Veil of Shadows (17 page)

Laithe damned the weakness that plagued him as he shuffled through the forest. He hadn’t the energy to make the journey back to where his kinsman waited, even if he did have the inclination.

His priorities had taken a drastic shift in recent hours, and he’d yet to decide on a course of action.

He had no doubt he could convince Lord Reil and the others that Corom had died at Dais’s hands. It would even be sweet irony—Reil would unleash his men and Dais would be lucky to live another night.

But Laithe was loath to take that route. He’d taken what he knew was a necessary action, and he didn’t relish lying about it. Nor did he relish the idea of dying for that necessary action.

More, he didn’t want the Warlords this close to the base camp.

His priorities and all.

Sagging against the trunk of a tree, he stared through the trees. He couldn’t see the rebel camp from here, nor could he hear them. But they were close.

And if they were close, that meant she was close.

Syn was still staring at absolutely nothing when the door opened sometime later.

There was no knock.

Xan came inside and shut the door behind him without saying a word.

She didn’t need to look to know it was him. It was him, and he was pissed. Just as pissed off as Kalen had been, it seemed.

No. More.

His anger came off of him in huge, pulsating waves, battering against her shields.

It had been like that back in the old shelter just hours ago when the three witches had been interrupted, and she didn’t think he’d cooled down one bit.

Syn sighed and rested her brow against the glass. It was warm from the sun and seemed almost painfully hot against her chilled flesh. “Didn’t you hear the word, Xan? I’m under restrictions for the rest of the day and if the commander knows you’re in here, he’ll have your ass.”

“The commander can go fuck himself,” Xan said, his voice harsh. And directly behind her.

She managed to keep from jumping. Barely. Damn, he moved quiet. It went deeper than silence—it was like he didn’t even disrupt the airflow when he moved. Forcing her face to settle into a blank mask, she turned and faced him. “I’ve already had the commander launch into me, Xan. I don’t need this from you.”

She went to go around him and he shot an arm out, blocking her.

“You little fool,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“Yes. I know full well how dangerous it was. But we needed to do it.”

“You needed to do something that could have alerted every last Warlord within a day’s travel of your presence. You needed to do that.” Xan’s dark, one-eyed stare glowed hot with fury.

Belatedly, she realized it was the first time she’d ever seen him angry.

Actually, it was one of the few times she’d ever seen any emotion from him period. Unless he was inside her. When he was touching her, he let that guard down. But any other time . . .

Folding her arms over her chest, she glared back at him. “We were
careful
, Xan. I would like to point out that I’m not a beginner—I’m well experienced with magic and how to use it. We created a barrier, and except one brief flash, nobody would have felt it, unless we had a Warlord in the very same room with us.”

“You think they need to be that close to feel it?” Xan said, his voice thick with mockery. “They are like sharks, Syn. They can scent it from miles away, barriers or not.”

She gave him a withering look and said, “And who made you the expert on witches and Warlords?” Shoving past him, she stomped away from him and flopped down on her bunk. “Elina’s a damn good witch, Xan. One of the best our world has ever seen and probably the strongest alive, except for possibly Lee. She knows what she is doing.”

“And if a Warlord had caught the scent? Made a move?”

“We would have handled it.”

“You sound so utterly certain,” Xan muttered. “So convinced. You arrogant fool.”

Kicking her legs over the edge of her bunk, she came to her feet and gave him a venomous look. “Listen, my friend, I’m getting tired of having men question my intelligence when they don’t have any stake in this matter.”

Xan watched her, his gaze narrow and hard. “You think I have no stake in this issue?” With two long strides, he closed the distance between them and reached out, snagging the front of her tunic, hauling her against him. “You’re wrong in that,
Captain
. I very much have a stake in this issue.”

His mouth came crushing down on hers, swallowing any protest she might have made. She went to pull back and his hand cupped the back of her head, holding her still. He didn’t hurt her, but his grip was relentless.

His tongue stole between her lips, and she stopped thinking about pulling away.

Abruptly, her own anger, all of the adrenaline trapped inside her, exploded—changed. She met his kiss with one of her own and as he fought to remove her clothes, she did the same to his. He took her to the floor, wedging his hips between her thighs.

“Open for me,” he growled as he tore his mouth from hers. He reached down between them, steadying his cock. His gaze bored into hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

The thick, round head of his cock pressed snug against her entrance, and Syn groaned, arching against him, desperate, dying. But he didn’t move to enter her. He held still, steady, and watched her face.

“I smell your skin on me while I lie in bed at night,” he whispered, his voice deep and dark, his breath drifting warm across her mouth as he spoke. “I feel you next to me even when you are not there. I need only to think of you, and I want you. I need only to think of you, and I have to see you, have to be with you. For this . . . and more. And yet you tell me I have no stake in your safety?”

Syn stared up at him, shuddering, shaking with need. “Xan, please . . .”

He brushed against her, settling his cock, thick and smooth, against the cleft between her thighs. “Please . . . please you. I will please you. But is this all it is?” He caught her lower lip between his teeth and bit her gently. Then he started to rock against her, using his body to caress and tease hers. “Is this all we have, Syn? This and nothing more?”

“What . . . ?” She squinted up at him, trying to think beyond the need, trying to focus on his words and not just his body. The words connected inside her head and then, as she started to get his meaning, they began to ricochet through her.

How in the hell did she answer him? And how could she do it
now
?

She was confused, terrified and even a little pissed off. Or rather, some of her was. There was another part that wasn’t confused or terrified. It was a part of her that she kept hidden. It was her heart that guided her as she laid a hand against his cheek, feeling the rough scratch of his stubble against her palm and the warmth of his skin.

His warmth . . . he’d managed to warm her all the way through from almost the very second she laid eyes on him.

It went deeper than skin. It went deeper than sex. It went deeper than need. If she didn’t fully understand it right then, that was fine.

In her heart—that part of her that wasn’t terrified—she knew. There was more than this.

Stroking her thumb across his mouth, Syn lifted her head and kissed him, soft and slow. Keeping her mouth pressed to his, she whispered, “This isn’t all . . . nowhere close.”

“I have a stake in this—I have
you
.” He sank inside her, deeper, deeper, until they were as close as a man and woman could possibly be. “You are becoming everything, Syn . . . Don’t take that away from me.”

Tears stung her eyes. Reaching up, she cupped the back of his head and pulled his face down until she could kiss him. “I won’t. Make love to me, Xan. Please . . . I need it. I need
you
.”

“Need.” A smile tugged at his lips, and he bussed his mouth against hers. “Let me show you
need
. . .”

He did just that. He showed her need. He showed her pleasure. He showed her all the things she’d been missing in her life . . . until him.

And, she suspected, here was the beginning of love.

Their bodies rocked together, his rough hands tender and teasing on her body, his mouth wicked and warm, chasing away the cold, chasing away the loneliness. Hot and greedy, she clutched at his shoulders, sank her teeth into his lower lip when he would have drawn it out.

“Now,” she demanded.

He caught her wrists and pinned them overhead. “Shhhh.” He caught her protest with his mouth and shifted higher on her body. Now, as he sank inside her, he pressed against her clit, riding her, pushing her closer, closer.

Need cramped her belly. Jerking against his wrists, she arched her hips, clenched down around him. As he stole her breath away with his kiss, she tried to show him with her body what she needed, but just when she was almost there, almost flying, he shifted his angle, slowed his pace.

Snarling in frustration, she tore her mouth away and glared at him.

Xan chuckled and nipped her lip. “See how mindless you make me? You drive me to insanity every day, until I think of nothing but you.”

Working his arms under her, he clasped her head in his hands and held her still as he crushed his mouth to hers. At the same time, he slammed into her. Hard, deep, driving past her gripping muscles, deeper and deeper, until he’d buried his length inside her.

Syn cried out against his lips and came, hard, fast and brutal. She felt him tense, heard him swear, as he started to come. Her own climax lingered, and with every stroke of his hands, every thrust of his hips, it set off a new series of aftershocks that wracked her body, trapping her in a storm of pleasure.

When it ended, he collapsed against her and rolled to his side, cradling her close.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against her hair. “Everything, Syn. Do not take that from me.”

With his lips peeled back from his teeth, Kalen Brenner unleashed every last bit of his energy on the solid, weighted bag hanging from a crossbeam. Alone inside one of the interior training rooms, he gave in to the fury and pounded until his knuckles were red and swollen, until his arms hurt with every move, and still he pounded away.

“Damned women,” he muttered under his breath. Worried for all three, but terrified for his wife.

What in the hell had they been thinking?

The brush on his mind was unwelcome.

At nearly any other time, he would have welcomed the familiar presence inside his head, but not now.

Without bothering to tamp down his skill, he projected his thoughts.
“Leave me the hell alone, Morne,”
he ordered. He knew from experience that it was likely his mental voice came through loud enough to have Morne’s teeth aching, but he didn’t give a damn.

“You seem perturbed
.
”

Morne’s voice came through as clearly as if he’d been standing in the same room with Kalen. Through no skill of Morne’s, though. The man might be a damned wicked fighter and a fine healer, but his psychic skill was nonexistent.

Kalen’s, however, was nearly off the charts. He was a skilled receiver and projector—all he needed was to tune in somebody’s mind and he could speak to them. And in the case of others, all they had to do was focus their thoughts to him and he could likely pick them up.

It came in handy during battle.

Not so much in that moment.

“I. Am. Not. Perturbed,” he spat out. He pushed the thoughts out with his mind as well as his throat, knowing Morne would hear him.

He wasn’t
perturbed
. He was fucking pissed. Pissed. Terrified. Frustrated.

But perturbed? It made him sound like a little mite a bit put off because he’d missed a feeding.

He was mad enough to spit nails, and he’d be damned if he knew what to do about it.

Morne’s presence lingered and Kalen spun away from the bag and started to pace. “Elina used her fucking magic. She had Syn and Lee in on it with her—they were
right there
. If anything had gone wrong, a Warlord could have grabbed all three of them.”