Hazel
“NO!” I bellow, wrenching my hand away from Warden and in the process pulling my dagger out.
Crimson blood wells from the wound.
I stare at him, then down at my hand, covered in his blood. “What did you make me do?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Warden says, pulling a red and white spotted hanky from his pocket and wiping it over the wound.
When the fabric is gone, it is as if nothing happened to him at all. No cut, no blood, nothing.
For more beats than I care to mention, I stare at where I stabbed the Brag.
I did not kill him.
It would appear I didn’t injure him at all. My vision starts to narrow and the mist around us seems to be getting thicker.
“I cannot die, my lady. Not even by your hand,” Warden rasps, taking hold of me and, before I can pull away, using his cloth to wipe his blood away.
“You…shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wanted you to understand, when I said you would not die while I have breath, until I find the creature who took my mortality, I will always be here for you,” Warden says.
“But why?”
My answer is to be dragged against his hard body, with a thump, his hand under my chin, tilting it up and dropping his head until he is oh-so-close.
“You know why,” he murmurs.
All the times I’ve fought him up until now seem like they were a hundred years ago. I am here, with this huge Brag, and he has me. More than that, despite having an ego the size of the moon, he wants me.
Warden’s lips brush mine, and it’s like a bomb has exploded inside. Stars spark from my core, firing everywhere at once. His kiss is soft, far softer than I’d expect, almost hesitant in fact. Not the dominant and domineering experience I would have expected.
I melt into him as his hand slides into my hair, and he gains confidence, his lips part, and I slip in my tongue. For a moment, it feels like he’s going to pull away, and then he begins to tangle with me.
Now Warden wants to dominate me. Now his kiss deepens and his hand clutches at the back of my head, the other on my hip, pressing his strong body against mine so I can feel every inch of him.
Every. Single. Inch.
My stomach dips, my knees go weak, and Warden catches me, his lips not leaving mine, not for an instant.
When he kisses, I am going to stay kissed.
And I can absolutely confirm I like it. Very much indeed.
Here, in this strange misty place, I’m being kissed off my feet by my monster, and I do not want him to stop. Not now, not ever.
Warmth blooms to every part of my body. I tangle my fingers into Warden’s hair and hold on, fighting with him and then giving in. He groans over my lips every time I do, his hips hitting mine with every single swipe of the tongue.
So when I am released, I am nothing but a daze of emotions and unfulfilled destiny.
“My lady,” Warden says, his voice hoarse. He blinks at me.
“My name is…”
A huge gust of wind hits us before I can finish, and the mist lifts as if it was never there to reveal a landscape so very different to the Night Lands.
All around us are huge moss-covered stones.
Each one has to be two stories high. They are covered in droplets of dew which have a dull glitter in the weak light.
Small plants, larger ferns sprout here and there where there are depressions.
Underfoot there is a darker green moss, which is soaking slowly into my boots.
The mist still clings to the tops of these massive stones, and they go on around us like a maze.
“Ah,” Warden says. “The Underhill.”
“It’s…” I stare around me. “Not what I was expecting.”
“One thing you’ll learn about the Yeavering,” Warden says, “is it is never what you would expect.”
“But this isn’t the Yeavering. It’s not even the Night Lands, that’s what you said.”
“It is all the Yeavering,” Warden responds. “The Yeavering is all.”
“You talk as if it’s a living entity,” I grumble as I lift my feet in an effort to find a dryer place to stand.
“It is, and somehow we have angered it,” Warden says. “Or it wouldn’t have sent us to the Underhill.”
“I can absolutely guarantee I have done nothing to piss off an entire realm,” I retort. “All I’ve done is run a tavern, feeding and watering tired travellers.”
“And bar helpful Brags,” Warden points out.
“Yeah, very helpful,” I grumble. “Destroying my bar the night before the wolf moon.”
He stares at me for a very long time.
“I think I may have a reason why we are in the Underhill,” he says, carefully. “Tell me, did your staff have any magic?”
“Magic? They were witches and warlocks,” I point out.
“But did they actually have an intrinsic earth magic, or could they use spells?”
My hands clench and unclench at my sides. “It doesn’t matter. Not at the Dark Gibbet.”
“So, they didn’t?”
I don’t respond.
“Because if they didn’t have any magic, and you don’t, my Duegar do.”
“The Reivers have magic.”
“But they do not use it. It’s the reason the Faerie fought them so hard,” Warden says.
“So what if magic is performed at my tavern? There’s no law against it.”
Before I can say anything more, Warden has his hand over my mouth, a hiss coming from his lips.
“Your tavern may be the only place in the Night Lands where magic is forbidden,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “Who knows what it awoke.”
As if in answer, a low moaning cry comes from somewhere far beyond the stones surrounding us.
“We need to go, my lady. Before she comes for us.”
“Who?”
“Long Meg. And the daughters of Duddo.”