by Brenna Lyons
“It was only a dream,” she insisted.
“I don’t believe that.”
She didn’t answer his accusation.
“Whoever it is, I promise I can protect you.” It wasn’t a lie. There was no one Michael couldn’t protect her from. He wouldn’t even have to give himself up to do it. If he delivered her to Jole with a letter written in his hand, his brother would put the power of the royal seal behind her.
Danellan shot him a look that was equal measures stunned disbelief and terror. “There is no one for you to defend against,” she whispered.
“Then why do you take forest trails that have seen nothing but jaglin in years?”
“Bandits,” she dismissed his query.
“And shade your face when you near soldiers?”
“Why do you fear soldiers?” she demanded. “I’ve seen it in your eyes.”
Michael sighed. “I didn’t have permission to leave. They’ll take me back.”
“You deserted your post?” she asked in undisguised horror.
“No. The guard has no hold on me. I left my duties behind.”
“Why? My father was dead. Why would you leave your family?”
He shrugged. “I was the second son. There was nothing for me but grasping noblewomen hoping for an advantageous contract and dissolution. So, I left.”
Danellan nodded.
“My family— I won’t lie to you. My family is important. I can shield you from any enemy.”
Hope burned in her eyes. It disappeared like ash in a cold rain. She looked into the flames.
Michael moved to her side and took her hand. “Why does he hunt you? I know you’re not a criminal.”
Danellan shook her head. “I just need to reach a job, Michael.” Her eyes were over bright with tears. “If you wish to leave before they come to stop me again, I will understand. I have no wish to get you injured.”
“I don’t understand.” He didn’t. Who would stop her? Why?
“The men yesterday were charged with returning me.” She smiled weakly. “I didn’t have permission to leave, either.”
He shook his head slowly. “They wanted me.”
Her jaw tightened. “Only to keep you from interfering in their business. They were clear enough.”
Michael clenched his jaw. The bounty was on Danellan? She took the brunt of their fury to keep him out of her problems when he had already sworn a vow to protect her.
“Once I am established in Caran, there is nothing they can do. I will be safe.”
“From who?” he pleaded.
Danellan didn’t answer.
Michael sighed. “One day you will trust me. I ache for that day.” He ached to end the man who dared put a bounty on Danellan.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Iric 19th
Danellan pulled Michael closer to her, groaning as his mouth closed on her nipple. He drew at her like a man who hadn’t experienced lovemaking in months or years. He hadn’t been inside a woman in the four weeks they traveled together. She knew that much.
She shifted beneath him restlessly, the rock floor of the cave an unwelcome change from the Eir branches they’d used for the last few days. Still, they had shelter, and the heat from their fire warmed the air in the cave a hundred fold more than it had the open air when they slept around it outside. She almost wished they had a cave every night.
Michael’s erect cock pressed to her leg as he suckled at her, and she bit back a cry of pleasure. Danellan wanted Michael inside her. Some days, she felt she’d go mad if he refused her again. This was one of those days.
Danellan unclasped his trousers and took his length in her hand, smiling as he shuddered. She guided him to her core. Michael pulled his head up, releasing her nipple and looking between their bodies in stunned silence. She played the head in the honey coating her core and creating a slick down her thighs to the blanket beneath them. Danellan shifted and captured him inside her nether lips.
Michael sucked in his breath, closing his eyes in intense pleasure. Then he pushed away with a grumbled curse. “No. I— Please don’t tempt me. I want it too badly.”
She choked back a sob. “Please, Michael. I have to feel you.”
“I can’t take that chance. I won’t leave you with my child.”
Tears stung her eyes. “There has to be a way.”
“How?” he growled. “We can’t afford Walla tea, and we can’t risk walking into a clinic to get it even if we could.”
“What if—” She bit her lip. It was a risk.
He met her eyes, something dangerous and hopeful warring in him. “What? If you know a way to end this madness, tell me. I won’t survive much more.”
“If I don’t release an egg, there can be no child,” she reasoned carefully.
“We can’t afford—”
“If I’m not stimulated,” she spoke over him.
Michael’s eyes widened. “If I’m not seated fully, I could cause you damage.”
She nodded. “If you pulled out while you spilled—”
“Every instinct tells a man to push deep,” he interrupted her.
Danellan sighed. “I’m sorry. I ask too much. Forget I—”
His mouth closed on hers, demanding her participation, heating her blood again. “You want this?” he panted, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’d trust me enough to take this risk?”
“I trust you, Michael. Please let me feel you.” She trusted him not to hurt her. Theoretically, this was foolproof. He would do one of two things. Either he’d pull out to keep from hurting her, and there would be no risk of a child; or he would push deep and give her what she craved most, the bliss of stimulating her egg despite the risk of pregnancy.
He nodded, pressing the head back to her. Michael hissed out his breath as he slid in, inch by delicious inch. “So tight,” he gasped. “Please tell me you’ve known a man before.”
She managed a shaky nod, crying out at the sensation of his length sliding home. Danellan had known a man, one man and one time. She desperately wanted to know Michael. She wanted him to be the first to give her the bliss at true completion.
“It’s been a long time for you?” His fingers caressed her cheek as he stilled, allowing her body to adjust to his size.
“Almost a year,” she admitted.
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“The men feared my father.” After that first one, none of them dared touch her. They didn’t dare look at her, as if she was a noble daughter.
Michael slid back then in again. He took her slowly. “Calm,” he soothed her. “I won’t hurt you.”
Danellan threw her head back as Michael moved faster and touched deeper. She moaned and ran her hands to cup his buttocks, urging him deeper. He wasn’t brushing the ring at her apex yet. He wasn’t fully seated. “Oh, Michael.”
He slid deeper, and her eyes opened in surprise. Michael flashed her a devilish grin as he brushed at the gates of her womb again and again. She dug her nails into him reflexively, the pleasure almost more than she could bear.
Michael moaned. “Yes, Danellan. Pull me in. Tell me how much you want.”
“More. All of you, Michael. Let me feel all of you,” she pleaded.
“All of me?”
“All of you. Please.” She screamed in pleasure as he lodged hard against her gates and held his position.
“Come for me, Danellan.”
She did. Her body pulsed around his length as she cried out his name wildly. The sound echoed off the rock, filling the space with the music of her climax. Michael trembled. His cock erupted, sending a wave of his heat inside her. She tightened in preparation for the stimulus. Yes, Michael. Please press deep.
He pulled back with a vicious curse, pumping two more times before he left her. Michael cried out as if he was in bitter pain, sending round after round of heat against her outer lips. He pressed his hips hard against hers as he thickened, sating his body’s command to drive into her the only way he could. Danellan gras
ped the still-pulsing head, applying pressure to simulate the grip of her band.
Michael roared, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Danellan started to loosen her fist, sure that she hurt him; but he wrapped his hand around hers and forced her to tighten her grip again. He shivered then captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
She removed her hand as he lessened, and Michael gentled his kiss, cradling her to him. When he pulled back, he met her eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered.
“With my life.”
“And your body?”
“Completely,” she assured him.
Michael kissed her, slow and sweet.
*
Iric 23rd
Michael sifted through the coins left in his pocket in mounting dismay. When he started this journey, he hadn’t counted on supporting two people on what he had. He had planned carefully for the amount of money he would have to sneak away over the months to support himself until spring. Danellan had to flee her home with nothing but the clothing on her back, a blanket, a few pocketfuls of food, and prayers that Fion would be merciful and see her through until she reached Caran. Neither situation helped when Fion was not merciful and there were two of them to feed.
If it were any other season, they could survive. There would be roots and fruit, plentiful game meat and grain. They were trapped in a frozen wasteland. The animals were burrowed or hibernating. The plants were dead.
Worse, the weather was changing. They had lost two days of travel time hiding from freezing rains in caves. Tonight they were outside with no caves within a day’s ride. He prayed to each of the gods to grant them a clear night. They could survive the freezing wind with body heat, Eir branches and both blankets. They wouldn’t survive if they were drenched to the bone.
He poked at the stew of redgrass roots and the last of their meat that Danellan prepared. She had been overjoyed when she discovered the redgrass. Michael had almost cried that she could find glee in anything with their prospects as dim as they were.
She came to the fire and offered him a genuine smile. Michael stayed her hand as Danellan tried to spoon some of the stew up for him. There was enough for one.
Her smile dimmed. “You have to eat, Michael. You’ve barely touched food in three days.”
“I had some cracker tack a little while ago,” he lied.
She nodded with a strained smile and ate a mouthful of the stew. It probably tasted like paste, unspiced and thick, but Danellan didn’t complain. She managed a few bites then looked at him miserably.
“Eat, Danellan.” She had to eat. She was too thin for his comfort.
“Please eat with me,” she whispered.
Michael moved closer to her and took the spoon. He ladled up some of the stew and brought it to her mouth. “I ate,” he assured her.
“Not meat,” she protested.
He fed her the spoonful of stew, ignoring the growling in his stomach. “You need it more.”
Tears filled her eyes, but she swallowed.
Michael wiped away the first track as it wound down her face. “For me,” he pleaded.
“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Her voice cracked.
“I’d be mad if it weren’t for you,” he countered, raising another spoonful to her mouth. “It’s a fair exchange.”
She ate it without comment. Michael scanned his eyes over her, wishing he could do better by her. Danellan’s hands were blackened from digging roots, and her thumb was bandaged from a thorn she caught while pulling up the stubborn stalks. There was dirt ground under her fingernails. Her hair was tangled, and her face was thin and pale.
The stew was nearly gone before Danellan refused more. She wasn’t nearly full, though she swore she was. Michael obliged her whim, eating the last two spoonfuls of the stew without letting his disgust show. He would never let her think he didn’t truly appreciate her gift. Danellan provided better for them than he had that day, and he told her so several times. If redgrass roots stood between the two of them and starvation, he would eat it for weeks without complaint.
Danellan curled to his chest, sharing what little heat they each had to offer. Michael soothed her, rocking her as he would a child, as he would his niece and nephew if he were allowed to hold them.
“We reach Bure tomorrow. It will be better then,” he promised. Yes, it would be better. They would have food — for a day or two. The coin he had left wouldn’t buy more than that.
That much would see them to Lind. He shivered. Trapped in Lind with no way out but contacting Jole or resorting to stealing. Could life be worse than that? Michael kissed Danellan’s hair, pulling back tears. Life could be worse. If he lost Danellan, his life was meaningless. If it came down to that choice, he would do whatever he had to do to protect Danellan.
*
Iric 26th
Michael held back, concentrating on the intense pleasure on Danellan’s face. He had to hold back until her pleasure was complete. If she didn’t climax before him, it would mean a long, agonizing wait for her until he was recovered and finished her another way. So far, he had only made her suffer that once. He had no intention of doing it again.
He could push her over easily if he pushed deep at his climax and let his cock taste her waiting band. Michael closed his eyes and imagined that joy. He wanted it with every cell in his body.
Michael pulled himself back to reality. He couldn’t risk that. This wasn’t a child that could be hidden away and delivered by a village woman healer. Any child he fathered would require doctors and Hugam. There would be no way to continue hiding. Worse, they were each hunted. The time they did run would be full of danger. The cold and hunger they suffered alone would make her pregnancy unbearable, even with his healing magic.
He couldn’t take that chance without a concrete plan to keep her safe. If Danellan agreed to a contract— Michael grimaced. She’d never contract with him. No sane woman would, but her animosity and fear of Kell Ri would guarantee it.
She wouldn’t have to know until the contract was sealed. No. That was a truly dishonorable thought. He’d have to tell her who he was. Would I? Yes. That much was a given, but when would he have to tell her?
Michael looked at Danellan in longing. Would she contract with him? He would have to try. He opened his mouth to talk to her, to tell her who he was and ask her to trust him with her tale so he knew what enemy he had to protect her from. Michael ground his teeth. He couldn’t do it.
Danellan bowed up beneath him, screaming for him as she gripped his length. Michael felt the first spasm grip him. It would be so easy to push in, so glorious to take what he craved. Danellan grasped his hips, holding him, pulling him deeper. Her eyes were glazed in pleasure.
He came to his senses and pulled out, gritting back a string of curses as his body rebelled at the loss of his full completion. He couldn’t do this. She wants it. I want it. Not without a contract.
She sobbed at the loss of him, and Michael cradled her to his body. He shook. Part of him, some animal inside wanted to punch something. Fion! You torture me. We both want this. Michael brushed Danellan’s hair from her face, crooning to her.
Danellan nestled her cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry, Michael. I just need—”
He nodded. “I need it, too. If there was a way, would you do it?”
“Yes. You know I would. Any risk you ask.”
“It is not a small thing I’ll be asking,” he warned her.
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
Michael smiled. Danellan was wise beyond her years. He had a plan, but he didn’t yet have the means to make it happen. For that, he needed more time, and their food wouldn’t last more than another day.
CHAPTER NINE
Iric 27th
“Len’s Underworld,” Michael cursed. His breath curled before him then disappeared, washed away in the mixed snow and rain.
Danellan pressed her face into his shoulder, shivering as the wind cut through her drenched clothing. “We
need shelter.”
He sighed. “I know.” But, there were no mountains, no caves in this area. It was too wet to make a fire without chemicals or petrols that he didn’t have. They were too far from Bure, a full two days or more in this weather.
“Is there a town near here?” Her teeth were chattering.
“Yes, but it is a garrison town,” he explained. Lind was the last place Michael wanted to show his face in this condition.
Danellan shivered again. Michael hoped it was in fear rather than the cold, but that was hoping for a lot.
“We may have to risk it,” she decided weakly.
“No. Not that.” Anything but that.
“We’ll die of exposure.”
“No. I know a place.” His stomach clenched.
Mother Fion and Father Mag! Is this my punishment? You strand me where I must face my past to secure a future for myself and Danellan? It will be Len’s Dungeon’s on Kegin.
*
Michael shuddered as he crossed the entryway to the ruins. He wiped a layer of dust from the ancient control board on the far wall and fired up the electricity. Lights blazed around them. He checked the other controls. Comfort controls and water purification systems showed no warning lights.
He sighed in relief. “We have heat, light, and heated water.”
Danellan nodded, beyond shivering. She was weaving on her feet in her sopping clothing. “How did you know about this place?”
“I’ve used it before from time to time.” But I won’t think about that. That time doesn’t exist anymore. He wrapped an arm around her and led her up the stone staircase, scanning his eyes down the row of rooms on the second floor.
Not the room I shared with Gilan. The memories of taking out his frustrations in sex with the servant were bitter enough. Danellan wouldn’t sleep there.
Not the room where I kept Susan prisoner. Michael couldn’t bear to look at it again. He pushed away the memories that came unbidden of the things that went on in that room. He had been mad, and the room would drive him to madness if he laid eyes on it again.
