“I cannot draw strength from you if you give up. Please do not vex me with this now, not when I need you most.”
His plaintive words broke her heart. Bolstering his spirit loomed most important in her mind. Without her positive strength, he had little chance to triumph in the challenge. As she clung to him, she tried to uncover another solution. There were a million ways to die. The poison was only the kindest resolution. She remembered his possessiveness with the soothing blue lotion and thought that if she just gave the vial to him he might feel mollified. A new and terrible thought occurred to her: What if Chur decided all was lost and consumed the poison himself? She shivered uncontrollably and wrapped her arms around his waist. Now she understood exactly how terrified Chur was. She realized her motives went beyond selfish, they were entirely narcissistic, because she thought only of ending her own pain and not what pain she inflicted on others by her actions. She’d felt justified for the only one who cared about her was Chur, and if he were gone…
Withdrawing from his embrace, she retrieved the poison from the sacred chest. She held it out to him and marveled again at how cold and heavy the vial felt in her palm. If she didn’t know better, she would swear some supernatural element was at play.
He placed his palm over hers. Despite the heat of their hands, the vial remained chilly.
“Several times we have faced insurmountable odds and we have triumphed. Don’t give up now.”
She didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted him to pour the poison away so that the option would no longer be available to her. In the same breath, she wanted to clutch to this last hope if all else were lost. She realized her own arrogance that she trusted herself with the decision but not Chur.
“Take it away.” She lifted her arm, pushing the vial into his grasp.
Chur placed it on the counter and hugged her. “Each new day brings new challenges but also new solutions. Promise me that you will always greet each morning awaiting the revelation of answers. For nothing is set in stone. I thought that I could never want you as my bondmate, but now I can envision no other. What if you had given up when I refused you then? We would not be here having this argument now. Do you see how situations change?”
She nodded, rubbing her face against his chest, some smooth patches and some hairy. Tomorrow, she would shave him free of hair in preparation for the challenge. She had given little thought beyond that moment and she didn’t want to dwell on it now.
Chur leaned back just enough so she could look up. “I’m not going to destroy the vial, for it would be a pointless act. If you wished, I have no doubt you could fashion another batch, what I want is your promise that you will not use the contents on yourself.”
“I won’t.” From the depth of her heart, she swore that she wouldn’t and she meant every word she uttered. He connected to her mind and read her thoughts about him making that horrific choice. With that, he understood her change of heart. “I’m sorry I even—”
He cut her off with a quick kiss. “Believe me, I understand why such a thought would cross your mind.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to bed. Once he had her settled in the sheets, he retrieved her hairbrush and slid into bed beside her. “Today should be about us.”
Warily, she eyed the hairbrush. Exactly what did he intend to do? Paddle her, penetrate her, or some other perverted passion she had not yet envisioned?
With a waggle of his eyebrows, he placed her on her back and brushed her hair around her body, looping tresses around her breasts, smoothing strands along her belly to her hips and thighs as if decorating her. She became his canvas. A rich blend of sensations, from the rough of his fingertips, to the stiff bristles of the brush, to the smooth stroke of her hair, aroused every bit of her flesh.
Leaning back, balanced on one arm, he considered her for a moment. Tousled black hair slipped down, covering his eyes, and he tossed the sleep-clumped strands back. His gaze roamed over her, lingering, seeking, almost as profound as an actual touch. Reaching out, he moved a few strands around her breast, teased her nipple to a turgid pucker with the stiff bristles of the brush, and then leaned back to consider the effect.
“Exquisite.” He was in no hurry. He wanted one last day to worship her with everything from his touch, to his gaze, to his heated words. “You respond as if new, as if never once touched. Each time I caress you my contact is like a virgin Harvest.”
When tears slipped out the edges of her eyes, he wiped them away. He didn’t ask or probe her mind for an explanation. He accepted. Lying here on his bed, nude, vulnerable, she was a sacrifice to him. This day was their last day. What came after this they had little control over; terror struck her, a raw, painful need to clasp him, draw him over her, compel him to plunge within so she could know him one last time.
“We have all the time in the world, Enovese. Today is endless.”
How she wanted that to be true. She wanted Tandalsul to hang steady in the sky, keeping the night from descending. If the world stood still, tomorrow would never come. More tears leaked. She tried desperately to stop, but fear overwhelmed the passion he’d evoked. In her mind, she pictured the vial of poison sitting on the kitchen counter. As much as she tried to move away from such destructive thoughts, she couldn’t stop.
Chur stretched out beside her and kissed the tears away. He rolled her to her side, nestling her along him, wrapping her up with powerful arms and burning heat. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Make love to me. No teasing, no waiting.” She knew he wanted to torment her all day long and end with a final passionate joining, but she couldn’t wait. A need to feel him inside, similar to what she felt during the ritual of control, pulsed in her limbs.
Chur lifted her leg around his hip as he slipped his cock against her slick sex. He cupped her chin, compelling her to look at him. Beautiful eyes met hers. Eyes filled with care and concern. Eyes that effortlessly opened the connection between them.
As he penetrated, his lids lowered, his nostrils flared, and he took a sharp breath. In that blissful moment, she felt her body and his. She knew his pleasure of her slick honey heat enveloping his throbbing cock.
He flashed a satisfied smile. “Words cannot express how wonderful you feel.”
With a kiss, she returned his smile. “Luckily, we don’t need words.”
He stroked his hands all over her body, gliding, using the strands of her hair to smooth his tender touch. Sensual and searing, his contact only heightened her senses as the conduit flared with intensity.
Threads flowed between them but suddenly grew taut, pulling them tightly together, binding them. A blast of bright light exploded in her mind, blinding her.
She gasped, clutching Chur in panic. His arms tightened around her and she realized the light blinded him as well.
“Enovese?” His voice sounded terribly far away.
“I’m here,” she responded, barely able to hear herself.
White light blazed then pulsed with their heartbeats, causing a trembling effect. Chur rolled on top of her and his weight pushed her into the bed, not crushing her but comforting her. More than feeling his actual touch, she felt pressure, slight pressure, which grew less substantial until she felt nothing at all.
“Chur?”
No response and she couldn’t hear her own voice. She contracted her limbs but felt neither him nor her own body. In a timeless swirl of luminous white, she floated, insubstantial and disconnected. Soon even her thoughts faded away.
Cocooned in a dream, she awoke to a regular lub-dub, lub-dub, and realized she heard her own heartbeat. Then she heard and felt her breathing. Slow, even breaths filled her lungs and released. Curling her toes caused sensation to return to her limbs. Chur was still above her, nestled between her legs, his cock still buried deep within.
“Enovese?” Groggy, he stirred, clasping her tightly and thrusting once. “Ah, you are there. I lost you for a moment.”
“Me too.” Blinking several times caused the ligh
t to retreat. When she looked up, she caught Chur’s face. So handsome, he astounded her. His eyes glowed, his black hair shone as the mass of careless curls softened his angular face, his lips curved into a wicked and compelling grin. The scar that had always marred his attractive features seemed softer and less menacing.
When his eyes went wide, she surmised he saw similar changes to her appearance. “Your eyes are…brighter, your skin luminescent, and your hair is literally glowing. I’ve always found you beautiful, but now you are ethereal. A real-life goddess in my arms.”
Even his voice sounded different—richer, more commanding, with a resonating timber that shivered her spine. Was it all a trick of the blinding light, or had they undergone some profound change?
“I don’t know.” Chur blinked at his own answer, for her question registered to him without her asking it.
Where the connection once simmered in the back of their minds, it now took the forefront. When she tried to shield her thoughts from him, she discovered she couldn’t. All of his memories flashed before her eyes and she felt them as if they were hers. She knew he could feel hers the same way. Panicked, she tried to push him off, but he captured her wrists before she could even begin to wriggle out from under him.
“Enovese, stop. I don’t know what’s going on but panicking won’t help.” Soothing her with his voice, he drew his face very close. “Somehow we’ve changed the connection again. You’re right there in my mind. I couldn’t shut you out if I wanted to. But there has to be a reason for this. It must be a good thing.”
Such intense intimacy overwhelmed her. All her thoughts and memories were now his and vice versa. “I’m afraid. What happens if one of us…”
“Dies,” he finished softly. “I don’t know. The only thing I know is that I don’t feel anything evil in this. Do you?”
“No, it just feels overwhelming.”
Rubbing his nose against hers, he lowered his lips until he kissed her. A smile twisted his mouth against hers for he read her thought about what a talent he had for kissing. Parting his lips, he probed hers with his tongue, prying them open, slipping his tongue inside. Gods, he tasted like ambrosia. Twining her hands to his head, she lifted her hips, clasping him with deep inner muscles. Rocking above her at just the right pace, his cock swelled and she could feel how his balls throbbed with a need for release.
She merged her thoughts with his, moving to give him the greatest pleasure as he did the same. All without a word. Thoughts flowed between them with effortless grace, each adjusting, twisting, and moaning to please the other. A deep satisfaction flooded her mind and body until the orgasm tingled her toes, tightened her limbs, and tumbled her over the edge, with Chur right there with her. More than just a simple flush of pleasure, this went beyond animal gratification and into something just short of divine.
Replete in the afterglow, they clung together. This time was different from every other encounter in that there was no striving to push over the edge. Effortlessly, the pleasure flowed through them, embraced them, twining them in the bright light of ecstasy. And for a time, Tandalsul hung motionless in the sky, giving them a day without end.
28
Alone on a square platform, elevated in the center of the training room, with lighting crystals blazing down upon his bald head and nude body, Chur stood ready for the first challenger.
Phavage Nerys strode up the steps to face him. His white hair fluffed around his skull like silken chaff. A body of translucent skin glowed oddly vulnerable. A moment of pity swamped Chur before he hardened his heart. This was to the death. This was to claim Enovese. He had not asked to battle a man one step up from a boy, but he would kill any who dared to stand in his way.
Pink eyes narrowed to red slits as he approached with a dantaratase, Phavage’s most skilled weapon of choice.
A recruit handed Chur the same weapon. He moved to the center of the platform. Tapping it twice, he grasped the slender staff with both hands, crouched into position, and waited.
Around them, the crowd of recruits hushed. Somewhere out there Chur knew Helton Ook looked on, waiting for his demise. Chur vowed he would never taste that victory. He too felt the eyes of Loban Daraspe but dismissed him as a cowardly fool easily manipulated by others. Most importantly, he felt Enovese in his mind, right there with him. He knew she waited in his rooms and he tasted her concern. Chur would block her from this horror if he could, but they no longer had that option. The blinding white light had forever changed them and their connection. Still, he sensed nothing evil in this bold power. In truth, he drew strength from her, pulled her insight and potency to him, as he never could before.
Phavage tapped the staff twice, crouched, and then circled.
Warily, they slunk around each other.
Phavage lunged as if to drive the staff into Chur’s heart, but he whipped his staff up, thwarting the blow. The shock wave caused Phavage to reverberate. Fear widened his pink eyes. Chur knew that look. Pure terror swept over his pale form when he realized as skilled as he was, he was no match for Chur.
“Tell me again about my arrogance.”
Phavage retreated, dread evident in the quiver that shook his form. His pale genitals, nestled in wisps of white hair, shrived until they all but disappeared. Blue veins ran like fragile rivers under translucent flesh.
Chur took advantage and whirled his dantaratase over his head as he flung the end of the staff toward Phavage. His blow struck his fragile head. Crimson exploded, fanning out like an inglorious cape. Phavage hit the platform with a dull thud. Blood pooled around his crushed skull.
Ambo Votny strode importantly onto the fighting ring. Rotund, he bent over with difficulty and reluctantly pronounced Phavage dead. Casting Chur a disgusted glance as he exited the platform, Ambo picked his nose and wiped it on his trousers. Recruits were called forth to remove the body. A maroon streak marked Phavage’s sad exit. Another recruit swabbed up the mess, but a dark stain remained. Regret touched Chur for a moment, but again he pushed it away with Enovese’s help. Such horrible tragedy was not his fault. He had no choice but to kill or be killed.
No mercy, no quarter, no second thoughts.
Chur flung his bloody dantaratase away.
“Who else dares to challenge me?” Extending to his full height, he glared into the crowd of recruits. Enovese’s careful shave removed all his hair, leaving him an oil-glistening monster of muscle. He flexed, reminding all comers that he was no weakling.
A murmur rose then quickly ended when Onya Ritlin strode up with an avenyet clasped in his burnished fists.
Black as Onic timber, Onya’s golden brown eyes, nestled in his dark face, were reminiscent of the empress, but Chur again pushed any thoughts aside. Onya selected the avenyet, for again, it was his most skilled weapon.
A recruit handed Chur a double-edged club and he grasped it in the center, feeling the weight distribute along his arm. Twisting the club with intent, Chur didn’t wait for Onya to advance. He attacked in a roundhouse swing.
A mistake.
Defensively, Onya ducked and landed a blow to Chur’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. Staggering back, Chur dropped to his knees, faking a greater blow than what he’d sustained.
Onya rushed him, lifting his club high to bash Chur’s head, but Chur flung up his avenyet, catching Onya in the chin, flinging his head back.
When Onya toppled to the floor, Chur pounced and bashed his head in with both ends of the club. Blood splattered all over his body, the oil allowing it to drip like rain back to the floor. Enovese cringed away; Chur regretted her revulsion but knew she understood this was his life. This was the challenge.
Ambo again pronounced the man dead. Recruits dragged him away and cleaned up the mess.
Splattered in gore, grinning, Chur boldly called, “Who is next to die?”
Two other recruits took the platform, both falling dead within moments of facing him. He took a blow or two but nothing damaging. Perhaps now Ambo, Helton, and the other co
nspirators realized the plan was better in theory than execution. Too, touching Enovese lifted him, increasing his speed and power. She wasn’t a fighter by any means, but somehow just having her there with him maximized all his abilities.
A murmur went through the crowd when no other recruit stepped forward. Chur squinted, trying to see through the crystal glare, but all he could discern were indistinct shadow shapes of men. Easily his eyes picked out the blubbery silhouette of Ambo and decided the massive lump next to him must be Helton.
After a flurry of discussion, where Chur could just barely detect the denigrating tone of Helton Ook, another recruit stepped forward.
Ard Dren.
Golden hair, green eyes, and built much like Helton Ook, Ard was a mass of mismatched parts. His arms were too long, his legs too short, his torso oddly feminine while his shoulders bunched with muscles that swallowed his neck. Ard had been in the training house for three years. He’d always managed to run just short of glory. Now he stepped forward with a cirvant, a curved sword as long as his forearm. The cirvant was highly polished with a razor edge. In a talented hand, the weapon could slice a man to ribbons, killing him before he hit the ground.
Ard possessed that talented hand.
A recruit handed Chur the same weapon. Hefting the short sword, familiar with the weight, but knowing he wasn’t as skilled as Ard revealed the first chink in his armor. Doubt crumbled a corner of his wall of certainty. Before the tremor caused a catastrophic failure, Enovese was there, pushing mortar into the cracks, filling his misgivings with her conviction. Buoyed, Chur swung the weapon in a looping arc and took the center of the platform.
Choosing the weapon was an advantage the challenger had, but Chur had the advantage of choosing his posture. In this case, he wisely chose defense.
Wicked Harvest Page 27
