MARK OF LOVE (Lovemark #3)

13. Indigo

Chapter 13

Indigo

The rest of the bread baking continued in silence.

I offered to give Quilla some assistance, but she snapped at me to leave her alone, so I returned to my bedroll, where Melaina had completely abandoned her task of going through my things and “thinning out” my pack.

After quietly putting all my possessions back in the bag, where no one said a word about me getting rid of anything again, I sat back against a tree, rested my bound wrists against a propped-up knee, and waited. No idea what I waited for, but I thought I deserved a reward for my excessive patience.

I tried to strike up a friendly conversation—I really did—but Quilla didn’t quite get my jokes about Sir Render, the knight who was afraid to fight, or his friend, Sir Prize, the knight who liked to jump out from behind bushes and startle people. She told me to stop talking or she’d finish the job her aunt had started on my throat. I touched the wound on my neck, discovered it was still quite tender, and I decided to shut up.

My reward finally came about an hour later when Quilla finished the bread, and they packed it for travel so Melaina could leave me alone with my true love for the first time since we’d been properly—or the closest thing to proper as we were going to get—introduced.

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” Melaina announced as she climbed onto my mare.

“Have fun,” Quilla told her with a glare. “Don’t fall off your horse and die or anything.” Across the opposite side of the campsite as me, she plopped herself onto a tree stump, looking perfectly content to stay here, watching over me.

Alone.

The very thing she’d adamantly refused to do just last night.

My eyebrows lifted with curiosity. I glanced toward Melaina, who frowned suspiciously until her gaze met mine. Then she waggled her brows and waved her hands toward her niece as if encouraging me to woo Quilla to my heart’s content while she was gone.

I rolled my eyes, letting her know that was probably the last thing that was going to happen, no matter how much I’d prefer to do just that.

Quilla no longer being averse to the idea of staying alone with me was still a deep chasm away from her actually falling in love with me.

She would probably stab me if I went anywhere near her right now, and I’d say I had already filled my being-stabbed quota for the past two days. In fact, if I never saw a blade again, I’d probably be okay with that.

As soon as Melaina rode out of sight, Quilla pulled my journal from her pack.

I sat up straight, immediately on alert. So this was why she had wanted to stay behind. “What’re you doing?”

She ignored me. I huffed out a disgusted growl, which caused humor to spark from her emotions.

The damn woman enjoyed frustrating me. That was fine; I got a kick out of provoking her too. We were going to have plenty of fun bickering with and picking at each other far into our golden years, once we were finally living out our happily ever afters together, I could tell.

Watching her turn the book around, upside down, and then front to back, I let a smug grin hitch up at the corner of my mouth.

“Figure out how to open it yet?” I taunted.

She sent me a glare. “I don’t suppose you’d simply tell me,” she tried.

I chuckled, but answered, “Sure. Just get these damn things off me…” I lifted the cuffs holding my wrists together and shook them before returning my gaze to her. “And I’ll be an open book. Literally.”

With a sniff, she went back to ignoring me and examining the journal.

“What’s the point of the shackles, anyway?” I finally asked. “If you wanted me to stay with you, you could’ve just asked.”

Another glare vibrated from her as she refocused on me. “But I don’t want you here. And I told you already, you’re a prisoner. You have no control over what happens to your life until we’re done needing you. I might be whatever I am to your stupid mark, but you’re nothing to me. Understand? Nothing. You’re not our guest, or friend, or companion. You’re a simple prisoner. Got that, High Clifter?”

“Sure,” I answered easily, not quite able to stop grinning. She was just so freaking adorable when she was like this, all take-charge and obey-my-authority-or-I’ll-hurt-you. Made me hot and bothered just to watch the irate flush stain her cheeks. “And my name’s not High Clifter,” I added, hoping to goad her into saying Indigo.

She didn’t even look my way. “Don’t care.”

I frowned, only to grin again, countering her with, “Well, maybe you should. Maybe…” I added with a wink. “That’s all you have to say to open my book.”

Her eyes lifted to me in surprise, and then her scowl deepened. “As if I’m going to fall for that.”

I spread my fingers as if to say, your loss. And then I sat back against the tree again, enjoying the show as her irritation deepened. “Good luck opening it, then.”

Her eyes narrowed and jaw set as she glared at me. But then her gaze shifted back to the object in her hands. She lifted it a little, just enough to cover her face from my view so I couldn’t see her mouth move when she spoke, saying my name so softly I barely heard her. The whisper of Indigo floating back to me was like honey on toast or warm milk in the stomach after a cold, nasty day on the battlefield. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the resonance of it in the air.

But then Quilla hissed a foul curse, breaking the moment because my suggestion hadn’t worked. The book remained locked shut.

I shrugged and dug my teeth into my bottom lip, fighting back a laugh. “Sorry. I guess that wasn’t how you opened it after all.”

“Bastard.”

I laughed, enjoying myself all too much as I stretched my legs out on the ground in front of me and crossed my feet at the ankles.

“I’m really going to kill you one day,” she seethed. “And I’m going to enjoy it.”

Ah, my bloodthirsty mate. She knew how to make my d**k stir.

Sure, the ruthless sadism between her and her aunt could be alarming. I found myself worrying at times, wondering just how far they’d go with their callous and hostile act—and I’m sure almost most of it was an act to protect the softer, more vulnerable places inside them from the dark, unkind world they’d seen. But it was also nice to know I would never have to guard my words around them and stick with banal, polite platitudes merely to protect their tender sensibilities.

I was a soldier, no stranger to brutality and bloodshed. I’d seen things and done things that no one would dare talk aloud in a formal sitting room during teatime. So it was a relief to know I didn’t have to feel as if I had to shield my darker, rough side from her. I liked being completely open and transparent about who and what I was. And I wasn’t always the friendly, easygoing, neighborhood Indigo. Feeling free to share all of myself with her would be nice.

Glancing toward Quilla as she furrowed her brow in thought—which was completely adorable too, by the way—I almost told her how to open the book so she could read all my secrets and know me completely—the good and the bad—but then I realized the puzzle of it intrigued her.

Interesting. She enjoyed solving mysteries. Just like I did.

In that case, I couldn’t ruin this one for her. So I sat back and watched her in her element. “So we’re headed to Tyler, huh?” I asked.

She ignored me, that thoughtful crinkling in her brow telling me her brain was working in overtime.

“What’s important to you in Tyler?” I didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one. “I’m familiar with the village there, you know. Lived there for nearly three years with the family of my mother’s brother, Everett. So if there’s anything you need assistance with finding, I would gladly—”

“Will you shut up for three full seconds,” she snapped. “I’m trying to think here.”

I grinned. “Yes, I could tell. It’s absolutely delightful to watch, too.”

She sliced a nasty scowl my way. I blew her a kiss.

With an aggravated sigh and roll of her eyes, she returned her attention to my book, the knit in her brow forming all over again as she ran the tip of her finger slowly over the bindings that kept it closed.

Damn. Swallowing, I watched the single digit move in a transfixed daze. I knew of something else she could run her finger across with that kind of gentle intensity.

Heat collected under my clothes and the throbbing from between my legs grew heavy and intense. Swollen and tight, I curled one hand into a strained fist. Even the slight shift of fabric against my c**k when I lifted my knee in order to create a bit more room in my trousers caused me to bite back a groan. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to embarrass myself in my britches.

Glancing away so I could stop watching that precious round face deep in thought and calm myself a fraction, I rested my cuffed hands over my lap to hide the evidence of my raging arousal.

“Say,” I said, thinking it must’ve been at least three seconds since she’d demanded three seconds of peace. “Why are castles so dark inside?”

She ignored me.

Cracking a grin, I snorted. “Because they’re full of knights.” That one got me every time. But Quilla didn’t even twitch a facial muscle. So I tried again. “What’s the most groundbreaking thing of all time?”

Her gaze veered my way.

I lifted my hands as if revealing a surprise and called, “A shovel.”

Brow furrowing, she went back to studying the book.

I sighed and dropped my hands in defeat. Someday. Someday, I was going to get her to legit laugh at one of my jokes. And it was going to be the best day of my life.

Until then, I grew serious as I let my mind wander, until something she’d said earlier to Melaina meandered back through my memory banks. “Hey. What did you mean when you said only Graykeys could travel through the portal, so no one could reach or hurt your cousins or aunt on Earth?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quilla bit out.

Except my mind was spinning now. “But that can’t be right. Only Graykeys can leave the Outer Realms and go to Earth?”

I didn’t want it to be true. Ever since Grandpa Atchison and then later my friend Bison had told me stories, I’d always wanted to visit and see Earth for myself.

To learn I never would because I wasn’t a Graykey was—wait.

“If only Graykeys can go to Earth, then how the hell could Melaina claim to have gone through the portal? She isn’t a blood-born Graykey.”

She’d been born to House Severin, if my research was correct. Taiki hadn’t been a blood-born Graykey either.

Quilla exhaled an irritated breath, not a fan of my distracting questions. “It works for Graykeys or their chosen partner,” she finally explained, not even glancing my way. “We recite a special chant that binds a mate to us for life. The mate doesn’t suffer from bloodlust in a reaping as we do, but they do get caught up in the curse right along with us in that the couple always ends up having three children together—unless one of them dies first—and they are compelled to designate their progeny with names that start with a certain letter, plus they are able to move through the transference portal to Earth after that.” She shrugged dismissively. “It’s why there’s never any illegitimate Graykey children. The curse prevents you from reproducing unless you bind a mate to you.”

“Interesting.” My eyebrows rose. So that meant she hadn’t needed to close her womb. All along, she could’ve just refused to claim a mate. That told me she still held on to the hope of finding a life partner for herself. Somewhere in her, she did believe in love and did want a happily ever after to share with someone. Encouraged by that, I grinned. “I had no idea Graykeys had their own mating ritual too. Just like us High Clifters, huh?”

“Except your mating marks are stupid.”

I shrugged, still too pleased by the revelation that she would like to claim a mate someday to be bothered by the dig, and I murmured, “Debatable.” Then I shifted forward an inch, feeling drawn to her. “So once you finally claim me back as yours, I’ll be able to travel through the portal too?”

Hot damn. I was back in the game. The mere idea of possibly getting to travel to Earth and experience it one day, even for a little bit, thrilled me to no end.

“Except that’s never going to happen,” Quilla announced.

Never say never, I wanted to warn her. But I was too busy thinking.

“Wait.” I shook my head and frowned. “I know someone who went there—to Earth—and came back again. And she wasn’t a Graykey.”

“Impossible. Either she lied and really didn’t go,” Quilla said with such conviction that I frowned, not sure what to believe. “Or she lied about who she really was.”

My stomach dropped with dread over that possibility. Nanny Wynter had always avoided me, probably because she knew I had wanted to question her about her trip to Earth. What if she’d been a Graykey in hiding all this time?

Except, no, she’d lived in Donnelly for years. And she’d passed a purity test. Could a Graykey pass a purity test?

“She disappeared and was gone for six full moon cycles,” I argued, “only to return out of nowhere, claiming she’d been to an alternate dimension. Just where do you suggest she went then, if not Earth? To Mars?”

Quilla lifted shocked eyes my way. Then she frowned. “It’s very disturbing to me that you even know what Mars is. Or Earth. No one is supposed to know any of that.”

I shrugged and countered, “Except people who’ve actually been there.” When she sharpened her frown, I added an elusive, “Or descendants of people who were born there.”

She snorted. “Except we’re all descendants of people who were born on Earth.”

I blinked, not expecting to hear that. Sitting up straighter, I said, “What?”

Smirking when she realized she knew something I didn’t, she said, “Here’s a little bit of Graykey family trivia for you, High Clifter—a history told down the line through our generations. The original nineteen who came here and settled into the Outer Realms were all from Earth, or as my family has always called it: the old world.”

“The old world,” I murmured in amazement, never having heard Earth referred to as that term before. Incredible. I loved learning new history. Eager for more, I said, “How did the original nineteen get here, then? Who were they? Why did they leave Earth?”

“It needs a key,” she realized suddenly, her eyes growing big with excitement as she gaped at the book.

My pulse jumped with anxiety. But I made myself appear calm as I lifted one eyebrow. “Does it?”

She stood, studying me intently, more intently than she’d ever looked at me before. My c**k thickened painfully, ready for her to touch me just as thoroughly as she was looking at me.

“Where’s the key?” she said softly.

“Search me,” I answered. Then I lifted my hands from my lap and opened them as far as the shackles would allow. “Seriously, feel free to search me. All over.”

“My foot is going to search you right in the nuts if you keep talking like that.”

I winced, hoping she didn’t mean that literally, then shot back, “Honestly, if you want to get that up close and personal with my family jewels, empress, all you have to do is ask. I’ll gladly let you search them with your foot, hand, toes, mouth—whichever body part you prefer.”

“That’s it.” She stalked toward me. “The next words out of your mouth better be the location of that key, or I’m wringing your neck.”

“You know…” My voice was conversational as she came to loom directly above me, like a mighty sss warrior—small and petite as she was—with her boots spread and expression tense with ire. Her lovely, pale hair drifted in the breeze, flitting over her shoulder and framing her face with the wrath of a woman good and pissed off.

“I can think of a whole host of less violent ways you could produce some kind of key from me,” I told her, my smile turning naughty. “Most of them, we’d both enjoy.”

“Is that right?” she murmured, leaning down over me.

I sucked in a breath, suddenly worried. She really could sweet-talk the key from me with no problem. I would do anything for this woman. Die for her, kill for her, protect her with everything I had. Opening a single book for her was nothing. But I wasn’t particularly eager for her to see some portions of my journal. She wouldn’t like what she found.

She inched closer, and suddenly I didn’t care if she saw what I’d written; I just wanted her to touch me. I wanted her to slide down into my lap, her thighs straddling my waist as she slipped her arms around my shoulders and cupped the back of my head to draw my mouth forward. And I wanted her to take my body into hers while she kissed the breath from my lungs.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine. My lips parted with need, and she reached right past me, snagging my pack of clothes.

I released a disappointed groan as she pulled away, then I straightened as she opened the end of my pack. When she upended everything, dumping my clothes and supplies all over the ground, my shoulders dropped with the weight of my frustration.

“This again? Really? How many times are you and your aunt going to tamper with my belongings?”

“As many times as it takes to find everything you’re hiding.”

“What makes you think I’m hiding anything?”

“Maybe because of the fact that you have a locked book that you refuse to open and show us what’s inside.”

“I never said I refused to open it.”

She stopped pawing through my things and looked up.

I smiled. “You just haven’t asked in the right way yet.”

With a growl, she dropped my shaving kit and savagely grabbed a handful of my hair. “Listen here, asshole. You can act like this is some game all you like—”

“I don’t see it as a game,” I promised, my voice going low as I gazed into her eyes. I’d never been this close to them before. They were stunning. “Whoa. You have little golden flecks in the irises of your brown eyes; did you know that?”

The breath left her lungs. “What?”

“They’re really pretty,” I swore. “But I think I like the dark brown ring around them more. It fades in slowly toward the pupil. It’s like a piece of artwork. And what is that?” I leaned a centimeter closer, squinting as I did. “Is that a single blue dot among the gold and brown in there? It is.” I shook my head in wonder. “So incredible.”

“Stop looking at my eyes,” she hissed, except she didn’t move away like she should, since that would be the most effective way to keep me from seeing what she claimed she didn’t want me to see. She simply stared back into my eyes as heartily as I was staring into hers. Which made me think she really did like me looking at her.

Anticipation roared through her emotion, and it tasted like sweet nectar on my mark.

I licked my lips and leaned toward her. “I think I’d rather die than stop looking at your eyes.”

Her jaw hardened as if she hated what I said, and the grip she had in my hair tightened threateningly. But the eagerness I experienced through the mark spoke otherwise. She wanted this just as much as I did.

“I didn’t get a chance to really taste you when you saved me,” I murmured, my face tipping toward hers, our cheeks almost touching. “I really think we should remedy that.”

“I don’t,” she countered. But she stayed where she was, and her breath quickened.

“Quilla.” I groaned and pressed my brow to hers until our mouths aligned and a single breath separated us.

She made a needy, hungry sound deep in her throat. I closed my eyes and leaned in.

But her lips never touched mine.

“What’s this?”

Her fingers landed on the leather strap around my throat. She must’ve seen the truth there in the flash of surprise as I opened my lashes, because suddenly, she tugged at the thin leather rope, pulling a spear-shaped pendant out from under my tunic and ripping it right off my neck.

“Wait, no!” I grasped her wrist, stopping her.

My heart beat hard in my chest as her gaze met mine. I tried to apologize with my expression, but her features only hardened. She tugged on her hand, and I regretfully loosened my grip, letting her slip free.

She scurried backward; the necklace clutched in her grasp.

I said nothing as the dread sank deep.

Words couldn’t fix what she was about to read.