Page 7 of His Dark Delights
“Sorry. I don’t mean to keep startling you.” He placed a hand over his chest. The action drew my eyes to the shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders and sculpted chest.
“You have the stealth of a soldier, I suppose.” I laughed shakily, unsettled by his abrupt appearance and my recent musing.
“Hm.” Ren’s lips spread into a thin smile, the only acknowledgment of my statement before he moved on. “Your fence is broken,” he observed.
“It’s alright. I’ll fix it soon,” I replied, glad for the distraction.
Ren pivoted on his heel, assessing the state ofthe farm and the animals. I ogled the expanse of his backside in the afternoon glow. The weak streaks of fading sunlight glinted off the rich waves of his hair and highlighted his tanned skin.
Freshly washed, and dressed in clean clothes, he hypnotized me. A fresh scent drifted from his skin, something woodsy, crisp and entirely male. As if he existed of earth, wind, and fire and those elements called to a baser wanton instinct in my belly.
“Your barn needs some work, too.” He crossed his arms over his chest, stroking his chin as he turned over thoughts unknown to me.
“Ah, yes, but I’ll get to it before summers ends,” I assured. Not that it mattered to him what I did with my farm. He would be long gone by then.
He glanced at me, and my heart twirled in my chest.
“Dinner is likely done. Let me check your bandages and we can eat,” I offered, wringing my hands.
“I found the bandages and fixed them myself. I saw no reason to trouble you when you’ve already done so much for me.” Ren thoughtlessly lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing the fresh white bandages around his midsection.
The ridges of his stomach tensed and flexed with his breath. My eyes flared at the hint of dark hair at his navel dipping into the front of the black trousers. An odd pulse echoed from my heart to the soft center between my thighs.
“Alright. Very well. Good.” My voice came out overly high pitched and thin. I turned away from Ren to hide the red cherries growing on my cheeks. He trailed after me to the cottage, and I didn’t miss his light chuckle along the way.
Chapter Three
Ren
The pattering of raindrops on glass windows used to herald the start of my favorite season. Spring storms once accompanied meager flower bouquets perfuming the house, Mum’s humming during her spring cleaning, and her baking my favorite sweet breads to celebrate the return of life to the land.
I didn’t recognize the specific thumping of rain or the silent ambience of my current location. Off and on, the rain came and went. Unrecognizable compared to old homes or new. And it certainly didn’t compare to the incessant torment of rain on a canvas tent.
Rain in the field meant danger and unpredictability. Rain meant the enemy had an advantage. Vicious adrenaline coursed through me, breath trapped in my lungs, waiting for an attack to come from any of thenumerous shadows. Yet no attack came.
The rain was not cold, nor touching me. It wasn’t leaking through the crevices of the tent and soaking into my clothes, chilling me to the bone. I wasn’t huddled with my comrades, back-to-back and gripping pommels with near frozen fingers.
Shredded, shallow breaths scratched through my chest. Throbbing aches paralyzed me. Each rasp stung; movement pained me through the layers of my muscles. Cold and hot; reality and dreams; a frigid forest surging with enemies and the warmth of some place that felt terribly like home.
A fever seized me, I realized in fleeting moments of clarity. And in those moments, I heard her. A divine voice that reached through the veil of sickness and knit my mind back together. Delicate brush strokes traced my wounds, my scars, mapping the constellation of war on my skin. The fingers of a holy creature reached into the essence of me and drew me from the cusp of eternal darkness.
In some dreams, the voice belonged to my mother. Mum sang her favorite songs as she used to when tending the sparse garden behind the house. Her dark curls piled atop her head, a content smile on her lips despite every hardship she’d faced. A woman of strength and determination who would have given up everything for my sake, and in many cases, she had.
Lows in the fever accompanied those bittersweet dreams. Quickly erased by highs where tides from malevolent red seas reached beyond the bounds of shore and leashed around my legs. Sea monsters with gnarled tentacles and gaping beaks twisted around me, dragging me across the sand and pulling me under theoppressive weight of an ocean of blood.
Thin, scratchy gasps for air squeezed me as if caught in the enormous fist of an angry god. Then the voice returned, soothing the fever and talking me through the pain. Tender touches stroked the sides of my face, as delicate as flower petals and just as sweet.
When the rain sighed a final breath and gave way to the vibrancy of spring light, I crawled through the aftermath of strife and tore myself from the grasp of death. My eyelids weighed tons, lashes glued together and refusing to open. It might have been seconds, hours, days, but I forced them open to see gauzy midday light drifting lazily through a window.
A sharp breath filled my lungs, and every muscle tensed through my frame. That brought attention to the various injuries restraining my movement, but nothing I couldn’t push through now. Awake and alert, I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
My feet met hardwood, and my eyes cut to the welcoming fire merrily crackling in the hearth. A thin, cushioned seat under the window held a short stack of worn, leather-bound books. The top one had a violet ribbon sticking through the pages.
Confusion snarled through me. How had I come to be in such a place? Where was I?
My leg buckled under my first step. A frustrated grunt echoed through the room as I attempted several more steps, faltering from the edge of the bed to the doorway. By the threshold, I had my bearings and shoved away from the support of the wall. I couldn’t have anyone see me that way or else they’d presume me as weak. I couldn’t afford weakness when the enemy hid in every corner.
Deafening silence stretched around me, only broken up by my hitched, pain-fueled gasps. Despite the lonely quiet, I sensed no waiting threats hidden among the modest space. Cozy and lived in. The home of a farmer, I assumed. A quick perusal through a window showed off a vibrant green field and a bright sky. No soldiers, no guards, no signs of a family, no enemies patrolling. Who lived here? Why was I here?
