The door closed behind them with a quiet click. It was a grand room, dominated by a bed made of the pale lumber from Spindlerswood.
In it, asleep, lay Thalia.
Bharia let go a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She started toward the bed, only to check herself. Thalia looked peaceful, at rest. She appeared unharmed. And Bharia would not have her wake.
A warm hand between her shoulder blades. Stahg’s comfort. “She is well, Bharia.”
Thalia shifted in her sleep, her brow puckered. Bharia bit her lip. Stahg was correct. She appeared well.
“I was concerned,” Stahg said.
Surprise made Bharia glance at him. “You were?”
Gaze shifting from Thalia to her, he said, “She is my charge, too.”
Those blue eyes held hers, the faintest of warmth in their icy depths while his hand moved in the slightest of circles. The air felt thick between them. Her breath stuttered, chest tightening as a heavy pulse began between her thighs.
Slow, his hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping the bone. She lost herself in blue, her heart racing, her skin tingling, all of her focus on where he was touching her, the warmth of his hands.
Thalia shifted, opening her eyes to blink blearily at them.
Breaking their gaze, Bharia stepped back, trying to get herself under control. The princess had awoken, and focus must be on her.
Confusion creased Thalia’s brow. Quickly it cleared and with an excited shriek, she launched herself from the bed, throwing an arm about them each. Stahg awkwardly patted her on the back, but Bharia returned Thalia’s embrace, fiercely glad the princess was again within reach. Then, she started on the admonishments.
Thalia bore it well, grinning all the while. Disentangling himself, Stahg moved to the door, but she could feel his eyes on them…and she could still feel his touch against her skin.
***
Hand half raised to knock, Bharia hesitated. Perhaps it was better to return to her room. Perhaps he did not wish to be disturbed, and she would be well served to leave him be.
No. These thoughts were ridiculous. Exhaling forcefully, she knocked.
Stahg opened the door, naked to the waist, his chest rising and falling with quickened breath. Sweat slicked his skin, his musculature defined. Her mouth dried.
She couldn’t help but to run her gaze over him, a lick of heat curling low in her belly.
“Bharia?” Her gaze snapped to his. Colour rode high on his cheeks, his gaze determinedly locked on her eyes. “Do you enter?”
“Yes, of course.” She slipped past him, noting his chamber was much the same as the one she’d been assigned. Wandering about the room, she allowed her touch to travel over the armchair. He’d pushed it aside, obviously to do some training drills.He had averted his gaze, staring at something to the side. “What are you wearing?” he said gruffly.
She looked down at herself. She was wearing her sleep shift, the thin fabric hitting her mid-thigh and held up by two thin straps at her shoulders, something he’d seen her wear a hundred times before. “It is what I sleep in. You have seen it before.”
“Do you not have a robe?” The colour riding high on his cheeks had darkened to a ruddiness.
Her brows drew. “Why do I need a robe? It is not cold.”
Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here?”
Bristling, she said, “If you do not wish me here, I will leave.”
“No, that is not what I said—” He exhaled. “Stay, Bharia.”
She nodded.
An awkward silence rose. Wrapping her arms about her stomach, she drank him in. They could have been separated today. They could have been sent to opposite corners of the world, and she would never have seen him. They might, on occasion, have crossed journeys, at the Guard’s Keep or on the road, but it could have been years between one meet and the next. The thought had made her sick.
So, finally, she had admitted what she wanted. She wanted him. Above all, she wanted him at her side, as more than a partner. As partner and lover both.
“I do not like being alone,” she said
Her words rang through the chamber, too loud and too sudden. Fighting the heat that rose on her cheeks, she raised her chin. “I missed you.”
He had told her to ask, to let him know when his help was required. So here she was, standing before him and asking...For eight years, he had been by her side, never more than a few strides away and tonight...tonight he was too far from her.
Annoyance crossed his features. “And this is the reason you have come to my chamber?”
“No.” She took a breath. “We have been together most nights for eight years. It is odd without you present.”
His lips twisted. “So it was because of familiarity.”
“No.” Frustration filled her, at the eloquence she lacked. Outside, a gentle breeze pushed through chimes. Moonlight from the narrow window lit his face, creating hollows and shadows to shroud him in mystery. Never had she known what he thought, but only now when he was a complete mystery did she realise she had always known more than she believed.
Enough of this dithering. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I wish to start a relationship.”
The blood drained from his face. “You do?” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I do.” Her brow furrowed. She had not expected this reaction.
Still pale, he rubbed the back of his neck. Muscle bulged at his bicep, and drew her gaze like a lodestone. She wet her lips.
“When do you wish to start this relationship?” he asked.
“Now.” Most definitely now.
He nodded, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “And you have found someone?”
What did he— By the maiden, no. No. Of a sudden, his reaction made painful sense. Dismay pierced her as she rushed to say,“Stahg, with you. I wish to start a relationship with you.”
For the longest moment, all was still between them. The chimes played outside , a reedy accompaniment.
Two strides, and he was before her. She tilted her head. She was tall, but he was taller. Staring down at her, his eyes searched hers. She wet her lips again. Cupping her face, he brushed her cheeks with his thumbs as he lowered his head.
His lips whispered over hers, unexpectedly soft. He tasted like cloves and cinnamon. Eyes drifting shut, she tangled her fingers in his hair, allowing him to tease her lips open. As his tongue slid into her, his taste exploded through her. Cinnamon and cloves.
She knew outside there were chimes and wind, but all was centred on him, and how he felt finally in her arms. She breathed him in, an intoxicating mix of skin and soap. She wanted to devour him, but more she wanted this, this languorous sweetness, the slow build and the sense of finally…. Finally…
A soft nuzzle, another, and then it changed. Lightening sparked within her, racing to her breasts, her thighs. One muscled arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her closer. Her breath grew sharp, such that her chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn’t get enough of his taste, his touch, the feel of him beneath her fingers. His harsh breath mingled with hers as they kissed again and again. From breast to thigh her body pressed against his, and she revelled in it, revelled in the feel of him finally, finally against her. She felt him, long and thick and hard against her belly, and she wanted him inside her, wanted him deep.
The edge of the bed pushed against the back of her thighs and she sank onto it, Stahg following her to cover her body with his. Wrapping her legs about him, she moaned as he pressed against her, moulding her hand to one hard, muscled shoulder as she dug her fingers into his skin.
With a groan, he pulled back, his forehead against hers.
Their breath mingled, the air electric around them. This would change all between them, and they knew it. Other guardians were lovers as well as partners, but it had never been them. Never been Bharia and Stahg.
“You are certain?” His thumb caressed her cheek.
&n
bsp; “Yes,” she said, and pulled him again to her
Fight
“You are smiling.”
Bharia’s hand stilled on Stahg’s bare chest. She had not realised she was.
“What do you have to smile about, guardian?” Stahg’s words contained the barest hint of laughter, and she knew if she were to glance, the smallest of quirks would lift his well-shaped lips.
His skin smooth and warm beneath her cheek, she again traced a pattern on his chest. “I will have nothing if you do not cease such an inquiry.”
“You must have a reason for your smile.”
Without warning, she attacked. With a snort, he flinched away from her hands, grabbing her tickling fingers in his strong grip. “I concede, I concede. Cease, Bharia.”
Grinning, she did as he begged, settling again to his side. All was quiet, she tracing again her pattern and he stroking her hair.
Black strands slipped through his fingers to pool on his chest. “I never thought to see it down.”
She had never thought they would be together like this, his naked chest beneath her cheek as she listened to the beat of his heart. “I do not often have it loose.”
Making a noise of assent, he wound his hand again through her hair.
For a moment, she watched in silence, the slight tug against her scalp a balm. “It is too long,” she finally said. “I do not know why I keep it so.”
“I like it. Bharia and her braid. It is you.”
“If I cut it, I would still be me.”
“Yes, but no longer would you be Bharia and her braid.”
“And this is so important?”
“No. Tis only…I like your hair.”
She smiled into his chest. “So do I. I have not cut it in all these years and I will not now begin.”
He grunted, smoothing her hair down her back.
A month they had been lovers and for a month they had trained and guarded Thalia during the day, but at night they were together.
The dull light from the lamp by the bed flickered, the groaning generators reminding her of the lateness of the hour. They always groaned so as the servants stirred to work, straining the system as they ran their errands. “I should return to my chamber.”
His arms tightened about her. “Why?”
“Because it is my chamber.” Kissing his chest, she pushed herself from him, swinging her legs out of the bed.
“That is not a reason.”
Pulling her sleep shift over her head, she glanced back. He’d shifted, sitting with his back against his pillow, his gaze watchful.
Gathering her hair, she swiftly began to braid. “I cannot stay here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cannot.” Though they had been lovers a month, she had been reluctant to tell others of their relationship. She had broached it with him, stating they should keep it to themselves. He had said nothing, but Stahg always said nothing. Rarely did she know his thoughts, and little of his emotions. She knew he cared for her, of certain he did, but she was also certain he did not feel as she did. If—when— he wished to return to friendship, the fewer who knew the better. “Why are you questioning this, Stahg?”
“Who have you told, Bharia?”
She blinked at the sudden swerve in conversation. Seemingly relaxed, Stahg leaned against the utilitarian headboard of the bed, but she knew him. She knew he was not. “Told?”
“Of us.”
She flipped her braid over her shoulder. “No one.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No one.” In an explosion of movement, he swung out of the bed. “We have been together this last month, Bharia, and yet we have told no one.”
“We agreed we would not. I have just said—”
“I know what you said. And we did not agree. You stated, and I said nothing.” Shoving his legs into his trousers, he swore as the fabric became tangled.
Eyes wide with disbelief, she watched him. Never before had she seen him in such a state. Always he was calm, collected, such that she wanted to throw a rock at his head most days. To see him such…It disturbed her to see him such.
And what did he mean, he had not agreed? “You always say nothing.”
He did not respond. Finally winning the war against cloth, he paced the room, running his hands over his hair. The blond strands lying disordered on his brow. “I have not courted anyone with any seriousness and neither have you.”
“We were on tour.”
“No!”
The word thundered through the room. She started, every muscle tense.
Visibly restraining himself, he turned to her. Intense blue eyes held her captive. “I had you,” he said
Breaking their gaze, she said, “We were not together.”
“We may as well have been. Tell me true, were you tempted by any you courted?”
No. She never had been. She’d had Stahg. “And who would I tell, Stahg? Who would be desirous of this knowledge?”
“The guard master. The warden. Your family.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Thalia.”
“I do not think we have a need to tell Thalia.” With the number of knowing looks and sly remarks Thalia had thrown their way, it was a certainty she knew.
“But we did not tell her and we have not confirmed.”
“What matter is it that we have not specifically told her? She knows.”
“But you have not told anyone. You have not set them down and said, I am with Stahg.”
“But…we agreed.”
“I did not agree,” he thundered.
Wide-eyed, she stared. Never had she seen such passion from him. Anger began a burn in her. Stalking toward him, she demanded, “And you? Who have you told?”
He didn’t move, staring down at her. “I would tell all. I would tell my mother, my father, my brother and my sisters. I would tell the guard master, the guardians in this house, the warden. I would tell the king. I would tell Thalia. I would tell all, Bharia.”
She could not think. She did not know why she had told no one, only that she had not. Thalia knew without words, and she was not close to her family. The warden only need be told should they decide to make their bond permanent, and the others in their garrison….She had not seen them for over seven years. She had no close relationships, save him. Why would she tell them?
But that was neither here nor there. What did it matter? “It is of no issue.”
“It is of issue!” he roared. “You will allow me in your bed, but you will not allow me any further. We are not partners, Bharia. I am merely someone you fuck.”
She sucked in a breath. She had never heard him swear. Never. And to reduce them to such a term… “We are not. You are not.”
“What else am I to think? You will tell none of us, and you leave before dawn.”
She didn’t know what to say. A pressure began in her chest, one that strangled. He could not believe such things. She did not think of him such. She did not. “You know you are not that. You know.”“Do not tell me what I know.”
A faint thread of annoyance wound through her at his words. She grabbed at it, any emotion preferable to this ache in her chest. “Now you are being petulant.”
“Am I?” Stepping forward, he broadened his chest and bent his neck, looming over her.
He was everything to her. A hole opened in her chest, gaping wide. She stopped it with formality.
“Do not think to intimidate me, Stahg. You will not favour the results.”
His gaze shuttered. Anger bled from his features until his expression held nothing at all. “Go, then,” he said mechanically.
Something had gone terribly, horrible wrong. “Stahg—”
“I am tired, Bharia,” he said, with a finality she had never heard from him before.
What could she say to that? She left, painfully aware of his eyes upon her back. Upon reaching her chamber, she sank to her bed and placed her head in her hands.
What had just happened? It was incredible, this emotion from Stahg.
He was always taciturn and stern, never displaying a hint of feeling or thought. Through the years, she had learned to read him through the twitch of a brow or a flicker of a lid, but that was as a colleague and a guardian. As a lover, she had to learn all over again and he…he did not make it simple.
They had slipped from friends to lovers with no other changes besides they spent most nights in each other’s beds. She had not thought any further than that. She loved him, that was never in doubt. She had these last eight years and she would until she took her last breath. But Stahg…. She had no idea how he felt.
Lying back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling and could not sleep.
***
Laughter and music spilled from the ballroom, those who had already greeted the king and returned princess enjoying the festivities. The receiving line stretched into the distance of the Great Hall, a colourful array of gowns and finery as far as the eye could see, all in attendance to gawk at the princess, returned now to Queenstor a month.
From her position behind Thalia, Bharia kept watch. The princess greeted her guests, only the faintest pull of her smile indicating her fatigue and only those who knew Thalia well would recognise the signs of strain.
Stahg kept watch also, the mouth she knew to be mobile in the right circumstances set into a grim line, his pale skin and ice blond hair a shocking contrast to the black of the formal guardian uniform. The guardian uniform might be thought plain at first glance, but intricate embroidery in black thread adorned the breast and sleeves, proclaiming their rank and their story within the league. The great broadsword strapped to his back wore a new sheath, the formal scabbard made of black leather and carved with complicated patterns telling the legend of his sword. Her own daggers adorned her hips and boots, also encased in formal scabbards and telling their own tale.
Stahg and she had spoken about naught but their work these three days past, and she had slept in her own bed…or what little sleep her wretchedness would allow her. This distance hurt, as nothing had before. Never had there been a chill between them, and she did not know how to make it stop.
Awaken (Tales of Dormiraa Book 2) Page 3
