Page 102 of The Queen and the Half-blood
She remembered then, watching him fight the Slew. He’d moved with unnatural speed and agility. Was that because of the tattoo?
“Aye,” he replied. “A great need for freedom too … long ago, I swore never to have a master.”
“Is that why you did it?” she asked. “To make yourself stronger … a more dangerous enemy?”
His eyes glinted, although he didn’t answer.
Silence fell then as she mulled over this discovery. The King of Braewall would be angry to learn a former sacrificer was weaving earth magic into tattoos on common folk, but she wasn’t. Nonetheless, the knowledge made her uneasy. Many people believed that it was ill luck for anyone except a druid to bear such marks, and Lara had to admit she was superstitious enoughto believe such tales. Druids channeled their earth magic, while Alar’s coursed through his veins with no outlet. Hopefully, it wouldn’t harm him.
“It makes sense now,” she said finally. “Why Skaal adores you.”
He huffed a laugh. “You’re right … it’s the tattoo.” He paused then, eyes twinkling. “How her devotion to me pisses Cailean off.”
“Oh, it does,” she assured him. The chief-enforcer’s bond with his fae hound was a strong one indeed—one he was protective of.
“The tattoo also gives me a kinship with wolf-kind,” he added then. “Ever since getting it, I trust my own instinct and intuition better.” He paused a moment, his features softening a little. “And it brings me closer to my wulver brothers and sisters.”
Their gazes met and held before she smiled. “Your family.”
He smiled back, although his eyes shadowed just a little. “I’d do anything for them.”
Lara stirred in the furs, awaking with a slow, languorous stretch.
Her body had never been so relaxed. It ached in places she hadn’t known it could, but she welcomed the sensation. It reminded her of the wild night she and Alar had just shared. Not only had they tumbled, but they’d lain together talking. She’d learned more about the enigma that was her husband, although she was eager to continue her discovery.
A smile curved her lips. She then slid her hand out, across the furs, reaching for Alar.
She couldn’t find him.
Eyes fluttering open, she blinked in the dim early-morning light. A few feet away, Alar was dressing. He’d just pulled on hisleather breeches and was lacing them closed. His chest was bare, his wolf’s head tattoo watching her.
Lara couldn’t help it; her gaze dragged over his long, lithe form, hunger igniting in her lower belly.
Even after a night of sex, she wanted him still.
She’d never stop wanting him.
“What time is it?” she whispered.
His chin kicked up, his gaze meeting hers. His lips then tilted at the corners. “Early.”
“Where are you going?”
“To check all is well.”
Lara pushed herself up, the furs falling away as she did so. “Are you worried about something?”
He shook his head, even as his attention slid down to her bare breasts. “No.” There was a husky edge to his voice now. “But I don’t like to let my guard down.” He reached for his leather vest then and shrugged it on. “We should reach Dulross by mid-afternoon … and after the Fuath, we need to remain alert.”
She nodded, grateful for his vigilance.
“I should get up too,” she said, scooting toward the edge of the furs.
“Stay … rest a while longer,” he said with a shake of his head. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Warmth flushed over her. “Neither did you.”
“I’ll return for breakfast,” he replied, shrugging on the harness that held the twin blades he wore on his back. “Save me some oatcakes.”
