by Dara Joy
Deana shook her head, muttering, “Bizarre, truly bizarre.”
They entered into a huge foyer. Deana had a brief glimpse of a vast hollow space, scores of gorgeous hanging tapestries, and colorful woven rugs as she was rapidly ushered into what looked to be a sitting room.
A tall man stood in front of the window, turning as they entered. Deana could tell at once that this was Krue, for he was an older version of Lorgin. His hair was mostly golden, silvering only slightly around the edges. Still in his prime, he was a vital and commanding presence.
As they approached him she could see that Rejar had also inherited much from his father. The sultriness in Rejar, however, was obviously bequeathed to him from his mother.
Then she noticed Yaniff standing in the corner, the perennial Bojo on his shoulder. She smiled warmly at him, realizing she had missed the kindly old wizard.
Lorgin stepped forward with Deana in tow. Suddenly he went down on one knee before Krue, yanking her down next to him. He withdrew the Cearix from his waistband, handing it to Deana.
“Father, I continue your line. Do you accept this offering?” He turned and whispered to Deana, “Hand him the Cearix, Adeeann.”
Deana hesitated. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to do this. It would be like deceiving his parents. Perhaps she should try to explain to Krue what Lorgin failed to acknowledge: he had the wrong woman.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she caught Yaniff out of the corner of her eye. He was shaking his head, as if to tell her no. Obviously, he had read her mind and did not think it was such a great idea. She had seen enough of the mystic to know when to defer to his judgment. She gingerly handed the blade to Krue, who gazed down at her with intense amethyst eyes so like his son’s.
When he immediately accepted it from her, she heard Lorgin exhale.
“I accept this offering, my son. You honor my line and your name.” He handed the Cearix back to Lorgin.
Lorgin got to his feet, bringing Deana with him. “I present Adeeann to you, Father.”
Krue turned to her, surprising her by wrapping her in a bear hug. “Welcome, daughter. Long have I awaited this day. Your presence is a gift to this house.” He indicated his wife. “This is your mother, Suleila.”
Just her presence was a gift? Jeez, these Aviarans had a way with a phrase. Not to mention a way of confusing someone with their strange rhetoric. She turned, bewildered by Krue’s effusiveness, only to be confronted with a beaming Suleila, who clasped her hands in joy.
“I am so happy you have come to our family, Adeeann.” She leaned over, kissing her cheek. “How lucky Lorgin is to have won such a pretty bride. I know I shall enjoy having another female in this family.”
Krue’s eyes wandered to the third man in the room. “Traed.” He walked over to him, clasping his shoulder. “I vow it is good to see again. Welcome home.” Then he surprised the younger man by hugging him as well. “Your room in this house awaits you, as it always shall.” Traed nodded, too moved to speak.
Yaniff stepped forward. “The lad will remain here this eve, but on the morrow he will reside with me.”
Traed turned at the sound of Yaniff’s voice. “Yaniff…” He approached the old man, tears in his eyes.
Yaniff placed a withered hand on his shoulder, his voice suspiciously gruff. “I am pleased you have come, Traed. Despite what you believe, my belief in you is not misplaced.”
Traed chose not to respond.
Suleila decided it was time to shift the emotion-charged scene. She linked arms with Deana, leading her to a settee. “Come, let us all sit and enjoy a sweet drink before the evening meal. Are you very off time?”
Since Deana had no idea what the sensuous, stunning creature beside her was talking about, Lorgin answered for her. “Not very. It was early evening on Zarrain when we left.”
“Then you must be very hungry. We will eat shortly. I have prepared many of your favorite dishes.”
“Calan stew?” Rejar asked hopefully.
Suleila smiled indulgently. “Not tonight, my son. But I am sure you will find a dish or two to delight you.”
“You had better,” Krue said to his younger son as he handed each a tiny glass of liquor. “She has been cooking all day for you.”
They sipped their drinks, engaging in idle chat. Deana noticed an instant relaxing effect from the incredibly delicious liquor, immediately putting it on her Aviaran shopping list. As they were conversing, a light knock sounded on the sitting room door, and a man entered. He was obviously a servant.
Krue looked up. “Yes, what is it, Malkin?”
Malkin cleared his throat. “There is a young lady at the door for Master Rejar. She insists on seeing him.” Krue’s stony glance fell on his younger son.
Rejar abruptly stood. “I will see to it, Father.” He quickly left the room.
Lorgin, sitting on the other side of Deana, tried not to smirk as he spoke low in her ear. “Back only a short time, and already they seek him. I wonder how long my father will last before he loses his temper.”
“I take it he doesn’t approve of Rejar’s ways?” she whispered.
“He is in firm agreement with Yaniff. Krue would like to see Rejar take up Charl ways. It irritates him to see his son squander himself so.”
Rejar returned shortly, finger-combing his hair. The “someone” at the door had mussed it up pretty good. Deana could just imagine the fond reunion.
Krue’s eyes narrowed at his son, but he said nothing.
The conversation resumed, but was interrupted by a highpitched chitting sound. Suddenly a small animal raced pell-mell across the floor directly at Rejar. It was about the size of a ferret with a head like a small otter. The little beast scampered up Rejar’s leg, tweaking all the while. When it reached his throat, it rubbed against him several times, then flopped across his shoulders.
“Sookah! Did you miss me?” Rejar stroked the fury little head with one finger.
“She pined for you the whole time you were gone, Rejar,” Suleila said.
Krue put down his drink with a distinct clink. “Of course she did, she is female, is she not?”
“It will not be long now,” Lorgin whispered to Deana.
Seeing Krue’s mood, Suleila suggested they all go in to the dining room.
Yaniff discreetly clapped Lorgin on the shoulder, his gaze falling on Traed’s back. “Once again you prove to me that my faith in you is well placed.”
Lorgin seemed slightly embarrassed by the wizard’s praise. He nodded curtly, walking with him into the dining room.
An enormous table of burled wood almost filled the room, surrounded by heavily padded chairs in a silken brocade fabric. The table was beautifully set with colorful plates done by a very talented artisan and goblets to match. Candlelight illuminated the room, casting an inviting glow.
As soon as they took their seats, servants brought out a staggering array of food, each dish on its own uniquely crafted platter. The brothers’ faces lit up.
“Suleila, you have outdone yourself.” As was customary, Lorgin filled Deana’s plate with an assortment of the dishes, then served himself.
Traed took his first mouthful in seeming ecstasy. “I have never forgotten your culinary skills, Suleila.”
Deana tasted a red concoction on her plate. “Ohh, this is delicious! What is—never mind, I don’t want to know. I think I’ll just enjoy it.”
Suleila smiled at her. “I will teach you how to make these dishes. Lorgin loves—”
She was interrupted by the intrepid Malkin, who once again cleared his throat.
“There is another young woman at the door for Master Rejar. She says it is most urgent she—”
Before he could finish, Rejar jumped out of his seat. “I will see to it, Father.”
Krue slammed his goblet down as Rejar left the room.
“Now it comes,” Lorgin mouthed to her.
Krue’s hands clenched into fists. “Women have ruined my son!”
&
nbsp; Suleila quickly reached over to clasp his fist on the tabletop. “He is only just returned, Krue. Let it be tonight.”
Krue contemplated his wife for a moment, his lavender gaze softening. He slowly unfolded his fist, gently squeezing Suleila’s hand. It seemed he was not immune to her entreaty. “As you wish, Suleila. For your sake and our new daughter’s”—he nodded toward Deana—“I will let the rascal be tonight.”
Beaming, Suleila leaned across to quickly kiss her husband. Deana suspected that the female Familiar had her husband wrapped around her dainty little “paw.” But it was also apparent that a man such as Krue was indulgent with his wife only because he desired it. Lorgin’s parents obviously enjoyed a loving relationship.
Rejar returned to the room treading cautiously. He risked a glance at his father as he resumed his seat at the table. Krue’s penetrating stare pinned his younger son to the spot.
“I take it there will be no further interruptions this evening.” It was not a question.
“No, Father.” Rejar’s expression was somewhat sheepish.
After that, the meal went by in companionable ease. Deana learned a great deal about the family of Krue as she partook of Suleila’s myriad delicacies. This was a family with a strong father figure, closely knit, and bound by love. That love was evident in every interaction which occurred at the table. Even Yaniff and Traed were included in the familial bond which existed between these people; Yaniff was treated with the respect due a venerable patriarch, Traed as another son.
Deana was not excluded either. At every opportunity, they attempted to make her feel welcome and part of the family. She was deeply touched by their open affection and warmth, thinking what a truly nice family they were. If she had been in the market for an adoptive family, this would be it.
After the meal, they all retired to the sitting room.
Deana noted that Krue and Suleila were careful not to mention Lorgin’s quest. She assumed that Yaniff had cautioned them to say as little as possible in front of Traed. She supposed the old mystic would reveal all to the greeneyed man in his own mysterious fashion. Her heart went out to Traed, sitting so complacently across the room. It seemed as if he were destined to be battered about by forces he had no control over. What would he do when he found out he must face Theardar again? Would he help these men against his own father, or would he walk away, once again removing himself from life?
She hoped she would never be confronted with such heartrending decisions.
Krue and Suleila did question the sons about their run-in with the xathu, Suleila turning positively white when she heard the details of how very close they had come to losing both of them. Krue said nothing, but Deana noticed that he contemplated Rejar with a father’s pride. She could see in that moment that for all his gruffness with his younger son, Krue loved him deeply.
Later, when the spices in the exotic foods were making her thirsty, she asked Lorgin if she could get a glass of water. He obligingly led her to the rear of the house into the kitchen. It was a large room, but cozy. Faint delicious aromas still tantalized the nose.
Lorgin poured her a glass of water, quickly stealing a kiss.
She smiled, pressing her palms lightly against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“They are very pleased with you, Adeeann.” He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “As am I.”
“How do you know they like me?”
He grinned. “I know.”
She disengaged herself from his arms, drinking the water. She was going to hate to hurt these people. And the longer she put it off, the worse it would be. Resolving to see Yaniff privately as soon as possible, she put her glass down, noticing an odd-looking object resting in a bowl on the large wooden trestle table. It was about the size of a coconut, with a hard brown shell and a very sharp-looking inch-long spines.
“What is that?” She pointed.
Lorgin looked over to see what she was pointing at, instantly bemused by what had caught her attention.
“A gharta,” he replied drolly. Deana was shocked.
“This is a gharta? This is what you’ve been calling me?” And all this time she thought he was complimenting her! Her cheeks stained red as she observed the ugly-looking fruit in front of her.
The corners of Lorgin’s mouth twitched as he picked up the gharta. Placing a booted foot up on the bench, he removed his Cearix, using it to slice into the spiny fruit. His triangular cut revealed a soft, fleshy pink interior.
His eyes never leaving hers, he carved off a chunk of the flesh and suggestively popped it into his mouth, slowly licking the sticky juice from his fingers.
His smoky eyes lazily traveled down to the spot between her legs. “Delicious…” he whispered.
Deana’s whole face flamed red.
She turned away from his blatantly erotic allusion, feeling his low, sexy laughter skip along her nerve endings.
“You are terrible!”
He came up behind her, placing his palms on her shoulders, drawing her back against him. His husky words breathed against her ear. “Terrible good or terrible bad?”
“Both!”
She broke free of his light hold and immediately returned to the sitting room.
Deana eyed Lorgin dubiously as he lifted the covers and climbed naked into the enormous four-poster bed which graced his room.
“Are you still angry with me, my gharta?” He scooted next to her, taking her into his arms.
“For heaven’s sake, Lorgin, don’t call me that!” Her face still reddened at the thought of his earlier blatant actions.
He nibbled her mouth, tenderly sipping at her lips. “I will call you this because it is so.”
“Don’t you—”
His tongue dipped into her mouth as he delicately sizzled her senses. Whatever she had been about to say was immediately forgotten.
She couldn’t argue with him; somehow she had lost the will. The truth of it was, she wanted him very much. The fact that he had molded her into this wanton, passionate creature somehow didn’t bother her at all.
She threaded her hands through his hair, her fingers splayed against his scalp, pressing him tighter against her mouth. She was ignited, that was all there was to it. He was both the cause of her heat and the remedy.
“I’m burning…Please, put out this fire, Lorgin.” Her choked words spilled into his mouth. She instantly felt the shock of her declaration ripple through him. He went rock hard in an instant.
“Yes…yes, I will put it out, Adeeann.” He ran his tongue lightly along her bottom lip. “But first I will fan this flame slowly…” His teeth grazed along her collarbone as if to lend truth to his words. She shivered. “I will take each ember and treasure it, nurture it, build on it…”
Moving down to her breast, he took her nipple into his tingling mouth, sucking lightly at first, then with more and more insistence. As he increased the drawing pressure, he sent her a love jolt with the tip of his tongue. A line of fire shot down to the center of her desire, causing her to groan.
Fueled by her response, his wide palms scored her body, stroking and caressing; the light touch so at odds with the firm insistence of his mouth. The heat from his magic touch seared her. The power and demand of his body engulfed her. She moaned deep in her throat, belatedly concerned that someone in the house might hear her.
In the same breath, his silken lips moved down to her feminine core, and soon she was beyond caring if anybody heard her.
“Lorgin.”
Once again he proved his mastery of her with his velvet lips and gifted tongue. When he inserted a long finger into her and actually suckled on her, she lost it completely and would have screamed her release to the world, but fortunately Lorgin had the presence of mind to cover her mouth at the right moment with his own.
When her breathing calmed down somewhat, she became rational enough to realize he was still stroking her idly with his fingers.
“Lorgin?”
“Yes, gha
rta?” He chuckled against her throat as he kissed her too-sensitive skin.
“Aren’t you going to…?”
“Yes, gharta.” He nudged her limp legs apart with his knee.
Deana blinked, quite surprised. “You mean you want to do this in the missionary position? I can’t believe it.” Considering her past encounters with him it could actually be called novel.
A furrow appeared on his smooth brow. “Missionary position—you have a name for this?”
“It’s just what we call a standard mating position.” A dimple appeared in his cheek. He snickered, obviously finding this tidbit extremely humorous.
“You have a standard position on this Disney?”
“Well, yes.” It did sound odd when she thought about it.
He grinned seductively. “Lucky for you I brought you here, is it not?”
“You don’t understand—”
“Where every time is a…new adventure.” He rubbed his erection along her cleft before swiftly entering her.
He impaled her with an exquisite fullness.
They both moaned as he slid to her very womb, his sex swelling incredibly at the erotic sounds. Even though her liquid honey immediately cushioned him, he throbbed almost painfully. He locked his teeth for a moment as a violent tremor shook him. He had caught the fire.
Lacing her head between his palms, he kissed her ardently on the lips while gasping heated words and phrases in so many different languages she could not understand him.
He was feverish yet totally in control.
He took what she gave and then he took more, moving in her with a calculated slowness designed to drive her into a frenzy. His compelling movements made her absolutely brazen.
“More, Lorgin, more!”
“As much as you want, Little Fire. It is yours.”
His hands cupped her bottom, bringing her up to meet his powerful downward thrusts, while he buried his face in the fragrant hair he had so recently released from its woven design.
Lorgin did exactly what he claimed he would: he fanned every flame, nurtured every ember, treasured her responses and intensified them. Deana held him to her tightly as she was completely swept away by his passion.
