Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3)

by Linda Kage

“Because she already has a name, you idiot. You’ll offend her if you start calling her something else.”

  Slowing to a stop as I watched Melaina walk ahead, I blinked after her for a puzzled second before leaning forward. “Do you really already have your own name?” I whispered into the unicorn’s ear.

  She nodded her head yes.

  I flung my hands into the air. “Well, how the hell am I supposed to guess what to call you?”

  The unicorn-horse-zebra began to drag her hoof through the dirt in the ground under us.

  Frowning in confusion, I leaned over her shoulder and watched as she made strange marks that suddenly looked like letters until she spelled the word Holly.

  “Holly?” I said.

  The unicorn whinnied and tossed her head, affirming my guess.

  My eyebrows lifted. “Your name is Holly?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, then.” I bobbed my own head in satisfaction and patted her neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Holly. I’m Indigo.”

  She began to purr.

  A purring horse. So strange.

  “Hey, guys,” I called while Holly hurried to catch us up with the other two riders. “I just learned the unicorn’s name.”

  “Good for you,” Melaina muttered, uninterested.

  Quilla ignored me completely.

  For some reason, it didn’t feel as if I was making a very good first impression on my one true love. Not that I was too worried about that yet. I had the rest of my life to woo her into my good graces. Before too long, she wouldn’t be able to help but love me back.

  But still…

  It kind of caught in my craw that she didn’t seem even remotely curious about me.

  “Well, it’s Holly,” I announced loudly for both her and her aunt to hear. “In case either of you ever needed to know.”

  No one answered.

  I leaned down to whisper in Holly’s ear, “Don’t mind them; I believe they're still learning their social skills.”

  The unicorn-horse-zebra snuffled out a sound that remarkably resembled a laugh.

  I began to pet her in gratitude, and she purred in response.

  At least someone here got me.

  Chapter 9

  Indigo

  We were heading south.

  If my calculations were correct, we had crossed over the border of Far Shore an hour or so ago and we were now on High Cliff land. The territory in these parts had once been the kingdom of Teller, but a couple of generations back, it had been taken over, and now Teller was no more.

  High Cliff country wasn’t a safe place for anyone with the name of Graykey to be. So wherever Quilla and her aunt were headed, it better be damn well worth the risk.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” I decided to ask.

  My true love ignored me, as she’d been doing for the past three hours. But Melaina cast me a teasing smirk. “Nowhere that concerns you, darling. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery like a good little trophy, won’t you, dear?”

  That I could do, for I did so adore the scenery before me. My gaze strayed to the blonde riding up ahead. She was a small, petite yet curvy thing with the sweetest round face and longest mass of hair I’d ever seen. Seriously, I could get lost in all that hair.

  I shifted in my saddle, growing uncomfortable. For years, I’d wondered what my mate might look like. It was thrilling yet bizarre to finally put a face to all those what-ifs. It honestly wouldn’t have mattered to me what her physical form had turned out to be, but I had to admit, I liked what I saw.

  The fiery rage that flared in her eyes whenever she addressed me was a surprise, though. She was what I’d call an angry girl. She was the type who’d just as soon punch someone than smile at them, though I had a feeling Quilla would stab before she punched.

  I also had a feeling I’d never get bored with her, and that made me smile.

  “You know,” Melaina spoke from the horse beside me. “I hate letting a perfectly hard cock go to waste.”

  “What?” When I swung an incredulous glance her way, she was focusing on my lap and licking her lips.

  “I could take care of that engorged member of yours, if you like.”

  “Hey!” My shackled hands immediately shielded the erection tenting my trousers, trying to hide the fact that I’d been jonesing hard for Quilla, even though it was clear Melaina had noticed already. “You know I belong to her,” I ground out, tipping my head toward her niece. “Why in God’s name do you keep propositioning me like that?”

  With a helpless shrug, she let out a long, suffering sigh. “Not entirely sure,” she answered airily. “I’m bored, horny, and like to stir up trouble, I guess. It’s a nasty habit I can’t seem to break.” Glancing my way as if apologizing, even though she didn’t sound sorry at all, she admitted, “It’s a blessing my true love is such an understanding woman.” Then she made a sad mournful sound in the back of her throat and shook her head. “She always accepted my sensual urges; sometimes she’d even join in. Those were my favorite encounters. But alas...” She cast me another smile, this one full of pain and heartbreak. “It doesn’t matter whose body I have an urge to mingle with, my heart will always belong to her.”

  “Sounds like a special lady,” I said.

  Melaina sighed wistfully. “She was. She really, really was.”

  I noticed she kept alternating between present and past tense when referring to her true love, so I asked, “Where is she now?”

  Melaina fluttered out a vague hand. “Oh, you know. Somewhere far, far away, in a place I cannot yet fully reach.”

  A droplet of blood pooled in the corner of her eye and began to slide down her cheek.

  A little freaked out by that, I swallowed thickly and pointed. “Uh, you’ve got a little—er...”

  Seriously, how the hell did you tell someone that they were bleeding from the eyes?

  She glanced at me, blinking in confusion. “What?”

  “Your eyes.”

  “My eyes?” She wiped at the trail slipping down her cheek and checked her fingers to find them smeared with red. “Dammit,” she muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to let this happen again. Thanks a lot for making me cry, you sick little bastard. Are you happy now?”

  “Uh…” I could only blink, utterly baffled as she rode off in a huff, streaking ahead of her niece, which gained Quilla’s attention.

  Obviously blaming me for Melaina’s mood, she scowled my way.

  I had Holly trot up to the side of her horse so I could explain. “I made her cry.”

  “Ah,” she murmured on a knowing nod. “Bloody tears?”

  “Yeah.” Studying her up close, I asked, “Strange question, but does your aunt sexually harass everyone she meets, or am I just that hard to resist?”

  She sent me a rye glance. “Don’t worry, you’re nothing special. She’s that way with everyone.”

  “What a relief,” I answered dryly. “Because I’d hate to be classified as something so mundane as irresistibly special.”

  Quilla ignored the joke and stared straight ahead, refusing to reply. I glanced askance at her, trying to figure out how to penetrate that tough exterior. But then the mere word penetrate had my body stirring.

  Lust was an aggravating side effect of first spotting your true love. The urge to rut with them was strong.

  Here, I honestly just wanted to get to know her, and my libido wouldn’t stop working in overdrive, filling me with the yearning to grip all that thick blond hair, tip her head back and plunder her mouth while I drove deep inside her, over and over again. I kept imagining all the different ways I could get between her legs, and it was annoying the hell out of me.

  I released a breath, then ground my teeth, trying to work past all the arousal flooding my system. But it was hard.

  So very hard.

  Jesus, this was going to be impossible.

  Clearing my throat, I moved my hands inside my cuffs to scratch the backs of my bound wrists that had begun to itch, and I con
versationally said, “My name’s Indigo, by the way.”

  Neither woman had asked me for a moniker. One might think they didn’t even care.

  “Indigo Moast,” I added. “But close friends and family will sometimes call me Indy…” I bit my lip as I lamely added, “In case you were, you know, wondering.”

  Quilla cast me a dark glance. “I wasn’t.”

  Aha. A response. Now we were getting somewhere. “Did you know it’s considered good luck in High Cliff to start your name with a vowel,” I went on. “That’s why about ninety-nine percent of us are named with letters starting with A, E, I, O, or U.”

  She went back to ignoring me, but I knew she was at least listening. “Hey, is that why the Graykeys have the naming custom you do?” I asked. “Because of good luck?”

  I realized that was probably the stupidest question I could ever ask a Graykey about a split second before she sliced a glare my way. Because good luck simply did not exist in their house, and no amount of naming was going to help them.

  But all she muttered was, “What naming custom?”

  I blurted out a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

  Her scowl grew.

  “Oh, come on,” I prodded, rolling my eyes. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed that you, your siblings, and all your cousins’ names begin with the letter Q. Then your father and that entire generation start with P, and your grandfather and his siblings start with O. It goes all the way up the line like that until, hell, I don’t know—A, maybe?”

  “I,” Quilla told me, not looking my way but talking straight ahead. “It goes back to the I generation. It’s somehow a condition of the curse.”

  I wrinkled my nose, considering that. “Seriously? What an odd condition to place on a curse. And confusing as hell to try to keep all the names straight.” I glanced at her. “So, when you have children, you’ll be compelled against your control to name them each something that begins with R?”

  She sent me a hard look. “I won’t be having any children.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but then it really struck me what she was saying, and I ended up releasing a devastated breath instead.

  “Ever?” I asked anyway.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Ever. I made sure of it.”

  If she had gotten rid of her magic in order to avoid the bloodlust side effects of her family curse, then who knew what she’d done to prevent herself from ever becoming a mother and passing the curse on to a new generation.

  “You had your womb closed,” I realized.

  Quilla nodded.

  A strange wave of heat and sorrow passed through me. If she’d never have children, then we’d never have children, which meant I’d never have children.

  I had never really even thought about becoming a father. It was always a far-off, someday kind of general idea swimming around in the back of my head. But learning that I never would have the chance, even in a distant someday, was a bit crushing.

  So I said, “Oh,” on a hard swallow, and my voice went an edge softer as I added, “Probably for the best.” Though it didn’t feel that way at the moment.

  The cold look she sent me could curdle milk on sight. “You think?”

  Damn. I had absolutely no idea how to talk to a Graykey. I’d spent my whole life being afraid of them and hating them for the destruction they’d caused in my own family. I never thought I’d converse with one. Or that one would end up being my true love.

  Everything I said seemed to offend her.

  Blowing out a breath, I focused on the countryside we were traveling. Having left behind the trees and spring Quilla had bathed in hours ago, we plodded over landscape that was growing increasingly craggier. A mountain range lay ahead of us. We’d have to cross a river before coming to it, but the next major parish on the other side of the great canyon pass would be Tyler.

  I was familiar with the village of Tyler. I’d lived there for a time after my grandparents had died. I did not wish to return.

  To keep from remembering those few years I’d spent with my mother’s older brother, I turned back to Quilla, blurting, “What do you call a belt made of money?”

  She blinked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What?”

  I flashed her a wide grin and answered, “A waist of money. Get it?”

  When she merely stared at me with blunt confusion, I cleared my throat and mumbled, “That was supposed to be a joke.”

  “Was it?” The look she sent me said she disagreed. “Thanks for letting me know; I never would’ve guessed.”

  Okay, screw this. I was tired of dodging the topic I really wanted to discuss with her, so I just blurted, “Don’t you think we should at least talk about this true love thing between us?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Talk about it?” With a sniff, she muttered, “Okay, fine. Let’s talk. Here’s how things are going to go between me and you: I realize you feel some kind of disturbing affection for me or something because of the bond that stupid tattoo put into your head.”

  Well, she wasn’t wrong.

  But I frowned, anyway, because, “That’s not quite how I’d phrase it, but alright...”

  “Except I’m not tied down by any damn love mark,” she went on. “So you mean nothing to me. I don’t want you to mean anything. And I don’t want to get to know you. As soon as my aunt and I finish our mission, that’s it. You go your way, I go mine, and we never cross paths again. Got it?”

  Never cross paths again?

  I blinked as a new horde of questions assailed me.

  What mission was she pursuing?

  Why did she need me to complete it?

  And how did she propose to evade me forever afterward? I’d always be able to find her, no matter where she went.

  But what I said was, “Are you serious? Magic has deemed us mates. You and I. No one in this life will ever make you happier or encourage you, partner with you, or love you as I will…” I flushed and gave a little shrug. “I mean, once we really get to know each other, I’m sure that’s how it’ll work out. Maybe not right now. But aren’t you even curious about me? I’m going out of my mind over here, fucking dying to know everything about you.”

  “Well, I don’t give a shit about you, so…” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Nope. Not curious.”

  I squinted at her. Her expression was completely apathetic. But a little jump in her pulse, this spurt of fear, anxiety, and guilt that came through my mark, projecting from her, told me she was lying.

  So I leaned toward her and whispered, “Bullshit.”

  She arched me a dry glance. “Excuse me?”

  With a careless shrug, I answered, “I’m just not buying it, is all. You want to know about me, too. I know you do.”

  “Whatever,” she spat, returning her attention to the road, and lifting her chin a notch higher. “Like I care what you think, anyway.”

  “Someday,” I murmured, studying her intently. “I bet you will. I bet you’ll care a lot.”

  The gush of unease that wafted off her told me she was afraid I might be right. I frowned, wondering why she was so afraid to fall in love with me, anyway. Because that was it, I realized. She was scared. Of love.

  In any other situation, I could get that. Love was scary shit. You put yourself out there with no guarantee the other person would feel the same. You risked receiving the worst possible kind of rejection.

  But that was the thing about love marks. They were the guarantee, before you ever spoke to or got to know that person. It was like a fail-safe sign that you’d just met the one who would never reject you.

  Not being born of High Cliff, however, that fact must be hard for her to fully believe.

  “Quilla,” I murmured, shifting my mount closer to hers and lowering my voice to a confidential level, to be sensitive to her worries and concerns. “I know this is overwhelming. It’s a lot to take in, for sure. It’s freaking me out too, I assure you. I mean, my entire life just changed. In the blink of an eye. But plea
se trust me when I say it’s not something we have to fear. At all.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Yes, you are,” I countered softly. “But you don’t have to be.”

  I reached out with my shackled hands for a lock of her hair that was fluttering in the light drifts of breeze, just to learn what it felt like. But before making contact, she swung out with a dagger she had clutched in her hand. And the blade sliced open the length of my palm.

  “Oww.” Hissing in a breath, I pulled my bound hands back to my side and curled my fingers into a fist to stanch the pain.

  Quilla gripped the bloody knife threateningly. “Next time you try to touch me, I’ll cut off the entire damn hand, got it?”

  “I got it. Jesus.” Glancing down, I watched blood seep through the cracks in my fingers. “Sorry.”

  Next to me, a riot of emotions zinged through my true love: remorse, fear, anger, sorrow, hope, fear again.

  The woman had no idea how to deal with her feelings. Violence must be her default response to push down anything resembling emotion that tried to rise to the surface.

  I looked up, wondering what kind of life she must’ve had. Her childhood couldn’t have been easy. Hell, I can’t imagine any part of her life had been. After escaping the violence that was her family, she would’ve been on the run ever since, avoiding people who wanted to kill her. Namely my countrymen.

  And me.

  Guilt flooded my veins. I’d been just as intent to find and eliminate the last of the Graykey clan as my king had been. All I’d seen from them were soulless murderers who wanted to create mass mayhem.

  But they had to have souls, didn’t they? Because one of them was now my soulmate.

  An acidic churn filled my stomach. It sucked learning just how wrong I’d been. The Graykeys might’ve done some terrible things, but they were still people. It was wrong to paint them all with the same brush. They should’ve at least been given a chance to prove they were willing to do anything—like Quilla had—to evade the dark side of the curse.

  If she knew all the ways I’d helped contain her family curse, she’d never forgive me.

  “Stop it,” she growled suddenly.