Читать книгу Warrior Rising - Pamela Palmer - Страница 11

“Would you cease with that?” Ilaria snapped, hating the quaver in her voice, but unable to control it. Beside her, as he ushered her and Tarrys through the busy Reagan National Airport, Harrison flicked the small lighter at his side on and off, on and off. A constant reminder—a threat—of what he’d do to her if she so much as breathed on the Marceil.

“I said I’ll not touch her, and I won’t.” She tore her gaze from him and that awful lighter, trying to focus instead on her incredible surroundings. Above, the soaring, gilded ceiling of the airport curved sharply downward like a beautiful flower too heavy for its stem.

At least Harrison had untied her, though she was well aware that he’d done it not as a concession to her, and certainly not because he trusted her, but to avoid the attention they’d otherwise draw in this very public place.

Even such a tiny fire had raven wings fluttering in her chest as she struggled against full panic.

The moment the plane had landed, Charlie had left, afraid his death mark would draw King Rith to them. The other two Sitheen who’d accompanied Harrison to Iceland remained, and now followed close behind.

She was frustratingly tired of being treated as a prisoner. But until she got those stones, she wouldn’t escape. Even if she could.

Trying to ignore Harrison and the flame that threatened to strip her composure one flicker at a time, she studied the humans passing by. Most glanced at her, then away, as if by noticing her they might offend. In the old days, before she’d sealed the gates, humans often gaped at her, their faces either filling with terror, or awe and wonder.

She much preferred the latter, though it appeared that receiving homage from the humans was a thing of the past. Indeed, from what she’d been able to glean, the humans as a race did not remember the Esri.

A situation that was certain to change if Rith had his way.

As Harrison led them through the wide glass doors to the outside, he took hold of her upper arm, a firm grip she’d find impossible to escape, she was certain. Once more, the feel of his fingers sank through the fabric of her sleeve and into her skin, sending tendrils of warmth burrowing into her blood. Not a sweet warmth, for there was nothing kind about his touch that sought only to ensure Tarrys’s safety. No, despite her frustration and wariness with the man, this heat lifted her pulse in a way that was all too pleasant. All too carnal.

Without a doubt, she desired him. As he did her. Sooner or later, she’d enjoy acting on that desire, if she could ever get him to unbend that far. A very big if. He wasn’t a man given to impulsive action, not unless that action was in defense of his brother. Interesting that she should be so sure about that, given that she’d known him only a matter of hours. But she didn’t doubt her own assessment. In a way she couldn’t quite explain, she felt as if she’d known him far longer than just the day.

Keeping firm hold of her, Harrison led the small group across the paved street to where numerous vehicles sat. A parking garage. She knew the words, for she acquired language instantly, though it was taking her far longer to make sense of it all than it would if he’d simply let her touch a human and learn what they knew. The man was so irritatingly distrustful.

On the second level, they came to a stop behind a small, bright blue car. A series of beeps sounded, the lights flashing. As the Marceil started around the left side of the conveyance, Harrison tugged her right, pulling something from his pocket.

Ilaria glanced down, afraid he was going for the lighter again. Instead, he’d removed something metal. Her eyes widened, then narrowed with anger as she identified the manacles that now hung from his fingers.

Her eyes snapped upward as she speared him with a sharp, stinging gaze. “You risk my ill will, human. A dangerous thing to do considering what you need of me.”

“Sorry, Princess.” But his tone held not the slightest edge of remorse. Instead, he pulled on her arm, snapping one loop of metal around her wrist before she could stop him.

Ilaria tried to jerk her other hand out of his reach, but he merely turned her, pushing her against the car, face-first, and snapped the second manacle around her other wrist. Only one other time in her entire life had she been treated so poorly—the morning she was hauled from her bed, accused of treachery and transported to the Forest of Nightmares.

If only she had magic that would work against a Sitheen!

She kicked back at him, but her gown hampered her movement and her heel collided with his shin with little more than a dull thud. He moved closer, pinning her against the car, pressing a hard ridge into her lower back. She stilled, taking a harsh breath, feeling his desire. Inside her, an answering need flared.

“Release me.”

“Not on your life.” His voice sounded close to her right ear.

Then mate with me, she wanted to say, but held her tongue, knowing she’d only anger him further.

Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her back against his muscular chest, the hard length of his erection nestled firmly against her. He opened the door, then slid to the right, his hand once more only around her arm.

“Get in.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Not until you start treating me with respect.”

Gripping her shoulders, he wrenched her around to face him, reminding her how much bigger he was than her. Overpowering her with his sheer maleness.

“Cooperate, Princess, and we’ll get along fine.” He speared her with hot, hard eyes. “Don’t, and we may find you more trouble than you’re worth.”

A cool trickle of fear slid down her spine, but she met him glare for glare. “You won’t end me. You need me.”

“Do you really want to test that theory?” He let the question, heavy and disquieting, hang between them. “Get in the car, Ilaria, or I’ll pull out the lighter again.”

“You’re a barbarian.”

“No. But neither am I a fool. I’ll show you the respect due your rank when and if I decide to trust you. Until then, you’re the enemy.”

She stared him down, refusing to bend. “You risk everything you want, human.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, his hand went to his pocket and that hated lighter.

With a huff of anger, Ilaria forced down her pride and slid into the low-slung automobile as he’d demanded.

Harrison followed her, leaning across her to pull yet another restraint across her chest. Desperately, she tried to ignore him, struggling against the physical appeal of the man, but his nearness filled her senses all over again. His scent was a heady mix of the strange facets of the human’s modern realm—the air in the airplane, the lingering scent of some intriguing aftershave. But also of wool and wind and warm, masculine male. And she wanted.

“Why are you tying me down? Are you afraid I’ll attack you with my teeth?”

He glanced at her, his strong face only inches away, so close she could see flecks of gold in his eyes. Heat swirled in those gray-green depths as they caught hold of hers, holding her fast. In his cheek, a muscle leaped. Between his eyebrows, a frown slowly appeared, a pair of tiny lines like the arc of bird wings.

“Believe it or not,” he said softly, his voice no longer filled with anger, “the seat belts are to keep us safe in case we get into an accident.”

“No accident could harm me.” Her own voice was soft with breathlessness.

“Nevertheless, it’s the law.” Tearing his gaze away, he glanced down, fastening the belt with a metallic click. Pulling away, he straightened and closed her door, then went around the car to get in the other side. The other two Sitheen had apparently left, for only the Marceil sat in the backseat—directly behind Harrison, where Ilaria couldn’t possibly touch her.

Harrison steered the vehicle into the heavy traffic, silent for a time before he glanced into the mirror, a pensive expression on his face. “Charlie tells me you’re a priestess, Tarrys.”

Ilaria glanced at the Marceil, watching a soft confidence fill the slave’s expression. “I am, though it matters little anymore.”

“You and Charlie are really getting married?”

A smile bloomed on the other woman’s face with a depth of joy Ilaria had rarely seen. “He asked me to be his wife, Harrison, and there’s nothing I want more.”

Harrison frowned. “Why would you tie yourself to him? You’re immortal. He’s only got fifty or sixty years at most.”

The Marceil’s smile dimmed. “I’m aware of that, but I love him and will stay by his side for as long as Charlie and your God allow.”

Ilaria couldn’t imagine feeling that deeply for someone. For anyone. She’d had friends and companions aplenty through the years, though most she’d not seen in centuries. The men incarcerated with her within the forest for three hundred years had become closer to her than family, almost extensions of herself. Once she returned to Esria, she’d find a way to free them. But though she loved them like brothers, not a man among them had ever broken through the walls of her heart. Not a one had ever made her feel, even for a moment, a shadow of the joy she saw in the Marceil’s face.

What would it be like to love another so deeply? So completely? What would it be like to be loved like that in return? Men aplenty had professed love for her over the years. Yet not a one had ever looked at her with the devotion she saw in Charlie’s eyes every single time he gazed at Tarrys. In her experience, few Esri ever loved like that.

As they drove in silence, Ilaria watched out the window, fascinated and not a little awed by the sheer magnitude of the humans’ dominance over their world. As in Reykjavik, buildings rose high above her head, flowing in every direction, as far as her eyes could see. There were subtle differences between the two cities—Reykjavik’s buildings appeared more colorful to her untrained eye, Washington’s more artistically decorative. But both were so far beyond anything she’d ever seen, as to be nearly indistinguishable.

Beside the buildings, the few people that walked were bundled beneath so many layers of hats and coats that she could barely see them. Most traveled in conveyances such as the one they rode in now. Her hand caressed the soft leather seat. A place of surprising warmth and comfort.

As Harrison stopped at an intersection, Ilaria glanced out her window to find the male in the vehicle next to them staring at her. As she met his curious gaze, he turned away.

“Do you ever use glamour?” Harrison asked.

She turned to meet his own curious gaze. “No.”

“Most of your kind do.”

“I’m the princess.”

“What difference does that make? You’re used to people staring?”

She glanced forward as the car started moving again. “In the old days, the only Esri who used glamour on the humans were those who meant them harm.”

“And you didn’t.”

“No.”

Harrison was quiet for a couple of minutes as he drove. When he once more came to a stop at a light, he glanced at her. “At one time, I assumed the Esri always meant humans harm, but I guess I know better than that. Kade’s parents apparently lived in a village where Esri and humans lived together. Mostly mated pairs and families, from what we’ve gathered.”

She glanced at him. “Those Esri who see humans as little more than animals either have had no contact with your kind except for the enchanted unfortunates brought into Esria as slaves, or they’ve never taken the time to speak to humans without enchanting them. That’s not to say the other Esri treated your people well. Most still took advantage of our ability to enchant your race. But not all. There were always Esri who took it upon themselves to befriend and protect the humans. Often they were mistaken for angels.”

Harrison shot her a disbelieving look. “Angels?”

Ilaria lifted an imperious brow. “We’re not all the monsters you believe us to be.”

He didn’t answer, but his distrust hung thickly in the air.

They fell into a disquieting silence until Harrison pressed a button and music of a kind similar to what she’d heard through the headphones filled the small interior of the car. She felt as if her senses were under attack by an exciting, heady assault—the amazing sights that surrounded her, the sound of the pulse-pounding music, the rumble of the engine beneath her. And the scent of warm, intriguing male. She found herself smiling as excitement and pleasure set up a quick tattoo in her pulse. She’d always loved the new and the different, which was why she’d often visited the human realm. If not for Rith, she might stay here awhile. Perhaps a long while. But she had no time to visit, no time to explore this strange world. Not with so much at stake.