Stone's Kiss (31 page)

Just a little more. Almost close enough.

Her ears swung forward. There. The last of them was within range.

She snapped her wings down and released the power, directing it as is surged from her body. Like the shock wave from a bomb, the power flew out in an ever–enlarging circle. Wind blasted between the tree branches and howled like a winter’s gale. A wild ecstasy filled her.

She fed more and more power into the destroying wave.

It should’ve been enough to level the forest for a kilometer in all directions, killing every last Riven—but a few of them were escaping her.

Something else fed upon her power.

Fury engulfed her.
How dare it feed upon her?

She turned toward the great sword at the north end of the meadow, and raised her hand to call defensive magic down upon it. Before she could attack the sword, it tapped into her strength, tearing control of her power from her. Ropes of fire spiraled up from the ground and covered the blade completely. The sword continued sucking air and magic toward it, until a tornado of fire towered above the trees. With an earth–shaking violence, the sword opened the Veil.

The bright flash blinded Lillian. While she was disoriented, the earth shivered with greater violence. It swayed and pitched under her feet. She rolled and crashed into Gregory.

When the wildly fluctuating powers dissipated, the magic–driven winds calmed. The sword was gone by the time she dragged herself to her feet. Likely returned to its master to report all it had learned. Lillian flicked her tail in annoyance, but there was nothing she could do now to secure the weapon for the Lady of Battles.

Ash drifted down, soft flakes coated her and Gregory. The meadow was quiet again. She nuzzled Gregory in the shoulder, and he loosed a pained moan. After sniffing at his wounds, she licked them until they sealed over. He’d have more scars. She narrowed her eyes and growled, angry at herself. In the future, she needed to be more careful of her mate. He had a knack for gathering stab wounds.

The wind picked up again, flowing through the forest from the Northwest. The stench of evil invaded her nose. She sneezed and pawed at her muzzle, but nothing cleared the magma of darkness which clung to her skin and mane, and coated the lining of her throat and lungs. Several of the Riven had escaped thanks to the Lord of the Underworld’s sword.

Had Gregory been stronger, they would have hunted together and destroyed the last of the Riven. She glanced to the Northwest, uncertain. To let the Riven escape was dangerous. She still had one weakness—her hamadryad. And if the Riven knew about her tree, they would attack her again. But the Riven’s territory was far from her tree and she’d killed enough of the demons to weaken them. With their decreased numbers, the Riven couldn’t gather the power required to travel by magical means. It should take them at least a day to cover the distance.

So the Riven would survive for a little longer, there was nothing she could do about that now.

Clouds gathering on the horizon, and the damp smell of rain upon the wind decided her. Her mate needed healing and rest. And they both needed a better place to shelter until they were stronger. When Gregory could fly, they would return to her hamadryad and create impenetrable protections. Once that was done, she and her mate would hunt down the remaining Riven. She prodded Gregory in the shoulder again, shoving her head and shoulders under his chest to get him to his feet.

“Get up, we need to find shelter.”

Gregory stood on shaking legs, his eyes half–closed and his head hanging. Sweat slicked his sides in a way she didn’t like. Seeing him so weak tightened her stomach. She didn’t think he was even aware of her new form. Brushing his thoughts, she found he was still in shock, and mostly unaware of what was going on around him, but when she started forward, he followed. They made their way clear of what had once been a meadow but now looked more like a burnt–out crater. They walked for a few minutes and came upon the log cabin. It still stood. Only the back of the cabin showed damage, like a flash fire had scorched it. She bypassed the cabin, not wanting a shelter so close to the Riven’s territory.

After an hour and a half walk, she found a small pond skirted with trees and a wealth of underbrush. Deer and rabbits moved among the trees unaware predators walked among the shadows. Here Gregory could rest while she hunted.

He still hadn’t snapped out of shock. Her protective instincts roused at the thought of leaving him, even to hunt, but he needed food to grow strong again.

The breeze carried a whiff of fawn. Her stomach rumbled.

Gregory collapsed among the undergrowth, his eyes closed. He rested, but she knew he hadn’t fallen asleep. She waited, hoping sleep would claim him. Fifteen minutes passed and she rose on silent feet. She’d only taken three steps when he grunted and sat up.

“I’ll hunt for us. Stay,” she ordered. She returned to his side and rubbed her muzzle alongside his. His scent called to her. It was hard to think when they were so close.

He returned her gesture of affection with a contented sigh. His thoughts were still drowsy, blurred by exhaustion and shock. Obedient to her tone, he laid back down to wait.

****

The weight of the buck strained the muscles in her neck, but she tightened her jaws and continued to drag the deer along the pond’s muddy shore. Two more powerful heaves and the carcass landed next to Gregory.

His nose quivered, but he didn’t stir.

She butted him with her muzzle. When that tactic failed, she slapped her tail across his flank.

An ear swiveled forward and he cracked an eye open. Pushing her kill under his nose, she growled then slashed her claws along the deer’s soft under belly. Gregory sat up and sniffed at her gift. Then with a vigor which pleased her, he tore into the still–warm beast.

Coppery scent filled the clearing and her stomach growled a second time. Licking at his muzzle, she persuaded him to share. When they were both well fed and drowsy, she lay against him and stretched a wing over him for warmth. His thoughts were of love, contentment and mild desire. He thought her lovely. She smiled at his simple thoughts. He still wasn’t thinking in complex sentences. It would be easy to get him to give her what the Lady of Battles wanted: a child of their union, a new deity with strength enough to slay the Lady’s own twin.

The Lady hadn’t specified when, so Lillian waited. Besides, she’d rather have her beloved be in full command of himself when they mated. And she looked forward to the hunt, the slow seduction.

Well, there was nothing to say she couldn’t start now.

She intertwined her tail with his, and licked at his shoulder while he slept. When they woke, she’d see how long he could resist temptation. He’d barely maintained his distance when she’d worn the hide of a mere dryad.

Chapter Twenty-four

Sleep slowly fell away, and Gregory realized he was awake. Warmth pressed along his side as the soft living silk of bare skin brushed his wings. A sweet, musky scent engulfed him, a scent so appealing he was instantly aroused. Snorting, he shook his head in confusion. His memories of the last hours were hazy, but thoughts slowly ordered into something he could understand. And he feared to look where Lillian lay next to him. Who had won, his Sorceress or the demon soul?

A gentle brush of his mind against hers told him she still slept. Thanks be to the Divine Ones for small blessings. Slowly, he folded his wings against his back and levered himself up. He barely noticed the twinge of stiff muscles. The sight of his lady in gargoyle form held him enthralled. She rested with her head on her front legs, her mane a wild wave of crimson against ebony skin. Black horns spiraled up from her forehead, lightened to a wine color at their tips. Silky black ears twitched in her sleep, and her tail quivered, rubbing against his. She’d coiled her tail around his in a possessive grip. The strange friction sent his heart pumping and suddenly his beaded loincloth felt too restrictive. His wings unfurled, trembling as blood rushed to fill them.

Just as quickly as the friction had come, it was gone, her tail relaxing to curl around her flanks. He immediately missed the contact. Though at the same time, he was grateful she still slept. If she’d been awake, she’d probably have been making the situation worse, given her purpose was to beget a child with him. He remembered the Lady of Battles saying she could be aggressive.

He needed to get away, clear his thoughts so he could think. There must be a way out of this mess. He just had to find it. Perhaps he could force her back into her dryad form and trap the demon soul by laying the wards upon Lillian’s mind again?

Wings twitching, Lillian whimpered in the grip of a nightmare. A second low moan of terror tugged at his heart. He hesitated, hovering over her, uncertain. It could be a ploy, the demon soul’s attempt to manipulate him.

Another helpless sound escaped her. In that moment he realized he couldn’t abandon her—Lillian was in there somewhere, trapped, possibility fighting the demon soul even now. Leaning down, he nuzzled her shoulder. She calmed at his touch. The sap–sweet fragrance of dryad and the warm, fertile scent of gargoyle lost the musky tang of fear.

As he sniffed at her skin, he shifted closer. He braced his arms on either side of her body, then buried his muzzle in her mane, pushing the strands of hair out of the way until he’d exposed her neck. Unable to help himself, he closed his jaws in the gentlest of love bites. A rumble formed in his chest. She tasted as good as she smelled. Lillian jerked awake under him, tensed for a fight.

Purring reassurances, he mantled his wings around her so she could catch his scent, then he gave her a little shake. She tilted her head to look up at him. Intense, obsidian–colored eyes met his and after a moment’s study, she relaxed and uttered her own deep, rumbling purr.

He growled, and took a firmer hold on her neck. In response she arched her back, rubbed up against him. The power of his long–buried instincts threatened to wash away reason.

What was he doing? This was wrong, forbidden, a small part of his mind warned. Another part of his soul, far older and more firmly bound to the Sorceress, rejoiced at her response to him. That part scared him more than the newfound heat of desire. He froze, shocked he’d so willingly forsake his duty to the Divine Ones.

This was wrong, he reaffirmed, repeating the words until they were a chant in his head. And still a part of him didn’t agree. This was Lillian, his lady. Their hearts had always remained loyal. How could their love be a mistake? Did they not deserve a little happiness after all these years?

Yes, but this was not how he wanted it between them.

Reluctantly, he released her and eased away before his baser instincts won out.

Lillian didn’t seem upset by his rejection. On the contrary, she looked completely relaxed as she folded her wings against her back and rolled onto her side, her tail curled along her hips. The pose gave him tantalizing flashes of her body. One arm rested on the cushion of her plump breasts, paler than the darker skin of her flat belly. Swirls of crimson formed a pattern on the curve of her hips, drawing his eye to her navel and then lower. A coil of her tail hid where the crimson spirals led. She flicked the spaded–tip of her tail gently and watched him through thick lashes.

Time to go. Now. He turned his back to her and prepared to flee.

“Gregory, wait.” Her mellow voice slid up his spine, like fingers caressing his skin.

As easily as that, he was enslaved. The sound of her wings unfurling, the soft rasp of skin on skin, betrayed her movements. Unable to flee, or turn and face her, he froze, awaiting her next move. Small warm hands encircled his waist, drawing a surprised grunt from his throat.

“Easy. I’m not your enemy. The Lady of Battles doesn’t control me to the extent she would like.” Her hands slid up to caress the tense muscles of his chest. “I just want to talk, to get to know you better.”

“And are you not able to talk without touching me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, of course I can. But it’s more fun to watch you twitch.”

Her words confirmed his fears. His Lillian wouldn’t belittle his feelings. “My emotions are not something to be toyed with for your personal entertainment, demon.”

“I’m so much more than a demon. I’ll not harm you, physically or emotionally. I love you Gregory. I have always loved you. The Lady of Battles couldn’t change what I feel for you.”

Slowly, an image took form and substance in his mind’s eye. Lillian as a dryad, her skin pale against his darkness, eyes bright with passion, body coated with the luster of sweat as she straddled his thighs and rode him to completion. “Even as a mere dryad, this is what I dreamed of. I can give you that.”

A spike of desire shivered down his spine. Worse, he couldn’t hide his body’s reactions from her.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” She chuckled again, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t even started to court you yet. How long do you think you can resist?”

Her flippant tone dampened his ardor. “Long enough to find a way to get my Sorceress back. Whatever you think you are, you are not her.”

“I hear your doubt. You don’t believe your own words. Why should I? I know exactly who I was, where I came from, who I am and what I will become.” She hugged him, pressing her breasts against his back. Her warm fingers stroked down his chest until she came in contact with his loincloth. She cupped him through the fabric, stroking him, hardening him despite his heart’s revulsion. Rage flare again, and with it, a plan started to form. He would not let a demon soil the love he and his beloved shared.

A shiver of disgust crawled down his spine. Hopefully, she interpreted it as desire. His plan required she believe that lie. He disengaged her clinging hands and twisted around until he held her trapped in his arms. Once he had her in a firm grip, he shifted her until her back was to his front. Using his tail to trip her up, he forced the smaller gargoyle onto all fours. Thrashing and bucking, she tried to shove him off balance. Before she had the chance to dislodge him, he closed his jaws around her neck.