Seduce Me in Flames

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “A perfect pain in my—”

  She didn’t think the remark was worth finishing so she cut him off with a kiss of her own.

  Ambrea looked at herself in the mirror and felt as though a stranger was staring back at her. After living such an austere and simple life in her exile, and then surviving with even less while incarcerated by her uncle, the extravagance and luxury of the gown she now wore, the jewels that Suna had carefully dressed into her hair, and the soft perfumes and cosmetics that had been made available to her were like a layer of alien things all over her body. It wasn’t that she didn’t look pretty. Quite the contrary. She had never realized she could look so beautiful. Her hair was upswept, weaving in and around itself, long coils then falling loosely from the crown of her head and onto the nape of her neck. It shone with a cleanliness it had long been denied in prison. Suna had chosen jewels from the array offered to them—the many shades of green, from the purest to the near-blue of her own eyes, were perfectly displayed against her red-gold hair. Ambrea had been unaware that Suna knew how to create such an intricate look. Her companion had always seemed to have such simple skills. Now Ambrea realized that Suna had adapted to the simplicity of their imposed lifestyle.

  Suna had insisted on placing a simple Delran platinum wire tiara at the crest of her curls. Ambrea knew it was her companion’s way of making it very clear to all who saw her that she was an empress. Born. Bred. Destined.

  The woman looking back at Ambrea from the mirror certainly looked the part of an empress. Without the crown and the imperial jewels, of course. Those awaited her on Allay. But first there was something else that must be done.

  She must stake her claim.

  Every time she thought of the confrontation to come her heart began to thunder in her chest. It wasn’t that she feared her uncle any longer, was it? After all, she was in the position of dominance now, her claim legal and powerful, backed by the indomitable power of the IM. Her uncle would be a fool if he took a stand against her. Not only would the IM not tolerate it, she was certain that the beleaguered people of Allay would not stand for it either. She felt badly for her people. A constantly shifting seat of government made people feel insecure, exposed, and confused. It probably mattered little to them who had what rights to the throne. It mattered more to them where their daily bread was coming from, whether the free flow of trade would continue, and whether their borders would remain safe and controlled. True, the IM kept watch over part of that, but if the government fell apart, the country would fall under IM control until it could restructure the government. Times like that almost always made for hardship on the common man, confused the natural order of things. The military had a very different way of doing things, and difference meant trouble.

  But worse than all of that would be a woman taking power who had no idea what to do with it. Oh, she had seen enough to know what she didn’t want done, what she wouldn’t do to others. She had faith in her moral beliefs and the religious tenets that she used as a guide in her daily life. But there was so much more to being a good sovereign than good intentions.

  “Perhaps, though, it is a good start,” Suna said comfortingly, making Ambrea realize she must have spoken her final thought aloud. Ambrea bit her lip even as she squared her posture. She would not let anyone see her fear, her insecurities. All she could do was her best. She would learn as she went.

  “Madam, the judiciary awaits your—”

  Rush came to an abrupt halt, all that massive male energy going amazingly still as Ambrea turned away from her mirror and slowly rose to her full height. He was staring at her with blatant surprise in his russet eyes.

  “Holy shit,” he said with genuine intensity. It made her smile, a warmth spreading throughout her entire body as she understood his stark appreciation for what it was. She could easily return the sentiment. There was something to be said for Rush in full dress uniform. The sharp black jacket, the gold and crimson epaulets, the high shine of black jackboots, and the smooth sheen of the dress breeches that clung to every last contour of his powerful thighs—it all made for an official and impressively powerful-looking figure. It was as though the bare-chested, tattooed Tarian had utterly disappeared. She could understand his sense of shock. She was feeling it herself, both looking at him and when looking at herself. “I mean …” He tried to recoup, but floundered as he continued to stare at her.

  “I’m sure I don’t look much like the helpless prisoner of the past two days,” she said quietly.

  “Hell no.” He moved a little closer to her and she felt her breath catch when he reached toward her. She found she craved his touch, wherever it might land, however simple it might be. She supposed she ought to be afraid of it in light of the burns she had suffered, but his repetitive flouting of propriety had spoiled her. Instead of touching her, though, all he did was catch up one of her curls between two of his fingers, rubbing the texture of it slowly.

  “Rush, I need to ask a favor of you,” she said suddenly. For an entire day, all throughout her debriefing with the IM, and an entire night when she should have been sleeping and recovering the strength and rest she had been long in desperate need of, she had been trying to figure out how to ask him this favor.

  His gaze flicked away from its apparent fascination with her hair and met with hers. The instant intimacy that had been stirring between them came into play, and she felt as if everything outside their immediate sphere simply melted away.

  “Ask,” he said quietly.

  “I need you with me,” she said with quick heat. “I need your strength and protection. Especially these first weeks. I am not a fool. I know there is danger around me still. Making this claim will make me tremendous enemies in a court designed for the comfort of my father and uncle. A court that thought they would be serving my prodigal brother and not the dirty-blooded castoff they have shunned for almost all the cycles of my life.”

  She saw his expression darken and, thinking he was going to dismiss her out of hand, she hurried onward. “I have already made a formal request with your superiors and they have given clearance. They are willing to detach you from the Special Active squad for as long as I might need while I stabilize my government around me. But … I don’t want you to be ordered to my side, Rush. I want it to be your choice. Your desire. I can see that the Special Actives are what you love, that they are where you belong. But …” She looked down and away from him, twisting one hand within the other. “I honestly believe I won’t survive a week without your protection. And I know of no one else. No one impartial or trustworthy. I will have no friends around me other than Suna. I need, at the very least, someone who I can depend on to watch my back and defend me.”

  The bald truth of it was, Rush thought, Ambrea could have forced him into her service one way or another. She could have demanded it of his superiors, and they, wanting to cultivate good faith and relations with the imminent ruler of Allay, would have quickly ordered him to comply. Or she could have blackmailed him into it, used what she knew about him to force him to her side. But Rush realized that none of that would ever even occur to her. As ruthless as others had been to her, she was unwilling to be so in kind.

  It was going to be her downfall, he was sure of it. Ambrea was too gentle a soul to navigate the cutthroat world she was about to enter. She did, indeed, need his protection. Not that spending months cooped up in a single assignment really appealed to his adventurous nature, but he had done it before. Anyway, it would be only a couple of months. Just until she got her feet under her.

  He reached to touch a finger under her chin, pulling her head up and making her look him dead in the eyes.

  “From now on, Empress of Allay, when you make a request or a demand of those around you, you will use that steady, penetrating stare of yours and make them see it for unwavering strength and sharpness. When you look away like that, you make them think you are unsure and weak. I know you are unsure,” he acknowledged softly, “but there is no reason why others should know
it.” He held that teal gaze a moment longer. “And you are not in any way weak. Your survival all these cycles has proven that.”

  Rush watched her draw a deep breath, saw her visibly gather her strength and stoicism around her. Again, in his mind, he uttered holy shit. It was like looking at a completely different person, and yet there was no mistaking that it was the same woman he had rescued from the catacombs. He would have thought that all this polish would make her look as plastic as he thought it made other high-society women look, but she wore it in a way that was more earthy than elite. She was no doubt reeking of refinement and royalty. It wasn’t as if that were lacking. Nor had it ever been. But despite all of these accoutrements, she still reflected that wholesomeness he had found so appealing from the start. He wondered if she would be able to hold on to that or if, with the weight of years of governing, she would lose that quality.

  The idea of it saddened him, made him feel almost desperate to stand in the way of it. But he couldn’t possibly do that. Not for the rest of her life. And why would he want to? The political scene was not his natural habitat. Far from it. But he most certainly could watch her back while she got her feet wet. Then he would find someone trustworthy to assume the duty so he could leave her to her rule and go back to the Special Active team that would be waiting for him. He felt a twinge of doubt about leaving his friends, however. Yes, they were strong and capable and could surely make do without him for a little while, but in the wake of Justice being injured, nearly killed, it was hard for him to think of leaving them unprotected. If something should happen to one of them while he was away, he might never be able to forgive himself.

  And then there was that other issue …

  “And you don’t have to worry that I’ll … this will be strictly professional. I mean, I will be strictly professional.” He said it as firmly as he could. “It was wrong of me to kiss you. I was on the job, for starters, and also I knew that I could hurt you. I just was off my mark.” Rush cleared his throat. “I have no excuse really.”

  “I wasn’t looking for an explanation for that,” she said quietly. “And clearly we both have bigger issues to deal with at the moment.” She smoothed her hands down over the skirt of her dress, looking away from him as she fussed with the way it fell around her feet. “I have huge responsibilities to my country. Of course I can’t spend my energies … elsewhere.”

  That made sense, but Rush couldn’t help but think it was a very polite way of telling him she’d rather eat dirt than let him touch her again. Which was what he wanted, right? Then why did he feel gripped with a furious sense of rejection? It stung to feel her withdraw like that. Perhaps because until that moment she had been the first person who knew all of what he was who didn’t pull back with fear.

  She looked up at him with those big eyes of hers. He must have been wearing his feelings on his face because she immediately drew a soft breath and reached to touch him, her hand running up over his pectoral muscle and gripping his shoulder.

  “No,” she breathed anxiously. “No, I didn’t mean that the way you think. It isn’t an excuse or a rejection of you.” Her eyes shifted to Suna, who was busily rearranging things on the vanity counter that didn’t need rearranging. “It is simply a truth, Rush. I need to put all of my energy into my reign. If things were different …”

  “I would still be who and what I am,” he said bitterly. “And I accepted my limitations long ago.”

  To his surprise she moved closer to him, so close he could feel her body warmth through his clothes. Her hand lifted from his shoulder, and gentle, graceful fingers brushed through his hair, drew a curved stroke around his ear. The sensation, the proximity and intimacy were things he was very unused to, and there was a sense of immediate pleasure and satisfaction attached to the easy way she seemed to come toward him all the time. He couldn’t resist the urge to touch her in kind. It was just his fingertips at her throat, and so light he was barely making contact, but it was like closing an electrical circuit. The comfortable intimacy between them became something stronger, something more intense. It was all the things he ought to be avoiding but couldn’t bear the idea of turning it away.

  “I think that, given a chance, given freedom from this lifetime of repression your ability has been subjected to, you might be surprised by the things that could be accomplished,” she said softly.

  He might have argued the point with anyone else, but he had to admit that she had a distinctive perspective on such things. And he couldn’t find it in himself just then to tell her that things were what they were and would never likely change. After all, hadn’t he told her that she was capable of this venture she was about to embark on? How could he argue against himself without calling himself a liar?

  “I’ll come with you,” he told her quietly then. “But only until you get a grip on things. I’ll keep the vipers off your back for a while.”

  She exhaled mightily, and he could see the relief washing through her. He chuckled.

  “You’re going to make a terrible politician if you don’t become better at hiding your every emotion.”

  “Trust me, I’m better at it when I need to be. But right now I’m among those I trust.”

  She reached to enfold his hand in both of hers and pressed her lips firmly against the curve of his knuckles. He normally would have been uncomfortable under the expression of such gratitude, but instead he found himself fascinated with the warm feel of her mouth on his skin. He had the strongest urge to grab her by those silky smooth red curls of hers and yank her up under another kiss, but he knew that path would be disastrous. Hadn’t he just said as much? But she meant her affection so genuinely, so innocently, that he couldn’t bring himself to pull away either. So he forced himself to tamp down the inappropriate impulse. And even though he knew what terrible consequences could come from doing otherwise, it was harder than he might have expected. Maybe it was all that spit and polish she had used to enhance the pretty that she already was, or maybe not. Regardless, it was ten thousand kinds of unacceptable.

  She was putting a great deal of trust in him. A great deal of faith. It made him feel good. He was used to the faith and trust of his teammates—he had earned it and returned it hundreds of times. And he supposed he had earned it from her as well. But he wasn’t used to it coming from someone who knew all about him, knew his mutation for what it was and had seen it in action. Part of him was completely baffled to realize she wasn’t trying to shake him off her boots as quickly as she could, as one would do the moment they realized they had stepped in shit. Instead she was pulling him closer. Insisting on his presence.

  It felt odd.

  Perhaps even good.

  “We better get going,” he said. “I have to stop by my quarters and change.”

  “Oh, really? Why?”

  He wondered if she realized how utterly disappointed she sounded. He tried not to smile and probably did a lousy job of it. Her transparency was something they would have to work on. “If I’m going to be by your side for the next little while, I’d rather not do it in uniform. I think I’d like to keep your enemies ignorant as to who I am. I think their behavior might shine a little truer in front of a big savage Tarian as opposed to a representative of the IM.”

  It was unfortunately very true. Knowing how her people felt about Tarians to begin with would make his reception hostile, and surely coming in at her side would not help his case. She wished it didn’t have to be this way, but she had no illusions that she would walk into the court of Allay, the court of her father, uncle, and brother, and find herself a warm welcome.

  Ambrea paused outside the arbitration hall, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She had been dreading this moment with every fiber of her being, the moment when she would come face-to-face with her uncle once again. She felt she presented a strong face; indeed, it went deeper than that for her. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing she had Rush’s power at her back. His mere presence made her feel that she had an advanta
ge she would not otherwise have. The truth was, ever since he had appeared in her life, she had found a new vantage point in the way she was able to approach all things. Be it the reclamation of her throne or facing down the quick blade of a would-be assassin, she had a power now that she had not had before. She had an armor, a shield. Finally she had gained a position of advantage, and finally she could do something for the people of Allay. Something that ought to have been done a long time ago.

  She touched the access panel and the doors glided open. She moved forward and faced the raised dais where the IM judges sat. There were five of them, an odd number purposely chosen so that their decisions would always have a majority rule. Each wore the same dress uniform that Rush had been wearing earlier, only they were more highly decorated, a distinct sign that they were significantly tenured in the IM, all of very high and trusted rank. These judges often decided the fates of entire countries, of worlds. They were experts in the laws of the IM charters and well versed in the individual laws of the many countries of the Three Worlds. In this case it was their expertise in the succession laws of Allay that would come into play.

  Then she saw her uncle. He was seated with a small entourage of assistants and advisors, all of whom began to whisper things to him the moment she entered the room. Her uncle, however, was staring directly at her, his attention cold and unwavering. Knowing him as she did from those brief snippets of harassment he’d subjected her to, she could imagine he was seething underneath that calm. She remembered his threats. And now that she was snatching the total power of Allay out from under him, she could only imagine how magnified his rage toward her must be.

  She didn’t realize she had hesitated until she felt Rush’s hand at her back, his fingers moving to curve into the bend of her waist, then squeezing gently. It was meant as a gesture of silent support, and she felt it through her entire body and spirit. He helped to cover her pause by leaning in to whisper to her, as if he were the one holding her back and not her own transparent fears.