Rogue's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  He could hear the knight cursing as he walked away. Hesitation in his broad shoulders told him Bowen wouldn’t give them long.

  What are you doing?

  Bowen was right. He should go back to camp. His intention to call his brother back dissolved before it could be born. He wanted to see her.

  Nay, I need to see her.

  Alasdair’s boots carried him forward, closer to the small burn.

  Mischief saw him first, rising to all fours and wagging his tail. Well, at least the lass’ bondmate didn’t want to rip his throat out.

  A series of splashes caught his attention and his eyes glued to her. She was naked, standing in the water up to her thighs. Her slender back and the perfect curve of her bottom caught—and held—his eye. Her supple skin was shiny from the water.

  The birthmark high on her side, tucked neatly under her right breast, was only partly visible from the angle she was standing. He remembered tracing the half-moon shape the night they’d made love.

  When Elissa glanced over her shoulder, she gasped. Her lips parted.

  Alasdair wanted to go to her, tug her to him and kiss her.

  He didn’t.

  Their eyes locked. His heart sped up. “Aren’t you cold?” Words tumbled from his mouth.

  “Nay. I warmed the water.”

  Idiot. She’s an elemental mage.

  Hearing her voice made his stomach flutter. She’d answered him normally, as if everything between them wasn’t a torn mess.

  She turned toward him, but didn’t exit the small creek. Elissa made no efforts to cover her nudity, and it took all he was made of to keep his eyes on hers. “What do you want, Alasdair?” This was harder. Her mouth set in a hard line and her eyes flashed.

  Mischief didn’t approach him, but the wolf’s head lowered, his tail stilled and his shoulders pitched as if he might pounce.

  “For him not to attack me, for one.”

  Elissa arched a pale eyebrow, but moments later, her bondmate lay on the bank again. His body relaxed, but his icy blue gaze was keen.

  “I’ve told him you mean me no harm.” She lifted her chin and perched her hands on her shapely—perfect—hips. “Do you?”

  “Never.” Against his will, his eyes trailed her body. Alasdair took in her high breasts. Her nipples were hard, probably from the cool air. He remembered the taste of her skin, especially there, and his mouth went dry. Her flat stomach with its rounded edge at the right spot beckoned to him, her lithe skin glossy from the water. The curls between her legs were golden, also from her bath. Darker in color than when dry.

  He burned for her. Like he had for no other woman.

  Elissa laughed. It was bitter, and nothing like he’d ever heard from her before. But it jolted him from the arousal clouding his brain.

  “Right. That’s all you want. That’s all you came for. I understand.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him.

  “Nay. You don’t understand anything. I just want to talk.” Frustration had him pacing.

  Mischief growled. Alasdair froze but Elissa admonished her wolf and he quieted.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His gut clenched. “I know. Can you please put some clothes on so we can talk?”

  “Why? You can’t talk now?”

  “Nay. Not with you…like that…” Alasdair gestured to her bare form.

  Triumph glittered in her hazel eyes but it didn’t feel right. Nor did the hard expression on her beautiful face.

  She exited the water, but the short distance to the folded pile of garments wasn’t hurried. Elissa’s actions were on purpose. She held her body open, making sure he could see every naked inch. She knew Alasdair didn’t have the willpower to look away.

  The little tease.

  His anger rose hotter the slower she went, especially when she made sure he was looking at her before she picked up her chemise.

  “Just hurry and dress.”

  Elissa smirked. “Why?”

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Nay.” She smiled and slid one arm into the fine dressing gown.

  “Stop daring me.”

  “Daring you to what? You’ve made it plain you don’t want me.” Her eyes were wide, and the innocence of her expression might’ve been something he’d fall for—had he not known her.

  “If you won’t dress yourself, I’ll do it. You won’t like it.”

  “Relax, Alasdair. I thought you were a big, strong, knight. Always in control.”

  Who is this lass? This woman so blatantly daring him?

  Where was Elissa, the sweet, shy lass who’d laughed at his stupid jests and listened to his stories?

  This lass before him was an experienced seductress. He didn’t know which Elissa he preferred more.

  Alasdair wanted them both.

  “I’ll wait for you in the clearing.” He stormed off, because if he didn’t, he’d rip her chemise right back off and show her what happened when a woman goaded a man who wanted her.

  Elissa’s laugh was his only parting gift. Too bad it had that same bitter edge.

  He paced next to a big tree until she came into view, her wolf on her heels. Her front-laced gown was simple and dark brown, much less flashy than other he’d seen her in, but her appeal was no less for him.

  She’d braided her wet hair, but must’ve used magic to dry most of it, because pale little wisps escaped, framing her face and making him want her even more.

  Alasdair swallowed and let her approach him. If he didn’t, he’d grab her up and kiss her.

  “Sir Alasdair.” Elissa inclined her head.

  “My lady.” Perhaps decorum could convince him to keep his hands to himself.

  “I don’t want to argue with you.” She stopped a few feet away, and the cool breeze washed her clean scent over him. Teasing. Tempting.

  He closed his eyes and breathed her in. “I don’t want to argue. Just want to talk.”

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  Alasdair sighed and met her hazel eyes. He’d proposed. She’d rejected him. That wasn’t what he wanted. “I…don’t know.”

  Her face softened for the first time since he’d approached. “There’s nothing left to be said.”

  “Aye, there is.”

  Elissa shook her head and stepped closer. She reached out, as if she’d grab his arm, but then pulled her hand back.

  He didn’t protest. It was a bad idea for them to touch.

  “Just…let me go.” Her eyes implored when their gazes met again.

  I can’t. He couldn’t say it aloud, either.

  Alasdair tugged her to him, wishing he’d not demanded she get dressed moments before. He took her mouth brutally, making her open for him and shoving his tongue against hers. He whirled them around and walked her backwards until her shoulders bumped the tree. He pressed into her hard, kissing her with everything he was.

  Elissa fought him at first, but then she gave a little whimper and started to kiss him back. Her mouth just as hungry as his.

  She lifted her palms, resting them on his chest. But she didn’t wind her arms around his neck. Elissa shoved backwards with surprising strength. Glared up at him, both hands on her hips. “Nay.”

  “Nay?” Alasdair whispered, his head spinning.

  “You’re not going to do this to me again. I won’t let you.” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I won’t let you tie me in knots and rip my heart in half.”

  He said nothing. Didn’t know what to say.

  “Besides, it isn’t as if you really want me. More than my body.”

  “What’d you mean? I made myself clear when I asked for your hand.”

  “What about The White Sage?”

  Alasdair blanched. Tried to hold onto his anger and not gulp like a caught lad. “What?” he sputtered.

  “I’m sure you’ve made another trip since you fled my bed.” Elissa glared.

  “Nay.” Alasdair rammed his hand through his long hair and looked away. T
hen he grasped onto courage like he’d never had to do ever, and met her beautiful eyes. “I’ve not touched another lass since you.”

  “Since me? But I heard—”

  “I know what you heard. Nothing happened when I went to the tavern. I let Bowen and Dallon think what they would.”

  Pain darted across her face, despite what he’d just confessed. “But you went anyway.”

  “I thought of nothing but you.” Alasdair wanted to reach for her, but didn’t. He contemplated telling her about Betha, but it’d only hurt her more. Guilt bit at him, because he hadn’t been completely chaste that night, even if he’d not rutted Betha.

  Elissa gasped and blinked. Her lips parted and he took a step closer, but she threw her palm up. “Nay. It’s too late.”

  “Why?” Pain rose slowly from his gut, consuming every inch of his being, constricting his chest, his breathing.

  “I can’t do this with you again.”

  “Elissa—” He wanted—needed—to fight, but didn’t know how. What to do, what to say was beyond him.

  I’ve already lost her.

  He fought the urge to double over and pant for breath. His lungs burned.

  She slid back when he reached for her, shaking her head hard. Her shoulders bumped the tree again. “I’m betrothed. I gave my word. I’m marrying Lord Cam, Sir Alasdair. Just accept it.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Mischief growled low in his throat, his hackles raised all the way to his tail. It took her a moment to realize her bondmate wasn’t growling at the man who’d broken her heart. His pale blue gaze was focused on something behind them, toward their camp.

  She heard a yell of something unintelligible, but it was definitely an alarm.

  The shouting drew Alasdair’s attention as well, and he frowned, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

  Elissa tried to look around his body, since she wasn’t tall enough to peer over his shoulder, but her knight shoved his palm in her face.

  “Stay here.” Gone was the man with pain in his blue eyes. He was all knight again, a man of protection and action. He whirled around and drew his sword even before he was two steps away from her.

  Lucan dove toward them from the other side of the clearing, his young face pale, his eyes wide. He too, had a sword in his hands.

  Elissa’s stomach somersaulted. She’d watched Alasdair and Sir Roduch training with the three lads on the Greenwald fighting yard, so she’d seen firsthand the knighted mage using the weapon, but he looked so scared.

  “We’re being attacked!” Lucan shouted. “Leargan told me to find you two.”

  “Protect Elissa at all costs,” Alasdair ordered. He looked back at her.

  Their eyes locked.

  Panic inched up from her belly. She splayed her hands on the tree behind her, pressing in, letting the rough bark bite her palms.

  Mischief glued himself to her side, but she took no comfort from her bondmate.

  “Elissa.” His voice was deep and smooth, despite their argument moments before and his white-knuckled grip on his sword. “It’ll be all right, lass. Lucan and Mischief will keep you safe.”

  Gone was her anger with him. The hurt, the pain. He’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back like there was no tomorrow. Denying him, hurting him was the hardest thing Elissa had ever done in her life.

  She wanted him. Couldn’t bear him leaving her, even if it was to fight for her.

  Don’t leave me. I want you to keep me safe. She didn’t realize she’d spoke aloud until his face softened.

  “Lucan has more magic than anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll come back to you.”

  The lad circled the tree she was against, throwing a nod to Alasdair. Though he didn’t speak, Elissa recognized Lucan telling Alasdair he was ready for anything.

  Her knight gave a curt nod back, then he was gone.

  Without another word. Without….a touch. A kiss…

  Anything.

  Mischief darted across the clearing, patrolling the edge of the woods.

  The clash of swords was closer now, as well as the yelling. Metal on metal made her wince, and her gut jump.

  Elissa’s panic was a living thing. Her temples throbbed, heart beat so hard it stole her breath. Her magic tingled under the surface of her skin, making her hot all over.

  Wind was born of terror, whipping her hair around, in her face. Leaves rustled, then tree limbs creaked as they waved high above. Overhead, thunder pounded and a streak of lighting parted the sky.

  She was going to start a storm. Again.

  “My lady.” Lucan’s intense green gaze collided with hers. “Breathe. Please. Alas is right. We’ll be fine. I’ll protect you.”

  Elissa forced a breath, grateful for his presence. Having to answer him helped her regain control. “I know. I trust you.” She did, even as she screamed inside her head to get a hold of herself.

  Fear wouldn’t solve anything, and she was only upsetting her bond. Mischief whined and whimpered, staring her down, but he didn’t come to her, as if he couldn’t return to her side without putting her in jeopardy. He too, had to be ready for anything.

  The mage threw her another nod, and one corner of his mouth lifted, as if he was thanking her.

  The wind let go, dissipating; the trees stopping their movement as if they’d never started.

  Mischief paced the tree line of the clearing, growling from time to time as he studied whatever was ahead of him—the sounds of what they couldn’t yet see. He dared someone to come closer. He might not have reached adulthood just yet, but his instincts were locked in place. Her wolf was ready to strike. Maim and kill to protect her.

  Logically, she knew Lucan’s magic and her bondmate’s physical strength would keep anything bad from happening to her. It didn’t make her stop wanting Alasdair to be the one in front of her brandishing his sword, vanquishing the enemy.

  “If anyone breaks through those trees, you throw magic at them. You’re more powerful with the elements than I could ever be. Do what you need to do. Drown them, my lady.”

  “Aye. I will.”

  He didn’t answer but the glance he gave her was approval enough. Lucan circled, looking ready for anything.

  Blessed Spirit, I hope he is.

  Two men burst into the clearing from through the same spot Lucan had moments earlier.

  Her bondmate jumped at the one on the right, but the villain was ready. The man raised his arm and threw a spell at Mischief.

  The young wolf yelped and collapsed in a pile at his feet.

  Elissa screamed, frantically thought-sending to him. If he was dead, she would die, too.

  Mischief didn’t answer her call, but his mind, his being, was still present, entwined with hers, so she tried to push her fright away and concentrate on the danger. Her bondmate was stunned, but they’d both live—for now. She implored him to wake up, but he didn’t move. She didn’t know the spell, so she couldn’t counter it.

  Lucan hollered a spellword and the bigger of the two men flew across the clearing.

  He hit a tree and grunted as he tumbled to the ground, but gained his feet much too soon. He advanced on the young mage. The man was huge, his shoulders seemingly as broad as the trees that surrounded them.

  Her mage protector made eye contact with Elissa for a split second, then pointed at her. Lucan shouted a spellword. She didn’t understand it, but it sounded Aramourian.

  The area before Elissa went hazy, and all the sound was sucked away. She blinked to clear her vision and shook her head, because it went fuzzy, too. To no avail, because all sounds were still gone.

  She could see the clearing, and her wolf lying in the long grass to her right, but it was as if a veil had been draped over her.

  Lucan had enclosed her in a bubble.

  So much for his order to attack.

  The other man rushed toward her only to skitter to a stop a few feet from Lucan’s bubble, his face contorted in pain. He reached out, then yanked his hand back befor
e making contact with the magic wall.

  His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said. Didn’t know if he spoke to her or his companion.

  When he looked away, she saw a long, tapered ear, like Lord Aldern. His hair was long, lose and dark, but he, like the duke, was too tall to be a full-blooded elf.

  He rushed away from her as quickly as he’d tried to touch the bubble. In moments, he’d disappeared back the way he’d come, into the trees.

  The big man circled Lucan, but the mage kept him away with a visible shield in front of his lean body. He brandished his sword and tightened his stance when the attacker drew his own weapon, which was much larger than Lucan’s sword.

  Elissa swallowed and helplessness rolled over her. She touched the bubble with both hands. It didn’t hurt her as it appeared to have done to her half-elfin enemy.

  She was torn between wanting to see if she could help Lucan, help Mischief, and sinking to the bottom of the bubble and wrapping her arms around herself.

  I’m not a coward.

  Like the lad had pointed out, she had great magic in her own right.

  Should I try to break free?

  And if the two men had made it through the line of knights, did that mean…something had happened to them all?

  Is Alasdair all right?

  Elissa ignored the pain in her chest and leaned into Lucan’s magic bubble, pushing harder every inch she went. The magic was pliable, shaped itself around her hand, but shoved back at her, as if chiding her.

  Movement to the left drew her eye. The half-elf was back, with a smaller, blond man on his heels. Her heart stopped when she saw the dark red dripping from the short sword in his hand.

  Alasdair…Sir Dallon, Sir Leargan…Sir Bowen…Sir Kale. The other men of their party… Were they alive?

  Lucan’s mouth moved, but she still couldn’t hear. Elissa guessed he’d shouted something at the big man trying to get close enough to fight, but the enemy’s gaze was on his two companions instead of the knighted mage.

  The half-elf had an odd look on his face. Not exactly as if he was in pain, but features contorted, as if he was very uncomfortable. He wore dark gloves that extended to his biceps and his hands were clutched together high, away from his body.