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Jag had waited for her all night at the foot of the forest. He had refused to surrender his post to any subordinates. When some of his men protested, he had ordered them all of them back to Dinka- Ra, leaving only the tent and some supplies.
He sighed with satisfaction, for he had wanted to be the one here when his Lady returned. Alone. It was a bold and improper decision, but the rules did not apply after last night. The world as Amenti knew it was drawing to a close. He considered himself fortunate that the other Anandi had not deserted their camp just yet, though he half hoped they would. Perhaps they would give up and return home without them…then he and Rowan could be free. No one would have to know if they decided to run away.
Soft thunder rolled out from the woods. Jag felt his chest constrict. It was hard to breathe. Lights came closer, flaming crimson cracks on the night, bearing Rowan upon their bloody beacons.
By the gods, he wasn’t supposed to see them, but he did- and he was terrified. Perhaps he should have gone back to the city with his men, then he would never have this indelible memory of her, the mistress of all darkness and light who could smite him just as easily with either a wave of her hand or a delicate smile.
But oh, to see her like this…coming toward him both beautiful and dreadful at once, a legion from the other worlds at her heels. What had he been thinking? Did he truly believe that he could convince this magnificent creature to steal away with him?
She must have sensed him. Her horse picked up its canter and the entities swirled around her like a ghostly hurricane. Jag steeled himself as she approached, his cloak whipping about like a rag in the wind.
Rowan’s hood fell back, eyes shining in the unnatural torchlight. As she slowed her horse, a wry smile grew upon her lips and she looked down at him.
“Why do you stand as if carved in stone? Do you not wish to greet your Lady?”
“My Lady,” Jag bowed briefly. What had changed? His Lady was so strong- so much stronger than before. And she was something else. Dark…and electrifying. He raised his arms, reaching to aid in her dismount.
Energy surged through him as he made contact with the curve of her waist. He easily bore her weight and swung her down. The feel of Rowan in his grasp was nearly enough to forget about the minions of cackling demons that swelled around her.
“Why do you not look upon me?” Her voice was more sonorous, a sweet hardness oozing with sexuality that he had never heard her use before. It left him breathless.
He wanted to look away, but it was no use. He was intoxicated. Before, he would do anything she asked, but now he would follow her into the Void whether she asked him or not. “I find you much changed.”
“Do you?” she whispered. Rowan seemed amused, catching his chin in her hand. Jag’s heart stopped beating in his chest as he stared into her fathomless eyes. “It is true, I am much changed.”
She leaned in closer, her body just grazing his as she turned his face to the side. Her lips traced a feathery path along his neck as she rolled to her tip toes to reach his ear. Jag’s body responded as the urge to possess her as she possessed him ravaged him like a wildfire.
“Can you see them, Jag?”
“I can, my Lady.” He thought he might be dying. The breathless quality of her voice coupled with her words against his ear tested his brinks of restraint, while fear of her chilled him to the bone. “I know not what you did to garner the support of such company.”
She laughed softly, sending tiny landslides of both horrific desire down his spine. Her essence slithered against his, massaging his aching body in a sultry seduction of fear. Her teeth nipped his earlobe, and a moan from deep inside his soul found its way to his lips. His eyes rolled back in his head and he grew as hard as steel. “Tell me, did you make a pact with demons?”
Rowan released him and moved toward the tent. “Would you prefer they looked more human?” She asked with what seemed like genuine concern. “I can do that for you. Say the words and I shall command it.”
“That will not be necessary, unless it pleases my Lady to do so.” Jag lagged behind so that she had to turn to look at him for a response. His gaze shifted toward the three-eyed horned entities before locking with hers. “Will they always be there?”
“They will follow me forever,” she closed her eyes for a fleeting moment and drew a deep breath. “But I can make them disappear if I chose to.” She stepped closer and extended her hand before dropping it at her side, as if she had a second thought. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“It displeases me to know that you have communed with monsters; and I can only guess that it was you who set them free, for I recognize the Cursed Race from the myths I learned in the Academy.” Jag shook his head. “I know not how, but you have absolved them of the Undoings.”
“Does that displease you as well?” Her voice was soft, but firm. “You know that an ordinary woman or one of Light cannot do such a thing.”
“I know.” His chin jerked to the heavens, his gaze searching the stars as if answers were written there.
“And can you look away from such an unholy transgression?”
“You have always been a goddess to me.” He closed the distance between them and caught her wrist, a bold instinct that he did not fight, and then drew her against him. Sweet gods, she did not resist. “I can forget you anything.”
Her mouth opened slightly but she smiled. “You are nothing if not loyal, my most trusted companion.” Her words were soft, and for a moment he sensed her weakness, but that too, quickly faded and she was invincible once more. “But it seems that it is not only I who has changed, for I did not think that you would have the ability to see the Cursed Ones.” She bit her lip as if considering him, but did not withdraw from his embrace. Instead, she inclined her head so that her nose met his, her mouth ghosting his as she spoke again. “You should know that I would never allow them to harm you.”
“I do not fear them.” He lied, and didn’t care that Rowan could see into his heart. He was too consumed with the feel of her lips moving across his, the softness of her curves as they melded against his harder contours. But he dared not kiss her.
“Jag,” her voice had cracked. She cupped his cheek in her hand and he pressed against the delicate warmth that graced his face, her fingers offering some relief from the tortures of her soft mouth. “I am in trouble.”
“Yes, Lady.” He closed his eyes and then pressed her palm to his lips. “But no harm shall come to you while I have breath in my body. I remain loyal to you, no matter what happened to you in that cursed forest.”
“The gods were indulgent when they blessed me with you. But I fear if you knew the truth about me, you would abandon me.”
Jag could not believe what he was hearing. How could someone as instinctive as she be so wrong? “Rowan, I know that you have powers that far exceed mine that if you chose to compel me that you could. I know that you possess the dark magic of shadows, and I know that you can kill me with a thought, should you choose.”
Rowan gasped and withdrew, as if she was preparing to counter his words with a denial but then thought better. With the absence of the moon disappearing behind the clouds, Jag could not be sure if tears brimmed in her eyes. “I would never use my powers against you,” she whispered.
“I know.” Jag knew his smile was feeble, though it was the best he could offer to the woman who commanded his soul. “But you can kill me in other ways not so sinister.” He heard himself panting as he pulled her to him. This time, she was reluctant as she cleaved to his embrace.
“You are my goddess. I want only to worship you.” He tightened his hold as his desperate mouth sought her skin through the mass of curls. She arched against him as his lips dragged across her neck. As he accommodated the gentle pressure of her, Jag was consumed with a yearning so deep that it turned his mind inside out. “Let me love you,” he begged.
“Jag, I am weak,” she pleaded, but her arms snaked around his neck. “This will make it worse between us.”
“You want me, Rowan, I can feel it.” The symphony of fire and fear continued to crescendo in Jag’s blood. He never needed her more than he did now; every part of his body longed to be one with her. “Tell me the truth, for once, my Lady, tell me what I know is true.”
“Yes, I do want you,” her voice faltered as ravaged her neck. “So much that when I first saw you tonight I could hardly control my urges. But I cannot allow this.”
“Is it because you do not love me?” His mouth sought hers in desperation, rewarded for their persistence when her lips met his with passion. He deepened the kiss as heat and bliss took turns washing over him. This could not last much longer. He needed to get as much of as he could before she tore herself away. “Because I do not care.”
“I do care.” Rowan drew her head back, rendered defenseless by her desires. Jag never thought she looked more beautiful in her breathless state of oblivion. “This can go no further. I am awakening to my whole self, to parts of me that I have long denied. I do not wish for you to be caught in the web of disaster I shall weave.”
Jag released Rowan, summoning all of his effort to do so. “What keeps you from me? Is it your circumstances or mine?”
“My vows of state no longer bind me.” Rowan turned her back to him, her hand on the flap of the tent. She meant to go inside, but he could not tolerate that.
“Then why?” He grabbed her hand but she did not turn to face him. Rowan had not answered his question. Was it his marriage? She knew he didn’t love his wife, that his father forced his nuptials. By the gods, he barely knew the woman! Could it be that she would never see him as an equal?
“I am part of something that is far bigger than anything that could happen between us. I do not wish to bring the burden of it upon you.”
Jag stilled. He knew it was truth; that she had some role to play that was even larger than the Highest Priestess. But why could he not be a part of it as well?
“Is it the Prophecy?”
“Yes.” Only then did she raise her face. The moon had peeked from behind the clouds, and in the pearly light, Rowan looked like someone else, someone far older than her twenty-five years, and less earthly than ever. “It is the Prophecy, and something more.”
“You mean someone.”
Rowan cleared her throat but said nothing; her silence served as admission.
Jag felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. All these years, it had been him at her side, all this time, he had been the one who stood between his Lady and the world. He hated the man who had slipped between them. Thoughts at the speed of a cyclone swirled through his mind. Who had stolen her? Then it dawned on him. It could only be one person and he hated him already. She looked at him and knew that he understood.
It should have been him that she loved, not Sevyn Astara. Jag should hate her as well for this betrayal, but he just couldn’t. Even worse, he still wanted her, if possible, more than before. “Will he have you?”
“I know not, nor does it matter. The Prophecy is far more commanding.”
“He would be a fool not to have you.” Jag found that bitterness crept into his voice, but sought solace in the thought that she would not be with Sevyn even though he had her heart. “But I find comfort in the fact that the Prophecy might keep you out of the arms of that Infidel.”
“Infidel,” Rowan echoed on a sad laugh. “If you knew the truth- if you knew how the Prophecy pertained to me, then you would not feel the way you feel for me now.”
Like quicksilver she changed. Her eyes flashed, unnatural sparks in the darkness and Jag’s blood turned to ice. The Cursed Race huddled in, forming an iridescent wraith-like mountain behind her. She stepped toward him and Jag took one back.
“And my dear Jag,” she clucked. “To think such a thing about one who has never wronged you means you have darkness in your heart.”
Her voice had taken on an eerie quality. He had forgotten that this was no ordinary woman, and chastised himself for his lapse of memory. He summoned great effort to swallow, needing to wet a throat that had gone bone dry.
“Everyone has a bit of darkness within.”
“Some much more than others,” she whispered. She touched his shoulder lightly and Jag’s veins vibrated with the infusion of heat. “But I still must know something of you.” She leaned closer to him, her breath on his face. “Tell me, if I were the black queen herself, would you still serve me?”
Jag shivered, his desire peaking. Who had she become? From what font of power had she drank from that she outshined any star in the sky and commanded the very earth he stood upon? He would sell his soul to the demons of the hells if she asked him to. He was far past the point of wrong or right, and he didn’t care.
“I would still do anything you asked.”
“I am glad,” Rowan’s eyes narrowed to become two glowing slits. “I need your aid.”
