The Star Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “Why are you so difficult? I only want you to like me.”

  “All the conversation in the world won’t make that wish come true,” she responded.

  “Really.” He did not sound at all convinced.

  “Just because you feed me and talk to me, that doesn’t change the fact that I was ordered to be here.”

  “An insignificant detail,” he said.

  “Insignificant for you, perhaps, but not for me.”

  “Last night you did not seem to mind being here.”

  “This is not last night,” she responded.

  “Perhaps it will be even better.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “You might not believe it to be possible, but what is to be between us can be even more pleasurable than—”

  “That’s not what I meant.” She snapped her head around to glare at Hern, and he took the opportunity to lay his mouth over hers. He kissed her, and after the initial shock faded, she kissed him back.

  The kiss melted her. Body and heart and soul, she felt as if she were dissolving in his arms. Their mouths were fused, and their tongues danced, and no matter how staunchly she wanted to feel nothing...she felt so much.

  For a while they simply kissed. Hern held her close. His large and capable hands cupped her face and held her head, but not too tightly. Not with demand, but with a gentle passion. She reached up, grasped the back of his neck, and pulled him tighter against her mouth as if she couldn’t get enough. They shifted their heads and their bodies as they kissed, in order to be closer. Ever, ever closer.

  She had forgotten how a kiss alone was enough to spark her deepest longings, her most ardent feminine needs. Mouth to mouth called up such simple and strong pleasures. She liked it, and Hern also seemed to enjoy the kissing well enough. He did not stop for the conversation he said he wanted. He did not even pause in kissing her, but claimed her mouth entirely.

  He had proclaimed himself to be an honest and honorable man, and she knew that if she told him to stop, he would. If she ordered him to cease kissing her, he would. But she did not want him to stop. The time to pull away would come soon enough...but that time was not now.

  One large, masculine hand found its way beyond the low neckline of her borrowed gown, and fingers teased the soft flesh there. Isadora’s heart raced, and she found herself undulating against Hern’s body, pressing her body to his. She could not get close enough, and the dress bound her everywhere and kept her from being truly near to the man who kissed and caressed her.

  The kissing continued, growing more intense with every heartbeat that passed. She was fused to the man who had chosen her, linked by mouth and by need. Like it or not, she wanted Hern. Naked, on top of her, inside her...she wanted him so badly she ached to the pit of her soul.

  No, this wanting was not of the soul, it was entirely of the body. Nothing more. Nothing deeper.

  His wandering fingers met resistance. “You are wearing one of those blasted contraptions that binds your breasts,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly.

  Out of nowhere he produced a sharp knife. He neatly ripped the bodice of her gown from neckline to waist, and next he neatly shredded the detested undergarment. He folded the fabric back and revealed her bare breasts.

  “You have ruined this gown,” she said without rancor as he lowered his head to kiss the exposed flesh.

  “I will have another gown made to take its place. A better one.”

  Isadora closed her eyes. She didn’t care about the dress, which she had never wanted to wear in the first place. Maybe later she would feel some concern, but now...she only cared about the way Hern’s mouth moved over her skin and the intense response of her body.

  For some things he had no patience, but when he aroused her this way, he seemed to have an abundance. Lips, tongue, teeth...they moved with precision over her breasts, her throat, and the flesh above her heart. When he drew a nipple deep into his mouth, her back arched and she almost came off the couch, which she now seemed to be reclining more than sitting upon.

  He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her more deeply than before. She grasped the back of his neck and held him there, while her body undulated against his, her bare flesh rubbing against the soft fabric of his purple robe.

  “Now do you like me?” he asked in a raspy voice.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Pity.” The knife was in his hand again, and he finished the job he’d started at the bodice, slicing the gown from waist to hem, and letting the ruined garment fall away from her mostly bare body. A portion of the undergarment remained, more off than on.

  Hern spread her trembling legs, and Isadora let her head fall back. She closed her eyes and waited for the joining that was to come. By the moon and the stars, she did want him. Her body wanted his, at least. Last night’s release had been marvelous, but it hadn’t been enough. She had departed this room fulfilled in one way, but deeply yearning in another. Tonight she wanted all of him, and she wanted him now.

  He lifted one leg and kissed the back of her knee, and the resulting unexpected jolt of pleasure shot through her body and made her quiver to her bones. The next kiss was on her inner thigh, where the flesh was soft and sensitive and untouched. He kissed his way up her leg, and then he placed his mouth on her, and his tongue flickered.

  He aroused her that way, with flicks of his tongue and a dance of his lips that had her swaying against him in a demanding rhythm. She wanted to hold Hern; she wanted his weight upon her. But she lay upon the sofa with cool air on her heated skin and Hern’s attentions focused upon her very intently and specifically, in a way she had never imagined.

  There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but words would not come. Thoughts would not come. She couldn’t think of anything but the sensations he aroused, until a quick and powerful orgasm made her soar and scream.

  As she melted into the couch, sated and boneless, Hern’s hands raked up her body once again. He remained fully dressed, though she didn’t imagine that state would last much longer. She’d had her pleasure, and now he’d expect his own.

  She wanted it, more than she’d ever admit. She wanted the weight of his body atop hers, and the sensation of joining, and the feel of his sweat and desire on her own naked body. It was time to properly finish what had only begun.

  Hern slowly kissed his way up her torso and ended the trip with a long and lingering kiss on her throat. Isadora closed her eyes, and one leg rose up to rest on his hip. Close, so close.

  “You can wear the purple robe I had made for you back to your room,” he said. “It would not do for you to be seen walking the corridors of the palace in the rag we have made of your gown.”

  He left her abruptly, and she sat up, moving slowly, since the release had apparently dulled her mind...or her hearing. “You’re finished with me?” Again?

  Hern returned to her with the robe the emperor’s seamstress had so hurriedly made for Isadora, and handed the soft garment to her in a gentlemanly and polite manner, as if he hadn’t just had his head between her legs. As if he hadn’t made her scream. As if he had not stolen her very thoughts.

  “As I told you last night, I will wait for you to invite me for more.”

  “What if I never invite you?”

  “Then I will likely die,” he teased. “A man cannot live in this state forever.”

  Isadora slipped her arms into the warm robe and hugged it to her body without fastening the buttons. She wasn’t yet ready for the complexity of buttons. “You could ask for another woman,” she suggested.

  “No. You are the only woman in this palace who was meant for me. I will wait for your invitation. One of the attributes the warriors of the Circle are taught is control.”

  Isadora stood slowly. “If you’re willing to wait for me to come to you, then why...last night and tonight...why do you...”

  “Why do I make you climax when I deny myself?”

  “Yes,�
�� she whispered.

  “Because your pleasure is my pleasure. Because to touch and feel and watch you as you scream and tremble is almost enough to satisfy me. Almost,” he repeated, again with that trace of humor. “I am learning you, Isadora.”

  “What do you mean, you’re learning me?”

  “You make a little noise deep in your throat when we kiss, and your strong legs quiver just before you find fulfillment. You react very strongly to some stimuli, and not at all to others.” He cocked his head and looked at her as if he were learning her as he spoke. “While I have found some of your most wonderfully sensitive areas, I do not believe I have yet found them all. Some things are worth waiting for, Isadora. To be inside you in all ways, to be invited, that is worth waiting for.”

  She studied his face, searching for the lie, but she only saw the honesty he claimed to possess.

  Dammit, she could like him, very easily.

  Isadora buttoned the robe and ran her fingers through her hair. When had he taken it down? She did not remember, but then much of their time on the sofa was a blur to her. She remembered sensation and need, and nothing more.

  “Do you have plans for tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I am to meet my brother to discuss his desire to marry.”

  “You have not yet decided to give your consent?”

  “His chosen bride is a concubine,” he said. “She has given herself freely to many men before, and perhaps after, Esmun. I do not believe she is worthy.”

  “I didn’t believe Esmun was worthy of her.” Isadora walked to the door. “But I saw them in the hallway yesterday, and it seems that he loves her very much, and she loves him.”

  He reached past her to open the door, and the surprised sentinels snapped to attention.

  Hern lifted her hand to his lips, and as he lowered and released it he said, “There is no woman such as this one in all of Tryfyn. A country that is home to such rare and passionate beauty is blessed, indeed.”

  Lucan did two hours of evening exercise after Isadora left him, rather than the usual one, trying to work off his frustration. The hroryk elde had always centered him in times of trouble, but tonight he remained distracted. When that was done, he bathed, polished his knives and swords—all of them—and tried a quiet meditation. The evening rituals he practiced had been a part of his life since the age of six, but tonight his mind would not be still long enough to achieve even a moment’s peace. He finally crawled into bed, knowing sleep would not come easily tonight—if at all.

  It was the woman, not the ring, that preyed on his mind and made his thoughts spin. The ring was an object, a thing of power, the reason for his presence in this palace, and it was important. It was very important to who he was meant to be, and to his country and the Circle.

  But Isadora was an enigma, and that was where his rambling thoughts took him. His thoughts went to her. She claimed not to like him or want his attentions, and yet when he touched her, she responded with an intensity he had never before seen in a woman. She was more intelligent than the other females he’d known in his lifetime, hardheaded and difficult and strong to the point of being hard...and yet she sometimes held him with an unexpected gentleness, and when she had told him that Esmun and his Elya were in love, there had been a true tenderness in her eyes, as if she understood love too well.

  She apparently saved none of her tenderness for him, however. He couldn’t even charm her into admitting that she liked him a little bit. Even if she did like him, she would likely not tell him so. She was just stubborn enough to keep that information to herself.

  What would it be like to possess such a woman in body and heart and soul? How powerful and difficult would such a connection be? He pitied the man who fell under Isadora’s spell. A lifetime with such an incredible woman would not be easy. Then again, nothing worth having came easily.

  As he had suspected, sleep did not come to him, as usual. Just as well. He could only imagine where his dreams would take him tonight.

  The door to his room was securely locked, and Franco had retired hours ago, and still, Lucan was suddenly sure that he was not alone. He reached for the knife beneath his pillow and turned in the bed so that he could see the room. No candles burned, but a trace of moonlight shone through the window so he could see the figure moving silently toward him.

  Lucan relaxed and released his hold on the hilt of the knife, after returning it to its place. He would recognize the sway of those hips anywhere. Even in the dark.

  “How did you get into this room?” he asked in a whisper.

  “I’m here,” she answered in a soft voice. “The why and how can wait.”

  “Yes, I suppose it can.”

  Isadora came to the side of his bed. She stood there for a moment and then, without saying another word, she began to unfasten the buttons of her robe.

  He lifted the coverlet and invited her in, and she crawled into the bed and rested the length of her body aside his.

  “You sleep naked,” she said as her hand found and caressed his hip.

  “Yes.”

  She pressed her tender mouth against his throat and kissed him there, and then she rose up to look down at him. Right before she kissed him on the mouth, she whispered, “That’s good.”

  Chapter Seven

  Isadora pressed the length of her body to Hern’s, closing her eyes as she drank in the sensation of being flesh to flesh beneath the covers on a crisp, cold night.

  Last night when she’d left this room and gone to her own she’d slept so very well. Tonight she’d been unable to so much as lie down. She’d paced, she’d talked to herself, she’d even come close to tears.

  Like it or not she needed this; she needed Hern. And she was a fully grown woman unafraid to take what she wanted.

  She put one arm around him and raked her hand down his spine. The man had a well-shaped back, a dip at the waist, firm, strong hips, muscular thighs. There was no softness about him, no hint of tenderness on his body. He was all male, with a masculine hardness that called to her. She let her fingers brush against the length of his erection, and her body trembled from head to toe at the thought of that shaft pushing inside her. It was that thought which had kept her from sleep tonight. It was that thought which had called her here.

  “You have no scars,” she whispered as her hands continued to explore his flesh.

  “No.”

  “A warrior with no scars. How is that possible?”

  “When it comes to battle, no man touches me.”

  While she learned his hard planes, he caressed her soft curves. But as they had been spiraling toward this moment for more than one full day, they did not explore for very long.

  She wrapped her leg around Hern’s hip, instinctively trying to bring him closer. He rolled her onto her back and spread her legs, and then he guided himself to her, and the thoughts that had kept her awake and brought her to his bed became reality.

  Isadora did not think while he made love to her. Instead she let her instincts and her body rule completely. Their hips moved in an easy rhythm, and nothing else mattered. Nothing. She grasped the sheet in tight fists and then reached up to hold him with her arms as well as her legs. He moved faster, and she gasped. He drove deep, and she shattered. She cried out as the force of the orgasm whipped through her body, and then she felt it...Hern’s release as his body stiffened and the liquid of life pumped into her welcoming body.

  He remained cradled inside her for a long moment, while they both regained their breath and heartbeats returned to somewhere near normal. Then he rolled off of her, though he did keep his arms around her.

  “I had begun to think you would never come to me,” he said breathlessly.

  “I hadn’t planned to,” Isadora said, “and even when I accepted that I wanted this...”

  “Even then?” Hern prompted when she faltered.

  “I did not want to come to this room, to you, in the company of an armed sentinel. I decided that if I were to come of my own f
ree will, then the time and the coming would be truly of my own choosing.”

  He rose up on one elbow and looked down at her. “How did you get in?”

  “Secret passageway,” she answered.

  His alarm was natural...and apparent. “You must show me.”

  She reached up and touched a black curl that brushed his face. “Later. You needn’t worry about anyone else coming into the room that way. Only a small handful of palace residents know of the passageways. To ease your mind, and mine, I wedged a piece of wood into a crack in the stone to hold the door shut.”

  Even in the dark, she could see him smile. “Very good. So, now do you like me?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Why not?”

  Hern wanted the truth, and so she gave it to him. This time. “I cannot afford to like you.”

  He considered her answer for a moment, then dismissed the matter. “You will spend the night here?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes and snuggled against him. “But I will stay for a while.” She wasn’t ready to give up this feeling. Sex was only a part of what she craved. The holding, the flesh to flesh, she craved that sensation almost as much as she had craved the feel of Hern’s body joined to hers. “I do not like you, and I certainly do not love you.”

  “I never asked about love, Isadora. That’s not what I want from you.”

  “That’s good, because I have none to give.” Love was the greatest weakness of all, and she would not fall into that trap again. Not ever. “I will be your mistress for as long as you are living in this palace, or until you grow weary of me.” Now that Lucan had gotten what he’d wanted all along, was he already tired of her? She hoped not, since she was not yet tired of him.

  “I cannot imagine any man ever growing weary of you in his bed.” With that, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her body against his, and within moments he was asleep.

  She was not sorry that she’d decided to give Lucan Hern what he wanted, and she did not regret the decision to be his mistress. She was beholden to no one, and only the possibility of a child could stop her. The Circle wizards had told Hern his first son would be born in two years. Since the Fyne women did not bear sons, then some other woman would be in his bed a year from now.