“I already regret it!”
“You don’t! You only think I will regret it! You are afraid I won’t be able to love you for everything you are, and I’m trying to tell you I won’t be able to love you unless you give me everything that you are!”
These words, better than any others, penetrated the haze of his pain and misery. Here Magnus had thought he had just destroyed everything; thrown it all away as he had unraveled and lost control to the most volatile display of his temper and his lust he had ever experienced. The utter perfection of the draining of his tension, the completeness of his sense of total abandonment to what he had truly needed in the instant he had wanted it had been glorious. He had absolutely relinquished all rule, all responsibility, consciousness, and worry, and all of the thousands of other things he was hammered with from a hundred sides all night long, every single night.
And then he had felt her gasping for breath beneath his weight, reason returning to him in an ominous and dreadful tidal flow. In an instant he realized he had destroyed everything. Horrified with how he had used her, how he had torn into her like some animal on a sexual rampage, how he’d taken what should have been held sacred and instead let it be wild and brutally untamed.
So he hadn’t understood the wrapping comfort of her arms and body. It had felt profane that she should touch him after what he’d just done. But now, the words she spoke were a balm for his shattering soul. It suspended everything from respiration to reproof within him.
I’m trying to tell you I won’t be able to love you unless you give me everything that you are…
…give me everything that you are…
Show me everything, and it’s here…waiting for you. I can’t entrust it to you if you only meet me in half strides. I’ve never loved anyone before, none but my mother, and I won’t allow the first time to be with a man who will not love me or himself enough to just be who he is and stop being so fucking afraid of what others will think of him for it.
The blinding rush of her vehement thoughts through his mind blew him away, forcing an explosion of keen emotion to sting across his features and burn tears into his eyes. His arms were wrapping around her tightly, nearly throttling her as he hugged her to him in brutal joy and need. He sobbed into red-black tresses of silken softness, inhaling clouds of sweet cream and strawberries with every hard breath.
“You said you didn’t love me,” he said roughly after struggling a while to compose himself enough to speak.
She smiled where she was pressed against his throat. “I don’t. Or I won’t. Not if you think you’re going to bullshit me like I have been watching you try to bullshit everyone else this week.”
He frowned at that. “I don’t…”
“Those parents know their children need to be here. They know the majority of the danger is passed. They do not want to be glad-handed by you and promised moonshine and roses. They want to see you get pissed off. They want to know your indignation. They want to feel your wrath come down on those who dared to threaten their children while they were in your keeping. Then, and only then, will they be able to trust you to watch over them again. Don’t you see that? You have always been the ultimate symbol of prescience and retribution, and if you show your awareness of your mistakes and then show the reckoning of those who cross you and our gods, then they will see this sacred place in any way you wish for them to see it. Powerful. Benevolent. Merciful. A house of trustworthy shepherds eradicated of the insurrection of poison and now made stronger because of it.
“Jei li, we are so easy to please, those who are common in our species. We want our larger-than-life heroes, it is true, but we need our down-to-earth ones as well. Let them be in awe of Tristan and Malaya for their perceived perfection and power. But let them come running to you because you will admit to feeling as they do, stumbling as they do, and erring as they do, all the while empowering them as you seek justice for them, instill the fear of the gods in them to guide them, and all the many things you do every single time you dress yourself in these clothes and these weapons.”
He heard her. He really and truly heard her this time, and understood what she had been trying to tell him all along. Whether it was because of how she had broken him down, or because once she said the words “jei li,” he would always remember every single spoken word of that day, it didn’t matter.
The point was that he understood.
He loosened his grip on her slowly and gently, turning her in his lap and in his arms until she lay with her cheek cradled against his biceps of his left arm and her bottom snug against his thighs. He brushed her hair into order with tender fingers as his golden eyes shimmered smiles down onto her.
“I wonder,” he said after a long time of simply watching her face, “if it is your youth that makes you see things so much more clearly than one of my age and supposed wisdom.”
“You are very wise, M’jan,” she assured softly, reaching to stroke her fingers along his strong jaw. “But time has inured you to poor habits that no one would notice unless they were close enough. I think Drenna is quite clever and knew so very well what she was doing for her servants when she sent us to one another. First you saved me…so that I could then save you. Now together, truly together,” she repeated with intent warning in her amber eyes, “we can make a partnership of priest and handmaiden that will inspire Sanctuary to become as close to your ideal as is possible on this earth. This place has become very important to me. I see the good it does and the potential for more, especially now that it is free of Acadian’s influence and rotted offspring.”
“And I will not have blind faith in my people any longer,” he said a bit grimly. “That faith is still blind, when it comes down to it. There is a place for faith and trust, and a place where the reality is that sin does exist even in what appears to be the hearts of the best of men.”
“And women.”
“Yes. And women. I feel one lesson I have learned in all of this is the power and value of women among us. We have never had a woman dole out penance before—not officially, anyway—but perhaps it’s time we considered changing that. Sex shouldn’t make a difference in the ability to acquire the skills needed. You broke me down, a trained master at psychology, in less than an hour, Daenaira. Granted, you had an inside track, but I see the potential in you. You are as clever, stubborn, and as superior as is needed, but you have a woman’s mercy and softness. You are unexpected and ruthless. Even at the highest heat of your fighting rage, you still tempered yourself enough to ask the vilest creature to repent. You need a great deal of training, and I may never send you into the field alone without me, but one of these rooms could be yours.”
“Mmm, but does that mean now you have to give me ritual baths after battle?”
“I already have,” he reminded her, slowly rolling her to the floor beneath him as he stretched the length of her body. She squeaked and arched up into him when the cold tile met her naked skin. “Damn, woman,” he complained, “how in Light am I going to get you into my bed when you’ve nothing to wear for the walk through the temple?”
“I could wear your tunic,” she pointed out.
He frowned. “Do you know what that would look like? Me bare-chested and you—”
She covered his mouth with her fingers, stopping him. “What of it?” she asked of him. “You preach the freedom and joys of sex, but you are such a prude. We are as man and wife, Magnus. Whatever it is called, it is a Bond that allows us to be with one another. It even allows us to love one another. It’s clear that love is what really creates the Bonded connection between priest and maiden. It’s a gift, I think, from our benevolent goddess. I think it pleases Her to see us open ourselves completely to the mate she chooses to send us.”
“I think M’gnone has had a hand in this particular mating as well,” he said, kissing her fingertips as they lay lax against his lips. “Our tempers and our need to fight carry out the will of the gods as much as our mercy and our love does.” He smiled at that. “And
it is our love, isn’t it?”
Yes. I do love you. Does this not answer that question?
“It does, K’yindara,” he said softly. “But I should like to hear you say it to me aloud. You hurt me very much when you denied me that day, and it would go a long way to soothing that.”
“I am sorry. I was very afraid of you that day. I didn’t want to be responsible for how you were feeling. But this past week as I watched you struggle so hard to maintain the picture of gliding on an even keel, I began to realize that I was always going to bear responsibility for you and your emotional well-being. It is impossible to be a handmaiden of any effectiveness without it. I am meant to be solace and comfort to you, the one place you can turn to and be a man instead of a priest; the one soul where you should be able to find unconditional love in a physical being. I am representative of M’gnone, who caters gladly to the will of the goddess so she may sit resplendent. But he rules over the land of Light and Sinners with an iron determination to see they pay for their crimes forever. I may be your servant, M’jan, but I am also here to keep you true to your path as sternly as I need to.”
“And I assure you, you are a screaming success, K’yan.” He bent to kiss her mouth in slow, thorough tastes before abruptly lifting away. “Damn me if you didn’t weasel out of saying you love me!”
She giggled. “That’s what you get for forcing me to lie on a cold, hard floor. Bring me to a warm, soft bed and make love to me as wildly as you dare, and I shall think about gracing you with those words.”
“Done!”
Epilogue
“Jei li, my son is due to arrive any minute.” Magnus groaned softly, figuring she probably couldn’t care less. Frankly, as warm and sucking wet as her mouth was on his achingly hard cock, he didn’t much care either. The door at his back was locked, and Trace would wait until he bid him in.
But having Daenaira on her knees before him had a way of wringing him out. Ever since she had first taken his lessons on how to perform effective fellatio on him, she had discovered she not only had a talent for it, but a voracious appetite for the effect it had on him. Some saw the act as one of female submission, but she had proven it to be a woman’s domain of dominance. Just the starting flick of her tongue was all it took to drive away all of his thoughts of duty, responsibility, work, and any other damn thing he needed to attend to. She didn’t just like that power, she thrived on it.
And she loved the taste of him. He could hear the cravings in her thoughts, the desire to feel him burst on her tongue in hot, salty gushes. Just listening to the music of her seductive mind drove him to the brink of orgasm.
For the third time that night.
And the night wasn’t even half over yet.
Magnus gripped fistfuls of lush red-black hair, looking down to see himself gliding past her lips as they made mutual effort at it. The wicked flutter of her tongue drove him to distraction, the rushing surge of his pulse in his ears deafening him to the knock that sounded at his back. When Daenaira released him from her lips so very close to his crest, he hissed in pained denial.
“One moment, please,” she called out to Trace, gifting Magnus with her signature sly smile before using her tongue to draw him back into the darkness of her mouth.
Knowing Trace was close enough to hear them, she took that as her cue to pit herself strongly against Magnus’s desire to control himself into silence. She stroked him now as she drew on him deeply and quickly, her free hand scraping and tickling against his ball sack, especially just behind where she knew it drove him crazy. Magnus ground his teeth to nubs, trying to breathe in desperate draws as quietly as he could even as she became more and more relentless.
Culmination thundered over him so suddenly and with such blinding power, he forgot all about silence as he roared out from the start to the finish. He swore a blue streak, called her name, and growled with masculine satisfaction as he pulsed his release into her eager, sucking mouth. She licked him quite thoroughly clean and then sat back on her heels to smile up at him with the satisfaction of a cat. The scent of her sharp arousal wafted up to him, and he grinned down at her.
“Payback’s a bitch,” he reminded her gruffly.
“Yes, yes, and so am I,” she pointed out with a laughing sigh. She rose to her feet, straightened her sari, and watched him right his clothing as well. “I had meant to finish before he arrived,” she offered. Daenaira felt it was important he know she had not been out to purposely embarrass him in front of his son.
But he had known that. It had been clear in her thoughts. If he had spent less time uselessly resisting her, she would have had her way. It was his fault. Besides, his son was a grown, married man. He could certainly cope with the fact that the man who had raised him was having a sex life of his own.
The unfortunate part of the visit would come afterward, when he had to warn Trace that his wife and future child had been marked for death.
And as if that were not horrible enough…
Daenaira sat on a sofa, her legs tucked beneath her bottom, her body poised and dignified as Magnus opened the door to the royal vizier. Trace, of course, looked thoroughly amused as he greeted his parent. He nodded a greeting to Daenaira as well, his eyes sparkling like polished onyx with his humor as he gave her a wink. His attitude toward her had thoroughly changed since the battle with Nicoya had become known. The depth of risk she had taken to fight for his father’s cause had made him understand that the very things he had feared her for could also be a fearsome protection in his beloved father’s life as well. Knowing the lengths she would go to for the sake of Sanctuary, and realizing there was something quite deeply emotional between priest and handmaiden that had his father happier and far more satisfied then he’d even known him to be, had made all the difference.
Of course, Trace didn’t doubt after what he’d just heard that the satisfaction came from things other than emotion as well. Had he been stone deaf, only the high flush beneath Magnus’s coloring might have given him away. The two looked as innocent as angels.
Almost.
“M’jan, K’yan,” he greeted. It was so tempting to rib his father a bit, but he would wait until the coupling between them was not so new. In a new relationship for himself, he knew how delicate things could be before familiarity settled in.
“Ajai Trace,” Magnus returned, settling back behind his desk and looking very relaxed and comfortable. Trace made an effort not to chuckle. “How is Ashla?”
“Better. I think. Stronger. Getting a little plumper, I’d say. And about damn time, too.” He looked at Dae. “My woman is too damn thin, especially to be breeding. She was sick for a long while.”
“I have heard. The baby will certainly round her out. I am glad she is feeling better. I know it unnerved you to see her so sickly.”
Trace lifted a brow. “It did. I suppose my father told you that?”
“No. I overheard Killian say something about you avoiding her. Once I learned who you were, I figured if you were anything like your father, you couldn’t bear to see someone you love in pain. Which is why this is going to be such a difficult visit for us today.”
Gods, talk about a segue, Magnus thought grimly as he watched the bemusement fly from his son’s features and alarm replace it.
He is no child, and a warrior at heart as his father is, he will want the truth and quickly, she returned.
“Trace,” he began.
“What did she mean by that?” Trace asked simultaneously.
Magnus very carefully and quietly explained to Trace about Nicoya’s plan to harm his wife and as-yet-unborn child. The vizier went blank with fear and then colored with fury.
“Of course, we will do everything to intercept this before it happens, son,” Magnus assured him.
“But, Trace, you should know something more,” Daenaira segued for Magnus once more, giving the impression that they were both talking from the same mind, which in essence they were.
“Nicoya was the daughter of a Sena
tor. One who, as it turns out, is a very old enemy. I am afraid I must tell you that Acadian is still alive.”
Trace exploded from his seat with an oath that even made Dae wince.
“You’ve known this for how long now, Father?” he demanded with sickly understanding. “It’s been almost two weeks since Nicoya was killed! Did it not occur to you Acadian might seek revenge for that?”
“I have no doubt that she will. However, she will not target those she considers to be dealt with already. I expect Daenaira and I will be made to pay for her daughter’s death one day. But Acadian was ever the patient creature, and she is also quite busy plotting within the Senate. It will take time for her to come around to us. Meanwhile, we will fortify ourselves within Sanctuary and live with caution, though not paralysis. The only way to stop Acadian now is through the acts of the twins and via you. You must search yourself and your memories of your captivity and find some clue to her identity. Sagan is missing, Trace. I do not dare presume him dead while that creature walks this earth and was so very close by when he disappeared. Perhaps if we had found signs of blood or death somewhere—but we did not. We made the mistake once when we thought you had been killed, and you suffered for it cruelly as her prisoner for a year. At this point, you are Sagan’s best hope of recovery. The best hope for your family will, no doubt, be Guin. He has knowledge of assassins that we don’t. If anyone can draw an end to this threat, it will be him.”
“Our fortune,” Daenaira said quietly, “rests solely on the time we have been given. The longer your mate carries, the more time we have.”
“And if she miscarries?” he spat, his sturdy frame shaking in a fine tremor under his rage. “She is half human, frail and small. Gods, she may not even survive the birth. Don’t you think I’ve seen how taxing this is on her? Don’t you see how much I despise myself for impregnating her so recklessly, however much it was a strange twist of physical laws? She cannot know about the rest of this. The stress would kill her.”
Rapture: The Shadowdwellers Page 39
