Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2)

by Catherine Johnson

  She thought, perhaps, it was the face that had disturbed her most. The body was more than vaguely human, if one didn't look too long at the claw-tipped fingers and toes, but the face was more than half canine. It seemed to be something between his other two forms, as though the muzzle had started to elongate, deforming Gorren's mouth and nose drastically, but stopping before it could complete its change. The reshaping of his face had drawn the brows lower, and had made them more pronounced, leaving his eyes in deep shadows. His ears, too, seemed half way between, appearing to be set further back, and were now pointed. His beard and hair had receded, and had become part of the pelt that covered his head, shoulders and back. His tattoos were still visible through the dense fur, although their colours were less vibrant against his now darker skin.

  Overall, Elthrinn was struck, not by the obvious danger in the thing that stood before her, but by the way that Gorren seemed almost shy, and afraid, of her. In that timid embarrassment, Elthrinn saw the man that she loved in the monster that had been haunting her nightmares.

  She stepped closer. Gorren grunted and huffed. Evidently his speech was almost, if not totally, as impaired in this form as it was in his wolven form. That would make sense, his mouth no longer appeared to be of a shape capable of framing words. He shook his head, and made to step back as she approached, but the bed was behind him. Once his legs hit it, he could go no farther. He either had to evade her, or wait for her to reach him. Still he would not lift his head, but he did not run.

  "You're afraid of me," Elthrinn whispered wonderingly.

  Gorren huffed, and seemed to be trying to find a way to retreat further.

  "You're afraid I'll run away."

  He huffed again, and tilted his chin. Not far enough that she could catch his eyes, but enough for her to recognise it as a nod.

  "You needn't be. I won't run."

  Elthrinn reached out, and tried to twist her fingers through Gorren's. At first he pulled his hand away, but she reached out again, until she could snag his claws. He flinched, carefully, and she understood that he was worried about cutting her with the wickedly long, sharp nails.

  "Hold still."

  His huff this time was slightly derisive, a kind of 'of course, what do you take me for,' that made Elthrinn smile.

  She traced her fingers over his warped ones, so much longer and thicker than hers. His were weapons, made to rip things apart, but they were no danger to her. She ran her palms over the muscles and sinews of his arms, having to reach onto her toes and stretch to continue her path to his shoulders. Once she'd steadied herself, she lifted her other hand, and hooked her fingers under his chin. He resisted at first, but gently, she forced him to raise his head.

  "You don't scare me."

  His snort was blatant disbelief.

  "I'm not lying. You'd be able to smell it if I were." It was true. The more closely that she examined him, the more she remembered the fluidity of his movement in this body. The flashes of memory reminded her that there was beauty in the deadliness of his strength.

  The muzzle, full of dagger-like teeth, nudged into her hand. Elthrinn opened her palm, and cupped Gorren's cheek, stroking her thumb over the ridge of bone that stood out under his eye.

  "It's still you. Just you. I didn't see it before. I couldn't see it before, but I do now."

  She couldn't reach up to him anymore; he was so much taller than she. Elthrinn dropped back to her flat feet, and slipped her arms around Gorren's torso. His body was so solid that it might have been carved from stone, but he was a living, breathing thing. She laid her head against his chest, as she had so many nights when it had been covered in either fur or pale skin, and listened to the thump of his heart. The rhythm was no different in any of his guises.

  For what seemed the longest time, Gorren stayed motionless while she held him. His chest rose and fell, and his heart beat out its steady tempo, but otherwise, he might really have been a statue. He had been still so long that when she felt the ripple of movement in his muscles, it startled her, but rather than shy away, she tightened her arms. She felt his reaction to her surprise, he had stilled again completely, but when she didn't back away, she felt him continue whatever it was he'd been about to do.

  His hands touched her shoulders, barely resting any weight on her at all. Elthrinn snuggled a little harder into his chest. At first, his movements were jerky, as if he didn't really believe that she was there, that she hadn't run out of the cottage screaming and crying. Her resilience made him brave. His hands slid over her shoulders, and across her back, until he was holding her to him, hugging her back. She could feel that he was still taking care, but then, this was a form designed to cause injury. There was nothing soft or petable about it. Knowing that she wouldn't be lying when she told her brother and Serwren that she wanted to stay, Elthrinn sighed with contentment, and relaxed fully against Gorren's body.

  She was a little taken aback when Gorren took hold of her shoulders and tried to set her away from him. She tried to maintain the embrace, but he huffed at her. It wasn't an impatient sound; there was amusement in it, she thought. And then she realised why he wanted to move her. A particular part of his body had begun to react to the close, warm contact.

  Elthrinn stepped back, as Gorren wanted her to. When she looked up at him this time, he didn't try to hide his face from her.

  "I love you. All of you. But I have limits," she said with a grin.

  Gorren huffed again, and if that dangerous mouth could have smiled, she thought it might have been doing so.

  The rest of the world began to intrude on Elthrinn's senses again. When she'd been holding Gorren, she'd been so intent on him that all she could hear was the way that his body was alive, she could smell only his skin. Now, she remembered that she'd been in the middle of cooking their evening meal before she'd gone out to feed the animals.

  "You must be hungry. Change back, into something that can eat stew. I'll go, and get dinner ready."

  Since he couldn't give her a comprehensive response, she didn't wait for one. She went to the hearth, checked the bubbling pot, and fetched two bowls to warm by the fire, all the while listening to the sounds of Gorren changing shape again. She wondered if he'd present himself as a wolf for a joke. If he did, she'd find him a bone from somewhere to gnaw on. He wouldn't be able to eat the stew; he'd slop it all over the floor.

  As she was cutting slices from the loaf that had been cooling on the bench, arms came around her, sliding over her hands, until they prised the bread and the knife from her fingers. Gorren nuzzled the hair from the back of her neck, and kissed the skin he'd exposed. He pulled her back against his body, and Elthrinn realised that when he'd changed, he hadn't re-dressed.

  His words were muffled, since he was still pressing kisses to the nape of her neck. "I'm starving."

  Her blood caught fire, and her breath seemed to leave her body all at once. When Gorren's palms moved up over her torso, she realised that she'd never righted her clothing after their earlier struggle. The neck of her shift still hung loose, although most of her modesty was preserved by the over dress that kept it from gaping open. Gorren took advantage of the available access, and slid one warm, calloused palm into her shift, until he could fully cup the breast that bore her tattoo. Elthrinn had no thoughts about protesting. She tilted her head back, and Gorren slid his lips along her jaw.

  "The food can wait." His voice had grown husky, and his fingers were pulling at her nipple, making her nerves dance.

  Elthrinn turned in his arms, loath to break the caress, but needing more. Gorren captured her mouth with his, claiming her with the kind of deep, demanding kiss that she'd missed over the many lonely nights. The part of his body that had begun to react to her proximity before was now very definitely eager for some attention, and pressing determinedly into her stomach.

  Fumbling, because neither wanted to lose the contact of their lips, they worked Elthrinn out of her clothing, until she could press her naked body against Gorren's. H
is fingers ran lightly over her spine, and then gripped her backside, lifting her with clear intent. Elthrinn hooked her legs around Gorren's hips, as he turned, and started to make his way for the bed. The burning shaft of his cock was trapped between their bodies, maddeningly close, and yet not nearly close enough. Elthrinn couldn't help but flex against it, which made Gorren groan into her mouth.

  It felt like falling, but Elthrinn wasn't afraid when Gorren bent over the bed to lower her to the covers. He followed her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He pulled back a little, barely enough for the air to chill her skin, but Elthrinn lost the ability to care about the brief brush of cold when Gorren slid his fingers between her thighs, into her body, curling them up in the way that he knew made her scream.

  "Rinn... you'll stay?" His voice wonderfully hoarse.

  "Yes," she gasped as he increased the pace of his stroking. "I'll stay."

  He moved his fingers away before the delectable sensations could take full hold of her. She almost complained, but he was moving over her. She spread her legs in welcome. Gorren pressed into her, and then stopped, holding completely still, supporting himself on his elbows, so that he could look down at her. His hair fell shaggily over his face. His brown eyes had grown so dark with need that they were almost black. The ends of his beard just barely brushed her chest.

  "Do you love me?" he rasped.

  It took her a moment to be able to make words. She felt so full, full of him, and full of emotion. "Yes, I love you."

  In response, he withdrew almost fully, and thrust hard and fast back into her. Their skin became sheened with sweat as they moved, sliding over and against each other. Their breath came in gasping pants. In that moment, they were the only two people in the entire world.

  Elthrinn twisted her fingers into Gorren's hair, and she knew when she'd found the spot, the one that in wolf form made him roll over onto his back. He growled, and moved his hips in a sharper, faster rhythm. He was lost, and he was going to take her with him. Elthrinn arched against him, gladly conceding the fight, forcing him deeper, until they were both swallowed whole by the pleasure they found in each other.

  ~o0o~

  Later, as they lay twisted around each other in a blissfully relaxed tangle, Elthrinn changed the tracks of her fingertips from tracing meaningless patterns over Gorren's shoulder to slide over and around the rings that were still fastened around her neck. Most of the time, she barely noticed them. They seemed, now, to be a ridiculous reminder, shackles to an old life, one that she hadn't been able to see a future for. That no longer rang true. She could see her future clearly now.

  "Do you think there's anyone in Cranak who can break these without taking my head off?"she murmured.

  Gorren unwound himself just enough to be able to shift an arm, so that he could lean on one elbow, and look down at Elthrinn. "You want to take them off?"

  "They're from the temple. They mean nothing to me now, they never did mean anything to me. They're from before, from a time when I didn't have any say in what happened to me."

  "And now?"

  "And now it's my decision to be here. It might not have been my choice to come here, but I make the choice to stay. My life is here, with you. I don't want to be stuck with these forever, they were fastened to a girl who doesn't exist anymore." Elthrinn tugged at them. She was frustrated that she couldn't take them off immediately.

  Gorren stilled her fingers with his own, and leant down to kiss her. Before he did, while the whisper of his beard brushed over her lips with the movement of his mouth, he whispered, "We'll go and see the blacksmith in the morning."

  Then he kissed her, and Elthrinn paid no attention to the rings, or to their bell-like tinkle as they clashed together.

  ~o0o~

  She stood in the acrid cave of the blacksmith's forge, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the sharp smell of burnt metal. Gorren's lips were wandering over her neck, their path no longer impeded by the silver rings. Feeling fully the smooth caress of his lips, highlighted by the brush of his beard, Elthrinn couldn't think why she hadn't gotten rid of them sooner.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gorren had been worried about Elthrinn for some time. The strange illness had come on her not long after her birthday, which had fallen on Ayl, the second moon. The tiredness had been the first thing she'd noticed, and she'd hidden that from him for almost a full moon's span. Gorren hadn't seen that anything was wrong, until just after Truduth, the third moon, and only then because he'd come home early from his duties at the barracks, and had found Elthrinn still abed. When he'd first entered the cottage, and found it silent, fear had gripped his gut. He'd gone to check the stable, and had found the animals hungry and about ready to eat the entirety of their bedding straw. He'd fed them, and let them out into their pen, all chores that Elthrinn normally took care of as part of her daily routine.

  He'd checked the cottage more thoroughly, whilst beginning to make plans to contact his friends so that they could organise a search party, and wondering all the while if Noridan hadn't returned with evil intent. But there was nothing disturbed in the cottage, no sign of a struggle, and Gorren knew that Elthrinn now carried a blade with her at all times. If Noridan had returned to finish what he'd started on the night of Dythegg, Elthrinn would not have left him unbloodied.

  At about the point that his heart had lodged itself firmly in his throat, he'd pulled back the curtains that shrouded their bed from the rest of the room, and had found Elthrinn still fast asleep. He'd woken her hastily in his panicked relief, and in her groggy, half-wakened state, she had made enough mutterings, between curses, that Gorren was sure that this wasn't the first time that she'd struggled to waken.

  When Elthrinn had fully roused, and washed, and dressed, she'd appeared in the peak of health, and Gorren had accepted her assurances that there was nothing to be worried about, that it was only a little tiredness. But then the sickness had started. At first it had seemed reasonable to assume that Elthrinn had eaten something that perhaps had been under-ripe, or not cooked well enough. The constitution of most Dorverns, which was generally attributed to their ability to change form, meant they were rarely ill from such minor disorders, so Gorren did not consider it unusual that he had not been affected, as they shared almost every meal. But the sickness had continued.

  On some days, Elthrinn was completely unable to retain food, but then for days at a time, she felt only stirrings of nausea. Each time she appeared to be getting better, they assured themselves it was over, and that there was nothing to worry about, and then it would get worse again, and Gorren would become more worried than before. It was almost Pedouruth, the fourth moon, two moons since the affliction had first affected Elthrinn, and Gorren was becoming so concerned that he was struggling to concentrate on his duties. He knew it was time to seek help when he received the summons from General Lorch to see his superior in his quarters.

  He knocked on the door of the General's quarters, hoping that he'd be allowed a chance to explain before his punishment was designated. He knew he hadn't made any serious errors, but he knew that there had been notable omissions in his observance of the men under his command.

  The General answered his own door, as he usually did, and beckoned Gorren inside. Gorren was hopeful that the meeting might not go badly when the General asked him to take a seat by the hearth. If he was to be thoroughly chastised, he doubted that he would have been shown so much hospitality. The fire was banked to glowing embers, since the weather had taken a warmer turn. Snow still coated the ground, but not in such inconvenient quantities as in previous moons.

  The General lifted a kettle from its place over the coals, and poured two mugs of an infusion of mint leaves. He handed one of the mugs to Gorren.

  "So, how would you like to explain yourself?"

  Gorren clasped the steaming brew between his hands. "It's Elthrinn, something's not... right."

  "She's homesick?"

  "No, but she is sickening. It's been
going on for some time. It's never quite violent enough to be cause for worry, except that I'm beginning to be worried because it isn't getting any better."

  The General sat back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Now I know where your head has been. Have you sought help for her?"

  "Not yet, but I think it's past time that I did."

  "It is," Lorch nodded. "You should go and see Dr Costerev," he said, referring to one of the doctors who was a permanent medic on staff with the army.

  "I will, and... thank you."

  The General sipped his brew, and waved Gorren's thanks away. "It's alright, you know I'm fond of the young lady, but Captain, you don't need me to say..."

  "No, I'm sorry, I'll do better. I know my attention has been lacking..." Gorren interrupted, but the General interrupted his apology.

  "No, I was going to say that next time, you should come to me sooner. There's no need for you to dwell on such matters on your own."