A Magic King (4 page)

"What's that?"

"Tooth powder."

At her hesitant expression, he dipped his finger in the powder, rubbed it along his teeth, then spit. The stream of expectorant looked totally gross, but he offered it to her and flashed his poster boy smile. It was either try it or be totally rude to the man who had probably saved her life.

Difficult decision.

Finally, she imitated him and nearly gagged. It felt like rubbing sandpaper across her teeth and tasted about as appetizing. She spit, managing a weak smile.

"Vile?" he asked.

She nodded. They both drank some water.

Then he turned to her, his expression curious, if a little wary. "Where do you come from where tooth powder is not a chore?"

"Boston. The United States. And it's not powder, it's a..." She gave him a vapid smile as though she were in a commercial. "A minty, fresh gel." He looked at her like she was moldy spaghetti. She sighed. "Oh, never mind."

"I don't know about Bos-ton. Or the U—"

"United States. And what do you mean you don't know about it? Everybody knows about the U.S. Those we haven't annoyed are actively trying to terrorize us. There isn't a soul on the planet that doesn't know about us." She stopped talking, once again feeling sick to her stomach. "That's the problem, isn't it? I'm not on Earth anymore."

Her companion was silent, oddly accepting of her strange comments. "I don't know."

She stared at him. His sexy body was relaxed, his expression calm. Everything she wasn't. And that really annoyed her. Her fragile mental health broke, and she rounded on him in fury. "You don't know? Well, that does me a whole lot of good. I'm lost. I've got five bucks, no food, I'm talking to every woman's fantasy, and I'm in a stupid comic book costume!" She towered over him, shaking with frustration and fear, and all he did was gaze back at her, the gold in his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

"My name is Daken," he said softly. "King Daken of the house of Chigan. I am pleased you think me every woman's fantasy."

She stared at him. "So glad I could be of service," she said dryly. Then she collapsed back onto the ground and dropped her head into her hands.

* * *

Daken sighed, then reached out to her, wishing he could do more for her as he absently brushed her short curls from her face. "I don't know how to help you," he said softly. Her fear was like a tidal wave, swamping his thoughts. He could feel her frustration like a raving beast, and it left him feeling very exposed.

He had to leave. His people were dying, and his first priority was to them. But even knowing that, he felt horrible guilt at abandoning this woman when she was at her most vulnerable.

He clenched his jaw. He had done his duty. He healed her, even used his very expensive language spell. He couldn't afford to waste any more time or resources on her. But still, he stayed.

She stood, pacing back and forth in front of him, rubbing her arms as though she were cold. He would have offered her his jacket, but he knew she didn't feel chill. Her movements betrayed her fear. And that she didn't often feel afraid.

"You can remember nothing else?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It's all a blur."

Healing her would be a mistake. His healer skills would absorb her terror like a sponge, and then he'd spend the next hour steadying the trembling in his own limbs. Against his will, he found himself in front of her, gradually enfolding her in his arms, giving her what comfort he could.

She was stiff against him, fighting herself more than him. He could tell she wanted to drop into his arms, but her pride kept her away. He waited, demanding nothing of her until she decided. Then to his joy, she softened against him, melting into his arms like a child burrowing into her parent's embrace, or a woman nestling into the cradle of her lover's arms.

It was a sweet moment, at odds with his warrior's soul, but still he clung to it, sheltering her in his arms while his mind told him he should be leaving.

"I must go," he whispered into the sweet scent of her hair.

She jerked as if he'd slapped her, but he held her tight, forcing her to hear the rest of his words. "This is a safe land with generous people. Find a farm house and offer your help. They will pay you honest wages for honest work."

"But—"

"Your memory will return in time." He didn't know if it was true, but he knew she needed to believe it. Then he broke the embrace, feeling the emptiness in his arms like an ache, but he suppressed the emotions and turned away. He couldn't stay with her any longer.

He began to close camp.

"You can't leave me, hero, uh, I mean Daken." She said it flatly, as though he had no choice in the matter. "I'm completely lost. All I need is to get to a phone."

He glanced up, and she shook her head to stop his next words.

"I know. You don't know what a phone is. How about the nearest city? Maybe I can get my bearings there." She reached out, pulling him around to face her, desperation making her brown eyes luminous. "Please, I'm begging you. Don't abandon me."

He twisted away to break their physical contact. He couldn't think when she touched him. Her emotions bled through to him too easily, running riot over his own thoughts.

"Daken?"

He swallowed, knowing she wouldn't like hearing this any more than he liked saying it. "I am going to Bosuny, and I have tarried too long already."

She stepped forward. "Let me come with you."

He shook his head. "You are still weak. You'll walk too slowly, and I can't lose any more time. I'm sorry." He kicked some dirt on the dying embers, then grabbed his pack. "There is a farmhouse a half day's journey that way." He pointed. "Tell them a king has sent you to them. They will help you." Then he started walking, his long stride quickly eating up the distance to the edge of the clearing.

"Wait a minute," she called, running behind him like a lumbering tekay.

He grumbled out a curse and stopped. She was too weak to sustain his pace, but from the sound of it, she wasn't about to stop until she'd said her peace.

"You can't just leave me here."

"I can't do anything more for you. Perhaps a better healer, but I—"

"I'm not crazy," she interrupted. "I've lost some of my memory, not my mind."

"Woman—"

"Just listen to me. I don't know what's going on here, but I'm not going to find out at some farmhouse where I can't even speak the language. Take me with you to Bo... to Bosu—"

"Bosuny is a long, long way, and you are too weak—"

"Please." Her entire soul seemed poured into her eyes as she pleaded with him. He should have been unmoved by such a display. As a king, he'd seen it many times for one reason or another, and he'd been able to ignore it then. But with her it was different. He sensed this woman didn't beg. Not without great need. He reached out, touching the wetness on her cheek, stroking it between his fingers.

"I'm not crying," she said, clearly trying to hold back her tears.

It happened so fast, as though an Old One pushed him into something he never would have done on his own. One moment he was thinking about the odd puzzle she was, and the next second he was kissing her, her lips warm and sensuous against his own. She gasped in surprise, and he dipped lower, deeper into her mouth.

He stroked her tongue, feeling a passion build within her that had nothing to do with her confusion. She responded to him as a woman, and he felt himself curl around and within her, instinctively protecting that which he wanted to possess. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he let his hands trail down her back, pulling her deep against his thickening heat. She groaned into his mouth, and he felt his blood surge within him.

This was wrong. She was ill. He was late. Reasons crammed into his brain, all telling him with perfect logic to leave her alone. She was a distraction he couldn't afford right now. But still he held her, possessing her mouth as he slowly wedged his knee between her legs.

Then his conscience won. He pulled away from her with a curse, slamming his fist into a tree trunk, using the pain to clear his fogged brain.

"Daken?"

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly, his voice rough and coarse. "I should not have done that."

"Hey, I didn't object."

He ran his hand through his hair, unable to face her. "You are ill."

"I told you, I've just lost some of my memory. That's all."

He turned to look at her, feeling tormented by conflicting responsibilities and desires. "You are ill," he said softly. "I am the one who cares for you. I cannot use someone I am responsible for."

"Oh, it's a doctor-patient thing." He saw understanding light in her eyes, like a garnet held before a flame.

He blinked, not following her strange words. "You are ill, and I am a king."

"King. Not a doctor. A king who can't kiss peasants." He heard the outrage in her voice, but he didn't understand its cause.

"A king is a doctor," he said.

She leaned forward, her eyebrows pulled together as she struggled to communicate with him. "What do you mean a king is a doctor? Kings lead people. Doctors heal people."

Did she know nothing? "Kings lead because they can heal."

"So it is a doctor-patient thing."

Unable to stop himself, he reached out, trailing his fingers across her full, red lips. How could he explain to her something he didn't understand himself? "Your kiss is a wonder to me—full of magic and power." His voice was low and hoarse, and he saw her passion flare again in her eyes. Rather than give in to the promise he saw there, he turned away, looking east to Bosuny. "But I must go."

"Take me with you."

"I can't."

"Please."

He groaned, knowing he was lost long before he said the words. "Very well. I will slow my steps for you."

"Thank you—"

"But we must not kiss again."

She watched him, her eyes so incredibly open and vulnerable. "I told you, I'm not sick. And I didn't mind—"

"I can't afford the distraction." He shook his head, turning his gaze to the distant horizon. "I am a fool to let you slow me down at all."

"You mean I'm a burden and an annoyance." He heard the bitterness in her voice, but would not allow himself to soften more.

"My mission is urgent."

She straightened her shoulders, and he caught a flash of defiance in her eyes. "Then I guess we better get going."

Chapter 2

"So, you're a king." Jane watched him closely, but Daken's face remained impassive, his thoughts hidden beneath his calm facade.

"Chigan is a territory to the northwest."

Jane nodded, cudgeling her brain trying to remember any small third world country named Chigan. She wasn't surprised when she drew a blank. Geography had never been her strong suit. "Don't you want to know my name?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I assumed you would tell me if you knew it."

"Of course, I know it! It's Jane. Jane Deerfield."

He smiled, lifting the harsh planes of his face until he looked almost young. "Jane Deerfield is a beautiful name. I understand now why you wished to keep it a secret since it describes your home. I am honored that you shared it with me. Do you claim the deer or the field?"

She opened her mouth, but couldn't phrase the questions filling her mind at his odd question. Finally, "I'm confused," was all she managed.

"Yes. I know," he said gently, and she nearly ground her teeth in frustration. "Perhaps you were joined with a deer, and the creature died. That would explain your illness."

"What do you mean 'joined with a deer'? I..." She struggled to push all her questions into a coherent form, but he looked at her so oddly that she gave up.

Over the last twenty-four hours they'd had many conversations like this, each more frustrating than the last. Despite his secret decoder trick, they obviously communicated on two very different levels.

"Perhaps the mages in Bosuny will be able to help you," he offered.