Traveller

by Abigail Drake

  A loud noise came from the door leading to the great room. Several Moktar began howling, but it sounded different this time. The cries coming from their throats seemed like howls of pain.

  Melo kept his yellow eyes on me, so he didn’t notice his army deserting him. They’d turned and fled. The look on his face when he glanced over his shoulder and realized no one stood behind him was almost comical, but it didn’t last long. He was even more pissed off than ever. He’d already decided to kill me, but now as I saw the evil gleam in his eyes, I knew he wanted to make it as painful a death as possible.

  He wouldn’t get his chance. Michael appeared in the door way like an avenging angel. “Emerson,” he said, his eyes on Melo. “Have you been hurt?”

  “I’m fine and dandy, darlin’. But I was just about to kill your little brother Melo here.”

  He shot me a signature Nightingale look that was so irritated it almost made me giggle. “Didn’t I tell you earlier you aren’t to kill Melo? He’s mine.”

  Leo could no longer stand by himself, so I held him up. “You were right,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “He is bossy.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Leo’s skin had taken on a deathly pallor. I helped him sit, his back to the bars of one of the cells. He closed his eyes. I lifted his shirt and saw several puncture wounds as well as a long slash right across his chest. I found a dirty old blanket in one of the cells and applied pressure as Leo faded in and out of consciousness. Not sanitary, but it worked. His pulse waned, but his heart kept beating. The only way to save him was to stop the bleeding, but doing that meant I couldn’t help Michael.

  Michael and Melo circled each other. Brooke had crawled into a corner and huddled there, shivering. I couldn’t get to her. I couldn’t get to Michael either. All I could do was watch, wait, and pray.

  The battle between the Ceannfort and the Alpha was a mighty thing to witness. They proved to be rather evenly matched. If it weren’t for the fact I was madly in love with one of the opponents and my life was on the line, I might have actually enjoyed watching. As it was, every time Melo’s sharp claws sliced Michael’s skin, I felt like I’d been hurt myself. As the battle progressed, I realized one very important thing, something I’d learned from Sun Tzu a long time ago, but I’d never experienced firsthand.

  Every battle is won before it’s even fought.

  Michael didn’t fight for himself. He fought for me. He fought for the women imprisoned in the cages. He fought for his people. He was the Ceannfort, and he was glorious. Melo, on the other hand, fought only for himself, and soon it became very clear who would be the victor. Melo backed away, on the defensive, as Michael took control.

  Watching him as he lunged and stabbed, dodging Melo’s bloody claws and knocking him off his feet, I realized exactly why he’d earned the title of Ceannfort. He was magnificent, a warrior like no other. When he jumped on top of Melo and pressed a knife against his throat, my heart skipped a beat. Soon it would all end, and Melo knew it, too. I saw the truth is his ugly yellow eyes. He could barely breathe, but he managed to rasp out a few words.

  “But you are my brother.”

  Michael slashed him across the neck, and Melo made a gurgling sound as blood pumped out of his body and onto the stone floor of the dungeon.

  “You are no brother of mine,” he said softly, echoing the words Melo had said only moments earlier to Leo before cleaning his knife and slipping it back into his belt.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Why, I’ll swaney.

  ~Grandma Sugar

  The Traveller warriors poured into the room. At first, they looked around in shock at the Moktar bodies lying in piles and the women chained inside the cells, then they sprang into action. One of them took care of Leo. Others began to gently see to the women, including Brooke.

  Michael turned to me, and when his eyes meant mine, relief mixed with fury on his face. A typical Michael Nightingale reaction to stress. He reached me in two long strides, pulled me into his arms, and buried his face in my neck.

  “I thought I’d lost you. We couldn’t get in.”

  I pulled back and looked at him. Exhausted and splattered with blood, but still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “How did you manage it?”

  “We found the entrance, and the hole in the wall, but we couldn’t open the door. I sent some of my men back to the compound to get a hand from one of the Moktar corpses. It worked like a dream.”

  “I’m glad. We were in trouble.”

  I took Michael’s hand and led him over to Leo. He was barely conscious.

  “Michael. I’d like you to meet your little brother.”

  Michael sank down on one knee. “Wasn’t Melo my brother?”

  “Twins,” I said softly. “One human and one…not. Leo fought with me tonight. We thought we were going to die, but he wouldn’t leave my side.”

  Michael’s jaw was set in a hard line as conflicting emotions warred on his face. Patrick came to stand next to him, breathing hard and covered in blood.

  I saw the moment Michael made his decision. “We need to call our emergency services unit, Pat,” he said, looking over his shoulder at his older brother. “For the women…and for Leo.”

  “We’re calling an ambulance for a Moktar?” asked Patrick.

  Michael nodded very slowly. “He fought with Emerson. And we are…we share a mother.”

  “He’s still a monster. Does none of this matter now?” Patrick grabbed Michael’s shoulder, but Michael shrugged him off. I saw the pain in his eyes. Patrick might have been right, but Michael knew there was more to it.

  Leo’s eyes slowly opened. As soon as he saw me, his face lit up, like always, but his skin was ashen, and he had trouble breathing. His gaze went to Michael.

  “Keep her safe,” he said his voice barely a rasp.

  Michael nodded. “Like you did.”

  Leo gave Michael the barest hint of a smile. “I could not allow her to die here. She’s too important. To both of us.”

  Michael swallowed hard. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand any of it until now.”

  Patrick ran a hand over his head, trying to decide what to do. Then he knelt beside Leo, and patted his uninjured shoulder a little awkwardly. When I smiled at him, he rolled his eyes.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered softly.

  Leo’s breathing sounded shallow and faint. “I wanted so much to know you, to be human like my brothers. I tried, but couldn’t quite do it. None of that matters now. It’s over.”

  Leo started to close his eyes again, but I wouldn’t let him. I heard the sound of the ambulances approaching. “Don’t you dare shut your eyes, Leo, or I’ll make you regret it. I promise you that.”

  Leo chuckled, his eyes, still closed. “What are you going to do? Kill me? It’s too late.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s barely a flesh wound.”

  Michael raised one dark eyebrow at me. More than a flesh wound, but I wasn’t about to let Leo know. He managed to open his eyes again, just as Ryan approached.

  “All of my brothers,” Leo said softly. “My family.”

  The ambulance arrived, and the men loaded Leo onto a stretcher. They hooked him to an IV drip and he rested more comfortably.

  Michael pulled Patrick aside, and they had a quick and heated discussion. Patrick protested, but finally gave in. He followed the EMTs as they pushed the stretcher outside, and climbed into the ambulance after Leo. He reached out and straightened Leo’s blanket, looking decidedly uncomfortable about the whole situation. When he caught me watching, he frowned.

  “I’ve never babysat a Moktar before.”

  “Don’t kill him.” My voice was stern.

  Patrick looked shocked. “Of course not.”

  “Don’t hurt him, either.”

  Patrick grinned, but didn’t answer. I scowled as the EMT closed the door, and went back inside to join Michae
l.

  “I never thought I’d see the day.” He looked at Monroe, still locked in a cage.

  “He betrayed you,” I said. “He gave all those girls to the Moktar.”

  Michael nodded; his face a study in hard planes and clenched muscles. “Aye. We followed him here tonight and watched a Moktar escort him right through the door like an honored guest.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  He shrugged. “I’d like to leave him here to rot, but that’s for the Gypsy High Council to decide when they meet early next spring. It’s the worldwide governing body of our people. I’m sure they’ll think of a better punishment for him than I ever could.”

  Monroe turned suddenly pale. “Everything I did, I did for my people.”

  Michael lost it. “These are your people. My mother was one of your people, too. My mother.”

  His voice was a booming roar amplified by the narrow confines of the dungeon. Monroe covered his ears with his hands and wept. Not for Roseanne. Not for the other women. He wept only for himself.

  Michael turned away in disgust and left the room. I followed him, but not before taking one last look at Monroe. Crumbled on the floor, a broken man, I felt no pity for him. All I felt was deep, simmering anger.

  As we walked out into the great room, Michael took my hand in his. He must have seen something on my face that gave him a clue about the turmoil inside me. I had just killed a legion of Moktar, but I still wanted more. I wanted vengeance. I wanted to keep fighting.

  “A warrior’s blood runs hot right after a battle. You fought and you won. Enjoy it, but let it go.”

  “How?”

  He put his hand on my neck and pulled me close. “You’ll find a way,” he said, and then he kissed me, and my blood began to boil in a completely different way.

  Sampson interrupted us by clearing his throat very loudly behind us. My cheeks turned bright red when I noticed my grandparents standing behind him.

  “Lass,” he said. “We owe you a great debt. You saved our girls tonight. We thought they were lost forever. And you saved your friend, Brooke, too. They are all on the way to hospital. But, once again, you have broken our laws.”

  I couldn’t believe what I heard. “Those laws are the reason your girls ended up in cages.”

  Sampson was sympathetic, but it didn’t change a single thing. “It’s not in our power to change a law that has been in place since the first Travellers walked the earth. Nor is it up to us to alter it in any way. This is a matter for the Gypsy High Council. They will have to decide when they meet next year in Edinburgh. Until then, my hands are tied. I’m sorry, Emerson.”

  I blinked away tears, my hand gripping Michael’s. “So I have to walk away and never see or talk to any of you ever again? I have to pretend none of you ever existed?”

  My gaze went to my grandparents. Anselina remained stoic, but Matthew looked ready to weep.

  “That’s why I brought your grandparents here. I felt you earned the right to see them one last time.”

  “How kind of you.” I shot him a hostile look, but it really wasn’t his fault. He only knew one way to do things. The gypsy way. He was trapped inside their laws the same way the girls had been trapped in the cages.

  I hugged my grandparents, and kissed them goodbye. I was covered in blood and Moktar gore, not how I wanted them to remember me, but I had no other options. When they turned and walked away, they looked older and smaller than before.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice, you know. If I’d obeyed your idiotic laws, Sampson, I’d be dead right now, too.”

  He looked around at the dark, grim walls of the Moktar nest. “To think my Roseanne spent her last days in this terrible place. She suffered here, and died here. I want to tear it down, stone by stone with my own bare hands. I don’t ever want anyone to go through what she went through. I’ll do what I can, Emerson.”

  “Can Michael walk me back to my apartment?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll finish up with everything here. Take the time you need. Just let the paramedics see to your wounds before you go, Michael.”

  Michael did as he asked. I didn’t have any wounds. I escaped completely unscathed. When Sampson noticed, he gave me a long look.

  “You’re more than you seem, lass.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He sighed. “You’ll understand, eventually. And I’m sorry it has to be this way. You don’t deserve it, and neither does Michael.”

  I called Lucinda just as the paramedics finished with Michael’s wounds to let her know everything was fine, and we would be back at the apartment soon. She cried on the phone, and so did Poppy.

  “I was so frightened.”

  I cradled the phone against my cheek. “Everything is okay. Love you guys.”

  Michael and I walked through the streets of York in silence. When we got back to my apartment, it was dark and quiet. A note on the fridge told me Lucinda had decided to stay at Poppy’s place for the night. I said a silent prayer of gratitude.

  “How long do we have?” I asked, my whole body still.

  “Until sunrise, I think.”

  I took a deep, shaking breath. Our last moments together. When I turned around, from the look in his eyes, his thoughts were the same as mine.

  “I’m going to take a shower, get the Moktar guts out of my hair, and then I’m going to rock your world. Are you okay with that plan?”

  He gave me a sexy, crooked grin. “Aye. That’s sounds quite agreeable to me as well.”

  I showered, letting the hot water wash away the blood, gore, and everything else that had happened in the Moktar nest. My body still hummed with energy, but the blood lust had dissipated. It had been replaced by a completely different kind of lust altogether.

  While Michael showered, I dressed in the tiny black teddy Lucinda had given me, and slipped a silk robe on over it. I pulled my damp hair up into a messy bun, and sat down on my bed to wait.

  It didn’t take long. Michael came to me wearing only a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist, the water from the shower still drying on his skin. As soon as I saw him, I rose to my feet.

  “Are you going to make me wrestle you to get that towel off again?”

  “No.” His eyes were locked on mine as he took the towel off and let it drop to the floor.

  “Holy guacamole.”

  He opened his arms to me, and I flew into them. His kisses were desperate, hungry, and sad. I wanted to remember every single moment, every touch, every caress, every kiss. These precious memories were all I would have in the long and lonely days ahead.

  I backed away and let the robe slide off my shoulders. Michael growled, taking a moment just to stare. Like the first time I saw him, I looked into his eyes and was lost. I reached up, tracing the lines of his face, his arrogant nose, his stubborn chin, his strong jaw. He took my hand and kissed my palm, his eyes closed.

  “I love you, Emerson.”

  “I love you, too, Michael Nightingale. With all my heart.”

  With that, the floodgates opened, and the time for gentleness ended. He was the Ceannfort, and he worshipped me in the way only a warrior could, completely.

  Michael pulled me against him, kissing me with unbridled passion. Our tongues warred, dancing against each other. Michael put his hands on my bottom, holding me close so I could feel his hardness pressing against me. My entire body reacted, and suddenly I was warm, wet and wanting.

  He lifted me onto the bed, and his hands slid up to my breasts. He kissed me through the black lace, using his tongue until my nipples became hard little peaks, but still I wanted more. I pushed the teddy aside and arched so my naked breasts could reach his mouth. He made a sound deep in his throat and kissed and sucked and teased my nipples until I was breathing hard and clutching his head against my chest.

  But the sweet torture wasn’t quite over yet. Michael kissed his way down my stomach and knelt between my legs, giving me a very naughty look. I
had my suspicions about what he was about to do, but nothing had prepared me for the way it felt when he kissed me through the black lace covering the most sensitive part of my body. I had to stifle a scream. It was so intense. And when he pulled my teddy off and began licking me, kissing me, and worshipping me with his mouth, I did scream. A few times, in fact.

  When I couldn’t stand another minute of it, he rose in front of me like an ancient pagan god. I quivered, his eager human sacrifice, the bed beneath me my altar.

  His eyes never left mine as he thrust into me again and again. Every time it became too much, and I shut my eyes even for a second, he stroked my cheek and pleaded with me.

  “Look at me, Emerson. See me. Please?”

  I did what he asked. I kept my eyes open as I climaxed, calling out his name, and watched his face as he did the same. He was amazing. And leaving him would be the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

  We were quiet afterwards, unsure how to act, our sadness weighing on us like a heavy cloud. He held me close, stroking my hair and raining soft, sweet kisses on my face until we both fell asleep from complete and utter exhaustion.

  In the early hours of the morning, his phone rang, and I knew our time was up. He spoke a few minutes in hushed tones and then turned off the phone. He sat on my edge of my bed, his head bowed. I slid up behind him, putting my legs on either side of his body and resting my cheek against his broad back as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “You have to go.”

  “Yes.”

  I sighed. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but I did anyway. They were soft, silent tears, though. I planned to save the serious weeping and wailing for after Michael left.

  He pulled me around so I sat on his lap and held me gently in his arms. “Hear me now, Emerson. I will find a way to be with you. If you can’t be a Traveller, I’ll become a Dweller.”

  I almost laughed. The idea of Michael, a Traveller through and through, living as a Dweller was ridiculous. The thought of him deserting his people seemed impossible to even contemplate.

  “You’d make a terrible Dweller,” I said, giving him a little smile. “But I love you even more for suggesting it.”