CHAPTER 21

Cillumn sank into the same over-cushioned chair he had used on the first visit to Dynarys's apartments.

Across from him sat two Shifters. One, an aging dark-skinned man with wiry gray hair and eyebrows so wild they seemed in danger of crawling from his face. The second was younger, but still sported streaks of silver at his temples.

Both were warriors, with the broad shoulders and defined muscle that came from years of physical trials. Their faces wore nearly identical, and serious, expressions. So alike, Cillumn pondered the possibility that they were father and son. They did not look at him directly, which wasn't unusual, and they didn't have to for Cillumn to sense that what they had to report wasn't good.

“Begin,” Dynarys commanded. He stood behind Cillumn, near his left shoulder.

“We found the encampment, as you said,” the older Shifter spoke, his voice was raspy and a fair bit higher than Cillumn had expected. Cillumn leaned forward, unable to stem the small niggle of hope, nor the worry.

“But the pack was gone. We estimate two days, at least.”

“Gone?” Dynarys clarified.

Cillumn would have asked the question himself, but he was still busy trying to process the man's words. Two days. They would have had to leave the night of the battle, or very shortly afterward, for it had hardly been that long. Was it possible that taking the glyph from the encampment hadn't been enough to deter the creatures?

The scout nodded. “The structures remained...mostly, and were filled with belongings, clothing and the like, but no Shifter has been in the camp recently.”

“And you found no one?” Cillumn questioned. “No one dead...or unconscious?”

How long had Lis said her mother would sleep? Twelve hours? What if they had thought her dead in the chaos and left her for the creatures?

But the Shifter was shaking his head. “There was no one,” he reiterated. “The entire pack has left.”

It didn't fit. If the battle had continued, if the creatures hadn't been lured away following the glyph, the pack would have lost members, or had injured to carry at the least. Both relief and frustration worked their way into his mind. He was glad there were no bodies to find, but if they hadn't perished, then what had become of them?

“You didn't track them? Find out where they are?” The words slipped forth in an accusing manner. He couldn't help it. They had been so close. He knew little of tracking, but he understood that the fresher the trail the better. Why hadn't they followed it while they were there, instead of returning to report? Now the trail may be lost forever.

The younger Shifter scowled at Cillumn's feet and then briefly looked up into his face, mouth open as if to speak, as if to defend himself.

A cough and a significant look from the elder stopped him short.

The man's mouth closed and he resumed his glower toward Cillumn's legs.

“You will speak what you know,” Dynarys growled. He hadn't missed the exchange, either.

The scout started slightly, his lips open and closed a few times in a way that reminded Cillumn of a fish out of water. At last he looked up. Not at Cillumn, but at Dynarys.

“To do so will reveal pack secrets, Alpha. It goes against our ways to be so open with a Lord.”

Dynarys resumed his growl, this time louder, and more disapproving. “Do you forget then, what I am? This pack wanted my leadership. I didn't take it. In fact, I tried to refuse it. But now I am Alpha. You do not get the benefits I can offer as a Dragon Lord with no cost. I expect that you will trust that I've considered the good of the pack, and you will trust my judgment. You will obey.”

The older scout twisted in his seat, physically uncomfortable, his head bowed down, and Cillumn had the impression that, if he could sink to the floor and grovel, he might.

“Of course Alpha, forgive me, I forgot my place.”

The man's submissive capitulation made Cillumn uncomfortable. Intellectually, he knew it was the pack way, but that didn't stop it from feeling weak and spiritless to him. It made little sense, as a way to run a society, to have the members so cowed.

Behind Cillumn, Dynarys sighed, as if he, too, found the display unfitting, despite having given the order. “Let's hear it, then.”

“It is common procedure,” the scout began without farther prompting, “when a pack is betrayed, to leave multiple sets of scent trails, leading in all directions. Each is strong and legitimate, each could be the true path the pack has taken. We would need several more scouts and many more days than we were allowed to locate them, especially since it seems that they were in danger when they vacated. They will be over cautious now.”

That did create a problem. Already, Cillumn had borrowed resources that weren't his for this task. He turned, looking back toward Dynarys. He had to ask, for Lis, though he already knew the answer.

Indeed, Dynarys was shaking his head.

“I am sorry my friend, I cannot spare that type of force, especially not with the attacks on the Aerie.”

Cillumn nodded, acknowledging the truth. He had gotten what he asked for, after all. Information, not a rescue.

If there were no bodies, it was likely they had survived the attack, at least initially.

He cringed thinking about the revelation that the creatures were reproducing, and Illaise's warning about being bitten. Lis' pack might have survived, but they wouldn't have known that danger. What if it was too late before they figured such things out?

He closed his eyes; he was hemmed in. He could do nothing more except find a way to tell Lis.

***

It was late, or maybe, by now, it was early. Darkness clung to the corners of the workroom. Tables lined with various bowls created long, harsh shadows. Lis' lanterns fluttered with the remains of the oil she had supplied them with. Now, the cloth wicks smoked as they dried, adding to the strong scent filling the room.

Funny, when she left earlier, she didn't expect to be back. Now, it felt as though she had spent days without leaving.

Cillumn leaned against the door frame, dozing lightly. She hadn't even heard him come in, so absorbed had she been in her work. And he must have been there a while. His chin rested on his chest, one leg was bent up and the other stretched out. The beginning of stubble darkened his jawline, bringing back the memory of the moment she first saw him. His black tinted blade rested loosely in his hands. He had found clothes somewhere, she noted with only a hint of disappointment; it was practical to wear clothing when performing guard duty, after all. In his free hand, he held something small and red, it looked like a flower, though she couldn't guess its purpose. It sat between his forefinger and thumb, as though he had been contemplating it.

She should take the opportunity to warn Cillumn about the missing poison. She was working now with a far more concentrated form, as necessary for the creatures, but the theft worried her. Those phials could easily kill. And she still wasn't sure how the thief knew which of the phials to take. No one, not even her mother, understood her marking system, and she never bothered to explain it to anyone else. The only conclusion, then, was that whoever it was knew what they were looking for and could identify it by sight and smell.

She sighed, tired of running the scenarios over and over in her mind, and rubbed her eyes against her shoulder, one of the only clean places left on her body. She needed to wash, but she didn't know where. There wasn't even a bucket of water in the workroom, and she was so tired now she wouldn't make it to wherever the Lords kept their washing facilities. The floor where Cillumn slouched was starting to look like the finest of beds.

Her hands quaked a little. More than once, she had nearly made a mistake with the poison that could have cost her her life. She should have quit hours ago, slept, and then come back to it, maybe, but enough time had been wasted. Now her task was complete, as complete as it was going to be in the time given, any way. Already, there were a hundred things she would change or do differently, but her goal, now, was to find a safe place to rest for the few remaining hours before Illaise's deadline.

No one had said anything about stopping her, or joining her, either, though Lis left the conversation early. All this debating and speculation, it was useless. Lis didn't care whose plan was what, in a few hours she was going to get Adda.

She crept carefully around the table where she had been working. All of her supplies and new creations filled her satchel until it was bulging. It would be best if she could release the frogs, as well, but she hadn't seen a place where it would be safe to do so. She would have to take the chance that no one else would bother with them, or even know what purpose they held. It would be wise, should she survive the next few days, not to share her procedures, she decided. It hadn't occurred to her—in her pack no one had ever been interested in her inventions, except when they required healing, but here, there was far too much awareness. And it could lead to disaster. It was her responsibility to keep such things a secret.

Cillumn twitched the moment she moved, proving that, though he appeared to be resting, he was hardly incapacitated.

“Are you finished at last?” he wondered, looking up at her, amber eyes hopeful.

A part of her softened then. He looked so like a young boy hoping for reprieve. He really had gone out of his way to see to her safety and comfort since coming to the Aerie. And though he made it clear his intentions, his sexual desire, she had a difficult time believing all the trouble he had put upon himself was in the hopes of a simple sexual encounter. No, something else drove him, and that something touched her. A true interest in her work, and a devotion...to what, she wasn't yet certain.

“I have done what I can do.”

He nodded sharply. “Then there is something we must discuss.”

His expression changed then, no longer a hopeful one, but serious. Another problem, no doubt.

“There are two things we need to discuss, then, but can it wait? I am in no condition for conversation. Is there a place I might rest until dawn?” she asked.

His brows raised and he studied her thoroughly, his eyes traveling from her torso and bare arms, hardly covered in the stained shirt Gayriel had kindly lent. They lowered to the ruined skirt, also covered with splotches and dirt she had acquired from somewhere. Hadn't she warned him that she would do much better with her brown travel clothes? She wasn't sure what he had done with them, but they had been missing since she awoke. At last, his inspection landed on her face. Her exhaustion must have been evident, for he sighed and nodded sharply.

“You may rest, of course, but not in that condition,” he wrinkled his nose and then grimaced as he rose, stretching his arms and his back and then placing his blade into a sheath at his side.

Lis tried not to watch. What was she doing, anyway, finding the way his muscles bulged and moved fascinating? Hadn't she promised herself she could be cool and logical when it came to this Lord? He might not care about the differences between their people in his quest for an interlude, but she was the one who would be left with the aftermath. No pack would accept her if she had fallen for a Lord's charms.

No pack will accept you now, she reminded herself morosely.

“Please, Cillumn, I just want to rest,” she hated the whining of her voice, but her thoughts were dark and her eyelids were dragging downward.

“And you have earned it. Come, the bath house is not far.”

She groaned. “I don't have the strength left to clean myself, I need sleep. Either take me to a bed or leave me to sleep on the floor here.”

The last of her words rose in surprise. Cillumn strode over while she spoke, or complained, rather, and scooped her up off the floor, satchel and all. Together with her creations, she was not a light weight, yet he lifted and cradled her as though a small child and strode out of the workshop door, calling out a command to close and lock it to the guards.

“They don't have the key,” she protested his words. Squirming a bit in his grasp, her senses were in chaos. Part of her wanted to melt into his hold, he was warm and if she let herself she might fall asleep right there. Another part of her had grown acutely aware of stirring body parts that had no logical business tingling and longing at this juncture.

“Then they will have a puzzle to occupy their minds through the rest of the night instead of debating which would be most capable of entertaining you in bed.”

It took a moment for his words to make it past the fog in her mind, but when they struck, she was feeling a heat unrelated to the touch of his skin.

“They were discussing sex...with me?” her voice squeaked out like the working of a rusty hinge.

Cillumn grunted an unhappy affirmative, and they passed out from beneath the covered shelter of the building and into the open air. The darkness was still, but not with the quiet peace that often accompanied the time before dawn. This stillness was more akin to the moments before a storm.

The feeling added to the rising tension in her gut, she twisted urging Cillumn to set her down.

“I will walk,” she demanded. “I cannot think being toted around like this.”

From her position, she witnessed the corner of his frown lift into a half-smirk. He did not answer her demand, nor did he allow her down. Instead, gentle fingers circled along her lower back, at the base of her spine.

Instantly, the world faded except those small movements. She inhaled sharply at the long pulls his stroking formed inside of her. Cillumn must have heard the sound, for he hummed appreciatively but he did not stop and he didn't set her down.

The bath house was not a house so much as a set of changing rooms and walls that divided the pools of water from the sight of the rest of the Aerie. Said pools were open, not only to each other, but to the night air, as well. Clear water sparkled in the set-in basins, reflecting the light from the widely spaced lanterns that burned low. Created with the Aerie's favored white stone, the place appeared bright and clean. And Lis decided, not for the first time, that this Aerie felt far preferable to the dark gray stones of the Onyx.

The water lapped against the pool edges, full enough to wet the lip of stone. Beneath the surface, benches lined the pool walls. Steam rose in steady curls.

In short, it looked heavenly. White, fluffy towels were stacked at the wall nearby, but if servants attended the baths at this hour, they were nowhere to be seen.

Cillumn lowered Lis to the floor, nodding graciously toward the water.

She was relieved, and stupidly disappointed, to be free of his confounding touch. Maybe she could wrangle her emotions back into control.

She stepped toward the pools edge, watching the curls of steam shift with the air from her passage. Despite being unattended, the water looked hot enough to sooth aching muscles. She pondered that feat, someone had to be keeping the water's temperature. Her mind was too tired to come up with a scenario, however. Too tired to drag up her usual curiosity about such things.

She turned her head, intending to ask what Cillumn planned to do while she bathed, because he couldn't stay where he was.

Unfortunately, at that moment her toe struck an uneven stone. She stumbled, trying to regain her balance, and wrapped her arms tight around her satchel. Fear of the inevitable fall pounded against her ribs. Cillumn was fast, however, and, before she struck either the stone floor or the pool, his arms were back around her, lifting her upright.

When the world stopped spinning, he did not let go, simply held her there a moment as if thinking. Then, with all the gentleness of dealing with a tiny child, he pulled at the satchel.

“What are you doing?” she clutched the bag tighter.

“Am I right in my assumption this cannot go in the pool?”

She hesitated. “Yes, but...”

Cillumn ignored the rest of what she was going to say. She didn't want to leave the bag, her hope was in that bag. She fought a small battle for the strap, forcing him to pry her fingers open to get it loose. In the end, he won, of course, his strength far outmatched her own, and she was exhausted.

Gently, he set the satchel on the stones, just out of reach near their feet. He still had one arm wrapped around her ribs, and when the other returned, he moved his fingers down to the hem of her shirt, deftly pulling it upward. She could feel every brush of his fingertips, and the sensation of his touch slowed the realization that he was unclothing her.

“What are you doing now?” her stomach clenched and she perked up a bit, the possible situations stimulating her alertness.

“You were right, you are in no condition to wash yourself,” he answered.

It took a long moment for her to realize that he intended to wash her.

“No,” she growled. “Let go, Cillumn, I do not accept this.”

He did not let go. When she refused to lift her arms so that he could remove her shirt, he simply sliced it neatly up the back. With what, she couldn't see, but in seconds, her shirt was gone, with no hope of putting it back on.

“That was Gayriel's shirt, she's going to be angry with you,” Lis warned.

He snorted softly, unconcerned and the pressure around her chest lessened as her breast-band was cut loose, as well. She clasped her breasts as the material fell to the stones.

“I demand you stop.”

“I have seen you naked before, Lis,” he muttered dryly. “Now cooperate and make this easier on both of us. You are covered in stains and poisonous frog slime, but I am not going to leave you here to drown yourself,” his last word was punctuated by a small grunt, as he cut through the waistband of the skirt. It fell to the stones, as well, and Lis stood before him naked.

“It is not slime, and it's inert,” she informed him, but she dropped her hands. She couldn't cover her entire body at once, anyway, instead she used them to push at him. She might as well push against the stones of the Aerie itself.

“Yes, and it smells,” he wrinkled his nose. With swift movements, he pulled his own shirt off, and then snatched her close, lifting her once more and striding into the pool.

The sensation of her naked skin against his was enough to drive her to silence. Heat poured against her side, across the edge of one nipple and along her hip. A groan escaped her and she fought the urge to turn, to press her entire front against his.

Pants and all, he waded in, though he had dropped his sheath and blade somehow. Then, without ado, she was submersed, hot water surrounded her, enclosing over her head. Before instinct could kick in and insist she fight to get to the surface, Cillumn raised her up and placed her along one of the stone benches at the side of the pool. The seating was low enough that the water still rose to her neck.

He stood before her then...or she supposed he must have been hunched in the water, for his face was even with hers. Water had spiked his dark lashes together and they highlighted the amber of his fiercely glowing eyes, amusement and something else hidden in their depths. His dark hair plastered against his head, the ends dragging in the pool before expanding outward, they mingled with the deep red of her own locks.

Then he rose from the water, so that his chest, and then hard knotted stomach, was next to her face. Beads of water collected on the ridges of his body and she had the insane impulse to lick them off, to run her tongue along his markings. He was leaning over the edge of the pool nearby, reaching for something. When he returned, a bar of soap was in his right hand and a knowing grin pulled at his lips.

She blinked at him; he knew what he was doing to her, she was certain. She only wished she had a little more experience at this game. The few short romps she had entertained with warriors of the pack had not inspired her to seek sex often. Until this moment, she thought maybe her body simply didn't work the way that other women's did, that the fuss they kicked up about such things was simply not for her.

She was wrong.

She shuddered with sexual need as Cillumn ran the bar of soap along her left arm, she could feel her nipples tighten in anticipation. His movements were slow and deliberate, and as he washed, he watched her face intently.

And that was the difference right there. Instead of focusing on her body and its parts, this man was watching her, wanting her. The ache to touch him back was unbearable and she found her arms lifting of their own accord, circling his neck and tangling into the hair at his nape.

He let out an appreciative hum, and the glow of his eyes intensified slightly.

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers, their lips a breath apart, their air mingling. He was panting slightly, his face contorted with great concentration...or effort.

She brought one hand forward, raising a finger to the twitching muscle in his jaw. He swallowed visibly, and his eyes closed. His hand paused for a long moment and she got the impression that he was gathering himself.

Had she done that? Made it hard for this man to breathe? Made him tremble?

His hand moved once more, but the motion was not as smooth as it had been. And in the dark, the intensity of the fire in his eyes was intimidating...and exciting.

The soap drifted lower, first to her neck, and then her collarbone. There it stopped, to her disappointment. Her nipples had hardened into tight buds and she easily recalled how pleasurable it was to have him rub and knead them. Just the memory brought back a ghost of the sensation, the pull of desire that seemed to be constantly burning these last days.

She shifted, pressing them closer to him, then lifted her mouth closer to his, offering access.

He did not comply. His breathing hitched, and if she hadn't known he wasn't, she would have guessed he was in physical pain. But he still did not move from the slow circles around her shoulders and neck.

She pulled back and scowled unhappily at him. What was he doing, just playing games with her?

His chuckle was strained, a deep sexy sound. “You have forgotten my promise already, Lisrith,” he murmured.

Her scowl deepened, what promise?

“I will not touch you until you beg me to. I will not allow you to pretend you did not want it, that you were caught up in a moment. You will admit your desire for me, then I will give you what you need.”

Shame, and not a small amount of frustration found its way to the surface of her thoughts. She wasn't supposed to desire a Dragon Lord, saying it out loud...begging, it just seemed like a betrayal of her people, of herself.

“I can see that you are not yet ready,” he said, no hint of disappointment in his tone. Why wasn't he disappointed? Didn't he want her? Or had she read this situation wrong, as well? Uncertainty crept in, along with the rest of her tumultuous thoughts.

“Cillumn!” the call surprised them apart. She looked up, out of the pool and toward the wall that separated the bath house from the rest of the Aerie. Firestriker stood there, half in the shadows. Wings protruded from his back and his eyes glowed bright. How long had he been there, watching them? At first, she thought he had come to prevent intimacy, but his gaze passed over their compromising situation with disinterest before turning to the sky. “Grim returns,” he announced, “and he has brought friends.”

Cillumn sighed, dipping the soap into the pool. “I must go and defend the Aerie.”

He pulled himself up on the pool's edge, water streaming off of his body like a waterfall. It was then she noticed that he had most definitely been affected by their time in the water together; if the erection that strained against the wet material of his pants was any indication, he was very affected. Once out, he bent back down and hauled her out. Gently, he led her to the wall and wrapped one of the large towels around her. “Dry yourself and get somewhere safe until my return,” he turned toward Firestriker, and then hesitated a moment, before turning back to her and whispering in her ear.

And with that, he shifted to dragon, shredding the pants he wore, little bits of fabric fluttering to the stones like wounded birds. Firestriker shifted, too, and they leapt into the night sky, before she had a chance to feel the terror. She watched them rise in the night's air, but, surprisingly, the fear didn't come. Her mind was more concerned over Cillumn's last words.

“I can be very patient, Lis. Hearing you admit your desire for me will be worth it.”