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Drago kept his arm around the maiden as loose as possible, given Lagos’s unforgiving pace over the rocky terrain. He did not care at all for the new complication in this assignment. For while he knew he could control his attraction to her, he had no idea how to control her attraction to him.
Her blushing, and abrupt behavior of that morning only confirmed what he’d suspected when she trembled under his touch. He wondered at it, how a maiden of Light—one sworn to abhor all things of darkness—would allow herself even the slightest of tender feelings toward a servant of evil.
He kept his eyes locked over her head, concentrating on their surroundings. The bracelet’s magic hummed heavily, he could feel it in the air. They just had to get through the mountains without any further delay or distraction.
Like the sweet smell of her hair.
He shouldn’t have given her the chance to bathe. Such a stupid mistake he could only blame on his weakness at the time, his exhaustion and debilitation. She was much easier to ignore under a layer of travel filth. Instead, clean and in a fresher blue traveling gown, her skin practically glowed with inner purity, and her hair stirred memories he’d thought long dead.
Perhaps that’s why, in his weakened state, he’d dreamed of Alyssa. He hadn’t thought of her in decades, hadn’t thought of the reasons he’d entered the Demon’s service. Fulfilling his duties had become enough. He’d stopped looking into the future, looking for hope, over a hundred years ago.
But this maiden, this Aisilyn of Light, had changed everything. Why had he let her? She insisted on conversation, and he obliged like a fool. She administered to him when he fell ill, and it stirred a sense of obligation. So he cared for her arm where the bracelet burned her sensitive flesh, and when her glorious green eyes shot up at him, he realized she was as affected by his touch as he was by hers.
He was the worst kind of fool.
She had to be the most ineligible female to ever grace his presence—the chosen bride of his master. Yet he could not deny her appeal, and a part of him regretted the inevitable waste of her destruction. Idly he wondered if she would simply die, which he considered preferable, or become one of the damned brides of Hell. Was it a strong will that bound souls to the living world? Or was it hidden sin that kept them there?
The maiden’s head drifted back against his chest. She’d fallen asleep again. He preferred it to her constant talking, even if she had the voice of an angel. Yet the sweetness of holding her so intimately was not lost on him. She slept like a trusting child, a babe in arms. He was a fearsome warrior, not a nursemaid.
Her breathing caught on a snore, and it surprised a chuckle out of him. He quickly squelched the growing warmth in his chest. She would not be adorable. He would make it so.
If only.
Distracted, he almost missed the change in the sand ahead of them. Drago shook her. “Awaken. There is trouble.”
She opened those eyes of Eden sleepily. “What is it?”
“Possible danger ahead. Hold on.”
What sweet torture as her hands gripped his armor! She clung to him, whipping her head around to see what lay ahead. This time he saw the shadows in the rocks ahead.
He urged Lagos to the right. “We will go around them.”
Though she remained tense, he relaxed somewhat. The dangers of the mountains were not serpents or raptnachids. That was a relief.
Lagos whinnied sharply as the flapping of wings broke the silence. Drago relaxed, releasing his grip on his sword.
“It is nothing, Maiden. Dar-birds.”
She did not release him. “They are scavenger birds that prey on the dead.”
He nodded.
“So what is dead, and what killed it?”
She had a point. Drago shifted so he could dismount without dislodging her, much as he regretted the separation. He drew his sword and stepped over the rocks so he could investigate.
Three of the great black birds tore at the flesh of a dead raptnachid. He stepped back, having no desire to interfere.
He reported this discovery to the maiden. “We should move on.”
She nodded, bracing herself for him to climb back up on Lagos. “How did the raptnachids make it this far out of the desert?”
“Likely it died there, and they carried it here. Dar-birds prefer to carry their prey to a more secluded spot for eating.”
One of the creatures cawed above them. Drago looked up in time to see it drop the piece of flesh from its beak. It landed with a slap on the Maiden’s thigh. To her credit she did not cry out, but her expression of disgust as she batted the gooey mess away spoke volumes.
Without thinking, he made to wipe the blood off the material at her thigh. “Are you hurt?”
“No, thank you.” Her hand stilled his on her leg, and it was that action that made him aware of what he’d done. He pulled his hand away, thankful at least that Dark Warriors never blushed.
Her next words were shaky. “It’s all right. I doubt I’ll be able to salvage this gown anyway.”
He tried not to think about it, the thin material that shielded his hand from her thigh. But his hand burned as though branded, and her voice betrayed her unease at his touch.
He wanted nothing more than to do it again. He cursed himself seven times the fool.
***
Genna fought the tears that came to her eyes as they rode on. All she could think of was his touch on her leg. His warm hand seared right through the cloth of her dress. She couldn’t imagine why he’d done it.
She’d meant her words, though she’d only spoken them to distract him from her reaction to his touch. The dress, like her other one, could not be salvaged. She shouldn’t have packed her favorites. What had she been thinking, that her jaunt to the Demon’s lair would be easy, with plenty of opportunities to freshen up?
No. She’d thought that she wanted things that would comfort her. That’s why she’d packed her favorites. They were familiar, and brought with them pleasant memories of home.
Genna realized she had a death grip on Drago’s armor and released him, turning so that she could rest her back against his chest. He snaked his arm around her waist to secure her. She did her best not to melt into his embrace.
Because it wasn’t an embrace. He just didn’t want his master’s precious cargo being damaged before delivery. She needed to remember that.
She put her hands on his forearm at her middle to help her keep her from leaning against him, and looked out at the terrain. At least it wasn’t sand. Surely she had more sense than to entertain these thoughts of Drago? He saw her as nothing more than a possession, a duty. She chided herself for being so foolish, so weak.
It had to be the journey that made her so vulnerable. She’d never before experienced anything so grueling. Without his knowledge and experience, she’d be dead several times over. Just like that, the tenderness returned. She could almost pretend he cared for her. But she didn’t want to pretend that, did she?
Did it matter that she was delivered to the Demon with a broken heart? What did it matter, with her entire future forfeit, if she let herself love the Dark Warrior? Would that damn her soul?
Genna doubted God would punish her for caring for another person, even if those feelings were one-sided and pathetic. Even if they were hopeless. Besides, how did she know what love was? She’d never been in love before, not truly. A couple of schoolyard crushes didn’t signify. So how could she say she loved Drago? Or was even in danger of loving him?
Her mother had told her once what falling in love had felt like to her, when she’d met Genna’s father. It wasn’t immediate. In fact, they’d taken an instant dislike to one another. But, over time, Deirdra had seen the tenderness in his heart, and her own heart softened toward him. Their love had grown over the course of months.
It hadn’t been that way with Aisilyn and Jacob. Theirs was instant. Aisilyn had been charmed by Jacob’s good looks, certainly, but what drew her—she’d later confessed to Genna—was how kindly he treated the servants. She’d seen gentleness in his strength, and admired his stalwart honesty.
Now Genna was fighting tender feelings for the Demon’s Warrior. How such a confession would wound her family!
She didn’t speak to him, afraid to hear his voice. The deep timbre sent delightful shivers through her. She didn’t want to continue dwelling on her thoughts of him, or her possible feelings. Her attraction could lead nowhere, but that didn’t convince her that it was harmless.
Where would they pass the night, and why did that thought occur to her in the middle of the morning?
The bracelet’s burning had dimmed considerably, but she could still feel its power. How much farther would they have to travel that day before the pain stopped?
Genna longed for sleep. At least then her worries, her questions, did not plague her.
His voice sent a pleasant thrill through her. “Would you mind not holding my hand?”
Startled, she looked down at her hands. Rather than clutching his forearm her hands had moved, practically of their own accord, to grip his fingers. She pulled away, feeling her face heat with shame.
“I’m sorry.”
He laughed low in his throat, only deepening her embarrassment. “You are an odd one, Maiden.”
Maiden. She longed to remind him she had a name, but since it wasn’t hers she decided not to. Though it grated on her to have him constantly refer to her as maiden. Would it feel any better to have him call her by her sister’s name?
She thought of Aisilyn. Had Jacob married her yet? Genna hoped so, with all her heart. She hated the thought of her sister’s future remaining uncertain.
Their path grew steeper as they climbed. Genna didn’t want to think that each step Lagos took brought her closer to the Demon. She’d rather see it as securing her sister’s safety.
Though she didn’t want to, she relaxed against Drago and closed her eyes. Her body was beyond exhaustion, her only justification for trying to sleep. That and it kept her from daydreaming impossible things.
Her thoughts wandered back to the dar-birds. “I didn’t expect them to be so handsome.”
“Excuse me?”
Genna flashed an embarrassed smile. She hadn’t meant to speak the thought aloud. “The birds. They are fearsome, naturally, but beautiful in a way—with their sleek black feathers and white breasts.”
His voice sounded close to her ear. “That is the way of the Demon, Maiden. He gives evil appealing trappings to sway the unwary.”
“Temptation comes in many forms,” she said, repeating a childhood lesson come back to haunt her.
“Many say that, but few truly believe it,” he retorted. “I have seen hags with tender souls, and the most beautiful creatures with hearts like pure ice.”
“Your heart is not ice,” she murmured sleepily.
He stiffened and Genna, realizing what she’d said, opened her eyes.
“You know nothing of my heart.”
“Of course not,” she stammered, twisting to look at him. “It’s only that you’re so handsome, one would hardly suspect that you are the Demon’s servant. I mean, when I first met you, I was terrified.”
“You should still be terrified,” he growled.
Genna stared at the muscle ticking in his rigid jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, exactly.”
“You should stop talking now.”
She snapped her mouth shut and looked ahead, keeping her back straight to minimize their touching. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She’d as good as told him she thought him handsome. At least her mother wasn’t here to see this.
Handsome? Devastating, really. Genna squared her chin and tried not to think of it, of him. Drago could never know how he affected her—his touch, his breath on her ear, his low laugh.
She looked ahead to the mountain they had to scale and tried not to think of the Warrior at her back.