“Wonderful,” Andon sighed, “I was hoping he might ask me to dance.”
“It is that terrible to be left alone with me?” Veria asked.
“Dreadful,” he answered. “The amount of restraint needed to be in the same kingdom as you and not do something I will regret is probably unfathomable to Lady Spontaneity.”
Veria's heart quickened as his face softened and he held his hand out for her.
“And now, here you are,” he muttered, “in the same room, with my only polite option as a gentleman being to ask you to dance.”
“I am not a very good—” Veria started to protest, but he cut her off and grabbed her hand, pulling her with some force away from the table.
“Oh, I know you cannot dance,” he said. His smooth, silky voice had returned, the lilts and hums of his accent resonated in her ears just as melodiously as the instruments playing behind them. “I am trying to instill you with some humility by embarrassing you in front of all these people,” he teased.
Andon pulled her into him by the waist. Heart racing and breath faltering, she completed the dance hold by placing her hand on his shoulder. He moved her in small manageable sways to the slow, steady rhythm of the current song.
“And then, as always, that infuriating confidence vanishes,” he whispered in her ear. “All I have to do is touch you, and you are the trembling, uncertain girl I met in the kitchen.”
His hand traveled around to her lower back and aggressively maneuvered her body into his, and she inhaled sharply. He lowered his head in toward hers, so his forehead nearly touched hers. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, it was hard to even hear his soft susurration.
“I did not want you to come.”
“Then why did you invite me?” Veria sighed.
“My father said it would be inappropriate if we did not,” Andon answered. “I did not want to try to explain to him the inappropriate things that might happen if you did come.”
“Andon....” she whispered.
“Why did you come here tonight?” he asked, in a somewhat louder, more serious tone. “Tell me why you came, because I thought I made it fairly clear the last time I saw you that I cannot be around you.”
“I....I am not sure,” she stammered, hardly audibly as she had not taken a full breath since they began the dance. His eyes seared into her face, and, fearing what she would do if she returned his gaze, she turned her head away from him, her chin nearly resting on his shoulder.
“I thought I—if you knew how hard I have worked to move on...and I was sure I could do it,” he muttered, almost to himself, shaking his head. “I am such an idiot,” he sighed.
The hand on her back slid down and clutched into her soft skin. Sparks ignited in her chest and the pain of arousal flooded her entire body. “Andon, stop,” she moaned.
“I wish I could,” he said, his lips descending on the flesh of her ear. She could hardly breathe. Her already faulty footing failed her, but he pulled her in so tightly to him that she could have barely moved even if she wanted. Her cheek rested on his shoulder and she could hear his heart thumping like a drum, as well. “If you really wanted me to, I would. But you have to actually want me to stop, and I do not think you do.....do you?” he murmured. Every movement of his mouth brushed against her ear, and every breath he exhaled sent shivers down her neck.
It was a question she could not answer. Veria wanted to him to stop before she made a complete spectacle of herself in front of half of the Regalship, if she had not already. She wanted him to stop because it was wrong—he was engaged to that poor, innocent girl. How did she always end up in these situations? But she did not want him to stop wanting her. Her selfish secret, the one that Strelzar had found, that she had buried so deep that she had managed to ignore it most of the time, was that she wanted him all to herself. She knew she could never have it both ways—she had to let him go, and he had to move on. But part of her refused to acknowledge it, and wanted him to hunger for her forever, like this.
Her body was so rigid, her throat so tight, and her breath so choppy and strained, she would not have been able to answer if she tried. His hand moved up her waist and clutched desperately at her ribs, and she thought she might cry out, but with no strength in her lungs or voice to do so, all she emitted was a staccato exhalation.
“I think I have my answer,” he whispered, and the song slowed to an airy conclusion.
-XV-
“As you can see, Lady Veria is quite tired,” Andon explained to Willis and Emmandia as they approached at the end of the dance. He lifted her head from his shoulder, and took her chin between his finger and thumb, the roughness of the skin of his hands stimulating the smooth skin of her face. She caught the faintest wink as he smirked at her and let her out of his grip. “I thought I should give her a tour of the house before she heads home,” he said, turning to face his father and fiance.
“That is a wonderful idea,” Willis said. “As chance would have it, I had just informed Emmandia that many of our fellow ambassadors have started a game of dice in the sitting room, and she ought to become acquainted with them.”
“I agree,” Andon nodded. Emmandia did not look terribly excited that she was being told where to go and who to socialize with, but she nodded back at him obligingly.
“It has been a pleasure having you Lady Veria, if I should not see you before you take leave,” Willis said, and he gave her a quick bow before escorting Emmandia away.
Andon placed a hand on Veria's back, and began to guide her out of the ballroom. His pace was urgent and quick, and he was practically pushing her in front of him as they made their way through the large foyer and toward the grand staircase.
“I have a study you ought to see,” he said casually as another couple passed them near the stairs. “Several very progressive texts on Earth Mager skills.”
“Sounds absolutely stimulating,” Veria replied as they scaled the steps briskly.
“Oh, I am certain you will enjoy it thoroughly,” he remarked.
Once at the top, Andon pulled her into a hallway and then through an open door into a small, dark bedroom. He shut the door behind them and before she had time to look around the room to get her bearings, Andon had whipped around and grabbed her face with both hands. She managed to take a quick breath before he attacked her lips with his. They both arched into each other instinctively, and a long, low groan rumbled in his throat, as if all of the tension that had built in the ballroom were escaping him.
All the blood in Veria's body was boiling hot, and her heart continued to pound in her chest. She had a flashing moment of concern that someone might walk in on them, or wonder where they had gone, but his mouth became hungrier, his kiss more ravenous.
“You have to let me go,” he whispered as they broke apart and struggled for air. “You have to let me live my life. You are just doing this to me because I have found someone else.”
“I am not doing anything to you,” Veria argued. “You are the one who brought me into a bedroom in the middle of your engagement ball.”
“Ha!” he laughed, throwing his head back, and dropping his hands from her face. “No, the engagement ball will be in the winter,” he joked.
Veria glared at him, and, without really consciously deciding to do so, shoved him in the chest with all of her strength. He stumbled backward a few steps, and his legs hit a storage trunk at the foot of the bed, causing him to sit backward with a thud. He continued to laugh and he shook his head. “Temper, temper, Lady Veria,” he said. “Was that you having a change of heart? Maybe you can do what I do not have the strength for and walk out of this room right now, before we do something that will haunt our memories for years to come.”
She stood, silent and still, her feet stuck to the ground and her mouth incapable of responding.
“Leave!” he growled. “Go, now. Just leave.”
Trying to form some thought, some words to say, Veria found her feet moving toward him on their own, in slow, trance-like steps. He shoo
k his head.
“Do not come closer,” he warned. “Veria, stop. Leave. You have to leave, I beg you.”
“I would stop,” she murmured. “If you really wanted me to, I would.”
She stopped a step away from him, and he locked eyes with her, continuing to shake his head.
“This is a mistake,” he sighed.
“We have made them before,” she whispered.
In a heartbeat, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her down to him. His mouth found hers again, and his hands made their way to her legs, positioning them on either side of him. Then his hands were in her hair, the fingers raking through it, and using it to pull her head back. When her neck was exposed, he set his lips on it, taking the thin skin into his mouth in intervals with impassioned kisses.
Lowering herself into his lap, she gasped when their bodies met. He released an agitated, eager groan, and it vibrated across her neck. He untangled his fingers from her locks, and grasped her by the hips and moved her against him, letting her know he was ready and waiting. She moaned in acceptance, and it was all the approval he needed.
As quickly and urgently as he had pulled her into his lap a moment before, he flipped her onto her back on the bed behind him. It happened so fast, she was not even sure how he had managed it, but had little time to dwell. Their lips rejoined, his frenzied kisses making her dizzy and disoriented.
Then his lips were at her ear, moaning her name. “Veria...”
Her breath caught in her chest as Andon shifted her dress and his pants and joined their bodies. They entered into a steady rhythm, just like the dance before in the ballroom, but it grew more frantic and erratic the longer it built. Soon he wanted more of her, using his hands to pull her into him. And she wanted more of him, making as much room for him as possible.
Her breathing never steadied, her body did not quell its fiery ache, her heart did not cease pounding, nor her head spinning—it all just compounded, built, grew into a madness, until the madness could no longer grow or build, and it broke.
Everything stopped, except the pounding of their hearts and the rise and fall of their chests as they recovered.
With a heavy sigh, Andon finally rolled onto his back. Veria looked over at him, his eyes full of doubt, and his face furrowed with concern. Veria turned to one side and propped herself up so she could look down at him.
“I am sorry, Andon,” she mumbled.
“Do not apologize,” he demanded, not looking at her, his eyes fixed to the silky canopy over the bed. “You said it yourself—this was my doing.”
Veria felt a twinge of guilt that it may not have been all his doing. There was the possibility that lingering desire from her newfound, and hard to control, powers had played a large part in the situation.
“I swear—I promise not to say anything,” she said softly.
“Oh, Veria,” he sighed and shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“You better get back downstairs,” he said, sitting up abruptly, and she did the same. “I will wait in here a few moments so nobody sees us exit together.”
Scooting off the bed, she eyed him with concern. When she reached the doorway she turned back to him. “Andon.”
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Veria?”
“I want you to be happy,” she said with constricted voice. “I really do.”
He nodded his head. “I know.”
She opened the door and exited the room, closing it behind her. A sudden calm washed over her like cool rain water, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to enjoy it. She began to walk down the stairs...
Why was she on the stairs?
“Veria!” her mother was coming up the stairs toward her. “What are you doing up here? I have been looking all over for you!”
Panic stormed through her as she tried to figure out where she was and how she got there. Her hand instinctively clutched her wrist, and more anxiety surged as she realized her arm was bare, the talisman gone.
“Via?” her mother repeated with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I...I think I had too much to drink, or something,” she said, her words clumsy and slow. “I am not sure...how I got up here...”
“You look exhausted,” Tanisca exclaimed, and helped her down the remaining steps. She felt Veria's forehead with the back of her hand, then tucked and smoothed her hair into place. “No fever. Thank goodness. I think I would rather not play nursemaid to both you and Irea.”
Veria looked back up the stairs, hoping for some sort of clue as to how she ended up there when the last thing she remembered was getting a glass of bubbly after her dances with Willis in the ballroom.
“I need to find something,” Veria said, the panic creeping into her voice. “My talisman.”
Tanisca's eyes went wide. “Oh, yes! Were you looking for it upstairs?”
“Maybe. I need to find it. Now.”
They both turned and Tanisca, much more lucid than Veria, immediately fell into a deep curtsy. After Veria realized the King stood only six feet away from her in the foyer, she dropped into the appropriate gesture, as well.
“Lady Veria,” he said. “It has been several years since I have had the pleasure of seeing you.”
She swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. The only other time she had made the King's acquaintance was at her father's burial. “Yes, your majesty,” she said. “It is my honor to be in your presence, again, King Browan.”
“I was just about to leave, but your charming mother insisted that I speak to you first,” he said. “She speaks highly of your training, and of your investigation.”
Veria snapped her head at her mother, who shrugged innocently, which, coming from the least innocent woman Veria had ever met, was unsettling. “Shall I inform your footman of your impending departure, Your Highness?” Tanisca offered, taking another flourishing bow.
“How wonderfully thoughtful of you, Madame Tanisca,” King Browan smiled. “She is incredible,” he added to Veria as soon as Tanisca had exited the foyer.
“Mm-hmm,” Veria muttered. Browan chuckled.
“I believe this belongs to you?” he said, digging something out of a pocket in his vest. He stretched his hand out to her, and there, dwarfed by his large palms, was the bronze bracelet. “I found it on the table, and I apologize for eavesdropping, but you sounded very concerned.”
“Your Majesty!” she exclaimed, and snatched the talisman from his hand. “I—yes! It is mine, and I was very worried I had lost it! I am not sure how I can repay you for this.”
“I was hoping,” he suggested, “that we might reopen your father's case. And you would help me?”
“What?” Veria asked, taken aback.
“Your mother says you may have some new evidence?” King Browan said. “I am not too proud to admit when I may have made a mistake. But I would need this new information, and likely your skills as a Mager if I am going to proceed in this investigation.”
Veria nodded. “I...yes,” she stammered.
“Yes? You will help me?” he asked, his vividly blue eyes going wide with exhilaration.
“Yes,” she reiterated, nodding more enthusiastically this time.
A wide, bright smile crossed the King's face. “I am pleased to hear it,” he said. “Please bear with me as I believe I will be completely tied up with the most dreadful form of torture imaginable for the next several weeks—trade negotiations.” He made a face of disgust. “But, I will send word and arrange a lunch at the castle for us to go over a few things, if that sounds agreeable?”
A door slammed at the top of the stairs and they both looked for a split second, but Veria quickly looked back at the King, figuring it rude to keep him waiting on a response.
“Yes, that sounds perfect,” she smiled. “I look forward to it, Your Highness.”
Tanisca returned to the foyer with her most charming smile. “Your carriage is ready, Majesty,” she announced, curtsying again.
&nb
sp; “Ah, thank you, Madame Tanisca,” he said. “And thank you, Lady Veria, for agreeing to assist me in this matter. Your father was a great man, and one of my favorite advisers. I hope the initial rulings were incorrect, and my closing of the investigation premature.” He gave a respectful nod to the two women and made his way to the door, where two guards met him and flanked his sides.
“By the way,” he mentioned, turning back to Veria and her mother, “red is my favorite color, and dare I say, tonight the Laurelgate women have reminded me why.” He grinned at her before making his exit, and Veria looked down at her dress and then scanned her mother's, having a hard time remembering anything at all after her apparent blackout. Similar patterns, but Veria's dress was a few shades brighter than her mother's, like comparing a ruby to a garnet.
A big, flashy ruby...right in the middle. Fire Magers were all the same. And now—now, she was almost one of them.
“What did I say about red dresses?” Tanisca asked with an impertinent grin.
“One must look one's best when making lesser men cower,” Veria muttered, lost in vivid memories, and grasping in silent desperation at the ones that eluded her recall.
“I have never said that,” Tanisca replied, “but I do like it. Now, we ought to call our own transport. Time to go home. We have work to do.”
Veria took one more glance behind her up the grand staircase before following her mother out the front door of the Estate.
“I was talking to the King for so long on the terrace, we missed the big announcement,” Tanisca said, casually as she motioned to their driver to retrieve the carriage.
“The King gave the announcement, did he not?” Veria asked in confusion.
“Not the title announcement,” Tanisca shook her head. “The engagement announcement! Dear me, you did have too much to drink, Veria. That is not very ladylike, and it leaves you vulnerable.”
Veria's stomach flipped. “Who is engaged, mother?” she snapped.
“Andon and that Haleshore girl,” Tanisca answered. “The youngest, so she will have none of her family's assets. He has no need for it, though. This place...” she turned around and took a final look at the manor as their carriage pulled up. “Our friends, the Villicreys, are now the wealthiest men South of the castle. But who needs wealth when you have power?” she added, smiling at Veria.
The Second Talisman: (Book II of the Elementals Series) Page 14