by Patti O'Shea
“Yeah, but I can’t seem to concentrate for long.” Understatement. It only took seconds for his thoughts to wander to Bug.
She nodded, face serious, then asked, “What about the thieves? Won’t my talking give away our position?”
“There’s a dampening effect in the pyramid. If you keep your voice soft, we should be okay.” There was a long silence. “Help me out here.”
Kendall shrugged. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Anything. Tell me about the toughest field hockey match you played, or your favorite birthday. Heck, repeat the info you gave me on the smuggling ring. It doesn’t matter.”
There was another short pause, and then she started telling him about the temple. The longer she went on, the more enthusiastic she became and the more enthusiastic Bug got, the more his mood soured. Damn it, he’d competed with the fucking temple once before; did he have to do it again? How many times had Berkant asked Zolianna to run off with him? And each time, she’d stalled him. The excuses were always good ones, but what it really boiled down to was that she had ties to this pile of rock and wasn’t willing to sever them. Sometimes he’d even wondered whether she loved the temple more than she’d loved him.
“Ow!” Wyatt rubbed his ribs. “Your elbow is sharp.”
“You told me to make sure you paid attention.” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Since you’re not interested in the temple, I guess I better find another topic. Did you want to discuss the cave analogy in Plato’s Republic?”
He groaned; he couldn’t help it, and Kendall laughed. Some of the tension eased from him. If she was teasing, then she wasn’t pulling back—his chief concern. “Why don’t we try something less intellectual?”
Without missing a beat, Bug said, “How ‘bout them Cowboys?”
“Low blow, darlin’. Even if you don’t enjoy watching, football involves a lot of strategy.”
“It’s hard to notice that when there are so many penalties. Any sport that has cheating on every play isn’t worth wasting time on. But baseball—now that’s the thinking-person’s game.”
“We’ve argued this a few times already.”
“For someone who said talk about anything, you’re pretty picky.” Bug shook her head. “We could discuss the inlay of crystals. One thing keeps bothering me. That pearly-looking stone? It’s selenite.”
“What’s the big deal about selenite?”
“It’s a really soft stone, like a two or so on the Mohs’ Scale. To put it in perspective, diamonds are a ten, and talc is a one. If you were going to take the time to create mosaics from gems, wouldn’t you go with the harder ones?”
Wyatt shrugged. “What do you think it means?”
“This has been nagging at me, but I finally remembered something interesting. Gypsum formation is tied to precipitation with a high saline content. I’m wondering if the aliens didn’t use that association with rain to indicate where water was inside the temple. Like an arrow pointing thataway, you know?”
“Salt water isn’t potable.”
“Don’t be so literal,” Kendall said, then began explaining the properties of selenite and gypsum.
As she spoke, something flew past his head. Wyatt blinked as he looked around, trying to identify it. He didn’t see anything, so he took another, more careful scan. Nothing. He glanced at Bug, but she seemed oblivious as she talked rocks.
Wyatt heard a noise and tuned her out as he tried to identify it. The buzzing had an inhuman quality to it, yet it sounded oddly familiar. He was still trying to figure out why when something hit his arm.
Almost dispassionately, he checked it out. A beetle about two inches long had landed on him, and Wyatt flicked it away. As he watched it hit the wall, he felt a sting on his nape, and reached back to brush his neck. Another large beetle fell at his feet. He stepped on it, making it crunch as he crushed it.
A third beetle flew at his head, and Wyatt swatted at it, trying to knock it down. He got it, but dozens of others swarmed at him. Kendall—how was she doing? He looked over at her, but none of the deep brown bugs were bothering her.
In the time it took to glance over, the number of flying insects had swollen to hundreds—shit, maybe thousands—and they were dive-bombing him. They seemed intent on finding bare skin, and when they landed, they bit. The wounds burned painfully, and Wyatt slapped at the beetles with less control. Kendall’s voice sounded urgent, but he couldn’t make out the words, and could only guess that the bugs were attacking her now too. He couldn’t check on her, though, not while he was fighting his own battle.
They were going for his face, for his eyes. Wyatt’s agitation increased, and his swipes became wilder. He crushed the ones that he sent to the floor, but no matter how many he killed, reinforcements arrived to take their places.
Hundreds of thousands of beetles flew and crawled and scuttled through the hall. It would take a flame thrower to make a dent in their numbers, and each bite seemed to rip pain through his muscles, right down to the bones. He had to protect Kendall. Her skin was so soft, this must be complete agony for her.
“Wyatt!” Kendall sounded frantic, and he fought harder. He had to help her. Had to.
Something—someone—gripped him from behind, their arms imprisoning his own at his sides. He began to break the hold, to answer the threat, but thankfully, Wyatt recognized Kendall’s touch a split second before he reacted.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“The beetles,” he said. But as he looked around, he realized they’d disappeared when Kendall had grabbed him.
“What beetles?”
“The ones that were attacking us.”
She released her hold and moved so she stood in front of him. “Wy,” Kendall said in a carefully neutral tone, “there were no beetles. You know there aren’t any insects in the Old City.”
Chapter Ten
Kendall enjoyed these quiet moments with her lover. They sat on the floor, his back against the sofa and her knees resting against his thigh as she was turned toward him. In the two seasons she’d been High Priestess, they’d found it easier to be together, not more difficult. Of course she had greater privacy now than she’d had earlier. But no matter how often they were with each other, it wasn’t sufficient.
She studied Wyatt—his handsome face with the crooked smile; how his golden eyes shimmered with intelligence, and with love for her; the way his dark hair hung loosely, brushing his shoulders as he gestured. Wyatt didn’t have golden eyes and she’d never seen his hair this long, though. A frisson of unease shuddered through her, but she pushed it aside. In her heart she felt this was Wyatt. Kendall smiled as her emotions welled. How she loved him! Had always loved him.
“What amuses you?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m merely happy.” She reached out, ran her fingers through his silky tresses, then closed the distance between them to kiss him gently. Their lips clung for an instant as she eased away. She wished this was usual—sitting together and talking—but she didn’t say it aloud. It was her fault they’d been unable to share a normal life.
“I saw you yesterday,” Kendall told him. “You were handsome in your uniform, far superior to any other in the Guard.”
He smiled. “You might be a bit biased.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed, returning his smile, “but that’s my prerogative. You’re the man I love.”
When this kiss ended, Kendall rested her head on Wyatt’s shoulder. The suite assigned to the High Priestess was feminine, yet her lover was just as comfortable here as he was in the masculine atmosphere of the City Guard. If it were up to her, there would be fewer frills, but she was no more than a temporary resident. At the end of her child-bearing years, she’d step aside for the next leader—and her obligation to the temple would be fulfilled. She held that in her thoughts, knowing that someday she’d be able to love him openly and live with him always.
With a sigh, she snuggled into Wyatt’s side, relishing the strength of his arms as
he held her. That day seemed a long distance off—too long when she remembered the nights without him or thought about the way they were forced to hide their feelings.
There were days when she wondered whether she was being fair to him. Days she wondered if perhaps she should free him, allow him to find another. She’d only seen her thirtieth season and could easily be tied to the temple for another fifteen or twenty. If he remained true to her, he would never have a child of his own. Kendall felt her chest ache at the thought of never carrying his babe, but her lot was cast; his was not. Wyatt could find another, mate with her, have children with her.
“What troubles you?” he asked, and she wasn’t a bit surprised that he’d discerned her thoughts—from the time they’d been small children, the two of them had been close enough to read each other’s emotions.
Kendall didn’t want to tell him why she was sad—not when it might lead to an argument. Instead, she chose a different concern. “I wish the temple had a better relationship with the lord and lady. Always we seem to be at odds, and yet we share a common goal, the welfare of our people.”
“You’ve had another disagreement with our rulers?”
“When I saw you yesterday,” Kendall said, “I was on my way to their residence for a meeting. Were you aware that Lord Kale and Lady Meriwa wish to build another community?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Why do that when we could double our population and yet live comfortably within the city?”
“My question exactly, and they had no good answer.” She sat straighter, reluctantly moving from his embrace. “They maintain that by this time the other colonies had begun to erect a second city, and so must we. Yet we’ve adequate space inside our walls, and there is no need to build. Even their own estimates show that at our current birthrate, it is unnecessary to begin another compound for at least fifty seasons. They were unhappy when I said the temple would not grant blessing on this endeavor.”
“I imagine not,” Wyatt said. “Without your consecration, no one will agree to labor on the new city.”
“The previous High Priestess had the same difficulty with them.”
His arm went around her shoulders, and he gave her a brief hug.
“Why do they not listen to me when I only want what’s best?”
Wyatt laughed. “They probably ask the same of you.”
She grinned, not bothered by his statement. “That’s different. How do you manage to get along so well with them?”
“Love, the Guard is under the command of the lord and lady. Besides, I don’t deal with them directly.”
Tilting her head slightly, she considered that. The city was divided into quadrants, and each section held troops led by a captain who reported to the Guard Commander. Wyatt was one of these captains—his quadrant contained the temple—and his high rank guaranteed he had more interaction with Lord Kale and Lady Meriwa than his answer suggested.
“You’ll have to confer with them regularly when you’re named Guard Commander,” Kendall told him.
“That won’t happen.”
“How can you say that? You’re the most skilled of the captains, and I’m not the only one who believes this.”
Wyatt climbed to his feet and walked across the room. “You’re aware the Guard is largely ceremonial, and skills in fighting are less important than appearance.”
Kendall shifted to her knees in order to face him. “And even in that regard you’re the natural choice. Gustus is aware of your talent for diplomacy, your tact, and your ability to defuse volatile situations. When he names his successor in a year or perhaps two, he will certainly choose you.”
“He won’t, but it’s unimportant.”
Her heart began to pound hard enough to make her chest hurt. “Why do you believe he won’t name you?”
Shaking his head, Wyatt said, “It matters not.”
Kendall stood, went to him. “Why?”
For a long moment, there was nothing save silence. Then he said quietly, “Gustus believes a man who has a mate is more stable, less likely to react rashly, than a man without.”
His response wasn’t unexpected, but Kendall had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. From the time they’d been children, Wyatt had wanted to be part of the City Guard, and luckily, his skill test had matched his interest.
As a young man, he’d spoken of his desire to one day be the commander, and yet he’d not achieve his goal—because of her. She wanted to cry at the unfairness. Not only had she lost her dream because of the temple, but now she was costing him his as well.
Reaching out, she clasped his hands with both of hers. “I love you,” she told him, voice fierce. “I love you with all that I am, and I want you to have everything of which you’ve dreamed. If you found another, a woman free to be your mate, you could be Guard Commander.” Tears started to roll down her cheeks, but she didn’t release him to brush at them. “Find someone else you can love, take her as your mate, have children. You should be a father.”
Unable to bear the thought, Kendall pivoted, her hands coming up to cover her face, but he stopped her, turned her until she met his gaze once more.
“You hold my heart, and I’ll settle for no other.” Wyatt pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and, mouth against her ear, whispered, “I love you. I told you that before I took you as my mate—do you forget so easily?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing!” she insisted. “But our ceremony was not officiated by a priestess or attended by our families. As far as the world is concerned, we are not mated.”
“Do you consider us mated?”
“That’s neither here nor there.”
“Do you consider us mated?”
There was no mistaking the demand; he wouldn’t stop asking until she answered. For an instant, she considered lying—it was the only way he’d walk away from her—but Kendall couldn’t do it. Never had she told him anything save the truth. “Yes.”
The tension in him eased, and she could feel his muscles slacken even as he gathered her closer. “I feel the same.”
“But we were children,” she argued.
Putting her from him, he reached for her chin and tipped her face to his. “I was old enough to be a member of the Guard. You were old enough to enter the temple the next day. We both knew what we were doing. I was aware that you’d be a priestess for thirty seasons or more. I wanted no other then, and I want no other now. I stood on that hillside beside you and took vows. I’ll honor them until I die; don’t ever think otherwise.”
“I want what’s best for you.”
“You’re what’s best for me.” And he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, but hot, demanding—as if he were trying to impress upon her how much he desired her. How much he loved her.
He had her free of her garments in moments, and his own were shed just as quickly. Wyatt knew her body well after so many seasons, and knew what aroused her the fastest. He employed every bit of his knowledge, until her body writhed against his as she sought completion. “Hurry,” she whispered, “join with me.”
“Not yet.”
His hair hung damply, sweat covered his body, and his muscles quivered as he fought for control. She knew he wanted his completion every bit as much as she wanted hers. “Why?”
“Promise me something first.”
As his tip nudged the center of her pleasure, she gasped, and arched her hips, inviting him to enter her. “What?” Kendall asked, but she was too busy trying to incite him past the limits of his self-command to hear his answer. “What did you say?”
“I said, come away with me.” His voice was a growl, but she was unsure whether the frustration was sexual or because she hadn’t been listening. “We can live outside the city easily.”
“I cannot.” He’d asked her so many times, in so many different ways, but this was the first time he’d used her need for him as a weapon against her.
“Yes, you can—we both can.” Wyatt moved his hips against hers, sliding his shaft
against her cleft. The friction was delicious, and kept her on the edge, but it wasn’t enough to push her over. “Leave with me.”
“I have obligations. The temple—”
“Do you know how weary I am of hearing of the temple?” he snarled. “You always choose it over me.” He rolled off her, and Kendall inhaled sharply as cool air hit her overheated body.
“I’ve never chosen the temple over you,” she protested as she sat up. He still had his erection, and she knew that pulling away from her hadn’t been easy for him.
“You think not?” He turned his head where it rested on the floor to give her a hard stare. “How many times have I asked you to leave with me? You always refuse.”
“It’s not that easy.” Before he could prevent it, she straddled him and guided him inside her body. His hips arched as she sank down, and Kendall moaned softly—part arousal, part the sense of tightness she felt only when they were joined. “I took an oath the day I was brought into the temple as a novitiate.” She undulated against him. “I took another oath when I became priestess and a third when I ascended to High Priestess.”
“I took an oath too when I joined the Guard.”
Kendall leaned forward to rub her breasts against the solid planes of his chest, to press kisses against his throat, his jaw, his lips. “A different vow.” Her voice rose on the last word as he thrust upward.
His arms wrapped around her, and he rolled, putting her beneath him again. Wyatt stroked into her harder, and she savored each plunge. Closing her eyes as the sensations increased, Kendall wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to drive deeper. They both moaned, the conversation forgotten as they touched and tasted each other.
Finally, the arousal grew too intense, and Kendall opened her eyes so she could see him as she reached her peak. Although her rooms blocked all sound, she pressed her mouth against his shoulder to smother her cries. Wyatt was also quiet as he found his pleasure, and she gathered him close as he finished.
As she ran her hands across the damp flesh of her lover, Kendall considered their silence. No doubt it was habit now, a holdover from the many nights they’d coupled in secluded glens or other hidden places where a cry could bring discovery down upon them. Their society might be peaceful now, but in days long past, such hadn’t been the case, and remnants of those less civilized times were still with them.
