by Rae Monet
"And what of you, brother, any disturbing emotions to your senses?” She sensed the wariness in him at her question, and he quickly cloaked the emotions. He smiled to cover the sensation.
"Only yours, sister, and they are blinding."
She smiled back and pointed to the rear. “Then mayhap you should ride behind me, brother,” she suggested.
He smiled and dropped back. “Perhaps I should. Besides, I see another to take my place.” He swung to the back.
Roan dropped back to ride next to her.
"What ails your brother?” he asked, noting her frustrated expression.
"It's not of importance.” She scowled, her chin jerking higher at her brother. Turning away from him, she gave her attention to Roan. He simply shrugged at their actions.
* * * *
Roan already envied the closeness she shared with her brother. He only had one sibling, and he was not related to him by blood. Although they were close, he and Stephen didn't share the bond that these two obviously shared. He almost felt a strange jealousy at their connection. Their nearness was something he had always craved but had never been close to feeling until the small woman next to him had ridden to his rescue.
"I will meet my man there.” He pointed to a small thatch-roofed hutch with a wooden sign unevenly hanging in the front. “I think it best if you two remain here. I will be quick,” he said, stopping outside the hut, and sliding off his horse.
* * * *
Roan was graceful for such a large man and she loved the way he moved. She felt his hand fall onto her leg. Her leg appeared small against his large hand. She wished she could feel her hand against her bare leg. She shook herself and tried to get focused on what he was saying.
"Rest here for a few minutes. I will return shortly.” He swept the cloak around his body and pulled the hood over his head.
She nodded and slipped off her horse, while Richard did the same. She stretched sore muscles unaccustomed to so many hours in the saddle then wrapped her cloak tighter around her body to ward off the chill. Richard's movements mimicked hers as they waited. She was uneasy watching Roan leave without her and not happy at all to experience these types of emotions when they were apart. Not happy at all.
* * * *
Roan entered the dark interior of the pub, his eyes alert, scouting for Ian. Ian rested in the corner, his head positioned against the table in sleep. He approached him, placing his hand on Ian's back to wake him. Ian woke immediately and pulled a dirk from his sleeve. He clutched Roan's wrist and pressed the point against it. He allowed Ian to capture his arm because he knew Ian wouldn't strike until he identified his assailant. With his free hand Roan eased down the hood of his cloak.
Ian had been a faithful friend for as long as he could remember. Ian's English father had squired him in Roan's garrison as a way to avoid losing him in the unrest of Ireland. They had joined forces as fellow knights in his first campaign fighting for King Edward.
They had both been young and stunned by their first battle. The smell of death, the feelings of guilt when striking down the enemy for the mere reason the man was fighting for the wrong side, nearly sickened them both. They had formed a friendship that day as they both lay exhausted, bloodied, and nearly physically sick after that first encounter with war. They had saved each other's lives many times over during that campaign, and they had been together ever since.
"Laddie, ya nearly lost a hand,” Ian complained, pushing the dirk back into the hidden sheath strapped to his arm.
Smiling, he slipped onto the hard wooden bench across from Ian.
"Where ya been. laddie?” He rubbed a hand over his shadowed face.
"Ian, I am going to give you some instructions, and I expect you not to question them."
Ian straightened in his chair and waited.
"I must leave for a short time. I need you and Stephen to defend Wolfsmoor until I return. I am unsure how long I will be gone, but you must do this, without query and you must keep my request silent."
Ian nodded. “Aye, Roan, ye know I will if ya need me to."
He nodded, grateful for Ian's quiet understanding and unquestioned loyalty. He arose to his feet to leave when he felt Ian's hand on his shoulder.
"I know not what yer about but go with God's protection."
He acknowledged Ian's words by squeezing his arm in return, silently thanking him for his support, and left the pub.
* * * *
They rode throughout the night, silently slipping over the border of Scotland into England and several English border villages. The weather had turned frigid while rain consistently misted the sky. Richard traveled in the middle, between Roan and Serena. Deep into the night her head fell forward in sleep. He touched Richard's arm in silence and jerked his head to direct his eyes toward her.
Richard saw her fatigue and turned back to him saying quietly, “Her body is weary and attempts to rest so that her wound will heal faster,” he explained. “But she would be very angry if we stopped to allow her to sleep."
Roan acknowledged this and directed his horse around the back of Richard's. He slid in next to her horse. She was valiantly attempting to keep her seat as her head nodded, falling to her chest.
* * * *
Serena was fighting her need for sleep and losing the battle. She realized her body was struggling to recover from her wound, and she would not accept this weakness. She would not slow the search. She tried to keep her head up, only to feel it fall again and again, her eyes dropping shut. Then strong muscular arms locked around her waist and lifted her. Instantly alert her hand stretched to the dagger strapped to her thigh, until his voice stopped her.
"Rest easy."
She knew that voice, and his reassurance allowed her to relax. Roan lifted her from her horse and gently set her astride, in front of him. The warmth of his strong body seeped into hers immediately as she felt him wrap his cloak completely around them both, sealing them in a closet of heat as their scents mingled. It was a heady feeling.
She sighed in contentment at the calmness that invaded her body. His arms draped around her, tightly anchoring her against his body. She burrowed into him, letting her head fall against his large chest. He was such a large, well-made, powerfully built man, she thought, as she felt his hard, sculptured muscles against the back of her head where it rested on his chest. His arms tightened around her and his head dropped to the crook of her neck. It seemed almost as if he was inhaling her scent, nuzzling her hair to the side so that his lips rested against her flesh. Meanwhile, his other hand stayed on the bare skin of her midriff where her vest had fallen open. That hand lightly caressed the area it touched, leaving a trailing heat in its place, dipping lower below her breeches. She held her breath.
"Rest,” he breathed next to her ear. This time she shivered but not from the cold, the heat of his body had completely inflamed her. He picked up the reins. The other hand remained fixed to her midriff, his fingers dipping down as if he didn't have the strength to pull both hands away.
She smiled at the pleasant feeling assaulting her body while she rested in his arms. His unique masculine scent invaded her mind as she let her eyes drift closed and her head relax against his chest. She began her journey toward sleep in the safe security of his arms. She felt his lips linger beside her ear, and before sleep claimed her completely, she heard him whisper softly, “This is where you are meant to be, little one."
She smiled because she was in agreement.
* * * *
Serena was dreaming, floating in a world created by her own imagination. Roan and she were facing the enemy, their backs touching. She had both her swords out—frantically swinging, deflecting blows, parrying, thrusting, attempting to down the vast enemies who surrounded them.
In the hot, humid air the smell of death and destruction prevailed over all other odors. She felt Roan's sweating back against hers and the powerful movements of his body as he also fought off their adversaries. They were communicating with their m
inds, telling each other which way to move, how many of the enemy were yet left. She was breathing rapidly, her lungs burning with the need for air, her arms heavy, sweat pouring into her smoke-burned eyes.
A black-garbed knight on an armored horse careened past. One swipe with his sword and she fell to one knee, the strength of his strike vibrating down the length of her arm.
Roan's arm came around her from behind and tugged her back into a standing position. The knight galloped around and aimed his sword toward Roan. She warned him with her mind, but she could do nothing to stop the black knight. She was far too engaged fighting the foes surrounding her.
Suddenly, a terrible pain invaded her body, causing her to fall to both knees and her cry was forced out in a whoosh. She experienced a piercing, radiating heat, felt the tearing of her own flesh as a blade sank into her shoulder.
She fell forward into the mud. She moved her head, her eyes desperately searching for Roan. Then she saw him. The force of the black knight's blow had knocked him to his knees. She watched in horror as he tumbled backward, landing next to her on his back.
The whole scene had happened in slow motion. The black knight's sword had gone into her shoulder, however, only after exiting from Roan's back. The sword now protruded from his chest.
She screamed his name, trying to rise, only to fall back down in weakness. Her blood soaked the muddied earth next to him. His eyes touched hers, the death in them evident, his mind connected with hers.
I love you.His eyes closed forever.
* * * *
"Roan!” Serena cried out in agony, as she frantically awoke.
With tears coursing down her face she bounded into action. Panting, heart racing, she untangled herself from the arm holding her and jumped off Roan's horse. Throwing her cape off, she pulled both swords from her back, whirling around, seeking that black-armored knight.
"Where are you?” she roared in frustration. From the corner of her eye she watched Roan leap off his horse, and yelling for Richard to do the same, he unsheathed his sword. Richard came up behind him, a sword also in his hands. She continued to circle, madly trying to get her bearings.
* * * *
Roan did a swift scan and immediately realized there was no threat. He lowered his sword and sheathed it. He motioned for Richard to do the same.
She turned, and he swore when he saw the blood oozing from under the bandage, trickling down her shoulder.
"Richard!” As he slowly approached her, she turned toward him with swords drawn, sweat and tears pouring down her face, a delirious stare in her eyes. Roan stopped, and realizing she wasn't seeing him, he reached out with his mind.
It is Roan. You are safe, and we are here.
He noticed her breathing begin to slow, and she finally became aware of him.
"Roan?” She questioned, dropping her swords to the ground. He slid closer. She had returned from whatever dark place she had been trapped in. Fresh tears came streaming down her flushed face.
"Roan?” she asked again.
"Yes,” he confirmed, moving closer still and finally when he was near enough, he wrapped her in his arms. She let out a cry and clung to him. Turning their bodies so he could see Richard, he motioned with his eyes, and he stepped forward to lay a hand on her shoulder. She flinched. Seeing it was Richard, she relaxed and allowed them to lower her onto a nearby fallen tree. Richard unwrapped her wound. Roan held her hand, then reached up with his thumbs and wiped the tears from her eyes. Richard cursed while he examined her wound, and Roan sucked in an anxious breath.
"The wound has re-opened and she is feverish,” he stated, placing his hand on her forehead to help alleviate her pain. He walked away to gather his supplies from the bag attached to his horse.
"Damnation.” He stroked the small hand that was clutched in his. When he met her gaze, he saw fear in her eyes. An emotion he had yet to see in her expression.
"What is it?"
* * * *
Serena sighed when he pressed her cold hands between his. It was a gentle gesture odd for a warrior. When he touched her, he was always tender, something she knew went against his fierce nature, a contrast to the feared warrior she sensed within him. She pulled her hand from his and touched his cheek lightly. Slowly the fear subsided from the pit of her stomach.
"I fear for you."
"Why?” he asked, wrapping her hands with his again. He had squatted down next to her, his striking blue eyes level with hers. She sensed his concern.
Richard interrupted her answer when he returned with his healer's bag.
"I had a vision, a dream. It was disturbing,” she said, as Richard applied more salve to her shoulder. “It reeked of death and destruction.” She whipped a stray tear from her eye.
Richard froze.
"What is it?” Roan asked.
"Solarian dreams of the sort she described are not to be taken lightly."
"Roan was there with me, and we were battling. A black knight struck him down."
"I was struck with him.” She pointed to her shoulder. “Here."
Richard growled when he noticed some of the stitches had been severed. It was clear her wound had been tampered with.
"It is Ziem.” Richard said with confidence. “He is using the power of the crystal. He knows we are in pursuit and he's using his dreams to fight you. As a fellow warrior, you are the only one he can make contact with."
"Not the only one.” She stated, pointedly inclining her head toward Roan.
Richard cursed.
"Roan, did you feel any discomfort, here?” She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Right before I came awake?"
Shaking his head his hand came up to cover hers. “No."
"He is too unpracticed with his senses, Richard. Ziem cannot yet penetrate them."
"Ziem—he is also a warrior?"
Reluctantly, she slid her hand from his chest and out from under his. It was amazing how his simple touch could distract her from an important situation.
"Yes, he is, and with the crystal to increase his mind senses, he seems to have the power and ability to penetrate her mind and dreams,” Richard said, working quickly to add several stitches to her shoulder. She didn't even flinch.
"Ziem also stole a crystal with the scroll to mask our ability to sense him. He also destroyed the remaining crystals. The crystal increases our powers outside of the village, yet none have used them in this manner. They are mainly used to enhance hunting abilities. Ziem has been able to improve his senses for malicious purposes,” Richard explained. He realized Roan did not understand about their powers.
Recognizing the impact of what Richard was saying, Roan stood up, and his hand moved automatically to his sword.
"He did this? He caused this harm?” he snarled.
"That is what I suspect. We must be close, or his mind could not reach her. I think the damage he can do is limited. The wound already existed, he simply expanded on it, and I believe he can only do it when she is in sleep."
"I will kill him!” His furious proclamation made her and Richard stop and stare at him.
She sensed Roan's conviction before he said those words. Hand on his sword, his protective statement hung in the air. She had never seen such a magnificent man and his will to protect her warmed her heart. Against her better judgment, she smiled. She looked at Richard.
"He takes our oath seriously, does he not?” Richard said, the joviality evident in his voice as he rewrapped her shoulder.
She rose and strode over to where Roan stood. She felt a curious swell of her heart at his protective actions.
"Let us ride."
He nodded and swung onto his mount. As she moved around toward her horse, he stopped her.
"Serena,” he said, his voice authoritative. When she turned, he held out his arm to her, the leather surrounding his wrist a reminder of his status as a warrior. “You will ride with me."
She frowned at his demand. She was not accustomed to being ordered to do anythi
ng, especially by a man, by this man. His eyes locked with hers. Then she heard hisplease in her head, his silent voice washing through her, around her, weakening her resolve. He nodded affirmatively. His arm remained extended, his mind calling to her, wordlessly caressing her.
He had spoken to her with his mind, and this time it was very clear, no longer unpracticed or weak. It was the first time he had controlled his thoughts with such domination, showing he was mastering the mind sense skill. She smiled at him, and she chuckled when he finally relented and smiled back.
She raised her good arm to clasp his. His large arm made her hand appear petite against the muscular veined bulge of his.
He swung her up in front of him with ease. He wrapped his cloak around them and she felt his legs squeeze against the sides of his mount to command the horse forward. The action tilted his hips against her rear, bringing a sharp awareness to her body that she had never felt before.
Leaning back against his chest, she closed her eyes. She was tired and needed rest. Hopefully Ziem would not attempt to invade her dreams again. She felt him lean down and lightly kiss the top of her head, almost like one might do to a child.
"You English bull,” she whispered the words as sleep began to capture her. She just didn't want him to think she was easy to push around.
She fell asleep listening to the gentle rumble of his chest as he laughed.
Chapter Four
They traveled for over a week, not once spotting Ziem. It seemed they were dodging his movements. Serena sensed him close, yet had no luck in overtaking him.
As a group, their frustration grew. Ziem appeared to be purposely playing them for fools.
She tried as little as possible to sleep because it only drew her into a dark place she had no desire to go. Ziem had not wounded her again, but the tricks he played with her mind were at times debilitating. When tiredness overcame her she would feel the familiar security of Roan's arms plucking her off her horse with an ease which one might pick up a handful of heather. Placing her in front of him, he would slide his arms around her and pull her into his warmth.
