Pathfinder's Way (59 page)

Shea watched as they began piling large
stones on the form. Two men worked in tandem to complete their
work.

“It is a brutal and long way to go,” Darius
said almost as an afterthought. “I think I’d prefer to meet my end
by the sword instead.”

“I second that,” Caden said.

Shea’s gaze went to the back of Fallon’s
head. She could tell nothing about his emotional state from here.
Was he glad to be rid of the traitor? Did he mourn for his brother?
Did he feel nothing?

She touched his back lightly. There was a
barely perceptible flinch. Invisible to any of the onlookers.

Grief then.

It couldn’t be easy to know your own flesh
and blood had taken part in repeated attempts on your life. Having
to watch as someone you grew up with be slowly crushed and
suffocated must be agonizing.

Shea slowly slid her arms around his waist,
ready to withdraw if he indicated she wasn’t welcome. When he
didn’t move to reject her, she hugged him and slid forward pressing
her front to his back and then laid her cheek against his shoulder,
offering comfort in the only way she could in this moment.

So gently, she could almost believe she
imagined it, he touched the top of her hand in a brief caress
before lacing his fingers with hers.

Together they waited as the body struggled
less and less until it finally went still. The men continued to
stack the rocks until long after all movement had stopped.

“That should be enough,” Fallon said.

The men nodded and began to reverse the
process, removing the stones one at a time. Finally, after what
seemed like an eternity, they uncovered the rug and cut the rope
off before unwrapping it. The body rolled out, its limbs flopping
as if boneless.

Shea knew even before they checked the pulse
Cale had drawn his last breath.

“He’s dead, my lord.”

Fallon nodded. “Bury him in the rug. He is no
longer Trateri and will not be released from this world in our
way.”

The same two men gave him respectful nods and
reached for the shovels lying next to the rugs.

One by one the onlookers drifted back down
the hill, leaving only Fallon, his two friends and Shea behind to
watch.

“Caden can give you a ride back to our tent,”
Fallon told her.

Her arms tightened, and she didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll remain.” The ‘with you’ was added silently.

Together they waited as the men completed
their task, one shovel full of dirt at a time. Finally, the body
was buried and Caden, Darius and the other two departed.

Fallon dismounted and approached the grave.
He knelt and bent his head, touching the freshly turned dirt before
him.

His goodbyes, if he said any, were silent.
After a long moment he stood, grief etched in the way he held his
body. Shea knew that had it been any but her there in that moment
he would have kept even that hidden.

The sorrow made him seem more like a man,
with a man’s emotions, instead of the lofty warlord that all held
in high esteem.

Shea’s heart hurt for him even as she
rejoiced that the danger Cale presented to the Highlands was ended.
There were still the maps to consider, but the immediate threat had
been eliminated. All that held her tied to the Trateri now were her
own attachments.

Fallon mounted and they rode back to camp in
silence. Once they reached Fallon’s tent, he helped her dismount
before saying, “There should be a bath ready for you inside. I have
a few things to take care of before I join you for the night.”

He was gone before Shea could respond. She
was left addressing thin air as he walked away.

She shut her mouth with a click and glanced
at the two men standing guard on either side of the entrance.

Back to reality.

Shea sighed and headed inside. The inevitable
confrontation she knew was coming would be easier once she was
clean and fed.

The warm water beckoned. Shea stripped.

She caught her breath as her arm twinged when
she tried to raise it above her head, the skin pulling
uncomfortably. It was painful getting her shirt off and the same
with her pants.

Only when she was standing naked in front of
the tub full of warm water, steam wafting off it, did she realize
there was a problem. There was no way she could submerge her arm
and leg. Not with the depth of the cuts. The one on her arm would
probably be fine. It was shallow enough that it would sting like
acid was being poured into it, but the wound on her leg was deep
and would probably need stitches.

She settled for stepping inside and scooping
the water up to let it slide down her skin. Grabbing a sponge lying
next to the tub on a stool, she soaped it up and then lathered it
on, wiping away the dirt and blood before rinsing it off.

Once clean, she grabbed one of the fluffy
white towels that had been left on another stool and dried off
before dressing again.

Fallon walked in just as she was sitting down
to eat the food that had been laid out for them. She paused in the
act of filling her plate.

He came directly to her, advancing into her
space and leaning down. He cupped her head in one hand, threading
his fingers in her hair, bending her face back and taking her lips
in a kiss that set flame to her senses.

He poured all of the stress, heartache and
fury of the past day into that kiss until it fairly singed her
lips.

Her hands dropped what they were holding and
came up to grab his shirt and pull him down hard, meeting his
intensity with her own.

The kiss built and built until the firestorm
of passion boiled over and they were clutching at each other. He
picked her up and set her on the table, stepping forward and
parting her legs with his hips. Almost feverishly he grasped her
shirt and eased it over her head, being careful of her wound. She
let him, before doing the same to his.

Her pants followed and suddenly his lips were
trailing down her neck to pause and nip at the skin on her breasts.
They continued their journey, pausing to explore the dip of her
stomach until finding their destination at her center.

She cried out and arched as he settled down
to play, licking and nipping with a single minded purpose.

“Fallon, please,” she begged.

He ignored her, sucking hard. Just as her
body clenched preparing for the avalanche of a climax, he stood,
taking away the sensation and leaving her panting with need.

“Damn it,” she swore.

He chuckled and pulled her up, sealing her
lips with his. She could taste herself on him before he cupped her
bottom and guided his cock to her entrance.

Slowly, unbearably slowly, he sank in. Shea
dug her nails into his back and tried to urge him faster.

He grabbed her arms, being careful of her
wound. “I set the pace. Not you.”

“You’re going to kill me,” she told him.

The change in pace from fast and urgent to
slow and unhurried was driving her mad.

“What a sweet death it would be,” he
teased.

She gave a small scream and struggled to
move, trying to fuck herself on him. He pinned her, tilting her
back and making it impossible to move without risking falling.

She stilled and looked up at him. He looked
back, tenderly, fiercely, with just a hint of wicked playfulness
behind it all.

He was enjoying this. He was enjoying sending
her into a frothing fury of need. The bastard.

Only when he was sure she knew just who was
master in this moment, did he begin to move. At first slow thrusts
that had her gasping for air. After only a couple, he adjusted his
angle until he began bumping a spot inside her that sent every
muscle in her body clenching with need.

Her orgasm built quickly as he repeated the
thrust, sending her higher and higher. The walls of her clamping
down tight until finally, finally he shoved her off the cliff into
a mind melding, dizzying climax.

She moaned as her body clenched around his
and sparks of pleasure raced up and down her nerve endings. With a
low groan he followed her.

When it was over and they were both panting,
he released her hands and lowered her fully onto the table, coming
down to kneel in front of her and resting his head on her stomach.
Shea touched his hair, running her fingers through it as they
caught their breath.

She stared up at the canvas, her mind lost in
itself, thinking of nothing in particular.

“When Cale made his accusation against you,
before my man gave me the maps, you thought I believed him,” Fallon
finally broke the silence.

It was unexpected after what they just
shared. Enough so that Shea stiffened and would have sat up if his
arms hadn’t suddenly tightened around her waist.

She forced herself to relax.

“I thought it was a possibility,” she
admitted. “He was your brother. It would have been natural to
believe him over a woman you haven’t known for very long.”

He lifted his head, peering at her
disbelievingly. “You will have to get over this habit of believing
the worst of me and all those around you. It is insulting and
unbecoming.”

“What?” she sputtered. “It’s happened before.
People naturally side with their own.”

“You are one of us now. Constantly assuming
we’re going to betray you belittles us and doesn’t say very good
things about you either.”

Shea lapsed into angry silence. She tried to
ignore the soothing patterns he was drawing on her skin. He was not
going to take the sting out his words so easily.

“What will you do with the maps Cale
deciphered?” she asked.

“That’s it. You’re not going to discuss this
anymore?”

She shrugged. “What is there to discuss? We
are not going to agree on this subject. Might as well discuss
something that has merit.”

He blew sharply on her belly, sending
pleasure skittering up her front. She wasn’t happy with the way her
body seemed to roll over for him so easily.

“Shea, I have already told you that you are
my Tolroi. That is something I have never offered to any other.
I’ve never even considered it. I would not choose another over
you.”

Shea fought the softening in her heart.

He bit her lightly. “Ack, woman, you are
stubborn. More so than any I have ever met. Why can’t you see the
effect you have on those around you? Your men love you. Even Darius
and Caden, my own advisors, respect you. Only you persist in
keeping everyone at a distance.”

Her eyes met his.

He stood and leaned over her, brushing her
hair back from her face. “Perhaps this is one of those lessons that
can only be learned with time.” He dropped a light kiss on her
lips. “I will enjoy teaching it to you until it is one that has
been engraved in your heart.”

Shea touched his face gently and ran her
thumb along his cheekbone. She wanted to believe him, but didn’t
know if she could. A few months wasn’t enough time to undo a
lifetime of being on guard.

“Perhaps we can start the first lesson with
your maps.” Naked as the day he was born and not modest about it
either, he picked up his pants and withdrew the re-creations Cale
had made and the originals Shea had left behind. “My men found the
originals in one of the apprentice cartographer’s belongings. These
should be all of them.”

Shea sat up. Now that he had them, what would
he do?

What would she do? She didn’t know if she
could stand by if he invaded her homeland, intent on the weapons
her people hid. She didn’t know if she could stop him if he
did.

This emotion she felt for him. This fragile
stirring of love could be crushed if handled wrong.

To her complete shock, he held out both sets
to her.

She took them slowly, not quite believing
it.

“Do with them what you will,” he told her.
“Keep them or burn them. I don’t care. I can’t promise I will never
turn my attention to the Highlands, especially if they present a
threat to what I am building here. But for now, I need to address
the problems in my ranks and focus on strengthening the Lowlands.”
He shot her a wicked grin, appearing in that moment carefree and
ten years younger. “Besides I have a Tolroi to keep satisfied, and
I think such an endeavor will take many, many nights and my entire
focus to accomplish.”

She stood and walked to the brazier, holding
the pieces in the flame until they caught fire. When they had been
reduced to ash, she shot him a coy look. “I wouldn’t be surprised
if you’re right about that.”

Discover More by T.A. White

Dragon-Ridden

Thank You for Reading!

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Writing is my first love. Even before I could
read or put coherent sentences down on paper, I would beg the older
kids to team up with me for the purpose of crafting ghost stories
to share with our friends. This first writing partnership came to a
tragic end when my coauthor decided to quit a day later, and I
threw my cookies at her head. Today, I stick with solo writing,
telling the stories that would otherwise keep me up at night.

Most days (and nights) are spent feeding my
tea addiction while defending the computer keyboard from my feline
companion, Loki, who would like to try her paw at typing.

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Excerpt for Dragon-Ridden

A woman with no memory. A
tattoo with a mind of its own.