Chapter One
Lorna roused from the contented glow of pleasure when her lover threw aside the bedcovers and rose. He scooped up the clothes so hastily discarded less than an hour ago, and cold dread uncoiled in her stomach when he pulled his tunic over his head. Firelight skimmed across his sweat-coated skin in the instant before the fabric covered his chest. Lorna forced back panic and pushed to her knees, allowing the blanket to fall from her breasts. Still, he didn’t pause in picking up his belt, and began wrapping it around his waist.
“You are leaving?” she asked.
A corner of his mouth lifted in disdain. Shock reverberated through her. This wasn’t possible. She had been so careful this time. He was magnificent; tall, broad shouldered, and muscled to perfection from countless hours training as one of the soldiers who fought in the arena. But despite his beauty, she hadn’t spread her legs for him as she had so foolishly done with other men. Instead, she let him court her with flowers, sweet honey, and soft promises that made her ache to feel his strong hands on her flesh. Then, when his whispered words of desire grew frenzied, she took him into her bed. And he had touched her as no other man had, had given her pleasure, and he had promised more…so much more.
“You said you loved me,” she said.
“You are no maiden, you understand the ways of men.”
Tears burned the corners of her eyes. “I understand honor.
“Honor?” He fastened his belt. “When a man’s cock hungers for a woman what does he care for honor?”
“A man need not tell falsehoods to bed a woman.”
“You speak of need? I remember the need in your eyes.” He laughed. “Even now you would let me take you again if I told you I loved you.”
Heat warmed her cheeks at that truth, but she gripped his arm in sudden desperation. His gaze snapped onto her fingers, and her face flushed hotter. Her chapped and work-reddened fingers were a stark contrast to his smooth dark flesh. The grime under her fingernails and cuticles spoke of the hours she spent digging in the earth for healing herbs she used in her spells as one of the cunning folk. She was well aware she lacked the beauty of those ladies who graced the market on fine days, or the favors of women for whom men like him fought for in the arena. But he hadn’t thought her so unpleasant to gaze upon when he sucked her breasts moments ago.
“Please,” she whispered.
He shook her off. “I have had my fill.”
“So my body isn’t fit enough to rut between my legs a second time?” She hated the tremble in her voice.
He shrugged. “Perhaps tomorrow I will want you again.”
Lorna leapt from the bed and drove him back against the wall. “Perhaps tomorrow your cock will fall off and you will have no need for any woman.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts. Desire darkened his eyes. Hope surged. Did he regret his words? Did he want her after all? He lifted his eyes, and her heart squeezed when she read lust, not love, in his expression.
He pushed her aside, grabbed his pouch from the floor, and pulled a small glass vial from inside. “Dragon’s blood.”
Lorna snatched the vial and hurled it against the wall. The bottle shattered
and the contents dribbled down the sand-colored stone.
“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “I ingested a drop before coming to you. Your spells are useless against me.”
“Eat a whole body of one of the giant lizards raw,” she snapped. “Superstition offers no protection against the high magic of a wise woman.”
His eyes dilated in fear. “ Witch. ” He shoved her so hard she fell across the bed, then spun and stalked to the door.
Lorna rushed after him, but at the open doorway she halted and watched his walk down the path that led back to the village. Cold moonlight sliced through the night sky, illuminating the play of muscle across his shoulders. Her pulse raced at memory of his warmth, his power when he hugged her tight
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