” Angus, too. Her nephew would’ve been delighted.
Would she be able to perform magic when they got home?
Or was it the realm?
Magic was alive here, as Xander had told her.
Even with its rocky walls and dirt floor, the cavern looked almost friendly when lit up. Not a home, but not as foreboding as in the dark.
Janet’s eye caugh
t the small pool in the right rear corner, just like her fated husband had said. She shivered as damp air hit her face.
Xander had said the water in the pool was naturally heated because of a hot spring. She could bathe. Get warm. Not have to be concerned about being nude with her winged warrior in the cavern.
It was likely the only privacy she’d have until they returned to Skye.
Her skirts, leine and corset rested—folded—on the small boulder they’d both used for a seat. She was touched that he would’ve taken such care with her garments. He must’ve brought them inside before he’d left.
I can get dressed.
She’d have to use a blanket to dry off though. Janet gathered the softer of the two bed coverings into her arms and headed to the pool. She halved the blanket and laid it next to the pool.
Squatting, she dipped her hand into the water. Xander had been right. Steam rose idly into the air, as if she’d boiled pots of water over a fire.
Inviting.
Janet smiled and stood, discarding her chemise. She folded it and rested the thin underdress next to the blanket. The chill in the damp air bit at her naked skin, so she wasted no time getting in the water. She stepped into the pool, sighing as the warm liquid caressed her legs. It came to her knees, and she wanted to submerge her body, but wasn’t fond of the idea that rocks might scrape her.
She ran her hand along the side of the spring. It was smooth, as if carved. Gingerly, Janet sat, leaning against the heated rock, as if she was in the wooden tub at home.
Xander had said the hot springs were natural, but this pool felt sculpted. It must be old, and the water must have smoothed out the rock’s surface over time.
Like the pebbles her nephew always gathered on the beach. He collected the softest ones. Angus liked colored rocks the best.
“Home,” Janet whispered.
Her Fae Warrior would get her home. She had no worries about not seeing her family again. Janet and Xander would be home as soon as it was safe to open the Faery Stones.
Maybe on the morrow?
She banished all negativity, slipping even farther into the water, letting the heat of the swirling pool seep into her muscles, make her limbs languid. The water bubbled and churned as if she was stirring it. Sweeping her worries away.
Janet closed her eyes, concentrating on Xander. She couldn’t see the magic as she had before, but she could feel it, feel him. The mating bond, like all the magic in the realm, was a living thing.
She imagined it disappearing into her chest, like she’d witnessed when they’d bonded, and seen when Xander had healed her foot.
“My heart.” She kept her voice low, but it still reverberated in the large cave, startling her. It shouldn’t have, considering the same had happened when she’d called his name, but perhaps she’d been too distracted by the panic of being alone.
Don’t be a coward.
Janet shook her head at herself and covered her left breast with her palm.
Over her heart.
Was the bond figurative or literal, disappearing into their bodies in that particular spot?
He’d said their bond was already strengthening.
Were feelings—emotions—for each other the result or the cause?
She swallowed. The questions weren’t any easier now than when they’d first come to her. Janet couldn’t put words to how she felt for the Fae man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. She’d known him for half a year. But she’d only been bonded to him for a day.
“It’s too soon,” she whispered.
First the bond, then running from her family as well as her warrior.
Then…getting sucked here.
Overwhelming.
Nothing, not the magic, not her family, was taking what she wanted into consideration.
“What do I want?”
And what does Xander want?
He’d kissed her, she’d kissed him. She liked how it’d felt to be up against his chest, in his arms. Janet was definitely fond of the way he made her melt when his mouth moved over hers.
Xander had been so accepting of this whole thing.
From the start.
Could he feel anything for her that wasn’t some sort of magical obligation?
The ring on her left hand pulsed a dark purple. Janet stared. Confusion, desire, fears—about everything, Xander, her feelings, worry about getting home—it all stomped around her mind, making her shake in the warm water.
Knowing the ways of a man and a woman was one thing.
Experiencing it for the first time…was different than she’d imagined…or fantasized.
Intense.
But…better, right?
Nay. With magic involved, it was worse. Doubts thickened, threatening to overtake her.
Did either of them really have a choice?
It’s too much.
Her head spun. Her chest ached, her heart was pounding so hard.
“Janet, what’s wrong?”
His voice made her jump. It bounced around the large cavern, making it sound as if Xander had shouted. Water sloshed against the sides of the pool and he sought her, probably by sound alone.
When his beautiful eyes rested on her, Janet blushed to her toes, despite the water concealing her. Her fated husband was too far away to see her nudity, but it didn’t matter. Her neck, cheeks, even her ears burned.
“N-n-n-othin’,” she called, averting her gaze as Xander approached. She wanted to cover herself, but her limbs refused to move. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d be able to see her. Because of the natural eddies, the whirling water was hazy. So, even as he stood beside her, she was protected from his view.
Protected?
Xander was supposed to be her husband.
Should he not see her as naked as the day she was born?
He said nothing, but she felt him as if they were touching. If she reached out, Janet could brush her hand against his ankle, or his leg.
She still couldn’t look at him.
“Are you well?”
Janet nodded. “Aye.” She forced her face up. Met his gaze.
Color spread across Xander’s high cheekbones. His powerful chest heaved as if he’d come in from a long run. Or a hard flight, as it were.
Desire pulsed across the mating bond, zinging to him and back. It crackled in the air, and awareness shot down Janet’s spine. Her body tightened and melted at the same time, and it had little to do with the water.
She throbbed all over.
For him.
“Lass…” The word was a croak, and her insides trembled in response.
She sucked in a breath. “Join me.”
Silence descended as her offer shocked them both.
Janet hadn’t planned on saying the words aloud. She studied the surface of the flowing water. He was certainly going to think she was too forward now. Xander probably didn’t want a wanton wife.
Embarrassment made her dizzy, threatened to swallow her whole. It was at odds with the passion in the air; palpable, heady, and holding her attention more than her inexperience or request.
The mating bond must be influencing her thoughts, her words.
He said nothing, but she heard the rustling of his linen tunic, the creak of his leather belt, even the scabbard of his sword thudding softly as he lowered it to the rocky floor.
Her heart threatened to exit her chest when he stepped into the water. His wings reflected off the surface of the water, but Janet kept her gaze down, despite the desire to look at his bare form. She’d seen his naked chest. Touched it. Been up against it. She wanted more. Wanted all of Xander.
“Lass.” His whisper was thick.
The mating bond was once against visible, glowing brightly beneath the surface of the water as he lowered himself next to her.
They reached for each other at the same time, but the kiss he placed on her lips was tender, gentle.
Not enough.
Xander pulled her into his arms.
They both shuddered from the full body contact.
Janet studied the iridescent wing in her line of sight, wanting to reach out, caress it. See if it was as smooth as it appeared, but she didn’t have the courage. She closed her eyes against his shoulder, wiggling closer.
He caressed her neck, then her shoulder blades, making large circles down her back. His hand moved onto skin below the surface of the water. Xander groaned as he followed the curve of her bottom, but then he pulled his hand away.
Janet lifted her head, meeting his violet eyes. “Why did you stop?”
“Your brother demanded I return you home, virtue intact.”
She frowned. “And who is my brother ta decide such things for me? Tis my body. My virtue.” Janet didn’t want to let irritation at Duncan ruin the energy between her and her fated husband, but it was already inching up from her gut.
How dare Duncan be a controlling barbarian?
“He cares about you.”
Janet shook her head. “He’s overbearin’ like always.”
Xander smirked, but didn’t comment.
“It migh’ be Alex’s place to marry me off, but my laird is no’ the brother of whom you speak.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
She stared at her winged warrior. Xander didn’t laugh nearly enough. His handsome face was loose, radiant. Nowhere was the normal seriousness he wore like a shroud. His violet eyes twinkled, and he carried a lightness she’d never seen.
Happiness?
Her stomach flipped and Janet couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. Her irritation at her brother dissolved.
“You know your siblings well, my lady.”
Janet paused. Should she chide him for formality or revel at his level of respect for her?
They were naked in a pool together, and she was in the circle of his embrace. An honorific was odd, considering their place—and role—to each other. “My lady?” she whispered.
Xander cocked his head to the side, studying her.
It was her turn to smirk. “We’re…supposed to be mates as you say…married.”
“Aye.”
“So you can discard the my lady.”
“All right, lass.”
She didn’t like that any better. “Lass?” Her smirk slid into a grin. “Can you no’ say my name? You’ve only said it once—maybe twice—since we’ve arrived.”
