“Are you here to train or throw a tantrum?” Coal glares at me from above.
“Screw you,” I hiss back.
“Get up, grain sack.”
I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth.
“Get. Up.” The pitch of Coal’s voice is low, the demand harsh as ice. Eyes still on me, he retrieves the gelding and whistles for the stable boy, handing off the horse while I’m still finding my feet. “You’ve lost your riding privileges until you can prove to me that you are not a whiny child incapable of controlling her emotions.”
I dust my clothes off and glare silently at Coal. If he thinks he is going to scare me into surrendering, into becoming their tame little piece of human chattel to drag to the Citadel for castration, he can bloody think again. Yes. My hands curl into fists, the inferno of fury burning self-pity to a crisp. “I await your instruction, O Great One.”
“Since you appear so fond of falling, we will work on that,” Coal says coolly. “Chin down when you hit the sand, and slap it with your arm. Another of your favorite tricks, I’ve noted. You’ll be a natural.”
I give him a vulgar gesture.
Coal seizes my arm and launches me through the air. I have one moment to realize that I’m flying before the ground rises up to meet me and I land hard on my back, the impact echoing through every abused bone and muscle. My breath hitches, making me fight for air.
“Chin down. Slap the sand,” Coal repeats, as if my problem lies with my hearing. “Get up and do it again.”
I don’t want to. It was bad enough falling from horseback when the goal was to stay on. Now there is no chance of not slamming into the ground. I climb up to my knees, the world swaying a bit, and swallow, my eyes finally stinging. Maybe that’s what Coal was aiming for all along.
I am not going to cry, I shout in my mind, my teeth sinking into my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Coal lowers to one knee beside me. “What did you imagine would happen, mortal?” he demands softly. “Did you imagine you were joining an embroidery guild? That there would be no pain? No bruises? No feeling like you’d rather die than work a moment longer but doing it anyway?”
“I thought I’d have a chance,” I whisper.
“You don’t.” Coal rises, dusting off his pants. “Come find me when you are ready to work.”
12
Leralynn
I wait for Coal to leave before trudging back to the inn. My hair is damp with sweat, and now that I am not moving, the wind threatens to freeze the strands right off my head. I scurry toward my room, spending the last of my remaining life energy hauling myself up the steps, not realizing that someone is in my way until my forehead smacks right into a muscled chest.
“You can still walk?” Tye says with a click of his tongue. “Coal must be going a wee soft.”
I glare at the male.
Tye’s face splits into an unabashed grin. “You look adorable with murder in your eyes, Lilac Girl.”
“I thought you were out sclice hunting,” I mutter. “I was hoping they’d maul you.”
“No you weren’t.” Tye scoops me up with an arm behind my knees and shoulder blades and carries me the rest of the way to my room, where he sets me on the bed. “You like me too much to want me mauled by sclices.”
“A situation that is changing rapidly,” I mutter.
Tye grabs one of my legs and pulls it across his lap, deftly untying my bootlaces to free my foot from the shoe. His hand brushes casually over my ankle in a motion I’d think nothing about if he’d not done the same thing yesterday. He’s checking me for injuries. My brows pull together, my muddled thoughts slowly coalescing. “Are you really here by happenstance, or were you waiting for me to crawl away from Coal’s morning workout?”
Tye blinks too innocently to be believable, and I cross my arms, glaring at the redheaded male.
He leans back on outstretched hands. “And if I were? Would it be so terrible if we wanted to check that one of our own is still in one piece?”
One of our own. The words pierce my soul, permeating through me like liquor on a cold day. I shake off the allure. “If you care about the number of pieces I’m in, would it not have been wiser to keep Coal from trying to kill me to begin with?” I ask reasonably.
Tye laughs. “If Coal were trying to kill you, lass, you’d be very, very dead now. As it is, the field between feeling like you might prefer to be dead and actually being dead is much vaster than you imagine. And Coal has explored every dark inch of it.” Tye adds the last part quietly, as if unsure he wants to say it at all.
I frown, but before I can press Tye on it, the male is leaning forward again, looming over me. Unlike River, who seems to use his size on purpose to keep order in the world around him, Tye has the air of a good-natured mastiff who can’t be held responsible for his considerable bulk. Reaching over, he straightens the high neckline of my tunic, the origins of which are still a mystery.
“What are you doing now?” I ask suspiciously.
Tye winces. “Trying to conjure a way of tricking you into taking off your shirt,” he confesses, holding up his hands as I strike him with a pillow. “I promised Shade to check on your shoulder and the other cuts.”
I cross my arms. “And is there anything else on your agenda? Spill it, Tye.”
He shifts his weight. “Just remember that I am one of four males,” he says cautiously. “You can’t blame me for everyone’s requests.”
“How much do you want to bet on that?” I ask, glaring into his green eyes—though staying angry at Tye takes a great deal of effort. No wonder the four bastards chose him. “Spill it. Now.”
“Shade is worried about your shoulder. And River is concerned that we know too little about mortals’ fragility, how slowly you heal. And Coal—”
“Coal is in on this too?” I fall back onto my bed. “Coal was the one tormenting me all morning. If he was so worried, he could have backed the bloody hell off.”
“If it’s of any consolation, Coal little cares about what damage he left on you this morning. His concern was about the damage your former master might have inflicted.”
Zake. It doesn’t make me feel better. I give Tye a dark look.
Tye shuts his eyes. “This is not going how I’d planned,” he confesses. He blows out a long breath, and when he looks at me next, there is a twinkle of mischief in that green gaze. He surveys me quickly from head to toe, then holds out his hand. “Let’s put the plan to get you undressed on hold and do something else instead,” he offers.
“What?” I accept his hand in spite of myself and he pulls me up easily. I should kick him in the shins for his original intentions regarding my clothes, but there is so much life and good nature in Tye’s eyes that I can’t help the curiosity.
Tye’s grin widens. “I think we should go see what Coal and the others are doing,” he says, tossing my boots back into my arms.
With curiosity winning over soreness, I pull my boots back on and gratefully accept Tye’s warm cloak, which he claims to have little need of. With a gentle guiding hand along the small of my back, Tye ushers me downstairs, through the kitchen, where I catch him pilfering a sweet roll and cheese, and back outside.
Tye hands me the food, which I devour quickly, the bliss of warm bread in my belly momentarily distracting me from where we are headed—which is right back to the paddock I was recently dismissed from.
Instead of being empty, the paddock appears to be hosting three large males armed with wooden blades. Despite the cold, the males are all shirtless, sweat slithering lazily down the grooves of their muscled backs. Coal dances at the center of the lot, his practice blade and body a blur as he battles at once against River and Shade. River is the tallest, but Coal is the fiercest, blue eyes blazing with singular focus. Red marks from missed parries cover all the males’ flesh, and I flinch as Shade darts in, low and lithe like the wolf he’s been for ten years, and paints another stripe across Coal’s shoulders while the male is busy blocking a s
kull-splitting attack from River.
Not even flinching from the blow, Coal twists around to thrust his sword tip into Shade’s taut abdomen. Shade stumbles back, his arm pressed against his middle as he falls to one knee, watching River and Coal circle each other while his own shoulders heave with exhaustion and pain.
Tye’s hand clamps over my mouth before I can shout Shade’s name. “He’s all right,” Tye promises, his arms encircling my body, keeping me from rushing into the ring. “A bit out of practice fighting in his fae form is all. Watch.”
True to Tye’s prediction, Shade climbs back to his feet after a few moments, adjusts his sword grip, and circles the melee in search of an opening. Noting Shade’s return, Coal gives his quint brother a curt nod before attempting to murder him all over again.
I turn, burying my face in Tye’s shoulder, and feel a rumbling chuckle vibrate his chest. “Stupid masochistic immortal males.”
“We worry about you just as fiercely, Lilac Girl,” Tye answers, pulling me back enough to peer into my face. “More. We know what damage to a fae body looks like, what our flesh can handle. You are something else entirely. Fragile but resilient and . . . stars, it’s enough to make us go mad, smelling pain on you and not knowing how to relieve it, how bad the damage might be.”
His grin fades but his gaze remains on me, drinking in every line of my face as I drink in his. Tye’s hair is fiery in the sun and his deep green eyes reflect the rays, which bounce against his shiny black lashes.
My heart pauses then leaps from my chest, beating so hard against my ribs that I feel the vibrations all the way through my core. Tye’s pine-and-citrus scent spreads through me with each breath, lighting each of my nerves. I’m suddenly aware of every bit of his presence, the steady pressure of his powerful arm on the small of my back, the rise and fall of his broad chest, the flop of red hair that sways just over his left eye.
Tye’s breath caresses the top of my head, ruffling my hair.
Behind me, the steady clank clank clank of practice blades continues to echo from the paddock, punctuated by the occasional grunt of too much maleness clashing. Not violence, I think—though it would be foolish to think of these males as anything but deadly predators—but synergy.
I raise my hand to Tye’s cheek, shaved smooth and sculpted into an angled jaw. His cheekbones are chiseled to perfect symmetry, except for a touch of freckles on the right, so faint that you have to be this close to see them. A hidden mark of mischief that is thoroughly Tye.
Tye shuts his eyes. “Stars, Lera,” he says through clenched teeth. “Have you no notion of what you’re doing to me?”
My fingertip bounces between his freckles before shifting to trace his jaw.
The male beneath my hands goes statue still.
“Do you mind it?” I ask.
Tye barks a strangled laugh, his hands suddenly tightening around me. “I mind that I can’t take you right here,” he rasps into my ear, out bodies fitting together like pieces of a long-lost puzzle. After a heartbeat, Tye’s hand slides up to grip the back of my neck, the other palming my hip and pulling me even closer.
I raise my face to his, rising up on my toes as my lips part.
Tye hisses. The mirth in his eyes disappears, a primal need burning in its place. “Step away from me, lass,” he rasps, his voice half warning, half plea. “I can’t keep myself in check much longer.”
I tighten my hands around Tye’s arms instead, my fingers digging mercilessly into his hard biceps. The need in Tye’s gaze seeps through his skin into mine, lighting a flame inside my core. I can’t think. Can’t move. I want.
A growl escapes Tye’s chest and his mouth descends with a predator’s claim. Warm lips lock onto mine, forcing my mouth to yield to his demand, to my own visceral need. The tip of Tye’s tongue skims the top of my teeth, sending a shiver down my body.
I moan against Tye’s mouth and his fingers tighten on the nape of my neck, nails gripping my flesh as mine mark his. I press against him, my heart galloping.
His mouth moves again and—
Cold air hits me suddenly as Tye’s body is ripped away. I blink, the world coming reluctantly into focus to reveal Tye now flat on his back with River’s boot in the middle of his chest and the tip of River’s practice blade pointed at Tye’s jugular.
13
Leralynn
“Get off him.” I shove River’s chest with all my might, which has absolutely no effect on the male except for a curious twitch of his eyes as I stumble backward into Shade, who keeps me from falling on my ass. Regaining my footing, I step right back up to River and glare into his gray eyes, meeting that thunderous storm inside him head-on.
Oh, he is furious. Furious enough to let the anger slip through the cold of command.
Back at the stream, he promised not to lay a hand on me, but plainly that didn’t apply to the other quint-bonded under his command. To his real warriors.
That quickly, that stupidly, I don’t want River’s promise. Just as Shade’s touch soothed a jagged loneliness inside of me, the intensity of River’s icy, dominating energy also finds a mate inside my soul. A fire inside me that I didn’t know existed.
Ice and flame. Our wills meet in a clash of power and fury that is as terrifying as it is irresistible. “I said,” my voice sounds too vivid to be mine, “get. Off.”
River’s dark eyes flash. He isn’t used to being challenged, it appears. And likely with good reason. A small growl escapes his chest.
An answering growl sounds behind me, but I shake my head at Shade without ever breaking River’s gaze. The newly born essence inside me doesn’t want Shade’s protection—it wants to dance with River. Welcomes it. Longs for it. Because that part of me senses that beneath River’s impenetrable wall of muscle and order is a spirit worth tangling with.
River’s chest expands with deep, still-panting breaths. He is shirtless from the sparring match, a thin sheen of sweat covering his sun-kissed skin and glistening enticingly. His short dark hair spikes off his head with moisture, and as he cools off, his nipples grow as taut as the carved squares of his abdomen. He steps toward me, each movement filled with a lethal immortal grace that should frighten me but does not.
“You don’t understand fae,” River tells me, centuries of knowledge and training backing each of his words. The commander’s sheer size is overwhelming. Made more so by his ethereal beauty and the fact that my face barely reaches his sternum. “You’ve no notion of what this can do to us. But this village idiot does.” This time, River bares his teeth at Tye, who has quietly picked himself up and now watches from the sidelines.
“Then maybe you should growl a bit less and talk a bit more,” I tell River, raising my chin while the other males exchange glances ranging from amused to worried. I step closer to River, though it means tilting my head back to keep our gazes locked. “If you want me to understand, then explain.”
River’s brows flicker, and to my utter shock, he tilts his head to the side, considering my words. “That . . . that is a fair request,” he says with a curt nod. Turning to Coal, River holds out his hand for a second practice sword, which Coal obediently tosses to him. “Will you join me in the paddock, Leralynn?”
My eyes narrow and I’m about to explain the difference between talking and beating me to a pulp when River shakes his head.
“I’m not going to spar with you,” he says, dismissing the others with a short jerk of his chin. “I simply wish to occupy my hands with something while we speak, and it is polite to offer you a blade as well if I have one.”
Accepting Coal’s blade, I follow River into the empty ring and watch quietly as he swings at a rope-wrapped post that I’d originally dismissed as something to hang feed buckets on. One strike. Two. Five. Each a dull, clean thud that the post swallows without protest. “Do you imagine we are like humans?” River says finally. “Just with pointy ears, longer lifespans, and a bit of magic in our veins?”
“I don’t know what you are,” I
confess. I don’t know what I am either. Not anymore. I twirl my sword—River was right, it is nice to have something in my hands while we talk.
“We are predators,” River says with no hint of apology. “Our instincts heightened—our senses, our drive to hunt, to protect, to mate. A bonfire of need and desire, compared to a human’s mere candle.”
I nod my understanding. The bond with the males has woken something primal in me as well, though I’ve not worked out what or how.
River attacks his target, his movements fluid. “We control it, the aggression and emotion, but it’s a constant, simmering battle against the animals that our instincts scream at us to be. If you were . . . to become Tye’s female, the territorial predator in him would not abide the threat to his claim that the rest of the males in the quint pose.” River strikes the training post again, and the wooden target wavers in the earth from the impact. Again. Again. River’s grip on his practice sword is hard enough to bleach his knuckles. “Shade, Coal, me,” River punctuates each name with a blow, knocking the post further from its deep hole, “none of us would dare come near you for fear of the consequences. Until we damn the consequences to hell and it tears us all apart into shattered bits.” River spins, his blade an extension of his powerful body as he rips the training post free of the ground.
He stands heaving, his eyes on the downed target as his chest and shoulders rise and fall with each gasp of cool air. “I don’t expect you to understand,” he says finally. “Your very presence, it—”
I’m moving before I can think, my hand reaching up to clutch River’s sweat-slicked shoulder, twisting the male around to face me. My eyes meet River’s gray ones, and for one split second he allows me to see the caustic fear in them. Me, I realize. This powerful immortal is afraid of me, of what I could do to his quint—to his world.