Shadow Master: The Nightwatch Academy book 4

by Cassidy, Debbie

  “Nothing that happened was your fault, Indigo. Look at me.”

  I met his gaze.

  “Tell me where we are?”

  I filled him in on the unpredictable rescue and on everything that Balan had told me. When I finished, he attempted to sit up again.

  “Hyde. What the fuck?”

  “We have to go. We have to leave right now.”

  “No. You need to heal.”

  “I’m fine.” He peeled back the bandages to reveal healed flesh puckered pink from scarring.

  “What the …” I touched him lightly, trailing my fingers across the wounds.

  He sucked in a breath at the contact.

  “Shit, did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “No.” He closed his eyes. “Justice, we need to get on the road now. We can reach the Salvation camp by dawn and hopefully steal Brady back and be back on our side of the mist by nightfall tomorrow.”

  I loved his optimism. “I’ve warned Kash. The knights will be ready.”

  “I need to be there,” Hyde insisted.

  “We will be. But do you honestly think you could fight right now if need be?” I poked his abdomen gently.

  He hissed in pain.

  “Yeah, you still have some healing to do. But Balan said you’d be fine by morning.”

  There was a bowl of herbs by the exit to the tent. I grabbed it and scooted back to Hyde.

  “Lie back and shut up.”

  He obliged, his expression serious and troubled.

  I set to work on removing the bandages, slicked on some more herb, and then put on fresh bandages.

  My hands trembled toward the end, as the image of him being stabbed over and over flitted through my mind again.

  “Indigo?” Hyde’s fingers curled around mine. “I’m here. I’m all right.”

  My throat was suddenly tight with emotion. “You almost died.” I glared down at him, the anger and the emotion I’d shoved in a bottle once I’d healed him bubbling to the surface now. “They stabbed you, over and over, and I couldn’t do anything.”

  “Indigo—"

  “I almost lost you.” My anger evaporated, replaced by something else. An acceptance. A knowledge. One that scared the fuck out of me. “I can’t lose you, Hyde. I can’t not be with you. I love you.”

  It was a weight lifting off my shoulders, it was shackles falling off my wrists. I fucking loved him, and Orion could go fuck himself. I’d find a way. We’d find a way, even if I had to slit the fey’s throat to do it.

  The vicious conviction sliced through me, leaving me trembling. But Hyde was staring at me with his heart in his eyes.

  “Say it again.” He gripped my bicep, his fingers biting into me. “Say it.”

  God, I both hated and loved his take-charge attitude. But like hell would I give in.

  “No. Fuck you.” I sniffed and wiped my nose with my feytech sleeve, regretting it instantly. Ouch.

  “Justice. Please.” Heat grazed my cheek in the wake of his gaze. It touched my mouth, lingering there like a phantom kiss.

  Fuck it. “I love you, Archer, and I don’t give a fuck about Orion’s law. Orion isn’t here right now. Right now, it’s just you and me on fomorian soil. So, tell me, Hyde … what do you want to do about it?”

  “Take off the armor.” It was a clipped order, a tone that spoke of restrained and barely veiled sexual aggression.

  Shivers of anticipation skated over my skin, and heat bloomed at the apex of my thighs.

  “Peel it off. Slowly.” He released me, breathing heavily.

  I reached for the collar of the skin and stretched it to deactivate the mechanism that molded it to my body, then began to peel it over my shoulders.

  He followed the slide of fabric down to the tops of my breasts, his mouth parting as I took it lower, grazing my nipples and down to my abdomen.

  His throat bobbed, and his fists clenched.

  “All the way off, Justice. All the way.”

  I pushed the fabric down to my hips and then wriggled it over my butt and down my legs.

  He sucked in a breath. “Lie down and spread your legs. I want to see you. All of you.”

  I was an alpha, an aggressor, but not with Hyde. With Hyde, I was happy to submit. His words sent a thrill through me, making me wetter than ever. I lay back on the furs and parted my thighs for him.

  He feasted on me with his gaze, his hands still balled into fists. Still holding back.

  Fucking torturer, but his gaze was like a physical caress, skimming over my skin feather-light, sparking every sense to life. My nipples tightened to hard nubs, and my back arched in response to his perusal, and when his gaze dipped to the apex of my thighs, it took everything I had not to touch myself.

  I was happy to let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, but he needed to touch me with his fucking hands.

  “Hyde, please.”

  “Archer …” His voice was thick and gruff. “Say it.”

  “Archer, for fuck’s sake, touch me.”

  “Where do you want me to touch you, show me.”

  I touched my breasts, running my fingers over my nipples and biting back a moan. God, every inch of me was sensitized.

  “Where else?”

  I trailed a hand down my abdomen, over my pubic bone, and slid my fingers into my wetness. This time there was no staunching my moan; my touch set me on fire, and I couldn’t stop.

  I closed my eyes and raised my hips, my fingers moving to a primal rhythm.

  “Yes, Justice. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” Archer sounded pained.

  He was about to snap. I could feel it in the air.

  I locked gazes with him. “Your turn. Touch yourself. Do it.”

  He pushed off the furs to reveal his arousal. His hand closed around the base, and then he began to pump.

  Tingles raced across my skin, aiming for the juncture of my thighs. The throb picked up pace, matching his rhythm. Oh, fuck, I was going to come, and he hadn’t even touched me yet.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” he ordered. And then he was sliding over me, between my thighs, and his mouth was on mine in a savage kiss that had me rocking desperately against the length of his arousal. He broke the kiss to concentrate on my breasts. His tongue laved my nipples before he sucked one into his mouth and began to draw on it. Mewls and moans slipped from my lips as he played my body. His hand slipped between us, replacing my efforts, but he pulled back every time I got close to release.

  Sobs gathered at the back of my throat.

  “Archer, fucking hell.”

  “On your side.” He rolled me and then positioned himself behind me.

  The head of his arousal kissed my wetness.

  “Hold,” he ordered, his hands on my hips, keeping me from pushing back onto him. “Wait.” He sucked on the back of my neck and then pulled my hips toward him, thrusting into me swift and hard.

  My cry was guttural and thick, but then his hand was at my throat, at my jaw, turning my head so he could claim my mouth with his tongue as he fucked me.

  Slow strokes. Deep, penetrating thrusts had me whimpering into his mouth until he finally broke. With a curse and a growl, he picked up the pace. My body was no longer my own, it was spiraling out of control, taken over by the zing and breath-stealing wash of sensations that precluded the final head rush. We hurtled toward it together, crashing out of our bodies, souls touching for a moment before we were tugged beneath a tsunami of release.

  We lay entwined for long minutes, fingers laced, legs tangled, breath hitching as we came down together.

  “Again.” His voice was a delicious growl that was a tantalizing abrasion to my senses.

  “This time, I get to be in charge.”

  He chuckled softly into my ear. “What do you want me to do?”

  I turned my head so my lips grazed his jaw. “Lie back. I want to play.”

  He kissed me, nipping at my bottom lip, drawing blood, which he licked away with a sweep of his tongue.

/>   His body was mine, every inch of him mine to explore—the scars on his back, the intricate tattoo that ran up from his pectoral to his shoulder, and the feytech leg that felt oddly warm to the touch.

  He let me play, lying back and watching me from beneath hooded eyes. He let me lick, kiss, and touch. It was like playing an instrument, drawing a moan and a sigh here, or a hissed intake of breath and a soft curse there.

  This was our time. This tent was our haven.

  Beneath the canvas, we were free to be ourselves, to forget about the laws that forbade us to be together, to forget about sanity and logic, and the glaring fact that once we returned, we’d be bound by the laws of our world once more.

  In the tent, we were just Indigo and Archer, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t make the most of this.

  This time, I took him, straddling him and rocking until he was panting, hips pushing up to meet each of my downward motions.

  There were no words.

  We’d said too much already.

  Weeks of words.

  Weeks of excuses and goodbyes.

  No more fucking words.

  This. We needed this. I arched my back, tipped back my head, and gave in to my body. To the heat between us and the sounds we made together.

  Mine.

  He was mine.

  * * *

  Hyde’s bandages had been replaced, and we’d tugged his feytech skin up to cover the bottom half of his body.

  A pressure settled on my chest, one that felt like goodbye. I couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see my feelings reflected in his eyes.

  I finished pulling on my boots.

  “Justice?” Hyde pulled me toward him. “We can figure something out.”

  “Like assassinating Orion?” I grinned wryly.

  He rested his forehead on mine. “Once this is over—”

  “Things will go back to the way they were before.” I looked deep into his blue-green eyes and cupped his jaw. “And I’ll love you until the day I die no matter what. No matter where we end up.”

  “Listen to me, we—”

  A bellow cut through the silence.

  I froze.

  Another bellow was followed by the clang of metal on metal.

  Fuck, my blade was outside. I pushed Hyde back. “You stay here.”

  The night air kissed my cheeks as I exited the tent. Fomorians fought fir bolg. Harmon and Athos battled to the right. There were too many fir bolg and not enough fomorians. We wouldn’t win this. Couldn’t. But if we could fight our way out … I reached for the shadows, calling to them. They rushed to meet me.

  Fight, I willed them. Lash out and fight. Kill the fir bolg.

  The shadows swirled around me, aimless and confused, before slipping away into the night.

  What the fuck? No time to figure it out now.

  Old school it was, then.

  Hyde leaped into the fray to my right as I ran for my blade. A peripheral part of me was aware of whoops of triumph, of the clatter of hooves as more figures poured into the clearing. The hilt of my blade sat snug in my palm just as a fir bolg hurtled toward me. I brought the blade up, reveling in the jarring sensation as it struck home and lodged in flesh.

  The fir bolg grunted, and blood spurted from his mouth. I yanked my blade out of his crotch, and he hit the ground with his knees. I swung hard, severing his head from his torso.

  His body swayed for a second as if unsure what the fuck it was meant to do now. My boot in its chest helped it decide. It hit the ground with a soft thud, and then the silence registered.

  Deathly and eerie.

  The side of my face pricked in awareness, and I turned my head to see several fir bolg silent and bloody on the ground and our camp surrounded by new fomorians.

  Hooded and cloaked, they stood silent and waiting. My gaze snagged on the reason why. He stood a head above them all, his body clad in leather armor, his dark eyes filled with stars as they remained locked on me.

  My breath whooshed out of my lungs. Brady? I took a step forward. “Brady?” And then I was running across the camp, bridging the distance between us to wrap my arms around his neck and claim his mouth.

  His lips parted beneath mine, his arms wound around my waist, and he kissed me back, deep and hungry.

  Warning bells went off in my head as a wrongness stabbed me in the chest. I knew my mate. I knew the taste and the smell of him, and this man … This man tasted different. He smelled … wrong—pines and woodland.

  Not Brady.

  I broke the kiss and tried to pull out of his embrace.

  Athos’s low, menacing growl reinforced my gut instinct, but Brady held fast, and an amused smile flirted with his lips. “That was an interesting thank you for rescuing your life. Although from the manner in which you beheaded your assailant, I can only deduce you would have succeeded in making an escape even if my party hadn’t come upon your camp.”

  Not Brady, my mind screamed. Not my mate. My body agreed, tensing, ready to fight.

  “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you wearing my mate’s body?”

  Seventeen

  “Answer me!” I slammed a fist against the Brady lookalike’s shoulder. “Who the hell are you?”

  His mouth parted, and his gaze softened as if he was looking inward. “Oh, you belong to him.” He released me. “He told me you would come for him. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Where is he? What have you done to him?”

  “I haven’t done anything. I merely borrowed his body, with his permission, of course.”

  “Liar,” Hyde said. “Brady wouldn’t give you his body.”

  Not-Brady’s eyes narrowed. “You must be the wanker, Hyde.”

  He said it in a way that revealed he had no idea what the word meant.

  Hyde’s lip curled.

  Not-Brady shrugged. “I get the odd impression from his psyche now and then.”

  He studied me as if he were dissecting me. It was an expression that didn’t belong on Brady’s face, and icicles formed in my blood.

  “Give him back.” I raised my blade in warning.

  “Or what?” he asked. “You’ll kill me?” He shook his head. “You can’t hurt me without hurting him.” He strode away from me. “Well, since you actually made the journey, you may as well tag along on our quest.”

  Quest?

  “Horses,” Not-Brady ordered. “We need horses for our new companions.”

  The group of cloaked fomorians parted, and I spotted violet eyes. Rage bubbled up my throat and erupted in a cry of pure anguish. I rushed him, hitting him square in the chest and taking him down. He’d killed Carlo. Snapped his neck. He’d taken Brady. He’d done this.

  My blade came up, ready to stab, but I was hauled off my target, and then my back was cradled to a familiar chest.

  Brady. Not Brady.

  My eyes heated. “He killed my friend. He killed Carlo. He has to pay.”

  Not-Brady’s body tensed. “Abram killed a fomori-tainted?”

  “Yes.” I wriggled, wanting to be free of his grip.

  He let me go, and I staggered forward a step before turning to face him. “He killed my friend, and he needs to pay.”

  Not-Brady looked to Abram. “Did you kill a fomori-tainted?”

  “Yes, my liege,” Abram replied. “But it was only in a quest to claim this body for you. I needed to show force.”

  Not-Brady nodded, his mouth turning down in an expression that said he understood, that he got it. “You were showing force. But the price for an innocent life is a life, is it not?”

  Abram’s eyes grew wide. “My liege?”

  Not-Brady sighed. “I liked you, Abram.” He pulled a massive sword from the holster at his back. “But if it’s a life the wronged party demands, it’s a life she will get.”

  The sword arced toward Abram. He didn’t move, he didn’t try to run. He was pale but stoic and ready to die. Carlo’s face filled my mind. His warm laughter filled my head. My friend was d
ead, and nothing would bring him back.

  My blade clanged against Not-Brady’s, deflecting his swing.

  He arched a brow. “You don’t want him dead?”

  I looked across at Abram. “Oh, I do. But it won’t bring Carlo back.”

  I lowered my blade, and Not-Brady’s blade followed the downward arc. “Besides, there’s a war coming. We’re going to need cannon fodder.”

  Not-Brady let out a bark of laughter. “I like the way you think.”

  I met his eyes. “I’m still going to need my mate back. So, if you’ll kindly vacate his body.”

  His eyes darkened, and his expression sobered. “It doesn’t work that way, Indigo.”

  My pulse skipped at the sound of my name coming from his lips. For a moment, I could imagine it was Brady speaking to me.

  But then he had his haughty expression back in place. “I’m as trapped here as Brady is. Neither of us can be free until the quest is complete.”

  “And what is that quest?”

  His mouth curved in a wicked grin. “To find a weapon. One that can decimate an army.”

  A weapon?

  “What kind of weapon?” Hyde asked.

  Not-Brady smiled. “The eye of Balor.”

  * * *

  The creatures they called horses were lower to the ground and bulkier, kind of like fomorian hounds but without the leathery skin and ridges. Athos had opted to take Hyde, who was still recovering from his wounds. The sex probably hadn’t helped, but it was something that we’d both needed. We’d needed to take that step and connect. We’d needed to be together, if only for a few hours.

  Balan and the fomorians who’d survived the fir bolg attack had gone their separate way, back toward the mist to await their militia comrades.

  We’d been riding for a few minutes now, headed northwest if my internal compass was correct. The terrain was already shifting, becoming less barren and greener. Whatever had happened to the land was localized to the area around the mist, it seemed.

  Hyde, Athos, and Harmon were behind me. The liege had insisted I ride up ahead a length behind him, but abreast of Abram. So far, the fomorian hadn’t said a word to me.