2
Aspen
First Knight of Autumn. Trusted soldier of our clan.
The only man with the power to shake me off my foundation.
With our weapons locked, the proximity forced my tits against Aire’s chest. Our lungs pumped oxygen. We gaped through the vent of our upstretched arms, his thunderstruck expression mirroring my own. Shit, I’d almost lobbed off his head and capsized his ass like a redwood.
He scanned my expression. Although a set of tassels kept my hood in place, those blue eyes breached that barrier, as they did with everyone. Nobody was safe from him.
Prying my gaze away, I glanced at our surroundings. When I heard those leaves crunching under someone’s boot, it was him. But that didn’t mean we were alone.
“Look at me,” that deep voice urged. “Aspen. Look at me.”
I swerved back to him. He didn’t know, he just didn’t know. I always looked at this man, hadn’t stopped looking since the moment I first saw him.
Thankfully, he hadn’t heard or witnessed my chat with Rhys. Otherwise, this lion-hearted knight would have stormed into the scene. Another minute in Summer’s presence, and all hell would have broken loose.
Yet it didn’t take Aire’s powers of perception to see the mayhem gripping my face. I must look all kinds of savage, because those eyes flared with vigilance, his gritty snarl liable to saw through iron.
“What happened?” His attention cut to my sleeve, which slumped to unveil a bruise from where Rhys had gripped my wrist. Upon seeing this evidence, a mercenary glint fired in the knight’s pupils. “Who accosted you?”
My expression cinched into a glower. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Answer my question.”
“Answer mine first.”
“Where were you going?”
“To your bloody party.”
“Noooo,” he drew out. “You were leaving the party.”
Son of a bitch. Constantly taking me off guard. Routinely catching me in the act. While most of my lies skirted past him, it took finesse. At any moment, the First Knight could weed through my bullshit and uproot too many buried truths.
I’d have to concoct a legit reason for my attack. To balance that out, I let my silence confirm his theory about the revels and my rapid departure.
After checking for additional injuries, Aire’s expression landed back on my face, a murderous edge honing his words. “Tell me what happened.”
Aspen of Autumn wasn’t a weakling. She didn’t feel, submit to, or display fear. Nor did she tremble like a maple leaf, cry in public, or slay the wrong person.
But I could have. One false move, and I could have been standing next to Aire’s severed head, his lifeless eyes gazing up at me. Just like that, I could have annihilated him from existence, eliminating something precious from this world.
My arms dropped, the axe tumbling from my fingers. The weapon smacked the ground with a thud that scattered a flock of birds.
Staggering backward, I opened my mouth to respond. A branch split, the noise cracking through the beech forest.
Aire seethed. In a rapid-fire motion, he lunged in front of me, the broadswords flipping in his grip and anchoring in a fighting stance.
An instant later, I redeemed myself and swiped the hatchet from the undergrowth.
Wheeling, I pressed my spine against the shield of his back, his warmth seeping through my cloak.
We waited, scanning the thicket. A copper fox howled in the distance, an owl hooted from its perch, and our panting exhalations filled the woodland.
After a moment, we disengaged and swung toward one another. Crisis averted. For now. My ears attuned themselves to the environment, but whether my hunch was correct, miraculously Aire showed no signs of detecting a lingering intruder.
Even so, his vehement gaze pierced through me like a crossbow bolt. “Who the fuck was out here with you?”
The sharp inquiry could have shaved off a layer of flesh. I jammed my axe into its harness and spoke past the metallic tang of guilt on my tongue. “For a start, the birds that just took off. I’m fluent in avian and was having a heart-to-heart with them before all the excitement started.”
“Aspen.” Aire’s growl hacked through the shrubs. “Do not lie to me.”
“When have I ever done that?” But when he glared, I staged my best sigh. “I thought some unidentified prick was closing in and overreacted.”
Partially true. Especially if I left my battered conscience out of it. But when in moral doubt, balance out the falsehoods with dashes of honesty. While this cardinal rule never made the lies easier to stomach, at least I felt less sick about it.
“My inventive nature pictured thieves and bandits,” I tacked on. “As for the welt, that was my fault. Got my wrist caught in a vise at the forge today.”
Half legitimate. Half fraudulent.
By showing off my prowess and stoking Rhys’s grudge at the Bonfire Ball years ago, this shitstorm was indeed self-inflicted. Also, I made my obsession for weapon smithing no secret.
Hooded cloak be damned, I shored myself up, neutralizing my expression as the knight inspected every crevice for a ruse.
Defying the darkness, his gaze seared through my features like a pair of torches.
Although I’d been practicing the art of duplicity since childhood, my flesh sizzled beneath his scrutiny.
At length, Aire nodded. “I’ll escort you home.” And when my lips parted, he raised the point of one broadsword toward my lips, then chewed apart my protest before I could spit out the words. “Do not fucking test me on this.”
Dammit. Whenever this saint resorted to cursing, he meant business.
Normally, this sort of exchange resulted in bickering matches.
Him, protective. Me, independent. But Aire prided himself on being as tenacious as Briar.
Ever the gallant knight, he’d only follow me if I said no.
Plus, I was still rattled by what almost happened, and defensive minds thought alike.
I didn’t want him unguarded for a second, any more than he wanted me trudging home by my lonesome.
“Suit yourself,” I replied.
Aire stabbed his weapons into a pair of scabbards affixed to his back, then he fell into step with me, the tip of each sword flanking his narrow waist from behind.
I’d never been able to decide what turned me on more.
The pants clasping his taut ass like snakeskin, or the deadly blades riding every flex of his shoulder blades.
Threading past the hedges, we emerged onto the main thoroughfare, where his stallion grazed.
At our arrival, the black warhorse lifted his head.
Bronze whorls twined up the courser’s limbs, naturally pigmented like all equines of Autumn, and his tail swished with displeasure.
Because we interrupted his dinner, a snort puffed from the male’s snout, making his irritation clear.
I panned my gaze across the dirt road, hunting for boot prints or clues that I’d been keeping company with certain reptilian rulers. On that front, a golden carpet of newly fallen leaves concealed any potential signs.
Past the hood, I glimpsed Aire’s nonplussed expression. Understandable, since not once in my life had I caved to his demands.
Moss crocheted the undergrowth and crawled up the trees. While daytime brought every detail into glaring light, nightfall masked this setting in shadows, distorting the perspective.
We trekked in silence. Aire guided his stallion, a set of reins swinging from the knight’s gloved hand, the animal’s hooves clomping down the avenue. All the while, my joints ached from the battle as if someone had constructed me out of rusted nails.
Aire caught me wincing. He’d pulled his punches during the fight and then checked to make sure I was unscathed. Other than Rhys’s parting gift of a wrist bruise, I appeared fine on the outside.
Nonetheless, self-loathing contorted the knight’s features. “Did I—”
“I’m fine.” I massaged the pangs in one shoulder. “Just out of practice.”
The knight hesitated, took stock of my wrist, then reluctantly let the matter drop. My cloak hardly offered an uncensored view of everything beneath the fabric. Short of me doing a strip tease, or Aire giving me a pat-down worthy of role play, confirming my excuse wasn’t on the table.
Several miles into the journey, we reached a compact arcade of tupelo trees, their orange crowns glowing like coals.
At the lane’s end, a cottage peeked above the shrubs, its brick chimney coughing plumes of smoke.
Around the bend, visitors would discover a peeling blue door in need of fresh paint, cracked window panes, and a vegetable patch strangled by weeds.
I did my best, but it was hard keeping up with the tasks. When one got finished, another cropped up.
Hedges formed an arched entrance, which framed a garden fence door in the same aged blue color, with maple leaf cutouts decorating the facades.
My first project. I’d learned to use a scroll saw that day and nearly took off my middle finger in the process.
That would have been tragic, since I exercised that particular digit behind Rhys’s back so often.
At any rate, I’d have to fix the door hinges soon.
I halted beneath the archway. Like hell was I leading my guest one step closer to the cottage’s threshold.
After relieving his warhorse, Aire surveyed the property, curiosity alighting his profile. Although this knight never judged, pride stung my flesh.
“Much obliged for the company.” I raised my chin. “I’m good here.”
He fixated on my home, his tone gentle. “You’ve never introduced us.”
Two clashing reactions assaulted me. A lump clogged my vocal cords, and my body went rigid. Nobody in our clan had seen where I lived. No matter how much I wished for the opposite, I’d made sure of that.
This had nothing to do with the person waiting inside. I’d love for them to meet each other. But publicizing valuable relationships wouldn’t keep anyone safe, in case of random lurkers.