by Anya Bast
“I’ll gather some wood for a fire and we’ll get warm,” he said. “I have supplies in the cabin, as long as no one has looted them.”
“I’ll help you gather wood—”
“No, Lilane. I can do it on my own. You need to take it easy.” He guided her to the cottage and unlocked the door. The inside smelled musty from being closed up for so long, but it appeared no one had been inside. A hearth dominated one wall of the one-room building. Two chairs flanked the fireplace. A table stood on the opposite end of the cabin. A double bed dominated the corner opposite the table. Alongside of it stood a cabinet containing some food stores, and what Rue was most interested in at the moment, supplies to treat wounds. He guided her toward the bed and then headed back out to find wood to burn.
He picked up a piece of deadwood and grimaced at the pain it caused him. He stood to find Lilane standing in front of him. Her eyes were deep and somber as she regarded him. “I want to help you.”
He nodded once and looked away—toward the north and the border of Nordan. Would he be traveling alone on the morrow, after they’d crossed into that land?
They gathered enough deadfall and tinder to start a fire and headed inside. Rue arranged it all and ignited it in the hearth. The crackling embers drove the chill away.
He turned to Lilane, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, but, then, so had he. “First, we have to treat our wounds.” He walked to the cabinet and pulled out what he needed. “Then get some food and water in us.” He nodded at the bed. “And get some sleep. We’ll feel a lot better after that.”
She walked toward him. “Take your shirt off.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. You first. Pull off your gown and sit down on that bed.”
She acquiesced with a tired nod of her head and did as he’d requested. He picked up her torn, blood-soaked gown and tossed it on the fire. She made a noise of concern. “I have a fresh clothing here for you,” he said.
He walked toward her with a bottle of something in his hand, a sponge and some bandages. Firelight danced over the luscious curves of her nude body, but he couldn’t enjoy the sight, not when that gash profaned the beauty of her chest.
“You kept clothing for your former…students?” she asked in a solemn voice.
“No, for my mistresses.”
She looked up in surprise. “Whenever did you have time for those?”
He laughed. “A man always has time for those.”
She looked down and away.
“That is, until he meets the right woman and doesn’t feel a need for others anymore.”
She bit her bottom lip and kept her gaze averted. He set his things on the bed, pulled a blanket from the back of a chair and tucked her into it. She snuggled against it gratefully. Rue sat on the bed in front of her and moistened the sponge with some of the antiseptic herbal solution from the bottle. It was a product made especially for sword wounds.
He pushed her heavy hair away from the wound and settled the mass behind one shoulder. Carefully, delicately, he bathed the blood away, starting at the edge of the wound and moving progressively closer in.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not as bad as I’d feared. You will not have to have it stitched closed.”
She glanced at his chest. “I’ll bet you good flourentimes yours will.”
“Maybe so. Let’s get you taken care of first.”
He cleaned it, disinfected it, and wrapped the bandage around her upper chest. “Does the wound pain you?”
She moved her shoulders a bit, testing her flexibility with the bandage, he assumed. “It’s very sore, but it feels better. Thank you.”
He helped her don a fresh gown and she stood immediately. It was a very fine, white linen and too large for her. The neckline slipped over one smooth shoulder. He could see the outline of her lush body as she stood in front him, backlit by the firelight. His muscles tensed at the sight. His body always responded quickly to Lilane.
“Let’s see to your wound,” she said, taking up the antiseptic and a clean sponge.
Rue waited patiently while she fussed over him, in turn wincing at her ministrations and stopping himself from grabbing her around the waist and settling her in his lap.
Finally she stood back and looked at him. Her face had paled. “You need stitches, Rue. The wound goes deep.”
He frowned. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…fine. I just want to see this wound closed up. Do you have a needle and thread?”
“In the cabinet with the rest of the supplies. I’ll get it.”
She pushed gently on his arm when he went to stand. “I’ll get it. Stay there.”
He watched as she got the supplies she needed and burned the needle with the fiery end of a branch from the fire. With care she stitched the wound up and wrapped a bandage around his chest.
She sat beside him on the bed and drew a shaky breath. Concern flooded him. “I’ll make us some dinner, Lilane. Then let’s sleep, all right?” He moved to take some of the stored food from the cabinet—dried mixings for a stew, which he combined with fresh water from the spring near the cottage and cooked in the kettle over the fire.
By the time he’d finished, Lilane had wrapped herself up in the quilt on the bed and fallen fast asleep. He brushed a tendril of hair away from her face as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.
On the morrow would she leave him after all? Her eyes said she would.
* * * * *
Anaisse stood on the balcony of her chamber, overlooking the gardens. Her sleeping gown moved and shifted with the breeze, brushing her body like a gloved hand. Her long, freed hair moved around her. Below her the flowers shivered delicately. Most had furled their petals for autumn already.
The Nordanese had been far more humane than she’d ever believed they would be, treating those they’d captured with respect and deference. Still, her pride, along with her country’s, was badly piqued. Sudhra had set out to conquer and instead been conquered.
Her father and his advisors were under guard. Lord Gregor had told her he planned to talk with them over the next few days in an effort to work some sort of alliance between their peoples. Gregor had said alliance with a certain amount of sexual heat in his green eyes. Anaisse swallowed hard, wondering how much of a role she’d have to play in such an arrangement.
Gregor.
She hugged herself and swallowed hard. She’d met him once a few years ago when she’d visited his lorddom with her father. Gregor was a good-looking man in a savage sort of way. He possessed the body of a warrior, strong and honed by strenuous physical activity. His face was somewhere left of handsome, looking as though it’d been hewn from a hunk of granite…but his mouth. Anaisse closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning it. Anot, his mouth was beautiful. He had full, nicely shaped lips that smiled very rarely, but when he did, it was breathtaking.
Despite his rare smile, there was an edge of darkness to him, something bordering on the edge of dangerousness.
Anaisse shivered. She hoped her father wouldn’t use her as a bargaining chip. Gregor was the kind of man who would chew her up and spit her out. The problem was, she feared she’d enjoy it. The man touched something deep inside her. Some dark place she kept all her desires locked down and away.
Anaisse turned and walked back into her room, closing the double doors of the balcony behind her and drawing the curtains closed. An armed guard stood watch outside her door, making her feel safe in an odd way.
She picked up her lantern and set it on her bedside table. Then she flipped the covers back and crawled into bed. She sighed as the softness of the mattress cushioned her body and the blankets enveloped her.
Anaisse reached over, snuffed the light and closed her eyes. The heavy hands of sleep beckoned and she didn’t resist.
A shuffling sound awoke her in the dead of night. Her eyes came open and she sat up, glancing around her chamber. The moonlight bleached the color from the room and cast long, shiftin
g shadows.
“Who’s there?” she asked. Nothing. She waited several more moments, but no other sound met her ears. Perhaps she dreamt it. She snuggled back down into her bed.
Another shuffling sound came from somewhere near the door.
Anaisse bolted upright and grabbed for her lantern. “Who’s there?” she asked the darkness.
Out of the shadows by the door walked three men. She recognized one of them. “Lord Vant? What are you doing in my chamber in the middle of the night?” She hated the tinny note of fear in her voice.
He said nothing. He only stalked toward her. She tried to slide out the other side of the bed, but he grabbed her arm. He pressed a damp piece of material over her mouth. She struggled and tried to bite him, but he grabbed her nape with strong hands so she couldn’t move her head.
A sweet cloying smell emanated from the material. Anaisse held her breath, kicking the blankets off and clawing at his arm. Lord Vant let out a muffled cry of pain and she knew with a measure of satisfaction that she’d drawn blood. Still, he held her.
Finally the need to breathe became paramount. It was either that or pass out. Anaisse drew a deep draught through the saturated material. Her vision almost instantly began to dim. Her body went oddly limp.
“We’re here to abduct you, my lady,” came Vant’s pleased voice.
It was the last thing she heard before darkness took her.
* * * * *
Lilane woke slowly, first feeling her wound, hot and sore in her chest—then feeling Rue’s strong, protective arms around her. Morning sunlight slanted in through the windows. Something bubbled in the kettle hanging over the fire, and it filled the small cottage with the aroma of carrots and meat. It was a lovely dream, she decided, so domestic, warm and safe. She snuggled into Rue’s arms and enjoyed it. How nice it would be to live here with him. But she knew, all too well, that fairy tale was better to left to naïve children.
She knew that as much as she wanted to stay with Rue forever, she couldn’t. Almost losing him the day before had brought that point home to her in a painful way. To stay with Rue meant one day having to watch him die…as she’d watched Dal die.
She closed her eyes as the images assaulted her. She’d reached Dal after he’d crumpled to the ground and the soldier who’d run him through had stridden away. With bloodstained hands, he’d gripped the skirts of her gown, trying to speak and failing. Instead he’d taken his dagger and pressed it into her palm, and then his eyes had gone unseeing—his body heavy and limp.
Her parents she’d found in their cottage. The soldiers had set it aflame and she’d run back in to get them out. Through the choking smoke and falling rafters, she’d seen them prone on the rush-strewn floor. Lilane had run to them both only to find them beyond saving.
With Dal and her family gone, she’d wished for death then. If a soldier had come for her, she would not have raised a finger in her own defense. But the Goddess Ariane had a bitter sense of humor. Of all the days that a Sudhraian would not accost her, it was the one day Lilane would have welcomed it.
Rue shifted beside her and stood. She watched through slitted eyes as he spooned up two bowls of the stew and poured two tall glasses of water. He’d been up earlier, she guessed, preparing their meal.
Her stomach growled loudly and she could feign sleep no longer. She sat up, sniffing at the scent of the food.
“Come and eat, Lilane,” said Rue. “You fell asleep last night before the stew was heated.”
She stood, walked to him and took the bowl he offered. Together they sat at the table and ate.
“After we eat I’ll change your bandage and we’ll head out. We’re completing our journey to Nordan today.”
She looked down and pushed a carrot around her bowl. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. She tried to force herself to tell him she’d be leaving him as soon as they crossed the border, but she couldn’t compel her vocal cords into action.
* * * * *
Rue and Lilane passed the border in early afternoon, traveling by air since they had no horses.
Lilane blew a breath of pure relief when her feet touched Nordanese soil. Rue had landed them in the middle of a copse. The forest floor was thick with fallen leaves from the storm that had blown through, but the sky was clear now—bright blue and cloudless. The sight was in direct contrast to her emotions.
She stepped from Rue’s embrace with reluctance.
Rue closed his wings and turned to her. “So this is it, Lilane,” he said. “Here’s where I set you free, though you were free a long time ago, really. You can stay with me.” He glanced away, betraying his emotion. “I want you to stay with me.”
“I…I cannot, Rue,” she said simply. “I’m sorry.”
He closed the distance between them so quickly it stole her breath. He took her in his arms and tipped her chin to his face. “Do you really think I’ll let you leave me? I love you, Lilane, and you love me. Don’t let your fears come between what we could have together. You are my bonded mate. We are meant to be together.”
She furrowed her brow. “What?”
“You have Aviat somewhere in your bloodline. It’s not much and it’s very diluted, but it’s there. It’s enough to make you and I a bonded Aviat pair, Lilane. It’s how I knew you were in danger at the Priestdom. It’s how I knew where to look for you.”
Confusion swirled through her mind. Could it be true? It would explain her instant attraction to him. She shook her head. If anything, it made the need to leave him more acute. “Rue, that may be true, but it doesn’t matter.”
“What about this then? Doesn’t this matter?” Anger laced his tone. He lowered his head to hers and rubbed his lips slowly…so slowly across hers. Before he’d even kissed her, before he’d parted her lips and slid his tongue in to dance against hers, her body had answered his call. Her sex plumped, readying itself for him. Her nipples hardened and her breathing and heart rate went into double time.
She pushed him away. “No,” she said with finality.
“What?”
“It seems like ages ago now, but when we first met you told me to say no if I wanted you stop.” She looked away and her voice dropped a notch. “No, Rue.”
Silence.
Tears stung Lilane’s eyes as she heard him turn and walk away.
She waited until she could hear his footsteps no longer to sink to the ground and cover her face with her hands. Grief poured out of her, pounded her every bit as harshly as the day she’d lost Dal and her parents. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to feel free of the attachments that would cause her heartbreak. She was supposed to feel blessedly numb, not this heart crushing pain that stole her very breath.
Goddess. What had she done?
Anaisse’s words came back to her; you can’t live your life in fear of loss. You must take the loves and joys you find today and not think about the tomorrows. To push Rue away because you’re afraid is the same thing as losing him. You’ll still be grief-stricken in the end.
Could it be that the grief she tried so hard to avoid was inevitable no matter how close her ties with those she loved? Could it be she would either feel it when Rue died, or she’d feel it now, after they’d been parted? Had she simply traded one kind of pain for another, with the addition of less love and passion in her life?
“Rue,” she yelled suddenly.
She scrambled to her feet and ran in the direction he’d gone. She was stupid for ever thinking she could leave him. She had to find him before he’d left. Hopefully he would forgive her. She rounded a large oak not far away and tipped her head up to search the skies.
“Lilane.”
Glancing around frantically, she saw him standing not far away. He idly twirled a leaf by the stem.
She ran to him and launched herself into his arms. A torrent of words fell from her lips. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me!”
He held her close and stroked her hair. “I stayed,
hoping you’d come to your senses. Otherwise I was going to come back and capture you again. There’s no way I’d ever let you leave me.”
She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, inhaling the rich, masculine scent of him. “I love you, Rue,” she murmured.
He sighed. “Those are the words I wanted to hear. I love you too, Lilane.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He pulled her up against him and kissed her back in a way that left no doubt in her mind that he loved her completely. Desire flared low within her as he parted her lips and branded her tongue with that knowledge. This time she had no reason to tamp it down or deny it, so it spread slowly outward, consuming her.
She broke the kiss, lowered her eyes demurely and stepped away from him.
“I have to have you now, Lilane. Don’t deny me,” he warned.
Before he could move to take her up again, she raised a hand to stay him.
Catching and holding his gaze, she slid her slippers off. Then slowly, teasingly, she pulled the white linen gown over her head and cast it to the ground, leaving her nude to the caress of the breeze.
He took a step forward with an aroused, impatient growl, and she stopped him with a single look of warning. She raised her hands and undid her long braid, one careful link at a time. His gaze roved over her body hungrily as his shoulders hunched a little and his muscles tensed. “What are you doing, Lilane?”
Her only response was a mischievous smile. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it. The ends brushed her waist when she moved or the breeze blew. Her sex was plumped; ready for anything Rue had planned for it. Her nipples were high, rosy and very, very hard. Rue’s gaze caressed them.
She cupped her breasts in her hands. “Do you want to touch them?”
His hands clenched. “I want to worship them with not only my hands, but my lips and tongue. I want to suck on them until I bring you to climax by that action alone.”
She shivered at the thought. Holding his gaze, she caressed her nipples with her thumbs. “Would you touch them like this?” she asked breathlessly.
