Eversong (The Kindred Book 1) Page 7

  “Leoma, wake up!”

  Her eyelids fluttered a few times until she lifted her lids to look at him.

  “What do I do?” he asked.

  “Pouch.”

  He looked around. “Where?”

  “On. Me.”

  He found the purse attached to her hip and opened it. A smile was on his lips when he located the pouch. “I’ve got it.”

  But when he opened it to pour the herbs, nothing came out.

  He tossed it aside and cupped her face in his hands, feeling her damp skin on his palms. “It’s gone.”

  “I know,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed.

  So she knew she was going to die? No. He wouldn’t let her go out this way. “Nay. You need to fight this. Fight!”

  “Keep...the...wound....”

  He waited, hoping she would finish. “Aye? Keep the wound, what? Tell me.”

  But there would be no answer because she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 10

  Helplessness. The emotion twisted and coiled through Braith until he wanted to bellow in frustration. While Leoma’s wound didn’t seem to be serious, he knew what it felt like to have a witch’s lethal magic within him.

  He left Leoma long enough to return for his saddle, bridle, sword, and bag. Then he tore a strip from his damaged tunic. She had wiped him down, and he would do the same for her.

  His fingers fumbled and refused to work properly as he attempted to remove her cloak. Finally, he got it off. Next, he worked on the four buckles of her black leather vest. He tenderly lifted her upper body and removed the item.

  Moving as quickly as he could, he took off her gauntlets, briefly looking at the Celtic knotwork carved into the leather with meticulous precision. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the black tunic that curved along her body, showing off her shapely figure.

  He pushed the cloth upwards to reveal her stomach. It was the dark ink he saw on her left side that caught his attention. He followed the delicate curving design that also had knotwork from her waist and moved upward to disappear onto her back.

  While Braith knew some women got tattoos, he was surprised to see Leoma marked in such a way. Surprised and intrigued. No doubt the design meant something, and he was curious to know what it was.

  Putting aside those thoughts, he used both hands to maneuver the tunic over the swell of her breasts. He allowed himself a brief peek at the pert globes with dusky pink nipples before yanking his gaze away.

  Once her tunic was off, he laid her back and stared in awe. The slice from Brigitta’s nail wasn’t Leoma’s first wound. She had various scars over her upper body, some large, some small.

  Yet, once again, it was the sight of her tattoos that made him speechless. On her right inside wrist was a Celtic design that looked like a fingernail moon. The ink on the inside of her left forearm looked fairly new.

  While Braith didn’t know what it was, it had a Norse feel to it with the runes, but it was the eight points of the design that made him think of a compass. When he flipped over her left hand, he was shocked to see an image of a snake eating its tail atop her wrist. His gaze moved on to Leoma’s right side where two birds were beak to beak, their feathers transforming into more knotwork that moved to their intertwined tails.

  He lifted his eyes to her face. “You’re not going to die. There’s no way you’ll allow Brigitta to end you with one small swipe of her nails. You’re going to fight, Leoma. Do you hear me? Fight.”

  Braith sat back on his haunches and stared at the injury. Leoma’s skin glistened with sweat as her body shook almost as if she had a fever. Did he bind up the wound to stop the flow of blood? Or did he allow it to continue to seep out? If he made the wrong choice, he could hasten her death.

  With a loud sigh, he covered her breasts with what was left of his ruined shirt. Then he soaked a strip of the tunic with water and began wiping her down again and again.

  The sun sank into the horizon, taking away his light. He paused in tending to Leoma long enough to build a fire so he could see. Then he was back to wiping her down.

  Hours drifted by with no change. Braith had no idea if she was getting better or worse. It made him second-guess every decision he made in regards to taking care of the wound.

  When he ran out of water and had to search out the stream, he returned to the cave to find his stallion there. He gave the animal a pat and continued in to Leoma. If he knew the location of the abbey, he would take her there so someone could help her. He couldn’t believe she had used all of her herbs on him.

  He didn’t think things could get any worse, but he should’ve known better. Leoma’s body cooled, and she lay still, but she didn’t wake.

  “You have witches to hunt. The Coven has plans, remember?” he said, needing something to break the silence other than the pop of the wood as it burned. “I’ll be happy to fight the Coven on my own and take all the credit, but you should be there.”

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, letting the strands glide along his palm. He should’ve kissed her when he had the chance. There were so many regrets in his life, and not kissing Leoma was close to the top.

  Such thoughts did him no good. Braith untangled his fingers from the dark mahogany strands and checked her wound. Blood no longer seeped from the injury. Now, a milky substance tinted a sickly yellow trickled out.

  Braith ran a hand down his face, despair riding him hard. He pushed it away and began to tenderly wipe away any of the liquid that showed. He then dribbled water into the wound in an attempt to flush out the poison of the magic.

  He had no idea how much time passed before the injury stopped producing the cloudy fluid. There was a smile on his lips when he lay down beside Leoma. He’d give himself a moment to rest.

  Leoma opened her eyes to the dark rock of the cave ceiling. Fatigue pulled at her limbs—after effects of the witch’s poison. It would be another day before it was completely out of her system.

  She turned her head to the side and smiled when she spotted Braith with a cloth clutched in the hand that was thrown over his stomach. His other hand rested atop hers.

  Though she had gazed at him while he was ill, she found she quite enjoyed looking at him. His whiskers were forming a beard, not that she minded. He was one of those rare men who looked good with or without facial hair.

  His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. His lids opened, his fingers tightening around hers. She waited for his head to turn to her, and when he finally did, his deep blue eyes widened.

  She turned her hand over to interlock their fingers. “I heard your voice telling me to fight. Every time I thought the magic was taking me, your words broke through and pulled me back.”

  He turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, but never letting go of her hand. “You passed out before you told me what to do with the wound. I took a guess and left it open.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Why did you use all the herbs on me? Why not save some for yourself?”

  She rolled toward him. “The magic Brigitta poured into you was severe. It was taking the herbs a long time to work, so I went to add more to your palm. Only you knocked the pouch from my hand. Unfortunately, they spilled.”

  “Then you need to return to the abbey for more. We can’t chance going up against the witches without it.”

  “I wish we had time to do that, but we don’t.”

  His brows snapped together. “We killed Brigitta.”

  “She is just one within the Coven. No doubt someone from the council sent her.”

  “Which means when she doesn’t return, they will send more witches,” Braith said and rolled to his back.

  Leoma sat up, holding the cloth at her breast. She quite liked having his hand with hers. “The Coven doesn’t know where the abbey is, and it needs to stay that way. I can’t take the chance of returning for more herbs and end up leading the Coven right to the Hunters’ door.”

  His indigo eyes met
hers.

  “They can defend themselves,” she said before he could ask the question. “But the abbey is a sanctuary. Edra and Radnar know that one day the battle might come to them. They’ve made provisions for that, but there aren’t enough witches willing to stand against the Coven yet.”

  He nodded and sat up to face her, their hands between them. “You don’t need to explain further. I understand. I just don’t think I can see you suffer again as you did last night.”

  “If the wound Brigitta inflicted had been more serious, I’m not sure I would’ve made it.”

  One side of his lips lifted in a grin. “You’re a fighter. You won’t go easily.”

  “Neither will you.”

  His eyes lowered to their hands. She waited for him to pull away, but he didn’t. The longer they sat there in silence, touching, the more aware she was of her lack of clothing. She contemplated letting the tunic that she held against her drop.

  What would he do?

  What would she do?

  “What happens now?” Braith asked.

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking about them. Her lack of knowledge when it came to these situations was never more evident.

  His gaze met hers. “Do we wait for more witches to find us?”

  Leoma was more than a little disappointed that Braith’s mind was on their common enemy and not passion. Then again, she should be thankful. If she didn’t stop thinking about touching him, kissing him, then she could get them both killed.

  “The witches will attack us wherever we are. I tend to stay away from villages if I know there might be a confrontation to make sure that no innocents are caught in the crossfire.”

  He turned their hands over. “We could keep moving in the forest, but I believe remaining here and preparing would be the better course of action.”

  “Agreed.” She could barely think with the way his other hand moved to cover the back of the one he held. He slid his hand up her arm like a caress.

  He glanced out the cave to the new morning. “When should we expect them?”

  “Soon. Brigitta was given a second chance to bring us in. She was counting on you being under the effects of magic and only having to fight me,” Leoma explained.

  “In other words, more witches could show up anytime.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He frowned while continuing to stroke her wrist. “How do you know who is a witch and who isn’t?”

  “You have to wait for them to reveal themselves.”

  “There has to be another way.”

  She shrugged, shaking her head. “We’ve yet to find it, but I agree. If we had a way to know who was a witch, then it would save us time waiting to hear about magic being used and then hunting those responsible.”

  “If your operation expanded to have a Hunter in every large city and a few scattered through England, it would save even more time.”

  “I’ve mentioned the same to Edra. The problem is getting enough Hunters and training them properly.”

  Braith’s fingers tightened on her. “You need to grow faster than the Coven.”

  “They force witches to join. I wanted to tell Helena about us, but she ran off before I could.”

  “You need people out there looking for witches, willing to stand against the Coven. As well as individuals who will fight for the cause.”

  She grinned as she stared at him. “You talk like a man used to leading an army.”

  “An army is exactly what you need,” he stated. “I might have begun this journey for revenge, but I’ve found a cause I can fully support. And one that needs me.”

  Elation unfurled like the petals of a flower within her. “Aye. We do need you.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Leoma kept wondering what his reaction would be if she leaned up and kissed him. She had never been one to wait around for something to come to her.

  But Braith was different. The magnitude of the desire she felt made her question her thoughts and actions when it came to him.

  “Forgive me,” Braith said. “I imagine you want to get ready for the day.”

  She watched as he slowly withdrew his hands. The tips of their fingers were the last things to touch. As soon as he was gone, she missed his warmth, his strength.

  She missed him.

  Chapter 11

  Walking out of the cave without giving in to the desire to kiss him was one of the hardest things Leoma had ever done. She knew very little about relationships. What she did know, she learned from observing those at the abbey—but from afar.

  She knew from the moment Radnar first began training her that she wanted to be a Hunter. At first, he told her it was so she could defend herself against anyone, but it soon became apparent that she had the skills to do everything he asked and more.

  Within a few years, more knights came. Each one taught her all they knew, and every time, she hungered for more. It became easy for her to realize that she was meant to be a Hunter.

  So while Meg and the others were wooed by suitors, Leoma was happy to continue on the path that had been set before her.

  That is, until today.

  Her feet felt weighted down in mud as she made her way to the stream, still holding Braith’s tunic against her. If only she knew how to flirt. If only she knew how to be seductive and make a man fall at her feet. If only....

  But she had no such ability. So, she would either have to ignore the longing within her or attempt to seduce Braith. The mere thought made her slightly nauseous.

  With her tunic, gauntlets, and vest in one hand, she walked to the edge of the creek. She stared at the water that rushed over and around the various rocks for several moments, thinking about Braith touching her.

  The longer she stood there, the more irritated at the water she became. She wanted a pool to swim in, to immerse herself fully. To be able to sink beneath the surface and pretend the world she didn’t fit into didn’t exist.

  Leoma turned her head upstream. She touched the sword hanging at her waist before she followed the bank to see if she could find a deeper section.

  The brook meandered through the forest, and just as she had hoped, she found a large pool being fed by water coming through a wall of rocks on a hill.

  She dropped her clothes and Braith’s tunic, unbuckled her sword, and removed her bag, boots, and trousers. Then she walked into the water.

  It was deep and dark, but she wasn’t afraid. The trees hung over the water, blocking out the sunlight for the moment. Leoma swam out to the middle and treaded water before she took a deep breath and let herself slip beneath.

  The soft humming noise as the water filled her ears soothed her. It calmed her mind and allowed her to think more clearly. She stayed under until her lungs began to burn, then she surged upward, gasping for air when she broke the surface.

  Her wound pulled slightly, reminding her that she wasn’t fully healed yet. She swam back to the edge and fished out her bar of soap from her bag. After washing off the sweat and magic, Leoma found she wasn’t ready to leave.

  She dove under again to swim out to the middle and back again. Though she longed for a third run, she was in pain from her wound.

  Leoma walked from the water and stood at the edge, then gathered her hair over her shoulder to wring it out. She stilled, her heart dropping to her feet when she heard Braith whisper her name.

  She couldn’t breathe as he moved up behind her. Chills raced over her damp skin as he ran a finger from the base of her neck to where her tattoo began down her spine, following the intricate design to the top of her bum.

  Her hands went numb when his finger slowly traced back up her spine to the swirls that branched off toward her left side. He leisurely, tenderly sketched every swirl, as if putting the design to memory.

  “Why have you marked your body so?” he whispered just behind her right ear.

  The heat from his body surrounded her like a blanket, cocooning her in erotic thoughts. His hand splayed upon her bac
k as he moved closer.

  “Tell me what they mean,” he urged in a tight voice, as if he were pained. “I find they...rouse my blood.”

  Incapable of controlling her body, she leaned back against him. No man had ever seen her body. The only person who’d seen all the tattoos was Asa. Leoma wasn’t sure how she felt about Braith seeing her, but she didn’t have the desire to cover herself either.

  “Tell me,” he repeated in a husky whisper.

  She was powerless to resist his plea. “I mark my body for protection, for strength, and to stay on the path I was set on long ago.”

  He moved his face to her other ear and put his hand on the double raven tattoo on her right side. “Their meaning?”

  “I was raised with magic, power that has both Celtic and Norse roots. The raven is important to both cultures.”

  “The Celts believed ravens were linked to death and darkness, especially for warriors who die in battle.”

  She turned her head to the side, shocked that he knew that. “Aye. In Norse myths, Odin, the All-Father, uses two ravens for his eyes and ears.”

  Her stomach quivered when Braith’s lips lightly brushed her cheek before he shifted to the other side. He took her right arm in his hand and turned it over to show the Celtic moon tat. “This one?”

  “The knotwork fashioned in the shape of a crescent moon denotes femininity, women, growth, and creativity. The Celts prized their goddesses, making them strong and fiercely protective, but also feminine. It’s a reminder that I am all of those things.”

  She felt his gaze on her. He brought his lips to her ear. “Aye. That you are.”

  Next, his hand touched her right shoulder. No longer did he have to say the words. She knew the tattoos by heart. Not only had she picked them, she had chosen the placement as well.

  “Triple horn of Odin,” she said. “For Hunters, it symbolizes strength and wisdom.”

  With a slow, seductive caress, his hand traveled from her back and down her left arm where a snake was eating its tail.

  “The Ouroboros. It is one of the oldest symbols on earth. It represents rebirth and transformation. It’s also the emblem Edra chose to signify her coven.”