by Cara Bristol
She yanked out of his grasp. “He’s wrong!”
“That’s what I told him.” Garat shifted on the bench. His aching erection strained against his pantaloons. “It raises a question, doesn’t it?”
She licked her lips, and an intense heat spiraled in his groin. “What question?” Her pink tongue reappeared for an instant. If it happened again, he wouldn’t be responsible for throwing her over the table and taking her as dishes shattered on the floor.
His nostrils flared. “How you seduce me when you’re not in fever.”
“I do not seduce!” She shoved away and was across the room before he could blink.
Before she could bat an eye, he stood behind her, muscles and cock rigid. He grabbed her hand and pressed it against himself. He expected resistance but got none. She curled her fingers and stroked. He shuddered and flattened his palm against her lower abdomen, pulling her against him, trapping her hand.
It was always like this. Self-control was only the illusion that camouflaged their lust. He pressed his lips to her jaw, next to her ear. “Are you as wet as I am hard?” Scrunching her tunic in his fingers, he inched it up, until he bared her lower body and then curved his hand between her legs. Honey coated his fingers.
He slipped a finger into her channel. Boldly, she squeezed his cock through his pantaloons. He located the nub at the anterior of her womanhood, and rolled the fleshy bud between his fingers. Reena’s head lolled against his shoulder, and her body shuddered. He nipped her neck, biting harder than necessary, and then laved the sting.
The shell of her ear drew his lips. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you as wet for me as I am hard?” He rubbed tiny circles over the pleasure bud.
She tried to twist in his arms, but he held her there, continuing to stroke. He plunged two digits into her tight sheath and mimicked the mating. Squishing noises floated on air perfumed by her musk. “Isn’t it obvious?” she moaned. Her hips moved.
His cock ached to be free of the confines of his pantaloons and be where his fingers ventured.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“So you can gloat?”
He pressed her hand hard against his turgid length. “Does this feel like I’m gloating?”
Stroking each other, their hips rocked in sync, drawing them into a swaying, thrusting dance. Garat brushed his lips over her ear. “Tell me you want me.” Please.
“Yes,” she gasped, convulsing against him. “I want you.” Her knees sagged, but he supported her, his fingers continuing to move to bring her every last shudder of ecstasy. When he stilled his hand, she slumped for a moment before wrenching away and dropping to her knees. She released his cock. Air hissed through his teeth when she closed her mouth over his manhood. His knees wobbled, and his hand shot to the wall lest he collapse and take them both down.
How she weakened him. Distracted him. Made him hurt. Ache. Burn. He recalled their first mating and his ridiculous delusion he’d had a choice. He had no control with Reena. Not over his body or his mind.
Heartmates. Let it not be so, for how would he do what needed to be done?
Inevitability loomed. Pressure and pleasure knotted. “Reena…” He pushed against her shoulders. She looked up at him, the light of desire turning her eyes sultry, and his body nearly surrendered to the command.
He shoved her off him, flung out his arm, and swept the table clean of the supper remains.
“The dishes!” she cried.
“Don’t care.” He swung her onto the table. Thrust inside her.
She moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. He drove into her, compelled by hunger, by need, by her. Neck muscles corded, and his jaw ached from clenching. Rapture, when it came, seized his body like a blast from an EID. Pleasure became pain, agony bliss. From a distance, he heard Reena cry out, as ecstasy claimed her again.
* * * *
Warmth and contentment suffused Reena from the inside out as she lay curled against Garat. She’d tried to sweep up the pottery shards, but he hadn’t allowed it, had hustled her into the bedchamber. He’d pulled her into his arms and held her.
Long silent moments had passed, and his labored breathing had subsided. His chest moved gently now, and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Usually she succumbed after their passion was spent, too, but, tonight, her mind remained active.
While her mother would still worry she’d fallen into the hands of the Lahon, at least she would not grieve since Garat had sent the healer with a message she was alive. When he delivered her to home, safe and sound, she would talk to her mother, reassure her, and assist the Lahon to get the water they needed. It was not right the Sharona had an abundance, and the Lahon so little.
In the meantime, she would remain with him and enjoy each new day for its merits. She’d lived under the shadow of death for so long that every moment felt like a gift, no matter what it brought.
Even when Garat wouldn’t speak to her. After this evening, would he transform again into the taciturn, abrupt man he became at sunrise? He was torn, the healer had explained. Pulled between duty and longing. Ambivalence, she could understand. One moment, he aroused tender feelings, and the next she desired to bash him over the head. He inspired compassion, fury, and an intense carnal craving.
The healer had supplied a wild, incredible explanation for the fever-like behavior.
Heartmates. She’d never heard of such. Once every so often, a Sharona would fail to return from a hunt. Everyone assumed she’d been captured and enslaved by a rogue tribe. What if she’d found her heartmate and stayed? Under Sharona law, men could not live among women, and she’d observed no other females at the Lahon settlement. So where did they go? To other tribes? Or did couples venture out on their own? Two heartmates alone in a vast world? She shifted in bed and Garat’s arms tightened.
“I thought you were asleep,” she said.
“I was relaxing, thinking.”
“About what?”
“Will you be unhappy to stay here for a while?”
“How long?”
His shoulder lifted. “Until you are stronger.”
“I am strong now,” she said, and her heart sank. If that was all he waited for, he could send her home today. I don’t want to leave yet. For when she did, she would never see him again, and the blunt reality caused a great tearing in her chest. She could not remain indefinitely because, as the princess, she had duties. She had much lost time to make up for now that she’d regained her health. When her mother died or chose to pass the scepter, Reena would have to be ready to rule. She could not abandon her people, no matter how intense the passion, the need, or the pain of separation.
“Not strong enough,” he said, and she went weak with relief.
Her right hand lay across his chest, and he picked up her wrist. He kissed her palm, and she curled her fingers into a fist to capture his affection to carry with her when she left.
His mouth grazed her skin and tingles shot up her arm. “Did Meloni tell you anything about your crystal? Why it remains clear?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t, but Honna explained the sickness prevented the fever.” Now that she was well, would that change? Would she develop lusts requiring appeasement? Her stomach roiled at the contemplation of engaging in intimacies with another male.
He sighed. “Meloni says you are pure, and that is why your crystal remains clear.”
“Not so pure. Not anymore.” She’d indulged in fleshly pursuits.
“He didn’t mean carnally.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“Your heart is honest and true.”
She’d lied and pretended to take her medicine. Sneaked out of the palace using a secret passage. Dallied with a Lahon when she had duties. Experienced bouts of pique, impatience, resentment. She didn’t doubt Meloni was a skilled and blessed healer, but that didn’t mean infallible. He was wrong about the heartmates. Wrong about her purity—even if it was flattering. “What makes him think that?�
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“He’s says it is written in The Goddess’s Tome that one with a clear crystal shall battle one with a darkened gem.”
“And he thinks that’s me?” She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. So much of The Goddess’s Tome is difficult to interpret, it’s hard to say what it means. And who is the one with the darkened gem supposed to be?”
Silence.
“No! It is not Honna!” Reena sprang to a sitting position and glared. “I can prove it! I’ve seen her amulet. It’s never been a shade darker than deep blue.” Very deep blue. “And—and—after her mating it was gray!” Dark gray. But not black!
He raised both hands. “I’m just the messenger.”
“But you believe him! I’m not pure, and Honna’s not evil. We are generous and kind, and we have weaknesses and we fail.”
“Many things are beyond my ken, but Meloni is no ordinary healer.”
“So you believe we are heartmates?”
Garat did not reply.
“If he’s the great omniscient one, how can you believe part of what he says but not the rest? Either he knows or he doesn’t. Honna’s crystal is not black. When you take me to the palace, I’ll prove it to you!” She thrust her wrist in his face. “There are plenty of reasons why my gem hasn’t changed. The illness. The medicine I received. Maybe I’m a late bloomer. Maybe now that I’m healthy, I will enter a fever cycle!”
Reena tossed aside the covers and leaped out of bed. The anger knotting her chest proved how wrong Meloni and Garat were. One pure of heart would not itch to hurl things. “I’ll bet the mating fever will come! I’ll go on a manhunt and mate with many Lahon.”
Garat roared, grabbed her around the waist, and flung her onto the straw mattress. “You want to mate? Mate with me!” he snarled.
Desire, hot and fierce, ignited, but she resisted its demand. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
His head came down, and he covered her mouth in a bruising kiss. Reena bit at him, tasted his blood, but when he shoved her thighs apart and wedged himself between them, she wrapped her legs around his hips, met the rough thrust of his body with an upward motion.
He pounded into her, and she welcomed the invasion, the force, the ferocity.
No tenderness remained to cloak the truth. Need and desire ripped away lies and illusion, left her gasping and writhing because he, and only he, mattered. There would be no other.
She’d never experienced the fever, but had observed its effects, eavesdropped on other Sharona. Nothing they described came close to the desperate hunger that afflicted her, to the relentless need for Garat, as if their fates were twisted like so many gnarled forest vines. Inseparable.
There would be no one else. Ever.
Her body convulsed beyond ecstasy, while tears of truth trickled from under her lids.
Meloni was right. They were heartmates.
Chapter Seventeen
Raised voices filtered into the queen’s sickroom to shatter the quiet.
“What’s that noise?” Ellynna’s damp forehead scrunched, and she tossed her head on the pillow. With every labored exhalation, she exuded the rank odor of poison. The smell of success. She wouldn’t last much longer. Three or four days max.
“I don’t know, Auntie. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Honna dabbed at the queen’s face with a cool cloth and then tossed it into a bowl of water. She rose to her feet. “I’ll check.”
She glided out of the bedchamber, through the anteroom, and into the corridor.
“I demand to see Shara!” Carinda clutched some kind of letter and was trying to force her way around the posted guards.
Serenity vanished. “What is the meaning of this?”
“She says she has a missive of import,” a guard replied.
“What missive?”
“This!” Carinda shook a sheet of parchment and almost slapped Honna in the face. “You said Reena was dead! She is alive!”
“The princess lives?” The guards looked at each other.
You will not ruin this! The blackened crystal burned into her arm. Honna curled her fingers into claws. The promise of victory kissed her fingertips. A few more days, and she would rule the Sharona. Remain calm. “Who told you that?”
“A Lahon. He has asked to see the queen.”
“A Lahon is here? At the palace?”
“He waits outside the village gates. A sentry notified me. When I refused him admission, he gave me this letter. He told me Reena is alive.”
The guards fidgeted. A seed of doubt had been planted.
“You are fooled by a barbarian’s trickery!” Honna snatched the parchment.
“Give me that!” Carinda lunged, but the guards grabbed her. “That is for Shara’s eyes only. The Lahon said so.” She struggled.
Honna broke the wax seal and unfolded the document.
My dearest Ellynna,
Addressing Shara by her given name was bad enough, but what effrontery to insult a queen with such disrespectful familiarity. Dearest? What could you expect from a barbarian?
I write in the event I am refused admittance. I fear you may be grieving, having been falsely informed your daughter, Reena, had passed. She is alive and well and living at the Lahon settlement. Garat, our leader, will contact you about her release. When he does, I pray your heart will soften, and you and he will arrive at a fair agreement.
You are never far from my thoughts, and I yearn for you, my heartmate. May circumstances and the Goddess permit, we shall be together one day once and for all.
In devotion,
Meloni
She lived! Hatred as bitter as toxic herbs clogged her throat. Heartmate? Blasphemy! Who was this Meloni? Carefully, she folded the parchment, taming her rage. “This letter confirms Reena’s death. The Lahon found her body.”
“That’s not true!” Carinda shouted. “You lie!”
“Take her away!” Honna ordered. “Put her in solitary confinement. Do not allow her to speak to anyone. Her falsehoods shall go unheard.” Red-hot pain seared her wrist, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. “Send a team, find this Meloni, and deliver him to me!”
“No! No! You can’t do this. Reena’s alive!” Carinda screamed as the guards dragged her away.
Honna brushed at her robes, the movement causing another surge of extreme heat. She brushed her thumb over the gem. Her skin had reddened and blistered around it. She’d never heard of a crystal causing pain before—nor of one turning so dull and black that no light reflected off it. Sharona were born with the amulet, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be removed, did it? If hers continued to cause discomfort, she would excise it.
First things first.
She entered the antechamber of the queen’s quarters and dipped the parchment’s edge into the flame of a lit candle. She held the burning paper until heat kissed her fingers then dropped the corner onto the candlestick base.
Like the letter, Carinda would have to be disposed of. So, too, would the guards who’d heard her accusations. Right after the coronation. When she became Shara, she would have full power to act unquestioned. And this Meloni would pay dearly for his intercession.
Heartmates. The Lahon must be as demented as the crazed Carinda to have conjured such a concept. Could that be it? Could this missive be the work of a lunatic? Honna pursed her lips. She prided herself on strategy and thoroughness. No mortal as compromised as her cousin had been could have survived an EID blast. She had evidenced no heartbeat or respiration.
Unless…she’d been driven only to the very edge of death but hadn’t toppled over. In that case, her vital signs might have been too attenuated to be detected. The EID had been set to kill, but the beam had hit both Reena and the Lahon. If he’d absorbed some of the energy, she could have survived.
The queen’s passing needed to be hastened immediately.
Back in the sickroom, her retching aunt hunched over a chamber pot then flopped exhausted back onto the bed.
Never had merit been a
consideration in who would succeed the monarch. No amount of loyal, exemplary service would ever enable Honna to ascend the throne. She’d been forced into a humiliating occupation, consigned to cater to those who should have been serving her, while her insipid, undeserving cousin, by accident of birth, inherited everything.
The princess would be dispatched for good as soon as the queen passed. Honna removed her pouch, but then dropped it when burning pain seared her wrist. She muttered a curse and cradled her arm.
“What’s wrong?” Ellynna called out weakly.
“Nothing, Auntie.” Tonight, she would extract the crystal, Honna decided, and gathered up her pouch. Herbs had scattered across the marble floor, but more than enough were left to do the job. “It’s time for another dose of tea. This batch might be a little stronger than usual, but I’m optimistic it will make all the difference.”
* * * *
Honna eyed the prisoner. The barbarian hadn’t had the sense to hurry back to his own settlement, and he had been captured outside the village walls. Grudgingly, she credited him with a certain amount of animalistic wiliness that had allowed him to dodge the guards for a day. Older than expected, he appeared perhaps a decade beyond Ellynna’s age. He did not fight the ankle and wrist chains and, displaying no fear or anger, entered with unconcerned, arrogant ignorance. Clearly he did not understand who he was dealing with. Like she’d first thought. Little sense.
He wore a crude tunic and pantaloons sewn from fabric as rough as the Lahon themselves. Long hair, streaked with gray, was bound with a strip of animal hide. Honna zeroed her gaze on the goatskin bag slung over his shoulder then speared one of the guards. “Why is he still wearing the pouch?”
“He’s a healer. We did not think any harm—”
Fools! Did they not realize the power contained within? “Remove it at once!”
The guard cut it loose and brought it to her.
“Leave us!” She snapped. Incompetents!
The guard glanced nervously at the Lahon. “Is that wise?” she whispered. “He has not resisted, but I suspect he is quite strong—”
