“The power that lies in the hair of the wolf.” Odd, he thought again, that in his human form he lacked the same ability. “The power that lies within yer own blood. I wove the two of them together, then cast a spell upon it, to quicken it.”
“My blood? Where did ye get my blood?” She frowned, remembering that the wolf had licked her palm.
“It was on the blade of the knife.” He did not tell her how tantalizing he had found the scent of her blood, or how frightened he had been at the way it called to him. Nor did he tell her that he had licked her blood from the knife. It had sizzled through him like the purest fire. The memory of it thrilled him even as it repulsed him and he shook it from his mind to examine more closely later, when he was alone.
“And now, Channa Leigh,” he said quietly. “Will ye now grant me my boon?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as he sat down beside her. Moving slowly, he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand splayed over her stomach.
Her heartbeat grew rapid. Her mouth grew dry. Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive as she waited for his kiss. He lowered his head toward hers. He kept his eyes open, as did she. His eyes were as green as the leaves on the trees. They drew her in, made her think of cool spring nights under starry skies. His kiss was light, his lips warm and firm. He demanded nothing ofher, only the touch of her lips against his. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She deepened the kiss. His eyes grew darker. His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer.
With a sigh, her eyelids fluttered down and she leaned into him, her hands spreading across his back, her fingers kneading his flesh.
He groaned softly. Lifting her onto his lap, he kissed her again, his tongue stroking her lower lip, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her.
It was a kiss unlike any she had ever known. It burned away the memory of Ronin’s chaste kiss and forever after spoiled her for any other.
She was breathless when they parted. Feeling bereft, she stared into his eyes, felt herself falling into their clear emerald depths. She felt the whisper of his power slide over her skin, heard the echoes of his lonely childhood, saw the small Cimmerian corner of his soul where his uncertainty lived, but before she could explore it further, he drew his gaze away from hers.
“Something troubles ye,” she said, her voice tinged with amazement.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “What makes ye say that?”
“I saw it when I looked into yer eyes. There is a dark place deep within ye.”
He did not deny it.
“What is it that troubles ye?”
Lifting her from his lap, he stood and began to pace.
She sat cross-legged on her blankets and looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “Will ye not tell me?”
“There is a darkness within me,” he admitted. “More than the darkness of uncertainty. It is a love for the shadows of the night, for the dark magic that lingers just below my awareness.” Heheld out his hands, palms up, and stared down at them. “The darkness calls to something within me that I do not understand. Sometimes…” He dragged his hand over his jaw, wondering how best to explain the unexplainable.
“Ye are tempted by dark powers?”
“Aye.”
“But why?”
He shook his head. “In here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I know that good is more powerful than evil, but still the darkness calls to me, tempting me to do that which can only be done through the power of darkness, to rise up and unleash the full power within me, the consequences to others be damned. I could destroy the village with a wave of my hand, enslave its people, cause famine and flood.”
He dragged his hand over his face as if to block out the images his words had conjured. “I have ever used my powers for good, for healing. But there is another power, a darker power that tempts me. It calls to me in the lonely hours before the dawn, when goodness lies weak and vulnerable within me and evil rides the wings of the night.”
“Virtue and vice,” she said. “Truth and error Tis a choice we all must make.”
“Aye.”
“Ye must not choose the darkness, my lord, ye must not give in to it, else ye be lost.”
~ * ~
He thought of Channa Leigh’s words later that day as they left the valley behind and entered a stand of thick timber. She was wise beyond her years, he thought. Knowing but little of him or his past, she nevertheless sensed the danger that lay before him if he succumbed to the darkness that beckoned him, tempting him with powers beyond imagining. The darkness. More and more he was drawn to the night. The light of the sun made hisskin tingle oddly; sometimes it burned his eyes. His taste in food was also changing; where once he had preferred his meat well-done, he now liked it rare and dripping with blood.
The leafy branches overhead grew thick, so thick in some places that they shut out the light of the sun. The shade was a welcome break from the heat of the sun’s light. The sounds of their horses’ hooves were muted in the thick leaf mold and vegetation that covered the ground. Here and there, he saw the glow of slanted yellow eyes observing their passing.
He watched Channa Leigh. Blessed with sight for this day, she looked at everything carefully, exclaiming softly when she saw a stag bound across their path. She remarked on the beauty of the trees, the eerie shadows beneath the branches.
