Malak’s eyes rounded. He glanced over her head to where his friend was gripping his goblet like he wanted nothing more than to beat Lady Rhiannon over the head with it. He tried to catch his attention, but Ilar was too lost in his anger to heed Malak’s silent warning.
“Lord Ilar,” King Larus said, coming up the table to join them. He glanced around the hall at the abnormally quiet men. The mind link was the quietest it had been since Lady Rhiannon’s arrival, but it still murmured with grumbles and grunts. It would only take one provocation to get them howling again.
Ilar lowered his goblet to the table and turned to the King. Rhiannon blinked at the sound, turning to glance at who spoke. Ilar’s back was to her. A slow smile came to Malak’s lips.
“I think you should go find Cupid on your way to Fenris,” the King said, so that Rhiannon couldn’t understand his words. “The spell has worn thin, but it hasn’t gone away.”
“Perhaps it takes time,” Malak said.
“No,” Larus said. “Enchantments may build and grow, but once they are broken, they should be broken. It would seem Cupid’s revenge isn’t yet complete. Go to him and try to discover what he has planned. It’s wise you take her back to the mortal realm--that is, if you don’t wish to keep her for yourself?”
Malak met the King’s eye, exchanging a knowing look.
Ilar denied him instantly with a shake of his head. No, Rhiannon made it clear she wanted to go home and he would keep his word and take her.
“No?” Larus inquired, before adding, “Then, it is wise to bring her back. Unless she’s under a man’s protection, she cannot survive in our land. We have taken her in, so it is up to us to make sure she remains safe. I don’t wish to have an unmated human running around.”
Rhiannon knew they talked about her. Her cheeks flamed slightly in irritation as they refused to let her understand their words.
“Yes,” Malak answered, when Ilar didn’t. “We will find that troll easily enough on our way to Fenris. By the looks of these men, we should be going.”
“I agree,” Larus stated.
Rhiannon blinked as Malak and Ilar both stood abruptly from the table. Malak motioned for her to come. Ilar turned his back and said nothing. Taking a quick drink, she moved to follow the men.
* * * *
The front gates of Lycaon faded into nothingness as they walked in silence. Ilar and Malak each carried a pack slung over their shoulders. The thick forest of red trees broke open to a long field of rolling grasses. The sun shone bright in the soft purple sky. Rhiannon’s gaze stayed down, looking for snakes hidden within the field. She’d bound the sides of her hair back from her face, but the wind still whipped the long curls over her back.
They walked at a slow pace. She was glad for the fresh air and for the boots Ilar had managed to acquire for her. They were comfortable, if not a little worn. Her legs jerked. She felt like running with her arms wide spread. She held back, not wanting to disrupt the pace Ilar and Malak set.
Malak, frowning, used the mind link to ask Ilar, ‘Shouldn’t we just shift and carry her upon our backs? It would be faster. At this rate, it will take us a sennight to get to Fenris.’
Answering with a growl, Ilar said, ‘No, let her walk. I have no wish to carry her.’
Rhiannon heard a snort and looked up. The silent duo really made for boring traveling companions. For awhile, she passed the time humming every song she could remember in her head. Once, when the tune got away from her and she hummed out loud, Ilar’s dark look stopped her.
Hours passed and the field gradually thinned as they neared a rocky path wide enough for all three to walk side by side. The rolling field turned into small hills. The small hills grew into larger foothills. And, as the day turned into evening, the foothills finally rose in the distance to show a range of glorious mountains.
Rhiannon tried to pause in awe to look at the brilliant splendor of the landscape, never having seen such a sight. Ilar’s hand on her arm pulling her forward kept her moving. She shot him a glare that he didn’t seem to notice.
Rhiannon sighed, seeing the shadowing of a silver moon on the evening sky. If she ever saw that little troll again, she’d give him what for!
Sighing, she ignored Ilar, who for some reason appeared to be in the blackest of all their moods. She jerked her arm from his and turned to Malak. Malak glanced down at her open attention. He really was a tall man and she felt dwarfed between the two lycans. Nonchalantly, she asked the darkest lycan, “Are you married, Lord Malak?”
Malak blinked in surprise at the forward question. Ilar’s eyes darkened over her head to glare at his friend in unconcealed jealousy. Malak swallowed, but answered her expectant smile, “No, my lady.”
Ilar growled. Rhiannon was flirting with Malak! And right in front of him! To inquire such of a man’s mated status was to hint that you wanted him as your lover. She didn’t even try to hide her blatant advances from him. She wasn’t even marked as his woman for a day. It was beyond insulting that she would seek another so quickly.
“Oh, then do you rule Fenris alone?” she inquired, wanting to keep conversation going. At least it would take her mind from the endless miles stretching ahead of them--and the dark looks the moody Ilar kept giving her. She had half a mind to tell him to go back, that she’d find her own way. However, she couldn’t do it. Even if he didn’t want to be there, she desperately wanted him with her--even distant and irritable as he was. Her whole body had stayed focused on him in one way or another.
“Yes,” Malak answered carefully.
Ilar snorted. Rhiannon blinked, turning to study him. Now what was wrong with him? It’s not like he was talking to her.
Keeping her eyes steadily on Ilar, she asked Malak, “And is Fenris far from here, Lord Malak?”
“Well, no, usually we can make the run in little over a day,” the dark lycan answered.
“Ah, are we close, then?” Rhiannon asked, blinking. She’d thought they would be sleeping outside by the looks of the satchels.
“No, not so close,” Malak answered, grinning. “We usually shift to run. At this pace we’ll be there in maybe a half a sennight’s time.”
“I can run,” Rhiannon said, embarrassed that she was the reason they moved so slow. “Maybe, not as fast as you, but I can run.”
Ilar snorted. This time it was louder. Rhiannon stopped, placing her hands on her hips and refusing to walk another step as she stared at Ilar’s back. Malak grinned, not turning. It had taken him awhile, but he realized Rhiannon only spoke to him to irritate Ilar. It worked better than she realized. Ilar and Malak stopped, turning to look at her in expectation.
When she didn’t move, only continued to glare at Ilar, Malak said, “We should camp here tonight. I think there’s a small pool up ahead with fish. Ilar, if you would start a fire, I’ll get our supper.”
Ilar knew Malak was purposefully leaving them alone. He barely turned to acknowledge him as he left.
Aside from Ilar handing her a piece of dried meat back at the field, Rhiannon hadn’t eaten and her stomach turned at the idea of supper, making her even more waspish toward Ilar. Unable to bite her tongue, she told him, “Why don’t you just go away!”
“Why?” he demanded, stalking forward to tower over her. “So you can be alone with Malak?”
Rhiannon blinked, surprised by the accusations. “At least he’ll look at me and talk to me. It’s more than you have done all day! If you’re so miserable, just leave. I’ll find my own way to Fenris and to the portal. I don’t need you.”
“I promised to protect you and I’ll protect you,” Ilar said. Truthfully, he didn’t want to leave her alone with Malak. He’d seen the way she smiled at his friend. She didn’t look at him in such a way. It tore at his gut. What he wouldn’t give for just one of her pretty smiles.
“I release you from your promise.” She stalked up to him and planting a finger firmly on his chest. Shoving, she shouted, “Go!”
“You cannot release me
from my word,” he lied. In truth, according to their customs, she could. “I have given it, I’ll see it through.”
“Oh!” she huffed, wanting to strike him but not so foolish as to try. “You are so... so... argh!”
The high-pitched scream echoed over the pass. Rhiannon turned from him, storming down the path until she was out of sight. Sinking behind a boulder, she crossed her arms and stared at the beautiful sunset. It brought her no pleasure.
Ilar let her go. If he kept speaking to her, he’d probably only strangle her anyway to keep her quiet--or to keep from kissing her. Even now his body longed for her. It had been aching for her touch all day. So much so, that he’d refused to let her ride upon his back because he knew he’d never stand the torture of it. And there was no way in heaven or hell he’d let her wrap her long legs around his friend, even if it was in travel.
“Accursed enchantment!” he swore darkly, as he went to gather firewood. But, even as he said it, he knew the enchantment had nothing to do with his desire for her. It would have been there without it.
* * * *
Malak came back to the campsite carting three large fish. They didn’t look like any Rhiannon recognized, but as her stomach growled, she wasn’t about to be picky. He carried a knife in his hands and it looked as if the fish had already been gutted and cleaned.
Malak’s kilt-like attire wrapped about his waist to his knees. His expansive chest was bare, dark and muscled. He glanced at her as he walked up the hillside, to where she hid behind a boulder, before looking higher up the path to where Ilar had started a fire in a rock clearing cut into the cliffs. The high rock face would protect them from the wind during the night. They made camp for the sake of Lady Rhiannon, who appeared worn from the day’s travel. Neither lycan was tired. They drew strength from the night, able to travel at greater speeds while it was cool.
“It would be warmer by the firelight, my lady,” Malak said, his voice dipping slightly.
Rhiannon blinked, glancing over at him. Thinking of Ilar, she grumbled under her breath, arguing softly, “I think it’s colder by the firelight.”
Malak looked over to where Ilar stared sullenly into the flames. He pretended not to hear her. His voice turned almost sympathetic, knowing how hard Ilar could seem to the fairer sex--especially a human who didn’t have the ability to read him. Only if she were to become his lifemate would she gain the gift of his mind. Ilar was a man of duty and not always the clearest when it came to how he felt. “Come, lady. These mountain passes grow cold during the dark hours and you never know what will lurk within the night shadows. It’s much safer by the fire.”
Rhiannon shot up to her feet in surprise, looking around the dark countryside. Malak hid his grin as he began walking away. Ilar and he would sense anything that came near and there was nothing lurking in the shadows. But, let her have reason to seek Ilar’s company. She looked like she desperately wanted to. After having spent the day hearing fragments of his friend’s disconcerted thoughts, he’d bet Ilar would be more than willing to offer her protection--needed or not.
Rhiannon rushed behind Malak, coming close to his back as she tried to see out into the surrounding valley. She couldn’t make out anything, but was convinced some evil waited out in the darkness. Her skin prickled in warning, a sure sign that she should be worried. Malak stopped beneath the cliff path leading up the incline to Ilar. Rhiannon, preoccupied with the thought of demons, ran into his back, tripping over to the side. With his free hand, Malak grabbed her about the waist to keep her from falling.
Ilar came just in time to see Rhiannon leaning over Malak’s arm. Malak pushed her up and back, shielding her from Ilar’s misunderstanding. With his mind, he tried to tell the Commander that nothing happened. Ilar, angry and jealous, turned and stormed away from them.
Malak nodded his head for Rhiannon to climb before him. The path was only a little steep and she made it fairly easily. Coming across the clearing, she saw Ilar’s back was to her. Malak came up behind her, brushing past to go to the fire. Within moments, he set up a spit and was cooking their supper. No one said a word.
Chapter Seven
Rhiannon sighed in contentment. Malak had found some herbs by the stream and she was delighted to discover he was quite the cook. When she said as much, Ilar just grunted. He ate in silence, throwing accusing glares at her and at Malak. Malak ignored his friend, holding polite conversation with Rhiannon about Fenris.
“I need to stretch my legs,” Malak announced, standing. He strode from the campsite, hopping down off the cliff with ease. Rhiannon noticed that there was a restlessness to Malak, a searching look that always appeared to be just beyond what he was doing.
Ilar stood, grabbed a wine pouch, and moved away from the fire. He was livid. He balled his hands into fists. He heard Malak trying to reason with him through their mind link, but he didn’t want to hear it--couldn’t hear it.
Rhiannon watched as Malak took off in wolf form down the valley. Swallowing nervously now that she and Ilar were alone, she stood, drawn to Ilar’s back. Coming up next to him, she followed his eyes up to the silver moon. It was half full.
“The moon doesn’t look like this back home,” she said, almost sorrowful. She really missed her family when she stopped to think about them.
Ilar knew the moment she joined him. He felt her. Nodding, he said, “I remember. Your moon is yellow and blue, sometimes red.”
“Oh,” she breathed, recalling how old he was, how much longer he’d probably live past her death. It was better for her to be going, if only for that reason. Even if he asked her to stay, she’d only grow old as he stayed as handsome as this moment. Her heart ached. The thought brought tears to her eyes. It’s not like he’d made her any promises. She couldn’t demand anything from him. “I suppose you would. Do you ever miss it? Being in my world?”
“I don’t think on it,” he said truthfully. Ilar imagined he would think on it a lot more after he sent her back there.
“May I have a drink?” Her voice was as soft as a whisper. She was very aware of where he stood next to her. She didn’t see a single star, though she stared right at them.
Ilar glanced down at his hand before lifting it to her. Her eyes didn’t meet his as she took it. She held it in silence, before pulling it to her lips.
“What manner of creatures live in these mountains?” she asked, seeing all the dark crevices as she wiped her mouth on her hand.
“Dragons,” Ilar said without thought, “goblins, trolls, pixies, griffins, cy--”
“I understand,” Rhiannon broke in, moving closer to him.
Ilar felt her near his arm. Glancing down in surprise at her touch, he saw her face was turned to the shadows.
Trembling at the very idea of such things--some of which she had never even heard of--Rhiannon handed the pouch back to him and he capped it off. Biting her lip, she let her hand creep up his arm, finding hold on a taut bicep. “Are they here now, do you think?”
Ilar let his arm drape naturally around her shoulder before he thought to stop it. He paused, seeing if she would shrug away. Rhiannon breathed in sharply, looking up at him, her eyes wide, expectant and inviting.
“They will not harm you,” he said. “This land is different, but it’s no more dangerous than your world.”
As Rhiannon saw the glinting of gold in his eye, she knew he lied to comfort her. This land was much more dangerous than her world--at least for her. She didn’t have magic, didn’t understand any of it.
“For me, a human, this world is very dangerous.” She trailed her hand up to his heart, absently feeling the muscles of his chest. He was so strong and never had she felt so weak. “Even if I spent a hundred years here, I don’t think I’d understand it.”
Or you, she added silently, feeling sad.
“I would protect you,” he stated, hesitating, wondering at her wistful tone.
“I know,” she said. He’d sworn to do so. “I’m sorry you have the burden of it.”
“Did you...” she began, unable to look at him. She felt the burning of tears behind her eyes and quickly blinked them back.
“What?” Ilar lifted his hand to her chin so that he could study her face in the silver moonlight.
“Did you do what you did with me because of the curse?” Her gaze cut into him with its insecurity.
Suddenly, Ilar forgot his anger at her blatant overtures to Malak. Her lips were trembling, softened by darkness. They parted. Her eyes dipped over his face, unwittingly inviting him to kiss her. She had so much passion when they came together, but here she was, standing before him, defenseless. It was as if she didn’t know her own appeal, her own power over him. He was glad for it. If she knew the control she had, she could crush him.
“Being with you,” he said, drawn to her lips, “was never a curse.”
Rhiannon gasped at the admission. It wasn’t love ballads or poetry, but it was the best she’d probably ever get from him and it was so much better. The strong arm tightened on her waist as she wound her hands up to meet his neck, pulling his face to deepen the tenderness of his kiss.
Ilar growled, loving the taste of her, craving the feel of her skin against him. They might be at odds during the day, but their bodies could no longer stop their draw than they could change the pull of the moon on the tides.
Rhiannon moaned in protest when he pulled back to study her. Grasping her arms completely around his neck, she lifted herself onto her toes. She pressed her own kisses to his mouth and moaned into him, “No, Ilar, don’t stop.”
Rhiannon delved her hands over the strong ridge of his shoulders, pushing the draping tunic off the side so she could explore his chest. Caressing his jaw with her lips, she moved to taste his neck, bite and lick his earlobe.
Naughty Cupid Trilogy Page 12
