Chapter 8 #4
Across the room she’d placed a steel table in a large, low copper tub, curtaining it off in a corner.
When Rye had asked her about it, she’d explained that steel was easiest to clean, and that the tub would save the floor from blood and other soiling.
That was when Reule realized how seriously she’d considered this responsibility.
She knew what to expect. Jeth was a large city with a strong and hearty people, but they could experience very serious injuries while managing life alongside the wilderness.
The darker, cooler larder was shelved and filled with all manner of herbs and disinfectants, jars and bottles, and a variety of supplies and equipment that they had to send servants to the shops of the city for.
It didn’t surprise him when two more people arrived at the keep searching for satisfaction not found at the hands of the former apothecary.
Not one to tolerate slights, Reule had already seen to it the physic wouldn’t get far.
Maybe, if he’d left quietly, the Prime would have overlooked the disrespect to Jeth caused by his desertion, since Mystique was able to fill the need left by his departure.
However, he hadn’t left quietly. He’d dared to call a woman in Reule’s favor a whore.
There was no forgiving that or the lies spread against her.
It wasn’t all a matter of insult, either.
The apothecary’s intent was to turn opinion against an innocent stranger.
She was also the only medical aid left to Jeth now, and those words would make people leery of coming to her even when in dire need.
Such a dangerous affront was unforgivable. Because of this insolence, the apothecary would lose his life.
Reule hadn’t sent Delano, although as Prime Assassin this was very much in the realm of his office. He’d resisted sending Delano away while Chayne was still ill. His Assassin would be peeved when he found out, but it was Reule’s choice to make and that would be the end of it.
For now, he contented himself by watching as Mystique turned her full attention on the newest of her patients.
She spoke in an easy tone, her movements slow and careful as she asked questions.
Her eyes moved in steady sweeps to observe what wasn’t being said.
She was, he thought, brilliant and beautiful, and she set his whole world off its axis.
It was instinct that sent his gaze to the left, finding Darcio’s inquisitive gray eyes watching him.
His Shadow kept himself a blank in thought and emotion, depriving Reule of any insight into why he was being observed so closely.
So he turned back to the more satisfying task of watching Mystique tend his people.
She was able to send her two new patients away with herbs, instructions, and a request that they return in a few days.
They both left and she brushed back damp, straggling hair from her forehead.
While his Pack was in ideal health and had the vigor to drive themselves accordingly, Reule could see that this wasn’t the case for his little kébé.
She was tired, and it was getting hard for her to hide it.
“Kébé,” he said as he pushed away from his spot against the wall to approach her.
She looked up and her smile became tentative.
Damn, he hated that. He supposed he deserved it, though, after acting the overbearing ass that morning.
To be fair, though, he’d been motivated by a need to protect her.
He wanted her well. He wanted her healthy.
In all selfish, male honesty, he wanted her.
Period. So badly that he felt as though he were pacing in the trap of a too-small cage.
He’d set the limitation on himself to wait until she was well, and it had been the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t screaming inside for her.
By the Lord, when she’d come striding into the common room bustling with healthy energy and purpose, it had been the equivalent of what a striptease would do for other men.
And because he’d been thinking with other things besides his brain, he’d acted like an ass and upset her.
Then that upset had triggered a memory from who knew what type of horror, and now she didn’t want to trust him with it for fear he’d see her as delicate and weak.
Which, in all fairness, she was. At the moment.
But he’d never meant to imply that he thought her frail.
She didn’t know he and Darcio had traveled through her body memory.
They knew what she’d endured in the wilderness.
It was enough to prove she was a survivor.
She was also quite powerful, ’pathically speaking.
It’d be ridiculous to accuse her of frailty.
Reule had kept the information gleaned via Darcio to himself, unsure what to do with it.
He couldn’t escape the notion that the longer he held on to it, the less honorable an act it became.
He should tell her what he knew. It would mean explaining Darcio’s gifts, something no one outside of the Pack really knew of, but he could sense Darcio trusted her well enough.
The downside was what her reaction might be.
Mystique might resent him for keeping the information secret.
Or, if he told her all he knew, it could trigger a chain of memories like this morning’s, and he dreaded being the source of more pain and fear.
With all this weighing on his mind, he stepped up to her and held out a palm.
“kébé, the evening meal is in thirty minutes, and you’ll want to clean up and change.
As will your companions,” he added as the Pack stood watching him with poorly repressed amusement.
All he cared about was that she didn’t hesitate to put her hand in his, and he closed his fingers around hers gratefully.
“Rye, please see that Stebban is made comfortable in here for the night, with a servant to tend the fire so he catches no chill.”
“Don’t worry, Mystique. If there’s one thing no Sánge will ever allow in this keep, it’s the catching of a chill. Tomorrow we’ll see about putting electric heat in your infirmary.”
“Truly?” She looked delighted and breathlessly appreciative. “That would be wonderful.”
“It’s an easily accomplished task,” Reule said shortly. “Come, kébé, before Para pitches an apoplexy. She’s pacing your rooms as we speak.”
She laughed and Reule drew her tight to his side as they moved into the hall.
He felt the warm length of her body moving sinuously against his, and it just about drove him mad.
He made it as far as the stairs, then seized her and dragged her into the dark alcove beneath them.
She squeaked out a sound of shock when she abruptly found herself up against the wall, his body trapping hers against the stone and mortar.
“Reule!” she gasped, her chest heaving against the crush of his as he swooped in to seize her mouth.
She opened instantly to him, sighing as he tasted her as deeply as he could manage and still give pleasure.
She was sweet as ever, the slight tang of a wine she’d enjoyed adding a pleasant surprise to her flavor.
Reule was lost in the wet enthusiasm of her hot mouth in a flash. She never hesitated, never pulled away, never demurred. She took what he gave and gave the whole of her response in return. It was so honest it had the power to bring him to his knees.
Her hands were curling into his hair, holding him tight to her lips. Her feet didn’t even touch the floor any longer because he had dragged her up to meet him. Did she even notice, or was she too consumed by the fire they made together?
His hands, framing her head and face, slid down the slim column of her throat until her breasts and the velvet of her bodice filled his palms. Reule groaned when her nipples responded instantly, hard points seeking the play of his fingers and the feel of his mouth.
He buried his hips against her, making very certain she knew that all it took was her kiss and the feel of her to make him thick and ready.
“I want to touch you everywhere,” he growled against her open lips.
“I want every inch of your skin to know me. Would you like that, kébé?” He took the shudder rippling through her body as an answer.
“I want you on my tongue,” he groaned into her mouth, making her moan so sensuously he lost all sense of where he was.
He scooped up her skirts in a single sweep of his hand, baring her leg to the upward stroke of his palm.
Her skin was smooth and hot, growing hotter with every inch upward he traveled.
Behind her knee, the back of her slim thigh, up to the curve of her pretty little bottom.
“Reule,” she moaned.
“Ah, the sound of my name on your lips has the most incredible effect on me,” he said with pleasure as he kissed her down her throat.
He felt her wriggle with surprise when his hand cupped one bare cheek of her lush little backside, his fingertips skimming the sensitive crease.
He hummed against her pulse in speculation.
“You aren’t wearing underclothes?” And just as quickly the wolfish grin faded from his tone. “All this time? Around my men?”
“I don’t like … they’re … I didn’t mean …” She couldn’t form a complete sentence as he slid his industrious hand up over the curve of her hip, fingers trailing low along her pelvis until they touched sparse curls.