by Rosalie Redd
CHAPTER 13
Tanen toweled off his hair and glanced in the mirror. The paunch he used to have around his middle was long gone. The exercise and lack of food over the past week had done the trick. When Sheri had offered him a sandwich, he couldn’t refuse her offer. That was the excuse he gave himself, anyway. The truth of the matter was he wanted to be near her, see her smile, soak up more of her warm scent. Unfortunately, she was human, and that was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t leave, not yet.
Quickly, he dressed in the clothes Sheri had given him. The pants were a little too short, the shirt a bit too tight. To wear another male’s clothes didn’t sit well with him. His inner beast growled.
He picked up the toothbrush and squirted a line of paste onto the bristles. Working out a bit of his frustration, he scrubbed his teeth then spat the fluid into the sink. Damn ex-husband. He ran his hand through his short hair and exited the bathroom, returning to Sheri’s room.
A pair of her trousers lay on the floor, and one of her sweaters draped precariously over the edge of a chair. The disarray in her room sent a thousand tiny bugs crawling over his skin. How she lived in such chaos was beyond him. The tips of his boots peeked from beneath the edge of her bed. He yanked them on and tied up the laces. With a quick tug, he grabbed his coat by the collar.
As he headed for the door, a glint caught his attention. A necklace hung from the edge of her dresser mirror, flickering in the light. He stilled. Freezing cold fingers of longing tickled the nerves in his arms. The old, familiar sensation wasn’t welcome, but he couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline as it coursed through his veins. He took a step toward the dresser, then another, until he stood so close to the bauble he couldn’t breathe.
Just one touch. He’d been down this road before. That’s how he’d ended up with the blue sunstone. He didn’t care. The lie gave him the excuse he needed. His finger grazed over the smooth round edge. Engraved on the front was a small symbol, the transposed curves beautiful, just like Sheri. Perfect. He’d have something to remember her.
Before he could stop and think about his choice, the necklace was in his pocket. He looked at his sweatpants in the mirror. The bulky material would hide his newfound treasure. He met his gaze. Torment and shame reflected in his blue eyes. His marking for honesty burned against his chest, hot and angry. He couldn’t stare at his reflection any longer, so he turned to leave.
Coop met him in the hallway. He patted the canine on the head. “Take good care of Sheri, Coop.”
Coop woofed and his tail beat against the carpet. The scent of bacon drifted into the hallway. Tanen’s mouth watered.
As he entered the kitchen, he got a long look at Sheri. She stood at the counter, her back to him. Dressed in a fresh pair of pants and shirt, the loose material hid her luscious curves. His inner beast growled in frustration, and with a heavy heart, he cleared his throat.
She peered at him, taking in his attire. A smirk played along her lips. “Well, those clothes look better on you than they ever did on…um, never mind.”
“I can never repay your kindness.” No, instead, I stole from you. He clenched his teeth, hating himself for his weakness.
“I’m glad I could help. Here, take this.” She handed him a sandwich, bits of bacon and lettuce protruding from beyond the crust. Even through the paper napkin, the toast warmed his fingers. He didn’t deserve her generosity.
She stepped past him into the living room. He couldn’t help but follow.
“Aren’t you having one?” Despite the rumbling of his stomach, he wouldn’t eat his sandwich. To do so, alone, would be rude.
She blinked. “I’m not hungry, but please, eat.”
A sour taste rose in his throat. He shook his head. “Please, share this with me.”
The sincerity in Tanen’s voice seeped under Sheri’s skin, worming into the inner reaches of her heart. The loud grumble from his stomach was evidence of his hunger, but this proud, cultured man wouldn’t eat in front of her. She couldn’t refuse his kind gesture. “All right. Let me get a knife—”
He stepped into her path, wrapping her in his personal space. The heat radiating from him warmed her, and against her will she leaned in, eager for his touch. He brought the sandwich close to her lips.
“Here. Take a bite.” His whispered words were sensuous, soothing in their cadence.
This seemed like so much more than an offer to share his sandwich, and suddenly, she was caught up in a hunger all her own. She swallowed. Before she could stop herself, she bit into the crust. The taste of mayonnaise and bacon woke her taste buds.
A satisfied grin formed on his lips, and she had a strong desire to kiss them. Instead, she watched, mesmerized as he, too, bit into the sandwich. A soft groan eased from his chest, and he closed his eyes as he chewed.
What is wrong with me? Why am I so attracted to him? To put distance between them, she headed for her bookcase. The old paperbacks brought much comfort on those long, lonely nights. She trailed her finger across the spines, purposefully turning her back to him.
“This sandwich is very good. Would you like more?” His deep voice resonated into her chest, tickling her.
Yes. No! She brought her fist to her mouth. “Please, you have the rest.”
“As you wish.” The crunch of the toast filtered across the room. She couldn’t look at him for fear she’d want to kiss him again. Instead, she studied her paperbacks.
“You have a large selection of books.” She hadn’t heard him approach, but a tingle of awareness spread over her shoulder. Something in her chest fluttered. “I have a library, too. So much knowledge between the pages.” The tenor of his low, gravelly voice settled deep inside her.
She glanced over her shoulder. He studied her collection, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. She’d never met someone who loved books as much as she. A crack formed in the armor around her heart. Using her index finger, she pulled an old paperback from the stack, The Mists of Avalon.
“I picked up this book several years ago in Powell’s bookstore.” She flipped the book open to the title page. “See, it’s even signed by the author.”
“You love your books.”
She had the sudden urge to put her arms around him and continue what they’d started not long ago. Instead, she put the book back on the shelf. “Yes, I do. I love fantasy, horror, and science fiction. The thrill of going to other places, other worlds, excites me.”
He moved away from her and closer to the bookshelf. His finger grazed over several of the spines, straightening a couple along the way. With rapt attention, he focused on a few titles. “These are remarkable.”
She peered at him. “Most of them are everyday paperbacks, but I have a few classics.”
He met her gaze. “Tell me. Which is your favorite?”
The intensity in his eyes drew her in, and she responded before she could think. “The Hobbit. Tolkien does a fabulous job with description. Have you read it?”
He shook his head, and a few stray hairs covered the tip of his ear.
She reached for the top shelf, scanning the titles with her fingers. The books were in disarray, stuffed into whatever space was available. Long ago, she should’ve cleaned up this mess, but there was always something else to do. She huffed. The elusive book seemed to hide from her. “It’s here somewhere. It has to be.”
“What does it look like?” He hunched down and straightened some of the books on the middle shelf.
“It’s a small paperback with a picture of Smaug on the front.”
He peered at her and his brows furrowed.
“Smaug, the dragon? I take it you haven’t read the book.”
The sheepish look on his face endeared him to her.
“You have to read that book. So good.” She spotted the worn paperback shoved on top of the second row. With tender care, she pulled her favorite novel from the stack and caressed the cover.
She pointed to the picture of an orange dragon protecting his golde
n treasure. “See, that’s Smaug.”
“A dragon indeed. It’s good they aren’t real. Would you read me something from it?”
She held out the book to him. “Here, why don’t you read some?”
The muscle in Tanen’s jaw clenched. Sheri had asked him to read from her book. How could he? All he could read was cuneiform.
She lowered the old paperback. “What’s wrong—”
He clasped his hand around hers, the book in their combined grasp. Her warmth radiated up his arm, rekindling the flame between them. “I’d rather you read me something. Perhaps a favorite passage?”
She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, ravish her mouth until she begged for more. Instead, he released her, lowering his hand to his side.
With her free hand, she gripped the bookshelf. Her lips quivered as if she sensed his interest. “Um…sure.”
He nodded. “I look forward to hearing you read the passages. Words are so compelling, don’t you think?”
Her chest heaved with quick breaths, and he couldn’t help but notice how her breasts filled out her blouse. She opened the book.
An audible crack rent the air.
Dust fell from the pages.
“Oh, the spine broke.” Her soft words were filled with anguish, and he wanted to comfort her, take away her pain. His hand jerked with his sudden impulse to caress her cheek. The thought made him still. He couldn’t allow himself to get too close to this female.
She flipped through some of the pages. A single sheet slipped from the book and danced like a feather on its way to the floor.
Tanen picked up the torn page between his fingers. The aged text danced before his eyes, and the softness of the paper took his breath away. He handed it to her. Their fingers brushed, fanning the flames brighter between them.
He studied her for a long moment before she spoke. “I love this book so. I’ve been meaning to repair the spine, but haven’t had time.” Her attention focused on a small bottle of glue atop the windowsill. She shook her head.
Placing the sheet back in the book, she turned to a page, one with a bent corner. “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”
The melody of her soft and reverent tone washed over him, sinking into his soul. He could listen to her read for hours.
She glanced at him. He needed to hear more. “Please, continue.”
Her cheeks turned that pretty shade of pink he’d already grew accustomed to, and she flipped to another page. “Here’s a riddle for you. Tell me what it is.”
* * *
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
* * *
“That’s a tough one.” He tapped his finger along the side of his chin. “Hmmm…death?”
“You’re close. The answer is darkness.” Her eyes brightened. Happiness radiated off her in waves with almost a physical energy. “How about one more?”
He couldn’t help but smile, caught up in her magnetism. “Sure. Another.”
“This is my absolute favorite.” She turned her attention to the text. “There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
As the meaning behind her words hit home, his chest clenched. War. That was why he was here. The humans were but a pawn in their game. He cracked his knuckles and stepped away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She grasped his arm.
The lines around her eyes drew together, and her delectable mouth turned into a frown. He winced knowing he’d caused it. With a quick head shake, he peered out the window. The night called to him. His beast stirred. He tore his attention away and focused on Sheri. “I have to leave.”
She blinked, and even he could see how her energy deflated. “Of course. Let me get you some water.”
Before he could respond, she raced into the kitchen. He gave her a moment, then followed. When he found her, she faced the open fridge, her shoulders stiff, blinking her eyes.
A heavy weight settled into his stomach. She didn’t need his kind of problems.
She shut the fridge and turned around. As she handed him the water bottle, their fingers touched. The spark between them reignited, but she shuttered her features and pulled away. As much as he wanted to comfort her, tell her everything would be normal, good in her life, he couldn’t make that promise. The longer he stayed, the more risk he brought to her.
He let out a slow exhale. “Thank you for your kindness.”
He walked away before he could change his mind. A part of him didn’t want to leave, and as he closed the front door, the bitter realization stung him worse than any Gossum bite.
CHAPTER 14
Tanen stood outside Sheri’s home. The cool night air burned into his lungs, but didn’t ease the ache in his chest. When Sheri had handed him the bottle of water her eyes had glistened with unshed tears. He hardly knew her, but he couldn’t deny the attraction between them. With a quick swig he took one long drink, crushed the bottle in his fist and tossed the empty container in the trash can.
As he left, his boots crunching against the gravel driveway, he forced himself to concentrate on Mauree. The distraction was a welcome relief. That the traitor could bring him any kind of solace was an odd sort of irony, but he couldn’t dwell on Sheri, not now.
He crossed into the woods, the scent of cedar and pine filtering into his senses. The night was quiet, only his ragged breaths and the sound of his boots on the wet underbrush filled the air. He returned to the scene of the fight. The broken and crushed ferns were a reminder of how close he’d come to losing his life. His heartburn flared, sending hot, fiery bile into his mouth. He spat the fluid onto the ground and followed Jakar’s astringent scent.
Rumors abounded in the Keep over the location of the Gossum’s safe house. So far, none of the warriors had found the elusive place. Tanen wracked his brain, searching through his knowledge of the ancient texts for any clues, but there was nothing. The building must be protected somehow. Frustration lit a fire under his feet, and he increased his pace.
An hour later, the soft gurgling of a stream caught his attention. The soothing and comforting sound should’ve calmed him, but it only fueled the anxiety skating along his nerves. His delay had given his quarry a significant head start, and his inability to find Mauree stuck in his craw like a burr.
He glanced into the sky. Despite the clouds covering the moon, darkness waned, giving way to the soft orange glow of brightening dawn. He’d have to hole up for the day, continue his search again at nightfall. A low growl eased from his throat.
Not far away, blackberry bushes covered the entrance to a dark cleft in the ravine. He shoved the brambles aside and peered into the small outcropping. Roots dangled from the dirt and hung like sharp, pointy fingernails similar to a Gossum’s claw. He curled his lip. Staying here was not his idea of fun, but the lightening sky left him little choice. He needed to find shelter, now.
As if on cue, the first rays of the rising sun crested over the tree tops. If he were ever caught in the sunlight, his skin would burn. Exposure for more than a few seconds would kill him. The hairs at his nape rose. Goddess Alora, may I never suffer such a fate.
He shoved aside a few stray vines and entered the small enclosure. Leaning his shoulder against the earthen wall, he exhaled. Against his will, thoughts of Sheri invaded his mind. Her sweet kindness in the way she cared for him, the soothing sound of her voice as she read from her favorite book, the look of innocence in her eyes.
He stilled, tension tightening the muscles in hi
s shoulders. I’m a thief, plain and simple.
Raising his fist, he pounded the earthen wall, his fingers scraping against dirt and small bits of rock. The scent of his own blood didn’t slow him down. Only when the froth of his anger abated did he relent. Ragged breaths eased in and out of his lungs.
Unable to resist, he reached into his pocket and pulled on the thin chain, releasing the necklace from its hiding place. He held up the simple charm. The small circle twisted back and forth, glinting in the brightening daylight.
He caressed his finger over the monogrammed symbol. Sheri… Loathing, deep and powerful, burned inside. His heartburn flared to life, adding to his self-contempt. He’d never felt such remorse. While his stolen treasures used to give him such comfort, this trinket was different. This necklace belonged to Sheri, the sweet, innocent female who had helped him recover. She had no knowledge of his war and the evil that dogged him. He palmed her necklace in his fist. Sheri…I’m sorry.
His symbol for honesty burned hot on his skin. He tugged on the sweatshirt collar, revealing his markings. The small teardrop closest to his heart pulsed and darkened slightly, but it was barely visible. If he didn’t change his ways, the mark would disappear. Then, he’d start the slow descent into madness.
He released the material and leaned his head against the wall. A deep rumble echoed through the trees—thunder. Even through the overgrown underbrush, rain drops pelted the ground outside his makeshift home. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, but the bitter wind pushed the rain into his shelter, soaking his boots and pants.
He uncurled his fist and glanced at Sheri’s necklace. If he got the chance he’d return it to her, but he’d never see her again. She was human. To be with her would be…unimaginable. The best gift he could give her would be to keep himself and all his problems far away. With tender care, he placed her necklace deep into his pocket, stared out at the rain, and waited for nightfall.
