Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (11 page)

"Feel better?"

She nodded, stealing a glance at him, and then looked away from the intensity of his gaze.

"You have not been eating well,” he commented. “Why not?"

Surprised with the line of conversation, Aislan hesitated, and then shrugged. “I do not eat much."

Food had always been plentiful, but she had to make a terribly poor choice with Hayton, going on hunger strikes so he would release her from confinement. It had worked to a certain extent because he occasionally allowed her to be out while under guard, and he ordered a huge patch of ground cleared for her to grow a garden so she could at least enjoy the sun. Even then, she had not softened to him because it was just another form of imprisonment. Aislan always ran at the first opportunity, and sometimes she had to go without eating while hiding out in the forest.

"Now, you eat.” Taking one fish off the fire, he used his small knife to extract the meat, handing her a morsel. She took the flakes with her hand, and he watched as she ate. He watched her too much, Aislan thought, but he did not make her feel awkward. She remembered how sinister Lucien had first appeared. Though approachable, he still looked formidable, unbridled strength just beneath the veneer of calmness. Aislan could see in his warm regard that he was smitten with her. He had abandoned his mission to keep her safe and had fought so valiantly against the wolves for her life. She could not help but feel impossibly drawn to him, a mixture of the devil and her own guardian angel.

She had not anticipated the intensity of his feelings for her. It had been wicked of her to allow herself to fornicate in such an unruly manner. Aislan looked away from him because she did not know what else to do. She did not want him to fall in love with her because he might not let her go when the time came for her to leave. She refused to be under the control of any man.

Aislan finally refused the next morsel. “I can eat no more."

"Just a few more bites."

"I'll burst."

"Just this last one."

She would not argue with him over something this trivial, so Aislan ate. Licking her fingers, she looked up to find him watching her mouth. Considering all the liberties she had allowed him, she should not sit here blushing like a virgin. Trying to compose herself, Aislan looked away.

After finishing their meal, he killed the fire and packed up before they both returned to the river to wash their hands. She looked up to see Lucien looking at her with a smitten expression. How could a man who had terrified her so with his intimidating presence now seemed to allow infatuation to take over and control him so easily? Aislan could deal with lust. She could not deal with love, although how could he love her so quickly, considering he knew nothing about her? But Hayton had known nothing about her and had claimed to love her. Men easily confused love and lust and behaved as intensely in either case. Lust or love, it meant imprisonment. Aislan wanted to give nothing of her feelings. She only wanted to find a place in life she would be happy, and she knew that only Victania would give her peace.

Despite her resolve to remain firm, not to soften too much, she could not stop herself from reacting when Lucien reached over and cupped her face, sending shivers of pleasure prickling along her skin. He caressed her cheek before moving to her throat. Already a charismatic man, he was also physically gorgeous, making it a pleasure simply to look at him. Everything about him appealed to Aislan. She stared at his mouth, remembering how well he knew how to kiss her, what he could do with that sinful mouth all over her wanton body. He wanted her, and heaven forbid, she weakened.

Lucien sat on the bank of the river, adjusted his baldric, and set his weapons along his side, then pulled her down in front of him. His fingers weaved into her hair to cup the back of her head, and he propelled her until she rested partially on top of him, between his legs. She let herself go as he kissed her. Having never felt physical lust before, she faced it full force, wanting badly to satisfy that need just one more time. Melting into him, her mouth opened for his questing tongue as she slid her arms about his neck. They stayed in that position for a long time, just tasting each other. Settling her on his lap, he inserted a hand under her tunic and touched her breasts. He cupped, kneaded, and squeezed them, pausing occasionally to pinch a nipple or roll it with his fingers.

She sighed in pleasure as he moved a hand down her stomach and pushed her tunic up her thighs—his tunic, actually. He had not given her anything else to wear. Probing between her legs, he fingered the wet folds, playing mercilessly with the nub of her clit, rubbing and rolling it until she writhed for release. He pushed the tunic all the way up and pulled it over her head before directing her hand between her legs. She jumped when he wedged two of her fingers into her pussy, pulling them out, and pushing them back into the wet channel.

What is he doing?

"Did you like to taste yourself?"

"You should not talk about that.” Although she should not be so easily flustered, Aislan felt her cheeks burning. She had never talked about sex in such a frank manner. Actually, she had never talked about sex.

"Why embarrassed? ‘Tis natural."

She thought she had him figured out, but the strange expression lurking in the depths of his eyes showed he played a game with her. No, he was not as easily conquered as he let her believe. She wondered again what game he played. Aislan could not help it. Propriety warred with curiosity, and she felt herself drawn in helplessly, incapable of controlling what her body craved. Her pussy throbbed and gushed in response to her excitement.

"Show me how delicious you are,” he insisted and brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her wet fingers. “Mmm. Come, darling. Taste with me."

Aislan did not need any more persuasion. Pressing her fingers against his mouth, she reached over and alternated between licking his lips and her own fingers. He pushed her finger into her mouth and then followed with his tongue. It aroused her as she tasted herself, the muskiness filling her senses and driving her wild with the raging need to take him back into her body.

He cupped her chin and tilted her face. Before he could kiss her, however, he went still and listened. Without further ado, Lucien grabbed his baldric and jumped to his feet, also pulling her up with him.

"Wh—” She gasped.

Adjusting his weapons in a flash, he then pulled her tunic over her head just as quickly and grabbed her about the waist. “Hold onto me."

He stopped only to snatch up her cloak and their bag, and Aislan clung on for dear life as everything whizzed past her in a blur. Lucien ran so fast she could not even think, let alone see. Her ears buzzed. He stopped after a moment and stood still. She watched him, but he had a meditative look about him and did not even glance at her. He burst into another run, another meditative break, and several more runs. Finally, he stopped and put her down.

"What happened?” she asked.

"It could have been someone after us."

"Could have been?"

Listening, he looked about. “Not anymore. When in doubt,” he met her gaze, “just run."

Aislan thought about the wolves, grateful to have avoided the possibility of another bloody incident. Lucien focused on himself again, so she waited. Once he finished, he went to the river and she followed.

He also looked relieved about having avoided another confrontation, and Aislan realized that, despite his physical prowess and violent lifestyle, he appeared to not like to fight. She remembered his defensive movements with the man Nadan who kept attacking while Lucien merely fended him off. She remembered the wolves he kept at bay, striking only when they attacked, except when he had killed one to save her. She also remembered how quickly he had killed Hayton without bothering to drag out the swordfight.

Lucien glanced at her, and then looked away, his face stony. She wondered what he could be thinking. An image flashed in her mind quickly, that moment several days ago when he had picked her up to run from the wolves, when he had paused long enough to look back at the dead shape-shifter. She had seen the torment on Lucien's face, but she had been too preoccupied with her own pain at the time. He still thought about it. She could see it in his expression as he studiously avoided looking at her. Bending over, Lucien splashed water on his face. Aislan looked away to give him a moment of privacy.

"We need to keep moving.” He stood up. “We should reach Maligan soon."

"Where is that?"

"'Tis a port town. I'll carry you. Come."

"I can walk."

"Not in your condition.” He picked her up easily and began walking.

"Milord—"

"You weigh nothing."

Bringing up the awkward subject probably would involve a discussion, so Aislan kept quiet. After a short while, she asked, “What were you doing on those meditative breaks?"

"Regenerating."

"What is that?"

"Replenishing my energy."

"You have to replenish your power?"

"Yes."

"I thought ‘tis a part of you."

"No one runs indefinitely, sorcerer or not. You need to stop and rest. Can you stay underwater forever? You need to come up for air."

She nodded. “I never thought about it that way."

Aislan envied his tireless, physical endurance. At first, she hesitated, and when she thought about it a little more, she came to a decision. She had been fixated on Victania, where established structures and hierarchy would probably give her a purpose and let her set goals to develop her power. Her other option would be Narisse, provided she could find the sorceress, and that Aislan would not be killed on sight. Fate had delivered her into the care of this man, a powerful sorcerer. He had shown generosity in using his power to heal her. She did not know his true intentions, if he was driven by infatuation, or honor, or other motives of his own. Aislan had always known what she wanted, and she would eventually get it. Lucien and she would be together for a while, and she wanted to become less of a helpless burden.

Since he had the ability to help her if he chose, it made perfect sense for her to ask, “Will you show me how ‘tis done? How to regenerate?"

He looked startled.

"Will you train me in sorcery?” She pushed forward with full conviction. “I want to learn how to use my power."

He stared at her hard, and right before her eyes, she saw his withdrawal from her. His eyes, like clear silver molten liquid, turned frosty.

"No."

"Why not?” she insisted, confounded by his refusal to help her with something so simple. “What is wrong with training me?"

"'Tis too late for that.” His voice was cold. “I am no longer allowed to do so."

Aislan could not bear to be in his arms right now. She struggled for freedom, and he put her down. “Why are you no longer allowed to?” She looked at him, dogged.

"This conversation has become tiresome.” Giving her no chance to reply, he grasped her by the waist and ran. When he stopped to rest, she stared at him mutinously, but he did not look at her. He rested his requisite moment before running again. In four more sprints, they left the forest.

The port city of Maligan sat at the foothill of the Balican Mountains. Faint outlines of ships docking in the harbor dotted the far horizon. Supposedly, because he did not want anyone to see him running fast, Lucien lifted Aislan in his arms and walked at a brisk pace. It did not take long before they reached town.

Lucien moved quickly through the crowded main square. Having never been inside a bustling city, Aislan paused often to look about the rows of shops and street vendors. The inhabitants seemed mostly poor people and flocks of raucous, foul-smelling sailors, shouting and laughing drunkenly, coming in and out of restaurants. Girls in various stages of undress hung out of balconies, and Aislan quickly revised her opinion about the ‘restaurant’ inside. Brothels flanked almost every corner. The sweaty smell of humanity overwhelmed her.

As she bumped into people in the crowded street, Aislan was thankful for Lucien's hold about her wrist. She would have been lost in the crowd if he had not pulled her along with him. Shouts erupted from somewhere, and a body went flying through swinging doors. Aislan gasped, and Lucien muttered his usual profanity as he pulled her out of harm's way, wrapping an arm about her and shielding her with his solid body.

The man thrown out of the brothel landed on his backside in front of them, blocking their path. Steadying herself by holding onto Lucien's arms, Aislan peered around him. The man just lay there, looking drunk out of his mind. Three more men came stumbling out after the first, cursing at each other. One of them tripped over the one already on the ground, and all hell broke loose.

Cursing some more, Lucien picked her up about her waist and dodged nimbly around the melee to avoid the brawl. Even as he danced away from swinging arms and fists, Aislan saw a filthy beggar grab at his weapons. The gem-studded scabbards would tempt a saint. Before she could shout a warning, Lucien had swung around, grabbed the beggar by the collar with his free hand, and sent him sprawling across the street. The beggar cursed as he sat up and shook his fist at them. Another tried to grab Lucien's sword.

How can there be so much trouble just walking through a street?

Lucien dispensed his own justice quickly with what seemed to be a heartless slap across the thief's face that sent one tooth flying. Once they gained enough distance to resume their pace, Aislan pulled free.

"'Twas unnecessary to slap him so hard."

"I barely touched him. Not my fault if his teeth were already loose."

Aislan thought about it and realized he had only tapped the man on the face with the back of his fingers. Remembering how well he checked his strength when handling her, she relented, but not completely.

"You were still too harsh,” she scolded.

"If he had touched either scabbard, he would have lost his fingers."

"For touching?"

"'Twould not be of my doing."