Storm of Pleasure

by Eve Bradley

  The woman was silent, bowed, and then grabbed hold of Catryn’s hand in shaky movement. She kissed her knuckles and left, the rest of the servants in tow.

  “Outside of our walls, there are a thousand men who await your command,” The Sultan’s voice boomed. “Vizier Kalif has offered himself to your cause, and will relay any messages you have to your army.”

  Catryn could hardly breathe. Kalif was now hers to command. That could prove humorous if she allowed it. But she found no humor now because her legs were shaking. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, waiting for her response. Without thinking, she dropped to her knees.

  “Thank you,” she expressed, nearly emotional.

  Valryn nudged her. She could hear their embarrassment; feel it like heat at her back. But she had no other reactions. It was painful. She deserved none of it, and yet here she was. Now one of the richest women in the world, if not the most powerful only by name. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

  “I keep my promises. I rule with the expectation that my kingdom will learn by example. And generosity is another thing I expect in return. You have much to do for us, have you not?”

  “The prophesied one!” the crowds roared in celebration.

  Darrian was at her back. She felt him lean forward as the thrumming of the hollers washed over her.

  “You’re in control. He doesn’t own you,” he whispered.

  She thought it strange that he said this, but she stood and reassembled herself.

  “As surely as the gods have designated me, we will take care of the Djinns. These demons will not rise. We will destroy them.”

  The Sultan raised his gold cup, and the crowds did the same. He beckoned her to sit beside him. Valryn tried to follow, but there was no space. He, Glend, and Darrian settled at a place at the long table, each watching her from afar. Majmal sat on the other side of her.

  “Now we may speak,” the Sultan said as he was served a beautiful cornucopia of fruits and vegetables. Her plate was filled next, and then Majmal’s, who seemed as serene as a wax doll.

  “You were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

  Catryn felt guilty. The man had arranged countless gifts for her, had welcomed her with the grandest of events, and here she was anxious to be rid of it all. She wanted it too much. So much, in fact, that she didn’t want to deal with it. She could become consumed by it, and there were other things she should be consumed by instead. Djinns...for instance.

  “You are aware that we witnessed a Djinn in my chambers. Your palace could be crawling with them. How do you sleep in peace?” she asked him calmly.

  “We cannot lose all of what makes us...Yamar. Hospitality? Riches? Relaxation? All for fear of a Djinn in our midst?” the Sultan let out a stern breath, and she could tell he was not finished, but instead resolving on what he wanted to say next.

  “Truly, we are in an uproar. Sands shift in the east. Disease is spreading. Djinns possess more of my people daily...and I know of only one way I can stop them from taking over,” his voice was grim, and he leaned even closer to her, so close that his lips skimmed her loose red hair near her ear. “It’s not only Yamar. The earth is trembling, daughter of fire. I fear that the Djinn rising is a sign that the balance has again dissolved...and now darkness has found a foothold.”

  Her heart fluttered, skipping beats as a cold shawl of dread settled on her shoulders.

  “We are the first who stand in their way. But then who is next? Who after that? If left alone they will threaten humanity itself...”

  Catryn grabbed her cup of wine, storms raging in her mind. The gods and goddesses whispers taunting her with echoes of truth and pressuring questions. Questions that she needed answers to.

  “How do you know this, Sultan?”

  “The ancient prophecies,” he grumbled. “A Peacequeen born of fire and light. You are here to save us from this darkness.”

  “Yes, but what do these prophecies say of the Djinns?” she demanded, nearly shattering her glass with the Faerus building up inside her. She had to force the magic down, her emotions rising to dangerous heights.

  “Not enough,” the Sultan leaned back in his chair and laced his hands. “But, I seem to sense that you are skeptical of me?”

  “Not skeptical,” she shrugged, trying to pull herself together. “I only need answers. I want to know what I must to first...”

  “Majmal will see to your blocks,” he reminded her. “You can’t have believed that this was it? That this unimaginable power the Peaceking’s and queen’s before you held was merely...this?” he waved a finger at her body as if it didn’t mean much. “There will be more. More power and you and I shall wield it together against our common enemy.”

  “You and I?” Catryn’s brow arched, and she felt the swell of anger and total hatred for dominating men rising.

  “Yes...that is what I said?” the Sultan reacted as if it were a natural thing.

  “You don’t presume to wield me...like a- like a sword? Do you?”

  “My Peacequeen,” Kalif interjected, coming to act as a wall between the Sultan and her. His presence and distraction lulled the pressure in her head away, and she focused upon him, though she’d rather wanted to hear what the Sultan would say.

  “Your Guardian asks for a dance,” he bowed his head.

  It was then that she finally noticed Valryn’s incessant aura imposing upon hers. Its gritty comfort and determined focus. She looked him over and rose, excusing herself. She shook her head, angry that she’d even entertained the man. She couldn’t help but smile as she approached Valryn through the coursing dancers.

  Everyone smelled like flowers and exotic musk. The darkness outside the pergola amplified the feelings of adventure in her heart; the sensation of wanderlust. She was at the center of a beautiful gathering of luscious people, of tender torch-light, and she had three Guardians who...even if she could not love them, were there for her.

  “You can’t let yourself get heated like that,” Val admonished her, but there was little sternness in his voice. She could feel his resolve melting as he surveyed her in the red silken gown.

  “I know,” she said. And she meant it.

  Valryn took her into hold the way they might have done in Malavash. It was natural and comforting, even if she’d only seen it done by others.

  “You know I believe in you. You know that I’ll always be on your side. But I can’t help you if you don’t ask me for advice. If you ruin your relationship with the Sultan...it will only make things worse,” he told her.

  “Val,” she smiled against his chest. “What were you like as a boy?”

  He took a long sigh and then cleared his throat.

  “The same. Maybe lonelier.”

  Something in the way he said it crushed her heart. Perhaps it was the truth that she could sense in the words. The fingerprints of loneliness and hardship scarring him. She hated to imagine him as a lonely child, and sorrow built up in her throat.

  “Catryn,” he said her name gruffly. “I’m fine now.”

  She laughed.

  “Well,” she lifted her chin to look up at him. “My intelligent Guardian, what do you think of him? How should I respond?”

  “Keep the peace with him,” he warned her. “Be smart about how you approach him. He could take everything he’s given you away. You have power and wealth now. But in the west, not many were able to back you. Not like this. And the Raspandian Prince will be waiting for your return. Be diplomatic. Don’t ever kneel before him again.”

  Catryn wanted to laugh, but her mouth grew dry.

  “He’s hiding something,” she told him, the perplexed feeling nostalgic. It was as if she’d known he’d be this way.

  “Then find it out the correct way. Diplomatically. Maybe Glend can give you a few lessons.”

  “Glend could give me lessons on lying or seducing...I don’t think I’d take his diplomacy lessons.”

  Valryn’s dark hair spilled over his eyes, shadowing h
is face. He was dark and mysterious, and when she said this, he pulled her in tightly, gripping her around the waist with a firm arm. His fingers teased her lower back.

  “It was a joke. A poorly told one,” he smirked.

  “Maybe we can get you lessons in joke-telling,” she looked up at him, loving how he held her so firmly, as if he wished their bodies would suddenly merge.

  “No,” he leaned forward. “You don’t need me for that...do you?”

  Catryn smiled, nearly giddy. But she refrained from laughing so that she didn’t seem completely outrageous.

  “What for then?”

  “I can give you advice. The best advice you’ll ever hear.”

  “Don’t be on my knees in front of a Sultan,” Catryn tossed the words around silkily. “Ah, that was a very impressive piece of advice. I wonder, would you say that I should not kneel before any man?”

  Valryn’s aura shifted into a swirl of inky lust. His arms flexed around her. But then he swallowed, and she could tell from his expression that he was trying to ease back into a comfortable non-desirous state. Catryn was confused as to why he was doing this, and as she felt his grip loosen, she felt even more uncomfortable.

  “What?” she questioned.

  “Nothing...it’s just,” he exhaled hard and then lifted his fingers to run through her hair. “You’re beautiful. Beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Smart. Witty. Wise. You are so much more than I could have known you’d be the day I met you in that tent.”

  “And? So?” Catryn pressed. “I can feel that something is wrong.”

  “Nothing,” he resigned, stepping away from her. “Thank you for the dance. I believe the Sultan would like to finish the conversation now.”

  Catryn felt jarred. She looked to where the Sultan was standing watchful, enamored with their exchange. He was nearly flustered. She bit down the anguish that was welling in her heart. It didn’t matter. Suddenly she was afraid...maybe he wanted Glend more. Maybe Val had decided he didn’t like women. Yet it had seemed very clear this morning just how much he’d tried to please her. What had changed?

  After years of not caring, it was almost easy to shake off the slight and parade back to the Sultan. Only now she would stay calm. Even if Valryn had changed his mind, he did offer sound advice. This was what he’d been born to do, wasn’t it? She’d master diplomacy in the most pragmatic way possible. Perhaps then he’d recognize her as worthy. She’d make them all see her as worthy...even if she didn’t believe it herself.

  Glend

  Jurdu Palace, Yamar

  It was strange gallivanting through the same halls. The same spaces in which he’d spend many years of his youth. He’d almost forgotten how he’d come to be here in the first place. The tricks that had been played didn’t matter anymore. His life had become one deeply colorful tapestry of woven memories that he’d never expected to have.

  He walked along the terrace, staring out at the twinkling lights. Sasha and Setora had been grievously flirtatious. It was different coming back, seeing them for what they were, and reflecting so much more deeply on life and his purpose. But what was his purpose? To serve? Sultan Hajj couldn’t touch him now. That much was decided. He didn’t have to serve anyone aside from Cat. And that had proven easier than he’d expected.

  Because he cared for her, strangely enough. But he knew Valryn was right.

  Let her be. We all fell for her too quickly. She reacted in the only way she knew how and gave us sex. We have to make her see that sex is not all we want from her. That we admire her as a woman. As a person.

  They’d spoken before the banquet, and as much as he wanted to grab her ass or kiss her passionately in front of all the Yamarian court, he refrained.

  “Glend.”

  Catryn loped after him. She was divine in the red silks. Flashes of the smoothness caught his eye, and he smiled as she approached to walk beside him. Her hair was messier than it had been earlier, and her eyes reflected the same increased wildness.

  “I think they all were hoping you’d stay in there,” he pointed back towards the long pergola with flowers spewing out of every cranny. “I mean...something about ‘The Peacequeen’s welcome banquet’ makes me suspicious.”

  Her lips tilted upwards only for a second before smoothing out again. Glend wanted to taste her lips, to breathe in her breath and feel every inch of her skin. Fuck...he was ruined. Only fools cared for women like this.

  “They’ll survive without me,” she said quickly. “I needed a breath.”

  “A breath away from the fawning, the bowing, the scraping...I admit I don’t get it,” he chuckled to himself.

  Her expression told him that he’d entered dangerous territory.

  “Because it’s what you’ve always wanted, is it not?” she slid the words towards him as slyly as possible. It shocked him because he never knew he was so obvious. He’d never been so exposed.

  “I don’t want that...that’s definitely not any sort of thing I’d want,” he sniffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Nope. Not at all. Not one tiny...”

  “You lied to us, Glend,” Catryn said as she slipped her hands under his shirt, and his muscles tightened against her touch. “A lie by omission is just as bad.”

  He bit his bottom lip, as if ready to growl.

  “I would have told you eventually,” he reached for her hands and clasped them between his own. “You don’t understand what you do to me…”

  “I thought you and Valryn were more lovers than you and I are,” she told him stiffly. But then he saw it. This hurting that existed within her. The one Valryn had tried to explain to him. She was trying not to reveal her feelings, but there they were. Raw.

  “Val…I care for him, yes. I think he’s fucking sexy, yes. But you are…” he looked her deeply in the eyes, their souls writhing against one another. “You’re something beyond all of this. Beyond anything I can explain.”

  They were silent, standing alone on the terrace, wills connecting, and auras combined. She fully intoxicated him.

  “Don’t explain,” she whispered, lips skimming his, their breath intermingling, and his skin tingled with the closeness of her. “I don’t want to know.”

  Glend smirked and pushed her back, aggressively against the wall. He pinned her there with his legs and held her hands above her head.

  “I think you do want to know…I think you want to hear me say exactly how I feel about you…” he breathed heavily, and she itched beneath his hold, hating it and wanting it. Pushing against him and pulling away.

  “No,” she shook her head. “And if you don’t get off of me, I’ll throw you off this terrace.”

  “Glend!” a sensual voice called over to them. “Oh, Glend, my dear!”

  Glend held onto Catryn and let out a long hateful sigh. They’d found him.

  “Mother have mercy,” he muttered.

  He could see that Catryn’s eyes had become hooded, her disapproval radiant in the air. Both Sasha and Setora came bounding after them. Could they track him purely by scent?

  “Hello, ladies,” he drawled, releasing Catryn from his hold. “I was speaking to my Peacequeen...important Guardian business and all that...”

  These girls had kept him company when he was young. They’d lured him into the Yamarian lifestyle and ultimately had been one of the reasons he’d built a life in Jurdu. They’d been so fun. Anytime they were around each other it was games and laughter. There had been more than one drunken night together. Nights where they played hide and seek in the palace. He remembered he’d toyed with them both before each sister realized they’d been messing with him behind the others back. But the Yamarian’s were never shy sexually. They lifted sex up as a glorious thing, not something to be shunned. He’d been careful not to take either of their virginities, as when they came of age their value would be found in a strictly saved hymen. Everything else they’d done had been quite exciting. But it had mostly been for them.

  Glend felt tired as the memories flashed thro
ugh his mind. Sultan Hajj had been his first man. Glend had been obsessed with power, though. With ascending the ranks. He viewed everyone as a stepping stone, with the Sultan as the step that would bring him highest of all; to the ultimate peak of Glend’s existence. If Sasha and Setora hadn’t sung his praises, the Sultan wouldn’t have given him an ounce of attention.

  Things had changed when he’d met Valryn at the Vault Citadel. Everything there was peaceful and quiet. He’d enjoyed slipping into the role of student and scholar. The years of friendship...and silent attraction had made him soft.

  “Yes, we are honored to meet you, dearest Peacequeen,” Setora said, dark eyes glimmering. “You are more beautiful than anyone could have guessed.”

  “Yes, I do agree sister,” Sasha giggled. “Glend dear, how could you leave us this way?”

  “They act like you haven’t been gone for years on end,” Catryn whispered to him.

  “Yes. Just as the gods chose her, they chose me to be a Guardian. Alas, I’m...what’s the word? Erm...holy! Yes. I’m holy now. Divinely sanctioned. My body belongs to her.”

  Both girls pouted, and Sasha reached out a longing hand.

  “The Peacequeen could grant us permission...then?”

  Catryn’s brows lowered, and he could tell that inside she was battling disgust and laughter.

  “Glend can choose whatever he wants,” Catryn dissolved the small amount of excuse he had not to be pummeled by the two girls.

  He cleared his throat, giving Catryn an affronted expression.

  “Cat...” he sighed.

  “Glend...for old times sake, my dear...” Setora smirked. “It’s been far too long. We miss you. You’re like a brother to us.”

  “A brother?” he raised a brow. “I thought our relationship was a little less formal.”

  “I remember you as a boy,” Sasha piped in, leaned forward wistfully. “We grew up together. I think that is what sister is trying to say.”

  Glend could feel Catryn’s curiosity and defenses lowering. She was enamored, entirely intrigued by the women’s words. Though Sasha and Setora had grown into voluptuous women, he no longer had eyes for them. In fact, he was scared they’d force him into something he didn’t want.