Otherworld Protector

by Jane Godman

  “You mean it’s her hobby?”

  He laughed, pulling her down so that he could kiss her again. “It’s exactly like a vile hobby. When I realized what she was, I tried to end it. That was when things went from bad to worse.”

  “She didn’t go gracefully?” Stella squirmed with pleasure as he ran his hand down the curve of her waist and over her hip.

  “She didn’t go at all. She simply refused to listen to what I was saying. From then on, wherever I went Niniane was there. She behaved as though we were still together, clinging to me, telling me that I was just afraid to admit my true feelings for her. When I tried to avoid her, she started sending me endless poems about how she wanted me to share her pain.”

  “Like the medieval equivalent of posting sad song lyrics on your Facebook page so your ex knows how much you’re hurting.”

  He looked perplexed. “Are you trying to remind me of the chasm between you and me?”

  Stella shook her head. “Just the opposite. I’m pointing out that the entity of the mad ex has always been there. It’s only the technology that’s evolved.”

  “It was frightening. She went quiet for a while and I thought she’d got the message. Then the threats started.”

  “She threatened you?”

  “No. She’s not stupid. She knew I wouldn’t respond to threats against myself, so she directed her menace to others instead. ‘We need to talk. Meet me at the lakeside. Be there or a fire will engulf the village of Mickle Bunby.’ That was just the start.”

  His expression was bleak and Stella knew that the memory was painful. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and he turned on his side, propping himself on one elbow so that he could look at her. “Did you go?”

  “I had to. I knew she would carry out her threats if I didn’t. Each meeting was the same. She was convinced I loved her. I just couldn’t see it. Why was I fighting the inevitable? The same questions and pleas, then ultimately threats of revenge. Over and over. It culminated in her threatening to bring about the end of the mortal world if I didn’t swear my undying love.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “I asked her for some time to think. I couldn’t see a way out. I knew she would carry out her threat but I couldn’t bear the thought of spending eternity with Niniane. I hid myself away in a cave deep in the ancient forest of Brocéliande in the Bretan region of France.”

  “Darnantes.” Stella said the word in the same doom-laden tone that Cal used in his dreams.

  “Yes, it was one of my favorite places. Then. Not now. Not anymore. Unknown to me, Niniane had tracked me down and was watching me. Stalking me, people would no doubt say these days. The elders of a village in the area close to the forest appealed for my help with a minor problem and, while I was there, I happened to have a conversation with a young girl. I didn’t even remember talking to her afterward.”

  “Let me guess. Niniane remembered it,” Stella said.

  “Not only did she remember, she also convinced herself I had fallen in love with this girl. She became like a woman possessed. Or—more dangerously—like a sorceress possessed. That night I fell asleep in my cave. The next day, when I awoke, I found I couldn’t leave. The only person who could get in to see me was Niniane. Her reasoning was that if she couldn’t have me then no one else could either. She brought me food and water—when she remembered—and taunted me with the stories she was telling the world.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “It took a long time. In the end, it was Lorcan who brought about my release. He tried repeatedly to get into the cave, and he knew better than to believe Niniane’s tales that she had been forced to imprison me to protect herself. He went to the Dominions and asked for their intervention. At first they refused. Their role is to oversee, not to become actively involved. But I was too valuable for them to lose. And events were shaping in Otherworld that would lead to this looming confrontation. Eventually, they agreed to release me. There were conditions attached.”

  Stella swallowed hard. “Am I a condition?”

  “You were once. You stopped being that a long time ago. In return for my release the Dominions put me to work as a protector of the barrier between Otherworld and the mortal realm. Guarding you was part of that because of the prophecy.”

  “And Niniane has been waiting for a chance to get you back in her clutches all this time.”

  “Yes. I don’t think the words forgive or forget are in her vocabulary.”

  “There are stories out there that she was an innocent young girl until you pursued and then seduced her. Then you taught her magic, which she eventually managed to use against you by entombing you in a rock. She had to do it because your sexual demands were so insatiable.”

  “Niniane was always good at propaganda. Believe me, she was about as innocent as sin, and if there was any pursuing being done it was by her.” He gave a rueful grin. “Insatiable? Is that really what is being said?”

  “Yep. Merlin the sex pest,” Stella teased, sliding her hands under his T-shirt and lifting it over his head.

  He groaned. “That bad?”

  “Not at all.” Stella gave a chuckle, moving on to undo his jeans. “On the contrary, it’s very good. I should know.”

  Cal shrugged out of the rest of his clothes quickly, catching hold of Stella and pulling her hard against his chest. “You have a wicked sense of humor. I think we need to do something about that. I have this plan...”

  Before he could put any plan into action, there was an almighty pounding on the door and Moncoya’s voice almost took the wood from its hinges. “The mercenary has escaped. Open up at once!”

  Stella scrabbled for some clothes, dragging on shorts and a vest over her underwear. “Quickly, Cal, find somewhere to hide.” The words were unnecessary. He was gone.

  She opened the door, feigning sleepiness and bewilderment. Moncoya almost bowled her over as he burst through into the room, his eyes darting wildly into every corner.

  “Has he been here?”

  “Who?” Stella yawned and stretched for a bit of added effect.

  “Jethro the mercenary, of course. The other bastard mongrel son of a mortal bitch will never be free again.”

  “Ezra, you are going to have to be a little more specific about whom you are cursing. And maybe you could come back and do it at a more reasonable hour?”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her hard against the wall so that the breath left her lungs in a gasp. “Stop playing games with me!”

  Stella caught a glimpse of familiar movement on the edge of her vision and raised a hand to forestall Cal. If he stepped in to help her now, Moncoya would know he was free and all would be lost. They were so close. Moncoya was unraveling before their eyes. Cal had said he couldn’t be sure he could fool Niniane twice. If the sorceress got her way and Cal really was rendered ineffective, Stella and Lorcan would be weakened to the point of helplessness even with Jethro on their side. Niniane was Cal’s kryptonite. They had to keep him secret and keep her away from him until the final confrontation. She sensed the shadowy figure calming as if Cal’s own thoughts echoed hers.

  Finding her breath, and with it her voice, Stella whirled herself away from Moncoya. “If this is a taste of married life, you are not selling it to me.”

  Moncoya ran a hand through his hair, ruffling its careful disorder. Things must be bad. Stella bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at the incongruous thought. “Jethro may seek revenge. You cannot be alone tonight.”

  “Call me old-fashioned, but no way are we spending the night before our wedding together.”

  Moncoya looked as if he could cheerfully have strangled her. Maintaining control of his temper with an obvious effort, he nodded. “Very well. I will send guards to stay here with you.”

  “They can sit
outside the door. I’ll call them if I need them.” Stella forestalled his protest. “I need my sleep, Ezra. After all, a girl wants to look her best for her wedding day.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked out without a response. Stella hurried to lock the door after him.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he might be regretting his decision to marry me, after all. What do you think?”

  Cal materialized just behind her. Still naked. And gloriously erect, from what she could feel as his hands gripped her hips and he drew her back against his body. “I think the faerie king may well have met his match in the necromancer star. I’m also wondering why the hell we’re wasting valuable time talking about him.”

  Chapter 23

  “I don’t think my bridegroom would approve of this as my wedding day alarm call,” Stella murmured as Cal’s lips traced a line up her neck and along her jaw. “Not that I’m complaining, you understand.”

  He took her face between his palms, catching the soft moan that escaped her with his mouth when he moved his lips across hers and his tongue swept inside. Stella moved closer, fitting the contours of her body to his like two parts of an interlocking puzzle. The long, thick length of his erection pressed insistently against her stomach. He ravished her mouth slowly, stroking, licking and sucking until she was gasping and whimpering with need.

  “I want you all the time. Every minute,” he whispered.

  “That’s good, because I want you all the time, too.” Her voice was husky in response.

  Cal sucked in a deep, ragged breath. He should go. Instead, his fingers strayed to her breast. He was playing with fire by staying here while the palace bustled into life. But those mewling sounds Stella was making were driving him wild with desire. And this was the kind of fire he liked playing with.

  Moving between Stella’s thighs, he nudged her knees apart. The broad head of his cock stroked her opening and Stella surged against him.

  “Please...”

  Slowly, he pushed inside her, stretching her sensitized muscles. He began to move gently, working just the tip of his cock in and out, going only a fraction deeper with each movement. Stella ground her pelvis upward. Cal ignored the mute invitation to thrust deeper, continuing to tease her, rocking in and out in a slow, tormenting rhythm that was delicious agony for both of them.

  Stella dug her nails into his shoulder. “Cal, if you don’t stop torturing me I’ll scream.”

  “You can’t. There are sidhes just outside the door.” He smiled into her eyes.

  In answer, Stella curved her legs around his hips so that he sank into her, stretching her tight flesh and penetrating deep as she yielded and opened to him. She lifted her hips, meeting his lunge with a gasp. Cal ground his hips in a circle, delighting in the expression on Stella’s face as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

  “You like that?”

  Her response was a muffled sound that he took to be a sign of approval. Her muscles gripped him tight, embedding him deep within her as he thrust slowly and purposefully. They strained together, finding the rhythm they had already made uniquely theirs. Stella’s nails dug deep into his shoulders, urging him to go harder and faster until, with a sharp high cry, she shattered with pleasure around him. Cal’s own climax followed seconds later, starting at the base of his cock and radiating out until his whole body shook and trembled with the force of it.

  Sometime later, the world was restored to normality and Cal lay on his side, studying Stella’s face. “You look troubled.” As soon as he uttered the words, he winced. She had every reason to be worried, after all. He was about to send her into battle against some of the most powerful forces Otherworld had ever known.

  Stella leaned on one elbow so that she could look at the clock. The hands seemed to have speeded up all of a sudden. “Moncoya will have more surprises in store for us later, won’t he?”

  “You can count on it.” To hell with the time. Cal drew her back into his arms. “The only thing that is predictable about Moncoya is his unpredictability.”

  “How do you know so much about him?”

  There it was. The question upon which everything, including Cal’s own identity and very being, hinged. The only question that mattered. The one question he could never answer. Because if Stella found out the truth, the look he saw now in her eyes would vanish. That warm glow that told him how much she loved and trusted him would be gone forever and in its place he would see hard, cold disgust. It was something he couldn’t risk. Not today. He had promised her the truth and he would keep that promise...once the battle for Otherworld was over. He would tell her and then he would walk away from her. Forever. Even if it cost him his very soul, he would not stay to see the expression in those green eyes change.

  “Know thy enemy. They are wise words,” he said.

  Sliding from the bed and tugging on his jeans, he held out a hand. Stella wrapped a sheet around her and went to him. Cal led her to the balcony, standing back so that they could survey the scene below, without being seen themselves.

  It didn’t look like a battleground. From the balcony of the queen’s chambers, it looked like a celebrity wedding venue in an exotic location. The Italian Riviera or a privately owned island.

  Chairs were set in rows on squares of green velvet lawn, facing a flower-laden arch. The scent of lemon and orange trees vied with the sharp tang of pine forests covering the steeply sloping hillsides. Lush formal gardens rolled away to the edge of a vast shimmering lake. Behind the gathering guests, the fairy-tale palace glimmered white in the afternoon sunlight, and beyond that soaring cliffs resembled the jagged teeth of an ancient slumbering dragon.

  Silently, Stella took all of this in, her eyes solemn. Cal kept his own gaze fixed on her face. When she spoke at last, her words were unexpected. “That was only half of the quote.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You said ‘know thy enemy.’ That’s only half of the quote.” Her green gaze was very direct. “Know thyself, know thy enemy. That’s the full quote, Cal.”

  * * *

  “Aren’t you a sight for Irish eyes?” Lorcan lounged in the doorway of Stella’s room, looking her up and down. “Tell me this and tell me true, do you have the big feller hidden away somewhere safe?”

  “How did you guess?” She glanced into the corridor to check that no one was around before closing the door.

  “Sure, and what else could have brought that smile to your face on a day like today?”

  Stella gave him a quick précis of Cal’s escape from the dungeons. “He’s gone to find Jethro. Then the two of them will be waiting on the hillside for our signal.”

  “And what will that be?”

  “When you place my hand in Moncoya’s.”

  The thought made her shiver. There was no going back now. Stella cast a final glance at her reflection in the mirror. All credit to Moncoya. For an evil, murdering bastard, he had impeccable taste in clothes. Stella had been reluctant to wear a dress of his choosing, but she had nothing else that was suitable. The dress, flowers and shoes that were delivered to her room that morning were exquisite in their bohemian beauty. She didn’t like to dwell on how closely Moncoya must have observed her to get it so absolutely right. The whole outfit had been chosen to complement her delicate, elfin looks. The sleeveless dress, which fastened up the back with tiny pearl buttons, was made from vintage ivory lace. It was perfectly fitted over her upper body, skimming her hips and ending in handkerchief points at midcalf. On her feet were sandals in the same ivory color, adorned with more pearls. A circle of tiny white rosebuds nestled in the glossy darkness of her hair. She grimaced. It was going to be hell getting blood out of the lace.

  “Ready?” Lorcan held out his arm.

  “As I’ll ever be.” Gathering up a bouquet of rosebuds tied with ribbons, she slid her hand into the
crook of his elbow. Lorcan didn’t scrub up too badly himself. He looked rakishly smart in a pale gray suit and blue shirt.

  When they stepped out into the sunlight, Stella could almost have believed she had been transported into the mortal realm and someone else’s celebrity lifestyle. The champagne-sipping guests were seated and, as she and Lorcan walked slowly down the aisle between their chairs, they craned their heads to get a glimpse of the bride. Just as if this was a normal wedding. As if she was not walking to meet the faerie king. As if everyone didn’t know this was a crazy charade in which all were waiting to see who would make the first move.

  Moncoya was standing beneath the arch of flowers with Prince Tibor at his side. In front of them was Niniane. Of course. This was the sort of ceremony that was crying out to be performed by a mad sorceress.

  Moncoya was jaunty in a faintly military three-piece suit with epaulettes and gold braid edging. Prince Tibor looked as if he had taken time out from a photo shoot for a men’s fashion magazine. Floating robes of gray green enhanced Niniane’s witchy remoteness. They all turned to watch Stella and Lorcan as they approached. Moncoya’s eyes blazed sidhe fire and triumph. Niniane’s gaze could have frozen the pit of hell itself. The prince smiled. Still no hint of fangs, Stella noted, her mind determined to dwell on the smallest detail.