“Yes?” He held his breath against the hope she would kiss him.
“Please. I know I have no right to ask for anything more.”
He silently cursed his lascivious thoughts. She was clearly too distressed for kisses. “What is it, Em? What can I do?”
“Come with me.” Need and fear swam in her eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Isn’t your acolyte already here?”
“I don’t want to wake her. I’ll feel like a ninny, crying about my close call with the stocks when her brother spent half a week in them.”
“Her brother was your contact for jobs?”
“Not anymore. He left town.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “One stint in the stocks was enough for him.”
He rubbed her arms. “I’ll stay until you’re cleaned up and settled.”
Elkart bounded up the stairs and batted at the door.
“Hush.” Em brushed past the waccat to slide the panel aside. She lit a candle and paused for a moment under the statue of Fermena. The flickering light cast harsh shadows over her tense features. Yet, despite the tracks of her tears shining on her cheeks, a holy serenity infused her face. “Praise Fermena for her wisdom and guidance.”
Quintin shook with the impulse to erase her tears with his lips. She needed comfort, not passion. Not knowing how to give one without the other, he curbed his desires and rumbled out his own prayer of thanks.
The birds in the rafters cooed, adding their sleepy sounds to the prayers. After a final bow to the avatar of the Goddess, Em tugged him behind the alter. “The steamroom won’t be as good as a bath, but it’s the best Aerynet has to offer.”
He cleared his throat as they stepped into the alcove leading to the steamroom. “I probably shouldn’t go in there with you.”
“Why not?”
He licked his lips. How could he explain without sounding depraved? “I don’t know if I can take the torture of seeing you naked again. My injured hand is useless for relieving these kinds of tensions, you know.”
She chuckled. The sound coiled through him. Thank Fermena she could laugh.
Her wicked smile chased some of the shadows from her eyes. “I’m very good at relieving tensions, and both my hands work fine.”
Quintin forgot to breathe as his cock surged to life. He tried to hold on to his sanity in the face of her suggestion. “The steamroom is a holy sanctuary.”
“Fermena is a Goddess of the Now. I doubt she begrudges anyone a moment of comfort or pleasure.”
Would she take comfort from touching him, or was she offering him pleasure because she was grateful, as with her kiss in the jungle? He didn’t want her thanks.
Her belt slithered to the floor.
He did want her, though. More than breath.
Her chiton joined her belt.
His mouth went dry. She was so beautiful. How could he think when she was standing there naked? When every fiber of his being yearned to touch her?
She cocked her head at the door. “Coming with me?”
He shrugged off his sling. “Getting undressed with one hand is a slow business.”
“I’ll help you.” She peeled his kaftan off over his head, being careful of his wounds.
He fumbled with his trousers, until she took over the task with unnerving ease.
She pulled him by the wrist into the tiny chamber. After lighting a candle on either side of the doorway, she sat down cross-legged in front of the brazier. Murmuring prayers, she buried her hands in the rocks.
Quintin knelt on the wood floor next to her and tried not to shiver. His body hummed with anticipation, while his mind scampered in loops like a lizard circling a tree branch. He breathed deeply in an attempt to capture the spirit of the holy place. He needed all the help he could get to live in the Now and let go of his worries and doubts for the future.
Em pulled away from the heat rippling off the brazier. As she poured water over the rocks, hissing steam glowed gold in the candlelight.
“I am forever in your debt, for everything.” She leaned toward him, her head tilted for a kiss.
He shifted away. He wanted her desire, not her gratitude. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“You lied for me. To another Hand.” Her eyes narrowed. “You knew her, didn’t you? She called you Quintin.”
“Madi is one of my year-mates, a friend.” He mentally stirred the air, distributing the heat around the room. “We’re lucky she’s the one who caught you. I might not have been able to convince another guard to let you go.”
“Is she one of your friends more dear than family?”
“Yes. Now you’ve met all four of them.”
“You lied to one of your closest friends. For me.”
“Claiming a beautiful woman as my lover isn’t much of a hardship.”
“Shall I make it up to you by turning your lie into a reality?”
“You don’t have to—”
She pressed a finger against his lips. “I want to.”
Her mouth replaced her finger. Her questing tongue chased the doubts from his mind. Did it matter why she was kissing him, as long as she didn’t stop?
Passion sparked through Quintin’s veins, flaming to life everywhere she touched. She slid her hot hands over his shoulders and down his back. When she reached his hips, one hand drifted into his lap.
His cock twitched, pulsing and hardening as she explored his length. His head fell back with a moan. “Marana have mercy, that feels so good.”
How would it feel if she explored him with her tongue? He’d heard of such things, dreamed about them, but never experienced them. As if reading his mind, she trailed kisses over his neck and down his chest. Her fingers caressed his cock as her lips drifted over the planes of his belly.
His fingers tangled in her hair. He should stop her. A few thankful kisses were one thing. This was too much.
“I am honored to serve,” she purred before her lips closed over him.
Any protest he might have given drowned in a flood of ecstasy. His entire body pulsed with each stroke of her tongue.
He made a keening noise as her fiery, wet mouth transported him to paradise.
Chapter 36
Paradise.
Em’s heart bubbled with satisfaction, though her mouth was too busy to smile. Quintin’s thoughts whispered at the edges of her mind, only one word clear in a dozen. She relished the partial intimacy. Sharing his enjoyment heightened her own.
As her mouth worked him, heat pulsed between her legs. She pulled back to swirl her tongue around his salty tip. A heady sense of power filled her. This was his first taste of this kind of pleasure. Whatever the future might hold, he would never forget this night. Never forget her.
His hands moved restlessly over her hair, tugging and kneading. Her braids fell in untidy strands across his lap.
“Marana have mercy,” he panted.
She pulled back enough to speak, making sure her breath blew over his damp, sensitized flesh. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” he hissed, his thoughts echoing behind the word. Good. So good.
As if in a dream, she could see herself on her back with her hair spread across a pillow.
Such a position wasn’t possible in the confines of the steamroom, though she could offer him deeper satisfaction a different way. Unable to resist, she gave his cock one last suck, then rose up to kiss him.
His mouth was hot and eager under hers. His tongue thrust deep. The wild kiss sent desire spiraling through her body, tightening her breasts and dampening her core.
Em parted her knees to straddle him. The warmth of his skin against her inner thighs drove her passion to new heights, leaving her desperate for more. She reached down between them and clasped his shaft, breaking t
he kiss to stare into his eyes. She wanted to watch his face as he entered her for the first time. Her thumb circled the sensitive tip of his cock.
“Please.” The word trembled on his lips, and in his mind. Please, more, please.
She stroked his cock and positioned it at her entrance. “Tell me what you want.”
She expected him to answer mind-to-mind but instead he took a shuddering breath and spoke aloud. “I need you, Em.”
“I’m right here,” she answered, rattled by the idea that he might not know he was sharing his thoughts.
Need you. The longing in his gaze pierced her as he struggled to speak. “I want to be in you.”
“As you wish.” She shifted her hips and took him deep inside.
Satisfaction flashed across his face. With a guttural groan, he arched his back. Perfect.
She rose off him and then slid back down. His hips matched her rhythm.
Pleasure and awe played over his features with every thrust. The time for conscious thought was over. Flooded with tenderness, she slowed her pace to draw out their enjoyment. All too soon she could feel her climax tightening her skin. She increased the tempo, riding him in earnest.
“Em, oh, Em!” Straining to bury himself yet deeper, he lifted her off the floor.
She captured his cries with a hungry kiss. Her body clenched with her own release as he pumped his essence into her.
She slumped boneless against him, nuzzling the soft skin between his neck and shoulder. His musky scent filled her senses.
Crushing her to his chest, he threaded one hand into her hair. I need you forever. Marry ME!
His voice was so clear in her head she almost thought he had spoken aloud. She smiled against his neck, ready to say yes.
No, idiot! No!
Shocked by the vehemence of his inner denial, she raised her head. Disgust flashed across his face. Was the prospect of marrying her really so horrible?
Gripping her hips, he lifted her from his lap. His limp flesh exited her body with a painful pull.
She flinched at the strange, postcoital sting.
He tensed. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever be all right again. The air in the room suffocated her with heat, yet she felt chilled to the core.
“That hurt,” she admitted. Why did her body ache from his loss?
“Sorry, I’ve never done this before.” He eased away from her and retied his queue. “I was trying to prevent a babe. I didn’t mean to pain you.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she said, though she didn’t feel very grateful. His caution proved how desperate he was to sever all ties with her.
He might have wanted her in one brief moment of weakness, but his common sense had all too quickly silenced the impulse.
After all, she was a thief. A Hand could not marry an outlaw. The very idea was preposterous. As her anger flared, she welcomed its heat. And hated him a little for being sensible. Why did he always have to be so practical? She would have said yes. Eagerly, joyfully, without hesitation or reservation, she would have sworn to spend her life with him.
But he had not asked her to, the prig.
She wanted him to be as lost in love as she was.
Her heart faltered and then beat double time.
I love him. Heart, body and mind.
And it meant nothing. Nothing.
Chapter 37
“I should leave.” Quintin scrambled to his feet and pushed open the steamroom door. He had to get out of there before he said something irrevocable. Or repeated his embarrassing confession of love.
Elkart whined unhappily while Quintin struggled to get dressed.
Em leaned against the doorjamb and made no move to help him.
Thank Fermena for her restraint. He couldn’t handle her touching him right now. Not when he felt so raw and on edge.
Finding her deed chain with his things, he held it up reverently. She was free now, and he would do nothing to spoil that. Unable to resist, he slipped the chain over her head. She was so beautiful it hurt.
“I wish you well.” His tongue felt thick and clumsy as he struggled to say good-bye, without saying too much. “In all you do.”
She clutched the stones and met his gaze, a spark of something fierce in her eye. “Be happy, Quintin.”
He nodded but made no promises. He didn’t want his last words to her to be a lie.
His waccat’s concern pressed against his mind as they walked home. Uninterested in sorting through his jumbled emotions, Quintin kept his thoughts to himself.
Mercifully silent, Elkart led him down the darkened path with his superior night vision. Quintin’s head throbbed from the mind-sharing with Madi and the help of his second sight wasn’t worth adding to his pain.
Numb and exhausted, he stumbled into his room, found his rumpled bedroll mostly by feel, and fell into it, too tired to turn onto his back.
Burying his face in his musty pillow, he waited for sleep to come. Pain hammered his head in time to his heartbeat.
You not happy.
Quintin groaned, in no shape for a philosophical discussion with his waccat.
Lady tell you, be happy. You not happy.
I’m tired, Elkart.
The waccat sniffed at his fingers before flopping down next to him. You sad.
Quintin draped an arm over the great cat, taking comfort from the warm furry body. In the privacy of his darkened room, alone with his waccat, he could admit to the depression gripping his soul. Yes. I’m sad.
Why? You mate with Lady. It good, yes? You like mating?
Oh, yes. It was . . . soul-shattering, earthshaking, glorious beyond his wildest imaginings . . . good, very good.
So why sad? Not like cubs?
There won’t be any cubs. When they had separated, he used his limited water gift to pull his essence out of her body. He hoped it worked. Marana knew, he’d never practiced the technique.
No cubs? Then why mate?
Because I wanted to. Humans don’t always make babies. Mostly it feels good.
She wanted also?
I think so, yes. He pressed his cheek against the waccat’s fur. Sadness dragged at his soul. Maybe. I don’t know.
Had she wanted him, or just wanted to please him? Everything they’d done had been for him. To satisfy his needs. Even now his body stirred at the memories of their coupling. Joining with her had been glorious but guilt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling she’d acted out of relief rather than genuine desire. A more honorable man would have resisted her given the circumstances.
At least he had stifled the urge to propose marriage. She might have said yes out of a misplaced sense of gratitude. He would have been devastated when she came to her senses. He shuddered. Or worse yet, she might have gone through with it, bound by a sense of duty and obligation.
He had not helped her escape from the tangled nets of her family only to snare her in an inauspicious marriage. She deserved better, to live the life of a Lady that should have been hers six years ago.
What’s marriage? Elkart asked. You want?
Quintin’s heart lurched. It didn’t matter what he wanted. Em had made it perfectly clear that day in the cacao vault, how she didn’t consider him marriage material. Marriage is like bonding, only between humans, he answered, focusing on the less painful half of the waccat’s question. Without waccat’s abilities, humans can only tie their lives and their futures together, not their souls.
Many humans do this? Bond without bonding?
Most people do it before making children. It’s how we become family.
Pack good. Elkart’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. Lady good for pack. You marriage her?
It’s marry, a
nd no, I won’t do it again.
Again? You marriage already?
No. Quintin’s brow wrinkled as he puzzled over his thought. You bonded with me out of obligation. I won’t have Em marry me for the same reason.
Elkart’s tail beat an irritated tattoo against the floor. Obligation? What is this obligation?
Quintin tightened his arm around the waccat, remembering how desperate he had been to bond. His mother had planned to beg his half-brother for the funds to send Quintin to school in the capitol. Distressed by the plan, he had gone to sleep in tears, pleading with the gods to save him from debts to a man he despised. In the night he dreamt of waccats. He spent the next week skipping school to hang around the Troika Hall. In the end, Elkart took pity on him and made him a Hand.
Not true. Elkart nuzzled his hair. Waccats have no pity.
Are you saying it’s a coincidence you bonded with me right after I told you about my troubles with going away to school?
No. You say you leave soon. I not want you to leave. The waccat swiped a rough tongue over Quintin’s arm. So we bond and we stay.
Quintin dug his fingers into the soft fur behind his waccat’s ears. Or at least stay together.
Elkart’s tail twitched. Exactly.
Quintin could not deny bonding with his waccat had led to the greatest friendships and opportunities of his life. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but he could never shake his gratitude to Elkart for taking a chance and bonding with a scrawny eleven-year-old he barely knew. The idea of entering into a marriage with Em on the same unequal footing left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Taxing Courtship (The Hands of Destin Book 1) Page 27