Time Dancer (18 page)

Warric could toss them each a fireball and run while they burned but he didn’t want to hurt anyone else. A dark whisper sounded in his ear that he could slip into their minds, make them forget seeing him, but he shook it away. To use that channeling power led to insanity in the victim and might hasten his own. He would never use that, never give in to that evil in his blood.

Still, he was leaving. He was going to Kya and no one was standing in his way. He lurked in the shadows until they all went on rounds, all but one. The young guard stood vigilant for a long half hour then started bouncing his leg and looking around. Seeing no one to take his place, he gave in to nature’s call, walked a few paces to a bush and lifted his tunic. As the guard exhaled in relief, Warric ducked through the cracked-open gate.

Once it locked tight, he let loose his held breath. His sneaking out wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. He tightened his hold on his pack and set out. Eight miles was a long walk in the cold but Kya waited at the end. It was enough to put a bounce in his step.

He was frozen to the core by the time her cottage came into view. Wispy smoke curled from the chimney and a golden, welcoming glow shone through the windows. Heat stung his face when he stepped into the room. Kya spun from the washtub with a gasp.

“Warric! Where have you been? I was worried sick about you.” She dried her hands on her apron then cupped his cheeks. “You’re going to catch your death out in this cold. The miller swears a storm is coming, says his knees ache as a warning.”

“Hold me.” Dropping his pack, he pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. “Hold me tight.”

She did, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing. Slowly, his body stopped shaking from the chill, and his skin lost the burn of frosty air. The constant throb in his head eased. Kya never let go.

“I’m sorry about last night. I blacked out in the west field. But I figured things out.”

He dropped his mantle on the floor and brought the history book out of his bag. Taking her hands, he led her to the table, sat her down and told her everything. She asked few questions but he explained what he thought she might not understand. It wasn’t common knowledge. Channelers were so rare, Emerto Marchen was the only name he knew offhand, but there were others listed, ones known for evil deeds who died long ago.

One full lip turned white as she nibbled it. “What exactly is channeling?”

“Channeling is...greedy, gluttonous, nearly uncontrollable power. It’s mostly destructive and has always led to madness.”

“Wait.” Kya skimmed a passage, her lip tucked between her teeth. “The evil you feel, you speak as if it’s another person. Is it someone trying to control you through magic?”

Shame burned on his cheeks. “No. It’s all me. It’s every wicked, bad thought I’ve ever had made stronger and darker. It takes a simple thought and twists it, magnifies it until it strays from anything I’d normally want. I don’t want to be king, I never have. But sometimes, I get...jealous. Papa and Batu are so close, so much alike. Sometimes I wish I had that relationship with him.”

“You’re very close to your mother.”

“I know it’s petty, but I can’t stop those thoughts. But I’d never want Batu to die. The channeling takes that seed of jealousy—which I think is normal in any family—and turns it into something ugly. I always thought I was a decent man, maybe not sinless but not terrible. I guess I was wrong.”

She snorted. “Please, every man has wickedness in them. It’s part of human nature. Most only need to get drunk for it to come out. You’re no more inherently evil than I am. It’s the goodness in you that keeps the channeling under control. It’s the goodness I fell in love with.”

Stroking one finger along her cheek, he gazed deep into her eyes. “I want to show you something.” He flipped the pages until he came to a passage and showed it to her. “Look, the first channeler recorded wasn’t evil until he got very old and started losing his memory. He controlled the surges and used his magic in constructive ways. I can do that with your help. You keep me balanced, Kya. May I stay with you until I learn how to control this thing inside me before it controls me?”

The book smacked shut with a loud clap. “Why do you even ask? Of course.” She laced her fingers with his. “I’ll change my name to Shadow and stick to you like wool to a sheep. You can do this, my love. I know you can.”

Her
love
. He dropped his mouth to her hand. “I’ll change your name to Segur if you let me.”

“I will,” she breathed. “I met your father today. He seemed very nice.”

“He can be. He called you beautiful, which only proves his eyes work well. My father liked you.”

She blinked several times and her cheeks pinkened. “Yes, well, had I known I’d be called before the king, I might have taken my apron off.”

* * *

Human sleep weighted his body, a deep blankness filling his mind. Darach breathed in the scent of Jana nestled beside him. He dipped his head, luxuriating in the sleepy fragrance of her skin. He mulled foreign words around his mind, tasting them on his tongue before bending to her ear and giving them life.

“I love you,
nayeli
.”

She snuggled deeper into sleep, deeper into his arms. The journey, the steamy warmth of the sauna and their loving had sapped every bit of her strength, and he’d nearly had to carry her to the bed. But her hands had clung to his, begging him to stay, and he had, sliding between the sheets and cradling her through the cold night.

Although the shutters were tight, he could tell that dawn had not yet crested but his mind was fully awake. He needed answers and looked to Jana, but the shadows beneath her eyes held his tongue. Sliding from the thick mattress, he tugged on his clothes before misting. The wall between the rooms was cold and thick but was no barrier to his natural form.

The Crowned Prince wore only loose breeches and a haggard look. Sitting in a plush chair, he sipped whiskey and stared out the frost-covered glass.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Batu jumped, spilling the drink down his bare chest. “Damn it, Darach, you scared the shit out of me.” Darach looked at his seat and Batu shook his head. “Not literally, you lughead. Just don’t pop up behind me anymore, all right? I’ve got too much on my mind to sleep right now.”

The whiskey glass made a hollow clunk on the table. Batu ran his fingers through his hair then shrugged, bringing a wince of pain. He motioned to a matching chair by the fire and Darach sat, enjoying the soft cradle of overplump cushions.

“I don’t know where my wife is, and I can’t know or she’ll be in more danger. In order for the monarchy to survive, we have to be kept apart. I might not even be able to see my own child born. Sometimes I wonder if the crown is worth all that. Maybe I’d make a better farmer than a king.”

“You’d give up your birthright?”

“If it meant keeping those I love safe? In less than a heartbeat.”

Darach nodded. “I, too, would give up my birthright. I want to.”

For one tense moment, the prince didn’t move. “What do you mean?”

“I want to stay here, in this realm, with Jana.” Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled with a soft chuckle. “I love her, Batu. I can’t leave her.”

A wide grin erupted on Batu’s face. “You’re going to stay? Become human?”

“Yes. For Jana.”

A small part of him cringed at all he was losing. A momentary wave of terror swept through him at never again seeing his home. He blinked, realizing that if he stayed, he would then one day die. Even that didn’t deter him. Human death meant the other side of life and eternity with Jana. It seemed more than a fair exchange.

Batu produced another small glass and poured them both a drink. “A toast, to Darach and Jana. May your love be forever magical.”

Darach touched his glass to Batu’s then sipped, letting the burn slide down his throat. “Exactly how did your mother and Jana’s stepmother become human?”

The prince’s shoulders tensed. “Mama could tell you better. I only know the stories.”

“Your mother’s not here.”

A quirk lowered one of the prince’s eyebrows. “Well then, let me think a minute. I know someone close has to be near death.”

“Death?”

“Yes. My grandfather traded places with my mother, Queen Myla, when she died. Salome had been shot with an arrow and almost died.” Batu threw up his hand in futility. “Long stories made shorter, basically when death was very close, they
chose
to live their lives as human, to give up their shifting ability and their home world. I know there’re more nuances that I’m forgetting or have never heard, but that’s all I can recall. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

The whiskey was smooth. A subtle smokiness flavored the drink and lingered on his tongue. Death didn’t frighten him. But the idea that Jana might have to be so perilously close to it sent nausea through him. He kept his gaze on the amber liquid.

“Batu, when it comes time, I’d like you to do this to me.”

“Do what?” Understanding tightened his fists. “You want me to...kill you?”

“To get me as close to death as possible, yes. I can’t stomach the thought of Jana...”

Perception lifted the prince’s chin. “I’d die for my woman, too. All right. When you’re ready, I’ll do it.” A troubled look thinned his lips. “Damn, it feels strange to agree to kill a man I like...and to his face.”

They drank in companionable silence, watching snow fall like white lace against the black night. The first sparks of dawn leaped over the sharp mountains in a shower of gold, pink and orange. A tickling began at the back of his neck, not a sense of danger but of someone watching him. He turned but Batu shifted his face, staring out the window, a curiously smug look smoothing his features. The more Darach stared, the more Batu’s lip twitched.

“What’s amusing you?”

A forced cough hid a short bark of laughter and Batu seemed to find the wall opposite him fascinating. “Earlier tonight, the earth quaked.”

Heat exploded on Darach’s face. He studied the opposite wall. “So it did.”

A not-so-well-hidden snicker was choked down behind a rough throat-clearing. “I assume it wasn’t because you lost your temper again.”

“Batu...shut up.”

Laughter rang uninhibited, bouncing off the shadowed walls. “Come on, I have to give you a hard time about it. It’s what friends do when women aren’t around.”

A thin sap line ran the length of the wood plank at Darach’s feet. It held his attention as he sorted through his emotions. Friendship. It was important to humans, nearly as important as family.

Jana’s love had shaped him, taken a raw lump of clay and baked it into a new creation. He looked up and realized more had shaped him. Batu had been a sort of guide to him, showing him the ways of human men and explaining when he didn’t understand. They’d shared time and words, fought side by side, had a natural harmony that made them well suited together. Perhaps that was what a friend was, an echo to your soul, separate but in perfect accord.

“I’m glad to have you as a friend.” He stuck his hand out, as he’d seen several men do.

Batu took it with strength. “You’re a worthy friend to have, as well.”

The grip tightened then fell away. Each reached for their glasses and slipped back into silence. Pride stiffened Darach’s back. Men, human men, did not need more words than necessary. A handshake was vow enough.

The thought of a vow brought memories to the surface. “Batu, do you know anything about a Princess Rycca Ooman?”

“Rycca?” A mass of lines chalked into his forehead. “No. I don’t think I’ve heard that name before.”

“She’s the beginning of the heartmate bonds. Jana danced there last night.”

Shock opened Batu’s mouth. “I thought you said her name was Ooman? Shouldn’t it be Segur?”

“Yes. But how that changes or what creates the bonds we haven’t yet seen. When Jana’s rested fully, we’ll dance more but I thought perhaps you recalled that name from your schooling.”

“There was a fire.” Laying his head back, Batu studied the ceiling as if reading a book. “Sometime about two hundred summers ago, fire totally destroyed Thistlemount’s library and the king’s study. From what I can recall, a prince also died in the fire. I think. Maybe it was a princess, I’m not sure. Anyway, many records and lineage charts were lost. Now, the court has an official historian but back then, it was devastating.”

Downing the last of his drink, he used the chair arms to lever himself up. He limped to the bed, pulled on a thick robe and belted it.

“Where are you going?”

“To help. I hate sitting on my ass. At least my brain still works. Paron is more than my father’s most trusted advisor. He’s the official Elder’s Council historian. I’m going to go raid his library and see if I can find anything on Rycca Ooman or the heartmate bonds. If not, well, if anyone remembers any old legends or tales, it’s him.”

Caution brought Darach to his feet. “Do you think it wise to reveal so much to our host?”

Batu paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Knowing who to tell the truth to is the hardest part of politics, he said. I agree. My father trusts him so I will as well. If I’m right, he may help. If I’m wrong, I’ll be dead.”

Chapter Ten

Every time her eyes caught Darach’s, she smiled. Nothing had prepared her for this feeling. She could still feel his hands, his mouth, and her knees trembled beneath her borrowed gown. A slight awareness tingled between her legs, not soreness, just knowledge and remembrance, a sweet ache she longed to deepen.

She’d woken to him sitting by the fire, watching her. She’d wanted to draw him into the bed but he forced her up, to dress and go downstairs. He wasn’t satisfied until she’d eaten a hearty breakfast.

In the library, Batu and Paron sat surrounded by old manuscripts, some so yellowed and faded that Jana feared they’d crumble into dust. Batu shook his head ruefully. They’d found nothing yet. Her steps were heavy as she and Darach reclimbed the stairs.

He opened the door to her chamber and tugged her inside. His arms went around her the instant the latch caught. “We should dance but I need to kiss you again.”

The spice of winter burst along her tongue as she opened her lips, taking him inside. Everything in her went liquid—hot, molten liquid. She wound her arms around his shoulders, taking his kiss and returning it. They stumbled blindly toward the bed. The weight of him was a delectable press, grinding into her hips.

“I can’t stop thinking about this, about you, feeling you around me.”

An unfulfilled thrum coursed through her. For a long moment, they danced with only lips, with only tongues. His tongue slicking down her neck sent a shudder through her spine.

“Wait.” Pushing against his shoulder, she wiggled out of his hold.

“
Nayeli
?”

“Just give me one minute.” Stumbling from the bed, she hurriedly scooped herbs from both medicine pouches into a half goblet of wine then downed it in one swallow.

“Is your shoulder paining you?”

“No.” Letting the herbs settle in her stomach, she retied the herb bags. “Last night when I said I needed the healer, it wasn’t for my shoulder.”

His head cocked to the side. “Your ear? Or do you have an injury I cannot see?”

“No injury.” The missing ridge of her ear was still thickly scabbed but hadn’t hurt that much. She crawled back on the bed and looked directly into his eyes. “The herbs I just took, the herbs I took last night before we went to the sauna...they prevent children, Darach.”

He drew a slow breath. “You don’t want children?”

“Perhaps someday.” She ran her fingertip along his tunic braid. Darach would return to his world and she’d have to move forward without him. She couldn’t imagine loving with another man, creating a child with him.

“Jana, look at me.” He tilted her chin up with his knuckle. “I want no man to give you a child except for me.”

This was unfair. She didn’t want to face this heartbreak yet. “You’re a spell. When you leave, I’ll be alone. I don’t want to raise a child by myself.”

“I don’t wish to leave.”

Her lungs stopped working. No breath passed her lips and her eyes began to lose focus. “What are you saying?”

“When our quest is complete, I’ll be called home. I won’t go. I shall choose to remain here, as a man...as your man, if you’ll have me.”

“But what about your world? All the beauty and joy there?”

“Paradise would become cold without you. I need you. You are my
nayeli
, my everything.”

Her most secret hope burst into life, and happy tears coursed over her cheeks. He kissed each one away. Her hands kneaded his back and Darach moaned, a rolling rumble of innuendo and promise.

Unlacing the gown was quick work for his lean fingers. She pushed the heap of linen to the floor and kicked her legs free.

Darach’s hands slid up, cupping her breasts through her shift. “You are so soft here.” Her nipples tightened beneath his fingers. “And yet, you grow hard with my touch.”

Another hardness pressed against her cotton-covered thigh and she rocked, delighting in his inhale that turned to a groan. Nuzzling her neck, he tugged the shift over her head, tossing it into a corner. He lowered her to the mattress with a slow hand and a slower tongue teasing along her collarbone.

Words hovered on her lips but fizzled away when his mouth captured her nipple. It budded tighter against his tongue. He slid his arm beneath her, arching her higher, more fully into his mouth. His low sound of contentment warmed her skin.

A wet ache rekindled between her thighs. The glorious spread of his hair fell around her like night falls on the land, touching in gentle brushes. He impatiently shoved it over his shoulder, out of his way. She ran her hand through it, delighting in the softness. Separating one long section, she brought the feathery ends up and rubbed it across his lips. She brushed it along his cheek, across his jaw, down his neck.

His smooth-stone touch glided over her stomach. His lips followed. A moan eked out as he traced her navel, swirling around and around it. The rough scratch of his quilted tunic abraded her skin and she fisted it in her hands, pulling and tugging. Darach sat back enough to yank it over his head.

With his arms trapped in fabric, Jana stole the chance to touch and explore. The hard planes of his chest entranced her. She pressed a wet openmouthed kiss above his left nipple. For a dozen heartbeats, he didn’t move, letting her taste him. The ridged muscles in his stomach jumped beneath her traveling lips. Tossing the tunic aside, he took her mouth with a low growl.

The muffled boom of his boots hitting the floor rang through her and she gripped his waistband. Darach was faster, stripping his breeches off with a swift move. He covered her, tongue plunging into her waiting mouth. Skin on skin, his body radiated heat and the earthy, spicy scent drove her mad. Need consumed her, racing up her bones like smoke through a chimney flue.

The heavy length of him pressed against her thigh and she tried to part her legs, to welcome him back into the contours of her body, but he slid down, trailing kisses over her. Her fingers shot into his hair as he nuzzled her stomach, lapping at her navel. He devoured her, scoring a line down her leg to nuzzle at her ankle.

A single kiss pressed against her arch then he froze. His gaze fixed on her sex and his pupils dilated. The brush of his fingers up her inner thigh spiraled quivers along her bones. Inch by inch, his touch slowly trekked up. One cautious finger stroked with a featherlight exploration.

“So soft, wet.”

She mewled as his touch parted the slick folds, grazing the aching knot. His eyes flew wide.

“You’re hard here as well.”

“Yes,” she panted.

He rubbed the bud and her hips vaulted. “A pearl. A pearl nestled in a cradle of liquid silk.”

He gave her gentle friction of an unending circling caress. Her thighs tightened and her hips moved. His mouth fell to the curve of her belly. Goosebumps erupted when he growled against her skin. “This pleases you. I can smell it.”

“Yes!” She fisted the coverlet. Darach lavished attention on her inner thighs, slicking his tongue in a slow trek. One lick traced up the center of her. Jana forgot how to breathe and didn’t care to learn again.

Pulling back, he ran his tongue over his upper lip and swallowed. A rumble sounded from his chest. Hard fingers bit into her hips as he dove back, licking and sucking. This was new to her, not unheard of but never experienced. Each flutter of his tongue pushed her higher, closer to that elusive precipice. He gave her no respite.

What he’d called a pearl quivered beneath his mouth. He teased it, flicked it, sucked it, tugged it between his lips.
Too
much
,
too
good
. She writhed, trying to get closer to the pleasure and yet further from the exquisite torture. A strong forearm clamped across her hips, holding her still.

A tiny tremor sparked in her belly. She tried to say his name but the sudden whoosh of wildfire stole her words. Her body jolted. Fire raced along her bones, dissolved her muscles, and each limb quivered. A final moan broke from her lips as she melted into the bed.

Darach crawled up her body, his face furrowed in concern. “
Nayeli
? Did I hurt you?”

She laughed, a breathless exhalation. “No. I flew. You made me fly.”

“Fly?” Comprehension lifted his cheeks. “As you made me in the sauna?”

“Yes.” She tenderly brushed the hair from his brow.

Darach frowned. “You didn’t fly then.”

“Uh, no, but it’s all right. I never had...with anyone until you.”

“You shall fly with me again.”

Something inside her turned from liquid contentment to simmering hunger. He leaned to take her lips and she shifted her legs along his, opening for him. The blunt head of his staff slid along her wet folds. Slowly, he rocked, caressing her most intimate spot with his, touching her with the barest pressure. She whimpered and his lips angled up at one edge. That buried pearl that had entranced him swelled as he nudged and grazed. He deliberately stroked harder. The slickness grew.

“I can take you like this?” She couldn’t answer. All her words were stolen by a stretching fulfillment as he sank inside with one long, hot, slow slide. “Oh,
nayeli
.”

Her thighs clenched around his hips and she pulled him down, bringing his mouth to hers. Despite the first time in the sauna, her body needed a moment to adjust to the sweet invasion. He thrust with a gentle push. A delicious burn burst between her legs. She tightened and his head jerked back, his hair pooling around them like a shroud. She dug her heels into the mattress and rocked up, drawing him deeper.

A soft moan parted his lips. For every stroke he gave, she responded. For every withdrawal, she beckoned. He learned, giving in to his own needs, mastering hers. Each rolling drive of his hips twisted need through her. Unseen whiskers scraped her cheek. Hot kisses filled with mumbled words in a language she didn’t understand surrounded her. She loved the sound, a music only for her.

The ridges of his stomach fascinated her. Flat dark nipples beaded tight under her licking tongue. She nipped and he growled, a wordless cry for more. One hand traced down his back, gripped a handful of firm ass and squeezed. He surged inside her.

Deliberately using her nails, she raked his back. He arched. A quick bite below his jaw line followed a flicked tongue across the shell of his ear. A shudder worked his spine, and a gruff rumble echoed from his chest. The deliciously erotic noises vibrated against her mouth.

Rough fingers grabbed her thighs, opened her wider. He drew back, nearly leaving her. A whimper of protest curled in her belly. There was no time for words. His swift fingers threaded through the damp, dark-gold triangle until they stroked the swollen bud atop her cleft. Before she could fly, he took his touch away. She mewled like a starving kitten but the animal in Darach would not be led, could not be tamed.

He angled back, drawing his knees under him, draping hers across his thighs. He watched as he barely joined them over and over. His shallow moves taunted her, dipping just inside her until a gnawing ache turned flush and ripe. The more she squirmed, trying to get closer, the farther he held himself away, the more he teased. Darach had learned to play.

Although she had little more experience than he did, Jana had grown up around men, around soldiers, and had heard naughty, forbidden talk not meant for feminine ears. She used every word of that illicit knowledge.

She lunged up, seating herself on his lap, taking him deep in one fast plunge. The stretching burn enflamed her. She clung to his neck, the tight cords jumping with his tenuous control. His hands curled under her behind and lifted her, settled her, repeated the move. Biting into his shoulder, she sucked and the saltiness of his skin turned savory on her tongue.

Her back hit the feather mattress and he plunged hard, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain like a master. They’d teased, pushed each other beyond endurance, and the carnal animals emerged. He levered higher, thrust harder, delved deeper with a roar. He held nothing back, giving without restraint. She took it all.

Time slowed to a stop. Nothing existed except the raw scent of him, the sharp mint of his tongue, the intense heat radiating from his skin, the feel of him moving inside her. A quiver gripped her belly, shot downward and burst into a bright pulsing point. Release sprang from between her legs, then erupted along every muscle and bone.

He drove faster, his jagged breath loud against her ear until he howled. Wet heat filled her with a pounding force. This time, the earth only moved for them.

* * *

Hours later, Darach tied the blood-stiffened cloth around her hand. He stepped back to do his preparation ritual, loosening his muscles and centering his magic, then gave her his breath of sleep. Her last conscious memory was the taste of his mouth.

She was no longer afraid of the void, of the empty cavern between dream and time. She knew he would come.

“
Call
me
, nayeli.”

“I call Darach. Come to me, my tracker, my lover, my guide. Come and dance with me.”

Darach in the darkness was a soothing force. His hand slid against hers. Even in spectral form, her body quivered at his touch. She simply absorbed it, letting it calm her, basking in the black that had once frightened her so. Then she called the light.

This time, she needed no instructions. Jana closed her eyes, let the fire of a spellsinger burn through her and reached out to the blood of the crown. She’d once feared this power but now she embraced it, feeling the swell rise within her. Before the last word died in the echoing dark, a thousand voices boomed around her.

Darach pressed his mouth close to her ear. “Call for Princess Rycca. She’s where we need to begin this dance.”

“
Princess
Rycca
of
ages
gone
,

Sing
to
me
an
epic
song
.

Show
me
yourself
in
measured
verse
.