Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3)

by Linda Kage

  Fresh pain echoed through my mark, letting me know how much the hair pulling hurt her.

  “Hey,” I hollered, rolling to my knees so I could struggle to my feet without the use of my bound hands. “Maybe you two ladies should—whoa!”

  Quilla kicked out a leg, landing her foot right in Melaina’s face. Blood flew and Melaina bellowed before rushing back to slap Quilla in the breasts.

  I winced and waded into a pool of ladies’ skirts, just as Quilla retaliated by tossing a handful of dirt in Melaina’s face.

  Screeching, Melaina dove forward, claws extended with my mate’s face as her target. I blocked her with my shoulder and then hip-checked her backward, away from us.

  “Dammit, stop!” I roared, glaring as I positioned myself between her and Quilla. Breathing heavily, I glanced between the two of them. “I’m the one who almost died here. Do I get a chance to be pissed off for a minute?”

  “As if we care what you feel,” Quilla smarted back.

  I shot her an arch glance, and she swallowed under my gaze before looking away, her guilt sparking through my mark.

  I turned my attention to Melaina, who was panting and wiping dirt and blood from her nose. When she snarled and jerked aggressively toward me, I pointed. “Get the fuck back. You deserved that attack, but it’s over now. I’ll not let you hurt her again.”

  Melaina sent me a degrading sneer, but after inhaling a deep breath, she seemed to compose herself, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin regally high. Then tossing her fiery hair over her shoulder, she pushed her way to her feet with all the poise of a prima donna.

  “I’ll start supper,” she announced, moving to my half-finished campfire and picking up where I’d left off before she’d thrown her dagger at Quilla and hit me.

  I exhaled in relief that the spat was truly over, and I glanced toward Quilla. “I take it you two have been together for a while.”

  “Oh, ever since that ungrateful little leech was eight,” Melaina called, answering for her. “Which have quite possibly been the worst eighteen years of my life.”

  Quilla sneered her way. “I would’ve turned out better if I’d been raised by a rabid pack of violent badgers.”

  “And I would’ve been happier if you had,” Melaina cheerfully volleyed back. “Then I wouldn’t have had to put up with your pathetic little orphaned ass at all.”

  “So she’s the only family you have left?” I concluded somberly.

  Giving me a deadly squint as she narrowed her eyes, Quilla didn’t answer. But I felt a level of affection from her. No matter how dysfunctional their relationship was, she cared for Melaina.

  I nodded and fell into an exhausted slump beside her on the ground, where I bent up my knees and rubbed my tired hands over my face.

  As if realizing she’d just been sitting there on the dirt next to me, Quilla surged abruptly to her feet, and turned away from both me and Melaina, dusting herself off before seeing to the horses and taking off their gear for the day.

  Holly hissed a tongue at her when Quilla moved too close, and the saddle on her back disappeared before Quilla could touch it. Grumbling under her breath, Quilla moved on, finishing her task with the mare Melaina had stolen from me. And I just sat there, studying the two women as they politely ignored each other yet civilly worked together to accomplish the goals of the day.

  Traveling with these two was going to be something else, I realized. Two tempestuous spirits, one trip, and me stuck in the middle. It’d be a miracle if any of us survived.

  As promised, I ate my own food—rye hardtack—that went down dryly and painfully, while Quilla and Melaina dined on cheese and succulent-looking fruits, along with some kind of smoked jerky. My mouth watered just watching them, but neither offered me even a taste of their meal.

  Didn’t matter. I’d get into their good graces one way or another, and I was sure I’d get their food eventually.

  A sane man might want nothing to do with the likes of either of them. But I had a feeling sticking around was going to be worth it.

  Someday.

  “There’s another settlement a couple of miles in front of us,” Melaina spoke up above the crackling campfire. “We’ll probably need more funds before we head into Tyler.”

  “We’re going to Tyler?” I asked.

  I knew it.

  Quilla nodded to her aunt, both of them ignoring me. “I’ll get up early and ready some loaves.” With an exhausted sigh, she pushed to her feet and held her arms out to her sides like someone would for a tailor who was taking their measurements. “You might as well change me now.”

  Melaina blinked at her as if she’d spoken a foreign language. “Change you?”

  Quilla frowned. “Yes. Give me a new disguise. Glamour me.”

  “Hmm. No, I don’t think I will.”

  Quilla dropped her arms heavily. “What do you mean no? I can’t go out in public under my own identity.”

  “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ll go and sell the bread tomorrow.”

  “The hell if you are,” Quilla exploded, storming over to loom above Melaina. “I’m not staying here to babysit the High Clifter.”

  “My name’s Indigo,” I reminded her.

  “Well, you can’t go out in public in front of so many people looking like yourself either,” Melaina informed Quilla in a logical voice. “Someone might recognize you or see your mark.”

  “I realize that,” her niece gritted out. “Which is why you’re going to fucking glamour me already so that I can go.”

  “But I thought you didn’t like vending our wares,” Melaina countered saucily.

  “And I thought you agreed he would be your responsibility,” Quilla bit back harshly.

  “Except it amuses me to watch you squirm so uncomfortably when your true love looks at you in your true form.”

  A dagger appeared in Quilla’s hand. “Don’t ever call him that again.”

  “So sorry,” Melaina demurred smoothly, not at all concerned about the threat of being stabbed. “I meant to say your one and only true love.”

  Quilla stepped intimidatingly closer. “You’re not leaving me here alone with him. End of discussion.”

  Melaina laughed. “What’re you so afraid of? The big, harmless, chained man won’t hurt you,” she taunted.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  She was definitely afraid. I could feel her fear, plain as day.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Melaina taunted, lifting her thin eyebrows. “Certainly you’re not worried he might seduce you onto your back while I’m gone.”

  “I think that’s exactly what she’s worried about,” I said. “I do have a certain charm about me.”

  Quilla shot me a glare. “You wish.”

  I winked at her. “Yes. Actually, I do. I’m wishing for it very hard, in fact.”

  Narrowing her eyes at me, she told Melaina, “I’ll probably castrate him before you return.”

  Her aunt laughed huskily. “Save the cock for me if you do; I might find some use for it.”

  I found myself shifting my hand protectively over my lap, ready for them to move on to a different topic because this one wasn’t amusing in the least.

  “You’re such a bitch, you know that,” Quilla grumbled without any heat, giving up the battle and dropping her knife before turning away.

  Melaina smirked over her victory. “Don’t be nasty, darling.”

  I shook my head and gave a low whistle. “You two have to have the least healthy association I’ve ever seen two people have.”

  “Well, no one asked you,” Quilla snapped.

  “Yes,” Melaina agreed, glaring my way. “And keep your opinions to yourself too, if you don’t mind. Such negativity is absolutely nauseating.”

  My shoulders shook and I silently chuckled. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered them. “Keeping my opinions to myself now.”

  I woke in the deep of night to a pained whimpering. The campfire had burned low until it was nothing but ember
s, and the stars above looked extra bright in the clear moonlit sky.

  Anxiety wavered through my mark, and I was instantly on alert.

  “Quilla?” Lifting up from the saddle where I’d been resting my head, I swung to her, only to find her safe and sound on the opposite side of the camp, deep asleep.

  “Jesus.” I slumped back, trying to regulate my heartbeat.

  She was okay. I had thought she was hurt or in trouble for a second there.

  The whimpering came again, and then she thrashed inside her sleeping bag.

  The organ inside my chest wrenched painfully. “Quilla,” I whispered this time, my sympathies going out to her.

  Nightmares were no fun. I’d had plenty of them.

  “No…” she moaned. “No…”

  Rising from my bedroll, I glanced toward Melaina who seemed to be dead asleep with a wrap covering her eyes. Great. That left just me to see to my true love’s needs. And while I had no problems with assisting her, I didn’t think she’d appreciate it just now.

  Except she choked out a sound of distress, and I couldn’t stay away.

  Creeping on tiptoe, I approached and I knelt next to her, murmuring, “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay, darling.”

  I reached for her hair but decided she wouldn’t like that. If she woke to find my hands anywhere on her person, she’d never trust me. And I craved her trust above most things right now, so I just tried to ease her with my words.

  “I'm singin' in the rain,” I started, keeping my voice as low as I could make it and still sing as I curled down on my side in the dirt nearby, facing her. “Just singin' in the rain…”

  She stopped moving restlessly, so I kept going as I slowly reached out to touch her hand, just the fingertips that she’d curled limply in front of her.

  “What a glorious feeling…” I whisper crooned, running my touch lightly over the back of her palm. “I'm happy again. I’m laughing at clouds so dark up above…”

  I continued caroling under my breath until she settled, and her breathing returned to normal. The firelight reflected off her face as she grew tranquil and calm. Then I lifted my fingers slowly and hooked my pinkie around a lock of her hair to drag it slowly out of her face.

  “I’m here,” I sighed. “From now on out, no matter what nightmare you go through, I’ll be here with you for all of them.”

  “I know that song,” a sleepy voice murmured from across the way.

  I jumped, not having realized Melaina was awake. Pulling my hand back to my side and away from her niece, I frowned when I realized what she’d just said.

  “Do you?” I asked cryptically, because it didn’t seem possible that she should know it. The song wasn’t of this world. I’d learned it from Grandpa Atchison, whose mother had sung it to him when he was little.

  “But where did you learn it?” Melaina asked.

  I shrugged off the question. “Just heard it around somewhere, I think.”

  “Hmm.” She sounded suspicious, but she didn’t question me further. “If you want to pull her into your arms and grope her in her sleep, I wouldn’t mind, you know. It’d do her good to get a little sexual experience. I keep telling her that if she’d just get laid, it’d remove that stick from her ass. But she never does. So, feel free to get a little physical if you like.”

  Which meant that was exactly what I wouldn’t do.

  “Thanks for your permission,” I muttered dryly.

  “Anytime. You’re really taking it slow and not rushing anything in this wooing-her business, aren’t you?” she added, sounding irritated by that.

  “Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.”

  “Life is a deadline, boy,” she warned. “From the moment we’re born, everything is already moving toward our death. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. So I suggest you nip it in the bud and get your seduction underway already.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the advice…” That I wouldn’t be taking.

  “You’re most welcome,” she answered sweetly.

  I rolled my eyes toward the stars, then returned my attention to Quilla, who was sleeping peacefully. I could probably return to my bedroll now, but I kind of didn’t want to leave her. Besides, there was a good three feet of space between us. Perfectly respectable. And yet close enough to appease the ache inside me that always wanted to be closer to her.

  Smiling contentedly, I rolled onto my back, sighed up at the stars above us, then rested my manacled hands behind my head and eventually fell asleep that way.

  Only to wake at the crack of dawn to something slamming viciously into my gut.

  “Mother of God!” I gasped, curling in around my stomach and clutching it as I tried to breathe through the pain. “What the hell?”

  “What the fuck are you doing over here, sleeping beside me?” a voice ordered from above. Rage flared through my mark.

  My true love was pissed.

  Shit.

  Blinking up at Quilla, I offered her an innocent but pain-filled smile. “You had a nightmare.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” she ground out as she set a booted foot down on my ankle and pressed in until it began to strain uncomfortably. “What the fuck are you doing next to me and not all the way over on your side of the damn camp?”

  “I just wanted to soothe you through the nightmare,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. Jesus, but the woman had no mercy. She was going to break my ankle if she kept it up. “And I did,” I swore. “I came over and sang to you, and you stopped thrashing. I soothed you.”

  The pressure eased from my ankle. “If you ever do that again,” she swore, “I will break something on you that can’t be unbroken. Do I make myself clear? I don’t want you sleeping by me, or touching me, or even breathing—”

  “I didn’t touch you,” I promised quickly.

  “Liar,” Melaina’s pleasantly vindictive voice called from the other side of the camp. “I saw him, dear heart. He touched your hand and a lock of hair while you slept and couldn’t protest.”

  Quilla kicked me in the arm.

  “Oww!” I clutched the battered appendage to my side and glowered at Melaina. “Thanks a lot, traitor.”

  I wondered what the fiery redhead would’ve told Quilla if I’d taken her permission last night to heart and had fondled her niece in her sleep.

  “You’re most welcome,” Melaina crooned back pleasantly.

  I rolled my eyes, then looked up at Quilla. “I barely touched you.”

  But she’d already turned away, dismissing me.

  “Fine! I’ll leave you alone,” I called, growing irritated. “Far be it for me to worry about my one true love when she’s in the throes of a horrific nightmare. I must be some kind of monster for attempting to comfort you. That was simply barbaric and unacceptable of me. Please accept my apologies for such dreadful behavior.”

  She totally ignored my sarcastic regret.

  I sniffed irritably and retreated to my “side” of the camp, limping to my bedroll and plopping down with an aggravated groan. My muscles were stiff and sore from sleeping half the night on the open ground. Damn bedrolls didn’t feel as if they padded much, but you could always tell when you went without.

  Rolling my shoulders and stretching stiff muscles, I dug through my pack and came up with some supplies to assist with my morning ablutions. Then I dragged myself to my feet, rasping, “Not that anyone cares, but I’ll be back.”

  Neither woman responded—Quilla was busy coaxing the fire back to life, and Melaina was dragging cooking supplies from her own pack. They definitely liked to snub me. And they didn’t seem to mind at all if I wandered off on my own, either. Which only made me question the cuffs even more. I honestly think they’d forgotten I was wearing them.

  Once I was far enough away and hidden by a small thicket of trees, I paused to pull up a necklace that had been hidden under my tunic. Tucking the pendant on the end of the string between my teeth, I held it steady before lifting the cuffs to the pendant and
popping open the lock.

  “Yes,” I sighed in relief and shed the shackles from my wrists. “That feels so much better.” Rubbing the raw flesh, I enjoyed the moment of freedom before exhaling in delight and freshening myself for the day ahead.

  Chapter 12

  Indigo

  When I returned to the camp, with the cuffs secured safely back around my wrists, I felt awake, relieved, and ready to face whatever came next.

  Whistling “Singin’ in the Rain” with a smile on my face, I pulled up short, however, at the sight that met me.

  Quilla sat before the fire cross-legged as she looped strips of dough around the end of a stick. With her attention absorbed in her craft, she looked absolutely stunning.

  Careful to exact each detail of her project just so as she applied the raw loaf to the spit, she then reached into a bag beside her with a free hand and removed a handful of glittering powder that she sprinkled on top.

  Culinary magics. It must be an herbal remedy she’d gotten off some other mage to assist with cooking because as soon as the powder hit the dough, it doubled in size. Satisfied with the new dimensions, Quilla hovered her stick over the fiery coals and proceeded to bake her bread.

  Returning to my bedroll, I sat and idly put my things back into my pack as I continued to watch her turn the spit, cooking the loaf evenly.

  A second later, her gaze lifted to me, her eyebrows furrowed in disgruntled ire. “What?” she demanded.

  My staring was bothering her again. Smiling, I bent up a knee and rested my forearms on it, getting more comfortable so I could keep doing exactly what I was doing.

  “You’re cooking,” I said simply, amazed by it all. For someone so bitter and angry at the world, her calm patience as she prepared food sat in stark contrast to everything else I’d observed about her so far. So I found this to be an interesting facet of the woman in front of me.

  “Not for you,” she muttered, returning her attention to the dough that was already halfway to becoming bread. “Now stop looking at me.”