by Jane Atchley
The Matriarch studied him for a moment in silence. Finally, she said, "You do not miss it?"
Kree snorted. "Miss it? Most days I feel like I’ve rolled naked in a patch of nettles. Some days it’s even worse."
"And you're content with this?"
"A man does what he must. You taught me that."
"Yes. I suppose I did."
The Matriarch lowered herself onto the couch, her face parchment pale. Kree could not blame her. Cutting his hair was one thing. Many disillusioned Goddess-born had done so over the years. She would forgive that, but this. Goddess nectar marked him as Namar’s own almost as much as the small cartouche branded alongside his right ear. He may as well have destroyed it as well. Such a thing had not occurred in the whole history of their faith.
"Have you become a follower of Lathan Bruin’s invisible, nameless god?"
Kree sat beside his mother and took her fine-boned, trembling hands between his own battle-roughened ones. "No, Mother. I can safely promise you I am currently without deity."
"That will never do. A life without faith is not for you. You are born to serve."
"I do serve. I serve the Ladies of Elhar and the garrison at Qets." He gave a tired laugh. "And I serve Sandahl of Thallasi at least for the present."
His mother soon recovered from the shock of his confession enough to fix him with a sharp eye. "With your head and your strong right arm." She touched his chest with her fingertips. "What about your heart, Kree?"
"My heart is..." No sense in lying to himself. "Otherwise engaged."
"I see." The Matriarch rose to her feet bringing him with her. "I have kept you too long. Our master healer will wonder why we disturbed his supper. Please return and take last meal with me. I must know how my celebrated Goddess-born son came to accept a contract with an elf girl and a pixie half-cast."
"Times change." He kissed her cheek, relieved that she accepted him, forgave him and even loved him in spite of his faithlessness. "May I tell you about it tomorrow? It is a long story and I’m—not supposed to admit it I know, but I’m whipped."
She smiled at him. "Let it be breakfast then. Cook will prepare all your favorites."
Of that, he had no doubt. He touched his fingers over his heart. "I live to serve."
Kree hurried to the solar. He needed to check on Kayseri and Sandahl before he sought his own bed. The little princess needed the healer striding along beside him, and Kree knew there was no way in the hells she would let the scarecrow Templeman touch her without his presence. He would make the introductions and after the healing, he'd have a bath and a bed in that order. It sounded so good he almost cried.
Kayseri let them in when he rapped on the door. She had been getting ready for bed and held her nightgown closed with one hand at an awkward angle behind her back. The healer took Sandahl behind one of the tapestry partitions to work his art. But Kayseri kept moving her arms behind her back trying to fasten her nightgown. Finally, she whirled on Kree and pulled her hair over her shoulder. "Do me up, My Captain."
Kree's gaze followed the smooth curve of her back. He did not dare touch her silky skin, but damnation he wanted to. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, little girl. I’ll call an Initiate to help you." She glanced at him over her shoulder, a weary look that, for the first time since she arrived home, he had no trouble interpreting. Quit being an arse. He hesitated for an instant, took a deep breath, and stepped up to the task.
The problem, he soon discovered was the garment had tiny fabric loops designed to fit snugly over equally tiny pearl buttons. Small wonder Katie could not manage it. A woman would have to be a contortionist to fasten the cursed garment. Truth to tell the buttons did not willingly surrender to his fingers either. Kree slipped one hand inside her gown to hold the round button in place from the underside.
Kayseri’s warm caramel skin felt as smooth as silk. He let the back of his hand rest at the small of her back for a heartbeat or two savoring the sensation. Slowly, as if of its own volition his hand slid upward. The back of his fingers brushed the side of one small breast. She made a soft little sound in the back of her throat. Consent enough, Kree flexed his knees adjusting his height to hers. Dipping his head, he placed a light kiss on soft skin where her neck joined her shoulder. She dropped her head to one side baring the graceful column of her neck. Buttons forgotten, Kree's other hand skimmed across her bare midriff. His cock was so hard he thought it would burst free of his trousers. He had lusted after scores of women, made love to nearly as many, but what he felt for Kayseri transcended anything he'd known before. Everything about her aroused him, her laughter, her courage, even her damned mischief. When he touched her, by the sweet breath of Namar, he felt like he could fly.
His hands continued their exploration, cupping her small high breasts. Kayseri’s nipples hardened to diamond pebbles at his touch. The way she responded to him filled him with possessive male pleasure. He rolled that sweet little pebble between his thumb and forefinger tearing a moan of from her. His need to be inside her eclipsed his constant need for Goddess nectar. In this moment, he was truly free of it. Kayseri must have felt an answering need for she pushed against him pressing his needy member into the sweet curve of her bottom with delicious friction.
Oh. Yes. Give me more of that.
Kree kissed his way up her neck, nuzzling her ear. His tongue traced its outline from lobe to point as he rocked against her. Kayseri shuddered and arched her neck giving him greater access to her pointy little seashell ear.
Do you like that?
He flicked his tongue along her ear again, this time his lips closed over the sensitive point, and Kayseri bucked in his arms.
Yes, you do.
They charged toward disaster with Kree leading the rush. The last rational corner of his brain screamed retreat, but his rogue hands had other orders. They stroked the taut plain of her stomach, moving lower and lower, brushing over the tight curls between her legs. Her thighs opened for him, his fingers teased her soft wet fold. The scent of her arousal permeated the air. She filled his senses. Utterly lost, all thought of retreat vanished. Then Kayseri went still in his arms. Bloody sodden hell! What kind of monster was he? Kree opened his eyes. The healer watched them, a slight smile on his thin lips. He had told the man he wanted a full report, and no one disobeyed a Gryphon. No one interrupted one either. He glared at the man over Kayseri’s head until he lowered his eyes, and his smile winked out.
"Forgive me, Gryphon."
Kree held Kayseri against his chest while his racing heart calmed and his breathing slowed. She shivered in his arms. Was she cold? Was she humiliated? He decided on cold, because he could not bear thinking he had shamed the woman he loved. He grabbed the patchwork quilt on the back of a nearby chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"I’ll send an Initiate to you," Kree whispered next to her ear. Taking a deep calming breath, he stepped away. "How fares my contract, Master Healer?"
"There is nothing to concern you, Gryphon—severe sunburn, heat exhaustion, mild dehydration, in addition to the aches and pains expected when one is unaccustomed to days on horseback. I performed a comprehensive healing, and I can assure you she will sleep soundly through the night." The healer shot a meaningful glance toward Kayseri.
Kree stepped toward the man blocking his line of sight. "We could all use a good night's sleep. Come, Master Healer, let us leave these ladies to their rest. Sweet dreams, Katie."
In his own suite of rooms, a priestess and two novices waited to attend him. Most nights he would have sent them away, preferring as he did to do things himself. Tonight he was so tired that letting someone take care of him held a certain appeal. Later, soaking neck-deep in a steaming hot bath with his head resting on soft towels while expert hands scraped three days of itchy red stubble off his face, he wondered why he ever resisted this simple luxury. In the end though, he toweled himself off. A man had to have some standards. Kree entered the bedroom still toweling his hair dry, tossed the t
owel onto a leather chair, and shook his hair out. A lovely novice stood near the foot of his bed.
She bowed. "I am for you, Goddess-born."
First night ritual words, Kree had forgotten this custom. It had been a long time since he slept in a temple. The novice’s simple diaphanous gown hid none of the woman’s ample charms. She was tall, full figured, blessed with the flawless porcelain skin he so admired. Her generous mouth smiled in invitation. Wide cornflower-blue eyes sparkled with an eagerness to please that made his cock twitch appreciatively. Glossy honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders in soft waves. She was everything that usually stoked his fire, but while his body appreciated her assets, his heart was filled with another vision—a vision of a woman whose caramel colored skin was kissed by the sun, whose high firm breasts did not fill his hands, but might fill his mouth if he were fortunate enough to taste them. Kayseri filled his heart, his mind, even his soul, so completely he heard himself say, "No."
The woman dropped a very deep curtsey. "As you will, Namar's Gryphon."
"Wait." If he sent her away, she would lose face. Kree had been away a long time, but not so long he had forgotten how spiteful novices were. "Have you trained in the art of massage?" She nodded, but did not meet his eyes, did not speak. "Stay then.
Kree threw himself face down on the bed. The mattress sagged as the novice crawled onto the bed. Her smooth warm thighs straddled his hips. Another time the gentle pressure of her knees at his waist would command a response, but his thoughts were all on his encounter with Katie. Was he now one of those pathetic chumps who pined over women they could not have? Namar's bloody tears! He hoped not.
Strong hands stoked the back of his neck easing tension, aches, and pains almost magically. The novice’s hands hesitated at his shoulders. Her fingertips brush across the gryphon shaped scars burned into his flesh. Likely, she’d never seen gryphon marks before. Not many men boasted the Goddess Namar’s highest honor. After a moment, her hands resumed their soothing movements.
"Are the rumors we hear of you true, Goddess-born?"
"Almost never," he mumbled into his pillow. "Did you have a particular rumor in mind?"
"The one where you lose your beloved, and our Goddess, touched by your grief, frees you from her nectar? It's so romantic. It's my favorite."
Kree opened his mouth to tell her it was not romantic. It was in fact painful as hell, but the sound that came out was aah.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Sweet dreams, Katie.’ Kayseri tossed and turned on the soft feather mattress. Sleep eluded her. She counted the stars winking at her through the solar's wide windows. It didn't help. The only stars Kayseri wanted to count were the stars she seen when Kree suckled her sensitive ear-point. How had he known to do that when she had not known it herself? Her breasts tingled with the ghost of his touch. Kree’s hands were rough yet his touch was magical, and as his magic fingers stroked the flesh between her legs, something wild sparked into life. Pleasure she had not known existed clamored for release. The memory of it made her body hot and restless—hungry—unsatisfied. The satisfaction her body craved lay just down the hall. She needed the magic of Kree’s hands and lips. If she could just lie down beside him, she would fall right to sleep. She knew it.
Kayseri spent several minutes trying to convince herself Kree would not mind if she slipped into his bed as she used to do when she was little and something frightened her, but in her heart, she knew he would mind. He would mind very much. He hated mischief and he had been acting so strange of late. She did not believe his behavior reflect on her race, but if not race, then what? Kayseri stared up at the stars but the answer wasn't there. The stars looked lonely. Staring at them, she felt an overwhelming longing for Kree, and she could not—would not ignore it. Cloaked in mischief, Kayseri slipped from her bed.
The hinges on Kree’s unlocked door protested when Kayseri opened it. She froze, listening. Nothing. She slipped inside and found herself in a parlor furnished with large scale overstuffed couches and big wing-backed chairs. Books lined the wall behind a long mahogany table upon which lay an open violin case. Kree played the violin. Kayseri smiled. He favored sad tunes.
She crept over to the opposite door and eased it open. Soft snoring greeted her. His saber hung on a brass hook inside the door. His broad hand-and-a-half sword and his ivory-handled fighting knives rested in a wall rack. Assorted smaller knives lay on an inlaid marble table below it. He sprawled in the huge bed a good ten feet from his weapons with his back to the door. He felt safe here. His gryphon knives hung from his headboard even in own garrison. He did not stir as Kayseri eased the door shut. Mischief held tight around her, she skirted the enormous bed and froze. There was a woman in his bed. Jealous rage rocked Kayseri to her toes. Her mischief slipped. The woman spooned against Kree, one of those pale-skinned blonde beauties whose lush bodies made Kree stupid. He had married such a woman once, and she had made him miserable. Kayseri would never make him miserable. Pain crushed her chest. After what had happened in her chamber, she had dreamed—she had hoped. The pain of her heartbreak tore a gasp from her, and the woman woke peering sleepily around the room. She had cornflower-blue eyes. It was too much. Kayseri exchanged her hold on mischief for a hold on the trollop's honey colored hair.
Kree woke to the sound of a woman screaming. He shook off sleep and instinctively reached for weapons that were not there. What the— He rolled from his bed coming to his feet in a fighter’s stance. Kayseri Bruin straddled the screaming novice. Using a fistful of the woman’s beautiful hair, she slammed the novice’s head against the carpeted floor.
"Katie!"
Kayseri sprang to her feet and broke for the door, but Kree's combat honed reflexes trapped her between the wall and the bed. She tried darting under him, but he anticipated her move. She called up mischief. He grabbed her wrist.
"Don’t you dare pull your disappearing act on me. Don’t even think about it."
He was an earthquake. He was fire on the mountain. His was crushing her wrist. Kayseri did the only thing she could think of, she punched him. He blocked the blow, caught her fist. She stomped his bare foot. Hard. He did not expect that. He let go.
She sprinted for the solar dodging other people crowding the hallway. Bless god. There was a bolt on the door. Kayseri shot it home with shaking hands and leaned against the smooth wood. Kree’s angry strides pounding down the hall, she backed away and watched the knob rattle impotently. There followed a whispered soliloquy of expletives containing references to mating, colored by words Kayseri had never heard before. Kree’s bare foot hit the door with a resounding boom.
Once.
Twice.
The door burst inward.
He paused in the broken doorway, a storm hurling thunder and lightning. Kayseri saw his rage flowing out as searing purple fire, scorching her cheeks and raising the fine hairs on her arms. If this was how he looked in battle, she marveled his foes did not throw down their weapons and run away screaming. God knew she wanted to.
Wait. She had never seen the color of rage before. Kree seized her wrist in his crushing grip, and dragged her up the hallway. Kayseri struggled against him as a minnow struggles against a tidal wave. The more she wiggled, tugged, and dragged her feet, the tighter he gripped her wrist.
"You’re hurting me!" This finally snagged his attention. He paused for a heartbeat then yanked her forward. Catching her up, he draped her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. From this new undignified position, Kayseri kicked her feet and pounded his back with her fists.
Responding to her latest attack, Kree swatted her bottom. "Stop."
She stopped.
He carried her into what seemed from Kayseri’s upside-down view a sort of split-level library, where he dumped her into a deep wingback chair. As soon as her butt hit the cushion, she made an abortive break for the door.
Kree glared at her and raised one finger, just one single finger, but it was enough. His aura lashed her. "Sit."
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br /> She sank back in the chair as far as she could and tried to look small and helpless. In their past arguments small and helpless had worked wonders on him. Not this time. He paced around the room clenching and unclenching his fists. The muscles in his jaws jumped. His aura swirled with angry purple.
Kayseri sat very still trying to accustom herself to seeing his emotions. Such a thing had never happened before. This was not their first fight, far from it. Of course, she had been a young girl on those other occasions, a child really and as such, Kree had never been anywhere near this angry. As she studied him, his aura changed, becoming a deep red mist.
He stopped in front of her. "Of all the...pixie-stupid stunts."
Purple streaks arced through the red like lightening. Kayseri felt a hot breeze brush her cheek. Taking a deep breath and blowing it slowly out through his mouth, Kree wheeled away and made another circuit around the room. It occurred to her that he was not searching for the words to chastise her. He was searching for enough calm to utter them.
He stopped in front of her chair again. Rubbing his forehead with the back of his fist, he took a deep breath. "What the—" He caught his lower lip between his teeth as a crimson cloud enveloped him. "Damnation." He took another deep breath, exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes. "What by Namar’s bloody tears do you think you are doing?"
His aura’s heated glow faded a bit, but Kayseri was not reassured. She had seen how quickly it flared up. But by heaven, she was angry too. "Who was the woman in your bed?"
"What?" No doubt, he had expected her to trot out the usual litany of excuses she used whenever she did some outrageous pixie thing to him. He watched her through narrowed eyes as if suspecting a trick. "No one."