Deadmen Walking (Deadman's Cross, #1)

He snorted. “I want more than that, Mara. Much more.”


In truth, so did she. “I know. But I’m not sure how to give you that.”

He scowled at her.

She smiled at his consternation. “I was scarce more than a girl when you plucked me from my nemeton. You’re the only man I’ve ever been around, Du. Think about it.”

And with that she faded from the room to return to her nestling.

Devyl felt his jaw go slack as he finally understood why her blood had always held so much power for his spells.

So much power for him.

She was virgin still.

“How could I have been so stupid?”

She was right. He was an idiot. Raking his hands over his face, he cursed himself for the fool he’d been. Normally, he could sense such things. Had no problem, point of fact.

Marcelina had always been different. She was his weakness, through and through.

Today, she’d almost been his death.

I have to get rid of her. It didn’t matter how much he might love her. She’d forever been his one blind spot. The one vulnerability in an otherwise impenetrable fortress.

He rubbed his finger over his ring as he finally admitted the one truth that he couldn’t escape. Mara didn’t need his harthfret to control him. He’d been her hopeless slave since the moment he first gazed into those amber eyes. She owned him, body and soul.

His only salvation was the fact that she’d been as blind to him as he was to her—that she’d never once realized he wasn’t the one in control of their relationship.

She was.

For her, there was nothing he wouldn’t do at her simplest command. That was why he’d brought her back to be their ship. He didn’t want to be here without her. Even if it meant enduring her hatred and scorching condemnation. So long as she spoke to him in any manner, he’d take it.

But no more. It was time that he severed their tattered past and let her go.

All things came to an eventual end.

It was time he cast away his heart and made sure that nothing stopped him from what was to come. He was the one who’d given Vine her powers. Who’d enabled her to become the threat she was.

Thorn had charged him with protecting the world and that was his duty now. He couldn’t let anything else get in the way.

Not even Mara.

And certainly not himself.

Nay, he would give his life to this cause. That was the way of it. There was no other outcome to be had, and he knew it.





14

Mara groaned as the tumultuous sea crashed against her sides and battered every part of her. For hours now, the storm had surged violently as if trying its best to send them to the bottom of the ocean.

All of the crew had taken cover belowdecks.

Meanwhile, she lay in her bunk, sick to her stomach, wishing for any reprieve from this misery. It was so bad, she couldn’t even change forms for it. The last thing any Deruvian wanted was to regurgitate in their wooden form.

That was a sight and sensation no one needed. Ever.

And just when she didn’t think she could take another minute of it, strong arms pulled her against an equally hard chest.

“Drink this.”

“I’m too sick, Du.”

He brushed the hair back from her cheek. “I know, love. This will help.” He lifted the cup to her lips.

Convinced she’d return it within a few seconds of swallowing, she obeyed. But as she got a bit of it down, it did indeed ease her nausea. After a few minutes, her headache began to lessen, too, and it was only then that she realized Duel was in the bed with her, holding her against his warmth while he rocked her in time to the sea.

He set the empty cup on her nightstand. But due to the storm, it didn’t stay there. Rather, it was thrown to the floor and rolled across the boards to land in a corner.

“What was in that?”

“Ginger root. Peppermint. A little honey…”

When he didn’t continue, she arched her brow at him. “And?”

The corner of his lips lifted into a teasing half smile as he smoothed her hair around her face. “Best you don’t know.”

Laughing, she let out a small groan as another wave went through her. “How much longer till the storm passes?”

“The worst of it is over. The sea should settle within a few hours.”

“A few hours?” she moaned. “I shan’t make it.”

He snorted at her misery. “Sure you will. Just think about something else.”

“Like what?”

The teasing light remained in those dark eyes and for once, she caught a glimpse of the dimples she’d never known he had until very recently. “How much you hate me.”

Impishly, she placed her hand over one of those beckoning deep indentations in his cheeks. “I told you, I don’t hate you.”

“Anymore.”

Grimacing at his continued torment, she glared at him. “I’m too ill for this, Duel. Please don’t harass me.” She dropped her gaze down to the bruise on his arm from his fight earlier that day. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? I’m in agony.”

“You handle it well.” Much better than she did.

“’Cause I’m used to it.” As he started to withdraw from her bed, Mara stopped him.

“Stay with me and hold me. I’ve no wish to be alone when I feel like this.” Rolling to give him her back, she snuggled up against him and rested her head against his muscled arm. “I haven’t had any comfort in so long.… I miss it terribly.”

Devyl winced as guilt stabbed him hard at those whispered words. He was the sole reason for that. Had he not removed her from her home, she would have been with her family and friends. Not locked in his hell where she sought to avoid all contact with him and his people.

Or worse, kept in stasis because of his magick.

Wanting to make it up to her, he settled down behind her and pulled her back against his chest so that he could hold her in the dim light. Before he could stop himself, or think better of it, he caressed the softness of her silken cheek. Thoughts of what could have been haunted him and tortured him.

If only he could go back in time.…

Closing her eyes, she let out a contented sigh. But he was far from satisfied with this small bit. Rather, his body was rock hard and aching for the one thing he knew she’d never give him. And now that he knew she’d never been touched by another …

That was out of the question. He’d purposely avoided virgins. They were a complication no man needed. He preferred women who knew their own minds and bodies. Those well experienced who didn’t get their hearts entangled needlessly.

Yet therein was the problem. Her heart was something he’d wanted since the first day they met. And for once it wasn’t to feast upon it out of vexed frustration.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to banish the part of him he hated most. That weak, insipid, useless piece that continued to crave frumpish things he knew he couldn’t have.

Home. Family.

Love.