Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series (22 page)

“How do you know what the facts are? You are a mere half elf and the magic in you is weak.”

Oakley chuckled. He didn’t know where his brave act was coming from but he decided to just go with it. “That may be, but I know another fact,” he said and then went silent staring at Tarron. He knew the dark elf would ask, the villains always do.

“What fact?”

And there it is. Oakley smiled to himself. “The fact that you’re about to get your evil ass handed to you, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood light elf warrior.”

Chapter 13

“Humans never cease to amaze me. They are resilient in turmoil, brave when expected to turn tail and run, and humorous at the oddest moments. But then, I supposed there were times that if you couldn’t laugh, the only other option would be to give up. I am not a fan of giving up, especially, where my Chosen is concerned.” ~Cush

F
or the first time in his long life, Cush wanted to do what he’d seen humans do and smack his palm against his forehead. He didn’t understand where Oakley’s sudden brazenness had come from; he just hoped it didn’t get him blown to bits by Tarron’s magic. Cush was moving before the last word left his unlikely comrade’s mouth. He cleared several fallen trees with barely any effort and moved silently across the bog. He was fifteen feet from Elora when Tarron turned and threw his hand out.

Cush rolled to his right, barely missing the bolt of power the dark elf had shot at him. He landed on the balls of his feet, ready to move again if need be. But Tarron didn’t strike again. He simply stared at Cush.

“I believe you have something of great importance to me in your care,” Cush said formally. “I
ask that you return it. On your honor as a warrior, give her back to me.” He didn’t add that it had
been several centuries since Tarron had been a warrior. He wasn’t trying to insult him just yet. First, he would attempt to appeal to his ego and pride. If that didn’t work, then he would use brute force.

“She is mine,” Tarron spat at him.

Cush clenched his jaw as he refrained from arguing. It was pointless to argue with a madman and the longer he stood in Tarron’s presence the more he could sense the taint of black magic permeating him. Whatever it was, it was driving the dark elf mad. That was something that would not bode well for Elora. He needed to get her out of Tarron’s hands―the quicker, the better.

“Maybe that is what you believe, but you know that your Chosen perished long ago. There is no way that Elora could be yours. Hear me, Tarron, if there is any good left in you, don’t keep up this farce. She will never really love you. It is only the spell that keeps her from running from you. Is that really the kind of love you want?”

“Do not speak of love to me!” Tarron turned, fully facing Cush so that Oakley was at his back. He obviously didn’t perceive the half elf as a threat. “You do not understand what love is, what it can do to a man. I’d be doing you a favor by keeping her. All she will do is bring you misery and ultimately destroy everything you once were.”

“Maybe,” Cush agreed. “But I think it should be my choice as to whether or not I want to give her the opportunity to destroy me.”

“You are a fool.”

Cush laughed. “Perhaps, but I am her fool. Give her to me. Please.” He felt bile rise up in his throat at the politeness he forced himself to use.

Both of their heads snapped down when they saw movement. Elora slowly pushed herself up until she was no longer lying down. She attempted to tame the dark mane on her head but gave up after a few seconds. After several minutes of silence, a voice came from behind Tarron.

“Hey sis, how’s the view of the swampland from down there in the sludge?” Oakley asked, his voice light and playful as though two elves weren’t about to attempt to kill each other.

“Oakley?” Elora asked as she looked around the dark elf. The sound of her voice sent warmth pouring into Cush, and some of the pain he’d been experiencing began to lessen.

“The one and only,” her brother responded.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. The last time I saw you we were in Las Vegas getting ready to bust up Lorsan’s operations. So tell me, baby sis, how’d you end up in this glamourous marsh with its plethora of plant life and beasts that want to eat us?”

“I, I don’t know. I think, but then I can’t.” She stumbled over her words. Elora began to stand up and, when she faltered, Cush attempted to move to help her but Tarron shot a warning bolt of magic at him. The red ball of power landed at his feet.

Elora whipped around to see the object of Tarron’s attack. Their eyes met and Cush felt a different sort of bolt shoot through him. He could practically hear her soul calling to him. He needed to get to her to hold her.

Her brow narrowed as she looked at him. “Who are you?”

Knowing that she was under a dark spell didn’t stop the sting of the question. For his own mate to look at him with no recognition in her eyes was a pain he’d never experienced.

“He isn’t anyone of consequence, love.” Tarron’s voice was like a record being scratched as it played, irritating beyond the realm of sanity.

“She didn’t ask you,” Cush said as calmly as he could. He looked back at Elora and his countenance softened immediately. “I am Nedhudir, a warrior of the elfin race.”  He figured too much information too quickly might be dangerous to her mind.

“Did your parents hate you? That’s a terrible name.”

Cush’s lips twitched as a smile threatened to stretch across it. Okay, so maybe her mind wasn’t as delicate as he first thought. “You said something similar to that the first time you asked me about my name.”

Her brow wrinkled as she frowned. “The first time?”

“This is not our first encounter, Little Raven. We have met before. And you do not belong with him.” Cush took a step forward but stopped when Tarron moved closer to Elora. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all?” He knew he was grasping at straws, but Cush wasn’t sure what else to do. As long as she stood between him and Tarron, she was in danger. He couldn’t take any action until she was safely out of the line of fire. So he figured he might as well attempt to jog her memory.

She began to climb to her feet. Her legs were shaky and Cush cursed Tarron for being the one to help her up. Seeing his hands on her did nothing to help him keep his control.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Elora admitted. “My mind tells me I’m supposed to be with Tarron. It tells me that I belong to him.”

Cush growled. “What does your heart tell you? What is your soul screaming at you? Do you really think you
feel
anything for that man?” He pointed to Tarron. “Think about who you are, Elora. Is he really what you would pick for yourself?”

Elora turned to look at Tarron. “I, I don’t. . .” She looked back at him and her mouth opened and closed several times. The next word from her mouth nearly shattered his already broken heart. “Cush.” It was nearly imperceptible and to a human it would have been, but Cush wasn’t human. His elf hearing picked it up just fine.

“Yes,” he nodded reassuringly. “That’s what you call me.”

“Elora, don’t listen to his lies. He simply wants to confuse you,” Tarron barked at her as he reached for her. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and pulled her closer to him.

Elora’s eyes squeezed tightly closed and she reached up to grab her head with her free hand. “I remember things, but they don’t seem real. It’s like I’m watching someone else’s life.” Her head snapped up and her eyes latched onto his. “Cush, you and I.” She motioned between them.

Cush nodded, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he waited for her to have the revelation she needed that would drive her back to his arms.

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why me? We shouldn’t have ever been together.”

“You remember?” Cush asked hopefully.

“I remember,” she told him as a single tear ran down her cheek. “I remember all the reasons we should never have been.”

It was enough he decided. His patience was worn thin. He was ready to have his Chosen back by his side, safe, and no longer being touched by a dark elf who was tainted by the Voodoo queen. He was ready for her mind to be clear and not full of lies. “Elora,” Cush pleaded with her as she looked between him and Tarron. She looked so lost, so confused, and it broke his heart. “Look at me, Little Raven. Look at me and focus only on me.”

She turned her head and met his gaze. He could tell she was truly beginning to question what she thought she knew. The anguish that swirled in her eyes nearly drove him to his knees. He needed to kill something or someone. He needed to make everything okay, to make her feel safe and protected, but how was he supposed to fight something he couldn’t see? The spell that held her in its thrall had wrapped itself around her mind and twisted her emotions. Her soul wanted him, he could see it, but her mind was telling her that Tarron was her mate.

“He’s my kind,” she told him. Her voice was unsteady, as though she didn’t really believe what she was saying. “I’m a dark elf; he’s a dark elf. It makes sense. You and I,” ―she motioned between them again― “we don’t make sense. We never made sense. In the beginning you didn’t even want us. So now you have an out.”

Her memory was obviously returning, but she wasn’t seeing things with her own eyes. The spell was coloring her thoughts. Cush’s blood was boiling inside of him as her words hit him one after another like bullets being fired from a machine gun. And just like those bullets could, her words ripped him apart. She was right to some degree, but not about everything. In the beginning, he hadn’t realized how much he would need her and want her. He’d been a fool but it hadn’t taken him very long to figure it out. Once he’d realized just how amazing she was, he had grabbed onto her with both hands and he refused to let go.

“I think she’s made her choice, warrior,” Tarron chuckled as he looked at Cush. The words Cush could have ignored, but that damn chuckle had broken the final thread that had been holding him in check.

“Oakley, now!” he yelled as he lunged forward and pushed Elora out of the way. He tried to be gentle, but he was counting on Oakley to catch her and take care of her. He could tend to her after he’d eliminated the fool who’d attempted to take her from him.

Once Elora was out of the way, Cush was in front of the dark elf, with less than a foot between them. Cush didn’t even think about what he was doing as his fist flew and connected with Tarron’s face. He could have used magic, but he needed to feel flesh beneath his hands. He needed to feel his opponent being broken. Tarron stumbled back from the impact but Cush wasn’t done, not by a long shot. He threw punch after punch, each one connecting with its target. Every ounce of rage that he’d kept tamped down had risen to the surface and was now pouring out of him from his fists. Cush didn’t even feel any pain as he connected over and over. He punched Tarron in the stomach and heard the crunch of ribs. He followed this up with a right hook and heard the snap of the dark elf’s jaw. The sounds of his prey being destroyed only egged him on. Tarron thought he could just take what did not belong to him. He’d tried to take Cassie but instead had ensnared Elora and, though she wasn’t who he’d originally sought, the dark elf had become fixated on her. He was a bigger fool than Cush gave him credit for because he honestly thought he would get away with his schemes.

“Stop him, Oakley! He’s going to kill him!”

Elora’s scream barely registered with him. Her appalled tone made him want to rip Tarron limb from limb. How dare she attempt to protect the snake who’d slithered his way into her mind and played with her emotions! Cush tried to remember that she wasn’t in control of herself, but it didn’t make it sting any less that she was attempting to shield another man.

Tarron attempted to fight back but his movements were clumsy and slow. Cush grabbed him by his throat and slammed him into a tree causing the trunk to crack. He stared up at the beaten male and was disgusted by what he saw. The sound of Elora screaming at him to release the elf only disgusted him more.

Cush turned to look at his Chosen. Oakley was restraining her as she attempted to get closer to them. He reached down deep for every ounce of self-control, but it didn’t stay his tongue. “You think you want him. But you belong with me.” His eyes narrowed as he held her stare. “Your soul knows it, but your mind has forgotten. I assure you, you will get over this.” The crack echoed across the room as Cush quickly twisted his wrist breaking Tarron’s neck. Cush watched the body fall to the ground as Elora’s screams played in the background. He didn’t turn around to look at her. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching his female mourn for another man, spell or no spell. Cush’s body vibrated with the rage that hadn’t yet been burned out. Killing Tarron hadn’t been enough. Images of the dark elf’s hands on his mate rushed through his mind and he felt bile rise up in his throat.

“CUSH!”

It wasn’t his name that finally drew him from his dark thoughts. It was the utter desperation in Oakley’s voice that had him turning with inhuman speed. His eyes landed on Elora who moments ago had been standing, pleading, and cursing him. Cush felt his stomach roll and his heart stutter. The air rushed from his lungs as though he’d been kicked in the gut, and his foot stumbled back under the imaginary force.

“What’s wrong with her? Dammit, Cush, what the hell happened!” Oakley continued to yell but his words were not important.

Nothing was important, nothing but her. The world around him faded away and his vision narrowed in on her. His Chosen’s still form lie prone, half of her on Oakley’s lap and the other half on the floor of the swamp. He didn’t remember moving as he knelt beside them and took her body from her brother.

“ANSWER ME!” Oakley continued to shout.

But he couldn’t answer the boy. He was sure if he opened his mouth the only thing that would come out would be a tortured cry that echoed the cry of his soul. In that moment, there was no part of Cush that wasn’t in utter agony. He was attempting to hold himself together, though all he wanted to do was cave in under the despair that was swallowing him. He couldn’t help Elora if he lost it. Cush leaned down close to her mouth. It was faint, but he felt her warm breath on his cheek. She was still alive, but for how long, he didn’t know.