by Vivian Arend
She lightly touched the healing rod to the throbbing knot on his head, and a pulse of magic surged into it. A few seconds later, the pain was gone.
“Familiar with these?” he quipped.
“Someone has to take care of the crew.” A note of mourning filled her words. She trailed the rounded end of the rod to his swollen eye. “I suppose we should fix this next so you can see well enough to steer.”
Bit by bit, she healed his injuries, starting with his eyes and moving to his shoulder. She guided the warm orb from place to place with the gentleness of a lover from back to front. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the respite from reality. She could run away from him later, but for now, he let himself believe she really cared about him. As the pain from his injuries faded, the forgotten flare of desire took over and warmed his blood.
The rod dragged across his chest, healing the soreness in his ribs. “I think that’s everything,” she said softly.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring into hers. Their blue depths were filled with such uncertainty that it stole his breath away. But behind that, he also saw fear and another emotion he dared not name. His voice grew raw as he said, “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do after you saved my life today.” She opened her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but ended up biting her lip instead before she backed away.
He caught her arm and earned a wince in return. “I’m being selfish. You’re hurt, too.”
“Not as badly as you were.”
“Still, I can return the favor.” He took the healing rod from her. “Take off your dress so I can better see your injuries.”
She gave him a dry laugh laced with weariness. “Always trying to get me naked, eh?”
“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t partially true.” Without his clothes on, he couldn’t hide the evidence of his growing arousal from her. “But I meant what I said earlier.”
“I know.” She turned around and released the pin holding her dress up. The fabric pooled around her ankles, revealing the luscious curves of her bare ass under the curtain of her dark red hair. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “I’m waiting.”
Her words held a hint of an invitation, and he seized upon it. “Where do you hurt?”
“Ribs.”
He gathered her hair and draped it over her shoulder, revealing the faint bruise forming on her right side. As he ran his fingers across the swollen skin, her shoulder drew up. “Here?”
She nodded.
He closed the space between them, eager to touch more than just the places that hurt. His magic flowed through the ore, fading the bruise away and leaving an expanse of flawless skin in its wake. It was so beautiful, so tempting, that he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to it.
Her breath caught. “Kissing my wounds to make them better?”
“Maybe.” He moved higher to the nape of her neck and placed another kiss there.
She shivered again, and tiny bumps rose along her flesh. “How do you always know exactly where to kiss me?”
“I’ve had lots of practice teasing you,” he said, pausing to place another kiss, this time at the sensitive spot behind her ear, “to map out your body and discover the spots that drive you wild.”
“You act like you’ve had me in your bed more than once.”
“Well, there was that time in your garden.” As soon as the words slipped out, he felt her pulling away. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her against him. “Sexta, about that night, why did you say what you said?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Nothing is ever obvious with you.”
She tensed, but then relaxed into a sigh. “I was trying to push you away, just like I’ve always done.”
“Why?”
“Because I always knew you deserved better than me and when you finally realized it, you’d leave me for someone else.”
“And what if you were wrong?” He turned her around and tilted her chin up. “What if I’m just a scoundrel, and you deserve better than me?”
She gave him a wan smile. “You are a scoundrel.”
“Then I don’t have to apologize for doing this.” He leaned in and covered her mouth with his.
She didn’t resist him. There was a hint of surrender before she broke free with her own desire. He tasted her arousal with every flick of her tongue and matched it with his own. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him closer while her hips rocked against his hardening cock. He’d started out to seduce her and now found himself being seduced.
He pushed her back to the bed before he lost control, and forced himself to end the kiss. “I wasn’t finished healing you, you know.”
She released him and twirled her fingers in her hair, unabashedly naked. “Then please, by all means, continue.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Even under the dirt and cuts and bruises she’d sustained, she was still beautiful. He knelt at the foot of the bed and touched the rod to each injury, following it up with a kiss when he finished healing the spot. As he worked his way down her body, he stopped along the sensitive places he knew well and pressed his lips to them. The notch between her collarbones. The curve under her breasts. The flesh just below her navel. The bony arches of her hips.
She rewarded him with a mix of gasps and purrs, and he grew bolder. As much as he wanted to stop this game of foreplay and plunge into her, he forced himself to continue mapping out her body. He stopped long enough to grab the sponge from the washstand and clean her feet before pressing his lips to the arch. A soft moan told him he’d found yet another erogenous area to tempt her with later.
He continued up her legs, first healing her and then leaving a trail of kisses afterward. He discovered new places that drove her wild. The back of her knee. The inside of her thigh. He battled his growing desire and forced himself to go slowly, tasting her inch by inch until he came to the junction of her thighs. The scent of her arousal was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered. His cock throbbed, and his balls ached, but still he held back. He’d promised he wouldn’t force himself on her, but he could definitely make her beg.
He grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He needed to taste all of her, to hear her cry his name as he made her come. He needed to claim her in such a way that she’d never question how perfect they were together. He needed to prove to her that she belonged to him.
He met her gaze and grinned when he saw how large and dark her eyes were. The healing rod fell to the floor. It was time to employ other means to make her feel better. He ran his finger along the seam of her sex and earned another shiver. “Shall I continue?”
She licked her lips and gave him a faint nod.
“Good, because I don’t know if I would’ve been able to resist.”
He parted her thighs and draped them over his shoulders, giving him ample access to the slick pink flesh between them. His tongue glided between the folds, and her hips jerked. He braced his hands on either side and went deeper.
By the gods, she tasted better than he’d imagined. He consumed her like a starving man, indulging in her sweetness before coming to the sensitive nub of flesh at the upper juncture. He teased it with flicks and nibbles, listening to the way her breath caught every time he drew it between his lips. Her thighs tightened on the sides of his head, and she grasped at his hair while her hips rose higher and higher.
He pressed on, not stopping until he heard her say his name in a strangled cry before she shattered against him. He lifted his gaze to watch her as she came, to marvel in the way she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her, and to savor the smug moment of pride knowing he was the one responsible for it all.
When she finally stilled, he crawled onto the bed and pulled her up to the pillows with him. His cock was harder than ever and screaming for its own release, but this time, he wanted more than just the physical pleasure of being inside her. He wanted to carve a pla
ce inside her heart.
He brushed his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “I won’t continue unless you tell me to.”
He held his breath and waited. Would she push him away again? Or would she finally surrender to the love he saw shining from her eyes as she stared up at him?
She reached behind his neck and drew him closer. “Please, Marcus.”
That was all he needed to hear. He kissed her and moved on top of her, sliding into the silken heat of her sex with a controlled stroke. The past two times they’d been together, it had been rushed and frantic. This time, he was going to go slowly and take his time making her come. This time, he was determined to draw it out, to show her a different side to how things could be between them. This time, he wanted to show he wanted more than just a quick fuck. He was out to win her love.
He controlled the rhythm with long, languid strokes. The exquisite friction of her tight walls threatened to send him over the edge every time he went deep inside her, but the pressure of his fingers biting into his palms kept him from surrendering to it. He focused on her eyes, her face, her mouth, fascinated by her response to his touch. He captured her lips over and over again, never satisfied with one kiss.
Bit by bit, he witnessed her resistance crumbling. Her touch became softer, more like a lover’s caress than a woman on the edge. Her kisses became longer, more tender. Her eyes focused on him, and a smile played on her lips between kisses. And yet she never said the words he longed to hear.
The ache in his balls intensified, warning him he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He’d made her beg earlier, and he wasn’t above doing the same, if only to know the contents of her heart. “Say it, Sexta.”
She nodded as if she knew what he was asking for. “I do love you, Marcus. I always have.”
It was just the encouragement he needed. He quickened the pace of his thrusts, clenching his teeth in the vain hope he’d be able to hold out long enough to make her come. The burn spread along his shaft and signaled the point of no return. She stiffened under him, her inner walls clenching around his cock. She cried out his name.
And then he followed, but as he came, something strange happened. Normally, an orgasm would start at the base of his cock and explode from there, but this time, it started in the center of his chest. It raced through him, blurring his vision and drowning all sounds except for the pounding of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her as though she was the only thing that would keep him in this world.
As the haze faded, his breath still came in ragged bursts. He pressed his forehead against hers and waited for his tongue to form coherent words before he said, “Now that you’ve admitted you love me, do you think I’m ever going to let you go?”
“Even if I’d only bring you heartache in the end?”
“The only heartache I’ve ever known was in those months when I’d believed you were dead.” He cradled her face in his hands. “We belong together, you and I.”
“And what if the emperor believes I’m guilty?”
Her question drove away the lingering bliss and left a chill in its wake. He rolled over to his side, taking her with him. “I know you’re not, and he’ll listen to me.”
“I pray you’re right.” She tucked her head under his chin and curled her body along his. A few minutes later, the slow steady rise and fall of her chest signaled that she’d fallen asleep.
But sleep eluded him. What if he was wrong about her? What if she’d just fooled him again, this time lulling him into a false sense of security by telling him she loved him? What if she was guilty, and he was forced to turn her over to Titus? Would he ever be able to trust his heart again?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sexta woke to an empty bed. The sun was shining outside, telling her the night had passed into the day, but the blurred scenery outside the window let her know they were still far away from Emona. Not that she was in any hurry to face the emperor. She had no idea if he would believe her when she told him what she’d seen. She doubted even Marcus would. It was one thing to accept that the Barbarians had managed to find a way across the barrier. It was entirely different to believe they had the ability to disguise themselves as everyday citizens of the empire.
That opened the door to a bigger problem. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. If the Barbarians were passing themselves off as citizens and slowly infiltrating the empire, how would she be able to spot them? Worse, how many were already here, living among them, waiting for the right moment to strike? Her blood turned cold, and a shiver snaked down her spine.
A knock sounded at the door, tearing her from her thoughts. She yanked the sheet over her chest. “A minute, please.”
She searched the room for her dress, loathing the idea of putting the filthy garment back on, and spotted a small chest along the wall. She hopped out of bed with the sheet wrapped around her and opened it. Inside was a stack of neatly folded tunics.
“I’m sure Marcus won’t mind,” she murmured, and pulled one over her head. It was better than being caught naked by someone other than him.
Of course, if he wanted to take her back to bed and made love to her like that again, she wouldn’t stop him. Her body still tingled from the sensations he’d awakened in her, from the softest kiss to the deepest thrust. She could easily see herself becoming addicted to nights in his arms like a drunk would a potent wine. The more she indulged, the harder it would be to resist.
And she needed to resist, if only to protect him.
She smoothed her hands over the linen and said, “You can come in.”
Marcus opened the door and stared at her from the doorway. His eyes darkened with desire, and he cleared his throat. “I see you helped yourself to my clothes.”
“Would you prefer I stayed as I was?”
The subtle flare of his nostrils told her he would, but instead of coming into the cabin and removing the tunic, he turned aside. “Your bodyguard was growing impatient.”
Djer stepped into the room with a plate of food and a pitcher of wine.
Her stomach rumbled, and she was so focused on the meal that she failed to see Marcus close the door and leave. The click of the locks reminded her, however, that she was still a prisoner, and he was still obligated to obey the emperor’s orders. Her heart sank for a moment, but she bolstered her spirits enough to give Djer a smile.
“I told him you were getting hungry.” He set the food on the desk and fetched a glass for the wine. The sword that normally hung from his belt was notably absent. “His crew demanded to know why neither of us is in the brig.”
“And what did he tell them?”
“That he didn’t consider us a threat.” The Alpirion gave her a wry smile. Even without a weapon, he was a force to be reckoned with.
She tore a hunk of bread off the stale loaf he’d brought her and dipped it in the wine. “I suppose that’s a small blessing.”
“Indeed.” He pulled a chair up to the desk and sat down, his arms folded across his chest. “But what do you think will happen when we return?”
“I’ll tell the emperor exactly what we saw.”
Djer arched a brow. “If Marcus won’t believe us, what makes you think the emperor will?”
She took her time chewing, using the time to come up with a plan. “Then I’ll have to try harder to convince him.”
Both brows rose this time, and he glanced over his shoulder at the rumpled sheets. “Why do I think your usual tactics won’t work this time?”
“Because they won’t. If we’re going to get out of this alive, then I have to find some way to get him to trust me.” She dug her nails into a ripe fig and split it open. “If he doesn’t, then how can I convince the emperor?”
“Point taken. In the meantime, how are we going to convince ourselves that what we saw was real?” he asked as she bit into the fruit.
She met his gaze, the fig still clenched between her teeth. She chewed even slower than she had the bread and swallowed hard. “It has to be real.
There’s no way we would’ve both had the same hallucination.”
“True, but the harder part will come with proving it.” He shifted in his chair. “There’s also the matter of Numicius.”
“I’m trying not to think about that.”
“Well, you should. Even if he isn’t involved with the Barbarians, he’ll be furious that you broke your deal with him, not to mention destroyed his ship.”
“First off, The Temptress has always been my ship. Second, I’m not completely convinced he’s innocent in all this.”
“Meaning?”
“Just that. There’s too much evidence pointing to him.” She stood and paced the room, not wanting to voice the question that had lingered in the back of her mind since she’d seen the Barbarian take on the appearance of the Elymanian soldier. “What if he’s one of them?”
“Numicius Aculeo?”
“Yes.”
Djer shook his head. “Do you have any idea how preposterous that sounds?”
“But think about it, Djer. He wanted us to deliver that cargo and was very secretive about it.”
“So are most of the other nobles who want to smuggle ore from the mines without the emperor’s knowledge.”
“Then there are the upgrades he had installed on The Temptress. Do you know of any other ship of the empire that doesn’t need a Deizian at the helm to fly?”
His jaw tightened. “No.”
“What if it’s Barbarian technology?” She paused and stared out the window. The outline of Emona formed along the horizon. “What if I’ve been working for the enemy all this time without ever knowing it?”
Titus wasn’t waiting for him when Marcus lowered the ship into the docks behind the palace. With any bit of luck, he could bribe the workers to start on the repairs now so when his friend did see the damage, it wouldn’t be as severe.
Unfortunately, he was forced to ditch his plan once he saw Varro standing there. The former captain of the Legion had been the palace steward for both Titus and his father, and nothing got past his sharp eyes. He stood perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back. “Ran into a little trouble again, Lord Marcus?”