Ivar's Escape (Assassins of Gravas Book 2)

by N. J. Walters

  She’d already done so much for him, he hated to ask for more. “Do you have clothes?” His were threadbare and filthy, not fit to put back on. He’d rather be naked.

  She lowered her head and went back to her pack, rummaging around before pulling out a small bundle. “Here.” She tossed it down beside him. “I’m going to take a look outside.”

  He clamped his teeth together and tightened his jaw to keep from calling out to her as she disappeared through the opening and headed toward the main section of the cave.

  Alone, the walls seemed to close in on him. He placed his hands on the edge of the pool and breathed deeply until the panic subsided. It never fully disappeared. She was his only link to his identity, might be the only key to his past.

  His shoulders and biceps bunched, the muscles burning as he pulled himself out of the hot mineral waters. A sunbeam drew him, his feet shuffling forward until the warm rays fell on him. The light was as healing as the hot springs, seeping into his skin, into his very soul.

  ****

  Delphi ducked outside long enough to check their trail. She’d led them here in a roundabout way, one that would leave a less visible track. All she could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

  In a perfect world, she’d have run for the docking bay, jumped in her ship, and blasted her way off Tortuga. But there was no way she’d have been able to sneak Ivar past the guards. There were just too many of them there, security far too tight.

  They needed to hide until help arrived or Balthazar assumed Ivar had somehow escaped.

  The back of her neck itched, her skin crawling at the idea of sitting here like a lamb awaiting slaughter, but it was their only option.

  Not wanting to be away from Ivar for long, she hurried back into the cave and made her way to the hot spring area. She was brought up short by the sight before her. Her mouth went bone-dry, and all she could do was stare.

  Fully illuminated by the sun streaming through the opening in the ceiling, he had his arms out by his sides and his face angled toward it.

  Even after weeks of imprisonment, his skin wasn’t pale, but had a light olive tone to it. His short hair and trimmed beard gave her a better sense of his features. His jawline was square, his lips not quite full but not thin. His nose was slender with a bump in the center. It had been broken at some point. Whether in the far past or recently, she had no idea.

  His ribs showed on his large frame, but he was still a big man. And where she’d only seen him from behind before, this time she had a front-row seat to him in all his glory. She swallowed heavily as she continued her journey downward.

  His chest was hairless, not hiding the slight rippling of his abs. It also revealed the bruising and scarring from his imprisonment.

  Her gaze went lower to the thatch of curly hair. Even lying softly against him, his cock was large. As she watched, it stirred and began to grow, igniting a fluttering deep in her core.

  “You done staring?” He turned her earlier words back on her.

  “Just checking for injuries.” No way would she give him the satisfaction of thinking she was admiring his manly form. Fortunately, her dark skin hid the blush creeping up her cheeks.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m sure.” He lowered his arms and reached for the clothes. It was almost a shame for him to pull on the rough pants and button them. Although with his bare chest and feet, he still managed to look pretty hot. He reached for the shirt.

  “Wait.” Hurrying forward, she retrieved the jar of salve from the medipack. “Might as well use this before you finish getting dressed.” She held it out to him.

  His golden eyes softened. “Would you do my back?”

  There was no way he could reach the bruises there. And any kind of contortion to try would only hurt him. She swallowed heavily. “I can do that.” Her voice was husky. She cleared her throat. “Hold the jar.” After opening it, she placed it in his palm before scooping out a glob of the white salve.

  Stepping behind him, she put her hand on his back and began to work the medicated ointment into his skin. There were bruises in various stages of healing. Some old, some very new.

  When he groaned, she stilled. “Does it hurt?” She bit her bottom lip but didn’t stop. He needed it to heal.

  “Feels good.”

  Beneath her hands, his muscles bunched and flexed as she worked her way from shoulder to waist, pausing only to load up on more salve. His skin was warm from the hot springs. Or maybe it was a fever.

  She went back to the medipack and took out a packet. Ripping it open, she offered him the two pills. “It will help with fever and infection.”

  He took both and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

  She should stop now. He could finish the rest on his own. But again and again, she dipped back into the jar and rubbed the ointment on his arms and chest, paying extra attention to his ribs. He shuddered several times, his entire body shaking. Chill bumps ran across his skin. He never told her to stop, so she didn’t.

  The scent was pleasant, almost floral. She had no idea what was in it, only that it worked extremely well. It mixed with the scent of soap and clean male to create a delectable perfume that made her mouth water.

  Down girl. Not the time or place.

  She lingered as long as she dared, her hands gliding across the broad expanse of his chest, down his hard abs and back up again. Her breathing increased. So did his. Heat poured off his body in waves. Sweat trickled down her forehead.

  “Thank you.” His voice was deep and hoarse.

  “Ah, no problem.” She went to step back but noticed the scar on his face. “Just one more spot.” She dabbed the ointment on and rubbed. His big hand covered hers, trapping it against his face.

  “Thank you,” he repeated. His head lowered, his gaze never leaving hers. His lashes were dark and thick. Most women would kill for them. Instead of detracting from his masculinity, it only highlighted it. His nostrils flared.

  He was going to kiss her.

  What was she doing? Snapping out of the sensual snare, she jumped back and grabbed the jar from his hand. “Ah, you should finish getting dressed now.” For both their sakes. She put the cap back on and returned it to the medipack, all the while trying not to notice the rather large bulge in the front of his pants and the way her hands trembled.

  Jaw taut, he eased the shirt over his head and stuck his arms into the sleeves. There were no buttons on this one, but some lacing at the v-neck opening at the top.

  Clean and dressed, he was formidable. When he tilted his chin up, her heart skipped a beat. Not because she was attracted to him. The denial was quick. She ignored the liquid arousal coursing through her veins, the yearning in her soul.

  He reminded her of Spear and the rest of the el Gravaso family. She’d studied them intently during her time on Gravas, had seen a hologram of Ivar. This man before her was a harder, older version of what she’d been shown, of what she’d been told.

  But it was him.

  Relief settled over her. She’d done her task, kept her promise to her sister and her new brother-in-law, not to mention the king of Gravas. She owed them for saving her from her own captivity.

  And she always paid her debts. Wanted to owe no one.

  “I have more food.” Turning away from Ivar, and the emotion tightening her chest and squeezing her lungs, she went back to the main cave. She plucked a bag from behind a rock, pulled out a couple of blankets, and tossed them on the ground. Not the softest bed in the world, but she’d slept in worse.

  Without looking, she knew he’d followed, was attuned to his presence. “We’ll rest here for today.” Ears twitching, she caught the sounds of fabric being moved as he set up their sleeping area.

  Stalling, she pulled out a bundle and centered herself before facing him. He was seated on the blanket nearest to the entrance. Was he claustrophobic? Or was it his way of trying to protect her?

  “Here.” She sat on the empty one and s
et the bundle between them. “You need to eat slowly.” The last thing he needed was to get sick and lose what little he’d taken in. She opened the offering and removed a hunk of bread and cheese. “It’s only a day old, so it should be good.

  When all he did was stare at it, she broke a piece of cheese off and held it out to him. His hand had only the slightest tremor as he reached for it. When their fingers brushed, tingles shot up her arm. She quickly pulled her hand back and rubbed it against her leg.

  He took a bite of the white cheese and slowly smiled. “Delicious. I’d forgotten what it tasted like. Figured it couldn’t be as good as my memory suggested.” The low moan of pleasure that slipped from his lips had sweat popping out on her skin. She did her best to ignore the sexual hunger that was as troubling as it was rare.

  Not once in all her life had she been this attracted to a man.

  He ate slowly, chewing carefully. Most men who’d been half-starved would have gobbled it down. He savored it.

  Another confirmation. According to the information she’d received from his family, Ivar’s favorite food was cheese, which he ate every single day when it was available.

  “Thank you.” He licked his fingers clean. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

  The reminder of his limited memory allowed her to shove aside the unwanted sexual attraction. Not only was it inappropriate, it couldn’t go anywhere.

  He was a prince of Gravas. She was an assassin whose past had been stolen from her.

  But her future was in her hands. As long as she kept Ivar safe and got him home.

  Even though she hadn’t eaten in almost a day—she’d been too busy—she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach churned, the fears of everything that could go wrong eating at her.

  Most assassins were able to shut off their emotions and compartmentalize things. It was the only way to stay sane. She’d always had trouble with that, much to the dismay of Zaxe and Sass. Her siblings constantly worried about her.

  Thinking about them, she removed her shoe and lifted her foot.

  “What are you doing?” Ivar placed the uneaten food back into the bundle and set it aside.

  “Getting help.” She drew a small dagger—a clean one, not one she’d used to kill—and quickly sliced a shallow cut between her big toe and the one beside it.

  He shot off his blanket and grabbed her wrist. “Why are you hurting yourself? You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.” Ignoring him and the pain, she pulled her arm away and used the tip of the blade to ease a small metal disc from beneath her skin.

  “What is that?”

  She held up the bloody disc and grinned. “This, my friend, is freedom.” Holding it tightly between her fingers, she squeezed.

  ****

  Blood seeped from Delphi’s foot but she was smiling. The way her lips tilted up and the pleased twinkle in her eyes went straight to his groin. His shaft stirred, making itself and its wants known.

  He ignored his growing arousal, pushed to his feet, and hurried back to the hot springs room to retrieve the medipack. When he returned, Delphi was still on the blanket with her legs extended, ignoring the blood on her foot.

  It was only a small wound. Nothing really in the scheme of things. But it bothered him on too deep a level to ignore.

  This woman should never be hurt, had been harmed enough in her life. The knowledge wove through him, as though she’d spoken it aloud.

  He opened the pack and ripped open a small healing pad, placing it over the cut. “The bleeding is almost stopped.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Her nonchalance over her own safety and well-being bothered him. His actions were brisk as he made sure the edges of the pad were secured. It was medicated and would speed healing. “Of all the idiotic things to do. Slicing your foot open. And who hides a—whatever that thing is—under their skin?”

  She pressed her hands against his face. They weren’t soft, but rough and calloused in certain spots. They were the hands of someone who knew how to fight and trained often. He didn’t question that knowledge. It was simply there, like so much other random information.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Really.

  The anger drained out of him until only a sliver remained. “You have to take care of yourself,” he told her. “I can’t lose you.” He’d already lost far too much.

  “I won’t leave you,” she promised.

  He shoved the wrapper back into the medipack and slammed it shut. “I’m not worried about me. Do you know what will happen to you if Balthazar finds us?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze was steady, her voice calm.

  Kneeling beside her, he brushed his thumbs over her face, studying her, trying to figure out just who Delphi was. “Am I so important, then?” His gut clenched and his heart began to hammer.

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed back the tears that threatened. After so long alone and lost, he’d wondered if there was anyone in the universe who missed him, who was searching for him. Without knowing his past, he’d been caught in the never-ending hell of the present.

  “Ivar.”

  He peered into her dark eyes, seeing the honesty there. “You’re certain that’s my name?”

  “I’m sure of it. With that mop of hair and bushy beard gone, I can see the real you. You remind me of your brothers.”

  “Brothers? I have more than one.” A lone tear slid down his cheek. He didn’t see it as a weakness, but as a release, a relief. He’d been lost but was found. “How many?” His voice was rough and scratchy from emotion.

  She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “It’s best if you wait until it comes back to you.”

  His hands briefly tightened on her face before he dropped them. He wanted to shake her, to demand she give him the answers he sought.

  Maybe she didn’t really know them. Maybe this was no more than a ploy to find out what he knew. His emotions turned off faster than a spigot shutting down the flow of water. Calm settled over him.

  “Better for whom?”

  She was frowning, and even now, he wanted to comfort her. With no internal defenses, she’d slipped under his skin, sneaking in like the assassin she was.

  “Help will be coming.” She ignored his question and carried on. Fury simmered beneath his icy exterior.

  “Help from whom? Balthazar? Are you working with him?”

  “No. What are you talking about? I risked my life to get you out of there. I killed people.” The hurt in her voice sounded real, but what did he really know about her? Maybe she was as good an actress as she was an assassin.

  “Balthazar would think nothing of sacrificing some of his men to get what he wanted. I only have your word the whole thing wasn’t staged. It went off without a hitch.”

  She surged to her feet. “You ungrateful son of a Dragarian sloth. You’re lucky I promised my sister and her new husband I’d find and get you out of here or I’d drag your sorry ass back to that cell and leave you there.”

  Anger and uncertainty warring inside him, he pushed to his feet, grabbing her arm when she started to stalk by. “Don’t you walk away from me.” It was crazy to challenge her when he wasn’t at full strength, and she was armed to the teeth, but that didn’t stop him.

  “Why not?” She shoved her hands against his chest, pushing him back a step. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

  Sanity fled, and he yanked her against him. “This.” He slammed his mouth down on hers.

  Chapter Seven

  With anger pumping through her veins, it took her brain a second to catch up with her body. Ivar was kissing her. He’d accused her of working with Balthazar, which had sent her temper flaring. She’d been walking away to hide her upset and to keep from decking him.

  Pity she couldn’t do it. He might deserve it, but even in her righteous anger, she didn’t want him hurt any more than he’d already been.

  And now his lips were plastered against hers, firm and warm. Hi
s tongue teased, sliding along the seam until she parted them. He moaned as he sank into her, exploring her mouth, coaxing a response.

  She didn’t want to kiss him back but was helpless against the onslaught of heat that consumed her. Sexual hunger and emotional need clawed at her. It had been so long since she’d had a man’s arms around her.

  She’d never trusted one enough to go all the way.

  As an assassin, when she’d been allowed out into the world by the woman who’d controlled her life, she’d had a mission. One she’d done as swiftly as possible. The lives of her siblings had always hung in the balance.

  She’d never traded on her femininity, preferring to hide it while she was out in the world. Having sex was a big deal. Or it should be. Too many times, it meant little to the people involved—a monetary transaction, a few moments of forgetfulness. She didn’t judge any of them. People did what they needed to in order to get by. She, better than anyone, understood that.

  But a quick roll in a bed with a stranger never appealed to her, which was why at the ripe old age of twenty-five she was still a virgin.

  Not to mention there was no way of knowing how her protective brother might react. They were both assassins, but he’d worried about her and Sass when they’d been out on a mission. As Zaxe had always pointed out, it was an unfortunate reality that as women they had a hell of a lot more to be concerned about than simply being killed.

  She didn’t want to even think about what he might have done if he’d ever discovered she’d been coerced or forced to trade sex for her life.

  For the first time, she was tempted to let down her guard. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

  A low moan escaped, and her stomach clenched as his tongue stroked against hers. She curled her fingers into the rough fabric of his shirt, afraid if she touched his bare skin she might throw caution to the wind.

  He’d accused her of working with Balthazar.

  Ivar eased back and nipped at her bottom lip, sending lovely ribbons of pleasure cascading through her and raising goosebumps on her skin.

  “You… You don’t like me,” she reminded him.