“You have no idea what I went through to get in here.” Below the billowing white hood, her eyes misted over. “I’m willing to do anything to be with you, yet you can’t wait to throw your life away.”
“Farjika, be reasonable. Your father will never forgive me. But if I throw myself upon his mercy and give him a target for his justifiable rage, you can be with Lorren and Errion.” It was the best possible outcome, but she refused to see reason.
Her eyes met his with a stunned expression that broke his heart. “I thought you were my hero.”
Not unkindly, he laughed. “I’m standing naked in a cell and you think I’m a hero?”
She stepped forward. He would have backed away, but there was nowhere for him to go. Placing her hand over his heart, she whispered, “You’re not my hero because of how you look, or where you are, but because of who you are.” Ernest eyes met his. “Even this, your willingness to take on all the blame, is heroic.” She paused for a heartbeat. “Asinine, but heroic nonetheless.”
He offered a bemused smile and placed his hand over hers. Her hand was so warm, her skin soft. This close he smelled her lust below the male cologne she’d tried to disguise that luscious scent with.
“What I am is a failure.” Those were almost the exact words that Roland had used to taunt him. Sighing, Gabriyel released her and sat on the bed. “I failed as your captain, as a guard.”
“You said that you loved me.”
He couldn’t meet her gaze. “I do.” He could never convey to her how much he loved her. To give her some type of peace in her life, he was willing to sacrifice himself so she could be with Lorren and Errion.
“Then show me.”
“How?”
“Fight for me. Face my father with your head held high. Tell him you had no choice, that Lorren—”
“But I did have a choice.” He stood and grasped her shoulders, marveling at the silky feel of the robe against her skin. “I could have fought then, and I didn’t.”
“You did what I begged you to do. If you hadn’t, the energy would have killed me.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I know that.”
The urge to crush her against his chest and kiss her grew unbearable.
“If you won’t fight for me, then fight for our child.”
His breath caught. Lowering his gaze to her belly, he shook his head. This was a trick to make him do what she wanted. “You couldn’t know, not yet. I’m not a fool. I know it’s far too soon to tell.” When his gaze met hers, he saw the truth as he felt it in her mind and her energy. “Oh gods.”
Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding his face to the spot just below her belly button. This close he could feel the energy shifting, swirling protectively around the child growing within. Gabriyel prayed to every god that he could think of to protect his child. He didn’t have to ask how she knew the babe was his. Once he touched the energy signature, he knew without a doubt.
Farjika stroked her fingers through his hair. “I need you to fight, Gabriyel. Not just for me, not just for our son, but for all of us.” Cupping his chin, she urged him to look up. “We need each other. I don’t know why this happened, but I know there’s a reason.” Carefully she pulled him to his feet. “All of us must be together to protect him, to teach him.”
Gabriyel felt that truth right down to his bones. But a far more terrifying truth hit him. “You can’t tell your father.”
“What?”
“It won’t make him change his mind. It will make things worse.”
Farjika shook her head. “It will make him see—”
“That you carry an illegitimate son of a slave.”
Her face blanched.
“I’m not your consort. Even if your father relents and forgives me, our son will never be legitimate. It wouldn’t surprise me if he pressured you to get rid—”
“Don’t say it!” She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. “My father isn’t a monster. He would never hurt a child.”
“If our son poses a risk to the empire, Drahka might not have any choice.”
Clearly, Farjika had thought their child was her secret weapon, but now she realized the potential liability. Usually a child was a blessed event, but for a woman destined to become the empress, her children’s origins were thoroughly and painstakingly scrutinized.
This time when she sought his embrace, he didn’t turn away. Wrapping her up into his arms, he wished he could make it all disappear: all her fear, her worry, her pain. He wanted to be what she wanted of him, to be her hero, to save the day. But he didn’t see how that was possible. What could he say or do to sway her father? He had nothing to offer Farjika other than himself.
In the midst of their shared tragedy, her lips found his, hungry and desperate for comfort, which he gave even though the solace was fleeting. Parting her robe revealed that she wore nothing below. He cupped one breast, then the other, loving the weight and the feel of such perfectly formed flesh against his palms. To have her once was a great boon, but twice was surely greedy.
Reverently, he laid her down upon the bed, his hands and lips determined to touch all of her. He thought Lorren would be his last lover, but the gods were kind and allowed him a final night with the mother of his child.
The bed was small, but they didn’t mind as they laughed and maneuvered together, her helping him kneel between her thighs. Slick, the lips of her sex were wet with need, and he plunged his tongue within, loving her taste, branding it forever upon himself. Sweet and responsive, she moaned and writhed below him, her hands gently guiding his head as her energy pulsed with his.
With his lips, teeth and tongue, he worshiped her body, coaxing her climax to rise higher until the energy reached a certain pitch. At that moment, he rose up and plunged his cock within, watching her eyes widen and her arms fly up to embrace him. With a flick of his pubic bone against her body, she came, her cunt gripping around his shaft, clinging as her legs embraced his hips. He waited for the last quivers to fade away before he began to move.
Balanced above her on his elbows, he peered down into her face, loving the way her lips parted as she gasped when he went fully deep. Each time he slid back, she drew in a breath, her anticipation of the next plunge almost palpable.
Hot and smooth, her calves wrapped around his hairy legs, warming him against the cold air. His chill fled as he continued his measured thrusts, loving the way her body gave below his. She was soft where he was hard. The contrast of his massive body above her smaller one filled him with masculine pride.
The beast was there, as it always was, but sensing their terrible pain, it had retreated, allowing them a peaceful interlude without his frantic clamors for dominance.
Touching the astle robe below her, he smiled. “I always pictured you below me on astle bedding.”
“White?” she asked playfully.
“Crimson. No color brings out your stunning beauty better.”
Her hands slid up his arms, gripping the muscles that held him in solid determination over her form. When she reached his shoulders, she sighed and lifted up to kiss him, her hands merging at the back of his neck, pulling so she could plunder his mouth with her tongue.
He tasted her tears and kissed them away, shushing her sobs with soft words whispered in her ear. He didn’t ask why she was crying, because he knew. Like him, she feared this was the last time for them, and the thought broke her heart.
“Don’t think about tomorrow. Only think about now, this moment. Be here with me.” He looked right into her eyes, and she determinedly looked up at him. “No one can ever take this moment away from us.”
She nodded, catching his rhythm, working her body in motion with his. Slowly the energy built, pushing against their skin, seeking that moment of merging. Denying the power took tremendous effort, but Gabriyel was determined to make this moment count. He wanted to love her with his body, not just mate with her to seek climax. Right now,
he didn’t care if he never came. Having her below him, her eyes shining and her breath hot against his skin, her hands delicately gripping him, holding him as if she would never let go, was better than any orgasm he’d ever known. But like all good things, the moment came to an end.
Nearing the crest, she wrapped her body around his. Her sleek thighs tightened against his waist, her calves rode up until she pressed them against his buttocks, urging him on, compelling him to thrust deeper with each stroke.
Rocking harder into her, his leisurely pace increasing, his body tensed, the energy reached the peak, and with one hard thrust, he came. The intensity of his climax rendered him blind as he clung to her, kissing her lips, her face, her neck. All he was in that shining moment was a man in love entwined with the woman who had forever captured his soul. He called out to the gods as the jetting tide burned with energy. All the power he’d built up sought the only outlet—right through the tip of his penis.
Farjika took the influx with a strangled cry. To stifle her howls, she bit down on his shoulder as she clamped her entire body so tightly around him he almost couldn’t breathe. Flowing back and forth, the energy found the balance it sought and released them from torment as the last of their shudders faded away.
“I feel different,” Farjika said.
Her voice sound faint, and he lifted up, afraid that he’d crushed her. Assessing his own body, he too felt…different. He couldn’t pinpoint any specifics. All he knew was that something had changed. Something basic and fundamental about him was completely different, but he had no idea what.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lorren sighed as he looked about his prison. Glistening gray metal walls covered with interesting artworks were the perfect backdrop to the sleek chrome furniture, bolted to the floor, of course, but hardly pedestrian. For a prison, it had more amenities than most homes on Avalith.
Apparently, he and Errion were in custody, but they were not to be treated as hardened criminals. According to the envoy presented to him, Lorren would be afforded every convenience except, of course, his freedom. The decorative door was firmly locked. Two burly guards stood at attention outside his room. Should he manage to open the door, the muscle-bound men would kindly push him right back inside. The envoy said they would appoint him a protocol liaison, their version of a barrister, once he reached Diola. While at the palace, he, like Errion, would be kept in isolation, but not in a prison cell. Frankly, it all sounded no worse than a forced vacation. All his lands, accounts, and holdings would reside in trust until his return. Lorren would lose nothing but time. Well, that and probably the woman of his dreams.
Knowing that in all probability he would lose Farjika ate at Lorren. If he could go back in time, he wondered if he would do things any differently. Somehow, he didn’t think he would, even knowing the outcome. Everything that had happened had happened for a reason. The connection he felt with his three lovers was unlike anything he’d known before. The bond left him with a secure inner peace. All those feelings of meaninglessness that had pushed him for turns were gone. In the strangest way, he felt fulfilled. Content even. But he knew if they didn’t solve this dilemma with Farjika’s father, his despair would return. Lorren shivered. He couldn’t stand to go back to that emptiness that gnawed at his soul.
The level of luxury that surrounded him would have infuriated his father. Master D’Buren would have wanted him in chains, wallowing in filth, forced to eat food of dubious origins as larger prisoners bandied him about like a toy. Sighing, Lorren plucked an oddly textured fruit from a decorative bowl. He sat on the couch, sniffing at the item, trying to determine what it was. It smelled good, spicy and pungent. Realizing he wasn’t hungry, he tossed it back into the bowl and stood.
What Gabriyel said earlier evidently was true. He and Errion would not really be punished. They would get a slap to the face, a time away from home, all as a token chastisement to caution others. Abducting and defiling the daughter of the empress was a vile crime, but Gabriyel would suffer the public punishment, while he and Errion would be mildly inconvenienced. Without even touching the man’s mind, Lorren knew Gabriyel’s cell was not so richly appointed. Whether Lorren liked it or not, Gabriyel would be held to task for everything that had happened to Farjika, when he and Errion were the real perpetrators. Letting another man suffer, or worse, be executed for his crimes, was appalling.
Lorren paced across the thickest carpet he’d ever felt below his bare feet. There had to be a way to save him. Without Gabriyel, their quaternity was doomed. Oddly, Lorren had never been faced with a crushing moral issue. All his life he’d done what he wanted when he wanted with little repercussion. This pricked his conscience. How ironic that when he was finally held to task for his wrongdoing, another man would pay.
Feeling dirty inside and out, Lorren stripped off his clothing and headed toward what they called a basin. Again, everything he could ever need filled the bathroom. Fluffy towels, a variety of personal products… There were even shaving devices to whisk hair off any part of his body. To punish himself, he took the coldest shower he could, washed with the harshest soap, and didn’t bother to shave. How this would help, he didn’t know, but a little suffering eased that nagging squeal from his rusty conscience.
Lorren could remember only one time of deep regret. When the domination scene had gone wrong and his brutal lashing had drawn blood. The woman assured him she was fine, even begged Errion repeatedly for an encore, but Lorren refused because he feared what the beast inside him was capable of. Never had he deliberately injured another. All the rough-and-tumble sex between him and Errion was mutual. Repeatedly throughout their encounters, they checked in with each other to ensure they didn’t go too far. But this, this had gone beyond too far. This was such a mess he didn’t know where to start cleaning it up.
Perhaps if he simply explained matters to Farjika’s father, he could repair all the damage. Although, telling a man what he’d done to his daughter might make things far worse for all of them. What man wanted to hear those types of things done to his child? Lorren shook his head, flinging water as he did so. There had to be a better way. Still, he had to speak up. He couldn’t let Gabriyel take the fall for all of them.
He heard the whisk of metal against metal as the main door slid open. Wrapping a snug gray towel around his hips, he entered the central room, expecting to see the stoop-shouldered envoy. Instead, someone swaddled head to toe in a gleaming white robe stood in the center of the room.
“I’ve come to offer you absolution.”
Lorren almost leapt out of his skin. Farjika’s voice touched so deep into him, it was as if she stroked his soul. Without hesitation, he rushed to her, spun her around, and planted a possessive kiss on her luscious berry lips.
He pushed back her hood to run his hands through her hair, loving the way the silky strands slipped through his fingers. Her hair was still slightly damp, and he knew she’d showered shortly before she arrived. Hungrily, she kissed him back, her tongue sliding wantonly against his as she reached for his towel. When the damn thing caught on his rising erection, he winced. Yanking the towel away with a flourish, he tossed it aside, then pressed himself against her.
Slick fabric carried the heat of her body to his, warming him from his cold shower. When she shimmied, his cock eagerly sought the entrance of her robe. With a hand to his chest, she stepped back. Holding his gaze, she opened her robe and let it glide to the floor. His eyes ate her up. Dressed she was a goddess, but nudity pushed her beyond divine and into something that he could not name.
“What is higher than a goddess?” he asked, tracing his finger around her hardening nipple.
“I do not know.” She arched her back, displaying her perfect breasts to him. “Does it matter?”
He shook his head, pulled her to him, and buried his cock between her thighs. Her heat engulfed him as he slid against her smooth flesh. Longing to bury himself inside, he also wanted to wait, to build up to that moment until they were bot
h crazed with desire. A hundred questions poured through his mind—how she had gotten in here, how the others were, what plan did she have, if any. But none of them came out of his mouth. He was too grateful to have her in his arms again to pelt her with questions that she could answer later.
Casting his gaze about for the bed, he found a sleekly designed mattress covered with dozens of puffy pillows. He lifted her into his arms, carried her to it and then gently settled her against the cool gray. Her black eyes and hair contrasted beautifully as her caramel skin offered a respite from the chill.
Lying beside her, he pulled her into his arms, unable to speak as he kissed her entire body from head to toe. He didn’t want to miss anything, as he feared this would be his last time with her. Rolling her to her belly, he kissed her back, then grabbed her spectacular buttocks firmly in his hands. When he lifted and parted them, she gave a shocked sigh as he breathed hotly against her puckered flesh.
“Take me there.”
Just the thought of plunging his prick between the glorious mounds of her bottom had his cock so hard it hurt. He left her on the bed for a moment, searching through the bathroom for something to ease his way. When he found a suitable lube, he returned to the bed, pleased to see that Farjika had plumped several pillows below her hips, lifting her bottom to a perfect height.
Draping her legs on either side of his, he knelt behind her, lowered his face and teased his tongue around the sensitive skin of her bottom. Clean flesh, lightly perfumed by soap, encouraged him to flick his tongue all along the cleft. Stunned surprise and wanton encouragement filled her moans. Knowing that she had never been touched in such a way heightened his pleasure. Errion had teased the tip of his prick to her, but he’d not tongued that sweet, dark passage.
Lorren spread her cheeks wider, loving the way his paler hands looked against her rounded bottom, the way she quivered in anticipation. Circling his tongue around and around had her squirming against the pillows. When he glanced down, he saw she’d maneuvered her hand between her legs to tease her clit in rhythm with his movements.
Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5 Page 25