Bloodlust (7 page)

The goliath slept. Although fatigue called to her, she persevered and outlasted him.

With only the faintest stirrings of her traitorous skirt rustling in the stillness of the night, she slinked toward him, scarcely breathing. Her fingers hovered above the goliathic emblem. She gripped her blade and forced it to his neck, her body straddling his broad chest.

His green eyes popped open, showing no signs of distrust. "Think I didn't smell you?"

"I don't smell badly."

He shrugged. "In your opinion. Guess you're used to it."

She pressed harder with her dagger, so a scarlet ribbon of blood flowed. "Tell me his name."

"Who?"

His ignorance wasn't cute. Did he have a death wish? Aggravating a barbarian, especially one with a weapon pointed at you — nothing could be more foolhardy.

"The person you're leading me to."

"Who said the person's male?"

"Male, female, goliath, human, whatever. Just tell me!"

He yawned and stretched as much as he could with her on top of him, forcing the dagger deeper into the existing cut. "If I tell you, you'll kill me."

Redness seeped into the outskirts of her vision. "I'll kill you right now."

"No, you won't. Like it or not, you need me."

"No, I don't. I could kill you, find and capture a troll, and torture him until he tells me what the message means."

"It's possible not every troll will know. Besides, he'd probably kill himself before telling you. And if you attempt to capture a troll, you risk launching war between your races. Since you aren't within your stone tower, I'm left to assume you don't want war."

Ivy leaned back, his body a solid wall of muscle beneath her. "What barbarian doesn't want war?"

"One whose every action isn't overruled by Bloodlust."

"What do you know of barbarians? Or me for that matter? You've known me for a second," she hissed.

His monster hand grabbed her free hand and placed it on the black tree of the crest. "If you were to try to claim this tunic as your own, to masquerade yourself as a goliath ally, the first goliath who sees you will kill you on sight."

With fluid grace, he easily sat up, forcing her onto his lap. Far too close for comfort. She struggled against him, but he pinned her arms to her side, his grip on her wrist too great and forcing the dagger to fall from her hand.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

He grinned, his lips curling around his tusks. "Only allies know that."

She wracked her mind to conjure up names of goliath nobles, but even the name of their golock escaped her. Or golempress, if a goliatha ruled. Politics within other races she had learned, but as rulers changed so quickly, some only lasting a day or even mere hours, it was impossible to keep track.

Pressing her thighs inward into a deathtrap squeeze, she forced him onto his back. "And you want my shield to send to my father and force him to rage war against both the trolls and the goliaths."

His silence was telling.

Ivy's throat closed slightly. Both races were strong and powerful. Not nearly as dominant as the barbarians, but they greatly outnumbered her people. Without question, a dual war would result in a bloodbath. The most likely solution — the annihilation of the barbarian race.

She should return home with this knowledge, but her father would never see reason. He'd rush into battle against trolls and goliaths alike, and the destruction of her race would be all but assured.

No, she had to fix this on her own. That Lukor was here meant not all goliaths shared his views. Perhaps she could convince him to think otherwise.

His black hair, cropped short in a distinct human style, felt soft beneath her fingers. He stiffened beneath her and grabbed her hands.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

Never one to follow orders, Ivy bent forward and pressed her lips to his furrowed brow.

Nothing stirred within her. Nothing.

A lie. Her heart had burned upon contact.

She jolted back from him, scrambling to her feet.

Lukor eyed her strangely as he stood and retrieved her dagger. After turning it in his hands, he held it out for her.

She grasped it, touching his skin briefly. Her fingertips tingled from his warmth. True, he was a goliath, and an enemy, but he built like a giant barbarian, and she would be lying if she said he was ugly.

"I care not for you." The copper specks in his eyes disappeared as his green eyes turned almost black. "Do not try to change my mind about your race. Come, let's continue on."

Ivy longed to protest, to walk away from their deal. Her shield meant war. But she needed to both change his mind and learn the contents of the messages. She was trapped.

A challenge. She never turned back from one.

So what if she knew nothing about the art of seduction? It could not be too hard to change his mind. Her mother used to say that if a problem with a male couldn't be resolved with a blade, try a kiss.

A kiss on the lips would have had more effect, most likely, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Her lips had never touched another's before, not even her mother's cheek. But for her first kiss to be with a goliath...

If that's what it took, she would manage. Somehow.

Barbarian-Princess Ivy marched beside Lukor. His movements were jerky, sharp, his back more rigid than a book's spine. Agitation seeped out of his pores and entered her until she felt as tension-filled as he seemed. It didn't help her eyes threatened to close, her lids feeling heavier than boulders. Her body needed rest, and soon, she was stumbling beside him in the darkness.

Lukor's steps slowed to a halt. "Shall we try to rest again?"

The moon was scarcely a sliver in the sky, the night seemingly endless. All Ivy wanted to do was rest, something she hadn't longed for in years. Not even the nightmares she knew waited for her deterred her.

"One of us should keep watch." Her mind struggled against her body's needs.

"You trust me?"

"You me?"

"You just threatened me."

Ivy's lips curled into a smirk that she forced into a smile. It had to look forced, but she was trying. "You should trust me less if I didn't threaten you."

He grunted.

In the darkness, she didn't see a rock until she stumbled over it. He didn't even reach out his arm to catch her, even though he could have easily saved her wrists from the jarring impact of keeping her face from tasting grass and dirt.

"Guess I'll take first watch. You can't even walk."

Her back straightened, her entire body prickling, on edge, wary. "Perhaps we could both sleep. Few come this way. We should be safe."

Lukor took one step to be an inch in front of her. He raised a dark eyebrow. "You think that wise?"

No wiser than... She lifted onto her toes, puckering her lips.

Hands on her shoulders forced her back. "I told you not to try that again. You will not survive a thrice attempt." He did not hide his hand moving to the hilt of his axe.

Torn between embarrassment, shame, and wounded pride, she turned her back to him. Strange, alien emotions were coursing through her body, and she did not like any of them. Where was anger? Rage? Her friends and allies.

Better to feel nothing. She closed her eyes and pushed all emotions away. "You hate all barbarians. Tell me, how many of my race do you actually know? Have conversed with?"

The unmistakable sound of a weapon withdrawing urged her heartbeat to race. She stood impossibly still, not arming herself, not facing her opponent.

An uncomfortable silence surrounded them like a dreary fog. Ivy closed her eyes. Would her next breath be her last? Or would the goliath spare her and grant her the chance to save her people? Killing him would not help her people. She needed him, as much as it pained her to rely on another, whether he be goliath or barbarian.

"I have cause," he grumbled after many long minutes passed and she was swaying on her feet from fighting fatigue.

He retired his weapon, and she collapsed to the ground. Sleep called to her, singing a sweet song, and she had no choice but to obey. Her last conscious thought concerned the goliath and what a barbarian had done to him. More likely, who had the barbarian killed?

Striking her down would have been so easy, too easy. She'd offered herself to him. Only a few stars had shone down on her, making the white portions of her dress look ethereal in the dim lighting. Like an angel. How wrong. Barbarians only knew death and war, anger and wrath, nothing else.

So why had she attempted to kiss him? To seduce him? Did she think a barbarian, herself, could change his mind and save her people? If so, she was sorely mistaken. Was it possible for a barbarian to concern herself with someone other than herself?

Of course not.

Now she slept, tossing and turning, her lips twisting into grimaces, agony plain in her features. A nightmare.

Leaving her to its effects, hoping she was trapped in a wretched place, he lay down several feet from her. Despite being in such close quarters to a barbarian, he slept, deep and heartily. When he next opened his eyes, the violet sun was still not yet up, although it would be soon.

The barbarian princess still slumbered, wildly thrashing about, punching and kicking. Even during the night, they never stopped fighting.