Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) (27 page)

Darius nodded and braced himself for the cold on his skin. On his left and on his right he heard splashes as Daniel and William entered the water. Darius dove straight in, the cold making it feel as if his heart might stop. The freezing water assaulted him, numbing him almost instantly as he lashed out into the waves. Darius ignored the cold, made swift, clean strokes through the water, and kicked his legs strongly.

When he reached the stone, he felt his knuckles crack as they smashed into the rock in front of him. He knew he was probably bleeding, but he ignored that, too, and he turned, kicked away from the rock, and headed back toward the shore.

His muscles soon began to contract painfully, and the cold had drifted to a fierce numbing, seeping all the way to his bones. His teeth chattered violently as he fought to maintain his even strokes. There was no way he was going to let Daniel win.

Just when he thought he could bear it no more, his knee scraped against the gravel sea bed, and he stood as he exited the water. He tore the blindfold from his eyes, and looked to gauge the degree to which he had defeated the arrogant weapons master, but Daniel and William were nowhere to be seen. His heart froze for a moment, fear for his friends eclipsing his victory.

He was about to leap back into the water when he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He spun around and saw Daniel and William, both fully dressed and grinning at him.

How had they gotten back so quickly?

Sensing Darius might have some questions, Daniel sauntered towards the beach, lifted one of the large rocks littering the ground around them. He tossed it into the sea, and it made a great splash.

That had been the noise Darius had mistaken for his friends entering the water with him.

“You win,” Daniel said, and he and William walked back in the direction of the welcoming fire, leaving Darius, naked and shivering on the beach.

Darius returned to the fire to dress. “You realize that now I am going to have to kill you.”

“I figured as much. Does it have to be now? Or can we schedule it for a more reasonable hour?”

“I’ll get back to you,” Darius said.

“Do you feel better, now?”

“Yes,” he said, and surprisingly, he did. He smiled at his two friends.

“Darius, had I known trying to kill you was the key to your happiness, I could have obliged you so much sooner.”

Darius laughed and punched the weapons master firmly on the arm, almost knocking him from his seat on the log.

“And now for the last test. William, hand me the bag.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Darius said, eyeing the bag. “You have accomplished what you set out to do.”

“You want to concede defeat, then? Admit you are not truly a man?”

Darius sighed. “What’s the last task?”

“I will tell you, but let me warn you, it is, by far, the most hideous test of strength yet. Maybe it would be better to just admit defeat.”

“Oh, in the name of all things sacred, what is it?”

Daniel reached into the bag and pulled the contents, slowly out and into the open.

“Bread?” Darius asked, looking confused.

“Not just any bread, Dearra’s bread.”

“All I have to do is, what? Eat it?” Darius asked, still not quite getting the challenge.

Daniel nodded and handed the loaf to Darius. It somehow looked so much lighter than it felt, and his hand drooped lower when Daniel handed it over.

Darius smiled at Daniel and lifted the bread to his mouth. He tore a huge chunk off with his teeth. His smile faltered, and then disappeared altogether as he chewed the coarse, salty mess. Maybe admitting defeat wouldn’t have been so bad, after all.

“I can see what you are thinking, Darius. You had your chance to escape. Now, you will succeed no matter the cost.”

“What does that mean?” Darius asked through a mouthful of the awful, sour stuff.

“Either you prove your manhood here and now by eating the whole loaf, or you prove it when we return to the keep and William and I tell Dearra you would rather be labeled a coward than be forced to eat what she has made.”

Darius thought over the choices before him for less than a second before choosing the lesser of the two evils before him. William and Daniel held their sides, tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks, as Darius choked down every last crumb of Dearra’s bread.

Dearra woke in the hour just before dawn, a feeling of disappointment washing over her. She hated to wake up from such a magnificent dream, but it always seemed to go that way. Just when a dream got really good she would wake up and lose those wonderful feelings to the light of day.

But wait! She hadn’t woken up! The dream had simply decided to switch tracks. Instead of the beach where she had first kissed Darius, she was in her room, turning to the comfort of his strong embrace. Truth be told, the location didn’t matter as much as the man.

Darius kissed her temples first, trailing his lips slowly down her jaw and then to her neck. He lingered there for a while before his mouth closed over hers. She threw her arms tightly around her dream lover’s neck and pressed herself tightly against him. She hooked a slender leg around his as her hand explored the contours of his chest. Small sighs escaped from her mouth, and her breath came in fluttery gasps.

She lifted her leg higher along his, and realized something was very wrong. Her fantasy was struggling to pull away from her. He never did that. He would usually…never mind what he usually did, but he would never pull away.

Finally, her dream Darius succeeded in extricating himself from her amorous embrace and then—

“Ouch!” The very real Darius said as he fell from the bed and landed on the hard stone.

Dearra was definitely awake now. She sat, straight up, still in bed. “Darius?”

“Who did you think it was?” He sounded both questioning and angry at the same time, as if he were jealous.

“Well, you, but not you. I thought I was dreaming. Again.”

Darius relaxed at her confession and shook his head. “Well, at least now I know why you were so…unrestrained in your affections.”

Dearra blushed. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to tell you I was back and to thank you and Brin for the birthday present. I should have woken you, but when I saw you sleeping so peacefully, I just couldn’t resist. I’ve missed you, Dearra.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to her and slipped an arm around her waist.

Everything came out in a rush, and tears erupted from Dearra’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Darius. I didn’t mean to upset you. It just never occurred to me you could feel anything less than the man you are. You are the bravest, strongest, most wonderful, most…” Dearra hiccupped. She struggled to suppress the tears and find the right words.

Darius lowered his head to hers and kissed the tears away from her cheeks. His fingers twined into her long hair and he gently pulled her lips to his. He breathed in the floral scent of her skin, letting it fill his senses. That she gave everything she could and asked nothing of him in return, and her willingness to surrender herself to him was already a heady experience…nothing in his previous life could have prepared him for this warmth, this feeling of completeness. When the kiss ended, Dearra looked up into Darius’s eyes. “I love you,” she said, her voice breathy and unsteady from the kiss they had shared.

Instead of the quiet declaration she hoped for in return, Darius broke into a smile that seemed to light his entire face. He lifted her from the bed, his hands at her waist, and kissed her again, spinning her in circles. Dearra’s nightgown billowed around her legs and she giggled through the kisses that rained down on her.

When the kisses began to slow, Darius breathed in her ear, sending ripples of delight cascading through her, and when he spoke, the sincerity in his velvet whisper made her close her eyes in pleasure.

“I adore you. You are the air I breathe and the sunshine in my days. I will be yours, always. Where you go, I go. I love you, Dearra.”

He continued to hold her in his embrace, and Darius resumed his attention to her. She felt herself warm under his touch, and again her breath came in soft gasps. He knew she was letting herself be swept away in the moment, and he longed to do the same. A low growl sounded in his throat, and his hands swept from her waist to the flair of her hips. His lips crushed hers as he frantically tried to bring her closer to him, but her small squeak of discomfort was enough to jar him from his intended course, and he scolded himself inwardly at his weakness. He forced himself to break off and put some space between them. He realized that, no matter how much he wished to do otherwise, he was going to need to be much more careful around Dearra in the future.

Sometime later, Darius lay beside Dearra, facing her back. His fingers stroked her spine as he rested his cheek on the silky pillow of her hair. “I never thought I would have this, Dearra. I knew there was something missing from my life, but if someone had told me it was love, it would have taken me a week to stop laughing.”

Dearra turned to face him and cupped his face in her hands. “You are never allowed to leave me, Darius. You can get mad at me all you want. You can fuss and fume when I get on your nerves, but you are absolutely forbidden to go away from me.”

Dearra kissed him lightly, but before the kiss could intensify she heard,
That’s so touching. I think I’m going to cry.

“Seriously, Dearra, wouldn’t you prefer a nice bow? You would look quite attractive with an ash bow slung along your perfect shoulder. Swords are so cumbersome. Perhaps it’s time for a change,” Darius said, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“Brin, he’s right. You are a pain,” Dearra said, snuggling closer to Darius.

I just thought you would like to know that your father is awake. The sun has come up, and he is on his way to see if you would like to join him for morning meal. But don’t let me interrupt. You two go right ahead and twist yourselves together again. I’m bored stiff, and Hugh’s reaction would be just the entertainment I need.

Darius planted a fleeting kiss on her lips and snatched up his boots before Brin was done speaking. He winked at her, slipped from her room, and had just closed the door to his own room as Hugh’s heavy steps sounded on the stairs, and his pulse raced at the near miss.

Brin was right; they were playing a dangerous game. Dearra was going to be the death of him. She made his blood boil and his heart sing. He couldn’t imagine living without her now, and that pleased him. The only problem he saw was in keeping control of himself. She seemed to think he was completely safe, that no matter how much she tempted and teased, he would remain the gentleman. He needed to correct that assumption. He was Breken, and he was dangerous. For him, wanting and taking were one and the same. He had lived life like that too long to completely let go of his old ways, and every time she pushed the limits, he felt himself coming closer to the breaking point.

He loved touching her, kissing her, holding her close, but there needed to be an understanding between them, for her safety and her virtue. He couldn’t risk his Breken side gaining control, because if it did, nothing would stop him. If he were ever to hurt her, it would kill him.

***

Dearra heard the knock on her door and was about to tell her father to enter. Fortunately, Brin reminded her that she wasn’t supposed to know it was him, and she called out asking who it was, instead. She asked her father to give her a moment, and she quickly pulled off her nightgown and began to dress.

Dearra?

Yes, Brin?
Dearra asked, yanking a stocking onto her bare foot.

You’ve got to control yourself more with Darius. I’ve told you this before: he is just a man, Dearra. It isn’t safe.

You worry too much.

Really? Did I worry too much about Jacob?

Dearra paused, the second stocking only half way on, and then she scowled and continued to dress.
That’s completely different. Darius would never hurt me, and you know it.

The Darius we know would never hurt you, but there is a Breken buried inside, Dearra. I beg you not to dig so much, you uncover something best left alone.

You speak foolishness, Brin. You don’t know what you’re saying. Darius loves me, and I love him.

Yes, yes you do. But physical love is a powerful thing, Dearra, overriding common sense and taking on a life of its own. If you push him too far, he
will
hurt you.

“You lie! Leave me alone!” Dearra yelled aloud. A sharp pounding came at her door, and before she had time to respond, her father had burst through it, eyes wide, searching for signs of an intruder.

“What is it? Who is bothering you?” Hugh’s said, his expression tense.

Dearra finished fastening the last two buttons on her shirt and laid a comforting hand on her father’s sleeve. “I’m sorry, Father. It was just Brin. He was telling me my fighting style was lacking. You know how I hate to be criticized. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Oh.” Hugh felt foolish for his moment of fatherly panic.

“Come on, Father. I’ll race you to breakfast.”

Hugh shook his head, an amused grin spreading across his face, as he watched his daughter practically dance from the room and down the steps. She certainly seemed happier today than she had the last couple of weeks. It was his concern for her that made him decide to seek her company for breakfast that morning. He was glad she had come around on her own. It was hard raising a daughter; he never seemed to know what to say.

Hugh turned to go to breakfast himself, and his foot nudged something soft. He bent down to retrieve the object and his eyes grew wide when he saw what it was. A dark sense of gloom filled his thoughts. He slipped the item into his shirt and made his way to the Great Hall, his mind racing, feeling the item underneath the material of his shirt as it rubbed against his skin when he moved, its weight seeming to grow with each step until it weighed a hundred pounds at least.

He managed a smile for his daughter as he joined her. This was going to take some thought. He needed to be absolutely certain and not act in haste. He turned to listen as Dearra spoke in an attempt to be attentive, but his mind lingered on the item he held hidden.

A man’s leather vest.

Too big for Dearra.

Too big for anyone, save one.

Somehow, Darius had lost a piece of clothing in his daughter’s room, and now, his formerly sad and pensive daughter seemed suddenly bubbly and animated. This situation was going to take a lot of thought indeed.

The smile pasted on Hugh’s face never wavered. Dearra was completely oblivious as Hugh mentally catalogued a hundred ways to kill a Breken before lunch.

***

Darius had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. His long night with William and Daniel had taken its toll. It was early afternoon when he awoke, and he rose to dress. His shirt would need to be washed before he could wear it again, but the vest would not need to be cleaned for some time. He looked through his belongings before concluding the vest wasn’t there. A vision of himself in Dearra’s room came to him, and he remembered removing the constricting garment before lying beside her this morning. He smiled at the memory of her warmth.

He walked with stealth to Dearra’s deserted chambers where he lowered himself to his hands and knees, and searched beneath her bed.

Nothing.

He emerged from under the bed, he was aware of two things simultaneously, his vest was gripped in Hugh’s clenched fist, and the tip of Hugh’s sword was being held inches from his throat.

“Looking for this, boy?” Hugh asked.

A million inappropriate responses came to him, but then he remembered Daniel’s advice from long ago, and chose to respond, “Yes,” instead.

“Get up.” The command was said without heat, but Darius sensed the danger.

“I can explain,” Darius stopped short when he realized that any truthful explanation he could give would probably have the same inevitable outcome.

At that moment, Dearra came up the steps to her room with Carly in tow, the two friends laughing at something one of them had said. When they entered the room, Dearra’s eyes went from Darius, to her father, to the vest he gripped in his hand. It didn’t take long to figure out what had happened.

“Father! What are you doing?” Dearra said. She stepped between the sword and Darius in an effort to shield him from her father’s wrath.

“Step aside, girl!” her father commanded.

Dearra didn’t know what else to do. She would never act against her father, but she had to do something, so she pulled out her sword, and aimed it—if only casually—in her father’s direction. The look of pain on his face tore at Dearra’s heart, but she couldn’t yield.

Carly stared in horror at the situation, too shocked even to move.

“Dearra, drop your weapon,” Hugh said calmly.

“No.”

“Please, Dearra. This isn’t going to help anything,” Darius whispered.

“No,” she said, again.

Hugh straightened to his full height, and said, his voice commanding, “Dearra! You are a citizen of Maj! I am your lord. Drop! Your! Sword!”

The “no” that passed her lips came out as no more than a puff of air.

Okay! That’s it! I want no part of this.

Dearra didn’t have time to process the meaning of Brin’s words before she felt the flash of searing heat on her hand. She dropped the sword and yelped in pain. Darius reached for her injured hand, his concern for her plain, but before he even touched her, Hugh’s sword was pressing into his side, just piercing the shirt he wore, and pressing into his skin. She saw the trickle of blood that seeped through his shirt from the tiny wound it made.