His eyes rolled closed and he appeared to either be savoring her touch or trying to save himself from it. Either way, the Empress would not let him escape her or invite distance between them again. She slipped down against his body, running her tongue along his pulse. His body leapt in reaction.
He gripped her hair brutally and dragged her up until she stood once more. Her head tilted up so their gazes sparred. For one cruel, devastating moment, the Emperor had returned.
“No, Raeche. I will not do this. I cannot even bear to look at you.”
“Then do not look at me,” Raeche challenged before turning her naked back to him, waiting. “You came here for this. You cannot escape the fire. I cannot escape it. We can no longer exist without this between us or we will destroy each other.” It was a gamble, but even if he did not respond as desired, he was going to take or be taken this night.
The gamble paid off. He circled her waist with one arm, lifted her from her feet as though she weighed nothing. Her back to his chest and belly, his shaft pressing insistently between the round globes of her bottom, seeking her womb’s entrance, Lanus cupped one of her breasts with his free hand, testing its shape. Then he stroked the long wealth of her shining black hair over her shoulder to expose her back. He pressed tiny electric kisses along her spine.
Raeche moaned as her body arched impatiently. She kicked and used her feet to hook behind her, above his knees. Lanus ended her struggle when at last his hands closed over her flesh. He helped her lift her legs–curled behind her and around him–higher.
A vibrating ache overcame her when she felt the thick head of his sex nudging into her folds, trying slowly to gain entry. Her body urged her to push back against him, but she had no leverage, nothing to anchor herself. Galan the Impostor had never made love to her this way and she was certain he could not have. Even as small as she was, a man had to be a warrior true to take her while standing, with her not even able to cling to his body for support. The very thought made her wriggle her hips in an attempt to encourage him to move faster, to end this blissful torture.
But Lanus moved slowly, easing in a little then out a little. Over and over again as her body started to sweat with strain, Raeche tried to speed up the pace. She even reached behind her to dig her nails into his arm.
“Lanus,” she panted, “please, now, please.”
One arm locked beneath her breasts, the other beneath one of her thighs so that she was open to him, at his mercy, Lanus forced his way into her body with inhuman swiftness and power.
Raeche cried out from pain and fire. Her entrance burned as an intense pressure built inside her until she could barely breathe. Yet when he started to leave her she begged him to give her a moment, to stay buried deep within her for a moment still. For a second she felt as if she could not move. As if he had torn her body in two, though she knew he had pulled back at the last moment, still was not seated within her to the hilt.
As a tear started in her eye, she craned her neck to seek him behind her. Lanus bowed his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her eye, then moved his lips lower to capture hers again.
Almost immediately the pain inside her subsided and she clamped her thighs harder around him. The aching throb returned as his fingers found their way to the small spot just above where their bodies connected. Raeche ground her hips and Lanus answered her movements with slow steady ones of his own.
Raeche needed more. In the blink of an eye her hunger for him had doubled. Sweat made a sheen on her skin as he continued to take care with her, to let her body get accustomed to him even though the fire had already spread.
Instinctively, she raised her hands above her head, locking them behind his neck.
Formed from the Emperor’s Spirit, a phantom tongue, hot and moist, softly licked at each of her nipples, finally drawing deep and strong and igniting a burst of sensation as Lanus bit down on the back of her neck before speeding up his long strokes, punching so deep inside her body that friction and pressure prevented her from connecting one thought to another. He impaled her, ground his body against hers. He gripped her hips to lift her from his body then bring her down again until an explosion flashed through her body, blinding her, stealing her breath, and stopping her heart.
She screamed for Lanus. She cried as wave after wave, ripple after ripple of violent pleasure laid waste to her every thought, to her strength and will. In minutes, maybe seconds, their frenzied passion had brought her the most powerful release the Empire had surely ever known.
Raeche’s arms went limp. She barely had enough awareness to realize that Lanus had caught her and was laying her face down on her bed. For a second she thought to wonder if he had found his pleasure, but as he left her, she felt the proof.
“You must call a servant before Light and wash before Taritana comes,” he instructed, “or she will believe you have betrayed me…again.”
He left.
Chapter 11
Raeche did not wash. Instead, she stayed naked in bed in a daze, remembering and reveling and dreaming of things she could have done, wanted to do when next he came to her. Lanus’s scent still clung to her skin and she still burned with the ache from their joining.
Her Personal came an hour after Light. She requested a bath drawn for Raeche and her bedding replaced. Perhaps Raeche should have summoned a servant as Lanus commanded but, for a reason she could not name, she felt a servant would have been an intrusion. Taritana was not, whether she disdained Raeche and this menial task or not.
When Taritana stared at her, Raeche turned to her and asked, “Did you remove the Emperor’s clothing?”
“The Emperor’s… Empress, I apologize for my confusion.”
“Oh.” Raeche smiled sweetly. “He must have taken them this morning.”
When Taritana’s pale face turned even paler, Raeche knew her own delight to be petty, unworthy of her Spirit, but she did not care. Raeche shook her head. She had wanted Taritana there with her. Though she would not speak of the night’s events with her, her Personal was, by law, a sister to her and her presence brought some comfort along with its measure of tension. Still, a possessiveness she had not known existed stole over her and she wanted to make clear to Taritana that she would never have the Emperor, even if the Personal had already accepted this circumstance long ago.
“Would you like me to wash your hair?” Taritana’s offer surprised her.
Something in her chest hurt. Raeche wanted to weep though she did not know why. All of a sudden, she desperately wanted Taritana to help her with her hair. It took hours to wash and dry on her own. In answer, she went to the much taller and stronger woman, threw her arms around her and sniffled.
After a moment, Taritana returned her embrace.
* * * *
Relaxation inevitably crept in when one floated in hot water filled with the deep-blue, fragrant tehacha leaves. Both its smell and the waxy chemical coating its surface served to loosen muscles and enhance the Spirit of Serenity. The cushioned, enchanted floor and walls of the large tub, which adjusted to her weight and the sensitivity of her skin, bones and muscle, heightened the sensation.
“Empress?” Taritana whispered as she used a bowl to rinse Raeche’s hair.
“Yes, Tana?” She did not open her eyes, so dangerously close to sleep was she.
“There is something I must tell you.”
Even through her comfortable haze, Raeche sensed her distress. Taritana’s voice, always well-modulated, resembled a path through the Tedious Middle Plain. It seemed as exposed as the Middle Plain as well. It seemed, in fact, like the beginning of a well-controlled confession. Raeche, who felt she had found a sister at last, did not want a confession. The Personal wanted to be absolved of every day before this one, and so the Empress would absolve her.
“No, there is nothing. All will be well between me and Lanus. All will be well.” Before she drifted off, she added, “You will truly be my sister now.”
She could sense an unsettled movement from he
r Personal. Raeche stirred but her eyes remained closed as she said, “Yes, I know you have a sister, but you are the Empire, too. You belong to Us. Be still, Tana. Dahouina’s marriage to Praytor will be blessedly short-lived.”
Chapter 12
The Emperor avoided Raeche for more days than he ever had while in residence at the palace, and Taritana, who had once hated the Empress, seemed to pity her. Pity was the worst gift someone could bestow upon an Empress, so she became angry and her joy died. She wondered why Lanus would cross the frigid waters of their long estrangement to make love to her only to cross it again while she watched, abandoned, from the shore.
She replayed the events of that night over and over in her mind, trying to sort out how she had driven him away. She relived his lips and hands on her skin, as well as the soothing waves of Spirit he had subtly pumped through her body to ease his way. Desperately, she tried to relive the shattering ecstasy he had brought her. But in the end, his harsh parting words echoed in her mind. Betray. He had used that word before leaving.
When she could no longer tolerate the silence between them or the neglected hum in her body, when she learned he planned to escape her to the South where his rotten brother waited to enumerate her shortcomings, she went to his chamber. Despite his warning, she had continued to return to his room by holding the curtain aloft then stepping over the threshold that in truth was no threshold at all.
“So my husband has not become my lover?” she spat.
“I apologize for losing my head, Empress, but no, I am not interested in replacing Galan again.”
“What did you do with him, Emperor? Where did you send him?” She had not at all intended to say this when she came to his chamber but his words had unsettled her. She had intended to demand an explanation for his avoidance, yet now she chased a ghost.
An unpleasant snort greeted her question. “Nowhere,” he answered. “I would not send a man away to speak to others of how he flirted with the Empress and lived to tell the tale, even a fool like your dreamer, Galan.”
“Y-you had him killed?”
“I did not have him killed, little dark one. You have come with me into War’s Womb. You know my Spirit well. I took Valor to guard my back and allowed the hunters to run with me. I tracked the troupe. When I found them all dancing around the fire, singing songs, I rode through the fire, through spark and flame to take hold of his neck, to cast him down before my mount. When I was aground and Valor ensured all watched, I challenged him.”
Her hand fluttered to her lips. “He was not a fighter and not nearly your size.”
“You are correct, but that changed nothing save for the speed at which he died. I wanted a war befitting a conqueror. Instead, I had no more satisfaction than I would with the second bite of seasoned flank after a long run to the South. Not as tasty as the first bite and not enough to fill me.”
“You are an animal.”
“An animal? Indeed I am. I am an Emperor. That is my species. It is important you remember that. Never forget. No one, to my borders and beyond, should forget that I blood-sing the sweetest. I am a beast, Raeche. Not some sensitive timra player.”
“But you played the timra for me.”
“I played the timra to win a war.”
“We are not at war, Lanus.”
“Are we not? There has never in history been such a siege as this one you have set against me since we wed.” He snapped his head around. “In the box, Rucha!”
Startled by the stern tone, she looked over his shoulder and saw that Rucha sat in a corner playing with dollies, half of which were strewn over the floor. Lanus had obviously asked her to clean them up.
“You speak of this in front of her?”
“I speak of everything in front of her. I also speak of my love for her, how I choke with it, how I know she will be the greatest of us all. I speak to her of all the things she needs to know, including the treachery of those who have your heart.”
“I do not have your heart.” She could cut out her own tongue for this outburst.
“It is not your treachery I speak of, Raeche. It is mine. Our daughter loves me. She clings to my Spirit but she must love me as I am, not as some romanticized version of myself. She must know what I am capable of and in turn know what she is capable of.”
“Rucha!” Raeche called, carefully skirting past the Emperor.
The little girl looked up, her cheeks pink and blond hair wild. Raeche dipped to scoop her up even as Rucha tried to place another doll into the chest that had been dragged into the Emperor’s room. Hot tears stung Raeche’s eyes. She was not so stupid that she did not know he did not speak solely of the child.
“Mama.” Rucha laid a chubby, soft hand on her face and caught a drop above the small red spots that rode high on the Empress’s cheek.
Raeche stopped where she stood. Her daughter had called her Mama, not Raeche or Empress. Raeche squeezed the girl hard, trying desperately not to crush but needing to return the great gift of love her daughter had given her.
“Lanus says, ‘I love you. I love you,’” the little one informed her.
Raeche nodded as she dried her eyes. “Softling, Mama loves you, too.”
“Nooo,” the child crooned and pressed both hands against her mother’s chest. “‘I love Raeche!’”
“Let’s go play Stars, softling. Enough talk of war and death and betrayal.”
Holding her close, Raeche eased around Lanus again and headed to the curtain, throwing a fierce scowl over her shoulder as she went.
* * * *
Lanus did not allow her to escape him. After Rucha was tucked safely in her bed he sought Raeche out again, entering her room using the curtain. Of late, it always had a narrow opening at the end. Top to bottom, the rooms had the smallest connection, the smallest acknowledgment of connection.
“When you think of your would-be lover, remember your hands are not clean, Raeche. I had no choice.”
“You could have sent him away.”
“I sent him to the only place that is outside the Empire.”
“South of the Death White Border?”
A guttural growl came from his throat. “You mock yourself, Empress.” He continued, “I could not show any mercy and I could not send another. I am a man, Raeche. You are my woman. Mine. He was foolishly blinded by your beauty and you were foolishly blinded by a need to rebel. If I had not cut him down, you would have lain with him. I believe it to my core.”
“Of course, husband, you have proof indeed of what I would have done.”
“Indeed.” He used the word frequently and would not stop though she mocked him.
“Rucha is your daughter and the musician was never my lover. You took his place.”
“I took my place,” he stepped forward, clamping his fingers around the bare skin of her upper arm. She had to crane her head to look him in the eye, he stood so close. She ground her teeth together and considered biting him. “I wore his skin but I took my place. Do you honestly believe I would ever let you get with child from another? You who know better than any of what I am capable?”
“You are clumsy with the Spirit of Change, how did you do it?”
He leaned down closer to her face. A menacing grin crossed his lips. “It is not much of a riddle.”
Raeche gasped. To say “riddle” within the borders of the Empire was a curse upon all of them. She shook her head, trying to think. “Taritana?”
“Indeed,” he repeated.
This Raeche had reasoned as well, especially after the Personal’s attempt at confession so many days ago. Taritana had been born and raised in the palace. Her loyalty and love had always belonged to the Emperor, despite the solemn pledge she had made to the Empress. The Personal to the Empress would have never made an overture or reached so far for her infatuation. Instead, she would perform her duty to the Empress with exactness. She would do as the Empress said… then she would relay any indiscretion at all that could challenge the Empire to the Emperor.
“I think I shall request that my sister lie in my bed when I take a knife to her throat.”
“You will not.”
“I can do as I like. She looks on you with excessive favor. I am Empress. It is important you remember that. Never forget. No one, to my borders and beyond, should forget. I am a beast, too, Lanus, and I desire my own blood-song.”
“Raeche.” His voice softened as it sometimes did. Sometimes he appealed to her and made her a weak woman. “I would never take Taritana and she would never be able to honor herself or her ancestors if she were to indulge in such a fantasy. Send her away if you like. Perhaps to her sister, Dahouina. I am certain after we gave that softling to Praytor that her sister and self-appointed protector would snap at the opportunity to ease Ina’s way. Although in that she would also be dishonored, I would have her live. I would ask that you do not dip your hands in her blood. She is a servant of the Empire.”
His words did not matter. Raeche did not have it in her to kill the woman. She had witnessed the heart of the Personal. Even with her intensely controlled anger toward the Empress, it remained pure.
The Empress did feel a modicum of guilt about Taritana’s sister. Raeche had not wanted to hasten Dahouina’s marriage to Praytor. She was neither oblivious to the Personal’s attempts at delaying the inevitable nor impervious to the suffering the softling would experience at Praytor’s hands. But she was the Empire and, until they could discreetly rid the girl of Praytor, this solution would have to do.
That settled, Raeche’s violence redirected to her husband. Her husband who stood so close that the sparks of Spirit tickled her skin and heated her body. Before he could pick the thought from her mind, she clutched his hair and pressed her mouth to his. She held tight, using her tongue to part his lips. She wanted him to lift her, press her against his body, carry her to the bed, or even the floor, and come inside her body. She wanted this more than she wanted to breathe.
The Empire (The Lover's Opalus) Page 6