Chapter 2
Mason
Mason approached life as a military maneuver. Each situation was planned for optimum benefit and preparation was essential. After Kiarra had retired to her room last night, they had discussed how best to protect her. They hadn't broached the topic of intimacy, but now that Kiarra sat across from him nearly naked, his best friend and a man he barely knew seated on either side of her, he wished they had confronted the very uncomfortable subject.
He didn’t know if the others felt the same, but the drive to fulfill the bond weighed upon him. He could have attributed every lustful, impatient thought to the supernatural pull between them, but he knew that wasn't accurate. Kiarra was amazingly beautiful, sweet, and endearingly authentic. Dressed in nothing but a thin, silk dressing gown, she didn't attempt to tempt them. She didn't have to try. Her sheer presence, the creamy expanse of flesh revealed by the low neckline, her beautifully mussed hair - the picture conspired to make each man at the table hang onto her every word and motion.
"Did everyone sleep well?"
Nods were shared although he and Ian had only captured a few hours. They had spent some time evaluating the protection of their wing and spying on the guards assigned to Kiarra's room. Mason had found his bed earlier than Ian. The spy had insisted on talking to his House Advisor. Eyeing the Shadow now, Mason wondered what he'd learned. He didn't look tired, but Ian was a creature of the night. He endured long missions with little sleep.
"What did you discuss after I left the room last night?" Kiarra asked bluntly, her stormy eyes guileless.
"Mainly protection details," Mason answered. "We want one of us with you at all times, so we discussed which of us are capable of protecting you. Ian and I are a given, but surprisingly, our young Scholar has considerable experience in combat and defense as well." The Scholar in question nodded. Reed's declaration that he had almost tested into Military House had surprised Mason. Out of all the Houses, none were more different than Military and Scholar. Typically, an overlap between the two Houses didn't occur.
“So what does that mean?"
"It means that when Clay or I am with you, and we are wandering around the castle, we will happily accept help to make certain you are protected." Seb wasn't embarrassed about the fact, and Mason admired his candor. The young Planner knew his skill set and didn't worry overmuch about what he couldn't change. Clay was very open to accepting help as well, equaling Mason in his earnestness to ensure Kiarra was adequately secure.
"Do you have a servant here, Lass?" Ian asked, leaning closer to her. She nodded, her skin flushing pink with his nearness. Mason wished he were sitting in Ian's place, but he couldn't be greedy. He had all morning scheduled with her. "Let's just boot her out before we talk anymore."
Kiarra called out for Bridget. The young, shy girl emerged from the back room, her cheeks bright red. "Yes, Miss?" she stammered. Her eyes never rose from the stone floor.
"Would it be possible to send someone for my old clothes and belongings from my mother's unit?"
"Of course, Miss," the girl replied with another bob. "I'll speak with the steward. I found suitable attire for your day and placed it upon your bed."
"Thank you, Bridget." The girl retreated quickly. Kiarra shook her head after the door shut behind the maid. "I don't believe I'll ever become accustomed to having a person wait upon me."
Ian smirked. "It will take time, Lass, but soon you'll wonder how you ever accomplished anything by yourself."
"Saints, I hope not!" Kiarra said with a husky laugh. Ian slid from his chair like the wraith he sometimes resembled, brashly entering Kiarra's bedchamber. He returned in mere seconds, resuming his seat next to her. His speed worked in his favor. Mason could see the calculating look in the Scholar's eye as Reed considered whether to take the abandoned seat next to Kiarra in the spy's brief absence.
"All clear," Ian announced. He extended one arm across the back of Kiarra's chair, his fingers brushing her shoulder. She shivered delicately, goosebumps rising on her exposed flesh. Mason's body tightened in response to her reaction even though he wasn't the one touching her. Was this how their complicated relationship would progress? Would the sight of the other men touching her arouse and please him? The concept surprised and baffled him; he’d never considered the possibility.
Kiarra gripped the mass of her hair to move it out of Ian’s way, her fingers combing through the tangles. "The servant, Bridget, said she was informed you five are the new generation of Advisors, and I am only here because I am your Soul Match."
"Aye," Ian commented. They had learned the same last night. His fingers continued to lightly brush circles on her shoulder, the fabric slipping sideways. "That is the common story. It isn't a lie, which is a brilliant move on the King's part. Half-truths are easier to uphold. As the next round of Advisors' Soul Match, you are allowed to live in the palace with us. News of your intended position is not to be spoken of until the King determines it is time."
Kiarra looked at the spy next to her and then towards Mason. "How long do you think the rumors will stay silent?"
"I can't say, Lass," Ian said, his lilting accent turning hoarse. His dark eyes lowered and revealed to Mason the cause of the Shadow's discomfort. Kiarra's dressing gown had slipped off one shoulder, the pale curve of her breast visible between the sides of her neckline. Mason shifted as lust flooded through him from the innocent reveal. The other men were similarly distracted, their eyes having difficulty staying above her chin. He groaned silently. He felt a need to clothe her before they all attacked her and threw her on the table, but he didn't want to upset her either. From the information he had gathered, Kiarra was an innocent. The power of their combined attention and hunger would be intimidating.
Mason respected the strength it took for his friend to meet Kiarra's eyes again. "Rumors never stay quiet for long, Lass. We're most concerned with the Prince learning of your existence and his father's plans. We can't guarantee he will remain in the dark. He's not to return from Bashir for some time, though. The King is manufacturing excuses to delay his arrival, but we're fairly convinced he possesses his own spies on a separate payroll from our House."
Kiarra nodded in understanding, her shaky inhale disclosing her worry. Mason recovered his wits in an attempt to focus on her safety instead of her body, but the relative protection of their current position challenged his determination. At the moment, she was safe, and the reassurance freed his mind to entertain other tempting suggestions.
"In addition to your safety, we created a schedule. Each of us will tutor you a couple days a week when we aren't occupied with our Advisors. We thought it best if we all shared dinners with you in the evenings, and perhaps breakfast in the mornings. We can attend to the group bonds and accustom you to our emotions if we are all together. Also, you can spend time one on one with us as you feel you are capable and wanting."
Kiarra's sultry gaze met Mason's, her eyes dark with storm clouds. "Oh, I'm wanting," she suggested in a throaty voice. Ian chuckled, Seb grinned widely, Reed dropped his fork, Clay blushed, and Mason gaped. She might be innocent, but she understood how the bond affected them. Perhaps, it influenced her as powerfully as it did them. She blushed at the sudden attention directed her way, reminding Mason that their needs were already being broadcast along the bond.
"You can sense our feelings already?" he clarified.
Kiarra nodded, fidgeting with her silverware. Anxiety and need warred visibly within her. Ian's hand opened, his palm sliding across her bare shoulder. Mason had never seen the Shadow more discomfited. He might have laughed at his friend's predicament if he wasn't experiencing similar discomfort. Seb held her other hand in his lap. She seemed to enjoy the dual attention. Longing speared through him again.
Clay leaned forward. Mason liked the Merchant. He was a no-nonsense man who was already profoundly infatuated with Kiarra. He'd confessed as much to them last night. They'd learned the story of his injury and Seb had asked a somewhat embarrassing
question. He'd responded with good humor, saying that the only thing wrong with his body was below his ankles and he wouldn't be relinquishing any rights to Kiarra's bed. After the Merchant's words, the conversation had steered away from anything remotely intimate as it appeared all of them were still having difficulty processing the situation. Except for Ian. Ian accepted and possibly enjoyed the new dynamic. Mason suspected he had known the longest, however, judging by some of the comments he had made before they were invited to the palace.
"If you don't want to be overwhelmed by our desire at all times, Indrasa, you should probably wear more clothes when we're around."
His statement had the opposite effect on Kiarra than he planned because she sat forward, her eyes widening. Her dressing gown opened further, likely giving Ian and Reed, who was sitting on Ian's other side, a clear view of her breast. Seb pulled the fabric back onto her shoulder reluctantly. She barely noticed.
"Indrasa? What does that mean? Is it a longer form of Indra?"
Clay frowned. Evidently, he hadn't thought his new pet name would cause a stir. Ian was suddenly paying attention as well, but it might have something to do with his view being severed. Mason couldn't read the Scholar. He reclined in his chair, his gaze impassive. Reed assessed every interaction with the same canny, intense observation that Ian employed.
"Indra means Queen in Mishokian. Adding the sa to the end makes it a possessive suffix. Therefore Indrasa translates to My Queen. I picked up several words in the Mishokian language from the Barbar sailors who transport the Mishok traders across the sea. They don't have queens in Mishok, so the term is used as a title of endearment when a man worships his woman."
Kiarra flushed at the implications of his statement. "A Mishokian wise woman in the market called me Indra. She provided me with the dress I wore last night, saying it was made specifically for me."
"Hmm," Reed spoke for the first time that morning except for a mumbled greeting when he entered the room. "Did she say anything else?" Mason hadn't spent much time with Scholars, but Reed evidently came alive if he had a puzzle to solve. It was another commonality he and Ian shared.
"Yes. She mentioned the lower tiers are being mistreated. She said something about remembering her and those like her as a form of gratitude."
The Scholar's eyebrows disappeared into his disheveled mass of dark hair. "She's speaking of a revolution?"
Ian's attention redirected to the conversation, he laughed. "It's not a revolution if she's Queen. It's just legislation."
"It would be a revolution among the people because it's changing what they're used to," Reed argued. Ian shrugged one shoulder, either relenting or not caring enough to fight the semantics.
"I can't even think about that right now," Kiarra moaned.
Seb raised her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles, drawing her eyes to him. "There is time, Kiarra. Have you thought about what else being Queen means?" Her brows drew together in question and she shook her head. "You might be able to climb the North Tower's stairs to see Rowan."
Kiarra squealed and jumped in her chair. Her heavy, unbound breasts bounced with her and Mason swiped a hand down his face. She was going to be the death of him. She was unbearably sexy as an innocent, suggesting she would become a temptress once she understood her power. Perhaps it was beneficial because she had five men to please, but Mason wasn't confident he could tolerate more of her naïve teasing. He'd never been so focused on his body and his desires in his entire life.
She threw her arms around Seb's neck excitedly, twisting in her chair. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! I wonder if the King will let me go soon. I really want to see him."
Seb embraced her happily, her hair flying into his face. Her expression radiated such joy, every man in the room couldn't help but echo her smile. "You can ask the next time you see him," Seb murmured, grinning like a fool.
Mason smiled with them, but he suffered inside. These men had other tasks. They could take a break from the enticing siren to reorganize their priorities. He faced several hours of teaching her how to use her body in an entirely different way than he wanted. He wanted her moaning beneath him, not learning hand-to-hand combat. It was going to be a very long morning.
Chapter 3
Kiarra
Clay was right. If I wanted to play with fire, I was going to get burnt. And the heat was definitely rising in the room. The drive to connect the soul bonds concentrated my mind fully upon the physical aspect of our relationships, but I was attempting to seduce five men without any experience. Ian and Reed had both implied they would move slowly if they thought I wasn't ready. I wanted to reassure them I was ready, that I couldn’t focus on anything but their handsome faces and hard muscles. Ian's touch on my shoulder drove me crazy, Seb's thumb circling my palm made me tingle, and the pheromones in the room rose to an unprecedented level. My thighs clamped together in an attempt to alleviate the tension.
Seb's comment had slightly decreased my desire, thankfully. I could visit Rowan. And if the King wouldn't permit me, he would hear my complaints. Rowan had spoken true. We would see each other again, or communicate at least, given he was blind now. I had so many matters to discuss with him. He knew of my five Soul Matches and that I was to be Queen. But I wanted to discuss how I was coping with the changes, and how he was managing to live in that dreary Tower. I couldn't wait to speak with him.
I took a deep breath to refocus my mind and pinned Mason with my stare. He hadn't spoken much all morning, but I was learning to expect that from him and Reed. They weren't the talkers of the group. "So I'm with you this morning?" I asked him. His eyes darkened, forcing my body to clench again as he read into my words.
He cleared his throat, running a hand over his fuzzy head. I wanted to touch his short hair, to see if it was as soft as it looked. I hadn't been disappointed when I'd brushed Reed's hair back the night before. His curls were as smooth as silk.
"Yes. I'll teach you a few self-defense maneuvers and gauge your level of physical ability."
I popped one last grape into my mouth. With the men's help, the food was nearly gone. At least I was growing accustomed to having them all in the same room with me. Their emotions were no longer battering my defenses relentlessly. If I could tone down my lustful thoughts, I might be able to think properly.
"All right. I'll just go change." I scanned the table as they started to stand. "I'll see the rest of you tonight?"
Clay smiled and clasped my hand across the table. "I have you in the afternoon. We might have another joining us for protection detail, but it's supposed to be my time."
I returned his smile and squeezed his hand. "I look forward to it."
I disappeared into my room to see what Bridget had found for me to wear. Fortunately, the wardrobe had produced breeches. They were made of light brown leather and far tighter than anything I'd ever worn before. I held them up with a grimace. They didn't appear large enough to cover my ample rear. Mason would receive an eyeful if I split them open while trying to fight. I wriggled into them anyway, admiring the soft white shirt she had paired with the bottoms and the leather vest which fastened over it. I'd never seen such fine clothes and the style was different than the standard tunic and robes of the city. The Royals really did live differently than the rest of the citizens. The apparent disparity made me uncomfortable.
The clothes fit, albeit tightly. Nothing was left to the imagination. Out of curiosity, I peeked into the wardrobe. The dresses appeared to be the same size, small with tight waistlines, plunging necklines, and several hems far above floor length. My brows rose. Either the King attempted to hasten our bonding process, or he had ordered all my clothing from one of the brothels in the Performer's district.
I washed my face, tied my hair back, and took a restorative breath. One man was more manageable than five, but it also provided more possible moments of intimacy.
When I emerged from my room, Mason and Ian were talking quietly at the table. The other three had dep
arted. I wondered if they were being advised by their mentors; I hadn't thought to ask. Mason's brows rose as his gaze tripped up and down my body. Ian smirked, his dark eyes appreciative. I held my arms out and shrugged.
"I think the King misjudged my size."
Ian rose and slid gracefully over to me. His movements were so effortless, I wasn't certain his feet touched the ground. Inky hair covered one eye as he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "I think he judged correctly, Lass," he whispered near my ear. My flesh prickled as his breath heated my skin. "I'll wander the city today, seeking rumors or whispers about our presence here. I'll return in time for dinner tonight."
I frowned, studying his expression. His eyes were weary. I pushed back the strands of hair hanging in his face and stroked his rough jawline; my fingers tingled where they touched him. "Did you sleep last night?"
He shrugged broad shoulders. "Enough, Lass. If I get back early enough, I'll take a nap."
I nodded in answer. Ian and Mason shared the burden of trying to protect us. I needed to ensure they didn't collapse under the weight of the expectation. He squeezed my hands before he moved away. "Be good for Mason, Kiarra. The man might be strong, but we're all weak when it comes to you."
I glanced over at Mason who watched us with pale blue eyes. His emotions were contemplative but also conflicted, and I wondered why he worried. Knowing their states of mind just left me with more questions.
Echoes of Her Soul Page 2
