Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (16 page)

She made an effort to smile at him, but the corners of her mouth refused to budge. Her heart was so full she found breathing difficult. She loved him so much; more than she’d ever thought possible, especially in such a short amount of time. But, truth be known, her feelings for Axel had eclipsed in one day what she’d felt for William after five long years.

Her father used to tell her that when God closed a door, he opened a window. When she shut the door on William, she’d jumped out that open window—and landed in Axel’s waiting arms.

Entwining his fingers in hers, he produced, as if by magic, a long red ribbon and a small knife. His hand trembled as he lifted the knife. Was he as nervous as she was or just as cold?

He pulled the tip of the blade across his palm, drawing blood. The next thing she knew, he had hold of her right wrist. She winced as the blade sliced through her skin, stinging as it went. Swiftly, he retrieved the ribbon, pressed their bleeding palms together, and wrapped the ribbon around them both.

She must have looked as disconcerted as she felt because he pushed back her hair with his unbound hand and whispered, “How did you think a handfasting was done?”

“I really had no idea,” she somehow managed to say.

“Just say what I say, aye?”

He spoke the vow in Gaelic—a handful of sentences that sounded like gibberish to her ears. She diligently repeated them, fudging her way through some of the more difficult pronunciations.

“And now”—he leaned close to her ear—”we have exchanged our vows before our gods.”

“What did we say?”

Rather than answer, he bent to kiss her. His mouth, soft and inviting, drew her in. She was vaguely aware of the smarting in her hand as he gathered her in his arms, drew her tongue into his mouth, and suckled gently. The world fell away and for several exquisite moments, they were the only two souls in existence.

After untying their hands, he laid her down and came over her, taking his weight on his arms. As he came into her, she locked her ankles in the small of his back and lifted her hips to take him deeper. It felt to her as if more than their bodies had joined.

As Axel began to move in her, he whispered endearments in her ear. She was so lovely, desirable, and perfect. They might have been sweet nothings uttered in the heat of passion, but his compliments meant everything to her.

They were all but married now. She could hardly believe it. Just over a week ago she’d been in hell and now she was in heaven. He had transformed her from a doormat to a magic carpet—and she loved him for that; cherished how complete he made her feel as much as she treasured who he was.

She tightened her grip on his hips, taking him into her more deeply. She would take all of him into her if she could.

His thrusting increased in speed and power. The jackrabbit became a jackhammer, then transformed into Thor’s hammer. As he pounded her like the god of thunder, lightning cracked at her core, searing and explosive.

His climax soon followed. Thunder after lightning, the reversal of nature, but no less powerful. She felt him tense, felt the pulsations of his release, felt his seed take root. The sensation frightened her, but also made her happy. His child would be wholly hers, even if he could not be.

Axel, panting and sweaty, tumbled off her, onto his back. Not ready to let him go, she rolled onto him and fused her lips to his.

“I knew when I met you that you were a powerful witch,” he said against her mouth. “And I was right. Because you have bewitched me. Utterly and completely.”

She was spellbound by him, too, and prayed the magic they made together would prove powerful enough to protect them from Queen Morgan’s wrath if she ever discovered their secret.

He threw the soft blanket over her. The night was growing cold, but snuggled close as they were, Jenna had never felt warmer, inside and out. Being with him like this—in the open air and moonlight with the woods all around—felt…well,
enchanting
.

“Translate for me the vow we exchanged, my knight.”

He shivered under her. “I will tell you if you promise never to call me that bedeviling name again.”

She blinked down at him, perplexed. “Why?”

“That is what
she
calls me.” He bit out the words through clenched teeth. “And to hear it from your lips makes my blood run cold.”

“What endearments am I allowed?”

“What’s wrong with Axel?”

“Nothing.” She kissed him. “Axel is a lovely name. But wouldn’t you like me to call you something less…well,
formal
at times?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like during pillow talk—or in the throes of passion.”

“What would you need to say to me in the throes of passion?”

“I don’t know…” A blush warmed her cheeks. She felt awkward talking about this, but wasn’t about to stop now. “Something like, ‘You feel amazing,’ ‘Please don’t stop,’ or ‘Give it to me harder.’”

“Well, let me see…” A teasing smile bowed his lips. “Maybe you had better say them all again, but using my name this time—to be certain I understand exactly what you mean.”

Happy to play along, she rubbed against his budding erection and said, as throatily as she could manage, “You feel amazing, Axel. Please don’t stop, Axel. Give it to me harder, Axel.”

With a wicked smile, he pushed his now fully erect cock into her. “As you can clearly see, my own name accomplishes your purpose perfectly well.”

It did indeed, and she liked it this way—on top where she had control and could watch his changing expressions as she drove him to the heights of ecstasy. It made her feel bold and powerful; it made her feel wicked and vampy without being ashamed of her sexuality.

“Tell me what we said when we handfasted.”

He smiled up at her. “We said:

Heart to thee, hand to thee,

Body to thee, ever faithful;

Ours shall be a joining of souls,

Ours shall be a marriage of equals;

This is the promise I make to thee,

And hereafter swear to uphold.”

Her throat tightened as her eyes welled with tears. “That’s beautiful. And perfect.”

“As are you, Jenna.” He touched her face with a tenderness that made her ache. “Beautiful and perfect.”

PART TWO

The Red-Haired Lass

Chapter 12

Jenna was pulled from a deep, satisfying sleep by the hooting of an owl, which, as she opened her eyes, struck her as odd. The sun was up and owls were nocturnal hunters. Stranger yet, she was in the woods, stark naked under a rabbit-fur blanket and not alone. Axel was still there, spooned against her with his arm around her and his face in her hair.

She closed her eyelids, taking a moment to savor the intimacy and closeness of his embrace. When he pressed his erection in the small of her back, she rolled over to face him.

“Good morning. Why are you still here?”

“Would you rather I was elsewhere?”

“No.” She pushed back his hair. “I just thought you were supposed to return to your post by dawn.”

“Hush.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do not tell anyone. I am breaking the rules.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And, before I forget to tell you, you look more beautiful than ever this morning.”

She felt beautiful, too. Was it the handfasting or his obvious love for her that made her feel this good? She couldn’t be sure. She only knew the whole world looked different. More alive and vibrant somehow. Like she’d been looking through smudged lenses all this time without realizing how dirty they were.

Needing to touch him, she skimmed her hand down the length of his arm as her gaze skimmed along his rippled abdomen. A trail of golden-brown hair ran from the patch across his chest to the thicket between his thighs. She couldn’t keep her fingers from walking that trail down his powerful ribcage and flat belly. She’d never experienced this kind of lazy intimacy before and enjoyed it enormously.

“I like having you here—to touch and explore in the daylight—but won’t you get in trouble?”

His mouth cocked into a lopsided smile. “Not if I avoid getting caught.”

She pressed her lips to his and moved her hand to the side of his face. His skin was smooth and his whiskers bristly. He captured her hand and held it against his cheek as he returned her kiss. Longing leaped to the fore. She wanted him again, even though they’d made love multiple times throughout the night. Surprisingly, she wasn’t sore down there, just swollen and aching with the need to have him inside her again.

Would she ever get enough of him?

As their tongues collided, he rolled onto her and parted her legs with his knees. He groaned into her mouth as he took possession of her. Their joining felt so meant to be, as if he was the only key in the whole wide world that fit the lock to the cell where she had kept her true self imprisoned all these years.

When he began to move inside her, she wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles in the small of his back. Lifting her pelvis, she met him thrust for thrust, taking him into her as far as he would go. Just as they both reached the breaking point, the owl hooted again.

Axel went stiff and pushed up on his arms. Worry etched his features as his gaze darted around the clearing, then back to her. “Was that an owl I just heard?”

“Yes.” She was puzzled by his reaction. “It’s probably the same one I’ve seen watching me.”

Pulling out of her, he sat back on his haunches. He looked genuinely discomfited, which unsettled her to the point of panic.

“What is it, Axel? What does it mean? Is an owl hooting when it’s light out some sort of bad omen?”

“Aye. Under normal circumstances, seeing or hearing an owl in the daylight portends the death of a loved one.”

The fierce look in his eyes gave her chills. At last, she’d caught a glimpse of his Viking side. She almost didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “What does it mean in this case?”

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “I fear it means we’ve been found out.”

Dread tightened her stomach and tingled in her extremities. “I don’t understand. How does it mean that?”

He clambered to his feet. Cold morning air rushed in to fill the void. Shivering, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders. Axel was searching the trees—for the owl, presumably.

“Answer me,” she demanded. “Why do you think it means we’ve been found out?”

He turned his troubled gaze on her. “Because it’s not a real owl. It’s a shifter. One of Queen Morgan’s vampires.”

“How do you know that for sure?”

“I am not absolutely certain, but a real owl with any sense would steer clear of a falcon’s territory—especially during the day.”

Before she could probe further, his whole body began to pixelate. She watched, unsure what was happening, as his dissipating silhouette changed in form and size. Within moments, a huge white falcon with speckled wings took shape. Hopping onto a low-hanging branch, the bird pivoted its head to look at her. The eyes that met hers unmistakably belonged to Axel.

“Go back to the cottage, lock the door, and let no one in,” the bird said through its hooked beak. “I have placed runic poles around the cottage to keep them from entering without an invitation.”

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “What are you going to do?”

“Find the owl and kill it—before it can report what it’s seen to Morgan.”

Fear tightened her throat. “What if she already knows?”

“Let us hope she does not.”

At that, the gyrfalcon spread its enormous speckled wings and flew away.

* * * *

Axel kicked himself in the tailfeathers as he circled the glen in search of the owl. Had he not left his post unattended, the spy never could have slipped through the portal unnoticed. Now, due to his negligence, the risk of Morgan finding out about his relationship with Jenna was much higher.

Dread filled his wee falcon heart. Luckily, his bird brain was incapable of processing the range of potential punishments. He only knew the queen would make him pay for his disloyalty in some dreadful way.

But, to fracture the old saying, what she did not know could not hurt him.

He scanned the landscape below for the feathered spy. Spotting the owl would not be easy, as they were proficient at hiding themselves from the sharp-eyed diurnal birds of prey with which they competed for choice hunting grounds.

Flying lower, he circled again, fighting to stem the ink of hatred that threatened to blacken his heart. He had worked for so long to free himself from that toxic emotion—the bait the ego used to trap humans in fear. For love could not enter where fear already dwelled, and inner peace was only possible when love was present.

The secret to finding serenity was both simple and nearly impossible: Love everyone and everything at all times without fail.