by Ann Gimpel
His cock twitched, loving the childbearing thoughts. Or what came before the bearing, most likely. The child making part. He tamped back a chuckle. His thoughts were wandering. No doubt because his cock wasn’t in the mood for retreat.
“What’s so funny?” Her voice was warm, like thick honey.
“Nothing.” He bent to loosen the stallion’s hobbles.
Tairin handed him a folded horse blanket. “Do you want the saddle and bridle?”
“Just the bridle. You good with riding bareback?” He tossed the blanket over the stallion.
“Sure.” She fetched the bridle from where it hung from a tree branch.
Elliott settled it into place and laced his fingers into a platform to help her mount.
“I’m good. No reason to get mud all over your hands.” Tairin vaulted into place, scootching forward.
Elliott jumped on behind and reached around her to hold the reins. The position, with her back jammed against his front and his arms pressed against the sides of her breasts, was sensual, tantalizing. He wanted to tighten his arms around her and press his rigid flesh into the curve of her buttocks. He breathed deep and held it. Her scent, an exotic blend of musk and wild things, did less than nothing to quell his arousal.
“Tell me where we’re going,” she asked again as he nudged the horse with his knees, and they trotted away from the Rom encampment.
He concentrated on the question to lessen his awareness of her nearness, her femaleness, and his intense desire for her. “To a special place that’s just mine. It’s difficult for me to cast spells in the midst of a Romani camp. Others seem to manage it, but the proximity of so much competing magic distracts me. It’s not that I can’t manipulate my power, but it’s far easier if I’m by myself.”
“I wondered why you always disappeared after we made camp.” She hunched forward so her body wasn’t plastered right against his.
It took a whole lot of self-control not to settle her firmly back against his chest, and the erection she had to feel jutting into her backside. “Where did you imagine I went?” he asked, curious about the answer, but mostly wanting to hear her melodious voice.
“Guess I figured you had a woman in every port, so to speak. We’ve made the same rounds for years, covering Germany north to south and east to west.”
The thought of him as a Lothario was so preposterous he broke out laughing.
“Please don’t laugh at me.” She leaned farther forward and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck.
“I’m not. Your assumption amused me. I suppose I should feel flattered, but I’ve never had time for even one woman, let alone herds of them.”
The stallion tossed his head. Tairin let go and straightened but didn’t lean back against him. “Why not?”
“The seer magic twists me about and wrings me dry. I’ve never had much of anything left over to share with another.”
She nodded. “I understand. It’s much the same with me.”
Elliott gave up struggling against his attraction and tugged her gently backward. She settled against him, but her posture felt tense, as if she might bolt from the horse at any moment.
He considered what she’d said about her power. It didn’t add up, so he murmured, “Women’s magic is rarely that demanding. Even our fortunetellers—”
“—are more smoke and mirrors than reality,” she broke in. “That’s why using magic doesn’t drain them.”
He leaned forward, placing his mouth near her ear. “Ssht. That’s one of our dirty little secrets. I’d not be bandying it about. The women all have some level of magic. At least that part is true.”
“Agreed.” She turned her head and made eye contact. “But some level doesn’t translate into many of their bold predictions. They’re competent actresses. They want generous tips from the gadjo—their customers—so they play up minor magical hits. And pretend they’ve summoned someone’s dead relative, even if said relative refused to leave the other side.”
Elliott shrugged. “Sure. In truth, we’re never around long enough for anyone to come after us. Our women aren’t malicious.”
“They do mean well. Once long ago, a Romani fortuneteller saved me—” Her words halted abruptly, almost as if she realized she’d become too comfortable, said more than she meant to.
“Saved you from what?” he prodded, curious about the woman in his arms. The motion of the cantering horse drove their bodies against one another rhythmically in much the same way sex would have. Still engorged, his penis pushed uncomfortably against the front of his leather trousers.
“Never mind. It was another family group.”
“Yes, but how long ago could it possibly have been?” he persisted. “You can’t be much over thirty-five. As I recall, you were maybe fifteen when you fell in with our caravan.”
Tairin remained silent for long moments. When she spoke again, she asked, “How far is it to this quiet place where you spin spells?”
Interesting. She’s not going to answer. Wonder why?
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“What exactly will we be planning?”
His gaze slid over the darkened streets as the stallion’s hooves clopped over cobblestones. It was late. Lights shone from a few windows, but most were dark. “We may be outside Munich’s city limits, but it’s past curfew. Safer if we don’t talk much until we’re beneath ground where the earth can shield us.”
She didn’t reply, but there wasn’t much to say. He probed the edges of her magic, seeking the same information he’d sought earlier when he’d held her head between his hands.
She kissed me, sidetracked me, and I forgot about everything except her body next to me and her mouth on mine.
Had she done it on purpose? To divert him so he wouldn’t discover something she was hiding? The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he’d stumbled on the right track.
Elliott moved delicately, teasing the edges of her mind so gently he hoped she wouldn’t notice. To redirect her attention while he worked, he murmured, “My stallion likes you. He’s not fond of very many people.”
“Some horses like me. Others don’t. What’s his name?”
“Flame.”
“But he’s black,” she protested.
“Not when he was a colt, he wasn’t. He had a cinnamon coat that shone in the sun. It was only as he grew, his pelt came in the shade it is. If you look closely in midday light, you can still see traces of red mixed in with the black.”
“Maybe he’s a changeling horse.” She laughed.
The musical cascade reminded him of wind chimes, and he wanted to cradle her, protect her, reshape the world so she’d be safe to laugh as often as she wanted.
“Wouldn’t that be something? Have you ever met one?” He replied to her changeling horse idea.
“Can’t say as I have…”
Continuing his slow, thorough transit of her magical barriers, he gradually moved deeper as he continued feeding her questions. When the answer he sought with his mage skill reared before him, it took all his finesse to hide his reaction.
A shapeshifter.
Tairin was a shapeshifter. Oh, she had Romani blood to be sure, but one of her parents had definitely been something other than Rom.
He wasn’t certain what variety of shifter she was, but the power was unmistakable. His first instinct was to react, shout at her for misleading all of them all these years, but he buried it deep. Tairin had never caused one whit of trouble in their caravan. She was unfailingly polite and helpful. Her loyalty remained unquestioned.
Or it had until he’d caught her outside Michael’s wagon earlier.
Obviously, she wasn’t biding her time to make off with one of their children some moon-drenched night. What was she doing? Why had she joined her fortunes to theirs? He understood full well why she’d kept her dual nature hidden. The Rom were extraordinarily suspicious of magic beyond their own, and they hated shapeshifters. Strong prohibitions against any congr
ess with them were part and parcel of the rules governing Romani groups.
That she was the product of forbidden love gave him a whole new understanding of a woman he thought he’d watched grow up—except she never looked any older. Now he knew why.
“You’re quiet,” she observed.
“I’m usually quiet,” he countered. “We’ll be there soon.”
He should turn her in to Michael, but he didn’t know if he could make himself do that. Better for her to strike out on her own as she’d suggested. A deeply buried part of him rebelled. It was too dangerous for a woman by herself. Even one who could mutate into another form. His next thought rocked him. Her animal essence could be invaluable. Whatever she was could slip unnoticed behind Nazi lines. Maybe even into the death camps…
He shielded his thoughts and slowed the horse to a walk, drawing him to a halt in a deserted walled courtyard. The remains of an enormous stone castle rose behind them, its upper floors long since gone.
“Here’s where we get off,” he said. “Flame will stay here. He’d have the devil’s own time navigating the steps into where we’re going.”
Tairin waited until he dismounted before throwing her leg over the stallion’s broad back and sliding to the ground.
He whispered spell words to bind the horse within the courtyard until his return and ducked around a corner to where an overgrown thicket guarded his entry point to the hidden walkway beneath the castle. Most old castles had such things. They’d served as escape hatches for royalty during periods of civil unrest. A small magical assist moved the bushes aside, and he gestured Tairin into the hole. “You’ll need a light,” he told her.
“Maybe not quite yet,” she replied and worked her way down earthen stairs that had all but caved in.
Elliott followed her, the crackle of bushes snapping into place loud against his ears. He started to summon a mage light, but one bloomed next to her, shedding a golden glow. The feel of her magic lapped against him like a warm tide. He’d never been close to her before when she’d done much of anything magical. Many of the other Rom might not have felt the differences in her power, but he did.
Maybe I’m more open to it because of what I found out.
Rats and bats chittered angrily about being disturbed, but they fled readily enough. At least the tunnel system was dry at this end; he’d explored plenty of castle and manor house escape routes riddled with mud and damp.
They walked in silence until they came to the first side branch. “Which way?” she asked.
“Straight on. The remains of what was likely a hideout is in about fifty more paces. Those old kings and dukes sometimes needed a safe place to sequester themselves.”
“Or to cuckold the neighboring king’s mistress,” she said and chuckled.
“Probably that too,” he agreed and extended an arm to point. “Duck through the opening.”
Tairin followed his directions and walked to the far side of the chamber where he practiced magic. “I don’t get it,” she said. “How is there a window here? We’re underground.”
“Whoever built this room constructed it in this spot for a reason. It’s on the edge of the hill that the castle was built on. In daylight, you can actually see the courtyard wall.”
“So whoever was hiding here could determine if it was safe to come out. I understand.” Turning, she surveyed the ten-by-twelve-foot space. “Wonder if anyone died down here from thirst or starvation?"
“Not thirst. If you follow the tunnel a little farther, there’s an underground stream. It might not flow year round, but it runs fairly well this time of year.”
He walked in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
“By this, do you mean helping you?” At his nod, she went on. “I know that, but what’s happening around us is so hideous, so unconscionable, I have to do something.” She tilted her head and met his gaze. “Right now, it’s us, immigrants, mental defectives, cripples, and the Jews. Soon others—everyone who doesn’t meet the definition of Aryan—will join the list of undesirables. First they steal your citizenship. Then they lock you up for the crime of not being a legal resident.”
Her voice turned low, almost into a savage growl that made him wonder again what kind of animal shared her body. “Hitler cannot win. He cannot. If I ran away, tried to save my own hide while millions perished under his tyranny, I’d never be able to live with myself.”
He opened his mouth, but she waved him to silence. “I’m not done. Even before the elder council tonight, I’d been planning to leave. To take on the Reich myself if I had to. The real reason I was listening was because I wanted to know if the caravan was going to fight or run.”
“When we spoke earlier—” he picked his words carefully “—you said you were planning to leave, but nothing about fighting back.”
She shrugged, displacing his hands. “As you so succinctly put it, women aren’t warriors—not in Rom society. Germany, Italy, the States, and all the rest of the players in this war haven’t been shy about incorporating their women. Maybe not as front line soldiers, but in factories to support the war effort.”
“Guess you read the papers.”
“You sound surprised.” She furled her brows.
“Where do you get them?”
Color rose from the neck of her cloak until her cheeks splotched rose. “Michael’s trash.”
Elliott laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”
“Won’t matter if you do—” she eyed him speculatively “—since I suspect neither of us will be returning to the caravan for much beyond our clothes.”
A small thrill of delight raced from his toes upward, but he needed to make certain he’d understood what she meant. “Say more.”
Tairin nodded. “It’s easy enough. We’ll plan something tonight and carry it out. If it goes well, we may choose to work as a team. If not, we’ll go our separate ways. You’ll deal with the Reich as you see fit, as will I. Nowhere in that scenario do I see myself returning to the caravan to live. You might feel differently, though. What was it that Michael said earlier? That he’d almost raised you? So for you, it’s more like abandoning your family.”
“We’ve provided shelter and a home for you for twenty years,” he pointed out. “How can that be easy to walk away from?”
“It’s not, but I’ve done it before.” The color in her face deepened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Not what I meant,” she mumbled.
There it is. Her shifter side means she could be old.
Instead of pushing her to reveal her secret, he said, “Let’s get our first project off the blocks. I’d thought we could do a little reconnaissance at Dachau. It’s not far from here.”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. Relief spilled from her in waves, but she hid her emotions with skills she’d obviously honed for years. “Define reconnaissance.”
“Maybe it’s a little more than that,” he admitted. “At least a hundred Rom were just interred there and are working at the munitions factory they built on the grounds. Beyond that, though, it’s where they train new SS officers.” He took a deep breath and grasped her hands. “Once I map this out, I will not allow you to leave my side until we’ve completed our mission.”
She nodded solemnly. “I understand. Too much risk. You’re not sure you can trust me. And in truth—” she cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowed to slits, “—the feeling is mutual.”
He buried admiration for her. Even cornered and at his mercy, she was quite the little spitfire. Maybe she wasn’t all that cornered, though. She could shift and annihilate him, unless she was an owl or a hawk or something he could overpower. Maybe he could hold her in her human form with his power, but he wasn’t at all certain of that. He’d come across shifters before, but only in a peripheral fashion. They’d all been men, and he’d never fought any of them.
“This is what I plan to do.” He let go of her long enough to kindle his power so that ligh
t crackled from his fingertips. Kneeling, he drew a glowing diagram on one of the more solid wooden flooring planks. “Here’s the main gate, and the rear entrance. I’m expecting we can mask our presence with magic and sneak inside. Once we’re there, we’ll make our way to the rear quadrant of the camp where the SS have their training area and special kitchen.”
Tairin leaned closer. “Can we poison the bastards?”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.”
“What will we use?” Her question was low, feral.
“Magic. What else? We’ll spell the food to turn into parasites once it’s eaten. Parasites that will eat them from the inside out.”
“I have a better idea.” Before he could ask about it, she forged ahead. “We spell the food to thin their blood so they bleed to death, choking on their own fluids as their lungs become useless.”
“I like it,” Elliott said. “Might be faster.”
“It is faster,” she said. “Both from the casting end and the results end.” She set her lips in a thin line. “How can we guarantee no one but the Nazis eats the tainted food?”
“We can’t. Best we can do is show up right before a meal to deal out maximum damage.”
“We can mesmerize the kitchen workers, make certain they leave the food alone.”
Elliott’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”
“You bet.” Her dark eyes gleamed with determination.
“Good to know. Are you ready to leave right now?” he asked. “We can be in position in time for breakfast.”
“Never readier. Where will we tether Flame?”
“We’ll work that out when we get there.”
“Sounds good to me.” Tairin trotted back into the passageway. Elliott followed her. The more time he spent with the enigmatic half breed, the more he admired her. And wanted her, but he’d have to move beyond the desire that heated his blood. He wasn’t certain of the rationale behind prohibiting congress between Romani and shifters, but it probably sprang from the soundest of reasons.
He inhaled her scent and encouraged power flowing from her to surround him too. Just his luck, he’d finally found a woman he could love, and she was off limits.
