by Moira Rogers
Nearly fifteen years ago, and the time showed. She’d been voluptuous then, pampered and carefree and so very alive. Her years as high priestess had hardened her, and stress had left its mark. The robe fit too loosely, but she tightened the belt and submitted to the determined attentions of the maid, who seemed horrified by her intention to comb her own hair.
The girl was young but skilled, and an uncomfortable tendril of jealousy stirred as Celine considered the reasons Karim might need to keep a lady’s maid in his country home. The stories of his varied sexual exploits had reached even the Temple, but somehow it was harder to see the possible proof standing before her in flesh and blood.
Such hesitation would be deadly when he returned, so she satisfied her curiosity. “Does your master entertain many female guests?”
The girl frowned, more in thought than consternation. “There are a few. His sister visits, and the queen, of course.”
Of course. “I have not seen the queen recently. How is she?”
The maid’s frown melted into a smile. “Glowing, when she was here last. I imagine now she is quite heavy with child.”
“I’m sure she is.” Rais had certainly wasted no time in getting his new wife pregnant, but Celine supposed it was unsurprising. The last time she’d visited Avani, the former novice had been glowing, and incapable of keeping her hands off her husband. Nature had clearly taken its course there.
“You would know her so much better than I, but… she seems very nice.”
“She always was.” Avani’s sweetness had made her a poor choice for a priestess of Luna, though. Warriors had to be handled carefully. Deftly. She hadn’t been fooled by Karim’s attempts at control. Violence still lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed unless she could work her art and refocus it, turn rage to lust and pain to pleasure.
In the darkest, most shameful part of her heart she could even admit that she wanted the excuse to touch him. No one had ever excited her like Karim. No one had mastered her passion and her body as easily as he could with the wicked, too-skilled touch of his hands.
“But you worked with Zahra, as well.” The girl looked down, blushing. “She has been advising me. I — I wish to become a priestess.”
New interest sparked, and Celine studied the maid’s reflection in the mirror. She was a pretty little thing, with golden skin and thick black hair, and sturdy enough to be strong. Of course, the exterior was irrelevant if the heart wasn’t willing — Avani had been proof of that. “Why do you aspire to the Savage Temple, child?”
She contemplated the question. “I think there must be no greater gift to be given than pleasure. Relief.”
Celine found herself smiling. “No, there is not. Our goddess calls us to a very unique service. To give our own pleasure as a gift, to remind our men that there is a world outside of the pain and death of endless war.”
“I think it would be an honor.”
“Then you deserve your chance to petition. I’ll speak to Zahra, and see it done.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and she dropped a quick bow. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Say thank you,” Celine replied, amused. “And I’d appreciate it if you would braid my hair. I’d like it out of the way for now.”
“No.” Karim stood in the doorway, a tray resting on one arm. “Leave it loose.” He met Celine’s stare in the mirror, daring her to contradict him.
If the maid hadn’t stood between them she might have, just to bring the violence to the surface, as sure as lancing a wound. She could withstand the fury of his need, but the girl standing behind her would become a threat, and that would not do. “Yes, loose is better. Thank you for your assistance.”
The maid bowed again and left through a door on the opposite side of the room. When she’d gone, Karim relaxed a little. “I prefer it unbound. Your hair, that is.”
He’d always loved to wind it around his hands. “I know. But it’s not as glorious as it was. I suspect being high priestess has given me gray hairs I don’t have the courage to look for.”
“You look the same.”
“Impossible.” She turned on the bench to find him still hovering near the door as if afraid to come closer. “But it’s kind of you to say so.”
“No, not kind.” Karim closed the door and set the tray on a stand beside the bed. “Barely hanging on to reason. Turns out, you were right.”
Her heart ached for him, knowing she was the cause of his madness. In one smooth movement she rose to her feet and tugged at the belt on her robe. “You don’t need reason with me, Karim.”
“Not you.” A growl wreathed the denial. “Me. This is — is not a good idea.”
She paused with her hand curled around the silken belt. “You’re not taking anything I’m not desperate to give you. I am always at your mercy.”
A visible shudder rippled through him, and he stepped back. “Eat. You should eat.”
She probably needed to. Her hands trembled as she retied the belt, but she made it to the bed without wobbling. “Will you eat with me?”
From the look on his face, it hadn’t occurred to him to leave. “Of course.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the tray stand closer and handed her a silver goblet. “Fruit or cheese first?”
The man was going to feed her. By hand. Her fingers tightened around the goblet as she reined in a temper that had grown too sharp in the years since she’d become high priestess. If feeding her would help him regain control, she should allow it.
She wouldn’t even bite him. Probably. “Fruit.”
Karim sliced into an apple and held a crisp wedge to her lips. “Eat.”
Celine parted her lips and bit off piece of it without taking her gaze from his. It was fresh and tart, the sort of apple she knew grew in the orchards behind his home because she’d visited them once. They’d made love beneath the spanning branches, and he’d fed her teasing bites in between kisses.
His eyes heated even as something fierce in them eased. “Good?”
“Very good.” She accepted the remaining slice and teased her tongue over the tip of his finger.
His sudden, hissed breath told her more clearly than anything how affected he was by that bare caress. “How’s the wine?”
She lifted the goblet and drank deeply, more to steady her nerves than to savor the expensive vintage. After draining half of it she held the cup out to him. “Share it with me?”
Instead of drinking, he pushed her hand aside and kissed her with a growl, his hand curving around the back of her neck, fingers burrowing through her loose hair.
The cup slipped through her fingers and she let it, ignoring the way it clattered to the floor. Wine would be everywhere, and she ignored that, too, focusing instead on the heat of his mouth and the way his fingers almost trembled. Still restrained.
Still fighting.
Celine parted her lips under his and swept his lower lip with her tongue, a teasing invitation. He met it haltingly, groaning against her mouth.
And then he pulled away, just far enough for her to see the struggle plainly on his face. “I cannot do this.”
His pain hurt her. Perhaps the history lying jagged between them meant he would find no solace in her touch, in her arms. In her body. “Shall I leave?”
He exploded into motion, spilling her back onto the bed and looming over her. “Leave?”
Stupid, stupid woman. She was behaving like a novice, nervous and uncertain. Her own desire made her a fool, and it would hurt them both if she didn’t stop. So she lifted her hands slowly above her head and gazed up at him with all the calm she could muster as she gave him the traditional words, the words that might set him free. “I am at your mercy, warrior.”
“Stop it, Celine.” Even as he spoke, his hands closed around her wrists. “Don’t you understand? We’re beyond this. You can’t be a priestess to me. You never can again.”
“Then let me be a woman.” Arching her hips rubbed her body against
the unyielding strength of his. “Do you find me wanting?”
“Never.” His eyes glazed, and he ground against her once before easing back and holding himself rigidly above her. “Not once have I ever found you wanting.”
The old wound stood between them. “But you think I have found you lacking.”
His whispered answer carried years of pain. “I think I was never enough.”
Celine closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her tears. His pain was her fault, had always been her fault, all the more so because his words held the uncomfortable bite of truth. As a man he had been everything, but no man should have meant as much to her as her goddess.
That he very nearly had meant nothing to him. Karim had never realized how close he’d come to upsetting her world.
He’d never realized how empty he’d left her life with his absence.
“Too many years.” His breath stirred the hair at her temple. “Too much hurt.”
“You were enough, Karim. You were always enough. I wasn’t. What am I, now that I’m not the high priestess?”
“Who are you?” He smiled, sad and sure. “The same woman you’ve always been.”
He’d bared his pain; he deserved the honesty of her own in return. “Have you ever known me as a woman?”
“No,” Karim admitted. “Perhaps I have not.”
“Then how can you know you won’t find me wanting?”
He let go of one wrist and dropped his hand to her face, his thumb gliding over the curve of her cheek. “I never have, but I suppose anything is… possible.”
She turned her head and kissed his fingers, tasting the salt of the tears that had slipped free unbidden. “I’m afraid to find out. I always have been.”
The words had a visible effect, trembling through him. “I’ll take care of you, Celine.”
It was all wrong. She’d done everything backwards, putting her insecurities above his needs. A warrior pushed past the edge needed strength and confidence, a woman strong enough to meet his every desire. She couldn’t be weak. She shouldn’t be the one in need.
But when she found his gaze he looked gentle, almost pleased. “Yes.” His lips brushed hers. “Tell me what you need.”
“You, Karim. I need you.”
He pressed her close to the bed and caught her mouth again, his hand still on her face. “Open, darling. Let me in.”
Yes. Obeying was second nature, but only with him. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, her body remembered the particular pleasure only he had given her, and she parted her lips and welcomed him.
He moved the arm he still held, so gradually that she only noticed when he folded his fingers around her free wrist as well, pinning them both in his grasp. An experimental tug made it clear he wasn’t letting go any time soon, but she didn’t want him to.
She was at his mercy.
Karim trailed kisses over her jaw, soft nips that aroused and soothed in equal measure. “Do you understand yet?”
Clearly not. “Understand what?”
“That you never stopped being mine.”
His need still boiled under the surface, and she wanted to feel it. Soothe it. “Show me.”
This time, his kiss plundered instead of coaxing, and he tilted her head back to deepen his possession. His hips rocked against hers, slow and sure, finally easing between her parted legs.
And then he groaned and thrust against her once, hard and needy.
It would be fast, this first time. Wild and savage. Arousal pooled low in her belly, and she wasn’t ashamed of the depth of her craving. It had been too long since she’d taken a lover and far, far too long since a lover had taken her. She was primed already, so wet she wanted his cock inside her now.
She bit his lip and rocked up, shuddering as the movement rubbed the silk of her robe against her clit with taunting friction. “More.”
But Karim didn’t move, didn’t lift up to shift their clothes so he could take her. He focused on her mouth and the rough rock of his erection between her thighs.
Maybe he wasn’t in control at all. Celine wrapped her legs around his hips and nearly moaned when it only increased the twist of pleasure. She tore her lips from his and gasped his name. “You can take me. I’m ready. I’m wet.”
“I know.” He growled the words against her neck. His free hand skated down to tangle in her gown, twisting the fabric up her thighs. “I want you desperate. Pleading for my cock.”
She’d done many things in her years as a priestess, had been taken in every way imaginable, but pleading… “I don’t beg.”
He laughed, low and knowing. “But you will, for me. Just for me.”
“You think so?” She twisted her head and bit his chin. “Maybe you’ll be the one who pleads. Or have you forgotten what I can do with my tongue?”
“I have not forgotten.” He intercepted her mouth as she moved to bite him again, stroking his tongue over hers. “And I never denied you a single plea.”
No, he’d never felt the need to hold back when his hands were tangled in her hair. She’d listened to him beg as she sucked him deep and reveled in every twitch of his hips. “You have no bespelled chains here, Karim. No magic to hold me still long enough to tease me to insanity. Or do you?”
“I’ve no need.” He flipped her over beneath him, putting her on her stomach, his cock grinding against her ass. “Or have I?”
She didn’t answer, mostly because the image was far too intoxicating. She’d wear chains for him… or take fierce pleasure in turning them against him, just to see him tear free. “Is this how you’ll take me? A fist in my hair while you ride me?”
“Your fantasy,” he surmised as he released her. Fabric rustled, and when his hands landed on her hips again, hot, naked flesh pressed against her. “Mine is simpler.”
Her fingers fisted around the sheets, anticipation slicing through her. “What?”
“My name on a scream.” The head of his cock bumped against her, enough to tease but not to sate.
“Karim…” A gasp, not a scream, and she’d forgotten all the reasons she was supposedly doing this. “Take me, for the love of Luna. Take me.”
A ripple of unsteady magic zipped through the air, and he drove into her with a ragged moan.
He was large and she was too long celibate. His cock stretched her, the pleasure of his possession dancing the knife’s edge of pain as she struggled to adjust to the intrusion.
Karim froze, his muscles shaking, and bent his forehead to rest on her back. “How long has it been, Celine?”
Not so long, for a woman. A lifetime for a priestess. “Months.”
She heard his teeth grind, and — somehow — he remained still. “I am sorry.”
“For what?” She arched, rocking back against him. “I’ll do worse to your back with my nails before we’re finished. And you’ll do worse with your teeth.”
“Lovely Celine.” He gave her one short thrust. “Always so sure.”
“Never sure with you.” And wasn’t that why he’d always intoxicated her, even more than his body and the way he fucked her?
“But you make a good show of it.” His fingers drifted down over her hip, slid under her and found her clit.
He hadn’t forgotten what she liked. Slow at first, teasing touches until her breath came in pants and she fought to chase his hand with her hips, desperate for the roughness that would unleash the tension building inside.
He whispered in her ear, dark and harsh. “I remember what you need.” Longer thrusts, harder, his fingers rubbing firm circles against her.
And his teeth on her skin. With the first bite her cunt clenched and release tore through her in a desperate, overwhelming wave tinged with panic at her total loss of control.
He must have felt it, because he cursed and pulled away, rolling to his back on the bed. “Fuck. Fuck.”
Disorientation seized her, caught as she was in the trembling aftermath of release. “Karim, what —”
“Nothing has
changed, and it never will,” he growled, his fists clenched in the sheets. “You want all of me, everything there is, and I can have none of you!”
All the lessons she’d learned, all of her experience plying men in the bed — all of it had left her unprepared to offer the one thing he needed. “I don’t know how. Help me.”
His body trembled, still on the verge of climax, and he shook his head. “I don’t know that I can. I tried, once, and it almost killed me.”
To touch him now would be to force herself on him, no matter how willing his body might seem. Celine closed her eyes and tried to find words.
None came.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sitting up. Her robe settled around her thighs and she wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m so sorry, Karim. I shouldn’t have done this to you. I was selfish to call you.”
He carefully eased his pants back into place and sat. “Tomorrow, I’ll send for — we’ll —” He rose. “I must go.”
Her hands trembled, and she fisted them in the expensive silk to hide it. “Will you come back?”
Karim rubbed both hands over his face. “What do you want, Celine? Why didn’t you send for Rais?”
“I panicked. Something was wrong and —” She’d had a split second to send the note with the only person she knew she could trust, and in that second she’d only thought of him.
His dark gaze fixed on her face. “And what?”
“And I sent for the person I trusted.”
His tension didn’t subside. “If you trust me with your life, why can’t you trust me with more than your body when I fuck you?”
“Because I’ve seen what happens when a priestess forgets herself. I’ve seen warriors drowning in guilt at the things they’ve done when the beast takes hold. I learned about sex in a world where my lack of control could destroy my lover.” She rocked to her feet, meeting his glare with her own rising temper. “And I wasn’t the only one holding back.”
“Yes, Celine,” he said wearily. “It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault.”
“How did you take fault from that? Why are you holding back?”
He laughed harshly. “It’s my fault because I forget you aren’t a woman. You’ve always been a priestess, and you always will, I don’t care who’s running the Temple.”
