Rising Fire (26 page)

“Come, my love,” he said to Brienne, holding out his hand to her. “There is still much to do.” Pointing to Aislinn, he ordered the man who'd witnessed it all, “Protect her.”

Then, with his mate at his side, he strode toward the fighting.

H
ugh the fireblood laughed when he vanquished his daughter.

Now all he must do to complete his quest was enter, destroy the altar stone, and join his blood with the warblood over the barrier to break it and free Chaela.

She would be glorious! Freed after centuries, eons, she would rise above them and destroy all who opposed her, who opposed them. They would rule the world together. Gathering his form, he turned to enter the circle.

And could not!

The stones changed and glowed and kept him out. He tried as a fireblood and then in his human shape, but a force greater than he'd ever encountered, stronger than anything the goddess had ever produced, kept him out.

Gazing into the circle, he watched as his daughter materialized from the flame of the torch, a power he did not know she possessed. Pride would not stop him from destroying her now and destroying every one of those who had helped her.

“No!” he screamed as she spilled her blood with the others. “NO!”

She could not do this. She could not stop him, stop the one who gave her the power in her blood!

He became a fire of immense size and strength and tried to burn his way through whatever kept him out, but it did nothing. He pushed himself through the air, circling the stones, burning and forcing against it until a terrible noise filled the air from within it, a cry of suffering and anguish so deep that it shook the earth.

When the stones bent to join in the center, he knew he'd lost.

Hugh did not waste his time or the men he had left. He changed his plan and called out orders to Eudes and the others to gather. Creating a wall of fire, he sent it out at the attackers, forcing them away so that he could escape. Riding away from the site of his first defeat, he offered up his prayer and pledge to his goddess. He knew it was not a complete failure, for he'd taken steps to begin the chaos that the goddess would finish.

Now that he knew how the priests communicated and what knowledge they shared, he grabbed one of them as they rode past. Not seeing Brisbois, and realizing he would die at the warblood's hand in the circle, Hugh tossed the priest to Eudes, who would now have to extract that information that his torturer would have.

With the priest, he could gain the location of the next circle, his next chance to free her and destroy their enemies. As they reached the top of the ridge, Hugh opened his senses, trying to get some idea of where they needed to go. Ripples of power echoed to him from the north. The priest Aislinn would discern the
specific location from signs inside the stones, and their prisoner would share that with him.

*   *   *

Brienne walked at William's side toward the mayhem. Her blood felt different now. The power coursed more strongly through her, and she could feel some abilities she did not know she had before. Jumping from fire to fire was only a small part of them. If she became fire now, she could travel in that form through the air.

And William must be feeling the same changes within him.

She could not believe the powers he had nor the size he had become in that circle. And yet he never lost himself to it all. That was another change to them—they did not lose their humanity even as they became something else.

By the time they reached the battle, it was dissipating, for Lord Hugh was already retreating, escaping with those of his soldiers still alive, riding north over the hills. The wall of fire evaporated as he took his attention from it to save himself.

“There are more circles,” Aislinn said from behind them.

Glancing back, she saw Brisbois standing guard at the priest's back.

William turned and nodded. “And you know their location? How to find them?” he asked.

“I read the signs on the altar stone before it was destroyed and await the prophecy that will complete it.”

“When will that come, Aislinn?” Brienne asked.

“As and when the gods allow it.”

“We should see to the wounded and organize
ourselves for the journey,” William said, tugging her hand. She smiled as she realized that he had not let go of her since they survived the ritual a few minutes ago.

They began to walk toward the people who gathered around the field, but she tugged William to a stop.

“Give me a moment. I wish to speak to Brisbois.”

From his darkening expression, neither William nor the warblood in him liked the idea. He gazed at her, and she let him know all was well. He kissed her hand and released it, walking at Aislinn's side a few paces ahead of them.

“Why did you do it?” she asked the man whose actions had saved her and Aislinn, and probably ensured their success over his master.

He gave her that look, the one that said he did not wish to discuss such matters, and continued walking. Then he spoke quietly.

“You frightened him, girl. No one has done that before. And better than that, you defied him.”

“And you have served him for a long time?” she asked, knowing nothing of how or why this man had become Lord Hugh's torturer.

“From the moment of his birth,” he said, drawing back the sleeve of his tunic to reveal the same mark that she carried. “We shared our mother's womb, but only one could have the power. He was firstborn and inherited it. I became his to command, since he was the heir.”

Brienne stopped and stared at his face then. She'd never looked for nor seen the resemblance before and yet it sat there in plain view.

“Brienne?” William called out to her, sensing her distress. She waved him on and faced her . . . uncle.

“Twins?” she asked. His face had been changed over
time and from injuries and hadn't been influenced by the goddess's power into something different from his brother's. He nodded. “And now?” she asked, unsure how she could be certain of his loyalty while Lord Hugh yet lived.

“I am still in service to the heir,” he said gruffly. He went down on his knees in front of her. “If you will have me.” Holding out his arm to her, Brienne stared as the mark they shared glowed. Stunned by his words and his offer, it took her a moment to accept both.

“I am the heir?”

“Aye, girl. The only one.”

“Then I accept your loyalty and your service.”

She placed her own mark on his, and their skin melted, allowing their blood to touch. He hissed as the power touched him, but he did not pull away until the marks separated on their own. By the time William returned to her side, Brisbois had regained his feet.

“What are your orders, my lady?” he asked.

The thought of having someone at her command unnerved her. William took her hand and nodded, understanding that this man had pledged his loyalty.

“As William said, guard Aislinn always, until I say otherwise.”

“As you command, my lady.” Her uncle nodded, this time with a wink at her, and followed Aislinn as she made her way to where the priests gathered.

“Your first warrior,” William said. “And your first order. How did that feel?”

“Not my first warrior and not my first order, William.” She rose onto her toes and kissed his mouth. “You were my first.” Another kiss. “And my first order was for you to kiss me.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up against him, and she felt his body respond to her. And he kissed her. More than a kiss, he claimed her. She tasted the passion in him as he possessed her. Lifting his mouth from hers, he smiled at her, and it warmed her as no fire could.

“I cannot promise obedience, but I pledge to be faithful and to always be at your side,” he began. “And to love you, Brienne. If you will have me?”

The love in his gaze was all she needed to see before giving her answer.

“Aye. I will
have
you
,” she said, emphasizing the last words. He laughed and kissed her, hearing it.

“First, things to see to. Then the
having
will begin.”

*   *   *

Marcus watched as the priests gathered, forming a circle around those who had fought the battle. Then, nodding to the couple, he watched as they came forward together, hands linked as they'd been since the ritual.

Though this was not a duty he'd performed often or recently, he'd agreed to witness the giving and receiving of vows, joining the lives of these two whose souls and blood had been united already. Now it was time to give their hearts.

As they spoke the words that would make them husband and wife, Marcus smiled and guided them, just as he had before for others in his care and would again. These two had taken on the mantle of leadership, the first two of the bloodlines to rise and the first two to be proven in battle against the evil one. They would lead the journey as they sought the next circle and lead the struggle as some lived and some died.

He could feel not only the love between the two of
them, but also the way it sparked their powers even more. They would be more together as one than the sum of them separately would be. Something they would learn very soon.

As they spoke, tiny glimmers of light appeared and floated above them in the air, sparkling and shimmering, forming shapes and signs that only he and Aislinn could see. Their gazes met, and she smiled, for they bore witness to the blessing of the gods they served.

It was right. It was blessed. It had been foretold.

His own powers surged, letting him know that the prophecy they needed would be given soon.

After the ceremony, they shared a simple meal before seeking rest. This endless day had proven a success—the one whose name he dared not speak remained imprisoned in the timeless chasm and one gate had been sealed. They needed rest and healing so that they could begin the fight anew.

As William and Brienne walked out of the camp toward a more private place for their first night together, Marcus summoned the priests. They needed to pray and offer thanks to the gods. And they needed to wait for the words to be given to them.

Rest would have to wait on the gods, even as they did.

T
he path wound down the hill and through a small copse of trees until it ended near the stream. The night grew chilly, as the beginning of spring in Scotland was never warm. It mattered not to him, and from the becoming flush in her cheeks, his wife did not notice it. He lifted the torch to show the path. Aislinn had whispered of preparations, and then she'd blushed, knowing what this night would bring.

William had been living in a constant state of arousal for Brienne since their first meeting, and no efforts on his part to douse that desire had worked. And that one night, when he had held her naked body to his, feeling her arousal and watching her peak, had been a torturous one for him.

But this night . . .

They reached the stream and found a tent set up there. Roger stood before it, waiting for them. Brienne, fearless, brave Brienne, tucked in close to him, became suddenly shy.

“Roger,” he greeted the man, and handed him the torch. They would have no need for it.

“Will.” Roger held the tent open for him.

Inside was more comfortable than he could have expected. It would not be high enough for him to stand straight, but Brienne would fit nicely. Thick, lined blankets lay in one corner, with more piled on top. A skin of liquid, some food and bread, and an unlit candle sat on a small stool that served as a table. It would do nicely.

“See you both in the morn,” Roger said, and with a bow and a wink at Brienne, he walked whistling back up the path. Only when the sound and light disappeared over the hill did Will let out the laugh that he held inside.

“Come. It will be warm inside.” He felt the slight hesitation in her body. “Surely you are not nervous over this small thing,” he said, kissing her on the mouth that beckoned him endlessly.

“Small thing?” she asked.

“Oh, aye, you have seen it.” He was teasing her, hoping to ease her nervousness. “We will do only what feels pleasurable to you. You remember how it felt that first time?” Her body shuddered. She remembered. “Let me show you that pleasure again.”

She nodded and went into the tent as he held the flap open for her. Once he closed it, the enclosure grew warmer just by having them in it. When he reached for the candle, she placed her hand on his arm to stop him.

“We do not need that,” she said.

As he watched, she glowed, filling the tent with warmth and light. No need for candles at all. None at all when his wife could create fire, light, and heat with her thoughts alone. Remembering the hungry expression in her gaze when she'd found him naked in his
bedchamber, he decided that was the best way to begin. Will reached up and loosened the ties of his tunic.

“Wait!” she said, her voice a bit breathless. “I should undress my husband.”

“I want no ‘should' between us, Brienne,” he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “Only ‘would' and ‘want.'”

She leaned against his hand as he turned it to cup her face and stroke her cheek with his thumb. “I want to undress my husband,” she said.

“Then do so, wife.” He relaxed his arms and waited on her.

She reached up and untied the laces of his shirt. Then she took the hem of it and slid it up his body, pushing it over his head. Tossing it on the floor, Brienne turned her attention back to him, and he could feel her heated gaze touching his skin.

He watched as she moved closer, studying his chest and his stomach, before she reached out and touched the curly hair on it. She lightly grazed it, sending waves of sensation through his skin. He stood motionless as she traced the outline of his male nipples with her finger. But he lost his ability to breathe when he saw the tip of her tongue and realized her intention.

Imitating his own caress of her breasts, she stroked with her hands while her tongue licked the sensitive skin. Pleasure coursed through his blood then, and his body grew hard and ready for her. Her mouth moved over his chest, tasting and licking his skin, but her hands did not rest idly by. She embraced him, sliding her hands around to his back and then down until she held him as he'd held her.

“You have too many garments on, wife,” he said. It came out sounding like a plea.

“Worry not, husband,” she said. “I am not done undressing you yet.” Meeting her gaze, he noticed that she was brighter, as though more light and fire raced through her blood. He worried then, not at her power but at the wicked glimmer in her gaze as she came closer to him.

She moved around him then, kissing and licking her way to his back. Her hands continued to touch and stroke him, and he let his head fall back, enjoying every touch, every caress. If it pleased her to pleasure him, he would, he decided, allow her. But he questioned the wisdom of that very thing when her hands slid around his waist and began working on the ties of his trews.

“Brienne, love,” he whispered, placing his hands on hers to stop her. He learned the foolishness of his intention when she let the fire in her heat her skin, burning him long enough that he let go.

It took little effort for her to unlace him and allow his prick out, for it stood hard, long, and begging for her touch. She leaned her face on his back and slid her hands under the fabric, pushing it down away from his waist and over his hips. Brienne took hold of his flesh and sighed against his skin as it lengthened in her grasp.

He was going to spill his seed if she continued to touch him and make those noises that she probably did not even hear. But he did. They echoed through his body, increasing the need within him. “Brienne,” he whispered harshly as she stroked his needy flesh. “Brienne.”

She moved again, slowly releasing him and coming around to stand before him. She studied his erection much as she had that first night, and his hardness twitched under her gaze. But when she licked her lips and leaned over closer to it, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her up to his mouth.

And ravished her there. His tongue thrust deep until she suckled it the way he'd shown her. He undressed her without even lifting his mouth from hers, and when her naked skin was against his, she seemed to melt into him. William scooped her up and carried her to the blankets. She sighed as he laid her there and came down on top of her.

The warblood inside him urged to conquer, to take, to have, pushing power into his blood and pushing his body to change. But William tempered the warrior and contained him as he loved his mate, his love, his wife.

She felt him struggling to keep his warblood inside, much as she was barely holding on to the fire within her. Each touch, each caress, each kiss pushed her closer and closer to losing control and bursting into flames. But as he controlled himself, so did she. She held tightly to the boiling power as he unleashed a different kind of heat on her body and her heart.

Brienne had thought she knew what to expect, but when his goal was unlimited, unrelenting pleasure that would end with them as one, she lost the ability to think and almost forgot to breathe as he began his attack. And it was an attack—on her senses, on her skin, on every part of her—as he began using his mouth and tongue and teeth and hands as the weapons they were.

Her skin burned as he rubbed his face down her breasts and across her belly. She arched as her body
throbbed in anticipation of what was to come. Knowing the waves of pleasure that would result from his hands, she urged him on.

“Impatient now that you've remembered, love?” He laughed deeply in his throat as he raised his head and looked at her.

His mouth now poised so close to the place between her legs that she grew wet just seeing him there. When he moved to kneel between her legs, her flesh between them tingled with want. He stroked her legs, taking her ankles and guiding them apart. Then he kissed and tasted his way along each leg as she gasped and shook from the sheer pleasure of each touch.

He reached the top and she waited, waited for what he would do next, and when he did nothing, she rose onto her elbows and looked at him. Wicked did not do justice for the expression on his face now as he leaned down and kissed the inside of her thigh. He glanced at her once more and then licked the other side before putting his mouth fully on the place that ached the most.

She screamed then and fell back, part of her wanting to pull away from such intensity and the other part wanting to rock against his mouth. The other part won out. She pressed against his hot mouth, and his tongue darted along the swelling folds. Her body shuddered with each caress, and he laughed against her—the sound and feel of it going into her blood.

When he teased with his teeth, nipping to make it ache more and licking to soothe it, she reached down for him, sliding her fingers in his long hair. He did not slow. Using his fingers to open her, he dipped into her with his tongue, sucking in the moisture that flowed
from her body. She could not breathe then, only feel as he took control of her body and soul.

He slid his tongue along the folds up until he touched a spot with its tip that sent her reeling, shaking and keening out his name as he pushed her free of any control she had and into some mindless creature of his doing.

“Come for me, love. Let go. Let go,” he urged.

And she did.

Flying free as her body came undone under his sensual assault, she could feel herself shattering and being remade from the pieces. Over and over, breaking and forming, breaking and forming, until she was empty and then refilled in the next instant.

She was panting in shallow breaths and still throbbing when he moved over her, spreading her legs wider and seating his body there. Brienne felt his hardness and knew that this was the moment that they would become one. She opened her eyes and met his.

She had no idea of how beautiful she was to him. It almost hurt to stare into her eyes when she was still shaking with pleasure, but seeing the love in her gaze captured him. Will slid a hand down between their bodies to spread the folds and find the place that would stoke her desire again. Her body reacted to his every touch.

She moaned, low and deep, and rocked against his hand as he stroked her heated flesh, readying her to accept him inside her. When her hips rose with each caress, he lifted his and placed his cock at her opening.

“Brienne,” he whispered. “Open for me, love,” he urged. Then, as she opened, relaxing her legs, he pressed into her. Not gently, but a constant movement, inch by inch, until he was buried deep.

Home.

He waited, gathering his crumbling control and waiting for her body to adjust to his invasion. When she rocked her hips and gasped, he knew she was ready for the rest of it. Easing out of her, he stroked back in, using his cock to rub against the walls of her channel. She gasped and then began to moan as her body became wild beneath his.

“Put your legs up here,” he said, guiding them up to his hips. “Hold on to me, love. Hold on.”

Will began slowly thrusting in and sliding out, alternating deeper and harder with slower and gentler, his own muscles hardening and urging him on. His bollocks tightened, and he knew he would spill his seed soon. Leaning down, he kissed her hard and deep.

When he opened his eyes, she whispered to him. “Bring on your warblood, husband,” she urged in the husky voice of arousal. “Bring him now.”

His vision had gone red and he had not realized it. He thrust harder then, aching to be part of her flesh, craving the feel of her tightening around his cock. Every part of him wanted her, wanted to conquer her, take, have, possess. He gave in to her begging sobs and took her, until she screamed out and fell apart under him.

He felt every wave of pleasure as it moved through her. Every muscle, every spasm as her body took his release until he was empty. He inhaled her; he exhaled her. Then they breathed as one. Their hearts beat as one, in time with the other until he could not tell which was his or hers. Their flesh, filled and filling, throbbed as their releases eased.

He could not move. He did not wish to. Ever.

The fireblood belonged to the warblood.

Mine. Mine. Only mine,
the creature chanted.

She was his mate.

Brienne was his.

He drifted off a bit, undone by her reaction and the complete satisfaction he felt. He felt the laugh rather than heard it as she answered him deep in his mind.

As you are mine.

*   *   *

The night passed much too quickly for his liking. The only thing that comforted him was knowing she was and would be his for a long time. After the first time, he rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms, holding her and listening to her breathe in her sleep.

He would have been content, feeling lighter and more at ease than he had in years. He would have been fine if she had not shimmied herself closer to him and sighed. Thinking her asleep, he'd ignored the call of his flesh. Then she arched her bottom against it, and he gave up fighting it.

You will be sore.

I will be fine,
he heard.

You have no idea what I want to do to you now that I have you.
He let several things float in his thoughts, ways he wanted to take her, things he had not yet done with or to her.

Her body answered for her, pressing against him and rocking her hips until he lifted her to her knees and showed her one thing that he wanted to do. This time her release came quietly in a long series of gasps as her flesh gripped his and milked him dry.

When daybreak finally broke into their haven, William was not certain he would survive her
having
him if every night were like this one.