~*~
Taren cursed the twisted sense of humor his gods had played on him. The one female he wanted more than his next breath, and he could never claim her. Oh, how they must be laughing.
He needed to focus on the needs of the moment, not on the sexual pull between them. And at the moment, he needed to forage for food, hide their trail and cover the entrance so as not to alert their hunters to their exact location. From his position this high on the mountain, he could view the forest below.
His keen eyesight allowed him to track the stealthy movements of the hunters by the movement in the foliage. Counting four in all, he was surprised at their low numbers. Surely they couldn’t be that confident of their success? He seriously doubted it. His gut told him there were many more than four tracking them. A sense of urgency knotted his gut. He needed to be about his work and formulate his strategy.
He threw himself into his tasks, obscuring their progress past the waterfall and laying a false trail away from the mountain. Once satisfied, he set to foraging for edible roots and berries. He pulled his shirt off to hold his horde and then made his way back up to their cave, taking care to hide the entrance with brambles and foliage he uprooted and placed in front of the opening. Satisfied no one would see the opening from the outside he let his thoughts turn toward the temptress who waited for him.
Stopping at the entrance to the cavern, he tensed as a wave of desire hit him with the force of a semi. Her long hair shimmered in the silver rays of the moon, a silken curtain of dark silk spilled over her shoulders, obscuring her face from his view. He’d give up his horns to have her naked and welcoming him into his arms. Very dangerous thinking for one of his kind.
Would she be his destruction or salvation?
Chapter Six
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, entranced by the grace of her movements, the regal way she carried herself. He noted some kind of vegetation in her hands as she sat near the heated springs. She placed the plant on a flat rock, clutched another tightly in her fist and then pounded them into a mushy pulp.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She jumped, letting out a noise between a squeak and a squawk, which quirked his mouth up into a faint grin despite his best efforts to remain aloof. His smile deepened as her gaze traveled over his bare torso and heated with appreciation. He couldn’t help but stand a little taller at the feminine interest darkening those bewitching green eyes. She took in every inch of his chest and abs with such focus he swore he could feel every place her gaze landed.
She cleared her throat, voice husky. “I’m making a paste for your arm. We don’t need you getting an infection.”
A chuckle escaped him. A little spitfire lived beneath her calm exterior. Her tone was as prickly as a cactus, yet there was a shadow of vulnerability she tried hard to hide.
Something shifted deep inside him, and the cold darkness shielding his heart gave way a fraction, filling him with another emotion so new he mentally stumbled. It came to him on a rush, awakening his protective instincts, and fear coiled around his spine, his brain signaling a warning as she prepared her concoction. He knew deep in his gut caring for Leigh would leave him vulnerable to his enemies. He couldn’t afford to care, yet the connection between them only grew stronger every passing moment, impossible to deny and dangerous to encourage.
“Come here,” she said, “so I can wash out your bandage and apply this to your wound. Oh, did you find anything we could eat?”
She waved him over, and without thought, he sat across from her and spread his find out for her. She took a small handful and wolfed them down with ravenous gusto before setting to work removing his bloodied bandage. He closed his eyes as her scent surrounded him. Her hair tickled his nose as she bent close to inspect his wound. He fought the urge to brush his face into those silky tresses, to tilt her head up so he could capture her lips, to taste once again her spicy sweetness.
She let out a hiss, jerking him out of the fantasy, and his gaze snapped open to see her frown, worry shadowing her gaze.
“Are demons slow healers?” she asked.
“No, but then I’m collared, remember? And we don’t call ourselves demons, we are Demosians. I am called Taren, and you may address me as such.”
She arched an eyebrow at his commanding tone. “Well then, Taren…” She drawled his name out. “You have one hell of an infection setting in. This lavender works as an antiseptic, but what you really need is antibiotics and sutures. This cut is deep, but the bleeding looks to have stopped. Feverfew will help with any fever that might set in, but you really need stronger meds than this.”
He glanced down at the swollen and red flesh, the slice deep across his biceps. “I’ve had worse. Just do what you can.”
She let out a very unladylike harrumph. “Yeah, these damnable collars don’t help with your healing either.”
She took the soiled bandage and washed it thoroughly in the hot pool before wringing it out. Scooting on her butt, she came up by his side and scooped up a handful of the pungent concoction she prepared. “This stuff smells like a donkey’s ass and is going to hurt like hell. The good news is the smell won’t last long so the hunters won’t be able to track you by it. Bad news, it will feel like your arm was put in a vat of acid.”
“Just do it.”
As she smeared the salve across the cut, he gritted his teeth against the searing pain spreading down his arm and numbing his fingers. When she’d finished, she wrapped it with the cloth and tied the ends tight, muttering under her breath. He caught her curses regarding the stubbornness of men as a whole.
“And what the hell are you smiling about?” she asked.
“You have quite a temper, little druid,” he drawled, finding he was actually enjoying his time with this human female. He was a little surprised to find how easy Leigh was to talk to, a new experience for him and a pleasant one.
“For your information, I am not little. I’m rather tall for a woman.”
“You are small for my race, but your temperament’s equal to a Demosian female. They are fierce.”
She studied him for a moment her dark brows angled down in a small frown, her head tilted to one side. She mulled over his comment. So expressive. Everything she thought or felt showed on her face. At the moment, she looked adorable and far too tempting. He fought the urge to take her into his arms.
“Then you were giving me a compliment?” she asked.
“Yes, I believe I did.”
“You are the most confusing man I have ever met.”
“Ah, but again, I must remind you I’m—”
“Demosian. Yeah, I know.” She waved it off, her gaze softening as she caught his. “What happened to your world?”
Damn her wayward tongue.
The easy, relaxed man she’d just glimpsed fled, leaving the scowling, angry man she knew all too well and didn’t like. For once, could she just curb her curiosity and let things be?
He surprised her when he spoke. “A long time ago, my people struggled with war, famine and disease. We are not so different from you in that regard. Only we found common ground between us, began to work together, accept our differences. We learned with our magic came great responsibility. For a thousand years, we lived in peace, building great cities where art, music, and education were the cornerstone of our lives.”
“Then what happened? Why come here?”
“I will tell you if you stop interrupting,” he chided.
She pressed her lips together and nodded for him to continue.
“As I was saying, our life was good, but we grew complacent. When we were invaded by a warring race, we were not prepared. We’d had no need to make weapons or train for battle. They killed millions of my people, taking what they wished, raping the land of all its vital resources. By the time they left all that remained of Demos was a dying planet. Our oldest and strongest magic users combined their powers for one last ditch effort to save what remained of our race. They built a
single doorway through our dimension. No one knew what lay beyond, but better chance at survival than certain death. So we passed through and found ourselves here, stranded with no way to escape. The rest you know.”
Yes, sadly, she did know the rest. When they’d first arrived, there was complete chaos, not a single person would listen to their story, or greet them with open arms. It was the acts of one demon, their leader, Jamal Nolls, which set them on the path they were now forced to tread. Jamal and his elite group of followers were not interested in finding common ground, to live in peace with the human race. They wanted nothing less than the world subjugation of all humans. If what Taren said about their culture was true, a thousand years of Demosian peace and enlightenment had been obliterated by one power-hungry Demosian.
The horrors of Jamal Nolls’ rule rivaled that of Hitler and the Holocaust. No one was spared, including his own race. By the time Jamal was stopped—permanently—the entire world knew the blatant savagery the newcomers were capable of. The magic they could manifest ranged from healing, telepathy, weather control, and teleportation just to name a few.
Yet as helpful as those magic’s were to the world, it didn’t outweigh their other abilities, which ranged from lethal to unimaginable devastation. Sadly, at the time, it was beyond anyone’s capability of understanding. Without a single drop of sweat, Demosians could destroy the world. One Iowa town annihilated attested to magic’s Demosians wielded. Nothing lived there to this day several decades’ years later, not even a cockroach. Worse, nothing grew in the decimated city, nor would birds fly over the blighted land.
So after the death of Jamal Nolls, it was decreed that all Demosians would be controlled, or if that failed, taken out with extreme prejudice.
Chapter Seven
“Why didn’t you become an assassin like your mother?”
Pain and anger sparked in her eyes, her body going rigid with tension. His own stomach knotted with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. Remorse. And over causing her pain. A human, his sworn enemy. Yet he found it harder and harder to think of her in those terms. Having held her, tasted her passion on his tongue, her scent in the very air he breathed settling deep within him.
When she spoke, he heard the waver in her voice though he could tell she tried not to show it. “I never knew my mother. She abandoned me to the druid’s only hours after my birth. Left me in Amaya’s arms and walked away. I didn’t even know she was an assassin for the Guild of Isis until just days ago.”
He frowned at her, Aegis Doreen could be accused of being many things. Cold, ruthless and the perfect killer. Few were ever privy to the other side of the female. Spending so many years with her, he knew how much she’d loved her daughter. He’d witnessed the grief she’d carried with her each day without Leigh. She spoke little of her baby, only to say the child was safe from making the choices she’d been forced to make as a young girl.
“Sometimes parents are called to make sacrifices for their children,” he said, “to give them a better life.”
“I don’t know if you could say that about my mother.” Derision dripped from her words like poison.
“Aegis Doreen spoke very little of her life, yet I remember one night being awakened to her soft cries. I called to her from the hallway, and she bid me come to her. I will always remember how lost and vulnerable she looked huddled in the middle of her bed, a welling sadness surrounding her like a thick, cloying miasma.” Taren noted Leigh’s total focus on his words, the hope burning brightly in her green eyes, the child who still carried the pain of abandonment needing to know she was loved. This, he could give her and immediately the knots in his stomach lessened.
“She spoke of you, her child, and the hard choice to send you away from her and the guild she’d tied herself to. She’d wanted you to have a life free of blood and death. She spoke of sensing in you a strong magic, one which could be used for good or bad. She refused to have you used as a weapon, and she believed the Guild of Isis would have made you a weapon for their own gain. Instead, she chose someone who would train you in the ways of peace and nurturing. She instructed your Amaya to raise you as one of her own. To guide your mind and magic to their tenants and oppress the darker aspects of your power. I wanted to question her about you, for the first time seeing the real female and not the cold-blooded assassin. Sadly, it was not to be. She refused to say more about you, but the glimpse she gave me softened my wrath toward her. Anyone who could love and sacrifice for their child did have a soul worth salvaging.”
Tears ran unchecked down Leigh’s cheeks, and her throat tightened with the emotion rising from a deeply buried part of her soul. There was still that little child crying out for her mother. Always wondering what her mother found lacking in her which caused her to abandon her so easily. The knowledge worked like a healing balm, soothing the pain and giving her closure and peace. She held the truth close to her breast, absorbing it into her very essence.
Her mother had loved her and sacrificed to see her raised in a culture which cherished all life. The revelation was not lost on her.
With great care, Taren lightly brushed away the tears with his fingers before cupping her face and tilting her head up to meet his gaze head on. “So beautiful, tasa meela.” His deep voice held a husky note, sending a cascade of warmth through her, sweeping over her breasts and down to the juncture between her legs.
“What does that mean?” Her question came out in a breathless whisper as his heat caressed her, building a pulsing need hammering through her.
“The closest translation in your words is ‘bright spirit’.”
Taren drew nearer touching his forehead to hers and stroking her cheek with gentle fingers.
“Oh, I like that,” Leigh whispered, placing her hand over his.
Time froze for one perfect moment as they stood poised on the brink of a precipice she sensed there would be no coming back from.
“My mind tells me this is wrong, what is between us. Still, my soul cries out for you, your body a sweet siren’s song I must follow.”
Her breath caught on his words, her heart opening to him. She was dangerously close to falling in love with him, just as she knew she could trust him with her heart and soul, her very life.
Everything about him and her felt…right. Not wrong as he argued.
She drew away just enough to stare up into his beautiful dark eyes, missing the swirl of red she spied that morning in their dark depths.
“I am yours to take, Taren. I have never before felt such a pull. All that I am calls out for you too.” To lend power to her words, she reached out fingers sinking into thick golden strands of his hair. She marveled in the silkiness before lightly tracing his tightly curved horns.
On a shudder, his eyes closed, his breathing labored as she stroked them. Who knew a Demosian’s s horns could be so sensitive?
Emboldened, she brushed her lips against his, relishing the softness she found. He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck while the other skimmed down her throat to her collarbone. He paused only briefly before continuing to the swell of her left breast. He brushed his thumb across her peaked nipple, and a soft whimper escaped her as fire shot from her breast burning a path down to the juncture between her legs.
“You’re killing me, female,” he growled against her lips as she continued the soft play of her fingers against his horns. “Stop.” The command sounded on a hiss as he rose to his knees and stepped from her reach.
He grabbed her arms pulling her body flush to his and brought his lips down on hers, harsh and demanding. Dominant. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him without hesitation. His engorged cock rubbed hard against her core sending shards of electricity zinging through her veins. She clutched at his broad shoulders, her fingers bit into his skin as he the kiss deeper. Her sex throbbed unbearably, grinding into his hardness desperate for him.
Her body heated, burning for him to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once. Her clothing
was an intolerable barrier to the skin-on-skin contact she needed. She explored the hard ridges of his body, marveling in the soft skin encasing so much strength. She tore at his jeans with a desperation she’d never thought herself capable of, needing him bare before her more than she needed the next beat of her heart.
Only as she stepped back to view him did she dimly remember he had been busy relieving her of her own clothing, but as her gaze fell on his naked body, all thoughts fled her mind. By all the gods and goddesses, he was pure masculine perfection, standing before her with only the collar around his neck and her bandage around his left biceps.
His hair flowed over his shoulders, golden skin stretched over his defined and very male form. She hissed out a breath, eyes narrowing at the slight discoloration of bruising on his stomach and thighs attested to the abuse he’d endured at the hands of his captors. How she wanted to throttle the one who dared beat the beautiful male. His chest narrowed to a trim waist, and his stomach gave new meaning to the term six-pack abs.
His thighs were thick and defined, but it was the long length of him which robbed her of air. Rising from a golden nest of hair, his cock jutted up proud and large. Hers should she be brazen enough to take him, make him hers. The tip wept a pearlescent bead of moisture that had her licking her lips in hunger.
His beautiful face darkened with carnal lust, and her body responded with a fiery ache at her core. A coiling tension began low in her belly. His eyes burned into her as he took her in, nostrils flaring as he raised his head slightly as if to scent the air.
He growled, the rumble stroking over her nerve endings making her quiver in response and her sex spasm in expectation. A slow, devastating smile formed on his full lips, and her knees threatened to buckle. He was beautiful before, but when he smiled, showing a flash of white teeth, he was magnificent. All barriers to her heart turned to utter rubble under his onslaught.
The Hunted (Guild of Assassins Book 1) Page 4
