“Do you think less of me now?” she asked.
“Never.” Nathan kissed her in a way that made her toes curl. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He smiled, but suppressed nightmares hid in the shadows beneath his eyes. His skin was ashen, cheeks rough with stubble, except where he’d been cut the night of the attack. A shiny white line ran along his jaw, free of hair and sunken. Terrible stories seemed to tug at the corners of his mouth, and a million things left unsaid hovered around him. For a moment, he was a stranger. For a moment, she’d rather have been next door with Pointy.
“You don’t look like yourself, Nathan.”
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
She shook her head.
“Then I have an idea, love. Let’s not talk at all.” He kissed her like he’d never kissed her before. Hot, needy, his tongue caressing hers in a way that made her shiver. He crushed her to him, hands in her hair, on her back, butt, thighs, and her every fibre responded.
Her stomach melted; she couldn’t breathe.
Nathan lifted her, both hands cupped around her rear, and crossed to the bed. He laid her down and settled on top of her, kissed her jaw while his hand shifted up to curve around the bottom of her breast.
What was happening? He was rock hard against her leg. But his kisses tasted so good. But this scared her. But it was Nathan, and oh, the way his stubble prickled her cheek.
She made a small sound.
“Creator, Cara.” His breath on her neck sent a tremor through her, and the hair on her arms prickled when he flicked his tongue over her collarbone and squeezed her side.
Could he count her ribs?
All the things Malak had said about her body smacked into her. The image of her reflection in the mirror, so pale, so thin, caused her to move away. Her build had always been slender and boyish—she was in Marc’s clothes, for Creator’s sake—but with the weight loss and stress, she looked sickly.
To make things worse, she’d never been intimate before. What if she couldn’t pleasure Nathan? What if he compared her to other lovers? Why would he want her?
She’d maimed a woman earlier, run away from an entire network with one of her closest friends—who’d been injured and unconscious—then removed all her clothes in front of strangers, and assisted in surgery, but this would be what threw her over the edge?
Heat spread across her face. “Nathan, I think we should stop. I want to stop.”
“Why?” He reached up and squeezed her breast.
The only other man who’d ever touched her like that had been a stranger in a valley. This was all right—it was Nathan. He was gentler than the other guy had been, and it felt good, but— “Just give me a moment, all right?”
“What are you afraid of, Cara?”
She needed an excuse. “I haven’t— I mean, Pointy won’t be able to explain away a baby.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and?”
“I can see you’re not telling me everything.” He traced a finger around her nipple. “Trust me, love.”
Ashes, that felt good, and she did trust him, but she’d asked him to stop. Why wasn’t he listening?
She closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe if she explained it to him, he’d understand? She was likely just being silly, but she didn’t want to keep secrets from him. “Does it put you off? That I’m inexperienced? That I look like a boy?”
“You look like a boy?” He squeezed again. “Cara, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You were pretending to be a boy, and I immediately knew you weren’t one.”
“I look…” She shook her head. “I’ve lost a lot of weight. It’s bad.”
“We can fix that. You’ve been through a lot, but we’re together now. And no matter what you weigh, I love you.”
“You’re sure?”
Nathan laughed. “Of course. As for contraceptives, that’s taken care of.” He tilted back her chin and waited until she met his gaze. “And Cara, I’d be honoured to be your first.” He kissed her again, and he caressed her inner thigh, closer and closer to a place he’d never touched. “I want you.”
Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
This entire night, she’d been afraid, but had faced her fears and come out victorious. Maybe she should give it a try. She loved him, and Nathan would never hurt her. He wanted to be with her, and it wouldn’t kill her to let him. Maybe she also wanted this.
Of course, she did. She wanted Nathan.
Cara slid her hand up his chest. “Let’s do it.”
With a lopsided smile, he clutched her between the legs, and she gasped. “Gladly.”
Chapter 41
Lance growled and threw down the book he’d been reading. The blue room grated on his nerves, but so did the beige and the green and the bloody pink. When last had he been outside? When last had he done something, except sit around and hold Sera’s hand or listen to her play the piano?
Not that he minded the sitting and holding hands or listening to the piano. He and Sera had grown close. She’d told him everything about her life after Doc Cutter had passed. Had said she wanted no more secrets, not with her inner circle.
A slummer, up in the queen’s inner circle.
The patriarch, Jean-Luc Du Pont, hadn’t seemed happy about Sera’s truths reaching Lance’s ears. Intelligence wouldn’t let him live if he ever betrayed Sera. If he ever even thought of betraying her. Not that he would. He was committed.
A queen and a lowborn procurer. Kindred spirits.
Things between him and Laura weren’t bad either. Not great, but better than her suspecting him of attractions he didn’t have.
Lance had risen early that morning. He couldn’t bloody sleep in the too-soft bed and hadn’t wanted to wake Sera. So, he’d spent hours lost in his search for a book he could understand, but the one he’d selected turned out to be a children’s book. He was too stupid for anything else.
To make matters worse, there was still no news on Sunshine. The kid was probably worm food, and it shouldn’t bother Lance so much that one more boy had died following him on his mission. Many slummers had died following him.
He kicked the leg of the damn blue chair.
“Rough day?” Ahmed asked from behind him.
Lance spun around, then laughed. “You could say that.”
“Is there anything that I can do?”
“I’m just bored.”
Ahmed nodded and sat on the chair Lance had kicked. “I have wanted to talk to you for quite a while, but I admit I have been afraid.”
“Of me?” Lance plopped down in the chair opposite Ahmed.
“Not of you. I am, ah, awkward when anxious.”
“No need to be. We’ve known each other long enough to be honest, haven’t we?” Lance cocked his head. “And we’ve been pretty honest in the past.”
Ahmed nodded. “Well, I just want to make sure that there are no ill feelings between us. I did not mean to reject you, Lance. I would like for us to remain friends. Unfortunately, I cannot apologise for who I am.”
Lance rubbed the back of his neck. Had he not imagined this conversation a thousand times? In his dark cell, he’d pictured himself talking to Ahmed, convincing him to give their relationship a chance. Sometimes, Ahmed had relented, but even in Lance’s fantasies, he often ended up with a broken heart.
“I am causing you discomfort,” Ahmed said.
“Not at all.” Lance leaned back in the chair. “I just don’t really understand.”
“My orientation?”
“Among other things.”
Ahmed rubbed his lips together. “Shall I explain?”
“I’d like that.”
“All right. As a youth, my friends all experienced attraction to others. The opposite gender, the same gender—they all felt something. The need to be with a partner.” Ahmed scratched behind his ear. “I have never experienced this attraction. I do not have any need to touch or be touch
ed, I have never experienced romantic feelings, and have never felt the need to engage in sexual activities.”
“With anyone?”
Ahmed smiled. “This does not mean I have not tried. I thought it was expected of me to choose a way of life, to find a partner, perhaps to reproduce. To this end, I have experimented with sex and self-pleasure, but the experiences left me wondering why anyone would spend their time doing these things at all. It brought me no feelings of joy or satisfaction, nor did it cause me discomfort or pain.”
Lance frowned. “You felt nothing.”
“Exactly.” Ahmed raised his hands. “For many years, I believed something was wrong with me. That I was broken. I found peace when my friends Jerry and Nita—you met her in the slums—explained to me that they had also experienced those feelings of failure when they had first discovered their attraction to members of the same gender.
“Lucky for me, Nita and Jerry taught me that there is nothing broken about me. I am not even a single case—many others feel as I do about romance and sexual attraction. We are all different. For me, this is a solitary lifestyle. I value my friends and religion above all, and do not need a romantic partner.”
“Not broken, huh?” Lance grinned. “I’ve been waiting for a divine lightning bolt to strike me down for my lifestyle.”
“There is no dishonour in your choices, Lance. You are human, and if what you crave is a life partner, of whatever gender, you have the right to pursue that.”
Lance held out his hand and Ahmed shook it. “Thank you,” Lance said. “You are one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
“Likewise,” Ahmed said.
“What about me, Mantle-licker?” Sera smiled from the doorway.
“You too, Jailbird,” Lance said.
“I shall give you two a moment.” Ahmed half-bowed and left.
Lance patted the chaise next to his chair. “How’s your old man?”
“Sleeping, but alive.” Sera swallowed. Memories of the doc haunted her, it showed in her bloodshot eyes. She fell into the chaise. “I’m not pregnant, by the way.”
Lance squeezed her hand.
“Laura and the patriarch think we can fool the people into thinking I’m pregnant.” Sera kicked off her shoes and folded her legs under her dress. “They reckon I can adopt.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Lance said.
“Sure, except I’m supposed to have Lenoir blood. If I suddenly have a blond kid, everyone is going to know I’m not who I claim to be.”
Lance chuckled. “So maybe it’s not such a bad thing the half-cocked old arsehole didn’t land you with a baby, eh?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I used to run a brothel, have I told you that?”
She gaped at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not even. I was a damn good procurer, too.”
“Because you didn’t test the goods?” She grinned. A real smile, teeth and all. Hadn’t seen many of those since meeting her.
“Exactly.” He nudged her. “Which isn’t to say I didn’t have some fun. We kept the odd page or security guy who also doubled as an escort when the need arose.”
Sera laughed.
“Anyway, as I know how it goes in brothels, I can guarantee you’ll find a whore who needs to relocate a baby with dark hair.”
She pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on her leg. “And how would we get this whore to keep our secrets?”
He raised his hands.
The obvious answer was money, but Lance had never met a whore who didn’t eventually run out of money. They were almost permanently in need of employment.
Problem was, he’d seen many of the ladies find other employment, get out of the life, only to fall back into it. Maybe it was different for the whores in Roicester, but where he came from, women became whores for a reason—they were good at it.
What if that was the answer? Employ the whores, but keep them whores?
What would happen to the patriarch and his brood of similar-looking spies when Cara came back to Aelland to help Sera? They were Mordian, the lot of them. Lance didn’t know much, but he knew a fair deal about patriotism. When Cara came, Intelligence wasn’t going to keep serving Sera, who was a foreign queen. No, they’d ally with Sera, help her as she was sure they would, then follow their own queen back to their homeland.
What Sera needed was a network of Aellish citizens. She needed her own answer to Intelligence, and who better to gather information than the little people? Staff members, always present but treated like ornaments. Children, often employed as runners and pages, present but spoken over for their perceived lack of understanding. Whores and card dealers at gambling halls and the low-level thugs who worked for loan sharks and drug dealers. Everybody had their vices, even the noblest of nobles.
Lance arched an eyebrow. “You might not like this idea.”
“Try me.”
“What if we built a network for you? Like Intelligence but made of the Aellish. Then, should you find a whore with a dark-haired kid, you give her a job. She stays in her current position, but also gathers information on the side. Some guys like to talk as they ride a woman.”
Sera rubbed her chin. “And the ladies will go for this because…”
“People working those kinds of jobs never really get out of the life. And whores with money? Well, they tend to end up back on their backs when the cash runs out. You offer her a job, though, and she’s doing what she’s good at, while always carrying a few spare Veles in her back pocket.”
She nodded. “Who else would you put in this network?”
“Servants, kids, beggars, thugs, dealers, gambling lords—the little people. The dirty people. They all know how to keep shit on the hush anyway, and they might try to double cross you, but you’re the queen and have the power to squash their businesses and send them to prison.”
“Many nobles frequent less-than-reputable establishments.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Lance said.
She leaned over and hugged him. “You’re a genius, cell-mate.”
“We weren’t technically cell-mates.”
She slapped his arm. “Take the compliment, won’t you?”
“Thank you, most gracious of queens.”
“Once my father is awake, we’ll share this plan with him.”
He nodded. “Great.”
“I think you should head this network,” Sera said.
“Me?” He chuckled. “What do I know about spying?”
“You really are brilliant, you know? And my father happens to be an excellent spy. He could teach you, and you could do this.” She raised a hand to her throat. “Nobody would suspect you. You’re a slummer and a rot survivor. How would you even know me, let alone work for me?”
“A spy.” It would come to this. Hadn’t he learned by now that the Creator had a sense of humour?
Sera was right again; nobody would suspect him. Maybe it would even be fun.
“We have a deal?” she asked.
“We have a deal.”
Chapter 42
Cara bit her lower lip and traced patterns on Nathan’s neck. Had she ever been this happy?
She was sprawled over his chest, still naked, skin tingling wherever hers met his. Nathan and Nita were supposed to tell her something bad today, but maybe they could put that off for a little while longer.
Heat already pulsed between her thighs just at the sight of him.
Half a smile tugged at his lips, and he looked at her through his lashes. “Morning.”
“Hi.”
“You know that tickles, right?”
She slid her leg up against him, and her heart upped its tempo because of the hardness she found under the covers.
“Again?” he asked.
“Again.”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to be able to walk, love.”
“Then you’ll have to carry me.”
Nathan sat them upright and arranged her ankles behind his back.
“As my queen commands.” He kissed her neck.
Cara moaned.
“I love it when you make that sound.”
A fact she’d learned during the night.
“Ah, my queen?” Marc’s voice squeaked from outside the tent. “Are you awake?”
Nathan froze, his lips still pressed to her neck.
She swallowed a sigh. “Morning Marc. Please don’t come in, I’ve nothing to wear.”
“Ah. Oh.” Marc laughed. “I’ve brought more of my clothes for you.”
“Thanks. Just slide it in on the floor,” Cara said.
“Nita said she’d be here in an hour or so,” Marc said. “And the chief-queen says you’ll have breakfast with her. She says she won’t eat alone.”
“Thank you.” Cara waited until Marc’s footsteps faded, then ruffled Nathan’s hair. “So… We can do this fast?”
He playfully shoved her onto her back. “There will be time for fast later. Until I’ve shown you everything I plan to show you, we’ll make it last”—he kissed her stomach—“and last”—the space between her breasts—“and last.” He ended with a long, deep kiss on the lips. “So, we’ll pick this up again later. Does that work for you?”
She smiled but got up. “Fine.”
The small tent had remained warm through the night. Nathan had risen to add coal to the oven once, and though only a low glow remained, residual heat still radiated from the oven. The floor-coverings by the entrance of the tent were much colder than those closer to the oven and the bed, and a slight chill crept into the space through the small opening Marc had made to deliver his package.
He’d slid a neat pile of clothes and a bucket of lukewarm water through the bottom of the tent flap.
Cara cleaned herself with water from the bucket, then tossed the damp washcloth at Nathan.
“Hey!”
She laughed as she braided her hair and dressed in the simple grey trousers and shirt that were worn underneath robes as part of a physician’s uniform. Bittersweet. An unreachable dream.
Nathan was still in bed when Vendla peered into the tent.
“Breakfast,” she said, then left.
A Trial of Sparks & Kindling (Fall of the Mantle Book 2) Page 32
