Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
When they reached the stairs, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. Several of the men whispered while others still watched them, and though she couldn’t hear their words, she saw the look they shared. One that told her plainly that whatever had happened the last time Dar was here, it had not been forgotten.
The scent of fresh pine and churned earth hung heavily in the air. It came from Dar standing a few feet away.
“It is the only way. Trust me,” he said and walked toward her.
She backed up but he reached out and took hold of her arm, stopping her from taking another step.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered close, then kissed her.
She welcomed his kiss, returned it and before she knew it, they were both naked, the hearth’s firelight casting a soft glow over their bodies. His body was sculpted, as if a fine hand had drawn him to perfection. His glance traveled over her, admiring her curves and angles, then he scooped her up and carried her to bed.
No fear ran through her only desire, the need to touch him and to be touched as if they both had waited for this moment, hungered for it.
His strong hand was quick to roam over her in a feather-like touch, skimming her flesh faintly and sending a rash of gooseflesh over her and a jolt of passion through her.
She reached out to explore him, but he pushed her hand away.
“Nay, I have waited long enough for you, and I will not last if you touch me. I will see this done, seal our fate.”
He slipped over her, nudging her legs apart and she spread them, inviting him in, eager for him to be there.
She felt his shaft between her legs, thick and hard, poking at her entrance, and she grew more eager, more anxious, fearful. Why was she fearful? What did she have to fear from Dar?
She shut her eyes as the scent of fresh pine and churned earth grew stronger and she stirred uneasily beneath him. She went to open her eyes to see what was wrong and found it difficult.
She fought to open them and when she finally did, she couldn’t place where she was. The soft crackle of dying embers in the hearth, the muted gray light of dawn slipping through the window, all of it was unfamiliar yet faintly comforting. Then she saw him.
Dar sat against the door, cloak pulled loosely around him, his head tilted to the side in what looked like sleep. The room was still except for the steady sound of his breathing.
A dream, not a vision, she thought.
She shifted slightly, the blanket rustling, and her eyes half-closed again. Sleep tugged at her, but something stirred beneath it, a low hum, a pulse like a heartbeat that wasn’t her own.
Then came the vision.
The forest, dark and heavy with mist.
Dar stood among the trees, his breath rising white in the cold air.
Another man faced him—tall, broad-shouldered, his face hidden beneath a hood. They spoke, their words too faint to hear, but the sound of them carried weight, urgency.
And as the man stepped closer, the faint light caught the edge of his cloak—black leather, dull and worn, the kind the Hunters wore.
The image flickered, fading like smoke in a breeze.
Elara gasped softly and pressed her hand to her chest. The room was still again, the vision gone as quickly as it had come.
Her gaze drifted back to Dar. He hadn’t moved.
“It was a dream, not a vision,” she murmured, trying to convince herself.
Then she noticed his boots—caked with fresh dirt, damp as if from morning dew. The smell of forest clung to him, sharper than before, pine and soil and something else, something metallic that made her heart give a small, uneasy thud.
Had he been in the woods. But why? What business could he have had in the forest, alone, in a village that already watched him too closely?
Her gaze drifted back to him, to his face.
His eyes were open and focused on her.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The silence stretched, taut and heavy between them.
“How long have you been awake?” she finally asked.
“Long enough.”
“To hear me thinking?” she asked, her tone light though her pulse raced.
His mouth curved faintly. “You think too loudly, wife.”
She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. “You were gone all night.”
He didn’t deny it. “Aye.”
“In the woods?”
He paused, as if needing to give his response thought, then said, “Aye.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because sometimes, the forest listens more honestly than people do.”
He rose smoothly to his feet, brushing a hand through his hair. “We should go. You’ll want to speak to this Feena before the day grows long.”
And though he said nothing more, Elara could still smell the pine on him, the churned earth, and underneath it, faint and cold, the scent of secrets.