“Stop it.” Ria slaps her hand away. “Don’t be a tease.”
Moving into thick forest again, traveling off the paved road, the serenity of the countryside is soon broken by the sound of hoofbeats thundering closer.
Bentley and Chapin come to a standstill and draw their bows, waiting for the source of the hoofbeats to come into view, but before it does, a teenage boy comes hurtling toward them.
When the boy sees the horses, he tries to stop and change direction, but he trips and tumbles onto the forest floor. He hasn’t any time to get up before a massive horse bolts out of the trees, a single rider on its back. Silver recognizes a red band on the rider’s upper arm and infers that he must be some kind of Delta border guard—and his bow and arrow is drawn on the defenseless young boy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Mercian!” the Delta border guard yells, pulling back his arrow, preparing to shoot at the terrified boy. “Trespasser!”
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The Mercian boy backs himself up against a tree. “Please”—he hides his face—“I ain’t done nothing!”
He’s out of breath, wheezing, and shaking from head to toe. His trousers are torn and muddy, his shirt drenched with sweat. Unlike the Deltas, he’s wearing handmade leather shoes, with thin soles that are almost completely worn through. His mousy hair is wet and clinging to his scalp.
The angry, bow-wielding Delta is an older man with waist-length, braided gray hair. Sweat is starting to bead on his brow and he’s breathing heavily, but he hasn’t had to exert himself as much as the boy.
“Ne obizhay yego, govnyuk!” Ria shouts at him.
Don’t hurt him, shithead!
The attention-grabbing Russian insult works, and the Delta’s interest is diverted.
“Are you talking to me, Russki?” He lowers his bow.
“You can’t kill an innocent boy.” Ria pretends not to be afraid of him.
“Innocent? He’s Mercian, and he’s trespassing.”
Silver passes the reins to Ria and dismounts, digging a canteen of water out of a saddlebag before approaching the boy.
“Where are you from?” She passes him the canteen.
“Oswestry, mum.” He gulps the water.
“You’re six hours east of there, boy,” Bentley informs him.
“Poacher!” The aggressive Delta pulls back his arrow again.
“Hey!” Silver seizes the shaft of the arrow and yanks it out of his hand. “Does he look like a poacher to you? He’s got no weapons. What’s he gonna do? Sneak up on an unsuspecting deer and hug it to death?”
The boy sucks back the water so fast he nearly chokes on it. “The tree cover’s too dense.” He spits and sputters. “I lost my bearings, mum. I ent meant to be here—I knows that. I thought I’s running south. I been turned about.”
“See?” Silver smacks the Delta’s thigh with the arrow. “He’s no harm.”
The Delta snatches back his arrow. “So whatchu want to do with him?”
Silver glances up at Ria before answering.
All it takes is one flicker of her soft brown eyes to Carmen’s horse and back again, and Silver knows exactly how she wants this to play out.
“We’re headed to Mercia,” Silver informs the Delta. “We’ll take the boy with us.”
“Will we?” Chapin’s head is cocked, both eyebrows up. “Says who, missus?”
“Says me, and I’m not negotiating.” Silver picks the boy up off the ground, helping him to get steady on his weak legs. “What’s your name?”
“Oliver, mum.”
“Okay, Ollie.” Silver leads him to Carmen’s horse. “You’re gonna hop on here with my friend, Carmen, and we’ll take you back to Mercia. I think she’s PMSing, though, so watch yourself.”
Carmen slips her foot out of the stirrup and kicks Silver’s shoulder, begrudgingly accepting Oliver up into the saddle with her.
“Who the bloody hell do you think we are?” Bentley glares at Silver. “Search and fucking rescue?”
“No, but I don’t think you want to be ruthless child killers either.” Silver gets back in the saddle behind Ria. “He’ll be my responsibility, okay? If anything goes wrong, blame me.”
“With no hesitation,” Bentley carps, prompting his horse onward.
The next two and a bit hours pass in silence. Oliver falls asleep against Carmen within the first fifteen minutes—which she’s less than pleased about—and the Deltas ride on ahead, the grumpy border guard having gone his own way.
They could probably cover a little more ground before nightfall, but two things prevent them from doing so. One: they’re approaching a boarding house that can put them up in comfort for the night. Two: the weather turns violently against them. Dark, heavy rain clouds roll in, and Chapin smells a thunderstorm on the air.
“Thunder doesn’t smell.” Silver peers up at the sky.
“Sure it does,” Chapin insists. “I’ll admit, though, it is difficult to get a whiff of anything over the rotten stench of Russian.” She laughs.
Silver opens her mouth to fire something back, but Ria kisses her cheek and stands her down before any more harsh words can be exchanged.
“It’s late. Don’t kick off.”
Fair enough.
Everyone’s tired, irritable and hungry, and as the first drops of rain start to fall, the sight of the fifty-two bedroom hotel is a relief to them all. Built of gray stone and standing on the edge of a massive lake, Vyrnwy Hotel is an imposing, sprawling structure, with barns, stables, and a tavern.
Under an ongoing agreement with D10, the hotel’s owners—Gavriel and Memina—provide rooms to D10’s border guards free of charge on their travels back and forth from the Trefaldwyn and Y Fenni outposts. In exchange, they receive a cartload of meat and several cases of wine every month.
Silver halts Fitch and stares at the Vyrnwy Hotel sign in the driveway. “Seriously? That’s a word? It doesn’t even have any fucking vowels in it.”
At the hotel entrance, they’re greeted by Gavriel, Memina, and several stable boys. Bentley and Chapin—having obvious familiarity with the middle-aged couple, who fondly refer to them as Ben and Pinny—swiftly negotiate three twin rooms to be shared amongst them, and then offer to help the stable boys settle the horses for the night.
In the meantime, the saddlebags are nabbed by bellboys and distributed to the appropriate rooms, under the direction of Memina, while Silver, Ria, Carmen, and Oliver are shown into the dining room.
It’s at this moment that Ria takes a second glance at Gavriel and Memina, looking deeper, paying close attention to a few—admittedly ambiguous—clues about their lifestyle.
Memina drapes her voluptuous figure in a flowing dress, her graying hair pinned up in a bun. She looks motherly and gentle. Gavriel is in trousers, shirt and waistcoat—including a pocket watch—smoking a cigar, with a bowler hat perched on his short gray hair. His face is clean shaven, smooth, and starting to sag with age. He’s heavyset, roundish, and not very tall, his hands small, the nails well manicured.
He’s a she.
Ria’s fairly certain of it.
In a country where you risk the rope for being caught in a same sex relationship, it’s not uncommon for gay women to take on the outward appearance of a man. For some, it’s a matter of practicality. For others, it’s a matter of preference. In any case, Gavriel and Memina are a gay couple, and Ria steals an opportunity to speak privately with Memina about the sleeping arrangements.
“This is place is safe, yes?” She keeps her voice low. “Like a haven.”
The pair seem to share a secret understanding, and Memina nods.
“Aye, yes, indeed. Is there another sleeping arrangement you’d prefer?”
“A double, for myself and the American woman, if you would be so kind.”
“Discreetly, if you would be so kind.”
“Of course.” Ria smiles sweetly but sadly.
“Wait until the other guests have retired, and rise bef
ore they wake,” Memina advises her. “My boarding license could be revoked if there should be any complaints.”
“I understand.” Ria resists the urge to hug her. “Thank you.”
During dinner—a buffet of roast turkey and beef, which they arrived right on time for—Memina slips a new room key onto the table by Ria.
“There you are, my dear.” She winks and retreats to the kitchen.
“Hey, we’re neighbors.” Carmen dangles the key given to her by Gavriel. “Who am I rooming with?”
“Who do you think?” Silver indicates Oliver with a nod of her head.
“Ugh.” Carmen rolls her eyes. “Why do I have to share a room with a boy?”
“Because I wanna get—”
Ria’s not sure where that sentence is going, but she prevents it from getting there.
“Not in front of the Mercian,” she cuts Silver off sharply. “Please.”
“I can kip in the barn if you’d rather, mum,” Oliver offers sincerely, oblivious to the secrets at the table. “I ain’t meaning to impose.”
“It’s no imposition,” Silver assures him. “Is it, Carmen?”
Carmen pokes her tongue out in protest, but doesn’t argue. The subject soon dies, and the rest of the meal would be pleasant, were it not for Bentley and Chapin—who’re seated at a different table—becoming inebriated with wine and slinging insults at Ria.
Cheap Russki tart.
Luther’s whore.
Bentley says he’ll give her a quarter pound of chocolate for a blowjob.
The latter insult results in a handful of other men approaching Ria to enquire about the cost of her services, and her mood dampens with every recurrence. If they were anywhere else, she’d simply excuse herself and retire to bed early, but she doesn’t feel safe being away from Silver, and to leave the dining room with her would violate the promise she’d made to Memina. So, she stays put.
“We can go upstairs if you want,” Silver offers, unaware of her pledge.
Ria shakes her head. “We must wait.”
“Wait for what?” Silver places a hand over hers on the tabletop.
“Trust me, please.” Ria withdraws, speaking in a low voice so that Oliver won’t hear her. “You can have me tonight, but later.”
Later seems to be forever in coming. The downpour begins, thunder rumbles in the distance, growing closer, and as the lights flicker ominously, the last guests call it a night.
When the coast’s finally clear, Ria gets up from her chair in front of the fireplace in the drawing room and reaches out to Silver in the chair opposite.
“Shall we?”
“Nah.” Silver pretends to be disinterested. “I’ve grown bored of the idea.”
She waits for a telltale glimmer of uncertainty to surface in Ria’s eyes, then leaps up out of the chair and surprises her with a bear hug and an ass grab.
“As if!”
“Save it for the bedroom!” Ria wriggles free, giggling. “Come on.”
Silver lets her lead the way up the stairs and down the hall. “What’s all this about anyway? Are we doing something sneaky?”
“Sort of.” Ria pulls the bedroom key from her cleavage and unlocks the door, revealing a double bed, their belongings on top of a dresser by the window. “I modified the sleeping arrangements somewhat.”
“How?”
“Gavriel and Memina are sympathetic to our interests.”
“And you know that because … ?”
“Gavriel’s a woman,” Ria whispers.
“No shit?”
“She’s a Tom.” Ria lets her hair down, only offering up a further explanation when realizes Silver’s completely lost. “A woman who gives the impression of being a man.”
“Really?” Silver looks disbelieving.
“Uh-huh.” Ria nods. “So I asked Memina if we could have a room that was a bit more … conducive, and I promised we’d be discreet about it.”
Silver seizes her hips and pushes her up against the door frame. “I can’t guarantee that.” She closes the gap between them and brings their lips firmly together. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud you’ll wake up the whole damn building.”
At the sound of footsteps somewhere down the hall, Ria grasps Silver’s shirt and drags her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. She stands on tiptoe, hugs her arms around Silver’s neck, and what begins with a simple lip-lock soon escalates.
Silver twists her fingers up in Ria’s hair and pushes her further into the room—closer to the bed. When they bump into the footboard, the two break away from one another to stumble out of their boots, then swiftly reconnect. Ria unbuttons Silver’s shirt and discards it on the floor, her hands trembling with eagerness. When she’s done, she turns her attention to Silver’s belt.
They hold each other’s gaze while she unbuckles it and pulls it through, then she reaches for the lacing on her dress, keen to shed some of her own clothes … but Silver prevents her from untying it.
“Let me.” She brushes Ria’s hands away and tugs the bow undone.
Unlacing it all the way, she strips the dress off Ria’s shoulders and leaves her standing there in lingerie. She expects Ria to tackle her jeans next, but Ria breaks away from her and dives onto the bed, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders.
“Are you being shy?” Silver finishes undressing herself, stripping to camisole and undies.
“Cold.” Ria laughs, inviting her in.
Silver climbs under the covers and pounces on her in an instant. She plans on working her lips from Ria’s mouth to her cunt, but Ria has other ideas. While their lips are engaged, she drives her hand between Silver’s legs.
“Ty samaya krasivaya zhenshchina v mire.” She glides her fingers over Silver’s wet slit. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
They both whimper, Ria penetrating her without pause.
“You feel just like I imagined you would.” Ria closes her eyes and whines, pushing deeper, stroking the ridges of Silver’s tight sex, reaching for …
“Oh, fuck.” Silver almost collapses on top of her. “That’s it.”
“I know.” Ria plants another kiss on her.
Then …
The door opens.
Carmen—wrapped in her duvet—stumbles in carrying two pillows, causing Ria and Silver to freeze exactly as they are, not daring to move.
“I hate thunder,” Carmen grumbles, another clap sounding.
Groggy and overtired, her eyes half-closed, she dumps her pillows on a couch at the edge of the room and settles down to sleep. She’s completely oblivious to the fact that Silver and Ria are in the grip of intimacy.
“Fucking hell,” Silver mouths inaudibly.
“I’m sorry.” Ria removes her fingers slowly. “I can’t.”
Understanding, Silver flops down on the bed with a heavy sigh, then snags a spare pillow and chucks it at Carmen’s head. “You suck!”
“Ow!” Carmen flails. “I’m scared of thunder, all right? Plus, you roomed me with Oliver and he’s snoring like a steam train. I can’t hack it.”
“This is torture.” Silver groans at the ceiling.
Taking a little enjoyment in heightening the torment, Ria rolls onto Silver’s chest and locks eyes with her, slowly and very sensually sucking her sticky fingers clean.
“You’re so cruel.” Silver tries not to stare at Ria’s breasts pushed up against her chest. “Are you gonna let me touch you at all tonight?”
A few seconds pass, then—despite her much better judgment—Ria succumbs to the desire to be felt, shuffles forward, and takes Silver’s hand in hers.
“You want to know how much you excite me?” She pulls Silver’s hand down beneath the covers. “My knickers are damp. See?” She rubs Silver’s fingers over her drenched underwear.
“You’re so wet.” Silver pushes Ria onto her back, circling the firm nub of her clit, rubbing the cleft of her sopping vagina below it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do any
thing?”
“Mmm, that’s too much already.” Ria conquers temptation and moves Silver’s hand away, licking the moisture off her fingertips.
“You have an unearthly amount of restraint.” Silver pins Ria’s arms above her head, making her squeal.
“I want our first time together to be special.” Ria’s eyes flit to Carmen and back again. “Or at least private.” She squirms beneath Silver, not making any serious effort to get free. “Is that desperately romantic of me?”
Silver trails her hand over Ria’s chest. She lets the back of her fingers brush against Ria’s breast, and as she does, Ria arches her back, a sensual quiver running down her spine.
“I need you.” Silver grips Ria’s waist firmly.
Ria gasps, her nipples tingling and swelling beneath her clothes. “Sil—”
“Wait.” Silver caresses her cheek. “Listen.”
Carmen is asleep, snoring lightly. Rain is pounding against the window, and the thunder’s becoming more frequent. Taking a chance, Silver repositions between Ria’s legs.
“We mustn’t,” Ria whimpers. “Not like this.”
“Sshhh.” Silver bends to kiss her. “I won’t touch you, I promise. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
Squeezing Ria’s bare thigh, she angles her hip against Ria’s crotch and presses their bodies together. Then, watching Ria’s face closely, looking for any trace of displeasure, she rocks her hips forward, creating friction between them.
Far from being displeased, Ria moans. Taking that as an invitation to continue, Silver smothers Ria’s lips with her own and keeps moving, working into a gentle, steady rhythm. A few thrusts later, she feels the residual tension in Ria’s thighs completely dissipate.
Ria parts her legs wider and lifts her hips to match Silver’s movements, silently begging her not to stop. Despite the layers of clothing between them, her body is pulsing with arousal, her core throbbing and weeping for release. She grabs at Silver’s shoulders and waist, pulling her tighter.
“Oh, god, that feels so good.” She wraps her legs around Silver’s waist. “You’re going to make me come.”
Lex Talionis Page 25
