Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3) Page 9

  “He’ll always be able to find me,” I said, wondering if I should stop her. She had to be touching him again. And he kind of belonged to me now. Should I warn her away from my property? I had never liked it when Melaina pawed through my things.

  Ugh. No. Even the idea of him being mine made my head swim all over again. That High Cliff scum—whoever he was—was not mine.

  And yet a small part of me still burned to remove her from his presence, because seriously, how dare she touch my mate?

  God, this was so weird. What was happening to me? If you didn’t have one of those damn High Cliff love marks, you weren’t supposed to feel the irresistible pull to your true love like a person who did have one. So why was I feeling anything at all for a stranger from an enemy land?

  “No matter where I go,” I murmured aloud. “He’ll just find me again.”

  “Yep,” Melaina agreed, panting and a little out of breath. I heard a scrape and shift of cloth. Dear God, was she removing his clothes? Touching intimate places?

  “Unless you kill him,” she added.

  Kill him?

  My stomach dipped. Killing had seemed like the only viable option when I’d thought he wanted to kill me, but now that I knew otherwise—

  Dear God, I honestly don’t think I could kill anyone in cold blood if it came right down to it. And all he’d done was smile at me, say hi, then given me really helpful fighting tips. He’d even praised the moves I’d done right. Not a very practical reason to end his life, I didn’t think.

  I spun around to argue my point, though I had no argument really to make in support of letting him go free, only to jar to a halt when I found my aunt clamping metal cuffs around his wrists.

  Releasing an exhausted breath, she straightened and dusted off her hands. “But I recommend tying him up and bringing him along.”

  “You kept the handcuffs?” I blurted stupidly, shuddering as I remembered how we’d had to use the dreaded things to make it north to Pinsky from Kole in the first place.

  But, of course, she’d kept them. This was Melaina we were talking about.

  “I thought they might come in handy.” Still breathless from her exertions, she set her hands on her hips and glanced down at the man with a satisfied nod. “And they did. See.” Glancing up, she beamed. “Turns out, the jeweler liked dominant women. So I’ve gotten to use them twice in one day. Bonus, huh?”

  I grimaced.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I cleaned the shackles before putting them on your true love.”

  “He’s not my—” I started to rebel, only to realize I couldn’t. There was no denying the response of his mark to me. But I had to deny something, so I pointed at him and snarled, “That piece of High Cliff trash is nothing to me.”

  Melaina only smiled. “You’re not going to argue the bringing-him-along part, though?” Lifting her eyebrows, she blew out a low, impressed whistle. “That’s surprising.”

  “Because I was sure I was hearing things when you said that.” Spinning away, I began to gather my things and pack them for travel.

  The village of Tyler wasn’t just going to come to us.

  And besides, I felt the urgent need to flee just now.

  “There’s no way in God’s name we’re bringing that man with us,” I said, clenching my teeth as I yanked with all my might to pull my second dagger from the trunk of another tree.

  “Well, we can’t leave him here. You and I both know he’ll just follow you. And you’ve already decided not to kill him.”

  When I frowned her way, she lifted a finger. “And don’t try to deny it. It’s written all over your face. You don’t want him dead.”

  I snorted and turned away, jamming my things into the saddlebags.

  “Think about it, dear heart. He’s like your own personal medical kit. Being your true love, he can fix any boo-boo you get with a single kiss. And he’ll protect you at any cost. He’d give up his life for yours.”

  When I sniffed again and sent her a disbelieving glance, she grinned and shrugged.

  “Plus, I’m sure he’ll willingly help you shed that pesky virginity of yours. It’s about time if you ask me.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Have you forgotten that he’s a High Clifter?” I argued. “Their kind is designed to kill my kind. I don’t care what idiotic, romantic notion his mark puts into his head, he’s dangerous, so I don’t want him here. If you do this—this keeping-him thing—then you’re responsible for him. And you make sure he stays far away from me. You hear?”

  She blinked, then let her mouth drop open. “Honestly, I can’t believe you gave in that easily.”

  “Well, what the hell else are we supposed to do?!” I shouted, yanking off my frock so I could change into a pair of traveling trousers and a tunic. Then I stomped my way into sturdy boots. “You just said so yourself: we can’t kill him for no good reason, and leaving him behind would be fruitless. Even if he didn’t follow us, I wouldn’t want him running free to tell just anyone where we were. There’s nothing else that can be done. But—” Lifting a hand to cover him from my peripheral vision, because the blurred vision of him I was seeing from the corner of my eye was distracting as hell. “You deal with him, or I will put him down. I refuse to interact with the monster at all. I may be his true love. But he is not mine. From here on out, he’s your pet to take care of and feed and water. Got it?”

  Melaina lifted an interested eyebrow and hummed deep in her throat as she glanced at the High Clifter. “Of course,” she murmured. “And I accept him. Thank you, dear niece. I promise to take good care of your true love.”

  On the ground, the stranger groaned and began to stir.

  Fuck. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the wind, hoping for a miracle to end this moment, because I was so not ready for whatever happened next.

  “Son of a bitch,” he rumbled, wincing as he tried to lift his bound hands toward his face. “Not again.”

  Pausing when he realized he wore shackles, he lifted his head from the ground and opened one eye to peer at them. “What the hell?”

  A second after that, he sucked in a breath and veered his attention directly toward me. His eyes were already a dark blue, but they seemed to deepen into a clear azure sky right before a sunset when they focused on me.

  “Holy shit.” Surging upright, he remained sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands bound together near his waist.

  “You...” He started, his voice breathless as if someone had just sucker punched him in the diaphragm. Then he shook his head slowly as he gazed at me with complete awareness, taking me in from head to toe.

  “Hello,” he finally greeted, his voice going husky and soft.

  Something uncomfortable and tense whirled through me. My pulse picked up, and oxygen levels went light. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew he was the source—or more on point, his interested gaze was the source. And I needed it to stop.

  So I narrowed my eyes. “Stop staring at me or I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

  His eyebrows shot sky-high. A moment later, his gaze darkened.

  “That’s right,” he murmured, air hissing from his lungs. “Shit.” He blew out a long breath and gazed up at the leaves of the trees around us with dazed shock. “You’re a Graykey.”

  His features paled and he swallowed audibly before turning a pale green and looking as if he might cast up his accounts.

  “Fuck me sideways, you’re an honest-to-God Graykey.” His breathing began to come in shallow rasps. Gabbing his hair, he pulled on it until it stuck out from his head in dark, wild spikes. “A Graykey. Why did I not see that one coming? I mean, with the luck I have, it was pretty much inevitable. But seriously?” He looked up further, at the sky this time, as if blaming the clouds for his misfortune. “What the fuck?”

  Ending his rant on a dramatic flair, he fell backward in the dirt until he was lying supine on the ground and laughing bitterly until he ended the maniacal so
und with a low, pained groan and ground the heels of his bound hands into his eye sockets. “Jesus, what am I going to do?”

  I blinked at him lying there on the ground, sulking. A second later, I sighed, growing impatient—because deep down in a place that would never see the light of day, his reaction stung—and I demanded, “Are you done freaking out yet?”

  “Nope.” He held up his pointer finger, which forced his other hand to lift as well since they were shackled together. “I’m gonna need a couple more seconds to come to terms with this one.”

  Then, once again sitting up abruptly, he lifted his hands to shake the chains in my direction. “And what is this about anyway? Am I supposed to be your prisoner now, or do you just have some kinky fetish about keeping your men bound? Because I’m sure you can convince me to be down for that, but I’d like to know upfront, if it’s all the same to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes, but all he did was raise his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting some kind of answer.

  I glanced toward Melaina. “As I said, I’m not dealing with him. He’s all yours.”

  With that, I put my back to the prisoner and started to pack our camp.

  “Looks like you belong to me, then, precious.” Slapping her hands together with mischievous delight, my aunt sent the High Clifter a saucy smile full of so much evil relish that it would put no one at ease. “Whatever should I do with you first, hmm?”

  “Wait. Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  Melaina gave a despondent sigh. “It’s just sad how no one knows who I am, anymore. You know, in my day, everyone knew my name. But, alas, that was apparently another lifetime ago before the damn Graykeys got a hold of me. You may call me Melaina, darling. Or cry it out hoarsely while you’re coming from the orgasms I plan to give you. Either way.”

  As she chuckled at her own joke, I couldn’t resist peeking at the High Clifter to gauge his reaction.

  Instead of appearing intrigued by her blatant invitation, however, he lifted appalled eyebrows and slowly said, “Right... So that’s never going to happen.” Then he glanced my way and motioned toward her. “Is the crazy redhead the person I have to thank for the sore skull I got in Pinsky?” He lifted his hand—er, both hands—to the back of his head and winced when he found the place where Melaina had bashed him a week ago.

  Melaina trilled out an amused laugh and waved a dismissive hand. “That’s all water under the bridge now, way back when I thought you were trying to kill my sweet niece here.”

  He zapped a horrified glance her way. “Niece! You mean, you’re—”

  “But now that we know you’re just her one true love, it’s all good, and we can be friends. Very, very close friends, if you like.”

  I went back to packing everything away as the man suddenly fumbled for words.

  “She—you—wait. Did you just say true love?”

  “Ah, yes.” Melaina hummed deep in her throat. “I guess I should’ve mentioned the cat was out of the bag. We played with your little tattoo there while you were sleeping and discovered the truth of who you are to your new mate here.”

  I could tell the exact moment he looked my way; the back of my neck heated unbearably hot.

  “So she knows,” he murmured softly, and something in his voice made my insides shift with a strange surge of awareness.

  “She knows,” Melaina confirmed, sounding oddly sage.

  “Which means...” The High Clifter trailed off a minute before he seemed to realize, “She had to touch me. You touched me?”

  I knew that last question was directed at me, but I studiously ignored it.

  “She did indeed,” Melaina seemed all too pleased to report. “Five tiny taps right to your temple, in fact. She untied the laces to your trousers too.”

  Crying out my dismay over that lie, I whirled around, crying, “The fuck if I did.”

  While Melaina laughed over my reaction, the man looked down to find that the laces were indeed untied. His eyebrows lifted as he pulled them back together. “Damn,” he murmured, sounding disappointed. “I’m sorry I missed that one.”

  Say what? My gaze lifted to his face in confusion, because one second he was moaning and complaining about being strapped to a Graykey for all eternity, and now he was upset about not being awake when I’d touched his stupid tattoo and supposedly opened his pants like it was an intimacy he wished he’d been present for. That made no sense at all.

  Either he was repulsed by me or dazzled; he couldn't have it both ways.

  “Were you disappointed?” he asked softly, his eyes turning watery as if fearing an answer that would haunt him for the rest of his days. I could tell he was holding his breath as he awaited a response. “To learn we’re mates, I mean.”

  I sniffed. “You mean, as disappointed as you were?”

  His eyes widened. “I wasn’t disappointed,” he rushed to assure me.

  I turned away. “Is that why you were rolling around on the ground not but two minutes ago wailing, why, God, why?”

  He winced. “That wasn’t what I said.”

  “Close enough.” Snorting, I hefted the saddle and tossed it over my horse’s back.

  Feeling a presence behind me, I whirled around and gasped when I found him right there, looming. “What’re you—”

  “Shock doesn’t equate disappointment.” His gaze bore into mine as he shifted closer. “Learning which house you belonged to threw me off-balance, yes, but I wasn’t disappointed.” He eased forward another step and drew in a deep breath, breathing me in. Then his gaze went drowsy, as if he’d just been drugged with arousal. “I’m still not.”

  A heady weight filled my chest and began to rush up my throat. It was pleasure, but a needy, pathetic, dependent kind, and it bubbled toward the surface, almost spilling over before I could stop it and contain it again. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d wanted someone—anyone, really—to say those words to me until they were filling my ears and stirring up old, forgotten wishes.

  Needing them to go away, I pulled my dagger and pressed the blade against his throat. “Get back, High Clifter. And don’t ever sneak up behind me like that again, or you’ll find yourself missing a hand. Got it?”

  “Damn, you’re violent,” he murmured appreciatively before backing away slowly and lifting his hands in front of him to show his surrender, even as his eyes swirled with excitement. “I can definitely dig that.”

  I pierced Melaina with a disgusted glower. “If you insist on keeping this animal, make sure it sits and stays on command, otherwise I’m neutering it.”

  “Come, then, darling,” she urged, speaking to the man before she snapped her fingers and whistled, then patted her thigh, beckoning him to her. “Come to Auntie Melaina. Quilla doesn’t wish to play right now.”

  “Quilla?” Surprise clogged his tone as the man repeated my name and turned back to me. “You’re Quilla Graykey? Good God, I know all about you.”

  “Do you?” I arched an eyebrow and lifted my blade again, threateningly. “Think you know all about me, do you?”

  He nodded slowly, then confessed, “I know about every Graykey.”

  “So tell me everything, then,” I snarled. “Just who do you think I am?”

  “You’re the youngest daughter of Preston,” he started, “who’s the oldest son to Obadiah, which was always a more peaceful branch of the family, but still...” He gave a cold shrug as he added, “Graykey.”

  I swallowed bitterly as I listened to the loathing that filled his voice as he said that one word.

  “You disappeared from the family home when you were eight, during the tenth reaping,” he went on, “along with a handful of other family members. No bodies were found, but one woman did eventually return a few moon cycles later.” His gaze strayed to Melaina. “A redheaded Graykey wife, whose magical powers were disguises and glamours. But she disappeared again at the beginning of the eleventh reaping, after her husband was killed.” Turning back to me, he murmured, “So now I see how you remained und
etected for so long.”

  Preening, Melaina lifted her hand and waved it. “Because of me,” she confirmed with a cheerful brag. “She had the ultimate mistress of disguise and most powerful glamour artist in all the Outer Realms hiding her.”

  The High Clifter blinked at her a moment before turning back to me and continuing his report. “You didn’t resurface again until meeting Yasmin of House Mandalay in boarding school about ten years ago, though a Graykey was never officially enrolled there, so you probably went disguised under an alternate identity. There, you transferred all your magical powers over to Yasmin, and you lost the gift of persuasion, which was probably the most unique and powerful ability I’d ever heard of. You could compel anything and anyone to do or think whatever you wanted them to. You could’ve taken control of the entire Outer Realms with your gift; yet you chose to transfer it to some young, vengeful girl, who would go on and use it as a love spell to ensure the future King of Donnelly would marry her before she turned around and wreaked havoc throughout their realm.”

  He stared at me with a slight squint, trying to figure me out.

  An explanation rose to my tongue as I felt the urge to defend myself.

  But honestly, I’d had no idea Yasmin would turn around and do what she’d done with my gift. I hadn’t known my magic was what had been cursed; I thought I had been. Me, personally. I’d only gotten rid of my powers because I hadn’t wanted to use them for evil. And Yasmin had been a lonely, depressed girl when I’d met her, always cast in her older sister’s shadow. I thought my giving her my gift would help both of us. It’d save me from possible future bloodlust and give her some control over her own life.

  I’d been so sure she’d go on to use her magic wisely and graciously. But she’d only been filled with revenge and greed. And she’d turned her sister’s education into a living nightmare.

  I had chosen wrong; and that was on me. There was really no way to defend that.

  When I looked into the High Clifter’s eyes, he seemed to see my regret. Then again, love marks were supposed to help mates feel the other’s emotions, so he probably was sensing my guilt. Dammit. His expression softened as if he’d already forgiven me.