Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,49

him. My kiss had just saved his life.

Because he was my true love.

A strong emotion moved through me. Hope, fear, panic—I’m not even sure which one it was—but I trembled violently, unsure what to do about it.

Sensing my feelings, he opened his eyes, lashes fluttering briefly before bright blue focused on me. I almost expected him to crack some snide taunt, say something about how long—and thoroughly—I’d kissed him to really rub it in my face how horribly I had slipped. Melaina definitely would have.

But his lips parted as he sucked in a breath. Then he touched a gentle, seeking hand to his throat where he’d been stabbed, and he rasped a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Melaina answered, looming above us. “But it’s always my pleasure to prove myself right. Especially when bloodshed’s involved.”

I whipped a glare her way. “You fucking hag,” I seethed. “You just threw a knife at me.”

“Thus demonstrating that our beloved High Clifter here is willing to die for you.” Her eyebrows rose tauntingly high. “Ready to stop whining and complaining about his presence now? Because I’m certainly ready to stop listening to it.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m ready for,” I shot back. “I’m ready to make you pay for what you just did.” And I dove at her legs, tackling her to the ground.

Chapter 11

Indigo

So now I knew my true love’s aunt was a fucking psycho. That was always valuable information to have.

I also learned my mate would toss me a life-saving kiss whenever I received a mortal wound. Also good to know.

A smile spread across my face.

I mean, I’m sure her healing me had more to do with the amount of humanity and compassion flowing through her bloodstream and not really anything to do with any kind of actual feelings she had for me specifically. But this was a start, and you had to start somewhere, right?

Mostly, though, I was coming to learn Quilla really didn’t like it when people threw knives at her. She seemed determined to kill her aunt for it, anyway.

“I’m going to make you bleed, bitch,” she roared as she leaped on top of a swearing Melaina, who was struggling in the dirt, and she straddled the older woman’s skirts before punching her in the face. Hard.

Melaina screamed in outrage and reared up under Quilla, trying to buck her off. But Quilla tightened her thighs around Melaina’s hips and held on, punching her once more.

“Don’t ever make me kiss anyone again! Do you hear me, old woman?”

“I don’t take orders from you, little girl,” Melaina growled back and pulled Quilla’s hair.

With a gasp, Quilla tumbled off her aunt and scrambled in the direction that Melaina was pulling her hair so she could keep from getting it ripped clean off her scalp.

Fresh pain echoed through my mark, letting me know how much the hair pulling hurt her.

“Hey,” I hollered, rolling to my knees so I could struggle to my feet without the use of my bound hands. “Maybe you two ladies should—whoa!”

Quilla kicked out a leg, landing her foot right in Melaina’s face. Blood flew and Melaina bellowed before rushing back to slap Quilla in the breasts.

I winced and waded into a pool of ladies’ skirts, just as Quilla retaliated by tossing a handful of dirt in Melaina’s face.

Screeching, Melaina dove forward, claws extended with my mate’s face as her target. I blocked her with my shoulder and then hip-checked her backward, away from us.

“Dammit, stop!” I roared, glaring as I positioned myself between her and Quilla. Breathing heavily, I glanced between the two of them. “I’m the one who almost died here. Do I get a chance to be pissed off for a minute?”

“As if we care what you feel,” Quilla smarted back.

I shot her an arch glance, and she swallowed under my gaze before looking away, her guilt sparking through my mark.

I turned my attention to Melaina, who was panting and wiping dirt and blood from her nose. When she snarled and jerked aggressively toward me, I pointed. “Get the fuck back. You deserved that attack, but it’s over now. I’ll not let you hurt her again.”

Melaina sent me a degrading sneer, but after inhaling a deep breath, she seemed to compose herself, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin regally high. Then tossing her fiery hair over her shoulder, she pushed her way to her feet with all the poise of a prima donna.

“I’ll start supper,” she announced, moving to my half-finished campfire and picking up where I’d