The Darkness of Glengowyn by Isabo Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

draining?”
    “Very costly to their power stores.”
    “Then they are weakening by using this spell?”
    “Or using up more of their captives toward their magic.”
    Her shoulders jerked in a shiver she couldn’t control. The poor humans. It was no wonder Ulric had been so vocal about bringing Glengowyn into this war. The woman he loved could have been taken and used that way. Nuala couldn’t imagine much worse than knowing Einar had been tortured and killed to feed the evil of death magic. Realizing that it could still happen if they didn’t reach Sinnale territory safely closed her throat.
    She turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see her sudden jolt of fear.
    As she studied the city and tried not to feel the pull toward Einar that was beyond her control, she began plucking pins from her hair. The tight, battle-ready bun at the base of her head had finally come loose, and the escaped tendrils were scratching her neck. She didn’t wear her hair this tightly bound often, so her scalp was sore. She set the pins on the windowsill and unwound the bun, leaving the golden-brown braid to fall down her back. She didn’t have a brush, and wouldn’t have water to rise out the sweat and dust, but even a finger comb would relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.
    Removing a final stray pin, she set it with the others, rubbed her fingers across her head, then reached for the strap of leather holding the end of her braid. She jumped when she felt Einar’s hands on her shoulders.
    The sensation, both familiar and new after all this time, sent a tremor of heat through her belly. With only that brief contact, she could already feel the Shaerta rising. Her nerves danced. She drew in a deep breath, absorbing Einar’s scent, and the heat in her stomach spread through her abdomen to her core.
    Turning to face him just then would destroy what little resistance she had, so she kept her body motionless, her gaze on the street.
    He skimmed his hands down the length of her arms, leaving a hot chill along her skin and forcing her hands down to her sides. Then he leaned in and said against her ear, “Allow me.”
    She wanted to melt into him but couldn’t manage any movement, closer or away. He released her wrists and shifted to her braid, untying the leather strap, then slowly separating the strands.
    Heart pounding, Nuala closed her eyes, the wash of sensation from having his hands on her overwhelming and perfect. She concentrated on the play of his fingers up her braid, the gentle run of his palms over and through the strands, the heavy fall of weight when her hair was fully freed of its confines, and the merciless thrill of him brushing her hair, his fingers threading over her scalp, pulling the thick locks away from her face. She tilted her head back at his urging, giving him access to better massage her temples. Without realizing she would, she groaned.
    “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice low and deep. “The feel of your hair, your skin.”
    “I’ve missed you too,” she admitted, despite her best intentions. “I’ve felt…half of myself for a long time now.”
    His grip tightened at her admission. Then he released her, and Nuala wanted to cry, knowing he would continue to resist where she could not.
    An instant later, she was facing him, his hands tight on her shoulders. His dark eyes sparked in the early morning light, his expression more animated, more desperate than anything she’d ever seen him reveal. Before she could absorb the full impact, his mouth was on hers, firm, strong and so heartbreakingly gentle her entire body relaxed into him.
    Einar. After all this time. To taste him again was beyond exquisite, beyond joy. She had no way to put into words the sensation that enveloped her except that it felt like her world finally settled into place and became real.
    He cupped her cheeks in his hands, holding her near as his kiss deepened. Still controlled, still luxurious, as if they had all the time in