Cursed by Ice (15 page)

When he was done he collapsed against her, drawing
hard for breath, weak and replete and overwhelmed. He had never felt anything like it. Maybe it was because it had been so long for him … maybe that was why making love to her had felt so needful and urgent. He couldn’t explain it otherwise. Except to say she was perfect. In every way. And by the way she was smiling, she knew the power she had over him. A moment of trepidation crept through him. He could never allow anyone to have power over him. As an immortal man, he could have no weaknesses that others might exploit, using his strength and indestructibility to their own ends.

And then she was kissing him, sweetly and soulfully, and his trepidations evaporated. He rolled off her, removing the press of his considerable weight, and drew her up to rest along the length of his body, her head pillowed on his left shoulder, right above the wound the manticore had given him. It had healed even more in just the time it had taken for them to become lovers. Which, he thought with some consternation, had not been a very long time at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said, exhaling a hard breath. “I could have done that better.”

“Could you have? What an intriguing thought,” she said impishly. “Yes, let’s try to do it better.” Her hand slid down his belly and closed around his cock, which jumped happily at the prospect, surprising him. He’d always had a reasonably good recovery rate, but this was unexpected.

And delightful.

“Well, you need to give a man some time before—” He broke off when she dipped her head down and licked him just below his navel, her breath coasting warmly over his highly sensitized skin.

He grew hard again at the very idea of where that mouth might end up going. And she did not disappoint. Before he knew it, he was inside her mouth and her
tongue was swirling around the tip of his erection. Her hand came up between his legs and cupped the malleable sac she found there. He moaned in pleasure, his fingers diving into her hair.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked dazedly. It really was a bad thing to do, to question her honesty even in joking, but she simply gave him a lick and a shrug and said, “I’m sure. Why? Am I doing something wrong? Something right?”

“Right. Definitely right. And if you just use a little suction, you can—Mordu!” he cried when she did and did it damn well at that. Before long he was thrusting himself against her tongue, toying with an impending release. But no. Not yet. It wouldn’t be like that this time.

He pulled her away from him, drew her up his body until she was sitting astride him.

“Let’s try something that’s going to feel really good for
you
.”

“Okay,” she said, but he could see the hesitance in her eyes.

“What?”

“Are we going to … like this? Is that allowed? I mean, I thought we had to be the other way.” She used her hands to pantomime them flipping over with him being on top.

“No,” he assured her. “It doesn’t always have to be that way. Take hold of me … Yes,” he hissed as she wrapped her hand around him quickly and without question. She was so trusting with him, so different from the girl he had first met. He didn’t want to ever break that trust, but he was afraid one day he would. “Now hold yourself over me and slowly lower yourself onto me. Gods, you’re so wet,” he said as she began to do as he instructed. “That’s right.” He grabbed hold of
her hips, and with a single thrust, he put himself all the way inside her.

She gasped when he hilted himself deep, then she rocked herself as she tried to get used to his thickness inside her. By doing that, she introduced herself to the pleasure she could give herself by riding him.

“Oh … oh my,” she breathed as she moved over him again and again. He watched her ride him, her tousled hair all around her head and shoulders, reminding him of the day he’d seen her on the wall, calling the wyvern to her. Her breasts rose and fell with every writhing curve of her back and bounce of her body. She closed her eyes, getting lost in her own pleasure, but opened them again with a snap when he reached out and put his thumb into her cleft. He stroked her there in time to her movements, and before long she was tensing around him, growing tight with anticipation, her movements becoming more wild. She leaned in, moaning deeply, her hair falling onto his face. He brushed it aside so he could continue to watch the beautiful expressions on her face as pleasure swam through her. She released, throwing her head back, singing out her pleasure like a true siren. Only then did he allow himself to be swept away with her, his own release coming hard and fast. Their pleasured cries combined, echoing in the room around them.

She fell forward over him, her breasts flattened against his chest. She was panting hard for breath and he reached to tip her head back so he could see her face. Her expression and her beauty were both priceless. He had found a very rare little jewel. A treasure in a wyvern’s hoard.

And one day he would have to leave it behind with only the wyvern to guard it.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Dethan had to say he was shocked. Well and truly shocked. Garreth had never been the sort of man to jump in and out of women’s beds. Especially women he barely knew. When Dethan had come down the hall and heard his brother moaning and calling out to Mordu, at first he had thought something was wrong. But when a female voice came into chorus with Garreth’s … Well, no one needed to explain what was happening. He wasn’t that dense. It just bothered him that he hadn’t seen it coming. Sure, Garreth had taken on the girl’s cause—that was what he had always done. Fought for the underdog. Taken on the impossible quest. But he’d never let himself become a truly personal part of the story. He would save the town from a villain, but he wouldn’t want to live there. He would rescue the king’s daughter, but he wouldn’t want to marry her. He would acquire a precious religious relic, but he wouldn’t change his religion because of it.

This had somehow become personal for Garreth, and personal was dangerous for Garreth’s well-being. On two levels. One, his emotions might become enmeshed in the situation, and two, Weysa would not take kindly to Garreth being distracted. She had made an exception
to her rules once for Dethan. He seriously doubted she would be willing to do so again for Garreth. Weysa was not known for her sentimentality. She was a cold, hard warrior, through and through. Everything she did was calculated to make her victorious.

But perhaps Dethan was getting ahead of himself. His brother had bedded the girl, not wedded her. Perhaps Garreth was simply enjoying what life had to offer, now that he had his life back.

Still, he had been off that mountainside for quite some time now, and as far as Dethan knew, he had not availed himself of a woman before this. Not that he would have announced such a liaison. But Dethan had been on the lookout for it, actually. He had been afraid that Garreth would neglect to live his reclaimed life and focus instead on the unachievable.

Getting their brothers back.

Dethan was no fool. It would be a very cold day in the eight hells before Weysa would free another brother. She didn’t even know where one of them was … and the other was being kept in an enemy god’s territory. Garreth had been working under the assumption that he could do something, anything, to get them back, but Dethan knew the likelihood was beyond remote. So he had hoped Garreth would take the time to find what little pleasure he could in his hobbled life. And until now he hadn’t. Over half a turning of the seasons and nothing … until today.

Dethan should be relieved. He should be grateful Garreth was showing signs of life, but instead he was overwhelmed by a sense of trepidation. What he needed to do was keep Garreth on task and get him out of the city as soon as possible. They would offer the girl the moon, give her the chance of her lifetime, and then Dethan would go home to be with his wife and son and Garreth would move on to the next city.

But really, he was probably worrying like a mother hen for no reason, Dethan thought. Garreth was nothing if not sensible. He had always been the voice of reason amongst the brothers. Dethan was the eldest, the one who had pushed and pushed; Maxum had been the rake and charmer; Jaykun had been the hellion; and Garreth … Garreth had been the peacemaker. He didn’t like to rock the boat because his brothers all did such a bang-up job of it. He’d always needed to be the reasonable one.

Yes, Dethan decided. He was worrying for nothing.

Now, he thought with a smile as he closed his bedroom door, it was time to write a very detailed letter to his wife. And thanks to his brother, the perfect mood had been set for it. Oh, she would upbraid him later for writing such things in a missive that could potentially be read by another, but she would get over it … once she was done fanning herself with the vellum, that is.

Dethan grinned as he picked up his quill.

The next morning Sarielle snuck out from under Garreth’s arm as gingerly as she could. He had fallen asleep after making love to her a third time, but she was not as tired. Besides, she had something very important to do.

She re-dressed herself in her robe, flushing as she realized she was sore and tender in certain interesting places on her body. She had never realized how athletic a mating could be or the toll it could take on a body. The sum total of her experience before Garreth had been some kissing with a boy when she’d barely been a young woman and the time she had nearly walked in on that kitchen wench and the stable hand. They had been going at it with a fair amount of gusto, to be sure, but it had been furtive, filled with the danger of possibly getting caught.

She did not have to live with that fear. Not any longer. But she did have some people to answer to for her actions. She had to go see them right away. They had to know she had not forgotten them, that she wouldn’t simply ignore them just because …

She snuck out of the room and down the hall. It was surreal to find herself coming out of the bennesah’s suite. She had never been allowed to come even close to it, the bennesah always living in fear that the wrena would turn on him, summoning her wyvern to whisk him away, her captive sisters notwithstanding. He had been a paranoid little man, and with good reason. He had made many enemies, holding her and her ability over their heads. He had once had her summon the wyvern to lay fiery waste to one man’s fields for not paying his proper taxes. An unintelligent act, if you asked her. How would he pay his taxes without a crop? But the bennesah had thought making the man and his family starve over the winter might make him pay more quickly and thoroughly in the future … and he had been right. But she had thought of that family that whole winter and had felt incredibly guilty.

But that was all over with now that Garreth was there. In just a matter of days he had changed everything about her life. Absolutely everything. She was still reeling from it all. She had gone from cloistered prisoner to conqueror’s lover as fast as lightning. And it had all been for the better. The only caveat was her sisters. Something had happened to them. So Sarielle was headed down to them to see if showing up alone would help them open up to her about what had happened.

She quietly entered the room the twins had been assigned, expecting to find them playing. Instead she found them sitting in chairs at the table, their hands folded in front of them and their gazes fixed on their hands. It was not normal behavior for her bright sisters
and it disturbed her greatly. They did look up when she entered and watched as she approached, but they did not get up and run to her as they usually did.

“Hello, my pets,” she greeted them soothingly.

“Hello, sister,” they responded in unison.

“What is wrong, my little loves?” she asked as she knelt down beside them. “Why are you not playing? It is a fine day for it.”

“We were waiting for you,” said Isaelle

“Where have you been?” Jona asked.

“I had to go take care of something. Remember Koro? My wyvern? He was badly injured and I had to go heal him.”

“Oh. It’s good that you healed him,” Jona said.

“Yes, he needs to be healed,” Isaelle agreed.

“Well, he is all better now and so am I. But you are not, my flighty little loves. You are sad.”

“No, sister,” they said in unison.

“We’re fine,” Jona said.

“We just need to go for a walk,” Isaelle said.

“Yes, a walk,” Jona said.

“You would like to go for a walk? Well,” Sarielle said with a smile, “then we shall go for a walk and you can tell me all your troubles. I must bathe first and change out of my robe. I will put on a walking dress and we will go out and see the last signs of summer.”

“We want to see the fields,” Isaelle said.

“Yes, the grain is high now,” Jona said.

“Well, there is an army in the fields,” Sarielle said hesitantly. “But I’m sure some of the grain has been left unmolested,” she said quickly when she saw their crestfallen faces.

“Good. Hurry back,” Isaelle said.

“I will.”

Sarielle left the room quickly. She went back to her old room and ordered a serving girl to bring her a bathing
tub and water. Once she was in the hot water, she scrubbed her body hastily. For a moment she was saddened to wash away the remains of her passion with Garreth, but she had to focus on other things. Her affair with Garreth was delightful and all, but her sisters came first.