by Ruby Dixon
“Blade?” Aron says quietly, and the thunder grows louder.
I grab his chin and force him to look me in the eye. “If you give me another nosebleed it’s going to hurt you a hell of a lot more than these little scratches do.”
He clenches his jaw, but I can hear the thunder ebbing. The room around us is utterly quiet, as if no one is sure what to think. “Tell me you’re not wounded badly,” he finally manages, straightening. His fingers twitch, as if he wants to haul my tunic off my body and check for himself right here, right now.
“I’m not hurt badly,” I promise, and give him a light pat on the cheek. Truth be told, I’ve had so much adrenaline rushing through me I don’t know if I’m hurt that bad or not. I’m pretty sure it’s all right, though. I’d feel it if things were worse, wouldn’t I? So I beam at Aron as if it’s all good. “We made it in one piece, though, which is more than I can say for you.” And I gesture at the arrows sticking out of his side.
Something rumbles in his chest that sounds like amusement. A hint of a smile flashes across his face and then Aron grabs me and hauls me against him. He kisses me fiercely, his teeth clashing with mine. It seems I’m not the only one feeling the charge of adrenaline. I kiss him back, my hand going to his neck…which is wet with blood.
I pull away, making a face. “You’re filthy.”
He just grins at me, looking like a crazy person. “It seems I need to clean up before I claim my anchor.”
To say the least. But he keeps his arm locked around my hips as he turns back toward the king, and I scrub a sleeve over my face, only to find it smeared with gore. That crazy son of a bitch…I’m so glad to see him.
The king drops to a knee in front of Aron and makes the clenched-hand symbol over his chest in honor of the Lord of Storms. “We are at your disposal. Yshrem and Cyclopae are honored to serve. Anything you need from us, we will provide.”
The queen hesitates, then tries to drop to a knee, clutching her rounded stomach.
“That’s not necessary, right, Aron?” I poke him in the side gently.
He grunts at me.
I poke him again.
He shoots me a look, then offers his filthy, filthy hand to the queen. To her credit, she takes it with a gracious smile. “You and your anchor are welcome here. Our home is your home for as long as you like.”
“What I would like,” Aron says slowly, “is to take down my opponent across the river and give Yshrem victory.”
Cheers fill the room. The Cyclopae king gets to his feet, and he’s got that war-hungry, eager look that Aron gets in his eyes, too. “With you leading us, we are sure to prevail, Lord of Storms. And if we do not, it will be a glorious battle to the end!”
The men cheer.
I don’t. Neither does the queen. We share a look, instead. The guys might be cool with dying on the battlefield, but the thought terrifies me.
“I’m tired and dirty,” I say to Aron, forcing a smile to my face. “And you’re filthy and I’m pretty sure you still have a crossbow bolt between your shoulders. Can we get somewhere we can clean up?”
“Oh, by the gods,” the queen says, shaking her head. “Of course. Please, come with me. We will house you in the finest rooms Castle Yshrem has to offer. And baths for both of you.”
“And food,” I add, taking the hand she extends me. “Please.”
“And food,” she agrees. “Whatever you like.”
I turn to look at Aron, strangely reluctant to leave his side again.
“Where are her guards?” Aron asks, frowning.
“I’m sure they’re upstairs just hanging out where I left them,” I say brightly, because I can feel the queen’s hand clench against my fingers. “We sort of scared everyone when we dropped in. It’s fine, Aron.”
His eyes narrow.
“Fine,” I say again. I let go of the queen’s hand and move back to him. I take a hold of the front of his filthy, filthy tunic—or what’s left of it—and tug him down closer to me. “I’ll make sure they stay outside the room and guard it, okay? And I’ll take a nice hot bath, and you’ll take a nice hot bath, and then you’ll come upstairs once you’ve finished talking war and you can make love to your anchor all night long, all right?”
“I am a god, Faith,” he murmurs. “We do not love.”
“Right. Sure.”
But he kisses me fiercely, and the room fills with cheers from the soldiers I forgot were there, and it seems to me that for a god that doesn’t love, he sure is affectionate.
Our first stop upstairs is not a bath after all. I’m taken to a healer and the two gashes on my stomach—surface wounds, really—are cleaned and neatly stitched up while the queen’s men retrieve Markos, Solat, and Kerren. Then, I’m brought down an opulent hall and the queen gestures at the room at the end. “These were my father’s chambers when he was king. I couldn’t bear to take them after I became queen, so they are used for visiting dignitaries. Will Aron mind if you’re both in the same room?”
Her inquiry is so polite, so sweet.
“If you’re asking if we’re sleeping together, the answer is yes. One bed is cool.”
She nods, and we continue into the room. She pushes open double doors and then I’m staring at an opulent chamber swathed with tapestries. A large, ornate wooden bed is in the center of the room, and by the fire in the fireplace, servants are pouring water into a large tub. I can smell fresh-baked bread and hot food, and my stomach growls.
“I know an anchor must eat to fuel her bond with her Aspect, so I’ve had the servants bring a large tray. If it’s not enough, say the word and I’ll make sure the cooks are ready to prepare you whatever you’d like.” She moves to the center of the room and waves in a new servant, this one carrying a small trunk. “A few things for you. Combs. Scented oils. Fresh clothing.”
“Thank you. This is all really great.”
She turns and gives me a smile, ever the gracious hostess. “My name is Halla, and it would please me if the two of us could talk in the morning?” She gives me a searching look, and I get the impression that there’s a lot going on behind that sweet exterior.
“Sure.” I nod. “I’ll be happy to talk.”
“Excellent.” She heads out in a sweep of lavender embroidered skirts, and then servants flee after her, everyone exiting the room at the same time. I’m left alone with Markos, Solat, and Kerren.
“Are you guys okay?” I ask. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“They stripped our armor and weapons from us and were just about to take us to the dungeons,” Markos admits. “But we were not hurt, no.”
Solat adds, “You should have seen the looks on their faces when they found out you were telling the truth. They couldn’t bow and scrape quick enough for ‘Lord Aron’s guardsmen.’” He smirks and moves to the tray of food, picking up a wedge of cheese.
I head over to it and slap his hand. “That’s mine.”
He grins at me and eats it anyway. “Shall we sleep in the doorway and keep you guarded?”
I think about Aron, how happy he was to greet the king. How he let me leave with the queen, no questions asked. He trusts these people. Even so, it’s been a hell of a journey to get here. “We’ll ask for you guys to have an adjoining room,” I decide. “One can stay on guard at the doorway while the others are relaxing. And ask for a tray from the kitchens,” I say, slapping Solat’s hand again when he reaches for another piece of cheese. “If you eat any more of that I’m going to throw you from the rafters.”
“Never come between an anchor and her meal,” he says with a wink, but he pulls back. Good.
I flick my hands at them. “I’m filthy, and Aron kissed me and transferred his filth to me. I’m going to bathe and then eat until he gets here. Are you guys okay to do your own thing?”
“We’ll find a servant,” Markos reassures me.
“A pretty one, hopefully,” Solat adds.
“Glad to see you’re back to being yourself.” I eat a piece of che
ese myself as they file out, and then Kerren points at the door, indicating he’ll be just outside.
Then, the heavy doors are shut, and I’m all alone in the sumptuous room.
I spend the next hour in the tub, eating cheese and meat, drinking wine, and relaxing in the scorchingly hot water. It’s so damn nice that I hate to get out, but I do when I tragically run out of wine. I get out of the tub, towel off, and then wrap myself in a fur-trimmed sleeping gown I find in the trunk. I crawl into the epic-looking bed and sigh with pleasure.
And fall asleep.
74
I wake up in the middle of the night to a big, naked body spooning my backside and hiking up my nightgown.
Aron kisses my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “Should I let you sleep?”
I moan, reaching for him. “Not now that I’m all turned on.”
He chuckles, the sound low and delicious. “Then my plan worked.” He continues to kiss my neck, his mouth devouring with need as he rolls me onto my belly and then hikes my hips into the air. “I need you, Faith. Are you wet for me?”
His hand slides between my thighs and he strokes my folds, teasing me. I moan as he pushes a finger into my pussy, working it back and forth. He’s not giving me any time to think about things, his hands insistent. He must still be fired up from the battle earlier, because I can feel his enormous cock stabbing into my thigh as he presses his big body against my backside.
Arousal, quick and urgent, shoots through me, and when he pushes my nightgown up to my shoulders, leaving the majority of my body exposed, I get on my hands and knees, arching my backside even higher into the air like a cat in heat. I need him just as badly as he needs me. I want his touch. Need it. “Aron,” I pant. “Claim me like you mean it.”
“Oh, I always mean it, my Faith.” His fingers glide over my folds, teasing my clit expertly. “Look at how wet your cunt is for me already. You like it when I take you, don’t you?”
“If I didn’t, you’d know about it,” I manage, my fingers twisting in the blankets under my hands as he pets and strokes me. He’s right, though, I’m so wet already that I can hear the slick noises my pussy’s making as he touches me. Just his touch is enough to get me all worked up within seconds. I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I’ve wanted this man. It’s like there’s some charged connection between us at a deeper level—he turns me on as I’ve never been turned on before.
He laughs, easing a second finger into my pussy and fucking me with it. “Always with a retort,” Aron murmurs. “Never willing to admit that you need to be fucked, and fucked hard.”
I moan, burying my face against the blankets. “Aron.”
“You do, don’t you, though?” he says, determined to dirty-talk his way through my orgasm. “You need me to fuck this wet, juicy cunt. You need my thick cock deep inside you until you scream. You need my fingers on your breasts—”
“They haven’t been on my breasts yet, have they?” I manage, panting.
“Is that what I’m doing wrong?” he teases in a sultry voice, and then his fingers slide out of my pussy and move to my breast, teasing it with a wet caress. “Now will you scream for me?”
“I’ll scream if you don’t get inside me in the next minute.” I wiggle my backside, trying to entice him.
I get what I want—he pushes into me in the next moment, and my cheek skids across the blankets. I don’t even care—it feels so amazing that my toes curl and I’m gasping as he thrusts into me again, so hard and deep that I swear I can feel him all the way to my belly. He holds onto my hips and uses my body—I can’t even keep a rhythm with him because he’s so quick and fierce, and each thrust is so hard that it takes me by surprise. He’s pumping into me with such power that there’s a pleasure-pain edge to things, and I can’t last longer than a few moments before I shatter into a million pieces, choking out his name as I come.
Then, he reaches between my thighs and toys with my clit until I come again.
By the time he finally comes, I feel wrung out. I curl up on the bed, utterly sated as he gets a towel and then washes us both off. Funny, that I wouldn’t think of the god who just fucked my brains out as tender with aftercare, but he is. He washes my pussy clean of his release with gentle hands, then tosses the cloth aside. He tucks the blankets around us and pulls me close to him, his lips on my brow.
I start to drift off to sleep again when he speaks. “You’ll be safe here with the queen.”
“Mmm?” I manage. “I’m staying with the queen?”
“I told First Warrior Mathior that it is my command. No one is more guarded than the queen and her son. You’ll be safest with them.” He pauses thoughtfully, his hands brushing my hair off my brow. “He loves her.”
“Good for him. She seems like a nice lady.”
“They are very different,” Aron muses. “The Cyclopae are not as civilized as the Yshremi, but he has wanted her ever since he was a small boy. The moment he became First Warrior, he took her as his bride. I remember him offering many times to me, determined to have his way. I liked his spirit.” He presses his mouth to my brow again. “Which is why you will be safest with her. The entire kingdom would have to collapse before Mathior would let the enemy approach Halla.”
I tuck myself closer to him. “So you’re leaving me tomorrow? You can’t go far—we’re tethered, remember?” I frown at the memory of the intense pain I felt when in Citadel, all because I didn’t realize that I couldn’t step away from Aron’s side.
“I’m not leaving,” he corrects. “But every day, I will be on the front line of the battlefields.”
I lift my head and look up at him, and he’s smiling.
Men.
“So you’re excited about war?”
He grins. “Of course.”
I am decidedly less thrilled, but I console myself with the fact that he can’t get hurt. I stroke a hand down his chest. “What’s the goal?”
“What do you mean? The goal is to win.”
“He can’t die, though. And you can’t die. So are you charging through to look for his anchor? Or what?”
“Mmm…eventually. I need to figure out his strategy first.”
I suspect his strategy will be ‘take out Aron’s anchor,’ since that’s our strategy. “I’m afraid. What if he sends assassins?”
Aron hugs me closer. “You will be guarded at all times. Your food will be tasted, your wine, too. No one will get close enough.”
I really, really hope that’s not arrogance talking.
75
The next morning, I wake up to the jingling sound of Aron putting on his belt. He’s nearly completely dressed, his tunic a blazing white with a scarlet axe emblazoned on each shoulder. He’s got a long, fur cape of pure white, and it contrasts with his long, dark hair and tanned skin.
I sit up in bed, watching as he dresses. “Should I wish you luck?”
“I need no luck,” he says, and looks like an eager schoolboy for a moment. He’s ready to get out there and kick some ass. “You’ll stay here? Safe at the queen’s side?”
“Yup. You won’t do anything crazy like get yourself captured?”
He grins. “Never.”
I hug my knees to my chest as he props a booted foot up on the side of the bed and adjusts it. “I just don’t understand the point of battling the other guy, Aron. Help me understand. He’s not going to let his anchor near the front lines, just like you’re hiding me. He can’t die. You can’t die. What’s the point?’
“If I overtake his encampment and break his army, I can search for his anchor. He cannot fight an entire army.”
Can’t he? I mean, I’m guessing that will be Hedonism Aron’s strategy as well as ours. He’s going to keep flinging men at the keep to try to break in. “You’re sure this isn’t just fighting because you like fighting?”
He moves to my side in the bed and cups my face. “I am a god of battle, Faith. This is part of who I am.”
“You’re also a god of storms, but no
one’s suggesting you do that,” I mutter.
Aron laughs again and then leans down, kissing me fiercely. “Stay by the queen. I will return this evening, after I have broken his army.”
I nod but say nothing else. This is war, and that’s who he is.
I watch him go, and then my stomach growls, so I get out of bed and dress. There’s a plate of food waiting for me, but I don’t want to stay cooped up in my rooms. There’s a big window in here, but all it is is a view to the wrong side of the city. From my bedroom, all I can see are the houses and streets that squeeze together, making up the cramped-looking medieval city of Yshrem. So I grab a handful of cheese and shove a roll into my mouth, and head out of my room.
Markos is there, waiting for me. He nods and falls into step behind me as I gnaw on my bread. “You guys treated ok?” I ask him.
“Like kings,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth. “We will not be allowed to join the battle. Our task is to stay at your side.”
“Aron told me I have to stay with the queen.”
He gestures down the hall. “I have instructions to take you there, or for you to stay in your rooms. Aron doesn’t want you wandering.”
My mouth twists a little. I get it. I understand that safety is in having controlled spaces with limited access, but I don’t like the thought of sitting on a silk cushion while he goes to war outside. I itch to do something. Anything. But what? I’m the one that’s the target. “Let’s go say hi to Her Majesty, then.”
Markos leads me forward, his hand lightly at my arm, and I can’t help but notice he’s fully armored and brimming with weapons. So much for the keep being completely “safe.” There are two armed men standing outside the queen’s chambers and even more down the hall. Markos nods at all of them and as we approach, they open the doors and let us in to the queen’s inner quarters.
It’s the same library-study we busted into before. Like yesterday, there are chairs by the fireplace, and the queen sits in one while two ladies sit nearby, sewing. Like yesterday, she wears another lavender dress, but this one is practically crusted with embroidery, the sleeves long and dangling. She has her infant son in her lap, playing with him, and looks over at us when we enter.