To Scale the Emerald Mountain (The Willowbane Saga #1)

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T wo full moons pass by in a repetitive blur. The days bleed into each other, each one a near replica of the day before.

Locane and I figured out the best schedule is to train with fighting first thing in the morning after an early breakfast. Locane still uses a blunt edged training sword and doesn’t hold back on me like he did the first night we fought with weapons. Even still, I usually beat him far easier than I would expect based on our sizes and vast age difference.

When I finish weapons training, I take a walk around the grounds alone to begin clearing my head and connecting with the earth, channeling more power into my gifts. The two golden spools within me glow brighter with each bare footfall on the soft grass while the sun beats on my skin. Even on the days when it rains, the droplets on my skin fuel me in the same way as the sun.

After my walk, I eat a small snack. We then either sit on the lawn, or in front of the large row of windows in the informal living area, for me to practice seeking visions. I test the limits of what I can do with them. It turns out, the limits are rock solid, and while I can sometimes summon the visions at will, I cannot control what I See. It often takes great effort to make them stop when I choose.

Since my vision of Ellhora on the Ruby Shore, nothing of obvious importance has come to me. I have only seen a merchant in Crane Hills loading a shipment of candles to go to Quinndohs; a goat herder trying and failing to herd his tribe away from the Plains of Ire; a woman looking out a window at a cloudless sky while she rubs her hand affectionately across her belly swollen with child. I See several other equally mundane and insignificant things, much to Locane’s frustration. A point of frustration for both of us is that I haven’t figured out any indicators to pinpoint a general time for what I might be Seeing.

We often argue about what a disappointing failure of a Seer I am, and then I take another walk. The second stroll of the day is always much less enjoyable than the first, usually spent fuming as I try to vent my steadily building rage. I come down from it enough to stomach facing Locane again for a lunch that he has prepared. It is always delicious, filling, and has a way of abating my foul mood enough to continue with the rest of the day.

After lunch, I will go nap for an hour, hoping to sleep off the relentless headaches that are building in strength, before going back outside to practice with my electric currents.

Unlike bringing forth a vision, the electricity requires me to dig my hands in the dirt. Locane took me into the carriage house and had me place my hands on top of the brick floor of the building and nothing happened. But every time I have the earth around my hands, the flaming veins burst forth from me easily. My aim is becoming more precise, but we still make sure to always practice this bout of magic far from the beautiful country house.

Most days, I bathe while Locane makes dinner. I never fail to get much dirtier than he does with all the rolls on the ground and digging my hands and feet in the earth, but I don’t mind. After dinner I am usually too tired to do anything else but fall into bed, sometimes not even bothering to change into night clothes before I do. I’m always too mentally exhausted to think about much of anything, and no other visions or memories of importance have come to me that I determine the need to keep hidden.

I’ve been wanting to try the jump, but Locane is worried that with us not knowing where I am in that area, that I will jump out of the wards and the king’s guards may find me. The prospect of that alone makes the urge to practice far less appealing.

Even though he is infuriating and mean most of the time, I do have a sense of safety here. And I can’t help but be appreciative to Locane for helping me to remember who I am and what I can do. Those weeks that I was alone after escaping, I wasn’t aware I had magic at all. It seems silly now, as it’s constantly buzzing below the surface, eager to be let out.

But how long do we plan to stay hidden here? With the quest ahead, I would imagine it can’t be long. I don’t know what—if anything—Locane has planned for that time. Today is the first day I have taken a break from all training, and I take the opportunity while I’m rested and clear headed after lunch to ask him what’s next.

“How long are we going to stay here?” I ask him innocently, determined not to set off one of his unpredictable moods. In the time we have spent together, they haven’t evened out at all. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him. The smallest things seem to set him off in fits that range between mild irritation and utter fury. It’s honestly as exhausting as the training, and infinitely more terrifying.

“As long as it takes.” A typical Locane answer.

My annoyance is already emerging. My patience for his vague answers wears thinner every single day .

We walk through the rose garden, more kept than it was a couple of months ago. Locane and I don’t usually spend time around each other outside of training and meals, as it always ends in some sort of physical or verbal fight, but I’ve often seen him out here weeding and pruning. It’s disconcerting, seeing this cold and crass man lovingly tend to a garden or putting his soul into the meals and treats he prepares in the kitchen. The contrast between his generally cruel personality and the care and reverence he puts into his hobbies is stark.

Our walk together was his idea, and I was hoping that him having the idea of us spending unnecessary down time together would mean he would be willing to have an open conversation. It has been far too long. Every time I try, he manages to deflect or we end up in a vicious fight. I’ve found myself less and less motivated to bring up these conversations and ask my questions.

“Perfect. More cryptic answers,” I say icily, rubbing my temple. “Do you have an idea of where we will go first when we leave here?” A slight edge coats my voice.

Locane stops to bend down and pull a small weed creeping up between one of the rose bushes and puts it in his pocket. I arch a brow in question at the act.

“If you don’t dispose of it properly, it will just establish itself where it lands. But to answer your question, I think it would be best for us to head to the Territories when we leave here. I heard whispers about a religious group who may be able to point us in the right direction. With you being wanted, it would be unwise to search anywhere on the Continent for the time being.”

“You and your whispers. And how will we head for the Mother Continent?” My chest squeezes with the question, because there can only be so many answers.

Locane gives me knowing eyes when he answers, “The safest route of travel is from the ports of The Capital in Quinndohs, but we will take one of the more discreet ports from here in Brhadir.”

“Do you think we will be able to go through the ports unnoticed? Is there not any kind of documentation required to travel on one of those ships?” Choking fear claws at my throat.

He sighs before taking my hand, continuing to walk through the garden. The gesture is tender and intimate—taking me by surprise. I’m about to pull my hand away when he stops and turns to face me, his hand still laced in mine.

Locane holds a gentle expression as he takes in the anxiousness that I’m giving off. “I understand your fears, but we cannot stay here forever. Yes, it’s a risk, but I know people. We will be able to get on a ship unnoticed.” He cups my cheek with his free hand and adds, “I won’t let them take you.”

My breathing has become uneven with his affectionate actions. He drops little lines of compliments occasionally, continuing with his pattern of being endlessly confusing. They catch me off guard every time.

He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand, and it pushes me over the edge. The months of back and forth have finally become too much with that simple pass of his thumb over my skin. My cheeks blush pink and my heart patters in my chest.

“I don’t get you,” I admit in a breathy whisper before I can stop the words from coming out.

Locane drops my hand and brushes his fingers across my cheek, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His face drops a fraction closer to mine, and my breath catches. “What do you mean?”

I laugh. “I mean, you’re confusing. You are so hot and cold. Last night you were angry and screaming at me about how I ask too many questions, and today you ask me to walk with you through a rose garden? Touch me and speak to me with affection? Please, Locane. I’m already waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He grins at me in a way I’ve not seen from him yet, with genuine amusement. “Hot and cold?”

“Yes! You are cruel and mean, yet you often speak about my beauty and magic with such reverence. And then you call me a child and tell me what a disappointment I am.”

Cocking my head to the side, I step back, effectively pulling away from his tender hands. I put more space between us as his grin widens, and he lets loose a chuckle.

Swallowing down my sudden, fervent need to lean into him is difficult. But I turn on my heel to walk towards the entrance of the garden. Despite my illogical desires that momentarily threatened to take over, I’m not in the mood for whatever games he’s trying to play today.

Walking with long strides back towards the house, I make it to the front door. My hand is on the knob, prepared to turn it, when a whisper of warm air rushes behind me and two tan arms appear on either side of my head, caging me in between him and the door. I don’t know how he creeps up so silently.

I’m about to open the door anyway when the thought occurs to me that if I do, Locane may fall on top of me when it opens. Instead, I say, “Move.”

He does move, but not in the way that I meant.

Locane leans his head in towards me, his breath tickling the shell of my ear through my long, thick hair. He whispers with a smooth voice, “I’m only honest, Ellya. You are incredibly beautiful and powerful. You are also endlessly infuriating. ”

I don’t know what effect he sought with those words, but as usual with him, he brings forth anger. Turning quickly, I push his chest with both hands.

“What are you playing at?” I ask him accusingly.

His response is to grab the back of my neck with one hand, twining his fingers through my hair while snaking his other arm around my lower back, pulling me into him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, a slight ring of panic to my voice.

“This,” Locane replies smoothly and confidently before bringing his mouth down to mine, placing a delicate kiss on my lips as both of his arms tighten around me.

A small squeak of surprise escapes me, my eyes going wide. Locane pulls away, looking at me imploringly, as if waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he leans down again, stealing another kiss. This one is firmer, and my eyes flutter closed giving in to this growing desire to snap the painful tension I’ve felt with him since the day he rescued me in the woods.

Locane’s lips part, and mine follow suit. My tongue darts out, meeting his as it searches my mouth. With that first bout of contact my knees weaken with the heady taste of him. I moan in appreciation at his intoxicating taste. He takes that as the invitation he needs to drop his guard and pushes me roughly against the door.

My hips rock forward, instinctively seeking his. Locane meets my gesture with a deep groan as he pushes the hard, thick length of his cock against me. Our height difference causes him to push it into my belly.

He breaks our kiss, both of us panting. The furious heat in his eyes only fuels the inferno building within me. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him back down to me, desperate to taste him again .

The moment Locane’s lips meet mine, I jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me with a handful of my thighs and grips them tight, pulling me closer to him. He breaks our kiss again.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” his voice comes out gravelly—angry.

Shooting him a glare, I seek his mouth again. Locane opens the door with his free hand and walks over the threshold of the vestibule. He walks quickly to the formal living room to the right of the staircase, clearly too eager to make it any further.

He turns around and sits on the chaise lounge and pulls me down with him so I’m straddling his lap. My breaths are heavy and desperate as I look down at him to see an expression that surely matches my own.

He grabs both of my hips roughly and pulls me into him to grind into his cock. Locane’s large hands move up my hips, reaching under the hem of my shirt to touch my bare skin. The contact brings an electric shock that has nothing to do with my power and makes me roll my hips against him harder.

Locane senses my need and moves his hands to my ass, grabbing me against him and flipping us so I’m laying on my back on the chaise with him heavily on top of me. He moves so quickly I don’t register the movement until it’s done.

His full weight pressed hotly between my thighs sends soft noises up my throat I’d never known I was capable of making. I’m too overtaken with wanton need to care.

He has one arm on the side of my head, propping himself to keep from crushing me, and the other wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close. There’s barely enough room, but it’s just enough to work .

Locane kisses my forehead softly before looking at me with kind and caring eyes, stealing my breath further. So unlike the version of him that I’ve come to know. The way he is watching me now brings back that wave of familiarity that I often find myself seeking the full depths of when it makes itself known; but it is still just out of grasp.

I almost wonder if we have been in this position before, but Locane causes the thought to pull back in when he asks me, “Have you done this before?” He rubs his nose against the tip of mine while he waits for me to answer.

A slight twinge of self-consciousness eats into me when the truth comes out. “No, I don’t think so.”

And suddenly, although this feels so right, I’m so very frightened and almost unsure.

He nods twice and brushes a gentle kiss across my lips. “I didn’t think so. We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to do everything all at once.”

His placating words send me an instant wave of relief, and my nearly forgotten desire returns as he brings his mouth back to mine, his lips less frantic and rough than before.

Locane pushes the hair back from my face with one hand and then slowly slides that hand down the side of my cheek, my neck, brushing lightly past my collar bone with fingertips that slow more and more the further south they get. My breath hitches with each downward caress. The sensations mount inch by delicate inch. The maddening slowness with which he moves is becoming torture, and I writhe beneath him, seeking any touch, any friction, on my most sensitive body parts.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he finally reaches my breast and palms it, squeezing gently before hooking a finger in the collar of my shirt and pulling it down in a swift movement. My breast springs free, and I gasp. Locane draws my nipple into his mouth before I can do anything. Stop him, encourage him. I don’t know. My nerves are so alight with these brand-new sensations that it’s almost too much.

I’m certain I’ve never been touched like this before.

Locane scrapes his teeth over the hardened peak, and I moan and shudder beneath him. His hips pushing down on me further to hold me in place only add to the inferno building between my thighs.

He pulls his mouth free with a light pop. I pull his face back to mine, using the action to convey I want more. This building within me will culminate in something, and even if it’s my own destruction, I’ll take it as long as it’s seen through to the end.

With my pleading encouragement, his fingers quickly reach the waistband of my loose pants. Locane pauses for only half a heartbeat, looking down at me in that instance to give me a chance to back out. But I don’t. With my lack of resistance, he loses all abandon and moves those fingers quickly into my underwear, and he swears at how wet I am.

His mouth is back on mine, and his tongue forces its way in as he simultaneously plunges his pointer finger deep within me. He wastes no time coaxing my pleasure to new heights as he hooks his finger inside me and pushes with steady thrusts.

I grind into his hand, my motion against him causes his palm to brush against my overly sensitive clit. I cry out, knowing that the pleasure building within me is going to come crashing down on me soon—and I’m begging for it.

“Please.”

Literally begging .

He nips at my bottom lip and then says, “Come for me.”

I instantly crash from the peak to which he brought me with his commanding words.

My walls pulse around him while I breathe out loud and ragged exhales. His finger is still moving in and out of me with each wave of my pleasure until those crashing waves have stopped.

I’m covered in a sheen of sweat, murmuring curses over and over, nearly incoherent, having not yet come back down to this planet. His finger stills inside of me but doesn’t leave. I can feel him looking at me, taking me in while my eyes are screwed tight, my mind and body both trying to recover from what has just happened.

Locane only removes himself from inside of me when my stream of expletives stops. He kisses my lips softly, but I’m unable to return it as not one of my muscles is working correctly.

And then his warm weight is off me.

I snap my eyes open in time to see him walk through the doorway without a single word.

Gulping in fresh air, I correct my clothing and sit in shock for a minute. My body is still warm and tingly with the intense pleasure of the orgasm he just gave me.

This is not at all the turn I expected this day to take, and I’m honestly not sure if I want to walk out the door right now—leave and never come back—or run him down and ask him to do it again. I’m not sure if I want to laugh and revel in the pleasure and relief from our actions, or if I want to go hide and cry.

Composing myself, I ignore the sinking in my stomach. Before I even get up from the couch, my thighs still slicked with my arousal, I can tell that everything has changed. I’m just not quite sure how yet .

There’s no denying the enjoyment I felt during that encounter, but Locane has never made me feel anything positive. Even when I try to explore our familiarity, it hasn’t gone beyond wondering what it means.

But now…

Now, I’ve dove headfirst into dark and depthless waters, unsure of what I’ll find when I reach the bottom. I’m so conflicted between it being so right, and yet like something is just off. Putting my face in my hands, I take a deep breath, trying to stifle my unease.

I just want to be at peace.

I consider going upstairs to take a bath. Or going to my room and going to sleep. I then consider going to find Locane to demand the truths he avoids; demand to know why I feel like this. Because I think he knows. I do none of these things and instead walk back outside, closing the door gently behind me.

I don’t have a destination in mind. I just wander. My intention was to gather my thoughts and formulate a plan. But as I walk through the tall grasses on the warm summer day I find my mind fully blank. I’m numb, my weariness finally winning and bringing me under. I suppose it’s better than being angry or panicked.

My feet find my favorite clearing, the one that I first used my currents at shortly after I arrived here. I sit for what must be hours, my arms wrapped around my knees, my eyes closed while I soak in the sun's rays as I try to hold myself together.

There’s still a slight soreness between my legs, and I briefly smile, remembering how it came to be. That smile fades as quickly as it came when a weight of what feels like raw guilt comes to sit heavy on my chest.

As grateful as I am for the alone time, I also can’t help but be slightly miffed at the fact that Locane had nothing to say to me after such an intimate act. That he hasn’t come to find me after I’ve been out here long enough for the sun to start to dip towards the trees. Surely, he would think to look here. I gather myself when my stomach starts to growl with hunger, trying to tuck these strange feelings away, and make my way back towards the house.

I’ve made a decision on my next course of action.