Page 19 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

Our victory is sealed when Brem defeats the last of the fighters, granting us sixteen victories out of twenty-four bouts. We face off with our opponents at the end of the event, as Romouth has her march of success, the masterre of the Dome of Death grimly grumpy at his fighters over the loss.

I catch a sultry look from the Zandirish fighter, his amber eyes heavy-lidded as he slides his tongue over his lips with a suggestive smirk. I smile back before jamming my fist upward, slapping my forearm with my free hand, hoping he gets the message.

He does, sullen response his problem, not mine.

Romouth holds her graceful confidence until the gate closes on the last visitor before she spins, arms wide, purple robe swinging, to beam at us before she throws her head back and laughs.

“That,” she says, “was delicious .”

Only then does she send us to bathe, but not to rest, the women quickly scrubbing the sweat and dirt from their bodies, dressing in more elaborate tunics than the ones we were granted.

I slip into my red one, surprised to find it’s been laundered, stepping out and quickly dragged along despite my reservations, Morinthi on one side and Hloraine on the other.

“Now,” the tall woman gushes, “we celebrate!”

It’s dark already, and I’m weary, but I sit back and smile as they carouse, food piling on the tables at our mistresse’ s insistence, and alcohol making an appearance at last, a small cask of some heady stuff I sniff at but don’t partake of handed out in small cups barely taller than a finger.

There’s chatter and laughter, but I don’t hear it, lost in thought.

And when the first pair openly kisses one another, I know where this is going.

Not that I disapprove, not in the least. It’s going to turn into a full pile of naked bodies in short order, though, the women heading for the inner chamber and all those cushions, shedding clothing as they go, someone gasping as a hand finds her between the legs, giggling and moaning already begun.

Hloraine carries the cask with her, even Romouth joining her stable, and for the first time, she sheds her robe and becomes one of us, sinking to her knees and embracing Morinthi while Kasha plunges her face between the mistresse ’s legs.

I’m not stirred by their passions, feel nothing as they writhe together, and turn away, heading for the salt pool and privacy. I should remain, should do what I can to build loyalty and companionship, but I find I’m missing the men I love in a bursting hit of grief that catches me off guard.

The salt water welcomes me, embraces me, as much of a lover as I need or want right now.

I unbind my braids and let them loose, my hair spreading out around me while I float, just riding at the surface.

I catch echoes of the sounds of lovemaking from the chamber next door, distorted by the distance and the fluid in my ears.

It can’t stop the aching inside me, only adds to it, as I close my eyes and reach.

Reach for Atlas and Zenthris, for the kinspark and the men I suddenly can’t bear to be without for even another moment.

When I fail to find them, I catch the sob that rises, swallow it, force a breath. And try again. And again.

And again.

I’ve never quit anything in my life that mattered to me, even some things that didn’t, thanks to the stubbornness I was never allowed to shed. But I do give up, finally, tears running from my eyes into the quiet water, adding my own salty contribution to its warmth.

My fault , she whispers to me. So far away, the dragon’s mind, almost out of reach, too.

It’s been days since she spoke to me, and I cling to her as I would have to them if I’d managed to find them again.

The kinspark, it wasn’t complete when I drew you here.

She sighs, a soft, sad sound. If it helps, Flame, they live, they worry about you, they are relentless in their search of you .

It does , I whisper back to her in the quiet of my mind now softening from her gift.

Thank you . I believe her, if only because of Atlas.

He’d said something similar, that we had come through a new layer of connection just before I was taken, but that it wasn’t complete.

Couldn’t be completed until all three of us gave ourselves fully to one another.

What I wouldn’t do to have that conversation with him again.

I continue to float even when I feel someone disturb the water, knowing I’m no longer alone. At least I’m done weeping, and when whoever it is—though I can guess—stops moving without approaching me, I finally sigh and stand up, water sheeting from me, my hair clinging to my skin, heavy around me.

Brem hovers at the edge of the pool, the uncertain look on her face endearing, far more so than she will ever know, because I’d never tell her. But she’s watching me with hungry eyes that she casts away a moment later, clearing her throat when she speaks in a husky voice.

“I’m not into that either,” she says.

She means the group sex still going on next door, of course, not the quitting I’ve just given in to.

There’s no way she could know what I’ve just failed to do.

I watch her, feel something stir after all, needing more than anything to fill this void I’m left with.

When I drift toward her, she tenses, suddenly anxious.

It’s adorable and sweet, and though she looks like she’s ready to bolt, she doesn’t.

Not even when I sink down under the water in front of her, facing her, my lips parting. She watches me with that same hunger layered heavily under with fear that has me pausing, moving slowly, achingly slowly, waiting for her to reject me, giving her every opportunity to say no.

I won’t take her if she doesn’t want it, truly. I simply can’t abide it.

Her lips are soft and firm, and they tremble when I capture them with mine, her mouth opening when she inhales the breath I give her.

My tongue traces the tip of hers, sliding deeper, then rising to graze the roof of her mouth.

She gasps as I lean closer, letting my lips glide along her jaw, to her ear, teeth nibbling at the flesh of her neck.

Brem pants against my shoulder, making no move to touch me in return, or to escape.

“Say you want it,” I whisper. “Or go.”

She groans, a small, hurt sound. “I want you,” she says.

There’s no resistance in her any longer, but I’m expecting a desperate embrace, not the gentle, tentative touch of her hand on my cheek, how she parts her legs when I slide my knee between her thighs.

“Ah,” I say, “you haven’t done this before.”

“No,” she says, small and vulnerable at last, this warrior I call my friend. “I… do you mind?”

“Let me show you what I think,” I say with a low laugh, stroking her softly across her clit.

She stares into my eyes as I do, the barest touch all I need to make her inhale.

A second stroke has her moaning. She catches the sound as it emerges, but just barely, her cheeks flushed, her body still rigid.

“You handled that giant expertly,” I say, licking the underside of her jaw, biting her earlobe, sliding a finger inside her beneath the water, joining the stroke of her clit with a matching one within.

I find the rough patch that has her grasping me at last, head back, again only for a moment.

She’s afraid, still, but so trusting, hands tight on my shoulders, returning her gaze to me.

I want to ask what brought her to this, how she’s never had a lover, but that conversation can wait.

“I thought I might die,” she croaks. “His thing was so fucking big .”

I laugh at that, into her ear, stroking her again as I do, and she rewards me with her own sharp giggle, eyes bright when I shake my head at her.

“A fucking monster,” I say, starting her rhythm, testing it.

She’s relaxing a little in one way, I see it, leaning into the steady, soft strokes, but tightening in others, the opening sucking at my fingers as I add a second to the penetration.

She thrusts against my hand, abrupt, and gasps when it stirs her further, harder, but I pull back a little.

She deserves a slow burn to ecstasy her first time.

“Have you ever.” Brem stops, shakes her head, frown creasing her forehead. “I knew how because I’ve seen it done, but I didn’t think he’d do that .” She’s breathless about the result she caused.

Does she mean ejaculate? She’s wondering if I’ve been with a man.

So she’s only ever known life with women?

But how then is she a virgin? Most of the fighters I know, of any gender, are driven to sex.

I keep her distracted by answering as she rocks with the steady pressure I add to the third finger now deep inside her, our eyes locked on one another, my thumb’s slow, silky circles speeding just a little.

“He’d split any woman in half,” I say, “poor bastard. But the asphyxiation, sometimes it triggers orgasm, yes. I’ve known lovers who want to be choked when I fuck them.” I shrug. “You probably gave him the best time he’s had in awhile.”

She catches her breath when I thrust when I say it, soft sob escaping. “What does it feel like?”

“Fucking?” I shrug. “Like this, somewhat, if he knows what he’s doing.

” Not all do. “But it depends on how big he is and how well he uses what he has.” I kiss her again, sucking on her lower lip, and she finally kisses me back, hands loosening from their death grip on my shoulders.

When the slide slowly down to cup my breasts, I reward her with a faster circling of her clit, kissing her hard now, arm around her waist as I pull her forward, toward me, straddling her hips with my thighs, using my own pussy against the back of my hand to reach deeper, the pressure building in me as it does in her.

She holds onto me, thrusting against me, panting in soft little breaths, desperate for release. She doesn’t know what she needs, but I do, and when she clasps me hard again, a cry escaping her, I hard-stroke the sweet spot inside her while my thumb speeds her into orgasm.

Brem bucks beneath me, crying out, body releasing in that delicious wave, and I ride it, too, rubbing my clit against my own hand, just enough stimulation to come. It’s not the same, and I miss the deep thrust of Atlas, of Zenthris, that fills me so completely, but it will do for now.

And this isn’t about me. It’s about Brem.

She lies in the water, eyes closed, her breathing slowing, as I slide my fingers from her and let her float, kissing her softly before sending her off to bob free. When she finally stands, her own long hair a cloak around her, she’s smiling, a small and secret smile.

Brem faces me, hands cupped over her own small, round breasts.

“Thank you, Remi,” she says. “The order I fought for, was given to as a child… we were raised celibate, to honor the Sun God with our bodies, free of worldly passions.” How tragic.

“I’ve held that belief, though I was gifted from my sisters as a gladatte many years ago and my vows are long forgotten.

” She sighs deeply, running her hands through her hair.

“I knew you were the one to show me what I was missing.”

Does she know she broke my heart with that simple explanation?

How could a trusted order of warriors sacrifice her to this life?

Outrage wants to creep in, too, but she’s so soft, so open, that I can’t bring myself to spoil it.

Instead, I choose to finish the task she’s entrusted to me, this friend I’ve made and already adore, despite myself.

“Are we done?” I lean back against the wall of the pool. “I still haven’t sucked you yet.”

All I can do is laugh when her eyes fly wide, cheeks hot all over again as she claps her hands to them in shock.

How is she an innocent in this world so devoid of such, surrounded by death and forced into slavery for the delight of others after a life of servitude to an order that threw her away?

It’s astounding to me, as much as she is.

But I will do what I can to bring her joy, I swear it.

For as long as I can. Maybe doing so will bring me my own measure of peace.

“Come here,” I growl at her. “I haven’t had another woman’s clit in my mouth for far too long.”

She’s trembling again when I take her in my arms. But she’s laughing, too.

Before she’s moaning again. Turns out she’s a fast learner, an eager one. Because when she knows what to do?

I’m moaning, too.

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