Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  "Has anyone ... ever ... told you you're crazy?” she managed to get out through the sudden intense desire to turn around and rub against him. His arms tightened and she almost closed her eyes in pleasure. It felt that good, and she didn't know why. Yes, she did.

  He raised his head, but only betrayed a slight hitch in his breathing. “No one has ever dared.” There it was again, that invisible something wedging itself between them. The only people in Zona nobody dared say were crazy were Taryn and Mother. The thought was like a bucket of icewater. What was the Bariani crown prince called? The king was Ramondar von Stassos, but he had two sons, Ben-something and the other one. She couldn't remember which was the heir, either. Politics had never been her area. “You need your rest,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you."

  "Don't,” she whispered to herself. She didn't want to give in to the temptation he offered, because she didn't know him, and he'd been secretive and deceptive with everything from his hair color to his name. But he wanted to take care of her, he was almost whining in his sincerity. For her entire life no one had cared about her, and he refused not to. All she had to do was let him have her body, surrender her control, and he would care. He would take care of her if she let him between her legs.

  Until he developed a fascination for someone else and discarded her. And he could be lying through his teeth; Talyn was almost always lying when she sounded sincere.

  "Why not?” he whispered back, tickling the fine hairs at her temple. She shivered, but not from cold. He nuzzled her neck again, but didn't stop at nibbling. With a quiet groan he bit down, driving the cluster of nerves into ecstasy. Her knees felt wobbly, she couldn't catch her breath and something in her stomach twisted and pulled in delicious agony.

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  Chapter Eleven

  "Blade,” she breathed, wanting him to stop and desperately wanting him not to stop. Her hands alternately fisted and stretched, needing to hold onto something, wanting that something to be him. She couldn't think why it was dangerous, couldn't remember why she had been wary, or what was missing from the picture, if anything had been.

  "Taryn.” He kissed her where he had bitten, soothing, caring. “We've been running for two solid days. Come to bed.” He turned her around with deceptive gentleness and shepherded her back to the cavern, keeping that arm around her waist.

  Goddess, guide me. They walked ten feet, another ten feet, and she could see the faint glow where light leaked around the baffle and out the cave entrance.

  "Blade?” Galen's voice.

  "Found her.” She could feel the voice rumbling up from his chest.

  Guide me, Mother of all. She couldn't see the stars anymore. One more step and she stumbled on something. He caught her and stopped, taking almost all of her weight on his arm until she got her feet back under her body.

  "Okay?” He had caught her. He had asked. The goddess had spoken. She turned in the circle of his arm and reached for him, finding coat and skin so hot it almost burned her fingertips. When had he taken off his shirt? “Taryn?"

  "Are you wearing anything under this coat?” An exhale and more boot-crunching told her Galen could hear them.

  "Of course I am. Come on, you need to get some sleep.” She ran her hands over the hot skin, felt muscle and hair and the tiny nubs of male nipples. His breath hissed in, making the surface expand, and he closed his hands over her wrists. “Vixen.” His voice was suddenly rough, not the smooth deep rumble of a moment before. He almost sounded alarmed. “Behave yourself."

  Right. He'd spent the entire day keeping her on the edge of sanity, and she was supposed to behave herself. She bent her head and licked the hot skin. Take that. He tasted salty and like nothing else she'd ever had on her tongue, so delicious that she nipped to get more of him.

  "Taryn!” It was part groan of pleasure, part cry for help. She couldn't help the soft chuckle as she reached for his crotch, fondling him through the tight trousers, because for once she was in control. When she found his erection, she explored the full length while he fought to get enough air into his lungs. Suddenly she was glad she'd been very relaxed the night before.

  And, truthfully, she was a little curious as to what the experience would be like when she was fully aware. No, she was more than a little curious, she was burning inside. Then his hands clamped over her wrists and pulled them away from his body.

  "Hey, I wasn't done with that,” she pouted for effect. No noise came from where Galen had been, not even breathing. Maybe he had gone someplace else.

  "Get in the cave and you can finish what you started.” Now he sounded angry, or possibly, just possibly, almost terminally frustrated.

  She bit her lip and let him drag her back inside and all the way to a darker corner where one of the fur blankets they'd brought all the way from Balsom was hung over the wall. He lifted a corner and pushed her into what looked like a partially closed niche just barely big enough to hold the gear and bedding for two.

  "Very cozy,” she commented. “Where is the light coming from?"

  "Never mind that,” he said as he shrugged off his coat, “get your damned sword off.” He sounded almost desperate, but she made him wait while she slowly unbuckled her scabbard and eased it to the stone floor, then started on the coat buttons, one by one. He already had his boots off when he noticed and turned a smoldering stare to her hands, seemingly mesmerized. He sank to his knees without taking his eyes off her. The coat dropped on top of her scabbard, and she pulled her hair forward over her shoulder to untie the leather thong, shaking the makeshift pony tail free over her shoulders. If she didn't get a brush to it soon it would take hours to get the knots out.

  His breath hissed again, but still he didn't blink, so she took it up a notch, unhooking the bodice and biting her lip as she strained to see the hooks on the underside of her breasts in the dim light, then sighing as it opened and they were freed. Blade swallowed as she shrugged it off. She followed by sitting on a surprisingly thick pallet and pulling off her riding boots, with a little bit of a struggle that wasn't feigned for his benefit because they weren't easy to get off. Then came the slow removal of socks.

  "Your turn,” she said when she sat in front of him in only her pants, shirt and underwear.

  "Your shirt.” His voice sounded as if he'd been screaming orders on a smoke-filled battlefield all day. “I already took mine off."

  She shook her head. “That comes off last.” He blinked, then frowned.

  "Then your pants. You're still wearing more than I am."

  She tipped her head to one side, considering it, then began to unbutton the fly, still slowly, and finally eased them off to reveal her legs one agonizingly slow inch at a time. He winced and put a hand to his crotch to adjust something; she didn't need three guesses to know what. “You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

  Taryn smiled and said nothing, but arched an eyebrow and waited. He reached out to catch one of her bare feet, pulling her leg straight to kiss the inside of her ankle.

  "That tickles!” It came out as a squeal accompanied by an instinctive jerk to get her sensitive skin away from the beard stubble driving her nerves crazy. He simply tightened his grip and rubbed his cheek up her leg as far as the distance between them would let him.

  "Gods, I love the way you squirm.” He moved like a cat, flowing onto the other fur blanket beside her, then lifted her onto his lap.

  "I'm not undressed,” she said as she looked up into his eyes. Those eyes she had once found unsettling, blue-green and glowing, were now staring into her soul with hunger, but as she watched, it softened into something else that made her warm all over in spite of the slight chill inside the cave.

  "I like you just like this,” he said in that same rough voice. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say. He dipped his head and brushed his mouth across hers, slowly, softly, with more gentleness than when he had kissed her after gluing her skin back together that morning.

  Taryn wrapped her arms a
round his neck and pressed closer, wanting his heat, wanting that look, wanting all of it, because it almost felt like she belonged with him. Most of all she wanted to belong with him, and she would give him anything he wanted to get that. He licked into her mouth and she moaned from the pleasure, curled her tongue around his, and sank her fingers into his hair, the long silk that wasn't chocolate anymore. He pulled her hips closer to his, close enough that she could feel the pulsing erection pressing against her. She writhed, trying to rub against him, and he groaned.

  "Taryn,” he said as he pulled away from her mouth, “that shirt needs to come off now or I rip it completely to shreds."

  "Like you're about to do with these pants?” She deliberately squirmed again. His body shuddered and he tipped her gently off his lap. Even as she was falling over onto the fur she was pulling her mangled shirt over her head. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten to unbutton the cuffs so her hands were tangled in the sleeves. It was so stupid, and so completely the wrong thing, that she giggled helplessly. And then he was there, carefully pulling the loops back over the buttons and slowly, torturously pulling the sleeves off her arms. When her hands were free, she started to quickly divest herself of her one remaining garment, but he caught her wrists. When she looked at him to see what was wrong, she met eyes that were more black than blue-green.

  "Slow,” he whispered. “Do it slow.” She bit her lip and slid the silk down her hips inch-by-inch. When she got it to her knees he pulled the cloth from her fingers and gently eased the garment the rest of the way off before pressing one soft kiss to a bruise on the outside of her thigh so purple it practically glowed.

  Taryn hissed, because until that butterfly-light caress, she hadn't known it was there and suddenly it hurt. “It figures that skin this soft bruises easily.” He looked up at her, still bent over her leg. “I don't want to know what you looked like when you got out of Basic."

  "About like this, but not as bloody,” she responded, unable to break away from his stare. Hadn't she decided not to look him in the eyes again? Too late. He kissed another bruise, then a place where her scabbard belt had rubbed the skin almost raw, working his way up her body. He lingered over her breasts enough to nuzzle them both before he went up to the other chafed spot on her left shoulder. She ran her hands over his chest, down the ridged muscle of his stomach, until she ran into cloth. He hadn't taken off the rest of his clothes. She found the button and undid it, but there was only one.

  "Too high,” he murmured in between mouthfuls of skin.

  "Too clothed,” she murmured back. “I want you as naked as the day you were born.” She felt him smile against her collarbone.

  "How can I resist a demand like that?” He pulled away enough to finish what she had started. “Get under the covers, it's cold in here.” Without him against her it was cold, so she pulled down the fur and crawled into the makeshift bed, then he slid in right behind her.

  "Where were we?” she asked, giggling when he ducked under the fur to kiss her cut. He mumbled something, but she couldn't make out the words, so she reached to touch him again, stroking his hair, exploring all the skin and muscles. She found the scars Galen had mentioned earlier, traced them with sympathy, then wrapped her hand around the base of his penis and gently squeezed. His body jerked.

  "Careful,” he whispered, then straightened enough to lick her nipples as she caressed him. He kissed them, too, before moving up to brush a few stray hairs from her face. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

  She felt her face heat. “I know I used to be pretty, every time I look at ... my sister.” She looked away from him. “But that was before—"

  "She tried to kill you,” he finished. Her head jerked back, but he didn't look triumphant, only caring, as if Talyn's betrayal hurt him, tool. “I asked Leone.” He traced the scar. “You don't have to have this, you know. It's not necessary anymore and easily removed.” She opened her mouth to tell him she would keep the one visible sign that she wasn't like her sister, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Just think about it ... later.” And then, probably to make sure she didn't do any thinking for a while, he kissed her mouth. He played with her tongue, he sucked on her lips, he moved away from her mouth to tickle her neck with his beard, and she lost herself in every sensation.

  When she was ready to scream from the swollen, empty ache between her thighs he finally moved into the position she wanted, sliding the outside of his thighs against the inside of hers and pressing her bent legs farther apart as he burrowed hands under her shoulders to wrap her more securely in his embrace.

  "Ready, princess?” She nodded, too startled by the title to speak. His muscular body pressed her into the fur and she felt his hard penis probing her labia. She spread her legs even more and wrapped herself around him, closing her eyes, ready to give him anything.

  "Look at me, Vixen.” He brushed hair from her cheek. “I want to see your eyes.” She opened her eyes and he was staring down at her, the planes of his face craggy in the half-light of the Bariani lamp. He kissed her and pushed slowly into her, still staring into her eyes as he filled her. When he was seated deep inside, his lips moved against hers, forming words, but there was no sound and she couldn't tell what the movements meant. He did it over and over, even as he eased out and back in for his first thrust. It was like he wanted to make it last forever by slowing everything down.

  The way he moved was maddening, the way he touched her, the way his eyes burned into her, it was almost too much. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel, really feel what was happening between them. He surrounded her, all strength and restraint although she could feel passion in the tension of his body, the fine tremor as he tried to hold back. He kissed her and she drank in the warm breath, suddenly aware down to her bones that she could trust him. He wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't betray her, would always be there when she needed him.

  Then he surprised her by rolling to his back, carrying her with him and bunching the covers. “Blade? Is something wrong?"

  "Now you're in control. I'm at your mercy, my goddess.” He arched his back so she could free her arms, then took her hands to steady her as she sat up. She wriggled and felt him slide even more deeply into her, then took the control he had offered. He slid his hands up her thighs and sighed, a small smile of contentment on his lips. She decided she was going to wipe that smile away and replace it with an expression of raw hunger as she lifted her hips and went back down. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, and tightened her internal muscles, making him feel even bigger inside her.

  Blade choked.

  She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “There is no mercy for the wicked."

  * * * *

  Talyn turned over for the third time in ten or fifteen minutes, sleep eluding her. She could still smell traces of hemp cheroot smoke in the room every hundred breaths or so. The scent triggered a series of memories that alternately made her blush in the dim light from the fireplace or else made her hot and itchy all over—except for the ache they caused deep in her belly. The previous night he'd been lying in wait for her, ready to drug her to get what he wanted and now that she wanted, he was nowhere to be found.

  Damned man, never there when she needed him.

  What had he meant, when he said she could do better than that? Or when he suggested she could get away from Taryn by going to another planet? Was he suggesting exile? And who would take her in if she ran away? Surely no one outside of Zona had a use for a woman whose skills ran to glassblowing, ironwork and horse training? She frowned at the ceiling in the dark and turned over again.

  Annoying man, trying to be subtle and mysterious.

  The truth was that she wasn't very good at Zonan-style leadership, either. She could play political games because she had watched her mother from the time she could walk, and had made a careful study of the thin line Zona had to walk between Barian's indifferent protection and jealousy of other Timarrian geopolitical units. The Matriar
ch had spent nearly a decade dodging in and out of Barian's skirts to avoid an annexation attempt by Helicon, Zona's coastal neighbor to the west, and even then it was a near thing, only squelched by the Order of Tirnav decreeing annexation anathema. So that wasn't what he'd been talking about. Talyn wouldn't have been able to keep up that sort of obsequious dance for anywhere near that long.

  But Sharif Mustafan Tanaka, of the blue hair and brown skin, mutable eyes, fangs and claws—he had something different in mind, just as his body was different and his attitude was utterly beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. He seemed to see Talyn when he looked at her, not the Crown Prince of Zona. And every so often he seemed to like what he saw, mostly when she let down the armor and her true personality leaked through. The personality she so carefully hid from everyone else but couldn't seem to quite keep hidden away in front of him, more so when they were alone. The personality she especially had to hide from Taryn.

  Dangerous man, slicing through all her defenses like a hot knife through cold lard.

  And she still had no idea what that damned man had been talking about. He'd picked the worst possible time to disappear, too, because she wanted to ask him what he'd been saying without actually saying anything. She wanted to demand a few answers instead of giving up answers she needed to keep secret.

  She was better off if he would just stay wherever he had disappeared to, because her life and her plans were safer without him around, throwing out mysterious questions, making her feel things that were at best politically incorrect.

  She wanted another drag off that hellspawn cheroot.

  She would just have to go find him. There was no other option, though she had mentally explored many. Talyn threw off the quilts and swung her legs over the side of the bed, suppressing a shiver as the cold air met her fevered skin. The fire was still glowing from the hearth, so she walked naked across the room to the closet that was still half-filled with Mychell's clothing. She hadn't had time to have it taken out and packed away or given away, so it meant another thing she would have to do in the morning, along with making arrangements for his funeral. This time she allowed the shiver, because Mychell shouldn't be dead. He had been so pretty, so full of life and eager to please her. He hadn't been all that bright, but she hadn't wanted him for his chess game. He shouldn't be dead and yet he was very dead. She shuddered again.