Authors: Cindy Paterson
It took
him a second, he guessed it was the shock of her bold words, then a rumbling
began in his chest and he laughed.
Maitagarri.
She was a beloved angel
and utterly refreshing. He presumed her to be a Tracker with the way she had
scented his intense sexual attraction from a distance. Interesting. The woman
was audacious and yet had the look of sweet innocence.
He
decided to play along. It had been a long time since he had been so amused. “I
do not share. Ever.” He gestured with his head to the courtyard below. “Those
men would be eager to taste what you offer.”
“Offer?”
Her voice raised an octave with amusement. “Oh, but I was not offering. Merely
stating the obvious.” She bit her lower lip as if in contemplation, and it was
such an enthralling gesture that he felt himself lose control of his lower
region once again. “A quick tryst is not my style.”
“Who
said anything about quick,” he replied. No, it would be days or perhaps weeks,
he decided—picturing her lying beneath him, arms above her head locked in his
grip, head thrashing from side to side with unbridled fervor.
She
laughed, the captivating sound causing his breath to catch in his throat.
“Enticing. Yet I am rather old-fashioned despite my,” she gestured to her state
of attire, “outward appearance. Courting is essential.”
“Is that
so? Perhaps you will make an exception?” He had no inclination to waste his
time courting any female regardless of how tempting she is.
She
shook her head, a few tendrils falling loose from her chignon to caress the
sides of her face. “A shame. I was just beginning to like you. However, it
seems gossip is accurate after all.”
“And
what gossip is that?” He realized that he walked right into that one because
she quirked a smile, mischief settling in her eyes.
“That
you remain solitary and if you take a woman to bed it is for one night and
they’re never Senses. You rarely laugh and detest social gatherings.” She
nodded towards the courtyard. “Hence, here you stand while everyone else is
there. You’re an ancient and live by an oath to your mother and the Goddess.
You’re one of the most powerful Senses, fearless in battle…” She hesitated
raising her brows as his frown increased. “Shall I continue?”
“Accurate
and yet there is always the chance that one can change their ways.” Not that he
would, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Hmm
perhaps. I did hear you laugh.” Her nose twitched like a rabbit sensing danger
and she glanced to the right. “It appears someone requires your attention.”
Keir
strode towards them taking the stairs two at a time. Waleron wanted to curse
for the rapidly approaching interruption, but crude language rarely passed his
lips. His mother had seen to that. He only had to say the word bastard in front
of his mother once to know never to do it again. She whipped him, a good fifty
lashes across the back, then locked him in a cupboard without healing his
bleeding, raw back. He still carried the scars. He’d been nine years old.
He could
have warned Keir off by speaking telepathically, however shirking
responsibilities of any kind was against his oath to the Goddess and more
importantly to himself.
He
grabbed Delara’s hand before she had the chance to walk away and the instant
her flesh touched his, the pull on his need increased tenfold. “It has been a
pleasure, Maitagarri. Perhaps when you are older and...more experienced, you’ll
reconsider.” Her mouth fell open and a slight gasp emerged. “Until then I am
certain you will be unable forget me,” he said in a calm, steady droll. He
pressed his lips to the back of her hand just as Keir stopped beside them.
He
grinned as she stared at him, mouth opened, then suddenly she slammed it shut.
“I
believe kind sir, that it will be you who will be unable to forget me.” She
plucked her hand from his grasp, pivoted, and with her head held high and her
step light, she strode away.
He felt
an ache in his chest as she disappeared from view and knew in that instant that
she was right. He wouldn’t forget her.
****
“What’s Waleron
like?” Delara asked while perched on a low branch of an oak tree, swinging her
legs. “I mean, I hear the gossip, but it can’t all be true.” It had been an
hour since she’d seen the Taldeburu and she was finding it difficult to forget
those magnetic blue eyes and his lean, lithe form hugged by the black tailored
coat and breeches, muscles flexing beneath—
“Jesus
Delara,” Jedrik scoffed in his Scottish brogue. “I may be your best mate, but
I’m still a man for Christ’s sake.” Jedrik grunted and tossed his head like a
displeased stallion, unleashing a few blonde locks from his leather tie that
kept his hair pulled back.
She
quickly raised her shields around her mind. “Then stay out of my head.”
“You’re
thoughts are like arrows piercing my brain.” His teasing grin faded and his
tone grew serious as he paused, no longer carving the piece of wood he held in
his hands. “The Taldeburu is off limits, Sass. Stay away from him.”
“I think
you’ve the wrong impression of him.” Delara plucked a leaf from its tentative
hold on the branch above her head and absently ripped it up, letting the pieces
flitter to the grass below. “He’s intelligent. Powerful. Perhaps, a wee bit
intimidating, but he needs to be, and he does protect us. He must care and I
think with the right woman… Why do you care anyway?” She raised her brows.
“Jealous?”
Jedrik
hmphed.
She
laughed. “Oh bollocks,” she said as she wobbled on the narrow branch.
“Frig,
Sass. Get down before you fall or, worse, someone sees you.” He held up his
hand to assist and she ignored him, precariously getting to her feet and
climbing higher.
Jedrik
cursed beneath his breath and straightened his six-foot stature. “I think you
best be getting yourself down from there, Sass.”
“Why?”
She peered through the abundance of leaves to try and see what Jedrik was
concerned about, but saw nothing. It didn’t surprise her that she was unable to
see what he did, as he was a Visionary. “Jedrik? Jedrik?” It was the musky
scent of cedar plowing into her that had her scrambling down the tree as fast
as her legs could carry. “Bloody hell,” she swore as her breeches snagged a
severed branch. “Jedrik!” she hissed. “Jedrik, help me down.”
She
yanked on the snag and the material made a loud ripping sound as it suddenly
came free, knocking her off-balance. She made a quick grab for a thick lower
limb and missed, finding herself tumbling through the thicket of leaves to land
with a hard thump on her butt in the grass. “Bollocks.”
She
expected to hear Jedrik’s laughter, instead she heard Waleron’s deep chuckle
behind her.
“Oh!”
Delara scrambled to her feet, brushing off her back end that had a very
noticeable grass stain. She felt her cheeks heat up and her stomach plummeted
with utter embarrassment. Sitting up in a tree was unladylike, falling out of
it was…well it was mortifying. “I … I was just…” Oh god she couldn’t think of a
single excuse for her behavior. What a fool he’d think her. She was supposed to
be a Tracker, soon a Senses warrior and here she was falling out of a tree.
He’d never allow her to be a part of any Talde with such clumsy behavior.
“Practicing
your climbing skills?” he finished.
“Well,
ah…no. Jedrik saw a…well, a cat,” she blurted while looking around and noticing
that her friend had hightailed it out of sight. “Yes, a cat. In the tree. I was
rescuing him.”
“A cat?”
“Yes.
Did you see where he went?”
“Jedrik
or the cat?” he asked, looking thoroughly amused.
“Umm
well, both.”
Waleron
gave a diminutive nod. “I told Jedrik to make himself useful elsewhere. The cat
it seems has...vanished.”
“Oh.”
Well, what did she say to that? She winced as she cocked her hip, reminding
herself of the foolish fall. It wasn’t often she found herself self-conscious;
usually she was unperturbed by her more often than not unladylike behavior.
Today, however, she was feeling rather apprehensive and well…she had to admit,
out of her element. She’d never been attracted to a man before and the emotions
sifting uncontrollably through her body were overwhelming. All she could think
about were his hands touching her, his lips on her—
“Delara.
Stop.” Her name slipped off his tongue like milk chocolate, so delicious that
she wanted to melt at his feet. “Come here.”
Her eyes
widened and she took a step back. Bloody hell, this man made her pulse go
breakneck speed with two simple words. He was right, she was young and innocent
and, in a Senses immortal life, considered fresh out of the cradle.
She
stood like a startled deer as he stepped towards her. Christ, she couldn’t even
think straight with him inches away from her. What was he doing to her?
“Maitagarri,”
he murmured. “You were right; I am unable to forget you.” He raised his hand as
if to stroke her hair then hesitated. “May I?”
She
instinctively nodded. What else could she do? She craved his touch, yearned to
feel his fingers in her hair.
His eyes
met hers as he put his hand on the nape of her neck. Then suddenly he groaned
and before she knew it, his lips claimed her own. Her gasp was swallowed by their
mouths melting together, warmth of plush lips mingling as one and devouring her
self-will as if it were water slipping through her grasp. The pressure of his
arm around her waist increased as he pried her lips apart and slipped his
tongue inside to link with her own. Her knees gave way and if it weren’t for
his arm, she’d be a mess of limbs on the grass.
“Waleron.”
Zurina’s voice came from behind and startled her, causing heat to flood her
cheeks and her muscles to tense.
Waleron
ignored the untimely interruption and placed two tender, light kisses on the
corners of her mouth before pulling back.
Delara
felt coldness seep into her blood as Waleron’s arm dropped from around her. She
placed her fingers to her swollen lips and stumbled back two steps until her
spine hit the tree.
Zurina
frowned as she stood staring at them. “Keir has assembled everyone in the ballroom.
They await your address.”
Waleron
gave a single nod in acknowledgment, however his eyes remained riveted on
Delara, making her want to dive for cover from his intense scrutiny. Those eyes
were like shards of ice, looking as if they could read every thought of
enticing, inappropriate behavior that played across her mind. Maybe he had that
capability, she thought with sudden apprehension.
“I will
be there directly,” Waleron stated when Zurina remained fixated in place.
Zurina
opened her mouth as if she was going to argue, but swiftly clamped it shut the
moment Waleron raised his brows. She abruptly spun on her heel and walked away.
Waleron
waited until Zurina was out of earshot before he spoke. “You are remaining here
at Keir’s?”
“Two
weeks,” she replied with a catch in her throat.
He
nodded. “Good. I will come for you tomorrow morning and we will go riding.”
Her
face, still flaming hot, was becoming hotter by the second as she thought of
what he might do to her if she met him again. Not a good idea, she decided. Her
back stiffened and she shifted her feet, hearing a loud crack beneath them. A
quick glance down showed her the piece of wood Jedrik had been carving now
broken in half. “I am uncertain whether that would be—”
“I was
not giving you a choice.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he strode away.
London,
England 1926 (61 years later)
As
Delara strolled along the garden path near where she had first met Waleron, she
imagined Waleron’s cedar scent on the tip of her tongue and his hands on her
abdomen, caressing and gentle, the lyrical touch making her insides dance in a
waltz of desire. Even the moans and groans from the Talde members at her
joviality refused to dampen her mood. She was always this way when he was expected
to visit. But it was rare they ever had longer than a few days together at a
time, Waleron was vigilant about his oath to the Goddess and was constantly
hunting, trying to find new information on their enemies—where to find them,
how best to attack. But recently, he’d started spending more time with her,
staying longer than he intended. He even hinted at her moving out of the Talde
house and living with him. Waleron didn’t believe in being maited. His word was
his oath and if he loved her that was all she needed. Being maited brought law
into something that was far more than that.
She felt
like the sun was heating up her blood as she imagined Waleron, his fingertips a
waterfall of tantalizing strokes exploring her body. God, it had been so long
since they’d lain in one another’s arms. This time he’d left for several months
while hunting a Lilac that was proving to be rather elusive. She’d tried to go
with him, but Waleron rarely went with any of them unless it was essential.