“Injured or crippled slaves are often killed here.”
“That is true in other lands as well. There are slaves in many lands. But my brother and I do not like the idea of slavery, so we abolish it in whatever city we conquer.”
“That is very good of you. I am glad you conquered my city,” she said with a definitive nod. “And I am happy to have Koro fight for you to keep it if you like.”
“Thank you, fira, but we can keep the city fine by ourselves. You are free to do whatever you like.”
She smiled when he used the word “free.” It made her exultant, giving her a rush of satisfying joy. And she had him to thank for it.
They were riding in the dark, with only the moonlight to guide them, and the other riders were behind them at a distance. She looked around a moment as an outrageous idea began to creep over her. An idea about how she could express her gratitude. She untied the second and third tie to the front of her robe, creating a small gap. His left hand was resting on his thigh and he was using his right to rein the horse. She reached for his left hand, which he let her take without question, then slowly slid it, with her own hand, into the gap in her robe. She gasped as she felt his touch against her skin. She felt him suddenly tense from head to toe behind her.
“Fira,” he hissed in her ear.
“Shh,” she soothed him. “Just touch me. I am free to be touched for the first time in my life, and I want you to touch me.”
She heard him exhale right next to her ear, his breath hot against the length of her neck. His fingertips slid along the crease beneath her breast, his palm turning up so he could feel the weight of it filling his hand. He kneaded her gently, his callused palm rubbing across her nipple until it puckered tightly into a delectable point. Sarielle closed her eyes and sighed at the amazing sensation.
Garreth got hard in an instant. Just one touch and he craved more. Craved it all. He flicked his thumb over the tip of her breast, feeling the hardness of it with delight, knowing it was because of his touch that it had happened. Knowing that she wanted it, that she had initiated it, made his whole body harden even more with desire.
“By the sweet gods, your skin is so soft,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft in my life.”
“You like it?” she asked breathlessly. He took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugged on it.
“Oh yes. I like it.” His hand cupped and kneaded her some more, pulling her back into him. Their bodies were pressed together in the saddle, so she could feel every inch of him. She felt something hard against her bottom and she squirmed. His grip on her tightened. “Sit still. You’re driving me crazy,” he ejected.
“I’m sorry,” she said, letting go of his hand and trying to scoot forward.
“No. I only meant …” He pulled her back tight again. “It wasn’t a bad thing,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. She sighed as his caresses grew even bolder, covering her ribs and her chest as well as her breast.
“Gods, fira. Give me your mouth.”
She tipped her head back, reaching for him with her mouth. He kissed her fiercely, his touch and his mouth combining to melt her body from the inside out. She felt something strange happen, felt her body go wet in the strangest of places. Confused by the sensation, she broke away from his kiss.
“What is it?” he asked, his breathing labored.
“I feel … strange,” she explained.
“In what way?”
She flushed. “I feel … warm and … wet. I think something’s wrong.”
“Sweet gods,” he hissed. “No. Everything is right. You’re sweet and responsive and so damn right.”
“Is something wrong, sor?”
Garreth started when Tonkin’s voice came from beside him. He withdrew his hand from Sarielle hastily, holding her robe closed covertly. That was when he realized they had come to a stop.
“No. Everything is … Let’s go,” he said, clicking to the horse and urging it forward. Once they were alone again he said, “Tie your robe closed, sweet fira. We’ll continue this another time.”
“Do you promise? It felt … it felt so good.”
“Yes,” he said on an exhaling hiss, “it did. And it will only get better. I swear it. Just … not here. We can address this again when we are back at the keep. When I can take you to a private room. To a bed.”
She blushed again and said, “I’ve never … I mean, I know what you want. But I’ve never even come close to being in a … a bed.”
“I know that,” he said. “That’s why I want to do this right. That is … if you want to be in a bed with me.”
“I think I do,” she said softly. “How does one know something like that?”
“You feel it. Very often it comes with that warm and wet sensation you were talking about. But … I’m afraid you don’t really understand what you want.”
“I’m not sure either,” she admitted. “I am … I know what happens between a man and a woman. I’ve seen it.”
“When did you see it?” he asked.
“I accidentally stumbled upon two slaves. They were … breaking the rules. It was a very dangerous thing to do. I didn’t understand why they would risk themselves like that. But … feeling the way you make me feel when you touch me, I might have broken the rules too, no matter how dangerous.”
“People have risked their lives for less. But your life is no longer at risk. And fira, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you everything,” she argued. “But that’s not why I want to … to be in a bed with you.”
“Mate. Make love,” he offered to her. “Have sex. Fuck. It has names. All kinds of names.”
“Make love. I like the sound of that one.”
“So do I,” he said fiercely.
She smiled and snuggled back against him. “I won’t distract you anymore,” she promised.
“And that’s a damn shame. But you’re still healing anyway,” he reminded her.
“I feel fantastic,” she declared, resting her head back on his shoulder.
“All right. I’ll take your word for it. Now try to relax. Let’s get you back to the keep. We’ll talk about the rest there.”
“All right,” she said with a smile.
She leaned back against him and let him take them home.
CHAPTER
TEN
“So the wyvern is healed and thus the girl. Fine work for a couple of days,” Dethan said with a grin.
After over a day of travel, Garreth had just deposited a sleeping Sarielle in bed.
His bed.
He didn’t want her to be back in the room where she had been held captive for so long. Dethan had allowed Garreth to take the bennesah’s rooms, garishly opulent as they were, while Dethan had taken the mage’s. They were not garish, but they were no less opulent. Clearly the mage had had a place of much wealth and importance in the bennesah’s household.
And there were perhaps other reasons why he had put her in his bed. He had to meditate on those a little further. She was like a fledgling, testing her wings, wanting to fly. But the trick was to know when the bird was truly ready. He didn’t want to push her out of the nest only to have her plummet to the ground in a broken little heap. He didn’t want her making snap decisions and regretting them later.
“You seem distracted, brother. Is all well? I see you’ve been wounded.”
“I am immortal so it is of no consequence.”
“It still hurts to get injured,” Dethan pointed out. “It still weakens you until you heal.”
“I am well aware. But the pain of this is nothing compared to …” He trailed off and knew he did not need to finish. Instead he told his brother about the wyvern and the fight with the manticores.
“A lot of trouble for one little girl,” Dethan mused.
“She is a fine woman,” Garreth snapped at him. “Why must you act as if she is not worth the effort?”
Dethan was surp
rised by his brother’s defensive tone. “I’m sorry, brother. I meant no offense.”
“She is very special. You do not comprehend what she went through to become a wrena.”
“I understand that. But you will make little headway if you become too attached to things in the cities you conquer. We have one purpose here.”
“We have many purposes here,” Garreth argued. “If you want to keep this city in Weysa’s name, then we have to restructure the social order, build a new government, and find trusted men and advisors to run the city after we absent ourselves from it. Sarielle knows what it means to be a slave. And yet she’s had power and prestige here as a wrena. I think … I think she would make a fine bennesah.”
Dethan laughed, sounding shocked. “She’s been a slave all her life! How does that qualify her to be a ruler?”
“She has heart,” Garreth argued hotly. “She has the spirit that will be needed to rebuild this city. Provided she even wishes to stay. She has freedom now and wealth. She has power in the wyvern. She can do anything she wants. So why not run a city?”
“Why not indeed,” Dethan said musingly. “Very well. We can train her if you think she is up for it. But her skin marks her as a slave. Many Kithians of a different color will take offense to the idea of a former slave as a ruler over them. She could face an overthrow at every turn, and we don’t want that kind of instability after we are gone from here.”
“Then we see to it she has trusted men around her. A strong council of support.”
“Well then, I think you should ask the girl what she wants. But don’t be surprised if she turns you down. She has freedom for the first time in her life. This may be the very last place she wishes to be.”
“I realize that. But she will want stability for her young sisters. So we shall see.”
“Indeed we shall. Now, let us talk of this mage. I do not like that he is out and about.”
Garreth walked across the room and poured himself a cup of wine, drinking the entire thing in a matter of seconds. It had been a long, hard journey. He was looking forward to his bed … and what was in it. But first, dusk was coming. They had made excellent time coming back now that Sarielle was healing, but he had his curse to deal with before he could go back to her.
How had she done it, he wondered. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly? He was not the sort to tumble a girl in every city he seized. In fact, he had not even been with a woman since before his trip to the fountain. He had been true to his wife when she had been alive. He had not been the sort of man to break the vows of his marriage. He had respected Jula. They had been the best of friends. Perhaps, in time, he would have grown to love her. Their marriage had still been new when he had gone off on his folly with his brothers.
But she was long dead. Now he was free to do whatever he wished.
Within the confines of Weysa’s demands of him. Within the confines of his curse.
No. Sarielle’s life had already been hard enough. He should not drag her down into the mire of his cursed existence. Not even for a little while.
No matter how much he was beginning to crave her.
“Garreth?” Dethan said.
“Hmm?”
“The mage?”
“Oh. Yes,” Garreth replied. “With the bennesah, his benefactor, dead, he has no place here. Do you not think he is long gone by now? Moved on to find better things?”
“Perhaps. But I would like to be sure.”
“How can we accomplish that?” Garreth asked.
“I don’t know. We are going to have to figure that out. Perhaps we should send men out to find him. Bring him back to us so we may question or control him. Perhaps remove him from the equation completely.”
“I would much rather let him go and let him live his life in peace as long as he does not wish to disturb our plans to turn this city’s attention to Weysa’s way. That is what is key. That is where we must keep our focus,” Garreth said. It was where he must keep his focus. He did not need to dilute it with the distraction of a beautiful young woman.
“Perhaps. Let us see how things unfold.”
“Good. Now I have my curse to contend with. Then, I am weary and would seek my bed.”
“Of course. Good night, brother.”
“Good night.”
Garreth left and headed for the orchard.
After his curse was done for the night, after he had warmed himself significantly, he headed for his bedroom. The path took him through the body of the keep. It seemed the previous ruler liked to survey the majority of his holding on the trip from the main rooms to his private ones. The hallway from one end of the keep to the other was laden with windows that looked out onto the entirety of the city on one side. He paused there, looking down on the sprawling vista. In daylight he would be able to see all the way to the city walls and the main gate. He would be able to see the destruction his siege had wrought. All the fires were long extinguished and overall the damage was not too overwhelming. The city would recover. Eventually.
Just as Sarielle would recover. She would recover and find a whole world of possibilities open to her. He hoped she agreed to become the bennesah. It would give her comfort and power and purpose for the rest of her life. It would ensure a contented life for her sisters.
He walked on, dismissing the city on his left and heading toward …
Toward …
“Damn you, you cursed fool. Walk away,” he hissed to himself, clenching his fists.
He did not. He walked right up to and through his chamber doors. He entered the bedroom and stood in the doorway, just looking at her for a moment. She was asleep on her stomach with her fiery red hair tumbling across the pillow. She was the prettiest shade of lavender he’d ever seen, her skin soft and shadowed and a beautiful pastel. Her violet lips were parted in sleep, her coppery lashes standing out against her skin.
She was still in her ornamental robe, the shapeless thing normally doing nothing to display her figure. But in her sleep it had twisted around her body and was pulled tight to her every lush curve. She was not skinny or frail. Not even slender like Dethan’s wife was. She had sumptuous hips, a softly rounded belly, and—he knew from personal experience—the most perfect, bountiful breasts the world had ever seen.
He began to take off his outer clothing—the vest and tunic that were torn and bloody from his encounter with the manticore’s tail. Once he was bare chested, he inspected the wound. It was already healing. The tail had just missed his heart—a good thing. Immortal or no, he would have gone down if it had pierced his heart, and he would have stayed down until his body healed itself. As it was, it was still a bad wound. Had he been mortal …
But he wasn’t mortal, he reminded himself. And that was the key to his present dilemma.
He took off his breeches, which had also absorbed a lot of his blood, then moved to the nightstand, where there was a pitcher of water and a basin. He poured water into the bowl, and using a nearby cloth, he washed the blood from his body and cleaned the wound. Once he was satisfied, he dropped the cloth into the basin and turned toward the wardrobe to get another pair of breeches.
He found himself looking dead into Sarielle’s fair blue eyes. She sat up slowly, her eyes never leaving his. They stayed there like that for a whole minute, simply staring at each other. Then she broke away from his eyes and let her gaze fall to his wound. A small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” he lied.
She looked lower.
Her eyes widened.
He grew hard under the touch of her gaze.
“You’re so … different,” she said a bit breathlessly.
“I’ll put something on,” he said awkwardly, fumbling for the robe that was draped across the bottom of the bed on the opposite side of her. But he had to lean over her to get to it, and when he did, her hands went to the skin on his side and chest.
“No!” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean you s
hould hide from me.”
“I’m not hiding. I wasn’t thinking. I should never have undressed with you here.”
“Stop!” She grabbed the robe from his hands before he could come away with it. “I want to see you.”
He went still. He looked into her eyes as he straightened up once more. “You don’t know what you want,” he said tightly. “You have a brand new world to discover. You’re testing your boundaries. I understand that. But you shouldn’t just leap into things you can’t fully see.”
“I see enough,” she said firmly. “I see you.”
“No. You don’t. You think I’m some kind of noble savior when I’m not. I don’t do things like that anymore. Now I’m just a man who creates war in the name of a vindictive goddess. There is nothing noble about that.”
“Your heart is what’s noble, Garreth,” she said softly, moving to put her legs over the edge of the bed, her hands reaching out to touch him on the bare skin of his hard belly. He drew back sharply.
“No. Not anymore. My heart is cursed now.”
“Garreth,” she said, standing up and following his retreat until his back hit the tapestry hanging on the wall. Her body moved in, her warmth pressing all along his. Her hands rested like two elegant butterflies on his chest. She was so beautiful it hurt to even look at her as she turned soft, accepting eyes up to him. “Whatever you’ve had done to you, whatever you did that may have deserved censure, it did not change the heart inside you. The heart I see. The heart of a man willing to risk everything just to save a slave girl’s life. To save the life of a creature that could have killed you.” She bent her head forward and pressed a kiss onto his chest beside the wound he bore.
Garreth closed his eyes, unable to do anything but revel in the sweet sensation of it. It was too good to pass up. Too good to put away from himself. She kissed him again and again, and of its own volition, his hand came up and his fingers threaded into her hair. Her hair was soft like silk, slippery and sweet, the weight of it full bodied like she was.