“When will you stop punishing me for mistakes I made in the past?” he barked in her face. “I came back to you, practically on my knees, begging! And you turned me down for this once already. If I'm not your lover now, then I ask again, why am I still being punished by you?”
“I am not punishing you,” she answered.
“Yes! You are! You being here at all is punishment! The worst kind I could imagine!” he yelled.
The hand holding her jaw shook, and slowly, he angled her head up toward the ceiling, craning her neck until it was hard to see his face. She swallowed hard, which was uncomfortable in her current position.
“Are you afraid?” he asked, his steaming breath hitting her chin.
“No,” she answered through the tension in her throat.
“You should be,” he growled, running his hand over her throat. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you.”
“I know you won't hurt me,” she said.
“How do you know that?” Andon whispered.
“Because I have heard you telling yourself the same lie over and over again, so much that it is loud enough for me to hear the truth.”
“And what is this lie that I am telling myself?” he snarled.
“The same lie I told myself when I saw you hold Irea, or every time I watched you leave, or watched you dancing with Emmandia—”
“Which is what, exactly?” Andon cut her off, uncomfortably.
“That you don't need that person in your life to be happy,” she whispered.
He let go, and stumbled away, but not from the movement of the ship.
“Really?” he muttered. “And do you still tell yourself that?” he asked, quietly.
She shook her head.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Instead of denying my feelings about what or whom I needed in my life to be happy, I realized that I will never be happy.”
“You cannot mean that,” he said.
“I do,” Veria whispered through a tight, hot throat, the topic bringing up her anger and hurt at Browan's betrayal, as well as her complicated history with Andon.
“We were happy,” he muttered.
“For a very short period of time,” she replied.
“Does that make it mean less?”
Veria shook her head silently.
“So why are you with him if he does not make you happy?”
“I am not with him, Andon,” Veria groaned, not wanting to talk about Browan in the slightest.
“Well, you saved his life,” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Obviously he means something to you!”
“He gave me a purpose!” Veria yelled. “I needed that—something—I needed something—”
“What about Irea?” Andon snapped. “She is not enough of a purpose for you? Being a mother?”
“She is none of your business!” Veria shrieked. “How dare you speak to me of my daughter? Why do you even care?”
“Every time I think of her, I think of what we could have had,” he answered. “And you are just tossing her aside so you can play soldier for your precious King!”
Veria breathed heavily and felt heat rise through her face and ears. She would have slapped him again if he weren't on the other side of the quarters.
“You do not get to think of what we could have had! You left!” she yelled.
“I never stopped thinking of what we could have had,” he said.
“Then why did you leave!?”
“I had to leave,” he answered.
“That may be true, but you certainly did not have to choose someone else,” Veria argued, her throat becoming tight—all the emotions she had managed to throttle not long ago making a sudden resurgence.
“I—me? You let me go! You rejected me. What else was I supposed to do?” he snapped. “And what about you? Getting in bed with the King?”
“That's not the same,” Veria said.
“Is that what all this is about?” he barked. “Are you with him to punish me for my engagement—”
“I am not with him!” Veria repeated sternly.
“You have you slept with him, correct?” Andon asked.
Veria laughed coldly. “That is none of your business,” she stated. “Just like my daughter is none of your business. No part of my life is your bus—”
“Have you slept with him?” he repeated, more insistently, stomping toward her.
“I am not answering this interrogation!”
“I can make you tell me,” he threatened, dropping his voice to a harsh rasp.
“You would never,” Veria snarled through gritted teeth.
But before she could prepare herself, a calm feeling washed over, replacing the hot anger, and she felt like talking. She felt like telling important things, as if she were having tea with a friend, and she felt like spilling all of her secrets. While still completely conscious that this was Andon's doing, and that she did not want to, she began telling Andon open and honest details of her affair with Browan.
Andon listened, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth, until he had apparently heard too much. “Stop!” he demanded, and dropped the natural state, in the midst of recounting their secret scheduled meetings at the training grounds and barracks, before any details about the Twin Dragons could have potentially come up.
The calm flushed out through the soles of her feet, and was replaced with even more anger than was there to start with.
“I cannot believe you did that!” she objected. “Are you happy now that you have your answer?”
His head dropped, and he shook it in response.
“Then why did you want to know?” she asked.
He didn't answer, just continued to stare at the floor.
“Well, now you know how I feel,” she mumbled.
Andon slowly lifted his head, then cocked it at her.
“What do you mean?” he whispered.
“You have been engaged to Emmandia for half a year,” Veria answered.
“Emmandia and I have never made love,” Andon whispered.
Veria sighed. “I suppose you think that makes you better than me in this situation?”
He remained silent, so she pressed on.
“Do you not love her?” she asked.
“It's different,” he muttered.
“How is it different?” Again he was silent, but Veria's face tingled with rage. “What, because you are a gentleman now?” she snapped.
“Veria—”
“I see how it is,” she snarled. “The respectable Lord Guyler would never make love to a woman before wedding her—”
“Veria, stop it—”
“The perfect Ambassador Andon would never take a woman whenever or wherever his passions pleased him,” she ignored him, her volume rising and her voice trembling, her tone icy and mocking. “That is not how Esperan men treat their women! No, no! Not before the wedding, not in the kitchen, not lost in the forest—”
“Do you mock my manhood, or challenge it?” Andon roared, grabbing her shoulders again, with force.
“Both!”
Without a second's hesitation, he responded to her challenge, pulling her into him and attacking her lips with his. Her chest fluttered and she could not breath. When he pulled his face away to turn attention to the bare skin on her neck and chest, she gasped for air, the dizziness from the lack of it hitting her just as the ship pitched her toward the wall. She stumbled, and he steadied her just before her back made contact with a large wooden beam. Then he secured her against the wall, grabbed her face in his hands, and resumed kissing her forcefully on the lips.
He was urgent, and raw, an animal that she had never encountered. Before she had time to think about whether or not she should allow him to, Andon had begun removing her nightgown. Normally, she would have reciprocated, but he was ahead of her on that, as well, hastily undressing himself.
She shivered as his warm touch reminded her of the chilly, wet air touching her naked skin.
“Are you alright?” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, breathing heavily.
He nodded in return, and he surveyed her face intently.
“I do not need you in order to be happy,” he said.
She swallowed hard, through a lump in her throat, not sure what to make of his varied range of emotions.
“But it would undoubtedly make it easier,” he sighed.
All the time she had spent trying to forget him, trying to erase the sweet and torturous memories of his rough hands and his soft lips and his smooth voice, and here he was, almost two years later, and it felt like nothing had changed since the last time they had been together. He ran his palms along her sides while letting his lips graze dangerously close to her breast.
She knew it felt wrong. She knew it was wrong. He was engaged to that young, innocent girl. And they apparently had too many unresolved emotions with each other to enter into this behavior again. She tried to restrain herself from enjoyment, but he seemed determined to prove himself to her. If he had been waiting for a signal that he could progress, he must have received it when, despite her best efforts to reserve it, she moaned as his lips and fingertips all reached her lower abdomen at the same time.
Then he shifted, his face back up to her face, his hands clutching her hips. As he let himself inside her, the ship rocked heavily, pressing his weight against her. He used one hand to grab the beam behind her and steady against the swayback. Veria felt all of his muscles tense as he held both of their bodies in place while the ship attempted to balance itself in the wake.
She could no longer differentiate between the continuous swaying of the boat and Andon's fervent rhythm. It was the same rocking movement, taking both their bodies together, and both made her dizzy. He had placed an arm entirely behind her lower back and frantically attempted to reposition her, shifting her hips toward him as if the current angle was not enough. He was impatient, and frustrated, and frenzied, and hardly looked at her—just kept his eyes shut with his forehead pressed against hers, or occasionally moved his head down to her collarbone and maneuvered his lips against it.
As his rhythmic sway called more of her body into action, she found herself wondering if his urgent desire was directed at her, or a more generalized frustration since he had not been with a woman in apparently a long time. Either way, it wasn't long before she had to bite her lip to keep from alerting the crew above of her impending release. Her entire body shook uncontrollably from the waves of sensation, crashing through her like the wake that slapped the sides of the boat, and from the cold sea breeze that infiltrated her quarters, and from the nervous, self-conscious feeling that had invaded her mind.
Andon clenched his teeth around her protruding collarbone, and pushed himself against her triumphantly. Veria had to bite into her own lip even harder to keep from crying out. When he was finished, his chest slumped forward and his ribcage heaved dramatically with each inhale and exhale.
If she had challenged his manhood, he had won. She thought it best not to point out to him that he had become the very kind of man he had claimed to loathe, just to prove to her that he could still take her anytime, anywhere he liked. A gentleman, with an arranged engagement, doing whatever he wanted on the side. A regular Lord Rames.
Andon slowly stood straight, still bracing himself with one arm against the wall, and finally looked her in the face. Sweat gleamed on his olive skin in the lantern light, and he was still out of breath when he started to talk.
“I did not mean to disrespect you in anyway,” he said softly, through sharp recovery breaths. “When I said that my—that things with Emmandia are different, I did not mean it that way.”
Veria just nodded.
“We will not be doing this again,” he said sternly, then pushed himself away from the wall and began gathering up his clothes.
Again, she nodded.
Once dressed, he grabbed the lantern off the wall and left without a word, leaving her with only the bluish light from the moon, filtering in through the tiny porthole.
- XIII-
Andon avoided Veria for the last day on the ship, but as soon as they docked in Barril, he came to find her in her room in the seaside palace where the Peace Council was taking place.
“Is this suitable for your sleeping quarters, Commander?” he asked.
She had surveyed the room carefully upon arrival. All of the buildings were made of teal-colored bricks, the linens on her bed were made of a silky smooth gauze-like fabric, and the view from her arched windows captured the pristine, crystalline waves and copious emerald foliage like a landscape portrait.
“I think this is the most beautiful place I have ever been,” she answered with a smile.
Andon nodded, and reminded her there was a reception planned for the Ambassadors in two hours.
“I am not an ambassador,” Veria protested.
“I have arranged for you to join us,” he explained. “I have told Ambassador Yoro of Barril that you are an expert in Elemental Defense, and your input into topical discussion will be priceless.”
“Why did you tell him that?” Veria groaned, feeling a bit nervous.
“Because it is true, Commander,” Andon smiled.
“On the ship, you thought I was carrying around an inflated title for 'King's Pet' and now you are telling foreign diplomats I am a delightful conversationalist on matters of strategic defense,” she muttered. “I cannot figure you out anymore.”
“I was wrong to antagonize you the other night, Commander,” he apologized, bowing his head slightly. “I never meant to suggest that you were not a talented individual in your current role. Or any role, for that matter.”
“Ooh, if this is how you butter up the opposition, I think I am in for a treat over the next few weeks,” Veria laughed.
“You know I speak the truth, Commander.”
Veria nodded. “Yes, I do.”
There was a tension-filled silence, until Lord Willis emerged from the room directly across from Veria's. “Ah! Commander!” he yelled across the hall. “Has Lord Andon convinced you to dine with the Council members tonight? I am quite intrigued to hear your thoughts on the ethical concerns regarding covert elemental operations.”
Veria felt a lump form in her throat. She was almost certain he was referencing the Twin Dragons. She smiled widely to hide her anxiety. “Yes,” she answered. “I suppose it would be better than eating alone in my room.”
“You will be off duty,” Willis said. “This is a casual reception. So, no need for uniform.”
He and Andon left the room to allow Veria to rest and change. She only relaxed for half an hour before deciding to bathe and put on the only dress she had brought with her from Longberme, a satin spring green dress, with short off-the-shoulder sleeves and a sashed waist.
The wine flowed, the food was delicious, and every member of the Council seemed determined to not talk business after all, and instead, enjoy the one night of festivities they had allotted themselves. Veria did not have to discuss the ethics of elemental espionage, nor have to answer very many questions at all regarding her profession, until Willis demanded to be regaled about the time that Veria 'discovered' the full extent of her powers.
“I must claim some small credit, not in her talent, but in introducing her to my mentor,” he said, with a bit of a wine-induced slur. “Tell us—you must tell Ambassador Yoro about how you saved King Browan. It is, of course, partially why we are here, you know.”
Andon, who sat across the table from her, went noticeably rigid and began to fidget with his wine goblet. Yoro and Willis leaned in toward her, and a few of the ambassadors at the opposite end of the table decided they were not interested in hearing a woman tell a story and excused themselves to the library with talk of cards and stronger liquids.
“It was nothing spectacular...” Veria muttered, self-consciously.
“King Browan says you pulled an entire section of the stone floor up and created a barricade f
rom an invisible assassin,” Willis slurred. “Is that true?”
“Well, yes—” Veria started.
“And you sensed the assassins in the next room!” Willis ejected with excitement. Yoro's eyes glistened as he surveyed her, but Veria felt another set of eyes burning into her. Andon had been staring her down since his father started the story. And she knew why—she mentioned this particular story to Andon on the ship when he had forced a confession out of her with his powers. And it had started with her and Browan locked together in passion.
“Like I said, it was not that spectacular,” she said. “Just moving some stone. And wood.”
“Whole sections of palace flooring? Shaping it to create a barricade? Detecting invisible assassins?” Yoro commented in heavy Esperan accent. “No, I have not seen these things. My body guards have sabers, and are likely useless against the powers of the Elements. Your King Browan is a very lucky man.”
Andon rose sharply from the table, making quite a bit of noise with his chair and dishes as he did.
“Andon, are you retreating?” Willis asked. “You did not even hear how Commander Laurelgate continued to fight with an injury! Lady Veria, as a fellow Earth Mager, you have wildly impressed me with the development of your skills,” Willis continued, beaming.
“Thank you,” Veria replied, realizing with relief that Willis didn't seem to have foreseen the possibility of anything regarding her involvment in the Twin Dragons attack.
“Come, Andon, sit for the rest,” Yoro added.
“I think something other than wine is in my near future, gentlemen,” Andon said with polite nods to the Ambassadors, then a full bow to Veria. “Commander. Please excuse me, but I shall be joining the debauchery in the library.” He smirked and left, but Veria felt the lie settle softly on her ears, and noticed he still seemed tense and unnerved by the discussion of King Browan.
“He's lying. He's probably going to bed because he can't stand to have fun with me,” Willis grumbled, swaying as his hands gesticulated more enthusiastically than normal. “He has been a terrible grouch lately,” Willis admitted, an observation Veria doubted he would vocalize under sober circumstances. “I think the pressure of the whole Regalship ordeal is getting to him.”
The Twin Dragons: Book III in the Elementals Series Page 12