Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (7 page)

"What could you be thinking?” he asked almost too softly. His gaze moved over her body, and she licked her dry lips again. He wanted her. Lust burned in his eyes and etched on his face. It had been a day full of violence, and she sat here thinking about rutting like an animal.

The day seemed unreal, and she could be in a dream. Aislan's imagination had been active enough for her to live in it most of her life. Cold, tired, and confused, she could no longer think clearly. She tried hard to remain proper, but she felt more like a hypocrite pretending. Wanting to weep for her lack of conviction, she jumped to her feet, and he got up also.

"Aislan."

Not wanting to get close to him, she walked away.

"Aislan.” He caught her by the arm.

She looked back at him, unable to pull away, not wanting to. “I must go. Please, let me go."

Pulling her into his arms, he held her, and she capitulated immediately. He was so big, his arms steely and yet gentle. Pressing her cheek against his broad chest, she closed her eyes at the feel of his face against the top of her head, his mouth brushing back and forth across her hair. Oh, how good it felt, wrapped in his powerful arms. She should remember who he was, but she did not care. The scent of his maleness swept over her until she wanted to open his tunic so she could press her nose and open her mouth against his skin. Dizzy with want, she fought hard with herself to maintain some semblance of hypocritical propriety.

"Milord, let me go,” she whispered weakly, not even sounding convincing to her own ears.

"Where would you go?"

She was inordinately grateful he did not take the matter out of her hands. If he chose to overcome any meager resistance she gave, she would not have been able to resist. When she pulled back, he loosened his hold, but his arms remained looped about her waist. His bulging erection pressed against her stomach, making her breathless with the knowledge of what was to come. Aislan looked at her hands, one on his chest, the other on his muscled arm, her fingers splayed, her palms rubbing against him. Stopping her movement, she struggled to right her unbalanced mind. A man of flesh and blood held her, not a phantom. Anything she did now, there would be no going back.

Aislan made one last attempt at propriety. “The convent will take me."

It was a normal course for women with some status who had nowhere else to go. Never mind that they would refuse her. He did not have to know. The Church had damned her soul for trying to take her own life. It mattered nothing to them she had been a foolish, young girl of not even sixteen at the time, who had lost her mind. Aislan shut out the memory because she could not think about that now.

"You cannot hide from the king. They will hunt you down."

It took a while for her groggy brain to process what he said. “The king? Why should I hide from the king?"

"You know nothing about your husband's treason,” he stated almost flatly.

"Treason! Lord Temple served the king."

"Yes,
another
king."

"If ‘twas true, why should I be punished for what he did?” she asked incredulously. “I have no control over his actions!"

He touched her cheek gently. “I know that. ‘Tis why I'll not allow anyone to harm you."

Giving in immediately, she nuzzled against his long fingers like a starved puppy caged up for most of her life. She wanted him to seduce her. No, she should fight this. She should slap him, scratch him. Instead, she pulled him closer, lifting her face, parting her lips.

He did not refuse her. His mouth covered hers instantly, hard and commanding, his tongue probing deep, hotly taking control as he plundered what she willingly offered. Almost roughly, he sucked and devoured her like a ravenous beast, but she reveled in the intensity of the kiss.

Anchoring the back of her head, his fingers tightened in her hair, his onslaught of her tongue and lips making her dizzy and weak. Her knees buckled, and she clung to him. Grabbing his hair, she kissed him back, savoring his male taste as his tongue rubbed and dipped into every corner, every crevice. She could barely breathe and took his breaths as hers as she gasped and panted, returning each kiss for kiss. His other hand tunneled under her tunic and beneath her shift to push it down until he cupped a bare breast. First, he squeezed one globe and then the other. He pinched her nipple, his touch firm but gentle. He nipped at her upper lip and then her bottom one.

Dazed from the pleasure of kissing and touching, she could barely focus on anything but his mouth and his hands. He made her feel alive. The intensity about him reached into and sparked inside her, bringing every nerve ending alive. She wanted to know what it felt like to have the man she wanted in her body. Her clit pulsated and contracted, her pussy throbbing with desire while moisture gushed and trickled down her legs. The physical craving for release became so fierce, she could not think beyond this moment. Even though he barely contained his roughness in his demanding exploration, she felt no fear. Even from the first touch, he had yet to hurt her, and she sensed that he would not.

Abruptly, he pulled from her and took a few steps back, unsheathing his weapon. She watched him, her senses still swimming even as she wondered what had come over him.

"We have company.” He grasped her by the waist and held his sword at ready as he looked around. Barely seconds later, animals growled. Dark-haired beasts with bright, slanted eyes emerged from nowhere, four huge wolves with snarling jaws. They leapt.

Aislan screamed and wrapped her arms about Lucien's neck. In a blur of motion, the blade of his sword danced in his hand and zigzagged to keep the animals at bay. One of the wolves flew back with a slash across the chest, yelping. The other three surrounded them. As each leapt, Lucien swiped, forcing them to veer from the blade. Something dragged at her near her feet. Aislan looked down to see her cloak caught in a wolf's fangs, tearing. With a flick of the sword, Lucien cut the cloth barely inches from the beast's mouth. In a flash, Aislan saw the sword make its way upward and slash across the animal's chest. It yelped fiercely.

Three wolves leapt at the same time. Aislan's breath knocked out of her as she and Lucien fell in a heap of bodies and animals tussling and then separating. One of the beasts lunged at her. It stared at her with eyes that appeared almost human, hesitated for one instant, and then went straight for her throat.

Shrieking, she grabbed its open snout with both hands, realizing the wolf was actually human, sensing its determination to kill her. It bit her hands, and she nearly passed out from the intense pain. If she did not fight, Aislan knew she would die. Somewhere deep inside, she became enraged at her helplessness in the face of powerful sorcery. She stared at the wolf and willed herself to fight, wanting to kill it with her bare hands as she tried to pull its jaws apart to free herself.

Blood splattered everywhere, spraying onto her face and in her mouth.

The wolf squealed and died.

Sheathing his sword, Lucien grabbed the wolf's snout and pulled the jaw apart to free Aislan's hands. He had disabled the other three just enough, but he had killed one
sorsvasus
brother, running his sword partially through his head. Lucien had only the blink of an eye to decide. They had shown no mercy and had forced him to choose Ais

Lucien reached for Aislan, who sat on the ground, gagging while frantically spitting and wiping her face of the wolf's blood. The other three wounded wolves shifted back to human form, one of whom was Colen who had left earlier with the decollator Mallers. At first, Lucien could not bring himself to look at the face of the
sorsvasus
he had killed. Pulling Aislan to her feet, he held her securely with one arm around her waist. He could not tarry any longer even though the men were no match for him. Because he had to know, Lucien paused for a brief instance to glance at the face of the dead
sorsvasus
. Daman. Then he picked up Aislan and ran. The speed sent her legs flying behind her against the force of the wind. Even though she did not make a sound, he sensed she remained conscious.

At first, he ran fast. Eventually, so that he did not drain his energy and put them both at risk, Lucien slowed down and paced himself. He took a moment to adjust Aislan more comfortably. She shifted and slid an arm about his neck, bracing herself when he ran again. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she hung onto him limply. When he had to stop again, she pulled back, almost too feeble to look at him, but Lucien could not give her his attention right now while he replenished his own energy.

His strength had ebbed. The wolves had torn at his legs and arms. He needed to find somewhere to regenerate properly, but he had to put distance between them and the wolves. The three he spared could regenerate and recover, although it would be difficult for them to go after him now. He knew the one he killed was a Tracker like himself, who led the pack to find him and Aislan. Unlikely there would be another Tracker or Swift in the group, so they would not be able to catch up. Lucien also suspected, except for Colen, the other two shape-shifters could not fight in human form. Sorcery was highly specialized, and half of the sorcerers Lucien knew did not have combative skills. However, he knew better than to underestimate them. The
Sorsverein
trained only the best sorcerers with either unique or highly diversified abilities. Lucien did not want to take a chance by staying put for too long.

When he could not run any longer, Lucien stopped. Aislan had passed out, no doubt from the shock and from loss of blood. He paused in front of one of the many caves that cut into the side of the mountainous Balican forest. His energy had drained considerably from his own loss of blood, and his senses had become fuzzy, but he forced himself to focus as he looked for a cave. Aislan slumped against his body, weighing nothing. Righting her, he bent to hoist her over his left shoulder, letting her drape face down, her head dangling against his back. Keeping an arm behind her knees to anchor her in place, he unsheathed his dagger and made his way into one of the caves.

The silver blade glowed faintly, not enough to see details, but enough for him to make out the outline of where he stepped without running into walls or stepping off ledges. Bats flew about. Most bats were not bloodsuckers, as commonly believed, but he and Aislan would be tempting morsels, with both of them bloodied. Better bats than larger cave dwellers like bears, which he could not tussle with right now. Some of the bats flew overhead, snapping up insects.

The damp cave dripped from the underground spring. Lucien did not venture too deep, finding a cove to serve as temporary haven. Squinting in the semi-darkness, he located a patch of dry ground and laid Aislan down. She did not stir. Lucien touched her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the warm softness of her skin, a sharp contrast to the coldness of the cave. She lay as still as death, which concerned him greatly, but he could feel her steady breathing against his fingers. He checked her torn hands. The shape-shifter Daman had shown no mercy trying to kill such a gentle, fragile woman.

Lucien's sense of justice surfaced again. He had chosen to save her even though he had to commit murder to do so, and it was murder. He could not justify it as self-defense. The wolves, as the norm with all
sorsvasus
, would not have killed him. They would have preferred to drag him back to the Circle to have him face punishment for defying the king and the
Sorsverein
. Obeying mandate, they had only wanted Aislan.

There was no going back for him now. He had murdered a
sorsvasus
brother, a crime punishable by death.

Doffing his baldric, Lucien went down on his knees and pulled Aislan upright. He loosened the cloak and unfastened the top of her tunic, squinting to see in the near darkness. The wolf had missed her slender throat but managed to sink its fangs into her shoulder, but not deep. Where he had assumed docility, the waiflike Aislan had fought fiercely for her life, but it had been a losing proposition for her. If he could have incapacitated Daman any other way, he would have done it. Lucien's other choice had been to go for the heart. Stabbing the powerful wolf through any other part of the body would not have stopped it. Even then, Lucien had faltered at the last moment, unable to bring himself to run his sword completely through even though Daman was already dead.

Turning Aislan's inert body around, Lucien sat crossed-legged behind her and placed both of his hands below her shoulder blades. He concentrated on channeling his inner energy, transferring his power through the points of his fingers as he focused on healing her hands first.

He gauged her ability to absorb the energy flowing from him through her. She adjusted to his invasion easily, reaching out like faint tendrils to grasp at his inner energy and drawing on it. He fought the temptation to pull free from her predatory intent. Lucien did not have the option to stop because he had to heal her. If he did not tend to her now, she would bleed to death or lose the use of one or both of her mangled hands. He could always regenerate and recover his power, but to heal her, then him, and then having to regenerate to restore his power, all came with high risks in an unprotected environment, leaving him completely vulnerable while he regenerated.

Pushing the dire consequences aside, he concentrated on arteries and muscles, little by little, as he closed her wounds. He steered clear of applying energy below Aislan's heart. Lucien knew nothing about pregnant women, and what he did not know, he would not tamper. It took him the rest of the night, alternating between healing her and stopping to regenerate himself just enough to go on. Frequently, he checked her pulse for a steady beat. Having drained most of his energy because he had never healed another person before, he did not know how long he could keep it up.

When morning came, Lucien turned Aislan around and into his arms. Brushing her flaxen hair from her face, he bent to listen to her breathing. He pressed his cheek against hers briefly, marveling at her bravery. Her fierce tussling with Daman instead of merely accepting her fate had given him the time needed to save her. She also showed remarkable recuperative power. Pulling back, he touched her injured shoulder, bringing the dagger close, working his energy so it glowed enough for him to look at her wounds. Her slender fingers remained intact and still perfect. Even though she could use a little more healing, he had to regenerate. Barely staying conscious, Lucien pulled her tunic back in place and wrapped his cloak about her to keep her warm, and then gently laid her on her back on the cold, hard floor of the cave. Placing the dagger on top of her body, he wrapped her fingers about the hilt. She held onto it even in her unconscious state.