by Anne Bishop
Jared closed his eyes and took a couple of deep, quiet breaths. He thought of the way Daemon’s hands glided over a woman’s body, coaxing, caressing. It became a slow, delicious dance that a woman was helpless to resist. It changed so subtly from cool water to fire she never had a chance to see the blaze before it consumed her in pleasure.
Smiling, Jared returned to the bedroom door.
Talon gave him an assessing look, returned the smile, and walked away. At the corner, he raised his hand. A Sapphire shield blocked the hall.
“That will make sure you’re not disturbed,” Talon said. He gave Jared an easy salute and left.
Taking one last deep breath, Jared opened the bedroom door.
Lia sat in the chair, fretting the sweater.
Jared leaned against the door and smiled when she peeked at him through her lashes.
“It’s not as if you haven’t seen me before,” Jared said, charmed by the shyness.
“That was different,” Lia muttered, focusing on his bare feet.
Jared took another breath . . .
. . . and heard the drums.
Heard the Priestess’s voice rising out of the twilight to call the men to the dance.
His nostrils flared. His blood heated. Tension flowed out of him as desire saturated his body.
He flicked a glance at the hearth. The wood that had been readied to take the evening chill out of the room began to burn.
A flick of his hand closed the curtains. Only the young fire lit the room, smudging all the sharp lines until there were no lines, until the walls seemed to disappear and go on forever.
Another flick of his hand vanished all the furniture except the bed and the small tables on either side of it.
Lia yelped when she landed on the floor. “Jared, what—”
He walked toward her. Her eyes widened.
“Can you hear the drums, Lia?” he asked softly.
“Can you hear them? Like the land’s heartbeat. Or the heartbeat of the Shalador people.” He held out his hands. “Let me show you the Fire Dance.”
He lifted her up and pulled her against him. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. Her cold hands pushed at his waist.
He did nothing but hold her, letting his eyes wander over her face.
When she stopped trying to push him away, he slowly lowered his head, his lips parting for a kiss.
She arched back to escape his lips. He smiled because it only pushed her hips tighter against his.
Since she wouldn’t give him her mouth, he took her throat. Soft kisses. Gentle sucking.
He licked her jaw.
Her hands clamped on his waist.
“Do you hear them, Lia?” he asked as he licked the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.
“I—I hear something beating.” Her voice had gone husky.
“The drums.” Jared brushed his lips over hers.
Her eyes were dark smoke. “Is there someone singing?”
“Yes,” he whispered into her ear. “Listen to her. Follow her. The Fire Dance lies at the end of her voice.”
He covered her mouth with his and let them both sink into the drums and the voice and the musky twilight.
Stepping back, he drew her into the center of the room.
Lia plucked at the sweater. “It’s warm in here.”
“Take it off,” Jared suggested quietly as he slowly circled her, his feet automatically following the set pattern of steps.
Lia tossed the sweater aside. She puffed out her cheeks. “Maybe we should open a window.”
“Maybe you should take off the shirt.” His fingertips brushed down her arm as he moved past her. “The Fire’s supposed to be hot.”
She reached for the first button. Her hand froze. Her eyes locked on the golden chest that glistened from more than one kind of heat.
“Let me help.” Jared gave her a feathery kiss while he used Craft to undo all the buttons. His hands brushed the shirt aside, brushed it over her shoulders, brushed it down her back.
She made breathy little sounds.
“Watch me.” He stepped back into his circle. “Watch the Dance.”
“Aren’t—” Lia puffed out her cheeks again. “Aren’t you supposed to be naked when you do that?”
He vanished the trousers.
She gulped and tried to stare at her feet, but he’d already drawn her in too deeply. She raised her head and watched him dance, watched the muscles flex, watched him smile as he moved his hips, watched the shadows form into other dancers.
Listening to the drums, Jared increased the tempo, stepping close enough to brush against her, stepping back to widen the circle.
She pivoted in the center of the circle, her eyes following him, no longer shy enough to look away from a male celebrating his maleness.
As the drums began to fade, Jared wrapped an arm around Lia’s waist and whirled her around the room until they reached the side of the bed.
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her long and deep.
“Let me show you the rest of the Fire Dance,” he said hoarsely.
She didn’t answer. But the look in her eyes was answer enough.
He undressed her slowly, coaxed her into the bed, and stretched out beside her.
She shifted a little to move her hips away from his throbbing cock.
He shifted with her.
“It’ll be all right,” he said as his hand glided down her arm and back again. “It’ll be all right.”
While he brushed his lips against hers, he reached with his mind and brushed lightly against her inner barriers.
She recoiled with a gasp.
Jared murmured soothing nothings while he kissed and caressed her.
Always before, he’d given pleasure in order to escape the pain of punishment. Now he gave pleasure for the pleasure of giving it. He explored her body, fascinated by the muscles that quivered, and finally relaxed, under his light touch. He tasted her, rubbed himself against her so that her scent would be on his skin and his on hers. He laughed silently when her fingers dove into his hair to hold his mouth to her breast. He enjoyed the way her body both pulled away from and reached for the finger lightly brushing between her legs.
And all the while he slowly seduced her body, he stroked her inner barriers until she was so used to his presence she didn’t react at all.
Then he began the journey into the abyss. Down, down, down while his mouth and fingers made her quietly desperate, while her grasping hands made him burn.
Down, down, down until he slipped under her inner barriers and saw the shining green web of herself.
Jared flowed upward. Carefully, delicately, he brushed a strand of her inner web.
Her body tensed. Thrashed.
His rolled, half-covering her to keep her still.
*It’s all right, Lia.* He brushed the strand again.
*Yes,* she said, but her body shuddered, and she didn’t sound at all convinced.
Following Talon’s instructions, Jared carefully flowed his Red strength between the strands of her web, then formed a shield above her. That, Talon had explained, was why it was better for the male to wear the darker Jewel. If the witch panicked for some reason and tried to descend into the abyss, she wouldn’t be able to get past the shield and inadvertently rip through her own inner web.
When he was done, he kissed her—and jerked back in surprise.
“What . . .” Lia said, her eyes wide with shock.
Jared caressed her breast, and felt the caress.
She pulled his head down and kissed him with a hunger that, when added to his own, left him reeling.
This was the seduction and the danger, Jared realized as he kissed her again. When a man was inside a woman’s inner barriers, he could become so tangled up in the physical sensations of being both the giver and receiver that he wouldn’t be able to distinguish his body from hers.
He covered her. Felt his body pressing her down. Felt the bed under her back. Felt himself
press into the opening until he met the physical barrier.
Jared buried his face against her neck.
Breathing hard, Lia gripped his shoulders. “Do it.”
“Lia . . .”
“Do it.”
He thrust.
And took the pain as well as the pleasure.
For a moment, the world turned end over end, whirling them in a storm of sensations.
He wanted to thrust again, to feel that pleasure.
He was terrified of the blood that covered him.
Lia dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to break the skin and cried out in pain.
Sheathed inside her, the impaled and the impaler, Jared forced his body to remain still while they rode out the storm.
And realized that he could have stepped away from it. That he could have kept himself disengaged enough not to be swept away.
That’s how a Jeweled male broke a witch. He mired her in the duality of sensations while staying in the eye of the storm. And then he gave pain instead of pleasure. The witch became her own enemy, feeling as if she were inflicting the pain upon herself. Unbalanced by the conflict, she would try to flee, but the pain would follow, driving her to her own destruction.
The knowledge made him shake.
“Jared.” Lia wrapped her arms around him. “Jared?” She shifted under him.
He struggled to find the self-control that would let him pull back enough not to get swept away by the physical sensations, not to lose control completely.
“Jared,” Lia murmured, stroking his back urgently. “Please.”
Even if he could have distanced himself from her body, he couldn’t bear to pull away from Lia.
So he wrapped her in his strength—body, mind, and heart—and surrendered both of them to the pleasure of the Fire.
Chapter Twenty-four
Leaning against his desk, Krelis slowly twisted the Sapphire-Jeweled ring on his right hand.
Darker than the Green Jewel, lighter than the Red.
But skill and training counted for something, didn’t they? What was a pleasure slave’s raw strength compared with centuries of learning how to fight? What difference did it make if the bastard wore the Red? He didn’t really know how to use it.
Except the Shalador Warlord had held off the marauders who had banded together to capture the Green-Jeweled bitch-Queen. Had done a lot more than hold them off.
Had his pet been partially responsible for that? Krelis wondered as the Sapphire Jewel appeared and disappeared with each turn of the ring. Had he used his own training to support and guide the Red? It could have ended with that ambush. Should have ended with it.
His pet had been a serious miscalculation. He hadn’t expected loyalty. No Hayllian expected real loyalty from these here-and-gone races. But a man who allowed himself to be bought should have the good sense to stay bought.
Well, that was one other thing he’d take care of when he got to that privy hole called Ranon’s Wood.
“Come in,” Krelis snapped in response to a knock on his office door.
Lord Maryk stepped into the room just far enough not to be noticeably still in the corridor. “All the supplies have been gathered, Lord Krelis. The guards from the last two southern Provinces are expected within the hour.”
“I’d thought my instructions were simple enough to be clear,” Krelis said, keeping his eyes on his Sapphire ring.
“We don’t need a lot of supplies. We’ll be back here by tomorrow night.”
“Our men will need to eat after a fight,” Maryk replied stiffly.
A fight, Krelis thought, resisting the urge to laugh in Maryk’s face. How much fight would a village that had already sustained an emotional belly wound have left?
“We’re not fighting other warriors,” Krelis said curtly. “Whoever is left in that village already lost a battle with their own people. How much of a challenge can they be to a thousand Hayllian warriors?”
“Closer to fifteen hundred.”
Krelis finally looked up.
Maryk shrugged. “Because this was a special request from the High Priestess’s court, every Master sent along a few more than we’d asked for.”
The other Masters had undoubtedly added a few to keep tempers from flaring as well—not only in the guards’ quarters but in the manor houses of the Hundred Families. What young, ambitious male serving in a lesser court wouldn’t resent being kept from an assignment that might bring him to the notice of the most powerful witch in Hayll?
He’d felt that way himself not all that long ago.
Some things, however, were best seen from a distance.
“We’ve already wasted enough time waiting for these young bucks to finish buttoning up their pants and shining their boots,” Krelis said. “We leave in one hour. If the southern guards aren’t here by then, they can stay behind or catch up to us.”
“I understand, Lord Krelis.” But Maryk didn’t leave. “Have you decided who will take command of the men?”
Krelis rounded the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a large, white feather. Tucking it inside his leather vest, he said, “I will.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Shivering, Jared gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Blaed handed him. The night air had a sharp bite to it, but worry seemed to bleed more heat from his body than the elements could.
“Everything’s packed,” Blaed said quietly. “We were ready to leave hours ago. Even riding the White Wind, it won’t take more than a few hours to reach the Tamanara Mountains. Couldn’t this have waited?”
Jared sipped his coffee and wondered the same thing— and tried not to resent that Lia had asked Thera to stay with her instead of him.
Talon silently came around the corner of the Sanctuary that was located a mile outside of Ranon’s Wood. He’d made a circle around the building every hour since Lia and Thera had entered it, getting personal reports from the men who were standing guard and rotating the watch often enough to make sure everyone had a chance to warm up by the fire and eat a bowl of stew. Four of his men had stayed in Ranon’s Wood to keep watch. The other eight had come with Talon, taking their turns in the rotation.
“Is there a problem?” Talon asked softly when he joined them.
“We’re ready to leave,” Blaed said, his voice ripe with impatience and nerves.
“The Queen isn’t,” Talon replied.
“Why is it taking so long?”
“The Offering to the Darkness takes from sunset to sunrise.”
Blaed’s jaw dropped. “She’s—” When Talon hissed in anger, he looked back at the men warming themselves around the fire and lowered his voice. “She’s making the Offering to the Darkness? Now?”
“Sometimes you choose the time to make the Offering. Sometimes the time chooses you,” Talon said.
Blaed made a frustrated sound.
Jared understood exactly how Blaed felt.
“You’re free to go back to the village or go on to the mountains,” Talon said curtly.
Blaed glared at Talon before retreating to the fire.
“Don’t jab at him,” Jared said quietly. “You know Thera won’t leave without Lia, and Blaed won’t leave without Thera.”
“I know,” Talon said just as quietly. “But he needs to learn now that there are times when a man can, and should, argue about a Queen’s choice of action and there are times when he should keep silent and do what needs to be done. Lia understands the risks she’s taking by staying here to make the Offering. She must have felt the need outweighed the risks.”
“It would have been safer if she’d waited until we reached Dena Nehele, until she’d had time to recover from her Virgin Night.”
“Of course it would have been safer—if we can reach Dena Nehele without another fight. If we can’t . . . The Green Jewel is still vulnerable in a one-on-one attack by a darker Jewel, but there are only two Jewels that can overwhelm a Gray.”
The Ebon-gray and the Black. And only two Blood
in the entire Realm of Terreille wore them: Lucivar Yaslana and Daemon Sadi.
Jared didn’t think Dorothea SaDiablo would be foolish enough to let either of them be part of a welcoming committee.
But thinking of Daemon reminded him of something else.
“Have you ever heard of the Invisible Ring?” Jared asked.
Talon looked startled, then thoughtful. He blew on his hands to warm them before slipping them into his coat pockets. “It’s been quite a few years since I’ve heard anyone mention the Invisible Ring,” he said a little sadly, a little bitterly. “Seems like once the Ring of Obedience starts being used in a Territory, men shy away from any mention of a Ring of any kind.”
Jared let his breath out slowly. “I wear the Silver.”
“I thought you did.” Talon looked at him and smiled. “So do I.”
Jared didn’t know what to say.
Talon looked up at the sky. It had been drizzling a couple of hours ago, making everyone uncomfortable. Now the clouds had passed, and the star-filled sky was clear.
Talon said quietly, “These two things a man may choose as long as stars shine up above. For the Silver Ring is Honor, and the Ring of Gold is Love.” He smiled ruefully. “Not good poetry, but that’s how I was taught it.”
Jared leaned against the Sanctuary. “Not a tangible Ring, then, but real all the same.”
Talon nodded. “Very real. And sometimes it weighs heavily enough on a man to almost feel tangible.”
“Yes,” Jared said softly.
Talon nodded again but continued to look at the stars. “I was about your age when I turned rogue. I still had two years left to the contract I’d signed to serve a Province Queen, but things started happening in the court. She started to change, started showing a little too much deference to the Hayllian ambassadors and aristos who visited the court. One day I realized that the only way I could continue to serve her was to give up the Silver Ring.” He paused. “I wasn’t willing to give it up. Not then. Not now. So I used the first excuse I could find to be away from the court for a couple of days . . . and I just kept going. I promised myself then that I’d never serve in another court, that I’d never put myself in the position of having to choose between breaking a solemn vow or giving up my honor.”
