Zoe Archer - [Ether Chronicles 03]

by Skies of Gold

  He stroked down the curve of her stomach, then lower. Her hips bucked when he found her wet and already opening for him. Some animal snarled, and he realized it was him. He caressed her, lightly at first, learning her intimate geography, and then as he learned more—how to circle her bud just so, how to rub against her entrance in just this way—confidence grew. Especially as she moaned and writhed, her mouth open against his.

  She always had a clever retort, a smart word, but now she made inarticulate sounds of pleasure as he palmed one of her breasts and stroked her pussy. Here, with him, she was free. They were free from the world together.

  He felt her body tightening. “Not yet,” he said, taking his hand away.

  She made a sound of protest. “Don’t turn away now. We’ve come so far together—”

  “And we’ll go farther.” He loved her gasp of surprise and excitement as he kissed his way down her body, stopping briefly to lick and suck her breasts, before continuing on downward.

  He folded himself back, kneeling between her legs. He bit lightly along the flesh of her thighs, scraping his teeth there as she shivered and moaned. And then he licked her pussy—one long, slick stroke. Again. And again.

  Goddamn me to a fiery hell, she’s delicious.

  He feasted. Discovered her every secret place. Took her clit between his lips and sucked. Her nails bit into his scalp as she held him in just the right spot, and the sting went straight to his cock.

  With a cry, she arched up, her body taut. He stayed exactly where he was, her climax filling him with hot radiance. But he wanted more. And he brought her to release another time. And another. His gaze was riveted to her face, watching her pleasure, seeing her unguarded for him alone.

  Pleasure was so much finer when it was shared.

  Her strength surprised him as she pushed his head away. “I don’t want to come again unless you’re inside me.”

  His already aching cock became an agony of want. “Bloody hell, yes,” he rasped.

  She reached behind her to grab the headboard, her breasts thrusting up with the movement. Climbing up her body, he was all shuddering need. When he’d positioned himself above her, his hands covering hers, their gazes met and held. They both kept their eyes open as he rubbed his cock along her folds, coating himself in her slickness. Neither looked away or closed their eyes as he placed himself at her entrance, and they stared into each other’s eyes as he thrust into her.

  They both cried out. She was tight and slick and everything perfect. All he wanted was to move, to thrust thick and deep, but it was a fact that Man O’ Wars were bigger than normal men, and a few of his comrades had complained that they’d caused women pain during lovemaking. So he held himself still, letting her adapt, praying he wasn’t hurting her too much.

  She winced slightly, and he started to pull his hips back.

  “Don’t you . . . dare,” she panted.

  “Won’t hurt you—”

  “A moment. That’s all I need.” Even as she spoke, he felt her soften around him, and the tightness in her face eased away. “Yes.”

  He could only growl his agreement. This was exactly where he needed to be. “Going to move now.”

  “Yes,” she breathed again.

  Kali felt him draw back slightly, then slide forward. Pleasure shot through her, from the top of her to the base of her spine, and every place in between. God, he was everywhere in her. His was big, yes, but his presence filled her entirely.

  His strokes went slowly at first, but as she gasped and moaned her encouragement, his pace increased. She took him. Every thrust, every glide.

  Sharp, exquisite sensation built, gathering force like a storm. And then it took her. She cried out once more in release. And then it was as if something within him broke free.

  His speed increased—his enhanced body moving faster than an ordinary man. He plunged into her, the whole bed shaking with the force of his thrusts. She felt herself awash in wild pleasure.

  Suddenly, there was a groaning sound. Something snapped. And then the bed frame broke, sending them crashing to the floor.

  She gasped, but he seemed too far gone to stop. And she didn’t want him to. A few more thrusts, and then his climax hit. She felt him pouring into her. He didn’t make a sound, as if too deep in sensation. Until, at last, he sank down beside her. He turned them so that he was still within her, their damp bodies pressed tightly together.

  For a long while, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All she knew was the aftermath of shared pleasure, and the feel of his body against hers, his breath warm against her face.

  He nuzzled her throat, and she hummed her enjoyment.

  “That was . . .” she murmured, “. . . worth the wait.”

  “Aye, it was.”

  “But let’s not wait so long to do it again,” she added.

  He chuckled. “Ten minutes, and I’m your man.” But there was no laughter in his voice when he said, “You’ve honored me.”

  She brushed damp strands of hair from his forehead. “We’ve honored each other.”

  They were quiet for a while, absorbing this. Then she said, “I’ll have to reinforce the bed with a thicker metal frame.”

  “Scavenge whatever you need from the ship. Take every last piece of metal if you have to. It’s a worthwhile sacrifice.”

  The only light in their quarters came from the clockwork cricket, its glass belly giving off a gentle glow. As Kali slept in his arms, her breathing warm and soft against his chest, he glanced over at the little automaton. A tiny North Star, that cricket. His guidance—or so he hoped.

  Nothing was certain, except the continuing gleam of pleasure echoing through his body, and the fullness in his heart. He and Kali had spent the day in their wrecked bed, learning each other, discovering constellations of sensation. Images flashed through his mind: him lying on his back as she knelt between his legs, his cock in her hand and in her mouth; her above him, breasts swaying and her head bent forward as she rode him; the gloss of sweat along the curve of her back as she gripped the twisted headboard while he took her from behind.

  It was as if they were trying to outrun something, their bodies pushing them on.

  He could’ve gone all night, each time stoking the furnace of his needs higher. And he could tell from the fire in her eyes that she wanted the same. But she didn’t have telumium implants feeding and fueling her strength. So when she fell into an exhausted slumber just before dusk, he let her sleep.

  His stomach growled. Roared, in truth. A whole day in bed, and not a crumb to eat. He hadn’t cared about or noticed his hunger when he and Kali had been tangled together. But in the peace that followed, his need for food was a beast that banged against its cage.

  So I’ll bloody starve. Better to stay in bed, with a soft and sated Kali wrapped around him, than rise and forage in the galley. As if even the smallest distance between them meant he’d return to what he had been before—removed, lifeless.

  She stirred. Her eyes still closed, she murmured, “Didn’t know there were wild dogs on the island.”

  “My stomach.”

  Her hand slid down to his belly, which twitched beneath her touch. “It’s a wonder you haven’t digested one of your internal organs. Poor ravenous Man O’ War.” Kali sat up, and pleasure warmed him when she didn’t bother pulling the blankets up to cover her breasts. She pressed a hand to her own stomach. It grumbled, too. “Time to feed the animals.”

  She started to rise, but he gently lay a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll bring it.”

  For a moment, he thought she might complain. Argue that she could get food for herself. But instead, she sank back down into the bed. “Juicy roast chicken, creamed spinach, pullao, matnacha rassa—don’t be gentle with the chilies—and a stack of naan. Oh, and a slice of chocolate tart.”

  He rose from the bed and stepped into a pair of loose trousers. He couldn’t get used to walking around naked, even when he’d been alone on the ship. “Cold p
heasant, wild bitter greens, and a handful of late bramble berries. They’ve gone a bit shriveled by this time in the season.”

  “It sounds like a feast.” But no sarcasm edged her voice. She seemed genuinely eager for whatever he brought. But he wished that he could bring her everything she asked for.

  He headed for the galley. Before he left his quarters, he stopped in the doorway to have another glimpse of her in his bed. The cricket didn’t provide much illumination. Still, his vision was strong, allowing him to see her, loose-limbed and comfortable, sprawled in the blankets. Warmth engulfed him—a woman waiting for him in his bed was a rare event. More than rare. It hadn’t ever happened. And it was all the better that the woman waiting for him was Kali.

  Yet he caught the slight frown between her brows as she stared out the window. Maybe her body had been sated, but her mind wasn’t at ease. Something troubled her.

  That specter of trouble followed him all the way down the passageway and into the galley, where he gathered up as much food as he could scrounge. Had he not been enough of a tender lover in the wake of their lovemaking? Should he have whispered poetry instead of telling her about their Spartan provisions? Damn it, he’d never really learned the way of women. Emily had found his clumsiness charming—until she didn’t. And the idea of ruining what he and Kali shared twisted in his gut like a hot iron.

  A broken plank served as a tray, which he carried back to his quarters, piled with all the food he’d been able to find. It almost surprised him to discover her still in bed. He lit a lamp as he entered the cabin.

  She sat up at his approach. He seated himself on the bed and balanced the plank on his legs.

  “Never been so glad to see dried up old berries,” she said, and quickly popped a few of them into her mouth.

  He took a bite of pheasant. Sailors were seldom fussy about what they ate, happy to have any edible food at all, and that hadn’t changed for him when he became a Man O’ War. The pheasant might be cold, and a little tough, but it tasted like manna. “The ferryman should be coming back soon with new provisions.”

  The frown returned between her brows. “Two weeks, I think. Time’s gone all muddled since I’ve come to the Persephone.” Her frown eased slightly. “I suppose I’ve been . . . occupied.”

  “There’s a calendar in the navigator’s room. We’ll give that a study.” He handed her a pheasant leg. “He’ll be worried if you don’t show. Might even have a look around the island.” Which couldn’t happen. “We should get back to fixing up your cottage.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “So that’s the way of it. Bed me then send me packing.”

  “If the ferryman sees your ruined cottage,” Fletcher said through his teeth, “he’ll know you don’t live there. Then he’ll wonder where you do live.”

  “And we can’t have that,” she murmured.

  His unwavering gaze told her exactly what he thought of that idea. But then he glanced around his quarters. “This is where I want you. Not in your cottage.”

  “It’s certainly more spacious here.” Yet despite her words, she reached across the plank holding their food and took his hand. Though they’d spent the whole of the day making love, this simple touch made his heart pound. “The company’s awfully pleasant, too,” she added with a smile.

  He snorted. “First time anyone’s called me pleasant.”

  “Maddening, then,” she corrected herself. Her mouth curved. “And marvelous.”

  They both leaned across the plank to meet for a kiss. She tasted of berries—both sweet and tart. Apt.

  Silence fell as they continued eating. Both of them were too hungry to pause for caresses, or any of those things he imagined lovers did when sharing a meal in bed, like feeding each other. Did he miss it? He’d never known that kind of after-sex play. But this quiet and matter-of-fact sating of their hunger seemed right to him. They weren’t typical, he and Kali. And he’d only feel clumsy and awkward if he’d tried to play the part of expert seducer. She didn’t seem to expect it, either. She knew him.

  A strange feeling crept over him. For half a moment, he’d wondered if the berries he’d picked had fermented, because his mind and body felt muted, quiet. He felt at ease in himself. Comfortable. He could taste all the flavors of the food. He saw the lamplight gleam on Kali’s skin, in her hair and eyes.

  Each breath in and out felt revelatory, as if he only just realized that he was alive.

  Was this contentment? Happiness? He’d little experience with either to know. But he’d never felt as right as he did at that moment. Everything in alignment.

  It was her. Kali the engineer.

  They finished their meal too quickly. He set aside the plank. It wasn’t enough food, and his stomach still complained when the last of the berries had been eaten. No one had ever tested if a Man O’ War could starve to death, consumed from the inside out by his body’s demands for fuel. Would he find out? And did it matter?

  He glanced at Kali as she licked her fingers, trying to savor the smallest bit of their meal.

  It does matter.

  Kali watched his face, the shifting play of emotions that he no longer hid from her.

  “You must miss it,” she said. “Flying.”

  “Didn’t think I would.”

  “But our jaunt changed your mind.”

  “It’s . . . nothing feels like it. Not the fastest train or riding high in the main course yard as a ship cuts through the water.” He shook his head. “Can’t describe it. That’s for poets, not Man O’ Wars.”

  She didn’t need his words. Longing shone in his eyes, the kind of yearning one felt for a lost lover. Perhaps Fletcher had forgotten how much he loved her still—the skies—but their dawn outing was like catching a glimpse of that lover years later and finding her as beautiful as ever.

  “I could make the Persephone airworthy again,” she murmured.

  He stared at her. “There’s ether, but the turbines are cracked off so we couldn’t move once we’re airborne. She’s wrecked.”

  “Not entirely. I’ve been studying the ship these past weeks. The things she needs to fly weren’t completely ruined in the crash. Including the turbines. We’d lose the bottom decks, but it wouldn’t take much—a few days at most—to get her operational.”

  “I’m staying,” he said. “The moment I’m back in the sky, the navy will know. And I’ll be back to destroying lives again.”

  “Fletcher,” she said firmly, “I saw it. I was there in Liverpool. You don’t bring destruction. You bring safety.”

  “I . . .” He scowled, looking away.

  Her heart beat thickly in her chest. Here she was offering him a way off the island, and though the possibility had existed before, now he could leave on his terms—not as a means of death, but a protector of life.

  He glanced back at her. For a moment, yearning gleamed brightly in his gaze, then dimmed. “No. This is where I’ll stay.”

  Strangely, relief unknotted between her ribs. She could live on Eilean Comhachag without him—that had been the plan from the beginning—but even if they finished the repairs on her cottage, made it more efficient and modern than ever, the thought of not having him nearby, not hearing his voice and his bone-dry humor, not seeing him each day . . . The thought made her insides wither.

  She only wished there was some way that he could learn to see himself as he truly was.

  “I’ll hunt rabbit tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve been hunting mostly pheasants since you’ve been aboard, but I need to keep their population steady, so rabbits it is.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Fletcher’s heart kicked. She’d never offered to accompany him before, always busy with her inventions and projects. “You wouldn’t like it.”

  “A little blood doesn’t scare me. I butchered those rabbits you brought me.”

  “Notice anything about the carcasses?”

  She frowned. “They seemed like normal rabbits to me. I’ve never studied animal anatomy, but they a
ppeared to have had the regular compliment of muscles, organs and bones. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “the bones that comprised their necks seemed odd. They faced a different direction than the spine.”

  He held up his hands. “These are my weapons when I kill them. Even with the ether deactivated on the rifles, the bullets are too powerful. They’d shred the poor beast and leave us with nothing edible. I had to find another way to hunt them.”

  A little color drained from her face. “You break their necks.”

  “It’s fast,” he said quickly. “They don’t suffer. But it’s the only way. Don’t think you want to watch me snapping rabbits’ necks.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay on the ship,” she continued, “or we could fish.”

  “Fish don’t stay fresh as long as rabbit or pheasant.”

  “I’ve been working on plans for a refrigeration unit,” she said, “powered by the ship’s batteries. Mind, it won’t be small. Probably take up a third of the gunnery deck. But we’d have fresh food for a sight longer than we do now.”

  The mechanics that made him extraordinary had been someone else’s invention, same with the construction of his ship. Yet Kali’s intellect continued to astound him.

  He liked her use of the word we, as well.

  Unaware of his thoughts, she continued, “It’ll take some doing to get the refrigeration apparatus functioning before Campbell returns to resupply me. And there’s the cottage to fix up.” Her gaze turned distant as she thought of all the tasks that lay before her.

  A thought had been eating at him like a slow-acting acid. “Your arrangement with Campbell—it has a finite date.”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “I never settled on one.”

  He exhaled.

  “But, Fletcher,” she reached across the distance between them, and interlaced their fingers, and her eyes were dark and too damned sad, “this isn’t permanent. There will come a day when I go back with Campbell.”

  “Go back.” He felt the gears of his own mind grind to a stop. The words she spoke sounded like another language. He tried to translate them into words that made sense, but even when they did make sense, they made no sense at all. “You’re leaving.”