“Well, you will have your chance one day to find your true loves among your people.”
She merely sniffed. “You forget, Lord Rayne, that mine is the land of shifters. Gentlemanly ways are not in the chemistry of the males in Zirah.” Her normally cheerful face tightened slightly, and Dathan wondered if she was perhaps remembering other men she’d encountered recently who’d been less than gentlemanly. Her experiences at the Aerie had terrified Nuriel, and she’d been slow to bounce back. Before he could question her, or offer comfort, she tossed her head and gave a sweet smile that looked somehow false to him. “I think I’ll take a nap right here.”
Dathan knew it was his cue to exit. He rose and walked to her, gently picking up her hand to brush a kiss along her knuckles. “Sleep well, sister of my wife.”
* * *
Temair entered Mother’s sitting room, and was greeted with a wide, warm smile. At first she’d thought the woman’s adoption of the title “Mother” was a bit presumptuous, but it didn’t take long for her to realize that Lady Earth truly was a Mother to all her people, and they clearly adored her. Temair knew Mother must be doing something right; Earth was the most peaceful place Temair had visited in Emetra and for the first time since beginning her tour she felt totally relaxed.
Mother was sitting on one of the pillows that were strewn across the floor. She held out her hand to Temair in welcome. “Princess Temair, please sit and have some tea with me.”
Temair settled herself across from the woman, smiling as she sank into the embrace of the plump cushions and carefully accepted a cup of tea from an attentive male servant. She sniffed the brew and the aroma of sweet berries and earthy herbs tickled her nose. She sipped and found the drink strong and delicious.
“I trust you’ve had a chance to look around our fair lands?” Mother’s smile was radiant.
“I have. The Earth Lands are as beautiful as my father told me.”
This brightened her hostess’ green eyes even further. “I’m so pleased you find our society to your liking, Princess.” Mother sipped daintily at her tea for a moment before sending Temair a shrewd look. “May I ask what qualities you require in a perspective mate?”
Temair raised a brow. This was the first time she’d been asked such a question.
“I only ask so that we can begin to narrow the list of males for you to choose from.” Mother gave a naughty smile. “I know any of our males would be honored to join with you, but surely you have some preferences.”
Temair thought for a moment, brow furrowed. “My prime requirement,” she finally offered, “is that he wants to be with me -- with all of us -- as much as we want him.”
Mother put her hand to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “Princess, you have the absolute right to any male who strikes your fancy. None will go against your wishes.”
“I insist, Mother, that when my choice is made, the man will want it as much as I.”
“Exactly! And any of our males would fit that description.”
Temair had the odd feeling that they were having two separate conversations. Temair was talking about that soul-deep connection that had almost immediately clicked into place with her first three Consorts. Mother seemed to be implying that Temair’s preference alone would cause that connection to form.
“Thank you, but I prefer a partner who chooses to be with me.”
Mother’s eyes squinted in puzzlement. “Princess Temair, I can assure you that any Earth son will be more than willing to take the position. It’s not an issue that they might choose or decline. It is your decision to make, and theirs to accept.”
Temair sipped her tea again, confused. The idea that every single male in the Earth Lands was ready to leave with her sounded strange. More than that, though, she instinctively rebelled against the idea that any of her Consorts would be controlled by her. Yes, as Queen her opinion might hold final sway; but each of her Consorts had an area of expertise, and it would be foolish of her to ignore their knowledge, instincts and advice simply because of their gender.
Mother lay her soft hand on Temair’s arm. It was obvious the woman sensed some of Temair’s discomfort, though her next words proved she didn’t understand its source. “Princess, we are Queendom and as such it is our duty to lend a guiding hand to our men. You have the strength and leadership necessary to continue your generous Mother’s legacy. Our Earth males will fulfill whatever needs you dictate to them.” Mother leaned back with a sigh. “I know that your Fyre and Rayne Lords are much more… autonomous than our Earth Lords; and it’s clear that your lovely Lord Aire is a special case, but an Earth male will most assuredly abide by your edicts with enthusiasm and loyalty. None of my sons should ever require reminders of his duties to his wife and family.”
Temair thought she must still be somehow misunderstanding Mother. Guiding the males? She wasn’t interested in someone who would follow blindly without an opinion. And as far as reminding her Consorts of their duties… She flushed slightly; their duties to her were the one area all three of her Lord Husbands could be counted upon to be perfectly efficient and perfectly in tune.
She shook her head in self-disgust. She’d seen no evidence that the Earth males were abused or exploited. She must be making much more out of Mother’s words than the Lady meant.
* * *
Miach watched critically as Zevan and Dathan followed him through the opening moves of the Fyeria. It grated on him, knowing how defenseless the young Aire Lord had been at his mother’s hands, and he was more than determined he’d never be that vulnerable again. Thankfully, Zevan hadn’t protested the lessons, even seemed to look forward to them. He was pleased by how quickly Zevan was picking up the dance-like fighting technique. He suspected the younger man’s talent for strategy was coming into play; Zevan seemed to have an almost preternatural sense of where his sparring partner was going to strike long before it happened.
Dathan had taken to the deadly dance, too, though Miach suspected the Rayne Lord participated more to get under his skin than out of any desire to master the technique.
They’d been working for over an hour, Miach and Darmon taking turns swapping opponents while the off-duty members of the Royal Guard, joined by a goodly number of curious Earthers, beat out time with hands and feet. Zevan was proving to be a cunning opponent but, of course, it was Dathan who challenged Miach the most.
The Rayne Lord attacked with a ferocity that would have surprised Miach had he not seen the other man’s fierce defense of Temair when the Rayne Healer, Storm, attacked. He knew the Second Consort’s magic was a match for his own; it was both disconcerting and exhilarating to see his physical prowess was as well. Dathan flowed into the dance like the water he mastered, falling easily into the bent-arm cartwheel that formed the base of the martial art. His legs scissored, strong and heavy with muscle, sweeping Miach’s feet from under him more than once, and forcing him to compensate as he added unexpected twists to the traditional movements of the fight.
When they finally stopped, all three Consorts were breathless and sweating. Darmon, while a skilled and experienced fighter, had bowed out long before the Lords were done, and joined the other watchers in a round of applause that had Dathan smirking, Zevan flushing and staring at his feet, and Miach wishing he was anywhere else but there.
Several of the Sons of Earth had gathered to watch the training, and Miach found himself pelted with questions. Elan, by far the most massive of the Sons, listened intently to Miach’s answers. The Earth Lord seemed to be almost in sync with him, because just as Miach’s limited patience was exhausted, he stepped in and quietly offered to direct them to the bathing area. Miach gratefully accepted.
Elan led them to a quiet cavern. Several yards inside, hidden in cool shadows, was an amazing sight. A hidden waterfall splashed into a shallow pool, tendrils of steam rising from the surface.
“This is not a public place,” the Earth Lord assured them. “It is used only by the family, and only occasionally.”
; “I can hardly believe that,” Dathan commented, sloe eyes almost glowing at the sight of the water. “This place is a miracle.” He stooped and drew a hand through the steaming water, hissing with pleasure.
Elan smiled in response. “That is exactly why we use it so infrequently. This water flows from the Sacred Fountain. It passes through the Earth, purified by the stone and sand, and carries the essence of our power.”
Miach looked at the Earth Lord closely. “Are you sure we should bathe here?” He understood sacred magic. At times he literally ached to visit his home and the Sacred Fyre.
Elan smiled even wider and shrugged a massive shoulder. “You will be family soon enough. And you are the Consorts, an extension of our Queen.”
In one of his stunning moments of perfect protocol and grace, Dathan stepped forward and offered the Earth Lord his hand. As Elan returned his grasp, wrapping his huge paw around Dathan’s wrist in a warrior’s pledge, the Rayne Lord murmured, “You honor us. Much more than we could ever expect, or begin to deserve.”
Miach stifled a sigh. He should have thought to thank Elan. But then, his grace was one of the reasons Temair had chosen Dathan in spite of Miach’s near panicked protests.
Zevan, who’d been standing so quietly to the side that the others had almost forgotten his presence, stepped forward hesitantly. “I mean no disrespect,” he said in the same soft, deferential voice he’d used to address Miach and Dathan those first, awkward days. “But if it would be no insult, I’d prefer to bathe in our chambers.”
Miach silently cursed himself again. Zevan was painfully self-conscious about the piercings that marked his body. The only time Miach had seen him willingly expose them was during sex, and he suspected even then it was only Temair’s obvious fascination with them, and her undeniable enjoyment of what the thick steel hoop through his cock felt like buried in her silken depths, that convinced him to reveal them even then. He knew Zevan’s insecurity, but he’d neglected to take it into account in his eagerness to wash away the sweat of their strenuous workout.
Once again Elan showed an almost psychic insight. Putting his hand on Zevan’s shoulder he said, “Allow me to walk back with you, if you wouldn’t mind the company.” The request visibly relaxed the Aire Lord, who smiled and gave a shy nod.
Miach was grateful for the Earth Lord’s sensitivity until he realized it left him alone in an isolated bathing place with Dathan. Where they would be naked. Alone.
Oh, shit.
He’d begun to come to terms with his undeniable attraction to the maddening Rayne Lord. He’d even allowed himself to listen when Temair approved, even encouraged, the insane pull he felt toward the other man. Somehow his newfound open-mindedness didn’t make the situation any more comfortable for him, and Dathan’s knowing smirk certainly wasn’t helping.
The Rayne Lord cheerfully dropped to the ground to pull off the soft boots he’d donned for the trek from the practice field. Then, with that boneless grace that never failed to tickle something low in Miach’s gut, he bounded back to his feet and stripped the sweat-damp workout pants off in one smooth movement.
The sight of all that bare golden skin never failed to steal his breath and make his mouth water, and this was no exception. Dathan was utterly unselfconscious, a trait of his people. Miach had once commented that the “uniform” favored by the Children of Rayne was skin. It was a uniform that suited his fellow Consort admirably.
“Come on, Consort, get naked so you can get clean.”
* * *
The look on Miach’s face was priceless. Panic and yearning and a healthy dose of raw lust that had Dathan’s cock twitching in spite of his determination to keep his hands -- and other body parts -- to himself.
But, damn. The First Consort’s eyes traced over him as hot as the fyre he commanded.
“Scared?” For a minute he was afraid he’d overplayed his hand; instead of making the challenge an irresistible goad to Miach’s pride, he’d made it a childish taunt the Fyre Lord could use as an excuse to walk away. But then, with his customary grunt of irritation, Miach jerked his tunic over his head and bent to yank at his boots.
And double damn, because every inch of moonlight skin fairly begged to be touched.
He tried to keep his glances discreet, brief looks from the corners of his eyes as he ducked under the silky heat of the waterfall, but Miach was scowling, glaring and staring defiantly at Dathan’s naked body. Self-denial had never been a strong part of his skill set, so Dathan let himself return the frank look, let the heat in Miach’s chaos-black eyes stir an answering heat in his own, let his gaze linger on the Fyre Lord’s cock until it stirred and began to fill.
Fuck. He was fucking gorgeous.
Miach stalked to the edge of the pool, all pissed off, defiant lust, and Dathan didn’t even try to hide his smile. He broke into a full-fledged grin when the other man stepped into the pool and lost all that angry energy, his eyes sliding involuntarily closed as the magic of the water sank into his very bones. Dathan could relate. The elemental power of the sacred pool was working its magic on him, too, calling to his magic almost irresistibly.
He must have made some sound, maybe a low laugh of pure enjoyment, because Miach’s eyes snapped back open and some of the hard-edged tension came back to his face. Dathan just stood and met that angry gaze letting the water cascade over him like silk, caressing his back, running over the curve of his ass until he just had to arch into it.
The First Consort prowled closer, no retreat, no surrender in his eyes. Dathan felt his own eyes begin to glow, Miach’s Fyre calling to his own Rayne.
“You don’t scare me, Water Boy,” he muttered, stepping right up into Dathan’s space, sucking the oxygen from the chamber and taunting Dathan’s magic as much as he teased Dathan’s dick, hazing his brain with lust so that it took a long moment for his words to register.
“You sure about that, Consort?” Dathan kept his voice silky and teasing, but it was a struggle. “You sure I don’t scare the shit out of you? Because Temair’s not here to call the shots. You can’t use our wife as an excuse for this.” He deliberately stroked one finger along the vein pulsing the length of Miach’s cock. He knew he might fool Miach into thinking it was a dare, but he couldn’t lie to himself; Dathan just plain and simple couldn’t resist the lure of that flushed, swelling flesh.
Miach’s breath caught, then shuddered out on a low oath; and then he was slamming into Dathan, shoving him against the rough stone of the wall, and Dathan didn’t care the rock was cutting into his back, didn’t even feel it because Miach’s mouth was on his, teeth sharp, tongue soft and so fucking hot.
Chapter Four
It was nothing like kissing Temair. It was like nothing he’d ever felt. Dathan’s mouth burned beneath his, sweet with the water cascading over them, surrendering completely under his attack. It was all heat and steam, hard, smooth muscles, and Dathan was kissing him back, and Miach thought the top might just blow off his skull.
He pressed closer, helpless against the molten heat rolling through him, and Dathan pushed back, rubbing slick flesh against flesh. And then, oh fuck, Dathan’s cock slid along his, and Miach knew his brain really was exploding.
Nothing like Temair, but every bit as devastating.
Dathan’s hands wound in his hair, which was half out of his warrior’s knot, a wet tangle over his chest and shoulders. The Rayne Lord used his grip to tug Miach’s head back just enough to speak, his words sending electric shocks over Miach’s tingling lips. “What do you want, Miach? Just ask.” Dathan paused with a low groan and rubbed his mouth over Miach’s before pulling away. “Fuck, just tell me and it’s yours.”
What did he want? Damned if he knew. He wanted more. More skin. More of Dathan’s molten kisses. Sweet elements and Sacred Mother, he wanted Dathan’s mouth everywhere and, terrifying and thrilling all at once, he wanted to do the same, to lick and suck every bit of that velvety golden flesh until the Rayne Lord was writhing and begging with need.
Dathan seemed to read his mind, seemed to instinctively understand the turmoil filling him, because he took the choice away from him.
More kisses, along his jaw this time, then his throat. Mother, who knew the stroke of Dathan’s tongue along his neck would translate directly to his cock? Then Dathan’s lips were at his ear, breathing hot, moist words that filled his heart as surely as the touch of his body filled Miach’s cock.
“Will you hate me, Miach? Will you blame me later and resent me?” His voice was stunningly vulnerable, and all at once Miach realized he wasn’t in this alone. He wasn’t the only one scrambling to keep body, heart and mind together.
“No blame,” he growled, dropping his head to lap at the water beading on Dathan’s shoulder. The other man shuddered at the caress, and Miach felt the vibration in his own body. “No recriminations, no regrets.” He pulled back and met Dathan’s glowing eyes. “This has been coming for a long time.”
“Then let me do this for you,” the Rayne Lord whispered, that unexpected vulnerability still showing in his sloe eyes and the tender curve of his mouth. “Let me give this to you.”
Miach couldn’t even begin to refuse him.
Dathan used his grip on Miach’s hair to guide him around, switching their positions until Miach was pressed back against the rocky wall. He slowly unwound his fingers from Miach’s hair and dropped to his knees.
Just the sight of Dathan on his knees, poised and ready to service him, made Miach’s knees weak.
“There is nothing, Consort,” the Rayne Lord told him, his voice a sexy rasp, “nothing I don’t want to do to you.”
“Fuck.” Dathan hadn’t even touched him yet Miach felt ready to explode. His cock was an aching iron bar; so hot, so hard the head strafed the smooth skin beneath his navel.
“Soon, Lord Fyre,” Dathan replied with a hint of his usual smug smile. “Very, very soon. But for now…”
The Queens of Merab 4 Temair’s Earth Page 3
