Caedmon’s Curse Read online

  Did he think her weak? One false move and she would bolt like a fractious filly? Perhaps his plan was to seduce her. Her breath caught and adrenaline spiked in her belly. She’d not been touched for so long; she had no idea how to welcome such an advance…or what it would mean for their future if she did.

  A quick jerk to the laces on each side of his chest plate and he pried the form fitting shield from his skin. His biceps flexed as he hooked his thumbs on the edges near his shoulders and lifted the protective leather over his head. Her eyes widened and a flare of desire weakened her knees as the side of his torso came into view, each muscle constricting, thick ridges bunching under honeyed skin. A ripple of tendon as he tossed the chest plate aside and a mouth-watering display of tiered flesh delineated each rib, leading down to a delectable rim of solid muscle low on his hip.

  She swayed unsteadily as her eyes roved over him, and then squinted as a douse of arousal heated the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Was the dim light playing tricks on her or were those… No, they couldn’t be.

  He squatted and rummaged through the saddlebags at his feet, the light from the fire casting small shadows along the bumps of his spine.

  An inadvertent gasp hiked her shoulders. From nape to tailbone, a crisscrossing network of thin pale slashes decorated his skin. He’d been beaten, whipped, and Helios only knew what other tortures he’d suffered in Seviere’s keep.

  Two rushing steps forward, and she drew up short as he sprang to his feet and whirled to face her. A flush crawled up his neck, reddened his ears, and he shook out the shirt in his hand before cramming his arms through the sleeves. “Forgive me. I’d meant to spare you the grotesque result of my interment at Castle Seviere.” He straightened the collar on his shoulders and punched the tails of his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

  Her heart quaked and her nails bit into her palms as she fought the urge offer him some comfort, close the distance between them and run her palms over his back to soothe past hurts. Based on the way he refused to meet her gaze, he wasn’t prepared to discuss the details of what happened. Not that she blamed him. Whatever hellish nightmares they put him through, no doubt the damage ran much deeper than mere scars alone could explain.

  “Don’t apologize,” she blurted, and then fought to catch her breath. “Don’t ever apologize for what they did to you.”

  His shoulders lowered a scant degree and he nodded. A glance in her direction and he filled his lungs, but whatever explanation he intended to offer drifted away with his deep exhalation.

  She hesitated…waiting…perched on the desperate edge of tossing caution to the wind and gathering him in her arms. When nothing was forthcoming, she whipped around and returned to the fire, tidied her bedroll and then tossed her dinner into the trees. Her appetite was long gone. Uncertainty had twisted her stomach into knots.

  She sighed. Maybe in time his words would come. Until then, she would allow him the one thing she’d always craved—to heal in private.

  Searching for something to keep herself occupied while Caedmon wicketed and rubbed down his horse, she finally tugged a scrolled map from her saddlebags and settled on her bedroll. She braced her back against the large log she’d dragged near the fire when she’d first made camp and unrolled the parchment along the length of her thighs.

  If her calculations were correct, considering the angle of the rising moon and the position of the appearing stars, they were a few leagues somewhere due south of the Black Forest. Once she left the cover of trees, she’d be better able to calculate her exact route. However, based on the diagrams, in order to breach Seviere’s kingdom before the next nightfall, it seemed her best course would be to skirt around the eastern most edge of that marshy quagmire and head northwest. Either that or she could always push straight through. That might save her a few hours of daylight.

  A shudder wrenched her shoulders and she grimaced, fighting the hair-raising goose bumps pebbling her flesh. Rumor had it a large coven of Dreggs inhabited the Black Forest, and a run-in with their kind was a risk she preferred not to take. Many entered their realm only to be never seen or heard from again…or appeared years later, confused and lost, looking as though they hadn’t aged a day. If that wasn’t deterrent enough, the route alone would be treacherous. She’d have to pick her way slowly, navigate the various bogs with a keen eye to any spots where Belial might flounder or break a leg.

  A hand appeared in front of her face, offering a worn leather wineskin. “I’m in dire need of strong spirits. How about you?”

  God, yes. She glanced up at Caedmon’s tall form, silhouetted by the indigo sky, orange firelight highlighting the chiseled planes of his face. “What is it?”

  “Fandorn’s dragon’s breath brew. I never travel without a flask. It warms the body on a cold night, sparks a flame during rain and can cauterize wounds.”

  She smirked. The guards had often lamented their woes after a night of consuming Fandorn’s secret brew, but she’d never been offered a sip until now.

  Her fingers grazed his as she accepted the wineskin, and she gritted her teeth when a burst of exhilaration cascaded through her limbs. She held a breath until it passed, suppressing the urge to leap to her feet and pace around the fire. Hopefully the alcohol would help bind her fraying nerves.

  A pop of the cork and she tipped the neck to her lips.

  “I caution you to—”

  Liquid fire scorched the lining of her throat and she sputtered and choked, coughing into her hand. Sweet goddesses’ tits, the fumes alone were enough to send tears racing down her cheeks. Several wheezing gasps later, her heart finally slowed and she offered the wineskin back to Caedmon. “Smooth,” she croaked and coughed again.

  His low chuckle floated on the gentle breeze as he lowered his considerable height to the spot beside her and upended the flask to his lips. Her first impulse was to edge away from him, but an acute lethargy crept through her muscles. Quick movement suddenly seemed impossible…and ridiculous, really. Besides, where would she go? No matter the location, Caedmon would undoubtedly follow. She snorted a laugh.

  The flames of the fire danced and shifted, breathed and expanded. She tipped her head and frowned as the swirling blaze pulsed and a puff of ethereal smoke wafted into the night sky. A wave of her hand in front of her face and a multicolored trail zoomed past, shimmering into nonexistence.

  She chuckled again and repeatedly blinked until her vision righted and cleared. “What the hell is in that stuff?”

  Caedmon grunted, forearms braced on his bent knees as he corked the wineskin dangling between his legs. “If you’ve not been privy to its effects, the first sip can be a bit disorientating.”

  She glanced over with a smile and then snapped her head around. His eyes were so dark their mesmerizing depths seemed bottomless, framed by thick lashes that curled near the tips. High cheekbones angled down to his perfectly square jaw, shadowed by the gruff texture of his closely trimmed beard. His bottom lip was slightly plumper than the top, full and smooth and totally kissable. The craving to nip it, suck it into her mouth and explore the silky curve with the tip of her tongue, shot a jolt of molten need through her veins. Only once before had they been this close without a blade between them…and then she had ended in his arms, tasting him, devouring those same lips, fighting the desperate urge to give him everything she possessed and more.

  She bit her bottom lip to suppress a whimper.

  A grin creased his cheeks, exposing a set of strong white teeth, mischievous little crinkles near the corners of his eyes. “A man can only deign to guess what transpires behind such a beguiling perusal.” He inched close and inclined his head, his voice a husky murmur. “Tell me, does my close proximity distress you?”

  Dear God, he was beautiful…and sexy. So damn sexy. Too damn sexy. She wrenched her gaze back to the fire, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions colliding within her chest. Distress? No. Agitate, arouse and scare the wits out of? Yes.

  Shielding herself was
what she knew, what had kept her safe, but she gathered the last of her strength and beat her insecurities into submission. Based on his behavior, he did not mean her harm. “No, I’m glad you’re here.”

  She skimmed a trembling hand back and forth along the length of her thigh to avoid his intent inspection, blowing a restless breath through her pursed lips. The desperate yearning of her body battled the cautious hope in her heart. He’d told her time and again he loved her, proved as much with his actions this very day. They were supposedly engaged. Yet, for all his persistent attentions, the man was still no more than a stranger to her.

  Trusting his motives was a convenience that would not come easy.

  Her head swam as possibilities of what this night might entail blossomed in the forefront of her mind. Other than that soul-shattering kiss they had shared on the verandah, their only other physical contact consisted of swordplay. Maybe she should threaten him with a silver spike. Get them back on common ground and then decide what came next.

  “What’s this?” He extended his long legs, ankles crossed, one arm settling along the log at her back, the other reaching for the scroll in her lap. A delightful shiver skittered down her spine when the back of his hand brushed the top of her thigh.

  As he skimmed the parchment, a deep rut formed between his brows. She held a breath and waited, her heartbeat a resonating whir in her ears. Would he insist she return to the castle? Leave off finding the key and forfeit her quest to someone he deemed more suitable for the task?

  Her brows shot up when he tossed the scroll aside and helped himself to another swallow of Fandorn’s brew. When he offered her the drink, she slowly shook her head, eyes riveted to his motions as he stopped the opening and set the flask near his leg.

  He wasn’t going to fight her? He truly meant what he had said about never locking her in a cage?

  Gratitude crescendoed in her heart, quickly chased by another wave of searing arousal. Her core pulsed and her thighs instinctively clenched. He couldn’t possibly have any idea how much his understanding meant to her. A simple flick of his wrist and everything she longed for was easily granted.

  He scooted lower and braced his shoulders against the log, his dark gaze aimed at the star-studded sky and his arm falling to rest along the back of her hips. “You have nothing to fear from me, my lady. Denmar informed me of the torment you endured under Braedric’s low-handed pursuit. I will not press you to take action you deem unsavory.”

  Shock dropped her jaw, and she quickly snapped it shut. Visions of Braedric screamed unbidden into her mind—the disgusting way he’d licked her cheek, the sour wine on his breath, one of his clammy hands squeezing and pinching her inner thigh as the other tightened around her throat. “You know about that?”

  “Yes.” One shrewd eyebrow spiked toward Caedmon’s hairline. “And you have my solemn vow. At the first opportunity, I shall run the bastard through to the hilt of my sword.”

  Astonishment blurted through her lips and she quickly rolled them together to stifle a laugh. For months after the reigning Prince’s attack, she’d envisioned enacting the exact same revenge, especially each morning when she’d tied a thick ribbon around her neck to hide the bruises. But get real. No one besides a masochist would engage in such a foolhardy plan. Still, the idea of a strong, handsome prince risking a trip to the chopping block to protect her virtue did have a nice ring to it.

  Caedmon’s smile spread slow and lazy, a devilish spark of firelight reflected in his dark eyes, and a quiet moment passed before their low chuckles mingled beneath the pop and sizzle of the fire.

  “Yeah, well, you’ll have to get in line.” She bounced her back off the log to reach for the nearest blanket and, when she tossed it around her shoulders, Caedmon stretched along the length of her bedroll and patted the empty spot at his side. Her heart leapt into her throat and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. He expected them to sleep together? Just sleep? “I thought you said no action I deem unsavory.”

  “I also said you have nothing to fear.” He inched toward the log a bit more and patted her bedroll a second time. “Come. You rode like the wind all night and day. A sound rest will do us both well.”

  She studied him in the darkness. Sound rest, her ass. How would she ever relax with Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy cozying up to her all night?

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. The only other option was to claim a spot on the opposite side of the fire, but chances were good she’d spend the night wide awake there too, worrying whether or not her rejection had hurt him. She didn’t want that. Not after he’d been so kind to her.

  Her thoughts raced as she stared at the blankets. Could she trust him? Hell, could she trust herself?

  After shifting around, she reclined to the ground, clutching the blanket to her chest, her shoulders high and tight, the gap between their bodies both too narrow and obnoxiously wide. Gravel bit into her scalp through the bedroll. Her neck lay wrenched at an awkward angle.

  Forget sleep. In this position, she’d be lucky if she survived the night.

  Caedmon rose on one elbow and she sharply inhaled, squeezing her eyes closed. Oh shit, what if he was preparing to kiss her? Hopefully he would…or not. Definitely not. “You pose as if resting on a funeral pyre. This position cannot be comfortable.”

  She peeked at him with one eye. “I’m fine.” Like hell.

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and he shook his head. “Nonsense.” He tugged her closer until she lifted her head and rested it on his shoulder. One thickly muscled arm wrapped around her back, his hand cupping her elbow. “There. Better?”

  His body heat penetrated his shirt and she shivered inside its warmth, the beat of his heart a steady soothing rhythm in her ear. His masculine scent bathed her senses, green earth and a high mountain breeze mixed with the heady musk of his skin.

  Much better. Much, much better. “Yes, thank you.”

  She slid a hand under her chin, palm down, the arc of his chest a perfect match to the inside of her hand. Their bodies fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle—the shallow indent above his pecs the ideal cradle for her cheek, the curve of her hip seated just right along the narrow taper of his waist. The tip of his thumb began a gentle caress, trailing up and down her arm. He settled his other hand behind his head and a wide yawn cracked his jaw.

  Her anxiety gradually eased, each breath deepening toward the next. Based on his steady reassurances, he wasn’t going to press her. No matter how ardent his enthusiasm, he was prepared to wait until she was ready. Appreciation warmed her heart, and she cuddled a bit closer against him.

  A glistening panorama of infinite beauty adorned the sky. Wisps of white clouds drifted before a sea of shimmering pinpricks of light. “Look at all those stars,” she whispered.

  “Helios’ diamond offerings.”

  Frowning, she lifted her head. What in the world was he talking about? “Excuse me?”

  He searched her face a moment before a gentle smile lifted one corner of his lips. “When the land was young, long before kings held thrones or beasts foraged the woods…” He slipped the leather tie from the tail of her braid and gently unwound the tight weave. “Helios reigned the heavens, his radiant light all-seeing, his strength far-reaching.”

  Thick, blunt-tipped fingers speared through the sensitive hair at her nape. She shuddered and her eyes fluttered closed, her scalp tingling when he combed his hand through to the tips of her hair. Her nipples hardened against her chest plate. A spasm quivered low, grasping and aching for a sweet invasion.

  “Yet the sun god was lonely. So he called upon his mighty power, and from the air he breathed to life nine goddesses to inhabit his realm.” A second thrust of his hand through her hair and her insides liquefied. He clenched his fingers, massaging her neck. She tightened her jaw. A muted buzz throbbed in her ears as a thrill washed cool and sleek down to the arches of her feet.

  “In their infancy, the goddesses were frivolous, prone to mischief and folly, and H
elios soon determined none of them posed a good match for an ancient being such as he.”

  A slight tug as his splayed fingers raked through to the ends, and her hair tumbled and feathered along her back. Her reasons for denying him blurred and weakened. Much more of his tender ministrations, and anything he asked she would freely give.

  “An unforgiving god, Helios grew frustrated by his daughters’ constant pranks, and cast them from his side into darkness, dividing them for all eternity.” Caedmon extended his arm and pointed skyward. “There is Cassiel, goddess of the harvest.”

  Rowena twisted her shoulders, a hand pressed to his chest as she squinted at the small cluster of stars in the shape of a sickle. She turned back to him with a smile. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed this seasoned warrior could spin such an enchanting bedtime story. “And so?”

  His eyes softened near the corners, as if he recalled a time he’d once told her such fables before. And perhaps he had.

  A warm hand pressed between her shoulder blades and he urged her cheek to back his chest. “Over time, the great sky god regretted his impatience, and sought out his daughters in repentance.” His voice softened to a low murmur, vibrating against her cheek. All the worries she’d carried swirled into nonexistence and she lost herself within the gentle rhythm of his tale. “Helios chased after the night, growing ever closer, but his bright rays always alerted the nine to his presence, and his daughters fled from their father in fear.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.”

  “Yes, but my tale has a happy ending. You must be patient.” A pair of supple lips pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead. She grinned and wrapped an arm around his waist, twining one of her legs through his. “The beautiful moon goddess Selene was aware of the rift between the mighty king and his daughters, for when he cast them out she had welcomed the nine into her realm, vowing to keep them sheltered from harm.”