Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (30 page)

“I can’t hold
him off. Run.”

Her magic came
at her call, filling her with power and a sense of peace. This was right,
holding her bondmate close to her heart, safe within a cocoon of her power. “Easy,
love, I’m here,” she said, echoing words he’d uttered to her when they’d made
love in a dream. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Grief and
helplessness shadowed his features. “I love you.”

“I know.” She
lifted his face to hers, kissing him, conveying through her touch how much she
loved him. The brief caress was over too soon. She cleared her mind, opening
herself to her magic. Power hummed louder, whirling through her blood and up to
the surface of her skin. Another wave crested, rising from the symbols painted
on her body. Magic swirled around her. “Itharann, you’ve made Sorntar suffer
enough. I’ll bond with you if you promise not to hurt him more.”

She took his
hand and led him to shore. Sorntar or Itharann followed. She wasn’t sure which one
was in command. It no longer mattered. Time for fear and uncertainty was over.

As she made her
journey to the shore, she embarked on another parallel voyage. Searching her
memories, Ashayna returned to her time with the Oracle Stone. When her mind
shied away from those dark soul-destroying memories, she fisted her hands and
fought onward. Deeper she flew, down the dark pathway of her rebirth, further
back to the black void of death and beyond into the last moments of her life.
Itharann whimpered in her mind, a sound of horror she’d carry with her always.

Chaos swirled
like storm winds, threatening to shred her mended soul, and then Sorntar’s mind
touched hers, soothing, strengthening.

Farther, she
needed to go back farther. She pushed onward.

Light invaded
the shadows, and they faded like fog before the sun. She broke free of the dark
memories of her bondmate’s capture and subsequent change. Grief and horror gave
way to happiness as fragments of older memories swirled by faster.

The joy of life
with her beloved. The weight of a child in her arms. She loved Sorntar, but not
just him. She loved his Larnkin too. More memories surfaced. Itharann, before
he became Truth Made Anew. Even then she’d known how rare it was for a Larnkin
to love a mortal spirit. His steady presence was always there to guide and
protect both his host and his bondmate. He loved her. He’d never admitted it to
her. He hadn’t needed to. Their souls had mated over their many lifetimes. She
knew his spirit as well as her own.

“She loved
me.”
Itharann’s voice whispered across her
thoughts, his tone fragile, disbelief mixed with awe.
“And she knew of my
love?”

“Yes,
Itharann,”
Ashayna and Sorntar whispered together.

“I...I am…so
sorry.”
His thoughts slipped away from her as he
withdrew into himself.

The world of
ancient memories, of a life lived long ago, faded. Itharann stood before her,
his mouth parted in shock. He struggled to speak, but she placed a finger over
his lips. He bowed his head, dropping to his knees in the wet sand. New grief
washed his face with tears.

When he pressed
his head against her stomach, Ashayna stroked his crest, running her fingers
through his soft feathers. “Come home now and heal. Come to me.” She took a
step back. Then held out her hand, gesturing for him to come to her. Power
accompanied her simple gesture and Itharann nodded.

He remained on
the ground, but closed his eyes. Faint at first, magic glowed upon the surface
of his skin, and then it intensified, pooling around the gates painted on
Sorntar’s skin. More magic surged from the gates and flowed to her, into her,
answering her call.

As she absorbed
Itharann into her body, her own magic flared. Power of the Destroyer filled
her, flowing across Itharann. He didn’t fight her. Instead, huddling closer to
her spirit, seeking what remained of his other half.

When Ashayna
looked inside herself, she found Itharann. Darkness, and the soul-deep bruises
left by Dakdamon, tainted his beautiful spirit. Angered by the fact anyone, be
it god or demon, would dare enslave her beloved, she caressed the shadows
marring Itharann with a feather-light touch. The power inherent to the
Destroyer answered her need, brushing away what didn’t belong. She did not know
how long she chased the streaks of darkness on his soul, but she didn’t quit
until she had them all. Once finished, his spirit shone silver-blue to her mage
sight.

They remained
silent, merely watching each other for a long time from within the depths of
her mind. Then at last, Itharann inclined his head in her direction.
“Thank
you, my beloved.”
He began to fade.

When she opened
her eyes and looked upon the physical world, the glow of Itharann’s power was
sweeping away from her, flowing back to where Sorntar lay collapsed on the
ground.

“Sorntar!” She
launched herself across the distance, and was almost within touching distance
when his body began to shimmer. Itharann’s purple-black feathers vanished,
leaving Sorntar as he had been before his possession. As she stared at his
indigo-blue feathers and deep bronze skin, hope rekindled in her heart.

Had she really
healed Sorntar?

Nothing in her
life had been easy. This could be another of Itharann’s tricks. She’d wait for
her bondmate to awaken and judge for herself.

Water lapping
against the shore, and the cries of distant birds soothed her. Once again the
lake held the peaceful stillness it possessed before they had called a storm of
magic to its shores. It was not unlike her life, she reflected. A storm of
magic had descended upon her life and left it in turmoil. No amount of wishing
would take back what the storm had caused, nor would any amount of self-pity on
her part return her life to what it had been before. Moving stiffly, she walked
back to their small camp, and retrieved two blankets. One she wrapped around
herself and the other she tucked with care around Sorntar. Then she lay back to
watch the sky. Doing anything else seemed too dangerous for her fragile sense
of peace to withstand.

* * * *

A moan of pain
alerted Ashayna to the fact Sorntar had regained consciousness. His eyes opened
the smallest slit, then hastily closed again. A moment later, he threw an arm
over his head to shield his eyes from the worst of the late afternoon light.
Such a simple mortal gesture was not something an ancient Larnkin was likely to
make. And as easily as that, the dam holding her emotions at bay crumbled.
Ashayna threw her arms around Sorntar. Burying her face in the curve of his
neck, she cried, deep body-quaking sobs she couldn’t control.

“Ashayna? What happened?”
Sorntar’s voice came out groggy. Struggling to a sitting position, he took in
their location with a bewildered expression, clearly trying to piece together
what events had led him there and failing. He wrapped his arms around her
shoulders. “Ash, talk to me. Are you hurt?”

She attempted
to find her voice only to feel her control slip and tears welled up in her eyes
again. Refusing to meet his gaze, she hid her face in the feathers of his
crest. They held each other in silence. Ashayna rubbed her wet cheek against
his shoulder, leaving traces of dampness, but she didn’t care. His skin was
warm against her body. She molded her hands to his shoulders, then stroked them
down his back until she caressed the sensitive place where his wings merged
with his body. The deep rumble of his cooing broke the silence. Encouraged, she
brushed gentle kisses along his neck and lightly stroked her fingertips down
his chest, the thundering of his hearts a reassurance he was still alive and
this wasn’t a dream. She smiled while her tears continued to fall.

“Hmm…while this
is exceedingly pleasant, it does mean we need to have our talk about phoenix
mating customs, courtship, and protecting my honor again,” he said in even
tones.

She froze in
shock. One of her hands had strayed under his blanket to caress the feathers
shielding his groin. A fiery blush crawled up her neck and face. “Sorntar…I’m
sorry.” She jerked away. As she did, Ashayna got a good look at his face.

Humor glinted
in his eyes and his lips pulled up at the corners. He laughed. “Ash, forgive my
poor sense of humor, it was badly done. But I didn’t know how else to stop your
tears.” His thumbs brushed along her hot, damp cheeks.

She punched his
shoulder and stood up. “Idiot,” she ground out without rancor, since he was
trying to stem her tears. She watched him through lowered lashes before
offering him a hand up.

He studied her
outstretched hand, as if it was something miraculous. With a shy smile, he took
her hand in a firm grip. She pulled him to his feet and they stood staring at
each other.

“Ashayna, all
humor aside, I don’t remember everything that happened when I was controlled by
Itharann. Did he…did I hurt you?” Dread thickened his voice. “Were there other
times when I didn’t fight?”

She sighed in
relief. That, at least, she could answer without causing him more guilt. “No,
Sorntar, he didn’t harm me. Anger and fear he caused in plenty, but no
permanent damage.”

“There is more
you’re not telling me. I harmed others. I remember flashes. I’ve harmed several
others, haven’t I?”

“Neither you
nor Itharann harmed anyone. Dakdamon did. Remember that before you let guilt
eat away at you.” Ashayna put steely certainty in her voice, determined he
would understand. “And if you’ll remember, it was your words to me that gave me
strength to find a peaceful spot in my own soul and heal Itharann. Thank you
for that.”

He nodded once
in a somber way, acknowledging what she said even if he didn’t entirely believe
it. “I wasn’t sure it would work, but Itharann is as he should be....”

Leaning
forward, Ashayna silenced him with a kiss. She pressed against him, nuzzling
the underside of his jaw. “Do you remember a certain dream the first night you
slept in River’s Divide?”

Sorntar
stiffened in her arms. She smiled against his neck.

“Yes.” There
was heat in his voice. “You were aware of my dream?”

“I was a part
of it. And Sorntar—I liked it.”

Again, her
fingers found that spot just below where his wings joined his back and stroked
with a rhythmic pressure. The vibration of his cooing broke over her like a
wave of heat, and she smiled at the sensation. His fingers curled around the
nape of her neck, shifting her slowly closer. With a soft rustling, her world
became a familiar indigo blue. Feathers caressed her bare arms. Breath caught
in her throat.

He bent down
and brought their lips together, a feather-light touch, the ghost of a kiss.
She wanted more, needed more. But he held her face framed between his hands and
continued to brush his lips along her cheeks, her brows, and her forehead in a
slow meandering trail. He took his time until she grew frustrated and turned
her head, capturing his lips in a demanding kiss.

Fingers tangled
in her hair, Sorntar returned her kiss, his lips sweeping across hers. When she
opened her mouth for him, his reaction was strong and fierce. There was an edge
of aggression in how he dragged her against his hips, so close she could feel his
heat along the length of her abdomen.

“Are you sure
about this?” he asked, his tone gentling. “You’re so much smaller, I don’t want
to hurt you.”

She groaned and
nipped at his throat, just under his jaw. “You won’t.” She tugged and pushed at
his blanket, cursing it for preventing her from brushing her heated skin
against his. She didn’t stop until it was down around his waist and she could
lay her hands on the firm muscles of his chest. “I want you too much.”

His smile
turned predatory. With no more warning, he pressed her back against the ground
and parted her blanket. Warm fingers brushed across her sensitive breasts.
Shifting his weight, he nudged her knees apart farther and reached down between
them, his fingers teasing at her mercilessly while his mouth closed over a
nipple.

His gentle
assault dragged a moan from her. Flames hotter than Sorntar’s elemental fire
licked at her belly. If he didn’t do something soon, she was going to burn.

A deep,
masculine chuckle caressed her overheated skin.

“Sorntar,
please...”

In answer, he started
a sensuous glide against her, until her hips bucked with need. Heat swirled up
from her core, hot, tingling. Desperate now, she arched her back, her body
demanding something instinct and her magic said only Sorntar could fulfill. She
growled his name in growing frustration, but he seemed content to merely stroke
and tease her until she was gripped by a mindless, raging need. Then finally he
glided into her, filling and stretching her one slow bit at a time. And at last
they were one.

“Ash, my
beloved,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck, his thoughts leaving
no doubt of his love.

* * * *

After they were
both sated and their sweat had begun to dry, Sorntar stroked a finger along the
upper swell of her breast. “This is new.”

She tracked his
finger. A faint mark darkened her skin, growing as she watched, forming a
knot-like pattern composed of many individual colored threads. It reminded her
of a tattoo. Sorntar was running fingertips across his own chest now, too. He
had a matching pattern.