2 Jul, 2010
Carina Press June 2010
Motioning to the guard standing watch, Bryton headed straight into the darkness. He had no clue where he was going but followed the call of the wind. Grasses, tree roots and brambles grabbed at his boots but his feet never slowed. Fear did not touch him. Concern for his path never crossed his mind. Only the song mattered, the mournful lilting of wordless melody.
Prairie gave way to forest. The forest grew thicker then thinned to sparseness. The gusts dried his eyes and he blinked. A taste of honey burst onto his tongue when he licked his lips, the sweetness blending with the bitter drink. Without thought, he opened his mouth to draw more of the flavor inside.
“I am called for you. I come to soothe the ache inside. I come to give you peace.”
Bright in the satin sky, the moon shone full with a throng of stars twinkling like torches. Bryton scanned the heavens but could see nothing but light and dark. An outcrop jutted over a vale. The funneled wind pushed at him until he stood at the precipice, the forest tops silvered below him. Icy-green leaves frosted by moonlight didn’t move, though his tunic snapped like a sail.
“I am called for you.”
“Who are you?” he yelled into the night. “Who sent you?”
“I am called to heal your wounds.”
His ragged breath battling the gale, he fisted his hands. “Show yourself to me then.”
The wind calmed but his pulse pounded with a vicious thud. His bones quivered, not from chill but anger. He only knew one person with the power to call a magic spirit—his beloved pain-in-the-ass queen. A dark spot grew larger in the moon’s circle. It flapped powerful wings once and then glided to descent. A fragile second before the owl landed beside him, a swirl of lilac shimmered along the golden brown feathers. A woman stepped off the air and stood before him.
Moonglow dazzled on long hair the shades of the owl’s feathers. A thin gold braid secured it low on her nape, but full waves fought the hold. Wide gray eyes scrutinized him and a tiny smile bowed her pink lips. Her chin was a touch too pointed to be beautiful but it elongated the graceful column of her throat, and his gaze slid down to her one bared shoulder. The delicate exposed curve glistened like cream. Myla’s chiton had been a draped length of ruby red silk affixed at both shoulders. This woman’s chiton shone like blazing fire, sunrise against an ebony sky.
With her hands clasped lightly before her, she bowed her head. “I am Salome. I am called for you, Bryton Haruk.”
“I don’t need a guardian,” he snapped.
“I am not a guardian.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am a peacemaker.”
Snorting, he shook his head. “Yeah, well, you’re shit out of luck then, because I don’t want peace. I want bloodshed and a lot of it. So just fly back to wherever you came from and leave me alone.”
“I cannot do that. I am called for you and am bound to you until you find respite.”
The formality of her words reminded him of Myla when he’d first met her. And that irritated him even more. She’d been a pain in the ass and this one could be no different. Frustration tore through him with a growl. He spun and stomped away from the crag edge only to return and point a finger at her. “I don’t like birds. Go migrate or something.”
“I cannot.”
“Myla needs to keep her magic nose the hell out of my life. Go tell her that I sent you away.”
“I cannot.”
“Cannot! Cannot! What can you do? Besides be a bird and a lullaby in the wind.”
Her smile transformed her face, rounding rosy cheeks and crinkling her eyes. The pretty but unremarkable features turned to glorious beauty and his breath caught. “I can help you lay your pain to rest.”
Arms spread wide, he glared at her. “So do it, birdie. Do your damnedest so you can fly into the night.”
Like petals dropping from a full blooming rose, her smile fell. Her head shake spread her hair along her back in ripples of maple cream. “Peace does not come like a ship on the water. You must open your heart and be ready to accept it.”
He crossed his arms and shifted his jaw. “My heart is dead. I have no use for pretty words or pretty women unless their legs are spread. Are you offering?”
“Is that what you require? ’Tis an easy enough request.” Salome slid her feet apart, widening her stance on the rocky outcrop.
Her naive compliance with his brash proposition ripped a grunted laugh from him. “Go away, Salome.”
The scent of wild honey assaulted him as she stepped closer. The elegance in her movement melted her gown to her skin, caressing curves hidden beneath silk. His thighs tightened and his gaze dropped to her throat. His body responded but that was easy to ignore. He’d always liked beautiful women, admired their form even when he had no intentions of acting on those thoughts. She was small, tiny compared to him, barely reaching his Adam’s apple. A long-fingered hand moved toward him and his knees locked to prevent stepping away. Her touch, light as a feather, landed above his heart.
“Your heart is not dead, only wounded. Only you have the true power to let go of your anger, your hate, your pain. I am but a tool to aid you.”
“I have enough tools. I have this.” Metal rasped against the scabbard as he drew his sword. The leather-wrapped grip felt right in his hand, familiar and soothing. He refused to think about her palm pressed to his chest feeling the same way. “I don’t need anything else.”
Starlight danced along the blade, highlighting the sheen, the scratches, the lethal edge, the etched word Salvation.
Her gaze traced from tip to hilt then returned to his face. Twilight-gray, her eyes held infinity and he fought against getting lost in them. They stared with never-ending patience. “You need me.”
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