Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series (18 page)

“Dude, you didn’t,” Oakley said as his eyes widened.

Cush nodded. “I did. I also told her if she was going to lie then she better make it convincing.”

“You’re totally my hero. Did she lie to you?”

“Surprisingly, no. But she didn’t answer the question until I’d asked her several times and admitted my love for her. Only then did she tell me how she felt.” He ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair brushing it away from his face. “I thought I was going to lose her. She was ready to walk away because she thought it was what was best for me.”

Oakley sighed. “She can be quite obstinate when she wants to be.”

“Yes, she definitely can,” Cush agreed as a smile tugged at his lips. His little raven was fierce and she was willing to hurt in order to take care of those she loved. That was only one of the many reasons that he loved her.

“Are you going to make an honest woman out of her?” his Chosen’s brother asked.

Cush looked over at him and with a wolfish smile said, “I pretty much told her that when all this was settled, she was going to marry me.”

“If I wasn’t too tired to move I would totally give you a fist bump complete with explosion. You are going to be good for her.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, but then whispered more for himself, “but she is going to be even better for me.” Cush leaned his head back against the hard tree and closed his eyes. All their talk about his mate had the pain in him only growing stronger. The sweat on his forehead dripped down into his eyes causing him to squeeze them tighter. He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until a voice he didn’t recognize filled his mind.

“You have much to do, warrior, but for now I will let you rest. You have been lost in my land because I have a purpose for you here. You must be ready. If you want her back, you must be strong. She will not know you at first. The spell my priestess cast is a powerful one but the bond between you two is also powerful. Her soul is searching for you, let yours seek her while your mind is not burdened with turmoil.”

“Who are you?”
Cush asked, his unconscious mind still alert though the man slept.

“I am the ancient one who answers those who call. They are seeking their own desires and for a price I grant them. Those who come to me are ready to give up much, but they don’t fully understand the cost until the deal is done. Many believe that Voodoo is just an old religion that there is no truth to it anymore, but then there are some who are still loyal and they keep me strong.”

“You know where my Chosen is?”

“You know she is close, warrior. Her soul is calling out to you. All you need to do is listen.”
The voice faded and though Cush remained asleep he was aware that he was once again alone in his own mind.

The Voodoo queen had said that Elora’s soul was reaching out to him and he needed to listen. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but he would try just about anything in order to hear from her. He relaxed even further and allowed his own soul to rise up in him as it did any time he was touching her. It was like two consciousness in one body, though one lived only for its other half.

Cush could hear his soul calling out her name, searching for the magic tie that bound them together.
Elora!
He waited and when there was nothing, he called out again.
Elora, answer me.

The desperation he heard in his soul matched the same desperation that he felt deep in his gut. It felt as though it had been an eternity since he’d seen her, heard her voice, or touched her skin. He needed to know she was alright, unharmed, and whole. The words of the Voodoo queen hit him like a ton of bricks,
she will not know you at first.
Did that mean she wasn’t whole? If her mind was not intact, if she wouldn’t remember him, what had been done to her? The queen had also spoken of a spell; she’d said it was powerful. Who had bargained with the Voodoo queen to cast a spell on his Chosen? Who would be that foolish?

They will die.
His soul told him in a completely different voice than the one that had called out to his Chosen.

Yes, Cush agreed. They will most definitely die, but they might suffer first. Whoever it was obviously did not care much for their own existence or welfare. The anger he had first felt at the idea of Elora leaving him in Las Vegas was but a small flame compared to the raging fire that was now burning out of control inside of him. He wanted to wake so he could start looking for her but his soul stopped him.
Listen
, he told him. They both stilled and after several minutes they heard it.

“Cush.”
It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Tarron paused after a few miles of alternating between walking, running, and jogging, but mostly slogging, through the thick swamp. It had been almost an hour since he’d left Trik and the others behind. Like all elves, Tarron was blessed with a super-human physique. And while he may not be an Adonis among his own people, he could run faster, farther, and longer than even the fittest human. But the boggy terrain, stifling humidity, and continuous hidden obstacles of the swamp had a way of sucking the energy out of even a supernatural creature such as himself. Try as he might, he wasn’t going to be able to carry Elora through this marshy terrain forever. He was heading out of the swamp, but to where he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t without options. Over the years Tarron had set up many safe houses throughout both the U.S. and in Europe―places where he could be alone, where he could think, and concentrate on his experiments. Sometimes he needed to be away from the prying eyes and ears and ceaseless questions of Lorsan and the other elves. But to get to any of these, he needed to find a reflective surface. All of the water in the swamp was so murky that when he looked at it only muddy water stared back at him. He knew that there was a mirror back at Chamani’s shack, but he couldn’t risk going back there. That was where Cassie’s mother and father were. Trik might even be extorting the location of his Chosen’s parents from Chamani.

Tarron paused and dropped the unconscious Elora, propping her back up against a fallen tree. He took in a few deep breaths, thinking hard about his next move. The sight of Trik had unnerved him, and he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time—run. Tarron was no fool; he knew that his own power was no match for Trik’s. No, Tarron was much more dangerous when he was on familiar turf, when he’d had a chance to even the playing field beforehand. Here, he’d been completely caught off guard.

Suddenly, an extremely disturbing thought occurred to the dark elf. Why had Cassie and Trik been waiting for him with Chamani? Surely, they hadn’t just bumped into each other in the middle of the swamp. No, they’d been waiting for him specifically, to deliberately catch him by surprise. The old woman knew that he’d be trying to get back to her shack with his new found Chosen. She had planned that meeting from the beginning. He’d been betrayed.

That treacherous Voodoo witch!
Tarron spat on the ground, cursing the old woman. Why had she done this? Try as he might, he could not think of a reason. Well it wouldn’t do to dwell on it now. He needed to focus on a way to get out of this swamp. Then he needed to get
The Book of the Elves
back from Lorsan. After that he could figure out a way to repay the old woman’s treachery.

Just then he heard Elora moaning from her spot on the ground.

“Shh, easy, little one,” he cooed as he kneeled down beside her. We will be safely away from these traitors soon enough. “We mustn’t let them catch us.”

Tarron knew that his bluff back at the clearing would only buy him so much time. As soon as Chamani told Trik where the Tates were stashed, Trik would be after him. After all, he had Cassie’s best friend. He doubted Trik would let such an act go unpunished. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze.

But all was not lost, he thought, as he stared at his Chosen, lying on the ground, the one throughout all of history designed specifically for him. Finally, after all these long year, she was his again. He could still picture her vividly in his mind, his Lucy, the perfect mate, so loving, so kind. Surely, this new Lucy would be just as gracious.

“We must go, beloved,” he whispered as he scooped her up again. She wasn’t really such a burden. Her small form was quite light to one such as him. A renewed vigor shot through him at her touch. “I shall carry you as far as I need so that we can be together,” he told her and began running again.”

After a second hour of moving through the swamp, Tarron’s newly found strength had more than faded. He was exhausted and he didn’t know why. Unnaturally, his limbs felt like they were made of lead. The muddy trail seemed to have grown hands that rose up to grab his ankles with each and every step. Somehow, even though the sun was well and truly down now, the swamped felt hotter and muggier than it had earlier. The branches of the trees reached out and grabbed him as he ran past. The moss from the branches clung to his hands, face, and body. It was almost as if the swamp itself was purposefully trying to impede his progress. And worst of all, very very worst of all, was that he was completely and utterly lost.

It wasn’t that he was stumbling blindly in the dark. Dark elves could see perfectly fine at night. No, it seemed that every path he took led him further and further into the swamp, rather than out of it. All he needed to do was find a road, any road, and he could flag down a passing motorist. One glance in their rearview mirror and he and his chosen would be far, far away, leaving them bewildered and thinking they had had a chance encounter with a ghost. But no matter which way he turned, it seemed he was carrying his beloved in circles.

To make matters worse, Elora was no longer held in her peaceful slumber. Though she hadn’t regained consciousness, she was babbling in her sleep more and more, sometimes even crying out in pain. Tarron tried to recast the sleep spell, but it was having no effect. He couldn’t get through to her. The dark elf was growing more and more frustrated, and his frustration was turning into panic.

The elf stopped again to collect his thoughts. Again he deposited Elora upon the ground, trying to find a comfortable place to prop her head. Tarron, exhausted and worn, sat down, glancing all around him at his surroundings. The nocturnal swamp creatures were out in force now, and they didn’t appreciate intruders in their realm. Already he’d killed about a dozen snakes and a mile or so back he’d spotted an alligator gazing at them from the weeds. He’d kept moving and, thankfully, the hungry reptile did not give chase.

Why is this happening?
thought Tarron. Why can’t I escape this infernal swamp? And then he knew. In a moment of complete clarity, he knew. Like a light bulb coming on, a name popped into his head—Chamani. It was her. It has always been her. That Voodoo bitch was using the swamp against him. She was using her power to keep him trapped here forever. Again he asked why she had betrayed him and again he had no answer.

The elf’s resolve started to break. Panic was beginning to set in. He had no way out, no way to be free with his Chosen. They would both die out here in this forsaken swamp.

“Oh, Lucy, er I mean Elora,” the elf practically whimpered. He sat down on the ground next to her, cradling her head in his arms. “You were so beautiful, my love. You were everything and I gave you up. And for what? Power, immortality.” He sucked in a deep breath. All of a sudden Tarron’s face grew dark and his voice lowered, becoming almost gravelly. “But I’ve got you back now. As I knew I always would. You were wrong, my love. You were wrong. Power
is
everything! You humans just can’t understand this,” he hissed.

“But my sweet love, what have you done to yourself?” Now his voice had become soft, almost serene. “Your beautiful golden locks, why have you dyed them, my love? My Lucy, you know that I love your lovely blonde hair.” Softly, gently, he stroked her long black hair and then pressed his lips to hers.

Just then her eyes popped open. “Tarron?” she questioned, her voice breathless and desperate.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he cooed to her.

Elora shivered in his arms and he thought it a good sign that she wasn’t pulling away from him. Why would she pull away from him? he argued with himself. She’s my Chosen. Of course, she would want me to hold her.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“There’s been a slight set back in my plans,” he admitted. He noticed her rubbing her chest as her face tightened in a grimace. “Are you alright?” To his surprise he saw a tear drop from her eye and streak down her cheek.