Heart of Fire

by Kristen Painter

  * * *

  They fell into their usual pace, Dragon slightly ahead. Jessalyne caressed the gems at her throat. Perhaps she was no longer just business to him after all. Goose flesh rose on her arms when she thought about his fingers on her neck.

  As they traveled into the foothills, the landscape changed from gently forested plains into stony ground. Jagged clusters of grey shale rose from the ground and towered above them. The purple gloam of lastlight colored the sky and a filmy rain drizzled over them. Night came fast. She shivered.

  Ertemis heeled Dragon. “We’ll have to sleep aground tonight, but I think I can find shelter.” He nodded toward a break of evergreens. “Take cover there. I’ll be back soon.” He took off toward a slag ridge.

  Petal found a spot to her liking beneath the pines and grazed on some succulents growing through the hard ground. Jessalyne’s backside ached but there’d be no hot bath tonight. She hoped he found a dry place for them. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping in the rain. Or the dark.

  Just as she thought she might head out to find him, Ertemis returned. He stared hard into the darkness behind her.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Follow me.”

  He led her to a wide fissure in the side of the ridge. “We camp here.” He alighted Dragon and took the reins in his hands.

  “Where?” She hoped he didn’t mean there on the ground. They would be soaked by morning.

  “In here.” He motioned behind him with a tip of his head and began leading Dragon through.

  Jessalyne’s eyes went wide. “You don’t mean...but it’s dark in there and probably full of...creatures!” She couldn’t see past the jagged opening.

  “There’s nothing in there. I’ve been inside already. Trust me, my eyes see what yours cannot. The ground inside is soft sand, and there are breaks enough to let out smoke from a fire.” Thunder growled and the sky opened, soaking them.

  Jessalyne yelped and jumped off Petal. “Fine, fine, before I’m washed away.”

  She pulled Petal through the twisted gap and found herself in complete darkness. Soaked to the skin and shivering, she pressed against Petal’s side. “I can’t see anything.”

  “I’m trying to start a fire. I gathered brush and branches earlier but my flint is wet and won’t spark.” His repeated attempts failed. “We’ll have to do without.”

  She faced the direction of his voice. “No! It’s too dark. Please, come here. Quickly.”

  She felt him next to her. “Point my hand toward the kindling.”

  He did as she asked.

  “Leave hold of me and step away.” When she no longer felt his presence, she summoned her magic.

  The distinct crack of fire splintered the stillness and flames shot up from the stacked tinder.

  Dragon reared and Ertemis grabbed his bridle. “You spook like a colt, Dragon. Be still.”

  A yellow glow filled the hollow and Jessalyne caught the amazement on Ertemis’s face. “Well done,” he said.

  Water dripped from several openings in the cavern ceiling but the sandy floor was mostly dry. Plenty of open space remained between the boulders scattered across the ground. It would do for shelter.

  Ertemis removed his leather breastplate and hooked it over his saddle horn. He yanked his shirt off and stood bare-chested in the firelight. “You cannot stay in those wet clothes, no matter how nicely they cling to you.”

  Jessalyne hugged her arms over her breasts. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re shivering. Take those wet rags off. Or do you wish help?” He raised a brow, his mouth curving seductively.

  “No.” She moved to the other side of the cavern, away from him. The firelight set his skin aglow, defining every muscle. He looked like living stone. How would it feel to be held in those strong arms?

  Ertemis picked up a branch the thickness of a man’s arm and snapped it like a twig before tossing the pieces onto the fire. With some of the longer branches, he built a tripod at the edge of the fire. He draped his cloak and shirt there then began unbuttoning his trousers.

  “What are you doing?” Jessalyne yelled.

  “I’m not sleeping in wet clothes. And as you still haven’t taken a stitch off, I’ll be over to help you when I’m through.”

  “You will not!” She turned around and stared at the rugged cavern walls. Beast. Must he carry on this way? Nice one moment, barbarian the next. Obviously, he enjoyed torturing her. She would never be able to sleep in the same room, or cave, with a naked man. Even thinking the words made her cheeks warm. Especially since she knew exactly what that naked man looked like.

  Something pulled her off balance. She gasped. He was unlacing her bodice.

  He whispered into her ear. “I wouldn’t turn around unless you wish to see for yourself how impressive I am in my all-together. Again.”

  His hot breath sent a shudder down her spine. “You’re shameless and wicked.”

  “Aye.” He tugged once more and the bodice came loose. “That I am.”

  Once the bodice was off, his hands went around her waist. He held her for a moment, the warmth of his skin sinking through the damp fabric. Then his fingers spread over her hips possessively. She inhaled hard. A thick, liquid heat gathered in her belly. He pulled her close, removing any space between them. The contact was so sweet it hurt, but the pain was worth the pleasure. Rational thought disappeared. Every inch of him was hard, hot muscle. No wonder few women ever refused him.

  * * *

  He brushed his lips against the curve of her neck and she mewed. The woman filled him with uncommon urges. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and protect her and yet, he longed to give her good reason to cry out his name.

  “Jessalyne,” he murmured, his lips still on her skin. She shivered and he pulled away.

  Her hands covered her face. He tried to turn her around but she resisted. “You have no trousers on.”

  He sighed. “I have trousers on.”

  She peered over her shoulder through her fingers. “You said you didn’t.” She turned and thumped his bare chest with her fist. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Why must you bedevil me?”

  “I bedevil you? Is that why you’re crying?”

  She shook her head. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his knuckle.

  “Why then?” He asked.

  “No reason.” She dug at the sand with her toe. “We should—”

  “I would believe pointless weeping from most women, but not you.” He cupped her chin and tipped her face toward him but she kept her gaze lowered. “Jessalyne, look at me.”

  Through a veil of lashes, she met his eyes.

  “Explain your tears.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” She paused, her voice almost a whisper. “You…make me...ache.”

  He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t look at her, the desire would fade away. It didn’t, so he opened them. If he must suffer, he was at least going to enjoy the view. “I’m the cause of your weeping?”

  She nodded.

  “You make me ache as well.” Again, he found himself confessing feelings he had no intent to share.

  Her eyes rounded. “I do?”

  “Aye...like no woman I have ever known.” He caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. Her very soft, full, kissable bottom lip. She was so warm, how could she not be feeling what he was?

  Tortured by her nearness, he bent his head and captured her lush lips with his, kissing her as gently as he could manage. He sucked her bottom lip between his own. She was so soft, so warm. His hands swept down to her waist and he pulled her hard against him. Her breasts pressed against his bare chest, scorching his skin through the damp fabric of her dress.

  She let his lips lead, holding tight to his forearms. His mouth moved tenderly against hers, teasing and taking. Tentatively, she kissed him back.

  Rivulets of sweat trickled down his spine as he slid one hand to the small of her back, bringing her feverish body closer. Hungrily, he devoured her hot mo
uth, wondering if every inch of her tasted this sweet.

  The heat of her mouth was almost more than he could take. She moaned against his lips. The vibrations rippled across his skin and into his center, shaking him. He craved her so badly, her touch burned him like fire. She put her hands on his chest and broke the kiss with a sob. Reluctantly, he released her.

  “I didn’t mean to make you weep again, but I’m not sorry for kissing you.” He exhaled as he braced one hand against the stone behind her. For the first time in his life, he was losing a battle and didn’t care.

  “Ertemis?” she whispered weakly.

  “Aye, lelaya?” He used the elven endearment without thinking.

  “Does the ache ever go away?”

  He smiled. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt such an ache before.” More confessions. He was well and truly gone.

  “Truly?” Flames from the fire danced in her eyes.

  “Truly.”

  She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “So that’s kissing.”

  Ertemis cocked his head to the side. “What did you say?”

  “I’ve never been kissed before.”

  “Never?” He raised his eyebrows. No other man had touched her? Hot, possessive desire thickened his blood.

  “Not by a…a man.” She lowered her eyes. “It was agreeable.”

  “Agreeable? My kisses have been called many things. I don’t recall agreeable being among them,” he teased. “I promise a better attempt next time.”

  She gave him a curious look.

  “Aye.” He nodded. “There will be a next time.”

  Dragon whinnied. She looked over Ertemis’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, Dragon?”

  “He’s hungry. And Petal as well, no doubt. I’ll feed and untack them if you’ll lay out our supper.”

  “I will.” She walked with him toward the beasts.

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?” She looked up from the saddlebags.

  “Those wet clothes.”

  She glared at him.

  “Change into your long tunic. On my honor as a gentleman, my eyes will be averted.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Your honor as a gentleman?”

  He shrugged, grinning. “It was worth a try.”

  * * *

  She pulled her old clothes out of her pack and untied Chara’s knot. While Ertemis tended Dragon and Petal, she snuck off behind an outcropping of rock to undress.

  He’d held her and kissed her. She licked her lips to see if the taste of him remained. When she closed her eyes, it was like he was kissing her again. Heat burned her mouth. Her knees weakened and she leaned against the rocks.

  Her only shame was her tears, but how could she not weep at the sensations he’d spun through her? His kiss was a magic all its own. And to be held in those arms…amazing. He hadn’t been afraid to touch her, of course, he hadn’t known better, but she’d stopped the kiss anyway. If she’d burned him...she shook her head. Don’t think of it.

  Her skin was wrinkling with the damp. She pulled her tunic over her head, knocking the clips from her hair. It tumbled free and she ran her hands through the damp strands, happy to have it down again. Her scalp ached from the weight of it piled atop her head. She gathered the combs and went back to the fire.

  The warmth beckoned and her stomach begged for food. She hung her clothes as Ertemis had on the tripod of branches. The hair combs went into one side of her saddlebag and she dug food out of the other. She took out hard cheese, a sour rye roll and an apple for each of them.

  Ertemis nodded when he saw her. “You look like you again.”

  “I knew you didn’t like my new clothes.”

  “I meant your hair. I like it down.”

  “Oh.” She handed him his dinner. What else did he like about her?

  They ate by the fire, neither saying much. Ertemis fed the apple cores to Dragon and Petal. He returned with their bedrolls. “Have you ever slept outside before?”

  “No. This is truly an adventure.”

  He laughed. “Aye, an adventure.” He spread out their bedrolls on either side of the fire, first the canvas on the sand, then the blanket on top for a covering.

  “Be warned, these damp trousers are coming off. Before you protest, I’ll get beneath my blanket as soon as they’re hung so you needn’t see anything that might drive you to temptation.” He paused, wickedness glinting in his eyes. “Of course, if you want to look, I’ll gladly leave the blanket off until you’ve had your fill.”

  “Beast.” She turned abruptly, but now she faced the drying rack. Ertemis would have to walk directly in front of her to get to it. She buried her face in her hands instead.

  In a few moments, he called out, “The cave is safe for fair maids once again.”

  He lay on his side, head propped on one hand. The coarse blanket bunched around his waist, leaving his broad muscled chest exposed. Indecent behavior obviously pleased him. With the firelight gleaming off his dark skin, she couldn’t help but think he looked very much like the silky chocolate cakes Valduuk had served them as a dinner sweet. Her mouth watered.

  She situated herself into the bed he’d made for her. Not greatly comfortable, but it would suffice. She wiggled a bit, trying to shift the sand beneath her into a more agreeable sleeping surface.

  “So? What do you think?” he asked, gesturing with one hand.

  She turned to face him, blushing as she spoke. “I don’t know why you need to ask such things but yes, your chest is very nice to look at.”

  Ertemis snorted. “I meant about your bed.”

  Mortified, she ducked her head under the blanket. He laughed louder.

  “Come out before you suffocate yourself.”

  She uncovered her head. “It was getting stuffy.” She rolled to her side and propped herself on her elbow, mimicking him. “Why are your ears and back marked with those runes?”

  “Where did you get your magic?”

  “First asked, first answered.”

  “Are you always so bold?” He shook his head. “No one has ever asked me such questions. At least not and lived.”

  She shivered.

  “I would never hurt you.” He sat up, keeping the blanket about his waist. He poked a stick into the fire. “It’s a long story.”

  She rolled all the way over onto her stomach and crossed her arms into a pillow, turning her head so she could see him. “So tell me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  His gaze seemed caught on something in the flames. “As you know, I’m a dark elf, an outcast. I know the names I’m called. Dark elves are rare, because by tradition, they’re not allowed to live beyond birth. When my mother knew she carried me, she fled the city of...” he paused.

  “She fled the isle of Elysium, the elven homeland. A band of Travelers gave her shelter. When I was born, they tolerated us but every bad thing that happened was my fault. They wanted to use me in their carnival but my mother wouldn’t let them. Eventually, they turned us out.”

  The reflection of the flames in his dark eyes mimicked the storm raging across his face. A vein pulsed in his neck. “Before she left, she begged their tashathna...”

  “The what?”

  “Tashathna is an elven word for something like an elder wizard and chieftain. Anyway, her magic was long gone so she begged him for a charm of protection. She knew there were those who wouldn’t hesitate to rid the realm of me.”

  His eyes grew liquid. “He tattooed the spells onto my flesh with molten silver.”

  “Oh my. I cannot imagine the pain of that.” Jessalyne winced.

  “I was three. I have little memory of it. My mother always told me I took it bravely.”

  “Do you truly not miss her?”

  He shrugged. “Without her magic, she couldn’t protect me. And I know she missed her home and her family. She conscripted me into the Legion for my own safety. I choose not to miss her because there’s no point. She lives in a place I’m forbidden to go. I’ll never s
ee her again.”

  “I miss my mother every day.” Jessalyne sat up, pulling her knees up under her chin. “Do you remember your mother well? What she looked like? What she sounded like? I have the hardest time keeping those memories sharp.”

  “My mother is a high born light elf. As beautiful as anything you’ve ever seen. Her hair is the color of the egret’s feather, as pure white as you can imagine. I remember her as having a constant glow about her, like she was bathed in moonlight. Except for the color of your eyes, you favor her considerably.” A bitter smile grooved his mouth.

  Jessalyne bowed her head, hiding the heat in her cheeks. She picked at the blanket. “What’s her name?”

  “Her name is Elana-naya. But before I was born she was known as Shaylana.”

  “Shaylana is so beautiful. Why did she change it?”

  “She didn’t. It was punishment for her indiscretion. Elana-naya means ‘daughter of none’ just as my surname, Elta-naya, means ‘son of none’.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Fair has nothing to do with the rule of the Tashathna, the Elders.”

  “What about your father? Did the Elders punish him?”

  “My father is human. That’s why I am who I am. Only a human male and an elf female can produce a dark elf.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know about you?”

  “He knew enough to destroy her life.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. My mother refused to tell me. I only know he deserves...” He ground his fist into the sand.

  “Why didn’t your mother just take you to Elysium with her? You’re half elf.”

  He laughed, a sharp, harsh bark. “The Elders would never allow that. My human half offends them.”

  Jessalyne pulled the blanket a little tighter. “Why?”

  “Elysium is the heart of elven magic. On the isle, the elves’ magic is strong and pure. On mortal soil, their magic weakens and distorts until it ceases altogether. I don’t have that problem. Nothing I’ve encountered yet has hindered my magic. They fear me because they have no hold on me.”

  “You still haven’t told me about your gifts.”

  He changed the subject. “How old were you when your mother died?”