by Alana Serra
“Oh, yes,” Liam said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can tell you tried very hard.”
“Will you both shut up?”
Karak’s voice was booming, a deep, commanding tone he’d yet to hear from the relatively soft-spoken half-orc. It caused some part of Liam to snap to attention as though he were still serving a holy order. And it did, in fact, shut him up. Shame washed over him and he looked away from Wesley, focusing on Rhia.
Outside of the redness in her face, she was so pale. So weak and fragile in this moment. It made Liam’s heart ache, made him want to find everyone responsible for this and rip them apart limb from limb. But Rhia was the one responsible for it. Not Wesley. Not Karak. Rhia. She’d made the decision, and he’d already seen that she was stubborn enough that neither of them could have stopped her.
Had Liam been there, he wouldn’t have been able to stop her, either. Stubborn, foolish girl. She knew nothing about the world and all of the ways it could break a person. Even growing up as she had, there were things she just couldn’t understand. Things Liam hoped she never understood.
He reached out a hand, three fingers brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. Her skin blazed beneath his fingertips and he was about to voice his concern about her fever when the healer came into the room, a mug of foul-smelling liquid in hand.
Liam gave the woman room to work as Karak helped her prop Rhia up. The concoction mostly went down with no issue, save for some of it dribbling down her front. But she retained most of it, and the sheen on her skin grew more pronounced as her fever started to break immediately.
“Thank you, Dwela,” Karak said, dipping his head in deference.
“I’ll brew up another batch to have ready in case the fever comes back,” the old woman said. “You’ll have to make sure she gets it quickly, but since all three of you seem likely to sit around her bed and stare at her until she finally wakes up, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
There was humor in her voice, and Liam tamped down the defensive part of himself. They were her guardians. Even if it wasn’t by choice, this was their role now. All three of them were compelled to do it. That was all it was, and there was no need to suggest they were waiting around like besotted idiots just hoping to gain her favor.
He voiced none of that, though, and kept vigil. First with Karak and Wesley both, then by himself as they traded off to get some sleep. It was well into the night, the day having passed in a blur of worry as Rhia lapsed in and out of the fever, tossing and turning so fiercely that at one point Liam was sure he was going to have to move her back to the center of the bed and pin her there.
Since taking up his solo watch, he’d left only for a few moments to fetch some parchment and a stick of charcoal. Sitting in a chair that was close to the bed, Liam rendered the woman who slept peacefully before him, every stroke of the charcoal a caress he could not indulge in otherwise. The curve of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, all marked in striking black, tracing the path his fingers had yearned to take.
He was in the middle of shading with the flat of the stick when he heard her rouse. Liam looked up immediately, setting the drawing aside as he got to his feet. Her color was much better, the sweat having dried from her brow, and when she opened her eyes they were clear and vibrant as ever.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, princess,” he murmured.
“What happened?” she asked with a groan, trying to sit up.
Liam watched her, searching for any signs that she was too weak to do it, but she managed just fine. He began to tell her what happened, that she’d used her powers to heal an orc boy and had paid the price for it, but that worry and panic inside of him curled into something angry and bitter. It writhed like a snake, poised to strike at any moment.
And so it did.
“You’re lucky you aren’t dead. What were you thinking, drawing that power from inside yourself?”
Rhia’s nostrils flared and she immediately went on the defensive. “I was thinking I didn’t want to drain the life from anything around me.”
“Just from yourself.”
“Yes, Liam, just from myself,” she ground out from between clenched teeth. “I thought I’d be able to handle it.”
“Clearly you were wrong,” he said, feeling that familiar spark of self-loathing even as the words left his mouth.
“Why are you here? Did you really sit here and wait for me to wake up just so you could make me feel like the most incompetent person in the world?” Her voice broke at the end, and Liam felt as though his heart had been punctured by the tip of a blade.
He turned away from her, gave himself some distance, his hand dragging over his face. Some part of him wanted to be gentle. Soft. But being so had cost him dearly before, and if acting like an ass prevented it, then he was always going to give in to that instinct.
“Is one orc’s life worth it? You’re the Dark Lady now, Rhia. You have a certain importance in this world. Things you need to do, tasks you want to accomplish—by your own admission.”
“Helping people. That’s what I told you I wanted to do. What are—” Her tone was incredulous, and when she looked at him it was with a disbelieving pity that scratched away at something inside of Liam. “How did you become this? You were a paladin!”
She was right, of course. There was a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated in answering that yes, one orc’s life was worth his own. He was a servant of Belisan once, humble and eager to help the less fortunate. He’d devoted his life to that cause, of his own free will, unlike the paladins who’d joined the monastery because they had no choice in the matter.
But things had changed. He’d seen the vile depths of the human soul, had witnessed firsthand what it could do to the meek and faithful, and he’d wanted no part in it. He very nearly considered telling her that, was almost compelled to do so, but he clenched his jaw and kept the words in by force.
“This is the plan, then?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “There are a great many people in need, princess. All across the southern lands, people are living in squalor, in pain, in abject misery. Are you going to fix all of it? Put your own life on the line each time?”
He turned to face her fully, his eyes blazing as they met hers. But Rhia didn’t back down. She didn’t shrink away from him or even avert her gaze. Her jaw was held firm, chin lifted just so, as if she’d been trained as royalty from birth.
“Do you really think I’m that naive?” She scoffed, waving the question off. “No. I already know the answer to that, so you can spare me.”
Liam’s heart ached. The noble young paladin that was still buried down deep wanted to tell her this wasn’t who he was at all. It was just who he’d been forced to become. But again he kept his mouth shut.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help as many people as is reasonable. I’ll learn how to better control my magic and draw from my own energy. And I’ll be more careful in the future, now that I know the limitations.”
It was a sound plan, but there was one thing Liam absolutely detested about it: His presence was nowhere to be found.
“Then I guess I’ll be accompanying you,” he said, his words verging on callous. He couldn’t dare make them sound like desperation, so instead he grabbed his drawing and charcoal and started toward the door. “I’ll fetch the other two. I’m sure they’ll be eager to see you awake and well.”
He’d almost made it to the door, had almost gotten himself free of her without incident when she spoke again.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Liam, but I’m not your enemy, and if you keep treating me like I am, I’ll be happy to send you back to wherever you came from.”
He nearly flinched at that, stifling the response on the tip of his tongue. “Noted,” was all he said, the word forced through his strained throat before he left the room entirely.
Chapter 14
Rhia was still completely exhausted.
For a
s much as she tried to defend herself against Liam’s heartless onslaught, he was right. She’d overexerted herself in a way that was… well, incredibly stupid. Judging from the looks on Karak’s and Wesley’s faces when they’d seen her again, her condition hadn’t inspired much confidence.
The worst part of it was that she’d felt herself growing too weak even when she was in the middle of using her magic. But she’d wanted to make sure the job was done and that the boy would be healed, so she’d pushed and pushed until she had nothing left to give.
Now she was paying the price.
Thankfully, the boy was well. Karak brought him in to visit briefly. He was weak still, having to walk with Karak’s direct support, but he seemed genuinely grateful to her in a way that made Rhia tear up. And when Wesley visited, she spoke to him about finding some way to draw from her own self without it being so taxing. He’d agreed to look into it, to scour the library they’d just restored as his first big research project.
She would get better at it. Liam could just go to hell with his self-righteous, I would never succumb to such foolishness derision.
It was a thought she held on to as she drifted in and out of consciousness that evening. Karak made sure she at least ate a bit of broth—something he’d procured from his clan. She’d had enough water, and all she really needed now was sleep.
Sleep and her own self-righteous anger, apparently. Was she really any better than Liam if she couldn’t let it go? If she continued to stew in it, to the point where she very nearly summoned him so she could yell at him?
At least I don’t do it to other people.
That indignation simmered, keeping her awake for a time until she finally fell asleep for the night, curled up in bed, cushioned amongst the pillows, her blanket cocooned around her.
But it seemed like no time at all before she was awake again. Awake and giving into that impulse, sending one of Wesley’s imps—of all things—to fetch Liam. Reality cut in and out, as one moment she was sitting on the edge of her bed, fuming, and the next he was there before her.
Shirtless, with only his tight breeches covering his muscular body. Even as she realized this must be a dream, Rhia could feel her throat grow dry as if she were actually experiencing it. A hot bolt of lust shot through her as she looked him up and down, her gaze greedily roving over his body. He was an ass, but he was nice to look at. He might be even nicer to touch, so long as she could shut him up.
Rhia suspected she never would have been so bold in the waking world, but there were no consequences in a dream. She rose from the bed, reveling in the way his eyes followed her, the hunger in his expression as he gave her the same once-over she’d given him.
“You needed me for something, princess?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that scorched her from the inside out.
“No, you don’t get to talk. I don’t want to hear any more of your wit—or what you seem to think passes for wit.”
She stepped so close to him she could feel the heat coming off of his body. Close enough that the smirk on his lips faded and he drew in a sharp breath through his nose, his chest expanding with it. She lifted a hand, her finger hovering just above his lips as if she meant to physically silence him. Predictably, Liam didn’t just obey in a respectful fashion. His tongue curled out, drawing the digit into his mouth as he sucked on it noisily, his eyes never leaving hers.
Rhia couldn’t catch her breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched him. The heat in his eyes threatened to burn out of control, and the way he used his tongue made her long to know what else he could do with it. She felt a sudden need to taste and touch and experience everything she’d always wanted but never allowed herself to have before.
No need to hold back here. This was her dream. She could do whatever the hell she wanted.
Her hand pressed against the firm muscle of Liam’s chest, sliding up to his shoulder and then his neck. Her nails raked over the nape and he shivered, so close but not yet sealing the deal she was eager to make. She didn’t know why she wanted him to take this—take her—but she lingered a breath away, casting a challenging gaze up to him.
“With all of your bluster, I thought for sure you’d be eager to put me in my place. What’s stopping you, Liam?” she taunted, a boldness shrouding the fact that she was shaking inside.
He responded with a swiftness and intensity that took her breath away. His mouth crashed to hers, taking, claiming as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him. She gasped into his mouth when she felt the hard ridge of his erection, and couldn’t help the wanton moan that escaped her as he plunged his talented tongue into her mouth, seeking out hers in a dance she stumbled through, but somehow knew the steps to.
It was strange and exhilarating. Her experience, such as it was, was confined to just a handful of clumsy, feverish kisses with a boy she’d run the streets with before meeting Desmond. Her fantasies had always been vivid, and learning to read had given her a wonderful outlet in all of the bawdy stories she found, but that couldn’t compare to real experience, confidence, and the maturity to know what she was doing and what she wanted. Maybe it was the dream. Maybe it was just Liam, because he seemed so incredibly in tune with her desires as they shifted and burned ever brighter.
When she wished for his hands to move, to rove over her body, their callused roughness caressing her through her robe, he did it. His hands were like fire, moving from her hips to her back, gripping her ass, following her sides and dipping inward to caress her breasts. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the craving that grew and grew inside of her, and so she demanded more from his mouth. He licked and sucked and nipped at her lips, drew her tongue into his own mouth, and then moved down to her neck, giving it the same treatment. He bit down at the junction between her shoulder and neck and Rhia let out a deep moan that seemed to shake the very walls of whatever inhibition she still had as her fingers curled tightly into his flame-red hair.
Still it felt as though it wasn’t enough, and she had no idea why but for the fact that she was still fully clothed, and Liam was still wearing his breeches. Reaching down, she undid the sash that held her robe closed and let the fabric fall open to the side, then pressed herself against him, feeling his hot skin against hers as though this wasn’t a dream at all. That helped to soothe the ache deep inside, and even more so when she began to grind her lower body against his, eliciting a deep groan from him.
“So needy,” he chastised, taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth. “I’m not sure I can handle you all on my own.”
“Liar,” she breathed, arching against him once more, one leg hooking over his hip.
Liam gripped her hip, holding her in place. “True,” he said with a devilish grin. “But that doesn’t mean I intend to be selfish and keep you all to myself. That’s not how this works.”
If she hadn’t known it was a dream before, she certainly would now. She almost snorted at how unlike Liam those words sounded. While he might not be the most selfish person she’d met, he didn’t play well with others. That much was clear. And if he ever had her, Rhia got the distinct sense that he’d want to keep her.
Dream Liam, however, broke away from her just enough to beckon someone closer. The edges of the dream were hazy, not even permitting her to see the corners of the room until it was suddenly filled in by the presence of Karak and Wesley. The former was shirtless, like usual, and the latter had his overcoat open with nothing beneath, another pair of tight breeches hiding the rest of him from her view.
Her imagination apparently didn’t have a wealth of clothing ideas to draw from, but she didn’t mind. Not when she could see the distinct outline of his cock straining against the material. The same was true of Karak, and the thick length she glimpsed there made something inside of her ache, her muscles clenching as if anticipating an experience she’d never had.
Were they here to watch? Karak palmed himself through the fabric of his pants and Wesley’s attention was rapt on both of them. She nev
er thought she would have been the type to enjoy exhibition, but her blood ran so hot right now, her nerves wound so tightly that anything could have made her break.
That didn’t seem to be what Liam had in mind, though. He beckoned them closer again, holding Rhia against him as Karak moved behind her, pressing his hard body up against hers. She whimpered, arching back against him, feeling the searing length of his cock through his breeches. Karak’s rough hand so tenderly gripped her face, turning her just so to meet him as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was slow, deep, sensual.
Liam was still touching her, his hands roving over her body. She could feel his fingers so clearly through her robe, feel the rough pads of his thumbs as they rubbed over her hardened nipples. She gasped, moaning into Karak’s mouth, reveling in the contrast between his soft, thoughtful caresses and Liam’s feverish ones.
It was almost too much, and yet it wasn’t enough. She didn’t feel truly satisfied until Wesley’s hands were on her as well, his lips pressing kisses to the shoulder he bared, pulling back the cloth of her robe. Where Karak was gentle and searching, and Liam demanded her flesh respond to his every touch, Wesley seemed to tap into some secret part of her, knowing precisely what she wanted and how to best give it to her. He made a place for himself next to Liam, kneeling down before her as if he intended to worship her. His hands moved up her leg, slipping beneath the hem of her robe and continuing upward with one goal in mind. His fingers delved between her slick folds, rubbing along her slit until he reached that needy little nub she’d only discovered herself by accident. There was nothing accidental about Wesley’s touches, though. His attention was direct, giving her what she needed as his fingers circled and rubbed, picking up a rhythm that seemed to meld perfectly with Karak’s kisses and the way Liam touched her.
Continuing what Wesley had started, Liam slipped the robe further off of her until one of her breasts was exposed completely. Then he lowered his head and latched onto her nipple, closing his mouth around it, his tongue pressing against the sensitive peak. She moaned so loud she would have been afraid someone might have heard her, but everyone close enough was already here.
