Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  Na’Reish strength.

  “What are you afraid of, Arek? Besides it being so good between us?” Her demand was hard, but the way she undulated against him was gentle. Like waves licking at the shores of a lake, but with heat of a fire. “You want me.”

  He shuddered. “I don’t want this.”

  “You don’t want to lose control. There’s a difference.”

  A slight shift of her weight accompanied her words. Another slide, this one harder, faster, had his body bowing, arching up against her, every muscle straining.

  Lady’s Breath, she was killing him.

  “Imhara . . .” A plea and curse all in one.

  “Your body tells me you want this. Your scent tells me you want this.”

  And Light help him, he wanted more.

  Much, much more.

  Imhara stilled on top of him, the most exquisite of pained expressions frozen on her face. He shuddered at the cessation of movement and knew the awful combination of agony and need she was feeling.

  “Trust me or hate me, Arek. Which will it be? Only then can this pleasure truly be ours.” The heat in her violet gaze was as fierce as the one consuming him. “The choice is yours.” Her fingers trembled as they traced his brow, the side of his face, his lips. “It always has been.”

  Her words made him freeze along with everything else. He dragged in a breath, fighting the bands squeezing his chest, listened to the air rasp into his lungs then rush out.

  The choice is yours. It always has been.

  Time stretched out as he stared up at her. Resisting what lay between them wasn’t working, but giving in to it felt like jumping from a cliff blindfolded. Yet running from his fear wouldn’t solve a thing.

  The heart will know what the mind and soul desires. Scripture etched into the prayer room at the Light Blade compound.

  His faith and his heart. The only two things he had left to rely upon . . . could rely upon . . . with any certainty.

  To follow his heart would require a leap of faith.

  Arek swallowed hard. “You.” The hoarse declaration didn’t sound like his voice. Hot and cold chills rippled through him. He met her gaze. “I choose you.”

  Imhara’s eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock. Her fingers dug into his chest, a sweet pinch of pain. The wide smile she gave him helped him breathe again.

  He waited for the rush of panic and doubt to accompany his decision, but a sense of acceptance washed over him instead.

  Imhara’s mouth brushed against his, the softest press of her lips on his. Holding his gaze, she moved forward then back, sliding against him with the lightest touch. His nerves still fired, building his need for release.

  “Your pleasure is mine, Arek.” Her husky voice ran shivers up his spine.

  Bracing her weight on one hand, she reached down between them. Her fingers found him, ran the length of his shaft, then pressed him hard against her swollen center. The lightning shock of her touch wrenched another groan from deep in his throat. Seed leaked from him. She pushed upward again, a slow torturous slide, the searing sensation so extreme it had him teetering on the edge of orgasm.

  “I can smell your need. It makes my mouth water.” Imhara’s voice was as strained and tight as he felt. “I wager you’d taste as rich as grazer-cream.”

  The thought of her going down on him, her lips wrapped around his length, cheeks hollowed, her clever tongue teasing him, her expression taut with pleasure squeezed the last coherent thought from his head.

  Arek bucked against her. Her fingers tightened around him and he surged up again, the heat of her scorching him on one side, her fingers a slick pressure anchoring him there on the other. The rhythm she set, the heavy scent of their pleasure, her small cries descended into sensory overload.

  “Mother of Light . . .” He gripped her hips, his fingers flexing then digging as fire licked then ignited every nerve.

  “Don’t fight it. I want to see your pleasure.”

  Her breathless plea, the vibrant ache of need in her voice, sent him over the edge. His whole body surrendered, imploding in a furious rush of light and heat, and sensation.

  Lady’s Breath, how he wished he could feel her raw heat against him instead of moist fabric, but it was too late.

  Fire burned through his bloodstream. His lungs seized, breathing ceased. Every muscle locked tight. His seed jetted forth. Each spasm wrenched a cry from him, blinding him with a rush so incredible, so intense it bordered on pain.

  He hadn’t spent this quickly since his earlier years when he’d first begun experimenting with willing partners, but then the encounters had never matched what he was experiencing now.

  When his orgasm finally subsided and his muscles weakened, he collapsed back onto the cushions, utterly spent, his breathing uneven and choppy. Imhara’s touch became featherlight, still stroking, still drawing out the last of his pleasure. He shuddered and caught her hand, twining her slick fingers with his.

  Merciful Mother, he’d leapt from the cliff, but instead of experiencing the sudden, sickening rush to the ground below, he’d soared like a wind-drifter. A euphoric detonation of pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  Blinking the blurriness from his sight, he found Imhara watching him with a very satisfied smile, yet the heat of high arousal still burned in her cheeks and her gaze. Her hand still trembled in his.

  Arek swallowed twice to get his voice to work. “You denied yourself? Why?”

  Her soft laughter was strained but warm. “I was distracted.” Her knuckles grazed one side of his face. “I couldn’t look away or focus on anything but you. Didn’t want to.”

  Her admission caught him off guard. He mightn’t understand everything she did, but the more he thought about it, her selflessness embodied the Imhara Kaal he’d come to know. She hadn’t found physical pleasure, but contentment and satisfaction radiated from her anyway. It was there reflected in her expression and smile.

  Unable to resist, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and trailed his thumb over her skin to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened. When he traced her bottom lip, her breath hitched. Her astonishment turned to anticipation.

  A little awed, Arek shook his head. “You keep surprising me.”

  In one smooth movement, he rolled until Imhara lay on her back, and pinned her there with one leg thrown over hers. Her eyebrows rose but she made no attempt to free herself even though she could have easily done so.

  Instead her hands smoothed over his chest then curled around his ribs to slide down the length of his back, following the line of his spine, stopping at the swell of his buttocks.

  Such a simple caress yet one that woke the nerves beneath his skin and hardened him within a heartbeat, again a reaction he couldn’t hide from her. Her fingers lingered, kneading his muscles, her gaze turning smoky and dark.

  He smoothed a thumb over her brow. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure either of us are ready to go there.” Her husky tone stroked him as deftly as her hand had moments ago. Her lips twitched. “Yet.”

  Threading his fingers in her hair, Arek lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers, teasing her, tempted to show her how quickly that slow burn inside him could escalate to an inferno but resisted.

  He kissed her in soft increments, working his way from one side of her mouth to the other, then on the backward trek flicked his tongue against her lips, in slow, tiny strokes.

  Their first kiss had been an impulsive act, driven by a whole gamut of emotions, explosive, an assault on all their senses. This one he was determined not to rush.

  “Arek . . .” His name, barely audible, at the tail end of a breathy moan.

  What would it be like to hear her cry out in unrestrained passion? Sliding his hand to her waist, he tugged her shirt free of her breeches, undid the top button, then the next two. Her body undulated, an unconscious shift that made him grin.

  Her hand clasped then pressed his flat to the
bare skin of her abdomen. “I don’t expect you to do this. There’s no obligation, Arek.”

  “There’s none felt. My decision. My choice, Imhara,” he replied, and nudged his hard length against her thigh. He watched her pupils dilate, then leaned closer, his lips next to her ear. “Do you like your pleasure soft and slow? Or hard and fast?”

  Her nails dug into the back of his hand as he taunted her with her own words.

  “Don’t know that I’ll last long either way,” she admitted with a half chuckle, half groan.

  Arek kissed her again, pleased when her mouth opened under his. Her lips fused to his with a pressure that betrayed her hunger. He worked his hand beneath the waistband, his fingertips grazing the swell of flesh above her pubic bone before veeing over her bare folds in a teasing caress.

  Drawing back, he watched her eyelids flutter shut. He curled his fingers into her soft flesh, sliding then pressing against her moist inner folds with enough pressure to elicit a gasp from her.

  “You’re as hot as molten steel.” His voice grated out the words. “And wet. Very wet.”

  He eased a finger into her, a slow caress dictated by her sudden clenching around him, then drew it back, making sure he pressed against her core. Her whole body spasmed.

  “Mother, that’s so good . . . a little faster.” She bit her bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

  Her plea vibrated with raw need that fed his own. Light, if he had the time, he’d strip her bare and replace his fingers with his mouth to give her the pleasure she craved, to taste and savor it as she came. This time though, with a twist of his wrist, several rapid strokes took her over the edge.

  Imhara cried out, an uninhibited, guttural sound of pleasure and shock. He smothered it, fitting his mouth over hers, sealing the sound in, feeling it vibrate against his tongue as he tasted her. A short foray and retreat as her whole body trembled.

  She rocked against him, her muscles tensing and releasing in rolling waves. One arm flung out and her fingers clawed into a cushion, as if to anchor herself against the powerful explosion of pleasure. Pleasure he knew well. Her lips parted but there was no hard inhalation of breath, just another startled, deep throated cry. She convulsed once, twice, and a third time.

  Every gasp, every spasm, every dig of her fingernails into his skin prolonged his enjoyment of the moment, her passionate response just as unrestrained as his own a few minutes ago, an astonishing gift of trust and vulnerability.

  Considering the challenge she’d issued earlier, he’d expected only one victor in their battle, but somehow, sometime in the last hour, the stakes had changed. Their shared desire proved more fulfilling and satisfying than any competition.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, although he doubted she heard him. She still writhed, consumed by the receding waves.

  He gentled his strokes, letting her movements guide the pressure and strength of his touch, prolonging her pleasure for as long as she could tolerate.

  Another kiss, and a nip of her bottom lip with his teeth. She gasped again, and another flood of moist heat coated his fingers. He soothed the bite with his tongue. Her flavor was unique, sweet and light, rich and addictive. He savored it and her uncontrollable shuddering.

  Slowly, Arek drew back, memorizing the way their lips clung together until the last moment before parting, the wet heat a slick reminder of the pleasure they’d shared.

  Imhara placed her head into the curve of his shoulder, her breath fast and ragged against his skin. Her arms slid from his waist to link loosely around his neck. He was tempted to pull her in against him, to cradle her closer still, but was reluctant to break the moment.

  Long minutes passed before she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her cheeks remained flushed a deep rosy hue.

  “You like to tease.” Her tongue darted out to lick the taste of him from her lips.

  “So do you,” he replied. With a last, lingering caress, he withdrew his hand, earning a soft moan of protest, one that brought a smile to his lips. “Greedy, too.”

  “Guilty as charged.” She issued a contented sigh, her violet gaze sparkling. “It’s been awhile since I’ve sought such pleasure.”

  Her honest admission left him speechless and wondering why. Surely she hadn’t been lacking for lovers. With another sigh, this one more resigned, she rolled away from him, then pushed to her feet.

  He propped himself on an elbow. “Where are you going?”

  “As much as I’m enjoying our time together, I think Rassan has waited long enough.”

  Arek shot a glance at the curtained exit. “He’s out there?” A dull flush colored his cheeks. Na’Chi hearing was almost as acute as the Na’Reish. The thought extinguished any lingering desire. “All this time?”

  “No.” Her head shake accompanied low laughter. “Just the last few minutes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can smell the food I ordered earlier.” She headed for the chest next to her bed. After tossing his clothes on the bed, she lifted the lid and dug around inside it, pulling out some of her own. “He’d ensure our privacy by delivering it himself rather than allow anyone else access to the pavilion.”

  A swift yank and she’d stripped out of her shirt. Arek stared at the lean lines of her back. The spotted markings trailing down either side of her spine were a stark reminder of her heritage. Until that moment, he’d forgotten she was Na’Reish.

  As she shimmied out of her breeches, he saw the trails continued along the backs of her legs, fading in color by the time they reached her ankles. His body warmed with awareness, more ensnared than repulsed.

  Imhara tugged on a new pair of breeches.

  Why was she changing?

  Realization dawned.

  “Is Rassan eating in here with you?”

  She paused tucking her shirt in and peered over her shoulder at him, one dark eyebrow lifting, her gaze intent. “And if I said he was?”

  A soft question underlaced with steel.

  Also a timely reminder that he’d agreed to play a role—had chosen to play—and she did what she had to protect her people and expected nothing less of those around her.

  Arek glanced at the curtained exit again, more than a little uncomfortable with Rassan being present in the room with them. While the Na’Chi might be aware of their mutual attraction—he’d certainly have no trouble scenting it in the air—was there any need for him to witness the evidence smeared over his body?

  He fisted a hand. As uneasy as he felt, and as distasteful as the role might be, Rassan’s presence was neither life threatening or dangerous.

  He’d chosen to place his trust in his heart.

  And in Imhara.

  Pride shouldn’t get in the way of his goal. Nor did he want to disappoint her. Again.

  With a steadying breath, Arek rolled to his feet and returned to kneel at the foot of her bed, head down, hands resting on his thighs.

  The silence stretched out; an eerie repeat of earlier this evening.

  A bare foot appeared in his side vision, then Imhara crouched in front of him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, gently tugging his head up. Her gaze gleamed.

  “Your faith in us is humbling, Arek.” Her fingers grazed his temple, then his cheek and jaw in a caress. “Rassan stays only long enough to deliver the food.” A softly delivered promise. Her slow smile tightened his chest, left him soaring high like a wind-drifter again. “Then the rest of the night is ours.”

  * * *

  IMHARA cast one last glance over her shoulder, a small smile curving her lips at the sight of Arek sprawled in her bed. While they’d started out side by side, sometime during the night he’d shifted in his sleep until he lay on his stomach, one arm stretched out to the side, the other over his head to curl under the pillow. She liked the way the cover had slipped to wrap around his waist, leaving his bare shoulders exposed.

  Sighing, she regretted even a minute’s absence from his side and hoped whatever Rassan disturbed her sleep for wou
ldn’t keep her away from him too long. She wanted to be with him when he woke.

  To explore their new relationship. And to confront the fear that would come with that awareness. His, and her own.

  After his astounding choice earlier in the evening, they’d shared a meal, but one where he’d insisted on carrying out his role as Na Kaal’s slave, a companionable period of time, yet she hadn’t pushed him for the reason for his transformation, content to watch him perform the most menial of tasks. While he didn’t seem entirely comfortable, his demeanor reflected a more purposeful intent, a dogged commitment that hadn’t been evident before.

  A victory of sorts but she was under no illusion that when Arek woke he’d see his decision and actions in a new light, possibly one of capitulation. How would he react toward her? Would he reject what had happened? Would it be one pace forward, three back?

  She hoped not because she’d thoroughly enjoyed every minute. A stolen moment in time and one she anticipated revisiting now that Arek had finally acted on their attraction. If they could share such incredible pleasure with just a few kisses and touching, what would it be like if they went further?

  A soft throat clearing reminded Imhara that Rassan awaited her. Snatching up a cloak to ward off the cool night air, she stepped through the curtain her Second held open and headed for the far side of the pavilion, where any conversation wouldn’t disturb Arek’s sleep.

  The pungent scent of burning oil hung in the air. The single night lamp set on her worktable cast long shadows across the rug, but the lack of light couldn’t hide Rassan’s tired expression as he made his way toward her.

  He was still dressed in warrior leathers, the same ones from yesterday’s trek. Had he even been to bed yet?

  “Apologies for waking you so late in the night.” His expression was more somber than usual, the flecks in his eyes glowing almost a silver gray. “But I didn’t think this could wait.”

  Smothering a yawn, Imhara scrubbed her hands over face. “You wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t something important.”

  “This is unconfirmed and I intend on investigating this personally, tomorrow, when the Na’Hord enter the fortress to train in the arena . . . discreetly, of course. . . .”