Gift of the Goddess (14 page)

Trey leaned gloomily against a tree. “I knew it was too good to last. Ah well.” He shot Anje a rueful glance. “I had such plans for you, love.”

Brin gave his shoulder a consoling pat. “Save it for later. It’s about time we made a move anyway. The Shadow’s nibbling at the Sun already. Look.”

Anje squinted, shading her eyes with her hand. It was true. The merest smudge encroached on the bright disk of the Sun, so slight it was barely perceptible.

The shaman said, “I want us back at Feolin before the Day of the Dark.”

“
You
do. I don’t.”

Brin tossed the blade hilt-first to Trey, who plucked it neatly out of the air. Then he took Anje’s shoulders in his big hands, dwarfing her with his bulk. His face had that implacable expression she’d grown to dread, his stare impenetrable, hard as polished onyx.

Before he could speak, Anje twisted out of his grasp. She caught Trey’s arm. “Trey, Trey! If you care, let me go. Make him let me go!” She wrenched at the torque around her neck.

Trey’s face was a picture of misery. He patted the hand gripping his forearm. “I would if I could. But Brin’s right, you’re Lufra’s Gift. You have to come to Feolin. You have to—” He stopped, biting his lip. “Brin, can’t we—?“

“No.” The single word was flat, uncompromising.

Anje whirled. “You said you’d send someone to the Matriarchs with the map. If Trey leaves now,” she dragged in a breath, “I’ll come with you to Feolin. Willingly.”

“No.”

She stepped right into the shaman’s broad chest and plastered her hips against his. “
Willingly
, Brin. Think of it, you won’t have to share.” She stood on tiptoe to cushion his cock against her cleft, uneasily aware that feminine wiles were not her greatest gift. But she had her duty. She tried. “I’ll do anything you want.”

One hand gripped the tender curve of her ass. “You’ll do that anyway, scout.”

When she spluttered, he tipped her chin back with a big fist. “We need Trey with us, Anje. He’s an essential part of your education.” The force of his will was palpable.

“I’m going to have your very soul.” His voice deepened to a velvet rasp, tingling the length of her spine. “For all that you know nothing, you’re strong, the strongest I’ve ever known.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lip. “But that only makes it sweeter. You’ll surrender, scout, and you’ll glory in it. You’ll abandon yourself and adore it. Because you trust—trust absolutely.”

When he let her go, she stumbled. “You’re mad,” she whispered, her voice thready. “Out of your head.”

Brin smiled his devastating half-smile. “No.” He gave her a stinging slap on the buttock, right where her tender flesh still smarted. “You start striking camp. We’ll get rid of the evidence.”

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He and Trey bent to the Hssrdan. Grunting with the effort, they dragged it away toward the brush.

Anje growled, but she stalked over to Brownie to retrieve her clothing. Muttering curses, she dressed and began work in the tent. She dismantled the light table, rolled up bedding. As she bent to retrieve Brin’s sarong, a silvery glint caught her eye.

Trey’s mirror.

Thoughtfully, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was small, no bigger than her palm, but exquisitely crafted. The handle was a silver dragon with fire-opal eyes, its tail curved to form the circular frame.

With an odd sense of detachment, she noticed her fingers weren’t steady. Heart thumping, she raised it and squinted cautiously.

The breath left her in a gusty sigh. Normal. Just Anje eyes, the way they’d always been—a blue so dark it verged on purple. Dark, no-nonsense brows, the level, horizon-scanning gaze of a scout.

The rumble of masculine voices came from outside. Someone muttered a string of curses. A vran whistled softly.

She touched a finger to her swollen lips, tilted her chin to examine the fading beard burn on her cheek.

Well-fucked, that was how she looked.

Not
happy
—not precisely. Her brow furrowed as she puzzled it out.

Glowing
.

That was it. Her entire being fairly thrummed with vitality and excitement. The blood tumbled through her veins in a singing rush, surging with life and health. She rose on her toes, flexed her spine.

There was a shout, cut off abruptly by a mighty splash. Anje smiled. Brin must have thrown Trey in. A few seconds later, male voices bellowed again, followed by another splash.

They’d be naked, the water slipping across broad shoulders and hard thighs, first concealing then revealing treasures of hair-roughened muscle. Mother, they were beautiful men. Brin’s concept of honor didn’t march with hers, but she could swear he was as fine within as he was without. The most dangerous temptation she’d ever faced.

Anje met her own stare in the mirror and froze. Deep in each pupil, a silver flame flickered, a white-hot ember at its core.

The glass dropped from her nerveless fingers and clinked into a tent pole.

Anje sank to her knees, her head bowed, fighting for breath. Frantically, she scrabbled after the mirror. Gripping it so hard her knuckles went white, she lifted her shirt and shoved down her trews. Then she angled the shiny surface, craning her neck and twisting her torso.

72 Gift of the Goddess

Sinuous, silver lines snaked over her lower back and swept up to kiss her spine in a pattern as intricate as a formal dance. Barely able to keep the mirror steady, she traced them around to her belly and hips, where the birthmarks had been.

It wasn’t easy to tell with such a limited view, but she suspected the marks resembled wings.

She pressed a clenched fist to her mouth.
There is nothing stronger than You, Mother of all the world. Save me, save me from Lufra’s will. Set me free to do my duty.

The fleeting memory of a huge shadow gliding darkly overhead slid into her mind. She breathed deeply, regularly, trying to get a fix on it. Had it been a dream?

“Anje? Are you all right?” Trey touched her shoulder and the thought shattered. She spun around, ready to bite his head off. But his boyish face was so concerned, she shut her mouth with a snap.

When she gave a grudging nod, he said, “There’s not much more left to do. Why don’t you go bathe? I’ll finish here.”

“Yes.” Courtesy wouldn’t kill her. She pulled in a breath and added, “Thank you.” As an afterthought, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“To Feolin, via the Mountains of Morn.” Brin’s voice came from behind her. For such a big man, he had an extraordinarily light tread. “It’s not the easiest way, but it’s shorter by days. And I’ve not heard of Hssrda raiding into the mountains. I’d guess it’s too cold for them.”

Brin moved slightly closer. If she inhaled, she’d breathe the spicy smell of rough herbal soap, warmed by his skin. He waited as though he expected her to speak. When she did not, he ran a pulse-fluttering finger down the side of her neck. “I’ll let you ride with me, scout,” he said in seductive rumble. “If you ask nicely.”

Trey laughed at the murder in her eyes. “I think not,” he said. “She’s coming with me, aren’t you, darling?”

“Mother save me from idiot men!”

Anje jerked herself out of their grasp and darted out of the tent, ripping the shirt off over her head as she ran. If she didn’t hit the water this very minute, she was going to combust.

73 Denise Rossetti

Chapter Eleven

The First Law of the scout is to be in control of yourself and your environment at all times.

It is also the Second Law.

And all the others.

Address to graduating scouts, Zenobya, Chief Scout, Mother’s Hearth, 10346 ATF

In the end, Anje loped alongside the vranee with the easy, ground-eating stride of a scout. She could feel the gaze of the Feolin warriors touch her every now and then, no more than a light brush of sensation. They were puzzled, she knew, and it gave her childish glee to think of it.

As her muscles warmed, she ranged further, testing the limits of the torque. Invariably, she would barely get out of sight before her feet brought her back.

Trust! Hah! It was obvious Brin trusted her no further than the length of her magical leash.

But the thought wouldn’t leave her. “Trust enough and you can wear my torque half a world away,” he’d said. And straight after that, he’d made her so angry she could have strangled him and then he’d given her such heart-stopping pleasure she could have died of it.

Bonding!
The arrogance of it made her breathless with fury.

Anje waited ‘til they stopped to eat and drink. Murmuring that she needed to pee, she faded into the trees, withdrawing until she could mark the exact limit of the torque, the place where her body refused to obey her will. She scuffed a mark in the soil with her toe.

Leaning against a tree trunk, she set herself to put her anger and frustration aside. Deliberately, she recalled the sheer primal attraction of Brin’s huge muscular body, the grace and strength of his movements. Her nipples ruched and she smiled. Gods, she’d sat astride him on Twink, her hands bound, his cock buried so deep inside her it nudged her heart. She’d been powerless to stop him and it had been beyond wonderful.

He was made of hard muscle all over, but the skin at the pit of his throat was deliciously soft. She’d pressed her nose there and drawn his essence deep into her lungs.

Cautiously, she slid away from the tree, eyes closed.

The shaman was so complicated, a fascinating blend of the earthy and the honorable. Mother, what a warrior, what a man! And yet, inner demons plagued him. If only he’d open up, tell her, she’d help and do it gladly.

74 Gift of the Goddess

She took another step. And another.

He’d give his life to protect her, she had no doubt. Or Trey. It was part of the code that drove him, something true and deep that ran all the way through.

Anje half-slitted her eyes. Twenty paces. She concentrated harder.

And what of Trey? Why had she given her body to two men, two strangers, so freely? She wasn’t indiscriminate, rather the reverse.

Gods, Trey was so sweet, so cajoling. What was it about him? She’d met pretty young men before, but not one so at ease with his own beauty, so grounded.

He was meant for joy, Trey, but somewhere deep within there was a shadow in his soul. She’d seen it, flickering over his face in moments of repose when he thought he was unobserved. An abiding grief. The power of that need tugged at everything loving and compassionate within her, as tempting as his compelling charm.

Ah, but his body was lovely!

Heat bloomed between her thighs, made her clench her teeth on a whimper. She saw herself as if from the outside, writhing in an extremity of pleasure, her mouth wrapped around Trey, Brin powering deep inside her with that magnificent cock. They could have taken her life at any time, but she’d never had a moment’s doubt she was safe.

Thirty paces.

Ah Mother, she’d loved it! And she wanted to fuck them again, and again, endlessly. She wanted to sleep in a tangle of limbs and wake to their mouths on her skin. She wanted to soothe aching shoulders with her hands, offer comfort and understanding. She wanted to love them forever.

Anje walked into a tree.

The shock of her thoughts addled her wits more effectively than the collision. Luckily, she hadn’t been moving fast.

She rubbed her shoulder, her head whirling. Mother of Mercy, she’d needed that! She must be going soft in the head! With an effort of will, she buried the foolishness at the back of her mind.

Looking back, she brightened. Her reverie had achieved an extra fifty paces.

But she’d had to concentrate so hard to do it she hadn’t been able to watch where was she was going, which rather defeated the purpose. She sagged. She would simply have to improve her mind control. Or get the torque off another way. Grimly, she forced her thoughts back to her earlier plans. She had to get the shaman alone and then somehow—only the Mother knew how—she had to render him unconscious. If she had any skill with herbs, she’d drug him. But she didn’t.

Which left force.

He probably weighed twice what she did. A wave of depression swept over her.

As though her thought had called him, Brin hurtled out of the brush like the wrath of the gods, leaning low over Twink’s neck, a naked blade in his hand. When he saw

75 Denise Rossetti

her, standing there with her mouth open, he sprang down and hauled her into his arms. “Are you all right? Where does it hurt?”

“Get away from me.” Anje fended him off. “I’m fine.”

“But you felt pain, I know you did. The torque—”

“It was nothing.” She held his eye, daring him to make something of her denial. “Take the damn thing off if it bothers you.”

His mouth thinned and he gripped her arm. “You’re riding with me.”