14. Deadly Embraces
Deadly Embraces
Tarantula held me against his chest—like a dragon clenching its prey in its jaw—and then placed me on my saddle. He quickly unlaced the armor on my calves and thighs.
When I was down to my uniform, he dug through the packs and pulled fur gloves onto my hands. He yanked a hat gently down over my head and repositioned me in the saddle like some helpless doll.
I slowly reached for the last dagger in my holster—need to stab him. Every movement sent sharp agony exploding through my shoulder.
“Cease moving,” Tarantula ordered coldly, and I stilled. “Thou can stab me later. Do not hurt yourself.”
Wait . . . what did he just say?
He rummaged through the packs with increasing frustration. “Why in the damned did no soldier pack a medical kit?” he shouted, and three-eyed dire ravens cawed as they rose from the treetops. “We cannot take the knife out until we get back to the base.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” I whispered hoarsely.
He mounted behind me on my steed.
“Scoot up.” His hands wrapped around me, and he manhandled me forward, pressing against me in the too-small saddle.
I would have struggled, but the throbbing in my shoulder had become unmerciful. Sweat dripped down my face even though my breath frosted and I shivered. His masculine thighs pressed tightly against my body. He gripped the reins with his unshackled hands, caging me.
The other dire horse neighed as we cantered forward. When did he tie them together? When did he remove his armor? I was losing it.
Darkness beat along the edges of my vision. A warmth draped over my front, and I sighed. The intoxicating scent of dark cherry and even darker magic filled my tired lungs. It took a second to process that he’d placed his cloak over me.
We rode forward at a punishing pace.
Snowy trees blurred, growing shorter, as time moved strangely. The world tipped to the side, gravity pulling me with it. A firm hand splayed across my collarbone, and the top of a calloused thumb pressed against the tiny notch at the bottom of my neck. He held me upright.
“What . . . doing?” I whispered through the haze of pain.
A hard chest shifted behind me. “Do not speak, Ravenal.”
“Why?”
“Why me?” Squire hooted from where he sat on top of the dire horse’s head. From the way the steed’s ears were swiveling back and forth, it did not consent to the extra passenger.
“Why?” I repeated louder, annoyed by his silence as I tried to lean forward and put space between us.
“Hoo?” Squire chirped (unhelpful).
“Do thou ever listen or give up?” Tarantula’s thumb pressed harder into the divot of my throat. “I have never met anyone so difficult. Can thou do anything but argue?”
“No,” I said. Boneless, I collapsed back against the enemy’s chest, staring up at his face as I was cradled between his thighs. Vile and wholly unacceptable. I couldn’t find the strength to move.
“ ’Tis like thou exist, Ravenal, to test my patience and drive me mad.”
“Oh please, you’re already mad.” My head lolled as I lost the ability to hold it up.
The corner of his lips quirked up into the smallest of smiles. “Thou know me so well. But I have never claimed to be anything else. Madness runs in my lineage. Thou should give up now.”
His mask reflected starlight, and our mouths were once again perilously close together. We have to stop finding ourselves in this position. His cupid’s bow was surprisingly pronounced, and up close, the color of his lips was more of a red wine than a crimson.
“Never,” I promised.
He searched my face.
Memories of severed heads, teeth digging into my neck, and two men riding dragons twisted through my subconscious. Madness runs in the family. Of course it did. The world was in shambles because of it.
Tarantula nodded like he could see the terror in my eyes. “ ’Tis what I’m afraid of,” he said calmly. “Thou do not know how to give up. It would almost be admirable if it were not so vexing.”
I tried to look away from his marble-sculpted features, but I was transfixed by the danger.
“Why . . . your throat . . . scarred?” I whispered through numb lips as the moonlight highlighted the diamonds on his collar.
“Do not ask questions that thou do not want the answers to.”
“I want . . . to know.”
“No, Ravenal . . . thou really do not.”
“Tell me.”
“Thou could not handle it.”
“What game—” I coughed weakly “—are you playing at?”
His lips curled with cruelty. “The type where no one makes it out alive.”
Warning horns sounded in my mind. I tried to pull away, but his hand pressed harder, holding me forcefully against his chest. His calloused thumb slowly stroked.
“Let . . . go.” I coughed as I struggled, my flesh burning up where he touched me. Butterflies sharpened their knives inside my stomach, and heat flared.
His rough hand slowly trailed higher, warm fingers wrapping around my throat in a tender, obscene gesture. “Never, syxzal.”
The butterflies went to war.
“If you won’t tell me what it means, then why? Why did you just start calling me that? Why now? What changed?”
Darkness plucked at my vision, distorting the world into shades of exhaustion as the horse galloped. With each forward motion, Tarantula’s hips pressed into mine. His stomach burned like a furnace, radiating warmth.
We were sealed together. In damnation.
“I realized,” he whispered, “what I was willing . . . to risk.” His fingers tightened around my throat, just enough to make me gasp. “And what I was not.”
Streaks of pleasure exploded down my neck, to my chest, deep into my core. The saddle provided exquisite friction. He smirked with primal satisfaction, and I could see it on his face. He thought he had me beat.
Over my dead body.
With a surprised grunt, he jerked violently.
His fingers spasmed around my jugular, muscles tensing as we both looked down. My bone knife protruded from the middle of his thigh.
I gripped the hilt, hand steady.
My last weapon, forgotten in its holster, had now found its home. It had not gone to waste. Pain streaked down my side from the effort it had taken to wield it, but a rush of victory lightened my chest. You’re a hunter. Don’t forget it.
“Release me,” I demanded as I tensed, preparing for his retaliation.
A raspy baritone sound escaped his lips.
He’s laughing?
Now?
Fear gained teeth as he squeezed my neck, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make a point. “Thou will have to do far worse than that . . . my Ravenal.”
I plan to. Don’t worry. The quest hovered in my mind’s eye, never far from my thoughts.
“I just stabbed you,” I said, feeling numb. “And I’m not your anything.”
“Thou art just flirting with me. Also, thou dost protest . . . too much,” he taunted with humor.
“I stabbed you,” I repeated. Because he should have been upset. No man could be this delusional. Right?
Head tipped back, I lolled in and out of deep sleep with him holding me the entire time while he directed the horses.
When we finally arrived back at the Scorpion Hole, Tarantula still hadn’t released his grip on my throat. A crimson stain had spread across his thigh, and a normal person would have been in pain, but he seemed to barely notice the knife jutting from his flesh.
The twins ran out of the hangar as we approached. Alarm transformed their faces as they took us in.
“Release her,” Ella said as she stalked through the sand toward us.
“No, Ella! Don’t go near him,” Axel ordered harshly, running after her with worry on his face. Smart man.
“Set Zora free,” Ella demanded, ignoring her brother’s concern. “Right now.”
Axel pulled his sister behind him protectively and focused on us. His eyes flashed. “I agree—let Zora go.”
Fingers pressed firmly around my sensitive neck, and I could feel the tremor of anger as it rolled through Tarantula. “She is Knight Ravenal to thee, jester,” he said slowly, his tone caustic. “Never speak her name on your lips again, or I shall rip off your face.”
The twins shared a look.
He’s not joking.
The scattered remains of the indigo siblings were seared into my brain.
Axel’s eyes narrowed, his expression flat. “Her name is Zora.” He bared his fangs. “I can call my friend whatever I want to.”
Ella pushed past her brother. “Let her go right now.” She unsheathed her sword and aimed it up at Tarantula.
“Release Zora,” Axel drawled again. “Or I’ll go alert the Marshal—”
Tarantula slowly lifted his glowing hand, and it was still streaked with dried blood. He pointed it at Axel. Silver shot off him in a haze.
Axel raised his hands into a Shield and threw the gust aside. Sand exploded high into the air. He shouted, “I told you to let Zora—”
“Zora is my partner. Not yours. Stop saying her name, bard.”
More magic streamed from his fingers, but Axel whirled expertly, deflecting it. Sand sprayed down atop him.
Axel spun, a bright metallic light casting off his fingers as if his skin was lit from within as he absorbed the next burst.
And the fourth.
And the fifth.
On the sixth attack, Axel blocked the frontal assault, but a second gust of magic wrapped around his back. He was thrown upward, high into the air. Ella screamed as he crashed into the sand. Hard.
“Go to him,” Tarantula ordered Ella, sneering down at her sword as dozens of magical dust devils swirled around us. “Or I’ll make sure your jester brother never walks again.”
Ella sheathed her weapon and ran to help her twin.
Tarantula chuckled darkly as she retreated. At that moment, soldiers swarmed out of the hangar, shouting directions.
Nails scraped across my jugular.
Tarantula released me and dismounted onto the sand.
My muscles liquified. Finally free. Gravity pulled me sideways off the steed, toward the dunes, and I let it win. Steel arms wrapped around mine, catching me.
With uncharacteristic gentleness, Tarantula pulled me out of the saddle and helped me stand. He acted like I was a defenseless damsel in distress, but my knife still protruded from his thigh.
He’s toying with you.
I tried to push him away, wincing with pain.
“Cease hurting yourself,” he ordered in a clipped tone.