Shield of Sparrows

Night was falling over Ellder, and like I did every evening, I curled into a chair on my suite’s balcony to watch as Ama and Oda’s stars blinked into sight.

Faze wound his way around my ankles, flicking his tail against my calves.

I bent and picked him up, stroking behind his ears as I settled him in my lap.

“Weird day, huh?”

Faze purred and ran his wet nose against my forearm.

As they had been all week, the streets below were quiet. Too quiet. I missed the noise from before the bariwolf attack. I missed distant laughter and conversation. I missed sitting here alone but not feeling alone.

Evie wouldn’t make her pre-bedtime visit, not with Zavier home. And as Faze’s eyes fluttered closed, I knew he wouldn’t keep me company, either. So I stood and carried him inside, putting him on a chair in the sitting room as a knock came from outside.

Was it Ransom? I hadn’t seen him since we left the courtyard earlier. He’d gone to do whatever it was the Guardian did while he was in Ellder. And I’d come here to ponder my encounter with the Voster.

My heart began to gallop as I crossed the room, and when I opened the door, there he was.

It was actually unfair for this man to be so handsome. One look at his perfect face, and my breath caught. “Hi.”

He’d cleaned off the dust and dirt and blood from his week away. His hair was shorter, his face shaved, and without the beard, the corners of his jaw were as sharp as granite.

Ransom wore fresh clothes, his tunic open at the throat, revealing a sliver of smooth skin. He was breathtaking. His eyelashes framed moss-green irises, my favorite color. He smelled of soap and masculine spice, my favorite scents.

“My queen.” He held up a dagger in a plain scabbard, extending it over the threshold. “A gift.”

I took it from him, pulling out the blade. The hilt was smooth and simple. No jewels or gold. Just a smooth wooden handle that might as well have been made for my hand.

“It was mine,” he said. “When I was a boy. It’s not a fancy weapon, but it’s sharp. If anyone ever touches you against your will again, it will leave a mark.”

“Thank you.” I returned the blade to its cover, then set it inside, on the small table beside the door. “Tell me about the hunt.”

He stepped back against the railing, keeping the width of the walkway between us as he crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt strained and molded to the muscles of his arms. “It didn’t go as planned.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned. “We followed their trail for three days. Then it was gone.”

Gone where? Had they returned to Ellder to wait for an opening for another attack? Or had the pack gone elsewhere to wreak devastation on other innocent souls?

“There was something wrong with that bariwolf in the courtyard,” I said. “Something different. It looked at me like it was after me. And I know this sounds like a stretch, but I swear to the gods, it ordered the others to go after me.” I loosed a dry laugh. “I can’t even believe I’m saying this out loud. It’s a monster. Mindless and ruled by bloodlust. But I can’t stop seeing its eye. Hearing those clicks. What if…”

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. The feeling that I was about to admit something I’d been pondering for hours. And if I was being honest with myself, something I’d feared for longer.

“What if it’s me?”

Ransom’s eyes dropped to the boards beneath his boots. He did that at times, looked to the ground when he was hiding something. If I had noticed that small tell weeks ago, it probably would have saved my heart a mountain of strife.

“You think so, too, don’t you?”

His silence was answer enough.

“Be honest with me. Please.”

“How is your tiny monster?”

“Changing the subject. Really? Maybe that works with the women you keep in your Turan courts. But I won’t let this go, Ransom.”

“Of course you won’t,” he muttered.

I raised my eyebrows, waiting.

“It’s only a theory. Do you remember the night at the camp when I killed a grizzur? The night it charged the fires?”

Not a night I’d ever forget. “Yes.”

“I’ve never seen a monster, with or without Lyssa, attack fires before. Then there was Ashmore. Then the tarkin in Treow. Even Faze. He plays with Evie, but he is drawn to you.”

It was more than me being his guardian. Even if I was the person who fed the little beast.

Ransom’s eyes softened as he held up his hands. “Just a theory.”

A theory in which he believed monsters were drawn to me. A theory I’d been dwelling on myself.

Monsters with or without Lyssa. Monsters who’d slaughtered those people in Ashmore. The people in Ellder. That boy, Witt, who’d clung to his mother’s lifeless body.

“Oh, gods.” My insides knotted. Those lives lost, their blood, was because of me. “Why? How?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking know. It was just a thought.”

“How long have you been having that thought?”

“A few hours. After what happened with the Voster, I started thinking.”

I’d been thinking, too.

That bariwolf had seemed intent on me during the attack on the fortress. The same had happened in Ashmore. And the tarkin in Treow had turned back to come after me.

Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe I’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But what if there was more to these attacks? What if something about my being was drawing them close? I wrapped my arms around my waist as a tremble started in my fingers.

“Hey.” Ransom pushed off the rail, coming into my space to take my face in his hands. “Breathe.”

I shook my head, feeling the color drain from my cheeks. “It could all be my fault.”

“No. Never.” He bent so our gazes locked. “Not your fault.”

“But if they came because of me. Whatever is wrong with me has—”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Odessa. Nothing. Understood?”

“But, Ransom… Oh, gods.” My heart climbed into my throat, the sting in my nose so sharp I couldn’t breathe.

Sariah. Witt. Names I’d vowed to remember. Names of people who would still be alive today if I’d stayed far, far away from Turah.

“I should leave.”

“No.”

“Rans—”

“No.” He didn’t shout or scream, but there was an undercurrent of rage in that word, of finality. His eyes shifted to silver for only a blink before they settled again on green.

I was not leaving Turah.

I was not leaving him.

“It’s an idea.” He let me go to pace the walkway in front of my door. “Not even a good one. My other theory is that it’s me. That I’m drawing them in. Or maybe Lyssa has changed over time. I’m just…trying to make sense of what’s happening and grasping for answers.”

I wanted answers, too. “We have to test it. If it is me, we need to know.”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“I cannot put these people at risk.”

“No.”

“But—”

“It’s not your choice, Odessa.”

“My choice?” My jaw dropped, my anger igniting in a snap. “You stole most of my choices the day you set foot in my father’s throne room, husband. But we’re talking about putting innocent people at risk. Whether you like it or not, this is my choice.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“While giving me my freedom, right? Isn’t that what you told me? You were setting me free? This”—I waved a hand between us—“this doesn’t feel like freedom. This feels like being locked away where I’ll suffocate.”

“Suffocate?” Ransom moved into my space with a single step. “You were suffocating in Quentis. You were fucking wasting away in that golden castle. I’m not trying to trap you here, Odessa. But I need you to live. I won’t…” He dragged a hand over his face. “I have never been more scared than when I saw you run for that boy.”

“Witt,” I whispered past the lump in my throat. “His name was Witt. And I couldn’t save him.”

“Neither could I.” He cupped my cheek, his thumb touching the freckles across my nose. “I don’t know what to do. I’m failing you. Do you really want to go back to Quentis? If you do, then say it. Tell me you want to leave, and I’ll take you back to Roslo myself.”

He was giving me the choice.

All I had to do was say yes.

“No,” I whispered.

His eyes drifted closed, his forehead dropping to mine. “Good. I have no desire to live in Quentis.”

“Wh-what?” I leaned away.

“You are mine.” His hands dove into my hair, fingers threading through my curls. “Even if we are kingdoms apart, you are mine. But I’d rather not be a kingdom apart.”

My breath hitched. Would he really follow me across Calandra? Leave his homeland, his people, behind? “You can’t leave Turah.”

“When I am nothing but dust and ash, Turah will endure. I do not need a crown. And I have made peace with my destiny. But before I step into my grave, my choice is you.” He dropped a kiss to my temple, his fingers tracing along my jaw as his hand fell from my face. Then he stepped away, about to disappear into the night. “Sleep well, my queen.”

My choice is you.

I was his choice. Above all else.noveldrama

“Ransom.” My hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he could leave.

Maybe I should have given myself time to think about everything he’d said. But gods, I was tired of thinking and overthinking and doubting and dwelling.

He’d lied to me, and it hurt. He’d tricked me, and it hurt. He’d embarrassed me, and it hurt.

But as we stared at each other, as the space between us crackled, all that hurt faded away.

Ransom was mine. Every flaw. Every perfection.

“This is my choice.” I slid my palm into his.

Scar to scar.

I pulled him close, holding those green eyes as I lifted onto my toes and let my whisper caress his lips. “You. You are my choice.”

A growl tore from his throat before he crushed his mouth against mine. He stole the air from my lungs, a beat from my heart, as he carried me inside and kicked the door closed behind us. With a spin, he pressed me against the wood as he licked the seam of my lips.

A whimper escaped my throat, and his tongue swept inside my mouth, swirling against mine. A pulse bloomed in my core, a heat spreading through my veins.

My hands dove into his hair. My arms clung to his shoulders, holding him close. Gods, I wanted him. More than I’d wanted anything in my life.

Ransom’s hands slid along my ribs to my arms, lifting them above my head and pinning them to the door at my wrists. And then he plundered my mouth, kissing me until I was delirious.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, rocking my center against his growing arousal. Every part of him was hard, and I wanted it. Every inch.

He tore his lips away, his chest heaving as his forehead dropped to mine. “What have you done to me?”

I leaned in, smiling against his mouth. “Stop asking questions, Ransom, and kiss your wife.”

“Yes, my queen.” He grinned, then sealed his mouth over mine.

If the last kiss had ignited the spark, this kiss set me aflame.

He nipped and sucked and licked, devouring me whole. That throb became an ache as I rocked against him, desperate for friction.

“More,” I murmured, locking my heels at his lower back.

He hauled me off the door and carried me across the suite to my room, his mouth never breaking from mine until he set me on my feet.

I dove my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against my palms. My fingers skimmed the ridges of his stomach, trailing to his chest, his tunic bunching as it lifted.

His hands sunk into my hair, threading through the curls. He tugged at the roots, pulling until I arched my neck, revealing my throat, and he bent and latched onto my pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before peppering a wet trail of kisses along my jaw. “This hair. I love this godsdamn hair.”

“Off,” I panted, tugging at his shirt. “Take this off.”

He broke away, reaching for his nape to fist the fabric and yank it over his head.

Ransom was nothing but hard muscle beneath taut skin. My mouth watered, a throb pulsing from my core, spreading through my body. He was magnificent. A sculpture depicting a god.

I wanted to memorize every line. Every peak. Every valley. The strong plane of his chest. The cut V at his hips. The ripples of his abs and the cords of his arms.

Dark veins spread from his sternum, faint beneath his skin. But there was no hiding them, not with the moonlight streaming through the windows, silver beams caressing his skin.

The moment I reached for those dark striations, Ransom’s hands came to my shoulders and spun me around to face the bed.

He lifted my hair off my shoulder, pushing it to the side as his mouth came to my ear, licking the shell. His hands cupped my breasts, and through my clothes, he pulled and twisted at my nipples until I moaned.

I reached back, dragging my palm over his hardness.

Ransom hissed, pressing against my hand as he ripped the shirt from my torso. There was a slight sound of tearing seams before it plopped on the floor.

I’d liked that shirt. But not enough to keep it on.

The rest of our clothes, our boots, came off without fanfare, scattered across the room as we crashed onto the bed in tangled limbs and fused mouths.

He swept me into his arms, his body covering mine as he kissed me until I was breathless. His elbows bracketed my face, his eyes a color I’d never seen before. A color without a name. They encompassed every shade of green from emerald to jade.

“I—” His throat bobbed.

I lifted a hand to his hair, pushing the dark locks away from his temple. Then I leaned up, taking his mouth as he settled into the cradle of my hips, positioned the crown of his cock at my entrance, and drove inside.

“Gods.” My fingernails dug into his back, holding tight as my body stretched around his length, hard and thick and so fucking perfect.

“Odessa,” Ransom groaned, and it was my favorite sound.

He buried his face in my hair, sucking in a sharp inhale as he took a moment, his entire body vibrating like he was testing the limits of his control. When he finally moved, I melted.

Stroke after stroke, he brought us together, our bodies moving like old lovers. Like a husband who had loved his wife for an eternity.

Dreaming. I was dreaming.

“It’s real,” he murmured, slowing his pace as our gazes locked.

It was real.

And we’d never be the same again.

He fucked like he moved, with a grace and fluidity that wasn’t natural, but gods, I wasn’t complaining. He took me higher and higher, driving me to the edge of a cliff. The fall would break me apart, and though the fragments would stitch together again, the woman I’d been once would be gone.

I was his. Not bound together by blood or vows or the treaties of men and magic.

Bound by this night.

“Fuck, you feel good.” He pushed an errant curl away from my forehead, then captured my mouth, our tongues twining as he drove deep, hitting that spot inside that made my toes curl.

I whimpered against his lips, holding tight as he rocked us together and an inferno blazed beneath my skin. It was too much, too intense. I writhed beneath him, my movements no longer my own, until I detonated on a cry of his name, clenching and pulsing around him as the release ripped through my body. I shattered into a thousand pieces, white stars breaking behind my eyes as I cried out.

Ransom held me, kept me tethered to this realm, moving inside me as I floated to the stars.

The orgasm quaked through every muscle, every fiber, until I was boneless. Until finally it ebbed, leaving me with tears at the corners of my eyes while the aftershocks faded.

“Ransom,” I panted, my legs wrapping around his hips, sending him deeper.

He groaned, thrusting faster, harder, chasing his own orgasm as my heart continued to thunder. He gritted his teeth, his body trembling, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep control.

I leaned up and took his bottom lip between my teeth.

Ransom’s control snapped. He came on a roar, pouring inside me as the sound of his release filled my room. And when he was wrung out and spent, he collapsed on top of me.

His arms banded around me, hauling me close as he rolled to his back, propping me on his chest. “You’ve ruined me.”

A smile toyed on my mouth as I shoved up on an elbow. “And here I was thinking you had stamina.”

He flipped us so fast I gasped, my eyes wide as he stretched out beside me, his fingers trailing invisible patterns around my nipples. Then he bent, sucking one into his hot mouth.

“Gods.” I clung to the silky strands of his hair as a coil of desire wound through my core.

When he leaned away, he wore that smirk.

That fucking sexy smirk. It stayed on his face when he rose to his knees, and before I knew what was happening, he flipped me onto my belly.

“Ransom,” I gasped.

“Hands and knees, Cross.” There was something dark, something dangerous, in the tone of his voice. A promise that if I obeyed, I’d get everything I wanted and more.

So I lifted to my hands, letting him haul me to my knees by my hips.

“I fucking love this hair.” He collected the curls, wrapping them around his fist. Then he tugged, just enough that I arched for him, his hard cock fitting between the cheeks of my ass as he bent to kiss my bare spine. “We’re just getting started. Wife.”