by Jess Granger
The king lifted a hand, and the queen placed her hand in his. She flowed into him with a kiss that seemed to consume them both. Cyani felt the crowd melt away. The whole world became nothing more than two people in the light of dancing flames.
It frightened her that she was beginning to understand what that felt like. Soren kissed her shoulder, and fire raced over her skin.
She focused on the king and queen. They broke their kiss but not their bond. The king took the queen’s hand and led her to the altar. The flags rustled in the slight breeze as the fires cast their shadows on the rippling fabric.
Apprehension tickled through Cyani’s mind.
“Soren, what are they doing?” she asked. Her heart pounded in her ears as the king leaned the queen back onto the furs, so her body flowed over the altar like a sacrifice.
“What does it look like they are doing?” he responded. His voice sounded darker, heated with the tension humming in the air.
The king slid his hands up the queen’s legs, sliding her skirt up her dark skin. With each inch, he kissed her legs, his image blurred by the undulating cloth.
“You don’t mean they are going to . . .” Cyani tried to look away, but couldn’t. Her heart beat so loud, it drowned out the hushed drums.
“Mate?” Soren didn’t seem in the least bit perplexed or disturbed by this part of the ritual. She could feel the energy in his skin, the anticipation and hunger. It burned her where they touched.
“Why? In front of everyone . . .” Cyani could hardly catch her breath. The tribe seemed hushed, their golden eyes fixed on their king and their queen.
“So there is no question of the paternity of the king’s heirs. The Makkolen women are all at their most fertile this night.” Soren’s voice tickled the sensitive flesh behind her ear.
It was such a logical answer, so straightforward. Why did it have to make things so difficult? Drinking a swallow of wine was one thing; this was quite another. She couldn’t do this.
She tried to look away, turning to a couple to their right. The woman’s abdomen was swollen to the point of bursting. She could deliver her baby at any time. Her mate’s hand slid over her protruding belly and snaked under her skirt. The woman arched her back and moaned.
Cyani whipped her eyes to the ground in front of her. She tried to focus on her bare toes. Wriggling them into the soft sand, she kept her eyes fixed on the dirt.
The queen gasped then let out a soft cry. Cyani looked up before she could help it.
The king’s hips nested between the queen’s legs. He rocked with her, pulsing with the rhythm of the drums and something deeper, more elemental. Cyani recognized power in many forms, but she had never seen power like this.
She couldn’t breathe.
Soren’s hand strayed down her arm.
The breeze picked up, seducing the fabrics hanging around the mating couple into a yearning dance of their own.
This was life, the very beginning of life. Across all the worlds and all the different races and species she had encountered, this was a glowing golden thread tying them all together.
Life, not death.
It was breathtaking.
She felt a wave of pleasure rush through her body. She felt swollen, and slick with her rush of shock and awareness. She couldn’t take her eyes off them. She tried, but she couldn’t. She wondered what it would feel like, to have Soren’s lean hips, his body, joined with hers.
Her head swam with dizziness. If she didn’t breathe, she was going to faint. Soren kissed the back of her neck the way he had when she suffered from the shock blast during their escape from the slave cells.
She moaned and tried to stop her body from shaking. She felt like she was dangling off the edge of a great branch, and she wanted to let go. She wanted to fall.
The king thrust harder into the queen’s body, pulling her into him as she frantically clung to his shoulders. He pounded into her with desperate ferocity over and over, and she took him deep within herself.
A lion roared in the night.
The king answered.
The queen cried out and arched her back, before falling languid on the altar.
A cheer erupted from the crowd as the king collapsed onto the queen, the sheen on his back glowing in the heat of the fire.
Cyani watched the queen weave her fingers into the king’s hair and laugh.
Now she knew why this was forbidden.
This was power—power at its most elemental.
Now she knew why so many of the Elite risked blackmail and banishment to touch it, even briefly.
Now she knew why her father chose to banish himself so he could be with her mother in the darkness.
This was power, and she wanted it.
14
“DON’T LOOK AT ME THAT WAY,” SOREN SAID AS HE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL of their hut. Cyani had a strange, focused look in her eyes. Her movements were slow, smooth, deliberate, like a great cat on the hunt. The lingering drums still called from the center of the village, reminding him of the way she had moved when she danced for him. It nearly killed him.
She smiled as she lifted the bowl of wine to her full lips. “Look at you what way?” she asked, taking a long, slow drink. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the smooth column of her neck. As she lowered the bowl, her tongue darted out and stole a drop from her shapely upper lip.
Great Grower of life, she was trying to seduce him. The Lankana had gone straight to her head.
“I need to know something.” She stepped toward him, her fingertips teasing the beads of her necklace. “When you bond, is it a choice?” she asked.
Soren’s stomach rolled over. He needed to sit down. He lowered himself on the furs as he contemplated her question. Normally, it was a choice. Normally, he would have had to acknowledge her with his mind, his eternal spirit, and his body to truly bond with her. Unfortunately, it seemed at least two of the three had made a decision without him. He was already partially bonded to her, and he couldn’t break it now.
“Normally it is a choice,” he acknowledged. “Bonding is a long process.” He was slipping off the edge of the blade. He couldn’t help himself. He was a weak and selfish man, but he needed her so badly. He needed her to breathe, to think, for his heart to keep beating.
She took another drink of the wine. Her hands trembled as she pulled it away from her lips. “So, it is possible for your people to mate without bonding.”
He crossed his arms as he stared up at her. The light from the brazier flickered over the pale skin of her stomach and made the waves of her hair glow with soft green lights. Great Grower, he wanted her.
She tried to set the bowl aside, but accidentally spilled some of the tangy wine down her wrist. It seemed she couldn’t control her shaking hands. She lifted her hand to her mouth and suggestively suckled one of her own fingers. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, pushing toward her with every beat.
“What do you want?” He had asked her once before, and she had trouble answering. Could she answer him now?
“I want to . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Tell me, Cyani.” He pushed her, he couldn’t help himself. His body thrummed with lust for her. If they were going to fall, they would fall together.
She looked down at the floor then slowly brought her bright blue gaze to his. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted. “I know who I used to be. That girl is a stranger, but what am I now? A set of rules, of orders that I don’t even believe in?”
“Cyani . . .” Soren began, trying to caution her against rash decisions they couldn’t back away from.
“I know what I want,” she stated, her eyes unwavering.
“Cyani, it’s the Lankana,” he protested.
“I want you,” she whispered, cutting him off. “I just want you.”
He felt a sparkling deep in his chest, like a shower of falling stars burning through his blood. She wanted him. He rose to his feet, stepping into her body as he looked down on her.<
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“Then take me,” he murmured. How far would she really go?
He wound his hand into her hair at the base of her skull and brushed his thumb over the sensitive spot behind her ear. If she chose to give herself to him tonight, or if she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. He belonged to her. He would never survive without her. How did he resist it so long?
She pushed him back. “Lie down,” she murmured. “Please, I have something I want to give you.”
He reluctantly lowered himself onto the bed. The few feet that separated them seemed like a vast ocean. She would have to cross it. She had to willingly come to him. He had to give her that choice. Did she really have the guts?
He fought back the memory of hot metal on his back, and the straps holding his hips and arms. He didn’t like being on his back. He was exposed, in the same position he had suffered in for so long.
Cyani reached up and slowly pulled the leather strap from the hooks of her bodice and peeled the clinging leather from her skin. Every thought faded from his mind.
It took all of his control to remain on the bed. He wanted to leap at her, rip her skirt from her hips, and bury himself in her until he drove the pain away.
Her dark hair fell over her creamy breasts as she unclasped her skirt and stepped out of it. He clenched the furs in his fists and struggled to keep his sanity.
He had never seen a woman like this. Not like this.
She took one slow step closer to him and let her dark hair fall around her face. He held his breath as he felt his body reaching, stretching. A sweet ache blossomed deep in his abdomen as he drank in the glorious sight of her.
He loved her.
Her enigmatic smile, the one that only turned one corner of her mouth, touched her full lips. It had been the first smile she had ever given him. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Cyani,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say, not knowing what else to do.
Save me. Purify me.
She knelt on top of him, letting her hands splay out over his chest. She unlatched the clasp at his hip and pulled the leather kilt away from him. Then, with deliberate grace, she leaned forward. Her long hair kissed his chest, his face, until her lips met his in a teasing caress.
“Cyani,” he moaned. He couldn’t think about anything else, his mind flooded with hot violet. It burned as her hand closed around his aching flesh.
He exhaled and clenched his teeth. His muscles tightened through his shoulders and back, his hips, his thighs. He reached up and clung to her waist as she lifted her hips and hovered over him.
I am going to die. He tried to fight back the memory of hot metal closing around his exposed flesh, pinning him down. He tore off his translator then reached up to touch her. He let his hands slide up her cool, soft skin, and stroked the tips of her hair as they whispered over her smooth back.
My Cyani, my beautiful savior.
There was no abuse, no corruption, here. This was pure.
Her hot entrance kissed his tingling body as she slowly engulfed him.
She let out a long low moan as she eased down, letting him slide into her until her hips nestled completely against his. He sank into her hot sweet fire, undone by the pure pleasure of it. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. He looked up at her face, at the long dark lashes closed over her beautiful blue eyes.
“Ahria, cell atah,” she gasped out as she looked down on him.
He reached up and touched her face, trailing his fingertips over her cheeks, her lips. She turned her face into his palm, as he pulled the translator from her ear and tossed it over by his.
He gently pulled her face to his as he whispered to her. “Behra en lyah, Cyani.”
I love you.
She kissed him as her shaking hands touched his temples.
He burned. He burned for her as she deepened the kiss and lifted her hips at the same time, only to slide down once more.
He shook—he couldn’t help it—and he couldn’t keep the hot tears from flowing down the sides of his face as she kissed him. She kissed away the tears, and gently kissed his brow that bore the small puckered scars of the blinders he had worn.
“Easy,” she whispered in Makkolen. He clung to her arms, grasping to hold on to her. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control the flood of pain suddenly pouring from him. All of the darkness, all of the torture came rushing toward him like a black wave. He needed her so badly.
“It is okay.” She stroked his face as his body shook beneath her. “Take me.”
Cyani watched him closely as he looked up at her with such pain and awe burning in his aqua eyes. He had looked at her that way before, on the night she had freed him.
He was embedded so deep in her, she could feel the sweet ache of it behind her navel. Her body throbbed around him, so stretched, so full.
He wrapped his strong arm around her waist and lifted his hips into her. She gasped in shock as he turned her over and pushed his hips deeper into hers as the soft fur of his bed kissed the sensitive skin of her back.
She let her body splay out on the fur as he began to move, surging into her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. The push of his body sliding into hers made the colors swirling around the room pulse with vibrant blue and violet. It was too much.
She reached up and clung to his shoulders then let her hands slide down to feel the lean muscles of his hips pumping into her.
She felt helpless and whole, wild and alive. She felt wanton, hot, powerful, and free.
Glorious Matriarchs, she could feel something powerful building within her. With each hungry push of Soren’s hips, she felt a tightening, like a bowstring being pulled to its limit. She couldn’t escape it, it ached, it begged her to make it stop, but she didn’t want it to. She didn’t want it to stop.
She desperately grasped at Soren’s taut muscles, raking her hands over his lower back.
He clenched her thigh and pulled her up into him. She cried out, desperate for relief from the frantic need coursing through her.
She looked up at him, reached up for him. She was going to fall. His face was a hard mask of concentration, so visceral, so male. Under hooded lids, his eyes glowed for her. Only for her.
She felt a pulse, a deep throbbing as he stroked her harder.
I’m falling.
She gasped. She felt loose and free, and frightened at the same time. She clung to him, but she was still falling and the exquisite torture of it made her cry out for him.
He exhaled and shouted as his muscles tightened and his eyes flashed bright blue. She tried to breathe, but couldn’t stop shaking as she felt a sudden flood of heat bathe her center.
Dizzy and overcome, she pulled his shaking body down on hers.
He gasped as he gently kissed her face, and stroked her hair. His warm weight soothed her as she concentrated on the feeling of being joined. He was within her, so deep within her, she didn’t know if she could ever get him out again.
IT WAS STILL DARK OUT AS CYANI SAT ON THE LOG SHE’D USED FOR HER TRAINING. She ran her finger along a groove she had beaten into the old trunk with her stick. Where had all that anger, all that frustration, gone?
She glanced back toward the village as she gently stroked the beads of her necklace. She felt languid, loose and calm, and for the first time she had slept through the night without Soren’s help.
She smiled. He had helped.
She laughed out loud before she could stop herself.
What had gotten into her?
She stretched her arms over her head and her thighs throbbed. Perhaps she shouldn’t answer that question. Her nervousness returned. It had been plaguing her all morning, this feeling of elation followed by uncertainty and confusion.
Her hands shook as she brought them back down and smoothed her skirt. She had dressed in her normal Makkolen clothing without the extra scarves. They seemed pointless.
The sky lightened, throwing the old tree into stark relief. A bird began to sing as one of the lions roared on the far s
ide of the village.
She wanted to feel the new light of dawn and for the first time, feel the promise it kept for her.
The clouds flushed with bright rose and violet, and Cyani felt the beauty of it deep in her heart.
“It’s an extraordinary dawn,” Soren commented as he took a seat next to her.
She smiled at him. “Yes it is,” she admitted as she fiddled with the bead at the end of her necklace, the one that looked like the flowers on her tattoos. Her uncertainty plagued her, even as she tried to reason through the next step. This was a new path, and for the first time she had chosen it. She didn’t expect to feel so vulnerable.
Soren seemed relieved as he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He planted a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “I promised you I would go with you to check the beacon.”
“It can wait.” She needed time. They needed time if there was any hope to make a new life on this wild planet together. “This is a beautiful necklace, Soren.”
“Thank you.” He held her tighter as if he were unwilling to ever let her go again. “I enjoyed carving the pakka blossom for you.”
“The what?” she turned so she could see him. The rose, pale blue, and lavender of the new dawn reflected in his eyes.
“Pakka vines, like your tattoos,” he explained.
She lifted her wrist. “These are ciera blossoms,” she chuckled. Then she sobered as she thought about the meaning of her tattoos. “They start their lives on the ground of Azra. They grow for decades, reaching through the darkness until they finally climb into the canopy. When they see the light for the first time, they bloom.”
Soren looked thoughtful. “That’s lovely.”
“What did you think they were?” she asked.
“Pakka vines,” he admitted. “They are a stubborn weed with nasty thorns that make you break out in an irritating rash. I planted them over the entrance to my home.”
Cyani laughed. “Why would you want to plant them there?”
