Wolfsbane Winter (33 page)

The outlaw’s attack was coming straight for her heart. Alana brought the Witch-Lord’s sword across in a clumsy reflex counter, and the outlaw’s blade was cut in two. The momentum of Alana’s wild swing carried the sword on, slicing through the man’s chest with the same lack of effort as it had cut through everything else. In the space of a half second, the outlaw’s emotions went from surprise at the pain, then shock, then confusion, then disbelief, and then nothing. He dropped, lifeless, to the floor.

Alana stared at his body in horror. She had not meant to kill him. She had not meant to take his life. In unthinking revulsion, she tossed the sword down beside him.

“I’m sorry.” Alana’s words sounded so weak, stupid, and utterly inadequate.

“Behind you!” Eldora shouted.

Alana lifted her head, confused. The outlaw was dead, on the floor. She had killed him. Then she heard someone else. The fighting was not over. Alana twisted to look back over her shoulder. The last outlaw brandished twin daggers in his hands. Already he was within striking distance. His face was locked in a snarl of rage. He swung one dagger across in a lightning-fast blur of motion, slashing out at her throat, and Alana was frozen on the spot. Too much had happened too quickly. She could not move.

A flicker of blue light appeared in the middle of the outlaw’s forehead. It immediately changed to a red dot and the dagger dropped from his hand. He jolted to a stop, then stumbled a step back before his knees gave out and he started to crumple. His eyes glazed over and closed as he fell. Alana stared at his motionless form on the ground in incomprehension. A sound at the door made her look over. Deryn was standing there, still with the Witch-Lord’s bow held out in an archer’s pose.

Deryn lowered the bow. “Are you all right?”

Alana nodded and lifted her hand to her head, as if it could steady her thoughts. Now the battle was really over. The room was quiet, apart from the crackle of flames in the hearth, her pounding heartbeat, and whimpers from Martez and the female outlaw. In the corner, Jed was sitting astride the back of the outlaw who had fallen—tripped by him and Eldora at a guess—and using the rope binding his wrists to choke the man.

Eldora tapped his arm. “That’s good enough, son. He’s out cold. You can stop now.”

Alana turned back to the man she had killed. Her initial shock was fading, but the awful guilt was not. She listened with half an ear to the conversation as Deryn removed Eldora’s bonds.

Deryn appeared at her side. She put her hand on Alana’s arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“We need to get Martez and what’s left of his gang tied up and under guard as soon as possible.”

“Right.” Still Alana could not tear her eyes from the dead outlaw.

“You don’t look okay.”

“I’m just…I’ll be fine. Do what you have to.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” Deryn’s tone was quiet and meaningful.

Alana nodded, but did she want to talk? Deryn’s phrase “what’s left of the gang” was rolling around in her head. One part of the gang was no longer there because she had killed him. Suddenly, all Alana wanted was to get away and forget it all. Forget that she had taken someone’s life. She could not bear to be in the room an instant longer, staring at the evidence of what her own hands had done.

Alana retreated a step, then turned and fled from the farmhouse.

*

Red firelight shone beneath the door of Alana’s cottage. Deryn raised her hand and knocked. When she received no answer, she knocked again and tried the handle, but the door was barred on the inside. The urge to flee tried to establish a foothold in her mind, telling her that she had made the effort to talk, and that was all she was obliged to do, but the cowardly thought stood no chance. Deryn needed to see Alana.

She took a step back and called out, “Alana, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to kick it in.” The threat was empty. Even were she fit, Deryn would not have carried it out, and in her current state she would have trouble managing the feat.

Alana did not call her bluff, although she did no more than lift the latch, leaving the door to swing open on its own. Deryn followed her in, uninvited. The only light in the room came from the fire burning in the hearth. Judging by the state of the bedclothes, Alana had not been asleep. She slumped down into a chair and sat, staring blankly into the flames, paying no attention to her visitor.

Deryn took the other chair and studied her with concern. “Alana, what’s wrong? It’s not just that you’re pissed off at me.”

“I killed a man.”

“Ah.” This one Deryn knew. She had seen it before in her comrades, enough times that she should have guessed. A moment’s thought would have told her the aristocratic healer was unlikely to have ever been in a fight to the death before. But what could she say? Her own experience was of little help. “It was a man who was trying to kill you.”

“I know it’s stupid.” Alana wiped her eyes. “And I know you have to deal with it all the time.”

“Not really. It doesn’t happen very often. Mostly I’m fighting windigos.”

“But when it does happen, how do you cope?”

“I think it gets easier with time.” Deryn pursed her lips. “Some Wolves never get used to it. I wish I could say I know what you’re going through, but the first time I killed, I was too young to understand what I’d done. All I cared about was that they’d taken my mom and dad away from me.”

“You’d think, as an adult, I’d be able to cope better.”

“Doesn’t work like that. Children can be so self-absorbed. I was too upset to care about anyone else.”

Alana slipped down in her chair. Her eyes were still locked on the hearth, but then she gave a sad half-smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting things in perspective. I’ve been wallowing.”

“You’re allowed.”

“No. You were just a child, and you’d suffered much more. I should—” Alana broke off, chewing her lip. “How is Eldora? Her family? Had they been hurt?”

“They’re fine. The gang had the rest of the family shut up in the barn. They wanted to keep a couple in the house as hostages so the others wouldn’t try running away. Eldora and her son got picked out as the two most likely to cause trouble if unwatched.”

“Good call. Those are who I’d pick too.” Although Alana still sounded withdrawn, she had a touch of humor in her voice.

“The gang wanted to keep an eye on them. But it worked out well for us. They were pretty sharp. Even though they were tied up, they took care of one outlaw. They tripped him over and half throttled him.”

Alana glanced across quickly, not long enough to count as eye contact, but it marked a further improvement in her state of mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off and left you to deal with everything.”

“It’s okay. There wasn’t much to do. We freed the others in the barn. Eldora sent one of her kids to Neupor with a message for Regan and Nevin. She’s organized the rest to keep a watch on Martez and his friends.”

“Martez—how is he? I didn’t mean to cut his hand.”

“Really? If I were you, I’d be regretting I’d only taken off three fingers.”

“He kept going for the helmet. If he’d grabbed the sword he’d have done much better.”

“He should have listened to the legend. The Witch-Lord valued his bow too much, and forgot the shield. Martez likes scaring people. He’s a bully at heart. The helmet was his idea of the perfect weapon.” Deryn tilted her head to the side. “It was pretty amazing you got it off him. I don’t know how you did it. I couldn’t bear to look at him.”

“It’s mind magic. I could see what the helmet was doing and I knew how to block it. It was a fake emotion.”

The words delivered an uncomfortable dig to Deryn’s conscience. She licked her lips. “Um…on that subject, I’m sorry about what I said before, about you reading my emotions. I was being an asshole.”

“I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t. It was me, or part of me, a really stupid part. I was frightened, and I let it take over.”

“Frightened?”

“Yes. I was scared about having a relationship with you, and how much it’s going to change me.”

“I don’t want you to change.”

“You’ve already done it. The frightened part of me wanted my life to stay the way it’s always been. But that can’t happen, because I’m not the same person anymore.”

“I don’t think people change that easily.”

“It feels like it.” Deryn stopped, trying on different emotions to see how they fitted. “Maybe I’ve been changing for a while, and meeting you has made me notice it. But after we parted I went about twenty steps down the road before I realized that walking away from you was the most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life, and if you knew what the competition for that title is like…” Deryn gave a wry grimace. “You were going too fast for me to catch up. I was still some way back when you reached Eldora’s farm, but I was just close enough to see the outlaw take you prisoner.”

“Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“I had to. Though it wasn’t the smartest move on my part.”

“I’m pleased you did.”

“It worked out okay, but I should have gone for help. Bursting in like I did, I hadn’t really thought it through. It wasn’t very clever of me. I was outnumbered and I wasn’t in a good shape for a fight anyway. But I couldn’t leave you.”

Alana bounded up from her chair. “Of course. You’re injured. I’m sorry. I forgot. I shouldn’t have let you just sit there talking.” She grabbed an open basket from her dresser. “Here. I’ve got stuff for your bruises.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be—”

“No. Sit still.” Alana dropped the basket beside Deryn’s chair and knelt. “I’ve got what I need here. Take off your shirt.”

Only the matter-of-fact delivery stopped Deryn sliding to the ground in a molten pool, but her hands could not move. Alana did not wait. Seemingly utterly unaware of the effect she was having, she slipped open the row of buttons on Deryn’s heavy woolen shirt and tugged up the lighter cotton undershirt.

“Ooh. That’s nasty. But I’ve got some salve here, with more wolfsbane. It should be fine.” Alana opened a bottle and poured liquid onto a sheep’s-wool pad.

Deryn gasped at the contact.

“It probably tingles.” Intent on her work, Alana did not look up.

“It’s not that.”

“The bruises won’t—”

“It’s that you’re touching me.”

Alana froze mid-action and looked up to meet Deryn’s eyes. “I’m trying to concentrate on treating your injuries.”

“Don’t.”

“You don’t want me to do this?”

“Don’t concentrate on being a healer. Concentrate on me.” Deryn shifted off her chair and sat on the floor.

Alana’s eyes were dark hollows in the firelight, with only the flickering red flames reflected in their depths. Her lips were parted slightly, maybe in surprise, maybe in desire, maybe in preparation to speak. They were every bit as kissable as the first time Deryn had seen them. This time, there was no reason to hold back. Deryn leaned forward and claimed them.

Deryn liked to think she was good at kissing. She certainly had practiced enough, with more women than she could count. But in the past, kissing had only been a way to arouse passion, one of the required steps along the way, something expected from her as a precursor to sex, and never an end in itself. This was different. The faint sting from her cut lip was lost in the softness and the sweetness. Deryn’s need and desire overrode all other awareness. Alana’s mouth was the only thing that existed. Kissing her was the only thing Deryn wanted to do.

Eventually, Alana broke away. Her breath was ragged. “We should stop.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried I’m going to lose all self-control.”

Deryn smiled. “Really? I’m counting on it.”

“You might have a cracked rib, or a concussion.”

“I think I’d know by now if I had.”

“Even so, you’re injured, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then you’ll have to be very gentle with me.”

Alana rested her forehead on Deryn’s shoulder. “I guess we could take it slow and careful. See how things go.”

“I think you could talk me into that.”

Once they were in bed, Alana’s naked body was soft and welcoming, pressed against hers. They lay facing each other, while their mouths and tongues played a teasing game of tag. The warmth of Alana’s skin soaked into Deryn like sunlight on a summer’s day. She burrowed her hand between them, her thumb seeking the hardness of a nipple. Alana moaned into her mouth when she succeeded.

Deryn’s hand moved on, in slow exploration, stroking the side of Alana’s breast, running over the furrows of her ribs, and cupping the soft mound of her ass. She slid her hand down farther behind Alana’s leg and pulled it up, over her hip. Her fingers traced the line of hard tendons at the back of Alana’s knee. The weight lying on her drew a sting from a bruise, but it did not matter and the position allowed Deryn to slip her own knee up between Alana’s legs, so that her thigh pressed against the wetness there.

Alana’s back arched, forcing her stomach yet harder against Deryn and she gasped, but then she pulled away slightly and stared into Deryn’s face.