Exiled (6 page)

“Then what do you want?”

“I want what we had. I want your love. I want every single bit of you, every tiniest last part of you to be mine. As I am yours.” He watched as the emotions flew across her face. She wasn’t able to hide them now—which was at least something. But way short of what he needed.

“I can’t. If you died or if you left me again—what would I do this time?” She blinked and her eyes glistened. Had he ever seen her cry? Then she gathered herself together, as though she was about to say something she really didn’t want to. “I’m scared.” And his anger died. His Cass had never been afraid of anything.

She gave a helpless shrug and turned away. Leaning down, she picked up her discarded shirt and pulled it on. He held himself very still as she crossed the room.

At the door, she hesitated. “I survived by locking everything away, shutting my emotions behind a barrier. Now even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I can break down that wall.” She tugged open the door and was gone.

Callum followed her, and watched from the doorway as she disappeared around the corner, her figure strangely hunched, defeated.

She was supposed to be the one with the temper. Not him.

He’d always been the levelheaded partner. Not any more, it seemed. His fury turned inward, and he slammed the door and then smashed his fist into the wall beside it.

What would she do if he died? Didn’t she know—he was already dead.

But he had a feeling telling her that would do no good. Her walls were too thick, too impenetrable, and too firmly in place for mere words to ever breach.

But whatever she believed, she was stronger now, far more controlled than he would have ever thought possible. She no longer posed any danger to the innocent. Only to herself.

He needed a way to prove to her that she could take the risk of loving him. To show her that if she lost him again, she was strong enough to bear the pain. He just had to work out how.

All the same, he was a fucking idiot. He could be with her now. Instead, the long night stretched ahead of him—empty.

Cass adjusted her dark glasses.

Last night, she’d managed to hold her shit together until she was alone and then she’d gone back to her room and cried. She’d never cried in her entire life before. She’d made up for it.

Afterward, she’d lain awake most of the night, finally falling asleep only to relive the moment of Callum’s death over and over again. She’d woken tired, irritable, and annoyed—with herself.

She’d done the right thing. Of course she had. So why did everything inside her scream that she’d been wrong. She should have given herself to him, not begrudgingly as she had tried, but without reservation.

Why couldn’t she shift the expression in Callum’s eyes from out of her head? He’d looked at her as if she’d betrayed him.

Well, too late now. They were at the stone circle about to start the spell that would take them all back to Arroway. Foreboding enveloped her like a shroud. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shift it.

She wrapped her cloak tighter around her. Beneath it, she wore a scarlet diaphanous shift; the closest Freya had been able to produce to the outfits of the pleasure slaves. And Christ, they had to go back, if only to save the poor creatures from having to dress like this.

She’d accessorized hers with a shoulder holster and her favorite gun. Though she had her doubts that the weapon would work on Arroway, it was worth a try and its presence was a comforting weight.

It was midday but thick clouds obscured the sun. She had a feeling this would be the last time she would stand in this place.

On this world even. She’d not expected to feel anything, but regret washed through her.

Callum, Jarrod, and Tallon raised their wooden staffs. The chant started low, rising steadily until the air all around them crackled with energy as the magic built. Callum held out his free hand to her; she clasped it tightly. A crack of thunder sounded overhead and a bolt of lightning pierced the sky.

Above them, the skies ripped apart, leaving a crimson gash in the pale gray arc. Callum’s hand gripped hers tightly as the magic lifted them up and flung them into the void between worlds. They were whirling through space, a huge force tugging them on and spinning them around. Then too soon, they were slowing. Tallon and Shayla passed them, as did Freya and Jarrod, leaving them far behind.

Nothing tugged at them now. Instead, an invisible force pushed her away, attempting to drag her from Callum’s grasp.

Arroway was rejecting her.

Callum’s grip tightened until he squeezed the feeling from her fingers. He shouted the words of the spell, screaming them into the chaos.

They were almost back on Arroway. She attempted to fling her power into Callum but nothing happened. The pressure sucked the air from her lungs, stars sparkled before her eyes, and everything went black.

~*~

The first sign she was awakening was the clash of metal on metal ringing in her ears. Cass lay face down, her cheek pressed into the soft ground, her mouth and nostrils clogged with dirt.

She pushed herself off the ground and spat.

Her head throbbed and her lashes seemed glued together. She pried them apart and came face to face with a dead body, the eyes wide and staring. She didn’t recognize the man, and she peered over the bulk of his body to assess what was going on.

The only light came from the sullen blood red glow of the crescent moons high overhead. Shayla and Freya stood immediately in front of her as if to give her some protection. Beyond them, Callum, Tallon, and Jarrod were arrayed side by side. All held swords in one hand and their staffs in the other. They were fighting furiously against what appeared to be an overwhelming number of opponents. Already in front of them, bodies littered the ground. The stench of fresh blood saturated the air.

Giving another glance around, she pulled herself up onto her knees. A tremor ran through her limbs, but was recovering fast. In front of her, Freya peered over her shoulder, relief blossoming on her face as she saw Cass was conscious.

Two men fought Callum. At least she could try and help. She reached under the cloak and drew her pistol, aimed it at the nearest bad-guy. But when she pulled the trigger, all she got was a sad clicking sound.

“Shit.” She shifted her grip and hurled the pistol at the man’s head.

It caught him in the face, distracting him sufficiently for Callum to slice through his throat. The man crumpled to the ground to add to the body pile but another took his place. Beyond him, Cass could see more men spilling out from beyond the tree line.

Too many men. And more worrying, a group stood in a circle at the edge of the clearing, their staffs touching. The air hung heavy with the low chant of a warlocks’ spell.

“Use the magic,” Freya called out to her.

Did she dare? She swiveled around to find Callum. By now, he was almost hidden behind the attacking warlocks. The majority appeared to be targeting him. Others were keeping Jarrod and Tallon at bay, but they surrounded Callum.

She tried to focus her mind, but fear and doubt forced down the magic.

Then Callum caught her gaze. For a second, everything stopped. There was so much love in his face, so much understanding, and inside her, the walls of her barricade trembled.

Then he lowered his sword.

What the fuck was he doing? Cass leaped forward, but even as she moved one of his attackers lunged, thrusting his sword through Callum’s heart. He crashed to the ground and lay unmoving.

“No!” She screamed and reached for her magic. At the last second, she caught herself and tempered it. Even through her raging grief and her disbelief, she controlled her fury. Beside her, Freya stretched out a hand. The warlocks surrounding Callum flew into the air as if lifted by invisible hands. They hovered for a second before slamming into the group of chanting warlocks, knocking them to the forest floor.

Cass raced the last few feet to where Callum lay on his back, his eyes closed. She collapsed to her knees beside him, reached for him with a trembling hand. Her fingers traced down his cheek and his eyes flickered open.

Hope flared in her mind, but rapidly swamped by confusion.

He’d taken the sword direct through his heart; no one could survive that.

Callum’s hands twitched, and then lifted to the sword still in his chest. He tugged it out and tossed it aside.

“How?” she asked.

“It’s hard to kill the dead, and I died a long time ago.” She reached for the front of his shirt and dragged the sides apart. A ragged wound marred his chest but even as she watched, the edges began to knit together. “You knew this would happen?”

“I knew.”

“Then why?” Though she had an inkling; he’d always been a devious bastard.

“You needed to know.”

“I needed to know what exactly?”

“That you wouldn’t lose control. That you would do the right thing no matter what.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “That I’m already dead—so it’s pointless worrying about me dying again. That it’s safe to let me past your impressive defenses.” Her eyes narrowed. She hated being manipulated. “Yeah, well, maybe if I had let you beyond my defenses, we’d now be sitting here among the charred remains of a completely dead world.”

“You know that’s not true. Search inside yourself.” She took a deep breath and turned her consciousness inward.

The wall had vanished, only rubble remained and with time, she could sweep that away.

A sense of freedom and lightness filled her. She’d lived with the fear of her own weakness for too long. Always scared to feel, in case the emotion overwhelmed her and she hurt others in her need to blot out the pain.

Now she had faced the ultimate test and prevailed.

She slid her hand into Callum’s. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“You two, we have to go.” Jarrod’s voice sounded from behind her. She peered over her shoulder and found him, sitting astride a horse, grinning down at them. “Welcome back,” he said.

Callum rose to his feet. “Are you are you okay to ride?” he asked, heading toward the two remaining tethered horses. The others had all been released and chased off.

Cass had been riding for a thousand years, but she took in Freya and Shayla seated behind their men and decided that perhaps she’d keep quiet about that little fact.

“I’d rather not,” she answered. “Actually, I’ve become a little scared of horses.” Callum cast her a look of disbelief, but he loosened the tether of the second horse and slapped it on the rump. It trotted off, disappearing into the trees. He swung up into the saddle of the big bay mare and held out a hand to her.

She took it and he pulled her behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist beneath the cloak, she snuggled in close, resting her cheek against his broad back as they set off. For a while, she was content to rest there, but eventually she couldn’t resist seeing what had become of her old home. Raising her head, she peered around.

Even in the dim light, she could see the evidence that the world was fading, and her exhilaration drained away. The forest appeared leached of color, many of the great trees dead or dying, and no plants grew on the forest floor. Even the moons hanging lethargic above the tree line seemed lifeless. Only a dull red glow where once they had pulsated with life force.

She was responsible for this; great power carried great responsibility, and she had abused her power, used it for her own destructive ends.

Her sense of foreboding returned. She knew the price had yet to be paid and she feared this day would see a reckoning. Soon she would face a hard choice, and this time—no matter the cost to herself—she had to make the right decision. But something else bothered her. When she reached inside for her magic, she found it sluggish and unresponsive. What if her power had deserted her and she couldn’t waken the Goddess? She pushed the worry aside. She would find a way. And if she could put right some of the wrong she had done first, then perhaps she could go with a measure of contentment. She wouldn’t regret that she had found Callum once again. She would just make the most of whatever time they had together. Her hands tightened around his waist as if she could hold him so close he would never leave her again. He must have sensed her desperation, because he glanced back over his shoulder.

What he saw in her face made him pull the horse to a halt.

He twisted in the saddle, slid his hands around her waist, and dragged her in front of him. She rested sideways across the saddle, cradled against his chest, her arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Holding the reins in one hand, he nudged the horse into a walk.

Cass stared up into his beautiful face. This close she could see the black ring around his irises, the sensitive curve of his full lower lip. She shifted her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down toward her. Taking his lips with hers, she slowly pushed her tongue deep into his mouth.

He groaned, his palm cupping her cheek as he held her to him and deepened the kiss. His hand stroked over her face, his fingers gliding down her throat, then lower, to dip inside her cloak. All that covered her breasts was a thin film of silk. His palm rubbed over her small breasts, and her nipples tightened into hard, little buds. Between her thighs, she was hot and heavy with need. His fingers found her nipple and pinched it gently. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure down through her belly and her back arched with need. He was hard against her, his erection pushing against her thigh. She twisted to get closer and the movement upset the horse, so she pranced nearly tipping Cass from the saddle.

“Shit,” she muttered, grabbing hold of the pommel and righting herself. Callum released her to take the reins and bring the animal under control.

He bent his head and kissed her throat. “Later...” Would there be a later? She wasn’t sure, and that thought filled her with urgency. She wanted him so badly, just once, and then she would accept whatever fate had planned for her.

But up ahead, she could no longer see the other two horses; they’d already fallen way behind. Releasing her grip, she flung one leg over the saddle so she rode astride with her back pressed up against the front of him, nestled between his strong thighs. His muscles shifted as he kicked the horse into a canter one arm holding her around the waist.