Read Online Lord of the Forest by Dawn Thompson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dawn Thompson
Ads: Link
may.”
“What if we are caught?” She wanted to fly at him, whether to rain blows upon his hard body or be held in his arms, she could not say.
“It is not easy to outrun a centaur. I will change, and change again if you need me to. It is painful to make happen, but I can. Because of you, I think.”
If only she had his gift of transformation. To have his strength, to be able to escape—on their desperate journey hence, she had blocked out the overwhelming power of Ravelle’s malice, his delight in seeing her strung up by her wrists, her body bared again to his evil red gaze.
Even standing in the sun, Linnea felt a creeping sense of sudden despair that made her cold to her core. They might run from him or take a stand against him, but Ravelle would wait forever.
“Can you take me away from this island? Far away?”
“I will. Not yet.”
“Anyway,” she said slowly, “you saved my life. I should thank you for that.” But the words of gratitude did not spring to her lips. The bird gave a faint squawk from her bosom and she looked down at it. “You and Esau.”
Marius was too weary to smile. “He did his best. That beak of his is sharp. He has used it on me.”
Why? Linnea stared at him, searching his guileless face. Plunged by happenstance into a world where nothing at all was what it seemed for long, she would have to be mindful of everything that was done and said. And ultimately she might have to protect herself, if it came to that.
“Understand that a centaur is an unpredictable creature,” he was saying. “Like a stallion, if you will. Wild, strong, and uncontrollably sexual. Esau feels obliged to remind me not to go too far from time to time, but I cannot rely on a mere bird to help me control such powerful instincts.”
She was silent again, reminding herself that she was not his one and only, just a partner in lovemaking for the solstice feast. A celebration that had turned into a nightmare in the blink of a demon’s red eye.
Marius sighed hugely. “Did Ravelle—”
“I will not talk of it.” She lifted the bird gently from between her warm breasts and set it in a sunny spot in a low fork of a sheltering tree. Reluctant to leave her, Esau gave a complaining squawk, then fluffed out his surviving feathers and cleaned the blood from them.
“As you wish. I see no demon’s mark on you.”
Should she show him the scratch? He had not noticed it. To explain it would be like being strung up again, so ashamed was she of how she had bent to the demon’s will. He seemed somehow to have left traces of himself in her very brain. “You came in time,” she said in a measured voice. Her troubled mind was in turmoil. If this Marius really was the Marius who had loved her so well, she could never tell him of the demon’s wicked dalliance with her.
She reminded herself that she had not touched the monster intimately or kissed him in the alluring guise of her solstice lover and thanked the mysterious instinct that had made her hold back.
“Linnea, I cannot let you out of my sight from now on.”
“So.” She walked quietly about, but her nerves were screaming. “Our idyll was not meant to last.”
“No.” He stayed where he was, still recovering from the mad gallop and his forced transformation, breathing deeply. “Ravelle must have sensed my abandonment to joy and seized his chance.”
She nodded, rubbing her arms for warmth. “It was you he captured first.”
Marius plowed a hand through his hair, which was spiking with drying sweat. “Nothing for it. Your game of hide-and-seek went awry. I was looking everywhere for you and then there he was, breathing fire and throwing ropes of iron to ensnare me. Demon or no, I might never have found you. How quickly you run, Linnea, and how quietly. It was uncanny.”
She stiffened. “And what do you mean by that?”
“I felt like a fool, that’s all. There is not an inch of the Forest Isle that I do not know. But you vanished like the
“What if we are caught?” She wanted to fly at him, whether to rain blows upon his hard body or be held in his arms, she could not say.
“It is not easy to outrun a centaur. I will change, and change again if you need me to. It is painful to make happen, but I can. Because of you, I think.”
If only she had his gift of transformation. To have his strength, to be able to escape—on their desperate journey hence, she had blocked out the overwhelming power of Ravelle’s malice, his delight in seeing her strung up by her wrists, her body bared again to his evil red gaze.
Even standing in the sun, Linnea felt a creeping sense of sudden despair that made her cold to her core. They might run from him or take a stand against him, but Ravelle would wait forever.
“Can you take me away from this island? Far away?”
“I will. Not yet.”
“Anyway,” she said slowly, “you saved my life. I should thank you for that.” But the words of gratitude did not spring to her lips. The bird gave a faint squawk from her bosom and she looked down at it. “You and Esau.”
Marius was too weary to smile. “He did his best. That beak of his is sharp. He has used it on me.”
Why? Linnea stared at him, searching his guileless face. Plunged by happenstance into a world where nothing at all was what it seemed for long, she would have to be mindful of everything that was done and said. And ultimately she might have to protect herself, if it came to that.
“Understand that a centaur is an unpredictable creature,” he was saying. “Like a stallion, if you will. Wild, strong, and uncontrollably sexual. Esau feels obliged to remind me not to go too far from time to time, but I cannot rely on a mere bird to help me control such powerful instincts.”
She was silent again, reminding herself that she was not his one and only, just a partner in lovemaking for the solstice feast. A celebration that had turned into a nightmare in the blink of a demon’s red eye.
Marius sighed hugely. “Did Ravelle—”
“I will not talk of it.” She lifted the bird gently from between her warm breasts and set it in a sunny spot in a low fork of a sheltering tree. Reluctant to leave her, Esau gave a complaining squawk, then fluffed out his surviving feathers and cleaned the blood from them.
“As you wish. I see no demon’s mark on you.”
Should she show him the scratch? He had not noticed it. To explain it would be like being strung up again, so ashamed was she of how she had bent to the demon’s will. He seemed somehow to have left traces of himself in her very brain. “You came in time,” she said in a measured voice. Her troubled mind was in turmoil. If this Marius really was the Marius who had loved her so well, she could never tell him of the demon’s wicked dalliance with her.
She reminded herself that she had not touched the monster intimately or kissed him in the alluring guise of her solstice lover and thanked the mysterious instinct that had made her hold back.
“Linnea, I cannot let you out of my sight from now on.”
“So.” She walked quietly about, but her nerves were screaming. “Our idyll was not meant to last.”
“No.” He stayed where he was, still recovering from the mad gallop and his forced transformation, breathing deeply. “Ravelle must have sensed my abandonment to joy and seized his chance.”
She nodded, rubbing her arms for warmth. “It was you he captured first.”
Marius plowed a hand through his hair, which was spiking with drying sweat. “Nothing for it. Your game of hide-and-seek went awry. I was looking everywhere for you and then there he was, breathing fire and throwing ropes of iron to ensnare me. Demon or no, I might never have found you. How quickly you run, Linnea, and how quietly. It was uncanny.”
She stiffened. “And what do you mean by that?”
“I felt like a fool, that’s all. There is not an inch of the Forest Isle that I do not know. But you vanished like the