Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  At exactly six o’clock, the High Counsel sounded three chimes on a fine crystal bell etched with the Greysomne sigil. The hall fell quiet.

  He raised a glass to RuArk and said, “In honor of our guests, we’ll enjoy something seldom had since the great lady of this house passed on. A traditional Gaian meal.” The entire hall sent up a collective gasp, some in great expectation of savoring such rich fare, and others in disgust as they imagined what was in the stuff. Rhia had to side with the ones whose stomach clenched with terror. Gaian food cooked by Draeman chefs? Yuck.

  “Good evening to all. Cheers!”

  Hearty “cheers” rang around the huge room in response to the High Counsel. The bright chime of crystal touching crystal sounded as neighbors turned to one another in toasts as the Houseman brought out the first course.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Rhia groaned inwardly at the arrival of Brita’s brother, Ricard. In his infinite wisdom—snark—and amazing lack of good sense, he strode into the hall with as long a stride as his short legs would allow. Unfortunately, he found himself up against a very determined, though quite subtle, Sharyn. Oh, and Sharyn’s very sharp, discretely wielded blade.

  “Who is he, Rhia?” RuArk whispered, appearing to concentrate on the plate of food in front of him.

  He smiled at her, but the intensity in his voice didn’t sound happy at all. The man looked so at ease, nobody further than half a table length away would think anything of importance was being discussed. She was very good at hiding her thoughts behind her eyes, but she conceded that RuArk was better.

  “He’s Brita’s brother. Tell Sharyn to stand down, RuArk,” she hissed back.

  “No need to worry,” RuArk said. “Most of these people believe she’s greeting the High Counsel, not protecting us.”

  “What do you mean ‘protecting us’? My father’s men, my men, wouldn’t allow anyone in here they didn’t know.”

  “Irrelevant since we suspect the person behind the plot to kill you is someone you know and know well.”

  Well, she couldn’t dispute that, so time to get back to the whole ‘stranger’ thing.

  “I deal with strangers on a daily basis, RuArk. Draema is full of people from other provinces. How am I to go about my duties? You’re the Protector of your province, and I’m a diplomat and ambassador for mine. Surely you understand.”

  “What I understand is that your duties have been given to others.”

  Her mouth dropped open. RuArk winked and popped a wonderfully fragrant piece of smoked fish into his mouth, and then grimaced. “I’ve never tasted anything quite...” He coughed discretely and gulped down half a glass of water. “Uh, quite like it.”

  She was sure he hadn’t. There hadn’t been a Gaian to direct the chefs in the correct way to prepare their native dishes since her mom passed cycles ago. Not to mention there might be plenty of crystal clear water in the High City, but they were for leisure. There wasn’t a stocked lake in the entire City, and the occasion was too last-minute to have anything imported from the border colonies. She didn’t even want to know where the chefs had gotten the fish from.

  Turning back to RuArk, she watched him flash a discreet hand signal that looked like he was trying to get crumbs off his fingertips. Sharyn backed up, smiled and shook the High Counsel’s hand as if they’d shared a joke. Her father, being the tactician that he was, went right along with it, his smile easy and the relaxed posture of his body genuine. Sharyn then resumed her position without the slightest sound. She ignored Ricard, all together.

  And RuArk was right—nobody seemed to think anything was out of place.

  But poor Ricard stood there wide-eyed and trembling. He managed to regain his composure after a few moments of having his person free from the threat of that blade to his balls. This time, as he took the final steps to reach the High Counsel, he moved much more slowly. Rhia felt sorry for him.

  “Greetings, High Counsel,” he stammered, recovering from his near bout with the inability to ever bear children.

  “Hello, Ricard. How are you? Well, perhaps I shouldn’t ask you that just now,” the High Counsel chuckled. Motioning to RuArk, he introduced the two men. “RuArk of Gaia, this is Ricard Shae, an old friend of the family. He’s brother to Rhia’s companion, Brita.”

  “I remember Brita. Ricard, your sister was always kind to me and my relatives when we came to visit when I was a small boy,” RuArk said, inclining his head politely. But Ricard wasn’t looking at RuArk. Instead, his eyes were plastered on Rhia.

  She groaned inwardly as RuArk’s answering expression made it clear Ricard was just a bit too dreamy-looking for his tastes.

  Ricard, like Bryan Collaidh, was another who’d always fancied himself in love with her. The difference was she actually liked Ricard and considered him a friend, even if he did believe he was the most spectacular man walking. He was actually a genius, and responsible for many of the more recent discoveries in Draema and his native province of Balear. At the same time, he was forgetful, clumsy and oblivious of others. Kind of like right now.

  “Greetings Rhia.”

  “Hello, Ricard. Won’t you have some dinner?”

  Ricard sighed with awe and attempted to squeeze between RuArk and Rhia. It was quickly obvious RuArk wasn’t moving, and Ricard certainly couldn’t move him. He looked condescendingly at the mighty warlord, fully expecting him to give up his seat. Rhia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning when her inner bitch became curious as to how annoyed RuArk would get over someone as silly as Ricard. After letting the posturing go on for a few moments, RuArk’s jaw began to tick.

  Uh oh.

  “Um, Ricard,” Rhia stepped in deftly.

  “Yes?” he sighed dreamily.

  Good grief, poor idiot.

  “RuArk is a guest of honor seated by the High Counsel himself. I’d be happy for you to join us, but you’ll have to sit down there,” she said, pointing to an empty seat some four or five places down from hers.

  “Isn’t there any way I could sit next to you?”

  RuArk rolled his eyes. Rhia smiled sweetly while gritting her teeth. He was a dear, dear man, but damn he was obtuse. She was tempted to spill that she and RuArk had been mated this morning, knowing Ricard would hop back a few feet in disbelief. Maybe the surprise would shock some sense into her old friend.

  Doubt it.

  Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, their mating was a secret to everyone except her father, Mannon, RuArk, and his men.

  “Ricard, you know I’ve always been fond of you, but I’m sorry. The High Counsel chooses who has the seat of honor and RuArk is a guest.” And my lifemate. “Oh look! There’s Brita. She’s waving to you.”

  Ricard turned, caught his sister’s eye and literally wilted like a hothouse flower that had received too much iozene light. Rhia touched him lightly on the sleeve and said, “Brita really missed you while you were away visiting your parents in your homeland. You know how much she means to me and I don’t want her feelings hurt. So sit with her and be nice, okay?”

  At her touch, Ricard’s demeanor brightened considerably. He kissed her hand and swaggered away with smug satisfaction.

  Rhia watched him go, relieved a confrontation had been avoided while still saving Ricard’s feelings. RuArk hadn’t appreciated the intrusion and she didn’t even want to guess how close the man had come to making his displeasure known. Young RuArk would have popped Ricard in the lip. Grown up RuArk? Who could say?

  “Why make the man believe you care for him?” RuArk growled, barely moving his lips.

  “But I do care for him,” Rhia replied sweetly.

  “You are playing both sides Rhia.” His voice was calm, but the gritty bass of his words screamed pissed off. “Know right now that I do not share.”

  She wondered if he realized that his words gave him away. ‘You are’ instead of ‘you’re’ and ‘do not’ instead of ‘don’t’? Yep, he was quite annoyed if he’d slipped into
what the Draeman considered stuffy, old fashioned speech. As a man who traveled to many lands, RuArk was a master at using the dialect of whatever people he was visiting.

  But not right now. While his annoyance was clear in his speech, Rhia wondered if she could get him to cuss like a Draeman once he slipped back into Draeman common? Maybe it should be on her list of things to do.

  She giggled and quickly regretted it when he stiffened.

  “I’m First Heir, RuArk. What good is it to be a diplomat of Draema if I can’t be diplomatic?” She smiled, stabbing him playfully in the back of the hand with her fork. “And by the way, Gaian, I don’t share either.”

  She didn’t bother trying to hide a completely unashamed grin at getting the last word in. Wouldn’t be the last time, either. He growled, low in his throat, eyes locked with hers.

  “Be nice RuArk. It’s so much easier to diffuse a situation when you’re sweet about it,” she crooned. He growled some more.

  “There is nothing sweet about me, Rhia. But it is a word I would use to describe your scent.”

  “I’m not wearing any perfume,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  “Yet I smell you just the same.”

  Dropping his schooled mask, he allowed her to glimpse the hot, raw desire in his gray eyes as they clashed with her tawny ones. Oooh boy, this might get ugly. Sexy.

  “Sweet and spicy, like the freshest honey and cream with a bit of allspice. I can almost... taste you.” Oh. My. God. He was talking about her woman’s scent! Holy shit. He gave her a heart stopping grin, and her color deepened. How many times had she blushed today? This was ridiculous. Even if he was such a fabulous specimen of manhood she’d have to be non-human to resist him.

  Besides, she wasn’t resisting him as a man. What woman in her right mind would complain about having a man like RuArk in her bed? No, it wasn’t that. It was the whole “having her life snatched out of her control” thing that grated on her nerves.

  And the fact that he wasn’t playing fair just now.

  She tried to kick him under the table. He caught her foot, untied the strap of the high heeled sandal and slipped it off. The cheerful conversation filling the hall covered up her near-squeal when she burst out laughing in the middle of the vegetable course. She pretended a cough, lowered her voice to hiss between giggles.

  “Stop tickling me, RuArk. You’re making me embarrass myself.”

  He replaced her shoe, but kept hold of her leg, draping it over his thigh beneath the thankfully long tablecloth. His hand eased from her calf to her thigh and back again. She squirmed, trying to get loose. RuArk’s fingers pressed into the muscle just short of her sex in warning. It had the intended effect. She went completely still and gave him a vicious scowl.

  Damn. Must not be vicious enough considering the man was doing a piss poor job of holding in that damn devilish smile. A smile that never faltered as he teased her flesh.

  And it felt... good. Fun even. Definitely unexpected.

  Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she played with a male. Actually, she could—it had been with RuArk, a bazillion cycles ago in her father’s courtyard as a child.

  In his most innocent voice, he said, “School your features, love. Your eyes look as if they might fall into this... whatever this dish is supposed to be from my homeland.”

  It was true. Her eyes felt as big as saucers. RuArk laughed some more as she cursed colorfully under her breath.

  Her father looked up. “What was that, Rhia?”

  Shit. Obviously not quietly enough.

  “Nothing, Father. RuArk and I were just discussing a matter of... uh... diplomacy.”

  RuArk painted on an innocent look while her voice went all breathless and not convincing at all as he continued to stroke the inside of her thigh.

  “Well, I’m glad you two are having a good discussion,” said the High Counsel turning away to engage Linc. A glance at Joan had Rhia reining in her bit of undercover abandon to watch her best friend with RuArk’s First Commander.

  Interesting. Every time Joan tried to speak with Linc, he seemed polite but short. Was he simply not interested in anything she wanted to talk about? While they were dressing for dinner, Joan had told her about the man she’d met in the stables. The moment she met Linc she figured it must be him, but now her best friend wore a bored-as-hell expression. Perhaps Joan had simply imagined the spark earlier? It certainly wasn’t there now. Rhia caught her eye from across the table and winked. Joan flashed a ‘look on the bright side’ smile and moved her attention to someone else.

  So far they’d made their way through what Joan would have called “sort-of” meat, fish and vegetables. Spring was getting underway and fresh bio-greens with late winter tomatoes were available, served with a sweet creamy white sauce. It had all smelled delicious, even though it tasted like wood. Either way, Rhia barely noticed. Much too busy concentrating on breathing, considering RuArk never stopped touching her flesh.

  By the end of the meal she was boiling hot, bothered and ready to stab RuArk with anything she could get her hands on. He’d let his hand rest on her thigh while he talked with her father. His fingers played across her skin under the silky fabric of her skirt. Gently caressed, stroked her from her knee to the top of her thigh. Though he’d stopped way short of the soft and sensitive flesh at her center, her skin sizzled and her underwear—soaked with her own dewy moisture—stuck to the heated skin between her legs.

  Gritting her teeth, Rhia tried her best not to roll her hips against RuArk’s questing fingers. She’d thought his earlier kisses were torture, but this, his touch, sent her reeling. Just when she thought the torment was done and she’d be able to make a clean getaway, the dinner crystal chimed and the High Counsel’s voice rang out once more.

  “Tonight,” he began, “In honor of our guests, I’ve requested a special dessert to be enjoyed with a short vocal performance by the Society of Choralers to end the meal. Enjoy.”

  The bottom or Rhia’s stomach fell to the floor. Great. Go ahead and give the man more time to drive her crazy. The Society of Culinary Arts brought out an unexpected treat—a cold frothy whipped dish with what was supposed to be orange honey and berry compote swirled throughout.

  And RuArk made it such an erotic experience she could have swallowed her spoon without realizing it was stuck in her throat. Every time he took a spoonful of the fluffy sweet treat he slowly licked the confection off of the back of the spoon, swirling his tongue around it while looking her directly in her eyes until she glanced away. He leaned close, only to whisper, “I wish we could announce our joining. It would give me an excuse to carry you back to your apartment. I would love to give you a Draeman wedding night, Rhia.”

  Oh good god.

  “I’ve enjoyed your kisses today. I wish I could taste this sweet dessert on your tongue.”

  She still said nothing. Couldn’t form the words.

  “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Rhia, even when we were young. Now you’re simply breathtaking. And now that we’re together again, I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

  She turned to him, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Still, no words came to mind. Not a single snarky syllable.

  All she could think about was the tingle in her belly, the warmth of her skin as the heat flowed to her sex.

  “What is it Rhia?” he asked when she groaned as he licked the spoon again. “Don’t you like my tongue?” Then he described in detail what he planned to do with his tongue, all of it involving her bare skin and not much else.

  “Bastard.”

  “Not at all. I promise my parents were married when I was conceived.”

  She didn’t feel like laughing, damn it.

  In fact, she was speechless. Breathless. Trying desperately to give the appearance everything was fine. Oh blazes, she was going to combust if she didn’t get away from him soon. And the hotter she got, the angrier it made her. Her libido careened out of control and she didn�
�t like it one blasted bit.

  Rhia was a walking, talking, semi-orgasm. But she was an orgasm with a plan. RuArk said he’d give her some time to get used to the idea of being mated, right? Well, she would use that time wisely. Wisely indeed.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  RuArk moved swiftly up the winding tower stairs, Linc close on his heels. He pressed his key to the wall lock outside his apartments and watched the door slide smoothly open with a patience he most certainly didn’t feel. RuArk moved through the living area and disappeared momentarily through the tall archway that led into his bedroom.

  Returning with his gear bag and two arms full of clothing, he called out quietly and Sharyn came quickly through the adjoining door.

  “These documents,” he said, producing three thick documents bearing the official seal of the Protector of the Realm, “are to be given to three captains of your choosing. Each one will take a ten-man fireteam. The first to the new holdings in Province Springs, the second to our warriors who remained behind in the Borderlands, and the third to my Grandfather in Gaia. They ride within the hour.”

  “Tonight?” she asked.

  “Yes, tonight. Meet me in the stables as soon as your orders are given and we’ll see them off.”

  “What of the other fireteams? Have you orders for them?” Linc asked as he watched Sharyn tuck the documents into her quiver, then sling her bow across her back and head for the still-open door.

  RuArk tilted his head as Linc watched his fellow First Commander. His eyes remained plastered to the jade green sarand draped sensually over her lithe form until she disappeared from view down the wide stairway.

  “Linc?”

  No answer.

  “Linc!”

  “Wha... yes, sir?”

  RuArk’s thick black brows rose. Linc was discomfited—an uncharacteristic state for a Gaian warrior. The man who was known for his cool-headed demeanor and cynical outlook on everything, especially women, now seemed to be enthralled by one.

  “Why don’t you approach her, Linc? It’s obvious to all that you are taken with Sharyn.”