The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “This is when we’d talk,” I said to him, my voice coming out dreamy, “and we’d tell each other our histories, hopes, and wishes. That’s how we’d know if we are even compatible. Which is a ridiculous thought, since this isn’t about romance. I never expected that for myself, but I did think that I’d have the opportunity to know something about the man I married.” Of course, I had talked to my other potentials, and that got me nowhere.

  “Still, if I could, I’d explain how I’m better at books than relationships and that I’ve never been with a man before—or a woman, much as Jepp wheedled.” I laughed at my own joke and Nakoa shifted, moving so he could see my face. He seemed to be listening intently, though he couldn’t understand a word I was saying. It helped, though, to at least speak these things aloud. “I don’t know why you picked me out, Nakoa. I’m not even sure what my legal status is. Here I am, waiting for a rescue that may never come, or may not be politically possible. I never thought I’d have to make decisions like this. It’s ever so much easier to read about these things, or to help others make the plans that change the world. I’m a librarian, not a queen.” Or king’s concubine. A toss-up there.

  For some reason, he caught that word. I’d used it before with him, so I supposed that made sense. “Queen,” he repeated, tapping over my heart, then tapping himself. “King.”

  He used the Dasnarian word. “Yes, King Nakoa KauPo. But I am not a queen. I’m just Dafne, last of the Mailloux family of Castle Columba, orphan, and adviser to High Queen Ursula.”

  “Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo,” he replied, immovable as the volcano itself. Moving slowly, he put a hand on my ruby-hilted dagger, drawing it and wrapping my fingers around it. Then, before I could ask what he intended, he cupped the back of my head and kissed me. I braced my empty hand on his chest but lost the reason for refusing the moment his lips touched mine.

  15

  The kiss caught me up with a swooping sensation, as if I flew like the dragon, my heart pumping hot blood. Each time he kissed me became more familiar, but also totally different in tenor. This time was about hunger, a fast-rising need that billowed between us. A moan rose out of me and he drank it from my mouth, echoing the sound.

  As if I’d said something he understood and returned in kind. The language of the body.

  I dug my fingers into his chest, kissing him back fervently, and his hands tightened on me, one buried in my hair and the other gripping my waist. I’d felt small against him, but now that didn’t matter so much. I wanted into him, to understand who he was, to have him inside me. It made no sense, but sense, logic, words—all had failed me and left me with only this.

  Nakoa and I. Not the blade between us. Only fire.

  His hands smoothed over my hip, back up my waist, as if he traced the curves, learning my shape. Stroking up my side, back to my waist, each time rising higher, until his fingers brushed the bottom curve of my breast. I caught my breath at the sensation, my nipples tight and my breasts hot. He broke the kiss but not his hold, face a handsbreadth away, eyes catching the silver glint of moonlight, holding my gaze. He brushed my ribs though the silky gown, measuring my response, then moved slowly higher until he cupped my breast, weighing it in his hand.

  I held still, wanting to move and afraid to. Nothing had ever felt like this. Extraordinary that he could touch me in ways I daily touched myself and have it feel so totally, mind-shatteringly different. Biting my lip, I waited for what would come next. His one hand moved through my hair, his eyes roaming over my face, as he held my breast with the other. His thumb brushed over my taut nipple and I lost the breath I’d been holding in a sharp cry of startlement and exquisite pleasure.

  “Nakoa!”

  He smiled, a hint of wicked mischief in it, and stroked my nipple again. Without thinking, I let go of the dagger, leaving it to lie in my lap, and clapped both hands over his on my breast, holding it still. I might not be able to bear much more of that. It did no good, as he simply moved under my hands, now pinching my nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. Undone, I let my hands fall and arched my back into it, closing my eyes and actually squirming. The knife clattered as it fell on the polished stone and I didn’t care a whit.

  I’d never been this person but could no longer remember the reasons for it. Taking the invitation, Nakoa bent his head to my exposed throat, kissing my collarbone and the hollows there, all the while stroking my nipple so my body moved in answering undulations. His hand moved down my back, supporting me while he briefly left my breast alone to tug the loose strap of the gown over my shoulder.

  He dragged the soft fabric down my arm, slowly baring my breast to the warm night air. I opened my eyes, uncertain, watching his face. His expression was rapt as he gazed at my naked breast for a long moment; then his eyes flicked up to my face.

  “Mlaipua,” he said.

  “I don’t know what that means. I don’t—Goddesses!”

  He’d taken my sensitive nipple into his hot mouth and I clutched at his head, overcome, his hair wiry silk in my hands. I couldn’t quite catch my breath again, only able to gasp and groan as his tongue swirled over the hard nub. I’d moved into completely uncharted territory, and I thought of the maps and how at the edges they said, “Here be dragons.”

  I experienced the truth of it, as my dragon king devoured me, shredding my reserve with hands, lips, tongue, and teeth. Leaving fire behind.

  Growling a little, he pulled at my dress, tearing the delicate cloth in his rush to bare both of my breasts. Pushing the garland aside so most of it dangled down my back, he moved from one breast to the other, laving my skin with generous licks and kisses, nibbling my nipples until I cried frantically, then soothing me again with long strokes of his tongue.

  I had lost my mind long since.

  When he moved a hand to my knee, slipping under the hem of the gown, I stilled. Nakoa kissed me, tenderly, a kind of reassurance that went beyond words. He pulled me close against him, so my naked breasts crushed against his muscled chest, the shock of skin-to-skin contact exhilarating and bewildering. His hand stroked up my thigh, moving from the outside in, and I cringed a little when his fingers skidded over the fluids slicking my skin.

  But he groaned, almost a sound of pain, and he murmured my name against my mouth, then a soft question. “Open?”

  I sighed my breath back into him, and opened my lips and my thighs.

  One part of me stood back in amazement at my complete capitulation and willing participation. The rest, however, soared on the exquisite sensations of being made love to. I felt like Zyr’s kalpa tree, at long last bearing a fruit I’d had no ability to imagine. All I knew was I’d lost any connection to any thought but having Nakoa’s hands on me.

  He took my mouth in a drowning kiss and his hand moved to cup me under my skirt, the fragile silk of the pantalets barely any barrier. The intimacy of the shocking contact rattled through me. I clung to him, crazy with it, holding his head with my hands in his hair, rocking my hips wildly. His manhood stood stiff against my hip and he laughed, saying something, nudging me over slightly so I didn’t press against him so hard.

  “Sorry,” I managed, but he kissed me, sweetly.

  “No sorry, Dafne mlai.” Then he moved his hand, pushing the silk into my folds, watching my face. Bereft of his hair, I held onto his shoulders, assimilating the extraordinary invasion of his big fingers against my sensitive and swollen sex, so very different from my own touch. Like a sun compared to a candle.

  “Nakoa,” I breathed, not at all sure what I meant to convey.

  He stroked me, fanning the flames, and the climax built in me, irresistible, inevitable. Something it seemed impossible to share with another person, even in the moonlit-shrouded shadows. How it had come to be this man, so enigmatic and forbidding, remote and exotic as the dragon, I didn’t understand.

  But, against all reason, it was him.

  I came apart in his arms, nails digging in as I convulsed with pleasure unlike anyt
hing I’d ever known. My own small orgasms in my private bed were pale, timid moments compared to the blood-pounding release that wracked my body. I ground against his hand, throwing my head back to cry out the ecstasy. No wonder the poets used that word for it. Nakoa feasted on my breasts, murmuring words in his musical language. Moon. Mo’o. Me.

  When the claws let me go, I collapsed against him, breathless, laid waste. He stood and carried me inside, something I only vaguely tracked until he set me on the bed, carefully laying me on my accustomed side of it. His erect manhood jutted out, delineated by the thin cloth of his garment, snagging my gaze, which I quickly averted. Abruptly self-conscious, I covered my naked breasts with my hands, hiding them from the revealing lamplight.

  Nakoa went back out to the balcony, returning with my forgotten journal and the other things. Then he moved about the room, snuffing the candles and torches, leaving only the candle on my bedside table lit, the flame still behind its curved glass protection. He brought over the ointment and, after propping my poor feet on their pillow, treated them once more.

  I considered the change of activities with some bemusement. Finished with my feet, Nakoa unbuckled the belt Jepp had given me, returned the blade I’d forgotten to its sheath, and set it by my pillow with a quirk of his mouth and a cocked eyebrow.

  Then he regarded my torn gown, hanging in tatters around my waist. Fisting his hands in the cloth, he tore it down the middle, leaving me clad only in the silky pantalets the ladies had given me. I gasped and, ridiculously, tried to cover myself there, too. “Please, Nakoa—no.”

  His dark gaze found mine, opaque, with something like frustration in it, but also resignation. The Nahanauns were casual with their nudity, more like the Tala. Not at all how I’d come up. I’d been naked in front of other people more here than ever in my life. There hadn’t been ladies to wait on me, or any family to be casual with.

  I didn’t know how to handle this. My nails had left red scratches on Nakoa’s shoulders from my passionate frenzy of only moments before, but I blushed furiously now, unable to meet his eyes.

  To my surprise, he sighed and drew the sheet over me and placed a kiss in the center of my forehead. Drawing the gauzy curtains closed, to protect me from the biting bugs, he gave me a slow smile full of some satisfaction, though the prominence of his unsated manhood gainsaid that. Without a word, he blew out the candle and left.

  It was a long time before my throbbing body cooled enough for me to sleep.

  Inoa was not happy with me.

  She made that much clear with her disapprovingly pursed lips and the terse orders she gave her ladies as they helped me bathe and dress. I assumed she knew Nakoa and I had not fully consummated the marriage. Which I might as well call it, as that seemed to be the case. Even if I could have explained to her, I would not have wanted her to know more than she clearly already did. It wasn’t her business, what Nakoa and I did or did not do together.

  Besides, it hadn’t been my decision. Nakoa had done a thorough job of seducing me, very little of it attributable to the liquor in the end. I would have let him finish the job, no doubt. A few more of those devastating kisses and I’d have crumbled.

  I didn’t know why he’d stopped for sure, except possibly out of consideration for me. Maybe because of my feet. More likely due to my obvious trepidation. Certainly not out of a lack of desire. Unless he’d taken that impressive erection elsewhere.

  The thought annoyed me unreasonably, making me feel as cranky as Inoa was behaving.

  When Nakoa arrived with my fresh garland, she shooed the ladies out, shut the door, and lit into him, waving her hands as she berated him, tossing me a glare every once in a while for good measure. Nakoa waited her out with obvious patience, affection in his expression. She wound down and he said something in a gentle tone, but firm.

  Something that set her back, because she shook her head and left.

  Though I was fully dressed, the heated interest in Nakoa’s eyes raked me as if I still lay there naked before him. “Greetings, mlai,” he said, shading it toward morning and pleasant weather. Indeed, it looked glorious outside, the ocean breeze sweet and cool.

  “Greetings,” I echoed him, sitting up from the pillows so he could trade my wilted garland for the fresh one.

  He put a finger under my chin, raising it and looking stern, an exceedingly daunting sight on his already brooding visage. “Mlai.”

  I frowned back, steeling my spine. “I’m not saying it when I don’t know what it means. I already got myself into this fix by going along and being polite. You won’t cow me into doing everything you want.” I used mostly Common Tongue, substituting words from his language where I knew them.

  Narrowing his eyes, he leaned closer, changing the grip on my chin to a feathering caress down my throat that made me shiver, melting what little steel I’d mustered. “Mlai,” he insisted, his breath whispering the word over my lips, hovering there.

  “Nakoa.” I’d gone breathless, my body responding to him with a savage hunger for a replay of the delights of the night before.

  “Yes. Nakoa. Mlai.”

  I pressed my lips together, clinging to that much stubbornness. He laughed, a soft sound under his breath, and brushed my lips with his, as sweet and gentle as the morning breeze. I tried to hold firm, but he continued to coax me with teasing kisses, urging me to open, with both the word and caresses that made me forget what I’d been thinking. With a sigh, I opened my mouth, letting my tongue tangle languidly with his, forgetting that I’d been drawing a line and losing myself in the heat of desire.

  He kissed me long and thoroughly, then broke off with a look of regret, gesturing to the windows, indicating he had to go. I surprised myself with the sting of disappointment. Of course he had things to do. Goddesses knew, I had extensive experience with how much Ursula packed into any given day. Once I’d been in the thick of it, too. Useful. Not bedridden and essentially only valued for being Nakoa’s . . . whatever I was.

  I needed to do more than that. Be more.

  I picked up my journal and held it out, pretended to read it, then drew a stack of books, along with shelves showing scrolls. Nakoa tilted his head, seeming surprised, then nodded crisply and indicated he’d carry me. I gathered my things and piled them on my lap, and he scooped me up. This time his hand passed familiarly over my breast, where my nipple still peaked from those stirring kisses.

  “Hey!” To cover my response, I smacked him on the chest, which might as well have been a wall, for all the impact I made.

  He grinned at me, almost boyish, completely unrepentant. “Mlai,” he reminded me.

  “Yes, yes, I heard you.” I tried to sound grumpy, but in truth that smile dazzled me. A rare, full smile of warmth and maybe even affection. “But I’m still not saying it.”

  He adjusted me in his arms, lifting me a bit higher and cuddling me against him, then nuzzling my temple, making nibbling noises. Against all probability, I giggled. Tried to pull it back to being serious, but the giddiness of his attention made me feel slightly drunk. A playful Nakoa was more difficult to resist than a thunderous one.

  Pleased with himself, he carried me out of the room, assuming his usual stern expression as soon as we passed through the doors. How much of that was a mask he wore? People bustled through the halls, much busier at this time of day. Several times courtiers or possibly nobles, judging by their dress and bearing, stopped him to ask questions. They acknowledged me politely but paid no more attention than the occasional curious glance as Nakoa answered questions and gave instructions. Something about other islands and birds. Some of his good cheer dimmed with news people brought, concern creasing his formidable brow.

  Frustrating not to know everything discussed as I normally would.

  In this piecemeal way, we made our way to a part of the palace I’d not yet been in. A servant hastened to open double doors for us—unusual, as not that many rooms I’d seen that weren’t bedchambers had doors at all. By that point, guilt ridd
led me for taking up so much of the king’s time on an obviously busy day. Of course if he’d delegate my carting about to someone else, he wouldn’t have this problem.

  I caught my breath at my first sight of the library. It was enormous—by far the largest I’d ever seen, with standing shelves in rows holding hardbound books, as well as lining the walls, and doors opening into more rooms beyond. Cabinets with shallow drawers probably held maps or documents that couldn’t be rolled. Others likely held scrolls. Though there were windows, these were the first I’d seen with glass in them. A controlled environment, to keep the damp from ruining the paper—a concept the Tala had cared little for. The amount of knowledge collected there was incalculable. More, it told me the Nahanauns cared about preserving these materials. Nothing was more important than that.

  If I could have stood, I’d have jumped for joy.

  “Yes?” Nakoa asked and I gave him a radiant smile, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.

  “Yes! Thank you.” Impulsively, I kissed his cheek and he turned his head to capture my mouth in a longer, lingering kiss. Several people had gathered at the king’s arrival, so I pulled away, self-conscious, and he raised his brows in wry amusement. Striding over to a table, he gave instructions to a man who listened intently, nodding and throwing me interested looks. He had the same graceful beauty as Inoa, with dark hair long enough that he tied it back with a colorful ribbon. Nakoa set me on a chair and a servant ran up with a cushioned stool for my feet. It took a bit of arranging, but they got me situated at the desk, with my feet propped up beneath.

  Nakoa opened my journal to a blank page, tapping it and raising his brows in inquiry. I showed him my map of the Twelve and tried sketching one of a series of islands, marking one with a volcano. With his sharp mind, Nakoa grasped what I wanted quickly, giving orders the others scurried to follow. They all seemed thoroughly intimidated, which made me feel better for my lack of spine with him. Seeing Inoa’s attitude had skewed my perceptions. Nakoa tapped the page again and I tried to think of a way to explain what I needed.