He slapped at Urian’s hand. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Can’t help it. Spent too many centuries as the right hand of evil, myself. Left a black mark on my soul.”
As they neared the edge of the woods, Falcyn had the eerie sensation of being watched. Thankfully that curbed his attention where Medea was concerned, and distracted his gaze from straying to her constantly.
Damn, she was a lot more distracting than she should be. If his body didn’t stop, he was going to start cutting pieces of it off.
Falcyn rubbed at the hairs on the back of his neck that had risen. “Blaise?”
“Yeah … I feel it.”
Medea’s dark eyes met his and did the strangest things to his stomach. Which made him even harder, damn it all. “What is it?”
“Not sure.” Falcyn walked backward so that he could scan the meadow as he tried not to think about why he wanted to stay close to her to protect her from whatever threat he sensed. That was an innate dragon trait. One he didn’t want to scrutinize, because the ramifications terrified him.
He saw nothing around them.
Not that it meant anything, given the powers some of their preternatural brethren possessed. And he really missed being in his dragon’s body right now. A dragon’s sight was very different from that of a human’s. Much sharper and clearer. And while a trace of that followed him into a human body, it still wasn’t as good as it’d be in his other form. Which was why Blaise wasn’t blind as a dragon.
Only as a man.
Then Falcyn heard it.
A mere wisp of breath. So low as to be virtually inaudible. To a normal creature. But he wasn’t normal. Too many centuries of fighting for survival had left him paranoid and highly attuned to everything around him.
Like Medea’s soft lily scent.
Especially that subtle shift in the air that said he was being stalked by something invisible. Something approaching fast on his right …
With lightning reflexes honed by battle, he reached out and grabbed their pursuer.
“I mean you no harm!” The sound of a woman’s voice shocked him.
Falcyn tightened his grip on what felt like a throat. “Show yourself.”
She materialized in his fist and, as he’d assumed, his hand was wrapped about her neck. Large lavender eyes swallowed a face that appeared more girl than woman, and yet the fullness of her leather-wrapped body said that she was well into her twenties. Physically, anyway.
Probably older given the amount of power and confidence he sensed from her. That level of expertise came from a creature who was centuries old.
“What are you?”
She rubbed at his wrist to remind him that his death-grip was cutting off her ability to speak. Another action that said she was older than a frightened teen.
Falcyn relaxed his hold, but not enough to allow her to escape. He wasn’t a fool and he hadn’t lived to his own advanced age by playing one.
“I’m Brogan.”
“Didn’t ask your name. Don’t really care. I asked what you are.”
“Cursed. Exiled and damned. Please, let me go and I can help you.”
She was hedging and he didn’t like it. Creatures who played games usually had something to hide. “Why?”
“Why should you let me go? So that I can breathe.”
Falcyn ground his teeth. “No, why should we trust you to help us?”
“Because I want out of here more than anything, but I lack the powers to break the seal or bargain for freedom. If you take me with you, I’ll show you where a portal is.”
Still suspicious, he released her. “And again, I ask what you are.”
“A kerling Deathseer.”
Falcyn conjured up a ball of fire and held it so that she knew her own death was imminent. “Deathseer or seeker?”
A seer saw death. A seeker caused it.
Holding her hands up, she stepped back from him. “Seer,” she said quickly, letting him know that she got the less-than-veiled threat in his actions. “Though ofttimes the Black Crom uses me to find his victims.”
“And why is that?”
“I was sold to him for such.”
Falcyn moved to kill her, but Blaise caught his arm.
“Don’t hurt her.”
Aghast, he stared at him. “Are you out of your mandrake mind?”
Blaise snorted. “All the time. But not about this.” He held his hand out to the petite brunette. “Come, Brogan. I won’t let him harm you.”
Allowing the fire in his hand die out, he scowled at Blaise. “Can you see her at all?”
Blaise shook his head. “I can only hear her voice. Why?”
Because she was exquisitely beautiful. Her long dark brown hair that had escaped her tight braids made perfect spirals around her elvish features and pointed ears. Enchanting features the fey often used to lure others to their doom. And that included her tight brown leather pants and corset that were covered by a flimsy green robe, and the fey stone necklace and diadem she wore.
But if Blaise couldn’t see it, then it wasn’t a trap for him. “Why are you attracted to her?”
“Didn’t say I was. I only hear the truth in her voice. She’s not lying to us. So I think we should help her.”
“And no good deed goes unpunished. You help her and you’re likely to pay for it. In the worst way imaginable and at the worst possible time.”
Blaise sighed heavily at Falcyn’s mistrust that had come from a lifetime of betrayal. “What I love most about you, Fal. Your never-ending optimism. It bowls me over.”
Perhaps, but sadly he expected only the worst from those around him, and very seldom had they risen above his low expectations.
Tucking down her gossamer wings so that they couldn’t be seen, Brogan retrieved her knapsack.
As she started past Falcyn, he stopped her. “You harm him … or cause him to be harmed in any way—even a hangnail—and I will make sure you die in screaming agony.”
Her eyes widened at his threat. “I see no death for him. You’ve no cause to threaten me on his behalf.”
As she moved to walk beside Blaise, Medea dropped back to Falcyn’s side. “What’s a kerling?”
“A conjuring witch.”
“That why you asked if she sought death?”
He nodded. “Kerlings can be a handful.”
“Known many?”
“No, but I’ve killed my fair share.”
Brogan gasped and glanced over her shoulder at Falcyn.
With a fake smile, he waved at her.
She let out a squeak and sidled closer to Blaise, who cast a fierce grimace in his direction. “What did you do?”
“I smiled.”
“Ah, that explains it, then. It’s such an unnatural act for you that you look like some questing beast whenever you try.”
Falcyn screwed his face up as Blaise allowed the kerling to lead them.
Medea frowned up at him. “So what’s the deal?”
“With?”
She jerked her chin toward Blaise. “You only heel for him. Why is that?”
“I don’t heel for him. I protect my brothers.”
“So you say, but that’s not what it looks like from where I’m standing.”
“Then you need to get a pair of glasses, a better vantage point, and look again.”
“Don’t get testy with me, dragonfly. I merely find it fascinating that you’d tuck your claws in for your brother. It just seems out of character for you. And weird.”