A wild burst of heat tore through him. He struggled against raw craving but felt his control slipping when Rain plucked at the laces of her tunic. The front gaped, revealing pale skin and the upper swells of her breasts, round and perfect.
Daric stared, mesmerized. He was two ragged breaths from undressing her entirely. His hands slipped to her shoulders, half pushing the material off, half trying to keep it on her.
“There could be consequences.” Daric’s hands flexed on her shoulders. “And if we fail, I’ll have to marry Astraea.” He already loathed the idea. Now, he could hardly contemplate it.
Rain stepped back and took off her clothing piece by piece until she stood naked before him. She was exquisite, so unbearably tempting. She was everything he’d dreamed about and more. If anything, her skin was smoother and her body more made for worshipping than he’d even imagined. The sight of her before him like this would haunt him forever if they were forced to live out their lives separately.
But then, as she backed right up against the bed she’d prepared for them, she made him a promise. “You won’t marry her. I won’t let that happen. Tomorrow, this ends forever.”
She was the most glorious being he’d ever laid eyes on, powerful in ways he knew he’d never truly understand, and when she vowed with such absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have to marry Astraea, Daric believed her. And it freed him.
His control evaporated. Rain was his. She always had been. Just as he was hers and would be forever.
Daric stripped off his clothing, and the way Rain looked at him made him believe he might almost be worthy of the goddess before him. “I love you more than all the magic and might in Braylian’s Cauldron.”
A shiver rippled over Rain, making her skin pebble with goose bumps and her nipples harden. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Daric believed that promise also.
He would do everything in his power to deserve her and the love she offered. He hadn’t kissed Rain before for fear of losing his mind to wanting her, but he couldn’t deny her—or himself—any longer. His devotion had always been there, laid out at her feet. Now, he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life proving how wholly his heart belonged to her.
Daric reached for her, that first touch of naked skin scalding and wonderful. His heartbeat accelerated. Rain wasn’t ignorant, even in sexual matters, but she had no experience. He knew he needed to be gentle and go slowly. Daric had little experience himself. He’d had exactly one encounter and had spent the entire time fantasizing about Rain, which had left him with a hollow feeling that lingered. Trying again had seemed pointless. Rain was the only woman he wanted.
Daric dipped his head and kissed her neck and shoulder. He trailed his mouth toward her jaw, soft as a feather. Her pulse fluttered, and she gripped his arms, drawing him closer. Her short, quick breaths warmed his skin, and then their lips met for the first time ever.
His blood ignited. With a deep rumble, Daric hauled her against him. Rain moaned into his mouth, her body scorching. She wrapped her arms around his neck and claimed him back, that first crush of lips hard, frantic, and intense enough to set alight the treehouse. Heat surged through him, stealing his breath, stiffening his cock, and setting his heart to pounding.
She broke away with a gasp. Both their chests heaved. Their eyes met, and Rain’s gaze was hot enough to sear him to the bone and leave him in ashes. Daric swept her into his arms and laid her on the bed. She reached for him, and he stretched out beside her, pouring a lifetime of passion into every kiss and an eternity of want into the reverent way he touched her. Rain rolled toward him, nestling inward, and kissed him back with a fever that made him delirious. Daric rocked against her. A harsh breath groaned out of him. She was soft and smooth and hot as a bonfire.
“I’ve dreamed of this so often,” he murmured between deep, soul-altering kisses.
“I feel you pulsing against my belly,” she whispered.
“I want you so much, I hurt.”
Rain lifted her hips, pressing into him. “I want to help.”
“You are.” He kissed her. He wanted to kiss her a thousand times for every beat of his heart. “You’re the ache and the cure.”
Daric bent his head and nuzzled her breasts. His hands skimmed her ribs. Rain shuddered, breathing faster. Already drunk on the taste of her, Daric took her nipple into his mouth and gently sucked. She groaned, arching against him and tilting her head back, her hair like a cloud around them.
Sensation rushed down his spine and flooded his groin. Everything tightened. His heart hammered and Daric pulled back, his jaw clenching. He let out a slow, shuddering breath and moved his hand down Rain’s body. He needed to bring her pleasure now, because he had no illusions about how long he would last once she was beneath him.
Chapter Twelve
Rain stopped moving and held her breath when Daric’s hand drifted between her legs and he touched her where they would soon connect. She knew the basics about coupling. She’d seen animals mate—dogs and horses didn’t care about privacy—and she’d seen servants kissing when they thought no one was looking. She hadn’t known, though, that a man stroked a woman like he was playing an instrument, and that it was fantastic.
Rain gasped and quivered at his light, exploring touches and then moaned and sought firmer contact when his fingers turned bolder and more adept. Heat coursed through her body, increasing with every kiss and caress. She ground against his hand, tension gathering like a whirlwind inside her.
A deep groan resonated in Daric’s chest. His tongue tangled with hers, and Rain thought she might fly apart under the mounting pressure. Every movement they made was instinctual. She knew the steps without thinking. It was the hottest, wildest dance of her existence, and she wanted it to last forever.
Daric stroked her inside and out and then slipped and slid his fingers over a spot that made bright bolts of pleasure arc through her like lightning.
“Am I doing this right?” he asked, sipping kisses from her lips and drinking her breath in.
Rain arched off the bed, clutching his shoulders. “Yes! Don’t stop!”
He kept going, and Rain shattered apart. Her cry was silent, or perhaps deafening. She tensed as a breathtaking climax pulsed through her in waves and then sank into the bedding, boneless and floating.
Daric moved over her, and she felt his hard tip gently prod her opening. She tilted toward him. Daric closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were as dark as the night sky and stark with intensity.
He brushed a warm, coaxing hand down her body before guiding her knees higher around him. In a strained whisper, he rasped, “Steady, darling. This may not be comfortable.”
Rain nodded. “I know it’s only the first time, and only for a moment.” She was well aware of rumors concerning lovemaking, especially for virgins, but so far, everything she’d heard had underrated the act tremendously.
Daric’s expression held a wealth of tenderness and the promise of scorching encounters for years to come. Rain wanted nothing more. Her prince. A lifetime together. Children. Love. If only that were possible.
She blocked those thoughts, refusing to give them power. Their future heartbreak had no place here—not when Daric was slowly pushing inside her. Sensations rioted through her, some pleasant, some not. She inhaled deeply, trying to relax. She wasn’t afraid, but her muscles stayed taut.
Daric took her head in his hands, holding her steady. As he looked down at her, the discomfort gradually faded.
Rain gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m fine, Daric. It’s all right.”
“This won’t last long.” He kissed her before he started moving. “Next time, I’ll do better.”
Rain nodded. She understood, and she was ready.
Daric’s measured movements quickly became unsteady. He thrust faster, harder, and then he shuddered. He groaned her name as he stiffened all over, the sound seeming to tear straight from the center
of his body.
Rain clung to him, so close she could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat. They stayed joined, Daric surrounding her. Their lips brushed and pressed, and she wrapped herself around him, as elated as she was devastated. She wanted to remember the feel of him. His weight. The love in his eyes. The way he kissed and touched her. Memories to take on a journey into eternity.
“Again,” she murmured, her voice nearly breaking.
Daric gazed down at her, already hardening once more inside her. Locking eyes with her, he began moving, and what started as gentle worshipping slowly turned into fierce possession—and both were exactly what she needed.
Chapter Thirteen
Daric awoke euphoric after his night with Rain. Everything was finally coming together. Everything he wanted and needed was within reach. Even the Barrow Witch was as easy to find as they’d hoped. She was their age, not at all insane yet, and willing to help. In fact, the slender woman with rosy cheeks and dark hair had been waiting for them. She’d studied magic under the sorcerer who’d found Rain in Upper Ash. Together, the two of them had discovered the way to break the curse.
The witch invited them inside her home—one of the large earthen mounds dotting the forest not far from Braylian’s Cauldron—and as he and Rain took a seat at the Barrow Witch’s table, Daric wondered if Rain would eventually suffer the dire consequences of using magic. She’d never mentioned it and didn’t seem worried, but she’d also hidden her power from him until now. He’d guessed at it without ever guessing the extent of it. Now that he knew, thoughts of the illness of the mind that ultimately plagued all sorcerers haunted him.
Daric glanced at Rain as she described their journey to the witch, who listened with avid interest. Rain’s magic didn’t require chants and ingredients. It was simply a part of her. He hoped that would make a difference.
While Rain spoke, Daric laid out the pieces they’d gathered. The mockweed was withering but still hearty enough, and the bloodstones glinted dully in the weak light filtering in through the open doorway of the barrow. The witch’s home was tidy, if austere. And, he imagined, very cold in winter. He saw no remnants of the ancient culture that had built these mounds as burial grounds, either time or the witch having swept the barrow clean of the bones and ghosts that had once occupied it.
“I’m glad you listened to my mentor and came to me,” the Barrow Witch said. “Most people would have shunned him. You did not, and for that, we can all be grateful.”
“We have everything your teacher mentioned,” Daric said. “You’re the final piece of this puzzle.”
She reached out and reverently touched the gems they’d brought. “Bloodstones. The curse is strong, but the Blood of Braylian is stronger. And you have two crystals, which is impressive.” She gave them an assessing look, as though she might know what the Cave Witch had put them through with her enchantment.
“And the mockweed?” Rain asked. “We don’t know its purpose.”
“Mockweed, when combined with other curse-breaking elements, reveals the face of the person who cast the spell to begin with.” She turned to Daric. “You’ll finally know who cursed you.”
“Me?” He frowned. “Leathen was cursed, so that spring wouldn’t come here.”
“In this case, you and Leathen are synonymous. But no—you were cursed as an infant. I can see it in your aura.”
Daric’s initial confusion swiftly turned to rage. He knew who’d visited Leathen shortly after his birth, a cold queen who’d looked upon his cradle with her snake-like smile in place as she’d struck.
“Illanna Nighthall did this.” His fists clenched in fury. “And then she slowly drained Leathen of riches and resources until its coffers were as dried up as the soil, and we had no choice. The marriage…” He looked at Rain, seeing his own horror reflected in her eyes.
“Astraea is only six months older than you are.” Rain’s face leached of color. Even her lips looked bloodless. “Her mother planned this from the start!”
“Who else? She choked us in exchange for water and bread. Bought our orin mines. Took our wealth. And when we had no other options left, she arranged for a marriage that would give her grandchildren two kingdoms with only the Nighthall name attached.” Daric let out a bitter laugh. “I will punish Raana for this.”
Rain laid a cool hand over his and squeezed. “First, Daric, let’s break the curse.”
The touch of her hand returned his focus. Break the curse. Marry Rain. Give Illanna Nighthall what she deserved.
“Tell us what to do,” he said to the witch, steel in his voice. Soon, Raana would feel his blade.
“We take the bloodstones and the mockweed to Braylian’s Cauldron and lay them on the stone circle like this.” The witch arranged the pieces on the table to demonstrate, facing the sharp tips of the bloodstones out and placing the mockweed across them. “But sixteen stones make up the great, curving border of the Cauldron. They each serve a different purpose, and the purpose rotates among them. The stone needed for breaking curses two moons ago might not be the same one needed today. I’ll have to perform a difficult ritual to reveal the stone currently tied to maledictions.”
Daric nodded. “I’ll reward you for your efforts.”
The Barrow Witch smiled vaguely. “I’m tied to the ground under which I live. I do this for Leathen.”
Daric acknowledged her words but still planned on making her underground home more comfortable if he could.
“And when everything is set up correctly, we explain the enchantment to Braylian and ask her to break it?” Rain asked.
“It’s almost that simple.” The witch’s gaze moved back and forth between them. Her eyes were the color of grass and soil—and seemed suddenly haunted. “If Braylian hears you, fire will erupt from the Cauldron. Then you must speak the words, the ones to—”
“We know them,” Rain interrupted. “We know the phrase to accompany our offering.”
Daric looked at her oddly. She was usually too polite to interrupt anyone, but he’d seen how the language of sorcery chafed her. Rain shivered, and Daric tucked her against his side, wanting to comfort her.
The Barrow Witch watched them, her expression inscrutable, or perhaps a little sad, and Daric began to suspect he was on the outside of something he needed to be a part of. He couldn’t be sure. His thoughts still boiled angrily at Illanna Nighthall, and wrath possibly clouded his judgment.
The witch shifted her gaze to the open doorway and the forest beyond. “Who’ll say it, then? Who will present the offering?”
Rain clamped her mouth shut and looked at him.
“Isme dolunde vaten crew.” Daric murmured the words she’d taught him yesterday so that Rain wouldn’t have to say them. His mouth puckered. “Is it supposed to taste this sour?”
“All magic tastes rotten,” the witch answered. “That’s why it eventually rots you.”
Daric had no intention of becoming a sorcerer or succumbing to their curse—and he wanted to know Rain’s opinion on the strange words.
“Rain?” he prompted.
“Yes.” She glanced away from him. “They taste foul to me as well.”
Rain had lived her last day as human, and she had no idea what Braylian might do with her next. Her one regret, the dread making her heart twist and jerk, was losing Daric. But she’d loved him in every way possible—and been loved in return. Could a woman ask for more, or better than that?
She’d known joy, fear, excitement, sadness, affection, desire. Rain was complete, just not anywhere near ready for this life to be over.
And Daric… How would he fare? He had so much passion in him that it could easily turn to rage and despair.
Braylian’s Cauldron was no strange place to her. She’d lived in it once. She’d also paid homage to the great goddess from outside it, watching elements erupt from the circle as she’d prayed alongside her adoptive family. The people of Leathen came here to worship, in awe and fear and hope and hardship. She’d been no differ
ent from them these past fifteen years, no different from anyone else asking for Braylian’s blessing.
It was a calm day, both for the weather and for the Cauldron. Rain and Daric hung back while the Barrow Witch performed her mysterious task of discovering which of the stones making up the wide circle held the key to breaking curses. Daric had the objects they needed, and Rain stood beside him, wishing they could have had another night together, just the two of them, tangled and touching and loving each other more than anything.
The witch finally backed away from the Cauldron, pointing an unsteady finger at a stone that suddenly pulsed with darkness. “There.” Her voice was reed-thin and exhausted. She stumbled over to a large tree and sat, slumping almost lifelessly against it. As they watched, her skin turned ashen, and she seemed to age a decade. Gray streaks now patterned her hair, and Rain knew without a doubt that the witch had sacrificed more than they’d ever intended.
Perhaps she’d known what this day would cost her, just as Rain did, and had accepted her role anyway.
Visibly worried about the witch’s condition, Daric took off his cloak and tucked it around her. She didn’t stir, clearly depleted by her long and strenuous ritual.
Rain and Daric approached the Cauldron together. When they reached the stone they needed, she turned to him and lovingly touched his face. “A kiss,” she whispered, her heart splintering. “For luck.”
Daric gently drew her closer. His lips brushed hers and Rain clung to him, sealing their mouths together. The kiss turned deeper, a little frantic, and she feared her desperation had begun to show. She was deceiving him, and he might never forgive her. But springtime would come to Leathen again. Daric wouldn’t marry Astraea. He would punish Raana and make Leathen the most powerful kingdom on the continent again.
Daric pulled back too soon, his eyes glittering with a mix of desire and determination. “Will you marry me, Rain? The moment we return to Ash?” He kissed her again, quick and hard this time. “Please say you’ll be with me—always.”
Seasons of Sorcery Page 27
