Gift of the Goddess (22 page)

113 Denise Rossetti

Anje clenched her teeth against the welling nausea.
Brin, ah Brin!
Her very bones ached and the wrenching, empty space in her soul whimpered and bled.

Propelled by fear, the vranee galloped on together for a long time before they flagged. “We’ve lost them, I think.” Trey drew the beasts to a halt under a huge sorrowtree. He turned his head, listening.

There was absolute silence, as if the forest creatures crouched stricken in their burrows.

“Oh, Anje.” He tightened his arms around her waist and dropped his head to her shoulder. “The stupid, stupid—” Every muscle in his lithe body shook with the violence of his reaction. His teeth chattered.

Shock, she thought dully. Shock. She should do something.

Moving like an old, old woman, she scrambled off Brownie and held up her arms. She couldn’t speak. She thought it likely she’d never utter another word in her life.

Trey came willingly, sliding down into her embrace. Together, they collapsed into the bracken, holding tight as they drew comfort from each other, from simple human warmth.

Anje drew her trembling fingers across his bloodless lips and kissed his eyelids, tasting the salt of his tears. How could she tell him? It wasn’t possible that Brin was dead, not Brin with his lethal half-smile and deep, teasing voice. Not the Brin who’d Bonded her without so much as a by-your-leave and then given his life for hers. Theirs.

Holy Mother, it couldn’t be so!

But there was nothing there. She probed the dark space in her soul as if it was a sore tooth she had to explore with her tongue.

She hadn’t really believed him when he’d insisted they were linked by the Bond torques, but now she knew he’d spoken truly. Because he was gone.

And he’d taken a part of her with him.

The psychic pain was horrible, a rent in her soul. And she couldn’t touch it, couldn’t soothe it. Her head pounded.

“Gods, what will I do without him?” Trey’s voice was hoarse with anguish.

“Trey…” Anje coughed and tried again. “We should go on.” She didn’t care much for herself, but she recognized the desperate, reckless glint in his eye. He wouldn’t last long without her, not before he did something suicidally brave.

“It tore me apart.” Trey continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Die with him or run with you.” He set his hands to her shoulders and drew her up in front of him. The strength of his grip was painful, but she scarcely felt it. His hazel eyes were wild, shiny with tears. He shook her a little. “Don’t leave me, Anje. Never.”

“Never?” It came out as a croak.

His smile was bitter. “It’s not much of a time to tell you, but I’ve learned my lesson. Our little lives are dice in the hands of the gods. I need to say this now, before some

114 Gift of the Goddess

other bloody thing happens.” His face softened and tears sparkled on his lashes. “I love you, Anje. I just didn’t know how much until I saw that Hssrdan come up behind you.”

“But you’re in love with Brin,” she said dully.

Pain contorted his features. “Yes,” he said steadily. “I am. Was.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Am. And with you.”

“Oh, Trey.” Anje pressed her face into his shirt and willed the tears to come, but it was as if some well within her had dried up. She clutched his biceps and shuddered, breathing hard. He rubbed her back in soothing circles, as though she was a child.

Finally, she pulled back. “We’re not safe yet. We need more distance.”

Twink’s wound was deep in the haunch muscle, but he limped on gamely enough, followed by a weary Brownie. Anje and Trey walked.

No word was spoken for hours, wrestling with misery so total required concentration. As dusk drew down, Anje glanced around. “This looks all right. Get me some branches and I’ll make a scout’s shelter.”

By nightfall, they had a low, rough bower and Trey had lit a small, smokeless fire. The fine tent, the camp furniture and the bedding had been on the dead packvran, but Brownie still carried the cooking equipment and food, Twink the saddlebags. Anje dug out Brin’s medical pouch, gritting her teeth against the memory of his hands on her skin. She bathed the shallow slice on Trey’s thigh and dosed it liberally with the stinging cleansing potion.

Over his whistling protests, she did the same for Twink, hoping the medicine intended for humans wouldn’t do him harm.

Trey found some dried meat strips, so salty and spicy she gagged. But there was a water gourd, and roberry, so she swallowed grimly. She was going to need her strength until she knew Trey was safe. After that… Well, she still had her scout’s duty. But that was all there was, all there’d ever be. She cradled her forehead in her hands, trying to dull the throbbing ache.

The night was cool, but not unpleasantly so. Anje stretched out, her head pillowed on Trey’s rigid shoulder. He’d found Brin’s blanket rolled up behind Twink’s saddle, but with a restless movement, she shoved it away. It was more than she could bear. Like everything that had touched the shaman’s skin, it carried his dark, spicy scent.

Trey’s tears dampened her hair, though he made no sound, but Anje lay dry-eyed. As she stared at the stars twinkling through the crevices of their leafy canopy, a tiny spark flickered and died in that horrible, aching void inside her.

She shot bolt upright with a gasp.

“What is it?” Trey sat up beside her.

“Nothing.” She rubbed her eyes and lay back slowly, her stomach knotted with tension.

A few minutes later, it came again and this time it steadied to a feeble glow, faint and faraway.

115 Denise Rossetti

Anje put a hand to her head. “Trey.” Her voice was a thread. “I can feel… Sweet Mother, he’s
alive
!”

“
What?
” Trey’s fingers dug into her arm. “Are you sure?”

“I think so. The torque…” Her throat closed up.

“Lufra!” Trey flung his arms around her and hugged her so hard she couldn’t breathe. He began to babble, a mix of prayers and curses, tears and laughter.

A bubble of joy expanded inside her, laced with trepidation. She wasn’t used to this Bond stuff. What if her mind was playing tricks on her? She wanted so much for it to be true. She pinched Trey’s arm. “Shush. Let me concentrate. It’s very faint.”

Curling her fingers around the smooth braid of the torque, she tried to calm her racing thoughts, open her mind. Slowly, she developed a vague impression, though it was like locating one particular cloud hidden in a vast mist. “He’s hurt,” she murmured, “and angry. Very angry.”

Whatever had been frozen inside her cracked. Relief exploded through her in a torrent of hot tears. Trey held her through the hard, wrenching sobs, patting her back. Within her, the piercing agony of loss muted to the dull ache of separation. Bearable.

As the storm eased, he wiped her face with the tail of his shirt and kissed her softly. “He was right, love. You
are
perfect.”

Anje pulled him close and kissed him back with enthusiasm. She felt exuberant, dizzy. Running a hand down to his groin, she found him stiff and throbbing. When she squeezed hard, he gasped, “Gods, yes!” and dug his fingers into the waistband of her trews.

He peeled them off, unlaced himself and plunged into her without preliminaries. By the third stroke, lightning sizzled at the base of her spine. By the sixth, she’d climaxed so hard, the stars blurred above her. At the seventh, Trey froze, shuddering in release.

The entire act had taken no more than a few minutes.

Trey clasped her ass to keep them joined and pulled Brin’s blanket over them both. Hugely comforted, Anje relaxed into a boneless stretch. Then she chuckled.

“What?” asked Trey sleepily.

“You forgot Lufra’s Law.”

“Shit!” Withdrawing from her body, he sat up with a jerk. “So I did.” Cupping a protective hand around his privates, he closed his eyes and began mumbling under his breath. It sounded like a prayer.

Anje yawned, rubbing a hand over the back of her skull. “Doesn’t matter. I absolve you.” The link itched, urging her to leap to her feet and go now.
Now!
But it wasn’t practical. They had to rest.

“It matters to Lufra! Shit,
shit
!” Trey’s face was a pale smear in the darkness. She could feel a faint tremor run through the firm thigh pressed against her.

“It won’t drop off, you know,” she said, caught between concern and amusement.

116 Gift of the Goddess

“It might,” he said darkly.

“Don’t tell me people never forget, Trey. What about the heat of the moment? What about life partners?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Lufra allows true love a lot of leeway.”

“Then…” She spread her hands and shrugged. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure She’ll forgive you.” She leaned up to drop a kiss on his shoulder.” I have.”

“Yes, but—”

“If you’re still worried about it, you can owe me. Two tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

“We’ll find him, Trey. And get him back.”

“Ay, that we will.” His voice was no less determined than hers.

117 Denise Rossetti

Chapter Seventeen

Fellwolves:

Predators of the plains and forests, fellwolves hunt in packs. The beasts are hunted for their magnificent pelts, particularly the so-called “twilight” furs, a dark gray with blue undertones, shading to silver on the belly. A common motif in folk tales is the character who is cursed to live as a fellwolf until released by the power of true love. (See Ballads—Traditional). Fellwolves mate for life.

Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

They made love again at dawn. Trey used his mouth on her, at first gently, then with ruthless efficiency, until she peaked. Twice.

Then he pulled her limp body over his and they flowed together like music. Afterward, he stacked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Anje hung over him, running her fingertips over every inch of creamy, hair-dusted skin, the planes and hollows limned with golden light.

Trey purred with pleasure. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Is Brin all right?”

Anje hesitated, cupping the curve of his hipbone in her hand, while she reached tentatively for the link. “He’s asleep, I think.”

Trey exhaled softly, but he didn’t speak.

His nipples were pink, not brown like Brin’s. She swooped to brush one with her lips and asked, “When did you know you loved him?”

He levered one eye open, the hazel gleaming green in the light washing through the leaves of their bower. “Remember I told you how he saved my life?”

She nodded.

“His vran was screaming with pain. Gods, it was a horrible noise. I remember he stroked its head, whispered to it, before he cut its throat.” She heard him swallow. “He had his stone face on. You know?” He shot her a glance and she nodded again.

Trey shivered, goose bumps rising on his skin. “Lufra, I can still see him! He walked toward me holding the dripping knife and I nearly wet myself. I thought I was next for sure. But he kneeled and checked me all over and his hands were so gentle.”

Trey smiled crookedly. “Then he picked me up and shook me ‘til my teeth rattled. That was it. Forever.”

He sighed, his ribs expanding under her hand. “It took me five years to understand what it was, what it truly was. And that he didn’t love me back.”

Anje frowned. “But Trey—”

118 Gift of the Goddess

He broke in. “Oh yes, he’s fond of me, he cares for me as a friend, a companion, his prince. But Anje—” He sat up and took her hands in his, forestalling the question on the tip of her tongue. “Gods, I want him! As much as I want you. When he looks at me a certain way, I get hard, and I seem to go soft in the head at the same time. I can’t help it.”

A
prince
? What prince? Her brain teemed with questions, but she could only ask them one at a time. She chose what interested her most. “What way? How does he look at you?”

Trey shook his head helplessly. “His eyes laugh, you know? Or they flame with the light of Lufra.”

“He makes my knees shake,” she confessed, feeling the heat creep over her cheeks.

“I watch him with you, Anje, and it hurts.”

“But you’re a part of it.”

His laugh was shaky. “I know what you’ve been trying to do. It’s a beautiful gift you’ve given me, to share the one you love.”

“But I don’t—” She stopped, her mouth hanging open like a fool.

“Yes, you do,” said Trey gently. “How could you not? Lufra sent you. And She approved the Bonding.”

The world tilted on its axis. Anje sank back on her heels, completely flummoxed. How could she have missed it? What was it Brin had said?

“
You’ll surrender, scout, and you’ll glory in it. You’ll abandon yourself and adore it. And you’ll do it because you trust—trust absolutely.
”