THE CATAH CIRCLE
…The woman was definitely going down on the winged man with enthusiasm, and for each stroke of her li...
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THE CATAH CIRCLE
…The woman was definitely going down on the winged man with enthusiasm, and for each stroke of her lips and tongue, the man’s wings twitched. Waves of long, blond hair spilled over his shoulders, and his chest heaved beneath a cream-colored gauze shirt laced up to his collarbone. Sans the wings, he looked like he should have been on a billboard for an underwear ad. His chest, flat stomach, and long, muscular legs definitely should have been shared with the rest of the world. Brooke felt her vagina pulsing in time with the man’s pleasure as need filled her. She fidgeted and crossed her ankles, but she new damn well that nothing would work other than pulling up her dress and taking care of the problem or getting in on the action. “Fuck,” she murmured, and took another sip from her tall clay mug. Fuck, I want sex and, fuck, I’ve never wanted to be part of a threesome until now. Her nipples grew harder and her pussy dripped as she continued to stare. The man clawed at the walls, braced himself as he thrust his hips forward. His eyes rolled open, found her immediately, and locked on hers with no indication of shock. Brooke found herself unable to look away from him. She held her mug in one hand and left her free hand under the table, resting on her knee. She wondered if he could sense how
much she wanted to inch her dress up and find release. She wondered if he knew how horny she’d become watching this nameless, faceless woman pleasure him. He smiled as though he invited her to participate from across the room. When she returned the smile, he closed his eyes, his head tilting back as his wings spasmed and spread wide. He’d come while she’d sat and watched…
ALSO BY GABRINA GARZA Adeno Circle Of Friends: All Wet The Countess Of Suburbia Hot Phoenix Nights Jax and the Giant’s Bean Stalk River Of Time: Dreamwalker Sex Between Strangers Take Me Out
THE CATAH CIRCLE BY GABRINA GARZA
AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com
THE CATAH CIRCLE AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2007 by Gabrina Garza ISBN 978-1-60272-176-0 Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For Nuthin', a dog without a name, who did his own travels in search of love, friendship, and a kind hand. It was an honor to be part of your journey.
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PROLOGUE He was dying and he knew it. Atop the ridge, with nowhere else to run, Canen dropped to his muddied knees and fumbled for his knife and the locket around his neck. The circle lay below, the bright blue and yellow flowers a perfect nest in the endless, moving green of landscape. Tracking wolves howled in what had been a safe distance moments ago. They were close, all of them—men and beasts and wicked birds sent to scour from above. The ground vibrated with the hooves of two dozen horses, which lent itself to his already trembling hand. Necklace clamped firmly between straight, white teeth, he 1
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pulled the thong from his hair and allowed it to frame his dirty, sweat-covered face. He hastily sawed off a chunk of hair, ignoring the strands that clung to his unshaven jaw. “The Wind’s daughter, blessed by water. None other than yours forever,” he murmured, attempting to remember the exact words Rayna had told him to repeat. He’d barely been able to hear her once she’d consumed the vial of poison and fell into his arms. The bittersweet flavor of her lips still lingered on his. The locket in his hand trembled, the ground vibrated with the cadence of riders galloping the last stretch of green toward the edge of ridge that scraped the blue, dusky sky. Dropping the hair into the opened glass locket, he turned the knife’s tip toward his hand and pricked his thumb. He glanced back once, saw a blur of dark forms rushing toward his last bit of safe ground. Swords gleamed silver in the twilight, the maws of wolves revealed blood red gums and bone white teeth. They wouldn’t take him prisoner again, never again. Shackles were a disgrace to his murdered mother and father. He squeezed three drops of his blood—rich, dark, elven blood—into the locket, snapped the clasps shut, and stood. Horses whinnied, reared up as they approached the edge. He held out his hand, dangled the necklace over the edge, and lowered his eyes—unwilling to see old friends turned enemies, or the betraying face of his uncle. Blood dripped from his closed fist, which he ignored. He couldn’t remember when he’d last feared pain, as it had 2
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become a part of his daily life. Choices had run out for him in this lifetime. He could do no more, and they could do no more to him. “Child of a distant land, death of body now at hand, release the wind, release the water, blessed by rain, the wind’s only daughter. None other,” he chanted. “Than yours forever. I’m coming, Rayna, I’m coming. None other than—” An arrow slammed into his shoulder and knocked him off balance. The poison he’d consumed couldn’t come fast enough to deliver him whole into the next life. He’d settle for imperfection. Before the wolves or swordsmen reached him, he stepped over the ridge and dropped into nothingness, still murmuring his enchantment. His eyes stared wide at the circle of flowers below him, the gate for his soul to wait for her. He would see her again.
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CHAPTER 1 Damn, if she didn’t move like liquid, arms wrapped around his neck, her hips lined with his as though her short black dress and his formalwear didn’t exist. Their not-so-private simulated fuck almost made the band sound good and the rest of the annoying wedding party seem tolerable. Almost. She threaded one leg behind his back and locked her needle-thin heel around the inside of his thigh as though she needed him to take her right then and there. They dipped back, clung together as they pumped and swayed, ground and groped in the middle of the dance floor. Between the pulse of strobe lights and air-condition controlled ballet of streamers and party decorations, it almost 4
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made Lindsay appear straight. Almost. With her naturally white-blond hair and big, blue eyes, she was the epitome of Barbie doll beauty come to life. If they hadn’t been related, Brooke would have hated the mansteeling, spotlight-hogging American dirty dancing in France. Of course no one at the wedding knew Lindsay preferred women to men—especially not the drunken, horny dance partner she’d grabbed by the tie and dragged out to the dance floor like a modern day caveman who only had procreation on his mind. What’s-his-name didn’t need to know that Lindsay had been eyeing a perky little redheaded bartender all night long, or that she had leaned into her sister’s ear several times during the night and murmured in her drunkenly sexy voice, “You need to get laid, but not by him. Or him, either. Chances are they’ll be going at it in the parking lot later.” The whole queer little sister thing—as Lindsay called it— was still new to Brooke, but unlike their mother Gail who maintained this was a phase, Brooke had decided to support Lindsay in her rainbow-toting glory. At a wedding, that meant scoping out women who may have been checking out Lindsay, which also meant that once again Brooke’s love life was put on hold. There was something seriously wrong about a thirty-two year old woman attending a wedding alone in southern France. Or at least that’s what her relatives informed her on the plane ride, in the taxi, and in the powder room before the ceremony. Then, in voices made louder by an open bar, they attempted to shove her into the arms of every Gaston, Philippe, and Raoul 5
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who came along—two of whom Lindsay assured her were most definitely not seeking out female companionship. “Isn’t it great to see Lindsay out there?” Gail leaned over and asked. Brooke took another sip of wine, which she hoped would make her mom’s word sound sensible. “It’s great to all be together,” she answered, which seemed neutral enough. “I knew she’d find a nice man here.” Brook squinted. The so-called nice man currently had one hand nearly far enough up Lindsay’s dress to do a pelvic exam. This was France and all…but was that…legal? “You make sure they don’t go off and elope. I’m going to get a bit of fresh air.” “Get some fresh air by the buffet table,” Gail suggested. “There are a lot of nice-looking men helping themselves to dessert.” Fantastic, Brooke thought. We can tell our grandkids that love all started off with a slice of cheesecake. While her mother lovingly watched Lindsay bump and grind on the dance floor, Brooke weaved her way through a knot of people she’d never seen before today, checked to make sure her coffee brown hair was still in an elegant twist, and exited the ballroom onto the candle-lit patio. Most of the people in attendance were distant cousins on her father’s side, who were gracious enough to offer their condolences even if they’d never met her dad. She’d been thinking about him a lot lately. He would have liked this wedding, even if he’d never been 6
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one for large gatherings. Brooke liked to think that he would have approved of her decision to become a nurse even though she’d always sworn that she’d be the first woman president. At least she was doing what she loved rather than settling down. He always had liked her independent spirit. Wine scented the air, and she couldn’t help but think that he also would have liked the Château Levesque with its acres of sweet, plump grapes ready to be turned into wine. While on tour of the two hundred acres, their host Nataline—who was related to their dad in one of those second cousin twice removed sort of ways—had told them quite seriously that faerie lights were often seen darting between rows of grapevines. “If you dare to follow them,” she said in her thick, French accent, “they will lead you into their world and you’ll never be seen again.” As if kidnapping faeries weren’t enough, the grounds were also rumored to be haunted. Nataline said several members of her family had seen a handsome, black-haired man dressed in a cloak and finely tailored clothing—to which Lindsay couldn’t help but mouth “flaming” behind the hostess’s back. “No one knows where he came from,” Nataline said in her wistful tone as she insisted that they sample more of her family’s vintage wine. “But he’s here, searching for his lost love.” Typical wandering man, Brooke thought. No direction in sight, but he plows on through for an eternity without bothering to ask for directions. 7
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Actually, he sounded like her type—a guy only rumored to exist. She stood alone and listened to the crickets chirp. “Watcha doing?” Brooke’s heart nearly leapt out of her open mouth. “I thought you were dancing,” she said as Lindsay approached, her hair still perfectly curled and done up, her makeup in place. If they weren’t sisters, Brooke would have hated her prissy, beautiful guts. Her little sister shrugged. “He kept suggesting that we go somewhere quiet so I could suck his dick. Nothing sounds more appalling than a dick in my mouth.” Brooke’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. It’d been a little longer than she wanted to admit since a man had asked her if she’d like to go down on him, so she nodded as though it happened every day. “And besides, Mom looked a little too hopeful when I was out there. Better dash her dreams before she makes wedding plans.” Brooke grunted. “Good for you. Wreck Mom’s trip to France.” Lindsay shrugged. “The Levesque sisters never fail to disappoint. I turn out to dig chicks, you turn out straight, unmarried, and childless.” “Say it a little louder.” Lindsay kicked off her heels and jumped onto a stone bench. “My sister needs a man to fuck her brains out!” she yelled. 8
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Brooke yanked her off her pedestal and shook her. “Are you out of your mind?” “Oh, relax.” Lindsay gave an intoxicated smile and wrapped her arms around her big sister. “We’re in France, Brookie. We’re never going to see these people again.” “We still have two more days before we leave.” “Yeah, well.” Lindsay hiccupped. “That’s two more days to find a hot stud.” Brooke rolled her eyes, and Lindsay grabbed her by the arm. “What’s that look for, Brookie? You’re not ready to give up, are you?” How can you give up on something you haven’t really started? Brooke wondered. And after the last string of men, why did she want to bother? She was beginning to think that a sweet, compassionate man was as mythological as a dragon. “I’m taking my time.” “Oh, fuck,” Lindsay said in her typical, loud voice. “You’re giving up. My big sister has given up. You can’t do this to me.” “To you?” “Yeah, me. Mom expects grandkids. She can’t expect them from me unless a cat is good enough.” Could it really be possible for someone to suck out all the good genes in the family and also be self-centered? “Well, then let me work on it for ya, sis,” Brooke replied dryly. Lindsay issued another tight, drunken hug. “Hey, ya wanna have some fun with me?” Brooke hugged her back, dreading what was in store and 9
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glad they were out in the middle of nowhere. Public intoxication and public indecency were not high on the list of reasons they’d both end up in a French prison. “If you weren’t my sister, I’d be worried.” *
*
*
Only Lindsay would translate fun as a midnight stroll through a vineyard. Shoes cast aside and visions of tetanus shots dancing in her head, Brooke followed her prancing sister through long, neat rows of grapes until the Château Levesque turned from a towering French mansion to a dark structure against an even darker night. “Look at the stars.” Lindsay flung her arms up in the air and twirled around. “Have you ever seen anything like this in your entire life?” Brooke had to admit that the pin-pricked sky was impressive. “Can you imagine a bottle of good wine, some cheese, a blanket…making love under this sky?” Brooke tore a bunch of grape from the vine. “What about mosquitoes?” Lindsay imitated her in unflattering little sister fashion. “Have you had sex before? How can you possibly think about bugs with a sky like this?” Being the sensible and mature one, Brooke stuck out her tongue. “You really, really need to get laid.” “Preferably indoors.” 10
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Lindsay blew a raspberry. “Preferably with a tall, handsome, black-haired, snappy dressing French man.” Brooke started to laugh at the absurdity of their adventure. “Oh, I get it. You’re looking for that ghost.” Lindsay glanced over her shoulder and gave a wicked smile. “For you, we’ll start out with dead guys and work our way up to living and breathing.” “How exactly do we find this ghost?” “Simple. He’s a guy, he’s been dead for God knows how long, and he’s probably hornier than all get out.” A dress—namely Lindsay’s dress—landed on top of Brooke’s head. Brooke tore it off and stared at her sister. “We get naked,” Lindsay said with a Cheshire cat grin. With that, she took off running down the soft dirt path, crying out like a banshee in the night. Dumbfounded, Brooke stared at the dress in her hands and shook her head. They were alone in a vineyard with zero chance of anyone discovering them running around naked. If there was a chance for a hot guy—even a hot phantom… “Hell,” she said, and she took off after Lindsay. *
*
*
Within moments Brooke found herself completely lost and still in possession of Lindsay’s dress. It figured that Lindsay would find a way to dance around a classy vineyard in her bra and panties—or, knowing Lindsay—in her bra. Dragging her feet, Brooke turned down one row of grapes and zigzagged her way through the moonlit darkness. She 11
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called out every few seconds for her sister until her throat started to hurt. Really, there was no reason why Lindsay couldn’t hear her over the crickets and breeze through the grape leaves. Maybe the handsome ghost turned out to be a rebel Victorian woman looking for a drop dead gorgeous damsel and was now ravishing Lindsay somewhere in the vineyard. Like everything else in life, however, Brooke doubted that Lindsay could go about outdoor sex quietly. If she couldn’t have the decency to answer her sister’s calls, then Brooke had no doubt that Lindsay would be screaming out in ecstasy. As disturbing a thought that turned out to be, she also didn’t want to think of the alternative—Lindsay had fallen prey to an ax murderer lurking in the vineyard or she’d literally fallen off the cliff Nataline had shown them during the tour. “Shit,” Brooke muttered, her pace increasing. “Lindsay! Answer me!” She rounded another corner and nearly screamed as tiny lights danced before her eyes. For a split second she allowed herself to believe in faeries, until the rational side of her brain kicked in and brought her out of her delusions. Fireflies, not faerie folk. Creepy, crawling, flying bugs that left people disillusioned with their ability to light up their asses. They weren’t fooling Brooke. A bug was a bug, nuclear powered butt or not. She gave a shiver of complete revulsion and brushed her hands over her arms. The mere sight of them gave her the 12
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feeling of thousands of tiny legs crawling all over her. It was almost enough to make her scream. Daughter of wind. The disembodied voice froze her at the corner, and Lindsay’s dress slipped from her grasp. She held her breath and searched the night, unwilling to step forward but not quite able to turn tail and hoof it back to the party. The tiny lights bobbed and danced forward, a shapeless mass of bugs moving at a faster speed than Brooke found comforting. These were the NASCAR drivers of the insect world—and they were heading directly toward her. She picked up Lindsay’s discarded dress and sprinted in the opposite direction. Wayward grapevines tangled in her updo and flailing arms, but pulled hair and tiny, superficial scratches were a small price to pay when it came to avoiding a hoard of bugs. Grapes that had fallen off the vine caught between her toes and burst beneath her heels as she dashed away. Brooke approached the end of the row and looked around, her lungs burning from exertion. She should have been able to see the sprawling mansion from the edge of the vineyard, but solid darkness greeted her. Frantically she searched for a gap in the vines with intentions of crawling through on her hands and knees to elude the pests. Swallowing, she turned and found the fireflies buzzing around her head and face, their tiny wings beating in a deafening hum. Her eyes went wide as she noticed their pointed faces. And hands. And tiny, quite well endowed naked 13
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bodies. “What in the—” Brooke stepped backward, still piecing her discovery together. The ball of her foot landed on rocks, which slid beneath her and caught her off-balance. For a moment she teetered, her years of ballet classes keeping her upright. The wide-eyed beings buzzed closer, their wings beating with such force that strands of hair blew around her face. “Are you of water?” they asked in unison. “Sixty percent, unless you want to talk the brain specifically, which is more like seventy percent,” she answered. Then she thought about the question. “Wait, what?” The specks of light seemed to buzz in agreement, their bodies flickering as though it was part of their language. The wind whirled around her in a symphony of leather wings and high-pitched chirps. Beneath the silver moon, the creatures neared and darted away, their eyes gleaming like onyx. A cyclone of what she thought might have been bats surrounded her, their small, furry bodies clipping her in the ear and shoulders. Blue and green lights formed cracks in the dark sky that splintered out and up like a giant, broken globe of night. “Yes, you’ll do,” the dots of lights buzzed as they continued to weave and dart around her, their paths disturbed by the rush of bats that drew nearer with each turn. At last she swayed, and for one agonizing moment, she tried to convince her body and gravity to tip forward, but it 14
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was futile. Gravity and long legs had a different idea. Her heel came down on nothingness, and as the creatures stared at her with their glowing eyes, she teetered backward and fell over the vineyard cliff without a hot guy in sight.
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CHAPTER 2 With a gasp, Canen awoke, his eyes blinded by pure, white light that seeped through his pores. In a distant, vague manner he recalled uncounted time, days or perhaps weeks of suspended life. It had felt like a moment between dreams and waking, the surreal seconds held loosely in consciousness. But this was no dream. He knew he was falling, felt the pull of wind in his hair and weightlessness beneath his tumbling form. A moment before impact, when he wanted to scream but realized it was futile, his momentum came to a sudden halt. He waited to breathe, afraid the slightest movement would send him catapulting to his death. The white light turned to a 16
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faded blue—the color of the sky, which he remembered without question. Clouds took up the spaces between the cerulean painted above him, and a hawk glided dark against the horizon. Then he remembered his death and the enchantment that kept him invisible to the world as pain blossomed in his shoulder. As colors returned, so did his life. “Catah,” he whispered. She’d finally come home, finally broke through the tangle of spells and curses and found her way back. His stomach did a flip, his body made a violent lurch toward unforgiving ground. He squeezed his eyes shut as though not seeing his demise would somehow make it less painful. “Master, we have found her,” a million voices buzzed inside his mind. “None other,” he murmured. The fall continued, a mere foot or two of ground left between him and eternity. With a heavy thump he hit the soft, sun-warmed grass and felt his breath forced from his lungs. His skull pounded from the impact, blood churned through his ears to block out all other sound. He forced his eyes open despite the dust and grit, and stared at the sheer stone wall towering over him. Blinking several times, he continued to stare at the rocks and tiny sprigs of grass where birds nested. It seemed an eternity ago—which it very well could have been by now—and he knew the fall should have killed him. “You saved me,” he said. 17
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*
*
*
The ground shook. Brooke’s eyes popped open and she stared at the bluest sky she’d ever seen—which was only breathtakingly beautiful until she remembered it had been night when she’d lost her way through the vineyard and fallen. Apparently the man beside her, who was talking to himself, had also fallen, though she guessed he’d probably come from a turnip truck rather than the Château Levesque. “My love!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the open space. He grinned, a wide, child-like expression of wonder. “Stay where you are!” He paused and stared at her, his eyes locked on hers. For a crazy guy he was nice to look at—if she’d been the least bit interested in him. His clothes—some sort of costume, from what it looked like—were a bit worn and dirty, but her black dress was gray beneath a layer of dirt. “Yes, of course,” he agreed. With his dark eyes and dark hair he definitely looked like trouble, though with such long eyelashes and a slight frown, he appeared almost innocent. If he’d actually been able to keep eye contact rather than stare at her breasts, he would have kept his puppy dog quality about him. Instead, he looked more like a horn dog—which she found slightly gratifying given her recent man drought. “How long have I been out?” she asked. “A very long time,” he answered. With one hand clamped over his bloody shoulder, he leaned toward her and forced his 18
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hand up toward her face as though he wanted to comfort her. “Hush, I’m here. No one will harm you.” “I don’t freaking think so, you pervert!” He gazed at her again, a hungry sort of look she thought might be sexual in nature. Whatever it was, it made her glance down at her plunging neckline made all the more impressive by a brand new bra that gave her Super Boobs. “What?” she asked as she balled up Lindsay’s dress and crossed her arms to block his view of her low neckline. He swallowed hard, his attention snapped back to her face. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Rayna.” “I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I’m not Rayna, I’m…look, it doesn’t matter who I am. I was at a wedding last night up there.” She pointed toward the sky. “I must have fallen when I was looking for my sister.” “Of course you are Rayna,” he said, clearly ignoring everything she’d said. “The locket, the circle, the spell.” Yep, definitely way off the crazy meter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What locket? What circle?” The spell thing she decided to leave alone since the first two were a little much to handle. “Are you from the party?” He shook his head and appeared frustrated. “You don’t remember the locket you gave me, the one you said you’d return when we were together?” She opened her hands and showed him. “I don’t have a locket.” “We both had—” He reached for his throat and paused. 19
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Concern clouded his gaze. “We both must have lost them in our rebirth.” The worry in his eyes left the moment he looked down. “Ah, but you see, here’s the circle.” He took several large steps back and gestured. “See for yourself. Just as you said to me, we are standing within the Catah circle.” All she could see was a circle of tiny flowers and mushrooms, which seemed insignificant given that they were standing at the bottom of a fifty foot cliff. “I still don’t understand. When did I tell you this?” “When we last were together, within the palace.” He moved toward her and reached for her arm, which she wrenched away from him. “I said don’t touch me.” His arm remained extended. “I mean you no harm.” “If you so much as try to touch me, I’ll twist your balls so hard you’ll have a vagina,” she snapped. He froze and blinked at her. Very slowly he brought his arm down, and the look of agony on his face returned. Bright red blossomed on his dirty white shirt. “What happened to you?” she asked. “I ran after you poisoned yourself,” he said. “I ran to keep us both alive.” She scrunched up her nose, but didn’t interrupt his story. When she used to take the train for work, she’d realized that the best way to keep the mentally unstable from cracking was to suffer through their stories. Passive crazy was better than violent crazy any day, and she could handle passive crazy with a few nods and a chin stroke of thoughtfulness. 20
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“When they found me, before I could jump over the edge, I was shot with an arrow.” Nursing instincts kicked into place and she took a step forward to examine him from a distance. “How long ago did this happen?” “Perhaps years ago.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have an open wound that’s years old.” “In a way, yes.” “Does it hurt?” “Do not concern yourself with me,” he said. “Machismo is going to end with gangrene and your arm falling off.” She nodded toward his arm. “Let me see.” He hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with her request. “Have you looked at it?” The man shook his head. “There has not been time.” “But you just said it’s years old,” she argued, taking another step forward. Somehow she knew she should have paid more attention when they covered head injuries. Maybe this guy had amnesia and didn’t realize what he was talking about. With any luck or mercy in the universe, he’d come out of his hallucinations and turn into a really sweet, funny, intelligent and normal man. And then he’d meet Lindsay and completely forget about Brooke. “We’ve been dormant,” he muttered under his breath. With an exasperated sigh, she stomped forward, and opened his loose-fitting shirt at the collar to have a look at his 21
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injury. The skin was broken—hence the blood—but there was certainly no arrow. “It’s pretty bad,” she said, feeling his breath on her face and neck. It tickled and warmed her, which gave her an unexpected flutter in her belly. “You should really have it looked at.” “You just looked at it.” He was starting to give her a headache. “I know, but…well, never mind. I looked at it and I think you should have a doctor look at it and prescribe antibiotics.” He blinked at her, clearly not following what she thought sounded perfectly reasonable. “Okay, let’s back up and get the facts here.” She tangled her fingers in her hair. “Do you remember who shot you with an arrow?” “My uncle,” he said as though she should have known this. Suddenly Lindsay was looking normal. For all of their sisterly spats, not once had they drawn weapons on one another unless throwing a box of tampons counted. He started to elaborate when a shadow darkened the sky. Before she had a chance to look up, he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her against his chest. Together they stood against the sheer rock wall. “Do not move,” he said under his breath. “What is it?” she asked through her teeth. The warmth of his body and the hard planes of his chest startled her. He pressed his stubbly cheek to her ear and held her tighter as though he feared she’d run away. His breath reminded her of 22
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an angry bull, fast and fierce. “Shadow flyers. They look for movement, not color. As long as you don’t move, they won’t find you.” Her gaze cut to the sky where a solid dark cloud glided through the air, a stain against pure white clouds and a perfect blue sky. She’d never seen a shadow without an origin, and for the first time she thought there could be something to the whole spell thing after all. “How do you know it’s looking for me?” “Because you belong to Catah.” Brooke closed her eyes. What the hell was Catah? “I shall refresh your memory when we’re safe. Now, stay still. I will not lose you again.” For a heartbeat she savored his touch and the smell of him, male perspiration mixed with the fresh scent of grass. It had been six months since she’d been this close to a man—and the last one she’d kept around just to have a date on the weekends, not because he necessarily thrilled her in or out of bed. Most of the guys she’d dated were nice in the beginning, but turned out to be conniving or possessive in the end. Once Lindsay came out, she began to think that maybe her little sister had the right idea. This guy, however, was the epitome of manliness, which she definitely liked. Brooke glanced down at his muscular forearm wrapped around her waist and couldn’t imagine a more perfect feeling. The veins in his hands were prominent, just the way she liked them. Something about a guy with nice forearms and hard23
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working hands made her wet like nothing else. Even if she wasn’t quite comfortable with the life being squeezed out of her, at least she could admire what held her. “Relax. I will not hurt you; this I swear on my honor.” It was difficult to relax when he pinned her to him, gripped her with only his one good arm. His fingers had curled around her side, which she could almost imagine him doing to her in bed as she rode him. Damn, what could he do to her with both arms? And, fuck, why was she even thinking about this when some giant creature out of a Godzilla flick was hovering overhead? The bird-beast released a terrible cry and then disappeared from their sight as it headed over the cliff and toward where she’d last seen the château. “Come with me,” he said, releasing her arm as he stepped away from the stone wall and gazed toward the sky. “They’ve unleashed a search party, which undoubtedly means spies have seen either you or me. It’s not safe for you here.” “Where are we going?” Head bowed, he lowered to one knee and placed his closed fist over his heart. “My lady, it is an honor to see you once again. Your radiance was well worth the wait, I assure you.” He smiled as he looked up and offered his hand. “We’re going home.”
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CHAPTER 3 The wind whipped the tapestries in Ord Tower as the winged beasts circled and wheeled through the afternoon sky. All morning long the shadow-flyers had begged for his attention, but there were greater tasks at hand than satisfying beasts who could hunt their own innocent prey. Lord Roen held the delicate glass and metal trinket up to the light to better examine the hairline crack. He squinted and turned the object until a high-pitched scream whistled through the barely noticeable imperfections. He gave a grim smile and set the locket on a granite table stained with blood and marred by deep scratches, the only reminders of the executed who had cried and begged in this 25
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very tower. None had been shown mercy. Lifting his gaze, he met his daughter’s eye. “Would you do the honor, Siqua?” “Yes, Father,” she answered mechanically. Her every move was slow and calculated as though she were a feeble mortal. With no room for pity, he glared at her with impatience and thought if she’d inherited his intelligence rather than his steel gray eyes and blue-black hair, her body could have withstood the constant renewal of spells. However, given the choice between complacency and thought provoking chatter, he preferred a lovely puppet. The contents of the bottle continued to plea for help, the words incomprehensible but clear all the same. His daughter inched closer, her face turned away from the increasingly urgent screams. “Ah,” Roen said to himself. “Scream as you desire, Rayna. He has failed you.” Siqua pinched the glass and metal locket between her thumb and forefinger as if it were an insect or faerie. Her face contorted in repulsion, but she carried it as was her sworn duty. Lord Roen watched with mild interest as she braced herself against one of the weather-beaten columns. The wind churned her hair and exposed her ears, the tips of which were bright red from daily poisoning. He never offered enough to kill her, as she still proved useful. As long as his nephew Canen remained missing and not dead, he had hopes that the boy 26
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would come to his senses and consider Siqua as his new bride. Even if at first he refused, Roen hoped to be very convincing. The thought of his daughter taking Rayna’s place made him smile. By rite of marriage, once Rayna was destroyed, her husband would become the recognized emperor—even if their marriage was less than a day old. As long as the marriage had been consummated, which no one would argue that it wasn’t, his new bride’s power would also be his. Now it could also belong to Roen through his daughter, the next most eligible prospect in the lands. Of all the races in Catah, no one would have ever guessed a dark elf would rule—and Roen swore he would take full control. Had Canen not enchanted himself, Roen would have already enslaved him and made him into Siqua’s obedient husband. With the locket outstretched through the long windows, Siqua stared out at the black hills and distant mountains. Miles away, the place where the locket had been found three years ago stirred with shadow-flyers and sea bats, dark messengers of warning and ill luck. “Drop it, Siqua,” Roen said impatiently. The young woman hesitated. “Father,” she said, her voice hollow in the harsh wind. “They are coming.” His eyes narrowed. “Who is coming, child?” “I don’t know their names.” With her free hand, she pointed west. Hands on his hips, he stalked forward but found nothing. A frown set deep in his face, and he wondered if she’d already begun to build immunity to the newest spell he administered every morning. 27
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Her visions were strong—as were her mother’s—but Siqua’s seemed uncontrollable. Roen despised disorder, especially in his family. He studied her eyes for the familiar glaze that settled over her when visions took her and refused to let go. A milky white film spiraled through her irises, though not as thick as he’d seen on her mother. “Very well.” He sighed. “You don’t believe me?” Her voice trembled with panic, her steel gray eyes turned clear and wide with horror. Like a child she clung to his sleeve and pleaded with him for his understanding. “There are two of them, both unfamiliar to me. Father, I tell you only truth.” “I believe you, Siqua,” he said gently, placing his arm over her shoulders. “Come, it’s time for you to have a drink with me.” *
*
*
Lindsay woke with a stabbing pain in her kidneys and branches stuck in her hair. She groaned and squinted at the painfully bright sunlight, wondering what exactly she’d broken in her ungraceful plummet. Her head hurt, but not as bad as her ankle. Once she forced herself upright, she tried to move her foot and found it possible but painful. That seemed hopeful considering she’d fallen a good ten feet from the vineyard onto a ledge of rock. From where she sat she could see a vast expanse of valley and distant hills, which she didn’t recognize from the day before. 28
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She could have sworn there had been houses and barns scatter amongst much larger villas and sprawling estates. What she saw was a carpet of grass dotted with clusters of trees and carved by rivers. She scrunched up her face, certain she would have noticed winding rivers during the tour. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking, and she knew she hadn’t snapped any digital photos of this spot because she would have remembered her mother tapping her on the shoulder and commenting every ten seconds. “Weird,” she said under her breath. A stiff breeze sent a shiver down her spine, and she rubbed her bare arms. Her nipples tightened in response and she hugged herself tightly to stay as warm as possible until she could figure out what to do. Clearly she didn’t stand a chance climbing the rock wall, especially with a twisted ankle. Her best chance of being found was to scream, and Lindsay could scream. She released a cry for help that people back on the east coast could have heard while they stood in line for their morning coffee. It was the sort of scream she expected could have brought down a mountain, which thankfully it had not. It also hadn’t alerted anyone from the wedding party to run to her rescue. Frustrated, she sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. When someone did find her, she’d either be frozen to death or completely unrecognizable under all of the dirt, bug bites, and foliage. 29
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“Come on,” she said through her teeth as she limped around in a circle. “How far can you be, Brooke?” A pebble hit her on the head and she looked up to find a man with a large, flat nose and bushy beard staring down at her. His gray hair grew like a lion’s mane and made it impossible to see most of his features. When she opened her mouth to ask him for help, he hurled another pebble at her. The smooth stone hit her in the chest and dropped into her cleavage. “What did you do that for?” she asked, pulling at her lacy black bra until the rock fell out. His eyes narrowed and he shook his fist at her, which was hardly an answer. “Are you going to help me or not?” The little man began to search for something, which she could only hope was a walkie-talkie from the estate which he could radio in to tell them that the helicopters could return to base, the National Guard could return stateside, and the candlelight prayers could be exchanged for prayers of thanks. Lindsay Levesque, sans dress, had managed to survive in only her bra and panties. “Hey, I’m sorry, you probably don’t speak English, and I took Spanish instead of French, so let me try again. Hola, me llamo Lindsay—” The little bastard grunted and held up another rock the size of his fist. As he stood to his full height of four feet, she shrieked and threw her hands up to block his attempt at slowly stoning her to death. 30
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“Don’t you dare!” She stumbled backward and landed on her ass, then jumped up when something stung her. “You put that thing down! What’s wrong with you?” The furry-faced man grumbled to himself, and over her own racing heart and harsh breaths, she heard someone shouting. “Oh, thank God.” She sighed. She shifted and found a small metal and glass tear-shaped object, which had apparently been the very literal pain in her ass. A tall, slender figure hooded and cloaked appeared at the cliff’s edge and stared down at her. “Are you injured?” The distinctively feminine voice left Lindsay stuttering. “No, I mean, I don’t think I’m seriously hurt.” “Where did you find that?” She nodded at the pendant Lindsay had forgotten she was holding. “I fell on it, I guess. It actually stabbed me.” “Were you robbed?” She glanced down and frowned. It would take too long to explain that she and her older sister had decided to run naked through a vineyard in search of a hot ghost, so she nodded. “Were you pushed?” “Well, no. I sort of fell. I’m really rather coordinated—” Before she’d finished, the woman flung back her hood and dropped to her belly. She extended her bejeweled hand to Lindsay and nodded. “Come on.” Lindsay took hold of the woman’s hand and hoped for a spark of interest, but she didn’t get a particularly strong vibe, 31
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which was unfortunate because her savior was drop dead gorgeous with her mile-long eyelashes, high, rosy cheeks, and cocoa dark hair. Hello, Snow White. Once she and the dwarf at her side managed to haul Lindsay onto higher ground, she noticed that the vineyards had been replaced by fields. A shudder rippled through her as she turned to see where she’d fallen. Something definitely wasn’t right. “Here.” The woman flung her cloak over Lindsay’s shoulders and smoothed the fabric. She looked Lindsay over and nodded in approval. “Thank you.” She sighed, appreciating the body warmth that clung to the beautifully embroidered fabric. “Wow, I haven’t seen a cloak since…well, Halloween. Did you make this?” The woman offered a smile. “No, my seamstress did, of course. Are you warm?” She nodded. “If you could just point me in the right direction, I’ll get back to my room, change, and bring this right down.” “Directions?” The woman appeared amused. “I can’t have you freezing to death or wandering alone, not when the shadow-flyers have been spotted.” The little man beside her cowered, his gaze darting back and forth as he examined the sky. He bared his teeth as though he’d eat these shadow-flyers for dinner if they came too close. “Dorg and I knew the moment they began to circle that they’d spotted someone or something.” She looked down at 32
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the dwarf with an affectionate smile, then turned her attention back to Lindsay. “You are fortunate. Roen has been searching for you for years now.” “Who?” The woman gave a sympathetic nod. “Yes, of course, I remember you said that you and Canen might not recall your pasts. Do you recall my name?” Lindsay shook her head, feeling fairly certain that Snow White hadn’t said it in the first place. “Curi. You used to call me Curinda, but no one refers to me in such a formal manner these days.” She glanced down at her tight-fitting leather pants and more loosely-fitted blouse. It was definitely cut too big, which was unfortunate because Lindsay knew she had something worth seeing beneath all that fabric. “Nice to meet you, Curi.” “I shall explain everything to you once we are safely on the road.” “The Château—” “My horse is tethered nearby. Come, we shall await news of my brother’s return.” “Your brother?” Again she smiled and glanced at the trinket in Lindsay’s hand. “I do hope you remember your new husband.”
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CHAPTER 4 Brooke and Canen walked for over an hour, mostly uphill, until several small thatch-roofed houses came into sight. They were round huts made of stone and spewing black smoke from stout chimneys, and Brooke hoped one of them had food and a place to sit and rest her aching feet. Traipsing through the unfamiliar valley made her positive that she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore—or southern France for that matter. With the sweeping landscape and his casual conversation about the dwarves allowing them to pass unnoticed it made her think she hadn’t just fallen off the side of a cliff. Twice she’d pinched herself to see if she felt pain, which she did. Never an imaginative child, she doubted that if she 34
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were in a coma somewhere she could have conjured up an entire countryside complete with unusual flora and unfamiliar birds. After she profusely complained of thirst, he finally got the hint and suggested they stop a while and relax. Typical man, she thought, needing to come to the conclusion himself even after the woman had made it blatantly obvious. “We’ve both had difficult journeys,” he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and lovingly stroked her neck. She should have told him to take a hike, since he was obviously mistaken about something, but she hesitated to call him crazy anymore. “Difficult journeys without anything to drink.” “Indeed. You must rest.” She looked around as though she might recognize something, like a Sak’s Fifth Avenue or a Macy’s. They were surrounded by trees, many of them with dark purple flowers or ones that could only be described as red pine trees painted the unfamiliar landscape. Further out, the land stretched wide and flat with large rocks jutting out of nowhere. To the left, which seemed like the general direction they were taking, the houses and other small buildings she’d seen were crowded together and teeming with life. “How much farther is it, anyhow?” “How much farther is what?” Oh, he had to be kidding. Had they just spent hours walking around with no destination? “About four hours ago you told me we were going home.” 35
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“Ah, yes.” “So you live there?” She pointed at the village. “No, my dearest Rayn—Brooke. We will not make it in one day, at least not by foot.” He squinted and looked ahead, a mischievous smile on his face. “If you’re tired, I shall carry you.” “Valiant, but no.” He clapped his hands. “Here. Climb on my back.” Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “No. I’d snap you in half.” “Here.” He unfolded her arms, took her hand, and placed it on his upper arm as he flexed. Startled, she held her breath and squeezed, surprised at how intimate it felt to touch him. With the same smile pasted on his face, he didn’t seem to think it was odd—but then again he didn’t think she was a stranger. “Feel that and tell me you could ever hurt me.” She arched a brow. “Impressive, but the answer is still no.” He gave her another sexy-as-hell grin. For such a clueless guy, he had something irresistible about him that she was starting to like. “As you wish.” He still held her hand to his arm, his breath harsh—and not from their jaunt through the wilds. Clearing his throat, he turned and began walking again, his hand brushing hers with each step. “What’s this circle thing again?” she asked as he led her down a narrow path of trampled, yellowing grass and weeds. It was better to keep talking than stop and dwell on his dimples or the little, barely noticeable knot on his nose that 36
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she wanted to touch. And most certainly she couldn’t think about how each time the back of his hand brushed hers she wanted to grab him and press her lips to his. Definitely not a thought she could have lingering in her head, especially since it might lead to thoughts of undressing him for a quickie in a meadow. “The circle is a portal.” “Ah.” Like that explained anything at all. He chuckled to himself. “It’s how we came out of dormancy.” He looked at her from over his shoulder. “Once the poison wears off you should remember everything, but until then I’ll answer whatever it is you wish to know.” “So why did I poison myself?” “It was meant to put you into a deep sleep,” he explained. How very Romeo and Juliet of me. “But you took too much because you were frightened that they’d find us. I listened for your heartbeat, but it was gone, which explains why you look different to me.” He gave her a loving smile. “More beautiful than ever, my dearest.” The poor guy was in deep, but it was nice to hear that she was hotter than his actual woman. “I took the locket with your hair and blood in it and gave it to my sister for safe-keeping.” Brooke nodded and felt terrible that she hoped his sister was an irresponsible little twit who may have misplaced her brother’s lover. “And why were we dormant again?” His pace quickened. “To elude those who wanted to take 37
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our lives.” He bit off his words and stared straight ahead. “And they nearly succeeded when they burst into your chamber and hunted me down to the ridge.” She walked in silence and noticed him rubbing his shoulder. “Who were they?” she finally asked. “Part of my family.” His jaw was set, his dark eyes piercing and determined, but only for a heartbeat. At last his shoulders dropped and he turned to face her, offering a smile. “But you are my family now, and we will be together forever, my Empress.” Brooke felt her cheeks burn, even though his words were meant for someone else. “That’s…sweet,” she said hesitantly. Add him to the list of hot guys already taken. Unexpectedly he pulled her close and pecked her on the cheek, then drew back, looked into her eyes, and kissed her full on the lips. She gasped at the feel of him, bristly stubble and soft lips. Damn, he tasted like exactly what she needed—a love-sick, hard-chested man who could stare at her with dreamy eyes one minute and kick ass the next. Somewhere, there was one lucky broad. “And how do you know I’m the one?” she asked once she recovered. His smile faded, and she was certain she’d made some sort of mistake. It crossed her mind that she should have asked what would happen if he had the wrong chick, since she wasn’t keen on the idea of being hanged or drawn and quartered. “It is not my place to question,” he said. 38
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“To be perfectly honest with you, Canen, I have no recollection of you.” Concern flickered through his gaze. He held her hand in his as though to comfort her. “What you took was very strong, Rayna—” “My name is Brooke.” Rather than disappointment, his face lit up with satisfaction. “Yes, blessed by water.” Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?” “You don’t remember it, but it’s true. Your grandmother, the great seer of Catah, saw it in the Elven Stones when she chose you for me.” He brushed his hair back from his shoulders, and she noticed very pointed, very elf-like ears. Holy crap. He couldn’t be… “Saw what?” “Your return.” He rambled on about a dark elf who wanted to take control of Catah, but she couldn’t get past his ears. My God, they were slightly curved, a gently arch ending in a rounded tip. Strange, but sort of sexy in an unexpected way. “…And so we have the chant, which you instructed me to say once I was alone and able to sacrifice blood and hair, the elements of rebirth. I placed them into a locket, just as you said.” She nodded, overwhelmed by all of the information. “The wind’s daughter blessed by water. What do you call your mother?” “Uh, Gail.” She stammered, staring not only at his ears but 39
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the rest of him. He looked like a man, only his proportions were slightly different. His torso was a little longer than seemed normal, but he had an elegant appearance, almost catlike. She hadn’t really noticed how perfect he seemed, long legs, broad shoulders, and trim hips she wanted to grab. She really shouldn’t have wanted to grab another woman’s man, but she wasn’t a nun. At least she could have lusty thoughts about him. “Gail,” he said fondly. “But, of course, another name for the wind. Then I ask you, Brooke, how could you not be the incarnation of my Rayna? You are Brooke, you are water. Your mother is the wind, Gail. I found you within the circle where I’d fallen to what should have been my death, but you sustained me.” Children began to squeal and chase each other around a mill house, which made them both look up. A little girl with a head full of dark curls ran into Canen and knocked herself to the ground. “Mas dini,” he said, his voice like music. The child looked up at him, the blackest eyes Brooke had ever seen filled with curiosity. “You,” she gasped. He nodded, helped her to her feet, and ruffled her hair. Brooke almost sighed to herself as she chalked another one up for sexiness. Tall, handsome, sweet, and now good with children. “Hail, Emperor,” the child whispered. “Our secret, little one.” The little girl squealed again and bolted away, jumping 40
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over rocks and tall patches of grass before she joined the rest of the children. With a smile, he led Brooke toward the crowded buildings and into the busiest one. Unfamiliar spices permeated the air, and she breathed deeply, wondering what was cooking. People chattered and laughed as they entered the dark open room filled with square tables and benches for seats. Some unfamiliar animal that may have once been a pig turned over the fire, its spiral tail sticking straight out and feet tied together. A man who couldn’t have been taller than three feet poured water over the carcass, which sizzled and steamed. While she watched, she tripped over an uneven floorboard and slammed into a giant. Beer from his mug sloshed onto her clothes and hair. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying much—” “Watch it,” the man growled. His hand gripped her shoulder like a vice, his fingers pressed into her muscles. “Or you’ll be watching your head roll across the ground, greva.” Before she could cry out, Canen chopped the side of his hand down onto the giant’s wrist and pulled Brooke behind him. “A mere accident, friend.” “Who are you—” the giant started. He sniffed the air, his eyes narrowed. “If she’s yours, then keep her out of my way.” “I expect wiser words from a giant.” The giant glowered and eyed Brooke, who wanted to disappear. “Did I hurt you?” “Not really.” The giant grunted and looked to Canen for approval. 41
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“She’s not hurt.” He hesitated, shifted his weight, and dropped his shoulders. “My apologies for giving you a scare.” “Accepted.” Canen relaxed and laced his fingers with Brooke’s. They turned away from the giant and entered the crowd, an endless mass of giants, elves, dwarves, and several people with blue and green skin. “Wait here,” Canen said as he left her at the nearest empty table. He caught a passing waitress who proudly showed her heaving cleavage. She leaned into Canen and smiled, a honeysweet seductive gesture that pissed Brooke off more than it should have. The woman’s breasts rubbed against his arm as she nodded and glanced in Brooke’s direction. A moment later, when Canen had disappeared from sight, Brooke leaned forward and toyed with a small glass votive with a tiny metal grate on top. “Don’t shake me!” the candle snapped. Her hand shot back, her mouth open in question before curiosity got the best of her and she peered inside the candle holder. A tiny, winged figure with waist-length hair and literally glowing skin glared up at her. “I’m working,” the faerie snapped. “Would you mind putting me back where you found me?” Brooke gave the votive a nudge toward the center of the table and folded her hands. A shadow darkened the already lightless room as the waitress came between her and the stone fireplace where the missing dwarf from some childhood story 42
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continued to pour water on the night’s supper. “Would ye fancy the usual for a newlywed, dearie?” “The what?” “On the ’ouse, courtesy of me dead husband, may his soul rest in another woman’s bed.” She winked and gave a laugh that made her breasts jiggle. “On the house sounds fine,” she answered, wondering where the hell Canen had disappeared to without a word. She tapped her fingers on the table, which managed to have the faerie in a tizzy once more. Before she could pull off the little bitch’s wings, the waitress came over and slapped a tall, thin glass on the table. “To ’ealth, to good romps, and many ’usbands. Or is it children? I think I prefer many ’usbands, me self, dearie. Drink it slowly. Your man ain’t back just yet.” She winked again and sauntered off, giving Brooke a view of her ample rear. The woman was all curves and apparently was aware that a sway of her hips back and forth was enough to make everyone turn and watch her. Taking a tentative sip, Brooke was pleasantly surprised to find the drink tasted like Cherry Coke, her absolute favorite beverage, but without the fizz. She took several long sips, which were almost enough to sate her thirst. At last she settled in and began looking around the cozy pub. Most of the patrons were men, but she found a woman and a man in the darkest corner. Without intending to watch them, she couldn’t help but stare from the corner of her eye. White wings kept unfurling from the man’s back, but that 43
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wasn’t nearly as interesting as the woman down on her knees. There was no way the woman was giving a man a blow job in the pub. No way. Pretending to look around, Brooke allowed herself three seconds to blatantly stare at them. Three seconds turned to five seconds, then ten, and she squeezed her thighs together to stop the tingle between her legs. Without realizing how randy it made her, she could feel herself dripping wet each time she shifted to relieve some of the pressure. She’d never watched porn nor found it intriguing, much less a live sex act. Both had always seemed a little too intimate for her taste until now. The woman was definitely going down on the winged man with enthusiasm, and for each stroke of her lips and tongue, the man’s wings twitched. Waves of long, blond hair spilled over his shoulders, and his chest heaved beneath a creamcolored gauze shirt laced up to his collarbone. Sans the wings, he looked like he should have been on a billboard for an underwear ad. His chest, flat stomach, and long, muscular legs definitely should have been shared with the rest of the world. Brooke felt her vagina pulsing in time with the man’s pleasure as need filled her. She fidgeted and crossed her ankles, but she new damn well that nothing would work other than pulling up her dress and taking care of the problem or getting in on the action. “Fuck,” she murmured, and took another sip from her tall clay mug. Fuck, I want sex and, fuck, I’ve never wanted to be part of a threesome until now. 44
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Her nipples grew harder and her pussy dripped as she continued to stare. The man clawed at the walls, braced himself as he thrust his hips forward. His eyes rolled open, found her immediately, and locked on hers with no indication of shock. Brooke found herself unable to look away from him. She held her mug in one hand and left her free hand under the table, resting on her knee. She wondered if he could sense how much she wanted to inch her dress up and find release. She wondered if he knew how horny she’d become watching this nameless, faceless woman pleasure him. He smiled as though he invited her to participate from across the room. When she returned the smile, he closed his eyes, his head tilting back as his wings spasmed and spread wide. He’d come while she’d sat and watched. The woman stood and kissed him deeply, allowing him to taste his own essence. His wings disappeared behind his back as they embraced and continued to caress and hold each other, completely ignoring her as she looked on. She watched them a while longer until he pulled the waitress back, whispered in her ear, and nodded toward where Brooke sat. “Newlyweds,” the waitress said, as the woman and her winged husband passed. She eyed Brooke’s nearly empty mug and smiled. “Enjoy.” In silence Brooke finished the rest of her drink, which seemed to make her horniness even worse than before. After a quick look around, she considered looking for a bathroom and some privacy just as Canen returned in a new, slim-fitting shirt 45
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that made him look even taller and leaner. The sight of him with his hair combed back from his face made her heart jump and her stomach tighten. She wondered if his ears would turn red if she was on her knees before him. “What are you drinking?” he questioned. She licked her lips as he sat down across from her and reached for her hand. “I think she called it the usual newlywed something or other.” His eyebrows shot up, and he snatched her mug from the table. The votive rolled onto its side, which made the faerie inside shriek with anger. He ignored the high-pitched protests and stared back at Brooke. “How many have you drunk?” “One. Why?” Canen leaned over the table and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “How do you feel?” She slid from her bench to sit beside him, unable to shake the thought of the winged man and the woman on her knees. “Good,” she purred, which she’d never done in her life. Mug empty, moisture dripping between her legs, she leaned toward him and gently stroked his ear. “How are you?” His breaths had turned harsh and his masculine scent filled her nostrils. He turned his head slightly as she continued to play with the tip of his ear, which twitched each time she circled it. “My Ra…my Brooke,” he groaned. “You are my Brooke now.” The deep rasp of his voice made her shiver with desire. 46
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Her nipples turned painfully hard, neglected by his touch. All she needed was ten minutes alone with him to get off, and she’d be fine. Another moment without him was intolerable. Hell, with the way she felt she didn’t need to be in a secluded spot. If he wanted her, she’d crawl on top of the table and spread her legs. “They have a spare room,” he murmured, his hand snaking around her back. Long fingers caressed her ass, and she lifted from the seat, wanting him to stroke her everywhere. “Do you want—” “Yes.” Her hand found his knee and ran up his muscular leg until she found the bulge in his trousers. Holy fuck, she thought. He wasn’t just long-legged and broad-shouldered. He had the package to match his exaggerated features. “Oh, God, yes.” They stood together and the bench tipped over behind them, which caused the faerie to begin screaming again. Tangled in each other’s arms, they ignored the high-pitched rants and fumbled their way toward a hallway leading to a dimly lit upstairs. “I apologize to you, my love,” he panted between kisses. “This is not the wedding night I’d intended for you.” “You’ll make up for it, I’m sure,” she said, clawing at his sides as she tried to remove his shirt. A man with such a thick cock who only seemed to want to please her would definitely make it a memorable afternoon, evening, and hopefully morning. Once she grabbed his arm to pull his shirt over his head, 47
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she remembered his previous injury and stopped, fearing she’d hurt him. “Have you reconsidered?” he asked, pushing her back against the wall at the top of the stairs. The sounds of another couple having sex came to them clearly through the thin doors, and the moans only added to her horniness. “No, I just thought…your shoulder.” He took her hand and placed it beneath his shirt. “Healed for now,” he said. “That’s why I left your side, to have it tended.” “What do you mean by healed for now?” She looked it over, a horny, completely sexually denied woman turned nurse. “Magic.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, his tongue a brief but searing heat against her pulse. “It’s a traveling spell meant to keep the skin intact until it can be properly seen by a physician. In another day or two the spell will wear off.” He kissed her neck, his tongue flicking against her pulse. “Until then…” Brooke didn’t waste another moment on conversation. She continued to play with the tips of his ears, which he seemed to enjoy as much as she enjoyed having her nipples sucked. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he fumbled to unlock the door to their room. His breath was slightly sweet, a faint hint of the imitation Cherry Coke she’d enjoyed earlier. While he was off getting doctored up, he must have been tipping back some newlywed as well. “I think I do,” she purred. 48
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With her cheek resting high on his back, she reached around and slipped her hand into his trousers. She almost climaxed as she grasped him and found him intact, which she hadn’t expected. It took her a moment to adjust to the feel of his foreskin retracting as she stroked him, his skin like hot velvet moist at the crown. She’d never been with an intact man before, and the discovery made her want to rip off his pants and explore him, every inch of him. Canen pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door with his foot as she unbuttoned his trousers. Together they kissed and wrestled with clothing until he lifted her little black dress over her head and she managed to slide his trousers down his slim hips. While she groped his sides and pressed her fingers into his flat stomach and perfect, round ass, he continued to kiss her and stroke her face. He didn’t seem to mind taking all night to undress her and stroke her inch by inch, but she had other plans. She’d never been in a frenzy to undress a man, but the moment her fingers touched his flesh, she couldn’t bear to be away from him. Once she stood in her bra and panties, he stepped back and stared at her as though he’d never seen a woman in her skivvies. “I want to know you,” he murmured, reaching around her. Within seconds her skinny straps fell down her shoulders and he flung the black satin bra aside. “All of you, as I’ve never known before.” 49
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Greedily she took his hand and brought it to her breast, feeling a surge of dominance consume her. “Touch me,” she said. “Everywhere.” He appeared mesmerized by her forcefulness and molded her breast in his hand while the other pulled her close. His erection pressed high on her stomach, hot flesh against hot flesh. While he played with her nipple, she reached between their bodies and cupped his balls. “You’re so…natural,” he panted. “You’re not so bad yourself.” While the couple in the room beside theirs continued to moan and cry out, Canen drowned out the sounds of passion with his own pleasure. His legs parted wider and she stroked him from front to back, supporting the weight of him, allowing her fingers to caress the hair between his thighs. His head bent, and he took her nipple in his mouth and flicked his tongue against the hardened peak. Her womb responded with a heavy swell of pleasure that begged for release, though she found herself enjoying the buildup. The moisture between her legs and his own arousal perfumed the room, mingled with the sound of their groans and sighs. “On the bed,” she said dizzily, wanting to tangle herself with him. “Right now.” She shoved him onto the mattress and straddled him, her breasts in his face. For the first time in her life, she didn’t consider how she’d look to the man she was with or what he’d think of her. She knew what she wanted and she’d have it now. 50
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“You don’t wish to speak first?” “About what?” Canen fondled her breasts as she shifted her weight. With her panties still on, all she could do was rub the length of him between her legs, tease him a moment longer while he pulled and bit her nipples just as she told him to do. “About anything. It’s customary to…to…oh, Brooke. You make it impossible for me to think.” Damn right I do! “How about we talk later?” she suggested. “When we’re both able to think about something other than how much we want to have sex?” He kissed her more urgently, his hands exploring her in a way that told her he liked her idea better. “Harder,” she said between her teeth, her hands gripping him by the hair. She leaned forward, watched as he took her fully into his mouth and sucked, then bit, rotating between exquisite pleasure and welcomed pain. Bolts of heat traveled through her, made their way down invisible wires that lead from her breasts to her dripping wet pussy. His hips thrust up, created friction against her panties and engorged clit. She needed him inside of her while he continued to play with her nipples. As she lifted her butt up, he slid her underwear down and she shimmied out of them. “You’re so…willing,” he said as he brought her face down to his and kissed her lips. “Because I’m horny as all hell and I want you to fuck me,” she replied. 51
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His hands trailed down her back and cupped her ass, caressing the seam until he found her wet slit. His cock twitched, stiffened as he found her ready to bury him deep inside of her. “Wanna watch?” she asked as she sat upright. “Y-yes,” he stammered, palming her firm breasts in his hands as she rubbed his balls and the length of his cock. Savoring her control, she reached between their bodies and positioned him. Her eyes remained trained on his as she lowered onto him, as she took him inch by inch deeper into her pussy. They both sighed, him as he watched his cock disappear inside of her, and Brooke as she took pleasure in his expression and the feel of him stretching her to the limits. She didn’t even own dildos as thick and long as Canen’s flesh. But even if she did, no toy compared the sensation of hot flesh that quivered as she took him, or the sound of a man groaning in the pleasure only a woman could give him. His hips bucked and forced him deeper, which made her gasp in surprise. Her eyes closed as he pinched her nipples harder and harder, rolling and pulling until her body pulsed in time with the building of her orgasm. “Don’t stop,” she told him, meeting him for each hard thrust. Legs spread wide, he rubbed against her clit with each rock of hips against hips. “Please, don’t stop, not yet.” She wanted to orgasm with a man inside of her rather than finishing up in the bathroom or pulling out her vibrator to get the job done. Never had she been this excited with any man. 52
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With his hands around her waist, he dug his fingers into her flesh and continued to watch her breasts sway and stomach quiver with pleasure. She reached back and fondled his tight balls, smiling as he groaned louder than before. The bed shook beneath them, added to her excitement as she thought of other people listening and becoming aroused by their lovemaking. “I—oh, Brooke, I can’t—” “I want to feel you come,” she said, lowering into his arms. He gripped her tightly, thrusting harder and faster until climax shattered through her and brought him to completion. Hot seed spurted into her, filled her with his pleasure as he panted in her ear and gripped her as though he feared he’d lose her if he didn’t hold on. “I’ve imagined what it would be like between us,” he confessed. His lips were soft against her shoulder, his tongue flicking out to spread liquid fire along her throat. “As we walked together, as I watched you…I wondered.” “What did you have in mind?” she purred, thinking she’d be just as happy bent over his knee while he spanked her as she would with his head between her legs. She could have ridden him all night, until the walls crumbled around them— or until her legs cramped and she had to cradle him between her thighs. Canen stilled in her arms and held her close, his actions unexpectedly tender and protective. “I could only imagine holding you,” he said, his voice low. “I…I’ve known nothing else until now,” he finished apologetically. Brooke’s eyes went wide. Was he saying what she thought 53
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he was saying? “You’ve never been with a woman before?” she asked. “We were never officially married. We fled the palace on the morning of our wedding. You had just finished dressing for the ceremony.” Brooke nodded slowly. Where she came from, sex didn’t necessarily mean marriage. “So, you were a virgin until tonight?” God, this was like driving someone else’s new car right after they paid for it—only much worse. “Of course,” he said with a chuckle. “We were saving ourselves for each other, and it was worth it.” “Yeah,” she said absently, wondering exactly what he thought virgins did on their wedding night besides giggle and fumble around. Maybe in Catah unexperienced brides mounted their new husbands and rode them like ponies, which made Catah ten times better than where she was from. The cloud of inhibition began to fade, and she looked into his soft brown eyes. The need to panic made her want to roll out of bed and dress immediately. She had no business deflowering someone else’s man. But he wouldn’t release her. He was too busy murmuring sweet nothings in her ear about how much he loved the curve of her nose and the color of her eyes. “None other,” he kept saying, “than yours forever. How I love you. How I absolutely adore you.” He didn’t have to say a word. She knew he absolutely adored her—or who he thought she was—and he wanted 54
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nothing more than to please her both in and out of bed. With an unsteady hand he stroked her hair and caressed her cheek. “We are bound together now,” he said, his voice low and deep. “No one shall ever harm you, as I will protect your life with my own. You’re part of me. The most vital part of my life, Brooke.” No man had ever spoken to her with such heartfelt promises. Her throat constricted as she realized he wasn’t talking to her. His words were meant for his woman even though she wanted him to say them to her. “I will last longer the next time,” he promised. “You lasted long enough for me,” she replied, ignoring her doubts. Her conscience wasn’t allowed to destroy her afterglow. He linked his hand around her back and kissed her nose. “I have heard that many women can experience pleasure multiple times.” She gave a smile. She’d heard that, too, but it had never happened to her, considering not one man had brought her to a single orgasm in bed. Not that any of them had seemed particularly concerned about her pleasure—and none of them would have ever said that she was the most vital part of their boring little lives unless she’d picked up the dry cleaning for them. “Oh, really? Multiple times?” Brooke ran her fingers through his chest hair and played with the flat discs of his nipples until he breathed hard. For a guy who’d been dormant, he looked damn good and felt even better in her arms. 55
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“Do you think it’s possible?” he asked, shifting his weight so that his erection pressed against the inside of her thigh. His fingers grazed along her arm, a loving, tender stroke that almost made her drowsy. He belonged inside of her, holding her tight. Brooke leaned into him and kissed the side of his neck. “How willing are you to find out?” “For you?” His eyes lit up as though he couldn’t believe she’d agree to an orgasm experiment. He dragged down the length of her body and stroked the inside of her thighs. “Most willing.”
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CHAPTER 5 Two of the largest horses Lindsay had ever seen carried her and Curi across the rolling valley. The dwarf, named Dorg, rode in back of Curi, barely visible beneath the veil of her hair. Lindsay was beginning to hate him for riding with the hottest woman she’d seen in a long time. The little bastard grumbled to himself, obviously not appreciating the sweet deal he had in riding with his legs up against a perfect pair of hips and thighs. Once they crested the last hill, they paused and admired the view of a massive fortress, its walls a menacing dark gray stone, its dark blue and green banners flapping in the breeze. 57
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With the setting sun at their backs, the valley filled with shadows. Only the towers remained lighted, the dome roofs turned golden. “Do you recognize it?” Curi asked. Lindsay shook her head and played with the embroidered sleeves of her loaned shirt. The fabric was nubby, comforting as a blanket with the smell of its owner still caught between the threads. She had to fight herself from sniffing the collar. “What do you think of it?” Lindsay turned and watched Curi push her long hair back from her perfect, angular face. Days spent in the sun had bronzed her cheeks, and the thought of an all-over tan made Lindsay bite her lip to stifle a groan. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Would you like to see it up close?” Every damned inch, Lindsay thought. “Uh, sure.” They rode down the last hillside, Curi sitting low in the saddle and urging her mount along while Lindsay clung to the horn for dear life and squeezed her legs around its girth to keep from slipping off. Horns blared, the sound reminding Lindsay of the cows at the county fair. It wasn’t quite the welcome she expected, but she smiled and watched a line of men appear through an arched doorway. Her sister would have whistled at the sight of twelve tall, broad-chested men in tight-fitting dark blue pants with matching tunics. They all had swords belted across their hips 58
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and spears in hand. Long spears, she noticed, finding it a bit Freudian. Curi swung out of the saddle and allowed the nearest man to fumble with the reins as she stalked forward, her hips swinging in a pair of tight leather pants and a shirt tied tight around her waist. “Has my brother returned yet?” she questioned. Several seconds passed, and no one replied. While she tried not to stare, Lindsay felt the line of men studying her, which made her aware of how her borrowed trousers were too short. Curi stood tall and studied their stone faces. With her chin held defiantly up, she repeated her question and waited with her fists on her hips for them to answer. At last, one stood forward and eyed her with a hint of annoyance in his gaze. “You’re not welcome here, Curinda.” She stalked toward the man until she stood inches from his face. He made no attempt to back up or stand down from her, and Lindsay cringed, expecting Curi to deck him. “Do you kneel before my uncle, Merin?” she demanded. He stared back at her, his jaw hardened. “Curinda—” “Answer me as you would answer my brother.” “I owe you nothing, woman. You’re not Canen,” he said coldly, though his light eyes burned with desire. For what exactly Lindsay didn’t know, since it seemed he’d like to slap her as much as he’d like to bind her in his arms. “You’re nothing here.” 59
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“A cowardly reply, just as I expected, and before your empress, no less.” Merin’s expression changed, his eyes widening before they narrowed. “What cunning is this?” “I do not need cunning. I speak only truth.” Curi whipped around and faced Lindsay. “Show him.” Lindsay’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, show him what?” Merin groaned and looked to the men around him, nodding as though he’d triumphed. The men around him grunted and chuckled to themselves as they eyed the two women and the dwarf. “The pendant,” Curi replied smoothly, undaunted by miscommunication. Lindsay pulled the pendant from her shirt pocket and handed it to Curi, who gazed up and smiled. She placed her hand on Lindsay’s knee and gave it a squeeze before she swung around to face Merin. For a full minute, Lindsay wished Curi had touched her a little higher and given her more to fantasize about. She settled one hand on her hip and dangled the small trinket in front of Merin’s face. From where she sat in the saddle, Lindsay saw the warrior’s expression change. He made a swipe for the object, but Curi pulled it away and thrust her free hand against his chest. “Dare you keep your empress waiting?” Murin raised his hand and signaled his men, who thumped their spears upon the ground and placed their fists to their chests. 60
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“Catah,” they said in unison. “Hail, Empress.” In one fluid motion they all lowered to one knee and dropped their chins to their chests. “She calls herself Lind-say,” Curi enunciated proudly. “Find my brother. If our empress has been found, then Canen cannot be far behind.” Curi turned and smiled triumphantly at Lindsay as the sound of horns filled the valley once more. “I have no doubt you’ll be reunited soon.” *
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Canen crawled up Brooke’s body and kissed her inch by inch from her ankle, up her calf and thigh. He took his time and listened to her breathe, felt her writhe beneath him and beg him to hurry. After she’d been the dominant one the first time around and they’d lain side by side the second, he wished to please her in a different way and make her submit. “Give me your hands,” he told her, pausing as she continued to release tiny, urgent moans. “Why?” For the first time in almost a half hour, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He knew by her expression that the intoxicating newlywed drink was almost out of her system, and he wanted to see her uninhibited on her own terms. That would be the true test of their love. “Trust me,” he murmured before he planted a kiss on her hip and watched her quiver. When she offered her hands to him, he showed her a long piece of Murchian silk normally used to bind women’s hair after they were married. It had become a Catah tradition 61
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brought over the Cathian Sea over a century ago. “I’m going to bind your hands over your head,” he told her smoothly, his gaze locked on hers, carefully studying her expression for fear or apprehension. Only Rayna would trust him enough to allow such an act. Only his love would submit to him freely without batting an eye. “And what am I going to do?” she asked as he carefully tied the fabric around her wrists, leaving the ends long in order to tie her to the headboard. “You’re going to scream and show me how much pleasure a woman can tolerate in one night.” She smiled, a devious look on her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I think someone is trying to kill me.” His heart stuttered. “I’d never harm you. What I said was true, Brooke. You are mine now, mated to me. I will protect you always.” “I know. Death by orgasm.” She chuckled in his ear. “The only way I want to go.” At last he understood and smiled at her playfulness. Very gently he tilted her back and tied her hands to the bedpost, which thrust her breasts up. As if he’d never seen them before, he cupped one and dragged his fingers around her hardened nipple, feeling her rise against him. He straddled one leg, braced himself on the bed, and kissed her deeply, his tongue searching her mouth. The headboard rattled as she moved beneath him, her teeth nibbling his lower lip, her nipple pressed to his hand. 62
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“Canen,” she whispered. “I…” His lips closed over hers and his tongue surged into her mouth. He twisted her nipple until she groaned, and he couldn’t tell if she felt only pleasure or the surprise of pain. The cry she made, the noise he’d created with her, stiffened his cock. Twice he’d buried himself deep within her, but he wanted her again, wanted her legs wrapped around his hips, wanted her fingers in his hair and her lips against his. He broke away from her lips and nuzzled her throat, sucking and biting on her flesh, meeting her harsh breaths with aggressive nips and kisses down her neck to her breasts. She struggled more urgently, her legs open wide, hips wriggling in anticipation as he sank lower, moving down her body. The scent of sex hung in the air, the perfume of their lust coaxing him to take her now. “Wait,” he said against her belly. This time he wanted to make it last, to fill her slowly and have her tremble beneath him, to memorize how she met him thrust for thrust. “Canen,” she whispered again, her voice breathy and light. “Please, oh, please.” He didn’t wait for her to continue. The smell of her drew him down her belly to the carefully manicured strip of dark hair between her thighs. He ran his fingers through it, traced along her folds wet with his seed and her own arousal. This belonged to him and no other, the soft flesh and willing body of a woman who struggled for him to touch her. Her feet were planted firmly on the bed, which drew her hips up. Inches from his face, her clitoris showed between her 63
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thighs for him alone, perfectly swollen and ready to be touched. He kissed her, felt her quiver and buck beneath him. With one hand beneath her, he flicked his tongue out and stroked her clitoris until he tasted her salty essence. Again she struggled, her torso twisting in frustration as her gasps became more urgent. He ran his tongue along her clitoris again, drawing circles around it as her legs shook. He tilted her up, allowed her heels to rest against his shoulder blades as he enjoyed the taste and smell of her, the feel of her smooth, soft body on his face and in his mouth. “Canen,” she groaned, her voice an unsteady whisper in the candlelit darkness. How she pleaded with him for release in just one word. How he adored her calling his name in her most urgent moment, when she lay outstretched and vulnerable with him. He wanted to feel her climax with his tongue and lips giving her pleasure, wanted to know what she felt like when he kissed her between the legs. Each sound she made assured him that she was ready to give him what he wanted, and he took it. He stroked her faster, circling and pressing firmly onto the swollen mound between her legs. She moved with him, bearing down as he filled her with two fingers and stretched her wider. Her legs trembled, squeezing his shoulders as she began to sob his name, begging him, pleading with him. Stay with me, he wanted to tell her, and I’ll bring you there again. At last she stilled, then burst with climax. Her walls 64
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gripped his fingers, body rippled and shook as she moaned and twisted. He softened his touch, nuzzled rather than sucked until she gradually came down from her pleasure. While she lay breathing hard, he crawled up her body, untied her wrists, which were red from the binds, and settled between her thighs. Instinctively she parted her legs, fit them around his waist, and reached between their bellies until she took hold of his cock. They kissed, sharing the taste of her pleasure as she stroked him several times, making him harder for her. “I want you,” she said, her lips on his neck, on his ears, which twitched with as much anticipation as his penis in her hand. “I need you inside of me.” She guided him to her pussy and he thrust hard, entering her until his balls slapped against her ass. The suddenness of their coupling left him dizzy with ecstasy, and he paused, drinking in the feel of her arms around him, her legs gripping him. He took her fast despite wanting to savor each second inside of her. Hard, urgent thrusts rattled the bed, shook the walls with desperation he’d never known before. Her muscles tightened as they had the three previous times he’d brought her to orgasm, and he knew she was close, knew one more thrust might bring her to climax again. Unable to hold back a moment longer, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, each thrust shorter and harder, more animalistic than those of a lover. For a heartbeat, for a blinding second, he didn’t think of making love to his new 65
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wife, he thought of fucking the woman he loved, the woman who’d mounted him and fit him inside of her, the beautiful creature who’d lay for him with her arms bound above her head, trusting him. On the very last waves of his pleasure, she joined him and milked him dry. Boneless and exhausted, he rested in her arms and closed his eyes. “Brooke,” he murmured, kissing her breasts tenderly. He had nothing to say to her, yet he wanted to test her name again, see how it played on his tongue. “Just lay here with me,” she murmured softly, her finger running through his hair. Each time she touched his ears, either by accident or intention, he stirred again, awakened to the newfound pleasures of a husband and wife. “As you wish,” he replied, and sighed, contented with the feel of her. From the moment he had first kissed her, he’d realized the physical differences between Rayna and his Brooke. Their lips felt different as they were physically unique from one another, though the connection he’d expected to rekindle with her now that she’d returned hadn’t come as he’d imagined. Their dormancies must have been different, he told himself. While he’d remained motionless on all levels, perhaps she’d been altered by the poison. With her old body ruined, he understood the need for a new form, but he hadn’t thought her memories would be erased. They would return, he assured himself. They had to. He’d found her within the circle, just as she’d said. Her name, her 66
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mother’s name…it had all happened. The only piece missing was the locket—the key to her life. Canen lifted his head and studied her as she lay smiling in the candlelight. He inched closer to her face, kissing between her breasts before he nuzzled her throat. The warmth of her body, the tickle of her breath, she melded perfectly into him, just as he’d always imagined. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, kissing the underside of her wrist. “No, I wanted to struggle. It made it more exciting.” “Yes,” he agreed. It had stirred him as well. “What is it?” she asked, kissing his head. “I fear someone has you,” he whispered. Her eyes slit open and studied him. “What are you talking about?” “The locket, the essence of you that you saved for us…I fear someone has it and that’s why you’re here but you don’t remember your place.” Her expression changed to something near panic. “Or maybe it’s still lost.” “You wouldn’t be here unless it had been found.” She was still for a long moment, which made him believe she’d fallen asleep. He could use the rest, he thought to himself. Some time in the night he would wake her with kisses to the back of her neck. When she started to respond to him, when her back arched and she pushed against his erection, he would take her from behind like an animal and growl her name in her ear. 67
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“How do you know I’m the right one?” she asked, her voice so low he could barely hear her. “Because,” he said, then stopped. His heart beat faster, an unexpected thud against his rib cage. “Because I wouldn’t be here without you.” “What would happen if you were wrong and you did come back alone?” “I’m not alone,” he said firmly. “I’m with you. The circle opened and we both returned from our dormancies.” “Canen, listen to me. I’m just wondering if you have the wrong—” The deep echo of a bell resonated through the room and stole the words from Brooke’s mouth. They both froze and waited as the walls trembled with the deep sound. Gooseflesh rose along his arms, and he reached for her hand. The last time he’d heard the bells had been on the morning they should have married, when she’d been a different woman. “What was that?” Brooke whispered. “An announcement.” He kissed her cheek and rubbed his face against hers. “My sister, no doubt. She’s calling us home.”
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CHAPTER 6 Siqua had the vague remembrance of once being close to her cousins, though their relationship seemed more a conjured tale than reality. At times she couldn’t recall Canen’s face or voice, but she knew him in a way beyond description. To her it was a feeling, as many of her memories had become. Toward her mother she felt pity, toward her father fear, toward Canen the love of a boy who’d been a brother to her. Curi, however, was different from the rest. She remembered Curinda like no other as her younger cousin had always played harder than the boys but had grown into a statuesque and beautiful woman. In her jealous youth, Siqua had gone between loving Curi for her unmatched beauty and 69
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hating her for stealing all the attention. “Well before dawn we’ll enter the palace,” her father assured her as they stood and watched his servants load a trunk and several parcels onto the top of his best carriage. She offered a weak smile, which she knew he’d come to expect from her. If she didn’t at least force a smile. he’d offer her more to drink, which she didn’t want. He thought her a liar, and the bad taste in the back of her mouth was undoubtedly to blame. The locket he’d kept inside his cloak pocket began to scream again, the sound desperate yet muffled. While her father looked on, she shuddered inwardly and waited for the groomsmen to usher her forward and help her into the carriage. Faeries buzzed around the open courtyard, mischievous creatures her father hated. She’s seen a cluster of them the previous night as they gathered on the ridge and flocked toward the hills where Canen had last been seen. She hadn’t been there the day he had disappeared, but when she thought of him her stomach dropped—and she knew he’d fallen. With all of the noise the faeries made, she assumed they knew of his return and Rayna’s inability to free herself. Eventually she tired of the faeries’ antics and turned toward the knot of men, who had stopped speaking and loading the carriage. She found them all silently staring at her father, who had produced the screaming locket. Her mouth dropped open as he hit it roughly against one of the carriage wheels. Metal hit wood, and the sound piercing through the 70
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cracks abruptly ended. Fear entered the gazes of their servants long after the ornament had been returned to her father’s pocket. “My shadow-flyers grow hungry,” he growled. The men needed no further instruction. Wordlessly they sprang to attention and gently took Siqua by the hand, placing her like a fragile doll beside her father. They sat in silence until the carriage lurched forward in the dark of night. The visions that had plagued her since childhood rose into her mind and popped like soap bubbles in a sink. She saw Curi on her knees, weeping. She saw Canen— or whom she thought was Canen—turned away from a woman. And then she saw another face, a woman with soft features and brilliant blue eyes. The woman was staring at Curi, which wasn’t unusual, but she seemed to have all the thoughts Siqua had hidden from others plainly on her face. Affection, love, unhindered lust—all for delicate Curinda. Siqua sat very still, hoping the vision would stay with her a moment longer, hoping she could learn her name and feel it on her tongue and lips. And then she was gone, and her father placed his hand on her knee. “Do you hear the horns, my dear?” he leaned over and asked. “Canen has undoubtedly returned home for his bride, and who will he find waiting for him but you.” “He will never marry me,” she said. Her father paused, his grip on her knee tightening. “He will if he wants Rayna freed.” 71
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But you won’t free her, she wanted to say. At the last moment, she managed to swallow her words and save herself another bitter dose of the drink he gave her, the one he thought made her a liar. “If she’s freed, he would never marry me.” “Freed from her glass prison,” he said. “But not released in Catah.” She knew he smiled in the darkness at his wicked plan. “I will allow her to rest in the depths of eternity.” Siqua leaned back. An orb of liquid dark silver light veined with black pooled in his hand, which he raised slowly. When released, the heart of fae would shatter into a thousand dark faeries. “You will kill her, then?” The carriage door opened, and the orb was tossed into the night. With a shrill cry, the creatures were released and morphed from pinpricks to beings the size of small cats. Their wings unfurled, leathery and thin as a butterfly’s as they gained strength and swirled around their master. Together they screeched, called to one another in the blackness as they whipped around in circles, a torrent of conjured life. It reminded her of the cyclone she’d seen from the tower on the morning the locket bearing Rayna had been found. “I will clear the way for my daughter to take a worthy husband.” Her heart wrenched at the thought of speaking vows with Canen—and what he’d expect from her on their wedding night. Not even a barrel of newlywed brew could give her the courage or the desire to lie beside him and put her hands on him. It sickened her to think of his naked form, the anatomy of 72
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a man joined with a woman. “What if I wish to marry another?” The palm of his hand passed inches from her face, and she felt a familiar tug to her insides. Control, she knew. In his elven blood he held sway over her, but this was stronger than persuasion. This was an unspoken order. “There is no other, Siqua.” She closed her eyes to his words and mentally attempted to pull away without him noticing. “None other than you, my daughter.” *
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*
Once they were settled in and fresh from their respective baths, both Curi and Lindsay situated themselves on a fire lit balcony overlooking the valley. Two plush couches were situated side by side, which left them a little farther apart than Lindsay preferred, but close enough where they could engage in some girl talk. If she wanted to make a move or—hell—just flirt, she needed to get cozy. Horns sounded from the towers just as Lindsay was about to speak. She waited awkwardly, twirling her damp hair around her finger. “What was that all about with that guy Merin?” A large grin spread across Curi’s face and, as she leaned over the armrest, her robe opened and exposed her breasts. Lindsay swallowed hard and prayed for a nipple to pop out, but Curi’s robe became trapped between her body and the couch, and there was no hope for more. “Did you see the way he looked at you?” Curi chuckled, 73
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her perfect, ivory breasts jiggling. Lindsay pretended not to notice, but all she could think about was palming Curi’s breast and feeling her tremble. “I’m certain he’s afraid for his life and position now.” Lindsay bit her bottom lip and gave a humorless chuckle. There were so many positions she wanted to have Curi in, namely stretched out on the couch, bathed in firelight and shadows. A woman like that, long and lean, would offer her a lifetime of fantasies even if they only fucked once. “He’s a good man,” Curi said with a shrug. She reclined and tossed her legs over the arm of the couch, which made Lindsay sit upright and tuck her legs beneath her body for a better look. The silken robe inched up Curi’s legs and rested inches below the apex of her long, muscular thighs. “I’ve missed him.” “Where have you been?” And let’s not bring Merin into this now when I can imagine you with your legs open and me fucking you with my tongue. “Exiled,” she answered with a sigh. “My Uncle Roen thinks I’m west of here, in Sian where I could seek refuge, but Merin arranged for me to stay here in order to look for my brother.” “Is your uncle the one who exiled you?” “Yes, but none follow his orders, which frustrates him. I am to be executed on sight, but I travel as I wish.” “Saucy,” Lindsay said as she rested her chin on her folded arms. “He thinks he rules Catah, but once my brother 74
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disappeared, the council took immediate control. They keep my uncle at bay while Merin sees to disputes and keeps order.” White teeth perfect for biting nipples flashed as Curi smiled. “We’re far too much alike, which is why I both adore him and wish to kill him.” Merin, Merin, Merin. Why were they still talking about him when they were both wearing nothing but robes? “Is it serious between the two of you?” Curi drew one leg up to scratch an itch, and Lindsay thought her heart would stop for sure. A neat triangle of dark black hair became visible for only a second before Curi rearranged herself and sat up, oblivious to her unintentional peep show. “There is nothing between us,” she sighed. Oh, thank God. “He would like more, but I have not yet decided to mate.” “Decided?” “Just as Canen is the only man for you, I must decide in time who to take as my partner,” she replied. “He thinks he is doing his best to convince me he is worthy, but I despise men who must always stomp about and puff out their chests.” She stretched out her arms, which rolled her breasts upward. “Still, he is dear to me for all he has done.” “Great,” she said without an ounce of enthusiasm. “He has been searching for you since you disappeared. Merin and I both have, but it seems you found me.” She smiled warmly, which reminded Lindsay that she was supposed to be with Curi’s brother, Camel or something. “Yeah, about that—” 75
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“It’s a relief to see you safe. My uncle wants what isn’t his, what will never be his as long as I have any say,” she answered, her hand balled into a fist. Fantasies of angry sex filled Lindsay’s mind, visions of pulling her hair and having her hair pulled as Curi guided Lindsay’s face between her legs. “Do you remember that part?” “No, I don’t remember anything because I’m not the right person.” Curi’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t understand. Of course you’re the right person. The locket—” “Look, I’m not the person you’re looking for. I don’t know anything about this locket or your brother.” Curi frowned at her briefly before she nodded. “Because you don’t yet have your memories. By morning you should recall everything.” “And if I don’t?” Curi hesitated, but offered a smile. Apparently giving up easily wasn’t part of the elf mantra. “Rayna…Lindsay, I was in your chamber when they found your old body. The bottle of poison was drained, which I knew would lead to problems upon your return.” She swept her black hair from her eyes. “Honestly, I’m amazed you returned at all, though your feelings for Canen have always been strong. I have no doubt it was your love for one another that brought you back.” Lindsay didn’t have the heart to do anything more than nod. Clearly Curi loved her brother and wanted him to return, and she wasn’t about to let the possibility of an imposter ruin her chances of being reunited with her sibling. 76
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“I envy the way the two of you look at one another, and I have no doubt that your love will only grow stronger when you’re mated.” “Mated,” Lindsay echoed. Her chances with Curi had just swan dived. There was a tap on the door, which Lindsay barely noticed, but Curi sprang up, retied her robe, and padded inside to answer it. Lindsay recognized Merin’s voice the moment he greeted Curi and asked if the Empress was in good health. Lindsay rolled her eyes at his intrusion and smoothed her robe as she stood to meet him in the marble foyer. The guard went red with embarrassment, his ears twitching as he saw her in her robe. Angrily he turned to Curi and crossed his arms. “She is in a state of undress,” he snapped. “How—how inappropriate. Forgive me for my intrusion, Empress. Curinda said I was allowed to enter your chamber. If I had known…” Curi looked amused. “You asked if she was in good health,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She gazed at him, observing him from head to toe and back again. “Your health appears quite…virile, Merin.” His ears twitched again, and he turned away, which seemed to be what Curi wanted. Lindsay crossed her arms and figured Curi was the type of girl who liked to be punished for being bad. Damn, she had an ass worth spanking, and if Lindsay could get her alone, she might teach her a lesson on why she shouldn’t harass Merin. 77
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“My lady, I have urgent words for you,” he said as he respectfully faced the doorway. He waited several seconds, then cleared his throat and watched Lindsay from the corner of his eye. “Would you do me the honor of your audience, Lind-say?” “Oh, me?” Lindsay stammered. “Yeah, okay.” “One of my…your dragon riders has reported that Roen and his daughter have left their tower. It appears they are traveling here.” “I have dragon riders?” Curi went white and grasped Merin’s arm before Lindsay could ask how many dragons and riders she had—or if she had a dragon of her own. This whole Empress business was becoming a sweet deal, aside from the part where she had an Emperor. “Are you certain they are heading here?” Curi asked. “I am,” he replied. “Confirmed by one of my spies.” “Who accompanies them?” Curi asked. “It appears they are alone.” “Nonsense. My uncle would not act alone. He is far too cowardly to confront Lindsay and Canen by himself.” “There have been no reports of other activity.” “Has anyone seen my brother?” Merin shook his head. “We have been searching the ridge where he was last seen.” “And?” “And there are faeries everywhere, swarms of them.” Curi exhaled. “Yes, I saw them, too, when I found 78
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Lindsay.” She offered a sweet, innocent smile to Lindsay. “That was how I found her. They had all gathered at the edge to watch her, and then Dorg went to investigate.” “They are waiting for the circle to open, I assume,” Merin answered. Curi’s expression darkened. “Then my uncle will wait as well. Or he has Siqua watching for activity.” “What does this mean?” Lindsay interrupted. She tried to wriggle in between Merin and Curi, but the guard had glued himself to Curi. Curi wrung her hands. “I fear my uncle has Canen. Perhaps he wishes to strike a bargain for my brother’s return.” “Or he knows that our empress has returned,” Merin said to her. “As the ruler by marriage, she does have power.” “Not enough,” Curi said. Lindsay planted her fists on her hips. “Are we worried about one guy?” “It’s not him,” Curi answered. She looked from Merin, who had his arm around her, to Lindsay, and frowned. “It’s his daughter.” Lindsay flexed her hands. She’d been in her fair share of girl fights and could kick some serious ass when the occasion called for it. Add a little tequila or a drink spilled on her favorite pair of shoes and this chick didn’t stand a chance. “What’s her deal?” Lindsay asked. “She sees what others do not,” Merin mumbled. “Which means what?” “Which means she allows her father an advantage over 79
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us,” Curi replied. “No matter where we travel or what we say, he will know it first through her.”
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CHAPTER 7 “Canen, I think we should talk.” Brooke curled her knees up to her chest and attempted not to stare as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him, long and lean through the torso, which ended in tapered hips and a perfect, round ass she really shouldn’t have wanted to slap. But it was right there, an arm’s length away, like some sort of kryptonite that was breaking her concentration… “I’m listening,” he said from over his shoulder as he rummaged through a pile of their scattered clothing. The muscles in his back stretched beneath his tanned skin and the reddened lines she’d made with her fingernails. In 81
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some foreign language it spelled out, “Best sex of my life and it’s all come to an end.” “Canen—” “We must make haste. If we’ve heard the summoning, our enemies have heard it as well.” She ran her fingers through her hair as he turned to face her. No straight, sex-deprived woman in her right mind would have looked away from him in that moment. Her fingers tingled with the desire to rake through the dark hair on his chest that arrowed down to his belly. Perfectly sculpted hips made a V toward his penis and thighs, which she decided to stare at long enough to remember for the rest of her celibate life. “For God’s sake, put on some pants and talk to me.” “You’re upset with me,” he said as he sat, still completely naked, beside her on the bed. Gently he grasped her hand and allowed it to rest on his upper leg, inches from his very tempting male anatomy. “What is it, Brooke?” “You’re wrong,” she said flatly. His soft, kissable mouth twitched, but his eyes darkened. The expression only lasted a second, but she was almost certain he understood what she meant. He just didn’t want to admit it. “I love you,” he answered calmly, as though she’d asked for some sort of affirmation that he still cared for her. “No, you love Rayna.” The column of his neck tensed. “I love the woman who returned to me after all this time, the woman who gave herself 82
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to me so that I could return—” “Canen, I don’t know what happened, but I’m not the person you’re looking for and I’m sorry.” “You are the person I’m looking for. You were inside the circle.” “And I don’t know how or why that happened. Look, I’m originally from Maine. I was at a wedding in France, I was looking for my sister in a vineyard when these lights appeared and asked if I was of water. I ran, they followed me, then these…these bats came out of nowhere and that’s all I remember. The next thing I knew I was beside you.” He studied her for a long moment, dark eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. The expression he wore remained unreadable, which completely unnerved her. If he was angry, she wanted him to get up and storm out. If he had questions or wanted her to clarify, she wanted him to ask it and get it over with before the anticipation drove her mad. “When did you remember this?” he asked, his voice distant. “Canen, I’ve been trying to tell you.” “Before we were joined?” Like a coward she wanted to look away from him, but instead she held his gaze. “Yes, since the moment I first saw you I knew I wasn’t the woman you were looking for.” His grip on her hand loosened until she barely felt him holding her. After all of his freely displayed affection, the loss hammered into her. “You intended to deceive me?” 83
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“No, I honestly didn’t.” “You didn’t?” he asked, his voice remaining calm. “Then what was your intention?” Brooke pursed her lips and stifled the tremble she felt growing in her hands. It frightened her that he didn’t stand up and scream. If he sat beside her, his anger would continue to boil, and after a while she knew he’d explode. She’d dated men who yelled and stomped around and one who would slap the shit out of her. “I know what it sounds like,” she whispered, already flinching each time he exhaled. He pulled his hand away from hers and scratched his forehead. “Did my uncle send you?” “No, what I said about the wedding and the faerie lights is all true.” Brooke cried out as he lifted his hand toward her face, then she inhaled sharply as he stroked her temple. “You are afraid of me?” She couldn’t answer him, too afraid her words would make him more powerful if he knew he could hurt her. “Why would you fear me when I’ve never lied to you or put you in danger?” He pushed her hair back from her face and frowned. Her ears, she realized, he was looking at her ears. “I still won’t harm you, Brooke. As a man I cannot, but even if I were a coward, I am joined to you. There is nothing to be done.” “What do you mean there is nothing to be done?” For the first time since he’d sat down beside her, he 84
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appeared frustrated with her for not understanding. “When Rayna returns…if she returns now…” His hand flexed, jaw twitched as his voice trailed off. “It will no longer matter.” “Canen—” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and kissed her hard, fierce as a man who couldn’t wait a moment longer to touch his woman—even if she wasn’t supposed to be his. Startled, Brooke rocked back and he followed her down to the mattress, still holding onto her. “We’re mated,” he growled against her lips. With her still pinned beneath him, he wrestled with the bed sheet until her bare flesh pressed to his. “Through my faults and yours, we have joined before and we will join again.” He crushed her breasts to him, gathered her with such strength that she went limp against him. For all of his power and frustration, she sensed his inner calm and mourning. It wasn’t in his nature to lash out at her, no matter what she’d done or how much she deserved it. Cradled against his warm, hard body, she began to hold him and sob. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “I know,” she wept. “I know you won’t.” His cock grew hard between them, and by instinct and desire she wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting to feel him inside of her. In one single thrust he was there, buried deep within her. Together they rocked, slowly and beyond all reasoning or doubt. Each push into her became an individual moment, an accent on how he did care for her, how he wasn’t sure why he 85
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still cared for her, and how uncertain he felt. She clung to him, dug her nails into his shoulders and tilted her hips to meet his. Every inch of him belonged to her, and as he slid in and out, she gasped and moaned, wanted to scream and sob for him to keep her. “They will look for you now,” he said to her. “Instead of Rayna, they will come for my Brooke.” She spread her legs wider, invited him to stroke her deeper, to prove that she belonged to him—even if she wasn’t supposed to. His breath turned ragged, the muscles of his back tensed with pending release. Eyes closed, she ran her fingers through his hair, and he growled, a tone that belonged to a beast rather than a man. “They won’t find you,” he grunted, moving faster inside of her, inching her closer and closer to climax. Her hands slid down his sweat-damped back and grasped his buttocks, kept him buried deep inside of her, thrust for thrust. Release blinded her with ecstasy, and she kissed him, searched his mouth greedily to taste him. Heat filled her, and his pace slowed until he settled between her thighs and rested his head on her shoulder. “I will protect you,” he murmured. Tears streaked her face. She wanted to kiss him and keep him silent, but she’d felt his remorse with each thrust. “But I do not know if I will touch you again.” He rolled from the bed and dressed in silence while she lay on her side, curled in a ball. His flesh morphed as she watched him mechanically pull up his trousers and fit the buttons 86
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through the holes. Scars appeared, long and puckered over the middle of his back. She counted three before he turned and reached for his shirt. The wound to his shoulder had appeared. “The spell,” she whispered. He glanced at her and nodded once. “It’s over,” he said, and with that he swung toward the door and walked out.
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CHAPTER 8 Canen brushed past two drunken elves and a staggering giant singing to himself in the doorway. Unable to face Brooke, he stood alone in the night, unsure of what to do or where to go. His shoulder throbbed with vicious, blinding stabs of pain that he hadn’t remembered from the original wound. It was as though Brooke’s betrayal and Rayna’s death or disappearance had burrowed into his muscles and bones. He wondered if he’d known all along that Brooke wasn’t Rayna. True, they looked nothing alike, but spells were tricky, especially when spoken in haste. One stammered word, a change in tempo or volume and the delicate balance could be 88
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tipped. This was far beyond a simple mistake. He’d taken Brooke into his bed, and by the rules of his people, he could not take another. Regardless of her deceit, a mate was for life. Unless she died, he would have no other—and despite what had happened, he didn’t blame or hate her. “None other,” he said under his breath. “Than a fool.” Dragons trumpeted from their stables where they rested for the night, bedded down with enchanted, fireproof straw and honeycomb, their favorite treats. He wondered if anyone would recognize him if he strode in, grabbed a saddle, and disappeared into the impenetrable night. By way of dragon, the ridge where he’d awakened lay a mere twenty minutes south. His hands clenched. Brook had tried to tell him that she wasn’t the one, but he’d wanted to believe that she was mistaken, that her memories hadn’t returned. While he watched two people enter the stables, he attempted to remember what Rayna had specifically told him before her body went limp in his arms. He found it impossible to remember her voice now that he’d memorized Brooke. In the two months he had courted Rayna, they had spent few moments alone. Either her grandmother, who had matched them, or his sister had mediated all encounters but one—when they had managed to sneak into the garden for a half hour. It had been the only time he’d seen his intended wife act as herself and not a proper young woman entertaining her relative and seeking acceptance 89
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from her future husband and his sister. What he did remember was her quiet passion, the way she’d clasped his hands in hers and looked up at him, pale eyes fringed with long lashes. She was petite and fair, the perfect example of their race. But now Brooke was his ideal Elven Empress, tall and built strong, the type of woman he imagined would bear healthy children. He remembered the way Rayna had smiled at him and murmured how she hoped her grandmother wouldn’t realize she’d gone missing—and how she’d trembled when he’d placed his hand against the small of her back and promised that soon there would be no need to meet in secret. The tips of his ears twitched with the memory. They’d been strangers. In a way he didn’t want to admit, he knew Brooke far better than he’d ever known Rayna. It should have been enough of a sign that they were not one and the same. No woman, no matter how much of her memory had been erased, would forget the intimacy he and Brooke had shared. A dragon emerged from the stables, its scales glistening like precious jade beneath the silver moon. The spikes along its tail trembled as the creature shook and snorted puffs of smoke. A young one, Canen thought, freshly trained and still obedient. Older dragons would never allow their trainers to remove them from their cozy beds. “Careful!” a man bellowed to another person who had walked through a gate at the side of the pub. “One swipe of her tail and she’ll kill you.” The dragon arched its back and lifted its head toward 90
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Canen in recognition. He smiled inwardly and wondered if anyone would realize what had piqued the animal’s interest. All dragons, winged horses, and several species of fae could recognize and sense elven royalty. Canen took a deep breath and turned toward the inn to retrieve Brooke. They could find another young dragon and travel to the palace at once. Surely Curi and Merin, if he was still loyal, would look after Brooke while he returned to the ridge. He owed it to Rayna to at least find her—if she still lived. Chilled to the bone and in pain, he bowed his head and returned indoors. Faeries crowded their standing shelves along the walls, queued in pairs as they waited for miniature rooms of their own. One buzzed in his face and caught hold of his shirt collar. “You,” she said, her breasts heaving. “It’s true, then.” Canen plucked her from his shirt and glanced around to see if anyone watched from the shadows. “I beg your pardon?” “You know what I mean.” His eyes narrowed. “Do I?” “Indeed. Emperor, hail,” she whispered before she flew away and into a throng of other buzzing creatures farther down the hall. Dressed in the rags he’d donned when he fled the palace, he doubted anyone would recognize him. He’d underestimated some of the most beloved and loathed denizens of Catah—the faeries. Just as there were dark elves and fair elves, the faerie community was divided by faeries who served forces of ill will and those who served the Imperial family. 91
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He rushed down the hall, elbowing people who stood milling about. When he reached the stairs, he took them two at a time, then paused as he tried to remember which of the sixteen rooms they’d take as their own. In the heat of their passion, he hadn’t paid much mind to their location. All he’d needed was a bed—and even that might not have been necessary. When at last he’d chosen a door, he turned the knob and found the covers clearly mussed and hastily straightened. Old, dust-covered clothes once strewn across the floor had been neatly folded and placed at the end of the bed beside the leather pack he’d carried. He reached for his belongings, intending to stuff them into the pack and find her at once. With the faerie’s cryptic words and the bells they’d heard earlier, elves, giants, faeries, and every other race in Catah would be aware that their Emperor and his intended bride had returned. The sooner he found Brooke and convinced her to come with him the better. A sheet of paper slipped off the bed as he moved the clothes. It sailed gently through the air and landed beneath the bed, where he was forced down to his knees to retrieve his tab from the pub and his fee for the room. Smaller villages were notorious for demanding payment well before their guests were prepared to leave. He rubbed his face and took a seat on the edge of the bed, imagining the look on the innkeeper’s face when he realized who had rented a room for the night. The neat handwriting across the top gave him pause, and before he’d read the first 92
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sentence, he stood and slung the pack over his shoulder. All he’d needed was to see the delicate script of a woman to realize Brooke had left him. *
*
*
The wind screamed over the tower, a constant whip of cold air that bit straight through Lindsay. Her only consolation—if it could be called consolation—was her nipples were at full attention through her thin muslin blouse, which she’d borrowed from the real empress’s wardrobe. Unfortunately, only Merin and his three male dragon riders—sexist, in her opinion—appeared to notice the show she’d intended for Curi. With nipples that could cut through bulletproof glass, it was difficult not to notice. All of the women she’d been with had always admired her breasts, which she’d never attempted to hide until the cold threatened to give her pneumonia. Eventually she hugged her cloak tight around her body and crossed her arms over her chest, which returned Merin’s eyes and those of the dragon rider’s to her face rather than her breasts. Men were all tit and ass obsessed, she thought, pointy ears or not. Merin patted the nearest dragon’s long neck and nodded to the rider, who was flexing his gloved hands. “Fly north, toward Ort Tower. If you see anything—anything—return at once and report to me.” “Per the command of your empress, whom Merin reports to while my brother is still missing, of course” Curi added, 93
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giving him a sharp look. She raised a brow at Lindsay, who nodded and continued to stare at the three decorated dragons. All she could think of was that Brooke would have had kittens if she’d seen three giant lizards with armed men riding in gilded saddles. The three dragon riders urged their mounts forward one by one until they stood at the edge of the tower. Each animal craned its neck and snorted, its armor clanging against its scales. More than their size or the sheer fact that she stood in the presence of dragons, she couldn’t believe how graceful and majestic they appeared. A giant lizard wasn’t exactly her first thought when it came to an animal able to sore effortlessly through the sky, yet as they rose into the night one by one, she was certain the national bird should be a kick-ass dragon, preferably with a female rider. Warm hands clasped her shoulders and she leaned back once she smelled Curi’s perfumed hair. Her gentle touch was welcomed and perfect, the perfect place to fall asleep and wake. “That was amazing.” Lindsay sighed. The dragons disappeared through the clouds, the music of their armor lost in the night. To ruin Lindsay’s dragon-inspired afterglow, Curi gave a harsh sigh. “The council is here to see you,” she said bitterly. “They wish to speak with you.” “Me? Why?” She turned to face Curi. “I mean, I know why, but why right now?” “Because they are foolish old men easily entertained by 94
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my uncle. He has worked for months to gain their alliance, and I fear if Canen does not return tonight, they will consider giving my uncle control.” “Why would they do that?” “The empire needs a leader, not a council. We stand weak, led by twelve old men.” Curi paused and rearranged Lindsay’s cloak so that her knuckles brushed against the sensitive crook of Lindsay’s neck. “However, I do believe we are better with a woman in position and not just a man.” Lindsay nodded. “Then they should definitely consider you.” Merin coughed back a chuckle and excused himself. From the corner of her eye, Lindsay could see him pretending to study the clouds while he blatantly eavesdropped, the spineless bastard. “You are Empress,” Curi said with a smile. “I will implore our council to consider giving you your title the appropriate responsibilities.” Lindsay frowned. She couldn’t even balance a checkbook, let alone control an empire. There was no way in hell she could go from her desk job at Barney’s Sodas to Empress of Catah. She didn’t even know where Catah was located on a map—or if there were maps. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” “Lind-say—” “We should really wait for your brother.” “You would not be without help,” Curi reasoned. “Merin and I will both stand by you at all times and assist you while 95
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you adjust.” And by help I hope to God you mean do everything for me. Lindsay shifted her weight. “Let me think about this a moment.” “There is nothing to decide,” Curi said. “By your pending marriage to my brother, this is your right.” For the time being, she wanted the right to remain silent and far from in charge of anything. She was the youngest child. Most of her life had been spent following Brooke’s lead—until she realized her sister was boring as all hell. “But I really don’t think I should be leading. You’re his sister and you’ve been around here the entire time, right? Why don’t you do it?” Curi opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. Just as Lindsay began to feel triumphant, an elderly man with a long, white beard and bald head shuffled forward and took hold of Merin’s arm. The old man pointed a trembling hand at the sky before he shuffled back to the other councilors. “What was that?” Lindsay asked. Before he bothered to answer, Merin laced Curi’s fingers with his and pulled her close. The bastard looked Lindsay right in the eye while he continued to crawl all over Curi. “They saw the dragons leave and wanted to know what happened.” “What did you tell them?” “I sent dragons out to find Canen.” “But you sent them out to find her uncle.” Lindsay pointed at Curi. “Who you think wants me and the emperor dead, 96
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right? Shouldn’t they know that?” Merin shifted uncomfortably. “Lord Roen has treated the council well.” “Meaning?” Curi placed her hand on Lindsay’s shoulder. “Meaning you must convince them that it is time Catah is ruled by an emperor and empress once more.” “And if we can’t convince them, what will they do? Behead me?” Merin sighed, but didn’t bother answering her question. “My lady, they will not wait a moment longer for your audience.” He offered his arm, which she stared at. “Please, Empress, follow me.” “Why am I meeting them?” “To prove you are worthy,” Curi answered. “The council puts little faith in the decision of elderly seers such as your grandmother.” “Great, my grandmother must be Miss Cleo,” Lindsay muttered. Merin nodded toward Curi. “And to assure them that Canen’s decision was wise to accept you as his future mate. They will want solidity within Catah before they freely offer control.” “Which shouldn’t be necessary,” Curi said, a hint of anger in her voice, “because my brother is the rightful ruler. Their duty was fulfilled the moment Ray—I mean, of course, Lindsay returned.” Curi stared at Lindsay with an affectionate but sisterly 97
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expression on her face. She gently patted Lindsay’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “Have no fear,” she whispered. “I sent Dorg as a spy.” Lindsay fought the urge to roll her eyes. With any luck, Dorg would clock Roen with a stone and knock the crazy bastard out cold. “We will prove you are the rightful empress and that it is time for you to rule all until Canen returns and the wedding may take place as it should have long ago.” “Right.” Merin took them each by an elbow and gently led them off the tower and down a winding staircase that equaled at least a year of stair-stepping exercise. She had to get the hell out of here before the real empress showed up.
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CHAPTER 9 With a sharp inhale of breath, Siqua bolted upright and reached for the carriage door. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she had no recollection of what had happened before that last moment of terror, when sharp talons and opened maws reached through her mind to snatch her. “Dragons,” she whispered. Lord Roen pounded on the side of the carriage, which ground to a stop at the protest of both wheels and horses. “How many?” he asked. Siqua struggled to catch her breath. Images of Canen and Curi made her hold her tongue. “I don’t know.” Roen sat forward and studied her, his eyes narrowed. 99
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“Concentrate.” His harsh tone caused her to sit further back, fearful of what he’d see if he searched her gaze. “One,” she answered at last. “I saw one.” “Where?” “Near.” “And who sent it?” Siqua hesitated for only a heartbeat, but it was long enough to anger her father. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her face toward his. The whites of his eyes glowed with malice, with the potential and the desire to kill. She wasn’t certain that he only wanted to kill Rayna. “Who sent the dragon?” Tears formed in her eyes as he pulled her hair out by the roots. “Canen,” she whispered, hoping it was enough for him to release her. “He has returned.” “To the palace?” His grip tightened. In her vision he was alone, his back to the night sky as he sat astride a dragon that was not his. Siqua wondered what had happened to the woman she’d seen him with earlier—the woman she knew wasn’t Rayna. “I see him over the tower.” With a growl of frustration, he pushed her away, and her head slammed into the seat cushion. She let out a cry and rubbed her head, barely able to believe her father’s cruelty. “You see one dragon, which you claim is near, but we are still miles from the palace. What dragon follows us now, my liar of a daughter?” 100
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“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “It must have been released alone. Or there is a spell on its rider.” “Or you have betrayed me.” He flung the carriage door open and glared at her from over his shoulder. “Here,” he said, thrusting a bottle into her hands. “Drink it, all of it, and keep your damned mouth shut until it is of use to me.” She stared at the decorated bottle, at the content that would cloud her mind. If she did as he asked, she feared he’d use her mind to locate Canen—and discover he had taken a woman already, a woman who wasn’t Rayna. As if he knew her fears, he tapped her cheek roughly with his fingers. “You are fortunate I still have uses for you. Once you bear him a son, however…we shall see.” “Father, please.” “Drink,” he ordered. The door slammed shut, but not before she saw the dragon’s tail glimmer across the sky, its scales aglow with moonlight. Judging by its distance, it had to have seen them. Their eyes were as keen as a hawk’s, and when they tracked prey, they would stay on its trail for days, unhindered by weather or exhaustion. With an unsteady breath, she leaned back and closed her eyes. If she attempted to dump the substance onto the floor, the odor would give her away. And if she drank it now, he’d know Canen had taken a mate and he’d kill her before sunrise. Her only chance of survival was escape, though she couldn’t possibly outrun him or sneak away unnoticed. The carriage door would give her away when she opened it. As she wrung her hands in her skirts, she peered out the window and 101
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found her father standing several feet away with his hands out at his sides. He turned in a slow circle as he cast an invisibility spell over their carriage. “Please, Canen, please be close,” she mumbled. If he was nearby and saw them, perhaps he would spare her. Or perhaps he would kill her with mercy. It didn’t matter as long as she didn’t perish at her father’s hands. Dark elves, even as family members, were cruel and ruthless. She had to remind herself that her father had once been like Canen and Curi, a noble and well-respected elf. But he had allowed anger into his heart and with that anger he had killed one of his own for no other purpose than to see that person die. One taste of bloodshed and he still craved it, still needed to fill the darkness inside. She didn’t want to think of how he’d kill her. The dragon she’d seen in her mind released a high-pitched trumpet that gave her shivers. Most certainly it had spotted them and would either land nearby for its rider to investigate or it would return to the palace at once. “Stay,” she begged quietly. “Please stay.” Beneath her skirts, a muffled cry made her jump up from her seat. The locket glowed with veins of red and unsteady pulses of pinks and flesh-toned waves of light and darkness. She checked the window again to be certain her father was still chanting before she scooped up the ball in her hands and turned it over. “Rayna?” she whispered. The screams had stopped the moment she retrieved the small piece of jewelry. In its place, labored pants and soft 102
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groans emerged from the cracks. Something warm and wet pooled in Siqua’s hands, though she didn’t know if it was blood or tears—or both. “Who is there?” “It’s Siqua, daughter of Taleen and Roen.” “Siqua?” the voice gasped. “I won’t hurt you.” She put her lips almost to the glass, an incomplete kiss to a woman her father held captive. “I swear it, Lady Rayna, I will not hurt you.” “You led them to us, did you not?” Siqua closed her eyes in shame. “My father gave me no choice. He cast a liquid spell on me, and unwillingly I found you.” “You wish to take my place, then.” “No,” she said at once. “Never. He is my cousin, but I do not love him, not as you love him.” There was a long pause, and Siqua feared Rayna had died suddenly. Without thinking she shook the locket until Rayna issued a shrill cry. “I’m dying, Siqua,” she said at last. “The spell was not meant to last this long. I was meant to stay dormant, not as the captive of a dark elf. Our future is ruined.” Siqua’s grip tightened, and warm liquid dripped through her fingers. She risked another glance out the window and saw her father waving his arms about, fighting to complete a spell before the dragon rider found him. The trumpeting had ceased, which she assumed meant it had already landed. “I know,” Siqua answered. “I was there when my father 103
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found you.” “What did he do with Canen?” Siqua hesitated, stole another look out the window. Her father had nearly doubled over in exhaustion, which must have meant that the dragon and rider were near at hand. The hairs on her arms rose with the spell’s potency and her fear of confrontation. “Please, Siqua,” Rayna begged weakly. “I must know.” “He’s coming for you,” she said quickly. “Don’t let Canen find me,” Rayna blurted out. “Please, Siqua, don’t allow them to lead Canen here and take him prisoner. He’s suffered enough.” “Yes.” Siqua remembered how her father had humiliated Canen, how he’d whipped him and then sent him running for his life, a ruler turned hunted animal. While the council dined and enjoyed the gifts Roen had given them, Siqua had unintentionally paved the way for her future wedding to her cousin—and now she could stop it. “He is a good emperor and he doesn’t deserve any more pain.” The locket slipped through Siqua’s fingers and hit the wooden floorboards with a sickening crack. She closed her eyes and took a trembling breath. “It’s too late.” *
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Brooke clung to her dragon’s back for dear life and wished she’d taken a horse instead. 104
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The boy in the stable had mumbled under his breath that the dragon would stay its course, drop her off at the ridge, and then return to the stable. All she had to do was hold on—and, she discovered, keep her mouth shut, which kept gnats out of it. Maybe she wouldn’t have swallowed any bugs if her dragon hadn’t been completely psychotic. Twenty minutes into their peaceful, breathtaking flight, the overgrown lizard with wings had decided to take a different route. The creature then proceeded to gain height in the sky, then fold its wings and dive straight down. There was no opportunity to scream or pee her pants. All she could think of was that it would have made a really cool amusement park ride sans the very real terror—and the dragon smell, which was akin to horse manure. At the last possible moment, the dragon let out a cry that made her squeeze her eyes shut. Like a parachute, its wings opened and their freefall abruptly stopped. When she could breathe again, she opened her eyes and found them surrounded by what looked like crimson pine trees. “Uh, this isn’t the ridge,” she said. The dragon snorted, which didn’t tell her a damn thing. She considered dismounting from the terribly uncomfortable saddle, but the moment she shifted her weight, the dragon raised the scales on its neck. It seemed a little defensive, so she stayed put and held on tight as it stalked forward, sniffing and snorting. “Are we lost?” she asked, unsure of whether dragons 105
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talked—and if they’d sound like Sean Connery in Dragonheart. When the dragon paid no attention to her, she blew her hair out of her eyes and thought this was just her luck. She was now lost in the wild of an unfamiliar world peopled with faeries, dwarves, and guys with wings who enjoyed exhibitionism. She’d run away from the most handsome, sweetest, best guy she’d ever had sex with because she couldn’t bear to be the other woman. And now her dragon wasn’t listening. What else was new? “Hey,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I need to get to the ridge.” The dragon abruptly stopped and inhaled deeply, its body quivering. Brooke widened her eyes in the dark, swore she heard footsteps. She held her breath and expected another mythological creature—maybe a centaur or troll—to storm out of the woods and eat her whole. When a stout man with a long beard waddled into view, she sighed in relief. The dwarf scurried around, muttering to himself in what appeared to be dwarfspeak. He didn’t seem to notice, much less care about a dragon, though the rocks apparently fascinated him. One after another, he picked up rocks of different shapes and sizes, then tossed them over his shoulder. All the while he grumbled and stomped around, hands tossed in the air when something really pissed him off. Brooke furrowed her brow and wondered if he was stoned because rocks, under no circumstances, should have been that fascinating. She wondered if he searched for gemstones or if 106
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that was a storybook myth. And then he threw a rock the size of a walnut at her. “Ow!” She rubbed her forehead where he’d clocked her pretty damn good. “You little…” Scowling, she heeled the dragon, and her feet clanged against the metal underside of its armor. “Away, dragon.” It belched in response, the smelly, uncouth beast. “Oh, come on!” She dodged another rock, which bounced off the tree behind her. “Quit it!” she shouted. The ground vibrated, a sudden lurch that nearly knocked her out of the saddle. Both dragon and dwarf stood perfectly still, the dwarf with a rock in his hand and the dragon with the spikes down its neck standing upright. Her breath caught in her throat as thin, bright green and blue tendrils of light shot up from the trees no more than a hundred feet away. It looked like fireworks made of tree roots that spread through the night. “That is fucked up,” she said under her breath. A shadow in the shape of a dragon glided through the lights in a wide arc. Brooke’s lips parted, and she thought of the vineyard and her fall—and how the sky had looked. “The circle,” she said to the dragon. She didn’t know for sure, but it felt as though she should head toward the lights. She caught the dwarf staring at her, his eyes narrowed on his furry face. “Rayna,” he said in a deep rasp of a voice. “That’s her?” Brooke eyed the lights, which seemed to have encountered a power surge. She squinted as the contrast 107
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between dark and light became too much. Wings spread, the dragon took flight. Straight toward the lights.
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CHAPTER 10 Lindsay, Curi, and Merin were halfway down the stairs when all hell broke loose. “What’s going on?” Lindsay asked, but no one heard her. Bells began to ring like the freaking Price is Right, trumpets sounded, and two dozen men came flying out of nowhere to accost Merin. “It’s open,” one man shouted. Merin grasped the soldier by the shoulder. “When?” “Now.” The soldier grinned and clapped Merin on the back. “He’s returned. We all saw it.” The others around him nodded in agreement. “How far?” 109
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Another man stepped forward, claiming he was on the watch tower when the sky lit up. “Perhaps twenty miles east of here at the most. I couldn’t see the source.” Curi looked from the man to Lindsay and back again. “Then he isn’t near the ridge.” “No, he is not. But…” “Speak,” Curi and Merin said together. “The lights flickered.” Curi’s face darkened. “How far from Ord Tower?” The soldiers exchanged looks, and she repeated her question louder than before. “The lights were closer to the palace than to Ord Tower,” the man who had kept watch answered. “If he hasn’t been captured.” Merin nodded to his men and barked orders, sending some for dragons and others for weapons. The old man Lindsay had seen on the tower appeared again, this time helped by a young boy dressed in black robes. The boy’s head had been shaved, his face thin and angular. “What is this madness?” the old man questioned. He eyed Lindsay with unabashed disdain, his eyes narrowed and chin lifted as he peered down his wide nose at her. “You haven’t heard?” Curi asked. The councilor looked at her with the same expression he’d given Lindsay. “I did not address you, Curinda.” “Lady Curinda,” she corrected. “And you’re right, you did not address me. However, may I offer you a bit of advice and request that you lower your eyes and speak softly when you 110
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address our empress?” Lindsay felt her panties grow wet with arousal. Nothing turned her on like a feisty, passionate woman willing to speak her mind. Once Curi finished defending Lindsay, she could put that tongue of hers to use in a completely different way. “I do not bow before a woman with the promise of a title.” Without warning, Curi kicked the man in the back of the leg and forced him to the ground where he landed on his splayed hands. Merin drew her back and shoved both Curi and Lindsay into the knot of soldiers behind him. “You do now,” Curi said. She shook off Merin’s hand and reached for Lindsay. “Prepare our dragons now.” Before he could speak, the sharp howls of wolves pierced the night. The men froze, their eyes wide. “What the hell is that?” Lindsay asked. “His servants.” She reached for a dagger concealed in her boot. “They were once free wolves, but he has enslaved them. They’re deadly, terrible creatures who have forgotten the kindness of elves. They listen only to their master.” “Kill them on sight,” Merin said mechanically, lowering his gaze. “There is no hope for a creature who obeys a dark elf,” Curi explained. “Come, we travel by dragon and hope there is nothing menacing in the skies.” “Menacing?” The last thing Lindsay wanted to deal with was something menacing. “You needn’t fear. Canen is nearby, and it’s time you were reunited.” 111
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*
*
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Canen stood balanced on the dragon’s back, the balls of his feet planted in natural divots between the animal’s shoulders. He held the reins loosely in his fist and allowed the creature to carry him freely, as dragons and riders were meant to fly. The shafts of light began to fade, each ripple of light dimming. Once it went dark, Rayna would be dead. He had to follow the flickers of blue and green and hope she would hold on a moment longer—even if they could not be together. From the air he felt the pulse of Catah through his elven blood, the dips of valleys and razor sharp edges of the mountains, the currents from the rivers and the whisper of wind through the trees. There were others nearby, unseen by his eyes yet their unmistakable energy still itched beneath the surface of his skin. The dragon reared its head back, its wings beating the sky. Both unused stirrups clanked against the animal’s scales, and Canen crouched lower, one arm extended for balance, his mind open and receptive to the world around him. Another dragon lingered nearby. He recognized its personality, its youthfulness and fear of dangers it was not yet old enough to face. While his own mount glided toward the ground, Canen focused on this other animal. It should not have been here while wolves roamed and dark magic filled the night, though he realized its inexperience or curiosity could have led it out here. Without warning, his dragon pulled up, and Canen struggled to keep his balance. The second creature soared 112
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beneath them, snorting sparks of fire. By moonlight he saw a woman clinging to the saddle while the reins flapped around the dragon’s neck. “Brooke!” he yelled. Her dragon cried out, its body jerked through the sky as though it had collided with the ground, which was still a hundred feet below them. Blindly he lowered to his knees, uncertain of what his own dragon would do when a hot breath hissed past the back of his neck. Gooseflesh rose along his arms, and he shuddered at the closeness of the shadow flyer. He wasn’t sure if it sensed his presence or thought it had found a pair of dragons far from their nesting site. Hands resting on the dragon’s neck, Canen held his breath and hoped his mount’s instincts would help them elude his uncle’s servant. The menace following them cried out, a piercing sound that ripped through the sky. He risked a glance behind them and thought he saw dark wings beating furiously to keep the creature in the air. His dragon tucked its wings to its side and began a spiraling freefall. The wind rushed through his hair, his cloak and shirt flapping wildly. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Brooke’s younger dragon struggling against a patch of strong wind. It cried and snorted fire, a blink of light in the darkness that gave away their location and made them easy prey. He urged his dragon forward, toward the moving darkness and the frightened dragon. Brooke screamed and covered her 113
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head with one hand while she clung to her mount. “Don’t move!” he shouted as he regained his footing and stood atop his dragon. He slid his sword from its scabbard and forced his muscles to relax. If his dragon didn’t trust and understand him, the shadow flyer could kill all of them with one crushing bite. Canen bent his legs, waited until he felt his dragon gain height and speed. When he felt as though he were close enough, he jumped, his sword in both hands above his head. With a cry, he stabbed at the night and felt the tip of his blade rip through the thin, smoldering flesh of a creature made of night and ash. It wrenched to the side, its body turning as it began to fall, and his sword slid easily from the creature’s carcass. A ball of fire scorched the air where the shadow flyer had been only moments ago, and he reached for the reins to his dragon, which brushed his fingertips as the creature attempted to steady itself. In midair he twisted and kicked for reins or stirrups, anything to keep him from plummeting. His dragon called out as it made an arc through the air and fought to reach him, though he barely heard the sound of his mount over Brooke’s screams. The tail of Brooke’s dragon whipped in front of him, and he grabbed it with his injured arm. Fiery pain stabbed through his shoulder, but he continued to hold on, his teeth gritted against the agony. The younger dragon screamed in terror, its razor sharp 114
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talons clicking in the night as it struggled to bring its tail around and snap its captor in half. “Here!” Brooke shouted. She had twisted around in the saddle and lay with her belly against the dragon’s back. In desperation she shook her hand at him, begged him to take it. “He’s not strong enough,” he yelled back. Their combined weight increased her young dragon’s workload, and it could barely keep itself in the air. Another minute and all three of them would plummet to the earth. Several large, shapeless masses formed before his eyes, and he noticed the gleam of armor. Dragons began to call to one another in confusion and alarm, and he heard the soft chirp of his own mount below him, beckoning him to trust their bond. Eyes closed, he let go of the dragon’s tail and landed on his saddle. He struggled a moment to right himself before he searched for Brooke. Her dragon continued to struggle, and as he traveled beneath it, he saw the bite mark to its chest where the shadow flyer had sunk its teeth into the sensitive part of the dragon. “Brooke!” he yelled. “You must come to me.” She stared at him, her eyes wide and filled with terror. Her dragon rocked back and forth, still screaming in pain as it began to fall. “He’s injured,” Canen called out. “He needs to land alone.” As he stood balanced on his dragon’s back again, he offered his hand. “Trust me.” “I’ll fall.” 115
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“I won’t allow it.” Her lips quivered, but she nodded and reached out to him, her body slithering from the dragon’s back. Once he grasped her hand in his, he pulled her off and caught her around the waist, balancing them both. She breathed hard against the side of his neck, her muscles still tense and trembling. With fierce protectiveness, he held her tighter, this woman he thought he’d lose forever. “Sit,” he ordered as he ran his hand down her spine. His feet were planted, steady upon the dragon’s back. “You’re safe with me. I’ll protect you.” “You don’t need to do anything for me.” “Need and want are different. I may not be required to care for you in your eyes, but in my heart I want to see you safe.” “I’m not the right one, Canen.” Together they lowered into the saddle just as the lights that had brightened the sky turned blinding in intensity. The other dragons he had seen began to trumpet, and together an army of riders and their winged mounts spiraled toward the lights, which had already begun to fade. “You’re not Rayna, but that doesn’t make you the wrong one.” “You don’t know who I am.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and still felt her tremble in his grasp. “Then tell me who you are, Brooke. Let me know the woman I have feelings for.” “You don’t have feelings for me.” “Why would you say that?” 116
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“Because…” She sighed. “Because it was just sex.” He waited a long moment, wondering where she had come from and why she refused to acknowledge her feelings. That’s what had always disturbed him about the mortal race—they loved but they masked their feelings as much as possible, only giving what they thought others would want. How could she keep herself from the world when she was beautiful, funny, and compassionate? “You’re much more than sex to me.” He took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. “You’re very caring toward the people you meet.” “I’m a nurse. I have to be that way.” “I wasn’t for you to nurse.” “No, but…it’s just an instinct.” “An instinct to help others. That’s part of you that I know.” She turned and looked at him. “Is that enough for you?” “For now,” he answered, restraining himself from stealing a kiss or looking into her eyes for too long. She needed time to find herself before he went looking for her. “What about Rayna? Have you found her?” His mood darkened. “She’s there,” he said, nodding toward the fading lights. “She’s almost gone.”
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CHAPTER 11 The glass shattered, and Rayna’s limp body fell into Siqua’s arms. The world around them went silent, and Siqua trembled with a sense of urgency. With her father momentarily indisposed, they could escape before his strength returned. Like stunned fish, those who cast spells suffered a moment of complete disorientation, and her father had completed a difficult invisibility spell. With the carriage door flung open, Siqua and Rayna dropped to the ground and crawled across the dirt and grass and toward an unseen barrier of energy. Doubled over in the tall weeds, Roen gave a long, hollow moan of pain and called for his daughter. She glanced back, one arm around Rayna, 118
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who hadn’t the strength to drag herself away. “If you betray me, my wolves with tear out your throat and pull you limb from limb,” he warned, his voice hoarse. “The spell will only hold for so long, which you know, Siqua. Come to me and live.” Rayna closed a trembling hand over Siqua’s sleeve and attempted to pull her back from her father. “Don’t.” They held hands briefly, and for a moment Siqua wished it had been under different circumstances. She would have liked to have enjoyed the closeness, their necessary intimacy. Wolves sniffed and pawed at the edge of her father’s spell, their breath hot and putrid in Siqua’s face. She smelled blood on their open mouths and raw flesh between their teeth. They whined and growled in anticipation of a kill they couldn’t yet see let alone reach. The spell, which she’d only seen performed once, kept them invisible while containing them in a sphere of energy. No matter how the wolves pawed at the ground, they wouldn’t find Siqua or Rayna unless Roen allowed it—or unless she stepped outside of the sphere. Either way she chose, she’d die. The pack had surrounded the spell circle, and in the air shadow flyers kept watch over their master. They were in an uproar, though she couldn’t see them to tell what had caused the commotion. The lights from Rayna’s return to Catah may have drawn them into a frenzy, a need for a feast of blood and flesh. If she managed to escape through the wolves and disappear into the woods, her movement would draw the attention of the 119
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shadows. Rayna, weak and bleeding, stood no chance of survival. Together they would be picked off and dismembered. From the corner of her eye, she caught a gleam of light reflecting from the moon. It was only a glimpse, but she knew it was a dragon. Canen, she thought, please let this be you. “What will you promise me if I aid you?” Siqua asked with her back to her father. “A marriage of wealth and power,” he answered. “I asked what you would promise me, not what you would give yourself.” Roen chuckled to himself. “He will love you because I command it.” “Then I choose death.” “Siqua!” He growled, and the wolves kept at bay snarled and snapped at their invisible cage. “You will not deny me. If you live outside of this spell, Canen will execute you. Is that what you want? To die a disgrace to your family.” She ignored him and helped Rayna stand. “We stay together, no matter what,” she said, her voice hollow to her own ears. She stood rigid, afraid to think or move, knowing her next step may be her last. Fear that nestled in her bones kept her from seeing outside of the moment. Rayna clung to Siqua, her face gray with pain and pending death, her long hair matted with blood. Perhaps the wolves smelled her weakness and would give her a merciful death. “Siqua,” Rayna mumbled, her eyes wide and bloodshot. She clawed at Siqua’s arm as she began to collapse, her body weighted down by her fear and exhaustion—the byproducts of 120
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Roen’s spell. As she fell to her knees, Siqua closed her eyes and groped for the edge of the circle. A warm, wet snout brushed her knuckles, and she drew her hand back. White teeth snapped at the night, claws scraped at the dirt. One caught her wrist and tore through flesh before she withdrew. With her blood scenting the air, the beasts became impatient. Dark forms crouched low darted through the spell wall and yelped as they returned to safety. She wasn’t sure if it was the animals that had turned bold or if the spell had already begun to fade. “What do we do?” Rayna asked in a quavering voice. Her answer came in the long, forlorn cry of a young dragon. Branches snapped, leaves rustled as the unskilled creature made a hasty landing in the woods. The wolves began to bay, their excitement for a kill turned to a frenzy. “We run,” Siqua answered, grateful for the distraction. In a moment of fear she hauled Rayna upright and tossed her limp arm over her shoulders. Together they stumbled, their legs numb and insides tingling as they passed through the spell wall and into the woods. The sensation jarred both of them, and for several seconds it was impossible for Siqua to judge depth or distance. She blinked, her sight a dark blur. Wolves panted and snarled around them, a ring of muscles and fur surrounding them. The dragon continued to trumpet and scream, a desperate sound in the night that rattled through Siqua. Men shouted, though she couldn’t tell if they were near or 121
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at a distance. As she listened, Rayna was suddenly pulled away, and Siqua collapsed with a heavy thud. She screamed, but Rayna made no sound. The wolves swallowed up her voice in a cacophony of howls and barks—the pack’s melody of success during a hunt. Just as quickly as they celebrated, the barking turned to yelps, and animals bounded in all directions, some leaping over her, others dashing around trees in search of safety. “Rayna?” she whispered. *
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“Fuck!” Lindsay screamed as her dragon crashed into the trees and skidded to a stop. Twigs tangled in her hair and leaves caught in her teeth, but she was more concerned about falling out of the saddle and being trampled. With her eyes squeezed closed, she clung to the pommel as more dragons began trumpeting all around her. In all the commotion, she’d completely lost track of Curi, Merin, and the rest of the dragon riders. Leathery wings beat the air and blew locks of her hair and bits of dust and leaves her face, which kept her blinded when she attempted to open her eyes. “Rayna!” someone shouted, though she couldn’t tell where the voice came from or if it was a woman or a man. Men shouted from all sides, and her dragon shifted its weight. The movement was enough to rock her from her place in the saddle and deposit her onto the ground with a heavy thud. A hand grabbed her leg, fingers dug into her flesh. She 122
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started to kick the perpetrator away until she saw the frail woman who clung to her. “Rayna?” Lindsay questioned. “Yes.” Wide eyes stared back at her. “How did you know?” “She thinks I’m you.” She shook her head and sighed. “We saw the lights and came for Canen.” With a sullen nod, Rayna closed her eyes. “Is he with his sister?” “She’s still trying to find where the light came from and locate him.” “It’s no use. The light belonged to me.” Rayna’s chin dropped to her chest. “He used me as a trap.” “Who?” Lindsay noticed a trickle of blood ooze from Rayna’s nose, then from the corner of her mouth. If Hollywood was any indication of serious health issues, Lindsay was certain that wasn’t a good sign. “Roen.” Rayna swayed, her head tilting forward. Lindsay grabbed Rayna by the shoulder and shook her hard to keep her from passing out. “Hey, are you alright?” “No.” Rayna’s gaze dropped to her outstretched hand, which had turned to dust on Lindsay’s leg. “It’s almost over.” Horrified, Lindsay stared, unable to speak or scream or brush the dust away. She’d never seen anything like it before and knew, elf or not, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Rayna gave a choked sob. Roots formed at the base of dust meeting skin, and before Lindsay’s eyes, the roots sprawled out and sank into the dirt. 123
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“What’s happening?” “I’m returning to the earth.” The skin up to her forearm, which had been bloody and covered with what looked like bite marks, turned gray and veined with deep, black cracks that broke off in chunks. Tender vines of ivy formed in her hair and curled behind her ears. For as bizarre as it appeared, Lindsay found it strangely beautiful. “But why?” “I’m an elf. Why else?” Lindsay shook her head, having no idea how that answered her question. “She’s part of the earth.” A woman in a muddy, torn dress pushed through the woods and knelt beside Rayna. With great care, she cradled Rayna’s head in her lap and smoothed back her hair. “Elves return to their source when they perish.” “Who are you?” Lindsay asked. “My name is Siqua, daughter of Roen.” “Roen?” Lindsay gasped, leaning away from her. “I am not like him,” Siqua snapped. “Brooke, stay close!” a male voice bellowed. Lindsay craned her neck. “Brooke?” she muttered as she struggled to her feet. “Brooke, are you there? Help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her dragon snorted in disapproval, but she tried again, this time with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Who is it?” Rayna questioned. “I think it’s my sister. She’s a nurse. If anyone can help 124
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you, it would be her.” “There is nothing to be done. The spell cannot hold any longer.” She looked down at her body and pulled up her skirt, displaying her skin turned to moss. The bushes shook, and a man shouted for her to slow down just as Brooke pushed through the brush and fell to her knees several feet away. For a moment they stared at one another, then Lindsay frantically motioned toward Rayna. “You’ve got to do something! She’s returning to the earth.” “What?” “Look at her hand. It’s turned into soil.” Brooke righted herself and ran toward Lindsay, Rayna, and Siqua. She stood over them, her lips parted in question when a bolt of light hit her in the chest and sent her flying backward. With a heavy thud, she collided into a tree and sank to the ground. Terrified, Lindsay screamed and bolted forward, directly into a man dressed in robes. She stared at him as he grabbed her by the throat. Faeries buzzed around his head, wide-dark eyes filled with malice. They chanted in unison for her death. “Let her go!” Siqua shouted. “She hasn’t done anything.” “Who sent you?” he demanded, ignoring the faeries and his daughter. Gasping, she tried to reach for his arm, but her strength had been sapped. Each time she attempted to lift her arm, it fell to her side again and dangled, limp and useless. “Get away from her!” Brooke clawed at the tree, her words 125
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slurred and movements clumsy. The man sniffed at the air, his nostrils flared and lips turned down in a scowl. He shoved Lindsay to the ground and stalked toward Brooke, his robes swaying with his steps. “You carry his scent, yet you are not his intended,” he muttered. Brooke lay sprawled on her back as he towered over her and glanced from her to Rayna, whose legs were rooted in the dirt, her toes turned to gnarled ends. He no longer appeared concerned about Rayna or Lindsay now that Brooke had appeared. “Who are you?” he demanded. A blaze shot up from the trees behind them and cleared the brush. Through the ash and smoke, a man appeared. He stomped over the charred grass and pulled his sword from its scabbard. “She’s mine.”
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CHAPTER 12 Roen chuckled to himself as he stared down Canen. “Yours?” “Stay away from her.” His shoulders hunched, he stalked forward, able to put himself between Roen and Brooke, or Roen and Rayna. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rayna half-sunk into the ground, her body resting in a bed of dirt. “Canen don’t do it,” she said. “Nephew.” With one acidic word, Roen drew Canen’s attention away from Rayna. “What did you do to her?” “You accuse me?” Roen smirked and glanced at Rayna. 127
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“Why, dearest nephew, you’re just in time to tell your beloved about your new mate. I must say, it came as quite a surprise to me, and I’m certain no one else in Catah would have expected you to return with a woman.” He gave a flourish toward Brooke, whose body trembled. Her skin glowed with unnatural light, and Canen knew she’d been struck by a bolt of energy. The moment their dragon had landed he’d ordered her to stay close as he feared what his uncle would do if he found her first. Naturally, she’d disobeyed once she heard someone shouting for help. She’d yelled to him that her sister was nearby and then took off running into the dark. “Say what you will. Your life belongs to me now.” Roen presented his hands, palms up in a mock truce. “Does it?” Canen thrust the tip of his sword toward Roen’s throat and grimaced as he placed strain on his injured shoulder. Hot blood pumped beneath his shirt and trickled down his chest. Despite the pain, he stood on guard, waiting for Roen to step forward or move to the side, anything to give him an opportunity for a death blow. Unlike Rayna’s passing, the dark elf would create a fissure where nothing would grow again. “Surrender now and I shall give you a swift and merciful death.” “How very kind of you, nephew.” Roen stepped back and took a deep, labored breath. His strength faltered, though Canen knew weakness didn’t necessarily make his uncle more 128
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vulnerable. If anything, it made him more tenacious and lethal. “But we both know you cannot kill me without sacrificing yourself as well.” “This would be justified, and you know it.” “Is it?” Canen refused to back down, especially with Brooke nearby and in danger. She’d seen a mere glimpse of what Roen could do, and Canen didn’t want her to fall victim to more. “I said surrender.” “You know I harness greater powers than you, Emperor.” “No, you harness wicked power, not greater. Behind your magic you are nothing.” Roen’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you afraid, Canen? Why do you hesitate?” “I don’t fear you.” Roen’s gaze flickered toward Brooke, then cut to Rayna. Sparks of fire appeared between his fingers and reminded Canen of his initial capture. With an unexpected flick of his wrist, Roen could spray shards of energy into him and render him helpless. With his troops still scattered, Canen couldn’t take the chance. “Perhaps I should ask who you are afraid to lose. Will you gallantly save Rayna, or has this new enchantress beguiled you?” Sparks left his fingertips and stabbed the ground in Brooke’s direction. Canen’s jaw clenched. There was nothing he or anyone else could do to save Rayna, but one more energy bolt would most likely kill Brooke—and he and Roen both knew it. 129
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“If you attempt—” “What did I tell you when I hunted you down like an animal? I gave you a choice, did I not?” Teeth gritted, Canen lowered his sword arm and gave a soft groan of relief once the pressure was relieved. “You gave me an order to marry your daughter, and I do not take orders from dark elves.” “Perhaps you should have, Canen. You would have saved yourself the humiliation of being caught with your prick up a woman who wasn’t your wife.” Canen stormed forward, but Roen jumped back and smiled. “Go ahead and kill me. No matter what, you will show your empire that you do not follow the fidelity rules set forth by your elders.” He shook his head in disapproval. “You disobeyed your people and took another. What happened to your promise?” “That isn’t what happened.” “She smells of you. Nine months from now she may bear your bastard son. How will you deny it then?” Canen could sense Brooke staring at him. His grip on his sword tightened. “I won’t deny my time with her—or my feelings.” “Ah, of course not. You must love her.” “You have no idea what I feel for her or Rayna.” “By your actions you’ve made it clear how you feel for Rayna. You didn’t bother waiting for her, did you?” “I thought—” “Don’t listen to him, Canen,” Rayna begged. Her body 130
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from the chest down had turned to foliage and soil, while flowers sprouted up around her, fragrant and in full bloom. “What he’s saying isn’t true,” he told her. “I swear it.” “I believe you. A dark elf will never have my trust.” She struggled to move, but her veins turned to roots kept her buried inside the earth. “And I don’t want you to become one.” “Oh, such loyalty,” Roen mocked. “How does it feel to have your bride die for you—and in front of your whore, no less?” Canen seethed inside, but he restrained himself, knowing Rayna was correct. If he killed Roen in anger, his blood would turn a thick, dark red and his mind would cloud. In his rage, he’d transform into a dark elf as his uncle had years ago. “Look at you, my dearest nephew. Why, you’re more like fae than elf, aren’t you?” He plucked a faerie from the air and examined it while it squirmed and fought him. “Uncivilized beasts, aren’t they? And now you’re just like them—unable or unwilling to control yourself.” He shook his head. “And to think I wanted my daughter to marry you.” “Father,” Siqua cried. “Don’t do this.” Canen didn’t spare her a glance. One false move and he’d give Roen the advantage. “You would marry her to swine if it would ensure you a title.” Roen’s lips twitched. “Swine would not have her.” From behind Roen, Curi appeared with Merin at her side. They stumbled over Siqua and Rayna, who were huddled together. With a yelp of surprise, Curi fell to her knees and 131
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clawed at the dirt where Rayna’s legs should have been. “Canen!” Curi shrieked. Clumps of dirt fell between her fingers. With tears in her eyes, she cupped Rayna’s face between her hands and kissed her forehead, which had turned green. “Canen, please!” “Go to her,” Roen said. “Before it’s too late.” “There is nothing to be done,” Rayna said weakly. “Nothing to do but say good-bye.” Roen turned to the side and stroked the tips of his fingers together until the sparks of energy turned into a globe of light. A figure crawled across the ground toward Brooke, which Canen saw from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and found Lindsay on all fours, still choking from Roen’s attempt to crush her windpipe. They were too close together. With both of them already weakened, one ball of energy had the potential to kill both of them. “Stay down!!” he shouted. The woman turned, and as Roen prepared to throw the ball of energy at Brooke and her sister, Siqua climbed to her feet and reached out toward Lindsay. Siqua grabbed her by the waist and threw her to the ground, then landed on top of her as Canen sliced his blade low and cut Roen through his hamstrings. The ball of fire left Roen’s fingers as he collapsed, and it rolled across the ground like a dying star sparking through the sky until it hit a tree and exploded into a blaze of orange and white light. 132
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Canen didn’t bother following its path. He stood over his uncle’s writhing form and held the tip of his blood-soaked blade to Roen’s throat. “Do it, Canen.” “I will not kill you, uncle,” he said calmly. Men, drawn by the burst of light in the woods, surrounded both Canen and Roen. “I will not become you.” “You are weak,” Roen said through his teeth. “This ground belongs to Rayna, not you. Your body belongs in the deadlands.” He nodded to Merin, who had come up alongside him. “Bind his hands.” Without a word, Merin forced Roen onto his back and barked orders to his men to retrieve the lost dragons and prepare to escort their prisoner back to the palace. “Show him no mercy,” Merin said as he swung away from his men and looked around. Canen followed Merin’s gaze to where Siqua lay sprawled over Lindsay. “The seer,” Merin said under his breath. “And an imposter.” He pulled his sword from its sheath and stalked toward her.
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CHAPTER 13 Brooke’s vision cleared just as a soldier carrying a sword walked toward her and stood over Lindsay and Siqua. “I will give you one chance to tell me who you are,” Merin said through his teeth. “Canen,” Brooke said warily. Siqua groaned and turned onto her side. She lifted an unsteady hand and attempted to push the sword away from Lindsay. “She’s a mortal,” Siqua answered. “She’s an innocent.” “Silence,” Merin lifted his sword and swung his arm back as though he’d strike her, but Canen grabbed him and reeled him back. In one fluid movement, he snatched the sword from 134
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Merin’s hand and thrust the top into the dirt. “Leave her be,” Canen ordered. “She saved both of them.” “For her father, no doubt.” “She’s not like him.” He pushed past Merin and frowned at Brooke, who wasn’t yet ready to move. She refused when he offered his hand and settled for looking up at him. “I need to sit for a moment,” she said, leaving out the gory details of feeling like she might puke. “Are you injured?” Brooke shook her head and looked past him. “Don’t worry about me.” He turned and followed her gaze. The moment he saw Rayna, his shoulders dropped and his posture changed from confident and powerful to hunched. “You don’t need to stay with me,” Brooke offered. In silence Canen left her side and lowered to his knees beside Rayna, who could barely move her neck. For a man who had just defeated his uncle, he approached her with the gentleness of a child and ran his fingers along her lips. “I’ve failed you,” he said, his voice a low tremble of emotion. Brooke closed her eyes and lowered her head, unwilling to intrude on their last moment together. “Who is she?” Rayna questioned. Brooke’s chest tightened, and she balled her hands into fists. “Her name is Brooke, daughter of Gail…and what Merin said is true. She is a mortal—she is my mortal. When I 135
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returned she was beside me, and I thought she was you. I…I have no excuse for what happened. I should have known.” “Do you regret it?” He exhaled. “No. I do love her.” Brooke’s eyes opened, and she watched him lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “You are happy, then?” “I would be happy with her, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Canen,” Rayna said as fern fronds covered her eyes like long, green bangs. “This was not your doing.” “No, but it was mine to prevent.” He swept the flora from her eyes and frowned. “I don’t blame you for this.” Her voice grew weak, but she never faltered. “And I don’t want you to blame yourself. If you have feelings for her, then love her, Canen.” “Rayna, the circle—” “I never made it to the circle.” Her features began to stiffen. “Perhaps I wasn’t meant for Catah, not in the way we expected.” “But the prophecy, your grandmother said—” “Brooke,” she said thoughtfully. “Daughter of Gail. Wind and water, Canen, perhaps the prophecy is different, not wrong.” “But you sustained me.” “The one meant for you sustained you.” She sighed, and dust formed a cloud before her lips. “You’ve been missing far too long. You must do what is best for Catah.” “Why aren’t you angry with me?” he asked. 136
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“Because you’re angry enough with yourself.” “I should have been here.” “Then make it up to me.” “How?” She blinked slowly, as though her body slowed down. “Take back Catah from the council and lead your people.” Wind whistled past her lips, and her features stiffened, but she managed to gaze past him and look directly at Brooke. Tears had filled Brooke’s eyes, which she hastily wiped away. A dozen phrases popped into her head, but there was no time for apologies or explanations. “Canen,” Rayna whispered, still looking at Brooke. Drops of dew formed at the corners of her eyes. “Find your happiness. Hail, Emperor. Good-bye, Canen.” *
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Confusion followed a long and silent ride by dragon back to the palace. For safety—and to ease superstition—Brooke, Lindsay, and Siqua were bound and placed with soldiers to watch over them. Just before they were separated, Lindsay naturally made a smartass remark about being tied up, which was supposed to be a private joke with her big sister. Siqua, however, looked over and smiled. Brooke had no idea what had happened to Roen, but as the dragons took flight one by one, the night was pierced by highpitched screams and the sound of grating metal. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like something she wanted to witness. Dawn approached, the sky a powdery pink and yellow as 137
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though an egg yolk had been split and poured across the horizon. It reminded Brooke of home aside from the young dragons that chased one another. As the dragon rider assigned to her guided his mount toward the tower, she wondered if they would ever see home again. Her emotions were split between desperately wanting out of Catah and wondering if there was anything left for her with Canen, whom she loved. “Love,” she whispered under her breath, the beat of wings and rush of air drowning out her voice. Find your happiness. She searched for him amongst the dozens of other dragons and riders and found him, the only man standing atop his dragon. He looked like an emperor, tall and straight with his dark hair blowing in the wind and his eyes fixed on the palace. Perfect and completely out of her league. Naturally the only reason he’d slept with her was because he thought she was someone else. “Hold on,” the soldier said in her ear. “To what?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. The dragon made a freefall toward the tower, its wings tucked in and neck rigid. Brooke closed her eyes and felt her stomach leap into her throat as though the bottom of her guts had slipped through a trapdoor. Somewhere behind them, Lindsay squealed and yelled that this was better than Six Flags. No one said a word as the dragons deposited riders onto the tower and then flew down to the stable one by one. Brook 138
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found it odd that no one told them what to do or where to go, but she assumed that it was like dogs being turned in and out of kennels. They apparently knew the drill and didn’t like variations. “Where shall we keep the prisoners?” her guard asked once Canen patted his dragon and sent it to the stable. Lindsay and Siqua stood side by side with Curi and the warrior who’d wanted to kill her earlier, Merin, hovering nearby as though they’d make a break for it. “Send these two down to my chamber at once,” Canen answered with a nod toward Brooke and Lindsay. His gaze settled on his cousin. “And Siqua to her quarters.” “My lord—” Merin protested. “I shall not repeat myself.” The edge to his voice gave Brooke goose bumps and turned her nipples hard as stone. He hadn’t referred to Brooke and Lindsay as prisoners, which seemed like a good thing. Merin took her by the arm, his grip firm but restrained. She wondered if he felt her shiver or if noticed her state of arousal when his forearm accidentally brushed over her breasts. “With all due respect, Lord Canen, this one has proven most conniving,” he said as he glared at Lindsay. “She made us believe that she was…the one.” “Do as you are told, Merin, or I shall do it myself,” Canen said as he swung toward Siqua and motioned her toward the stairs. “And if I discover you’ve harmed either of them, you shall pay the price for their undue suffering.” Merin stiffened and bowed his head as Canen walked past 139
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him and Brooke, who held her breath and waited for him to acknowledge her. He spared her a glance from the corner of his eye and sighed heavily, but made no attempt to smile or give her any indication that somehow everything would be okay. Brooke wanted to reach for him and wrap her arms around his neck. Somehow, even if he didn’t believe her, she’d tell him she was sorry for what had happened. At least that was a role she knew well enough. “Canen!” she blurted out. He turned and met her eye, giving her a barely noticeable nod. “Are you okay?” She swore the color of his eyes changed, but from a distance she couldn’t tell for certain. His shoulders dropped, his lips twitched, and she knew no matter what he said, he was in mourning. Just like a man, damn him, smug and unemotional. To her surprise, he shook his head. “Make yourself comfortable in my chambers,” he mumbled. Watching him leave left her cold, and she leaned against Lindsay for support and comfort. It seemed impossible that they had been so close together and now he could barely look at her. “I’ll stay with you, Merin,” Curi said as she trotted toward the soldier. She stared at Lindsay, her eyes sad and her mouth turned down in an expression that wasn’t quite a frown. “I tried to tell you,” said Lindsay. 140
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Curi nodded. “I know. Come with us.” “Are you going to kill us?” Lindsay asked. “Chop off our heads? Feed us to centaurs, something weird or gross?” “It is Canen’s decision to choose whatever fate he deems fit,” she answered, her voice thick with emotion. She watched Siqua and Canen leave, and Brooke was certain she choked back a sob. “He cannot be lax in his punishment. It has proven lethal.” “What did you try to tell her?” Brooke whispered once Curi turned away, finding comfort or at least distance as she watched the last two dragons return to their stable. “I told her that I wasn’t their empress,” she replied. “Or at least I tried to tell her at least a dozen times.” “Must run in the family. Canen wouldn’t listen to me either.” Brooke smiled, grateful to be reunited with her younger sister. No matter what, at least they’d be together. “It doesn’t matter now, but I have your dress.” Lindsay laughed. “I should have known you’d be the responsible one.” *
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Canen had felt the unmistakable tug of longing as he turned away from Brooke and prepared to speak with Siqua. He’d seen greater hurt in Brooke’s expression than he’d expected, but he realized it was what he wanted. He’d lost Rayna, whom he’d cared for greatly. He couldn’t imagine losing the woman he deeply loved, even if she wasn’t meant for his world. 141
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“How did you get here?” he mumbled to himself. She wasn’t the first person to have found a portal, but no other mortal had ended up inside a Catah circle. On occasion—very rare occasions at that—they ended up in stock yards in the middle of frightened cattle or were found wandering and half-dead in the wilds. They rambled on about full moons and seeing faeries, and for the most part the denizens of Catah rounded up mortals and returned them to where they had been found, usually on the next full moon. No one understood how it happened, but the mortals disappeared. He didn’t want Brooke to disappear. It made his stomach tighten to think he’d never again experience her soft, smooth thighs wrapped around his hips, taste her kiss or lap up her essence. Just thinking of her made his cock swell with desire for her, to be deep inside of her. And then he thought of Rayna and what she’d said to him. Find happiness. In the last moments they had been together, he’d known she wanted him to forgive himself, which he wasn’t yet sure if he could do. If Brooke stayed with him, however, perhaps in time… “Is it true?” Curi asked. He spun around and saw her standing at the bottom of the marble staircase. “I thought you were with Brooke and Lindsay.” “I will return to them shortly,” she replied as she stepped toward him, her arms extended. With a sigh, he pulled her off her feet and squeezed her tightly. “I’ve missed you, Curinda.” 142
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“I’ve missed you as well.” She drew back and looked him over, her gaze settling on his wounded shoulder. “Were you really…with her? As a man and a woman join?” “Yes,” he said, making no apologies for his actions. “Is she the one?” With a smile, he nodded. “There is no other. I feel it, stronger than I’ve ever felt anything before.” “But she’s a mortal.” “True.” He took her by the hand and smiled. “But she is in my land, which makes her mine.” “What if she doesn’t want to be yours?” That was a thought he’d purposely left out, but he already knew the answer. “Then I will not take another.” *
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Once Curi returned to her brother’s chambers, Canen opened Siqua’s door and found her waiting for him with her arms wrapped tight around her body. She sat on the edge of her bed, slowly rocking in what he assumed was fear. Her eyes, however, remained bright and keen, completely unlike how he’d always remembered her. “Siqua.” She lifted her gaze, her eyes puffy and face mottled from emotion. “I cannot set you free.” “I know.” Her voice sounded scratchy, the result of crying. “But I cannot have you executed, either.” 143
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Her brows lifted. “Is this a trick?” “No, I wouldn’t do that to you, cousin.” He walked toward her and linked his hands behind his back. “Tell me why you betrayed me, and your honesty will determine your fate.” With a nod, she reached into her skirt pocket and handed him a stoppered glass bottle. Her hand shook as their fingers touched, but he couldn’t comfort her. Brow furrowed, he removed the wax plug and held the bottle at a safe distance from his nose. “What is it?” “Horung milk,” she answered mechanically. “Cravers drink, they call it.” He nodded. With seers and apothecaries under his employ, his knowledge of spells and medicines was limited, but everyone in Catah knew what Cravers drink could do. The person who issued the drink enslaved anyone who consumed it. For hundreds of years it had been used in mass quantities to contaminate water supplies and conquer entire kingdoms, though a disease in the plants had made it all but mythical these days. “Where did you get this?” He replaced the lid and tucked the bottle into his shirt pocket. “My father.” Canen lifted his chin, realizing she trembled because she was in need of another dose, not because she was afraid of him or her fate. “How long?” he asked. Her eyes closed, and she shook her head. “I have no idea. 144
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Years, perhaps. I don’t remember my mother’s death or the day my father hunted you down. I apologize for hurting you, for what happened to Rayna.” “As am I,” he mumbled. Years of her life had been erased. He couldn’t imagine issuing her a death sentence when she’d been turned from a daughter with the powers of a seer into a misused tool. “How did you finally escape him?” “I don’t think I’ll ever escape him.” She took a trembling breath and looked at him. “Quite honestly, cousin, I merely wanted a way out of marrying you. I loved you too much to want to marry you.” “I understand,” he said. “Do you?” She smoothed her hands down her skirt. Taking a breath, he sat down beside her and looked her over, searching for the girl he’d once chased through the palace. They had shared childish secrets and managed to get each other out of trouble on more than one occasion. “Tell me.” Her cheeks reddened, and she pursed her lips. “What is it, Siqua?” “I would prefer marrying your sister,” she mumbled. He inhaled sharply but didn’t immediately speak. “Curi?” Siqua grunted. “Who else?” “Does she know?” She shook her head. “I’m no fool, Canen. I don’t want her to know. Not ever.” “Then what do you intend to do?” She placed her hand over his. “Whatever my emperor commands.” 145
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CHAPTER 14 Lindsay waited on the balcony with Curi while Brooke remained inside Canen’s chamber. Merin, who still didn’t quite trust her, had been called away, though she didn’t know why. He’d explained to her that there were guards outside the door and that any attempt to escape would end in her death. “The news just keeps getting better,” Brooke mumbled as she hugged herself. A tiny blaze that provided no warmth crackled in the hearth. Under different circumstances, she would have liked to have a look around at the ornately decorated room. An ovalshaped bed stood on the opposite side of the room, draped with ivy green silk decorated with gold embossing. 146
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Like the bed, the rest of the room was decorated in earthy greens and subtle beige. The light from the overhead chandelier reminded her of twilight and gave the indoors a natural feel that provided at least a sense of tranquility. Now this was where she wouldn’t mind having simulated outdoor sex sans the bugs, dirt, and elements. Not that she’d ever sleep with him again, but naturally sleeping with him was foremost on her mind. The bedroom door creaked open, and Brooke jumped as Canen entered, his shirt still stained with blood from his old injury. Her nursing instincts made her want to lay him out on the bed, tend his wound, and then strangle him for allowing it to go untreated. “Brooke.” He sighed and turned away from her, then walked the length of the room and stared out the glass door to the balcony. With a nod to his sister, he dropped the curtains into place and turned to face Brooke. “We must speak.” She stiffened. “I know.” “You need to make a decision,” he said, his voice stern. “Me?” With a single nod, he motioned her toward him and offered her a seat on a long, cream-colored couch with rose-colored pillows. It looked like a fantasy-inspired metrosexual’s couch, which made her smile. She’d never been with a man quite like him before and hated to think she’d never be with him again. “About my execution?” He frowned and sat beside her, grunting as he arranged himself. “I will not kill you or your sister. As I have said, you 147
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are mine to protect.” “I don’t think Merin will appreciate that.” “It’s not his choice. He lives under my command.” She swiped her hair from her eyes and searched his face, wondering how she could miss him so much already. It killed her that she couldn’t read his expression or know what he was thinking—and she was afraid to profess her undying love for him and make a complete ass of herself. “Brooke,” he started again. His arm extended and she thought he’d reach for her hand, but instead he scratched his chin, then laced his fingers together and watched her for a moment. Their separation weighed on her, made it almost impossible to breathe. “What do I need to decide?” she asked hoarsely. She was fairly certain he’d unintentionally kill her if she had to sit across from him and pretend to be unaffected by the musk of him permeating her surroundings. “If you wish to stay here.” Her eyes widened at the thought of returning home. “I had no idea I could go back.” His face darkened, but he nodded and leaned away from her. “On the next full moon. I could escort you to the place where I first found you and then…” His voice trailed off. “You would return to your mortal world.” And never see him again. “What happens if I stay?” Their eyes met, his dark gaze intense. “You would be mine,” he answered, his voice a growl that matched the look in 148
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his eyes. Her thighs squeezed together to keep the aching at bay, but her rational thoughts did more than enough to keep her from screaming that she loved him. “Does this make me your consolation prize?” “I beg your pardon?” “Am I what you get because there’s nothing else?” “There will never be anyone else for me as long as we’re both alive in this world or apart.” He reached for her hand, but hesitated noticeably. “Because our hearts have beat in time, and there is nothing that will ever change that. We will always share the same heartbeat, Brooke.” “No way.” She put her fingers against the pulse in his neck and did the same to her own. She almost fainted when she felt the twin rhythms, but he gripped her hand and pulled her close. “There is none other for me, Brooke, but you forever.” He spoke against the shell of her ear, his voice a tremble of uncertainty and need. After everything that had happened, he still wanted her, Brooke Levesque, the older, not nearly as pretty sister. “I don’t want anyone else,” she whispered, snaking her arm around his neck. He slid her onto his lap and locked her in his arms, his lips finding hers after a brief but thorough search along her neck. The heat of his mouth easily slid over her sensitive flesh, and she inhaled, needing the smell of him as much as the feel. “Touch me,” she panted. “Everywhere, just touch me.” 149
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He obeyed, his hands sliding under her shirt. His fingers traced each divot of her spine until he caressed the nape of her neck, as though he knew precisely where to touch her and drive her wild. As if by instinct, she fingered the curve of his earlobe down to his jaw and up again, then gently squeezed the tip of his ear. “Oh, Brooke.” He sighed. “That’s some sort of pleasure point, isn’t it?” she asked, using her tongue instead. He shuddered, his breaths harsh as he cupped her breast and planted kisses along the inside of her wrist, which she found surprisingly sensitive. “It’s as if you were touching me here.” He placed her free hand in his lap, and she gripped his erection through his trousers. “Really?” “Really.” She flicked her tongue against the tip and felt it twitch, just as his cock would have done. “Interesting,” she breathed against him, and his penis grew even harder in her hand. “Very interesting.” “Give me your hand,” he said, a command rather than a request. She lifted it to him and was about to ask why when he plunged her thumb into his mouth and sucked the inside. All at once her panties flooded with arousal and she gasped for breath, paralyzed by the overwhelming sense of pleasure. She 150
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was going to be the first woman to get off from a thumb suck. “Oh, my God,” she groaned. “Where did you learn that?” “It’s an…imprint, you would say,” he replied, licking at the newly discovered erogenous zone. “It’s a gift of the elven race. Once we are joined, we know what our partners crave in terms of intimacy.” She smiled, feeling a little stupid but damn lucky she’d found an elf. “Will I know yours?” “You’ve already found the best one,” he said, glancing from her face to his lap. “And you will find the rest.” Her inner vixen took over, and she pushed on his chest until he reclined. “For now, I want the best one and I want it now.” Strong fingers worked her skirt up to her hips. The chilly air was replaced by broad hands stroking the insides of her trembling thighs. He teased her, allowed the tips of his fingers to glide across her pussy. The ache inside her increased, left her desperately in need of being filled. They both chuckled as together they attempted to unlace his trousers, but she managed to shove his hands aside and lean over him. Scooting down his body, she pulled his cock free and kissed the length of him, enjoying the heat of his body and the smell of his arousal. “You will always be mine,” he growled. “For the rest of our lives.” “Always.” She licked him from his balls to the tip, watching his stomach rise and fall with anticipation. Her fingernails raked through the hair on his belly, swirled along 151
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his flesh as he watched her. “Mine forever,” he said. “Mine,” she echoed, sucking on the tip of him, watching the head of his cock disappear between her lips. She tasted the salty, familiar essence of the only man she wanted. His legs stiffened, the muscles beneath her hands taut. She looked up at him, allowed him to slide from her mouth. “Forever.” He dragged her up his body and gripped her tightly. “I need you. Now.” She shifted her weight, her legs spreading wider to fit over his hips. As she bore down, he lifted and pressed his cock against her pussy. The relief she felt when he slid into her left her gasping for breath. He fit like no other man, felt right in her arms and inside of her body. And this would be hers for the rest of her life. They moved together, slowly and sensually. She pressed her palms to his chest to steady herself and to feel his heart beat in time with hers. In the soft light, she watched him, stroked her fingers through his hair and bent to kiss his eyelids. He murmured to her, sometimes in a language she understood, sometimes in words she felt rather than comprehended. He’d take care of her, never hurt her physically or emotionally. She nodded, felt the tears spill down her cheeks as he gripped her hips and studied her face. He looked at her as though there wasn’t a single woman in the world as beautiful or one he deserved more. None other, she thought. He meant it. Canen pulled her down harder on his cock until the first 152
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pulses of orgasm left her groaning. Her nipples turned hard and painful, and while he watched, she lifted her blouse over her head and played with them through her bra. His hips ground against hers, the friction to her clit increasing with each thrust. The buildup to orgasm came faster than she’d ever experienced, and with a cry she lowered onto him, her breasts against his chest, his mouth against her ear, and his cock pulsing inside her. “Oh, Brooke.” He sighed, rubbing her back, holding her with such tenderness that she never wanted to move again. “I love you,” she blurted out, surprising herself. “I adore you,” he replied, smoothing her hair away from her face. He pressed a kiss to her brow and snuggled her in close, no trace of the forceful man she’d ridden only moments ago. The balcony door slowly opened, and Curi cleared her throat. “It’s too cold outside, brother,” she said, her tone of voice hinting that she knew she interrupted something important. Canen helped Brooke to stand, then climbed to his feet, smoothing his long, cream-colored shirt that did nothing to hide his bulging erection. In record time Brooke managed to wriggle into her shirt and fix her hair, but she figured she wasn’t fooling anyone. She noticed that Curi stood red-faced and unable to look at her brother while Lindsay, damn her, was waggling her eyebrows at Brooke in a “way to go, big sis” sort of fashion. “Brooke has decided to stay,” he announced. 153
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Lindsay’s jaw dropped. “We can go back?” “You’d go back without me?” Brooke gasped. “I mean, you can if you really want to, but what happens if you couldn’t find your way back to the right place?” Lindsay threw her hands up in the air. “I’m just asking.” “Do you want to go back?” Brooke asked, feeling selfish. “I mean, I don’t want to make you stay if you don’t want to.” “Do I have to decide right now?” Brooke bit her lip and looked to Canen. “Not right now, but before the full moon. It will be your only opportunity to leave.” “What happens if I want to stay?” His eyes lit up. “If you would prefer to stay, I’m certain you would live happily here.” He gestured toward the balcony. “All of the quarters on the other side of the garden there house my men. If you desired a husband…” He was being overly helpful, Brooke thought, and it was about to backfire on him. She wondered if elves came out of the closet or flaunted their sexuality like Lindsay did—or if her revelation would give Canen and Curi a heart attack. Somehow, that didn’t bode well for Brooke’s heart either. “Uh, we have a little problem there,” Lindsay said. “A problem?” Canen asked, appearing genuinely concerned. “I’m not into boys.” Brooke held her breath, afraid that this sweet, loving man would back away or unfairly judge Lindsay. No amount of great sex or lifelong commitment would ever make up for 154
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rejecting her sister based on sexual orientation. With a nod to Lindsay, Canen smiled. “If you choose to return, then I would like you to take someone with you to the place where you were found.” “Huh?” Lindsay shot Brooke a look of uncertainty. “We know mortals can travel here,” Canen explained. “Now I want to see if my kind can return to your world.” “Canen—” Curi started. “Siqua cannot stay here,” he said firmly. “If there is a place for her, let it be the safety of their world.”
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CHAPTER 15 On the night before the next full moon, the blue moon, Lindsay came to Brooke and Canen with her decision to leave Catah and return home. She met them in the garden, which was filled with faeries buzzing around the flowers, imbibing nectar and generally being obnoxious, which was nothing compared to the PDA from her big sister and the randy elf who couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. As long as it made Brooke happy, Lindsay was fine with their “I love you, no I love you” corny conversations. “You’re sure about this?” Brooke asked once Lindsay made her announcement. “Positive.” She looked down at her flowing skirt and 156
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loose-fitting blouse, the only clothing she’d worn for almost a month. A T-shirt baring a little more midriff and accenting her boobs paired with jeans were more her style. Canen placed his hand on the small of Brooke’s back and nodded. “I’ll leave the two of you alone to speak.” They watched him leave and join his sister and cousin, who were both waiting for him at the far end of the garden. Merin, who was normally glued to Curi’s side, had been gone for a week with several other soldiers who were helping the councilmen move back into their homes and out of the emperor’s way. They weren’t quite pleased with giving up control, but rumors of Roen’s intention to usurp power had already begun circulation via faerie gossip, and the councilmen were at least ready to disappear from scrutiny. “I’m glad you’re going back,” Brooke said as they walked down the winding paths. “Couldn’t wait to get rid of me, could you?” “You know what I mean. You’d never be happy here.” Lindsay nodded. She liked the palace and the people, but she missed driving along the east coast and eating fresh lobster. She also missed her privacy and lazy Saturdays spent sleeping until noon. “I hate leaving you here alone, but I know you and loverboy won’t even notice me missing, will you?” “Of course we will.” “At least I won’t have to listen to the two of you having sex,” Lindsay teased. Brooke turned bright red. “You do not.” 157
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“I’ll give you a transcript of last night’s activities starting from the time you started screaming ‘Harder, Canen, harder.’” Brooke covered her face with her hands. “So I love him. And he’s really good to me.” “I’ll say.” “Not like that. I mean he’s good like that, too, but he’s…” Lindsay wrapped her arms around Brooke’s neck. For once she didn’t have to worry about Brooke covering for the latest dirtbag in her life. Canen wasn’t going to call her names or rough her up. A world away from where they’d grown up, he was the absolute best person for Brooke. “He’s perfect for you, Brookie.” Lindsay felt her eyes fill with tears. “He actually deserves you.” “Do I deserve him?” Lindsay pulled back and searched her sister’s moist eyes. There was still fear there, but she was healing from years of letting people walk all over her. Having a strong, affectionate man in her life would finally undo all of torment she’d put herself through. It was a shame she’d never see Brooke the way she was supposed to be—happy and in love, unafraid of the man in her life. For such a caring and responsible person, Brooke had never quite taken care of herself. “Hell yeah, you do.” She poked Brooke in the chest. “Three or four times a day in all different positions.” “You have a one-track mind.” “Hey, at least one of us is getting some. I have to fantasize so I don’t forget how to do it.” 158
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Brooke gave Lindsay an arched look. “What about you and Siqua? The two of you have been chatting it up lately.” Lindsay sighed and decided her big sister didn’t need to know the sordid details of how she and Siqua were becoming fast friends. Whether it would evolve into anything more would be seen, but for right now she was enjoying having someone other than Brooke to hang with in the evening. Plus, she’d found out after a little too much Cherry Coke that Siqua was a damn fine kisser. “Well, if I’m going to take her back to Maine, then she better know everyday stuff like iPods, American Idol, and outlet malls, right?” “I guess.” “So.” Lindsay crossed her arms and felt a shiver of anxiety wrack through her. “What happens now?” Brooke grabbed Lindsay’s hand. “We don’t think about tomorrow,” she said as they started to jog down the winding paths, this time without fear of disappearing into a different realm. A rush of exhilaration made Lindsay whistle and squeal, sending nesting birds into the night’s sky. “You’re being spontaneous. What happened to the real Brooke?” Lindsay teased as she chased her past Curi, Siqua, and Canen. Brooke grabbed Canen by the arm and dragged him along behind her while Lindsay took hold of Curi and Siqua, who were both laughing at the absurdity of it all. “This is the real me,” Brooke shouted. She looked back and smiled at Canen, who was inches 159
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away from grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into his arms. That’s where Brooke belonged, Lindsay realized. Right here, right now with him. “Welcome back,” Lindsay whispered, seeing her sister for the first and last time.
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GABRINA GARZA
Mom, crazy person, and animal rescuer. That’s the gist of it. A native of the Chicago suburbs, Gabrina Garza writes to get out of doing the dishes. When she’s not writing or dodging household duties, she’s either embarrassing her children in public or walking her foster dogs, of which she has way too many. Check out her website for all you never wanted to know: www.gabrina.com. *
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Don’t miss Adeno, by Gabrina Garza, available at AmberHeat.com! An Amber Heat Wave Contest Winner!
Freedom can be denied, but desire and love know no bounds… Nasora, a born healer, finds herself increasingly drawn to a young fighter named Adeno. Her only purpose in the arena, however, is to heal the fighters if they return alive and victorious. And time and again, Nasora brings back Adeno from the brink of death. Adeno’s body is meant only for combat, yet the connection Nasora feels toward the arena warrior deepens into something primal…something forbidden.
When at last she decides she can no longer see Adeno enslaved, and he no longer wishes to be physically healed, Nasora wonders if she has the strength to heal him in a different way. And will she be able to free her lover after his owner, who also has designs on Nasora and seeks revenge against Adeno, interferes with her plans?
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