Great Falls Rogue: Power of Five Collection Book 6

by Alex Lidell

  The bowstring pulled back to my ear cuts into my fingers, my eyes narrowing on my shifting target as my breath stills. The third Yocklol’s eye comes into view and disappears behind a waving tentacle. Again. Again. Now. I release the arrow.

  For a second, I think the sharp pain along my forearm is from my own snapped bowstring, the arrow’s wild flight an accident of a poor shot. Then Shade’s snarl twists me around to discover a pair of dark-cloaked figures sliding silently from the trees. The one on the left pulls off his hood, his pointed ears and elongated canines sending first hope, then fear thudding through me.

  Glancing down at my arm, I discover blood seeping through a slice in my leathers, the dagger that left it now on the ground. The insignia on the hilt scratches at my memory. I know it. I’ve seen it before——in Lunos.

  “Move, and you are dead,” the male says, his hard eyes nearly as black as his hair. “How many of you are there here?”

  “Of us?” I lick my lips. “You mean fae? It seems you’d know more than I.”

  The male snorts. “Don’t toy with the Guard, girl. You crossed Mystwood with a key. Where is it? How many others came with you?”

  Guard. The word triggers the missing link to the insignia, though it brings me no closer to explaining the faes’ presence. The Night Guard, a renegade group of fae who pledge their loyalty to the dark realm of Mors, has no more business being in the human world than…than I do.

  Yet, here we both are.

  “What are Mors’s wanna-be lapdogs doing in the mortal realms?” I ask, my mind racing to decide whether the arrows or the sword sheathed down my back would be of more use.

  The male snarls.

  At my side, Shade’s wolf bunches his powerful muscles and launches himself at the male. So much for conversation.

  Dropping my bow, I pull my sword in time to parry the blade of the second fae, whose curves reveal her gender just as her swing shows off centuries of training.

  My muscles strain beneath the force of her blow, the stark difference between fighting a fae warrior over a human cadet a rude reminder of reality. The female’s sword presses down on my blade, forcing my own edge closer and closer to my throat. Her pale blue eyes find mine, their chilled indifference more frightening than any roaring fury.

  My arms tremble, the muscles screaming from the strain. I know I should be moving away, staying free of the game of strength, but the fear of what that blade will do to me if I miscalculate sends my heart into a gallop. Makes me hesitate.

  Her blade moves another inch closer. With a grunt, I shift to my right, redirecting the force of our battle.

  The locked blades snap free of the impasse, my balance wavering. I step to regain my footing, taking another slice along my shoulder for it. The pain is distant, the leather armor taking some of the force. Seeing the female’s blade rise into the air, I kick her exposed ribs a moment before I realize the opening was a trap. Catching my leg, the female slams me into the ground, her sword slicing my thigh.

  Stones dig into my back. Shade’s primal growls cut through the haze of my beating heart, spurring me on. My hand tightens on the hilt of my sword—only to discover the female’s boot pinning my wrist to the ground.

  “Happy Ostera.” The Night Guardsman bares her canines, her cold pale eyes carrying all the emotion of a stone as she raises her bloodied sword—this time aiming it at my heart.

  A lupine snarl rips the night, a great mass of gray wolf slamming into the fae atop me. The female falls to the side, rolling over her shoulder to regain her footing with a whip of her silver braid.

  The wolf circles, his muzzle bloody, his hackles raised.

  Gasping, I try to sit up. Blood leaks from my thigh, filling the air with a thick copper scent and making the world sway.

  The wolf twists toward me, a flash of bright light leaving Shade’s fae form standing where the animal had been, chest heaving, yellow eyes wide with fear.

  In one stupid heartbeat, I register the male’s Ostera finery, a golden tunic over billowing black pants. In the next, with a bolt of panic, I remember that I’m not wearing my veil amulet.

  Then all thoughts disappear as the female, recovered from Shade’s blinding shift, closes in with a growl.

  “Behind you!” I yell, pointing through the haze to the female warrior, her bloodied sword held high. Gripping the hilt of my blade, I toss it to Shade.

  The female’s eyes narrow, her gaze quickly sweeping from her downed companion, his throat ripped open, to me, to Shade. With a face that holds too little fear, she steps back, the air around her rippling before swallowing her whole.

  “That’s not possible,” I mutter stupidly, staring at the spot. “You can’t step into the Gloom from the mortal world.” Or was impossible. With Ostera’s surge of magic, the rip in the mortal world’s protective fabric may have widened for good.

  Then my eyes shift to Shade, and all thoughts of the Gloom disappear.

  The male’s breaths are ragged, his yellow eyes taking in the forest as he prowls toward me. The scent of battle hangs on him, mixing with blood. Stopping a pace away from me, Shade lowers my sword, holding out his free palm toward me.

  “I won’t harm you, little cub.” His low, gentle voice carries no note of recognition.

  10

  Shade

  Shade’s mind roared with confusion that he had no time to unravel. The last coherent image he recalled was the sight of Leralynn of Osprey’s brilliant blue gown as she left—fled—the Great Hall. The dress’s fabric had flowed behind her in the moonlight, accentuating both the girl’s curves and the tug she always seemed to have on Shade’s soul. Shade couldn’t help following her outside, both to steal one more glance and to escape the uncomfortable stares of the female cadets in the Great Hall. Vestiges of laughter and violin music drifted into the night behind him.

  Then he was here. Fighting, his mouth filled with the taste of foreign blood. Even now, Shade’s heart still pounded with energy, his breaths quick and deep as he tried to orient himself. Having been losing time for over a month now, discovering himself in places he didn’t remember walking to wasn’t new, exactly. He’d even woken in the forest before. But it was still disorienting as hell—and this was the first time Shade found himself jerked into the middle of battle. Why? How?

  Even as Shade asked himself the question, he could feel the answer hovering at the edge of his consciousness. Knew, somehow, that it hadn’t been the arousal of combat that yanked him into the now. It was something else.

  Someone else.

  Despite the night, Shade saw the girl clearly—from her pointed ears and elongated canines to her tattered black combat leathers and those deep chocolate eyes that pulled Shade so strongly that he knew he’d run through flame if that was what it took to get to her. Which made as little sense as Shade being here in the first place, yet was just as true. He frowned at her. Stars, she was small. And hurt.

  And very possibly dangerous.

  Shade knew this creature should terrify him, that shackling the fae and marching her at sword point to the Academy’s dungeon was the right thing to do. Yet he felt only awe toward her—awe and worry. Having smelled the girl’s blood and pain, Shade wanted——needed——to fix it.

  If she let him.

  “I won’t harm you, little cub,” Shade said, kneeling beside her. The effort it took to keep from pouncing on her and running his hands over every inch of her trembling body in search of wounds drove him mad.

  “Shade?” The girl’s weak voice tightened his throat as much as the word she’d uttered. This girl, this fae female, knew him.

  “How do you know my name?”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it, shaking her head. Her fingers dug into the ground in apparent frustration. She couldn’t tell him—because something prevented her from speaking of it, or because she was too injured to do so?

  The healer inside Shade surveyed the girl’s body, his mind struggling for dispassion. With her leath
ers on, there was no way to gage the extent of her injuries, and Shade needed to locate those before giving in to the pull to cradle the girl against his chest.

  The girl grabbed his wrist, her soft fingers and moonlit eyes making his skin—and all other parts—waken.

  “We need to leave,” she said. “The barrier is weak here. The Night Guard might return.” The girl pushed herself up as she spoke, though her walking just now was out of the question.

  Still, she had a point. While Shade little liked the thought of moving her before he could assess her injuries, none of it would matter if the Night Guard—whoever that was—came back for another round. Shade considered his options. Where to take her? He couldn’t bring a fae into the Academy without her being arrested, and even if he could, it was farther away than he liked. One of the large caves in the mountain range was an option but would lack even the starlight’s illumination. A stream a quarter mile off would have to do, its clean water, mossy bank, and relatively good defensive position the best they could hope for at the moment.

  Slipping his hands under her, Shade pulled the girl against his chest, her small body feeling perfect against his. For a heartbeat, that contact seemed to be enough to make the world regain the meaning it had lost—a feeling that usually surfaced only in Leralynn’s presence.

  Brilliant. Shade went from secretly obsessing over a student to imagining himself connected to an immortal fae. Magic. This female and the abrupt, overwhelming bond Shade felt with her had to be the work of magic, didn’t it?

  Shoving away the implications of those conclusions, Shade focused on the girl in his arms. “What’s your name, cub?”

  She shook her head. As if she couldn’t tell him. Or wouldn’t.

  All right, they’d work that out later, once Shade discovered how badly wounded she truly was. Perhaps the girl had something to do with the time he’d been losing. Later. A healer. He was a healer—and he had to be that now first and foremost.

  Setting the girl down on the moss beside the rushing stream, Shade pulled a knife from his boot. “I’m cutting off your armor and clothes,” he explained, lest the cub thought he intended the steel for her. “I need to see where your wounds are.”

  “You could ask me. The answer, by the way, is on my thigh.”

  Shade snorted softly. “Noted. However, what hurts or bleeds the most isn’t necessarily what’s most grievous, so you’ll bear with me as I make up my own mind.” He pushed her down gently. “The armor and clothes are coming off, cub.”

  Having enough experience in the infirmary to know better than allow time for debate, Shade made short work of the straps and cloth, the sight of the girl’s naked flesh filling him with a flash of heat. Lush breasts with nipples peaked in the cool air, flat abdomen, a mound with auburn curls to match the locks framing her face.

  Blood, Shade snapped at himself, running his callused hands over the girl’s soft skin. You are looking for blood. Punctures. Hidden wounds. And your cock doesn’t get an opinion.

  “So who is the Night Guard, and why do they wish to kill you?” Shade asked, as much from curiosity as to distract the girl from his exam. In addition to the thigh puncture, the girl had a long bloody gash along her arm and several lacerations around her ribs and shoulder. Considering the battle she’d been in, it was better than expected.

  “Fae who don’t want to follow Lunos’s rules and ally with Mors instead,” she said through clenched teeth. “I hurt less before you started prodding me.”

  “I believe it.” And it will hurt more still before I’m done. “Deep breaths, cub.” With one look at her tattered black shirt, Shade took off his tunic and laid the soft fabric over the girl’s upper body before pulling off his undershirt. Several rips had the fabric in strips, one of which he placed next to a sturdy stick about the length of his hand.

  “I don’t like the look on your face.” The girl’s voice shook slightly, her attention following his motions suspiciously. Like many warriors Shade knew, the girl would clearly rather face a swordsman trying to kill her than a healer trying to help. “What are you planning exactly?”

  Crouching beside her head for a moment, Shade cleared a lock of auburn hair from her face. On the side of her neck, the girl’s pulse pounded a quick rhythm.

  “I’m planning on wrapping some cloth around your thigh,” said Shade.

  “You’re planning more than that.”

  He sighed. “I’m going to put a bit of pressure to help stop the bleeding. And the arm will need stiches, though I’ve no supplies on me. Maybe the ribs and shoulder as well.” Shade touched her cheek, the skin soft and sensuous. In the forest about them, the rustle and snaps of twigs spoke of animals scurrying about their night. In their world, all was well. Shade caught the girl’s gaze. “Can you trust me not to hurt you more than I must?”

  Despite the fear and pain leaking into her scent, the girl nodded.

  Shade swallowed, savoring her trust. Then, unable to stop himself—or question why it seemed right—he leaned down to brush a light kiss across her forehead.

  Trapping the girl’s leg between his thighs, Shade made short work of packing the wound before wrapping the wad of cloth tightly into place. Threading the prepared stick through the knot, he wrenched down on the dressing, the girl’s whimpers lashing his heart. “It’s all right, cub. I’m done with this.”

  “I…want…to kill you.”

  “I know.” He brushed a hand along the girl’s shoulder, every detail of her body calling for his attention. The large eyes glistening with unshed tears, the lip she’d bitten, the slight tremor to her muscles. Sliding his hands under her shoulders, he scooped the girl into his lap, her cool, silky skin flush against his bare chest.

  Despite the pain he’d just caused her, she leaned into his touch, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

  Desire and possessiveness shot through Shade at once. Magic. It had to be magic, this maddening craving for a girl he’d never seen before yet somehow knew with every fiber of his being. Despite the fine tremor from the chill, the girl’s muscles were taut beneath her skin, her full breasts and curves calling to his hands with a siren’s song. Shade longed to hear her voice again—longed for a great deal more than that, judging by the painful twitching of his cock—but for now, her words would have to be enough. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I lost a fight.” Nestled against his shoulder and without enduring more prodding, the girl was clearly at greater ease.

  “You did lose a fight.” His arms tightened around the girl, though he was uncertain who was comforting whom. The solid warm weight of her in his arms filled his soul, her round bottom against him turning his ache into a throb.

  A slow smile tugging the corner of the girl’s mouth said she felt that very throbbing hardness beneath her just fine.

  Face heating, Shade went to place her back on the ground, but the girl tightened her grip on him instead. “I need you, Shade. Now. Please.”

  His heart stopped. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “You—” You don’t know me, he wanted to say, but knew that was somehow not true. “You are hurt.”

  “I know. But you’ll make it better,” the girl whispered as her hand reached for his head, tugging his mouth down to her parting lips. “The why of that you’ll need to work out for yourself.”

  The scent of lilacs hit Shade first, followed by a hint of sweet arousal from her shifting hips. Then…then came the press of a warm mouth, a tongue inviting his into a slow, maddening dance.

  Shade froze, his heart pounding with a sudden predatory desire that overtook need and want. He tried to focus on what the girl had said, he truly did, but it was impossible. With her delicious taste overwhelming his senses, her lilac scent rousing his soul, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t control the urge to take her, no matter the warnings the healer in him shouted or the common sense the man in him had.

  No, he could no more stop himself from angling his mouth deeper over the girl’s than he could have resisted breat
hing.

  He intended to be soft, to follow her slow dance. To savor the sweet taste of her that tingled his tongue. He lost that battle the moment the girl’s sharp canines brushed against his lower lip.

  Heat surged through Shade’s spine, making his cock pulse so hard that each beat of his heart was agony. Gripping the back of the girl’s head, he took her mouth with a savage possessiveness. Claiming. Demanding. And when, instead of yielding to his pressure, the female roused to it—her hand tangling in his hair and yanking him close—there was no more thought of any kind to be had.

  A growl that was anything but human rose inside his chest as he pinned the girl to the soft moss. His mouth still on her, he plunged his hand between her thighs to find her sex wet and hot and calling to him. But he wanted more than to bed her. He wanted to claim every inch of her blazing body.

  Shade slid two fingers into her without mercy, the spiked scent of her arousal raking down his chest and thighs and cock. Yes, he would be inside her soon, making her tight, hot channel his own. But first, first, Shade wanted to savor all of her. Properly.

  Pulling free from the girl’s mouth and sex, Shade held himself up over the girl. Her pupils were wide and glassy with a desire that matched his own. Her lips parted, her breath as quick as her racing pulse as she arched up toward him. If she felt the pain of her injuries now, the sensation must be as distant as Shade’s common sense. And in a few moments, she would feel not even that.

  11

  Lera

  Shade’s body looms over mine, his yellow eyes fevered, black hair swinging around his sculpted face. His bare chest and shoulders are a field of rippling tan muscle. My heart speeds with anticipation, the magic inside me recognizing its mate, the vital connection with him it needs for survival. I need Shade inside me as I need air, the craving so primal that I shake with it, a moan escaping my lips.