Her breath caught in her throat. Sal’s tongue dipped into her belly button and she fisted her hands in his hair. :I feel like we’re performing.:
Dharman breathed heavily in her ear and slowly worked the leather down her hips. :We are.:
:I don’t want him to watch.:
:Whyever not?: Pausing, he met the Keldari’s dark gaze that blazed with a combustible mixture of lust and jealousy. He smiled and hoped the dragon drowned on his own drool. :How else will he know what you like?:
Sal must have worked his tongue deeper through her gaping pants, for her head fell back on a ragged moan.
“Jorah.” The golden Blood stepped closer but stayed out of the Keldari’s line of sight. Dharman gave him a brief nod of approval. “Take off her boots.”
Jorah untied the laces and removed her boots and thick socks, carefully cradling each foot like a priceless object. Without moving away, he gave Dharman a very hopeful look.
Which gave him the perfect opportunity to ensure the desert tal understood exactly how low down the hierarchy he would be. “Since Sal is otherwise occupied, you might as well get those leather pants off while you’re down there.”
Jorah flashed a smile as bright as the sun and tugged the leather down her legs. He rubbed his palms down the curve of each thigh at the same time, obligingly lifting her leg, widening her for Sal who’d gone so deep she was practically sitting on his shoulders.
Gripping her chin, Dharman tilted her head to fully expose her neck and shoulder for his teeth. :Look at him, na’lanna.:
She made a low sound of denial but she did as he asked. Embarrassment surged in her bond a moment, but was quickly burned away by the heated look in the Keldari’s eyes. He hadn’t moved from his spot—the rahke in his shoulder had taught him that lesson—but his eyes flashed silver and his hands gripped his thighs, every muscle straining.
Mykal would like nothing better than to be invited to join them.
If he behaved himself, Dharman might consider it. After he and Sal and now Jorah had fully staked their claims.
“Jorah, her marks need attention.”
The golden Blood reached up reverently, closed his eyes, and buried his face between her breasts. Dharman slipped his hand down her left arm and drew her hand back over her shoulder.
She'd Healed the dragon bite into strips of opaled rainbows carved in her flesh. Sensing his intentions, the Keldari let a low threatening growl trickle out of his lips. Holding his gaze, Dharman licked her forearm as blatantly and thoroughly as the savage had licked her blood when he'd first made the wound. He claimed that mark, licking and biting her forearm until she shuddered in his arms, her voice rising on a cry of release.
Sal rumbled with appreciation.
And Mykal glared murder at them all.
She jerked Sal’s head back, dragging him away so she could look into his eyes. “I want Dharman inside me. Do you still want to be beneath me?”
Without answering, Sal grasped her hips and drew her down as he lowered himself to his back and buried his face in the junction of her thighs. Not to be left out, Jorah took the opportunity to kiss her, offering the support of his chest and shoulders to lean against.
Through the bond, she asked Dharman, :Is this within your limits?:
Vulkar, did she have to ask? The sight of her crouched over the other Blood’s mouth sent a wave of rock-crushing lust through him so vicious he had to wait a moment before he trusted himself to remain in control. He jerked his memsha off and straddled Sal behind her. With a palm on the small of her back, he pressed her shoulders lower and drew her buttocks back toward him. The old white ring of teeth on her arse caught his attention, so he bent down and kissed it first. Her muffled moan against the other Blood’s lips crumbled his control, but the tight-eyed stare from the Keldari told Dharman to take his time.
Enjoy every moment. Torment us all with her pleasure.
He squeezed and kneaded her arse, working that mark in his teeth until she shuddered again. Melting roses drowned him, spiced with her musk until he breathed so deeply and heavily he sounded like he’d galloped from Shanhasson to Vulkar’s Mountain without pause. With a jerk of his head, he directed Jorah aside so he could bend her over. Without the Blood against her mouth, the sounds she made tore through the room.
“Dharman, please, Lady above, I need you!”
“Slow?” He stroked his palm up her back and lowered his chest against her, although he knew exactly what she wanted. “Gentle?”
“Fast,” she retorted. “Hard!”
Holding the Keldari’s gaze, Dharman plunged deep and hard as she’d asked. Sal had impeccable timing, for Dharman felt the sting of teeth through her bond. Screaming, she shuddered on another long climax that nearly pushed them all over the edge.
He wrapped his forearm around her throat and drew her head back against his shoulder. “Look at him while I love you. I want him to see your pleasure and wonder if he’ll ever be invited to join us.”
Cradling her against him, he lowered his weight to his left forearm. He wasn’t going to last long, not with her scent smoldering so hot. He’d always loved her impassioned response, but this night she moaned and squirmed helplessly against the red-hot brand of Sal’s insistent tongue, and Dharman couldn't lie to himself. The Keldari’s avid attention certainly increased her pleasure.
She was tied up in knots over this man, worried about her Blood, wondering if she’d made a mistake in allowing the Keldari to get so close. She couldn’t help but wonder how the man would threaten her life. Danger thrilled through her nerves, just feet away, lending a sharper desperation to her need.
Dharman would be no First if he didn’t invite that temptation closer when she wanted it so badly. Eyes narrowed and jaws clenched, he lifted his chin, waiting to see if the Keldari would understand the signal.
The other man uncoiled from his crouch and crawled closer, his manner guarded as though he thought he’d been invited to a trap. There was nothing submissive about the Keldari despite all his kneeling. He certainly didn’t creep the few paces to her, but slithered, prowled, sinuous even in his human form. The man didn’t need a weapon to threaten her.
She caught the scent of sandalwood and groaned out a low, eager cry. Dharman felt the tumbling spiral in her bond, fear twisting with desire, worry blending with need. His control slipped again, his breathing coming faster. So close.
He ground out, “I'm First.”
The Keldari inclined his head, but again, Dharman wasn’t fooled into thinking this man yielded to him. Mykal’s shoulders and arms strained with tension, as though he fought not to bury teeth and claws in his opponent. Had Rhaekhar felt the same way with Gregar, wondering every moment if she’d change her mind and choose the other man instead? “You are First.”
“Give her your mouth.”
Deliberately Dharman didn’t specify exact instructions. Part of him was curious to see exactly what the Keldari most wanted to do. Whether he’d obey or not, whether he truly cared about her pleasure and what she desired, or if he’d simply take what he wanted.
Mykal dropped to his belly. She immediately sought his kiss, but he avoided her mouth and pressed his lips to her cheek and jaw. The angle was too sharp for them both to maintain the position, so he rolled onto his back and slithered beneath her.
Closing his eyes, Dharman concentrated wholly on her bond. He felt the Keldari’s lips on her face, the upside down position odd but exciting. The man squirmed lower, biting and licking a path along her jaw to her neck.
Every protective instinct Dharman possessed roared to life. He didn’t want her throat in the dragon’s mouth. Too late, she threw her head back and shuddered, her muscles squeezing him into release. He felt the press of teeth in her flesh. Unerringly, the man had found the major artery in her neck and he worked it with his teeth, biting deeper as though he sought to tear that well open and drown in her life’s blood.
Pleasure crested in her, though, her release pulsing through
the bonds. Her marks lit up as though she’d swallowed the moon and she cried out again so loudly that Dharman almost missed the hiss of pain from the Keldari.
He didn’t like the blazing light of the moon through her marks.
Nay, that wasn’t exactly right, Dharman decided, listening to the man’s bond through her. He loved the light, relished its burn, and drank it down as though he’d found the purest, sweetest water in all the desert. Nevertheless, it did cause him pain.
As Light pierced Shadow, so she wounded his heart.
Trembling, she collapsed, her upper body curled on the Keldari’s. Dharman rolled to the side and drew her hips off Sal, who sucked in a deep breath and cuddled against her stomach. Lying winded himself with his muscles burning, Dharman realized the truth.
Mykal hadn’t broken her skin, not even when they’d all been vulnerable. He’d endured pain to give her pleasure. The mighty dragon had taken a position of weakness, on his back, throat and belly exposed. Even with her delicate throat in his jaws, he hadn’t hurt her.
The Keldari honestly and truly loved her.
So why, then, did Dharman’s stomach feel like he’d swallowed a belly full of cold, razor-sharp rahkes?
CHAPTER
TWENTY
“BATH NOW?” MYKAL ASKED, HIS VOICE LIGHT WITH HOPE.
Shannari groaned out a laugh and pushed up enough to look into his face. His silvered eyes had faded back to desert night. She fingered the slit in the shoulder of his black shirt. The material was stiff with drying blood. “I’ve been a poor host.”
His brows climbed, his eyes flaring with surprise. He shared a glance with Dharman that was purely male and more sympathetic than anything they’d managed to communicate since the Keldari had joined them. Mykal must have decided she was joking and laughed. “I have oil.”
She pushed away and sat up so quickly that she almost smashed Dharman’s nose with her skull. “No, no thank you. No oil.”
Confusion flickered across Mykal’s face but he didn’t press the issue.
“Are you thirsty?”
Heat flared in his eyes and he dropped his gaze down her body. “Iyeh.”
She blew out a sigh and let Dharman help her to her feet. Sal led the way to the bath, Dharman beside her. “Water and caffe are on the table. If you want wine or something else, I’ll send for it.”
At the door, she glanced back over her shoulder and caught the Keldari staring with a decidedly dazed expression at her backside. “If you’re hungry, you’ll find bread, cheese, and fruit too.”
“Sands swallow me.” His throat worked, his voice hoarse. “I wondered why your Red had been so diligent. Now I know.” He jerked his gaze up to her face, rose in a fluid wave, and strode after her. “Food and drink can wait. I ask most humbly that you allow me to tend that particular mark next time.”
She felt Dharman’s narrowed gaze on the Keldari but he didn’t object, since that mark wasn’t his. She knew better than to even think about letting Mykal touch his or Sal’s marks in her breasts.
At the sight of the bath, Mykal jerked to a halt as hard as if he’d slammed into a stone wall. He stared at the pool of water, his mouth falling open. He even recoiled a step, bumping into Lew and Jorah at his back.
Sal took her hand as she went down the steps into the water, for the stone did get rather slippery. Steam swirled about her, the water so hot she had to enter by degrees. Ah, so good, though. Instantly, she felt muscles unclenching, aches melting away. She glanced back at Mykal and he still gaped, looking at her, the water, and back to her.
“You sit in it? This precious water? You wash in it?”
“Iyeh,” she drawled out. Evidently he didn’t know whether to shudder with revulsion or chase her with his scimitar for committing such sacrilege. “I assure you, Mykal tal’Mamba, we have plenty of water to spare.”
Shaking, he knelt on the edge and trailed his fingertips in the water, then lightly pressed them to his forehead, heart, and mouth. “Somma cleanse us of our devalki.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes tightened, tiny lines deepening about his mouth. “You don’t know?”
“Why should I? I’m not Keldari.”
“But you’re the White Dragon. How can you not know?”
“That’s only a Dream, Mykal.” She made her way over to sit beside Sal, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning her back against him so she could see the Keldari. “I’m not truly a dragon and I’ve never physically been to your sands.”
“But you recognized me.” He looked so crestfallen and devastated that her heart ached for him. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said slowly, his voice dulling with finality. “You would’ve struck me down on sight if you truly remembered me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t truly know me, either.”
He frowned, his shoulders shifting uneasily. “So much of what I remember isn’t mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I…am not the man…you believe me to be.”
Staring at the water, he braced himself on his palms and leaned down to submerge his face. It must be scalding hot to one unused to such a bath, but he held himself face down in the water for so long she began to worry he would drown himself in shame. She touched his shoulder lightly and he jerked his head up, slinging wet hair back over his back on a long gasp of air.
“Who are you, then, my Black Dragon?”
He drew the shirt over his head and tossed it aside, but kept his gaze down. “I’m Mykal tal’Mamba, but I am more, or less, depending on whether I succeed or fail.”
Dharman tensed, his bond singing with growing intensity, but he kept his body still and quiet.
Mykal didn’t miss his alertness and smiled at her Blood without condescension. “Iyeh, protect her well, Red. Protect her from the Shadow I carry.”
“You admit you’re Shadowed?”
He finally looked at her, his brow arched mockingly. “As if I could ever hide such a thing from you. You knew me as blackheart long before you knew my Keldari name.”
The emphasis he put on Keldari sent a chill shivering down her spine. “What other names might I know you as?”
His head cocked, intensifying her alarm. A hungry dragon would look at its fleeing dinner in such a way, relishing the coming chase. “You likely won’t believe me, but I don’t know them all.” He shrugged and spread his arms open, palms up. “Names, places, people, so many are merely mists that disappear with the dawn.”
Frowning, she watched him carefully, seeking any sign of duplicity. His bond radiated waves of heat and longing, but the dragon snarled at her touch, red eyes baleful in the darkness of his bond, still bound by the drakkar. “Are you saying you personally remember living in other lands, as other people?”
He loosened the ties holding the trousers on his lean hips. “Sands blow in me, storms that blend one memory into another, one life into another. I know myself as Mykal tal’Mamba, but I also know as clearly that I wasn’t this man until recently. His life is now mine. His memories are mine and mine are his, but I have memories of many such lives.”
Confusion and doubt must surely be written on her face. She’d never heard such a thing. People died and went to Our Blessed Lady’s embrace, or to Vulkar’s Clouds as the Sha’Kae al’Dan called it, or they fell into endless damnation. They weren’t spit back out with memories of other lives to try again. Once swallowed by Shadow, that soul was lost forever, or so she’d been taught.
He scooped a handful of water and let it trickle through his fingers. “If my life were sand, then it would be composed of a multitude of pebbles, some larger, some small, bright crystal and red mixed with others as dark as night, but together, it is sand and nothing but dust before the winds of time and the merciless heat of an unforgiving sun. So am I together Mykal.”
Dread clutched her heart in dragon talons despite the man disrobing for her. She couldn’t even concentrate on his bronzed upper body, the numerous wounds th
at had left dried rivers and streams of blood. “What happened to him before you…”
Killed him? Stole his life?
What are you?
He stood and the trousers slipped low on his hips. “He must have been Shadowed else I would not be him. Your pardon, brightheart; allow me to fetch my knapsack so I may show you a proper Keldari bath.”
Jorah and Jahne stood at the door, their broad shoulders blocking the way. Lew stood behind them with the Keldari’s bag and black cloak. Dharman and Sal sat on either side of her, their gazes locked on Mykal, their bonds steel in her mind.
Lady above, she’d known he had ancient eyes. In their shared Dreams, he’d seemed older, larger, encompassing everything Shadow. As though he might be a representation of Lygon, Lord of Darkness, in the flesh.
Blackheart.
She shivered, ice creeping through her veins. So why was he here? Why had he given himself to her? Reflexively, she touched the old knife wound on her left breast with trembling fingers. Someone else she’d loved had tried to kill her. Gregar had admitted he’d killed her a thousand times in dreams before he ever knew her name.
Dharman dipped his head and kissed that old scar, then his mark. :I stand between you and any blade, na’lanna. If killing you is his goal, then he shall not succeed.:
Mykal glanced at the guarding Blood but didn’t show any concern. “There’s nothing but oil and a few sparse supplies inside. Nothing you would find alarming, certainly no weapons.”
“That oil is a weapon,” she accused, more shaken than she wanted to admit.
“Indeed?” He arched his brow. “I intended it to be a gift, nothing more.”
“A gift that burned my skin, that made me tear at my mate and wrestle, roll, fight…” Her face burned and she averted her gaze. Lady above, she’d been inflamed with lust, completely out of control, and Rhaekhar had not fared much better.
“Iyeh,” Mykal drawled as she had done. “My oil makes you burn like a dragon in rut.”
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