by Cate Rowan
His warm finger glided along Varene’s jawline, then trailed down to cup her nape. “Still… Divorce would allow them to remarry if they desired. Each of them wed me in good faith, expecting the benefits and joys of a marriage bed. It would be dishonorable to inflict a new restriction on their marriage contracts if it is not also their will. But perhaps, if they are free to make their own choice…”
Inhaling deeply, she nodded.
He dipped his head, and soon his lips slid over hers, caressing and heating her mouth. She leaned in, tasting him, pressing her body to his, aching for their future—and quaking inside that it might still implode.
Kuramos drew back reluctantly. “I will call them in.”
Bumblebees spun in her gut. Was it even possible that their discarded dreams could come about without being built on the sorrow of others?
When the wives returned, they arrayed themselves as before. As the sultan seated himself on the throne, the tension crackled through Varene’s bones.
“My wives,” he began, “your offer is beyond measure. As is your worth. Each of you has given so much to me—and through me, to Kad. You are my family,” he added simply. “Varene and I have discussed your generous proposal, and have one in return.”
Strain showed in the stiff lines of his knuckles, in the cords of his neck. “You would each be free to remain my esteemed wives for as long as you wish, with all your current titles and privileges and all that goes with it, with one exception: we would no longer share the marriage bed and the physical intimacies of being wed. Or, if you prefer to divorce and find a new path for yourself, you may depart with my blessing. And with a fortune to provide you anything you would desire. You’ll have independence and rank. As Princess Ambassadors to my Court,” he said with a swift grin at Zahlia. “Or, if you prefer the comforts of matrimony, I’ll be happy to negotiate a nuptial match with the worthiest in my land, under your direction and consent. For ones such as you, a man would brave the fires of Hell and the wrath of the gods.”
He stepped off the dais and walked to each of the women in turn, clasping their hands in his own. “Rajvi—my first wife and treasured friend; a ruler born, with endless wisdom in your brow. Zahlia, sleek huntress—the playful jaguar, your piercing claws wrapped in paws of the finest velvet. Nireh—loyal and true, survivor of dark tragedies through a courage forged of steel. Maitri, the protective mother bear and undoubted queen of kindness. Taleen, my quiet mourner—roots planted deep, you yield to the howling winds of fate, yet live to grow tall and strong again. And Sulya, last but never least. Hot-blooded and passionate, your fire rivals the sun.”
Sulya’s eyes squeezed shut at his words. She felt them trickle through her armor and soothe her bruised soul. Nothing had come to pass the way she’d planned, but the life-debt she owed was too enormous to pay in any other way. Her family, to whom honor was paramount, would have to concede that eventually—even her ambitious brother Firoz. Besides, she’d seen the finality in Kuramos’s eyes as he’d told her it was over, and in his chamber, after he’d spoken Varene’s name instead of hers. Honor was vital, but even more was her pride.
Her son Tahir was still beloved of his father—and alive to feel that love. And eligible to inherit. She’d secured that for him. She would defend him with her very life, if need be. Varene had done no less, the day before.
Seeing Kuramos gaze at the Healer, Sulya couldn’t help but envy him. Perhaps someday, she would feel that kind of joy as well, with a man who looked upon her as if the stars rose and set in her eyes. After all, she was still beautiful, still skilled in bed and out, and soon to be a woman of means, with freedom and a long life ahead.
Yes, someday, with the goddess’s guidance. She glanced up at the sultan, and then at Varene, and slowly, as if a sun were rising, warmth radiated through her and a genuine smile rose to her lips.
Varene saw the shift in Sulya and took a deep breath, then stepped toward the wives. “Royal ladies, you are jewels among women. I came here to heal…but being here, with Kuramos and among you, has healed me, too. I cannot begin to express how much. But I can’t accept my happiness at the expense of your own, any of you.” She glanced around at them all, then focused on Sulya’s jade gaze. There Varene read of the end of a dream, and a new one just beginning.
“Royal Healer,” Sulya started, then stopped and began again. “Varene. Kismet has plans for all of us, woven by his divine fingers. If the sultan’s grace will permit Tahir the chance to rule Kad someday, then I wish you and Kuramos the luck and joy to match your love.”
Tears welled in Varene’s eyes as she kissed Sulya’s jasmine-scented cheek. “Thank you, dear one.”
Astonished, Sulya raised a palm to her cheek. “You are welcome.”
“Well now,” Zahlia’s droll voice rolled out, “enough tears. We’re not leaving yet.”
Varene chuckled, then sobered as she eyed Zahlia. Which option would that free spirit choose? But she didn’t want to ask any of the women about their choice. Not yet. She’d made her decision, and they each deserved the time to make their own. And, she realized with a pang, she might even regret it if they chose to leave. A family, indeed.
“Ah!” Zahlia waved a dismissive hand. “Now you’re looking sad. We mustn’t have that. I know what will cheer everyone up—the hammam! Which, you’ll be glad to hear, has been thoroughly cleansed since your adventures yesterday.” She grabbed Varene’s elbow and tugged her toward the door. “Come, my sisters! This conversation will be continued there.”
“But—” Varene said, turning back to Kuramos. She’d barely had the chance to speak with him, and now there was so much left to say!
He seemed equally surprised as the wives gathered around Varene and herded her toward the door.
“You can have her again later, O Lord,” Zahlia sang out. “And I’m sure you will.”
Ribald calls rang out, and the sisterhood left the sultan of Kad standing alone in his throne room, bemused, without any women at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Hours later, Kuramos paced his quarters, awaiting the arrival of the woman he loved. Orange blossoms scented the air and blood stirred beneath his skin—a sweet tension he only wanted to release with Varene’s arms around him, with her passionate cries filling his ears.
When at last she closed the door behind her and slipped the silken robe from her shoulders, clad now only in the rosy glow from the steam of the hammam, he knew the goddess had answered his every prayer.
His breath caught at Varene’s beauty and the fragrance of her flooded his senses. Though he wanted to ravish her from her golden hair to her delicate toes, he held still for a moment, basking in the knowledge that this lady of strength and compassion was truly his, and would soon be his wife and Sha’Lai.
She moved across the floor, her hips swaying in an erotic belly dance, and his pulse roared. His body hardened, rising toward her. “When,” he asked hoarsely, “did you learn to do that?”
“Your wives taught me in the hammam.” She spun on her toes and looked back over her shoulder, fluttering her lashes.
His head whirled as he imagined his current wives and his wife-to-be dancing naked in the baths together…
But the only woman who mattered was here with him. And he reached out and pulled her against him. “Rowr,” he rumbled in her ear. She shimmied her wonderful behind, rubbing him and making him taut with need.
He slid his fingers around her waist, then up to cup her breasts, which bounced and swayed as she danced. He turned her to face him and kissed her deeply, his hands roaming the satin of her bared skin. She tasted like the finest wine, a vintage like no other, and he drank it down, feeling it warm his soul and cascade through his limbs. “Varene, don’t make me wait any more.”
“Not even a little?” she said, throaty, smiling, her hands moving in beautiful serpentines around them. “Not even while I dance for you?”
“No,” he growled. “Now.” He picked her up, ignoring her gleeful shriek, an
d carried her toward his bed, his cock straining for her with every step.
She wrapped her hands around his nape and peered up through her lashes. “Impatient, are we?”
“Very.” He laid her on the bed and slid over her, capturing her mouth with his.
“Mmm, the hunter.” She wrapped a long leg around his own. “I like it.”
“I am the Lion of Kad,” he said. “And you are my Lioness.”
“Rowr,” she replied, and yanked him down to her again.
He skimmed his fingers up her thigh and found her slick and wet for him. He ached to plunge into her then, but forced himself back. Instead, he caressed her sensitive folds, gliding his fingers over her, into her, teasing and stroking until she pushed up toward his hand, greedily pressing against him. “You cruel thing!” she moaned in pleasure. “You said you didn’t want to wait.”
He covered her body with his so he could kiss her again and brand her with his lips. “Ah, my love. Your wish is my command.” And he slid his cock home.
Together they rocked, the air fierce with desire and tension. He slipped his hands beneath her shoulders until she was cradled in his palms. She moaned, nipped at his neck, dug her fingernails into his back, urging him farther, faster. Their hot breath mingled, sweat slicked their skin, and ever more they pushed, upward toward the peak.
When Varene cried out her climax, clamping her thighs around him, he, too, leapt over the edge with her into ecstasy.
When languor cushioned them both, they talked, hands linked together. They laughed and nuzzled each other, planning their life to come and the wedding that would begin it.
“And Tahir and Burhan and Mishka should do something in the ceremony,” Varene said with a happy sigh.
“My children will all be involved. Agreed.” He tucked a lock of flaxen hair behind her ear.
“Sohad and Priya must be there, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And Gunjan, too.”
“What? The bird?”
Regally, she raised a brow. He smiled back. “Ahh, I can see you’ll make an excellent Sha’Lai. All right, the bird, too.”
“Good. And he might bring company, you know. I’ll be inviting Prince Alvarr and Princess Jilian, and they’re friends with many jencels—”
He bolted upright. “You’re inviting the rulers of Teganne? Here?”
“And Fallorm,” she added sweetly, though the rising curve of her lips showed she was well aware of his reaction. “After all, I’ve given up my home for yours—having my friends here for our wedding seems an entirely reasonable concession on your part.”
He stared at her a few moments longer. “Goddess in Heaven.” His mouth quirked up as he relaxed on the bed and reached to pull her close.
She snuggled against his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t even think that Qiara of Fallorm will give you the time of day.”
He burst out laughing. “Love, I want no other woman’s time but yours.”
And he proved it, yet again.
Finally Varene, now feeling marvelously well-used, draped a boneless leg over his and reveled in the feel of his muscles, the crisp hairs against her smooth skin, the rhythm of his deep breaths as he slid into a peaceful, sated sleep.
Kuramos was her man. A generous, passionate lover, a wonderful father, a powerful ruler, and soon, her husband.
Mother Fate, you have blessed me with him, and with a new family. May we always bask in your joy.
Enfolded in the arms of her lover, Varene drifted into blissful dreams, safe and beloved in the palace of Kad.
High above them, their goddess smiled.
Author’s Note
It's been my pleasure to share the world of Kuramos and Varene with you. If you’re curious about the origins of Kad, check out my historical fantasy short story “Swords and Scimitars” (available now), which stars the immortal Kismet himself. His brother, Taso, who founds the realm of Teganne, will be featured in another short story soon. Would you like to read more about Varene? She plays a supporting role in The Source of Magic, a fantasy romance novel set in Teganne in the years before Kismet’s Kiss.
I'll be publishing more novels of Kad and Teganne, as well as other fantasy lands. If you'd like to be notified about future releases, drop by http://CateRowan.com to join my newsletter. I’ll never spam you or share your information, and I send the newsletter only for new release announcements. You can also connect with me at my blog, or at Facebook, GoodReads, LibraryThing, Shelfari and Twitter. I look forward to your visit.
Two more things: I strive for perfection, so if you found an error within this book, please let me know at [email protected]. Then I can stomp that typo dead with my Kaddite bath shoes.
Finally, if you enjoyed Kismet's Kiss, please (pretty please!) consider posting a quick review at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, GoodReads, or elsewhere—or telling your book club or readers' groups, mentioning it on Facebook or Twitter or a blog, or simply letting your friends know about the book. Good word of mouth is the breath of life for an independent author. You have my deepest thanks.
—Cate Rowan
Acknowledgments
Kismet’s Kiss is the book of my heart, but it wouldn’t exist without the influence of many people over the years. My deepest gratitude goes to the following friends, family members and writing saints:
My parents, who fostered my love of reading (and forgave me—mostly—when I brought a book to dinner).
J.R.R. Tolkien, whose book The Hobbit blew my seven-year-old mind (extra thanks for the Rankin/Bass illustrated version, Dad!); Mike, my junior high school teacher who introduced me to Anne McCaffrey’s amazing Dragonriders of Pern series; Ursula K. LeGuin, whose words made me think, feel and dream.
My writing groups, including the now-defunct RWU (where it all began), as well as Jen Rashidi, who encouraged me to submit my first contest entry a decade ago and to write the sequels to that book.
The contest judges who have seen my work over the years. Their wisdom and ideas have been invaluable, and even the disagreements among them have taught me a great deal about writing and publishing.
All the cats who have warmed my lap over the years while I’ve typed away. Those of you who are gone are greatly missed.
Shelby Reed, Kendra Leigh Castle and Sandra Edwards: It’s been a long climb, ladies, and you’ve been there with me through the triumphs as well as the scraped knees. Your friendship means a great deal to me.
Robin D. Owens, Jana Oliver and Alyssa Day: I love watching your careers soar! Thank you for carving a path to follow.
Anne Victory: You’re my very own victory angel. I’m grateful for all you do.
Beth, Diana, PJ and Susan: The Team may be silent now, but you’ve each inspired me. I’m fortunate to know you. Forever hugs.
Finally, I send my appreciation to everyone else who has touched this story, helped me become a stronger writer, or encouraged my imagination. You number more than grains of sand in the deserts of Kad, and writing is a joy because of you.
Novel Excerpts
The following pages include excerpts from other books I hope will intrigue you.
The first, The Source of Magic, is a prequel to Kismet’s Kiss. When a sexy mage prince abducts Jilian from modern Scotland, she must choose between saving his people or her dying mother—the woman whose dark secrets bind their worlds together. Yes, the sexy prince is Alvarr of Teganne! And Varene from Kismet’s Kiss has a role in their story. The Source of Magic has been a winner or finalist in sixteen contests.
The second excerpt comes from the amazing Kristen Painter. Heart of Fire tells of a deadly dark elf turned mercenary, a fire mage with powers she’s just learning to control, and their dangerous adventure that may give hope to the dying elven race, renew a beleaguered kingdom and offer an incredible chance at love…if they don’t kill each other first.
The third excerpt is from another award-winning novelist, Sandra Edwards. In the paranormal romance Incredible Dreams, a modern-day
ghost whisperer travels through time to save the life of a WWII fighter pilot and ends up jeopardizing her own existence.
THE SOURCE OF MAGIC
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
Bhruic’s castle, world of Alaia
A frigid draft slunk through the dungeon cell, chilling the muck-fouled cobblestones until even the rats looked miserable.
Jilian Stewart drew her thin cloak around her and tried to ignore her thudding heart. Each heartbeat seemed to reverberate off the clammy walls as if seeking a crack in her prison.
The linen chemise beneath her borrowed gown clung to her, damp with cold sweat. She licked her lips and caught the iron tang of blood leaking from the gash on her forehead. As her gaze flicked to the door, her breath hitched, then her lungs sped up of their own accord.
Stop, Jil. Panicking won’t help. You’ve got some brain cells left and you’re going to need them all.
Icy fingers of air flowed down the walls and skimmed across her collarbone. She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter, craving the warmth of Alvarr’s arms around her instead.
Alvarr. His teasing smile played through her mind. He’d saved her life with his sword and wits, and shown her that love still lingered in the world. This world, anyway.
Now he probably cursed her name.
“Enough! Get a grip.” She shoved away from the rough wall, trying to leave the path of her thoughts behind.
A grip. Her gaze snapped to the claw-shaped hinges of the iron door. Could she pry them open?
She seized the nearest one, cold and hard under her fingers. The hinge crackled. A piercing shock surged up her arm and flung her to the opposite wall.
