“Just because you can’t sense another’s magic, doesn’t mean the child isn’t here.” Thoren wrinkled his nose as a rank town specimen brushed against him in the crowded lane. “Some of us have better noses than others.”
“Well, it doesn’t take a good nose to know this town has sewer problems. The stench is giving me a headache.”
“Didn’t the apothecary give you something for that last night?”
“Oh, yes. I take back what I said about the women here. At least one of them is attractive. Not interested in me, though. Maybe you’d be more her type.”
“I’m not interested in non-Draconi females. What would possess a male to come to Stenchville for a woman? What’s wrong with our own females? I just don’t get it. Although I’m glad someone did. If not for the mystery male, I’d still be hiking around Draconia making Father happy.”
“Balthor wouldn’t be the only one happy.”
“Who says I’d invite you along?”
Enar’s eyes popped wide. “What? Deny me my only pleasure in life?”
“Females are not the only pleasure in your life.” Thoren gestured to the broadsword hanging down Enar’s back. They both enjoyed fighting, although Enar’s sword skills outweighed Thoren’s. Not that he minded. After all, lobbing magical energy balls at his opponent beat learning swordplay. “A sword is a sword no matter how it’s used.”
“You got me there.”
People ran past them, jostling each other as they raced down the small lane.
“Wonder what’s going on?” Maybe the townsfolk finally decided to do something about the clogged sewers.
Enar shrugged as murmurings from a restless crowd drifted down the lane. No sense in joining a riot that didn’t apply to them. It sounded like the whole town came out for a shouting match. As Thoren started to turn down a side street, he heard a panicked female voice shout above the ruckus.
“I will not take you!”
The riot just became his problem. Something in that voice ignited a desire to protect her. He had no choice but to shove his way through the throng of people.
“Hey, it’s not our...bugger it. Don’t wander in there without me.” A rush of air announced Enar stepping behind him.
Not that he needed the Watcher. He was a male on a mission to defend that female.
What in the Goddess’s name was he thinking? Enar ran into him as Thoren stopped mid-stride. This was not his fight. These were not his people.
“I said I will not take you. Let me go!”
And the choice was taken from him. Her voice struck a chord inside him, banging around, charging his anger. Fight and protect. Kill and save.
“What are you thinking?” Enar grabbed his arm and Thoren whirled, his lips pulled back, teeth exposed.
Enar dropped his arm and took a step back. “All right. Knock yourself out, dragon.”
Two shoves later Thoren stood at the edge of the crowd, looking at the female and a man standing in the middle of the town square. The man faced them. Tall for one of these townsfolk, he wore a clean, brown tunic embroidered in gold. Black pants tucked into leather boots that reached mid-calf. His brown, limp hair hung to his shoulders. Brown eyes narrowed on his prey as a menacing smile played across his features. One hand grasped the female’s arm.
The female faced away from Thoren. She also wore a brown tunic and black pants, her tunic belted about her waist, a variety of small pouches hanging from the belt. Braided red hair streamed down her back, stopping short of her waist. Her body strung taut as a bow, as if waiting for a strike, verbal or physical.
She needed him. She needed him to save her. She needed him to obliterate the man. Why he felt this way was the mystery of the day. The man needed to be introduced to vengeance dragon-style.
Right when he started to make his move, the voice of a boy shouted over the roar of the crowd.
“She said, leave her alone!”
“Step back, Jamie. Now!”
The female turned toward the boy, gesturing with her hand for him to move back. The boy—who Thoren guessed to be only ten—didn’t budge. Stood stock still, fists balled at his sides, jaw thrust forward, a lot of stop-messing-with-her on his face.
The boy was two steps away from getting knocked down by the man in the square, when a woman of pale beauty jerked him back. An ice goddess. White blond hair surrounded a pale face, the only colors bright blue eyes and ruby red lips.
Thoren heard Enar gasp and mutter, “Exquisite.”
Was his friend actually showing an interest in the blond woman during a time like this?
Thoren growled at Enar. Growled? Since when did he growl at his best friend? What was it about the redheaded female that made everything inside him turn into a dragon on the warpath?
The man laughed. “Yes, Jamie, step back. This has nothing to do with you. Not now, anyway.” He smirked at the red-haired female as she yanked out of his grasp. She tried to back up, only to run against the teeming mass of townsfolk. She turned, as if to judge the distance she had left and her gaze slipped by Thoren, not noticing him.
But he noticed her and fury ran through his muscles, charging him, demanding a fight between him and her captor.
Steam rose in the back of his throat, his fists cranked into hard knots as he spat out a small plume of smoke.
“What in the name of the Goddess do you think you’re doing?” Enar hissed. “It’s just some townswoman. Some non-Draconi townswoman.”
“Can’t you see what she is?”
Enar raised an eyebrow. “The apothecary?”
“Start thinking with the head on your shoulders and look at her.”
“She’s a witch the priests warned you about,” the soon-to-be-dead man yelled, his cry egging on the crowd. They responded with a deafening yell. “But as my wife she will put the mantle of a witch aside. Ignore her denials to have me and you will no longer have to deal with the witch for she will have her magic purged when she joins with me.”
The crowd hooted and hollered, clapping loudly. The man grabbed her left arm, in the process shoving up her sleeve, displaying the Draconi mark for all to see. Delicate, spindly lines curved around her forearm, stemming from the dragon’s tail centered halfway between wrist and elbow.
“By the Goddess, why didn’t the Council know about her?” Enar gasped, now clearly in line with the rescue plan.
The man holding the female ran his finger over the mark, smirking as she gasped and tried to pull away. A red cloud dotted Thoren’s vision and he swallowed the steam threatening to come out his ears.
“Does anyone have any objection to me taking this woman?”
Thoren saw her bent over, gasping for air, and he knew pain shot through her body from the bastard’s touch on her mark. Red haze glittered at the periphery of his vision and he stepped forward. This time Enar didn’t bother to restrain him.
“I object. The female belongs to me. I will take her.”
Chapter 2
The female belongs to me. I will take her. Keara managed to raise her head, despite the pain flooding her body from Lord Simon’s touch. She wasn’t sure what was more horrible, Lord Simon trying to claim her for a wife or a stranger doing the same thing.
She should have stayed in the woods with Jamie, but how was she to know that Simon waited for her when she came through the gates? He had the crowd riled into a frenzy and although she ran down the nearest alley, she had been captured and dragged to the town square. Thank goodness Lily had been in the crowd and had taken Jamie.
Soon the crowd would turn on Lily too, if their ranting about the women’s differences were any indication. Keara knew no one would help them, that they faced the end of their lives. For a moment, panic seized her. What would happen to Jamie if she died?
And then the stranger spoke.
Keara twisted her head, wondering if the melodious rumble of his voice matched the rest of him. Yes, it did. Her mouth opened and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
She loo
ked up his body as he stepped beside her. Tall, with long, flowing black hair and muscles that rippled under black leather, he looked like a god come to life. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he placed a hand on Lord Simon’s wrist, twisting the lord’s hand away from her arm.
The pain stopped flowing through her and Keara sighed in relief, her knees buckling under her. Still holding his hand around Lord Simon’s wrist, the black-haired stranger placed his other hand upon her arm, keeping her on her feet, his thumb tracing her mark gently.
Another sensation slammed through her and replaced the mind-numbing pain, sending shivers down her spine and tightening her lower belly. She never realized touching the cursed mark could bring such pain, or such pleasure.
She pulled her gaze from the stranger with an effort to see Lord Simon sputtering in outrage, his wrist twisted at an odd angle.
“You...you challenge me for her? You know nothing of our ways!”
“I know enough to realize she denied you,” the stranger growled at Lord Simon, his voice gentling as he turned to Keara. “She will take me though, won’t you?”
Keara locked her gaze on the stranger, drawn by his green eyes that looked so much like her own. She had never seen green eyes on anyone else, but knew what they meant. Remembered what her grandmother had told her about them.
“Green eyes are the mark of evil, girl,” the old woman liked to say. “Be wary of them.”
The wind whipped the stranger’s hair about his face. A chiseled jaw topped by firm lips that whitened around the edges and a long straight nose comprised a face tightened in anger. His compelling eyes bored into hers.
She couldn’t stop staring at those eyes, all the while his fingers continued their steady pattern against her mark, sending sensuous feelings coursing through her veins.
A stranger or Lord Simon? The man whose touch sent zingers of pleasure throughout her body, or the possibly crazy but socially acceptable man who might have her best interest in mind. Did she actually think that?
There was no choice. It took two tries to get the words out of her dry mouth.
“I’ll take you.” She lifted her chin toward the stranger and said a silent prayer he would spare her life.
He smiled, a predatory gleam of teeth, before turning his glare back to Lord Simon, pushing the man back by his wrist before releasing him.
Grabbing his injured wrist with his good hand, the shorter man snarled at her rescuer. “Fool! You don’t know what you are getting. She—”
“Quiet!”
Keara, along with the mob, stood frozen. A hush fell over the crowd as they stared in shock at the black-haired man who dared address Lord Simon in such a way. But then, Keara reasoned, if he truly was evil, what did he have to fear from this crowd? What did he have to fear from anyone? What would evil do when he discovered what she really was? Would he see her as a kindred spirit since she shared his eye color, or would he punish her?
She shuddered. Maybe going with him wasn’t such a good idea after all. Too late now.
Tall, dark and possibly evil glared at the crowd. “Move!”
Immediately the mass parted, allowing them to pass through. His hand wrapped around hers, leaving her mark throbbing without his touch.
Once they left the town square and horde, she heard footsteps behind her and turned her head, only to come to a complete stop when she saw the giant walking behind them.
Keara remembered having the same reaction to the man the night before when she treated him for a headache. She had never seen anyone so tall or muscular in her life, not to mention his eyes. They were the color of the rivers after the snows melted. The same color as her friend Lily’s. His hair was darker than Lily’s pale blond, though. And his skin tanned a deep bronze, set off his blue eyes. Until a few minutes ago, she classified him as the most attractive man she ever laid eyes on, but the raven-haired stranger took that designation now.
Ferociousness seeped from Blond Giant’s pores, even when his eyes twinkled as they did now. Gulping, she lowered her gaze, afraid of offending him further.
“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping?” Raven-haired, Jaw-dropping Gorgeous stopped moving and looked over his shoulder at her.
“She is taking in my manly appearance,” Blond Giant’s eyebrows waggled. “Which, as you know, is much better than yours.”
“You’ll have to excuse my friend. His thoughts about himself are larger than his size.”
Keara grinned at their banter. Maybe her life would be better with this stranger.
It couldn’t get much worse.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen men as large as you.”
Blond Giant coughed.
RJG’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at his friend. “Large, eh? I can see we’re going to get along just fine.”
Three blinks later and warmth flooded her face. What a way to embarrass herself. At least her captor-husband-rescuer continued as if he hadn’t seen her blush.
“I’m Thoren and this is Enar. I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Keara the Apothecary.”
“Well, Keara, we’ll be taking you with us when we leave—”
“And my bride price.” He should know, even if she had to interrupt him.
“Pardon?”
“My bride price. I am not poor. You should know that.”
Thoren’s brows drew together like the walls of a canyon. “What is a bride price?”
How could he not know that? Didn’t all women everywhere have a bride price?
Did his lack of knowledge bode good or bad for her?
“It is customary for the bride’s father to bring her groom an amount of money or goods so he will protect her, but as I have no father, I’ll give you the bride price myself.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean bride and groom?”
How could he not realize what just happened? Then again, he didn’t know what a bride price was.
“When you beat Lord Simon, you took me for your wife.”
“I did no such thing! I rescued you from him.”
How sad. Tall, handsome and possibly evil clearly didn’t function on all four wagon wheels.
Ignoring a snickering Enar, Keara shut her gaping mouth and tried to explain. Slowly. So he understood.
“As in every town, the town square is where you get married. Lord Simon was trying to marry me against my will. When you stepped in, you took me as your own. As your wife. Therefore we’re married and you get my bride price.”
He uttered a curse that curled her toes.
And didn’t that make a woman feel good about herself. If he didn’t mean to marry her, then what did he want from her? Did he even want the obvious benefit to being married? He was the best-looking man she’d ever seen, but the whole thought of sleeping with a stranger gave her chills.
Enar slapped Thoren on the back. “Fates, my friend, Fates.”
Thoren glared at Enar. “That was not a marriage. Where were the rituals? The priestess?”
Keara tried to swallow and got nowhere. If he didn’t think they were married, did that mean he’d return her to Lord Simon? What would happen to her then? Her vision wavered, going fuzzy at the periphery.
Thoren grabbed her arm.
“What’s wrong, Little One?”
Keara shook her head. Maybe it would be better if she stayed. After all, what did she know about these strangers? Besides their complete cluelessness about marriage?
“Do you doubt I would protect you?” One hand beat twice over his heart. “I vow on the bones of my ancestors to protect you.”
Keara looked into those green eyes that stared intently at her. She had just met him, couldn’t know if he was an honest man or not, but in this she believed him. His face remained impassive though his eyes spoke volumes. She saw something in them that she’d only dreamed of seeing. He did not fear her.
Even her grandmother had feared her.
Her lungs remembered their purpose, wheezing in air, clearing
the fuzziness from her vision.
“But what will I do with my store if you will not accept my bride price?” Or Jamie? By the Goddess, what would she do with Jamie? She couldn’t leave him, but would these men take him? Her lungs stalled.
“Why don’t you take us there and we’ll see?” One of his long fingers rubbed against her mark, and her muscles wobbled. His touch felt good, like a warm bath on a cold day. Why had she been so upset? Thoren gave his protection to her. Nothing would harm her again.
And wasn’t that a good thing? For the first time since childhood, she felt safe.
“My store is this way.”
****
His finger stroked across her mark, his will forcing her to relax, to breathe deeply. He liked the way her skin brushed against his finger, the silky smoothness, the scent of fresh grass and sunlight. Wanting to touch her more, he continued the soft strokes over her mark.
What about her affected him so?
Must be the shock of finding a Draconi female in this backward town. How could the Council not know about her? With her red hair and green eyes, she was an obvious Halfling that should have attracted plenty of attention from visitors. And yet, no one knew about her. Her own townsmen clearly didn’t care for her, so one would think some word of her would have reached the ears of Draconi spies.
Speaking of spying. His job sent him to this town to find a Halfling boy. Finding Keara was a stroke of luck, but no matter what he felt toward her it should not distract him from his goal.
Her hips swayed, her black trousers hugging skin that begged for his touch. Long red hair curled loosely around her oval face where strands escaped her braid. Pale skin with a spattering of light freckles bridged her nose and drew attention to long lashes that began black and faded to the same red of her hair at the tips.
Her large green eyes expressed her feelings, peace shining in their depths, thanks to his relaxing touch on her mark. She needed him. He needed her. There was nothing to stop him from taking her, from making her his.
Magical Lover Page 2
