The small cries she made at the back of her throat drove the flames inside him higher. His body tightened with need but he fought it. He was poised on the edge, so tempted to devour her, to let their desire burn them from the inside out. But rushing this wasn’t a part of his plan. He wanted her to experience the subtleties involved, the variation of pleasure that could be given and taken with the sharing of lips, of touching one another. He drew back.
Annika’s eyes were half closed, her cheeks flushed, her lips slick and moist from his kisses. Beneath her breast her heart beat a rapid tattoo.
“This time open your mouth, take me in, taste me,” Kalan whispered against her lips then claimed them again. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, relishing her flavor like a thirsty man savors water. His whole body tensed when her tongue curled around his, the slow slide tentative, unsure. He encouraged her with a groan.
Her fingernails scored his chest, a sweet pain that surged southward, then she skimmed her hand over his torso, inching it lower, lighting a trail of need wherever she touched him. He hissed in surprise and jerked back.
Annika stared up at him, expression dazed, uncertainty dulling the mercurial blue color in her eyes. “I did something wrong.”
“No. I wasn’t expecting that…”
“I just… it felt like the right thing to do.”
“Touch me, Annika. It feels very good.”
“That’s too dull a description.” She placed her hand on her abdomen. A small frown crinkled her brow. “This kissing and touching makes me—burn.”
Kalan watched as her fingers stroked the nap of the shirt, so close to the juncture of her thighs.
“It’s a strange experience.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “I mean, as a healer I know the physical signs, I’ve seen what arousal can do to a man but for a woman it’s not so obvious. I didn’t understand, until now.” She touched her lips. “When you were kissing me… everything you did with your tongue I felt down here…” Her hand slid to her abdomen.
Kalan hardened to the point of pain. Mother of Mercy… “Annika…” His voice was hoarse.
Whatever she saw in his gaze widened hers. He watched the blue flecks shimmer and expand until they almost concealed the violet striations. Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips. It was too much. He closed the distance between them.
The passion, the intensity of the kiss burned him. There was little gentleness or tenderness, just hot, ferocious, unadulterated need that demanded satisfaction, culmination.
He growled fiercely as his tongue explored every part of her mouth. She buried her hands in his hair and her body writhed against him, her soft little mews pushing him to greater heights. She was so close to release, and all from his kisses.
“That’s it, Annika, just feel,” he whispered against her mouth. “Let yourself go.”
He slid his hand from her breast to the gentle swell of her mound. Tugging the fabric upward, he nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth then massaged the heel of his hand against her softness. The pads of his fingers smoothed over the bare mound of her sex. She was swollen, wet. The scent of her arousal was wild honey and musk.
He groaned, the sound wrenched deep from in his chest, and pressed his fingers into her slick folds, stroked once, twice, felt her muscles contract. On the third stroke her body arched and she shuddered. Another sharp gasp and her warmth coated his fingers, her thighs clamped tightly around his hand.
“Kalan!” she cried out, the pleasure on her face beautiful to watch.
He swallowed her cry in another kiss, continuing to work her, prolonging her pleasure for as long as she could stand it, easing up only when she relaxed against him.
Gathering her close, he listened to her uneven breathing, felt the heat of it grazing his skin. He wasn’t sure whose heart he heard pounding in his ears. His body throbbed and ached with unrelieved need. It hurt but the pain was sweet to bear.
Annika had trusted him enough to cede control of her pleasure. Wrapping an arm around her and smoothing a hand over her hip, he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss against her flushed cheek. He couldn’t help the satisfied grin that curved his lips.
“Kalan?”
Annika started at the sound of a female voice out in the other room. He ran a reassuring hand over her back. “It’s all right. That’s just Kymora, my sister.”
“Doesn’t anyone knock around here?”
Her disgruntled reply widened his grin. “I’m sure she did. We were probably just too… busy to notice.”
A delicate pink hue stained her cheeks. She reached for her cloak and wrapped it around her. The tender moment broken, he sighed, wishing they’d had more time to share together before having to face the day. He wanted to make sure Annika felt secure about what they’d done.
“Kalan?” Kymora’s voice came from right outside his door. “I’ve brought breakfast and clothes for Annika.”
“We’ll be out in a moment.” He snatched up a shirt from the chest at the end of his bed and put it on then held out a hand to Annika. “Come, meet my sister.”
“Kalan, I’m half dressed!” Annika kept her voice to a furious whisper.
“Don’t worry, she won’t mind.” She shot him an incredulous look. He grinned. “Kymora’s blind.”
Chapter 16
THE outer room of the Blade Council chambers was filled with warriors. An equal amount of men and women, all dressed in the Lady’s armor, sat on benches scattered around the room; others stood in groups on the mosaic-tiled floor. There were so many Annika could only guess what number occupied the room or lined the corridor that led to the Inner Chamber where their leaders met.
Heads turned and conversations tapered off as the closest became aware of their arrival. Kalan and Kymora walked on either side of her, the Handmaiden using Annika’s arm as a guide instead of her walking staff.
During breakfast, Annika had sensed the strength of the Lady’s Gift within Kymora and been awed by it. So pervasive had the sensation been, she’d felt it pulsing in the air around them. Having never met a Lady’s servant before, it’d come as a surprise to see such incredible power offset by humility and gentleness. Kymora’s welcome and natural warmth quickly put her at ease and Annika had the sneaking suspicion that Kalan had enjoyed watching her reaction to their meeting.
The reactions of the Light Blade warriors told a different story. The chamber was heated. Annika could hear flames crackling in a fireplace to her left but there was little warmth in the sea of faces. The whispers began and hands strayed to weapon hilts and belts, their unease and hatred hitting her like a wave.
Wishing now she hadn’t left her cloak behind in the apartment, Annika fisted her hands in the soft folds of her new dress and tried not to cringe. The gathering was a stark reminder of the times her father had insisted she attend the Na’Reish banquets. Never one to pass up a chance to humiliate her in front of his peers, he’d actually encourage them to taunt and abuse her for her half-blood status. To be the center of attention now sent chills racing down her spine.
Kalan’s hand came to rest in the middle of her back, his touch light but encouraging. “Just remember how I acted when I first met you, Annika.” His murmur carried no farther than their ears. “They’ve yet to understand the difference between a Na’Chi and the Na’Reish.”
“They know the Lady supports you.” Kymora’s soft but strong voice added her reassurance. “Have faith and all will be well.”
Annika slanted a sideways glance at the woman, still astounded by the revelation that the Lady had spoken to Kymora of her arrival. Kalan’s sister shared his height and coloring, although in a more slender, graceful form. With the same black hair and green eyes, only the length and her inability to see differed. Annika had quickly learned, however, that her lack of sight in no way debilitated her.
“These warriors respect my brother’s leadership skills.” Kymora turned her head in her direction, a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. “Many of them are also h
is friends. In time, they’ll understand why he has included you among them.”
Swallowing hard, Annika squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and tried to emulate Kymora’s air of confidence. The Handmaiden squeezed her elbow in silent encouragement.
Halfway across the floor, Annika’s pace slowed again. The warriors around them parted to clear a path and as they did so, all went down on one knee, their heads bowed. They remained so until Kalan acknowledged them.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, leaning closer to him.
Kalan was the only one in the room not dressed in armor or leather. Instead he wore a matching set of black breeches and a long, loose-sleeved shirt with a dark green over-tunic belted at the waist. The breeches were tucked into knee-length boots and he’d tied his hair back into a simple ponytail. He was also the only one without weapons of any sort on his belt or peeking from the top of his boots. That fact didn’t detract from his aura of strength or authority.
“Kalan?” she prompted.
The strangest look of discomfort flickered across his face, but before he could answer a familiar blond-haired warrior stepped forward to meet them.
“The Council awaits you in the Inner Chamber.” Arek was the only one in the vicinity who remained standing as he addressed Kalan. He lowered his voice. “Dayn and Jole are already in the Great Library searching our annals.”
Kalan nodded. “Keep me informed. If they find something, I want to know immediately.”
The warrior raised an eyebrow. “I have your permission to interrupt the meeting?”
“After your last performance in chambers, I have serious doubts about whether they’ll want to let you in again.” Kalan’s dry tone made both Kymora and Arek chuckle. Annika glanced among the trio, feeling like she’d walked in halfway through a conversation. “But for something as important as this, yes, you can interrupt.”
The Handmaiden must have sensed her confusion. “Arek managed to insult four of the five Councilors in a past meeting. He was asked to leave.”
The statement didn’t surprise Annika. He was a man of strong emotion and it was logical that they would influence his attitudes and opinions.
“They were tolerant enough of me when Kalan went missing.” The Second’s drawled reply made several of the warriors close by grin.
“I just bet they were,” Kalan muttered. Again, Annika felt like she was missing an important part of the conversation but this time no one provided an explanation. “Just don’t give the Councilors—especially your grandfather—any excuse to refuse your right to speak.”
“They’re like two peas in a pod, as stubborn as one another,” Kymora murmured. Arek’s head jerked in her direction. Annika wondered if she’d meant her words to be overheard. “He lives to frustrate Davyn.”
“Every chance I get, Temple Elect,” he drawled, a gleam in his eye.
“I’m surprised the Council hasn’t had you stripped of your title, Second.”
His lip curled. “They’re welcome to it if they want to take it. I won’t miss attending meetings or official functions in your brother’s stead.”
Kymora laughed lightly. “Ahh, but while your little performances have alleviated the boredom of endless discussions on policy and administration, I think he’d miss you by his side. You just need to learn a little tact. Model yourself after Benth. He manages to reprimand the others without insulting them.”
“You want me to use diplomacy? Pfft!” A grimace passed over his face. “I’ll leave that to you, Handmaiden. You manage that quite well.”
Their banter fascinated Annika. While there was an implied tension between the two of them, there was very little true animosity. Kalan seemed relaxed, quite tolerant of, and somewhat amused by their verbal sparring.
Her father wouldn’t have allowed such levity. Meetings among the Na’Reish consisted of him giving orders and everyone listening and obeying. Arguing with or contradicting him resulted in execution on the spot.
Kalan cleared his throat. “If you’re finished sniping at one another, we have several Councilors waiting for our arrival.”
Arek bowed, an impudent grin on his face. “Then by your leave, Commander, I’ll go help the others in the library. Enjoy your meeting.”
Kalan motioned them to continue. They entered a short corridor and left the crowd of warriors behind. They passed a small atrium filled with green plants and flowers. Annika glanced skyward, wondering at the source of light filling the small garden and discovered the entire roof was made of glass.
“Ahh, the sweet scent of Mothers’ Tears.” Kymora sighed. The strong odor of the delicate winter flower hung heavily in this part of the corridor.
Two young Light Blade warriors stood to either side of a set of double doors that looked like mini-replicas of Eastgate, the entrance they’d used into Sacred Lake. The Lady’s sun symbol had been carved in intricate detail into the wooden panels. Kalan drew them to a halt just before they reached them.
His sister tilted her head to one side. “Kalan?”
Annika glanced up at him as he took one of her hands in his. He wore the same troubled expression of a few minutes ago and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles repeatedly, as if searching for the right words to say.
When his eyes lifted to meet hers she saw doubt and worry shadowing his gaze. “Before we go in, and no matter what happens today remember that you’re not alone in this journey. I stand with you.” Fear flickered across his face, gone as swiftly as it had appeared. His hand tightened around hers. “I also ask for your understanding and forgiveness, Annika.”
His words made no sense. She glanced at Kymora but the Handmaiden seemed as confused by them as she was. With no further explanation, Kalan released her hand and nodded to the two warriors guarding the Council Chamber. The double doors opened inward and the guard on the right stepped inside.
“Honored Councilors!” the young woman called. Annika peered past her, curiosity and dread flooding her in equal amounts as she saw five older men and women, all dressed in finery similar to Kalan’s, sitting at a round table in the middle of the room. “May I present Kymora, the Temple Elect and Kalan, the Lady’s Chosen.”
Chapter 17
ONE road in, one road out, and open ground between the foothills and the city. Varian stared at the makeshift map of Sacred Lake made of rocks and scratched markings inside the circle of his scouts. There was nothing drawn inside the circle that represented the city.
Barvi tapped his stick and marked the ground at several points on the edge of the circle. “There are watchtowers over the gates, and another in between each pair. Four humans man them and two patrol the battlement walkways.”
Lisella quietly handed the stocky, dark-haired scout a water flask. He nodded his thanks and drank deeply before splashing some on his face then gave it back.
“We couldn’t see anything beyond the walls.” Zaune shook his sweat-dampened braids out of his eyes. “They were just too high. Had we gone any closer we risked being seen by the watch in the towers.”
Both Na’Chi sounded as exhausted as they looked. Their faces were pale and drawn, the lines deeply etched around their mouths and eyes. The flecks in their eyes glowed red in the firelight, but neither deigned to show any discomfort.
They’d pushed themselves hard over two days to get what little information they could about Sacred Lake back to them. Varian made a note to send out one of the others to hunt for them. They needed to drink before morning if they wanted to avoid the symptoms of blood-fever.
“Following that Light Blade patrol was still a good idea, Varian,” Lisella said, softly, taking a seat beside him in the circle. “They led us straight to the city.”
Zaune snorted. “You should have heard the humans, Varian. By the time they reached the valley plateau our fleeing party of four had grown to a full Na’Hord.”
“How else are they going to explain they couldn’t capture one of us?” Barvi asked, a gleam in his eyes.
Vari
an joined in the laughter. Lisella hushed them, a tolerant smile on her face. “Keep the noise down. We’ve only just managed to get the last of the children to sleep.”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the blanket-wrapped bodies huddled in shallow caves they’d found less than a day ago. Other members of the group also slept although a few sat near the fire talking quietly amongst themselves.
Their camp overlooked the main roadway leading toward the city. There was enough shrubbery along the ridge and around the caves they’d found to obscure any activity from the casual observer and, if they were careful, it was the ideal spot to live while they decided what the next move would be.
“That Patrol is likely to cause us problems.” Zaune’s low-toned comment drew his attention back to the circle. “If they report the sighting of four Na’Reish soldiers the humans are going to respond by increasing their Patrols.”
“We’re going to have to lay in supplies in case we’re unable to forage if a Patrol comes too close.” Barvi’s statement drew a few comments.
“I think it’d be wise to instigate the old rules we had living near the fortress,” Lisella added, her gaze sweeping the circle. Several heads nodded.
“Lisella, can you organize the camp?” Varian knew she’d keep any naysayers too busy to worry about the danger in the coming days. As he gained her assent, he glanced to another of his scouts. “Jinnae, you’re in charge of setting the watch. If we’re discovered we need time to escape. I want an inner and outer perimeter established. Everyone from the age of twelve and up can share the responsibility. Set up snares and anything else you think would slow an intruder.”
A wicked smile curved the young Na’Chi’s mouth. “I can do that.” She shared a look with Lisella. “I’ll get Fannis and Rystin to help.”
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