Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3)

by Linda Kage

  I blinked. “Stop what?”

  “Stop doing that thing you’re doing with your eyes.”

  My eyes? What the hell were my eyes doing? I reached up, a little worried they were bleeding, just as Melaina’s had a few minutes before. But they were dry and blood-free. The only thing they’d been doing was looking at her.

  Glowering, she pointed the tip of her knife at me. “You might have physically caught up to me with this little chase you have going, but you’ll never woo me into your good graces. Not with anything you say, anything you do, and certainly not with how hard you stare your pretty-boy blue eyes and long, sweeping lashes my way. Because I’m immune to them. This is one pursuit you won’t win. So just stop now.”

  Ahh. So my stare had unsettled her, had it? And she was most definitely not immune.

  A grin quirked my lips. “I should probably warn you not to challenge me that way; it just makes me determined to prove you wrong.”

  Her dagger made another appearance. “Come near me, and I stab.”

  “I’m hungry,” Melaina cut in, suddenly appearing at Holly’s side. “Let’s make camp and get something in our bellies since we rode right through lunch. I’m not used to skipping meals.”

  Huffing out a breath, Quilla narrowed her eyes on her aunt and pointed my way. “I don’t like him here.”

  “Dear God,” her aunt groaned, rolling her eyes. “Not this again.”

  “You know,” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “If you weren’t so intent to hate me on principle alone, you might be shocked to learn I’m not that terrible of a person.”

  I was willing to look past a lot of shit in order to get to know her, in fact.

  “We talked about this, dearest,” Melaina added from my old horse as she dismounted. “He’s useful. For you.”

  Quilla sputtered out a snort, hopping to the ground as well. “Useful? How? So far, all he’s done is slow us down, talk too much, giving me a headache, and now he’s going to eat all our food.”

  “I actually have my own food,” I felt the need to impart. Just because I knew it would annoy her. “It’s in my pack on the horse your aunt stole from me.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me as if she were imagining all the most-painful ways to kill me.

  Melaina sighed. “What’s the real problem here, dearest?”

  “He keeps looking at me.”

  My eyebrows rose.

  She seemed to realize how telling her words were a moment later, and a dark, angry flush flooded her face.

  “That’s because he wants to fuck you,” her aunt answered, making me choke on my surprise. “Don’t you know that when a love mark first finds its human’s mate, it fills the one bearing that mark with an unquenchable desire to immediately mount their partner?”

  Quilla sliced me with a deadly glare.

  “Hey, whoa!” I lifted my hands, looking particularly harmless with them bound together with chains, I thought. “I would never mount you without your permission.”

  She squinted her eyes harder, letting me know my input had only made things worse, and I felt the need to flash her an innocent smile.

  “I’m harmless; I swear.” Uneasily clearing my throat, I hopped off Holly, thinking I needed to get out of here before she really did stab me. “How about I be useful and gather some kindling, then get a campfire going, huh?” Lifting my fingers and wiggling them, I added, “All with my hands tied, too. I mean, unless you want to unchain me.”

  She sniffed dismissively.

  Yeah, I didn’t figure she’d go for that.

  Whistling to myself anyway, I left the road and started toward a small cluster of trees. Neither woman seemed to care that I was going off by myself, once again proving I wasn’t a prisoner to them. And yet neither had any interest in removing my restraints either. Very odd, that.

  Sighing, I busied myself with collecting tinder with my hands bound and no ax around to help matters. After cracking apart already-fallen limbs with my boot, I returned to the side of the road—my arms loaded with a fairly pathetic excuse for firewood—only to find that Quilla was still arguing her case to get rid of me.

  As if I’d just leave, even if she did convince her aunt to agree with her.

  “Why won’t you just listen to me? He needs to go.”

  “Why?” Melaina spat.

  “Lord have mercy.” Scoffing out a disgusted breath, Quilla threw up her hands. “Because I don’t want him here. Do I need another reason?”

  “Got some firewood,” I announced, alerting them to my presence as I dropped the wood heavily to the ground in case they hadn’t heard me already. “So I guess I’ll just start a campfire now.”

  Neither responded to me nor let on to the fact that they’d even noticed my return. They continued to glare at each other until Melaina huffed out a disgusted breath and demanded, “What do you propose we do with him, then? We already decided murder was bad. Remember? And we can’t just let him run free to tell everyone where we are. It would put you—and thus me—in mortal danger.”

  I didn’t interject to let them know I would never do anything to put Quilla in mortal danger; I was pretty sure neither would care what I had to say right now. So I knelt by the wood and began to arrange it into a mini pyre, humming “Singin’ in the Rain” under my breath as I worked.

  Folding her arms tightly over her chest, Quilla muttered, “I don’t care what you say, you’re not going to prove to me that keeping him around is a good idea.”

  “Oh, you want proof, is that it?” Melaina lifted her eyebrows, rising to the challenge. “Fine. I’ll show you why we should keep him around. Why you should keep him.” Then she lifted her voice. “Hey, High Clifter…”

  Realizing they were addressing me now and bringing me into the conversation, I straightened. “My name’s actually—”

  “Don’t care,” Melaina snarled, narrowing her eyes at Quilla as she produced her own dagger. “I’m trying to prove a point here. So just shut up and help me prove it, will you?”

  I’d been through enough conflicts and battles to know when a person had every intention of using their weapon. And Quilla’s aunt was going to throw that blade.

  I popped to my feet, ready to defend myself, for surely she wanted to prove that I was a superior warrior who could ward off an attack, even with my hands tied. But then she glanced my way and winked, making my stomach drop with cold dread as she wound her arm back and let the blade fly.

  Directly at Quilla.

  “No!” My life flashed before my eyes as I dove forward, trying to shield my true love with my own body.

  But this wasn’t fair. I couldn’t lose her now. I’d just met her. I hadn’t even had time to get to know her. Hell, we’d never even kissed. I’d been waiting my entire life to meet her. We needed more than one awkwardly, uncomfortable day together.

  Meeting with success, I blocked the dagger, keeping it from getting anywhere near my mate as it embedded itself deep…

  In my own neck.

  Ah shit. This was going to suck. Gurgling out my shock and pain, I groped at my throat, feeling the wet slick gush of blood spill over my fingers as I grappled for the hilt of the knife.

  Blinking as the world grayed around me, I gasped for breath and tipped over backward to the ground.

  But seriously, what the fuck was it about these women and stabbing people?

  Chapter 10

  Quilla

  “What the hell?!” I cried, watching the High Clifter pitch toward the ground, clutching the knife in his throat.

  That he’d gotten from protecting me.

  Veering my incredulous gaze toward Melaina, I roared, “You just said murder was bad!”

  She waved a bored, dismissive hand. “Yes, I vaguely recall waxing on incessantly about the topic, but, sweets, I needed to prove a point, which I think I did rather well.” Motioning toward the man, she added, “See. He’s lying there, bleeding to death, all to protect little old you. So, voilà…” She gave a brilliant smil
e. “Useful!”

  Then she strode forward so she could lean over him and retrieve her dagger from his neck with a savage yank. He gurgled and gasped, moaning out his agony as he curled onto his side, clutching the gushing wound.

  “And besides,” she went on, wiping the blood from the blade off onto the skirt of her dress. “It won’t be murder if he doesn’t die. Which he shouldn’t because you can fix him back to rights—as good as new—with a single kiss.” She beckoned me forward with a curl of her finger. “Only you have the means to keep it from becoming murder, darling.”

  I immediately backed away from both her and the dying man on the ground, shaking my head insistently. “But I don’t want to kiss him.” Was she insane? “We’ll start sharing dreams together if I do.”

  “Oh, pish.” Melaina swiped that idea away with a flutter of her wrist. “That only happens if you bring him back from the dead, and since he’s still breathing, there’s no worry about that. Though…” She frowned down at the panting man. “I would hurry if you want to avoid that, because he looks as if he might expire at any moment.”

  He really did too. He’d probably be dead in seconds if I did nothing. And his death would be just as much my fault as it was Melaina’s. Because I wouldn’t have delivered true love’s kiss.

  But I didn’t want to kiss him.

  What if I liked it? What if I started thinking positive things about him? I didn’t want to think positively about this man. He was a High Cliff enemy, and he needed to stay that way.

  Damn my evil aunt for putting me through this.

  “Tick-tock, darling,” she sang in her irritatingly taunting voice. “Do you want to save him or not?”

  No. When she put it that way, I didn’t want to save him. I would love nothing more than to have all this true love bullshit just be over and done with already. But I’d never killed anyone before, and I couldn’t so willfully just stand there and let him die.

  Sensing my decision, Melaina laughed. “You know what to do.”

  “I really hate you.” I seethed, glaring at her as I slowly approached the High Clifter.

  “Yes, I know, dear,” she cooed in a loving tone. “I hate you too. Now, chop-chop. Get to it and pucker up.”

  Wincing as I knelt beside him, I swallowed down the sickened churn in my stomach. “You made a really gross mess of him, you know that?”

  Eyes wild and hands clutching his throat, the man looked up at me and opened his mouth as if to speak.

  No words came.

  “I swear,” I warned him, uneasily bending closer. “If you try anything funny—”

  Melaina snorted. “What exactly do you think he’s going to try? The boy is a hot second from death. He couldn’t manage anything amorous right now if his life depended on it.”

  “Well, his life depends on him not managing it, so...” I lifted my eyebrows threateningly at him. “Behave or die. Are we clear?”

  He didn’t answer. Not that he could; he was a bit too busy dying to form actual words.

  Melaina stepped up beside me and gazed down at him as well. “He’s turning quite a remarkable shade of blue, don’t you think? I must’ve caught him right in the windpipe.” Brightening, she grinned over at me. “My aim is obviously improving.”

  “Except you were aiming at me,” I reminded her.

  A little detail I planned to fully address later.

  Her shoulders fell as her smile flattened. “True,” she admitted only to shrug and return her attention to the dying High Clifter with a fresh grin. “Well, I’ll take a happy accident too.” Placing her hand on the back of my head, she nudged me closer to his face, which I naturally resisted. Shaking free from her grip, I growled and glared up at her. “What the hell? Stop!”

  She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Well, what’re you waiting for? He’s not going to heal himself. Not from this.”

  I groaned, made a face, and turned back to him. She was right, the bitch. “Close your mouth,” I instructed.

  He looked like a dying fish, gaping it open like he was, and it wasn’t helping anything, anyway. There was obviously no air reaching his lungs any longer.

  When he actually followed my directive, I lifted my eyebrows, frankly surprised he was even capable of still working his jaw.

  A wave of sympathy flooded me. He had to be in significant pain, and all I’d done is worry about the fact that I was going to have to place my mouth against his for a few seconds.

  But the idea of our lips merging caused panic to swarm. Irrational fear flooded my veins.

  God, this was stupid. There was nothing to be afraid of. A kiss wasn’t going to kill me; it probably wouldn’t even hurt. And he needed it, or he was going to die. Why the hell was I dawdling?

  Surging forward because it felt like I needed speed right now—the type that was required to rip off a bandage and beat back the dread and terror of possible pain—I slammed my mouth to his, causing him to grunt in surprise. My own teeth bumped into the inside of my mouth from the force of the kiss. But other than the jostling crush of lips against lips, nothing hurt.

  Except maybe this little spot deep in my chest that throbbed with a fresh and crisp ache. It was need and hope and wishes, I realized. Things that had no place existing in my world.

  I’d planned on pulling away as soon as my mouth clashed with his.

  But that’s not exactly what happened.

  As soon as I broke free, I pressed back, my lips sinking against the pillow of his once more, and I found myself closing my eyes, then breathing in his essence as I kissed him again, going softer and longer this time. A hint of coffee and cinnamon filled my nostrils. Warmth heated my chest, and my fingers curled around the front of his tunic.

  A groan rumbled from his throat. He lifted his head from the ground to kiss me back, brushing his mouth past mine with the whisper of heat and need.

  My stomach fluttered, my limbs quivered, my head went light. I clutched his shirt a little tighter. His lips cracked apart, and for some reason, I let mine open as well. Our tongues touched. He tasted like cinnamon too. I craved more, so I sucked on the sweet spiciness of it.

  His breath caught, and his tongue sank deeper. I shivered, feeling the move between my legs, where things swelled and tightened. I curled my tongue against his and trembled at the resounding response that trembled through him. A hand gripped my arm, and his mouth turned urgent and assertive, giving and seeking with a hungry vivacity.

  Tumbling through sensations, I drank deeply and clung to him, reveling in the discovery that kisses were freaking amazing.

  Knowing he was just as ravenous and eager as I was made the moment even more intoxicating. I plundered again, wishing life could always be like this: thrilling and—

  “Well, if that doesn’t bring him back from the verge of death, nothing will.”

  With a gasp, I tore my mouth from his and surged upright before falling down on my haunches next to him and breathing heavily. As I scrubbed the back of my hand over my mouth, I cast the High Clifter an unsure glance.

  He’d plopped his head back down on the ground and was panting shallowly with his eyes closed. His shirt front and neck were still bloody, but the gaping hole in his throat was gone. Even though I knew it would be, it was a shock to really see with my own eyes.

  I had healed him. My kiss had just saved his life.

  Because he was my true love.

  A strong emotion moved through me. Hope, fear, panic—I’m not even sure which one it was—but I trembled violently, unsure what to do about it.

  Sensing my feelings, he opened his eyes, lashes fluttering briefly before bright blue focused on me. I almost expected him to crack some snide taunt, say something about how long—and thoroughly—I’d kissed him to really rub it in my face how horribly I had slipped. Melaina definitely would have.

  But his lips parted as he sucked in a breath. Then he touched a gentle, seeking hand to his throat where he’d been stabbed, and he rasped a heartfelt, “Thank you.
”

  “You’re welcome,” Melaina answered, looming above us. “But it’s always my pleasure to prove myself right. Especially when bloodshed’s involved.”

  I whipped a glare her way. “You fucking hag,” I seethed. “You just threw a knife at me.”

  “Thus demonstrating that our beloved High Clifter here is willing to die for you.” Her eyebrows rose tauntingly high. “Ready to stop whining and complaining about his presence now? Because I’m certainly ready to stop listening to it.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m ready for,” I shot back. “I’m ready to make you pay for what you just did.” And I dove at her legs, tackling her to the ground.

  Chapter 11

  Indigo

  So now I knew my true love’s aunt was a fucking psycho. That was always valuable information to have.

  I also learned my mate would toss me a life-saving kiss whenever I received a mortal wound. Also good to know.

  A smile spread across my face.

  I mean, I’m sure her healing me had more to do with the amount of humanity and compassion flowing through her bloodstream and not really anything to do with any kind of actual feelings she had for me specifically. But this was a start, and you had to start somewhere, right?

  Mostly, though, I was coming to learn Quilla really didn’t like it when people threw knives at her. She seemed determined to kill her aunt for it, anyway.

  “I’m going to make you bleed, bitch,” she roared as she leaped on top of a swearing Melaina, who was struggling in the dirt, and she straddled the older woman’s skirts before punching her in the face. Hard.

  Melaina screamed in outrage and reared up under Quilla, trying to buck her off. But Quilla tightened her thighs around Melaina’s hips and held on, punching her once more.

  “Don’t ever make me kiss anyone again! Do you hear me, old woman?”

  “I don’t take orders from you, little girl,” Melaina growled back and pulled Quilla’s hair.

  With a gasp, Quilla tumbled off her aunt and scrambled in the direction that Melaina was pulling her hair so she could keep from getting it ripped clean off her scalp.