Page 47 of Darro

“Now you ken,” he muttered as he kept fucking her. “This night, and every night until we part, I shall come to your bed or take you to mine. I shall come inside you however you desire. You need but bid me take you.”

“I’ll kiss you awake every morning,” she promised, clutching him with her arms and holding on for dear life. “On your mouth and everywhere else.” She managed to kiss the lovely cleft of his chin. “You’ll have to love me again before you leave me, Chief.”

“And you.” Darro plunged into her and held his cock in her core as he looked into her eyes. “Always and ever love me before you leave me, lass.”

The slow, heavy jets of his seed pumped into her, spreading warmth and a different kind of pleasure inside her. In that moment she could see that he was hers, and there would never be another man like him in her life. She also knew it was the same for him. She couldn’t stay, he couldn’t go with her, and maybe that was why she could separate the pleasure from the pain. The nights she spent with him would be beyond glorious. The damage he did to her heart would never heal.

I love you, Esme thought as she looked into his eyes. I’ve loved you since I was a little girl. I’ve looked for you in every man I’ve ever touched. I will always love you.

Darro nodded as if he could hear her thoughts.

Tasgall sat close to the hearth in his bed chamber to bask in its heat. His jaw and ribs had stopped throbbing, but he still tasted blood in his mouth, and touched the split just inside his lip. He’d forgotten what a powerful fighter Darro was, especially when his locked-away temper was properly roused and broke loose.

I chose instead to defend Dun Talamh and the clan, as ever I do. That I do for you, Brother. Freely. Willingly. ’Tis my duty, as ever you’ve said. ’Tis what makes me sick of myself and you.

For the last century Tasgall had been aware of how weary his younger brother had grown of his responsibilities. He’d tried to ease his burdens and talk with him, but Darro would never confide in him. Indeed, he’d revealed more to him tonight than he ever had. While he appreciated his brother’s loyalty, he also knew it was time for that to change. He’d depended too heavily on Darro. He deserved a life beyond serving him and the clan, and Tasgall would make sure he had it.

On the morrow we shall speak again of your duties, and how you may share them with the other chieftains so you’ve time for your lady.

The brawl had been like lancing a festering wound, and he had no doubt it would improve his brother’s lot. It troubled him for a different reason, however. Because they faced countless trials to exist in this enchanted prison, Tasgall had always assumed his brothers and their vassals could endure as long as he did. He’d also been aware that many put up a brave front so as not to burden him. What Darro had shown him tonight was the heated truth behind his cold pretense. It made him wonder how many others were doing the same.

I must gather the chieftains and captains first, and discover how they regard their lives here. Miserable men cannae defend Dun Talamh.

Although he’d said nothing to his brother, he’d had another purpose in provoking him into a brawl. In the past such small wounds Tasgall acquired healed at once, thanks to his Fae blood. For weeks now, however, it took waiting for the enchantment’s dawn restoration to have them mended. Since he had not become a mortal, he suspected some new change in the spell trap’s magic was responsible.

If I cannae heal until morn, then a sword thrust in the night may end me.

Tasgall had never before considered dying; brooding on such was for the old and infirm, not an immortal. Yet for all the gifts Keran’s blood had bestowed on him, he knew he could not actually live forever. Someday he would meet his end, and he planned to go with dignity and gratitude for his long life. He had hoped to choose that time so that he could accompany the woman he loved when her life ended, and perhaps stay with her in the next place. Now that wish seemed to be moving out of his reach.

“That’s a terribly serious look on your face, sir,” Ava said as she came to stand beside his chair, and then took hold of his chin to raise his face. “And a split lip, too. Who hit you? Darro.”

“Aye.” He’d spoken to her earlier of his intention to brace his brother. “We enjoyed a wee bit of a tussle, but all ended amicably.”

“Sure, you did.” She tugged him to his feet and looked over him before sputtering air through her lips. “You’re favoring your left side. There’s a big bruise getting darker on your jaw. Where is your damn brother? I need to have a word with him.”

“He’s gone to Mistress Martinez, with my blessing.” He loved how angry she became on his behalf, and drew her closer. “I imagine he shall claim her as his lover tonight.”

“Darro and that little spitfire. Well, all right, then.” She sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. “Still, you shouldn’t have sent your guards away. We can’t watch for attackers in our sleep.”

Tasgall drew back and glanced at the door. “I didnae dismiss the guards.”

“They wouldn’t leave on their own.” His wife frowned. “No horn from the watchers, either, so why would…” She stopped and her eyes widened, and then she said in a lower voice, “There are little black things crawling all over your chair.”

He slowly turned, and saw dozens of tiny spiders skittering over the back cushion. Some of them stopped as if they realized he could see them and flashed tiny gold fangs.

“Run away now, my love,” he said to Ava.

“You keep trying to get rid of me.” She touched his hand. “How about you watch them while I get a torch?”

Before he could reply the spiders suddenly sprang from the chair, gliding on long golden lines of silk as they landed on him and Ava. He slapped at her bodice to try to dislodge the creatures, but several had already crawled inside.

“They got me,” she said in a dull voice, her gaze meeting his. “Love…you.”

“No.” He snatched her off her feet and ran out into the passage with her, ignoring the dozens of stings under his tunic as he hurried in the direction of the infirmary. He would get her to Ben, and he would revive her. The healer could… He would…

The sudden stupor that came over Tasgall made him silently roar inside his head, but no sound came from his mouth, and his will over his body was ripped from him.

He fought inside even as he stopped and placed Ava on her feet before they both changed direction and went downstairs. It was as if he’d been trapped in a box inside his head while something else directed his body independent of every thought. He couldn’t even take hold of his wife’s hand to comfort her, if indeed she could still sense his touch.

The power controlling them brought them down to the entry to the spell trap, where several other clansmen and vassals stood as if in waiting. As he passed them Tasgall saw the same blank expressions, and small, golden crescent-shaped marks on their necks and faces. It took him only a moment to work out that they, too, had been bitten by the spiderlings.

The barrier of the spell trap bulged out, and then contracted as a man stepped through it. He wore garments similar to those of the clan’s vassals, but had an unfamiliar face. The rotted-meat stench that came from him grew thick, and told Tasgall exactly who he was. As he surveyed those waiting, a snide smile stretched his lips.

“I see my little darlings have been hard at work,” Bodach said. “Shall we get on with it, then?”