Page 60

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sorsha

Other than a glimpse as the other shadowkind had hustled her onto the RV, I hadn’t seen Gisele since the start of the battle. At the sight of her lying crumpled in the master bedroom, horror overwhelmed any sense I’d had of my own discomforts.

Her slim, graceful body had deflated, limbs limp and cheeks sunken. What skin I could make out had lost its pearly sheen to a creeping gray undertone, as if her entire being had clouded over. Most of her, though, was covered with rough fabric wrapped tight and dappled with yellow-green smears.

From what the shadowkind had said, those bindings had stabilized her before. Now, thin trails of smoke were seeping through the cloth. Omen took one look at her and made a noise of consternation.

As he grabbed a jar off the bedside table, Bow hovered uneasily nearby. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to put on even more…”

“We do this and give her a chance to recover, or she leaks away into nothingness,” Omen said. “It’s not much of a choice.”

I didn’t understand why there was any debate at all until he started slathering the pale green paste from the jar onto the bandages. Gisele’s face remained flaccid, but her arms twitched, her shallow breaths stuttering. Bow winced and turned away as if he couldn’t bear to watch.

“It’s hurting her?” I asked quietly.

“The herbs in the salve are toxic to shadowkind,” the hellhound shifter said without looking up from his task. “Normally we’d avoid them—they’d weaken us. But in a case where someone is already severely weakened and in danger of wasting away, in small amounts they can repel our essence back into the body. The hope is that before too long, that body can heal itself enough to stem the bleeding on its own.”

The treatment was poisoning her as much as it was curing her. My stomach turned. But Omen’s efforts had clearly accomplished their goal—the wisps of smoke faded away. A tremor ran through Gisele’s body, and then it sagged even more lifelessly into the mattress.

Bow was swiping at his eyes. He sat down onto the bed next to her, the haggard expression on his usually jovial face almost as painful to look at as his companion was. Omen set down the jar with a sharp rap. He stalked out of the room to wash his hands with a hiss of the faucet and returned a moment later, brushing his reddened fingertips against his pants. The stuff had burned his skin too.

“Next time, you start applying the salve the moment you notice any seepage. She can barely afford to lose the little essence she still has.”

The centaur’s head drooped more, but he nodded. “I’m sorry. I—I panicked. We’ve never gotten more than a scratch here before. I didn’t know what it would be like.”

“This is war,” Omen said. “Don’t imagine it can’t get worse.” His tone softened just slightly. “We’ll continue doing what we can for her. I’ve put a call in to a dryad with healing skills—if he’s willing to stick his neck out this far after we’ve become such a target. I’m not sure how much even he’d be able to help her at this point as it is. She seemed strong. She may manage to pull through.”

He spun around, and I followed him back to the living area.

“If she starts bleeding again, I could put the salve on,” I said. “It wouldn’t hurt me at all.”

Omen glanced at his fingers, where the flush of irritation was already fading. “It’s a minor discomfort. Better that I handle it, or Thorn—we can judge what’s a reasonable amount from how it affects us.”

“I guess you have experience with this sort of thing from the wars before.”

He gave me a sharp look. “Not something Thorn would want you discussing with anyone else.”

I grimaced at him. “I figured you’re safe enough, since he told me you were there. You already know what he is.”

“That’s hardly?—”

An engine sounded outside, and he cut off whatever other criticism he might have added with a rough breath. “Enough of that. Charlotte’s back—and let’s hope our wingéd, our incubus, and our devourer are with her.”

Had the others found Snap? As I hustled to the door, my heart leapt with more hope than I knew was sensible.

When I stepped out onto the pavement, Ruse was just driving the motorcycle into the lot. He parked it, and Thorn emerged from the shadows around the undercarriage where he must have been riding—alone.

“No sign of Snap,” the warrior reported to Omen without preamble. “And no sign of activity at the Wharf Street factory either. I ventured inside, and it appeared to have been very recently gutted.”

Omen swore. “They guessed that was our target.”

“This Leland twerp could have told them everything the Fund was looking into on Sorsha’s behalf,” Ruse said. “Everything her friend discovered at the fundraising gala.”

“Then we can assume that anything important they were keeping at the other locations under that shell company has been cleared out or will be shortly too.” The shifter started to pace. “In some ways that could be good. We’ve got them on the run; they’ll be getting short on property where they can carry out their operations and stash their prisoners. They may be having to cut corners on certain security measures to avoid places we might know about.”

“Except they’ll be cutting it at places we don’t know about,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Yes, that is the primary problem.”

Was that my fault too? We wouldn’t have known to make that factory a target if I hadn’t gotten Vivi and the Fund involved in the first place, so… maybe it all evened out on the scale of horribleness and personal responsibility?

That thought didn’t exactly lift my spirits.

Thorn stepped forward, worry turning his expression even more somber. “Sorsha, you’re bleeding again.”

Oh, right. Gisele’s much more urgent injuries had diverted Omen and me from the whole patching-Sorsha-up plan. I set my hand on the top of the bandage. “It just needs a change of dressing. I’ll be fine. It only stings a little.” And maybe there was a bit of throbbing in there too after all this bustling around, but he didn’t need to know that.

Despite my reassurances, the warrior ushered me back into the RV like some kind of hulking matron. As he unwrapped the wound, he tutted under his breath. He added a few careful stitches where a couple Omen had sewn in last night had broken and dabbed antiseptic cream over the whole slash. When he’d wrapped a layer of gauze around the new sterile pad, Ruse set a paper bag on the table by the sofa. I straightened up, a buttery, cheddar-y scent reaching my nose.

“I liberated some breakfast for you,” the incubus said, his tone jaunty but his hazel eyes darker than usual as they lingered on my face. “I know it’s no substitute for our beloved devourer, but you do need to look after the inside of your belly as well as the outside.”

I couldn’t deny that—and on a better day, my mouth would have been watering at the savory smell. “Thank you,” I said, unwrapping a breakfast sandwich of biscuit, egg, and melted cheese. It sure beat hay-and-clover salad.

As I took a bite, the two remaining members of my original trio stood on the other side of the table like stalwart guardians—or wardens, ensuring I didn’t leave until they were satisfied I’d taken care of myself. The crumbly pastry dissolved on my tongue, and the cheese added the perfect amount of bite to the creamy scrambled egg. For a guy who used human sexual satisfaction for sustenance, Ruse was an excellent judge of actual food.

But each gulp stuck in my throat before dropping into the hollow in my gut. I’d only made it halfway through the sandwich when the lump expanding inside me felt almost too heavy to bear.

I set the sandwich down, figuring I could at least take a breather, and Thorn’s brow knit. “You don’t look well. Your sleep can’t have been satisfactory lying on that bench all night. You should take some rest in your bed.”

“I’m really not?—”

“No arguments, this once,” he said, and swept me off the sofa into his bulging arms as if I weighed no more than Pickle did.

“Thorn,” I protested, ineffectually trying to squirm out of his hold. Exerting just enough strength to stop me from bending at the torso and straining my wound again, the warrior marched me to the second bedroom without a word.

“Sleep tight!” Ruse called after us with audible amusement.

Thorn set me down gingerly on the bed. When he moved to leave, a more piercing resistance shot through me. My throat closed up, and my arm darted to grasp the side of his shirt before he could get very far.

“If you want me to rest, you’d better stick around and make sure I do.”

Thorn peered down at me. “Sorsha…”

I tugged on his shirt. “I’m not tired, just worried and upset and…” I had to pause to steady my voice. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

The firmness in the warrior’s expression vanished under a wash of tenderness. He sank down onto the edge of the bed next to me and managed to make only a small disgruntled sound when I pushed myself into a sitting position.

I tucked myself against Thorn’s broad, solid chest. His musky smell with its trace of smoke filled my nose, and when his arm came around my shoulders, his warmth enveloped me too.

Having him with me like this didn’t make up for Snap’s disappearance any more than the breakfast sandwich had, but in the power coiled through his brawny body, I could feel the certainty that he wouldn’t give up until the devourer was back with us where he belonged.

Thorn held cautiously still for a moment and then allowed his hand to stroke up and down my arm from shoulder to elbow. He tipped his head so his chin rested against my temple. “Snap was incredibly dedicated to our cause—and, from what I saw recently, to you. If he can make it back to us, I doubt he’ll stay away very long. And if those bastards have imprisoned him, we’ll get him back. They didn’t manage to break Omen in all those weeks.”

“I know,” I said. But Snap wasn’t Omen. He meant so well, and he felt things so deeply. “I was startled… and maybe a little scared when I saw his full form. With how horrible he feels about devouring already, he might have convinced himself I think he’s horrible.”

Thorn grunted. “He couldn’t believe that for very long if he’s been paying any attention at all. I’m no expert in affection, but I could see how much you cared for him. He means a lot to you.”

“You all do.” As the words spilled up, the truth of them swelled inside me. When the trio had shown up out of nowhere in my kitchen, I’d seen them as nothing but a hassle. Now, it was hard to imagine going on with regular human life once this was over and never seeing them again.

Thorn’s hesitance to accept the affection I was offering him even after I’d asked him to stay twisted me up inside even more. I raised my head to gaze up into his ruggedly handsome face. “You realize that, don’t you? That if something happened to you—if you left or the Company hurt you—I’d be just as upset as I am over Snap.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again as he appeared to gather his thoughts. His dark eyes held mine. “I don’t have the gentleness and joy the devourer exudes—I can’t offer the incubus’s skill with words or caresses. How could I expect to provoke the same fondness they do?”

I made a dismissive sound. My hand came up so I could trace my fingers over the faint lines of the scars that framed his face. “You know, they’re the outliers. I never really went for cheerful sweethearts or suave smooth-talkers before. Give me a strong silent type any day.”

He grunted doubtfully.

I tapped his cheek. “I’ve seen how much emotion you carry under that stoic front. I’ve never known anyone, human or shadowkind, half as resolute or loyal as you.”

“Only to make up for where I failed in the past.”

“I’m not convinced you actually screwed up so very badly back then in the first place, but believe me, an awful lot of human beings go through their much shorter lives totally disregarding the people they let down along the way.” Or even lashing out at those people as if they were to blame. Thorn—and Ruse and Snap, and maybe even Omen—was worth a thousand Lelands. When you compared him and his vengeful sabotage to them, how could you say the shadowkind were more monstrous?

My tastes might be unusual, but why the hell should I want a generic jerk when I could have a magnificent monster—or, you know, three?

Thorn brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear, the skim of his fingers tingling over my skin. His voice dropped to a husky note that sent those tingles deeper. “You contain plenty of tenacity yourself, m’lady. A steely will and yet so much compassion as well. You were a worthy ally before we knew you had any unearthly power.”

“Only an ally?”

His hand teased along my jaw in answer, tipping up my chin so he could claim my lips. I hadn’t known how much I needed this until I was kissing him back, melting into the planes of his muscular frame.

His mouth branded mine, as determined as if he were pouring all the affection he had for me into that one kiss. His fingers trailed down my back, tucking me closer to him, and my knee slid up over his thigh. A rush of heat flooded me.

Yes. Yes. Just for this moment, I wanted to revel in what I still had instead of brooding over what I’d lost. I wanted to see that steely, compassionate woman Thorn took me for reflected in his eyes.

I shifted even closer, running my hand over his chest, and drew my lips from his just far enough to say in a voice so thick with need I barely recognized it, “Thorn, can we?—”

The desire ringing through the words must have said enough before I even finished the question. Thorn grasped me and swung me right onto his lap, capturing anything else I might have said with another kiss. As I straddled him, he stroked my thigh while his other hand tangled in my hair.

I slid forward, and my sex settled against the substantial bulge of his groin. Even through the layers of fabric, the feel of that hardness was enough to make me groan.

I arched into him, extending the friction, and Thorn groaned too. His mouth plundered mine, but there was still a carefulness to the way he held me, even as the squeeze of his fingers around my thigh urged on my rocking against him.

He eased my face back an inch, still close enough that the heat of his breath flooded down my neck. His voice came out strained. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sorsha. This body is made for fighting, not love-making.”

I’d seen how large my warrior was in every area a few weeks ago when he’d sprung out of the shadows nude. The memory only spurred on the ache of need between my thighs. “I think it’s made for whatever you decide to do with it,” I murmured, splaying my hands against his abdomen. “Let me worry about how much I can handle. If anything’s too hard or too fast or too… large”—my palm slid over his erection—“I’ll let you know. But so far I have no complaints.”

“As m’lady wishes,” he breathed in return. It came out like a prayer, so different from the reluctant tones with which he’d once offered that term of respect that delight trembled through me.

I stripped off his tunic, eager to see all that sculpted flesh on display again, and he managed to tug my blouse open above the bandage on my stomach with surprising deftness, though his thick fingers fumbled with my bra. I unhooked it for him and gasped as his hands engulfed my breasts. The swivel of his calloused palms against my nipples raised them to points with a surge of bliss. The sensation shot to my sex, and the lingering pain of my wound hazed away in the wake of that pleasure.

I kissed Thorn again, still rocking against him, the heat between us turning searing. I’d waited too long to get this intimate with the last of my lovers—I had no patience left. My mouth skidded against his lips, a whimper tumbled from my throat at the powerful sweep of his thumbs over my breasts, and then I was groping at the ties of his trousers.

Sweet simmering symphonies, medieval clothing was a devil to unravel. At my muttered curse, Thorn let out a chuckle and flicked the knot loose as if it were nothing—through some supernatural voodoo, I was sure. I didn’t spend much time worrying about it, because the next second I’d delved inside his underclothes to free that massive cock.

It was magnificent, thick and corded with veins and so fucking hard I thought he might explode as I gripped it. His erection twitched at my touch, and a ragged breath shuddered out of the warrior.

“M’lady,” he whispered, and that time it sounded like a plea. One I was all too happy to answer. We could play around with more possibilities some other time.

There would be other times. I swore it by whatever was still true in my soul.

I scrambled out of my jeans and panties, and Thorn pulled me to him, the strength even in that controlled gesture taking my breath away. I ran my fingers up and down his cock. He kissed me so hard his teeth nicked my tongue, and then I lowered myself onto him with as much haste as my body allowed.

Just the head of his cock penetrating my slit stretched me more than I’d ever experienced. I stopped there, adjusting. Pleasure pulsed through me as my channel relaxed to accommodate him.

The warrior was a perfect gentleman, as torturous as the wait must have been for him. He kissed the side of my neck and massaged my breasts, adding to the blissful sensations coursing through me.

I sank a little lower and a little lower still, each inch stretching me farther with a burn that was increasingly ecstatic. My head tipped against Thorn’s shoulder, sweat dampening my brow. “You feel so good,” I said, my lips brushing his skin. My fingers teased over his belly, his pecs, his pert nipples, any way I could pay him back for the intense pleasure he was offering me with his patience.

Another groan slipped out of him. “As do you.”

The impulse flitted through me to feel all of him pressing down on me, to lose myself in the surge of that massive body over and inside me, but I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for that yet. I settled for dropping even lower, a pleased sound reverberating from my chest.

I felt full to bursting in the most giddying sense. The only question left was how well we could move together.

I eased up and down, up and down, a little more each time. The bond between us turned slick with my expanding arousal. As I hit a rhythm, Thorn found the confidence to raise his hips to meet me, gently at first and then, when he saw how I whimpered at the additional motion, with more force.

I bit my lip, struggling to hold in the louder cries of pleasure that wanted to peal from my lungs. The walls in the RV weren’t thick enough to disguise those without Ruse’s soundproofing magic.

I didn’t have to hold them in very long. The ecstasy building inside me was spiking higher, racing me toward my peak with a momentum I couldn’t rein in. I bucked against Thorn, clutching his shoulder, his side, and he was right there to meet me. His lips crashed into mine, the thrust of his hips sent me spiraling even higher, and I came so hard my vision whited out with the flare of bliss.

As my sex clenched around him, the warrior’s fingers dug into my thigh. He jerked me to him, impaling me so deeply his cock set off a second orgasmic wave just as he spilled himself inside me.

I sagged into him, alight with the afterglow. Thorn cupped my cheek and kissed me with a softer determination. As I nestled against his broad chest, the doubts and self-recriminations that had gripped me earlier scattered into the distance.

I was strong—hell, yes, I was. Strong enough to take a legendary warrior as my lover. No shitty ex was going to beat me down.

Leland had used the conflict with the Company of Light to act out his resentment against me. Maybe it was time to turn the tables right around and see how we could use him .