When I First Saw Red: Soldiers and Mercenaries Book 2

by Kasia Bacon

  Her silence forced me to glance her way again.

  “You know what Ōkkanȏ fears the most?” Ranélle said at last, enunciating each syllable.

  I shook my head.

  “Something he’s had in spades growing up. Rejection. He wouldn’t admit that unless you roasted his feet over hot coals, of course. It’s true, though. What’s more, everything that isn't an explicit and loud acceptance will still smell like dismissal to him. Do you grasp my meaning, sergeant?”

  “Frankly? No.”

  “All right.” She sighed. “Something about you tells me you grew up within a large family. Let me ask you this: did you have a good home? Parents, siblings, the works? Were you nurtured, would you say?”

  “I would, yes,” I admitted, since I had nothing but fond memories of my childhood. “I’m one of the lucky sods, I guess.”

  Her chin dipped in agreement. “And in the past, were you blessed with a partner you loved?”

  “I was.” Larhitta and I might’ve not been granted a happy ending, but every moment we’d shared had been precious to me. I would’ve cherished the memories of our son and our life together if reminiscing about the past didn’t felt like a knife to the gut.

  Ranélle nodded again. “Ah, well then. I’d be inclined to presume you have a basic understanding of relationships. Enough to make sense of them. While, on the other hand, someone who lacks your experience—or who’s had the opposite experience entirely—might struggle to figure out the simplest things. The very concept may appear confusing to them. Perhaps even frightening.”

  I scratched the stubble on my chin in response to her expectant expression.

  Ranélle stomped her foot hard enough to make me flinch. “Truly, it’s a coin toss which between you two idiots is slower than the other, I swear to the gods.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Sergeant, I don’t know how you reacted to this soulmate revelation when Ōkkanȏ clobbered you over the head with it. Judging by your naturally impassive mug, all dark and foreboding, I can only imagine you didn’t declare your undying devotion with a song and dance. He was bound to take anything less than that as a rebuff. And I’ve no doubt he treated you to his best cold, mean and condescending routine before he sent you packing?”

  The memory set off an unpleasant sting behind my breastbone. “Something like that,” I muttered, not meeting her eyes.

  “Hm.” Sympathy crept into her tone. “He likes going straight for the jugular. It becomes less surprising when you consider what Ōkkanȏ’s life has been like. A study in abandonment. A constant battle. With his peers, with himself, with his demon. But you’re a soldier; you understand strategy. Can’t you see his behaviour for what it is? A self-defence tactic? He’s attacking before he gets attacked and hurt. Don’t you people call it a pre-emptive strike?”

  My lips twitched at Ranélle’s smug smile.

  “I’ve read a book or two in my time, sergeant.”

  “Lázhien,” I offered, surprising myself. Halfway through the conversation, I somehow caught myself growing fond of the woman. Could she talk, though.

  “Lázhien, then.” She cocked her head. “You see, it doesn’t occur to most people that someone like Ōkkanȏ—so beautiful and desired—can be insecure. Yet he’s got this ridiculous notion in his head that he’s only good at whoring. Only good for whoring.” Her barley-coloured hair cascaded over her shoulders when she threw her head back. “He’s given up on any plans or ambitions, apart from satisfying the urges of his demon. It’s such a waste because he’s an amazing artist. And a good person, deserving of love. Which, trust me, gets easier to remember once you learn to ignore his cattiness and the rubbish he spouts sometimes,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrow.

  I snorted in an immediate understanding of her remark.

  “Lastly, you need to remember that Ōkkanȏ is not used to stating what he wants. I mean outside of the bedroom.”

  I couldn’t suppress a growl.

  She chuckled and continued, “Besides, his natural reaction to having something imposed on him yet again, I imagine, was to rebel. Fate forcing this bond on him raised his hackles. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.”

  A sensation of tightness settled around my temples. “One person can’t possibly have all this going on in their head. My brain aches just from listening to this.”

  Ranélle laughed. “They don’t call them Two-Souls for shits and giggles. Conflicted is what Ōkkanȏ does best.” She squinted, studying me as if she planned on drilling right through me. “But his issues aside, you’ve got your own to sort out, don’t you? I can tell your sort, Lázhien.”

  “My sort?”

  “One to agonise over spilt milk. I’d bet you’re eager to accept the blame for everything, aren’t you? And suffer punishment for it, justified or not. Have I got it right?” She puffed her ample chest. “I’ve got an idea for you. Whatever happened to you years ago, how about moving on? Don’t let the demons of the past ruin your chance of happiness—”

  “With the demon of today?”

  “Hilarious.” Ranélle made a face. “If the Imperial Army doesn’t pan out for you, try it for the court jester. Am I getting through to you, Lázhien? Pride is not a good thing if it leaves you with nothing but regrets. Believe me, I would know."

  I would have to have been stone-deaf not to detect pain in her statement. It made me wonder what—or who—she’d lost due to stubbornness.

  I bit my lip. “He’s trouble. Such a brat. Hard work. Not to mention high-maintenance. He’d give me stomach ulcers in six months.”

  “Six months? Oh, you’re adorable, sergeant,” Ranélle retorted with a giggle. “That’s all true. But he’s also caring when it matters. Loyal. And—”

  “Funny, in his own way. Charming, when he wants to be. Fragile, even though he hides it,” I blurted and shut up at the fire rising in my cheeks.

  Ranélle showed off her dimples. “Why not admit it? You’re well and truly shafted.”

  Oh, she nailed that. Yet I hesitated. Would I be able to find the right words to sway Red? Was I special to a degree that made me deserving of that bond? Did my patched-up heart still carry enough to share with another person?

  “Elder Magic is damn rare, Lázhien. I don’t suppose for a moment that something so ancient and powerful would be applied foolishly and random, do you?”

  I made for the door when the reality of my situation came crashing down. I had a shift on that evening. What the hell did I think I was doing? I rubbed my forehead.

  Ranélle made an amused sound. “Well, I might’ve mentioned you’re dealing with a pressing family affair to that delicious quartermaster of yours. What’s his name, by the way?”

  “Etannen.”

  “Mm. Charming. He seemed sympathetic. Said your shift would be covered in an emergency. I suggest you seek him out.”

  I grabbed both of her hands and gave them a light squeeze. “Ranélle, you’re... something else. But thank you.”

  She twisted a golden lock around her pinkie, peering up at me from beneath her lashes. “You know, I wouldn’t object to Etannen’s escort if he fancied seeing me off to the gate.” The polite request didn’t fool me. It spelt You’d better make it happen with bells and whistles.

  “It’ll be my pleasure to ensure that he does.” I smirked.

  Poor Etannen. He had no comprehension of what was about to hit him.

  The White Boar

  ŌKKANȎ

  It turned out my mogõ didn’t care for horse riding. Meowing, the silly bugger kept clawing at his wicker basket and head-butting the lid in an attempt to free himself of his containment.

  “No,” I said, letting him lick the tip of my finger when he tried to squeeze his flat little face through a gap in the weave. “We have a long journey to do. Behave now.”

  He didn’t, of course. But luckily, he went to sleep after a while.

  The wide road leading northeast from Nygläär allowed for comfortable travel. Paved with neat red
dish stone during the rule of Emperor Arusen, his Majesty Xenedor’s great grandfather, it wound around gentle hills for the most part. Halfway between the city walls and the garrison’s gate, however, it leveled out and ran along several hundred paces of straight stretch.

  Just there, not far from where the White Boar Inn nestled behind a snowy cluster of blooming tobu trees, I came upon a lonely rider. He approached at a gallop from the opposite direction and raised dust in his wake.

  I recognised him in an instant. Not because of my extraordinary vision, but my demon’s abrupt rapture. In his delight, the bastard sent my ears ringing and teeth rattling.

  What could be bringing Lázhien to Nygläär with such haste? Army business, or a private errand?

  Whatever the reason, the man looked damn gorgeous atop his horse. Gods almighty. The Elven blood in my veins warmed at the sight of his body remaining in perfect alignment, his control over the majestic stallion absolute.

  Annoyed by the rapid tempo of my heart, I slowed my mare from a canter to a walk, then halted her altogether. Explaining why I’d stopped or what I was waiting for in the middle of the road would be a job and a half.

  Lázhien covered the distance between us in a tick, leaving me little time to put my scrambled thoughts in order.

  He soon reined in his stallion and guided him around me in a slow circle. Once dismounted, he marched right up to me.

  A mighty frown creased his brow. His lips formed a thin line. The ferocity that shone in his eyes could’ve been either anger or resolve, I couldn’t ascertain. The angles of his face seemed sharper and more streamlined than I remembered.

  Dryness closed my throat up. It became laborious to inhale.

  With no hesitation, Lázhien reached for me, his steely arms pulling me down from the saddle.

  In my haze, I complied. My body heeded his cues in an involuntary, maddening reaction.

  For several breaths, we stood in deafening silence—too close to one another for my comfort, yet not close enough—scrutinising each other’s expressions.

  My demon lunged to the surface, frenzied with longing and anticipation, battling me for control. Striving for the touch he’d mourned for a fortnight.

  I tensed in a fight-or-flight response. But who did I try to fool? Taking on both Lázhien and my Incubus at the same time was doomed to failure. Not least because I wanted to surrender more than anything.

  Lázhien’s arms curled around my waist as he loomed over me—tall, dark and steadfast. Good job he held me in place because my knees began to wobble.

  “Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” I managed, mortified at the pronounced tremble to my words. It took all my will to resist pressing myself against his chest, giving in to his strength, his scent, his warmth. “What do you want, Lázhien?”

  “Plain talking, for a change. No more games, Red,” he rasped, piercing me with those glossy onyx eyes.

  Hypnotised by his scorching gaze, I found myself unable to turn away. I waited. Hoped. As though for a judgment or deliverance.

  And then it came.

  “I want you to choose me the way I choose you.” He tightened his grip and I couldn’t help but shiver and melt into his sturdy frame. “I want you to need me the way I need you. Forget Ysêmyr.”

  A pathetic, fractured sound tore out of me.

  “Do you hear me, Red? I won’t let you run. You’re mine and you know it. Let me love you. Not for a night or a month. But forever. I don’t care if the bond is caused by a spell or full moon. I want us to honour it. I want it all. With you. And to hell with everything else.”

  I took in air to steady myself, struggling to remind myself of all the reasons why I should tell him no and send him away. Yet I could recall none, stupefied by the frenzy of my demon, my own yearning for him and the awareness of how good and right it felt to remain in his clasp.

  It came to me then—as clear as it was urgent—the realisation of what I truly wanted. Perhaps I’d known it deep down for some time. But suddenly, admitting it to myself didn’t appear petrifying anymore. It felt necessary. That moment, standing on the side of the highroad dusted with fallen petals of tobu trees, liberated me from the invisible shackles that had bound me for years. It squashed the fears and doubts, spurring me into making my choice.

  What did I want? A life with this man in front of me, a human and a soldier. I needed him to never stop regarding me with the devotion, desire and heartrending honesty I could see reflected in his eyes now.

  My first and last chance to speak my mind had arrived. I seized it with all the suavity I could muster.

  “Y-you…” I stared, blinked and dry-swallowed. “That’s all, then?”

  His shoulders shook with laughter. “Gods, you’re such an arse.” He nuzzled my hair and said, “That’s it. What do you say?”

  I cleared my throat and hid my burning face in the crook of his neck. Not on my life could I reply while looking at him. After a long pause, I whispered moodily, “Fine. I might be able to live with that.”

  Lázhien’s snicker ended abruptly.

  We moved at the same time. The next moment, my mouth was full of his tongue. I moaned, mindlessly grinding against him, agog at the feel of him. I almost sobbed in relief at the contact, yet the layers of clothing separating our bodies had me beside myself with frustration.

  His large hands clasped the back of my head and he deepened the kiss, bending me backwards like a willow’s branch.

  By the time our lips parted, I’d turned witless. My aching, straining shaft tented the front of my breeches and threatened to split them open. “Lázhien,” I kept repeating between my winded pants.

  “Red,” Lázhien uttered my name like a plea, question and order all at once. He pressed his forehead against mine. “Fuck,” he growled.

  “Excellent idea,” I wheezed.

  “Bed. We need a bed.”

  “They’ve got beds at the inn.” I tried to point at the building behind us, but it proved difficult with my hands buried in Lázhien’s hair.

  “Let’s ride,” he said at once.

  ŌKKANȎ

  While I had limited recollection of getting to the White Boar, I registered the innkeeper’s wide stare at Lázhien’s brisk demand for a room with the biggest bed and a flask of oil from the kitchen. My request for a bowl of cream only added to the proprietor’s bewilderment.

  By the time we sprinted up the stairs, we found ourselves breathing loudly and not from exertion, either. At last, the door thudded shut behind us.

  I maintained enough presence of mind to open the lid of the basket containing my sleeping mogõ and place it on the floor in the corner, next to the cream.

  Afterwards, my brain turned into mush. Finally, after so many days of yearning, I could give in to my urges and quit restraining my demon. Better still—I could let him loose.

  An acute sense of alert sparked within my body, my veins and nerves set ablaze. My skin heated all over and my facial markings tingled. Without hesitation, I threw myself at Lázhien, who caught me mid-air, spun me around with thrilling ease and pinned my back against the wall.

  His wide shoulders filled my vision. “Stay right where you are, little fiend,” he grated, “and don’t you dare move.” He pressed his hard-on into my groin to punctuate his point.

  Move? Fuck moving. Wrapped in his crushing, delicious embrace, I couldn’t imagine doing much else beyond lecherous panting.

  Lázhien’s low, heavy grunts triggered a coordinated throbbing down in my crotch.

  Gods above.

  Raw need whipped through me like a lash to the back. The three-way connection between me, my demon and our soulmate channelled through me in pulses, shaking me to the core—almost too much to endure.

  Lázhien went for my ear, sucking on its shell and biting the tip. Immediately, he smoothed the sting by launching an onslaught of scorching, open-mouthed kisses along my temple, down my jaw and the side of my throat. It drove me from incoherent to crazed within moments. />
  I had no patience or stamina to show for myself. Speed trumped everything. My balls were about to burst.

  We writhed and thrashed against each other, too desperate and too far gone to bother undressing. Producing strangled noises, we both came just from that. It would’ve been pathetic if it hadn’t been necessary.

  “Damn," Lázhien said in an unsteady, staggered voice.

  “Simply taking the edge off,” I murmured in response.

  Quickened gasping aside, neither of us made a sound for a while. We remained glued to each other with our eyes locked.

  He appeared thunderstruck and blissful—which pretty much corresponded with how I felt, myself. I couldn’t believe that a mere hour before, I’d been on my way to Ysêmyr, alone and resigned. Filled by dread and the bitterness of failure.

  And right then? We were at each other’s mouths again, tongues deep in an urgent, messy tangle.

  Lázhien held me up the entire time, fully supporting my weight, never once letting my feet touch the floorboards. It made me feel cherished and safe in a way I couldn’t describe—a way I hadn’t known before.

  I pulled away and wheezed, “Enough teasing. Let’s get to the juicy bit.”

  In truth, any bit was juicy with him around, but Lázhien didn’t object. He strode towards the bed, not putting me down until the backs of my knees touched the wooden frame.

  “I’m ready when you are,” he said, taking the flask of oil out of his pocket and flinging it onto the bed beside me.

  We kicked off our boots and began stripping with frantic haste, tossing our clothes onto the floor every which way. Rushing as if in competition with one another.

  A competition that I won, having had years of experience in the field.

  I climbed onto the mattress backwards, unbraiding my hair and forking it loose with my fingers as I went. Aware of Lázhien’s hungry, impassioned gaze, I lay down and arched my body.

  I did my fair share of gawking myself, admiring the masculine symmetry of Lázhien’s face and his sculpted, muscular body. Fuck. Easy on the eye didn’t even come close to describing him. Smooth, golden skin. Flat, rippled abdomen. Narrow waist. Powerful, corded thighs. And between them? A mouth-watering shaft straining upwards, its thick head tinged scarlet.