Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (4 page)

The water closed over her head and she renewed her
fight. Surfacing she coughed up water. The river roared all around her. She
didn’t know which way to swim, and concentrated on keeping her head above the
water. The current slammed her against a boulder, knocking the breath from her
lungs. She was going to die. Never had she dreamed this was how it would
happen. Better the water than Trensler, a small part of her mind noted with
defiance.

A pressure crushed her shoulder and she was suddenly
breaking the surface again.

“I’ve got you.”
Shadowdancer said. His teeth were biting into her shoulder, keeping her above
the water, barely.
“Can you climb on my back?”

“Not sure.” She reached around until she could grab
his neck and mane. Shadowdancer might have her, but who had him? He wasn’t
having much more luck than her. The water pushed him along. His powerful legs
continued churning the water, and slowly, oh so slowly, the opposite bank grew
nearer.

“Hold on!”

Shadowdancer’s warning came too late. A large pale
shape loomed up behind them. Another heartbeat and the dark bulk of an uprooted
tree rolled over top of them. The force of the blow tore her away from
Shadowdancer once more. She had a moment to see the stallion go under, the tree
rolling him, his hooves flailing in the air then he was upright again.

“Sorsha!”

She couldn’t even voice her fear. The river plunged
her back down to its rocky bottom. Then it curved, the terrain changing and she
was pushed back to the surface by the ever changing currents. Her head broke
the frothy surface and she coughed. Seeing a large pale shape close, she
lunged, fighting the current with a last desperate strength. She managed to
hook her arm around a large tree branch as it floated alongside. Half drowned
but unwilling to admit defeat, she clung to the driftwood and let it carry her
on down the river.

“Sorsha!”

Tossing a sodden mass of hair out of her face, she
spotted a darker blur running along the bank to her right. Shadowdancer was
galloping apace with the river, his mane and tail streaming behind him. His
headlong flight was actually outpacing the river and he was pulling ahead.

Perhaps he could get help before the river dragged her
back to the bottom or carried her out to the ocean less than a league distant.
Even if he couldn’t rescue her, she was glad he’d survived the river’s embrace.
At least he could warn the others about Trensler. Ashayna and Lamarra would be
safe.

She glanced to the right bank again, but could no
longer see Shadowdancer. His frantic pace must have carried him beyond her
sight. The river turned sharply ahead as it snaked its way to the sea. Fearing
she’d get scraped off her driftwood raft in the turn, she doggedly pulled
herself more firmly atop it.

From her new perch, she had a better view than she’d
had while bobbing up and down at water level, but the new vantage point wasn’t
any more reassuring. Closer to River’s Divide, the river was narrower, faster,
and flowed over a series of small waterfalls. Even here the river had cut deep,
exposing the bones of the earth. The banks were nothing more than smooth wet
rocky bluffs, impossible to climb even if she’d had the strength.

A flash of movement ahead caught her attention. A wind
gnarled pine clung to the rocky terrain and one of its twisted branches reached
midway across the river. The tree shook and quivered in a way completely unlike
its neighbors. It wasn’t until she was almost under the tree that she saw the
pale shape of a man straddling the branch. He leaned out far and half dangled toward
the water, one arm stretching in her direction.

For one moment of absolute disbelief, she stared at
her unexpected rescuer. The shock almost cost her the chance to escape the
river alive, but the desperation in the stranger’s dark eyes prompted her to
lunge for his outstretched arm as her driftwood raft swept underneath his
perch.

His skin was hot compared to the chill of the river
and she held tight to his hand. With a grunt and a great show of strength, he
dragged her from the water’s swift current and up onto the branch with him.

Only after she was hugging the branch in a death grip
did she look up and recognize her rescuer.

“You.” The naked sailor who had invaded her bedroom
two nights ago stared back at her. “You. How…” And then emotions of fear and
relief rose up within her and the giddy tears of a survivor slid down her face,
hot against her cold skin. “I should be dead. I’m not. Thank you.”

Her savior didn’t speak. He merely smiled as he
continued to pant. Then he lay flat along the branch and rested his forehead
against the bark. He looked as exhausted as her, like he’d run up hill for a
few leagues in a gale force storm. Now he looked too exhausted to be much of a
threat. Perhaps that was why she didn’t fear him. Either that or she was too
tired to summon up survival instincts.

Sleeping looked like a good idea. Her body ached with
cold and fatigue. However, their present location wasn’t particularly
comfortable or safe. “Come on, we should get to solid ground.” Hesitantly she
touched his bare shoulder and realized he was just as naked as he’d been the
first time she’d seem him. Doubts crept in even through the thick fog of
exhaustion. There was something very strange going on. Her subconscious pricked
at her. She was missing something. Well fine, she’d question him later.

“Let’s go before the tree gets sick of holding us up
and dumps us back into the river. I doubt we’d be so lucky as to have someone
farther down river rescue us.”

He responded with a deep huffing sound, half chuckle
half snort. It was strangely familiar. The memory proved elusive, dancing out
of range every time she’d almost grasped it. Later…later she’d piece together
this mystery, once they were warm and safe.

Sorsha started to make her way toward the trunk of the
tree. The going was slow, numerous branches got in her way. They plucked at her
garments and snagged her still dripping hair as she navigated the old tree.

Naked, the stranger couldn’t have had a good time
making his way onto the overhanging limb. Night’s darkness made it hard to see
if he was hurt, but there was enough light from the moons to make out darker
patches on his pale hind.

“Can you move?” She gentled her tone. He had saved her
life and she was beginning to think he might be mind-touched. Once, as a child,
she’d seen a gentle giant who had been mind damaged at birth. If this stranger
was similarly inflicted, it would explain why he couldn’t talk. It didn’t
excuse him sneaking into her bedroom in the middle of the night, but she would
try to refrain from going after him with a knife or her bow. Maybe... If he
behaved himself.

She held out her hand in an offer of friendship. When
he finally raised his head, he tossed his dark hair over his shoulder. There
was something familiar in that toss, the way he arched his head to the side,
the elegant curve of muscle in a well-toned body. Superior. Arrogant. Prideful.
Virile.

Sharp indulgence glimmered in his dark eyes. No, this
one wasn’t mind touched. He was something else altogether.

It was impossible.

It couldn’t be.

And yet he was here and Shadowdancer wasn’t. He had
saved her. Shadowdancer had been trying to save her. The stallion had vanished
and this male was suddenly in her path. A human wouldn’t have even known she
was in the river, wouldn’t have seen her until mere moments before the swift
current floated her by. There wouldn’t have been time for him to get into
position. All the little details pointed to the same impossible outcome.

“Shadowdancer?”

He sighed out his exhaustion again, but nodded his
head.

“By the Light, how?”

He sat up and touched his lips then shook his head.

“You can’t speak.”

Another headshake.

“Are you hurt?”

Accompanied by a third shake of his head, he gave her
a weak smile, and then sighing deeply, he started to crawl toward her.

“Well, you don’t need to talk to climb. Let’s get off
this tree.” She’d been shivering with cold and reaction since he’d first pulled
her out of the water, now she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. The night
wasn’t getting any warmer. If they wanted to live, they needed to find shelter
and start a fire. She told him her plan as she navigated the tree. “This part
of the river is familiar, and I think I know where we are. There’s a hidden
stash of supplies in a cave nearby. We can start a fire and get warm at the
very least.”

Her fingers touched the rock embankment, and she
sighed in relief. With solid ground under her feet, she felt like she might
actually live through this night. Shadowdancer stepped up behind her, close
enough she could feel the heat from his body. He tapped her left shoulder and
pointed up at what must have been the path he’d taken to get down to the tree.

The path wasn’t exactly an elegant stairway, but it
was climbable. She struggled up the incline and knelt at the top of the
escarpment to wait for Shadowdancer to make the climb. He took the hand she
offered, and he heaved himself up and over the ledge to rest next to her for a
moment. His shoulders shook as he shivered.

If she had some dry clothes, or even her cloak, she
would have given them to him, but she had nothing to offer except thoroughly
wet leathers. She eyed his broad-shouldered frame with the realization he
wouldn’t fit into anything of hers anyways.

“Come here.” She took his arm and placed it over her
shoulders and helped him to his feet. Her free arm naturally found its way
around his waist. If it had been anyone other than Shadowdancer, it would have
been awkward, but he was her friend. “The cave isn’t far. I have an old chest
there with a few emergency supplies and nice warm blankets.”

His eyebrow arched up in silent question.

“You didn’t think Lamarra and I were just going to sit
back and meekly accept never seeing Ashayna again, did you? Had she and Crown
Prince Sorntar not come for an unexpected visit, we would have gone ahead with
our plan to go looking for Ash ourselves. No one steals a member of the
Stonemantle family and gets away with it.”

Shadowdancer snorted with humor.

“Yes, looking back, our plan wasn’t very…detailed.”

Sorsha continued to ramble, talking of meaningless
things to occupy her mind and distract Shadowdancer from his exhaustion as they
climbed the sloping escarpment. As she promised, her secret lair wasn’t far,
but it still took them half a candlemark to make the journey.

By the time the cave entrance came into view, her body
was numb with cold. She could only imagine how much worse off the Santhyrian
must be. She paused briefly before the cave’s dark maw, wondering if something
else big and predatory had decided to make her lair its home. She hoped not,
and was honestly too tired to care.

The cave proved both empty and blessedly dry. She made
straight for the back of the small cave where a chest sat half hidden behind a
ridge of rock. After tossing the lid back, she rooted around inside until she
found two blankets. She handed the blankets to Shadowdancer and he immediately
wrapped himself in one.

After quickly loosening the ties with shaking fingers,
Sorsha pulled her wet leather outer vest over her head. The sodden material
landed with a damp thump. She peeled the clammy leather of her breeches down
her legs and kicked the mess into a corner. The damp cotton of her underclothes
would dry fast enough, but her stout shirt stuck to her like a cold wet lump.
The shirt joined her leathers on the floor. She’d arrange them closer to the
fire pit to dry once they got a camp fire burning. Naked from the waist up, she
hugged herself to preserve what heat she still had. Which, by the chattering of
her teeth, wasn’t much.

A soft blanket landed on her shoulders and
Shadowdancer folded the heavy fabric around in front, under her chin. He didn’t
let go, instead standing with his chest pressed against her blanket-covered
back, his arms encircling her, his chin resting on her head.

“Thank you,” she stammered. “I don’t think...ever been
so cold...my entire life.” It was tempting to simply stand there; the effort to
move almost too much, but they needed a fire. Her teeth continued to chatter,
making speech difficult. “Fire…we must build a fire while we still have
strength.” With a shaking hand, she pointed to a stack of relatively dry wood
tucked away in one corner. “Bring some of the smaller pieces closer. I’ll get
the flint and kindling from the chest.”

The crackle of the fire lulled her almost as much as
the warmth of the flames and the solid heat of the big male at her back. She
moved just enough to lean forward and then leisurely stirred the fire before
she rested her head back against Shadowdancer’s chest.

Even after the fire had been burning fiercely, its
great glowing embers flaring up toward the cave ceiling, Shadowdancer had
continued to shiver uncontrollably, so she had gathered together ingredients
from the chest to make a tea. There wasn’t much in way of food, just a couple
of withered apples, which they ate with appreciation. If not very nourishing,
at least the tea helped to warm them. In the end, she’d given him her blanket
to wrap around his waist, then she’d settled in his lap and he’d wrapped his
blanket around them both. The combined heat of their bodies and the fire
finally managed to warm the Santhyrian. Sitting mostly naked on Shadowdancer’s
lap wasn’t how she’d thought she’d end the night. Modesty was long since a moot
point. Or so she told herself to shake off the nagging blush, which tried to
crawl up her cheeks every so often.

“I’m not sure if I ever thanked you properly for
saving me, first from Trensler, and then later the river,” she said, her voice
barely above a whisper as she stared into the fire. The flickering flames held
her mesmerized.

Shadowdancer tightened his arms around her waist. He
still couldn’t talk, but the way his fingers skimmed along her hip bone,
stroking the skin in a lazy caress, required no accompanying words to
communicate his mood.

He’d been an absolute gentleman, his hands never straying
from her waist, until now.

She slapped her hand over his to stop its idle play.
“Nice try. That’s not what I meant by ‘thanking you properly’ just to be
clear.”

Another of his great rumbling chuckles escaped him,
telling her he wasn’t upset to be put in his place. It probably helped his male
pride to have her relax against him while her hand played along his arm, her
fingertips catching in the dusting of crisp black hairs.

“I’m sorry about the arrows. I thought you were a
drunken sailor.” She continued to touch his arm, marveling her friend was now
human. “It never occurred to me you might be able to change your shape. Why
didn’t you say anything, warn me in some way? I would have understood the need
for secrecy.”

He shrugged. She could feel the shift of muscles, his
dissatisfaction transmitted by a line of tension running down his arms.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair to question you until you
can talk. It must be frustrating.”

He released a sigh and began to relax again. Moments
later, his hands moved slightly higher, midway between her waist and the lower
swell of her breasts. She almost laughed at his less than subtle signals.

“I said I would have understood and accepted you as a shape
shifter. Not that I would forgive you for doing God-knows-what in my bed that
night.” She turned to him with a smile to take the sting out of her words.

A wicked grin curved his lips and humor sparked in his
eyes. He bowed his head and rubbed his face against hers in a very
Shadowdancer-like fashion. She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He had such an
easy way about him; it put her at ease, strange as the circumstances were.

“Were you hurt trying to change shape? Is that why you
can’t use your magic? Or was it whatever Trensler did to us?”

He nodded his head and then shrugged.

“You’re not sure?”

He nodded.

“Do you think you’ll be able to resume your true
form?”

He nodded with more assurance.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt beyond a few cuts and
bruises. I think I have some calendula ointment in my supplies. Let me up and
I’ll go get some.”

She tugged at his arms, but he seemed disinclined to
release her.

“Shadowdancer. I should look at your wounds. Infection
is a dangerous matter.”

He sighed with the sound of long suffering, his brows
furrowing in displeasure.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Cleaning your wounds
won’t even hurt…much.” Besides, with her back to him, she hadn’t been able to
study him as much as she’d like, and she was curious.

His arms loosened with a great deal of reluctance.
Before he changed his mind, she scuttled out of his lap and bolted for her
shirt where she’d spread it out next to the fire to dry. Once dressed in her
still slightly damp shirt, she wasn’t much warmer than she’d been completely
naked. Moving quickly helped her stay marginally warmer. The air grew colder
against her legs the farther she moved from Shadowdancer and the fire. Tossing
the few remaining items around the bottom of the chest, she dug until she found
a jar of ointment. The wax seal was intact and, when she pulled out the cork,
the paste looked and smelled as it should.

As she returned to Shadowdancer’s side, she watched
him through her lashes. His human hide was nothing like the color his
Santhyrian body had been. By the warm light of the fire, his skin reflected a
deep rich gold. But in daylight, she’d bet he was more of a sun-kissed tan.
Deep brown eyes and a long black mane were the only reminders of his Santhyrian
blood.

He caught her staring and she hastily turned and
busied her hands by dampening a rag in the small pot of water heating by the
fire. It had been intended for more tea, but his injuries took precedence. With
her back to him, she bent closer to the fire, and hoped if he did notice the
pink tone coloring her face, he’d assume it was from the fire.

A blanket rustled behind her, and the soft scuff of a
bare foot on stone alerted her Shadowdancer had moved. Once again, a blanket
settled around her shoulders, only this time it carried his scent. She dragged
in a great lungful of air, and felt her usually dormant magic stir. Beyond a
few failed attempts to create the light balls Shadowdancer called mage globes,
and her somewhat modest gift of mind speech, she’d never called on her magic
for much. And it normally didn’t stir unless she called on it, but now it was
gathering, rising up from her core to spill like heat across her fire-warmed
skin.

Shadowdancer leaned against her back, his cheek
resting on her one shoulder. His arms circled her waist and held her close. He
continued to hold her, not moving or doing anything that she could see or feel.
Yet her magic sensed something, and it responded, flowing into him.

While she might not know what her Larnkin was doing,
Shadowdancer’s contented sigh alleviated her fears. Whatever her Larnkin was
doing, it seemed normal enough. Distantly, she remembered a few times when
she’d raced across moonlit fields with Shadowdancer, she’d experienced the same
strange pull, like her magic was reinforcing his, giving him strength. Only now
it felt like her Larnkin was giving of herself to heal him.

They stood for a long time, just hugging each other,
until Shadowdancer nuzzled her neck and the unexpected heated caress broke the
spell. With a sigh, he pulled away and resumed his place next to the fire. He
arranged the blanket under him, with one corner tossed up over his groin to
cover himself. She had a sneaking suspicion he only bothered for the sake of
human modesty. He seemed rather comfortable in nothing but his own skin. Once
the blanket was arranged to his satisfaction, he watched her with an expectant
look.

She folded her legs under her and sat across from him.
A lopsided grin gave him an impish look, and she wasn’t surprised when he
presented her with one foot.

She scrutinized the damage with a little sigh. The
underside of his foot had numerous abrasions and farther up a nasty line of
scratches marched along the length of his calf. One hip was marred by a large
patch of raw looking skin.

“What did you do? Slide down the bluff instead of
climb down?” She hissed in sympathy as she applied the damp rag to the minor
wounds. She dabbed gently, but he still grunted once in pain. “And here I
thought you were so stoic and robust. Guess I was wrong.” But she was careful
to smooth the damp rag along his hip gently, softening the worst of the dried
blood before wiping it away. She dipped her fingers into the pot of paste and
slathered a liberal amount on the area.

After a while he stopped hissing at each of her
touches and rested with his back braced against the cave wall. She worked in
silence, completely engrossed in her task until his breathing deepened.
Thinking he was asleep, she looked up and was startled to find his dark eyes
filled with desire.

Not about to be cowed by a simple look, she started on
his other foot. When she washed the worst of the dirt away, she realized this
one had sustained greater damage. Cuts and bruising mottled the bottom of his
foot in a raw, ugly pattern. The deepest abrasions seeped rivulets of blood.
She let his foot bleed freely for a few moments to help clean dirt and foreign
debris out of the wounds.

When she deemed the cuts clean, she pressed a rag
against the deepest ones to help clot the blood. She was applying a layer of
ointment when power surged within her and she gasped in surprise. Apparently,
her Larnkin wasn’t satisfied with her work. Without thought or control, her
fingers brushed along the bottom of his foot, her thumb skimming along the
arch. Where she touched, the skin was as it had been before, undamaged by
stones or rough terrain.

She leaned forward and caressed the healed skin of his
foot, marveling at her Larnkin’s accomplishment. Shadowdancer hissed, but it
didn’t sound like pain. He pressed his heel into her lap. Needing to see what
else her Larnkin planned, she traced her fingers over the curve of his foot,
then up the inside of his ankle, along his calf until she reached his knee.

Pausing at the hollow of his knee, she stroked the
undamaged skin. It was entirely unneeded, there was no damage to heal, but she
couldn’t resist. And by the way Shadowdancer rested his head against the cave
wall with his eyes closed, he enjoyed the subtle touch. After a moment, the
power within her guided her hands up his leg to come to rest on his outer
thigh, where the large wound she’d cleaned earlier still patterned his flank
like a bloody tattoo.

Her new healing power made short work of that, too.

He spread his legs apart and she knelt between them,
resting on her knees. She maintained her contact with the fading wound on his
hip while she transferred her free hand up to the deep abrasion on his chest.
The long scratch started at his right shoulder and drifted down to terminate
just above his navel. Her ointment covered fingers followed the trail, but it
was the power of her Larnkin as it flooded out of her into him, which knitted
the edges of the wound together until only a pale white line showed against his
tanned skin. The worst of the wounds dealt with, her Larnkin seemed content to
return to sleep and Sorsha found herself alone in her body.

Shadowdancer’s hand emerged from his blanket and
powerful fingers locked around hers. Without the bold assurance of the
sentience, Sorsha found she was suddenly uncertain. She refused to look at
Shadowdancer and tugged at her hand.

“I…I should finish applying the ointment. We’re almost
done. Then you need to rest.” Finally she chanced a glance up.

He stared at her, his eyes hooded, his nostrils flared
to catch her scent. A sardonic smile graced his lips. For a moment, she thought
he was going to rebel. If the heated look in his eyes was any indication of his
mood, he was very close to dragging her into his arms. Oh, yes. He’d liked her Larnkin’s
little healing session. The problem was; so did she.

His eyes bored into hers, his look one of pure
challenge. Then he surprised her, loosening his grip enough to free their
entwined fingers so he could lift her hand to his lips. He placed a warm kiss
on the back and then each finger and lastly the center of her palm. She was too
stunned to stop him when he returned her hand back to his chest, flattening her
fingers against his skin. Heat from his body warmed her hand and spread up her
arm. After wasting a few moments uselessly trying to tug her hand free, she
shot him a glare.

Shadowdancer held her hand in place with little
effort, his blatant invitation to explore impossible to miss.

Well, fine. If he wanted to challenge her, she loved a
good challenge. Still kneeling, she shifted, her knee sliding forward, coming
to rest snug between his legs. She edged her weight forward a breath more until
she had his balls crushed against her knee. He grunted, but with the wall at
his back, there was nowhere for him to go to escape the pressure of her knee.

She leaned forward, drawing closer. His scent coiled
against her tongue and the back of her throat, a tantalizing blend of man, his Larnkin’s
power, and summer’s heat. His breath quickened, coming faster as she drew
nearer. She paused above his lips, pretending to think about kissing him. She
shifted to the side at the last moment and rubbed her cheek against his. Her
lips caressed his ear and then she exhaled against his neck.

He made the strangest sound, part moan part nicker.

“Shadowdancer. Let me go. Now.”

He ignored her tugging.

Sighing, she pressed her knee harder between his legs.
“If you don’t let me go, you’re not going to like how my knee is planning to
get familiar with your balls. Last time I kneed a man who didn’t understand the
word no, he peed blood for half a moon, or so I was told.”