Now was not the
time.
He crossed the
threshold, stepping from the cloaking shadows and catching her notice. She
gasped in surprise at his entrance, a hand flying to her chest. Holding her brown
gaze with his own, he moved forward and helped her rise from the low seat. She
ducked her head under his scrutiny but grudgingly accepted his help. Once on
her feet, however, she snatched her hand from his grasp as though bitten.
She looked him
over, frowning. “You removed much of your silver. Why?”
He’d kept only
the arm braces and the circlet of his rank. “I won’t need them for the
journey.” They could only be a hindrance.
“My own garment
is hardly suitable for everyday wear, let alone travel. Have you nothing more
I might wear that would be less….” She hesitated, pulling the edges of the
neckline closer, nudging the deep armholes wide and exposing the sides of her
breasts to his view. “Revealing?”
“I’m afraid not.
Many here do not wear garments at all. Those of us that do must be able to
strip it loose quickly for shifting. You are fortunate I was able to procure
you a gown at all.” It was only a slight fabrication, he mused. The women
always enjoyed adorning their bodies with fabric, jewels, and metals--none went
completely nude as the men wished.
“I thank you,
then, my lord.” Nervous, she smoothed her gown. The motion drew his gaze. He
followed her hands as they molded the fabric of the gown against her ample
curves.
She was strangely
subdued, but the quick flash of her eyes as he met her gaze once more told him
that it was a mere facade. A tempest brewed under that calm surface--one that
would likely kill him if he turned his back.
“Though I much
prefer the ... alternative, you are most welcome,” he said silkily.
Doubtless she
knew not how inviting her subtle actions, how it increased the blood flooding
his groin ... else she would cease her movements and hold still. If anything,
clothed as she was, her charms were only enhanced. He had yet to feast his
eyes fully on her nakedness--not to the degree he would have liked at any
rate. Would that he had the time to simply look on her charms for as long as
he willed.
At the look in
his eyes, Swan felt her body heat with remembrance, at her own boldness and
attempts at seduction. And the way her efforts backfired on her. If one could
consider the lustful passion and ecstasy she’d felt remorseful.
She tried to
quell both the memories and her reaction to them, and to him, and yet she
couldn’t help staring at him, allowing her gaze to roam down his chiseled form
to the bulge cloaked by his brown kurt. He had been inside her, when she’d
allowed no man to touch her in many years.
But then, she
reminded herself, she’d not allowed Raphael. He’d taken, without exactly
gaining her permission. She hadn’t told him no, for she knew she was at fault
arousing him to that point. She also didn’t want to admit, even to herself,
that she’d enjoyed it. Pride demanded she remain aloof an unwilling to concede
her defeat.
Realizing she was
staring at his manhood, Swan glanced quickly at his face--wondering if he’d
been aware of her assessing gaze. The perfection of his form made it difficult
to conceive that he was in truth, a beast, and yet the look in his eyes could
leave no doubt an animal lurked inside. Nor could his actions of before. Only
a manbeast would dare to force her without the slightest guilt over his
actions. If she was in her own world, she’d have punished him, but here, she
tread on dangerous ground and was at his mercy.
How it rankled.
Privately, she
could excuse him—she knew very well that she’d pushed too far to withdraw
gracefully. She could excuse herself and say she had not meant to, that she’d
been caught up in her own game, but that did not change the fact that she had
provoked what had happened between them.
Regardless of her
own culpability, she was appalled at her continued response to him after what
had passed between them, disturbed that his nearness alone could provoke a
heated response from her.
The crooked smile
on his full lips answered the question that he’d noticed her perusal, but it
vanished as he followed suit, examining her with equal interest. As his dark
gaze moved over her lingeringly, she had the conviction that he’d missed no
detail of her appearance; from her tousled honey brown hair curling over her
nude shoulders and near bared breasts, down to the length of her legs exposed
by the deep slits up the side of the gown.
An answering heat
swarmed her form under that deliberate, sweeping stare, and she reminded of
what he’d done to her and the desire that left her sex moist with want.
“Do you like what
you see?” Swan asked belligerently, determined to quash any burgeoning feelings
she might have.
“Is that an invitation?”
Raphael smiled and moved closer.
Swan took a step
back before she realized it. “No, it is not. You’ve had as much of me as I am
willing to give.” More than I was willing, she thought.
She clutched the
edges of her neckline together and held one hand up as warning to come no
closer. He stopped, his chest inches from her fingertips, near enough she
could feel the heat from his body.
His eyes
narrowed. “Do not make idle promises you cannot keep, my lady. Think you I
failed to notice your response to my touch? You may lie with your lips, but
your body betrays you.” He indicated her death grip on her clothing. “Think
you I will rip your gown away?”
Swan straightened
but did not relax her hold. “I would not be surprised if you did. You’ve
already demonstrated a certain lack of control.”
His brows drew
down in his anger. “I don’t make a habit of ravishing women.”
“You’ve done so.
Twice. Today and the night before.”
He chuckled and
rubbed a thumb along the stubble lining his jaw. “So you remember that time as
well?” His voice dropped by a finite degree. “Do you remember ...
everything? How you begged for more?”
Swan blushed.
“You’re lying.” The dream she’d awakened to, urging him on, had she really
done that? The fever had been brought on by magic. There was no telling what
she could have done.
“I would not lie
of such a thing, not a woman’s sweet entreaty for pleasure.”
The
suggestiveness of his voice caused heat to flare along her nerves. Swan
swallowed, her throat gone dry. His words evoked an erotic image in her mind,
of lips and teeth, sucking, nipping, driving her to the edge. In all truth,
she could not remember all he had done, nor how much she had encouraged him.
Had she truly begged for his caress?
He’d held back
before. She was certain of that. Some shred of honor had restrained him. It
was not until she’d tempted him that he’d broken control. She would never
allow that to happen again—tempting the beast, he’d called it.
“Would you like
me to refresh your memory?” He moved forward until her palm was pressed flat
against the hard plane of his chest. “I healed you with the touch of my hand.”
Slowly, holding
her gaze with his own, he stroked a finger up her arm, igniting a riot of
sensation to rivet through her nerves. A strange weakness pervaded her senses,
making her knees feel like jelly.
Swan shook her
head vigorously. “Never touch me that way again. I would rather die.”
“Are you so
certain?” He continued his slow, lingering stroke, drawing it across her
collarbone. “I think your will wavers....”
“Please do not
begin this,” she whispered with a shudder.
Something in her
eyes halted Raphael’s advance as her words could not. “You are afraid.”
Frowning, he
withdrew his hand from her. She thought he would say something more, but
after studying her for several long moments, he turned away. “Very well. We
have too little time, in any case, to properly pursue the matter. For the
moment, it would behoove you to explain the circumstances surrounding your
arrival in Shadowmere. Come, I have gathered food for you. Explain to me as
you eat.” He gestured toward a low standing table near the room’s entrance
that she had not noticed before.
Swan regarded him
warily, not certain she trusted the reprieve. Had he hated bedding a human as
much as she did a beastman? Their species were too different to coexist. It
was inevitable that they would hate one another. The thought sickened her,
inexplicably.
Perhaps he
respected her enough to obey her wishes? Was that possible? Was he not wholly
a savage as she’d been led to believe her whole life?
Disturbed by the
direction of her thoughts and her reaction to it, she changed the subject
abruptly, forcing a light tone to her voice. “Surely such a task as this is
too menial for the lord of the hunters?”
He was silent a
long moment. “It is best for now if I see to your needs. Now, before I take
you to your homeland--”
Swan gaped at
him, so stunned by what he had planned that it took her several moments to
react. “No! I cannot go back there, not as I am, not with him there! He
would kill me on sight were I to return.”
Raphael bade her
sit on the bed’s edge. Standing with legs braced apart, he crossed his arms
over his chest. “You’d best explain.”
He’d promised to
help her. As uncomfortable as it made her to tell the whole, sordid tale, and
the blind naiveté that had led her to such a pass, she couldn’t expect him to
walk blindly into danger.
She thought it
over for several moments, but decided she must begin at the beginning of her
troubles. “I came to rule Avonleigh at a young age. I would by far have
preferred the lives of my parents to the power that was my birthright and my
responsibility, however. Other than my younger sister, I had no one, certainly
no one to guide me. Morvere, my father’s sorcerer, seemed… an ally, a man I
could trust to advise me. He was always there for me over the years.
I knew not that he craved our
lands ... and me in his bed.”
She shivered in
revulsion, toying with the cheese she’d taken from her plate before continuing.
“Finally, he revealed his lusts to me. When I refused his advances, he cast a
changeling spell upon me, taking my finger as his prize to clip my wing.”
Uncomfortable
with the admission, she found herself unable to meet Raphael’s gaze. “Morvere
has a malicious humor. By day, I am cursed to be a swan, as my namesake. By
night I return to my human form. I believe he expected me to die by sending me
here. I have only scattered memories when I’m transformed. More than
anything, the helplessness, of not being able to fly strikes me most.”
Strangely, she
found when she had finished that it was a relief to have someone to talk to, to
finally have the sordid mess out in the open. For some reason, she did not
feel so hopeless now, having told him.
“I sense you’ve
not told me everything,” Raphael said quietly.
“No, I have not.
I told the truth before, in the woods. I knew not how I came to be here.
Morvere is powerful, more so than I ever imagined. Some spell transported me
here ... to die....”
Raphael studied
her for a long moment, as if searching for the truth in her eyes. Finally, he
turned away, pacing the room, deeply in thought. Swan watched him, hopeful,
unnerved also that a solution had not immediately presented itself to him.
“If what you say
is true,” he said at last, “I must consider another possibility, rather than
taking you directly to Avonleigh.”
Swan nodded,
feeling relief seep through her. “What is that?”
“Magic can only
be fought by magic. I know of a mage who may have answers for you. Have you
finished eating?”
She looked down
at her nearly full plate in some surprise. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“You could lose
more than that before we are done. Come, follow me.” He strode toward the
door, but her voice stopped him.
“Can I trust
you?”
“Can you afford
not to?”
* * * *
They packed
light, for travel was harsh if overburdened, and her change with the day almost
certainly slowed their progress. He had planned for that, however. One basket
held their provisions and space enough for their garments, the other was
empty. Raphael did not inform Swan that it would be for her when she shifted.
Likely it would disturb her knowing he planned to cage her, but even dumb
animals recognized predators when near, and he could take no chance she would
harm herself while she was trapped in the form of a bird.