He lay limp, his
skin growing steadily cooler. Swan collapsed against his chest, crying
brokenly against him. “Don’t leave me, my love. I’m healed,” she whispered,
kissing his cheeks. “Morvere is dead. You kept your promise,” she said,
throat closing on her words.
She curled beside
him, draping her arms and legs around his still form, watching his face for
some sign of life. His beautiful bronze skin paled as death neared. She
couldn’t warm him. He was so cold. She smoothed his hair back from his face,
barely breathing, her heart breaking.
“You said once,
you would have a kiss ... ere you ... die.” More tears flooded her eyes as she
leaned close and pressed her lips to his mouth, willing what spirit or force
gave her life to go into him. She cupped his jaw, rubbing her thumb softly
against his cheek, heating his body with her own.
She pressed her
palm against his heart, sawing her mouth across his lips, suffusing him with
warmth. His lips twitched and she pulled back, startled, watching him, seeing
no movement. She descended again, nibbling his lips, hoping against hope her
sanity had not broken.
A faint beat
thumped against her hand. She stroked the hard plane of his chest, grazing his
nipple, feeling for the beat. It grew strong, heat spreading out from her
palm.
His lips moved
again, responding to her. She stroked her tongue against them, soothing the
parched surface. He groaned softly, his lips parting. She pulled back and his
eyelids fluttered open.
A buzz tickled
her ears and then his voice filled her head.
Don’t stop. The kharez....
His eyes closed
and he went still once more. Swan frantically touched his face, kissed him
again, pushed her tongue into his mouth--anything that would provoke a
response. She stroked her palms over his chest, and each time he grew warmer,
the heat spreading. It dawned upon her suddenly. Her touch was healing him.
She moved
further, touching the ripples of his stomach, lower, feeling his skin coming to
life at her as she caressed him. She pushed past his kurt, touched his hips,
the soft thatch of hair at the base of his sex, further, to that central part
of him.
Her fingers
tingled with energy as she gently laid them against his manhood. He hardened
instantly, and she looked up at his face, saw that he watched her, his eyes
lucid.
Slowly, he lifted
an arm, cupping a hand behind her neck to bring her down for his kiss. He
plunged his tongue into her mouth, growing steadily stronger with each liquid
glide.
Swan cried again,
gripping his shaft, feeling life pulse through him. He groaned into her mouth,
his fingers tangling through her hair as she continued to caress him.
Breaking away, he
kissed her cheeks, moved brokenly along her jaw. He pulled back, held her gaze
steadily. “You’ve healed me, Swan. There is no need to go on. You can
release me now.”
She did so,
reluctant to break contact. She drew her arm up to hug him tightly, gratified
to feel the strong beat of his heart pounding against her cheek. “I thought
we’d lost you.”
“You brought me
back from the brink.”
“And you saved
me, Raphael.” His chest was wet from her tears, she laughed softly,
embarrassed at her emotions, wiping them away as she sat up.
Swan could hardly
believe he lived. She couldn’t touch him enough, couldn’t bear to leave his
embrace.
Reluctantly, they
both stood, holding each other for support. Vachel and Syrian walked up.
Shock etched
across Vachel’s face. “She has powers I’ve never before seen. I am glad to
have you back, brother.” He leaned in to embrace him.
“Let there be no
bad blood between us ever more,” Raphael said, returning his brother’s embrace.
Syrian clasped
his shoulder. “The
kharez
is powerful indeed.” He looked past him to
Morvere’s broken body. “What will we do with him?”
Raphael glared at
the body, moving stiffly, still healing. “Leave it, as warning for others.
Such as he deserves no burial from us.”
Syrian nodded.
“You go to Avonleigh now?”
“Yes,” Raphael
said, his jaw clenched.
“I will return to
Ravenel. Vachel, will you give your aid?”
“I will. And I
may seek nourishment from these strange lands.” He looked into the distance,
clutching his side.
“You’ll be killed
if they discover your origins,” Raphael warned.
“Only if I’m
caught. And I do not plan to be so obvious. Farewell, brother, until next we
meet.”
He and Syrian
limped away, back down the steep foothill. Swan watched them until they
disappeared in the darkness.
It suddenly
occurred to her that they had succeeded. She stretched her hand, moving her
fingers, amazed to see it whole once more. The spell had lifted with Morvere’s
death. She was free! Her blood soared at the knowledge.
Swan hugged
Raphael again, reveling in the feel of his hard, warm body. “Your promise is
kept, Raphael,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
He was silent a
long moment. “It is not yet complete. I said I would return you home, and I
will. Your sister and your people need you.”
Her chin wobbled,
but she fought the urge the cry again. “Yes, they do.” He’d not heard her
words when she thought him dead. It was best for them both that she not repeat
them. A human could not live in his world. She could never forget that.
* * * *
They traveled
until they passed the village--the danger in exposure for Raphael too great if
they stayed near. Beastmen were killed for trespass, and she couldn’t bear to
take the risk only for the comfort of an inn.
Her body weary
beyond belief, they stopped to make camp at the border of a shallow forest.
Soft, thick moss coated the ground near a small, gurgling mountain stream.
They drank their fill and collapsed into the moss bed, falling asleep in each
other’s arms.
The night passed
in haunting dreams.
Swan awoke to the
glare of light beating upon her eyelids. She cracked them open, not quite
believing she lay with the sun kissing her skin.
The horror was
truly over, and with it came the end of her existence with Raphael. She
couldn’t dwell on that sadness. She craned her head to look at him, a thrill
running through her body to wake with his arms wrapped tight around her.
He grinned at
her, lazily moving a hand up her waist to the underside of her breast. She
pushed it down, coy, batting her lashes.
He growled
playfully and rolled on top of her, kissing her with a thoroughness that curled
her toes.
There was no need
for words. Each knew these moments alone were precious. Desire unfurled as he
turned serious, stripping away the barrier of their garments until they lay in
the moss with nothing between them.
Raphael wedged a
knee between her legs, parting her thighs. He rubbed the hard, thick ridge of muscle
against her, increasing the moisture soaking her cleft.
Swan moaned as he
pinched her nipples, massaging her breasts, enjoying the contrast of their
bodies, his dark head as he sucked at her breasts and laved his tongue across
her chest.
They moved
rapidly after that, hands groping, need furious and urgent. He moved between
her thighs and thrust into her barely slick channel, the exquisite friction
causing her to gasp.
His short strokes
were powerful, making her sink into the soft moss. She arched her back,
thrusting her hips up to meet his drive, making him come home hard and rough. He
moved in and out, kissing her deeply, his hands braced on either side of her
head to support his weight off her.
Swan rolled her
stomach, grinding her cunt against him to feel him on her clit.
He broke away
from her mouth, dropping his face to her neck as he gained tempo. She loved
feeling his face there, the warmth of his breath as he breathed heavily into
the crease of her neck and shoulder. Goosebumps shivered across her skin,
making her shudder.
Swan curled her
legs around his hips and under his buttocks to feel the power of his thrust.
Her hands roamed over his back, reveling in the play of muscle with each potent
stroke.
The climax took
her quickly, suddenly. She cried out at its intensity, and bit his shoulder,
her nails digging into his back.
“You are mine,”
she gasped, catching the back of his head to kiss him once more. The wildness
of his tongue drove her climax to greater heights, rolling through her with
bone-melting heat.
His own release
followed soon after and he collapsed, rolling onto his side and holding her
close. He crushed her to him, laying still until the furious beat of their
blood and breath returned to normal.
He pulled away
from her, kissing her closed lids tenderly, then her mouth. “We dare not
linger, Swan.”
She nodded and
rose to bathe in the water near their camp, reluctant to wash his wild scent
from her skin but needing its coolness to steady her calm.
Once dressed,
they left.
He kept their
pace consistent, stopping only to hunt and break at night. In the dark, they
came together again and again, until they fell into exhausted sleep, knowing
these passing nights needed to last a lifetime. She couldn’t speak of parting,
couldn’t think about it, and so said nothing.
It wasn’t until a
fortnight had passed that the roads became familiar, and the fear she’d held at
bay for so long returned full force. They had reached the border of her lands.
* * * *
Day drew to a
close when they reached the first village, the sun dwindling in the sky, a deep
burnt orange that turned to clouds to flame.
Children ran
through the streets, laughing, kicking dirt at one another as they raced home
to their mother’s call. An old man shook the trash from his pipe on the
ground, standing near a squat stone hut, giving them a suspicious look as they
walked up the wide dirt road bisecting the center of the village.
He paused,
studying them, and slowly his face crumpled into a wrinkled smile. He cried
out and ran to them, dropping to the ground before her. “My lady!” He kissed
the hem of her mail skirt. “My lady, you’ve returned. They spread the word
you had been taken from us.”
Swan looked down
at him, flushing as more men and women came to their doors to see the
commotion. As they saw her, they rushed into the street, crying and laughing.
Nila must have been searching for her, she realized. Dimly, she heard the clop
of horse’s hooves racing away from the village, but she was too overwhelmed by
the people to think anything of it.
Raphael watched
Swan, saying nothing as the families slowly thinned out and went back to their
homes so she could leave. They walked on, leaving the town as the sun settled.
He couldn’t take
her to Barakus--there was too much danger, too much risk she’d be killed.
He’d come to
Avonleigh to see if there could be another choice. If there was some
chance.... The lands prospered under her rule, if the health of her citizens
could be evidence. They needed and loved her, recognized her face. If he’d
had doubts of her place before, he held them no longer.
“Why do you not
ask to stay with the townspeople?” he asked, watching her reaction.
They’d stopped
past the outskirts, far enough away the lights from the town were dim. “I
couldn’t chance they would know you, Raphael.”
“You should
stay. In the morning they can take you to Avonleigh.”
“No, I--” She
stopped, listening as did he. “Horses,” she breathed, looking into the
distance. The rider she’d heard leave, he must have gone for help or to give
notice.
He tensed, ears
perked. “Armor shod. A patrol.”
“Nila. She must
be looking for me.” Her heart thrilled at the prospect. She would soon see
her sister.
After but a few
minutes, horses crested the horizon, thundering down the wide dirt road. Swan
awaited, fearless, recognizing her guard immediately. They pulled to a halt, a
circle around them. Seeing Raphael, they drew their swords.