“We’ve heard nothing from my family, Jensen. I’m sure it’s safe to return now.”
“Are you so eager to leave?” The idea stung. In the past few days, Jensen had experienced more from life than ever. He had found what had been missing for his three hundred years of existence, but he had no way of knowing if Charlemaine felt the same.
They had shared much in their short time together. Meals. Talks. Walks. Kisses. But nothing about the future. Possibly because neither wanted to imagine what might happen.
Charlemaine looked up from the chess game. “That’s not it at all. I like it here now that Remy isn’t constantly on-guard, but I know my family misses me. They must be worried.”
“You had another vision last night.” Jensen though the reminder might help quiet her thoughts of leaving.
“You call them visions, but I’m not so sure they are. What if they’re just strange dreams?”
“The Fire Dagger is not a part of your imagination, Charlemaine. You would have no way of knowing anything about it were it not a vision.”
She thumped the pawn onto the board and rose from the cushioned seat. “I just don’t like this waiting.”
He noticed the slight sway to her step she tried to hide. The effects of the telepathic paralysis should have completely disappeared, but they lingered stubbornly, pushing Jensen to stalk the Healer. The elder wizard had assured him Charlemaine would regain her strength, but Jensen saw something he had not.
In the last day or so, she had begun holding onto things as she walked, and her steps had faltered more often than not. Her complexion had waned as though the blood was being leeched from her body. Jensen had already decided to confront the Healer once more in the morning.
“Jensen?”
He picked up the conversation thread quickly. “None of us do. My brother has worn out his welcome with the sentries, our seer is so tired of seeing Falcon’s face she would like nothing better than to be left alone for the next century, and the others are considering a visit to Nocturne against Falcon’s direct order.” He caught her hand as she made a loop around the table. “As soon as the seer gives us viable information we can act upon, the waiting will be over.”
Charlemaine laid her palm against his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know hearing my constant worry doesn’t help.”
Jensen kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world. It certainly felt that way. “I understand your concerns.” Before he could continue the conversation, a resounding ring in his ears obliterated all thought. He winced and shook his head to clear the after-effects. “Falcon needs to see all of us.”
“He has news.” It wasn’t a guess. Jensen read her face if not her mind.
“Possibly. I shall return as soon as possible.”
“I would not make that promise if I were you,” came an all too familiar voice out of nowhere.
Jensen turned to see his brother materialize in the center of his bedchamber. “What are you doing here?”
Remy gave him a stoic smile. “Saving your life if your intent was to ignore Falcon.”
“I have never ignored a call.”
“So why do I believe you were considering doing just that before I arrived?”
Jensen ignored the question, refusing to take his brother’s bait. Though Remy had stayed away the past few days, he had not moved beyond his distrust of Charlemaine. “Do you know what Falcon wants?”
“We have received a summons from the gate. It seems a member of Charlemaine’s family seeks an audience with us.”
Charlemaine rushed forward. “I should go. More than likely it is my father. I can talk to him and find out what is going on.” She smoothed her hands down her hair and tried to walk past them both, but Jensen snagged hold of her wrist, halting her progress.
“We have had this conversation. Until we know who is behind the attempt to claim the Fire Dagger, we will not release you to your family.”
Remy snorted. “We or you, my brother?”
Jensen gave him a “go to hell look”. “We will both go to Falcon to determine the next course of action.”
“No.” Charlemaine yanked her arm free. “I won’t. I’m tired of seeing Falcon. I want to see my family, and when someone knocks on your door, the polite thing to do is answer it.” She walked faster toward the door, but Jensen appeared in front of her, separating her from freedom. She scowled at him. “You can’t just keep me here.”
“Actually, he can,” Remy said with a sigh. “My brother can be quite determined.”
“As am I.” Charlemaine tipped her head up, issuing a challenge with dark brown eyes that practically spit sparks.
“Do not agitate yourself, Charlemaine. Once I have spoken with Falcon, we will know what he intends to do, and you—”
She interrupted him by placing both hands against his chest and giving him a hard shove. Caught off guard, he stumbled, giving her enough of an opening to yank the door handle and make her way out into the corridor.
Remy grinned for the first time Jensen could remember since childhood. “It would appear the lady has made up her own mind.”
“Going back to her family is too dangerous.”
“Perhaps she is willing to risk the danger or it does not exist for her.”
“What do you mean? And speak your mind, brother, for I do not have a fondness for riddles.”
One shoulder lifted and fell in a careless shrug. “Are you so sure she is innocent in this matter?”
Jensen did not want to hear anymore. He believed in Charlemaine’s innocence. Had not Falcon said as much also? She held no guile within her nor would she be able to hide it from him. It was not possible he had allowed himself to be swayed by the beautiful face and lilting voice. No evil could lurk beneath the surface of that whisper soft skin. He had been too close to her, had seen her true nature.
“Having doubts, Brother?” Remy pushed a little harder.
It was possible Nocturne simply did not want Charlemaine anywhere near them. For all its strength and power, the Assembly was very much an outcast among the other wizards, and few guilds desired any connection except in times of epic battles. Only then were the wizards of the Assembly hailed.
But the issue of the Fire Dagger could not be ignored. Somewhere, there was someone who intended to bring harm to a member of their family. Otherwise, Charlemaine would not have had the vision inside the fortress.
“You should go after her before she loses her way and ends up in Falcon’s bedchamber.” Remy snickered.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
“I thought you knew I did not listen.”
Jensen spun to respond but was silenced by a thunderous boom that reverberated throughout the room. His gaze connected with his brother’s.
“That was not a polite knock nor was it the magic of just one wizard,” Remy ground out each word. “We are under attack. Please remind me to thank your wench.”
Surrounded by his guild, his friends, his family, Riordan realized the risk he was taking and accepted the consequences. He would never be able to rest if he did nothing to avenge his daughter’s death. Whatever might happen to him, he owed Charlemaine that much.
He gave a nod to the gathering of wizards, and all in unison, they launched another fireball, this one even bigger than the first. Though they could only see clouds in front of them, the gates of The Assembly sat just beyond, hidden behind a powerful spell Riordan wasn’t sure they could break.
Hovering in the air, their arms at the ready, the wizards tried again, uniting all of the strength, their power, for one common cause. And for a brief moment, even less than a second, they caught a glimpse of forged steel.
“It’s working!” Riordan’s heart lurched in his chest. If they could break through the spell barrier, they could come face to face with the wizards behind the Assembly, those that considered themselves above all others in the universe.
Before another blast of energy could target the air, the clouds faded to reveal an intricately
carved steel gate at least ten feet high. And as they stood watching, the doors began to open.
“I’m sorry, my brother.” The whisper caught Riordan’s attention momentarily, but it was long enough for Galen to touch his hand to his brother’s shoulder and send him spinning into the atmosphere.
Chapter Six
Jensen took position beside Falcon, his brother to the leader’s left. They transported to the gate, standing far enough back for the heavy iron to sweep open.
“Which of you is the girl, Charlemaine’s, father?” Falcon boomed the question in a loud voice that sent several of the wizards outside the gates scurrying backwards.
Tension crackled in the air, and every muscle in Jensen’s body tightened. It had been a long time since they had been forced to battle another Guild. Falcon detested doing so, but he would protect his own, regardless of the consequences.
“I am her father.” A tall wizard, wearing a vibrant red robe, stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. “Now which one of you bastards killed my daughter?”
“Your daughter is not dead.” A harder edge crept into Falcon’s voice. “And you would be wise to avoid antagonizing us further.”
Jensen seconded that warning with a nod of his head.
“Then send my daughter out if she is not dead.”
The challenge brought such a glare to Falcon’s face, Jensen suspected the leader might self-combust. Falcon wasn’t used to obeying orders nor did he take kindly to being questioned.
“I am here, Papa.” Charlemaine surprised Jensen by appearing at his side. “Now you can send the others home. I’m safe.”
What in the hell is she doing here? Jensen had hoped she’d stay away, remain hidden until they could obtain the truth. Standing so close to the gates, she was in danger. He had no knowledge of her Guild’s abilities. If any of them possessed the power of transference, Charlemaine could be swept away from him before he could intervene. The thought gnawing heavily on his mind, Jensen took hold of her hand. If they took her, they would have to take him as well.
Charlemaine’s gaze transferred to his face, her warm brown eyes meeting his. Fear swirled in the depths of those addictive orbs, and Jensen squeezed her tiny hand, offering reassurance.
“What is your name, wizard?” Falcon ignored Charlemaine’s presence.
“Riordan. I am the leader of Nocturne, and I wish to see for myself that my daughter has been unharmed.”
“Papa, I told you I’m safe. They have not harmed me.”
“You will be silent, Charlie. This is between me and the wizards.”
“Very well,” Falcon responded in a deadly quiet whisper. “Then perhaps you would feel more comfortable discussing this inside.” Without giving Riordan time to answer, Falcon swept out a hand, the force of the move dragging the wizard inside the gates that quickly clanged shut.
“What are you doing?” Charlemaine yanked her hand free of Jensen’s to bar Falcon’s path. “Let him go.”
Before their leader could move her, Jensen took hold of her arm, pulling her gently to one side. He was not sure Falcon would have been so kind. “Falcon has to speak with your father, Charlemaine. We must know about the Fire Dagger.”
“And what makes you think he knows anything?” Her tortured gaze remained on her father’s retreating back.
“If he knows nothing, he will be released immediately, but with the threat of the Dagger hanging over our heads, Falcon will take no chances.”
“I’m more concerned with what he’ll do if my father refuses to talk to him. Didn’t you see how upset Papa was? He doesn’t respond well to threats and intimidation.”
Jensen traded glances with his brother who, for the first time, looked genuinely concerned. Both knew Falcon would not need to resort to threats to obtain any information from Charlemaine’s father, but if he refused to cooperate, he could be harmed inadvertently.
Charlemaine grabbed hold of his robe and gave it a good yank. “What are you not telling me, Jensen?”
He tried to smile away her fears, but she continued to glare up at him. “It is nothing for you to worry about. Come. We will return to the fortress. As soon as Falcon has spoken with your father, you will be able to see him.”
“Don’t you mean return home?”
Sending Charlemaine home was the last thing he wanted to do. The choice would not be his, but he could convince her to stay. He wanted her to stay.
“Where does Falcon have my father?” Charlie paced the floor of the bedchamber Falcon had sentenced her to.
Jensen leaned against the wall closest to the door, watching her traverse a path from one end of the room to the other. “I imagine the Assembly room, but please sit down, Charlemaine, before you tire yourself out.”
She hadn’t regained full strength, but her nerves wouldn’t let her stay still for very long. “What do you think he’s doing to him?”
“They are talking. Nothing more.”
“And you’re sure of that?” She came to stand in front of him, needing to see his face. The initial trust she had in him hadn’t waivered. Jensen wouldn’t lie to her.
He pushed himself off the wall, took hold of her arm, and led her to the bed. “Tell me about your life.”
“What?” She stopped walking. “My father is being interrogated, and you want to talk about that?”
His hands were a little firmer when they lowered her to the bed, giving her no option but to follow the command. She dropped to the mattress, tilting her head back to give him a hostile look.
“And I did notice you ignored my question.”
Jensen’s lips twitched, making her toes curl. Did he have any idea how he affected her? Undoubtedly, she was not the first female to feel this way. Why hadn’t he taken a wife yet? Surely there had to be droves of women lining up outside his bedchamber, hoping for a chance to be his.
His. Her imagination flew into the stratosphere. What would it be like to live with Jensen? To be a part of this world, his world? To taste his kisses every day and to have the right to touch him at will?
Jensen sat beside her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
The idea of revealing her thoughts to him mortified her. “Are you sure my father isn’t being hurt or tortured?”
Blue eyes went stormy. “We are not in the habit of inflicting pain on anyone who enters this fortress, Charlemaine. Have you not been treated well even when Falcon was concerned you were the enemy?”
“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm to add to her apology. “He’s my father. Surely you can understand why I would be worried about him.”
He turned her hand over, laced her fingers with his. “As long as he is inside these walls, he is safe. We make every effort to avoid harming even those who oppose us.”
The gentle look in his eyes coupled with the warmth of his fingers entwining hers brought a smile to her face. “I can’t imagine you would ever be involved in hurting anyone.”
“Only if I was given no choice.” His free hand lifted, and his fingers stroked her cheek. “Or if someone I loved was in danger.”
His touch stoked a fire within her, a desire she’d never experienced. And the way he looked at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him, sent her spinning into an alternate reality where she was his and he was hers.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the errant thoughts. Her focus should be on her father not on wild ideas. But Jensen kept looking and her, and she kept thinking. Hoping, almost.
Unable to stop herself, she touched a finger to his mouth then replaced the digit with her own lips. She thought she heard him sigh, or it might have been her own.
Jensen’s large hands cupped her face, puling her deeper into the kiss she’d initiated. Tongues touched. Tasted. Lips whispered against lips.
Charlie slid her hands up the wall of his chest, and the muscles tightened beneath her palms. With his groan, she grew bolder, pushing against him until he lowered his back to the mattress, taking her
with him.
Flushed and dazed, Charlie writhed on top of him, confusion warring with desire. Burning from the inside out, she wanted more of this, more of him. Frustration, the need to feel naked skin against naked skin, had her peeling the shirt away from his body.
Groaning, Jensen flipped her over, reversing their positions. The hardness of his body pressed hers into the bed, but the closeness only served to fuel the flame torturing her. She needed to be closer to him, to breathe in the scent of his skin
Reading her thoughts, Jensen slid his hand up underneath her blouse, pushing it upwards. His breaths became as loud and distinct as her own. As his fingertips danced across her naked skin, Charlie’s brain shut down.
Running on pure emotion, instinct, she offered herself to Jensen like a sacrifice to the gods, pleading with him to take what she willingly gave.
The kisses became frantic, lips meeting briefly only to trail down over warm skin. They each sought territory with their hands, hers running over hard muscle, his over smooth skin.
Jensen rose up to kiss her harder, to brand her with his mouth while he removed the remnants of her clothing. He covered her with his heat, and Charlie embraced him with her legs, urging him to complete what she had started.
He whispered her name against her cheek then took what she offered, plunging into her. His hands captured hers, raised them over her head, and laced their fingers.
Charlie didn’t fight the hold. So many sensations warped her mind, muting any desire she might have for freedom. She simply followed the movement of his body, taking as he gave, giving as he took until her soul demanded to be satisfied.
The release poured over her so quickly, so abruptly, Charlie cried out, her voice echoing throughout the bedchamber. Jensen buried his face in her neck as he reached his own climax, his hands squeezing hers so tightly she gasped as reality returned.
Jensen released her hands immediately with a curse. “I am sorry.” His forehead bumped against hers.
The feeling restored to her fingers, Charlie kissed his shoulder. “I’ll survive.”
“Charlie!”
The First Spell Page 5
