Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  “As First Heir, your first responsibility is to obey the High Counsel. Your second is to provide the next First Heir. That’s something you can’t quite do by yourself, no matter how good you are at being a soldier.”

  Then the High Counsel and Commander-In-Chief of the Society of War played his last hand.

  “This is a direct order, Rhia.”

  Damn it, she couldn’t disobey now. There was only one person who outranked her in the Society of War, and that was Grey Greysomne himself. Swallowing her frustration Rhia lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and gave him the words he wanted to hear. After all, if there was one thing she understood, it was duty.

  Fuck.

  With a deep breath and a steady timbre in her voice, she said, “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Nine

  Her words were calm and solid, but there was no missing the fire in her eyes. The woman was angry, but better angry than dead. And if the sultry heat in her gaze when she’d looked him over was any indication, given time his little warrior might just come to desire him.

  Grey quickly stepped over to a small table and snatched up a carafe of wine and filled an exquisite crystal glass. He held it out to RuArk. With a dip of his head, RuArk accepted.

  “And now for the words,” the High Counsel insisted. As if summoned on cue, which he was, Mannon stepped into the room and witnessed the short ceremony.

  After following the High Counsel through the exchange of vows, RuArk drank half the contents in the goblet as a symbol of joining his life to Rhia’s, and then he passed the wine to her. Rhia held her calm resolve and appeared to release her anger in a soft huff and drank deeply. She never took her beautiful eyes off of him, not even when Mannon produced the declaration for the official records. All three signed with Mannon as the witness to the joining.

  He marveled inwardly at the tightening of his chest—it was pride, plain and simple. This was an accomplished woman standing before him. Strong. Smart. Funny in her own stubborn way. Hardheaded, but honorable. Add to that the intense attraction he felt for her and he couldn’t have been happier.

  Happy was one thing. But time would tell whether he was being wise. After all, he may be accepting of this union, but Rhia didn’t appear to be all that awed by the prospect. None the less, she was, as of this moment, officially his.

  “It’s a done deal,” the High Counsel crowed and practically yanked Rhia into RuArk’s arms. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ll have Mannon make arrangements for the delivery of the deed to the Province Springs estate, as well as having this document entered into Rhia’s files so the union cannot be challenged, though we won’t announce anything yet. You two talk for a while. In private. We’ll have dinner in the hall tonight. Mannon, let’s go. And Rhia, please try to be on time.”

  The slight hum in his soul suddenly burst into a deep almost tangible rhythm, as if he were tuning himself to Rhia’s unique song. Along with this awakening of sorts came the need, the desire to be closer. Instinctively reaching for his Source, he started when he felt Rhia’s flare in response.

  Ah, there it is. She recognizes me, my spirit. RuArk watched her honey brown eyes widen, then darken as she took him in. Hmm. The puzzled expression that crossed her lovely face was a bit of a surprise, though a pleasant one. For once in all his wondering since he’d learned Rhia hadn’t truly been taught about her mother’s people, RuArk was selfishly glad she’d not shared or touched her Source with another. And it would be his pleasure to teach her that there was more to it than what she’d just experienced.

  “Rhia? Did you hear me? Be on time.”

  “I am always on time,” she snapped back.

  “Riiiight,” her father called over his shoulder. The word rang with a certain ‘of course you are’ quality. Humming softly and almost dancing across the thickly carpeted floor, the High Counsel tapped the wall lock and sailed out the door with Mannon on his heels.

  As soon as they were alone, Rhia rounded on him. “You told my father what happened that night in my apartments?”

  RuArk grinned. The little fireball challenged him even now. Well, the beauty certainly had heart, doing what most grown warriors wouldn’t dare. His head tilted and he regarded her without a word. She obviously couldn’t have cared less about his answer anyway and plowed right on ahead with her left toe tapping away on the carpet once again.

  “Did you also tell him I had Bryan under control and you butted in where you weren’t needed?”

  “I told him you had things well in hand prior to my arrival, yes.” RuArk moved into her space. He was so close, the heat radiating from her wonderfully lush body brought her unique scent to his nostrils. Mmm, it was so enticing, like fresh cinnamon swirled into the sweet red wine they’d just drank. Fingers flexed as he resisted the urge to slide them up and down her bare arms.

  “I love the way you smell.”

  Her hips jerked, as if her first instinct was to back up a step, but her feet rooted themselves to the spot anyway. Skin flushed and her scent burned brighter, filling the bit of space between them. She turned away when her mouth worked, but nothing came out.

  Speechless twice in one day? It had to be a record.

  Unable to resist the urge to touch her a second longer, he took her gently by an arm and eased her back around to face him once more. The backs of his fingers teased her jawline and softly stroked her cheek. It felt like... like luring a wild cat or a raptor bird. But not into a trap. No, never that. More like getting the fiercest natural hunters to trust, to accept, and perhaps gentled to his touch without worrying about losing his hand.

  Finally, she said, “RuArk, look, I’m sorry. I don’t know about this. I need some time to get used to you, get to know you again. The RuArk I knew cycles ago has been gone for so long, I don’t know you anymore.”

  “But you will like this RuArk so much better than the boy you knew. I promise you that, Rhia.”

  RuArk’s thumb traced the path her tongue had just taken across her bottom lip. What was happening to him? His resolve to accept his destiny with this woman didn’t waver, but his legendary self-control marched resolutely South until it hung by a thread, looped around his cock. The last thing he needed to do was kiss the little firebrand, but for all the world he couldn’t help it.

  His arms closed around her and she had just enough time to look surprised before he kissed her breathless.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Yes, she’d shared a few kisses in her lifetime, but there’d been no passion, no hunger. Just a meeting of lips. The end.

  So why did RuArk’s touch ignite her like a flame put to raw, unfiltered iozene?

  Strong but gentle fingers seemed to burn through her jumpsuit as he deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth as he leaned her backward. When she felt the probe of his tongue, it seemed natural to open for him.

  He tasted of wine and coffee laced with sweet, dark chocolate. Blazes, she never knew lips could feel this good, be this hot or deliciously wicked. God, she could kiss him forever.

  Though unsure she was doing it right, Rhia let instinct take over, moving her mouth beneath his. For a few moments, she forgot that she’d been forced into a joining, that she had no desire to change her life and go haring off to Draema Neine, or run from whatever threat had been discovered.

  For a few moments, she was simply a woman absolutely turned on by a man, and took from the enthralling kiss as much as she gave.

  Thinking became completely out of the question when RuArk groaned in the back of his throat. The vibrations traveled from his lips to hers, and straight down her spine, leaving a tingling trail down her back. She trembled as his hands smoothed over the lines of her hips, leaving nothing but gooseflesh and quivering muscle behind.

  Would sex light her up as much as the simple act of meeting his mouth with her own? She hoped so.

  RuArk pulled back long enough to ask, “Your permission to touch you here?” Swift intakes accompanied the tap of his firm hands against her left ass
cheek.

  “Absolutely yes.” Arms wrapped around her now, there was no doubt to how much he enjoyed having her close when his engorged sex pressed flush against her belly. The thick ridge seared through her jumpsuit, reached for her, alive and throbbing. Rhia melted. The slow burn in her gut was fanned to a living flame so hot it burned away what little wits she had left. Did that little moan come out of her throat? More importantly, did she really care?

  RuArk released her mouth to nibble along the soft flesh of her neck. She started when he nipped the spot just below her ear that she hadn’t even known was sensitive. His lips were so warm and soft. She was done for.

  “RuArk,” she breathed raggedly, tilting her head to give him better access to another sweet spot at the hollow where her shoulder and neck muscles met. He nipped her again. She hissed through her teeth, it felt so good.

  “You’re mine, Rhia,” he whispered, as soft as a butterfly’s wing against her ear. “And I,” he nipped the tight tendons of her neck again, “am all yours.”

  Her head fell back as if the muscles were made of wet paper. She couldn’t help it. Goodness, it was all she could do to form words when all she really wanted to do was pour herself all over this man. This man who had waltzed into her life, then into her dreams with such boldness she was taken aback, set off center until she teetered on the edge of herself.

  A self she’d worked too fucking hard to define to lose now.

  Gee, way to douse yourself with cold water, Rhia.

  Perhaps some conversation would help her get her wits back.

  “So...” He rubbed his cheek against hers, then kissed a path down her jaw. Okay, that felt good.

  All right, let’s try that talking thing again.

  “So, uh, where have you been all these years?” She knew the answer, but wanted to hear him tell it. Needed to rein it in a bit.

  “I’ve been looking after my people, protecting them, as is my duty. For the last several years I visited Draema Proper to renew the yearly contracts with your father. I wanted to visit with you, but you were always somewhere else.”

  Yep, she knew that because she’d been careful to find herself in field training each and every time. Why? Because he was, and had always been the only man who could move her this way. She also knew she couldn’t have him, so what was the point of trying to maintain a friendship with him over the years? No, she’d had things to do, rank to earn and a status to secure. Now, as he kissed a moist, breath-stealing trail along her throat, not a single reason that came to mind for avoiding him made any sense.

  And he was moving that lovely mouth over hers again.

  After a few moments, she broke away. Rhia didn’t remember grabbing big handfuls of his clothing, but she was certainly scrunching it good as she gulped mouthfuls of air like she’d run a six-minute mile. She’d grown up learning plenty about the mechanics of sex. She’d even hoped to have a strong attraction to whoever her potential mate might be. But this? This was beyond strong attraction. It was tumultuous and potent as cherry brandy. She stood there like a newly foaled colt, wide-eyed and wobbly kneed, thankful when RuArk’s hands lightly stroked the muscles on either side of her spine. Not to bring her to passion, but to soothe and relax as they stood in silence for a moment.

  Once her wits settled in her head, they brought along some unwelcome company—embarrassment. Here stood a man who’d been bribed to marry her and she’d practically dissolved under his touch. Damn, she’d never known herself to be the easy type. And she wasn’t going to start now. Mate or not, he was going to have to work to win her affection. Wasn’t he?

  “I, uh, I need to take care... Of, uh... My duties,” she said lamely, turning her face up to see a self-satisfied grin planted on the face of a very pleased RuArk. He’d knocked her socks off and he knew it. His ardor had come down a notch, his expression neutral, but she knew a gloat when she saw one. Her temper snapped into place like a newly strung bowstring.

  “Do you have to be so blasted arrogant?”

  “Of course. I am a Gaian male and it is my duty to pleasure you. I’m supposed to be good at it.”

  “I’m supposed to be good at it,” she mocked, then tensed. Something moved in her periphery and she was instantly primed to protect herself. She turned and met the eyes of the woman who’d been at RuArk’s side the night Bryan had been tossed down the tower stairs.

  Absolutely still in a shrouded corner of the room, she stood in a skimpy outfit similar to the one she’d worn the night. Rhia made out the woman’s weapon, a bow, barely visible in the shadows. What the hell was she doing in here?

  All the fluttering in her womb vanished, replaced by an icy chill to match her new disposition. She pushed against RuArk’s arms, but she may as well have tried to move a ton of Draeman stone. She finally gave up and settled for glaring up at him while he continued to stroke lazy circles down the middle of her back as if nothing was wrong.

  “Why are you suddenly angry, Rhia?” RuArk asked.

  “That’s why I’m angry,” she said, pointing to the shadows where the woman stood. “I had no intention of sharing intimate moments in front of an audience, RuArk.” Especially a moment that sapped her will and weakened her knees. And she’d abandoned herself to it like a feline in heat. Not that she’d ever seen a feline in heat, but that was beside the point.

  “You could have refused,” he said in a soft, but matter-of-fact tone, bending forward to nuzzle her hair just behind her ear. The base of her spine started to tingle and she pushed away from him again. This time RuArk loosened his hold, but didn’t give any ground. She craned her neck and scowled up at him.

  “It didn’t cross my mind to refuse your kiss, blast it!” she hissed.

  RuArk flashed a self-assured, warrior’s smile and said, “I know.”

  Rhia rolled her eyes. He was right, but he didn’t have to act so right about it.

  “Arrogant bastard. Keep your bloody kisses.” She swung around on her heel and stalked away, a confused jumble of anger, desire and just plain ‘grrrr’. Just as she reached the door, she turned on her heel.

  “My father thinks I need you. I’m woman enough to admit my body wants you, but I certainly don’t need you. I suggest you get to understanding the difference, warrior.”

  He shook his head at her as one side of his sexy mouth lifted in a smirk.

  Rhia rolled her eyes and slammed the door as she left him in her father’s office. Now all she had to do was figure out why the hell she was so jealously upset, and whether she was mad at him... or herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Back in her apartments, Rhia peeled off her jumpsuit and exchanged it for a pair of black trousers, a white synthsilk shirt, black riding boots and a light cloak. A quick stop at the dining table to sniff a creamy bowl of typical, tasteless Draeman soup had her wincing. It smelled like paint. She glanced at the pot of lukewarm tea sitting next to it and curled her lip.

  “Blasted tea,” she grumbled. Sara knew she hated the stuff. Why in hell had she started putting it on the tray for Brita to bring it to her rather than her regular coffee? Yuck. With a slam, the lid was replaced and Rhia settled for a piece of fruit and headed to the stables.

  Groomed and fitted with light reins and no bit, Moonlight was led quietly to the rear of the Citadel. Rhia rode out of the grounds, out of the High City and into the buffer zone that separated this colony from its neighbors, Draema Seine to the East and Draema Salone to the South.

  Hovers were the preferred mode of transportation in Draema Proper. The lightweight, floating vehicles ran smoothly and quietly on magnetized roads. While they were wonderfully efficient for travel inside the huge City, Rhia was a nature girl. She loved the feel of her horse as it stretched out beneath her, strong and alive, as they flew through the parks and along the trails. She much preferred the rays of the sun on her face than the warmth filtered through the sunshield of a hover any day.

  Once out on the trails, she inhaled deeply, taking in the natural elements
around her. The trails smelled of rich earth and fresh green grass, and were lined with bright green stalks and blooming honeysuckle. The land was alive with vines and plants, all budding in anticipation of full Spring.

  Pondering her morning, it all seemed surreal in a cackle-inducing kind of way.

  In just a few hours she’d had a fight with a big Gaian warrior and lost, followed by an order to mate with that same warrior. Then came a kiss that turned her brains to mush, and a dusky beauty who’d watched it all. Her physical reaction to RuArk bordered on insane. Fireworks had gone off in her brain, heat gathered in her womb. Maybe she wasn’t normal? Maybe her lack of intimacy, cycle after cycle contributed to her horny state? No, her abstinence had been by choice. If she had to do it all over again, she couldn’t think of anything she’d have done differently.

  So preoccupied with trying to figure it out, the hours passed, yet the groomed rolling hills and endless meadows with sprigs of budding colorful flowers went unnoticed. So did the gathering clouds.

  She flinched when the first fat raindrop splashed coldly on the tip of her nose several miles from home. Though it was early afternoon, the cloud-darkened sky made it feel more like evening.

  By the time Rhia found herself standing in front of a typical white stone two-story cottage in a neat row of homes a couple of rings from the citadel, she was miserably cold and wet.

  A robed Joan opened the door, took one look and left Rhia dripping puddles on the covered porch.

  “Lose the shoes and all those wet clothes, Rhia. You look like a drowned rat.”

  “You’ve never seen a rat, drowned or otherwise,” Rhia mumbled, removing her soggy boots. She placed them in a large basket next to the front door along with her light cloak and every stitch of clothing. Teeth chattering, she stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her.

  Joan held out a thick robe of soft spun crème wool and a matching towel. The fabric felt like silk, was as thick as old-fashioned looped wool, but not the least bit scratchy.