“Long story, mate,” Bane said, coming between them. “You should probably return to your ship and calm them. As for Santiago, count us in.” The captain rushed Barnet over to swing to his boat, then turned to Bart.
“I know, Captain. One spell of forgetfulness for the humans on its way. No need in letting them have a single memory of that nonsense.” Bart passed an aggravated grimace toward Nibo.
“The correct phrase is, ‘Thank you, Nibo, for saving me sorry arse.’ And you’re not welcome.”
Bane ignored that as he approached Nibo. “How did you do that?”
He shrugged. “How does one breathe? Same principle. It’s an automatic thing that’s such a part of me I don’t even have to think about it.”
“Well, thank you.”
Nibo inclined his head.
Valynda narrowed her gaze on his crook as she finally understood why the Malachai wanted it and what he intended to do with it once he had it under his control. That was a new power that she hadn’t known about before, but given that Nibo had dominion over those who’d been lost at sea, it made sense. In the hands of the Malachai, that crook would be dangerous indeed.
She waited until the others had drifted off to leave them alone before she spoke to Nibo.
Amazed by him and his trinket, she reached out to touch his staff. He had the same feathers attached to the loop at the end that were braided into his hair. Strange how she’d never really noticed that before. “Where did you get this from?”
Nibo watched as she ran her fingers over the pale, hand-carved wood that was older than time.
He knew she’d asked him something, probably important, but honestly, he couldn’t remember it. Not while she stood this close to him and all he could think about was the endless nights when she’d stroked him with the same tenderness that she was using on his staff. Damn, it’d been so long since he last really held her in his arms.
Had felt her soft hands caressing his body as he lost himself inside her.
How he missed that. Missed the scent of lavender and roses in her hair, mixed with sea and sand. The salty taste of her skin on his lips. No woman had ever held his heart the way his Vala did.
After Aclima’s death and until the night he’d met Valynda, he’d always been afraid of any woman laying claim to him. He’d run from them as if they were lepers.
But something about her had lured him in even against his will.
Now …
“Xuri?”
“Hmmm?”
She shook her head. “Your staff. Where did you get it?”
“I carved it, long ago.”
“Really? That’s all there is to it? You made it?”
He nodded. Of course, the wood he’d used for the crook had come from the Tree of Life that his father had salvaged from the time before Xuri had been born, something he hadn’t known until the first time he’d lost one of his lambs to a ravenous wolf. Heartbroken, he’d used his staff to help gather part of the remains from where they’d been dragged out of his reach.
On his hands and knees, he’d been covered in sweat and thorns as he struggled to do right by the poor lost creature. Then, the moment his staff had touched his lamb’s leg, a strange glow had emanated over it.
An instant later, the tiny lamb had bleated and sprang back to life before rushing into his arms.
Nibo had been so stunned that for several minutes he’d been unable to move or even breathe.
When he’d rushed to tell Qeenan what magic had happened, his brother had laughed in his face. “You’re such a liar!”
“Nay, ’tis truth!”
Qeenan had slaughtered another lamb to make him prove it. That had been the first time that Nibo had realized something wasn’t quite right with his brother. That he enjoyed the killing aspect a little too much and was a little too quick to resort to violence as an answer for any of his volatile mood swings.
More to the point, that Qeenan didn’t care who or what he hurt to illustrate an issue or to get what he wanted.
