by Val Roberts
And came back to consciousness with a reminder of exactly what she had forgotten: to prepare herself for the arrival of Blade the Barbarian. He slid across the bed to get close and almost immediately reached for her.
Taryn plucked the hand off her breast and said, “No."
"Really?” He nuzzled the nape of her neck through her hair and she got goose bumps all down her arms. Then he moved closer and she felt hot skin press against her back. She swallowed and steeled herself, because it felt really good, solid and reassuring. “You don't feel like no.” His voice was velvet in the dark again.
She squirmed around to face him, but the only light in the room came from the faint outline of the door, so she couldn't see his face. “What part of no don't you understand?"
"You don't mean that, Commander, or you wouldn't be naked right now.” He sounded odd, his speech slightly slurred as if he'd been drinking, too. He pushed her shoulder firmly enough to roll her to her back, but not forcefully. “Tell me you're not a virgin, because I really don't want to hurt you."
"What?” Then her brain started working again over the outrage. Don't fight too hard. Leone had to be out of her mind. “Why do you care? I thought Barianis just took what they wanted and to hell with the consequences.” He rolled on top of her and pushed a knee between her thighs. Damn, he was big, and he smelled good, like soap and masculinity. He was solid and hard with layers of muscle rippling under the light fur and smooth skin. More importantly, he didn't feel like an outlander who didn't belong in her bed. He felt, in fact, like a piece of herself that had been missing for her entire life and had suddenly been fitted into place, making her fight not to melt into him and sigh her contentment.
"Oh, yes. Thank you for reminding me.” And then he kissed her. Stupid man, thinking a simple press of flesh would bend her to his will. That was when he started gently nibbling on her lower lip, slowly, lingering over every millimeter and caressing her all over, as if he had no other plans for the night. He touched her gently, callused fingertips skimming over her sensitized skin as he explored her sides, her hips, her shoulders, even her hair.
It was nothing she would have expected from a Bariani. It was like being massaged with feathers, and almost frightening, because she could feel her body starting to respond to him even before her jaw relaxed and he began using his tongue to explore her mouth in much the same way. He tasted like whiskey and ale and something else that was unique, none of it unpleasant.
After a couple of minutes of guilty pleasure, certainly no more than ten or fifteen, she tried to shove him away and felt as much as heard him chuckle against her mouth, which was the only effect it had. She definitely shouldn't have finished the bottle of brandy with Leone. His weight shifted and he captured her sword hand, then pressed it over her head and started moving his mouth down her chin, along her jaw, to the sensitive skin of her throat, beard stubble scratching, but in a good way.
"You smell good,” he rasped, then bit into the side of her neck. Taryn shivered and her legs moved farther apart of their own volition. “You taste good, too.” He continued to move down her body, kissing his way across her collarbone and down her chest. When he got to the curve of her breast, he brought up his free hand to cup the mound before he captured her nipple between his lips and suckled. No one had ever done that before and the sensation was so strange, as if she felt it between her legs as well. She could feel swelling and dampness in a pleasurable ache. The ache intensified when he scraped his teeth over the sensitive nub and bit down—not hard, but enough to let her feel the power he had over her.
Taryn tried to wriggle beneath the massive muscle on top of her, but he had her pinned into near immobility. The attempted movement rubbed her skin against him and inflamed her body more. And now her body knew what it ached for, which meant he had won the battle of wills—not that she was working on anything more than instinct.
"Negotiator,” she tried to say with dignity, but her voice failed her, coming out in a breathless murmur. Still suckling, he moved his hand from her breast, dragging it down her body and shifting his weight until he could slip his fingers between her legs and skim the tips across the folds of her female flesh.
She gasped and buried the fingers of her free hand in his long hair. Her face burned when he parted her labia and discovered beyond the shadow of a doubt exactly how wet he'd made her, proving that she had lied, not just to him, but to herself. She did want this, almost as much as she wanted her next lungful of air. He groaned and stroked her, moving to her other breast, sucking hard and pushing two fingers inside. It wasn't enough. She whimpered and clutched at the hand holding her sword arm down. “Negotiator—please..."
He raised his head a fraction of an inch. “Is that a yes?” Now he didn't sound at all as if he'd been drinking, but his voice was rough with lust.
"Oh, Goddess!” He pushed deeper inside her and her stomach twisted, the ache unbearable. She clutched the back of his head and moaned.
"Is that a yes?” Warm breath puffed over her wet nipple in a gentle caress as he spoke.
"Yes!” It was nearly a scream. He moved, but it was the wrong way, the stupid, sodding man, taking his hand away from her crotch and lifting his body off hers. No! He couldn't leave her like this. Then, finally, he pushed her legs farther apart and filled her in one swift, hard thrust, hurting a little but finally conquering the deep ache. She almost sobbed in relief.
"Better?” he breathed next to her ear as he adjusted the placement of arms and legs, but still keeping her strong sword arm immobilized. She could feel a fine tremor in his muscles, almost as if he was battling for control as he kept himself still inside her.
"Move, damn you,” she growled back at him, then raised her head and sank her teeth into his neck for emphasis. That would teach him to tease her. He had better be worth the embarrassment, because Leone was going to take one look at her and gloat for hours. Granted she hadn't had many lovers in her lifetime, but none of them had been good enough to be teased about over breakfast.
"Yes, ma'am,” was a barely recognizable growl. And he moved. He moved well, taking her slowly at first, letting her feel every fraction of each deep slide. He certainly proved he was no stranger to the art of sexually pleasing a woman. In fact, it was so good that she could easily become addicted to him, especially when he licked into her mouth and groaned. He groaned again when she wrapped one leg around him and rocked her hips in counterpoint, the sensations moving her muscles in luxuriant waves.
It went on and on, each thrust driving her higher, further into the sensual darkness of her soul that wanted to be enveloped by a man, penetrated and filled and forced into deep pleasure. She arched against him, her head thrashing helplessly, the nails of her free hand digging into his back as he drove into her relentlessly, almost, almost ... Taryn's body exploded into a thousand points of incandescence as waves of pleasure crested over her head, drowning her in surge after surge of release so sweet, so complete, that it would have been terrifying if she could have thought at all.
She dimly sensed him lunge into her one last time before he shuddered and emitted a strangled, grunting moan. He collapsed on her, panting and sweaty, just as her body twitched in a random aftershock. Taryn realized she could be in deep trouble even as he began to stir. No man had ever made her beg him to take her before. No man had ever made her come apart so completely, or so hard. No man had ever made her want more even before she came down from the climax.
"Blademir,” he whispered into her ear, sounding satisfied and sleepy. She could feel his heartbeat slowing back to normal.
"Bless you,” she responded just before she twitched again, since she had absolutely no idea what the word meant.
He nuzzled her neck. “You wanted to know my name, didn't you?” That would explain why they called him Blade; it was a nickname, not some strange new Bariani title.
"Just Blademir? You don't have a family name?” Part of her wanted to run her fingers through that long mane of chocolate silk.
But if she did, it would imply her acceptance of him as her lover, and she was a Silvergard Commander. The Silvergard never yielded, never accepted the yoke of any master but the Matriarch of Zona. Even if he had made her beg. Even if she was glowing from the orgasm. Even if she wanted him again.
"I don't think we trust each other enough for that, Commander.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
"I know you heard Leone call me Taryn.” She nuzzled him back, burying her face in his hair, unable to resist completely.
He sighed and moved off her. “Yes, I did. Now shut up and go to sleep, you honey-thighed vixen.” Normally an epithet like that would have made her head throb with fury, but just then she felt too relaxed to do anything more than giggle at the incongruity. “Gods, Taryn, you could topple empires with that sound.” His voice dropped an octave. “Come here."
Apparently he wasn't the type to get chatty after sex. Leone had explained that it sometimes took several successive nights before they got expansive, but men had a terrible time remembering to keep secrets when they were sated. She had time. All she had to do was keep them on this side of the border for a couple of days, and then he would spill the secret—which evidently had something to do with his name. At least she'd found out that much.
"Shut up and go to sleep, Blade.” Take that. She mustered the strength to turn her back to the infuriating, if skilled, Bariani. Before she could drift off, however, he pulled her to him and spooned her, wrapping his arm around her waist in an unmistakable gesture of possession and planting a soft kiss on her shoulder. She would have to correct that impression ... in the morning, because he was warm and comfortable and she wanted to go back to sleep exactly where she was.
* * * *
Ramondar put down the intelligence report and stared out the window for a few minutes. It was sketchy, but it was damning enough. She had trained at what was politely termed a finishing school in Zona, but was really a combination of a craft college and a commando boot camp. Taryn Penthes had worked damned hard once she had won an appointment to the Silvergard college as well, taking top honors in almost every aspect of her training including the artistic skills that would make her a planetary treasure anywhere but Zona. After the requisite two years as a private, she had risen rapidly through the ranks and was considered a consummate warrior, a Silvergarder's Silvergard.
"Lord of Light, why did she have to be the one assigned to that escort?” he asked out loud as he rubbed his eyes.
"I have no idea,” came Deg's voice from the doorway. Ramondar fixed the man with a glare. “I think it's odd that after all that, she was assigned to palace escort duty, don't you?"
"The Matriarch's Own is responsible for Lady Palace security, just like the crown guard is responsible for Krystale Palace security,” Ramondar allowed himself to snap. “Why wouldn't she be assigned there?"
Deg shrugged and moved into the office, taking a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Something else strange. There's no record of her being officially disinherited."
"The report isn't very complete, Degusta. I hope you didn't pay a lot for it.” Ramondar tented his fingers on the desk in front of him and considered how to make a very sensitive accusation, but he didn't get far.
"I didn't pay a credit for it. One of her classmates who didn't make Matriarch's Own got drunk at a bar outside the barracks and let the whole thing slip.” Deg leaned forward. “You realize what this means, don't you? I know Blade will."
"Aren't you the one who called him an idiot to his face a couple of months ago?” Ramondar narrowed his eyes. “And then sent him into Zona undercover to keep him out of the media eye? How good was that cover, Deg? What were you setting up the dense von Stassos for, anyway? Even you couldn't have arranged to make the Matriarch's daughter the escort through Balsom, and if I ever find out you had something to do with killing members of the crown guard, I'll strangle you myself."
Deg took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “If I thought Blade was as slow as he portrays himself in public, I would have backed Tabethe Schmythen last year just to get him out of harm's way.” He shrugged. “He created the persona, so I go with it."
"I believed it,” Ramondar whispered to the desk. “Gods help me, I believed it."
Deg took a deep breath. “Well, now you can stop believing it and think about the implications. The original asteroid mining grant was given to Grant Barian. Reunite Grant Barian, and three generations of legal challenges crumble into so much dust."
"I know that,” Ramondar snapped again. “It also gives Grant Barian an overriding vote in the planetary council, effectively creating a single government centered in Krystale and eliminates the last barrier to full membership in the DW federation, but so what? It's not going to happen while Silean has breath in her body."
"Unless it's the only way for her to prevent Barian from invading and utterly destroying the Zonan way of life,” Deg said in a voice that was almost pleading. “If—if Blade comes out of the Jags with her daughter in one piece we have a negotiating lever of unimaginable power. How difficult would it be to talk her into merging the two royal houses? A Penthes would still rule Zona."
Ramondar stared at his press secretary and watched the man pale. “I will not,” he said slowly, quietly, “allow a Zonan into my family. Blade cannot be hurt like that again."
Deg looked like he was biting his tongue as he raked both hands through what was left of his hair and pulled. “Did you read the report? I mean, really read it, not just skim through it for the bare facts?” He leaned forward and picked up the folder, shook it in Ramondar's face. “Look between the lines, Ramon. See what's there without being there. Taryn Astaren Penthes has never run from a fight in her life, even when she was not-quite sixteen and the Crown Prince came after her with a kitchen knife.” He threw the folder back on the desk.
"Yes, she has trust issues, because everything she's ever depended on has turned on her. Yes, she's unaware and unskilled in the use and design of high technology. But if one word was all I had to describe the woman in this report it wouldn't be noncommittal. It wouldn't be frightened. And it sure as dammit wouldn't be deserter. She's. Not. Julesan.” The last three words were delivered in an outraged bellow, Deg leaning over the desk so that he was only centimeters from Ramondar's face. They stared at each other for several seconds in silence, neither man backing away, before Deg straightened, ran a hand over the hair he'd left standing on end, and smoothed down his shirt.
"How long have we known each other, Degusta?” Ramon asked, his tone carefully without emotion of any kind.
"More than fifty years, Ramondar.” Deg stood a little straighter, and it was obvious he was expecting to be fired at the very least, maybe even executed.
"Why haven't you ever stood up to me before when I was being an ass?” Ramondar punctuated the question by leaning his temple onto an extended index finger and watched Deg take a deep breath.
"Because you've never been this much of an ass, Ram.” He rubbed his forehead. “It's not just Blade's future you're fucking with this time. Your abandonment issues are endangering the future of Timarron, and as your loyal retainer, I can't let you do that."
"But if you'd told me to suck it up and move on twenty years ago, we wouldn't have been here tonight, would we?"
Deg looked at the floor and cleared his throat quietly. “I tried, Ramon. Remember the discussion we had just before Blade started university?"
It was Ramondar's turn to take a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, I do. And I had a very similar experience tonight.” He ran his hands over his face. “It looks like the stupid Barian king is already on the throne."
"You're not stupid any more than Blade is, Ramon.” Deg shrugged. “You just have blind spots, like everybody else. Fortunately, you have a few good friends who will point them out to you."
"With a mass driver, if necessary,” Ramondar finished for him, his voice sounding wry even to him.
"Yeah.” Deg paused. “Do you want
to know why I came to see you in the middle of the night when you should be in bed with your queen?"
"What do you know?” He couldn't keep the sharp note from his voice, but if Deg had news and had kept it to himself until he was finished making his point, Ramondar was ready, more than ready, to hear it.
"A full company of Silvergard was dispatched to the Jags from Balsom this afternoon, their destination apparently a little-used trail that leads directly to the border a few dozen kliks from the cave Blade was using for his HQ during the investigation."
Ramondar sat up straighter. “Should we send troops?"
Deg grinned. “What, and steal his thunder?” He shook his head. “It's only one company, and Silvergard companies are half the size of a regular infantry unit. All they've got for weaponry are swords and horses. You want to be the Barian king to pit that against supersonic transport and pulse rifles?"
"They've got crossbows, too,” Ramondar reminded.
"Blade's got a laser pistol in his party, as well as your brother for strategy.” Deg stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I'd say that evens the playing field somewhat."
"But does it level it enough?” Ramondar wondered out loud. He felt a little guilty that he wasn't all that worried about his brother or his nephew. They could be killed as well.
"We'll know by tomorrow night, because there's a full commo suite at the cave."
Ramondar tapped the file folder twice, then looked up at Deg. “Since you're into this up to your eyebrows, I want you to do something."
Deg stilled, then quirked one eyebrow. “Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Re-task the intel satellites. I want full coverage of the entire route between Balsom and the cave. If a rabbitoid cross the border, I want to know about it."
"As you command,” Deg said in a formal acknowledgment that went back centuries, but his eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.
"Now get out of here and get some sleep.” Ramondar stood and rubbed his hands over his face. “One of us should be in decent shape tomorrow."
