The Darkest Warrior Page 24

  William rolled his eyes and tossed Gillian a shirt. On the front, he'd bedazzled Puck's face inside a circle. The caption read I Ain't Afraid of No Goats.

  Next, he tossed a shirt at Puck. "No need to thank me. I know you love it."

  Puck offered his patented cold smile. "My image nestled against Gillian's breasts? I will thank you, Willy."

  Nostrils flared, William grated, "I. Will. Murder. You."

  "You. Can. Try."

  Gillian sighed. "We're heading out within the hour, and I've got things to do. Go, both of you. Prepare yourselves."

  "Anything for you." William blew her a kiss and stalked outside.

  Puck lingered. Eyes ablaze, he said, "Prepare yourself, because I will have you. I told myself I wouldn't touch you again because, no matter what, I will let you go. I made a vow to William, ensuring it."

  His words shouldn't hurt. But...ouch.

  "But," he continued, "I failed to stay away yesterday--and today. I have you for only a short while, and I'm going to enjoy you while I can. Congratulations, lass. You've defeated me."

  25

  You must prepare yourself, because I will have you.

  Going to enjoy you while I can.

  Puck's words echoed inside Gillian's mind, sometimes on repeat, sometimes on shuffle as she rode Peanut across the sand. His shorter legs made him slower than the other chimeras, his gait choppier. To William's consternation, she used the goat T-shirt as padding underneath her increasingly sore butt.

  One moment she thrilled about Puck's announcement, so hot and achy she thought she might die without his touch. The next she floundered, so confused she thought she might sob.

  Should she resist him? Or just give in?

  Congratulations, lass. You've defeated me.

  He had not sounded happy. But then, when had he ever sounded happy? On the other hand--or maybe the same hand?--he had sounded resentful.

  Gillian had married him with a single task in mind: to make him feel some kind of emotion. She hadn't known she would come to crave his touch more than anything. Now, she wished she could make him feel desire--desire laced with affection.

  Grudging tolerance would not be, well, tolerated.

  She stewed over a plan of action as their group of five traveled, playing mental tug-of-war. What to do, what to do. Let him go? Fight for him? Take what she could, while she could, as he hoped to do?

  "I hate the beginning of a journey," Winter said, pulling her from her thoughts. "And the end. And everything that happens in between."

  "But you love complaining about journeys," Cameron quipped, "so the rest of us have that to look forward to."

  "That's true." Winter sighed, woebegone. "Great! There's an upside for everyone but me."

  Like Winter, William also kept up a steady stream of complaints.

  The suns hate me.

  Poppet, can you do me a solid and put a little pep in your mangy mutt's step? And no, I'm not talking about Peanut.

  I forgot to bring a deep conditioning treatment for my hair. If I develop split ends, someone is going to get neutered--not going to mention any names, but it starts with a P, or maybe an F, and ends with an uck.

  Soon after, they came upon a small camp. The occupants caught sight of Gillian and squealed, "Not the Dune Raider!"

  She recognized their faces in an instant. Two men on her Most Wanted list. Known abusers.

  Before they had time to run, before anyone in the group had time to react, Gillian was on her feet, sword in hand, delivering justice.

  Heads rolled, and magic filled her.

  William frowned at her. "My baby doll needs to be more careful. What if they'd fought back?"

  Baby doll? He would always see her that way, wouldn't he?

  "Good kills." Puck nodded in acknowledgment but avoided meeting her gaze, as if he knew the tension between them would finally reach a boiling point.

  In an effort to distract everyone with conversation, she remounted Peanut and trotted ahead, saying, "What'd you guys name your chimera?"

  "Animals die before immortals," William said. "Best not make friends with them."

  Winter frowned at her. "Why would I name a lowly chimera?"

  Cameron stared up at the sky. "How many clouds? I must know!"

  "Don't care," Puck said with a shrug.

  Unacceptable! "Don't care is a horrible name. Puck, you'll call yours Walnut. William, yours is Pistachio. Cameron, yours is Almond. Winter, yours is Pecan." Gillian reached out to pet Peanut behind the ear. "They'll be our little nut jobs."

  No response. Good. No response meant no objection.

  Finally, just before nightfall, they reached their destination: the entrance to Sin's maze. A dark fog whisked where sand ended and a creepy forest began. Rather than enter, they made camp at a small river oasis nearby. They'd head in at first light.

  "Think Sin has men waiting inside?" Winter asked. "They might exit and attempt to kill us before we can enter."

  "Or warn Sin of our arrival," Cameron said. "We should--oh, look, another cloud!"

  "He'll sense me the moment I reach Connacht land," Puck replied. "If he has men nearby..." He shrugged. "Let them come."

  William dismounted, his gaze hot on Gillian. "How's your rage level?"

  "Fine," she muttered. Shouldn't Puck ask about her arousal levels?

  Ever the gentleman, William offered to set up camp for her while she took care of any personal needs.

  She accepted, grateful, and led Peanut a good distance away, to the edge of the water, where she fed and brushed him. When he was resting comfortably on a bed of furs, she grabbed a bar of soap from her pack, headed behind a thicket of trees, stripped and entered the pond.

  Once clean, she donned a comfy dress made of scarves. A gift from one of the women she'd saved. As she wrung water from her hair, a light patter of footsteps captured her attention.

  Someone approached, and he carried a faint woodsy scent with him. In her veins, awareness fizzed like champagne.

  "I brought dinner." Puck's husky baritone stroked her ears.

  Not enough time had passed for any kind of hunt, which meant Puck had planned ahead. Taking care of me, even though he claims he doesn't care for me?

  Though her heart raced, Gillian turned slowly...and came face-to-face with the object of her fascination. Moonlight accentuated the tragic beauty of a face cut by cruelty, with no hint of warmth or softness. Not tonight, at least. Like her, he'd taken a bath, leaving his hair wet. Where he'd bathed, she didn't know, since there was no other body of water nearby--to her knowledge. He was shirtless, his warrior's body a revelation of strength and sinew. Tonight, the butterfly tattoo ran from one side of his rib cage to the other, stretching over his navel and along his goodie trail, vanishing beneath the waist of his sheepskins. Her mouth watered for a taste.

  Even the off-limits bird tattoo appealed to her. The one she wasn't allowed to touch.

  Would he have any objections to licking?

  Had she truly spent the day unsure whether or not to deny him? The answer was so clear now.

  I will have him while I can.

  But what could they do tonight? Soon, the others would make their way to the river, expecting to bathe. Wasn't like Gillian could hang a sock on a tree limb as a sign to stay away. How would William react to that? And what about any threats that might lurk nearby?

  Wait. Puck still watched her, expectant. He'd made a comment about...oh, yeah. "Dinner. Thank you," she said.

  He handed her a small satchel of berries and nuts. "Come on. We'll eat together." Like a date! She led him to the pallet she'd made for Peanut. Her pet was too exhausted to move, much less open his eyes.

  Puck eased beside her, watching as she popped a plump red berry into her mouth. His pupils spilled over his irises like some kind of erotic solar eclipse as she moaned with delight and savored the sweet juice wetting her parched throat.

  "You did well today," he croaked.

  "Thank you." She arc
hed a brow. "We are talking about the killings, right?"

  The corners of his mouth twitched, causing her heart to flutter. "I'm talking about the way you rode your chimera without complaint."

  She snorted. "Do I get a trophy?"

  "Yes. You do. I have your trophy...in my pants."

  Puck, making jokes and innuendos... Do not fan your overheating cheeks. She'd only encourage them both at a time she shouldn't encourage either one of them.

  Although, she really wanted her trophy.

  Not yet! "You do not win any prizes today. If you weren't sniping at William, you were stewing in disapproving silence."

  "Hate him. He's as bad as Sin. What do you see in him?"

  Easy. "Affection. Fun. Support." To be fair, I'd rather see those things in you.

  "I have something for you." He dug into his pocket and pulled out...a ring.

  Gift exchange! Only, she had nothing for him.

  "This is your wedding ring."

  Her heart fluttered as she accepted the glittering band. Or tried to. He brushed her hand away and slid the metal over her finger. Perfect fit.

  "Pure Amaranthian gold," he told her.

  Translation: priceless. Rainbow shards glinted inside pale amber hues. "Thank you." She knew William's comment about "suffering" had spurred the gift, but she cherished it anyway. A mark of Puck's possession, meant to warn other males away.

  "But I have nothing for you," she said.

  "Need nothing, want nothing."

  How sad, but also inaccurate. "You want your brother's crown so badly you bonded to a stranger and bargained with a devil."

  "My crown," he interjected. "Only mine."

  "Right." She offered him a berry. After he declined, she said, "So what did he do, exactly, to earn his coming doom? I know he betrayed you, gave you the demon, blah, blah, blah, but there has to be more. And you have to tell me, since you've had your fingers inside me and all."

  Gaze suddenly blazing, he rubbed a hand down his swollen length. She watched, fascinated. Then he realized he was practically masturbating before her eyes--yes, yes, continue--he stopped and fisted the pallet beneath him.

  She swallowed a groan of disappointment.

  "Do not worry. I'll have my fingers inside you again, lass. Soon. Along with other parts of me. But not here, not now. Your pleasure is mine to enjoy. Mine alone. Especially for our first time. Especially for your first time."

  Feminine instincts sang. He was just so carnally masculine. "But I've been--"

  "No, you haven't," he said with a shake of his head.

  Darling man. Beautiful beast.

  "As for the prophecy, the Oracles predicted one brother would kill the other and unite the clans with a loving queen at his side. Both Sin and I vowed we would never marry. Instead, we would rule side by side with equal control. I don't know when he began to plot against me, only know your friend Keeleycael gave him a trinket box that contained Indifference."

  "But why?"

  "According to Hades, she took steps to ensure William's survival."

  Puzzle pieces clicked into place, one after the other, leaving Gillian dizzy with suspicions. If Puck hadn't become possessed, he never would have needed William. Or Gillian. Most likely Keeley never would have given Gillian a potion to make her immortal, and her marriage would have been a nonstarter. She never would have ventured into Amaranthia or learned to use magic. Or faced her fears and lived her dream.

  I would have missed out on all the good things in life.

  But, uh, Puck might not understand if she said, "I guess I owe your brother a debt of gratitude."

  She ate another berry, using the time to think about her next words. "Before Sin's betrayal, you loved him?"

  "More than I've ever loved anyone. Including myself," he said. And it was odd, hearing such heartfelt words spoken without a hint of emotion. "Now, as much as I want to protect my people and realm from him, I want to watch him suffer."

  Thoughtful, she tapped a finger against her chin. "If marrying a loving woman is all Sin needs to do to kick-start the prophecy and ensure you're the brother who dies, why hasn't he married the princess yet? Unless she doesn't love him?" That was certainly the problem in Puck and Gillian's case, wasn't it? "You'd think he'd be extra motivated since you've already married."

  "I have a wife, but not a loving one," he said, giving voice to her thought. "And we do not kick-start a prophecy. They kick-start us."

  "You sure about that? You never would have acted against Sin if he hadn't first acted against you."

  "He never would have acted against me if he hadn't known the fate awaiting us."

  Maybe, maybe not. "If you hadn't guessed, I'm not the biggest supporter of fated things."

  "I don't believe fate plays a part in everything, only certain things."

  "Certain things...like marriage and death?"

  "No. Because relationship mistakes are made all the time. Some deaths are premature." He frowned. "Tell me. Which do you consider more powerful--love or hate?"

  "Love, absolutely. But what does that have to do with anything?"

  "I believe fate works us toward love, always, but people do not always cooperate. Free will. Hate. Evil. Whatever the reason. But I am willing to fight for the desired end, which is why I believe fate will ultimately have her way in Amaranthia. William will dethrone Sin at my behest, and free you. I will find my loving queen, murder my brother and unite the clans, saving everything I once loved."

  Good point. Perhaps Gillian needed to remain married to Puck to save the Shawazons. "You could divorce me in order to meet the requirements of your vow to William...then remarry me. I could help you with your goals."

  "You do not meet the only requirement, remember?" He scowled, bared his straight white teeth and moved his grip to his knees, his claws digging in deep enough to draw blood. To stop himself from reaching for her? "You do not love me. You might even despise me once our bond is severed."

  But what if she did fall in love with him? It wasn't impossible.

  She twirled the band on her finger, not yet used to its weight. Could Puck ever love her back? Would he despise her the moment the bond was severed? Could she really help him unite the clans after she'd caused so much turmoil?

  And what if the prophecy about his life came true, unfolding exactly as predicted? Gillian would be forced to take a much harder look at her prophecy. Kill her man's dreams...no happy ending...

  Was that the fate she wanted for Puck?

  "Do you want me to fall in love with you?" she finally asked, her tone soft, almost pleading.

  "I want...no," he said. Growled, really. He shook his head, adamant. "I do not want you to love me."

  He so totally meant those words. In his dark eyes, the pinpricks of light glowed with intractable resolve. And she wasn't upset. Nope. Not even a little. Love would only complicate their arrangement.

  Get Off, and Get Out--Hump and Dump.

  "Good," she said, all bravado. "Because this queen doesn't want to be saddled with a bossy, unfeeling king."

  No reaction from him.

  Even better! She cleared her throat and returned to their original subject. "So why didn't Sin kill you when he had the chance? Why go to all the trouble of infecting you with Indifference and letting you walk away? Unless he loved you, too, and hoped to find a way to beat the prophecy and keep you both alive."

  "He chose the wrong way."

  True.

  Leaning against the tree behind him, Puck crossed his arms over his chest. "Yesterday you said you...find me attractive. Beautiful, even. You do not mind the horns and hooves?"

  If he didn't want her love--why doesn't he want my love?--why did her opinion matter?

  If she asked, he might walk away in a huff. So, she decided to go a different route, and motioned to the horns with a tilt of her chin. "May I?"

  Eyes widening, he scrambled to his knees and bowed his head.

  Little quakes sped through her limbs as she drew near
er to him, rose to her knees, as well, and traced a fingertip from tip to base along one of the spikes. Warm, and as hard as titanium. Layers of ivory overlapped, forming multiple rings. Ivory, or whatever the protrusion happened to be made of.

  At first contact, he stiffened. Then he moaned.

  Gillian went statue-still. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No! Don't stop. Please."

  In this, he begs? His desperation called to hers, and she wrapped a hand around the base of each horn and squeezed.

  He sucked in a breath, as if she'd just squeezed a different appendage. "I've never liked these horns. Right now, I'm unsure I'll ever be able to part with them."

  Blood, heating. "No one has ever touched them?"

  "I'm unsure. I never cared to say yes or no, or to remember."

  Simmering. Her belly quavered, and an ache ignited in her breasts, culminating in puckering nipples...nipples currently at eye level with Puck.

  The ache quickly spread to the apex of her thighs.

  Boiling now, about to reach a point of no return.

  Gillian released him and returned to her perch. He lifted his head slowly, his midnight-sky eyes aglow with all those stars, almost as if runes ran through his irises as well as his hands. The air between them crackled with awareness, heat and aggression.

  Can't have him. Not here, not now. Distraction! "What were you like before your possession?" she managed to rasp.

  "Why does it matter?" He eased down. "I'm not that man anymore."

  "Humor me, then."

  He hiked his shoulders in a shrug but said, "I was known as the Undefeated. If I entered a war, I won it. Always." A tinge of pride layered his words. "Sin would plan the battles, and I would fight them."

  Victory mattered to him, even now. The fact that Sin had betrayed him--defeated him--must make his hatred for the man so much worse.

  Congratulations, lass. You've defeated me.

  Would he come to resent Gillian, too?

  "I was born with the ability to shapeshift into anyone at any time, no magic needed," he continued. "I didn't have a stable, but I ensured the woman in my bed was well-satisfied."

  "Bragging now? No need. Baby, I have firsthand experience with your sensual prowess, remember?"

  26

  Puck staggered, nearly undone. Gillian had handled his horns. For the second time in two days, he'd nearly come in his pants like a wee lad. Now she spoke of his "sensual prowess" as if she would die without learning more.

  Anticipation frothed through him, and he thought, I will do anything--even walk away from Amaranthia forever--to know the feel of her soft hands on my horns again, to hear her pleasure-rich voice cry my name as she comes.