by Dee Brice
“How long to see all five?”
“A month on Amazonia—six weeks or so. Here, it marks a newly married couple’s sweetmoon. It is here I intended to bring you once Storr acknowledged our union. We cannot see the moons so well from our cities.”
“Yet—despite our not being married—you have brought me here anyway.”
“I told you why.”
“You want to fu—to mate.”
“I want to make love. To and with my wife.”
“You have done everything except mate.” By the Goddess, she sounded resentful. Was she?
“We have, yes.”
“By your choice. By your idiotic courtship rules! I would have copulated with you anytime you wished.” Perhaps a change in terms would make him see the difference. “It’s your own fault we haven’t!” Definitely resentful.
Ignoring her outburst, he swept her into his arms and carried her inside. Kicking the door closed, he continued into a large room that reminded Kel of Basalia’s hunting lodge. It had dark wood walls that gleamed like precious jewels in the flickering candlelight. Plump cushions covered divans and chaises and straight-back leather chairs. Every soft surface called to her, reminding her of Aren’s favorite use of such softness. They might as well call every piece of furniture courting beds.
“There is enough fuel in here to create a conflagration,” she said.
Aren’s grin tempted her to box his ears.
“We’ll bathe before we eat.”
“T-together?”
“Yes. As we have this last week or more. All that’s missing from this house is the vidscreen. I’m sure we can find some way to amuse ourselves.”
Placing her on a wide, well-padded bench, kneeling at her feet, he pulled off her boots. Until today, she had only worn sandals or had gone without shoes of any kind. Enjoying the renewed freedom of bare feet, she wiggled her toes and watched Aren jerk his feet from his own boots.
“Ahhh,” he sighed. “Since I don’t have to report to Storr morning, noon and night, I shall not wear shoes again until we leave here.”
“When?” She didn’t want to be alone with him. He tempted her to give in, admit they were married and mate all day and night.
“We just arrived, Kel. Are you that anxious to return to voyeurism?”
“No! I’m curious about how long we’ll stay, that’s all. As for wearing shoes…if we go outside, won’t we need them?”
“We’ll find out in the morning. The gardens are magnificent in early sunlight.” Slanting her a sideways glance, he untied his leather vest. “I…um…I think it’s stuck to my chest. Peg’s spittle always does that.”
“Hmph. Sink under water. That should fix it.”
“Or shrink it tighter. My shaft shrivels at the thought of what might happen to it.” His droll expression warned her he was teasing. “Besides, the tub is outside.”
Glaring, she said, “Why? If this house is so much like your palace—?”
“It is a hot spring. It bubbles and soothes aches and pains. And loosens glop-covered clothes.”
“Then let it soothe and loosen your stuck garments.”
Grinning wickedly, he reached for her vest. She slapped away his hands.
“Stubborn woman. The single problem with riding a pegagryph is the wind and spittle glues your clothing to your skin. The only way to get it off—without ruining the material—is to peel it off. Slowly and gently.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Shrugging, he tugged at his own vest. “Try it yourself.”
She tugged, managing to free a tiny corner of her neckline. Tugged again. “Ouch! Bespelled! You’ve cast a spell upon it,” she said, glaring at him.
“Haven’t. Believe me, Flame, had I cast any spell, you’d be naked in my arms. Panting. Begging me to fuck you. You’d be on the bed and I’d be fucking you. Feasting on you. Loving you.”
Her cheeks burned, the images aroused her so. “What can I—can we do?”
Grasping her hand, he pulled her in his wake. “I hope we can free it by sopping water over our skins.”
“You must know. This isn’t your first visit here. You must have faced this before! Ow! Ow! Owwww!” Gravel bit into her feet as she ran with Aren.
“Yes, I’ve been here before, but you’re the first woman I’ve brought with me. Not that clothes sticking happens only when women are around. Not that I’ve brought—”
“Guanshit! When you left me at your palace, I watched the vidscreens. When they were together the princesses constantly compared you to their current lovers. They always—always!—fell short. And how would they know if they’d never been on Ondrican? Been with you?”
Irrational, Kel! Well yes. If he’d meant to bring her here as his wife but had brought other women as well, that meant…what? That this isn’t a special place to him? That I’m not special?
“They have sisters!” he shouted, seeming to have no compunction about sharing that information. Scooping Kel into his arms, he leaped into the spring.
Kel tugged at her vest, surprised by the lessening pressure on her skin. Aren submerged in the pleasantly warm waters, bobbed up and down a few times before peeling the leather from his chest. His skin looked red. Felt hot when she laid her hands over his burning pecs.
“By all the gods!” she cried, now pulling at his skintight pants. “If your pegagryph has harmed you, Aren, I’ll slit his throat.”
Goddess, I’m behaving like an idiot! I am an idiot! Either escape or accept him as my husband. This dithering has to stop before I go out of my mind.
“It is not Peg’s doing,” Aren panted, helping Kel slide his pants down his legs. Kicking them off, he peeled her pants over her hips and down her thighs until he freed her completely. “Blame the wind,” he murmured in her ear, laving it until she giggled and shoved him away. Now free, her vest floated away.
“Blackguard! It’s all a game to you.” She gulped down tears of pain and sorrow. Staring over his shoulder toward the darkening trees, she looked all around them—anywhere but at him. She refused to let him see how his playing her for a fool cut her. If he is playing me! Which if she thought about it…
Not that having him care for her mattered. She didn’t even like him although she craved his cock. And everything else he did to her body. But craving—lusting—wasn’t caring. Besides, caring robbed a warrior of her senses. Left her open to stupidity and recklessness.
“It is not a game, Kel.” Drawing her to him until she nestled against his chest, he said, “I’ve never ridden the winds with any woman save you. I’ve never brought another woman here.”
“Woman? Perhaps not. But you brought another female here. One y-you love.” The stutter caught her by surprise. Kel never stuttered unless she cared.
I don’t care! I won’t!
But you do. As often happened when Kel felt stressed she heard her mother’s voice in her mind. It may be only pride that makes you so emotionally unbalanced but you do care. For Aren and Drew.
“Drew. Yes, I’ve ridden the winds with her, a cradle fastened over my shoulders. When she grew, I held her safe before me until she demanded to ride alone. Only then did I set her free.”
“Yet you refuse to let me go!” Kel wailed, pushing against his relentless grasp until too weak to fight. “I want to go home.”
Her tears felt like hot ashes over Aren’s chest. He pressed her face against him until, feeling her breath hitch, he eased his hold.
“Drew is my second cousin. Sired by Tage, birthed by some nameless Amazonian female. An elder—a woman of some seventy summers—pronounced her a boy and hid her until Tage could escape and bring Drew home with him.” He shrugged. “It would have been easier had he left her on Amazonia but he loved her from the moment he first held her. So here we are. Muddled.
“I sometimes wish he’d take responsibility for her. Although I also wonder if having a perpetual adolescent for a father would be good for her.”
“Does Drew know?”
/> “That Tage is her father? No. She thinks I sired her. Tage is her much-absent uncle. I know how unfair it must seem to you. As if Tage sowed his seed and left me to clean up after him. Part of Tage wanted—still wants—to settle with Drew in his own home. But he’s too valuable to Ondrican as its spaceship captain to allow that. Plus she considers Storr her grandfather and loves him greatly.
“And I love her as if she were my own. If Storr weren’t so frugal he’d order more spaceships and hire more crews. Then those ships could collect the brides on a regular basis. Maybe find new planets, new blood, to draw from.” He sighed, making Kel look at him.
Chewing her lower lip, Kel eased away from his chest. “You must tell her. All of you together. She is an intelligent young woman. Given time, she’ll forgive your lies and continue to love you. All of you.”
“She’s a child.”
“Not with the way you raise her! Gallivanting about the palace, wearing hardly any clothes. Bringing naked women into her home while expecting her to wait upon them.” Kel huffed.
“You’re the only woman—”
“Liar! Thirty-nine other women. Mating with who knows who. Watching or being watched, doing all sorts of things no child should see.”
“Scant seconds ago, you called Drew a young woman.”
“Threatening to whip her!” Kel shouted as if he’d said nothing, knowing he hadn’t threatened Drew at all.
Aren surged up, dumping Kel into the depths of the hot spring. Mumbling under his breath, he strode away.
Kel shook her fist, shouted “Bastard!” at his wide back. Then, sobbing, she curled over her body and cried until her tear ducts ran dry.
She wished with all her heart that Aren loved her as much as he loved Drew. Not that she had a right to his love. Or truly wanted it. What she wanted—needed—most was to return home. There she knew the rules. Caring for a mate, loving him, played no role. Survival was all that mattered. Survival and preparing their babies to defend Amazonia from the next horde of invaders.
* * * * *
The Next Morning
Uncertain where she was or what had awakened her, Kel tried to open her eyes but could not so much as slit them. Rubbing frantically, betraying every warrior lesson about staying hidden yet aware, she managed to unglue her upper and lower lashes. Relieved at finding herself alone, she stood.
Judging by the sun peeking over the eastern mountains, she gauged the time as minutes after sunrise. Her growling stomach agreed it was time—past time—to ease her hunger. Taking her bearings, spying a rooftop a few meters away, she strode toward it. On her way toward shelter and hopefully food, she snatched up the clothing she’d worn yesterday. Almost dry, praise the gods.
I won’t think about yesterday. Once I’ve eaten and gathered stores to sustain me a few days, I’ll take Peg and fly away. Just where they’d fly to, she hadn’t a clue. If Peg flew toward Storr City, she’d find a way to divert the pegagryph. Wishing she had paid more attention while airborne yesterday, she stopped to survey her surroundings.
Aren hadn’t lied about his gardens’ magnificence. Flower buds burst into colorful blossoms when sunlight wakened them. Scents both elusive and lingering assailed her nostrils and urged her to tarry. Birds—some as tiny as her thumbnail—fluttered overhead and sang their sweetest songs. Bees buzzed near her ear. She could almost taste the honey they would make when they returned to their hives. Holding her hands under several blossoms’ drooping petals, she captured and splashed dew on her face. Feeling refreshed and more clearheaded, she draped her clothes over a convenient bench and sat on them. Slightly damp against her buttocks and no doubt a wrinkled mess, they felt dry enough to wear.
But if Aren had told the truth about wind and flying on Peg’s back, Kel might be better off bundling her clothes into a pillow and sitting on them while flying.
Mouthwatering aromas wafted under her nose like a beckoning finger. Her mind fought to resist the scents of food. Her belly’s growls demanded she continued on to Aren’s house. Her belly won the battle but her mind lashed out at her weakness. A warrior could resist. Should resist. Would resist. Almost two weeks of sexual bliss and plentiful food had stolen her warrior’s will. She wanted food—eggs by the scent, prok by its sizzle, and several other frying goodies she couldn’t identify.
She lingered outside only long enough to don her clothes then followed her nose into the cook room. Finding Aren at the enormous stove surprised her. The deftness with which he dealt with various pots and pans told her he was well acquainted with the art of cooking.
“There is feefac in the efacra on the table,” he said, a hint of caution in his voice. As if he were as uncertain how to behave as she was.
“Tak. I didn’t know you could cook.” Going to the table, she picked up the container and poured. Whatever feefac was it was served hot and smelled bitter.
“There are many things we don’t know about each other, Flame.”
His using his pet name for her gave her hope. Maybe they could reach a compromise that would allow them to keep their pride yet… What? He’d send her home? She’d willingly stay with him?
“Should I pour you a cup?” That seemed a polite action since she was pouring one for herself. On Amazonia such courtesies were common.
“Have one, tak.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Guanshit! Her building irritation at his short answers wouldn’t make peace between them. If he even wanted peace.
“No tak.”
All right! If Aren wanted taciturn, she’d give him taciturn. But when he brought two plates heaped with food, hunger got the better of them both.
“Smells good.”
“Dig in.”
They did, neither saying a word until they’d eaten their fill. Aren’s plate looked so clean, Kel suspected he’d licked it. The idea made her laugh.
“A full belly puts things in a fresh light, eh?”
“A better one, yes.” Standing, she picked up both plates and headed for the sink.
“You don’t need to wash. I’m used to cleaning up after myself.”
Spying all the pots and pans on the stove, she laughed. “Do you always dirty so many? And my washing dishes is the least I can do for such a delicious meal.”
“They’re not all dirty. I put them out in case I want them. Sometimes the need arises when there isn’t time to search.”
“Sounds like you need to reorganize. Maybe put the pots in one cupboard, the pans in another.”
“Then where would you put the lids? Over the years I’ve acquired more pots and pans than I have lids for. When I first lived here, their numbers matched.”
“On Amazonia we have one cooking vessel per person. If we lose it or damage it beyond repair… It’s a long time between meals.”
“How do you prepare feasts?” He joined her at the sink, drying dishes as she finished rinsing them.
“Everyone brings her pot or pan. With something in it, usually. If the hunters bring home a large animal, we cook it on a spit for all to share.” She sighed. “The sharing makes the meal special.”
“On Storr’s birthday we have a fair. Like your feasts, everyone brings something and we sit around campfires and eat and sing and dance.”
“And, no doubt, drink.”
“Yes. And then we do it all over again. Storr City seems a happier place with all Ondrican’s people there.”
“All? Who guards the city? Who keeps watch to ensure your safety?” Even when Amazonians feasted they posted guards.
“There have been no wars on Ondrican for four or five millennia.”
“Lucky Ondrican. What about thieves and pickpockets?”
Aren bared his teeth, looking so ferocious Kel stepped away from him. Laughing, he fingered a strand of her hair then tucked it behind her ear. She fought the urge to snuggle her cheek in his warm palm and kiss it.
“Let’s walk. I’ll show you my gardens.”
“They are indeed lovely at sunrise,” she said, l
etting him link their fingers and lead her outside. She thanked the Goddess for this lovely moment.
He stopped near a small, burbling fountain. “Drihumbs often come here to drink and bathe. Contrary to general belief, they do hold perfectly still for several seconds at a time. Then they flit away like flying gemstones. There is one now.”
Aren’s description was so accurate, Kel laughed when the thumb-sized bird fluttered away.
“Who tends the gardens?” she asked as they meandered on.
“Laurette and her siblings. Their parents do the heavier work. Mostly the plants fend for themselves. I chose them for their hardiness.”
“And miss them when you’re away.”
As if she’d startled him, he stopped and looked down at her. “Yes,” was all he said before he led her deeper into his gardens.
“Let’s sit.” They sank onto another convenient bench.
“I like it here. You can see so much and there’s so much color. Which I suppose you intended.”
“Yes. I want it to look as natural as possible.”
“I have nothing to compare it to but it’s beautiful.”
They sat in companionable silence, still holding hands. Kel realized she’d never felt so at peace. Like a drihumb pausing in its perpetual flight, she took this quiet moment to her heart and held it there.
Aren’s soft voice startled her, intruding into place made for birdsong and creatures large and tiny to play among the trees and flowers and grasses. From somewhere near but out of sight, birds scolded. Overhead, perched on a leafy branch, another bird called to its mate. It sounded so forlorn, so lonely, Kel felt tears burn her eyes. If she didn’t get off this guanshit planet soon, she’d melt in a puddle of her own tears.
“Mmmm?” she said when she could.
“I said if you were home, what would you be doing?”
“Crawling on my belly through a swamp and wishing the skeetmosques would find an invader to dine on.”
“Do you have many?”
“Swarms of thousands. They drone like wasps and sting like leeches when they bite. Leave little trails of blood like guanshit.”
