Blade Heart

  “From the very moment I laid eyes on you in that meadow, you’ve been the only one I desire.”

  Well, at least it’s something. Not everything she had hoped for, but better than she had expected since his ardent speech. Yet the way Morgan and the flaming red-haired woman had clasped forearms in the courtyard of the castle bothered Cara like pins and needles inside contracted toes.

  “But I’m not a fighter.”

  “So?”

  A pounding at the front door blocked the words in her throat. He leapt out of bed and dashed to the bathtub to retrieve his new clothes.

  “Caius! Help!”

  Fraught with anxiety, the voice belonged to a woman—a very frightened woman. “Caius, please, open up.”

  Cara welcomed the intrusion. Despite the reasons he had put forth, she had no taste for his admiring the Amazon queen. Immature as it sounded even in her own head, she didn’t like it one bit. And that was that.

  Sighing, she followed him anyway. By the time she had got out of bed and entered the tub corner, she could hear him walking across the main room. He was so quick! Thankful he had left the curtain drawn tight, she wiggled into the fresh pair of pants provided by the wizard while Morgan opened the door.

  “Caius isn’t here right now. What is it?”

  “Soldiers. They’re attacking the village.”

  “I see. Please, come in.”

  A shuffle of feet and the scrape of a chair on the floor ensued as Cara donned her jacket. She was going for her boots when he asked the woman her name.

  “I’m Deirdre.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m going there right now.”

  “My boys were out in the fields when the soldiers attacked. I ran straight here to ask for the wizard’s help but I don’t know if they’ve had time to hide or escape. Please, save my children. They’re all I have.”

  “Calm down, Deirdre, I will.”

  “Thank the Mighty Gods I found you.”

  As Cara listened to the out-of-breath woman sob and snivel, Morgan suddenly appeared at one end of the curtain. Features drawn, he went to put on his boots while she retrieved her cloak. Caius hadn’t replaced this piece of clothing—she’d walk around with the hole made by the arrow. Glancing up at her, Morgan frowned.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Caius said you should rest.”

  “I’m fine and I’m going with you.”

  She tensed, expecting an argument that would only serve to delay him. To her surprise, he grabbed her hand to pull her towards the table. As Cara nodded a vague greeting to the crying, middle-aged woman, Morgan fastened his weapon belt around her waist.

  “Use them if you have to.”

  She could have grinned. Hanging over her hips, daggers encased on each side, the belt felt right. Her heart swelled at the thought that he was entrusting her with his precious blades and maybe considered her strong enough to fight by his side. Or brave enough. Or utterly foolish. In any case, she loved the belt.

  The sword he had used at the Castle of the Seven Ravens, and had probably taken from a dead thug, lay on the table. Recalling the blades he had left at Heather’s place, she wondered if he had a thing for stealing weapons before discarding them everywhere he went. While turning to Deirdre, he seized his current sword.

  “Just stay here and wait for Caius.”

  “I won’t move. Thank you, both of you.”

  When the woman looked at her, Cara saw herself in her teary eyes. Wearing leather and daggers she must have appeared like a regular fearless warrior. A surge of power filled her blood as she followed her man outside. The sensation probably wouldn’t last, but for now she enjoyed it.

  “Where’s the village?”

  “Beyond this ridge.”

  Over the crest, clusters of bushes and tall trees provided enough cover to hurry down the slope unseen. The village consisted of about twenty deteriorated houses bordered by fields. By the look of it, crops had been pillaged at some point. Smoke swathed the place and obscured the sky. The nearer they got, the louder the shouts rattled her.

  “Stay with me.”

  He didn’t have to tell her. As they hid against the wall of the first house, she flattened behind him. Pulse playing havoc, she watched him round the corner. To take a peek or throw himself into danger? Already regretting her impulsive decision to follow him in battle, Cara nonetheless crept forward. As she spotted the open door, the now familiar clang of blades reached her ears. He was fighting inside the house.

  Concealed behind the doorframe, she poked her head in. A soldier lay dead, blood flowing from his sliced throat onto the straw blanketing the ground. In the centre of the room, another one was attempting to counter Morgan’s lethal blade. In the far corner, hands tied, three crying children and their frightened mother huddled together.

  Cara strode to them. Their eyes widened when she unsheathed one of her daggers but she smiled at them.

  “Don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you.”

  The weapon cut through their bonds as if they were made of paper. She had seen Morgan polishing his steel with extreme care at Heather’s and she now knew why. Once free, the mother squeezed Cara’s arm. Blue eyes brimming with tears, her face shone with relief and gratitude.

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Cara took a long breath as a profound sense of justice flooded her. Although pulled along by a string of events outside her control, she had just done a good deed. She had righted a wrong and stood up to despotism. Shaken to her core, she understood why Morgan and the Amazons were willing to die for their people and territories. She grasped the true meaning of freedom.

  “You can’t stay here. Go to the ridge and hide until this is over.”

  Intent on ensuring the family’s safety, Cara led them to the door while Morgan dealt a fatal blow to his opponent. She walked out to meet a third soldier head-on as he raised his knife.

  She rammed her dagger into his stomach. His pupils expanded, a drool of saliva coursed down his chin and he fell backwards. She was getting good at this! But she had to step over the motionless body to let the mother and her children take the path heading to the ridge. As Cara watched them run to safety, she gasped suddenly when an arm circled her waist and Morgan whispered, “I thought you weren’t a fighter.”

  She glanced up in time to catch his small grin and the passionate light glimmering in his eyes.

  “I’m not. I just reacted.”

  “Try the heart next time. It’s swifter and more efficient.” With a wink, he took her free hand to sneak up along the adjoining house. “Come on. Let’s not tarry here.”

  A quick look inside told Cara the place had been looted. Bile rose up as she spotted two dead farmers sprawled on the floor, the bottom part of their legs stowed in the fireplace. Where their feet should have been, the mangled flesh still smouldered and she gagged at the stench.

  Morgan tugged her forward and she staggered behind him. She swallowed as he turned towards a bigger house which resounded with laughter and shouts of pain. After plundering homes and setting innocents on fire, the soldiers must have gathered there to share the booty. Or maybe to carry on doing more damage.

  Outside the big house, three villagers had been killed and were already rotting. Stepping around them, Morgan headed towards the back of the building. He peeked through a shattered window then crouched under the sill and indicated for her to do the same.

  “That’s one of Devlyn’s rearguard units on the prowl for goods and women. They’re usually composed of eight or ten men.”

  He needn’t have talked low as the rumpus inside blotted out any other noise. Three soldiers were down, that left five or seven alive. Morgan must have thought the odds in his favour, because he pointed at the window.

  “I’ll slip in to take as many as I can from behind. It should give me an advantage, but we need a diversion at the front door.”

  Now, what might distract trash in search of anything resembling a female to stick their pathetic dicks into?
Interestingly enough, she had an idea. Refraining from giggling, Cara also adopted a low tone of voice.

  “Leave the diversion to me.”

  He hesitated for a brief instant before showing his assent. “All right, but be careful. These men aren’t a treat.”

  “I had a feeling they weren’t.”

  As she started to straighten up, he brought her back down. Sliding a hand behind her head, he pressed his lips on hers. Then he penetrated her mouth with his hot tongue and the rough caress had her heart knocking. In the midst of bloodshed and savagery, his fervent kiss felt like a fountain of hope.

  When he let go of her his eyes sparkled and he seemed a little out of breath. If not for their dangerous situation, she’d have panted.

  “Be ready, I won’t be long.”

  He nodded and she retraced her steps to the front of the house. She didn’t allow herself to waver although her pulse beat against her temples. One hand holding the dagger behind her thigh, she pushed the door open and smashed it against the wall. The loud bang got their immediate attention. As they whirled around to show their brutal faces, Cara smiled.

  “Hi, guys!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Pints glued to their meaty hands and ale dripping from their mouths, four soldiers were gathered around one end of a long table, where they had been cheering a fifth man. Fully dressed save for his open fly, he was driving his not-so-pathetic-after-all erect penis into a whimpering, sobbing woman.

  She was lying at the nearest end of the table, strands of black hair pasted on her sweaty face, head lolling from side to side, dress hiked up her thighs, splayed legs forced apart by the beefy fingers of her captor.

  Far from feeling threatened by Cara’s appearance, the four soldiers put their pints down and leered at her.

  “Hey there, wench. Come for a little fun, have ya?”

  “That’s possible. But tell me, which one of you is man enough to satisfy me?” With a scorn, she indicated the cutthroat who had halted his comings and goings to stare at her. “This one isn’t.”

  A roar of laughter greeted her last remark and they banged their pints on the table to show their appreciation. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Morgan landing quietly inside and approaching the group focused on her. Looking at the tallest and broadest man, Cara beckoned to him.

  “You. Come over here.”

  He made a move, but his closest companion held him back. “Nah, he’s got a pecker the size of my little finger.”

  Pints and fists bashed the table again, boosted by lewd comments and scoffs. “Yeah, go back where you come from, pin-dick! Your mama has a bigger one than you! Get out of the way, bug fucker!”

  The thug, who had by then shoved the big man aside, stepped forward. Grinning at Cara, he puffed his chest out.

  “Don’t you worry, hussy, I’ll do you good.”

  With a sleazy expression plastered on his features, he came up to her. Cara flinched when his foul breath slapped her face, but she kept her mind operating. He never saw it coming. She struck as he went to grab her arm, planting the dagger in his heart. He staggered backward, spat out some blood and tumbled down.

  An uncanny silence fell over the room. They stared at her, at their fallen comrade, and back at her again. Then everything happened at once. Morgan skewered Tiny Dick from behind. Just as he retrieved his sword from the man’s back, both soldiers at his end of the table turned on him. Metal clashed.

  Hastily storing his now limp penis into his pants, the last ruffian glanced at the raging fight. He must have assumed Morgan was no match for two trained warriors because he unsheathed his blade and marched towards Cara. Aware of the dagger in her hand, he nonetheless looked confident.

  Standing her ground, she let him come within striking distance. Sword positioned horizontally, he moved his arm back to gain momentum. Before he could bring his weapon forward, she ducked and crouched.

  Hand raised, she plunged the dagger into the top of his thigh, piercing through flesh, muscles and sinew. As his sword sliced air over her shoulder, she gripped her embedded blade with both hands and brought it down as hard as she could. From groin to knee, the razor-sharp steel almost cleaved his thigh in two. Blood gushed out.

  He howled in pain. His sword clattered on the floor beside her and he slumped to his knees. Already up, Cara took a step back and kicked him hard in the face. Bones crunched under her boot. The crook toppled backwards, head striking the ground with a sickening thud. Silenced for good. This one would never rape or kill anyone else.

  Having pushed her dress down, the woman had pulled herself up to a standing position. Although she appeared completely at a loss, she used her sleeve to wipe her nose while walking towards Cara. Gaze still haunted by a violent scene she probably wouldn’t forget, she murmured a grateful ‘thank you’ before running out of the house.

  On the other side of the room, only one soldier still stood and Morgan was in the act of removing his blade from the stabbed chest. He shoved the man out of his way without a second glance. As he strode towards her, Cara couldn’t help but notice the funny little smile that played on his lips. She lifted an eyebrow.

  “What?”

  He took the dagger from her clenched fingers and bent down to wipe the reddened steel on the soldier’s tunic. Then he sheathed it with care in the weapon belt that was still around her waist before he leaned in.

  “Watching you fight is arousing.”

  A flush of heat stung her cheeks. His words, his mouth against her ear, contracted her muscles. Taken aback by an abrupt desire knotting her belly, she blinked. In spite of the pool of blood widening at their feet, the dead bodies filling the room, the horrors she had witnessed so far and the fact that she had just killed two men, her mind ran around a single thought.

  Moisture warming her cunt, she took a long breath. She only needed a few seconds to temper her excitement and she’d be fine. But just then he placed her palm on his crotch. His direct gaze attuned to the hard bulge stretching the front of his pants, he cocked his head towards the table.

  “Morgan, we can’t. Not here.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “I don’t care for proper. I care for salvation.”

  That she understood. They were caught in the middle of a real, dangerous and messy war. In his own way, he was telling her they might be dead tomorrow and that they should embrace life while they still had it. And he was right. But as she took his hand to lead him to the table, a bell tolled. Morgan in the lead, they walked outside.

  The woman they had just saved tugged at a cord linked to the bell. Far from an alarm signal, the clapper sounded joyous. Soon enough, men, women and children came into view. Those who’d had time to hide before the king’s rearguard got their hands on them. Showing up from shadowed recesses backing the farthest houses, they converged on the bell. Faces drawn but allayed by the heartening chime, they surrounded them.

  Although Morgan looked used to being thanked, Cara wasn’t. Their touching gestures and appreciative words affected her more than she would have imagined. And when she recognised the mother and her three children she had helped out of the first house, tears stung her eyes. She might have wallowed in oversensitivity if Morgan hadn’t addressed the villagers.

  “Go back to your homes, good people. Bury your dead and take care of your families. This is a sad day, but let it not dampen your spirits. You’re stronger than that and I know someday we’ll be free from the tyrant of Agravar.”

  They hailed him. As their clamour of acknowledgement and victory raised the fine hair at the nape of her neck, Cara shivered. Mixed with pride, a rush of excitement coursed through her while she gazed at her warrior.

  Righteous and fearless, he risked his life every day for the good of the people. Committed to his cause, he’d die for them if need be. Right now, as he talked to them like a just ruler should do, she admired him with all her heart. He was the one she loved and belonge
d to. He was the one she’d die for.

  Acclaimed by the whole village, they left soon after. When they crested the ridge, Deirdre waited for them at the threshold of Caius’ house.

  “We’ve dealt with the soldiers. You can go back home now,” Morgan informed her as soon as they got within earshot.

  A large smile lighting her exhausted face, she strode to them to kiss their hands. Cheeks wet, in a hurry to be reunited with her children, she then ran on towards the ridge. Inside the wizard’s house, peace and quiet welcomed them. Still fraught with troubling emotions, Cara turned to him.

  “So this is what it feels like to be a hero?”

  His eyes glinted as he put the sword down on the table. He took her into his arms then nibbled her earlobe with gentle teeth.

  “You think me a hero?”

  His hot breath on her cheek ignited new sensations. She pressed herself against his hard chest when his lips touched hers. He met her hungry tongue with his licking and caressing. Desire stirring within her, she buried her fingers in the strands of hair he hadn’t had time to tie up.

  She moaned as his searing tongue stole the breath from her. Feeling his erection on her navel, she ground her pelvis against his. He clutched her even tighter, his avid mouth locked onto hers, the sweeps of his tongue melting her mind. Without releasing her lips, he slid his hands under her thighs to sit her on the edge of the table. She opened her eyes as he drew back to cup her breasts.

  A heaving of wings overshadowed the strings of lust they were tangled in. The flapping noise getting louder could only mean that their intimate moment was over. Haedron and Caius were back. Jaw clenched, Morgan uttered a guttural sound before wincing as he put one hand on his crotch.

  “Fuck it!”

  Gravel crunched along the pathway. Calling them from outside, the wizard barged into his house.

  “Morgan, Cara, we have to…”

  He froze as he took in her flushed cheeks and palpitating cleavage as well as Morgan’s contracted features and hand position. As unflinching as Caius’ eyes were, his tone could have sliced through ice.