Darius looked over at him. “Braden, I see he finally convinced you to come back. Thought you’d never leave the Outlands again.”
“He can be persuasive when he has a mind for it,” Braden said, with a wry smile aimed in Fallon’s direction.
Fallon raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t have to twist your arm too hard to get you here.”
Braden chuckled. “If I’d known how interesting things were in the Lowlands I would have come much sooner. Who knew there was such danger given its people are so weak?”
Darius clapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad Fallon could lure you from the Outlands. Your leadership will be appreciated given recent events.”
Shea shifted in her seat, wondering if they’d notice if she left. Knowing Eamon and the rest had made it home safely had lifted that sick feeling from her stomach but had also left her exhausted. It had been a long day—one that evidently spanned weeks.
The time jump was a concern. She didn’t think she’d ever lost that much time in the mist before. She would have to think on this. It made her wish that she still had access to the Wayfarer’s Keep, the stronghold of the pathfinder’s guild and where all pathfinders were trained. More specifically, she wished she had access to the library at the Keep. It might have some information that could help her understand what was happening.
She blinked, and her head nodded forward as exhaustion caught up to her. Using her abilities in the mist always took it out of her. This time was no different.
The voices of Fallon and his men were faint as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of the general. Not when he’d already made it clear what he thought of her.
Fallon, noticing the tiredness tugging at Shea, straightened and turned to his men. Darius was in the middle of briefing him about what had happened when Eamon had returned with no Shea and no Fallon. It had evidently caused quite an uproar. With several patrols missing, Darius had made the decision to recall anybody in the outlying areas until they could get a handle on what was happening. It was a decision Fallon agreed with.
“Braden has sent men to recover those we left behind,” Fallon told Darius. “I want my top advisors here tomorrow morning so we can discuss this new obstacle.”
Darius caught sight of Shea slumped over the table and nodded, understanding why Fallon had called the meeting short.
“Understood.”
Braden opened his mouth to object, but at a sharp look from Darius, closed it and gave a gruff nod.
Fallon waited until the two men had departed before he made his way over to where Shea was tilting in her seat. He caught her and then picked her up and carried her to the partitioned area that hid their bed chamber.
She woke as soon as he swung her into his arms. Her eyes blinking up at his, her face sleep-softened and without the normal shields she hid behind.
“Fallon.”
“I’m here, Shea.”
“I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to find you.”
His arms tightened around her. It was a fear he reciprocated. They’d been in there longer than Shea had even guessed. Long enough that he had nearly given up hope. It was a feeling he was not accustomed to, having spent his entire life raging against the odds and coming out victorious in the end.
“I know. Me too.”
He set her on the bed and began to disrobe, pulling his shirt off as she watched him with shadowed eyes. As he unveiled a body defined by rigorous training and a lifetime spent at war, Shea took a deep breath. The smile that curved his mouth was pure sin. He recognized that sound, it was one he never got tired of.
He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and grasped the bottom of the shirt she wore, slowly drawing it up to reveal soft skin stretched tight over lithe muscles. When he pulled the shirt over her head, she stared up at him with a yearning that matched his own.
He’d missed her more than he ever thought possible. This last month had been hard. Every day had been a battle to accomplish what needed to be done instead of saddling his horse and taking the shortest path back to her. If his men ever guessed how difficult he found it to be parted from her, they would write stories of how the great warlord had been ensnared by a beautiful pathfinder from the Highlands.
He ran the tips of his fingers over one smooth shoulder, relishing in the shiver that shook her. She tilted her head back, her eyes steady on his, demanding a kiss. One they both knew wouldn’t end with just that. As soon as they started they would catch fire, consumed by a raging inferno of desire that would burn until two people became one, just to start all over again.
It was always like this. He kept thinking it would eventually abate. That this need inside him would fade, leaving him able to think and reason again. So far it only seemed to grow.
He leaned forward taking her lips in a hard kiss, one that was met with an equal ferocity of her own. She gave as good as she got. Always. It was one of the things he loved best about her. Even before he knew who she was. She’d never bow just because of his position.
He tumbled her into their bed, wedging one leg between hers and pressing it hard against the apex of her thighs. She broke away from the kiss, panting as her hands roamed over his back with just the hint of her nails skating against his skin.
Fallon buried his head in the crook of her neck. She writhed under him, the rough sensation of his unshaven cheek against her sensitive skin driving her crazy. His chuckle was gruff and raspy. He pressed a kiss against her shoulder, one hand going to unlace her trousers. He barely touched her as he ran his fingers delicately over the skin revealed beneath.
She panted and arched up. He parted her folds, dipping into them before withdrawing. He stood, helping her yank off her trousers before doing the same with his own. Both of them bare to each other, he paused to look down at her, burning this memory into his mind, her hair spread across his bed and desire in her eyes.
