Chapter Ten
Ten
Plan B
Aoife sat in the dim light of the cave. The darkness slunk around her, stunting the sun’s rays from flooding the cave with morning light.
Or maybe the darkness wasn’t doing anything.
Maybe it was her mind. She felt groggy. Bruised.
Sore. No doubt she was all those things and more from being flung around her room at the inn, chased by a mad man into a forest, nearly killed, and then having voracious sex in a cave.
The memory of the General’s eyes when he’d told her she’d gotten in his way made Aoife’s stomach churn.
The pain, the fear she’d felt, it swarmed back over her like hornets.
How could a person not care about ending a life because that life accidentally got in the way?
The extent of his cruelty was suffocating.
Aoife swallowed a lump of dread in her throat, taking a breath to keep her hands from shaking.
The rough, gravelly stone of the cave scraped at her bare bum, adding to the discomfort.
When Eimear had drunkenly suggested they summon the Gates it was supposed to have been a bit of fun.
If there really had been something as silly as the Gates of Desire, they would take her somewhere sexy.
Beautiful. Safe. Right? Aoife rubbed her arms, protecting them against the chill of a breeze.
This was anything but safe. Anything but light-hearted.
There really ought to have been a disclaimer when summoning the Gates.
WARNING: entry may cause certain death.
Internally, Aoife laughed at her own humour.
Or at least, she tried to. It was better than staring into the deep, dark void that was her almost-death.
Better than admitting what a terrible situation she was in.
Aoife knew what Mum would have said. Aoife had been lazy.
Silly. Firstly, she hadn’t properly scoped out her experiment.
An exploratory study with no prior research?
No wonder it had all gone to shit. Then, Mum would have given out to Aoife for letting her martial arts training wane.
Aoife was supposed to be smart. Practical.
She should have kept up her combat training and protected herself.
If Shadach had shown up even a second later …
A sound. A breath. It came from beside her.
Aoife’s heart stuttered, her breath catching as she saw him lying there.
Shadach. He had ridden in on his proverbial white horse and slain the dragon.
Saving her. Then he’d whisked her to safety while the world stormed and roared outside. It had been better than any fairytale.
Not least because it had actually happened.
And last night? She didn’t have words, or even proper thoughts, for how hot that had been.
The way he’d talked. The way he’d felt. When he’d said, “Logic gets you to a point, but dreams take you all the way,” she’d nearly orgasmed then and there.
Even his name dripped with sexual fantasy.
Most of the sounds in his name were sweet and sensual like French, but the last sound was rough and lustful like the German-pronunciation of “Bach.”
Shadach’s dark hair was still wet, his thick eyelashes fanning over any dark circles he had.
If he had any at all. Considering how perfect he was, he probably didn’t.
His breathtaking body was on full display, and Aoife couldn’t help soaking in the sight of him.
His tattoos were full-body, complex designs in rich, dark ink.
Like his body was a painting. Some designs looked like words or letters mixed into the mosaic, but she couldn’t be sure.
The only place he didn’t have tattoos was his face, his feet, and his …
Aoife glanced away. That was rude, wasn’t it?
To stare without permission. Even though his cock was just as perfect and stare-worthy as the rest of him.
Speaking of being on full display, Aoife herself wasn’t exactly covered.
She glanced around the small cave, finding her clothes against the back wall of impenetrable stone.
Getting up, she rifled through her sopping wet garments, seeing what was there, if anything was missing.
As far as she could tell, everything was accounted for.
Not that she remembered precisely what she had taken off.
She’d been a little distracted. Aoife mentally batted away the memory of last night.
The moans, the gasps, the mind-scrambling orgasm.
Someone was trying to kill her. She needed to be sharp.
Focused. Not lollygagging in the clouds dreaming about drop-dead sexy, saviour princes.
Carrying her clothes to the mouth of the cave, Aoife peered out.
They were a good way up the side of a mountain, high enough that Aoife would not have wanted to fall.
How had Shadach managed to get them both up here?
It must have taken an incredible amount of strength.
At the base of the mountain, stretching out for countless kilometres, was thick green forest. The sun tried to cast a glow, but the floating darkness was too thick in the sky, in the air, muting the light until the glow was more of a grey.
Aoife considered setting her clothes in the sun to dry, but didn’t know how much help that would be.
The sun was too dim and her own body heat would probably dry them faster.
As unpleasant as that notion was. Aoife fumbled with the sticky-wet underwear, corset, and dress, shivering at the wetness.
“Dressed already?”
Aoife’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Shadach’s voice. It was deep. Rich. Still a little sleepy. He sat up, brushing wet hair from his forehead, his eyes of shadow and ice looking at her. He wore the slightest of smiles.
“I … assumed we’d need to get going quickly.” That was the most practical strategy, wasn’t it? Keep moving. The longer they stayed in one place, the easier it would be for Aristen to find them.
“Certainly can’t hurt our chances of survival,” he said.
Shadach reached for his clothes and Aoife looked away while he dressed. When it sounded like he had finished, she glanced back. His clothes looked minimally less wet than hers.
“I wanted to say,” Shadach’s voice was slow. Careful, “about last nigh—”
“Body heat really is a good way to stay warm. Thank goodness.” Aoife gave a perfunctory nod, as if she could slice off Shadach’s train of thought with her chin.
She didn’t want to talk about what had happened.
If she did, she would think about it. If she thought about it, she might want to do it again.
And again. And again. She couldn’t afford that.
She needed to stay on task. “Do we know where General Holt might be now?”
A stupid question. Of course they didn’t know. But she needed Shadach to focus on the problem at hand.
“No, unfortunately,” Shadach said. As expected. But his words were hesitant. He was looking at her as if sizing her up, or trying to figure her out. Aoife didn’t know what there was to figure out. They needed to get on surviving. The rest was irrelevant.
“Speaking of Aristen,” he looked around the cave then did a quick, visual survey of the forest below, “I don’t suppose you know someone with a small army we can run to for protection?”
“Afraid not.” Aoife’s determination faltered, her thin smile apologetic.
“Excellent.” His tone was dry, but his eyes were warm. He tousled his hair, trying to get out some of the water. He wore the bedhead hairstyle impossibly well.
“We try to find protection then.” Aoife glanced out the cave entrance, wondering if General Holt was out there, in the trees, searching for her now.
“For the moment, it’s the best option.” Shadach leaned against the cave wall. “Aristen won’t stop. Not until he’s safe. And he won’t feel safe until …”
“I’m dead.” Aoife tried to sound practical, unemotional, but a tremble slipped into her voice. “And you? Is he safe if you’re still alive?”
“Honestly … yes. I’m a Halcin. We’re trusted to lie and cheat and nothing else. Which means I could tell the Kingdom everything Aristen did in painstaking detail and no one would believe me.” Shadach looked at her then, his eyes of oceans and darkness still alive with last night’s passion.
Heat flooded Aoife’s body at the memory.
I don’t think there’s much that’s ‘partial’ about you, she had said.
God, she had actually said that, hadn’t she?
It had been a far cry from her usual attempt at grounded, rational dirty talk.
Something along the lines of “Oh. Yes. I do want you inside of me. Yes. There. Put it there. Yeah. Yeah?”
“Can we not go back to the city?” Aoife looked to the ceiling of the cave, looked to the ground, trying to hide her face that must’ve gone red from her lusty thoughts. “We could tell someone, anyone, what’s happened. That General Holt and the High Priestess are corrupt.”
“The Emperor’s City,” Shadach said, “will be crawling with Aristen’s soldiers.
He’ll have told them a lie, perhaps that you’re an imposter, so they’ll capture you, or kill you, if they find you.
And even if they didn’t, I don’t know who we’d tell.
The High Priestess is part of the scandal.
The Emperor is dead, there’s no one more powerful than her at the moment.
Some people are equally powerful, but they no doubt want Aristen to be Emperor as well. ”
“What about the Halcin? I assume you’re not the only one out there. Could they hide us?”