Bewitched & Betrayed
Page 15“What?”
Vegard was here, so I knew Tam wouldn’t actually try anything, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t play with me like a mouse.
Sarad Nukpana would do the same thing.
Tam was right. He couldn’t let me go.
“You chose the game, darling. I didn’t.” His lips were near the tip of my ear. “Escape from me, and feel free to do whatever you have to—” He froze, then inhaled, taking my scent. “Mychael.”
My heart did a double thump. Goblins had a predator’s sense of smell. “Mychael what?”
“I can smell him on you.” Tam inhaled again, deeper. “All over you.”
I sighed. I’d really wanted to avoid this. “You said it yourself, those Reapers almost killed me. Mychael healed me. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be alive and standing here for you to sniff.”
Tam was silent for a few moments. “Mychael told me that your injuries were quite extensive—covering nearly your entire body.”
“So was the healing he had to do.”
“I’m familiar with the process.” Tam’s voice was flat and emotionless. “How long?”
I wasn’t going to lie to him. “Ten hours. Seven for healing, three for sleep.”
“In bed.” He paused. “Together. And bare skin works best.”
“Yes,” I said simply. “Tam, I—”
“Mychael did what he had to do.” Tam’s warm breath exhaled against my ear. “I am grateful for his talent—and that he was there when you needed him.”
Those were his words. With goblins, it was the meaning behind the words that you had to listen for. Tam knew what Mychael had done—and now he knew exactly how he’d done it. While that knowledge had probably bumped Tam’s alpha male possessiveness up a few notches, at the same time he was sincerely grateful that Mychael had been able to save my life, and was all too aware that he wouldn’t have been able to do the same.
Tam also knew about the magical bond that only Mychael and I shared—a bond that was drawing us closer every day. Though I didn’t know anymore how much of our closeness was the bond and how much was our own growing attraction to each other.
I swore silently. Now Tam was jealous, had a wounded ego, and a stomped foot. Earlier, I’d almost made Vegard cry. I was just spreading cheer all over the place today.
“Mychael did his job, and he did it well.” Tam’s voice was all business. “Now I’m going to do mine equally well. Teach you how to kill a goblin.”
He loosened his hold on me.
“Excuse me?” Tam asked, genuinely confused.
“You’re right. I got myself into this; I have to get myself out. Sarad Nukpana wouldn’t let me go, so you shouldn’t, either. Though what I’d do to Nukpana wouldn’t exactly work on you.”
“And what would that be?”
“You’re a little taller than he is. My head fits under your chin with about an inch to spare. Though if I jumped up hard enough, I might get the same results.”
Tam grinned. “A head butt.”
“Nukpana’s the perfect height for me. Let my head sag forward a little in defeat, then snap it back under his chin and knock out some of the bastard’s teeth.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, I’d enjoy it, too.”
Tam snuggled closer. “What would you do next?” he whispered.
Goblins. What other race got excited talking about in-fighting?
“Once he let me go to catch the teeth falling out of his mouth, I’d stab or slit whatever I could reach. I don’t think I’d be picky at that point.”
While we’d talked, Tam had loosened his hold on me ever so slightly. It might be enough. Only one way to find out.
“Sarad Nukpana’s not the one holding you now,” Tam said on the barest breath. “I am. So what are you going to—”
I threw my head back as a diversion, then drove my elbow hard into his stomach. After a gratifying “oof” from Tam, I twisted sharply and drove my other elbow into his ribs. I was rewarded with a pained hiss and freedom.
I got the hell out of range and got my blades on guard, balancing on the balls of my feet, ready to move wherever Tam didn’t. Sometimes winning a fight just meant surviving.
Tam didn’t come after me. He just stood there, his right arm cradling his ribs. I wasn’t buying the wounded bird routine. I hadn’t hit him that hard.
Tam blew his breath in and out, wincing with every inhale. Okay, maybe he wasn’t faking it.
“You okay?”“You bumped a rib I’ve had broken a couple of times.”
“That was damned near my best shot and you call it a bump?” I felt a sudden urge to hit him again, harder this time.
Tam breathed in and hissed the air out. “It never healed quite right.” He slowly stood straight. “I’m fine.”
“Which rib?”
One side of Tam’s mouth curved up in a smile. “What, so you can hit me again?”
“So I know what to avoid, you idiot. I’m not the only one Nukpana is after, so I’m not the only one who doesn’t need to get hurt.”
“Second rib, obviously the left side.”
“Injury noted. I’ll avoid it next time.”
Tam spun his blades with graceful and deadly efficiency, then flashed a grin full of fang. “Who says I’m going to let you have a next time?”
He circled off to the left, faster and smoother than any mortal creature had a right to move. I moved with him, keeping as much distance between us as possible. Tam lunged, both blades extended, his long legs damned near giving him the reach he needed to skewer me. I parried sharply, pivoted off, and kept moving, quicker now. Tam could circle and feint all day. Sarad Nukpana would do it as long as it was fun, and when he was ready, he’d move in for the kill.
“Raine, you’ve got two Khrynsani guards coming with more on the way.” Tam’s voice was sharp, commanding. It was his fencing master’s voice; it was also the voice telling me move my ass, do something, and stay alive. There weren’t really any bloodthirsty Khrynsani closing in on me, blades drawn for the kill, but Tam wanted me ready for any scenario. At least it was only two this time; last time he’d made it four.
Tam’s words were a staccato bark. “Stop running! Fight!”
He was right. I was running, but not from him.
I was running from Sarad Nukpana, from the inevitable. I would meet him, and if I didn’t kill him, he would do worse than kill me. I didn’t want to get anywhere near the crazed son of a bitch. He scared me. Hell, he didn’t just scare me. He terrified me. I didn’t just want to run. I wanted to run and hide. The goblin was turning himself into a monster, a monster whose only goal was to consume me and all that I was.
After he killed everyone that I loved.
After he killed them slowly, reveling in their agony, murdering them in the most hideous way I had ever seen.
I saw a dried corpse on a slab, but it wasn’t General Aratus, not this time. The image was so clear, too real, the stench of dried flesh too cloying. The slender body lying on that slab wore the pale gray uniform of a Guardian cadet; the face was—
A scream built in my throat, rage fighting for a voice, desperate for release.
“Kill him!” roared a voice I only vaguely recognized as Tam. Then it twisted, the words a phantom echo in my head, taunting, silken smooth, daring me to kill him, laughing that I had already failed.
I had failed to kill him before he killed Piaras.
And ending my terror.
I was on the floor, on top of Tam, the full edge of my blade against his throat, one hand on the grip, the other flat against the blade, ready to shove the steel home through his throat.
I drew a sharp breath, horror choking me. I opened both hands and dropped the blade. It fell against Tam’s neck. He left it there, his hands closing around mine, holding, comforting.
Only then was I aware of Vegard’s hand firmly gripping the back of my doublet at the neck, pulling me back.
“Steady, Raine,” Tam said. “It’s all right. Breathe. There you go, love. Just breathe.”
When I did, Vegard released me. I sat back, breathing heavily.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” Vegard’s voice was low and professional, a Guardian’s voice, a Guardian who’d just stopped a killing.
I nodded. My mouth was dry, my throat raw. I dimly remembered screaming like a crazy woman.
“Did I scream?” I rasped.
“Yes, you did,” Tam said. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, not after what those Reapers did to you.”
I laughed, dry and hollow. My throat felt like it was on fire. “You’re sorry?” The laugh turned into a cough. “I almost—”
Tam’s now-gloveless hands were smoothly rubbing up and down my arms, soothing, calming. “Almost doesn’t count in a sword fight. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not the one who went nuts.”
“You didn’t go ‘nuts.’ You tapped your rage is what you did. Cold, hard rage.”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” Vegard told me. “It happens.”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘it happens’?”
Vegard sheathed his sword. I hadn’t even realized he’d had it in his hand. I closed my eyes and forced down a shudder. I’d even scared Vegard.
“My people call it berserker, ma’am,” he was saying. “And if you ask me, it’s what you’re going to need.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">