Page 34 of In Darkness Forged

The dark form of Cuan suddenly burst into their camp, his ears flattened as he approached Tal and whined.

Something was coming. Something even the dreadwolf wasn’t confident he could defeat.

“Time to go.” Tossing the remaining hot water onto the flames, Tal stowed the salve and the pot back in his pack, kicked the smoldering remains of the fire apart, and donned his weapons harness. His sword and dagger went back into their sheaths, but just before he stowed the hatchet, he looked over at the human and considered.

He couldn’t leave her. Not here and now—not when he didn’t know what was coming. But neither could he afford to go back. As greatly as it irritated him, he was stuck with the human for now, and if she was going to travel with him, she should at least travel armed.

“Here.” He held out the hatchet and frowned at her widening eyes. “Cuan is trying to warn us. Something approaches, so you’ll have to travel with us for now, and you should not travel unarmed.”

She accepted it carefully and tucked it into the belt that secured her oversized leather jerkin—a man’s by the look of it. By the time she looked up, Tal had already leaped onto Cuan’s back, shifted the pack to his front, and was staring down at her, waiting.

“By all means, take your time.”

“I don’t…” Those eyes were wide again, and looked slightly startled. “What am I supposed to do, exactly?”

“Do you want to live?” Tal asked impatiently. “If so, you’ll need to ride with me until we are away from the danger.”

Cuan turned his head, pricked his ears at the human, and whined urgently.

She eyed his back dubiously, then stepped up, set her hands on the wolf’s flank, and paused. “How do I get up?”

“God of Shadows,” Tal muttered. “How are you still alive?” He reached down, grasped the front of her jerkin, and pulled, and with a startled yelp, she scrambled up to land behind him. “Cuan, go!”

The wolf shot forward, and as he did so, the human let out another sound of surprise before scrabbling for a grip. But Cuan’s fur was short and soft, and he wore no riding harness. Tal felt her grip falter and sensed her balance slipping, so with a growl of irritation, he reached back, grabbed her wrist, and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Hold on if you have no wish to die.”

Clearly, she did not, because her other arm wrapped around him with surprising strength. He thought he heard her mutter about overbearing idiots, then his ears caught a brief whimper as her injured cheek came in contact with the hard surface of his sheathed sword. But after that, he was too busy to listen—too focused on staying seated as Cuan raced away, making for the road where there would be no need to dodge trees.

Yet even then, there was no escaping the strange sensation of her arms around him, her whole body pressed against his back. He could feel her warmth, feel the trembling of her muscles, feel the way she tensed each time he shifted position on Cuan’s back.

In truth, keeping his seat was more difficult than he’d hoped. He’d ridden without a saddle many times, but not under duress, and never through a forest. In the wilds of Sion Dairach, it had been possible to run freely for miles across the broad, treeless moors. But here, there was too much unpredictable terrain—too much dodging and ducking. Even without the added weight of a passenger, he would have had to work at remaining mounted, and with her clinging like a limpet, it was that much harder.

He should have left her for the renders.

He should have ignored her pleas and listened to the voice of his past.

No good could come of letting her worm her way into his conscience. Of allowing himself to remember the desperation in her blue eyes. Of wondering whether Vanadar intended for her to die, or whether those she left behind would mourn her death.

The last thing he needed was another burden. Another scar on his soul. Another loss that would haunt him with questions of what he should have done differently.

At least this human was likely to get thembothkilled, and there would be no need to live with the guilt.

CHAPTER10

Aislin kept her arms locked and her eyes shut and tried not to think about where she was sitting and who she was holding on to. Of all her improbable dreams about escaping her village and having adventures, she had never dared imagine anything this utterly far-fetched.

And yet here she was, fleeing through the night on the back of a giant wolf, with her arms around the waist of the most frustrating, stubborn, arrogant, and dismissive man she’d ever met.

The fact that he was an intimidatingly gorgeous night elf didn’t exactly help.

She could feel the irritation radiating from his entire being, and reminded herself firmly that he hadn’t left her. He’d wanted to—had been angry with himself for his weakness—but in the end, he’d taken her with him. Saved her life. She didn’t know what he intended to do with her now, but as long as she was alive, there was hope.

And if she somehow did not either die of embarrassment or fall off the wolf’s back and dash her brains out against a tree, there was also hope that he would agree to convey her all the way to those caves, where their quarry lurked in the dark, surrounded by traps and guards.

None of it sounded encouraging, though she suspected he’d deliberately embellished his description in order to frighten her. She simply refused to think about it. Lord Dreichel was waiting, and her family was counting on her to see this through.

Aislin tried to remain focused on that goal, because the moment she allowed her attention to slip, she fell back into an uncomfortably acute awareness of just how tightly she was pressed against her nameless night-elf rescuer. She could feel the play of his back muscles against her chest, and even the strain in his thighs as he fought to remain seated on Cuan’s back.