To Defend A Bride (Entangled with the Enduar #3)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

RA’SA

T error claws at me as dark shadows pass before my eyes.

When one of the cold monsters reaches out and grabs at my neck, I black out. I see Teo’s face as he approaches my mother and me.

He tells us that Tirin is dead.

Young Ra’Tirin. My baby brother. I held him in my arms when my mother and I escaped the volcano.

No…

I bolt upright, panting. The tent is cold, the space humid. I drag a hand over my face, looking over at Melisa.

She still sleeps soundly, surrounded by blankets and pillows.

I let out a long breath.

Need to get out of here.

The sun has not yet risen over the horizon, so I move as quietly as possible. When I peel back the tent flap and walk into the world, the cold air soothes the tension in my muscles.

Since I didn’t hold my glamour stones, I’ve shifted back to my Enduar form. I harbor no desire to return to being a human just yet.

My hands ache with the need to do something other than lie on my back, so I decided to hunt and make breakfast.

Melisa didn’t enjoy our meal last night, and there is still a long way to go. She needs her strength.

I gaze across the snowy forest. A few rabbits Melisa showed me hop across the ground. They seem decidedly plump, but my magic hesitates. Ulla disliked us killing the creatures.I wonder if Melisa would have the same qualms.

Glancing back, I contemplate asking her. To my surprise, she rolls over in her sleep. Her arm reaches out to the spot where I was lying.

Something pinches my chest, but I continue forward.

It doesn’t take long to catch two rabbits, skin them as I would a ruc’radh , and put them over my makeshift stove.

The wind makes cooking challenging. But thankfully, the sun is just beginning to crest over the mountain. It takes away the bite of cold while I shield the sizzling meat.

When I am finished, I turn back to the tent.

“Melisa?” I call, wondering if she would need me to shake her awake. Would that frighten her?

She makes a soft sound that echoes in my ears and warms my chest.

“Melisa, I have food.”

Slowly, she stirs from her slumber. Her arms stretch out around her as she sits up. One side of her face is red from being pressed against a pillow. She casts me a sleepy smile, smoothing the hair out of her eyes.

I can’t tell what is so charming about this sight. Objectively, she looks puffy and unkempt as she wakes, but I wish to see it every morning henceforth.

“You must forgive me,” I say a moment after.

Her smile drops. “Whatever for?”

“I killed a few of your rabbits.” Her brow furrows.

“They weren’t my rabbits. And besides, we needed to eat. Put it from your mind.”

I like that reasoning and hand her a small leg of meat. We eat in relative silence for a few moments until I can keep my mouth shut no longer.

“I have thought a lot about what you said yesterday. I do not understand why you insist on going to Zlosa, but I have agreed to watch over you. An Enduar never breaks his word.”

A half smile crosses Melisa’s lips. “That is good to hear.”

“However, while I look like one of your kind, I know nothing about your customs.”

While I am interested in learning about humans, a deeper part of me just wants to know more about her.

Melisa looks at me and takes a bite. I keep myself from letting my gaze dip down to watch her mouth.

“What customs? Ra’Sa, we are slaves. All you need to know is this: don’t talk to anyone, don’t touch anyone’s things, and do as you are told,” she says angrily.

“And what of my height?” I ask.

She waves her hand. “You can be the bastard son of some giant commoner.”

I curl my lip. “There is no cursed giant blood in my body.”

She rolls her eyes. “Who cares if you do or don’t? It will solve the mystery of your height. Being part giant is rare, but half-giants make excellent workers.”

I think of my father. He hated the giants just as much as any Enduar, as did Tirin. Would playing such a role hurt either of them if they were still living?

“I don’t like it.”

“Ra’Sa,” Melisa says, tone serious. Her foot brushes my leg, and every thought swirls straight out of my head. “You will need to find work as a slave somewhere close by while I’m tending to Eneko. That’s how you’ll blend in.”

Something ugly curls around my heart.

“Tending to Eneko…” I repeat. “What exactly will that entail?”

She snatches her foot back.

“Please, I’m not trying to be cruel.” This question is borne of something much more petty: jealousy.

She looks at me. “Eneko only talks after a good fuck. So that is what I will give him, as many times as it takes to find out all the things your king needs to know.”

Dread twists in my gut, but I push it down. A man should know how to deal with the harsher truths of life. And she clearly doesn’t want sympathy. She just continues to eat.

“So, we will arrive in two days. Likely from the north. What is our plan?” I ask, wanting to keep her talking.

Her eyes search the snowy forest as she grabs another piece of meat.

“Arriving from that direction means that we will get to the northeastern lumber yards. That’s where Eneko is a foreman. Though, he’s not the only one, of course.”

“I assume you know exactly where to go?”

She flashes me a smile. “Naturally. Now, when we arrive, I had better do something to gain his sympathy, or I’ll spend a week in the pit.”

“The pit?” I repeat.

She nods. “It’s one of the other torturous ways we deal with things in the northeastern lumber yards. Whipping is useful for slaves with active jobs like healing, chopping, or cooking. Those with more passive jobs are sent to the pit, sometimes without food or water.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because if you cover a comfort woman’s back with open wounds, she can’t lie down. Starve her, and she’ll be lethargic, to be sure, but she’ll still be good for a rut.”

I recoil. “Why the hell would you say it like that?”

“Because it’s true. It’s not like I have a choice in such matters.”

The truth settles between us like the snow settles on the ground.

“I—”

“I don’t need your pity, troll. There are worse masters than Eneko,” Melisa bites out, tossing her bones in the embers and standing. “Now, I’d like to continue.”

My mouth falls open with unspoken words. I want to offer her comfort, but I don’t know where to begin.

I don’t know how to care for a woman.

Deflated, I watch her slip inside the tent and start taking down the evidence of our stay.

I swallow hard and follow her lead.

The road to Zlosa is a long, three-day trip despite the excellent conditions we’ve been blessed with. No malicious creatures or weather mishaps have slowed us down.

I’ve stopped applying my glamour, as I find little point in it when my true form is much stronger.

The white snow is blinding under the light of day, and I am more than grateful when the cursed flaming orb sinks beyond the trees.

A fox follows Melisa as we walk. I watch her trek on, head high and uncommonly quiet. She doesn’t say anything more, and I don’t have sufficient words to speak with her, so we continue in silence.

When there is rustling in the trees, I ignore it, partly because of the animals Melisa enjoys petting.

We need to sleep soon, and there is a clearing just ahead. There is enough space for our tent and a fire between a few trees. I can make her a proper fire instead of a cooking stone tonight.

It takes Melisa a few moments to realize I am no longer beside her. She stops, lets out an exasperated breath, and turns to look at the area.

“Are you ready to set up camp?” I ask, taking note of the fallen branches and large stones.

“This seems as good a place as any,” she says at last.

Then the words dry up again.

After the sun finishes sinking beyond view and the sky fades from a pinkish purple to an inky black, I hear rustling again and pause. When it doesn’t make another sound, I stone bend a small heat source to cook more dried food.

“When we arrive at Zlosa, we’ll need to get rid of our supplies. Estela showed me a hollowed-out trunk where she used to hide things. We can take your weapons and anything else there. It’s secluded enough that it won’t be found,” Melisa says, speaking more than she has the entire day.

I nod my agreement, still preparing the meal. “Thank you.”

Another rustle comes from the trees to our left. It’s a little too close and a little too loud.

This might not be a mere fox or rabbit. I stand, leaving the food to boil.

Melisa busies herself with the bedrolls.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I move away from the fire.

Holding my finger to my lips, I creep to the trees. I call the stones to fashion a short blade from the earth.

My heart gallops as I approach the thicket where the noise is coming from. I reach into the ground with my magic and send a light tremor to sense the exact location.

There are the small bodies of a family of mice, the four legs of a rabbit, and then… four paces away, obscured by two large tree trunks, I feel two feet, and one hand supporting a much larger body in the snow.

Shock precedes the searing protectiveness that sends electric pulses up my limbs. Without waiting, I enter its hiding place.

A hiss fills the air. Red eyes peek out from behind the tree.

“Vaimpír!” I shout at Melisa. “Get in the tent!

The creature charges me.

It knocks me on my back, breaking my focus. The makeshift weapon I crafted scatters around me. A glinting set of white teeth open just above my neck.

“Ra’Sa!” Melisa screams.

Can’t let it bite me.

I shove the beast away. A few twitches of my fingers have stone shards levitating off the ground. They swarm around the creature’s head before piercing its gray skin.

It screeches and falls to the ground next to me. I shove it further away.

Rolling over, I see Melisa frozen at the tent’s entrance.No defensive stance. No weapon.

I curse, realizing she doesn’t know how to fight.

Gods on their stony thrones.

The creature stands, black blood oozing down its bare torso.

Holding my breath, I summon as many stone sharps as possible. They make a whizzing, high-pitched sound as they compound into a blade.

The creature and I charge each other at the same time. It wields tooth and claw. I raise my stone blade above my head.

I bring the weapon down swiftly.

With the intensity of my force, his head and left shoulder are cleaved from his body.

Melisa cries out behind me.

I whip around as the two pieces of the vaimpír’s body fall in heavy thuds on the snowy floor.

Melisa’s breath is rapid and shallow, one hand on her chest and the other over her mouth. I let the stones of the sword fall back to the ground and rush over to her. She’s trembling, and her face is pale.

“What’s happening? Are you hurt?” I demand.

She swallows. “I might… my chest hurts.”

My hands trail over her shoulders, and they are soft and pliant under my palms. When they reach the impossibly smooth skin of her neck, her flesh is clammy.

“You’re in shock,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“No—this—” When her words don’t come easy, she leans toward me. Unsure what else to do, I pull her in and rub my bloody hand up and down the back of her thick cloak.

Her frozen hands rest on my chest.

“Tell me what you are feeling?” I try again.

She lets out a gasping cough.

“Melisa—”

“This… it happens sometimes. My mother called them waking nightmares. It’s just… it will… pass,” she stumbles.

My brows furrow. “It is an attack?”

She nods. “Of my nerves. Please, it will p-pass.”

Instinctively, I hold her tighter. When I agreed to take her to Zlosa, my duty was to protect her by any means necessary. I defended her from the vaimpír, and now, I will defend her from her own mind.

“All is well. The worst has passed. Nothing else will bother us this evening. You will rest well, and then we will continue in the morning. You are strong. You are fierce. You are capable.”

I will confidence into my words as her walls crumble. Another mystery unravels, revealing her fear of letting another person see her so vulnerable.

My hand works its way up and down before venturing to her uncovered hair. Its silky softness is pleasing as it slides against the pads of my fingers.

Finally, with one long exhale, her body relaxes. But when she tries to pull away, something clicks in my chest, like a lock opening, and I resist.

“Ra’Sa, I am… better now.”

My throat bobs. I still don’t release her. Holding her through her shakes made me face her fragility. I fear we’ll both fall apart if I step back.

How can I let her out of my sight, knowing anything could trigger one of these attacks? What if I’m not there to hold her together?

I can’t lose another person I care about, not that I love this woman…

But my brother.

My father.

My three sisters.

I—

“Ra’Sa,” Melisa’s gentle voice calls again. She takes one of my hands and places it over her breast. Beneath my palm, her heartbeat pumps. Steady.

Whole.

Alive.

It doesn’t matter what she is or where we are going. I can’t deny what I feel. I soften, and my index finger traces her bare flesh just above her gown’s neckline.

She gasps, but I do not.

If I had thought my blood was pumping hard before, it would be nothing compared to the reaction elicited by the feel of her beauty.

It is one thing to gaze… another to touch.

Gods, I had never touched a woman like this.

As my thumbs stroke the side of her breast, she gasps again, and blood rushes straight to my cock.

The suddenness makes me feel like a molten man. I am impossibly grateful that my brother believed in the worth of humans when I did not.

I want everything all at once: her mouth, her neck. I would bare as much flesh as she would allow in the open air to explore and warm.

Melisa stares up at me with a slightly parted mouth. Then she swallows and steps back, shaking her head. My hands stay frozen in the air where her body was seconds before.

Battle makes the rush of lust that much more potent.

“I am okay, Ra’Sa,” she whispers. Then she bites her lip, and her reaction cools the lust pumping through my veins. As anticipated, the chiding comes, “You shouldn’t?—”

But it is my turn to interrupt her. “We need to burn the body.”

She grows silent and helps me as we scour the ground for wood. We dust off snow, and add branches to the pile of the embers in the middle of the camp. Once the flame is sufficiently large, I toss the halves of the body in.

Melisa watches, eyes wide, as the fire eats away the cursed flesh of the creature.

I don’t want her to stare at the flames. So, instead, I say, “You don’t know how to fight.”

She pauses, looking back up at me and wringing her hands.

“No. It’s dangerous to give the slaves weapons,” she says wryly.

Perhaps it is borne out of the desire to be near her once more, but I say,“Let me teach you. You won’t be a master blade wielder, but you should know how to stab someone lest they get too close.”

She opens her mouth, one side curling upward as if she were going to make a smart comment, but then… she stops.

“I don’t have a blade.”

I shake my head, holding out my hand. My wrist dips and pulls upward from the earth, bringing forth a long, jagged stone. Using my magic, I smooth the handle to protect her small hands and let it fly to my palm. Taking out a spare leather scrap, I wrap and tie it around the handle before passing the makeshift blade to her.

She takes it gingerly.

“You won’t hurt yourself if you only touch it from here,” I say, measuring her breathing to track if she starts to panic again. “My mother had attacks, as you have. They were worse after we escaped from Ruhsavida. Much later, I learned that they came when she felt like she had no power and control. Learn to fight, even a little, and you give yourself more power and more control.”

Melisa bites her lip. Her displeasure with me has hung like a cloud over us all day. Seeing it melt away into the clear, brilliant skies of her smile makes me feel like Grutabela herself has blessed me with her light.

My stone doesn’t sing, and there is no searing pain from my mating marks, but I am happy at this moment.

Happy to help Melisa in any way I can.

It’s an emotion that’s evaded me for far too long.

“Where do we start?” Melisa asks, stepping forward.

My smile grows at her courage.

Brave woman.

“First, stand. You can’t fight someone if you aren’t solid on the ground. Come here.”

Her eyes flash at the command, but she comes.

I stand straight, feet close together, and then gesture at her. “Try to push me over.”

Her brows furrow. “You can’t be serious. You are at least two heads taller than me!”

I smile. “Trust me, Ruh’flor.”

She glares at the name, and a part of me can’t believe it slipped past my lips: cave flower. Why give such a name to a woman who has barely spent any time in the caves?

Before I can analyze it any further, she shoves me. I laugh in surprise at the power of her blow and bend backward.

I had anticipated her to make me sway a little, but I tumble onto my ass mere inches from the fire. My tail stops my fall, and my short hair falls in my eyes. I brush it away.

She looks down at me, half-horrified, half-amused. “Ra’Sa—I’m sorry?—”

I smile, getting to my feet and brushing the snow off my backside.

“No, it is a good lesson. The more rigid you are, the easier it will be to knock you down.” I adjust my stance, with my feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent, and weight balanced.

“Now, try to push me again.”

She raises an eyebrow but does so. While my torso twists and bends, I remain standing.

Her eyes study my movements. “You are more flexible.”

I nod. “Exactly. The blows won’t knock you over, and you can move forward and backward.” I demonstrate. “Now, you try.”

She chews on her lip, then begins to shift her body. Her eyes meet mine again when she finishes copying how I was moments before. “Like this?”

I like the determination in her voice.

“Yes.”

I fashion my own short blade out of stones.

“Next, footwork. Fighting is not just about being able to stand in one place; it’s about being able to move. You should learn to advance.” I shuffle forward. “Retreat.” I mirror the movement backward. “Sidestep.” I calmly move to either side.

“And lastly, circle an opponent.” I start to move around her, holding out my blade. “If you only attack straight on, you will get hurt more. Movement leads to success in a battle.”

I smile. “Let’s practice. Shuffle forward.”

After a few more minutes, we have practiced each of the steps. I’m strangely proud to watch her catch on so quickly.

“Try an advance, sidestep, and then circle me,” I call out, smiling.

She does so, and when she hits each movement just right, she thrusts a playful jab toward me and smiles. Her laugh lights up my heart.

“I did it!”

“You did,” I say with a smile. “You have good instincts. What you just did with the blade is called a thrust, but there are other things. You could’ve slashed at me or parried my attack.”

I show her each one, even throwing in feints.

When she slashes a little close to my chest, I reach out and disarm her. Her blade falls to the ground, but her wrist stays locked in my hand.

So many touches. I’m turning into a greedy man.

But then I remember everything she’s told me about Zlosa—about Eneko—so I drop her hand, respecting her space.

Her face is flushed, and she pants, smile falling just a touch.

“I think that is enough for tonight,” I say solemnly.

She nods her head. “Of course.”

I smile back at her. “Well done today.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s eat.”