Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1)

by YatesNZ, Jen

He was so close she could touch him. She wished he'd step back into the shaft of light, give her a chance to capture the illusive vision of a warrior carved in crystal that hovered on the edge of her consciousness. She was desperate to reach out and touch the broad, glistening pectorals, the square, stubble-shadowed jaw. Yet all she could do was sink lower into the water and fold her arms across her breasts like a virgin novice at her first Life Studies classes—and stare.

  And give thanks that she no longer had a maidenhead to protect with her life.

  ‘Thanking you for your gift of life to the Golden Stallion. Seeking you out as you knew I must.’

  One black brow hooked roguishly above the emerald glint of his eyes and the mouth, which a moment before had been taut with anger, softened into a seductive smile.

  ‘How did you know where I'd be?’ she asked sharply, unwilling to address the suggestion of their attunement or let him guess the power of the excitement that gripped her.

  ‘The priestess Delida who was watching over Go' directed me here. She said it was a favorite place with you. I'm glad you chose to come here this morning, Golden One. It's the perfect setting for us.’

  Golden One. The husky undertones of his voice riffled over her skin, warm as the caress of a lover's breath. A harsh inner voice of reason reminded her Taur of Nyalda was a warrior and Son of the Dragon Beyond Compare. As such he was no woman's lover, nor ever would be. May he never know the stupid longings of her woman’s heart.

  ‘Why have you come?’

  Please Ist, he'd not heard the pain in her voice.

  ‘Did you not know I would come to you?’

  Hoped perhaps, but know?

  ‘D'naa. Why should I think you'd do that?’ she asked, struggling to inject a note of hauteur into her voice. He could so easily breach her defenses but she'd not fawn over him as other women did.

  With a knowing smile, he ducked under the water, gripped her knees and slid his hands up her thighs. Before she could react he came out of the water with a quick toss of his long black hair and clasped her shoulders. Eyes glowing green and flecked with black and gold held her startled gaze.

  ‘We have unfinished business, you and I, Golden One.’

  An insidious trembling began deep in her belly. Swiftly permeating the whole of her being, it stole any answer she might have made. She could only gaze with helpless envy at the water running down his chest and the silvery droplets clinging to his spiked black lashes.

  ‘I know your need as I know my own. Your skin is hot, your eyes glow, your blood surges for me,’ he murmured, thumbing the leaping pulse at the base of her throat. ‘No matter how you try to deny it, the truth is, you burn for me.’

  Arrogant arabo! She should close her ears but he'd walk into her mind. In the power of his presence she couldn't remember one lesson on how to block unwanted communication.

  She should close her eyes—but she could not.

  His visage was a harsh and noble sculpture that despite its swarthy cast, declared him a Son of the Dragon as clearly as the tattoo above his right breast. The same tattoo which marked her a Daughter of the Dragon—bound, as was he, by the Edict of their illustrious grandfather, the late King Isidor.

  Needing to rebuild a populace decimated by war, natural disaster and pestilence, and believing his own person to be the blueprint for a perfect humanity, Isidor had re-written the ancient Atlantean laws of ‘vibrational breeding'. By the old law, if a couple's vibrations didn't match, a sire was contracted for their child whose vibration matched that of the mother. In this way they ensured their children every chance of being balanced and harmonious souls.

  Isidor, whose stature, fair visage, intelligence, and virility were unmatched by any in the land, modified the old law to ensure those who bore his desirable genes were recognized by the mark of the Dragon, crystal-lasered above their right breast. His male issue were deemed to carry the most desirable vibration for breeding with any Paggi woman and it became law that all Paggi children henceforth would be of the bloodline of Isidor. The siring services of these men were in such demand they had little need to contract a permanent union with any woman. As was said of the legendary prowess of Isidor himself, their sexual stamina was phenomenal. They earned the right to arrogance.

  Struggling to retain a grip on her own pride Gynevra was nevertheless unable to prevent herself wondering how many more times ‘Asar’ had managed to join with ‘Ist’ after she herself had been called away to the Healing Temple, and was helpless to control the stain of envy discoloring her soul.

  Her eyes were like pools of molten gold. How was it he'd never noticed her? She must have attended every DragonBlood Festival since her birth yet he didn't remember ever seeing her. Admittedly she'd have been heavily chaperoned to protect her valuable virginity from the rapacious likes of himself and his Dragon brothers. But he still couldn't conceive that he wouldn't have noticed the deeply sensual, golden promise of Gynevra of Poseidonia.

  Then again, perhaps it was as well he hadn't. Who knew what danger he might've courted had his torch been lit for her before her virginity was expended according to Temple dictate? He'd never before wanted one woman above any other. Had never looked at a woman and ached with a need he knew could not be slaked by one night on an altar. Nor had he ever experienced a mind-connection of such ease and clarity with anyone, let alone at a first meeting.

  She touched his inner being in a way that downright scared him, in a way that felt absolutely right yet which he knew to be terribly wrong. A Son of the Dragon, a King, a mighty warrior could never allow or admit to fear of anything, least of all a woman. But fear he did the way he felt when he looked into her eyes. Even more did he fear what he felt when he thought of the aging Magus of Oralin using her perfect virgin body to heal his failing virility.

  Awash in the golden perfection of her he simply forgot she was bound to the Temple as Archinus Elect, and as such could be sacred partner to no man. She made him forget who he was, what was expected of him. Made him want more than any self-respecting DragonBlood sire would dream of wanting.

  One woman for his alone. Her dependence, her fidelity.

  Her—love.

  Love! He was no peasant! Cloaba! He'd do what he'd come to do. Quench the fire she'd lit in his vitals when their eyes met across the Sacred Pool, give her a pace-stick by which to measure every other arabo who'd join with her after him, and leave with heart and mind as unmoved as before he'd first seen her golden beauty outshine all others.

  He'd start by answering the stark question in her mind she couldn't hide from his ennead abilities.

  ‘Four. Seven in all. An historical feat outside of the intense vibration of the city of Fyr Trephyr. Even our illustrious grandfather didn't match that.’

  He waited for the punch of pride to his gut as he watched her teeth grind into her full lower lip, her eyes dilate and breasts heave as her breathing became shallow and ragged. Instead, the fire that had smoldered and seethed unquenched in his loins throughout the long Night of the Gods reached molten point. He wanted her, needed her, as desperately as if he'd been celibate for months. Far from being proud of his performance this night, he was deeply concerned. That Ianthe had steeped an especially strong brew of huoda, he didn't doubt, but he also feared that the golden grace of this woman contained a kind of sorcery for him alone.

  ‘Keep—out—of—my—mind.’

  If it was only her mind he craved!

  ‘And your body?’

  Unable to hold back any longer he drew her to her feet and held her at arm's length, allowing the lissome DragonBlood perfection of her to taunt his senses. He dwarfed most women but the top of Gynevra of Poseidonia’s head came to just above his chin. Cloabad if he wasn't trembling! He'd never trembled for a woman in his life—and she stood waist-deep in water, only half exposed to his rabid gaze.

  Slowly he closed the gap between their bodies, his hands caressing the curve of her shoulders to circle her slender neck. Fingers applying a gentle pressu
re to the nape, thumbs caressing the line of her jaw, he watched her smoky amber eyes drift shut, and smiled. She felt it too, this energy which flowed between them with the pulsing power of a fire crystal.

  ‘Your body is desperate for my possession. I came as soon as I could.’

  Flaming amber eyes glared into his.

  ‘You come straight from another woman's body and you expect—you imagine—! You great fladred doabra!’ she hissed, gold sparks of fury dancing in her eyes.

  He relished her anger, the promise of a passion to match his own. The dynamics between them had already proved super-charged. If they could reach such spiritual heights together, what might they achieve on the physical?

  ‘Fladred for you, Golden One,’ he murmured huskily. ‘You were with me the first time. Words can't describe how it was.’ A fine tremor overtook her body and he gently traced the arch of her brows with his thumbs. ‘I never achieved that incredible nirvana of the senses again. I know not where we went. Out of body, out of mind, an ecstasy beyond understanding, a vision of wonders beyond belief. You denied me the ecstasy after that, Golden One. But never have I been more Godly—because of my desire for you. I crave that ecstasy again.’

  Sweet Ist, ta’a.

  ‘I hear your thought, Gynevra. It but echoes my own.’

  ‘Will you stop doing that?’ Shock rang through her voice. Even he was confounded by the clarity of the connection. It was as if she spoke her thoughts directly into his mind and he into hers. ‘I can't—I won't.’

  Her voice had dropped to scarce a whisper though tremulous fingers creeping over the bunching muscle of his upper arms belied the negatives. She'd succumbed to the need to touch him. His skin shimmered beneath her fingertips and his blood pulsed even more painfully into his loins.

  ‘Too late, Golden One. I heard the truth from your mind.’

  ‘How can you,’ she murmured, her skin coloring with confusion, ‘when you've already—seven times—?’

  Seven or twenty-seven, he thought, it'd make no difference. He needed her, only her, now. Sliding one arm behind her shoulders, the other across her hips, he molded her body to his. Cronos! She fitted so perfectly against him.

  ‘You think I can't yet again?’ he demanded, thrusting his arousal against her belly. ‘This is how I've been since I saw you at the Sacred Pool. I've this terrible premonition that having known you with my eyes, mind and spirit, if I don't know you with my body, I'll be like this to eternity.’

  Lowering his hands to cup her deliciously rounded buttocks, he drew her upwards over the rigidity of his desire until her lips were a whisper from his and her arms slipped round his neck. At last her body relaxed into the hardness of his and the doubt and anger faded from her eyes. Gold-tipped lashes lifted and the smolder of raw topaz seared like an arrow of flame to his gut.

  ‘I hunger for that knowledge of you also. Take me to the stars again,’ she begged in a soft, husky voice.

  With a moan, deep and visceral, he took her mouth.

  ‘Apricots. I knew you'd taste of apricots. Your skin's so smooth it even feels golden. Holy Cronos, I want you!’

  Caressing, tasting, he sought every sweet moist crevice. After this, he determined, she'd know her joining with Yazid for the empty ritual it was in comparison.

  ‘Can you die of this?’

  ‘Don't even think about dying now, woman!’

  ‘Come,’ he commanded gruffly, pulling his mouth from hers and lifting her from the water. ‘I want to see you, touch you, taste you. Fill you with my life force. Seed a baby Dragon in your belly.’

  He laid her back on the soft moss at the edge of the pool. In her eyes he saw the ambivalence of her desire to carry his child tangled with an instant rejection. By the time his lust-fogged brain had remembered she was, to all intents, Archinus Elect and that it would be dangerous for them both if he were to impregnate her outside Temple ritual, she'd regained her powers of speech.

  ‘T’is just as well then that I've not had my crystal fertility protection reversed.’

  He stilled, then softly exhaled.

  ‘Ta’a, it is. You're dangerous to my well-being, Gynevra of Poseidonia.’

  Cloabad dangerous! He'd best protect his thoughts from her. She had the power to steal his mind, to make him want things he'd never dreamed of wanting before and forget things a man should remember if he valued his life.

  His gaze swept down her body. What was it about this woman above all others that had the power to touch his soul?

  She was beautiful but there were myriad other beautiful women in Atlantis, many of whom he had served as a contract sire. Why this woman? Was it her feral golden eyes? Her river-fall of gleaming bronze curls? The sleek apricot-suede of her skin or the perfect upward thrust of firm full breasts? Was it none of these, but more the fire burning within her, a fire he recognized and responded to? Had his soul recognized its spiritual mate?

  That thought jolted him back into the physicality of the moment as nothing else could. A King, a warrior, a Son of the Dragon, as none of these could he acknowledge a spiritual mate. He could never promise his all to just one woman. Unleashing the full power of his smoldering green gaze on her he was gratified by the tide of color staining the high slanted cheekbones.

  ‘Thank you for reminding me life is sweet, Golden One. Only a fool would sacrifice it for a moment in one woman's arms.—But truly, you were fashioned by the hands of the great Ra himself and I care not whether you're fertile. Only that I plough your field so deep the furrows can never be erased,’ he growled, lowering his head to her breast.

  He'd never known a sweeter, more spontaneous response. Her shoulders thrust up from the ground as if begging him to devour her bodily. Her hands tangled in the wet, ropes of his hair, holding him against her. Her hips arched upwards seeking the connection his own body craved. The words from her mind almost stole his control.

  ‘Sweet Ist! Will you enter me?’

  ‘Not yet, my beautiful golden sorceress. We are not constrained here by the laws of the altar. I have much pleasure to give you first. I intend taking you to paradise.’

  Lifting his head to let his gaze linger on the naked banquet of her spread beneath him, he groaned aloud.

  ‘Cronos! I dreamed of this moment all night. The reality is way beyond imagining.’

  And it was, but he'd not rush it. Not only was this moment free of ritual, it was not an altar performance where the virility and stamina of the Rafid were the measure of his Godliness. This moment, to his mind, was a much greater test of his manhood, than any he'd ever faced. Gynevra of Poseidonia deserved something from him he'd never given any other. With this woman he'd touched souls in a profound and moving way. With the same power and beauty at least, should their bodies join.

  His hands molded the full upward thrust of her breasts and his arousal pressed hungrily against her lower belly. He felt the heat of her desire, the beat of it echoing deep in his loins. If there had been a moment when she'd thought to deny him, she'd forgotten it now.

  ‘You make my mouth water for apricots. Golden. Succulent.’

  Dipping his head again, he kissed and caressed his way down her body. Reaching her woman's mound, he pressed his lips deeply into it. Soft moans and husky cries emanated from her throat and her body writhed against his mouth with an abandonment that threatened to turn his blood to steam.

  Lifting his head he slid a finger through the dark golden curls at the vee of her thighs. ‘Open your eyes, Golden One. Let me see you burn for me.’

  ‘Please,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Taur, please—’

  ‘Open your eyes,’ he commanded softly.

  He watched her struggle to comply. It was as if her eyelids were weighted but at last her shimmering topaz gaze was fixed on his. He pressed his fingers into the core of her and almost lost himself in the power of her response.

  ‘Tau—ur,’ she moaned, thrusting her hips imploringly upwards. ‘Sweet Hyades, ple-ease—’

  ‘Tell me
what you want,’ he murmured, leaning forward to cover her trembling mouth with his. Small hungry moans issued from the back of her throat as her mouth opened for him while her hips continued to buck against his plundering fingers.

  ‘Taur! Great Cronos! Ple-ease—I want—,’ she cried against his lips.

  ‘What?’

  He lifted his head to drink his fill of her.

  ‘You. Everything. Everywhere. I think—I'm going to explode!’

  ‘You incite me beyond anything I've ever known,’ he groaned. Moving back down her body he parted her nether lips and probed deeply with his tongue. Her wild cry of surprise as her body threshed about on the moss, loosed a triumphant joy within him. Never had he cared whether a woman had known such satisfaction at the hands of another. Never had it been so important to be the one to bring her that satisfaction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she gasped.

  ‘Something too real for the altar, Gynevra. Hold on to me. Just—hold—on.’

  He lowered his mouth to her incredible sweetness again and her hands gripped his head and clung to him as ordered. Then she was coming apart around him, into him, her hands dragging at his hair, her mouth gasping open with great silent screams. Tearing his hair from her grip, he reared up and thrust to the very lip of her womb.

  She cried out then, a wild cry of satisfaction and for a moment he held himself still and savored the tight enclosure of her body around him. Then he began to move and he felt the stillness of wonder grow inside her, felt a throb of awe within himself. It pulsed to the thrust of his body and he felt again the power that had catapulted them to the stars the night before. He was no more in control now than he had been then. Gynevra of Poseidonia had bewitched him.

  ‘Taur!’ she moaned, and sobbed into the straining cords of his neck her joy in the awakening and completion he'd brought her. In that moment he could have believed he truly was a God, the mighty Ra himself, and that together they burned across the skies with the blazing fire of His symbol, the sun disc. Unable to withhold himself any longer, the life force burst from him with a mighty flare of release, and a harsh cry was dragged up from his vitals by the power of it. Holding his body arched above her, his flesh buried deep within her, he sought her mind once more.