Black Moon Draw(57)

“My predecessors fought for a thousand years to unite the kingdoms, each aided by a powerful battle-witch.”

“You said three succeeded,” I point out, dread in my stomach. “They didn’t have me either.”

“Which is why they ultimately failed when they returned to the seat of the kingdom to face the curse alone. My idea is that ‘tis not the knight who need face the curse, but his battle-witch, armed with the Heart of Black Moon Draw and her magic.”

If so, we’re all doomed. “There has to be a better way. You’re taking too many lives and I can’t believe destroying half the kingdoms to save the other half is really the right way to do this! Not only that, but you’re relying on me, and I think we both know that’s the worst possible choice you have!” Swallowing hard, I stop to rein in what emotion I can. “Can you even take over two more kingdoms before your time is up? And what happens if I suddenly disappear back to my world?”

What happens if I don’t help, and he fails? The idea I might be useless and trapped here, that my fate is tied to that of the Shadow Knight and his world, hits me harder than falling a hundred feet off a castle.

What if I never leave?

What if I do and abandon him and his world to die?

Understanding his motivation, I have to think he can’t seriously be comfortable placing the fate of his kingdom on my shoulders after my performance in battle, and that there’s got to be a better way that doesn’t involve the deaths of so many.

The Shadow Knight is quiet. I’m afraid to know what he’s thinking. He’s watching me intently, maybe even waiting for me to magically morph into a battle-witch now that I know how important I am in the end game.

“Your army subdues the realm and I face the curse,” I say aloud.

“Aye, since your battle magic leaves much to be desired. ‘Tis the only explanation.”

“I’m going to kill you all, aren’t I?” I whisper. “Because I’m a terrible battle-witch?”

“Mayhap.” The corner of his mouth is pulled up in a faint smile.

“I don’t find this funny!”

“But you finally understand why you must fight as I do.” He holds my gaze, green, blue, and purple sparkling deep within the dark depths. The strange sparkles are entrancing and I find myself staring too long.

With a shake of my head, I lean back against the stone wall behind me. “So even if I don’t help you on the battlefield, I have to use magic to stop the curse as the final part of the legend.”

“Aye.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible. Even if it is, I don’t know how. I know this has a bunch of magic in it” – I lift the medallion and drop it – “but I don’t know how to access it. Did any of the other battle-witches tell you how to use it?”

“My army is at battle now with Brown Sun Lake. ‘Tis upon us only to break the curse.” He shakes his head.

A trickle of relief hits me. If he’s here, he can’t be mortally wounded in the battle, as he was in the initial draft by LF.

“I have faith in my battle-witch,” he adds.

“But you shouldn’t!” I cry desperately. “You should be looking for another way. No one has ever believed in me, because I’m not worth believing in!” Upset at admitting the truth to the one man I’d really like not to think I’m worthless, I stand and start away.

God this place is so small! There’s nowhere to hide and cry! Since arriving to Black Moon Draw, I’ve been off-balance, afraid to learn too much for fear of caring and winding up hurt, of throwing myself into this adventure fully. Afraid I do go home, and miserable life would be the same.

The Shadow Knight catches me around the waist, halting me in place. His grip tightens, until his chest is against my back. I’m struggling not to cry, my breathing shallow and quick, my eyes burning. He holds me quietly, his second hand resting at the base of my neck in a movement both possessive and reassuring. I strain against him for a moment, needing space rather than touch yet too turned on by his body to want to leave it completely.

“Calm, witch,” he says softly.

I need a hug, and I don’t care if it’s from him. Twisting in his grip, I slide my arms around him and take a deep breath of brownies and clover. His scent has a way of melting me from the inside out. Any part of me that’s not rendered spineless by it folds to the thick arms and wide chest I’m soon pressed against. My body molds against his perfectly. There’s no discomfort the way I felt with Jason, who was taller than me but not quite tall enough for me to fit against him like this.

Like we were made for each other.

The Shadow Knight is quiet. He rests his chin against my head and I listen to his heartbeat.

“I believe in you, witch. You should, too,” he says firmly. “I can cut off another hand, if it convinces you.”

“No,” I mumble against his chest. God, I just want to strip his clothes off and smell his skin directly! My lower belly is in flames, the hollow between my legs soaked. I can’t remember ever being so aroused.

Or so determined not to fold to my physical need because of the issues remaining between us.

He lifts my chin, and I gaze up at him, heart pounding in my chest. “Had we more time . . .” he drifts off, eyes going to my lips. He’s getting hard, his long, thick arousal pressed to my belly. I want so badly for the hand at the small of my back to drift a little farther south, for those sculpted lips to touch mine, for him to command me in bed the way he does outside. There’s fire in his eyes and it awes me. That he’s attracted to someone like me is nothing short of amazing.