CHAPTER 26
K aelyn tapped her finger against the kitchen sink and stared out the grime-encrusted window. Deep purple colored the sky, the first indication daybreak would soon chase away the night. She gripped her whistle. The comforting weight helped calm her nerves, but only a little. Where are you, Saar?
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his footsteps echoed off the cabin’s small entryway. The door opened with a slight squeak.
Kaelyn sighed, tension draining from her shoulders. He’d returned, safe and sound.
With a Smirnoff’s bottle in each hand, he strode into the room. His eyes gleamed with triumph.
She laughed, unable to resist his charm. “I see you found the stream.”
He raised an eyebrow, mirth toying at the corner of his mouth. “Have faith, little bear, I can slay water better than any warrior you know.”
She had no doubt of his ability, having seen him battle first hand. He’d defeated four Gossum before Theron, Jacinth, and she had finally brought him down. He was a warrior among warriors. A flutter of pride beat against her chest.
As he crossed the room, she took the opportunity to assess his wounds. The limp in his stride was less pronounced, the bruise on his side fading to a light yellow, the gash on his forehead a thin scab. Satisfied with his improvement, her attention turned to his broad, muscular chest. She wanted to run her fingers over his soft flesh, feel the taut, corded muscles beneath her palms. A growl of pure admiration scraped the back of her throat.
He sidled up next to her and placed the bottles on the counter. The tattoo on his shoulder blade caught her attention—three jagged black lines, like claw marks. One was dark, the other two seemed faded. She opened her mouth to ask him about them, but he spoke first.
“Ah, stew,” he inhaled with a long, slow breath, “what a treat.”
She smiled. “Indeed, a meal fit for a pair of vagabonds like us.”
His features softened, the mirth in his eyes dimming. He studied her for a moment then twirled his finger around a loose curl that had escaped her braid.
A needful tremor ran along her arms.
“You’re cold.” His attention drew down her body before returning to her face. Desire and concern mixed with the amber in his blue eyes. “Your pants are still wet from the river.”
So focused on settling into this place, she hadn’t noticed, but now that he mentioned it, the damp clothes clung to her legs. An unbidden shiver travelled up her back and over her shoulders, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
He trailed his finger down her arm, adding a tingle to the sensitive skin. “You need warmth. I’ll be right back.”
With a quick turn, he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
Stopping, he peered at her over his shoulder. “There’s a woodpile on the side of the cabin. Most of the logs are rotten, but I’ll bet I can find enough salvageable pieces to make a decent fire.”
Before she could protest she didn’t need him to care for her, he was gone. Damn it. She clenched her jaw. All her adult life she’d done things for herself, but this male had weaseled his way under her skin from the moment they’d met.
She exhaled, grabbed the two bottles of water, the two cans of now-opened stew, and a couple of spoons she’d found in a drawer. Cradled in her arm, one of the bottles almost slipped, but she made it into the room without mishap and placed her loot on the fireplace mantel.
In the grate, a few small pieces of charred wood poked through the ashes, remnants of a fire long ago. Ferns, one on top of another, graced the edge of the stone hearth, laid out with a meticulousness that spoke of tenderness and caring.
Her throat constricted. Saar had done that for her.
She bent down and touched the cool fronds.
Their fresh scent wafted into her lungs, resurfacing memories of her youth. Many a time she’d frolicked in the ferns with Noden, his teasing play full of love and affection. Warmth from his memory filled her chest.
How she missed her brother, and now her uncle, too, was gone.
The front door squeaked, drawing her from her reverie. Saar’s footsteps echoed in the empty room. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, arms full of wood, small twigs, and moss.
Eager to assist him, she wrapped her fingers around two of the logs and tossed them next to the fireplace.
He knelt on one knee and placed the remaining pieces onto the pile. As his shoulders flexed, the mark on his back rippled.
Her breath hitched. “Why do you have that tattoo?”
Tension tightened his shoulders for a moment then he turned to look at her. His mouth thinned, and a pained expression crossed his features. “It’s a long story.”
Between the drab curtains, the first rays of the morning sun lit a small line along the floor. “The sun is up. Seems like we’re here for the day. I have lots of time.”
He raised his arm and ran his fingers along the edge of the mantle. With a quick wink, he held up his hand, a match pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like this is our lucky day.”
He placed moss and small twigs into the fireplace, and before long, a fire crackled in the hearth.
A stiff breeze rattled the windows. The wind would carry the smoke through the dense forest, keeping them hidden.
Still crouched, Saar turned toward her and patted the ferns in invitation. “Come, sit with me. Warm yourself.”
The low rumble of his voice called to her on a level so deep, she couldn’t stop herself. She handed him the two bottles of water from the mantle then grasped the stew and sat next to him. At some point, they needed to talk about their future, or lack thereof, but she wasn’t ready. All she wanted was to enjoy his company, at least for a little while.
They ate in silence for a moment, only the sound of the spoons clinking against the metal cans and the crackling of the fire filling the air. She peered at him, but he seemed distant, focused on the flames.
He took a long drink from the bottle then cleared his throat.
“The lines over my shoulder blade are not a tattoo. When born, every Stiyaha male receives a mark on his skin representing the values most important to that male. Often, one or more are tested during his lifetime.” A slow, stilted laugh emerged from his throat. “I thought mine had already been tested when I received my scar. I was wrong.”
She placed her empty can and spoon on the floor then ran her fingers down his forearm until her hand rested in his. She gave him a gentle squeeze. “One of your marks represents courage, doesn’t it?”
His eyelid twitched, and he clasped her hand in confirmation.
“That doesn’t surprise me. What about the other two? What values do they symbolize?”
He pulled his gaze to hers. The light from the fire reflected in the depths of his eyes, along with his pain and regret. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed, forcing it down. How bad could it be?
A twinge crossed his features. “Honor and loyalty. Both of which I’ve failed.”
She flinched at the harshness in his tone. “I don’t believe it.”
“My loyalty has always been to my king and my kind. The faded marks reveal the truth. I am no longer a loyal and honorable male.”
She furrowed her brow. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve been nothing but honorable and loyal, helping me—”
“That’s what you think, but you’re wrong.”
She jerked her hand from his grasp. “What do you mean?”
“When I pulled you from your cell,” he ran his hand through his hair, “it wasn’t to release you.”
Her heart fluttered, picking up speed. “You did it on purpose…to follow me, find Mauree’s hideout. Didn’t you?” Theron was right. Saar had played her for a fool.
A low, deprecating chuckle eased from him. “No, it was much worse than that.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Tell me.”
“My task was to kill you.”
He reached for her, but she scrambled off the ferns and over the dirt-encrusted floorboards, putting some distance between them.
A rush of adrenaline spiked through her veins. White spots formed in her vision. “No. No. No.”
Pain etched itself into the lines on his face. “I couldn’t complete my task in front of Ginnia, so I took you outside, but when the time came, I couldn’t follow through. I betrayed my king and everyone in the Keep for you…and, craya, despite it all, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
The words penetrated through the fog in her mind. He’d sacrificed everything for her. An ache built in her chest, the pain filtering into the deepest recesses of her soul. “Why did you follow me?”
“Because I couldn’t let you go. I knew in here,” he pounded his chest, “that you were my mate.”
Her throat constricted, pain radiating from the tightness. After rolling from her sitting position to her hands and knees, she crawled toward him.
Rigid and still, he tracked her movements, as if afraid of her reaction.
Mere inches from him, she stopped, their gazes meeting, each assessing the other. Saar loved her, cared for her. She knew that deep inside. This strong, proud male was as honorable as they came, and she loved him more than she could say. “I’m glad you followed me.”
With a possessiveness that took her breath away, he hauled her onto his lap.
At his sudden move, she inhaled. He took advantage of her surprise and kissed her, claiming her with an intensity that sparked her own. She growled and dug her claws into his back, leaving a jagged scratch on his right shoulder to match the one on his left, marking him in her own way.