by Jeannie Lin
‘Give me your dagger.’ She found a blank spot on the wood. She spoke his name in two distinct sounds to herself. ‘The first sound is difficult,’ she murmured, scratching the point of the blade back and forth in tiny strokes. She added one mark beneath the two new characters.
His fingers dug into the wood as he watched her. When she straightened, her head was right by his shoulder and he caught the scent of her hair. Soap and sandalwood. And that was all it took for his entire body to tense, growing hard with desire. He needed to touch her so much it burned away every other thought in his head.
Ailey looked up and the dagger nearly slipped from her fingers. Ryam had gone still, one hand braced against a branch, arm flexed. His pupils dilated as he took the weapon from her, returning it to his belt without breaking eye contact.
‘Which one of these is your room?’ His gaze circled the courtyard.
She drew in a shallow breath and pointed to her door.
‘Show it to me.’
He beckoned to it with an irresistible tilt of his head. His easy smile belied the glint in his eyes.
Her heartbeat skipped like the wings of a hummingbird as they crossed the courtyard. As they neared the threshold of her room, he reached over her shoulder to push the door open. The commanding gesture took hold of her senses and her body no longer felt like her own. She floated outside of it.
Inside, she lit the oil lamp and glanced about her room as if seeing it for the first time. Most of her possessions had been moved to the imperial palace, but the room had never been lavishly adorned. She had set her butterfly swords on the stand on the wardrobe. Ryam let the door fall shut behind him and stepped past her to inspect the only decoration, a paper scroll brushed with four characters that hung from the far wall. The black strokes stood out boldly in the bare surroundings.
‘Did you do this?’
She came to stand beside him, feeling lightheaded as if in a trance.
‘A long time ago. My calligraphy was never any good. I’m too impatient. It shows in the strokes.’
He lifted his eyebrow sceptically and then turned his attention back to the scroll with a half-smile. She waited, afraid to look at him as she measured out the time with each breath she took. The span of his shoulders seemed to take up all of the space in her tiny room and she couldn’t stop from babbling.
‘We believe that a person’s character shows in everything they do, every little action like the motion of your hand on a brush.’
‘I’ve always liked that about you. The way you move.’ His voice was deep, sliding along every meridian in her spine. ‘Every little movement is uniquely yours.’
When she dared to turn, his eyes were so blue they seemed to shine with their own inner light. A blush rose from her neck until her face burned. She lifted her hand to her throat absently.
His gaze shifted to the door before returning to her face. ‘Ask me to leave.’
Her throat went dry and the air grew heavy between them, vibrating with energy. She shook her head once. Still, he waited before reaching for her, cradling his palm against her cheek in a feverish caress.
She clutched at the front of his tunic and sank against him, closing her eyes when his mouth captured hers. It was always like this. Possessive, devastating. He knew how to make her melt into him, how to steal her breath and fold himself around her until she couldn’t think of anything but him.
He didn’t ask her. Not with words. He stroked her face with fingertips rough with callouses. With his other hand he pulled her hair free from its pins. As it fell, her entire being unravelled and opened to him.
He was backing her towards the bed, his tongue slipping in her mouth, his quick hands already freeing the silk from her shoulders as she held on to him.
His mouth released her only for a heartbeat before he was kissing the bare skin of her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck. His fingers worked the sash around her waist loose and eased off the last layers of her robe. Silk whispered on silk as it fell away. He lowered her to the mattress and she pulled him down with her. She fumbled at his vest, then the edge of his tunic.
‘Let me do it,’ he said.
Raising himself up on to his knees, Ryam reached around her hands. The span of his chest blocked the light from her, casting him in shadow as he pulled the tunic free. She lifted herself and wrapped her arms around him, digging her hands into the sculpted muscle of his back.
It was beyond wonderful to have him like this, with no more boundaries, no more false promises to keep them apart.
He sank his weight on top of her and took her mouth again while reaching for the ribbons of her bodice undergarment. It was a sensuous struggle, both of them striving for the same end, but too blinded to find the quickest way there.
Her heart was beating so dangerously fast. She kissed his throat and the saltiness of his skin lingered on her lips. Their chaotic dance halted when he finally removed the diamond-shaped swath of cloth that covered her breasts.
He lifted himself and let the lamplight fall onto her skin, breathing hard as he raked his gaze over her. His hand curved a reverent path from her throat down the valley of her breasts.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.
She was completely bare to him, every inch of her offered to his eyes and his touch. It didn’t matter what she had been taught all her life. This moment could not be meant for a stranger. It was meant for Ryam.
He slid back onto one knee at the edge of the bed and stood to remove his belt and trousers until he was all bronzed skin and hard muscle before her. Holding her breath, she let her eyes trail down his chest to the shadowed area below his hips.
Ryam watched as she took him in with her eyes, giving her the moment to see him fully before coming back to the bed. They stretched alongside each other and she was stricken with a moment of shyness, only a moment before he surrounded her again, his hands pulling her close, his mouth tasting her neck, her breasts, filling her with sensation until her head swirled.
Her hands roamed over him, aimless and unknowing. He responded by tilting his hips against her, pushing his jutting arousal against the softness of her inner thigh. She exhaled sharply and bit down on her lip in shock.
His mouth descended to her ear and he took the lobe into his mouth. The wet suction lanced tendrils of heat down her spine. Moaning, she threaded her fingers into the coarse strands of his hair, clutching the back of his head to hold him to her as her hips lifted. The length of him brushed against her, a liquid caress that had her crying out his name.
She didn’t know what she wanted, but she wanted. So much that every part of her ached with it. Her hands clung on to his arms and her lips searched for him desperately even though he was right there, pressed tightly to her. He captured her mouth and lowered his hand between them.
The first stroke of his finger into her sent her arching from the bed, her breasts flush against the hard plane of his chest.
‘Yes.’
She squeezed her eyes shut as he circled and teased the sensation from her. She tried to reach for him, caress him in the same way. Her fingers brushed his heavy length.
He broke from her mouth with a gasp. ‘I need you now.’
Her voice was strange, hoarse. ‘Yes, anything.’
His arm stole beneath her, lifting her to him. He buried his face against her neck, his jaw hard against her cheek.
‘This is going to hurt,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘You couldn’t hurt me.’
She was floating, soaring, every inch of her alive with awareness and energy. All the while Ryam held on to her. She lifted her knees to cradle him and he groaned.
‘I’ll try—’ He swallowed forcibly, reaching between them. She felt the blunt tip of him press against her. ‘I’ll try to be careful.’
He gathered her into the shelter of his arms, one hand tangling gently into her hair. Even in the haze of desire, with her senses laid open and raw, she had the impression of being cared for and protected. Sh
e hooked her arms around his shoulders just as he started to push into her.
The sensation of being stretched and filled took over her entire body. With a startled cry, she dug her nails into the back of his neck. The dull throb inside her grew nearly unbearable as he sank deeper.
He grew still, every muscle constricted as he held himself over her. ‘Are you all right?’
She peered at him through her lashes, unable to focus. She was pinned, anchored by his weight as her flesh tightened around him. It was pain and not pain.
Finally she found his eyes. He watched her as he pushed past a point of resistance within her. Then he slid down endlessly until he was seated fully inside. His harsh breath escaped through parted lips. She shifted beneath him as her body adjusted. Her inner muscles stretched and moulded to him.
‘God.’ He shook his head, eyes closing as he laid his forehead against her shoulder. Then he murmured her name as he lifted himself and nudged deeply into her once again.
She gasped as another shock streaked through her, curling her toes. He repeated her name, his forehead damp against her skin as he curved a hand around her breast. Touch reflex, she thought dimly. They were learning each other’s bodies, action and reaction. She wrapped her legs around him as he began to rock into her, angling himself in a slow glide against her core.
She found his mouth as the pleasure built in tingling spirals within her, radiating from where they were joined. His movements became harsh, his fingers digging into her where he held her, but all of it welcome, all of it wonderful. She bit into her lip as the sensation crested. Her awareness curled in on itself, narrowing in on Ryam and the rhythm of their bodies, the pulsing of her flesh around him.
He placed his fingers between them, his lips against her neck. His fingers circled, rubbing at the point of pleasure just above where they were joined. She writhed against him. It was too much and it was exactly what she needed. His thrusts shortened, became more powerful.
‘Soon, Ailey,’ he gritted out.
She shook her head, not understanding. Cry after cry escaped her lips, the pleasure sharpening to a honed point until the world went black and her body clenched tight, jagged euphoria crashing in wave after wave over her.
Ryam cried out as she climaxed around him. Taking hold of her hips, he pushed fully into her, seeking every last bit of sensation. Then with the tense cradle of his arms around her, his control shattered, his body racked with spasms as he spilled himself into her womb.
He held on to her afterwards, his body sated and heavy. Gradually she regained control of her breathing. It was the first reminder that she was still alive and here in this world.
‘You were speaking in Chinese,’ Ryam said.
‘Hmm?’
Ailey was curled up on top of him, her hair tickling against his chin with an arm draped across his chest. Soft and pliant and his.
For the moment.
His hand tightened on her shoulder amidst his languid exploration of her back. He waited for serenity to descend upon him. Another sort of drunkenness that followed sex. But his mind churned with a tangle of thoughts. Most of them about having her again. That would keep the other thoughts at bay. The dangerous thoughts. The pointless ones.
Her fingers played along his ribcage. ‘I don’t know what I was saying.’
‘I think I understood every word.’
Her nails had dug into his neck so hard he could still feel their imprint. He loved that he had done that to her, driven her to the brink and beyond.
‘We call it the clouds and the rain.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest and drifting.
‘Poetic.’
‘We probably have other words for it, but I don’t know them.’
He probably did, the baser ones at least. He lifted his head to enjoy the sculpted beauty of her back: strong, agile and feminine all at once. It had been heaven to have her long legs wrapped around him, all trace of bashfulness gone. But now, Ailey had her face buried against his shoulder and refused to look at him.
God’s toes. He looked to the flicker of the oil lamp. The orange light danced over the butterfly swords. He was in her home, in her room. Once the shock of this wore off, would she be torn apart by shame and regret?
He rolled her on the bed and turned so he could look at her.
‘Are you hurt?’
His stomach lurched in the seconds it took her to answer.
‘I’m happy.’ She opened her eyes and looked at him shyly. ‘I’m glad for this. I’m glad that it was you.’
Her tiger’s eyes glowed in vibrant gold and green. A surge of possessiveness clawed at him, like talons around his heart. He had wild thoughts about taking her with him. They could keep on running, accountable to no one but each other. She’d never have to marry a man she didn’t want.
But that was what his life had always been. Ailey needed more. She needed honour, tradition and family. Yet she’d chosen him. She’d given herself without reservation. The knowledge stunned him. It made him believe that he could be more.
He kissed her. It was the only way to stop thinking. He was never a thinking man anyway. He kissed her again, then released her lips to move his mouth over her breast, sliding his tongue over her nipple, sucking gently until he could feel her squirm beneath him.
He ran his hands over her satiny skin until her breath caught and she whispered his name, her breath fanning soft against his ear. He had never gone hard so quickly. When he entered her moments later, she closed around him and he moved within her, lifting and lowering as he waited for the dark pleasure to overcome him.
But it wouldn’t. Not completely.
Through the slick heat and the unbelievable tightness gripping him, Ailey was there. When he shut his eyes, he saw her face.
Mine, he thought as the blood rushed through his skull. For as long as she would have him. To the ends of the earth if she needed him there.
He was a fool.
Chapter Fifteen
Ailey bowed to him from across the stone courtyard, swords in hand, her silhouette a perfect form in the distance. Resilient and strong, yet soft in all the right places. Any moment now, she would come rushing at him, out for blood with two sharp blades. Ryam couldn’t wait.
His head wasn’t right. It was filled with memories of waking up beside Ailey with her arms tangled around him. He raised his sword with a grin, feeling pretty damn near invincible.
He held back and waited, rolling his shoulders to let his muscles warm beneath the midday sun. Ailey watched his every move. From her look of grim determination, no one would have known that they were lovers and not sworn enemies.
‘Should I tie one hand behind my back?’ he taunted.
He detected the ghost of a smile before she was upon him, swords flashing as the clash of her blades rang through the courtyard. She deflected his strike, blocking edge on edge, but the force of it pushed her back.
‘You seem a little slow today,’ he mocked, breathing hard. ‘Did something keep you up late last night?’
‘You talk too much, barbarian.’
She sprang at him again, more than comfortable with remaining the aggressor. Up close, she could take away his size advantage, jam his movements while she carved him to pieces. He appreciated the differences in their training. Her lightning style was truly akin to art, thoughtful and precise. Ailey didn’t have the strength to go for the quick kill against a larger opponent, so her strategy was to disable. She aimed for weak spots, joints and tendons. He could see what they meant by death by a thousand cuts.
One of the blades broke through his guard. He evaded at the last moment as a sword whistled by his ear.
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Nothing to say?’
‘You missed.’
Time to show her he wasn’t without technique. Against her precision he had to tighten his attack to avoid leaving any opening. She frowned, her wrists straining to fend him off before she backed away.
‘You were holding back when we first f
ought,’ she accused.
He could almost hear her thoughts. Dishonourable.
His father hadn’t been some ambling mercenary, a brute with a sword. Ryam had a couple of tricks to show off when he needed them. He smiled as Ailey wiped her brow with her arm. Her eyes narrowed as she analysed him. She was irresistible, radiant.
He circled and tried to figure out how to put a quick end to this fight so he could take her in his arms without getting his fingers sliced off.
‘You giving up?’ he asked.
‘Never.’
Her feet flew lightly over the stone tile. She used both swords to twist his blade aside just enough to slip in close and drive towards his centre.
Not bad. The quickest line of attack was always the straight one, but it was risky.
He dodged and his arm shot out to hook around her back and pull her towards him. She gasped and dug her heels into the ground. Before he knew what was happening, her forehead smashed against his jaw. A snap like the breaking of a branch echoed in his skull.
‘God’s nose, woman—’
It was some consolation to see Ailey reeling from the blow while he blinked away the black spots clouding his vision. A wave of pain radiated from the point of impact.
‘Scoundrel!’ Ailey had a hand pressed to her temple. ‘No one would do that in a real battle.’
He wasn’t done swearing yet. He spat out another stream of curses.
‘I told you I can fight dirty,’ she said.
The tip of his tongue reached out to swipe at the corner of his mouth. He tasted blood. ‘I fight dirty too,’ he said, his tone low and dangerous.
Her eyes grew wide when he tossed his weapon aside. It clanged against the stone floor and he charged before she could recover her guard. With a shriek, Ailey tried to scramble away, only to be scooped up over his shoulders. He held on to the back of her knees as she dangled helplessly over him. She slapped at his backside with the flat of her blade.
‘You are the worst bully ever!’
Laughter erupted from him, welling deep from within. He wanted to throw his head back and feel the wash of the sun over his face. This was how it felt to stand at the centre of the universe.