Bane of Winter Read online

  “You know nothing,” the Raven said. “You’re just as blind as Rayne.”

  “Where is the mortal?” Macha asked.

  “Far from here,” the Raven said.

  “Her scent stops here.”

  “What did you do? A sensory glamour?” Lyrian asked.

  Glamour? The kiss. He’d glamoured me with a kiss.

  “What are you anyway?” There was derision in Lyrian’s tone. “A bird or a man?”

  They didn’t know who the Raven was? Which meant they didn’t recall Morrigan. How deep was this enchantment?

  The Raven laughed. “Why don’t you come over here and find out.”

  There was cockiness in his tone, assurance and confidence. He was playing the part, distracting them to give me time to make my escape.

  Which you should have done.

  “Oh, I’ll find out,” Lyrian said. “When I taste your flesh.”

  “Lyrian. We have orders,” Macha said sharply.

  “Fuck the orders.”

  He launched himself at the Raven, his body morphing into wolf form mid-air. Macha hesitated a moment but then followed suit. The Raven whirled out of the way, clutching his ribs, his face a mask of pain. The wolf hit the snow and spun fast to sprint at the Raven.

  My feathered friend wasn’t going to be able to dodge this attack; the pallor of his skin and the pain in his eyes spoke of resignation.

  Run, you beautiful fool, there is still time.

  If staying to help the Raven was foolish, then I’d gladly wear the mantle. My bone dagger was in my hand, and power launched itself through my limbs as I sprang into the clearing with a roar that startled me with its vehemence and depth.

  Lyrian ground to a halt and spun to face me, his lips pulled back in a ferocious snarl, and then he attacked.

  “Wynter, no!”

  But Wynter wasn’t in control any longer. Morrigan’s power was, her wrath, her rage, her battle-thirsty moves, as she slashed and jabbed and leapt over the huge beasts, leaving trails of crimson across their flanks.

  Kill them.

  “Playtime first.”

  It was a new voice—my voice but not mine—and the laughter that accompanied the thought was wicked and deadly.

  In the periphery of my vision, the Raven had fallen to his knees, his eyes rolling back in his head with blood loss. He could wait. This, this was more fun.

  Who was this? Who was I?

  The snap of teeth too close. A chill up my spine as the heat of power began to ebb.

  Should have ended them when you had the chance.

  Berstuk was right. The reserves that had built after the Raven had used them were ebbing, unable to keep up with the frenzy of the fight.

  No. Not giving up now. He’s close. Can’t you feel him? He’s almost here.

  Fangs snagged my tunic, pulling me off balance, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs as I hit the ground. I rolled onto my back, dagger up to defend as violet eyes rushed toward my throat.

  Late. Too late …

  And then the wolf was jerked off me, and his throat opened in a slash of crimson.

  I stared at the apparition wrapped in furs and leather, huge and hulking—a glorious product of my desperate mind.

  Oh, for fucksake, he’s real. Now get up!

  “Veles?”

  “Up you get, Wynter. No time to take a nap.” Veles spun low in a crouch, his short sword at the ready.

  Lyrian snarled and snapped as he circled us.

  Veles was here. He was truly here. I pulled myself up, bone dagger gripped tightly. A frisson of power ran up my arm and into the weapon, lengthening it and wreathing it in green. Lyrian’s silver eyes widened.

  He has to die.

  I know.

  “Shall we play, Wynter?” Veles’s voice was a lethal growl.

  “Not today. Let’s just end it.”

  “As you wish.”

  We attacked the wolf together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was no time for a reunion, no time to find out how Veles was here. The Raven was unconscious, and no doubt the queen would send more minions once her twin wolves didn’t report back. There was no need to tell Veles this, he was already in action, hauling the Raven over his shoulder.

  “This way,” he said. “We need to put as much distance between here and us as possible.”

  We dove into the forest, moving so fast that there was no breath left over to converse. Instead, it plumed in front of our faces in puffs of white mist.

  We ran, and we jogged, and then we ran some more until finally Veles slowed to a walk. My chest ached, my ribs burned. How much was my own pain and how much was Raven’s? The forest opened out into a small clearing with a brook flowing under a thin layer of ice. An old tree, gnarled and majestic, kept watch over the scene.

  Veles strode around it and I followed, keeping close to his back, wanting to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real, wanting to tell him how much I’d missed him, but afraid that this was some kind of illusion and that a mere touch might shatter it completely.

  “A hovel,” Veles announced, and then he ducked inside.

  “Wait, it could be occup—”

  He popped his head back out. “It’s abandoned.” He stepped out without Raven. “Stay with him while I gather some supplies. We need to tend to his wound.”

  “It’s an arrowhead.”

  He nodded, his brows low in a frown. “Then we must remove it.”

  Our gazes locked, and my pulse thudded hard in my throat. He was really here. “I’m glad you came.”

  His throat bobbed, and he nodded. “I’m here to help. I’ll save him, Wynter. I won’t let you lose him.”

  And then he crunched off into the snow.

  My stomach fluttered in apprehension. That hadn’t been the reunion I’d expected. There’d been heat in his eyes, but restrained, and he hadn’t touched me, not once. Our dynamic was tactile. Something was wrong, but it would have to wait until the Raven was healed. A wave of heat washed over me, and in that moment, the chilly air was refreshing on my skin.

  A low groan tugged me into the hovel where the Raven was laid on the ground. The hobbit who’d lived there had left no supplies. Not even the bones of its kills, but the ground was soft and mossy.

  The Raven moaned and opened his eyes. “What happened?”

  I knelt beside him. “You passed out. It’s all right. Veles is going to get some supplies. We’re going to get the arrowhead out. You’ll be fine.”

  “So, I didn’t imagine it then? He’s really here.”

  “Yes.”

  His smile was self-deprecating. “Good.” He closed his eyes. “There’s poison on the arrow. I can feel it in my veins.”

  Poison … Was that why I suddenly felt so warm? Why my eyes burned as if with the beginnings of a fever? “Do you know what kind? What do I need to do?”

  He shook his head. “There is nothing you can do. Get the arrowhead out and then we’ll see. I’m made of strong stuff, Wynter, because you are made of stronger stuff. My body will fight it.” But his voice was a breathless rasp.

  “Close your eyes. Rest.” I touched his forehead, too hot but not beaded with sweat. I needed to draw out the heat. “I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, I tore a piece of fabric from my tunic and pressed it to the fresh snow until it was soaked in icy water. Squeezing it out, I pressed it between my hands to warm it a fraction. I’d learned enough from Pat to know that ice cold water would be a shock to a fever; it needed to be cool but not cold.

  Back inside, I pressed the cloth to his forehead. His body relaxed a fraction as I ran it down the sides of his face and neck. His clothes had to come off if he was going to cool down. Fingers fumbling, I undid the buttons of his coat and peeled it back. My throat pinched at the sight of the entry wound. His shirt was torn and only a tiny stub of the arrow arm was visible, but the skin around it was purple and green and swollen with congealed blood. Oh, God. Where was Veles?


  The air shifted as Veles entered the hovel, bringing firelight with him. He shoved the makeshift torch into a nook in the wall, probably built for such a purpose, and the full glory of the hovel was illuminated. A hearth and shelves and a broken chair in one corner. There was a torn book lying on its side by the chair.

  Veles sighed. “This looks like the home of a civilized hobbit.”

  "Civilized? The last one we met tried to kill us.”

  “There are various breeds, and I don’t suppose the taint is helping.” He tried to maneuver around me to get to the Raven, but it was a crush with all three of us inside. “You’ll have to wait outside,” he said. “I’ve built a fire. You’ll be warm enough.”

  The Raven groaned softly, his eyes still closed. I smoothed back his dark hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll be all right. Veles will get the arrow out. You’ll be fine.”

  I caught the look on Veles’s face as I backed away, a look that was pure pain and hit me square in the solar plexus. He masked it quickly and focused on the Raven, but my heart was still beating too hard with the possibilities of what that look had meant.

  I stumbled outside, the pieces falling into place, because I’d caught that expression on his face before. I’d seen it when I’d finally found Finn, and when I’d glanced back at him from the blizzard. It was loss. It was need. It was the beginnings of that tangled emotion called love, and it was thrumming through me too. For Finn, for Veles, and for the Raven. I pressed my back to the tree and blocked out the Raven’s cry as Veles cut into him to remove the arrowhead.

  Veles thought there was something between the Raven and me, and there was no denying it. We had a deep, profound connection I’d yet to explore. Just like the desperate heat that burned for Veles, the need to feel his hands on me, his tongue on my skin, and just like the yearning that Finn elicited in me, pure and sweet and as familiar as home.

  What was I doing? What was I becoming?

  Whole. Berstuk’s tone was somber. You’re becoming whole. You’re embracing the Tuatha in your soul.

  “Get out. Get out of my head. Stop listening in.”

  I wasn’t. You called me with all your deep, yearning questions, and I came.

  “Why are you even here? Why did you mark me?”

  If I hadn’t, you’d be dead. My counsel has saved your life more than once.

  “You couldn’t have known that I’d need your counsel.”

  Oh, yes, I could. One look into your pretty sapphire eyes, one taste of your sweet aroma, and I knew that you’d be ripped to shreds without a devil on your shoulder. I’m your devil, Wynter. The bird and death will keep you safe with their counsel. They will protect you with their bodies, but your heart is pure, filled with light and compassion, and that compassion will be the death of you. I will be the darkness that facilitates the hard choices. I’m the voice that will force you to survive.

  “Like today when I completely ignored you?” I sat by the fire and held out my hands to warm them.

  He chuckled. You didn’t ignore me, you listened, and you heard the voice deep inside that thirsts for blood and power. You embraced the Morrigan inside.

  He knew. He really knew what I was. “That’s why you let me go, isn’t it?”

  Yes, Wynter.

  Wait … If he knew who I was, then that meant he’d remembered about Oblivion, about the shimmer. “You remembered … How did you remember when everyone else had forgotten?”

  There was silence, and the chill finally registered. Maybe the Raven’s fever was ebbing?

  “Berstuk?”

  “Wynter?” Veles lowered himself to the ground beside me decked in his furs. “Who were you talking to?” He peeled off the fur collar of his cloak and wrapped it around me. The smell was his, and it wrapped around me like a hug.

  My hand went to my neck. “Berstuk.”

  “What?”

  “It seems that the mark he placed on me allows us to communicate.”

  Veles’s jaw tensed. “And what is he communicating?”

  I filled him in on the encounters I’d had with Berstuk, and he fell into a thoughtful silence.

  “I saw him again, before I came through the shimmer,” Veles said. “He could have attacked me, but he didn’t. He urged me to go.”

  “I don’t understand how he could know who I was when no one aside from Dagda did. How could he remember why the shimmer was there, when no one else did?”

  “I don’t know,” Veles said. “Berstuk and I have never seen eye to eye, but it is obvious there is more to the god than he allows us to see, and he saved your life. I cannot be mad about that.”

  He was looking at me with that restrained heat again. It made me want to climb onto him, take his hands and place them on me, to force him to lose control and mark me. But there were questions whirling through my mind that demanded answers.

  “How are you here, Veles? Dagda said gods couldn’t pass through the shimmer.”

  “No, they can’t.” He met my gaze levelly.

  The penny dropped. “You’re no longer a god? How?”

  His gaze dropped to my lips. “Black Annis stripped away my godhood.”

  Black Annis, of course. With her ability to siphon, she would have been the perfect being to assist him. “Veles, no. What about Nawia? It needs you.”

  “Nawia needs you. It needs the taint to be gone. It needs assurance that it won’t breach the shimmer, and you … you needed me.” He ducked his head. “I know you have the Raven, but he is not himself. The Raven was Morrigan’s equilibrium because he was objective. He made decisions based on the facts and logic, but with you he is off balance. Dagda is concerned that he is becoming emotionally invested in you and that it could compromise his ability to guide you.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “What?” He blinked at me in surprise.

  “Emotionally invested.” My tone was a challenge.

  His eyes flared and then his hands were on my shoulders. “Yes, I’m emotionally invested. I will carry you across these lands. I will kill and maim and tear to keep you safe, because I have the strength of will to do so, because I am separate from you, because I have my own identity. The Raven is a part of you. He feels what you feel, and his advice will be colored by it.”

  I lifted my chin. “He managed fine with Morrigan.”

  “He wasn’t in love with Morrigan.”

  My throat was suddenly dry.

  His grip slackened. “It’s easy to be objective, even when bound to someone, when you’re not in love with them.”

  “The Raven isn’t … he isn’t …”

  Veles’s mouth twisted and the beast stared back at me from his ember eyes. “You should know, you fucked him.”

  The words were saturated with bitterness.

  A prickling heat climbed up the sides of my neck. “What? What are you talking about?”

  He released me and fixed his gaze on the fire. “I saw you in the hovel after you fell in the ice. I saw you with him.”

  “How?”

  “Does it even matter?”

  “It does when what you saw was a lie. We didn’t have sex. We lay together for body heat, and I may have … I may have kissed him, but I was feeling things … I … Nothing else happened.” Anger flickered to life in my chest. I shoved his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” Rage was coursing through me now, and it colored my tone. “Why are you even here?”

  He was on me in a blink, his huge body pinning me to the ground, his powerful thighs tangled with mine, and then his mouth was on mine, his tongue in my mouth rough and expert as it plundered. My body melted beneath him, curving into him, arching against him. My hands gripped his horns, pulling him closer and then tangling in his hair. I opened for him, devouring him as he devoured me. This was hunger, primal and wanton and perfectly untamed. His hands tore at my tunic, yanking at my britches, and my hands were under his cloak, needing to feel skin, needing to be closer.

  Oh puhlease, is thi
s really the time.

  My body froze, and Veles raised his ember gaze to look down on me. “Wynter …”

  You want me to leave?

  “Yes, I want you to leave.”

  Veles frowned.

  I closed my eyes. “Berstuk, you can’t do this. You can’t just come and go as you please.”

  Veles’s nostrils flared. “The bastard.”

  I sensed a rise in your pulse … His tone was amused.

  “Yeah, but from now on keep out of my head unless I specifically call for you.”

  I can’t promise, but I’ll try. I suppose I’ve ruined the mood now. Oh, well …

  This time I felt his retreat.

  Oh, God, he’d done this on purpose.

  Veles carefully lifted his body off me, and then gently pulled me into a sitting position.

  My cheeks were hot, my blood singing. “He’s gone.”

  Veles brushed tendrils of hair off my face. “Good, because I want nothing more than to be buried inside you, to feel you tight around me.”

  My pulse kicked up at his words.

  His smile was wicked, and in that moment, he was the Veles from the forest of Nawia, the one who cared nothing for convention. He grasped the nape of my neck and forced my head back with the pad of his thumb on my jaw, and then he leaned in and licked the column of my neck. A whimper fell from my lips. He licked me again, and my hands curled in his cloak. I turned my head to capture his mouth, to suck on that delicious tongue. He hauled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him.

  Mine.

  I kissed him with deep, open-mouth kisses. His hands cupped my buttocks, grinding me to his hardness. There was nothing but the fire and the sensations and my heart swelling with emotion even as I grew wet with need.

  Mine. Take it. Take him.

  A rasping cough broke through the haze of desire. The Raven. Oh, God. What was wrong with me? The Raven was hurt, and I was … I broke the kiss and scrambled off Veles’s lap.

  My hair was disheveled, and I brushed it hastily off my cheeks. “I need to be with him.”