Bodyguards (14 page)

“Are you sure,” she gasped,
“really sure it’s not the Quickening making us act like this?”

With her hand resting above his
heart, she could tell how fast it was beating, faster even than earlier, but
Brad’s voice was mostly level when he said, “Look at me. Look at yourself. Do
you see any trace of channeling?”

She didn’t, and still...

“Then why are we... Why can’t I
stop kissing you? Touching you? I don’t do that!”

Even as she said it, all she could
think about was kissing him again, letting her hand venture lower, where his
pants were tenting over a prominent bulge.

“Just say the word,” Brad said,
and now his voice wavered a little, “and I’ll stay twenty feet away from you
for the rest of the day.”

“No,” Vivien blurted out before
she even knew it. “I don’t want that. I want...you.”

Maybe she didn’t need to search
for an explanation, she thought as she looked into Brad’s eyes. Maybe she just
needed to accept what her heart and body were telling her.

“Kiss me,” she murmured. “Touch
me.”

And Brad did.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Interruptions

Aedan had never been one to let
fear control him. It had been one of the last lessons their father had taught
him and Bradan: fear was the true enemy, blinding you to your options at the
moment when you needed them the most. If there was one thing Aedan knew about
his father, it was that he had died with no fear in his heart. Sadness,
probably, that he had to abandon his family, guilt that he couldn’t accomplish his
duty, but no fear.

Since promising himself that he
would be as strong as his father, Aedan had let fear take him exactly twice.
The first time had been when Bradan had Passed Through to the Otherworld and
the link between them had all but disappeared. Never before that moment had
Aedan ever felt alone in the world. The mere thought that months—years—might
pass before he could see his brother again had all but paralyzed him.

The second time had been a few
years later, when he had first seen Bradan after being made a vampire. Bradan,
oblivious to the hunger gnawing at Aedan’s insides, had hugged him fiercely,
the way they always did after spending months apart. With sheer terror flashing
through him that he might not be able to control himself and bite his brother,
Aedan had pulled away. He’d never dared to hug Bradan since, and always froze
when Bradan hugged him.

The fear that had seized him when
he had seen Dame Vivien so close to danger the previous night was just as
great. His reaction as he carried her back inside was just as instinctive.
Everything he was depended on her continued well-being.

She had gone outside a couple
hours ago now. Had he not been so sure Bradan had found her, Aedan might have
risked burning in the sunlight, as futile as it would have been. But Bradan was
with her, Aedan had no doubt about it. The relief he had felt through their
bond, not very long after Dame Vivien had left, was proof enough. And what
Bradan had been feeling since then...

Aedan paced through the house,
going from window to window, looking out and seeking a mere glance of Dame
Vivien and Bradan. Every time he failed to see either of them, his fingers
twitched toward his knives; he wished there had been an enemy there for him to
fight. He wasn’t used to being unable to act. He also wasn’t used to feeling
need and desire flow through the bond he shared with his twin.

There was no doubt in his mind
what Bradan was doing—what Bradan and Dame Vivien were doing together—and he
didn’t know how he felt about it. She was their dame, the heir to the throne,
and they were her guards! How could Bradan forget that, even for a minute? She
was beautiful, certainly, and she had a strong spirit, as Aedan was quickly
learning, but even so, how could Bradan allow his body’s needs to rule his
mind?

Unless it was more than Bradan’s
body that cared for her? Could he be in love with her? It would certainly
explain a lot about his behavior over the years when he had told Aedan about
her, sometimes babbling for hours about what was going on in her life in the
Otherworld, sometimes refusing to say much like he was keeping a secret. But
even if he loved her, they had still sworn to protect her. How could Bradan
expect to do that if he was so close to her?

If it had been anyone else, Aedan
would have been delighted for his brother. It was more than time for him to
experience love. But this… It would complicate everything, that much was
certain. As though the whole situation hadn’t been difficult enough!

Aedan would need to talk to Bradan
about this. It promised to be an awkward conversation. If not for the bond, he
wouldn’t even have known. For now, he tried to put the matter out of his mind,
tried not to wonder what they were doing exactly, but try as he might his mind
continued to flash toward them, throwing at him imagined flashes of what Dame
Vivien might look like in the flush of passion, her breasts heaving, her mouth
plump and red from burning kisses, naked and beautiful on a bed of petals not
quite as soft as her skin...

Shaking his head, Aedan pushed
away from the window he had been staring out of to no avail. He had to find
something to occupy his mind or he would drive himself crazy. He refused to
even acknowledge his erection; it stemmed from Bradan’s emotions, not Aedan’s
own, and it would have felt crass to act on it.

He was still trying to figure out
what to do as he waited for their return, when a one-note chime rang throughout
the castle. Energy surged through Aedan at once, and he was running before he
knew it, one knife in each hand. Someone had just Passed Through in the Passing
Room.

* * * *

In all those years, and in spite
of his feelings for Vivien, Bradan had never imagined this, never tried to
guess how sweet her lips would taste, how soft they would be against his, how
warm her skin would feel everywhere he touched her. He’d sometimes wondered
what her body might look like under the plain tee-shirts and jeans she favored,
but he’d always chastised himself right away. She was Dame Vivien, and she was
heir to the throne of Foh’Ran. What right did he have to fantasize about her?

Everything changed with a few
quiet words from her lips.

“Kiss me. Touch me.”

Earlier, he’d been too surprised
to pull back when she kissed him. Then the Quickening had taken hold of them,
and he’d had little control over himself. When she’d started kissing him
again—when she had given him rules about the words he couldn’t use—he’d let her
do as she pleased, wondering how much of her desire was left from the
Quickening, and how much was simply and purely her. Now, he didn’t hesitate
anymore. He’d offered to pull away from her. He’d heard her repeat that she
wanted him and ask for his touch.

It wasn’t proper. He shouldn’t
have touched her this way. But he had told her he loved her, and she had
answered with a kiss rather than with reproaches. Who cared about proper
anyway?

Kissing her again was easy. She’d
shown him, after all: gentle lips at first, caresses of mouth on mouth, then a
bit of tongue—and then fire. Her kisses were intoxicating, and Bradan didn’t think
he’d ever get enough of them, of the way she opened for him or the quiet little
noises she made when he pushed her back into the blanket of petals he had
summoned for her. She clutched at his shoulders and back, her nails leaving
trails of sensation against his skin.

Touching her in return was more
complicated. He knew the theory. He might even have explored the Internet, once
or twice, in the privacy of his apartment, purely for research purposes. He
sorely lacked practice, however, and to have Vivien in his arms, her body
pressed tight along his, made him feel uncoordinated and clumsy.

When her moans turned needy and
she started arching her body up toward his, he told himself he had to do
something, start somewhere. He was a QuickSilver guard. He wouldn’t back away
from a challenge, and it didn’t matter what kind of challenge it was.

Caught between his excitement and
a bit of apprehension that he wouldn’t be good enough for her, he brushed the
very tips of his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder, then down her chest.
With the barest pressure, he caressed her right breast through her blouse. Her
moan emboldened him and he cupped it in his palm, feeling the weight of warm,
soft flesh.

Pulling away from the kiss, he
looked at her eyes and face, trying to guess what she was feeling. Her smile
reassured him, and he dipped toward her lips again—and froze an inch away, his
eyes widening, his desire drained right out of him by the alarm ringing so
loudly through his bond with Aedan.

Earlier, fear had permeated the
bond, and Bradan had known why: he, too, had been scared for Vivien’s safety
until he found her. The fear had faded, but by then Bradan had been too caught
up in his own feelings—in Vivien’s—to examine Aedan’s too closely. Now
though... Fear flashed through the bond, as quick and blinding as lightning.
Immediately, determination replaced it, the same determination Aedan always
exuded when he marched into a fight.

Bradan jerked away from Vivien and
stood, his eyes darting everywhere around them, searching for a possible enemy.
He saw nothing but a few birds. Channeling through the same determination Aedan
felt, he closed his hand over the familiar hilt of a Quickening sword.

“Brad?” Vivien was still panting
as she sat up, confusion etched on her features. “What... what’s going on?”

He picked up his shirt and held
that same hand out to her, and after a beat, she took it, allowing him to pull
her to her feet. Petals were clinging to her hair, and he had the urge to run
his fingers through it, draw her closer to him, and kiss her some more. They
had no time for that, however.

“Something happened. At the
castle.” Holding on tight to her hand, he pulled her toward the place where
they had left their shoes. “Aedan is preparing to fight. I need to get you to
safety.”

He let go of the sword to
hurriedly slip his shirt and low boots on. Vivien was frowning at him, one
sandal forgotten in her hand. He gently took it from her and bent down to slide
it on her foot. They needed to be fast...but where should he take her? If the
fight was at the castle, he could hardly go back there.

“How do you know?” she asked.
“Preparing to fight who?”

“I know because he’s my twin,”
Bradan answered absently, looking around again, this time for shelter. The
sword was back in his hand, familiar and comforting. “I can feel what he feels.
And right now he feels...”

Bradan paused, now turned in the
direction of the castle although he couldn’t see it from where he stood.
Aedan’s readiness had faded again, and now he was...relieved? Why by all the
Quickening would he be relieved? What was going on?

“Brad?” Vivien sounded worried.
Her hand slipped into Bradan’s and squeezed gently.

“I think... I think we should go
back. Something happened, but I don’t think you’re in danger.” He smiled to
reassure her, and even let the sword dissipate, though he held on to the
Quickening, ready to channel again at a second’s notice.

They started up the slope and
toward the castle when it appeared, its familiar towers rising up toward the
shimmer of the shields and the sky beyond them. The sun was high; it had to be
close to noon, and in the full light of the day the walls of the castle seemed
more brightly white than usual. Long strands of Blooming Moonlight crept up
here and there around windows, the pale flowers fading against the walls.

“I don’t understand,” Vivien said
after a moment. “Explain to me again why you thought Aedan was fighting?”

Bradan kept his eyes ahead of him
as he answered, searching for something, anything out of the ordinary—anything
that might have signified trouble. By now, Aedan’s feelings were too jumbled
for Bradan to make much sense of them.

“The Quickening affects many
things in this world,” he explained. “One of them is twins. There is a link
between us, a bond. Haven’t you ever heard those stories about twins on Earth?
Where one knows when the other is in trouble even if they’re miles away?”

He saw her nod from the corner of
his eye. “I’ve heard of it.”

“Here, that bond goes beyond that.
I can tell what Aedan is feeling, wherever he is in Foh’Ran, and he knows what
I feel, too. Joy or sadness. Fear or determination. I can tell when he’s in
pain, or when he...”

He cleared his throat. He didn’t
need to tell her quite so bluntly that Aedan had known how excited Bradan had
been only minutes earlier—that he had known, undoubtedly, what Vivien and
Bradan were up to.

“So...you felt him prepare to
fight,” she said slowly. “But not anymore?”

“Not anymore. Now he’s...” Bradan
focused, trying to pinpoint exactly what Aedan felt. Worried was his best
guess, but there was no sense of urgency about it. “Concerned.”

She didn’t say another word until
they were almost at the front door, and when she did, it was in a whisper. “If
he knows what you feel...he knows you and I almost...”

Her hand tightened on his for a
second. She didn’t finish. When he glanced at her, even with the Quickening
turning her skin a pale, almost silvery color, he could tell she was blushing.
She hadn’t asked a question, but Bradan supposed she wanted an answer. He
wished he could have lied to her, a little white lie that would have made it
much easier for all of them.

“He knows, yes.” He took a deep
breath and added as they reached the doors, “Maybe it’s better this way. That
we only
almost
did this, I mean. We were both caught in the heat of the
moment, and we weren’t thinking right...”

His voice trailed off when he
looked at her again and saw how pained she looked. She let go of his hand.

“Maybe,” she repeated. Her voice
grew colder with every word. “Better that than you regretting it as soon as it
was over.”