Unchained by a Forbidden Love Page 18

  She looked away from him, because she didn’t want his pity.

  Her fight wasn’t over yet.

  Fuery hadn’t won.

  She wouldn’t give up on him.

  She was going to patch up her heart, give him time to loosen the hold his darkness had over him, and then she would be back to fight for him all over again.

  She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair and bent her head as she started walking again. She didn’t tense as she passed some males in the arched corridor, no longer afraid of them or any at the guild. Fuery pushed her away, but he would fight for her if anyone dared to touch her, and he would kill any who hurt her.

  She believed that.

  She believed in him.

  No matter how fierce the darkness was, no matter how violent it made him, he would never hurt her.

  She would find a way to prove that to him.

  She ducked out of the arched wooden double doors and quickly crossed the cobbled street to the inn, and hurried past the males lingering in the small tavern area on the ground floor. She swiftly took the steps and didn’t slow until she was closing the door to her room, shutting the world out. She pulled at the ties of her cloak, pooled it into her arms and dropped it on the end of her bed as she passed it, heading for the window.

  She settled there, her eyes locking on the wall of the guild, on the point where she knew Fuery’s room was located.

  She could feel him.

  The connection was weak, but it was there if she pushed, still within her reach, and she knew she could open it again if she wanted. She resisted the temptation. Fuery needed time to come to terms with the fact she was alive, and their reinstated bond.

  Hartt was right about that.

  Feeling their bond reawaken had triggered an episode in Fuery, giving the darkness power over him, and it was going to take him time to learn how to deal with it and the way his sickness reacted to it. She would give him that time.

  It was difficult though.

  Minutes trickled past as she sat by the window and stared at the guild, trying to formulate a plan and decide what step to take next. Every second of each minute, she could feel an echo of Fuery’s pain, a glimmer of it through their bond.

  Gods, it was hard to remain where she was knowing that Fuery was alone in that damned cell-like room, suffering because of her.

  Again.

  She brought her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and held them to her chest.

  How was she meant to help Fuery when just reawakening their bond had been enough to tip him over the edge and into the darkness?

  How was she meant to make Fuery see that he could be with her without fear of hurting her when there was a tiny part of her that feared such a thing happening?

  Gods.

  She threw her head back and screamed out her frustration, not caring if anyone heard her because she needed to get it all out of her. It was tying her in knots, pulling her in too many directions at once, and she couldn’t take it.

  When her voice gave out, she buried her face in her knees.

  Deep in her heart, her bond to Fuery flickered, a weak thing that felt as if it might fade away at any moment.

  She clung to it, nurtured it in the way Prince Loren had taught her, just enough that it remained, because she needed to feel it, needed the comfort of it to carry her through the dark hours ahead of her.

  She needed Fuery.

  She turned her head to her right, rested her left cheek on her knees and sighed as she stared at the imposing guild building.

  Pain burned in her heart, pulsing stronger with each beat. Her pain. Born of a feeling she couldn’t shake.

  Jealousy.

  The only reason Fuery was still a part of this world was because he shared a bond with Hartt. That bond ran deeper than the one she shared with her beautiful dark warrior.

  Hartt had the bond she wanted with Fuery.

  Her ears pricked when a noise came from her left, a soft swishing sound that had her looking towards the door beyond the bed.

  She frowned at the small white folded piece of parchment on her floor, uncurled and padded across the room to the door. She bent and picked it up, and unfolded the note.

  There was a single sentence on it, written by a neat and elegant hand.

  Do not give up on him.

  She lowered her gaze and stared at Hartt’s signature, and felt the gravity in those words. They stirred her soul, soothed her aching heart, and gave her strength as they fortified her resolve.

  She wouldn’t.

  Hartt hadn’t given up on Fuery, and he had been there during Fuery’s darkest times. The male wanted to save his friend.

  She wanted to save her mate.

  She had been approaching Fuery all wrong. She wasn’t alone in this fight. Hartt was there with her. If they worked together, they could save Fuery. She was sure of it.

  Somehow, they would pull Fuery back from the darkness and weaken its hold on him.

  Starting with showing him that he wouldn’t hurt her, not even in his blackest rages. She could temper the darkness for him, could be the light he needed.

  Proving that to him was going to be easier said than done.

  She would need to get Fuery to lower the barriers around his heart and let her in.

  Her heart threatened to sink at that.

  It was going to take a miracle.

  CHAPTER 18

  Shaia was improving with the blade, her swipes more precise now, elegant almost as her hand fluidly glided through the air at chest height and forced him to lean back to avoid her blow. She tossed the dagger to her left hand, a move that would have given her an advantage, an opportunity to strike at him again while he was off balance, if she hadn’t broadcasted her intent to him.

  Fuery shot his hand out and snatched the blade as it passed in front of her chest, his eyes tracking it as it spun end over end, so he struck at just the right moment to grab the curved hilt. The black leather was warm beneath his palm and fingers, sending a hot shiver through him at the same time as her surprised gasp.

  Her amethyst eyes leaped to his and she blinked.

  “You were too obvious.” He shrugged, flipped the black dagger in his hand, catching the blade between his fingers, and held it out to her.

  She snatched it back and glared at him. “You are too skilled.”

  “Too obvious,” he countered, and gods, he had missed their easy playful banter and the way she spoke to him, a little bite in her words that showed him how at ease she was around him.

  Her frown knit harder, narrowing her eyes and compressing those lips he wanted to kiss.

  When was the last time he had kissed her?

  It felt like months ago, but it might have been only a few weeks.

  Gaining the rank of commander, and a position serving directly under Prince Loren, had afforded him a little freedom, and he was making damned good use of it. He was free to come and go from the castle as he pleased as long as his duties were done, and he returned each night.

  When he had returned four lunar cycles ago to tell Shaia about his promotion, she had been excited for him, and he had seen in her eyes and felt in her that she was also excited about what it meant for her. That alone had brought him back to her most days when he wasn’t on duty, meeting her in secret at a spot near the stream, where hills formed on one side to create a steep cliff that curved with the river, granting them some privacy.

  The woods were thick beneath it on their side of the river, and another hill rose up, the trees blanketing it. The carpenters and craftsmen often visited the woods, but never ventured as deep as their secret spot, the density of the trees making it hard for them to haul their lumber out. They stayed close to the fringes of the forest.

  Shaia shifted foot to foot, bare feet silent on the sandy bank of the river.

  She palmed the dagger.

  He had given it to her on his second visit after becoming a commander, a gift to show her that he had thought abou
t her request and was happy to fulfil it.

  Her eyes had lit up at the sight of it, and she had kissed him. Hard. Gods, she would have stolen his heart with that kiss, if it hadn’t already been hers.

  Every visit since then, he had spent most of it teaching her how to fight.

  She wanted to know how to handle herself, and he wanted it too, with a ferocity that had shaken him when he had made his decision.

  He needed to teach her, because he needed to know she would be safe when he wasn’t with her, when he was leagues away and unable to protect her.

  He stared at her, feeling that need bubbling beneath the surface of his skin, deep in his heart. He wanted to be with her always, to stand at her side and never move from it, but it wasn’t possible. He still had work to do if he was going to achieve the dream they shared—convincing her parents that he was a suitable male for her.

  There were days when he didn’t want to wait though, when the call of his instincts was too strong and he found it hard to deny them.

  She was his fated one.

  The female he loved with all his heart.

  He wanted her to be his mate.

  She slowly lowered her hand to her sides, so the dagger brushed the layers of her sky-blue dress, and her eyes locked with his, her lips parting.

  The dagger fell to the dirt with a thud.

  Her mouth claimed his, tearing a moan from his throat.

  He tunnelled his left hand beneath her fall of black wavy hair, grasped the back of her neck and kissed her hard. His right hand seized her hip and he slid it to the small of her back and hauled her up against him, so her body pressed against his and he could feel her heart thundering, hammering against his, speaking of the need he could feel running through her.

  Need that matched his own.

  She moaned, a quiet little sound that stirred his blood into an inferno, and he lifted her from the ground and carried her into the shade of the trees, out of the open. He set her down and she didn’t resist him as he backed her against the broad trunk of one, his lips dancing over hers, her taste flooding him with warmth, heat that had him trembling right down to his soul.

  He tugged her close and kissed her deeper, tangling his tongue with hers, tearing another teasing moan from her lips that he swallowed and savoured. She grasped his bare shoulders, her touch sending a hot thrill through him, a bolt that lit him up and had him pressing against her, desperate and wild with a need to feel her soft curves cushioning his body.

  Nerves threatened to rise but he pushed them down, managing to subdue them and focus on his task rather than allowing his mind to leap ahead. This wouldn’t be the first time they had touched each other. There was no reason for him to be nervous.

  Unless.

  Unless it became more than touching.

  His heart pounded faster at just the thought, the nerves he had managed to gain control over threatening to burst free and run rampant through him. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard as he fought the urges rushing through him, need that he had battled more than once in their times together and would quell this time too.

  Gods, he wanted to make love to her though.

  He wanted to feel her warm body gloving his, and hear her cry his name as he brought her to a shattering climax.

  “Fuery,” she breathed, a plea that dragged him back to her and told him that he wasn’t alone.

  He could feel her desperation too, could see it in her eyes as he drew back. They were wide, wild, her pupils devouring the amethyst as she gripped his shoulders and pushed forwards, so the metal swirls of her corset pressed against his torso.

  She trembled beneath his hands, her breath coming faster, and teased her lower lip with one tiny fang.

  She pushed her hips forwards.

  Against his.

  Too much.

  Not enough.

  Fuery growled, grasped her waist and pressed forwards, pinning her to the rough trunk of the tree. She moaned as his rigid cock met her soft flesh and kissed him again, her tongue pushing past his lips to tease his fangs. He groaned and shuddered as she teased them, drawing them down, filling his head with wicked, dangerous thoughts.

  Ones about biting her.

  Her left hand skimmed over his shoulder, up his neck, and his groan became a damned whimper as she stroked the curve of his ear and feathered her fingers up to the pointed tip. Shivers tripped through him, each one hotter than the last, stirring his need to dizzying new heights, and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning and rocking against her, showing her just how mad with need she was making him.

  How much he wanted her.

  When she caught his jaw, turned his head to his right, and leaned towards him to stroke her tongue from his lobe to the pointed tip of his ear, his restraint shattered. On a low growl, he grabbed her backside with both hands, lifted her and pressed between her thighs. She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, and he groaned and shuddered as she pressed against him, all heat and temptation.

  Her tongue stroked his ear again, flicking the tip, her breathless little sigh of pleasure as he ground his cock against her soft heat tearing a moan from his lips and driving him to obey the need he could feel building inside her.

  Need that matched his own.

  “Shaia,” he whispered, on the brink of falling and needing to let her know just what she was doing to him, how she was pushing him too close to the edge.

  She only moaned in response, and grazed her teeth down the curve of his ear to the lobe. She caught it between her small fangs, ripping another low groan from him as he shuddered against her and couldn’t stop himself from rubbing between her thighs. She trembled and gasped with each one, and surprised him by pressing her hips closer at the same time as she tightened her legs around him.

  “Fuery.”

  He had never heard his name said in such a passion-drenched and lost way, and gods, he wanted to hear her say it that way again, needed to experience the blast of sheer pleasure that had gone through him on hearing what he did to her.

  That she wanted him. Needed him. Only him.

  He growled and seized her mouth again, kissing her hard, unable to hold himself back as his mind leaped forwards, his body growing painfully hard at the thought of finally making love to her. She moaned and dropped her hands away from him, and he wanted to growl at her, but when he broke the kiss and looked down, he couldn’t breathe.

  She pulled at her sky-blue skirts, parting the layers, exposing her thighs to him.

  Sweet gods, the sight of the aching bulge in his black trousers so close to her had his mind emptying and his ears ringing.

  She only made the ringing grow louder as she placed a trembling hand over that bulge.

  Fuery groaned and pressed against her soft palm, shook all over as she tentatively rubbed him through his trousers. Too much. Not nearly enough. He needed more.

  She was way ahead of him.

  Her nimble fingers tugged at the lacing on his trousers, and part of him wanted to grin when she loosed a frustrated little noise as her trembling made it hard work. Before he could help her, she had torn the laces from the holes, and cool air washed over his exposed cock.

  And then heat.

  Incredible heat.

  He groaned and pressed his forehead against hers as she touched him, his balls growing tight and his cock feeling as if it might burst. Sweet gods. He felt sure he might die.

  She thumbed the tip and he caught her hand and pulled it away, breathing hard as he fought to subdue the pressing need to climax that had swept through him in response to that innocent touch.

  “Fuery,” she whispered.

  He slowly lifted his head and met her gaze.

  It was dark, filled with need that he could sense in her, a hunger that ran through him too, lighting up his blood and pushing him to satisfy it.

  She blinked, a flicker of nerves crossing her beautiful face, and worried her lower lip with her fangs.

  And then
she moved.

  Raised the hem of her dress to reveal her cream undergarments.

  Ran her fingers over their silky material and upwards, to the cinched waist.

  Pushed them down, exposing the soft flat plane of her belly.

  Fuery growled, dropped her feet to the leaf litter and fell to his knees before her. She gasped as he placed his hands over hers and moved them with his, drawing her underwear down. His heart pounded in time with hers, a fast beat that drummed in his ears and throbbed in his mind as he tugged the silk down and revealed her dark curls.

  Sweet gods, he wanted to kiss her there.

  He wanted to taste her on his tongue, wanted her nectar coating it as he drank down her moans.

  But more than that, he wanted to sheath himself in her.

  He reached her ankles and she stepped out of her underwear, and he glanced up at her face.

  No trace of nerves lined her delicate features. There was only determination and need, a hunger that called to him and had his instincts pushing him forwards even as his nerves spiralled out of control.

  She reached her hand out to him and brushed her palm across his cheek, her violet eyes telling him she was ready and she wanted to do this.

  Too much.

  He shot to his feet, claimed her backside and wrapped her legs around his hips again. She shook in his arms, but it wasn’t only nerves that had her trembling. It was need. She pressed forwards, bringing them into contact, and moaned as her body met his, soft heat against hard steel.

  He reached between them, caught his aching shaft, and eased it downwards through her slick folds, and groaned as he reached her opening and the blunt head dipped forwards, entering her.

  Gods.

  She clutched his shoulders, her breathless moan spurring him on, and he shook away the last of his reservations, the voice that told him he wasn’t good enough for her, and pressed forwards.

  She wanted him.

  She had chosen him.

  She believed him good enough for her even if he didn’t.

  He inched deeper, his breath catching as she gloved him, so tight and hot around him. She breathed hard as she held on to him, her eyes searing his face as he focused on not hurting her, aware that males did such things to females. He didn’t want to be like them. He wanted his fated one to feel only pleasure.