Page 11

“Worth a try,” I said, then glanced around as someone knocked on my door. “Who is it?”

“I’ve a message for Commander Silva. I was told he was here.”

“Enter,” my father said.

The door opened; a black-clad soldier took three steps inside, then stopped and crisply saluted. “Commander, the captain’s scout team has returned to the military quarter. Second Kerryn Vertale and Prince Velez ride on to the palace.”

“Thank you, Martin. Tell Jarin I will meet him in the war room shortly.”

Martin nodded, saluted, and left. Rion’s gaze came to mine. “If you’re going to accompany me to hear their report—and we all know that is your intention, no matter what your mother and I might suggest—then you had best get dressed, and quickly.”

With a laugh, I bounced to my feet, dropped a kiss on his cheek, then half ran, half limped into my dressing room. After pulling on fresh leathers and a silky undershirt, I shoved my boots on and grabbed a thick coat made from the wooly hide of a capra, putting it on and buttoning it up as I went back out.

“Don’t keep Damon overly long, Rion,” Mom said. “I dare say our two newlyweds are planning appropriate welcome home celebrations this evening.”

I grinned. “Said celebrations that depend entirely on how tired the man is.”

“ No man is ever too tired for sex,” my father said. “Trust me on that. Come along.”

I laughed again, blew my mother a kiss, then followed him out the door. With long, easy strides, he moved through the hall and down the stairs to the main foyer. The guards saluted and opened the doors as we approached. We both returned the gesture and headed out.

The night was clear but so bitterly cold that our breath frosted on the air. I shoved my hands into my pockets in an effort to keep them warm and followed my father down the steps. The walls and courtyard lay in darkness, the large light cylinders having been turned off to avoid providing location guidance to the gilded riders. I had no doubt the main wall would also lie in darkness, though in truth, the lights from the various military and residential zones that made up a good part of Esan would likely provide a good enough line of sight to anyone viewing us from on high.

We were halfway across when the sharp clatter of hooves on stone echoed across the stillness.

“That’ll be them,” I said, stating the obvious.

He stopped. “And we might as well wait for them here.”

As the gates were slowly cranked open, three stable lads appeared, ready to collect the coursers for cooling down and stabling. They lightly saluted us both, then rubbed their hands together, shuffling from one foot to the other in an effort to keep warm even though they, like me, wore thick wooly coats. Three coursers clattered through the now open gates, Desta being led alongside Damon’s mount, Red. All of them steamed with sweat but, despite this, Desta was being all kinds of difficult, dancing sideways and tossing her head in agitation, her thoughts on the rubdown and the carrots she knew would be waiting.

I glanced at Mik. “Give Desta her usual extra ration of carrots, but all of them can have additional grain, and mix in some molasses. They deserve it.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said.

As they drew closer, it became very evident that Kerryn’s “no major battles” had been something of an understatement. Their leathers were torn and bloody in numerous places, and Kerryn had a large gash across his cheek. Damon’s left eye had almost closed over, the bruising seeping down his cheek. Weariness rode both, but in Damon’s case, it was so damn deep I could physically taste it. He’d used his blood magic to defend the squad, and more than once.

My gaze rose to his and, just for an instant, everything—every one —else faded away. It was just him and me and this big wave of emotions that threatened to pick me up and wash me away. But as easy as it would have been to allow that, I had to stand firm. Until there was complete and utter honesty between us, I dared do nothing else. I was already losing just about everything I loved. I dared not lose my heart as well.

Something flickered through his one good eye; recognition of my unspoken determination, perhaps? If this wasn’t Dhrukita , then what in Vahree’s name was it? It had to be more than a bleed over from my strega ability to hear the thoughts of animals, if only because it was something that had never happened before.

He pulled Red to a halt, kicked his feet free of the stirrups, and dismounted. As Desta danced away from his movement, Mik and Yannos hurried past to grab her and Red’s reins, while Jace grabbed Kerryn’s mount. Desta was still dancing in anticipation as they were led away.

“Second Vertale,” my father said, briskly acknowledging the salutes of both men, “accompany me to the war room—it’ll be far easier on us both if you make your report in warmer surrounds. Prince Velez, I’ll talk to you in the morning, when you look less inclined to collapse with exhaustion.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Rion nodded and walked away. Kerryn hesitated, then gripped Damon’s arm and said quickly, “Thank you, my lord, for your efforts out there. We might not have made it home otherwise.”

“There’s no need to thank me for doing what duty requires,” Damon said dryly. “Besides, your captain would have been displeased had I returned home with anything less than a full complement of men and women.”

“Indeed, she would have,” I agreed wryly.

Kerryn chuckled softly, then casually saluted and ran after Rion.

As the two men clattered up the steps, I returned my attention to Damon. He stank of sweat and blood, but at least the latter seemed to be mostly confined to the cuffs of his jacket and was a result of him cutting his arms to raise the blood magic.

“Good to see you alive and well, husband.” Though it was lightly said, it was taking every ounce of control I had not to throw myself into the man’s arms. He looked like he was about to collapse, for Vahree’s sake. The last thing he needed was my weight on top of him.

Although, given the wicked heat so visible in his good eye, maybe that was a false belief on my part.

“Good to see you awake and walking, wife,” he said in the same light manner. “I am somewhat disappointed though.”

The heat in his eye was increasing, and a smile twitched at my lips. “Over what?”

“Well, I was rather expecting a welcome befitting the manner of our triumphant return. Or, at the very least, hugs and?—”

The rest of that ended in a slight oomph as I threw myself into his arms and claimed his lips, kissing him with all the relief and the passion that surged through me. His arms tightened around my waist, pressing me so close to his wonderfully hard length that I could feel every breath, every tremor, be they exhaustion or desire. For too many minutes, this kiss, this man, and the unacknowledged emotions that swirled between us were the only things that mattered, the only thing I wanted. Now and possibly forever, though that was a thought I quickly dismissed. I really didn’t want to contemplate such a thing as yet, even if, in practical terms, we were already forever bound.

Eventually, even the heat that surged between us was not enough to erase the bitterness of the night. He pulled back fractionally and said, his lips so close to mine I could almost taste them, “Shall we take this inside?”

“We should.” I turned, hooked an arm through his, and made an effort not to limp as we made our way back to the palace. “Although you will be bathing, not bedding. No man who smells as foul as you do will ever grace my bed.”

“Welcome home sex in the bath is perfectly appropriate.”

“There will be no sex until you have bathed and eaten.”

“You’re a hard woman, Bryn Silva.”

“No, I’m simply a woman determined to ensure her man has the appropriate strength to satisfy her. You, my dear husband, do not.”

The glance he sent my way was so damn heated my insides just about melted. “Care to test the validity of that statement?”

“Not until you smell less odorous.”

His laugh danced warmly across my skin, stirring my already needy hormones into an even greater frenzy. We hurried up the steps and walked through the doors, quickly making our way up to the next floor. But he didn’t stop—or allow me to stop—at the door into our room, instead continuing on to the thermae at the far end of the hall.

“And what are we doing here?” I asked, even though the answer to that question was patently obvious. He intended to satisfy two very pressing needs in a more comfortable environment.

“I intend to bathe, as you ordered.”

“Hmmm” was all I said to that.

He chuckled softly but didn’t reply as a young bathing attendant appeared and placed two towels on a nearby bench. “May I get you anything else?”

“A scented soapweed for the prince—the greenwood, I think—and two robes. We’ll toss his clothes in the chute for cleaning and repair, so there’s no need to remain on call, Deedra.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. Couples all but requesting privacy was a scenario she’d no doubt encountered on more than one occasion. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She quickly retrieved the requested soapweed and robes, then left, discreetly closing the internal door behind her. I stepped away from Damon and motioned to the water. “In you go.”

“Not without my wife.”

And, moving with surprising speed for a man whose exhaustion echoed through me, he scooped me up and threw me in. I went under and came up spluttering and cursing. He laughed, hastily stripped off, then strode into the steaming bubbly water. Every inch of him was honed to muscular perfection, his cock rigid and ready for action.

But he’d thrown me in fully clothed, and I intended to stay that way—at least for the next few minutes.

I grabbed the greenwood soapweed from the platform next to the pool then held out a hand in warning. “You can keep those salacious intentions to yourself until you smell a whole lot fresher and I’m sure none of your wounds need immediate treatment.”

Lazy amusement played about his lips. “May I propose a more exciting arrangement?”

My eyebrows rose, even as my already racing pulse ratcheted up several notches. “And what might that be?”

“One part washed for one piece of clothing removed.”

“Would it not be better—and quicker—to just let me wash you?”

“Undoubtedly, but where is the fun in that?”

“Did you play these sorts of games with all your lovers?”

“No, but then, there were actually very few that I wanted to play such games with.”

“Huh” was all I said to that.

“You don’t believe me? I’m mortally wounded.”

It was mockingly said, and yet, just for a second, irritation and perhaps a bit of anger flickered through his one good eye. But what other response did he expect, given his reputation—one he’d never denied?

I motioned him to turn around. “Let’s start with the back.”

“No, let’s start with the front—yours, not mine.”

I rolled my eyes, handed him the soapweed, then stripped off my coat and tossed it onto the thermae’s coping. The silk undershirt was plastered to my skin, revealing my breasts and painfully hardened nipples.

He sucked in a breath and reached out, gently brushing his thumb across them—and causing all sorts of inner havoc—before I lightly slapped his hand away. “There was no mention of touching, my dear prince. Now turn around so I can wash your back.”

“You, as I noted before, are a hard woman to deny a man in need the sight of your glorious body.”

“Aside from the fact you’ve only one good eye at the moment and are obviously delusional, you can distract yourself by telling me what happened out there.”

“Nothing more than what was to be expected, given our attack on their encampment.” He handed me the soapweed, then turned. “They gave chase. We rode hard. There was the occasional battle.”

I gently washed away the blood from multiple minor wounds. “There’s enough evidence on your back to suggest there was more than one close call.”

“They’re not wounds from weapons. The ghost tree fronds are as sharp as any whip when you go through them at speed, and they seemed to have an almost unnatural affinity for human flesh rather than courser.”

“Hate to say this, but I’m not overly saddened by that development. Better you than them. At least you understand what is happening. They would simply think it’s the riders whipping them.”

“While that is true, I cannot help but think it also indicates your affection for me lies below the drakkons and the coursers.”

“Well, I have known them longer, and they have proven their worth. You, my dear Damon, have not.”

“Oh, you wound me.” He turned and took the soapweed from me. “Next item of clothing—I suggest the boots.”

“Is that not two items?” I countered, amused.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want you to be standing there lopsided or anything.” Devilment danced through his expression. “Besides, I can hardly prove my worth to you if you insist on remaining fully clothed.”

“Perhaps not, but if you’re going to remove two items, then I need wash two items. Fair is fair.”

“If you’re going to be pedantic?—”

“And I am.”

“Then feel free.”

He returned the soapweed, and I got down to the business of washing, starting with his glorious chest and shoulders and working my way down his washboard abs before following the happy trail of hair down to his crotch.

“You’re flirting with danger there, my dear Bryn,” he warned as I lightly swept the soapweed over his cock. “That thing is primed and ready to go off.”

“Well, if it’s intending to go off in me, it had better be clean then.”

He laughed, a warm sound that ran across my senses as sweetly as any caress. I continued, every gentle sweep down his shaft and across his balls drawing a near incomprehensible sound from his throat.

Eventually, he caught the soapweed and tossed it well away from me. “Enough torture, woman. The boots need to come off.”

My gaze jumped to his, and my laugh died in my throat. I lightly pressed a hand to his cheek, skimming my thumb just under the swollen flesh under his left eye. “This did not come from a frond.”

“No, it did not.”

“Then why are you brushing aside the seriousness of the situation? Why say there was only the occasional battle, when evidence—your bone weariness and Kerryn’s statement that they wouldn’t have made it back without your help—states otherwise?”

“I am doing nothing more than what you always do.”

“I don’t—” I stopped. I actually did, and we both knew it. “Okay, lesson learned. I will try to do better in future, as long as you promise the same.”

“Oh, I do believe we can both promise that, but I also think we’ll both find the implementation a fraction harder.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, I do believe you might be right.”

“Well, at least we agree on something.” He caught my waist and lifted me onto the coping. “Let me assist you with those boots.”

Amusement tugged at my lips. “Just the boots?”