45. Clash of Stone and Steel
Clash of Stone and Steel
Talyn
Talyn and Samhail passed into the Derridan territory later that morning as the exchange with Samhail’s siblings continued to ricochet around in her head.
Samhail wanted her. He’d made that clear enough, but he’d also made it clear that the only reason she wasn’t in Revenmyer right now was their deal. She also knew that, as Serise had said, there might not be enough of her left to lock away once Lord Bressen eventually caught up with them.
Talyn shuddered as she remembered having the lord in her head.
She’d felt just how easy it would’ve been for him to rip her mind apart, to leave her as a shell of herself who’d waste away until she succumbed to death.
By comparison, willing her to die – which he also could’ve done – would’ve been a mercy.
Talyn’s horse tossed its head and knickered, and she quickly surveyed the area for signs of trouble, but nothing stood out.
She kicked herself mentally. Gods damn her, she’d let her mind wander again. When in the hells had she gotten so complacent?
She felt safe around Samhail, she realized. She’d let her guard down because she trusted him to have her back, and she never trusted anyone to have her back. She shouldn’t now either.
Talyn was used to living her life on the edge, used to never trusting anyone and looking for danger around every corner, but she’d been daydreaming about Samhail. She’d dared to wonder what it might be like if he actually wanted more from her than Sandrian and a quick fuck.
She sighed at her own stupidity. She did want to ride his cock one of these nights, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her life was just easier when she didn’t have someone else to worry about.
She ignored the voice that kept trying to remind her how happy Cyra was to have Bressen, how the lady’s eyes lit up when he entered a room, and how she smiled unconsciously when she spoke of him. No, the ache in her stomach was not jealousy or loneliness or a toxic mix of the two.
Serise was right. Once this was over and Samhail had his fill of her, once they’d found Sandrian and captured or killed him, Talyn would be on her way to Revenmyer, and Samhail wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Assuming he’d even want to. He might welcome the convenient way to get rid of her after he was done with her.
Talyn shook her head. She was doing it again. Fucking hells.
They continued to ride in silence, but they didn’t reach a town before dark, so they made camp in the woods.
It was a bad time not to have shelter because there was a cold snap, and they spent the night huddled together under blankets for warmth.
On one hand, Talyn enjoyed the feel of Samhail’s large body wrapped around hers as they tried to fall asleep.
His body always ran hot, and having him curled around her with his warm breath on her neck and his arm tucking her tightly against him was…
nice. On the other hand, the cold weather kept them from picking up where they left off the previous morning after being interrupted.
They didn’t dally under the blankets the next morning either, but rose, ate, and got underway as quickly as possible. Thankfully the chill was broken by the early Spring sunshine around mid-morning. Talyn actually removed her cloak and laid it across the back of her saddle.
Her desire to talk also returned with the Spring warmth, so she spurred her horse up next to Samhail’s a few hours into their ride.
“I misspoke yesterday when I said you don’t seem close to Surgeon and Serise,” Talyn said, and Samhail’s body jerked to attention as if he’d let his mind wander as well.
“What?” he asked.
“I said I was mistaken when I observed that you aren’t close to your siblings. The three of you are downright hostile to each other.”
“Gargoyle families aren’t close,” he said. “Parents aren’t especially nurturing, and – like most perimortals – families often only have one child, so sibling bonds are rare. My family is an anomaly. Five children is nearly unheard of among perimortals, let alone gargoyles.”
“Yet having so many siblings didn’t bring you closer,” she said.
“Having five children gave my family a degree of prestige among our kind, but no, it didn’t broker any love between the five of us. If anything, it stoked rivalry because we had to fight for our parents’ attention, unlike others who didn’t have siblings to compete with.”
“Do you love your brothers and sisters?” she asked.
Samhail actually turned in his saddle to look at her. “Do I love them?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t even like them.”
“Yes, but you can love someone without liking them.”
He raised a brow. “Can you?”
“I think so. I mean, they’re still your blood. Would you mourn any of them if they died?”
Samhail was silent as he considered this.
“I suppose I might mourn my parents,” he said finally.
“They weren’t especially loving, but they cared about my upbringing.
My older siblings, Soldier and Sadira would be just as happy to kill me as look at me, so no, I wouldn’t mourn either of them.
I’d probably be happy to be rid of them. As for Surgeon and Serise…”
He paused to consider again.
“I’m not sure I’d mourn them per se,” he said. “I can at least stomach being in the same room with them. I suppose I’d recognize their deaths as a loss in some way, but I wouldn’t mourn them. Not in the way Cyra mourns her father, in any case.”
“Do you mourn Aramis?” she asked. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to know all this, but for some reason she seemed compelled to…get to know Samhail? To learn who and what he cared about?
She didn’t need to ask about Cyra and Bressen. She knew he cared for them deeply and that he’d mourn their passing.
She didn’t really expect him to mourn Aramis, but to her surprise, Samhail didn’t answer right away. He opened and closed his mouth, as if he thought to answer, but then reconsidered.
“Do you?” she prompted, surprised.
“I…Aramis was a good man from what little I knew of him,” Samhail said finally. “I don’t mourn him as a loved one would, but I deeply regret my part in his death.”
She blinked. “Your part in his death? What are you talking about?”
“I should’ve protected him. He risked himself to save us, to heal me when I was wounded, and then I left him alone to go fight. I should’ve gotten him to safety first. I failed him, and I failed Cyra.”
She was taken aback by the depth of emotion in his voice, and his own guilt sent a prickle up her spine, reminding her that she too had played a part in the healer’s death.
Talyn hung her head, and a few seconds of silence were trampled under their horse’s hooves before Samhail spoke again.
“I…take it you were close to your sister?”
His tone sounded like he felt compelled to reciprocate her curiosity, but she didn’t call him on it.
“My sister practically raised me,” she said. “Our mother is a highly sought-after courtesan, so she wasn’t around much.”
She sensed his head whip toward her, but he didn’t question her on that little admission, so she went on.
“I got my masquing power from my mother. As you might imagine, her ability to change her features to become anyone her customers want makes her very in-demand. She was rarely home when I was growing up, so my sister took care of me. Julia was nearly twice my age, but her father was likely mortal because her masquing power was limited. She worked in a printing house.”
Talyn paused, but when Samhail didn’t speak, she went on.
“My masquing power, on the other hand, is as strong as my mother’s. The madame of her pleasure house had already begun to train me to follow in my mother’s path. Had my sister lived, I’d likely be a courtesan myself right now, but it seems the gods had other plans for me.”
Samhail
Samhail realized his mouth was hanging open, and he clamped it shut. Fucking hells. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that the woman riding next to him had been groomed to become a courtesan.
To start, she was such an effective fighter that the warrior in him balked at the idea she might never have become who she was, that her potential in that area might have gone unrealized.
More than that, he bristled inwardly to think of other men touching her, of them grunting above her as they fucked her. It made him want to tear something, or someone, in half.
Talyn claimed it was the ability to become anyone a potential lover wanted that made her and her mother so valuable, but the irony was that – in this form, her true form – she was already the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He couldn’t imagine anyone else he might find more desirable, including Cyra.
Cyra was beautiful, but he had to admit she’d lost some of her luster next to Talyn.
He marveled at the bright green of Talyn’s eyes, and he ached to thread his fingers through the soft strands of her coppery hair.
The times he’d seen it up close, he’d noticed some strands were mostly blonde while others were of varying hues of coppery red, and they blended together to give her hair its unique color.
Her body was perfect as well. Her breasts were large, but not overly so.
Her waist was narrow, and she had a flat stomach that showed off just a little definition of her abdominal muscles.
Her hips flared out in a way that would give him plenty to hold onto when he was pounding into her from behind, and her legs were long, with an enticing amount of muscle tone that drove him crazy.
He’d never considered himself to be someone who appreciated a woman’s legs until he’d seen Talyn’s, then that’s all he could look at.
Gods, how he wanted those legs wrapped around him.
Talyn was taller than most women, and he hadn’t realized what a difference that made until he’d kissed her. He still towered over her by just over a foot, but it was much easier to kiss her when he didn’t have to stoop as far to reach her lips. It was…comfortable.
No, there wasn’t a gods damned thing he’d change about Talyn.