The Shadow Warrior Page 7

Mags normally wouldn’t have bothered, but she didn’t think the Noxblade would be willing to curl up with her and share body heat. A pity, since that would be the most practical solution. She couldn’t blame him, however, since he didn’t have the fur or sufficient body weight to resist the elements as she did.

  That was why she assisted when Gavriel pulled out a small tent. He had a few creature comforts stuffed into an impressively small bag, and she silently praised his decision not to build a fire. His tent was silver and white, and it blended well with the wintry landscape. A plume of smoke would give away their location to anyone who might be hunting nearby. In this situation, it seemed best to assume that they were surrounded by enemy patrols.

  He also set up a few sensors around the perimeter. Mags knelt, examining them with great curiosity. “Will these be triggered by wildlife?” she asked.

  “Only if the animal weighs more than fifty kilos.”

  She laughed. “We’d want to know if something that big was prowling around anyway. I’m a pretty good danger detector as well. I sleep light out in the field.”

  “You expect me to trust you with my well-being?” Gavriel asked, raising a brow.

  Until he put it that way, she hadn’t thought about it, but… “Yeah. We’re partners, and if I let anything happen to you, it makes me look bad. That means you can trust me, as long as our truce holds.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Kneeling, he parted the tent flap and crawled inside, then he added, “Aren’t you coming?”

  Mags cocked her head. “Am I invited?”

  “It will be warmer with two of us in here. It will be cramped if you shift, however.”

  She smirked. “You saying you prefer me as a woman, Gavriel? And you want me for my body heat?”

  “As a tiger, you might destroy my shelter. So yes. And honestly? Yes to the second query as well. Unless close spaces bother you, we’ll both be more comfortable.”

  “I thought you liked a certain amount of…discomfort.” That was too personal, and she regretted letting the question slip the second it came out.

  He froze for a few seconds, then withdrew into the tent, but he didn’t fasten it, leaving the decision up to her. It was damn cold after nightfall, so it wasn’t a tough call. Mags knee-walked into the tent and zipped it behind her. Gavriel had laid out thermal sleeping bags and he’d cracked a chemical light stick so the space wasn’t completely dark, but the eerie yellow glow gave the interior a strange atmosphere, akin to a cave where mysterious rites might take place.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you,” she said then. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying certain things.” That was vague enough not to offend him further, she hoped.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  That was clear enough, but the barely concealed shame in his voice made it hard for her to leave it alone. “Then just listen, okay? You shouldn’t torture yourself emotionally over what gets you off. Everyone’s different, and as long as nobody hurts you without permission, it’s all good. I like it rough, and that’s fine. Give yourself a break, all right?”

  He was silent for so long that Mags was about to give up on the conversation. Then he finally said, “It’s so easy for you to talk about.”

  “What is?”

  “Your…inclinations.”

  She laughed softly. “You don’t have to whisper. We’re the only ones here. And yeah, I don’t have any issue discussing what I like in bed.”

  “It’s not like that among Noxblades. We’re not a monastic order, but we’re encouraged toward an ascetic lifestyle. Excess desire could cloud our judgment, make us want something more than—”

  “Killing on command?” she finished.

  Irritation popped in the back of her head. The Eldritch had abused their children long enough, making them feel like they should be honored to be murder machines. Gavriel seemed to have existed for much of his life, devoid of warmth or joy. He’d lost everyone he loved in service to Princess Thalia, and now she’d cut him loose. The injustice of that made Mags want to set fire to something.

  “Not how the guild masters would put it, but essentially, yes. If we’re allowed to feel things fully, there could come a point when we’re ordered to take out a target, only to find we have an attachment to that person. Conflicting loyalties are not permitted.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “I’ve begun to think so.”

  Maybe it was the forced intimacy of their shelter, but she’d never witnessed Gavriel so willing to talk. She risked a personal question. “Have you always liked the rough stuff?”

  “As long as I can remember,” he whispered.

  “Me too.” Maybe a personal story would make him trust her more. “I was always the most aggressive one in my training class, the first to shift, the first to strike. Before I was old enough to know what I was feeling, I knew that I liked getting the jump on my opponents. It gave me such a good feeling when I had someone under me.”

  “It sounds like sex and sparring are intertwined for you.” Gavriel’s voice was deeper, and she could hear that his breath was a little uneven.

  Really? Just from hearing that little bit? Mags decided to test it. “You could say that. The first time I came with a partner, it was after I beat her in the practice room. We were both sweating, and I was holding her down. She started struggling, but playfully. I bit her. She bucked against my hips and whispered, ‘don’t stop’. I didn’t.”

  His breath hitched, and she smelled the warming of his scent. Not the same as when she brought his clothes back, but close. Probably she should stop provoking him, but it had been a long time since she’d taken a lover. Emotional entanglements were neither simple, nor safe, and she couldn’t risk it a third time.

  Gavriel responded in a deep, dark voice that sent a shiver through her. “Back when I was in training, I failed an exercise badly. The instructor caned me and…”

  “You liked it,” she guessed.

  His breath caught audibly, revealing the power of the memory. “It was the first time I ever felt….excited.”

  Mags could picture the scene with a clarity that startled her, as she wasn’t given to fantasies, but the images filled her head. A slender, young Gavriel bearing the strikes with silent, bewildered arousal. Did he slink away and masturbate afterward, biting down on his hand to increase the intensity? Those were questions she couldn’t ask, and now she was remembering the smell of his sex after they fought, after she held him down.

  I shouldn’t think of him as a potential partner.

  Still, if she could mitigate some of his shame, she had to try. Mags silently marveled that he was opening up to her this much. “I hope the instructor didn’t—”

  “No,” he cut in quickly. “Nobody ever knew. I kept the revelation to myself.”

  Wait, that can’t mean what it sounds like.

  “For how long?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There has to be someone you trusted with this before now. A friend or a lover…?” Gavriel couldn’t be a virgin, right?

  “This isn’t the sort of thing that comes up in conversation,” he said stiffly. “You found out on your own through the most awkward circumstances imaginable. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this discussion either.”

  Oh, goddess.

  Suddenly it felt like the tent might go up in flames. Nobody had ever given him what he craved; he was all skill and discipline, needs subsumed in his work. She could be the first to show him that there was nothing bad or wrong about his hidden desires.

  I definitely should not do this.

  Gavriel could hardly think for the way his heart thundered in his ears. This was the most intimate conversation he’d ever had with anyone, and it registered on all his senses as seduction. He had to remember that the Animari were different. They were frank about sexual matters and they stripped down casually in front of whoever might be watching. That openness was never meant as
an enticement.

  “Are you trying to shut me up?” Magda asked.

  He’d lost the rhythm of the conversation. People didn’t tend to chat with him in any event. Most of his relationships were adversarial, even more so since Zan’s passing. He didn’t know how to simply talk to someone, couldn’t remember if he’d ever known. And the insistent thrumming in his head made everything feel fuzzy, similar to indulging in too much wine. Not that he’d done that often either.

  So many things I haven’t done.

  He was starting to regret how austerely he’d lived, how much he’d allowed the Noxblade guild to dominate his existence.

  “You’re quiet,” she said. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

  “I was reflecting.”

  “On what?”

  “Everything,” he said wearily.

  “I had no idea our exchange was that deep.”

  “Maybe not for you. Most things appear to come easier for the Animari.” He was surprised at the flicker of envy that supplanted his customary bitterness.

  “That sounded almost like a compliment.”

  “You can take it that way if you wish.”

  He turned his back on her then, thinking that if he couldn’t see the curves of her face, he would stop feeling this maddening compulsion. Even now, he was wondering about her strength. Imagining how hard her hands must be and how soft her hair must feel.

  Gavriel wrapped up in his sleeping kit and that should have ended the conversation. Another Eldritch would certainly have taken the hint. Magda lay down behind him, close enough that he could feel her body heat, radiating like a furnace, even if they weren’t touching. It shouldn’t feel so good, being this close to an enemy.

  He wanted to roll over and ask more impossible questions. Somehow he kept quiet.

  She didn’t.

  “You’re punishing yourself again,” she observed.

  “What are you going on about?”

  “I’m wise to your ways now. You’re always denying yourself something you want.”

  “The only thing I want right now is to sleep,” he snapped.

  “That’s a lie. I can smell it on you.”

  Smell what? Deception? Or… he cringed, shoulders pulling inward. Surely she couldn’t sense that she’d stirred him with her candid talk? That would be mortifying, as the urges still lingered, and he was half-hard, throbbing with no relief in sight. He certainly couldn’t handle it here, as he had in the past.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” he whispered, hating the touch of a plea that escaped when he meant to be all stoic resistance.

  “Somewhere along the line, your people convinced you that there’s merit in self-sacrifice. And I agree, to a point. But not when you never allow yourself anything good.”

  There was no rebuttal to her words because he’d made the princess’s will his world. Now he had freedom and precious little else. More to the point, he had no idea what to do with that liberty. Mostly, he felt that he’d outlived his usefulness and he wanted to die. Sobering, to permit that thought to form fully without choking it back. It was a frail little thing, that self-realization, and it trembled at being exposed to her scrutiny.

  “My whole life, I’ve focused on killing and hoping that I’d earn a good and worthy death. Never once did I consider how I’d like to live.” Gavriel spoke softly, the words like water overflowing a broken dam.

  He couldn’t see her. Could only see the flutter of the tent wall, trembling against the wind.

  “You don’t need to know the answer right away,” she said. “It’s enough that you’re asking the question.”

  “It feels like you’re being kind to me. I don’t understand why.”

  Her hand settled in the center of his back, firm enough to settle his galloping heart. “We’re partners. Isn’t that enough? You can say anything to me, and I won’t judge you.”

  For the first time, he understood the wolf lord’s obsession with conquering Magda Versai. What wouldn’t a person do for this sort of acceptance? But this didn’t seem to be a merit that could be gained by force or valor; from his observations, Magda offered it on her own terms. Certainly, Gavriel had never done anything to deserve it. He’d only treated her with rancor and icy disdain.

  Before, he might have thought this was a trap, some trick to get him to reveal his weaknesses. She’d already told him enough to make him feel sure they were talking as equals, not playing an Eldritch power game. The Animari didn’t seem to do that.

  He didn’t roll over, but he did speak. “You’re right about that.”

  “I usually am,” she said, laughing, “but what in particular?”

  “How the guild trains us. We’re taught from an early age that success is all that matters. It doesn’t matter if we hurt, if we’re lonely, if we suffer as others don’t.”

  It was easier, now that he’d started. The words came freely, no longer as if pulled through thorns in his throat. “Most of my people don’t eat meat. You know that, I remember you complaining about it. But in the field, my sword mates and I ate it raw and bloody. Whatever we had to do, we did—to survive, to complete the mission.”

  Gavriel still recalled the awful hardships before they reached Hallowell. The snow, the scarcity of food. It was necessary, but he’d been so sick afterward, wanting to throw up, but he couldn’t. He needed the energy to keep moving and he couldn’t lose face in front of the Golgoth prince. More agonizing, the sense of being tainted and impure, less than the rest of his people. They had the freedom to uphold their principles because of what the Noxblades did to protect them.

  “I don’t understand because my people see it differently. We respect the animals we consume, and we know one day we’ll be eaten too, even if it’s less directly.” She talked a little about Animari funeral rites, until the pressure lessened in his chest. “Anyway, I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing what you had to, even if you broke some rules.”

  Gavriel didn’t want to get into Eldritch religious practices with her, so he pretended to accept her words. It was easy for an outsider to say it was no big deal to consume flesh, but according to their beliefs, he would never be pure enough to take his place in paradise, no matter what he did going forward. There was no penance sufficient to atone.

  “Do you plan on letting us sleep tonight or not?”

  “That depends on you.”

  “Now what?” he growled.

  “We have a lot in common, shadow warrior. If you want to take it to the next level, I’m interested and willing.”

  That was so shocking, he rolled over in reaction. Her face was very close. She smelled of the wilderness, fresh pine, and bracing wind. Part of him wanted to put his face in her neck and breathe deeper, and he missed the feel of her hand on his back.

  “You want us to…” The right words wouldn’t come, because nobody had ever propositioned him before.

  They wouldn’t dare. Not Gavriel, Death’s Shadow.

  “Don’t be delicate. I want to fuck you. I want to make it hurt in all the best ways. If you’re good with that, we’ll have some fun. If not, no pressure. I won’t ask again.”

  “But you don’t even like me.”

  Magda laughed quietly. “Is that necessary? You hate my guts and I get on your last nerve, but I promise you won’t hate what I can do to you.” Her smile held countless secrets. “That lack of affection will make it simpler for both of us when we decide we’re done.”

  “No emotional entanglements? Just sex for its own sake.”

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  “How do I know you won’t use anything that passes between us against me later?”

  She sighed. “Have you ever heard a whisper about anyone I’ve been with?”

  While prowling around Ash Valley during the conclave, he’d learned that she had reputation for being unattainable, an unscalable mountain, and Raff Pineda had failed to seduce her as well. If she’d had partners before, she didn’t speak of them after
ward. That made her perfect for realizing the dark fantasies he’d nursed in secret and in silence. Afterward, he wouldn’t have to see her or deal with awkward, knowing looks.

  “I take your point.”

  Magda went on, “If we work together long enough, I might eventually manage to become your friend, but I’ll never love you. And I’ll never meddle with your heart, either. Does that deal work for you?”

  Surprisingly enough, it did.

  8.

  Though Gavriel hadn’t verbalized his agreement, Mags could tell he was tempted. He wouldn’t hesitate to reject an offer that held no appeal yet he hadn’t responded. That meant he was considering it.

  She didn’t push. Patience might deliver what aggression couldn’t. There would be time for that part later.

  Finally, he said, “Let’s say, hypothetically, that I agree. How would we proceed?”

  “I won’t pounce you and tie you up, if that’s what you’re asking. Right now, you barely trust me to touch your back. We have to work on that before we take it further.”

  “Trust? Really?” He sounded so surprised that she smiled. “I thought you weren’t interested in my emotions.”

  With the faint, yellow light from the chemical torch, Mags could make out his skepticism easily. Now that she was looking at him as a potential partner, she let herself admire the sharpness of his jaw, the autocratic arch of his nose, and the contrasting softness of his mouth. It also helped that his expression wasn’t contorted in a scowl and his white hair wasn’t hanging half across his face like a veil.

  “Not in a romantic way, but a certain level of rapport is required.”

  “Clarify.”

  “You need to be comfortable with me and with being touched. Given how high you’ve built your walls, that might take some time. It might sound counterintuitive, but you have to trust me not to hurt you for real before we can play together.”

  In some ways, Mags felt like she was gentling a wild animal, a genuinely feral wolf that might chew his own leg off to avoid personal contact. She reached out slowly, watching for the flinch, however slight, but Gavriel didn’t move, not even when she flattened her palm on his chest. His heart was thumping too fast, but she’d sensed his reaction earlier and tried not to reveal that awareness. He’d hate for her to know what he felt before he was ready.