The Darkest Warrior Read online

  "You did? Truly? I mean, when I bonded with Puck, you washed your hands of me." She knit her brows, which were a shade darker than her hair. "For that matter, why'd you agree to help Puck?"

  William set her back on her feet. "Not Puck. You. And I misspoke when I learned of your bonding. I was angry with myself, not you. I should have been the one to save you. Me. I should have manned up, but I didn't. Instead, I lashed out, blaming everyone else. Truth is, my choices brought us to that fateful day, not yours, and I want to make it up to you. I will make it up to you."

  She listened, rapt and adoring.

  Puck bristled with hostility.

  "How are the Lords and Ladies?" she asked William.

  "Alive and well."

  A glint of happiness in her eyes...right alongside a glint of sadness. She missed her friends. Because of Puck.

  Don't care--I don't! I did what I needed to do.

  "Now, I want to hear every detail about your life," William said. "Start at the beginning, when we parted, and end with your gaze finding me in this hellhole. Leave nothing out."

  Hellhole? "I'd rather hear about your adventures, William." Puck offered the pair a cold grin. "Why don't you tell us about your many bedroom conquests since Gillian's marriage to me."

  If glares could kill an immortal, Puck would be bloody and dead.

  William softened his expression and said, "All forgettable, my sweet. There's absolutely nothing to tell."

  Gillian rested her head on his shoulder and clung to his arm, all while assessing Puck with a masked gaze. "How about I give you the highlights? I started my own clan, rescued women and children from bad homes, and became the most feared warrior in the land. Oh, and I recently decided to start dating. Because I'm divorced!"

  "Enough!" The command spewed from Puck before he could bite his tongue. "You want a divorce so badly? Earn it."

  "Ooh la la. Another show of heat." She exuded excitement, even as she braced for disappointment. "Return of the Ice Man in three, two..."

  Bury emotions. Deep freeze. There. Better.

  "And he's back," she said with a sigh.

  William stuck out his lower lip, pretending to pout, and used his free hand to twist a fist under his eye. "Boohoo. Poor Pucky. Is our furbaby pouting about his lost kingdom?"

  Puck rested his hand on the hilt of a dagger and contemplated removing the male's tongue. He needed his key alive--not able to speak.

  "Be nice," Gillian said, her gaze on Puck. For some reason, his tension hemorrhaged the moment she released William. "I've spent a lot of time studying your brother. He's so paranoid he built a fortress the size of Texas, and conjured a maze around it. No one can get to him--because I've never tried. If I allow myself to be captured and carted inside, like a Trojan horse, I could kill the guards and sneak you two inside."

  Puck said, "No," at the same time William gave an adamant shake of his head and shouted, "Not happening."

  Her lips pursed with irritation. "Will I be hurt? Yes. I won't pretend otherwise. Am I afraid of pain? No. Will the little girl obey the big, strong men? Go screw yourselves!"

  More spirit. More stubbornness. "Will I allow you to head straight to your unhappy ending?" Puck said. "No. You could be killed on sight. Or worse." Especially if Sin discovered what she meant to him. Not that she meant anything to him. Rephrase. Especially if Sin discovered Puck had bonded to her.

  Better.

  "Agreeing with Mr. Muppet grieves me, but in this, I must." William settled a fist over his heart, a position of faux dejection that in no way belied his immeasurable strength. "We go together or not at all. And what does he mean, unhappy ending?"

  Gillian waved away the question as unimportant.

  "We'll leave at first light." Puck pointed to her bandage. "Tonight, you'll heal."

  "Sir, yes sir. We'll also feast." She saluted him, her expression unreadable. "Tomorrow, we'll head out to kick Sin the Demented off the Connacht throne and get me my divorce."

  21

  He was back. Puck had returned, as promised, making Gillian feel as if unicorns were prancing through her chest, and fairies were dancing inside her stomach. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Otherworldly beautiful, with his chiseled features carved from ice and stone. His long, dark hair. Those horns. His utterly divine scent, more potent than magic, more intoxicating than wine.

  She shivered. Everything about the warrior appealed to her. His towering height and wide shoulders...all those cuts of glorious sinew and latent strength...his tattoos...his lean hips and muscular legs...

  His massive hard-on.

  Yeah, he'd gotten hard--for her? For someone else? And she'd noticed the moment it happened, despite wanting to stare at his face forever. His shaft was a magnet for her gaze. Apparently the Dune Raider wanted to go a-raiding--in Puck's pants.

  Finally she had proof: old fears would not rise up and overtake her.

  Dang him! The second she'd spotted him, a sizzling bolt of lust had slammed into her, igniting a wildfire in her veins and an aching need between her legs, making a mockery of everything she'd felt in the past. Even now, awareness tingled beneath the surface of her skin. Skin burned by a constant white-hot flush. Breathing was now a luxury, panting the norm. Her heart had yet to slow down.

  Her body craved relief--and wanted it from him, only him. Her husband.

  Already unofficially divorced? Who was she kidding?

  Having been forced to bury her physical desires for centuries, she'd become a master at hiding her needs. Those skills served her well today, allowing her to fool both Puck and William. Crave Puck's mouth and hands? What? When? Me?

  Once or twice, she'd feared Puck had figured her out, feared he could see underneath her calm facade, how her knees threatened to melt every time he revealed emotion, or heat. Once, she'd thought he'd gazed at her with palpable longing.

  But, no matter how desperate she might be, or how much he might or might not desire her, the reasons for avoiding sex with him hadn't changed. He would freeze her out afterward, making her feel used and abused. She would kill him, and in turn, inadvertently kill herself. No, thanks.

  Unless she iced him out afterward? Food for thought.

  Or she could just wait for the divorce. As soon as the bond got axed, she would crave other men. Surely! Besides, what was a few more days or weeks of abstinence after half a millennium?

  But oh, she was tired, so very tired of hearing about her friends' amazing sex lives. "Sex is beautiful," Rosaleen had once said. "A communion of bodies and souls. And the pleasure--" She'd smiled a cat-eating-the-canary grin. "I was so primed for an orgasm, I didn't care if the world around me ashed. Not until I was done with my man."

  That. That was what Gillian craved.

  "You guys want a tour of the camp?" she asked.

  Puck nodded, his gaze never wavering from her face, as if he couldn't look away. As if he'd found a prize worth fighting for.

  A coil of warmth unfurled in her belly, even as she chided herself for more wishful thinking.

  "I would love a personal, private tour," William said.

  William, sweet William. She'd been so excited to see him, more excited than she'd thought she'd be, considering he'd faded to a fond but distant memory in the back of her mind and heart.

  His fairy-tale face and fantastical electric blues had grown harder in their time apart. And he had a sharper edge, too. If only her body responded to him. He was never cold with her.

  As she led her guests through camp, Puck fell into step between her and William, his body heat razing her already sensitized nerve endings. Maintaining her casual facade jumped from possible to improbable.

  Neither male noticed. At the moment, they were too busy glaring at each other.

  William broke first, tossing a careless smile Gillian's way. "Tell me true, poppet. On a scale of one to ten--one meaning you nearly perished from heartbreak every minute of every day, and ten meaning you did, indeed, perish because you could no longe
r live without me, but hope of a reunion brought you back to life--how badly did you miss me?"

  Snort. "We were parted?" she asked, feigning confusion.

  "Oh, how you wound me." He bypassed Puck to stop in front of her and brush a lock of hair from her face. "You fared well here?"

  "I did." She wouldn't trade her time in Amaranthia for anything.

  Again, Puck stepped between them. Though he wore his favorite Ice Man expression, broadcasting zero emotion, he wrapped his hand around William's windpipe, squeezing while lifting her friend off his feet. "I will give you only one warning, Ever Randy. This is my land."

  "Mine," Gillian corrected.

  Still glaring at William, he said, "She is mine. Until we are unbonded, no one gets between me and her. Understand?"

  Lightning crackled under William's skin as he slammed an elbow into Puck's forearm, gaining his release. "You have no right--"

  "Don't I?" Puck jutted his chin. "Or do I need to remind you of our deal? You are to keep your hands to yourself."

  Always so cold, yet so hostile, now intense and possessive. Why, why, why did she want to throw herself into her husband's muscular arms?

  "What deal?" she asked.

  "What deal do you think?" Puck replied. "The one where William helps me claim my crown--"

  "Not that part," she said, and rolled her eyes. "The part about keeping his hands to himself."

  He glared at William, but remained mute.

  "Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Pucky," William snapped, though he did power down, the lightning under his skin fading. "But then, what is? Or is this an act to keep me in line?" He spread his arms wide. "Well, no need. Consider me lined."

  "I protect my investment," Puck snapped back.

  Ugh. She'd once referred to herself as an investment, hadn't she? Silly little girl.

  "You'll lose her soon enough," William said.

  The color in her husband's face heightened. He grabbed hanks of his hair, razors cutting his palms, blood welling. Eyes squeezed shut, he grated, "What's happening...instincts...kill threat...can't, can't."

  Kill William? Because he'd threatened Puck's marriage?

  Softening, Gillian reached for Puck, intending to distract him with touch. But she needn't have bothered. The Ice Man returned. Of course. He straightened, his arms falling to his sides, his expression devoid of any emotion.

  Disappointment struck, but she ignored it. What had she expected?

  "Gillian!" a familiar voice squealed.

  The patter of footsteps echoed...a stampede of them, actually, growing closer by the second. Both Puck and William braced for attack a split second before a gaggle of children circled her, shoving the guys out of the way.

  Her heart nearly burst with love as she received smiles, hugs and kisses. These rescued children adored her, and the feeling was mutual.

  One of their teachers called out, "All right, children. Enough. You've got a paper to write, and our queen has duties to oversee."

  Amid groans of disappointment, Gillian promised to visit the school later on. Just like that, the groans were replaced by cheers. The children raced away.

  William gazed at her with a quizzical expression. "Queen?"

  She shrugged. "Tradition is strong in Amaranthia, aye? Though I've created a democracy, most Shawazons prefer the old ways, with a ruling class."

  "After your--I can't bring myself to say the B-word." He shuddered. "I researched Puck and learned a few things about his homeland. Females are often forced to become fillies in a stable with hundreds of others. They are banned from the battlefield and punished if they dare learn to read or write." He spat the words at Puck, as if her husband should carry all the blame.

  "That is changing," she said, her chest puffing up. "A few of my women have stables of their own, where men are like kept stallions. We war, and we learn whatever we want without reservation."

  Frowning now, William massaged the back of his neck. "I should have trained you to fight when we first met."

  "I wasn't ready," she admitted. Back then, any hint of violence had panicked her.

  With his arms crisscrossed over his chest, his biceps bigger than her hopes and dreams, Puck stared her down. "Do you have a stable of stallions?"

  "Dude. If only!" She suspected having a stable wasn't the same as dating in his mind.

  William gaped at her, as if she'd just admitted to being pregnant with triplet demons. "You desire a stable?"

  "Like you have any room to judge," she said, and humphed. "You've been with ninety-nine percent of the female population. Boy, you get around."

  He reached for her again, only to catch himself, fist his hand, and drop his arm to his side. A flare of irritation in his eyes before he said, his voice low and husky, "Merely practice for you."

  Oh, please. "How many times have you used that particular line?"

  "When compared to the size of my hit it and quit it number, practically zero," he replied, only slightly abashed.

  How many did "practically" equal? She motioned the guys forward, not daring to look Puck's way. He'd gone silent, which wasn't a good sign. The best predators watched and waited...

  "Come on," she said. "Let's finish the tour." The sooner she got to Peanut, the better.

  In the ensuing half hour, every woman who spotted Puck and William had one of three reactions. A fit of giggles, a blush, or a seductive wave. William waved back, even winked a time or twelve, but Puck pretended not to notice--or maybe he didn't notice. He remained focused on Gillian as she talked about the homes she'd helped build. How, after paying an architectural engineer and finding out what she'd needed, she and her clanswomen had spent decades digging with tools and magic until reaching a layer of compacted soil beneath the sand. They'd also dragged, carried, magically hauled or manufactured different-sized stones and metals to the campsite to create screw piles, gravel for concrete, and everything else they'd required.

  A lot of hard work, a lot of time and energy, and a lot of trial and error, but totally worth it. They'd created secure homes with all the essentials: stove, storage, arsenal and space for a bed.

  Because the Shawazons lived near a gorgeous, pristine lake, other clans constantly attacked, hoping to take over.

  Hat tip to anyone who managed to do the impossible.

  "I'm amazed," William said. "My delicate girl has--"

  "Delicate?" Oh, but he'd raised her hackles with that little gem. He refused to see her another way, despite everything she'd shown him? Well, she'd have to teach him better. "Hold my daggers," she said to Puck.

  William hurried to reassure her. "I merely complimented you. You've changed, strengthened. Stories of your exploits will be told long after you've gone."

  Her stomach flip-flopped as realization settled in. He expected her to leave Amaranthia. No doubt Puck did as well, after he'd won the Connacht crown. As archaic as he was, he might cut the Shawazons from an all-clan alliance.

  Tingles on the back of her neck. Heat racing down her spine. She dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood. Inhale, exhale. Hulking-out won't do anyone any good. Searching for calm...there. A well of confidence.

  No one cut the Shawazons from an alliance!

  "Do you expect me to leave Amaranthia when you become king?" she demanded.

  He frowned at her. "Of course."

  Knew it! "Too bad. Unlike you, I finish what I start." She would be staying, and she would remain queen. Her people would be protected, always.

  You will not have a happy ending...

  She tuned out the Oracles' prediction, even as her stomach performed another flip-flop.

  Frown deepening, Puck tilted his head, his study of her intensifying. "What are you trying to tell me?"

  He needed clarity? Fine. She'd spell it out. "If you try to disband the Shawazons when you unite the clans, I will find a way to dethrone you." Gillian was tempted to use the last of her magic, just to prove her strength. Something she would have done without hesitation as a pluc
ky two-hundred-year-old. But she was older now, wiser, and refused to waste the hard-won gift she'd acquired. She wielded magic for protection, defense and survival, not bragging rights.

  She expected resistance. She'd threatened him, after all. But he softened. "Your clan will always have a place here, lass."

  Really? "Okay. Yes. Thank you." Goodbye, indignation.

  No, not goodbye. Not entirely. Like a parasite, indignation found a way inside William. He flicked the tip of his tongue against an incisor, as if he could taste the blood of his enemy--and liked it.

  To divert him, she said, "I showed you mine, now you show me yours. What else did you do during my absence? And don't you dare tell me a gentleman never spills."

  "Oh, I won't, poppet." His voice possessed a formal tone he'd never before used with her. "Even gentlemen spill with the proper incentive."

  His meaning crystalized, and she blushed like a maiden of 216.

  Puck sucked in a breath, as if he...what? Liked her blush? Or maybe he just wanted to murder William for flirting? Either way, meow. Won't look. Any heat would fade from his dark eyes with their glittering starbursts, and he would regard her with cold disinterest.

  "Other than drinking myself into stupors and fighting beside my father in the underworld?" William sighed. "I threw man-tantrums, searched for you and considered all the ways to punish Puck."

  Ha! Man-tantrums. The worst kind. And William's were even worse than most!

  "So what's your favorite method?" Puck asked. He didn't sound curious or upset or even particularly intrigued.

  "That's easy." William rubbed his hands together, all evil overlord. "Skinning you alive to make a flesh coat, then wearing it as I hack you to bits. Slowly. You'll become a cautionary tale. The moral? When someone hopes to experience the horrors of hell on Earth, mess with my woman."

  Puck stiffened, his body language saying more than words. Basically: She's all mine, hands off, or get bent.

  At least, that was what Gillian heard. And dang it, the possessiveness kinda sorta delighted her. Not that it would last. "I'm not yours, or anyone's," she told William. "You're my friend, but..."

  William took her rejection in stride, saying, "You aren't mine today...but you will be. I'll make sure of it."

  She almost asked, What about your curse?

  And, Do you think I'm the one destined to slay you?