Page 36 of Wind and Water (Reign of the Witch Queen #2)
Chapter Eighteen
Liam
W hen I carry Wren through the portal she creates, there is no sensation of being ripped to pieces.
The only other painless portal I’ve been through was the one made by the oracle, and that one was still disorienting.
However, Wren’s magic wrought a gateway of swirling light, and it was like walking through a doorway.
Unsure what to expect, I’m stunned we end up in the fairy glen.
Cool air caresses my skin as two moons, one full, one crescent, glow high above. Only the portal behind me is out of place compared to what I remember. “Close the portal, love.”
Eyes barely open, she nods, and the swirling wind dies to a pinpoint before disappearing. “I would like to be a fly on the wall when Ciaran comes for me and finds the cell empty.”
I carry her to the edge of the spring and ease her to the soft grass. “I’m not yet done with him. He’ll pay for this.”
Her stare grows wide, and the rage and hatred I see there make me even more determined to destroy those who put it there. “When we win this war, they’ll both pay the price for their sins.”
“If you need to talk about what happened, I will always listen, but for now, I’d like to take you into the water. It will heal you, and we can wash away the stink of Coire.” I run my fingers through her hair, but it’s knotted, and I don’t get far.
She winces. “It will take a small miracle to comb through this mess.” Her attempt at a smile makes me love her even more, and I wouldn’t have thought that possible.
Holding her back with one hand, I lift her shirt over her head.
Weak, she tries to help the process by raising her arms. “I feel foolish to need so much help with a simple task.”
After removing her shoes, I pull her jeans off and put them in a pile. Once I’ve stripped out of my clothes, I kneel beside her. “It’s my honor to take care of you, Wren. You’re the bravest person I have ever known—elf, human, or other.”
“Being tortured is brave?” She wraps her arms around my neck as I lift her.
“Surviving torture and using those feelings to create magic never before seen in Domhan to facilitate our escape is more courage than most and more strength than I would have.” I step into the water. “If you can float, I’ll make soap.”
She lets her head fall back into the water. Her blond curls spread out like a silken halo around her. As she floats, she watches me. “Magic has its benefits.”
With a simple spell, I draw water up and alter its composition to shift it into a bar of soap.
Starting at her feet, I wash her inch by inch, cleaning off the grime of the underworld.
The fairy glen and water are sufficient restorative even in the night to feed my magic.
Drawing a deep breath, I concentrate on washing her hair.
She lets out a long, satisfied moan. “That feels nice. This place is magic?”
“Fairy glens are created by magic, and the echo of it remains.” I help her rinse the soap from her hair. “Shall I help you to the bank to wait while I wash?”
“I’ll float here a while.” She runs her fingers through her hair, tugging through the smaller knots. “Venora can’t find us here?”
“No. The magic here is too full of light, even if Venora walked by the glen, she wouldn’t be able to see it. If something evil did make its way in here, the glen would destroy it.” I soap and rinse quickly, then put my arms under Wren to support her.
“Should we start walking to your home?” Her eyes are tired but determined.
“Not yet. The glen will restore us before we leave.” I carry her from the water and turn the grass into a soft blanket before I lay her gently down. Even though I’m exhausted and worried, my body still responds to hers.
She points to the moons. “Can you tell from those how long we were down there?”
“Almost two months.”
Sitting up, she winces and grunts.
I run my fingers along the deep purple bruises on her ribs. “Easy.”
“Months? It seemed long, but I wouldn’t have guessed that long.” Lying beside me, she snuggles in at my shoulder.
“Time is hard to judge without a day and a night. Rest now, Wren. You’ll feel better in the morning.” I kiss her wet hair.
She sighs. “I already feel better. Safe.” The last word is barely audible as she falls asleep.
Wrapping her carefully in my arms, I hold her as sleep alludes me.
I watch her chest rise and fall, and I thank the old gods that she survived.
My own life is a bonus. All I want is her safety.
Once again, I’m struck by the realization that I should have left her in her own world, oracle be dammed.
We should have tried bombarding the Watcher’s Gate with magic and spared the human women our fate.
The Dagda, king of the old gods, stands before me.
His face is cast in a series of connected wrinkles, and his hair and beard are long and gray.
On his head, an antlered crown has grown green with leaves.
His eyes stoic and filled with compassion, he levels them on me.
Sitting on a throne grown from a living tree, at his feet is his cauldron, and in his right hand a tall staff.
Cradled in the crook of his right arm is the harp of legend, Uaitne.
He does not play nor speak, yet in his eyes the warning that I must go forward is clear.
With no memory of falling asleep, I’m startled awake when Wren stretches catlike beside me. Gloriously naked, she’s perfectly lovely, and the bruises have faded from most of her skin, though the ugly one at her ribs is myriad blues, greens, and yellows.
The sun warms the glen, and I spread my fingers, testing my magic. It tingles along my nerves as if it’s been waiting for this moment. Pressing my palm along her ribs, I let my fingers drape across each ripple.
She sighs and wiggles closer, pressing her ass to my thick shaft. “What are you doing?”
“Healing your ribs. I think they may be broken again.” It takes a great deal of willpower to concentrate on her injury and not the wicked way she’s trying to entice me into sex.
“I feel a lot better. This glen is wonderful. Can we stay here and not worry about what’s happening outside?”
Wishing what she asks for were possible won’t make it so. Here with Wren in my arms, I could live and die happy.
While the heat of healing rolls across her skin, the bruise lightens, and the sharp pain of her bone snapping back into place stings us both.
She gasps then relaxes. “Oh, that was almost as bad as when it happened, but the pain is easing. Thank you.”
I cringe at her comparison of my healing to torture. “I’m sorry. Healing is often painful. If it makes you feel any better, I felt the pain as well.”
“Of course that doesn’t make me feel better.” She rolls to face me. Her curls fall over her eyes.
Brushing her hair away from her face, I wish I could tell her there will be no more pain. I want to keep her safe from danger. I let the walls down so she can feel my desire.
She smiles. “I know, Liam. But there will be more trouble before this is over.”
Her curls are like silk under my fingertips. “May I brush your hair?”
“You have a brush? Have you been holding out on me?”
Sitting up, I go to the edge of the spring and pull a round stone from the water’s edge.
Rinsing off the palm-size brown rock, I know it will serve the purpose.
I carry it back to Wren. Letting the rising sun fill me with renewed magic, I focus on the stone and reform every molecule into a brush similar to the one I’ve watched her use on our journey.
Grinning, she takes it from me. “Amazing. I need to wet this mess.”
Unashamed of her nudity, she jumps up and rushes into the water.
My cock jerks painfully, as watching her naked and healthy is always going to affect me. She’s thinner than when we met. These last months have been hard on her. I love every inch of her, but I look forward to sitting at my parents’ table and seeing her well-fed and happy.
Returning to me with her curls dripping, she sits and hands me the brush. “It won’t be easy. We may have to cut it off. I’ve never gone a day without combing it, and you said it’s been months. I may have to get used to a pixie cut.”
Taking one knotted wad of her hair, I let my magic flow over the damp strands, separating them. “I don’t know what a pixie cut is, love, but you’ll not have to cut your hair unless you wish to.”
Silently, she sits with her bare back to me while I work through each knot and nest of her hair. Soon, the brush combs through easily, and her curls bounce around her shoulders.
When she turns, her smile lights my heart. “Thank you.”
I had no idea I was unhappy with my life until this woman filled me with more joy than I have ever known. “I’m never leaving you, Wren.”
Playfully, she pushes me to my back and straddles my hips. “You’ve told me.”
Thick and ready, my cock presses along her slit and it’s hard to form words.
I run my hands along her waist to her hips and settle at the crease of her thighs.
“If you cannot stay here in Domhan after this war is over, I will return to your world. If you go to the top of the highest mountain, I will climb behind you. If you reject me, I will respect your decision and watch over you from afar. You will be safe and happy, as seeing you so will be my purpose in life.”
Her smile fades, but emotion swims in her clear eyes. “I have not seen much in this world to recommend it, but I’m not ruling out staying here.”
“Why?”
She’s been attacked and tortured, demeaned and abused, not to mention being forced to kill.