Scent of Danger Page 16

  Blue light flashed as the men attacked. The fighting was vicious, and almost immediately one of the men crashed through the grids to a lower level as his opponent slashed it from beneath his feet. Cat-like, he landed on his feet, balanced on the bouncy grid as two more men came at him. Slowly they backed him up against a vine covered support post. Instantly the vine twined around him, holding him securely in place.

  Haunt came forward to free him and send him from the arena.

  A small scream lodged in Andrea’s throat as Mathin stepped backward off the edge of the platform to avoid a concentrated attack from three adversaries. As he fell he grabbed the edge of the platform. Hanging on the edge, he struck out with his blade and cut the grid from under their feet. Cursing, they crashed through, taking another man down with them.

  One armed, Mathin flipped back onto the platform.

  “Can he fly, too?” Andrea croaked in disbelief.

  Equally breathless, Jasmine whispered, “Sometimes I wonder.”

  One by one, men fell until only Raziel and Mathin were left on the top level. What was left of it, anyway. Great ragged holes turned the grid into a dangerous web. Stimulated by the activity, the vine was growing ever more active.

  Sparks flashed as their blades came together. Showing incredible agility and spatial awareness, they danced over the grid, the lightning of their strikes nearly blinding in the darkness. Lit blue, their faces showed ruthless determination and—

  “Why are they smiling?” Andrea demanded. “They’re having a great time out there and I’m about to die of fright!”

  Jasmine squeezed her hand in sympathy. “I know.”

  Raziel struck Mathin’s inner biceps. Mathin said something, grinned, and tossed his blade to his other hand. If he had seemed fast before, now he was nearly unstoppable.

  Down on the grid, Raziel gasped, “Give it up, Mathin! Your bed will be cold and lonely tonight.”

  “The only one giving it up will be Andrea,” Mathin shot back, and lunged for him. Both swords went flying as it came down to a wrestling match of brute strength. He had the weight on Raziel, but Raziel was incredibly limber. They rolled. Fell.

  And ended up hanging upside down by their legs under the grid, staring at each other. Raziel snorted.

  Mathin laughed.

  The match ended in a draw, with both men too incapacitated by laughter to continue.

  She didn’t feel at all well.

  Andrea lay on her couch with her griffin, a warm cloth on her throat. Her grandmother swore it would help her stomach calm. Amazingly, it seemed to be working.

  Until he showed up.

  “Go away,” Andrea said sullenly, and closed her eyes. She hated being sick, and he was the cause.

  Mathin sighed and sat down on the floor beside her. “Hindsight tells me I should have expected this.”

  She mumbled something unpleasant and turned her face into the couch. They sat in tense silence.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight. You can have the bed.”

  She glared at him. “Why don’t you sleep in your own bed?”

  “The couch is too short,” he continued, ignoring her. “We have to leave at first light, so you should sleep. We can’t delay the journey with the rains so near.”

  Frustrated in more than one sense, she sat up and hit him with her pillow. “This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t entered that stupid contest.” Immediately her stomach protested. She curled her arms around it protectively, wishing her symbiont were able to sooth nervous stomachaches.

  “Go to bed before you’re ill.” His eyes glittered with banked heat. “Or before I forget you’re ill and put you there myself.”

  Torn between wishing he would and wanting to punish him, she sulked all the way to her room. The man was bad for her. Very, very bad. So why was she so disappointed that he was out there and she was in here?

  In the other room, Mathin rested his forehead on his knee and sighed. This was to have been his wedding night, and he’d been humming with anticipation all day. So much so that Keilor and Raziel had teased him continually. He knew they were glad for him, so had only smiled in return. But this! What would they say if they could see him now?

  Grunting in annoyance, but determined not to leave this room and face their pity, he grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under his head. He would give Andrea a few hours of sleep, and then go in and wake her. She could sleep in the wagon tomorrow.

  Tonight she would get little.

  As it happened, he was the one who got little. A mere three hours had dragged by when a loud knocking sounded on Andrea’s door. Still awake, Mathin answered it.

  Looking askance at Mathin’s fully dressed form, Raziel cocked his head in silent enquiry.

  “What?” Mathin snapped impatiently, not about to explain.

  “Keilor. He says it’s urgent. I will stay here and guard the door.”

  Mathin looked at the other two Haunt already in place, his interest quickening. Something must be very wrong if Raziel felt the need to stand guard.

  Keilor was in his office.

  “We didn’t want to disturb you right away,” Keilor said, breaking off his conversation as Mathin walked in. “Not on your wedding night.”

  Mathin stared at him stonily. Three hours of torture, surrounded by Andrea’s scent, had not improved his temper. “Forget it. What’s the problem?”

  “The Master of the Hunt tells me you were ready to leave come morning,” the young man, a distant cousin of Mathin’s, said. ”I’d been sent by the overseer to summon you, but now I will simply hurry you along.” Contempt twisted his mouth as he raked Mathin with his eyes. “Unless you wish to see your lands fall into the hands of another, you’d best see to them. If you’re capable.”

  Never one to let a challenge pass, Mathin froze him with a look. “I’m more than capable, and I’m coming. Did you have something else to say, boy?”

  It was clear the young man did, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

  Mathin dismissed him and turned his attention to Keilor. “We’ll leave within the hour. I’ll have Raziel rouse Andrea and her grandmother while I see to the arrangements. Thank you for alerting me.”

  Andrea wasn’t happy to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. Never a morning person, she was downright witchy before the hour of three, but she rallied when she discovered it was an emergency. As servants hurriedly packed her stuff, she made her way to her grandma’s, coffee mug in hand.

  Her grandmother was even testier than Andrea.

  “I am fifty-six years old, young man,” she all but snarled at Raziel. He’d tossed the covers off her when Andrea’s gentle attempts to wake her had failed.

  “So am I,” he returned, unimpressed. “You travel with the Haunt, you keep our hours, woman. Get up.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her firmly to her feet.

  “How dare you!”

  “I dare anything.” To prove it, he gave her a smacking big kiss on the lips, turned her while she was still dazed, and gently pushed her toward the clothes laid out on a chair.

  Andrea watched in astonishment as he strode from the room. “Wow.” Never had she seen anyone silence her grandmother so swiftly.

  “Impertinent man.” Fuming, her grandmother got dressed, muttering all the things she was going to say to Raziel.

  Wide awake now, Andrea opened the door to the apartment and entered the hall with anticipation. It was a big disappointment to find a Haunt outside. Until she recognized him as Raziel by the blue eyes, red sash and earring. No way would her grandmother dare to dress him down now.

  She was wrong.

  “Don’t try your Haunt tricks on me!” Matilda said the moment she saw what he’d done. “I know you can hear me just fine.”

  Raziel bared his teeth at her and started off down the hall.

  “You nasty, rude man!” Matilda followed just behind him, venting spleen.

  The two Haunt at the door exchanged toothy grins.

&
nbsp; Andrea had to agree, it was a sight. They followed Raziel down to a yard lit with laser torches at the stables. A confusing mass of men and Haunt strode to and fro, intent on their various tasks. Excitement hummed in the air.

  Raziel stopped in front of a covered platform that was hitched to a pair of stags. It hovered in the air, the invisible force that held it flattening the grass beneath.

  “An anti-gravity device?” Andrea muttered, bending down to peer beneath.

  “I will not speak to your back!” Matilda shouted, and squealed as Raziel picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously on top of the sled behind the driver.

  “Andrea.”

  She looked up at Mathin, who was seated on his stag. Bloodlight snorted at her, his nostrils flared to catch her scent.

  “You can ride with me or Matilda. The rest of us don’t need the light to see, and there’ll be little of it on this cloudy night. There’s a bed in the wagon if you wish to go back to sleep.”

  Was he mad at her? Andrea couldn’t tell from his expression, but his tone and manner made her wonder. Is this how he was going to act when he couldn’t get any? “I guess I’ll stay with Grandma.”

  “Fine.” He nodded curtly to Raziel, who helped her into the wagon, then rode out. The rest of the column followed.

  Hours passed. Tired of watching black trees and bushes go by, Andrea stared at the bottom of the canopy, feeling out of place. Occasionally she’d look out the bug netting, watching the dark shapes of the riders. What was she doing here?

  “What happened between you two tonight?” Matilda asked quietly.

  “I thought you were asleep.” Andrea rolled her head to glance at the dark shape beside her, really little more than black on black. She could smell her rose scent, though, over and above the spicy trees and the musky smell of stag. She wondered if the sensitive Haunt noses found that irritating, too.

  “What happened?”

  She sighed. “I was sick,” she answered miserably, careful to keep her voice low. “You know how I get when people fight.”

  “I know it makes you think of the man who killed your parents, but that was a long time ago.” Matilda’s voice was gentle.

  She stared at the canopy. It was wider than the base of the wagon bed, and the netting tapered to the platform below. “It’s not as if I dwell on it. It’s just that when I see men fighting, my gut remembers.” And the memories of blood and screams of agony returned. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle it.”

  “Hm. So well that it messed up your wedding night?”

  Andrea rolled over, putting her back to Matilda. “Goodnight, Grandma.”

  Mathin listened in the dark, absorbing their words. He would have to warn them about Haunt hearing, but for tonight he was glad they didn’t know. He might never have thought to ask why Andrea became ill at the sight of violence, thinking it merely an odd quirk.

  Becoming his wife would be difficult for her. It might be possible to shelter her from the rough side of his life, but he couldn’t avoid it himself.

  To her credit, she seemed to realize that. She hadn’t asked him to become a pacifist. But…He considered the woman in the wagon, whom he could see perfectly well. He could stop participating in the tournaments. The idea scraped like a dull blade, but it wouldn’t kill him. Not if it were so important to her well-being. As for the other…

  His mind raced ahead, reviewing his memories of the terrain. They would stop at dawn to eat, and not again until dusk.

  Mathin smiled as he considered what he wanted for breakfast.

  “You want to go for a walk now?” Andrea demanded, not yet fully awake.

  Mathin took her hand and led her out of the camp and into the redwoods. Ignoring the knowing looks they gathered, he shifted the thick blanket she had yet to notice over his shoulder and tightened his grip on her hand to prevent her from stumbling. “Walking is good for you.”

  Someone snickered.

  Feeling his face heat for the first time in ages, he walked faster. Soon they were out of earshot of even the most sensitive of Haunt.

  “Why…” Her eyes fell on the blanket as he spread it on the ground. Her mouth fell open. “Here?”

  “Here.” He took off his vest.

  “N-now?”

  “Right now.” He sat down and unlaced his boots.

  She backed up. “We’re right out in the open! Anyone could see us.” A frantic look around confirmed that they were alone, but one could never tell.

  “No one will.” He unfastened his weapons belt and reached for the buckle at the waist of his pants.

  “Wait!” She threw up her hands, palm out. “I just can’t do it out here, Mathin. I really can’t.”

  Mathin froze in disbelief. “There are no villages or towns in this direction for many miles, woman. Is it your plan to wait for weeks?” When she hesitated, he reached out, took her hands and gently tugged her onto the blanket.

  “They’ll know what we’re doing,” she protested weakly.

  “They already know.” Before she could comment, he kissed her.

  CHAPTER 9

  One kiss was all it took. Mathin’s lips were firm and hot. She took to them like kindling to flame as bonfires erupted all over her body. Forgotten was the idea they might be interrupted. Gone were the thoughts she’d entertained in the night of reconsidering her desire to wed Mathin. The feel of his hard body welded to hers, the smooth glide of his back muscles under her hands...everything felt too right to give up.

  When he wedged his thigh between hers, she moaned. The first deliberate drag against her inner parts lifted her to her toes. Shock waves traveled up her spine and vibrated to the ends of her fingers. It felt like she’d touched lightning. Again he did it, and this time she screamed, glorying in her climax.

  Mathin pulled back, fierce pride and satisfaction in his expression. He took a steadying breath and pulled her shirt over her head, casting it over his shoulder. Neither watched it fall.

  His eyes devoured her breasts, barely hidden by her bra. The nipples ached in response. “Mathin?” she asked in a very small voice. It made her self-conscious to stand here like this, yet very excited.

  Their eyes locked. “I’ve wanted to strip you naked almost from the moment we met. You’ll never know how hard it was for me to stop.”

  “Don’t stop now.” She blushed as soon as she said it, but the words were out. Would he think her too bold?

  With a groan he seized her lips, assuring her that he thought no such thing. “Touch me,” he commanded as he released the clasp in the front of her bra.

  Instantly clumsy, she stammered, “H-how?” Of course she knew how, but she’d never actually done it. What if she did it wrong?

  He frowned at her curiously, then twined the fingers of his right hand with her left, raising it between them. Each fingertip received a tender kiss. “Like this.” He placed her hand on his waist, then guided it back to cup his buttock. He gave a gentle squeeze. “And this.” He stroked her hand down his thigh. “Just like this.” Slowly he brought her hand to gently cup him, groaning in approval. “I think I may die.”

  She thought she might, too, but not for the same reason. Was he supposed to be this big? And how could she possibly ask without sounding like a complete ninny?

  The next moment she felt her own pants slipping down her legs. How had he managed that? Sudden panic made her grab for them. “M-mathin…

  His hands gently gripped her shoulders, then trailed his fingers over her skin. A gentle nudge slipped the bra straps off, and he slowly skimmed them down to her wrists. Trembling, she ducked her head and held onto her pants for dear life, torn between the need to cover her breasts and the greater one to hide her femininity.

  Mathin’s thumbs made slow circles on the pad between her thumbs and first fingers, relaxing the muscles until they loosened their death grip. And all the while he was murmuring sweet things in her ear. Enticing, wicked things.

  “Let me love you, sweetheart. I long
for a taste of you. The smooth feel of you as I touch you with my hands, my tongue.” She shivered, and he teased her lips with his, adding a gentle flicker of tongue. “You like that? It gets better.” The tongue dipped deeper. “Hotter.” The next kiss was truly wicked. “Ah... and deeper.” This time his hand dipped between her legs, straight into her wet cleft. She tried to close them, but it was too late.

  He had possession.

  Andrea gasped as first one finger, then two eased deep into virgin territory, giving her a taste of what was to come. A comet zapped through her blood, trailing fire, and it was all she could do to stand. In seconds a primal scream of pleasure ripped from deep in her throat as her body arched. More! Another ragged burst of sensation crashed within, lighting up the darkness behind her closed eyes. Dazed, she felt herself being lowered to the blanket. Her pants were whisked away and she hardly cared. “I’m going to die,” she moaned, delirious with pleasure.

  “Take me with you,” Mathin commanded, his voice ragged. He removed his teasing hand and gripped her hips, surging deep within.

  With the suddenness of a record being rudely ripped off, the pleasure stopped. Gasping at the searing pain, she struggled, but he had her firmly pinned.

  “Wait.” His voice was close to the edge and she instinctively stilled, knowing not to push him now.

  The symbiont moved, glided down her body and flooded her thighs with gentle warmth. In moments, the pain was gone.

  “Better?” he asked, his body trembling above hers. At her shy nod he began, very slowly, to move.

  Surge and withdraw. The gentle tempo of the sea. Soon it was not enough.

  “More!” She dug her nails into his backside in desperation, feeling as if she might die if he didn’t.

  Instantly the glide gave way to the thunder of surf, crashing over them both in waves of pleasure. “Yes. Yes! Oh, Mat, yes!”

  If he wasn’t dead, he was close enough to heaven not to care.

  Mathin groaned and let his hand wander over his wife’s backside, unable to help himself. Half draped over him, she gave a sleepy wiggle, her hips instinctively moving against him. Already semi-hard, he strove to remember why he needed to get back and couldn’t think of a single compelling reason.