I flipped open the cover and found a sheaf of paper with a message penned in a precise hand. At the end of the letter, a fierce canis head seal was stamped beneath Vaughn and Mana’s signatures.
The paper trembled in my hand. “Did you happen to open the book?”
“No.” He noted my excitement. “I wasn’t of a mind to read.”
“Here.” I thrust the paper at him. “This might change your tune.”
“These are commission papers.” His brow creased. “I’m relieved of my duties in Cathis and given command over the regiment in place on Titania’s border.” As he worried the paper’s edge between his fingers, dried ink crackled, and a second page drifted free of the first. “What’s that?”
I caught the letter before it brushed the floor. “I don’t know.”
He pinched the top between his fingers. “Let me see, and I can tell you.”
“No, wait.” I skimmed the first line and spotted my name. “This one is addressed to me.”
Murdoch waited as I read before clearing his throat. “Well? What does it say?”
“If you’re reading this, Kaidi girl,” I began, “then my son saw reason for once and did as his mother told him. Stubborn boy never listens. I’m as shocked as you must be, let me tell you. Or I will be once I realize he did as he should, which is to say he spoke with Murdoch. It’s as close to an apology as my boy ever gives. It’s not an admission of his wrongdoing, but more a concession that some decisions must be made in the field, and that if his orders are broken, there better damn well be a good reason. Lucky for you, Murdoch has one. He won’t be punished further. Cramped in a cell overnight as he was, cold and bored, with only the sound of water dripping for company, is punishment enough. Gods that noise drives me batty. Plink. Plink. Plink.” Bemused, I glanced up in time to catch the tic working beneath Murdoch’s eye. With a smile, I read to the end. “You should have gotten a key off me earlier. Use it. You have a room. Put it to use too. Best, Isolde.”
While Murdoch scrubbed his eyes, I flipped her letter from front to back. “How…?”
“Schemes within schemes,” he said though his fingers.
“Clever.” By sending her son to speak with Murdoch, she ensured that if Vaughn did arrive, so would the book and her letter. Knowing I would wish to see Murdoch, she pilfered keys from the guard on watch, which happened to be Lleu. From that point, we were victims of her whims.
“I’m almost afraid to leave.” He leaned against the wall as if contemplating our next move.
Watching him rub his mouth made mine tingle for his kiss. “Then let’s stay here.”
Careful to put the book in a safe spot, I rose and edged past Murdoch. With a clang, I locked us in his cell. The key I waved under his nose a second before dropping it between my breasts. It lodged in a frigid lump that brushed my navel and quickly warmed to match my temperature.
“I won’t take you here,” he told my breasts, for his eyes had not lifted from their vicinity.
I strode to him, pinned his shoulders to the bars. “Then you will be taken.”
“A female in your position…” His voice strangled in his throat when I went to my knees.
“You were saying?” I grasped his pants and worked the laces.
He slid hands under my arms and lifted me from the ground. “No.”
Heat scalding my cheeks, I stepped from his grasp. “Perhaps you are right.” I opened his cell door and reached the first step before Murdoch’s arms enfolded me. “Will you join me upstairs?”
“I have a better idea.” He pressed a kiss to my pulse. “I have somewhere else in mind.”
“Oh?” He must have heard the hesitation in my voice, because he bit me then. Hard.
“Hurry.” He kept an arm around me and led me past his cell. “Before we are caught.”
His was one of several cramped together in a row. At either end, tunnels forked, leading out of the grotto. Those were the ones we could see. I knew from our escape there must be more they kept hidden behind false walls and hatches. Curiosity overwhelmed me. “Where are we going?”
“A place few in Cathis ever go.” He quickened his step. “No one will look for us there.”
Around the bend and up a short flight of stairs, the grotto transitioned into the more familiar patterns of the Tower Square. Here all the doors looked the same, perhaps in an attempt to blend one into another so that any who wandered would become lost if they were not meant to be here.
Murdoch’s gait left me out of breath. His palm slapped against a heavy oak door that swung open on a huff of air smelling of ink and old papers. I sneezed while he called, “Anyone about?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Good thing there was none. While I turned a slow circle, he shifted his attention to a heavy bar meant to lock the door. Grunting, he hefted it into place. “That’ll do.”
Though the room was cramped, smaller than Murdoch’s room I’d wager, it overflowed with bookcases stuffed with hefty tomes. His proprietary manner had made me believe the books kept in his room belonged to him. I realized he had borrowed them from this most unexpected library.
While he cleared a desk with great care, I spotted a ledger on a podium, an accounting of all books loaned by their title and by borrower. My eyes widened at the multitude of titles verses the singularity of the borrowers. Murdoch’s name was scrawled neatly onto every line on the page.
I traced his name with my finger. “Do you come here often?”
“I see my secret has been revealed.” He glanced up from his sorting. “Are you surprised?”
“No.” Now that I knew what to look for, his touches were evident in the careful assignments of books to their shelves. All were arranged by theme or by author, done by a hand that knew the contents of each well enough to transform a modest closet of treasures into a cohesive collection.
I melted when his arms wrapped around me, drawing me close, burying his face at my neck.
“Why do you love books so much?” His addiction seemed so at odds for a guardsman.
“When I was young and trapped in a role, in a place I desperately wanted to leave, they were my escape.” His hot lips pressed against my pulse. A sharp nibble broke skin. “The habit stuck.”
Pleasant heat spread down my throat, warming my chest, quickening my heart as his venom set to work on me. The more potent the venom, the more calculated the dosage, the more aroused its recipient became, assuming the biter knew what they were doing. Murdoch left no doubt on that score. I shivered as fire raced through my veins. He held me, tugged the laces on my bodice.
Fabric ripped. Somewhere I’m sure Stefan sensed his creation’s destruction and wept, but I was too eager to care. Freed of Hishima, sharing my burden of revenge, I was buoyant, giddy. It was as if by peeling my clothing from me layer by layer, he shed the guilt and misery I had worn for so long. Venom-drunk, and happier than I ever had been, I twisted in his arms so that my skin was not the only flesh displayed. Murdoch left me wearing rosy undergarments and the matching corset. Laughing at his attempts to unlace the corset blindly, I finally had to slap his hands away.
After I untucked his shirt, I pulled it over his head and left his hair mussed. Before touching the ties of his pants, I glanced at him for confirmation. His response was to jerk them, leaving us with knots to untangle. Impatience got the better of me. I swatted his hands again. “Let me do it.”
Faster than his eyes widened, I plucked the knife from his belt and cut the ties. His pants fell open, distracting me from the hasty way he snatched the blade from my hand with a hearty curse.
“You are a dangerous female.”
“I am a female who has been waiting for this moment for some time.”
“There was the small matter of our survival to consider.” He resumed picking at my corset.
“Is a life without pleasure worth living?”
“Is living a pleasurable life worth dying for?” He borrowed my trick and sliced the laces.
My corset fell to the gr
ound, joining our other clothes. “Can you die from lack of pleasure?”
“I doubt it.” He watched as I shoved his pants down his thighs. “Or else the world would be populated by half.” He helped me by toeing off his boots. The rest I accomplished with a yank. It must have been my frank staring that brought high color to his cheeks. “I am at a disadvantage.”
I chose to misunderstand him. “I do recall making a promise I have not made good on.”
His gaze lingered on my mouth. “Is that so?”
My smile revealed sharp teeth pulsing with venom our foreplay had aroused. “Oh yes.”
Murdoch came to me, pressing our bare chests together. The warmth from his skin delighted me. His rough hands cupped my breasts, thumbs flicking over my nipples until they stung. In my blood, his venom sang, and I was ready to share that bliss with him. I framed his face, stared into those coal-black eyes burning with desire, and drew his head down, meeting him with my mouth.
I found the harsh curve of his jaw, tasted him as I nibbled my way over to his ear, then down his throat. His breath hitched when my fangs rasped his skin. He arched his neck, giving me what permission I needed. I bit down, puncturing his skin with a guttural moan that resonated from his throat through my mouth. Venom flowed. Though mine was weaker compared to his, and I could give more to him than he had to me, I was unused to the privilege. Not all males allowed the bite.
Hishima had been one for biting. No surprise there. Most males enjoy sinking fangs inside a willing female. I stayed with him so long I had forgotten some males relished the burn of venom.
When I would have released him, Murdoch fisted my hair and held me still.
“More,” he demanded.
His hand eased inside my undergarments, his fingers teasing, finding me wet and ready. I gasped against him as he filled me. He set a rhythm that made me buck against his hand as he explored what I liked and how I liked it. Orgasm surprised me. I was teetering, teetering, then quivering as my mouth ran dry of venom and my knees buckled. He grinned at me, proud as any male ought to be. His exposed fangs brought my hand to my neck. Had his venom made me that weak? Was he so potent? His wicked smile told me yes he was. What’s worse was he knew it.
Intent on returning the favor, I stroked his length until his eyes glazed, then knelt at his feet. The more I kissed and nibbled him, the more I wanted to savor his taste all over. His hands found their way into my hair. Eyes on my lips, he guided me lower, put himself in my mouth and let me bring him pleasure. Above me, his breathing turned sharp and his fingers clenched into fists.
“Kaidi.”
His plea barely penetrated the languorous fog swirling in my mind.
Rocking back on my heels, I followed his glance, chuckling under my breath when I read his intent. “That reminds me of the desk in your room.” I stood, stepped out of my undergarments and let him watch me cross the room wearing nothing but candlelight. “Would you like me to sit here?” I patted a battered chair’s arm. He shook his head. “Oh, well, then.” I smoothed a hand across the worn desktop. “How about here? Is this what you want?”
He shook his head again while twirling his finger. I did as requested and faced the wall.
Murdoch’s lips brushed my ear. “This is what I want.” Grasping my hips, he set me onto the desk in a kneeling position. His palm covered my spine, pushing me down until my cheek rested against cold wood and my core was exposed to his gaze. I jumped when his hand landed firmly on one cheek. “This is what I have wanted since that day I caught you crawling over my desk to reach the window.” His palm struck my other cheek with a force that made my stomach tighten in anticipation of another blow.
Hissing through the sting, I glared back at him. “Sex, or to punish me?”
“Both.” He stepped behind me, between my spread thighs. His hand brushed the heart of me, caressing the small pearl in a way he had discovered made me come undone. “I almost lost you.”
Pleasure built until its release left me shaking, clinging to the desktop. I braced my forehead on the wood, knowing it opened me to him, daring him to claim me. “I knew what I was doing.”
“So do I.” He slid home in a single stroke that left us both panting. “Driving me crazy.”
I smiled against my arm and held tight as his strokes became harder, shorter. His grip on my hips would leave bruises. I didn’t care. I met his pace and kept it until his clever fingers resumed their decadent work on me. Teetering on the edge of bliss, I cried out when his fangs pierced my shoulder. Venom prickled beneath my skin, shoving me headlong into orgasm. Murdoch’s growl of completion was snarled against my back. We collapsed onto the desktop in a boneless mass of sweaty limbs. His harsh breaths warmed my nape. His arms circled my waist, holding me to him.
“When I can move again,” I said with a wince, “there’s a quill jabbing my breast.”
His hand slid between me and the desk, flicking the quill onto the floor. With great care, his soft lips began working kisses into my skin. “Better?” His hips shifted, drawing a whimper from me. “Madness.” His sigh blew hot air across my spine. “Only you inspire this frenzy within me.”
“You are fond of saying I am mad, and perhaps I am, or was.” I rolled my hips against him, and he rewarded me with an audible snap of his teeth. “But as you appear to favor my company, it seems there are those who may assume you are quite mad yourself. What will you say to them?”
“Only that if it is true, you drove me to it. That our madness is a shared condition.”
“And love?” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What of that?”
He grasped my arms, pulling me upright and pressing my back flush to his chest. He guided my head onto his shoulder. “Love is another, rarer form of insanity that I fear must be catching.”
“How so?”
“The look in your eyes,” he rumbled against my neck. “How can you not know I love you?”
“For a male so fond of reading words, did you not think I might crave to hear them spoken?”
“I love you, Kaidi.” His lips brushed my ear. “Wild as you are, I hope never to tame you.”
Happiness twined around my heart, squeezing until the sweetest ache encased me.
“Well?” Murdoch stared at my mouth expectantly. “Have you nothing to say to me?”
“I do love you.” I kissed his sweet lips. “Tame as you are, I hope ever to drive you wild.”
About the Author
Hailey is a wife turned mother turned writer, who loves her husband, her daughter and alone time with her computer. Whenever southern living strikes her as too ordinary, she can be found squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after or with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen. Wings and/or cupcakes are usually involved…
She loves to hear from readers at [email protected].
You can also swing by www.haileyedwards.net for all her latest news.
Look for these titles by Hailey Edwards
Now Available:
Daughters of Askara
Everlong
Evermine
Eversworn
Araneae Nation
A Hint of Frost
A Feast of Souls
A Cast of Shadows
The strongest net is no match for destiny.
A Cast of Shadows
© 2013 Hailey Edwards
An Araneae Nation Story
Daraja has grown up watching her brothers journey down the river on the traditional Deinopidae rite of passage. Each returned with riches from their travels, and lovers with whom to share their lives.
Now she has reached the age where she would strike out on her own to seek her fortune—if she were male. Instead, she is expected to sit patiently, weave her nets and wait for the river to bring a husband to her.
Patience, however, has never been her strong suit.
Brynmor haunts the forest surrounding the city of Cathis, his disembodied spirit inextricably bound to the wild canis roaming his
lands. Until the day he stumbles across a brazen trespasser in his woods.
Compelled to step in when the canis suspect her of poaching one of their own, Brynmor fears he has lost a piece of his ragged soul to the feisty, adventure-seeking female. And when the canis confront the real poachers, he is forced to choose which life to sacrifice. Hers…or his own.
Warning: This book contains one heroine with a knack for weaving nets and one hero who relishes getting caught. Expect singing, some howling, ghostly shenanigans, and the start of a love that transcends death.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Cast of Shadows:
Forget the canis; this male was the most dangerous creature in the woods. Black eyes ringed with sadness, dark hair tousled by his hands. His thin lips pressed tight as if guarding a mouthful of secrets. Before we ventured any farther, I was determined to pry at least one secret from him.
I used my grip on his hand to keep him still. “What is your name?”
He didn’t answer, but he did begin toeing the rocks at his feet.
“I won’t give you time to think of a lie.” I warned, “Tell me your name or I will leave.”
He glanced up slowly, seeming to have made a decision. “My name is Brynmor.”
“That sounds familiar.” I thought it over. “Wasn’t that the name of a Mimetidae paladin?”
“It was, once.” He used our joined hands and led me to the basin. He climbed in first.
I braced on his shoulders to avoid slipping on mossy stones. “You were named after him?”
“Not exactly.” He grasped my hips and lifted me over the ledge.
My toes curled when they touched the calf-deep water. “It’s cold.”
A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation) Page 23
