Son of No One (4 page)

The woman moved forward, toward the fray.

Distracted, he felt the bite of the creature he was fighting. Cursing, he beat it back and killed it an instant before she started running again.

“Halt!”

She froze and held her arms up, away from her sides. “Don't shoot!”

Why would she think that? “I have no bow or crossbow, lass. They be useless against them, anyways.”

“Okie-dokie, then.” She turned to face him.

Cadegan's breath caught as he finally took in her sassy features. Tall and thin, she lacked the curves he'd once preferred on a woman's body. But her face was that of a dark, innocent angel. Her silky black hair and dark eyes reminded him of home. Worse, he held a sudden desire to touch her long tresses to see if they were as silky soft as they appeared. To inhale them for her sweet scent.

Canolbwyntio!
This had to be a trap of some sort. That was all that awaited those damned to this never-realm of madness. Neither the human world nor Camelot nor Avalon, this was Terre Derrière le Voile—the dark hole between those worlds where his brother had sent him to wait out eternity. Forever able to see the color-filled realms he could no longer reach or visit, no matter how much power he wielded.

Leave her to them, then, and go.

It was the sanest thing to do. But then he'd gone insane centuries ago.

Now …

Like the ones out to claim her, he wanted her with him. For a bit. If for nothing else, just to ease the loneliness that was his sole companion.

Was a few minutes of conversation really too much to ask?

Damn it to Lucifer's bloody hell
.

And damn him as well.

Before he could stop himself, Cadegan held his hand out to her. “Follow with, lass, and I shall see thee to safety.”

Jo hesitated as she tried to make sense of his singsongy words. “Who are you?”

“Cadegan.”

Man, that was one seriously thick accent on that boy. And it was an odd one, to boot. A peculiar cross that landed somewhere between an Irish or Scottish brogue and thick English. Yet it was nothing like she'd ever heard before. “Cah-who?”

He slowed it down for her. “CUH-doo-gun.”

“Cadegan.” She cringed, hoping she didn't insult him with her mispronunciation. If she did, he didn't correct her for it. “Mine's easy. I'm Jo.”

“Jo. We must to do now. I've hit them sick, but we can't stay. There will be more. There always is.”

This was worse than trying to understand her Romanichal grandmother when she got onto one of her serious Angloromani kicks. “Are you trying to help me?”

“Aye.”

“All right, but I have a shoe, buddy, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

Cadegan had no idea what that meant, but it sounded vaguely like a threat. If they had more time, he'd laugh at the thought of such a skinny woman thinking she could do him harm. Or any woman or man, for that matter. But this wasn't the time. They had to get away before something pinched her from him.

She finally placed her delicate hand into his, and he cursed the fact he wore the gauntlets that kept him from feeling her skin on his. He'd been without a human touch for so long that he couldn't remember the sensation at all. Not that he'd ever known much.

Still … everyone yearned for some degree of physical contact.

Even the cursed and damned.

He pulled her back toward the dugout that had served as his home since Leucious had imprisoned him here. It wasn't much. A hutch, really. Yet it was clean and serviceable. Best of all, it could be locked down and sealed to keep the others out, long enough for him to sleep or eat, anyway.

With his powers, he opened the stone doorway and allowed her to enter his home first. “Sorry it's such a
daever
.”

“Diaper?”

“Diaper?” he repeated, not comprehending her term any more than she understood his. “Hovel,” he tried again.

Jo smiled as she finally got his meaning. “Same thing.”

“Ah.”

Frowning, she watched as he spread his hand out and a massively huge rock rolled over the opening they'd stepped through. The moment it was in place, ten sconces lit themselves around her, showing her the hobbit hole he lived in. The floor beneath her feet was made of high-polished hardwood planks, while twisted saplings appeared to hold up a curved hand-plastered ceiling over their heads. They also supported a small, raised, second-floor loft where a modest bed was set on a small platform that appeared to have drawers in it, and a washstand. All in all, the place reminded her of an earthen studio apartment. Probably around a few hundred square feet in total.

There was a hearth to her left with a small black cauldron and percolator in it. Two more pots and a Dutch oven hung from mantel hooks. The walls were bare, except for a collection of impressive swords, spears, and axes. And more shields than she'd ever seen in her life. It was only then that she realized she could see color inside here. Unlike the outside that had been in pure black and white.

“Would you be craving for a dibble, lass?”

She returned her gaze to him, then gasped as she realized how much larger he was than she'd assumed.
Holy snikes!
He had to be well over six feet, with massively broad shoulders. Dressed in a black monk-styled robe and cloak, complete with a rope belt, he was mountainous. He pulled off a pair of chain mail gloves and tucked them into his belt.

When she didn't respond, he lowered the robe's cowl to finally show her his face. Her breath caught as she saw eyes so blue, like a clear Caribbean sea, they were electrifying. Unnatural. His dark blond hair was cut way too short. Fierce military style. And while his blond whiskers were a bit long, as if he hadn't shaved for a few weeks, they weren't a full beard, nor were they unkempt. It was a sexy mess that added an extremely rugged quality to an otherwise beautifully perfect masculine face.

“Did you hear me, lass? Would you be craving for a dibble?”

If a dibble was a warm Cadegan in her bed, then heck yeah. Sign her up and spam her e-mail! She'd take
that
and then some.

“I'm not quite sure what you're asking me.”

A slow, teasing grin spread across his handsome face, making him all the more appealing and delectable. “Food. Drink. Be you craving a … bite?”

Disappointment made her pout. Not the offer she was looking for. She shook her head. “I'm good. Thanks, though.”

He inclined his head before he removed his cloak with a flourish and hung it up on a peg in the wall. Turning back toward her, he hesitated. His unexpected bashfulness was sweetly charming and made him seem almost real.

“So Cade … you're tall, sexy, swanky, live in a hobbit hole. Anything else I need to know about you? Like is there a Mrs. Giant-Hobbit you share your abode with?”

He didn't answer, as he appeared to be struggling with comprehension. Instead, he dropped his gaze to her hand. A hunger she couldn't fathom darkened his eyes. “May I?” he asked hesitantly.

“What?”

Approaching her slowly, he reached for her arm as if he expected her to evaporate. With an unimaginable tenderness, he took her hand into his and closed his eyes as if savoring the feel of it. He bit his bottom lip in the hottest expression she'd ever seen on a man's face, and cupped her hand between his. His breathing ragged, he led her hand to his cheek and held her knuckles to his skin as if she were a sacred relic. He actually trembled as he mumbled in that melodic language she couldn't even begin to decipher.

A part of her was terrified by his actions. Was he totally nuts? But he wasn't threatening her. Rather, he acted as if he hadn't been around another person in a really long time.

“Are you all right?”

He inhaled her skin an instant before he released her and stepped back. “Sorry, lass. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“No problem. I've been on much creepier dates than this. Embarrassing, too, and that was while I was actually awake for them … with witnesses I knew.”

He smiled at that, then went to a handmade cupboard where he poured himself a goblet of wine. Just as he started to take a drink, something slammed into the stone he'd rolled into place as a door.

Gasping in fear, Jo sidled up to him.

Cadegan handed her the goblet. “Set your nerves, lass. Have a dab. I promise you, they'll not get in here. And never through me.”

She thanked him and took the wine while whatever was outside did its best to make him out a liar. “Can I ask you something?”

He poured himself another goblet. “Aye.”

“What language are you speaking?”

“English, I be thinking.” The way he said it sounded more like Ang-lish.

“Aren't
you
English?”

Rage flashed so heatedly in his eyes that she stepped back immediately.

“Sorry, Cade. I didn't mean to insult you.”

A tic beat in his jaw before he downed the contents of his goblet in one gulp and poured another. “I'm
Brythoniaid
.”

“That is absolutely beautiful. No idea where it is or why my brain is coughing this up, but okay. I must have been cruising Wikipedia entries again.” She clanked her metal goblet against his. “Here's to Bri … whatever it is you just said.”

Cadegan laughed at her words, then froze as the sound shocked him. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. At anything. It sounded so strange to his ears.

She was charming him to a frightful level.

And she made him ache for things he knew could never be his. “You might know me as Cymry or … Welsh.”

“Ah! Now
that
I do know. Explains a lot, actually.… Awesome sauce.” She finished off her wine and set her goblet on his small table. “I always wanted to hit the UK. Must be why my brain's conjuring this up during my coma state. Now that I think about it, you kind of remind me of the dude who plays the Arrow.… Yeah, I'm seeing the connection finally.”

Cadegan snorted at her gibberish. “If I sound as
moithered
to you, lass, as you do unto me, I apologize to the cavern's depth for it.”

“I think ‘yeah' is the right answer to that. But it's okay. Comas aren't supposed to make sense. Right?”

He smirked at her question. “I hate to be the breeder of bad tidings for you, but you're not sleeping.”

Jo tensed at that. It couldn't be right.
Please be lying to me.
“Pardon?”

He gestured around his cave. “This is as real as Bran's thorny horns.”

“No. It's not.” This being real made no more sense than anything he said to her.

Nodding, he set his goblet aside.

“I don't believe you. Prove it.”

Cadegan had no idea how to do that without harming her, and for some reason, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He rather enjoyed her bantering nonsense, and liked the fact she didn't fear him.

“Well?” she taunted.

A devil grin curved his lips as he thought of a way to prove it and not hurt her. Before he could reconsider it or stop himself, he dipped his lips down to hers and kissed her deep. But he was wholly unprepared for the sensation of tasting her so intimately. For the sensations that kiss would ignite inside him.

Sucking his breath in sharply, he fisted his hand in her silken hair and explored her mouth with a forgotten hunger and longing that resurfaced with vengeful talons. His body came alive with a need so fierce, it challenged every bit of his will to restrain himself.

Duw
give him strength.

Jo couldn't have been more stunned had the man slapped her. But as he held her so close to his lush, hard body while he boldly explored her mouth, she realized just how ripped he was. How incredibly masculine and hot. Wickedly warm, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, aching for a body she was sure would feel incredible on top of hers.

If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up. Not if he wouldn't be there with her.

When he finally pulled back, he stared down at her with a bitter ache that made her chest tighten.

“Do you believe me now, lass?”

Reaching up, she fingered his lips as his taste lingered with her. She loved the sensation of his whiskers teasing her flesh. “If I'm not unconscious, where am I?”

He winced before he released her and stepped back. “Hell.”

“No.” She looked around the stark, pitiful cave as those creatures still attempted to get in. “No,” she repeated a little less certain this time. “No. It's not possible.”

“Why not?”

“'Cause … I didn't earn hell.” Suddenly angry, she glared up at the ceiling. “What? You cheat on one stupid little eye test once in tenth grade because you don't want to wear glasses and look like a nerd, and you get banished to hell for it? Really?”

She glanced back at Cadegan. “Yeah, you're right.
That's
my crappy luck. I knew I should have cheated on my taxes. At least once! But no. I play by the rules, and get screwed. Always. Set your clock to it, folks.” She nodded as she paced the small room. “I do believe you! I am in hell. How perfect is this?”

He snorted at her outburst. “You don't belong here. You're right about that. How did you get in, anyway?”

“I tripped on a rug and must have cracked my head on the sideboard and died. How spectacular is that?” She looked up at the ceiling again. “Thanks, Selena! You bitch! I couldn't even go out choking on a banana split. Nah, I go out stupidly and on a diet, no less. No fair! I should have had French toast, cake and ice cream, and not plain icky diet yogurt for breakfast. Where do I lodge a complaint?”

He laughed.

Until she popped him lightly on the belly. “It's not funny! My whole life has been nothing more than to serve as a cautionary tale for others. Unbelievable.”