The Darkness of Glengowyn (6 page)

A dream, she knew. But a pleasant one that carried her into a light doze as she waited.

Chapter Six

Einar woke her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. Dawn’s light peeked in through the single window, just enough to see his face clearly.

“Danger?” she asked, half sitting.

“No. We’re safe. The fighting moved through Noman’s Land most of the night, but the skirmishes shifted toward the Sorcerers’ territory and away from us.”

“How…?”

He lifted his lips, an almost smile. “The owls.”

“Ah. Of course. So…” She sat up completely and looked around the room. Einar straightened and took a few steps back from the bed. “So now what?” she asked. “We wait here?”

“We’ll need food and water soon. But for the day, this location should be safe enough.”

“I can go without food and water for a bit longer if necessary.”

His expression took on a faraway, thoughtful look. “I know. I remember.”

She remembered too. The last goblin war had been even harder on them all than the first. In the heat of battle, as she worked frantically to provide enough of her special arrows, she’d often gone for days with only a minimum of food and water. Usually what she got came from Einar’s own hands.

“We’ll be stronger for any fighting or fleeing if we eat,” he said finally.

“There won’t be much to find. Not here.”

“I’ve already taken care of it.”

“The owls again?”

“Yes.”

“Very handy, those birds. When they do as you ask.”

“It’s because I ask nicely.”

She snorted. “Of course.”

Stretching her arms forward, she loosened her back and shoulder muscles. Then she went to look out the window, carefully standing to one side so she couldn’t be spotted from the street.

“No patrols yet this morning?” She kept her face turned away from him as she studied the chunk of city she could see.

“No patrols. From either side. After the fighting, things will likely be quiet for a few hours, at least. Especially since the humans won.”

“Did they? I’m glad.”

“They drove the minions back behind their own lines. The minions weren’t prepared for a full battle.”

“The Sinnale are stronger now too. With our help.”

Nothing moved on the cobbles below. Not even bits of rubbish blew down the empty alleys and courtyards. The morning air was still and quiet, casting a pink glow that softened the battered buildings and hid the neglect and damage. In that light, she could almost see the city as it had been before the war, a century ago when she’d last been here.

“I’m sorry I can’t provide enough water for washing,” Einar murmured. “The owls couldn’t risk bringing in items too large. Or too many of them flying to the same place. That would give us away.”

“It’s not a problem. I realize I probably stink.” She grinned over her shoulder. “But I can stand it for another day if you can.”

The thought of the owls being tracked had her turning to face him fully. “Will they be able to get any supplies to us without attracting attention? Especially in the daytime when they shouldn’t really be about except for passing messages. Some lookout somewhere will spot them.”

“They can fly low when needs be, avoiding too much attention. But only if there are no more than two or three. More would attract notice.”

“Again, I can go without food or water. I wouldn’t want to see one of them hurt.”

He tilted his head to one side. “I wouldn’t risk them unnecessarily.”

“I know. I meant… Maybe my comfort isn’t necessary enough for their risk.”

“Your comfort isn’t my concern. Your strength and ability to escape danger is.”

How could she argue with that? She looked out the window again, not sure what else to say. Searching for a topic, she recalled one of the questions she’d never broached yesterday. “I forgot until now, but…the Sorcerer who was part of the caravan attack? You said he was never real. What did you mean? I could smell the death stench surrounding him. Even the horses reacted to him.”

“He was a…
projection
the king calls it. Difficult and draining magic when so much detail is incorporated. But useful. They send their essence, their spirit, away from their bodies to whatever location they choose, but they aren’t there in a form that can be attacked or killed. Their bodies remain safe, probably inside the citadel or their own strongholds. Somewhere within range of the projection location. Ulric noticed them using this technique during the most recent battles with the Sinnale. The Sorcerers can direct efforts and watch the movements of the humans without having to endanger themselves by being physically present during the fight.”

“Can these projections cast spells?”

“No. They’re limited to observation. That’s how I knew the Sorcerer at the caravan attack wasn’t real.”

Ah. Now she understood. “He would have used magic to stop our escape if he’d been real.”

She glanced back at Einar in time to see him nod.

“You said the magic for projection was draining?”

“Very costly to their power stores.”

“Then they are weakening by using this spell?”

“Or using up more of their captives toward their magic.”

Her shoulders jerked in a shiver she couldn’t control. The poor humans. It was no wonder Ulric had been so vocal about bringing Glengowyn into this war. The woman he loved could have been taken and used that way. Nuala couldn’t imagine much worse than knowing Einar had been tortured and killed to feed the evil of death magic. Realizing that it could still happen if they didn’t reach Sinnale territory safely closed her throat.

She turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see her sudden jolt of fear.

As she studied the city and tried not to feel the pull toward Einar that was beyond her control, she began plucking pins from her hair. The tight, battle-ready bun at the base of her head had finally come loose, and the escaped tendrils were scratching her neck. She didn’t wear her hair this tightly bound often, so her scalp was sore. She set the pins on the windowsill and unwound the bun, leaving the golden-brown braid to fall down her back. She didn’t have a brush, and wouldn’t have water to rise out the sweat and dust, but even a finger comb would relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.

Removing a final stray pin, she set it with the others, rubbed her fingers across her head, then reached for the strap of leather holding the end of her braid. She jumped when she felt Einar’s hands on her shoulders.

The sensation, both familiar and new after all this time, sent a tremor of heat through her belly. With only that brief contact, she could already feel the
Shaerta
rising. Her nerves danced. She drew in a deep breath, absorbing Einar’s scent, and the heat in her stomach spread through her abdomen to her core.

Turning to face him just then would destroy what little resistance she had, so she kept her body motionless, her gaze on the street.

He skimmed his hands down the length of her arms, leaving a hot chill along her skin and forcing her hands down to her sides. Then he leaned in and said against her ear, “Allow me.”

She wanted to melt into him but couldn’t manage any movement, closer or away. He released her wrists and shifted to her braid, untying the leather strap, then slowly separating the strands.

Heart pounding, Nuala closed her eyes, the wash of sensation from having his hands on her overwhelming and perfect. She concentrated on the play of his fingers up her braid, the gentle run of his palms over and through the strands, the heavy fall of weight when her hair was fully freed of its confines, and the merciless thrill of him brushing her hair, his fingers threading over her scalp, pulling the thick locks away from her face. She tilted her head back at his urging, giving him access to better massage her temples. Without realizing she would, she groaned.

“I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice low and deep. “The feel of your hair, your skin.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she admitted, despite her best intentions. “I’ve felt…half of myself for a long time now.”

His grip tightened at her admission. Then he released her, and Nuala wanted to cry, knowing he would continue to resist where she could not.

An instant later, she was facing him, his hands tight on her shoulders. His dark eyes sparked in the early morning light, his expression more animated, more desperate than anything she’d ever seen him reveal. Before she could absorb the full impact, his mouth was on hers, firm, strong and so heartbreakingly gentle her entire body relaxed into him.

Einar. After all this time. To taste him again was beyond exquisite, beyond joy. She had no way to put into words the sensation that enveloped her except that it felt like her world finally settled into place and became real.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, holding her near as his kiss deepened. Still controlled, still luxurious, as if they had all the time in the world for just this kiss. Gripping his waist, she followed him into that place, her tongue brushing and swirling around his, a delicate duel no one would suspect the Darkness capable of. Most thought him hard, emotionless, cold.

She knew better. He was all heat and warmth and emotion. With her, he was passion. And she was free.

Their kiss heated slowly, perfectly. Destroying her and renewing her with each play of lips against lips. He slipped his hands from her face to her waist, snugging her tightly to his body. The press of her breasts against the thick expanse of muscles along his chest weakened her knees. The feel of his cock already hard against her abdomen thrilled her on a deep level. Suddenly all she wanted was the heat of his skin, naked against hers, so she could explore this body she’d been denied for too long.

The
Shaerta
raged through her, heightening her every sense. That underlying musky scent that was Einar filled her head. The touch of his hands, strong on her waist, branded her. The heat of his cock warmed her through her clothes as if there was no barrier between them. And still his kiss was deliberately languorous, deliciously tempting.

Tension flexed his muscles, a tightness echoing her building passion, yet she couldn’t rush this reunion any more than he could.

So long, so much time wasted. The reason for their separation no longer seemed to make sense. Not when they had this. Not when she loved him so very much.

Without allowing any space between them, Einar edged her back toward the bed. She followed his lead, step by step, floating over the dust-covered wood in moments and hours. Her legs touched the mattress and she dropped back, dragging him with her. The drop made them bounce, and despite everything, Nuala giggled.

Einar lifted enough to look down at her, his expression beautifully open. A small smile tugged at his lips, the stone mask he normally wore gone to reveal a tenderness only she was allowed to see.

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek, too touched for words, too happy for regrets.

They would deal with the aftermath of this day soon enough. Now, having him inside her was as vital to her as water and air. More powerful than magic.

With the
Shaerta
riding her, she embraced the consequences, tugging his mouth back to hers.

Chapter Seven

The first touch of his warm palms on her breasts, even through her clothing, was enough to turn tenderness to desperation. Nuala arched against him, moaning into his mouth. His grip tightened. Her skin was incredibly sensitive, so that when he found her nipples through her shirt, the tug and pinch was almost painful. She wouldn’t have changed a second of that sensation.

But she wanted his hands on her bare skin. Pushing him off, she sat up.

“Nuala?”

The uncertainty in his voice squeezed at her heart. She leaned close again to kiss him, running her hand down his stomach to the thick bulge pressing against his trousers.

“I have no intention of leaving without getting my hands and my mouth on your cock,” she said. “I want every inch of you, naked and at my mercy. But I don’t want to enjoy you with my clothes on.”

Her admission brought more heat to his dark eyes, so black now they were almost frightening. “I can help with removing your clothing,” he said.

Rubbing his cock through his trousers, she shook her head. “You have more important things to do.”

He raised his brows.

“Take off your own.”

She slid away before he tried to change her mind. Watching him, she unbuckled her belt with Einar’s knife in one scabbard and set it gently on the floor. Then she undid the ties closing the front of her robe as he sat up and slipped off his vest and tunic. She allowed herself the freedom to fully appreciate that beautiful chest of his, finally and after so long.

Licking her lips, she dropped her robe and started unlacing the front of her blouse. The heat of his gaze was like a physical touch, a touch she couldn’t deny. She opened her shirt, letting the soft material fall down her arms to pool on top of her robe, then quickly pulled off the fitted vest that kept her breasts contained.

He groaned, his gaze locked on her chest as she cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples into hardness.