by Inez Kelley
The grip tightened then fell away. Each reached for their glasses and slipped back into silence. Pride stiffened Darach’s back. Men, human men, did not need more words than necessary. A handshake was vow enough.
The thought of a vow brought memories to the surface. “Batu, do you know anything about a Princess Rycca Ooman?”
“Rycca?” A mass of lines chalked into his forehead. “No. I don’t think I’ve heard that name before.”
“She’s the beginning of the heartmate bonds. Jana danced there last night.”
Shock opened Batu’s mouth. “I thought you said her name was Ooman? Shouldn’t it be Segur?”
“Yes. But how that changes or what creates the bonds we haven’t yet seen. When Jana’s rested fully, we’ll dance more but I thought perhaps you recalled that name from your schooling.”
“There was a fire.” Laying his head back, Batu studied the ceiling as if reading a book. “Sometime about two hundred summers ago, fire totally destroyed Thistlemount’s library and the king’s study. From what I can recall, a prince also died in the fire. I think. Maybe it was a princess, I’m not sure. Anyway, many records and lineage charts were lost. Now, the court has an official historian but back then, it was devastating.”
Downing the last of his drink, he used the chair arms to lever himself up. He limped to the bed, pulled on a thick robe and belted it.
“Where are you going?”
“To help. I hate sitting on my ass. At least my brain still works. Paron is more than my father’s most trusted advisor. He’s the official Elder’s Council historian. I’m going to go raid his library and see if I can find anything on Rycca Ooman or the heartmate bonds. If not, well, if anyone remembers any old legends or tales, it’s him.”
Caution brought Darach to his feet. “Do you think it wise to reveal so much to our host?”
Batu paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Knowing who to tell the truth to is the hardest part of politics, he said. I agree. My father trusts him so I will as well. If I’m right, he may help. If I’m wrong, I’ll be dead.”
Chapter Ten
Every time her eyes caught Darach’s, she smiled. Nothing had prepared her for this feeling. She could still feel his hands, his mouth, and her knees trembled beneath her borrowed gown. A slight awareness tingled between her legs, not soreness, just knowledge and remembrance, a sweet ache she longed to deepen.
She’d woken to him sitting by the fire, watching her. She’d wanted to draw him into the bed but he forced her up, to dress and go downstairs. He wasn’t satisfied until she’d eaten a hearty breakfast.
In the library, Batu and Paron sat surrounded by old manuscripts, some so yellowed and faded that Jana feared they’d crumble into dust. Batu shook his head ruefully. They’d found nothing yet. Her steps were heavy as she and Darach reclimbed the stairs.
He opened the door to her chamber and tugged her inside. His arms went around her the instant the latch caught. “We should dance but I need to kiss you again.”
The spice of winter burst along her tongue as she opened her lips, taking him inside. Everything in her went liquid—hot, molten liquid. She wound her arms around his shoulders, taking his kiss and returning it. They stumbled blindly toward the bed. The weight of him was a delectable press, grinding into her hips.
“I can’t stop thinking about this, about you, feeling you around me.”
An unfulfilled thrum coursed through her. For a long moment, they danced with only lips, with only tongues. His tongue slicking down her neck sent a shudder through her spine.
“Wait.” Pushing against his shoulder, she wiggled out of his hold.
“Nayeli?”
“Just give me one minute.” Stumbling from the bed, she hurriedly scooped herbs from both medicine pouches into a half goblet of wine then downed it in one swallow.
“Is your shoulder paining you?”
“No.” Letting the herbs settle in her stomach, she retied the herb bags. “Last night when I said I needed the healer, it wasn’t for my shoulder.”
His head cocked to the side. “Your ear? Or do you have an injury I cannot see?”
“No injury.” The missing ridge of her ear was still thickly scabbed but hadn’t hurt that much. She crawled back on the bed and looked directly into his eyes. “The herbs I just took, the herbs I took last night before we went to the sauna...they prevent children, Darach.”
He drew a slow breath. “You don’t want children?”
“Perhaps someday.” She ran her fingertip along his tunic braid. Darach would return to his world and she’d have to move forward without him. She couldn’t imagine loving with another man, creating a child with him.
“Jana, look at me.” He tilted her chin up with his knuckle. “I want no man to give you a child except for me.”
This was unfair. She didn’t want to face this heartbreak yet. “You’re a spell. When you leave, I’ll be alone. I don’t want to raise a child by myself.”
“I don’t wish to leave.”
Her lungs stopped working. No breath passed her lips and her eyes began to lose focus. “What are you saying?”
“When our quest is complete, I’ll be called home. I won’t go. I shall choose to remain here, as a man...as your man, if you’ll have me.”
“But what about your world? All the beauty and joy there?”
“Paradise would become cold without you. I need you. You are my nayeli, my everything.”
Her most secret hope burst into life, and happy tears coursed over her cheeks. He kissed each one away. Her hands kneaded his back and Darach moaned, a rolling rumble of innuendo and promise.
Unlacing the gown was quick work for his lean fingers. She pushed the heap of linen to the floor and kicked her legs free.
Darach’s hands slid up, cupping her breasts through her shift. “You are so soft here.” Her nipples tightened beneath his fingers. “And yet, you grow hard with my touch.”
Another hardness pressed against her cotton-covered thigh and she rocked, delighting in his inhale that turned to a groan. Nuzzling her neck, he tugged the shift over her head, tossing it into a corner. He lowered her to the mattress with a slow hand and a slower tongue teasing along her collarbone.
Words hovered on her lips but fizzled away when his mouth captured her nipple. It budded tighter against his tongue. He slid his arm beneath her, arching her higher, more fully into his mouth. His low sound of contentment warmed her skin.
A wet ache rekindled between her thighs. The glorious spread of his hair fell around her like night falls on the land, touching in gentle brushes. He impatiently shoved it over his shoulder, out of his way. She ran her hand through it, delighting in the softness. Separating one long section, she brought the feathery ends up and rubbed it across his lips. She brushed it along his cheek, across his jaw, down his neck.
His smooth-stone touch glided over her stomach. His lips followed. A moan eked out as he traced her navel, swirling around and around it. The rough scratch of his quilted tunic abraded her skin and she fisted it in her hands, pulling and tugging. Darach sat back enough to yank it over his head.
With his arms trapped in fabric, Jana stole the chance to touch and explore. The hard planes of his chest entranced her. She pressed a wet openmouthed kiss above his left nipple. For a dozen heartbeats, he didn’t move, letting her taste him. The ridged muscles in his stomach jumped beneath her traveling lips. Tossing the tunic aside, he took her mouth with a low growl.
The muffled boom of his boots hitting the floor rang through her and she gripped his waistband. Darach was faster, stripping his breeches off with a swift move. He covered her, tongue plunging into her waiting mouth. Skin on skin, his body radiated heat and the earthy, spicy scent drove her mad. Need consumed her, racing up her bones like smoke through a chimney flue.
The heavy length of him pressed against her thigh and she tried to part her legs, to welcome him back into the contours of her body, but he slid down, trailing kisses over her. Her fingers shot into hi
s hair as he nuzzled her stomach, lapping at her navel. He devoured her, scoring a line down her leg to nuzzle at her ankle.
A single kiss pressed against her arch then he froze. His gaze fixed on her sex and his pupils dilated. The brush of his fingers up her inner thigh spiraled quivers along her bones. Inch by inch, his touch slowly trekked up. One cautious finger stroked with a featherlight exploration.
“So soft, wet.”
She mewled as his touch parted the slick folds, grazing the aching knot. His eyes flew wide.
“You’re hard here as well.”
“Yes,” she panted.
He rubbed the bud and her hips vaulted. “A pearl. A pearl nestled in a cradle of liquid silk.”
He gave her gentle friction of an unending circling caress. Her thighs tightened and her hips moved. His mouth fell to the curve of her belly. Goosebumps erupted when he growled against her skin. “This pleases you. I can smell it.”
“Yes!” She fisted the coverlet. Darach lavished attention on her inner thighs, slicking his tongue in a slow trek. One lick traced up the center of her. Jana forgot how to breathe and didn’t care to learn again.
Pulling back, he ran his tongue over his upper lip and swallowed. A rumble sounded from his chest. Hard fingers bit into her hips as he dove back, licking and sucking. This was new to her, not unheard of but never experienced. Each flutter of his tongue pushed her higher, closer to that elusive precipice. He gave her no respite.
What he’d called a pearl quivered beneath his mouth. He teased it, flicked it, sucked it, tugged it between his lips. Too much, too good. She writhed, trying to get closer to the pleasure and yet further from the exquisite torture. A strong forearm clamped across her hips, holding her still.
A tiny tremor sparked in her belly. She tried to say his name but the sudden whoosh of wildfire stole her words. Her body jolted. Fire raced along her bones, dissolved her muscles, and each limb quivered. A final moan broke from her lips as she melted into the bed.
Darach crawled up her body, his face furrowed in concern. “Nayeli? Did I hurt you?”
She laughed, a breathless exhalation. “No. I flew. You made me fly.”
“Fly?” Comprehension lifted his cheeks. “As you made me in the sauna?”
“Yes.” She tenderly brushed the hair from his brow.
Darach frowned. “You didn’t fly then.”
“Uh, no, but it’s all right. I never had...with anyone until you.”
“You shall fly with me again.”
Something inside her turned from liquid contentment to simmering hunger. He leaned to take her lips and she shifted her legs along his, opening for him. The blunt head of his staff slid along her wet folds. Slowly, he rocked, caressing her most intimate spot with his, touching her with the barest pressure. She whimpered and his lips angled up at one edge. That buried pearl that had entranced him swelled as he nudged and grazed. He deliberately stroked harder. The slickness grew.
“I can take you like this?” She couldn’t answer. All her words were stolen by a stretching fulfillment as he sank inside with one long, hot, slow slide. “Oh, nayeli.”
Her thighs clenched around his hips and she pulled him down, bringing his mouth to hers. Despite the first time in the sauna, her body needed a moment to adjust to the sweet invasion. He thrust with a gentle push. A delicious burn burst between her legs. She tightened and his head jerked back, his hair pooling around them like a shroud. She dug her heels into the mattress and rocked up, drawing him deeper.
A soft moan parted his lips. For every stroke he gave, she responded. For every withdrawal, she beckoned. He learned, giving in to his own needs, mastering hers. Each rolling drive of his hips twisted need through her. Unseen whiskers scraped her cheek. Hot kisses filled with mumbled words in a language she didn’t understand surrounded her. She loved the sound, a music only for her.
The ridges of his stomach fascinated her. Flat dark nipples beaded tight under her licking tongue. She nipped and he growled, a wordless cry for more. One hand traced down his back, gripped a handful of firm ass and squeezed. He surged inside her.
Deliberately using her nails, she raked his back. He arched. A quick bite below his jaw line followed a flicked tongue across the shell of his ear. A shudder worked his spine, and a gruff rumble echoed from his chest. The deliciously erotic noises vibrated against her mouth.
Rough fingers grabbed her thighs, opened her wider. He drew back, nearly leaving her. A whimper of protest curled in her belly. There was no time for words. His swift fingers threaded through the damp, dark-gold triangle until they stroked the swollen bud atop her cleft. Before she could fly, he took his touch away. She mewled like a starving kitten but the animal in Darach would not be led, could not be tamed.
He angled back, drawing his knees under him, draping hers across his thighs. He watched as he barely joined them over and over. His shallow moves taunted her, dipping just inside her until a gnawing ache turned flush and ripe. The more she squirmed, trying to get closer, the farther he held himself away, the more he teased. Darach had learned to play.
Although she had little more experience than he did, Jana had grown up around men, around soldiers, and had heard naughty, forbidden talk not meant for feminine ears. She used every word of that illicit knowledge.
She lunged up, seating herself on his lap, taking him deep in one fast plunge. The stretching burn enflamed her. She clung to his neck, the tight cords jumping with his tenuous control. His hands curled under her behind and lifted her, settled her, repeated the move. Biting into his shoulder, she sucked and the saltiness of his skin turned savory on her tongue.
Her back hit the feather mattress and he plunged hard, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain like a master. They’d teased, pushed each other beyond endurance, and the carnal animals emerged. He levered higher, thrust harder, delved deeper with a roar. He held nothing back, giving without restraint. She took it all.
Time slowed to a stop. Nothing existed except the raw scent of him, the sharp mint of his tongue, the intense heat radiating from his skin, the feel of him moving inside her. A quiver gripped her belly, shot downward and burst into a bright pulsing point. Release sprang from between her legs, then erupted along every muscle and bone.
He drove faster, his jagged breath loud against her ear until he howled. Wet heat filled her with a pounding force. This time, the earth only moved for them.
* * *
Hours later, Darach tied the blood-stiffened cloth around her hand. He stepped back to do his preparation ritual, loosening his muscles and centering his magic, then gave her his breath of sleep. Her last conscious memory was the taste of his mouth.
She was no longer afraid of the void, of the empty cavern between dream and time. She knew he would come.
“Call me, nayeli.”
“I call Darach. Come to me, my tracker, my lover, my guide. Come and dance with me.”
Darach in the darkness was a soothing force. His hand slid against hers. Even in spectral form, her body quivered at his touch. She simply absorbed it, letting it calm her, basking in the black that had once frightened her so. Then she called the light.
This time, she needed no instructions. Jana closed her eyes, let the fire of a spellsinger burn through her and reached out to the blood of the crown. She’d once feared this power but now she embraced it, feeling the swell rise within her. Before the last word died in the echoing dark, a thousand voices boomed around her.
Darach pressed his mouth close to her ear. “Call for Princess Rycca. She’s where we need to begin this dance.”
“Princess Rycca of ages gone,
Sing to me an epic song.
Show me yourself in measured verse.
Show me the birth of the heartmate curse.”
High above the others, Rycca’s voice rose in strength as the others faded away. Darach led her into the black. With every step they took, the air grew brighter, lighter, more filled with color.
A long expan
se of a table held few people, all clustered at one end. It should have been an intimate setting but stiffness sang out from the entire affair. A pristine white tablecloth held plates of heavy gold, platters of silver and jewel-decked goblets. Servants and guards lined the walls.
Jana spotted Dyal standing tall behind Rycca, his long hair shining in the golden light, his face a blank mask of honor. The king’s captain was an older man with thick wrists and meaty fists. He wore the same expression. The inquisitive eyes of the advisor, Ranier, darted from father to daughter.
“You did not tell me Princess Rycca was opposed to this union, Cator.” A handsome man to the king’s left patted his lips with a napkin cloth. “It does make things awkward.”
The king didn’t spare a glance in her direction. “No matter, Mergot. As I grew to love her mother, she’ll grow to love you and you her.”
“You’ve spoiled her.” Mergot laughed. “Women are like small dogs. If you give them too much freedom, you’re likely to find they’ve piddled in your slippers while they wait for a pat on the head.”
“Even small dogs have teeth, milord,” Rycca whispered.
Mergot gave her a condescending smile. “They do, Your Highness. A swat on the nose teaches them to be wary of using those teeth.”
An instant dislike curled Jana’s lip. Another outdated idea she was glad the world had left behind. Women did still struggle for freedoms but they weren’t viewed as cattle anymore and beaten into submission. They held offices and land, titles and position. Even her father, with his strict beliefs on propriety, had opened the soldiers’ ranks to any female who wished to join, providing they could handle the physical requirements. He now had twelve female warriors-in-training.
Cator’s fingers tightened on his fork. “She will be your queen foremost, your wife second. You will treat her as such, with respect and care.”
Instantly, Mergot realized his blunder. “Of course, Your Majesty. I was speaking of generalities.”
“Rycca’s a fine daughter and will be a fine wife to you. She knows her duty.”
