The Bastard’s Pearl

by Connie Bailey

  “Kiss me again,” Sheyn answered.

  Kashyan cradled the back of Sheyn’s head on his palm and took Sheyn’s mouth with a passion too long deferred. After opening the front of Sheyn’s tunic, Kashyan pulled it off Sheyn’s shoulders and down his arms. He tasted everything he’d bared as he made his way down Sheyn’s long neck to his collarbone. He turned Sheyn around and embraced him from behind to kiss a route along each bare shoulder, and back to the tender nape.

  Sheyn trembled in the blasts of heat that billowed outward from his center each time Kashyan’s lips brushed his flesh. Bolts of pleasure shot through him at every nip of Kashyan’s teeth, and when Kashyan sucked at his skin, his insides turned to quaking jelly. If not for Kashyan’s arm around his waist, Sheyn was sure he would fall to the floor. His reyl was hard and aching as Kashyan’s rigid length pressed to his backside.

  With a hand on the back of Sheyn’s neck, Kashyan bent him over the pile of cushions, putting both of them on their knees. Kashyan pulled up the hem of Sheyn’s tunic and ran a hand over Sheyn’s ass cheeks before he tucked his kilt up into his belt. He worked up some saliva and spat into his hand. After adding the moisture to the leaking tip of his jaavi, Kashyan gripped his rod and brought it to Sheyn’s dusky-rose opening. His heart pounded like Karkaran’s hooves in a battle charge, and he felt an emotion impossible to describe as he watched the head of his jaavi enter Sheyn. It was so overwhelming that for several moments he couldn’t move or even draw breath.

  The sensual warmth that enveloped Sheyn was pierced by a chill that shocked him back to his senses. Tensing at the sensation of terrible pressure, he fought to draw air into his lungs. Vast, dark wings beat the air, and he felt the brush of phantom feathers against his skin, the prick of sharp talons. And then he felt Kashyan’s soothing caresses that gentled the pain and tamed it. These were Kashyan’s hands that touched him with such eagerness, not those of a stranger. And Sheyn was no longer a child. He accepted that he wanted this, that it wasn’t being forced on him, and the claws of panic released him. He sailed free, as light as a mote in a sunbeam.

  Kashyan stopped with less than half his length in the reluctantly yielding channel. Drawing back, he reached for the dinner tray and dragged his fingers through a puddle of uvardin oil, smeared it on his shaft, and eased back in. The tight heat that hugged his jaavi urged him to thrust. And thrust again. And again and again as the delicious friction burned hotter and hotter, stoking his release.

  Sheyn tried to brace himself against the soft cushions as the feeling of intense fullness waxed and waned with each thrust. It was no longer painful, and the rhythmic rocking grew more pleasing with each stroke. A sound somewhat like a purr rose in his throat as he instinctively pushed back against the next thrust.

  Kashyan swallowed at the intense pang of pleasure that gripped him when Sheyn responded. He hadn’t been this aroused since the first time he’d had sex. And for the first time since then, he loosed his grip on a pleasure slave’s flank and reached under him.

  Sheyn shuddered as Kashyan squeezed his reyl, and a bone-deep pulse of pleasure shot through him. He mewled in a primal request for more, and Kashyan moved his hand in a pumping gesture. Sheyn cried out at the waves of bliss that tightened his groin.

  Kashyan’s world had shrunk to the feeling of silken skin under his fingertips, the clutching heat that massaged his jaavi, and his mate’s sounds of approval. He thrust faster and moved his hand up and down Sheyn’s hard length to the same tempo.

  Just when Sheyn thought he couldn’t take any more of the exquisite tension without flying into pieces, the biggest feeling he’d ever felt lifted him up and suffused his body and soul with pure ecstasy. It was so big that he couldn’t contain it all, and he sent it into the bond he shared with Kashyan.

  Kashyan came between one thrust and the next, holding tight to Sheyn as the strongest climax of his life hit him like a lightning strike. Pleasure rolled through him like a storm on the plains, leaving serenity in its wake. It was a long time before he realized he was still leaning on Sheyn’s back. “Pearl?”

  A soft snore answered Kashyan. He took hold of his spent jaavi and eased it out of Sheyn. As he moved away, Sheyn shifted, groaned, and opened his eyes.

  “Am I still in Kandaar?” he asked drowsily.

  Kashyan nodded.

  “Is the tornado gone?”

  Kashyan smiled. “I won’t lie,” he said. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

  “Nor I.” Sheyn yawned and closed his eyes and was asleep again in moments. His body still vibrated with pleasure, and he dreamed vague dreams of being topped on the grass under the sun, on a bed of swan feathers, on a boat on a slow-moving river, completely relaxed, warm, and aroused, savoring each thrust that filled him with feverish bliss. He moaned in his sleep and moved restlessly.

  Kashyan grew hard again as he watched Sheyn writhe among the cushions. He scooped the remainder of the oil from the dinner plates and coated his jaavi. Pinning Sheyn to floor on his back, Kashyan hooked Sheyn’s knees in the crooks of his arms and spread his legs wide. His lust blunted by the first bout, Kashyan took his time, thrusting in short, shallow strokes until Sheyn responded. Kashyan took hold of Sheyn’s stiffening rod and caressed it.

  The languid rocking merged with Sheyn’s half-awake dreams. He felt like he did in those times when he stroked himself to release before he fell asleep. Before long, he came in a glorious unfurling that left glistening traces on Kashyan’s scarred knuckles. His interior muscles clamped down on Kashyan’s hardness, and Kashyan buried his length in the tight heat. Snapping his hips, he thrust hard a handful of times and spurted in several powerful streams.

  With his seed unspooling deep inside Sheyn, Kashyan gathered him into his arms and held him tightly. “Pearl,” he whispered, making a vow of the name.

  Sheyn made a small sound as Kashyan’s cock shifted in his passage. Kashyan pulled out, and Sheyn hissed at the burning feeling as he twisted away from it. Kashyan put a hand on Sheyn’s thigh and murmured soothingly, and Sheyn settled down. After a moment, Sheyn let Kashyan pull him into a loose embrace.

  “Did I hurt you?” Kashyan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you took some pleasure in it.”

  “I did. There was more pleasure than pain.” Sheyn pushed his hair back from his face. “I enjoyed it even more the second time, but… I wish I’d been awake for it.”

  “It was sweet watching you slowly rouse to my touch.”

  “Still, I’d rather be consulted about when the lovemaking starts.”

  Kashyan gazed into Sheyn’s eyes in the dim light. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you had no training.” He paused. “Was that your first time?”

  “Yes,” he said, refusing to count the nightmare of his rape. It had nothing to do with his new life. In this world, he was someone called Pearl, who could do things Sheyn could not. “You are my first.”

  Kashyan wanted to be amused by the irony, but the feeling that welled up in his chest had nothing humorous in it. He felt a heart-bursting love and a fierce determination to protect this precious life bonded to his. The Bastard of Savaan snared by a daaksi. How Djenya would laugh if he were here.

  “Are you displeased?” Sheyn asked when Kashyan’s eyes darkened.

  “No.” Kashyan pulled Sheyn closer and buried his face in the pale, sweet-smelling hair. “I’m very pleased. If it was physically possible, I’d be riding you again right now.”

  Boldly, Sheyn reached down and cupped Kashyan’s crotch. “What will you give me if I make you rise again?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  Sheyn ran a fingernail the length of Kashyan’s shaft. Kashyan shivered with pleasure and closed his eyes for moment just as Luks had said he would. “I want a weapon,” Sheyn said.

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” Sheyn squeezed Kashyan’s sac, and Kashyan’s breath caught in his throat. Gro
wing more confident, Sheyn did as Luks advised and handled Kashyan’s reyl the same way he handled his own.

  “Ayeesh! There’s witchcraft in your touch,” Kashyan said.

  Sheyn was delighted to feel Kashyan growing harder. “And you could stand in for the town bull.” He paused. “What about the sword?”

  “What sword?” Kashyan said in a strained voice.

  Sheyn stopped moving his hand.

  “This isn’t honorable,” Kashyan said, but he was smiling. “We’ll talk about your sword in the morning. Will that be enough to please you?”

  Sheyn pumped his hand a few times, and Kashyan groaned in pleasure. Surging up from the pile of pillows, Kashyan bore Sheyn to the floor and rolled him onto his stomach. He pushed Sheyn’s thighs apart with his knees and then pushed into the stretched passage in one long glide. Sheyn moaned and whimpered as Kashyan thrust and withdrew. The blunt head of Kashyan’s shaft dragged over delicate tissues rendered sensitive by recent use and made Sheyn react each time it rubbed the front of his channel. Sheyn squirmed, thrashed, and bucked, and Kashyan leaned forward to hold him in place. Rolling and snapping his hips, Kashyan drove Sheyn to another peak before he spent himself in Sheyn’s sweet cleft. He fell asleep spooned against Sheyn’s back as he nuzzled his damp nape.

  Chapter 17

  KASHYAN WOKE at the sound of a knock. He picked up his sword, walked naked to the door, and opened it.

  “Sorry to wake you,” said the guard. “A message came for you.” He handed Kashyan a rolled up strip of heavy paper.

  Kashyan took the message and went back to sit on the mattress next to Sheyn. He unrolled the message and read the report from his new lieutenant. When he got to the end, he crumpled it in his fist and threw it across the room.

  Sheyn made a soft noise in his sleep, and Kashyan looked down at him. The faint light of the shielded lantern gilded the smooth contours of Sheyn’s face and body, half-covered, half-revealed by the fur blanket. Such profligate beauty, strewn before Kashyan’s gaze like a treasure of ivory and gold. It made his heart soar to know Pearl was his, but it sickened him to be in thrall to a daaksi’s charms. No matter how attractive, daaksim were formed around a core of spite, and their greatest delight was making others as miserable as they were. How could it be otherwise? If Kashyan hadn’t such cause to hate daaksim, he would feel sorry for the wretched creatures in their unnatural bondage.

  Sheyn stirred again, and Kashyan pulled his hand back, unsure when he’d begun stroking Sheyn’s silken hair. “Are you laughing at me, Djenya?” he murmured. “I wouldn’t blame you. I’d laugh too if this was mere lust, but he’s under my skin now, as dear to me as my own life. He may be a viper in the form of a swan, but he’s mine. I’m more sure of that than I’ve ever been of anything, and if this is my doom, I’ll have to bear it bravely.”

  Sheyn opened his eyes and saw Kashyan staring down at him. “Is it morning already?”

  “It’s early,” Kashyan said. “But if you’re the sort to linger over clothing yourself, you should get up.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Kholya’s morning briefing. Several interesting things happened last night.”

  Sheyn smiled as he sat up. “I know.” In truth, it hadn’t been such an ordeal. There had been some pain, but it had faded quickly, and the pleasure far outweighed it. He felt inordinately pleased with himself, as though he’d faced some great challenge and proven equal to it.

  “I wasn’t talking about our coupling.”

  “I’ll get dressed, then,” Sheyn said, his contentment withering in the coolness of Kashyan’s tone. He went into the next room and returned with his face freshly scrubbed. He took the black velvet robe from its peg and belted it around his waist. “I wish Luks was here.”

  Kashyan looked startled. “Why?”

  “I like the way he braids my hair.” Sheyn pulled his waist-length locks into a tail and looked about for a bit of ribbon.

  Kashyan unfastened his hair clasp from his belt and handed it to Sheyn, who took the hinged ring and clamped it around his hair. The silver was cool and heavy on his nape, an oddly sensuous feeling, and abruptly, he remembered the ring Aeriq had given him in another life. For a moment, the feeling of being hopelessly lost was so intense that tears sprang to Sheyn’s eyes. All the confidence he’d felt upon waking vanished like mist in the sun. What was the point of trying if he was doomed to live as some sort of bewitched slave?

  “What’s wrong?” Kashyan asked, his blood surging with the need to destroy whatever had put those tears in Pearl’s eyes.

  “I mourn for all those who pick a quarrel with you.” Sheyn threw his fur cape around his shoulders. For a moment, he’d despaired, but that mood had passed. He was Rosheyn Lir of House Merisolle, but he was also Pearl, and Pearl was a fighter. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  KASHYAN PAUSED outside the council room to caution Sheyn one more time. “You’ll hold your tongue, yes?”

  Sheyn nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  Kashyan sighed. He didn’t believe Sheyn was capable of curbing his tongue, but what could he do? He knew he was being nine kinds of fool, but he had no more control over his fate than Sheyn did. Whatever he might think of daaksim, the central truth of his universe was that Pearl was his and no one was going to take him away. The corollary was that Sheyn be always in his sight. If he couldn’t see Sheyn, how could he protect him? With another sigh, he opened the door and committed a breach of protocol when he led Sheyn inside. Kashyan went to his seat on Kholya’s right and sat down. Sheyn stood behind him, partially hidden by the high back of the chair, but close enough for Kashyan’s comfort. Kashyan ignored the stares of the council.

  Kholya leaned toward Kashyan and whispered behind his hand. “You brought your daaksi to this meeting?”

  “You see him at my side, don’t you?”

  Kholya recognized that tone in Kashyan’s voice. “You’ll set a new fashion, or bring back an old one,” he said before he faced the room again. “As you all know by now, a man sought sanctuary at our gate last night.” He called out to a guard. “Bring in the prisoner.”

  Kholya’s officers turned their eyes to the door as a pair of soldiers escorted a man into the chamber. Halfway across the floor, the stranger froze and stared at Sheyn.

  Sheyn had never seen this man before, but he felt a dark connection to him. Without knowing how he knew, he was certain this man had done him a grave wrong. “Who are you?” he demanded to know. At his outburst, Kholya’s officers broke into cries of disapproval.

  “Silence!” Kholya said loudly, and the racket ceased.

  “Thank you,” Kholya said before he turned to Sheyn. “Pearl, do you recognize him?” he asked, pointing at the man under guard.

  “I don’t,” Sheyn said reluctantly. “But he—”

  “Quiet,” Kholya said. “Yozif of Djenaes. How do you know this daaksi?”

  “I performed the ritual that changed him,” Yozif said.

  “You doomed me to life as a slave!” Sheyn shouted. “I want this man punished.”

  “Where is the crime in performing such a ritual?” Yozif asked.

  “I didn’t want to be part of your ritual!”

  Kashyan reached for Sheyn’s hand and touched nothing but air as Sheyn dodged aside.

  “Stop!” Kholya ordered with a glare in Sheyn’s direction.

  “Honor the bargain,” Kashyan said softly for Sheyn’s ears alone.

  Seething, Sheyn moved back behind Kashyan’s chair, out of sight of most of the officers.

  Kholya nodded permission to speak when his commander of foot soldiers cleared his throat.

  “A few senior officers have been discussing this problem, sir.”

  “What problem?”

  “The Bastard’s daaksi.”

  “Continue,” Kholya said, putting a hand on Kashyan’s forearm.

  “This foreigner’s behavior is unacceptable, and he’s inspired an unhealthy cult among some of the men
. They’re conducting unsanctioned raids to avenge his abduction by the priests.” The commander took a breath. “And he draws the demons to us.”

  Kholya’s grip tightened on Kashyan’s arm. “That certainly deserves a discussion, but just now, we’re questioning a man who came seeking sanctuary from the Red Temple. Can we continue with that business before dealing with something new?”

  The officer sat back down in his seat. “I beg your pardon. I’ll raise the subject again at a better time.”

  “Yozif,” Kholya said. “Tell me why you begged sanctuary at my gate.”

  “Gladly. I came to Muergath to perform a service for the king in exchange for gold. I was taken to the Red Temple and brought before Taankh’s high priest. He explained what was wanted and I did as he told me.”

  “What did he want of you?”

  “He needs daaksim for one of their rites.”

  “And you produced them for him?”

  Yozif nodded.

  “Idiot!” Kashyan said. “Don’t you realize you’re the one responsible for the demons? Those madmen use suffering as bait to summon those—”

  “No,” Yozif said “That would be a horrible perversion of Her gift. Sacrilege.”

  “So you really are that stupid,” Kashyan said.

  Kholya slapped a hand on the table. “I share my brother’s sentiments if not his bluntness. Surely you must have known Taankh’s servants would use the daaksim for an evil purpose.”

  “That—that is not my concern,” Yozif said.

  Kholya heard Sheyn’s swift intake of breath and he spoke quickly. “None of your concern? What sort of priest are you?”

  “That is between me and the Goddess.”

  Kholya’s lips thinned to a grim line. “Finish your tale. Your presence is beginning to irritate me.”

  Yozif swallowed. “High Priest Chanesh made more and more demands on me. I explained to him that I had no control over the magic, but he chose not to believe me. He had those heartless Red Monks bring in boys by the cartload and ordered me to perform the ritual on each of them. When the change didn’t happen often enough to please him, Chanesh grew so angry that I feared him more than any demon. When I saw a chance, I ran.”