Unforgettable Lover (9 page)

She inhaled, and her lips parted. Her mouth was an open invitation. An overwhelming urge to kiss her ran along his nerves like a raw current. He balled his other hand into a fist. His beast roared at the injustice.

“Paint splatter.” He held up his finger, now red with the oil. “I couldn’t leave it there to mar your pretty face.”

She held his look, her eyes darting back and forth, as if she might be trying to understand his intentions. She broke eye contact, and offered her chair to him. “Please, sit here.” 

He did as she indicated. The old wooden chair creaked under his weight. He stiffened, worried for a moment that the relic would break. When it didn’t, he relaxed. Intrigued, he sat back and watched as she prepared for her work, gathering her brushes and paints around her workstation. She had a small dimple in her cheek that puckered when she smiled. 

“Leonna, do you paint often?” He enjoyed the sound of her name and made a mental note to say it often.

She glanced at him. There was a hint of disappointment in the curve of her mouth. “Not as much as I’d like.” She studied him. A small, admiring gleam flashed in her eyes, but then the twinkle disappeared. “Turn to the left a bit, please.” 

He chuckled to himself and cooperated. “Like this?”

She furrowed her brow. “A little less, more toward me.”

He complied. “So, when you’re not painting, what occupies your time?”

She stilled for a moment, a paintbrush in her hand. “I help my family in the market.”

Flat. Emotionless. Her tone said what her words did not. 

“You mentioned that your family ran the honey cart. I have a new penchant for the bees’ endeavors.” He chuckled just to see her reaction.

She blushed, her skin turning pink once again. Placing her finger over her lip, she whispered. “I need silence to create my best work.”

Whether she teased him on purpose or not, his body responded anyway. As his heartbeat picked up its pace, blood rushed through his veins. His pants became uncomfortable. He readjusted himself in the seat, hoping she didn’t pick up on his discomfort.

A shy, knowing smile crossed her face, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she put the paintbrush back in the cup and pulled out a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. “I need to sketch you first before I put the pigment to canvas.”

She concentrated on her work. Despite the bustle and noise of the crowd and other artists around them, the scratching of pencil to paper was all he heard. Curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked at the paper. She moved it out of the way. Her pursed lips and vibrant eyes told him to stay put.

She moved with such grace. Her body swayed with the movements of her hand, as if she danced to her own special tune. Each time she glanced at him, she captured a little bit more of his soul.

A cold draft blew across his arms. She looked over his head. A sense of unease prickled his skin. He turned to face—

“Well, well. I can’t believe my eyes.” Tiernan lifted the corner of his mouth in a smug smile. “You’re finally getting your portrait done.” He walked closer to Leonna and stared at the sketch.

A strange need to protect reared up inside Nicholai.
Get away from her.

“Eh, not bad, I suppose. Anyone would have a difficult time with your face.” Tiernan smirked.

Nicholai stood and gripped his brother’s arm. “Apologize. Now.”

“To you? Never.”

“Not me. Leonna.”

“Ah, Leonna is her name, is it?” Tiernan yanked his arm out of Nicholai’s grasp. His gaze raked from her head to her toes. “You’re a pretty one, I’ll give you that.”

Nicholai’s beast roared. He couldn’t take it any longer and pushed Tiernan out of the way. Stumbling, Tiernan hit the easel of the artist next to Leonna.

Paint spilled, brushes flew through the air like small, bushy-tailed birds, and the wooden frame surrounding the canvas broke apart. The other patrons and artists scattered, their
oohs
and
aahs
loud in the now quiet room. Tiernan narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed tight. His neck and cheeks reddened.

In all the commotion, Nicholai had grabbed Leonna, cradling her to his body. With his arm wrapped around her waist, the sensation that this was where she belonged couldn’t be denied. She leaned against him, pressing her bottom into his crotch. His body responded as blood rushed to his groin. He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t move. A possessiveness like he’d never experienced before welled up inside him.
Mine. 

“Do not insult her again.” Nicholai’s breath came out in great huffs.

Tiernan stood slowly. His glare never left Nicholai’s. “Watch yourself,
brother
. Father is going to make me king. When he does, you’ll regret this little episode.”

“We’ll see about that.” Nicholai moved Leonna behind him, away from his ever-loving brother.

Tiernan spat on the stone floor. Spittle splashed against Nicholai’s boot. He wouldn’t take the bait. As much as he wanted to hit the male, a fight with his brother was not the answer.

Tiernan laughed, straightened his shirt and walked away.

Nicholai faced Leonna, maintaining contact with her by stroking her hair. Her pale blue eyes penetrated deep into his soul. “Thank you, Nicholai.” 

As she said his name, his confused mind didn’t know how to interpret what his body told him. She seemed like the female from the Betram ritual, but she couldn’t be. His marking for duty blazed to life on his shoulder. The burn reminded him that she was qithan. Unwilling to cross that line, he couldn’t stay here, not with his beast raging to claim her.

“I have to go.” He stepped back. The loss of contact left him cold. “I’ll return again tomorrow night.” He didn’t wait for her response, but turned and walked away.

Chapter Fifteen

Nicholai landed on the floor in the Portal Navigation Center. Bent into a crouch, the cold stone floor was a welcome relief on his warm palms. He exhaled, his breath still visible in the mist that drifted in through the opening. The smell of pine and wet leaves mixed with the scent of blood. A chill settled over his shoulders and ran down his arms. 

The battle with the Gossum had left several warriors with injuries, some minor, some requiring a trip to the infirmary. His brother had made a terrible mistake—he’d missed a Gossum’s shed skin. Nicholai had spotted the thin membrane hanging from a branch. He’d pointed the nasty remnants out to Tiernan who had taken the lead, but then, the Gossum dropped from the trees, surprising the group of soldiers. 

As Nicholai rose, the cacophony of chaos rang in his ears. A warrior hustled by, his arm wrapped around the shoulder of another, helping the wounded male into the hallway. The good news—the infirmary was only a few doors down. 

Rin swirled his hand over the
porte stanen
and the portal closed, shutting out the forest, along with their enemy. The little Jixie rubbed his hands together, his brow furrowing, as if his fingers hurt. He glanced at Nicholai and a welcome smile graced his features.

A strong hand gripped Nicholai’s shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

Nicholai swiveled his head. Tiernan’s green eyes bore into him.

Nicholai tensed. “Are you accusing me of something?” After the episode several days ago between Tiernan and Leonna, Nicholai couldn’t help but antagonize his brother. 

One of the nearby warriors glanced in their direction. A line of blood stained his shirt above his chest.

“You should’ve warned us about the Gossum?” Tiernan’s jaw flexed.

This wasn’t the first time his brother had accused him of something to protect his own hide. “Care to explain yourself?” 

“There was a Gossum skin hanging in a tree. You should’ve warned us.”

Several of the soldiers stopped unloading their weapons and turned to listen.

Nicholai wouldn’t call out his brother’s deception in front of the other males. Instead, he raised his chin and threw back his shoulders. “Irrelevant. We should’ve defeated them regardless of who struck first.”

Tiernan scanned the room, his eyes locking with Alden and Macion, his two closest friends. “After what happened to Gaetan, and now this,” he waved his hand toward a couple of injured warriors, “I refuse to go on patrol with you again.”

Nicholai’s stomach knotted. “As you wish. I care not.” He turned to leave, finished with his brother’s antics.

Tiernan’s laugh made him halt.

Nicholai moved in a slow circle to face his brother. 

Tiernan wiped a dagger’s blade across his dark pants. The wet streak of the Gossum’s black goo reflected the light from the sunstones. He held up the dagger and studied the blade as he twisted it in his hand. “What a fine piece of work, don’t you think?” 

His gaze lifted to Nicholai and a haughty smile crossed his face. “I’ve initiated the weapon on one of the Gossum tonight. I think father will be pleased, don’t you?”

The gilded handle contained three rare, red sunstones, and the blade flashed in the light. It was a magnificent piece.

Nicholai held his composure and shrugged. “I’m sure he will sleep with the weapon under his pillow.” 

Tiernan smirked. “And what, eldest son, are you giving the king for his special birthday?”

The warriors that needed medical attention were gone, leaving only a handful of males. The deafening quiet in the room was like a loud roar in Nicholai’s ears.

Nicholai gritted his teeth. Although he hadn’t kept the painting a secret, to speak of the picture here, in front of the warriors, didn’t sit well with him. The painting was a private, personal gift, not something to boast about. The silence continued.

“Tiernan! If yer done here, git out of my portal room.” Rin walked in front of Tiernan and placed his hands on his hips.

The top of Rin’s head was even with Tiernan’s belt. A simple push from Tiernan and the little Jixie would find himself on the ground. That Rin would stand up for Nicholai floored him and a well of respect built inside his chest.

“That’s okay, Rin,” Nicholai placed his hand on the male’s shoulder, “we’re done here.”

Nicholai sighed. Since the day Tiernan was born, his brother had tried to best him in everything—from battle training to schoolwork to friends—anything to gain an upper hand. Despite all his misgivings, Nicholai still cared for his brother. “My gift matters not. I’m sure father will cherish the dagger.”

“Here, have a closer look.” Tiernan approached Nicholai, the blade gripped tight in his hand. 

Nicholai tensed. Before he could react, Tiernan sliced the blade at his face. A burning sensation pulsed from his lip. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

Nicholai grabbed Tiernan’s wrist, the dagger held in the small space between them.

“Oh, my apologies, brother. Seems to me, I nicked you.” Tiernan’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Your lip is bleeding.”

Nicholai shoved Tiernan’s hand away and stepped back. He wiped his mouth. Blood coated his fingers. A wave of heat made him break into a sweat. He clenched his jaw to hold back his rage. When he spoke, he fought to control his voice, keeping it low and even. “Never. Do. That. Again.”

“Oh, brother, are you threatening me? In front of these warriors?” Tiernan raised his eyebrows. 

Nicholai leaned toward his only sibling. “If I had threatened you, you’d already be dead.” 

His brother’s smile faded from his face. He took a step back.

A snicker erupted from one of the nearby males. 

Nicholai shook his head. “Tiernan, I’m not the enemy.” 

Tiernan’s tight face and pursed lips spoke volumes. 

A deep regret knotted itself in Nicholai’s gut. Why did he keep trying with his brother? He glanced at the other males, nodded, and left the room. Too bad he couldn’t shed his brother’s transgression as easily.

Chapter Sixteen

Nicholai fidgeted in his chair, and the heel of his boot beat out a steady rhythm against the stone floor. He’d come to the artistry chamber every evening for the past six nights, as much to see Leonna as to have his portrait painted. Working on her, he’d encouraged her to talk. She’d eventually opened up, telling him about her parents and her brother. Never once had she mentioned her qithan. 

The swish of her paintbrush matched her delicate movements. To watch her was a joy and a privilege. She had an air of the unexpected about her that called to him, to his controlling, have-to-have-everything-in-its-place personality. Her presence filled in the empty spot in his soul. His attraction to her had grown as much from her quick wit as her beautiful smile.

The painting would be finished tonight, just in time for his father’s birthday tomorrow. A lump of dread settled itself into his stomach. He’d have no reason to see her again.

Her gaze roamed his face, her eyes focused. She dipped her brush in yellow paint, the tips wet with the stain. “Nicholai.”

He sat taller, the cadence of her voice playing along his nerves like fingers on a stringed instrument. She owned him, whether she knew it or not. 

“Tilt your chin down. Yes, like that.”

She swayed to and fro as she painted. Caught up in her dance, he could watch her for eternity.

A female approached, one of the few left in the room at this late hour, a heavy canvas bag over her shoulder. Raising an eyebrow, she glanced between him and the canvas. Her lip quirked at the corner, and she nodded. “Excellent likeness.”

“Thank you.” Leonna gave her a quick smile, but didn’t stop her rhythm.

The female continued on her way, past the few remaining artists and crafters. 

“When can I see?” A desire to jump from his seat and look at the painting made his legs twitch. She’d kept the portrait from him, citing her artist right to keep the picture to herself until completed. 

She caught his gaze. “Not yet.” A smile curled her lip.

He chuckled. 

She stopped, her brush held in mid-air. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then relaxed. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you get that cut on your lip?”

His tongue ran over the gash. She focused on his mouth, her pupils dilating, giving away her desire. A rush of adrenaline sent blood screaming into his veins. He clenched his jaw, unwilling to let her see how much she affected him.