Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(118)

Then she lay limp, with his chest a heaving bellows against her sweating back. She groaned when his thick fingers slipped from inside her, until he pulled her against him again.

“Every night I will sheathe myself within you,” he said roughly and pushed his thigh between hers, so that her slick, heated flesh rode against heavy muscle. “After your moon night, it won’t be my fingers but my cock, and each day I will have you until my seed overflows your well and runs in a river down your thighs.”

“I hope that is a vow.” With a yawn of sheer exhaustion, Mala snuggled closer and closed her eyes. Her voice was thick with sleep as she said, “Happy dreams, warrior.”

His arms tightened around her. “I do not need them.”





CHAPTER 6





He did not need happy dreams and, in the nights following, he did not receive happy ones. Kavik held her in his arms but in his dreams Mala was walking away, and no matter how he raced he could not catch up to her. But these dreams meant nothing, because upon waking he would have her again. He gave her pleasure and took his whenever and however he wanted.

He was not tamed. Even if his heart was not his own. Even if he could never have enough of her touch or her laugh. Even if he never wanted to face a dawn without her.

He stood firm. For although she believed his taming would not be cruel, Kavik knew it must be. Vela had sent Mala to bring him to his knees again.

So even when she lay so softly against him, her face flushed with sleep, Kavik did not kiss her awake as he wanted to. He watched her, his chest filled with an ever-deepening ache. He stood firm. But for how long? He would do anything for her. If she knew how his heart lay in her hand, soon he might be putting the collar on himself.

But hiding his heart would not be enough. He needed to persuade her beyond any doubt that he would never give in. He needed to push her away, because he weakened with her every touch.

It would not be today, though. Today they would reach the dark river that tumbled down the nearby mountains. Tomorrow they would cross the fouled waters, and Kavik would continue leading her farther away from the demon tusker’s den. He had seen too many men killed by that evil, and he would not see Mala hurt by it, too.

Even if it meant his life, Kavik would never see her hurt.

She stirred against him, lashes fluttering and a soft smile on her lips. He remained still as she turned in his arms. After so many mornings, he didn’t need to tell her what he wanted; his body spoke for him. But as she skimmed lower, her mouth brushed his shoulder, then his chest, and she repeatedly touched her lips to his skin as she moved down his rigid stomach.

Each kiss was a sweet knife. He couldn’t bear it.

Roughly he gripped her hair. “Take my cock,” he commanded hoarsely. “Now.”

She did. So hot. So hard. She gave him what he wanted, needed. He controlled this. He was not tamed. She was.

And it mattered not that he thought he might die without her.



THE sun had finally come to Blackmoor, but the cursed land looked no happier for its warmth. Along the great river, blackwood trees lay twisted and dry. Bones strewed the rocky banks, animal and human, as if those who had drank directly from the waters had immediately fallen dead.

Though it was long before sunset, they stopped to camp within an arrow’s flight of the river. A stone bridge lay farther south, but it was gated, and Barin’s soldiers only allowed travelers to pass through while the sun was up. Kavik had told her it was better to sleep at least a half day’s ride away and cross at midday, because bandits were never as much trouble under cover of darkness as the bored soldiers at the bridge garrison were.

Although Mala might have enjoyed a fight, she would enjoy an undisturbed night with Kavik more—and a bath. Her last had been at the Croaking Frog, and for a quarter turn she’d made do with wiping herself down with a damp rag. So as he built the fire, she retrieved a small packet of soap and a cloth from her packs.

“See that the others stay away from the waters,” Mala said to Shim, who had taken to watching over the horses when they weren’t traveling. “I will let you know when it is safe.”

Small bones cracked between her bare feet and the rounded stones at the edge of the river. It was unfortunate that she and Kavik couldn’t cross at this spot instead of requiring a bridge. But the recent rains had swelled the waters, and although they flowed placidly near the banks, the current at the middle appeared deep and swift.

After unbraiding her hair, she shed her clothes and stood before the lapping waters, wearing only a knife strapped to her thigh. There was no ritual required for this. Only honesty. “Vela, most gracious of goddesses,” she prayed softly. “I am your servant, awed and humbled by your protection. I need it now, for these waters are fouled, and only your power can cleanse them. Take my body as your vessel and my faith as your due.”

Soap in hand, Mala stepped in. Braced for icy cold, she was pleased to find it merely cool. Bliss. She waded out to her waist, where the current was still only a constant, gentle push against her legs.

She didn’t feel Vela move through her; she never did. Some priestesses said they were filled with ice, others described it like fire. But however the goddess worked through Mala, it was quiet, like a breath.

Holding hers, she dunked her head.

Kavik’s shout met her ears when she came up. Bellowing her name, he raced toward her, his powerful stride tearing across the distance. Alarmed, she unsheathed her knife and scanned the water’s surface. Had some monster survived the poisonous waters?