by Alana Serra
Looking up into his eyes, she remembered her dream. Remembered exactly how his lips felt on her skin, how his hands had traced a fevered caress. Even in a dream world, she’d longed to feel his mouth on hers. To taste him and get a sense of the strength and power within him. It wasn’t openly displayed like Liam and Karak’s power, but it was there. She would feel it brimming beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.
Reaching out a hand, she rested her palm against his chest. Even through the cloth of his linen shirt, she could feel the twitch of muscle as his body—held rigid in anticipation—responded to her. There was hunger in his eyes, their blue as dark as the night sky now. He looked at her in a way no man ever had before. Not in a lecherous, leering manner that prized only her physical form, but as someone who wanted a part in everything she had to offer.
It should have scared her. There was only one man she’d ever been willing to offer that to, and yet… she wanted Wesley, too. And he very clearly wanted her. So why shouldn’t she indulge? Why shouldn’t she enjoy this one thing?
Her fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt and she pulled him closer. He bent to her, waited with a patience she didn’t see in his eyes as she still had to lift on tiptoes to reach him. But the moment she brushed her lips against his, he acted with such abandon that Rhia was swept up in it immediately. His arms came around her, pulling her tight against him. He leaned down to make it easier on her and kissed her with a pent-up longing that made it seem like he’d been pining after her for months, even though they’d only known each other for a week.
And she responded in kind, her fingers gripping even harder, her other hand winding around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at the nape. His stubble scratched against her face as he kissed her with intent, though the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all, in fact, and she found herself savoring that contrast. The roughness of his beard and the softness of his lips. Despite the warmth of the kiss, the way their mouths melded together, it wasn’t gentle. There was a desperation there, both of them clinging to something neither had truly identified.
Rhia didn’t care what it was, she just wanted more. Her whole body lit up when his tongue traced over her bottom lip. She moaned against his mouth, opening for him, and shivered with need when his tongue slipped inside. Her legs were going weak, but Wesley held her to him, the curves of her body fitting so neatly against the hard planes of his. Need seared through her, burning low in her belly, and she felt an ache between her thighs that rivaled what she’d been feeling when she first woke.
Under normal circumstances, she never thought she could be so wanton. But something in her yearned for this; yearned to be as connected to him as possible. Her body seemed to know it, and she craved more of that intimacy he was establishing as his tongue stroked hers. Her hips rolled of their own accord, her nails digging into the back of his neck as she felt the hard line of his cock press against her insistently.
For all that she’d dreamed of this so vividly, she’d never experienced it in quite this way. There were the lewd, lecherous men she wanted nothing to do with who always spoke of their cocks as though they were some treat she’d beg them for, but she’d never found the appeal. Until now, when she could feel him hot and hard through the thin fabric of his breeches. He’d gotten that way because of her. Because he wanted her so badly that his body responded in kind—and quickly, too.
She rolled her hips against him again and he let out a groan that stoked a fire inside her core. Yes. Goddess, yes. She wanted to hear that sound again. Deeper. Throatier. She wanted to be the one to draw that sound from him again and again. Just one taste of it made her ache with need.
“Rhia,” he breathed against her lips, finally breaking the kiss. His voice was strained, husky, and full of desire. “If we don’t stop soon…”
Rhia swallowed his protest with another forceful kiss, earning a moan for her trouble. She wanted to be closer to him, and outside of shedding her clothes, the only way she could think to do that was to step into him, as much as she could. She lifted her leg, hooking it over his hip, and his hand moved instinctively to grip her thigh. The other hand gripped her ass, making her gasp against his mouth. He lifted her, so Rhia wrapped both legs around him and let him walk her toward the war table. He set her upon it, but she didn’t let go of him. Her thighs flexed against him and she drew him closer, loving the way he felt against her.
His lips seared a trail of fire down her neck and she arched backward, giving him better access to her throat. To her surprise and delight, he used his tongue and teeth, awakening nerves she didn’t even know she had, shooting sparks of pleasure along her spine as he continued downward. The robe she wore dipped open a bit and he took full advantage, his stubble scraping against her skin as he traced along her collarbone and kissed a path between her breasts.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, breathless.
She didn’t know what to expect from this. She’d seen people fucking, of course. You couldn’t live in an overpopulated city and not catch people in the alleys or through their windows, shameless and needy and completely uncaring about who saw them. But those had seemed like quick, almost animalistic trysts that consisted of a half-minute’s worth of grunting and rutting, then nothing. What Wesley was doing to her certainly didn’t fall in that category, and she couldn’t wait to experience more of it.
He did stop, though. His head lifted enough to look at her and she met his eyes, so dark now they were nearly obsidian. “Pact with me, Rhia,” he said, making a plea of his own.
“What…?” Even in her hazy, lust-filled state, that wasn’t something she’d expected to hear.
“I’ll give you everything. All of myself for as long as you’ll have me, I swear it.” His words were so fervent, filled with such intensity. And they were lovely. Hearing them sent a thrill through her. But she knew there was more to come. “Just pact with me. Please.”
That was the beginning of the end, ice water beginning to flood Rhia’s veins. She pushed him away, and he didn’t try to overpower her or hold her down. A good thing, too. Her ire was rising, embarrassment taking over her conscious mind. She would have sent him flying backward with dark magic if he’d tried to keep her there.
“Is that what this is about? You just want me to pact with you?” she spat, defying the tears that stung at the corners of her eyes.
She thought he’d wanted her. Her. But all he’d wanted was what the pact would give him.
“No!” he exclaimed, quickly gaining control of himself.
Rhia sprung up from the table and tied her sash so tightly she couldn’t breathe for a moment. She stalked toward the door, feeling like the biggest fool in the world. Of course he didn’t want her. All he wanted was power.
“Rhia, wait,” he pleaded, reaching out to grab her sleeve.
She yanked away from him, fixing him with a venomous glare. Her jaw tightened as she tried to keep it from trembling. “You know, Wesley, I don’t think you can pact with me,” she said icily. “Because then you’d have to divulge every one of those secrets you hold so dear.”
He gaped helplessly at her, but Rhia didn’t give him a chance to come up with words. Turning on her heel, she left the war room and headed for her quarters, not allowing herself to cry until she was safely in her bed, several doors between her and Wesley.
Chapter 17
The next day, she barely spoke to Wesley.
She maintained whatever “professional courtesy” she could muster, but she avoided looking at him when she could help it, and he seemed eager to do the same. He was back to acting like a somewhat nervous apprentice instead of the power-hungry warlock she knew him to be, but she wasn’t going to be drawn in by it this time.
She’d let herself be vulnerable. Let herself get carried away by a ridiculous fantasy. Her only saving grace—and it was a fragile, mostly useless one at this moment—was that she’d never engaged in that kind of foolishness with Desmond. But Desmond wasn’t one of
her guardians. She didn’t have to work with him on a daily basis.
Thankfully, she was bound for the outer reaches of the southern lands with Liam. Being alone in his company wasn’t something she would’ve ever found herself grateful for in the past, but at least there was no danger of Liam making that kind of a fool of her. He didn’t want her. He didn’t even like her. And, most importantly, he didn’t want to pact with her.
With intel from Karak’s clan, they’d learned of more orc clans that were struggling, humans attacking them en masse, sending out contracts for their extermination. An entire lineage had been wiped out when a poison gas bomb was thrown into the middle of a camp, Karak said.
It was more than just orcs, though. During his talks with nearby merchants, Liam had heard about several of the gnoll tribes acting aggressively lately, coming down from the mountains and attacking travelers on the road. It sounded cut and dried to Rhia, but Karak explained that gnolls were mostly scavengers who rarely—if ever—attacked anyone outright. The fact that they were doing so now meant they were desperate, and there had to be some kind of story there.
So Rhia packed provisions, loading down the mare they’d procured for her with as much as it could reasonably carry. On Liam’s suggestion, she also brought a cart, hitching it up to the stronger gelding he was going to ride.
“Here,” he said as they loaded up, unceremoniously handing her a long dagger with a handle that was nearly the same size as the blade.
“What am I meant to do with this?” she asked, feeling the weight of it in her hands.
“Well, you see this end here?” He put a finger to the tip of the blade and some twisted part of Rhia was tempted to jab him with it. She didn’t. “You stick that end into flesh and you push.”
“Oh, is that how it works?” she rolled her eyes. “Ass. I meant why are you giving me this when I can use magic?”
“You won’t always have magic to fall back on,” came a voice she’d hoped not to hear.
Wesley.
He was dressed in simple clothing with a hat and a long duster that looked tailor-made for traveling. And he carried saddlebags over one shoulder.
“He’s right,” Liam said. “That mark will tell people exactly what you are, and they’ll know to shut down your magic if they can. Wards, sigils, spells—there’s a lot that can shut down a sorceress.”
She ignored the fact that Liam had called her a what and focused her attention on Wesley. “What are you doing?”
“Coming with you,” he said simply, setting the saddlebags down as he went to retrieve tack for his horse.
“Liam and I have it covered,” she said, trying not to sound terse. Judging from the look Liam gave her, she didn’t quite manage. “But thank you.”
“I’m one of your guardians, Rhia.” His gaze lifted to hers in an “I hate this as much as you” look. “It’s better for everyone if we’re all with you.”
“Karak isn’t—”
No sooner had she opened her mouth than she saw Karak leading his own gelding around to the front, already saddled and ready to go. “You need someone who knows these lands beyond the human settlements,” he said pragmatically.
That was true, and she had much less of a problem with Karak coming. But the thought of spending days or even weeks on the road with Wesley made her uncomfortable. Not just because of how angry she still was at him, and how hurt she’d been by his desire to coerce her into pacting with him. But because if they were left alone, she was afraid her own body might betray her again.
“And what am I to do about Ebonhold? Your people live here now, Karak. We can’t leave them alone.”
“They’re more than capable of defending themselves and the keep,” he said.
“And you can cast a concealment spell,” Wesley said. “If someone comes upon this place, even if they know it’s here, they won’t be able to get in without strong magic suppression to break through the spell.”
She had wondered how Dark Ladies weren’t just killed outright when they first began. She disliked that the answer had come from Wesley—and that he raised very valid points. She should have her guardians with her. Liam was capable, she had no doubt of that. But he was also… Liam. He had his own priorities and focuses.
If something happened, she would rather have all three of them there with her. They’d be better able to look out for her from all angles. And for that reason, she needed to suck it up and act like an adult. She’d done plenty she didn’t want to do, most of it against her will. She did at least have a choice in this, it was just in her best interest to allow Wesley to come along.
“All right. Show me what I need to do to cast this spell,” she said, stroking a hand along the mare’s neck before she stepped away.
Wesley stood with her just feet from the other two, still in earshot, and yet it felt too private for Rhia’s liking. And perhaps not private enough. Some part of her did want to continue where they’d left off, but she couldn’t forget the pain of knowing the only reason he wanted her was for his own power.
To his credit, Wesley didn’t try and engage with her. He explained the theory behind the spell and Rhia improvised it with her own magic. She felt an invisible shroud settle around the fortress, and when Wesley probed for it, he gave her a nod of approval. That was it. Not another word was spoken, and the two of them made for their horses.
Their first stop was an orc encampment just past the river. A group had settled there—uncommon for orcs, Karak explained—because they were having trouble keeping babies alive without a stable place to call home. Constant movement and long stretches of time without any food to eat made for sporadic births and high rates of mortality in infants.
Now, they had an entirely different problem. Every time their juveniles went off on their own for a hunt—a rite Karak said was a staple of many orc societies—they were killed. Not by the creature they were hunting or even by a rival clan, but by members of the guild who were cutting their teeth in their own initiation. The orcs were little more than a means to an end for them. A source of points to get them through their full induction into the guild. They took a trophy, and that was it. They left the bodies to rot in the sun; to be picked apart in a way that defied the orcs’ sacred traditions.
A righteous sort of anger blossomed in Rhia as she listened to parents grieving their children and a clan that would die out soon if all its younger members were killed. Outside of facing the guild’s initiates in turn, though—something she wasn’t willing to do, lest it bring the whole organization down on her head—there was little Rhia could do to help. It was a hard lesson to learn first thing, and though she offered to let them live at Ebonhold, they politely declined.
“These lands are sacred to us, Lady,” the chieftain explained, dipping his head in a bow. “We cannot leave them. And even if we could, I would hate to let the humans run us out of our own homes.”
She could certainly understand that. Back when Esrinas had been at war with Varstadt, she and Desmond had opted to stay despite the chance to escape in the chaos. For better or worse, Esrinas was their home. There was too much tied up in their existence there to simply abandon it because someone had decided to make a mess of things.
Of course she would likely never see Esrinas again, but she tried not to think of that.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“Send a message to the guild,” he said, his jaw firming, tusks protruding further than usual.
Considering the murderous look in his eyes, she had no doubt as to what kind of message he meant. It was the same in other camps, too. Even the more mobile orc clans were experiencing losses because of the guild, though they weren’t as bad off as the goblins. Hearing the adventurers boast of their conquests in the tavern, goblins barely even signified. They spoke of cutting down hundreds at a time without breaking a sweat. It had seemed harmless once, like a barn cat let loose to control an overpopulation of mice. But goblins weren’t mice. They were sentient, sapient cre
atures much like the orcs she’d met. They had families. Children. Plans for the future that certainly didn’t include providing points and equipment for new adventurers.
Even the gnolls were out for blood, and as Karak explained to her, that was rarely the case. Most people—Rhia included—saw gnolls as filthy beasts who feasted on the corpses of humans and animals alike, but the ones she spoke to were articulate and well-educated. A shamanistic society, they strongly believed that in consuming the fallen, they took part in their spirit and helped to honor them.
But the guild had defiled one of their totems, and the shamans believed they’d cursed the mountains, soaking them with the blood of the innocents.
“The people who lived there, clansmen I’ve known since they were pups… they’ve gone feral,” he explained, his muzzle pulled into a grimace.
“How so?” Rhia asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
“We do not harm the living. It is a core part of who we are as people. There is nothing to be gained in murder; no honor in it, even if it is in self-defense. My brothers and sisters do not kill in self-defense. They attack travelers and merchants with abandon. Feast on them while they yet live. They are little more than animals now, and they will never be embraced by the Mother.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked for what felt like the hundredth time in only a handful of days.
As usual, the answer wasn’t one she liked. “The guild must be stopped. Their senseless killing is poisoning these lands, Lady.” He signed something before his face as if creating a sigil of protection. “As for my brethren, if you should be unfortunate enough to come across them… please, put them out of their misery. Grant them the mercy of a quick death.”
“I will,” she promised to the second point, taking his large paws in her hands and giving them a squeeze. “I know you’ll likely refuse, but there’s space for you and your people at Ebonhold, if you wish it.”
