Heart Thief (25 page)

Ailim drifted to sleep and dreamt again of Ruis Elder. She became aware of his scent first and smiled, knowing she dreamed, for his scent wasn't the one she recalled.

His aroma had changed, the spices were still there, but subtly different, the obscure undertone was the same, but intensified. So she knew she dreamed, and she sighed as his fragrance enveloped her.

She could feel his body heat as well. The air outside her covers held the cool of autumn and the first bite of winter, but next to her was warmth, and she imagined the steady thudding of his heart, strong and comforting.

The warmth enclosed her and gradually transformed into heat, almost as though she felt a hard body a hair's breadth away—muscled thighs, a wide chest. Sensuality uncurled inside her and built into taut desire.

Soft touches brushed over her cheek, an airy wisp trailed across her collarbone, and she thought of Ruis's elegant fingers. Her breathing sped.

A firm, moist pressure came against her lips and stoked her twisting hunger. She knew this taste, Ruis, and his kiss.

His dream kisses had never felt so real, but this one demanded she respond. She opened her mouth and whimpered when his tongue glided into her mouth and explored. She slid her own tongue against his, teasing herself and him, sucking, touching, then withdrawing, feeling coiled tension wind even tighter.

Her body arched in passion, came up solidly to his, so she rubbed herself against him. Her fingers sought the silkiness of his hair and tangled in it, bringing his head closer, deepening the kiss.

The slight nip of his teeth on her bottom lip brought her eyelids flying open.

He was here!

In the solid flesh. The heat of his desire transferred from his skin to hers. She felt the tautness of his muscles, the heaviness of his hands splayed on her back and the rigidity of his sex near the apex of her thighs.

His scent became muskier; the raggedness of his rapid breath fanned her shoulder, bringing tingles. Candles brightened the room and flickered over the taut planes of his face.

She tasted.

All her senses, freed once more from the oppression of her Flair, exploded until her wits spun, and she could not bear to deny herself, or him. She sucked his lower lip inside her own mouth.

He drew away and she could feel his piercing stare. He'd lit two pillar candles that provided a soft glow.

Her lips throbbed from the passionate kisses. Her body throbbed with unfulfilled hunger.

“I had to come,” he murmured. “to make love with you. Also . . .” He stopped, mumbled, “to ask—”

His fingers pushed hair back from her face and trailed down her cheek. “You are beautiful, and so special.” His head angled to kiss her again, but his lips only brushed hers as if now he was hesitant. “Roll over and I shall massage you.”

“Only a massage?” she murmured, trapped in a honey golden moment, unable to free herself from drugged desire.

The flash of vulnerability in his eyes almost made her think, but instead, she tucked the expression away in her memory so she could savor its sweetness later.

His hand curved around her cheek and his pupils dilated. “We'll love?” he asked with a raw note in his voice.

“Yes.” She brought his hand to her mouth and placed a dozen butterfly kisses on his fingers, then licked his palm. His whole body jerked and she laughed.

Ruis couldn't believe his eyes. Ailim's face was totally open and expressive, with no hint of any shield or mask that she wore for the world.

Her mouth was lush and tempting, her cheeks a deeper shade of rose than he'd ever seen, but it was her delighted smile and the sparkle in her blue eyes that transfixed him. He knew that no one, and especially no man, had ever seen her so spontaneous. A precious gift for him.

Blood pounded hotly through his veins but he couldn't move. He hardly dared to move, wanting nothing more than to give her the most beautiful night of loving she could ever imagine. And he didn't know how.

With a shake of his head he flung doubts from his mind. It didn't matter that he'd never experienced loving sex. He could give her tender passion. The emotion welled through him; there was no way he could fail.

He sucked in an unsteady breath, and rose to his knees. With a smooth pull, he slid the bedcovers from her, then slipped her shift open with one glide of his thumb. Just as he had that morning, he spread the shift open and laid her bare before him.

“Ruis,” she said, and he shuddered. She lifted her hands and drew them down his arms. The silkeen of his shirt felt fine against his skin, but her fingers against his muscles sparked a pulsing hunger that he couldn't deny.

One hand went behind her head and he lifted her so he could take her mouth. For only an instant she held arched and still in a sensual curve of beauty he'd always remember. Then her arms went around him, and pulled him down, her tongue penetrating his mouth and claiming him as her legs twined around him until his throbbing shaft lay against a warm moistness.

Passion sizzled all thought. Only the texture of her tongue against his, the ripeness of her soft curves mattered. He luxuriated in the heat between them, and then pulled away to slip her arms from her shift and wrestle his own clothes off.

As he fumbled, her small hands glided over him, squeezing his biceps, smoothing over his hipbone, curling around his waist, as if she was free from all bounds to explore him and satisfy her curiosity.

He returned his attention to her, groaning, and kissed her lips once more, memorizing the taste of her mouth, then went on to sample the taste of the angle of her jaw, the salty dip in her collarbone, the succulent side of one plump breast.

She gasped and her pale body trembled. The rose-colored tip of her breast lured him. He circled around her nipple. At her urging he took it into his mouth. The best taste of all, exploding through him. Her softness pillowed his mouth, her small, wild cries incited him to suckle deeply, hardening his sex to the point of pain, sending him into pure wondrous exultation that he pleasured her so.

His skin burned, barely able to contain his blazing arousal as if he were a creature of pure fire. His teeth clenched against the hard need to pound into her, to take her with all the strength and passion at his demand.

“Ruis, Ruis, Ruis,” she chanted, twining her fingers into his hair. He lifted his head and found a sheen of sweat dewing her skin. More tastes. More. Forever more.

“Ailim,” he rasped.

Her eyes focused and fixed on his face. She gasped, her mouth opened wordlessly, moved, then she cried, “Ruis!”

He shuddered with the effort to hold his craving in check, and his name on her lips gave him a tiny shred of control. No woman had ever called his name in her passion. Sucking in his breath, he lowered his head to her collarbone and traced it with his tongue.

She tugged his hair and the sweet pain shot lightning through his blood. He didn't know how long he could last. With every breath he fought for restraint, to taste her again in special spots, at her sweet delta where the scent of her drove him mad.

He pressed a kiss on her dark blond curls and she rose against him, keening. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders. “Yesssss!” she cried.

His mind spun with dizziness and pulsing arousal. He tore himself from her clutching hands and one last sight of her torrid beauty pierced him before he took her.

Her satiny skin slid against his. With one plunge he was inside and surrounded by her, clasped in her tight, heated moistness. So exquisite he thought he'd die. Mind, body, soul connected to this one woman.

Ailim thrust against him, her inner muscles clamped and she tensed, and one last drawn-out moan came from her lips.

He exploded into flames and emptied himself into her, fragmented, unknowing if he'd ever be whole again.

Their breathing sounded loud in the room, though he thought his ears still rang with her last cry. He wondered if she'd released a burst of Flaired energy when she climaxed but understood he'd never know, though the room was much warmer.

A moment later her delicate fingers touched his chest. She caught a few of his hairs between her fingers and rubbed them.

He grunted.

She chuckled. The tip of her tongue laved the base of his neck. He shuddered as another bolt of lust sizzled through him, but managed to roll so they rested on their sides. His eyes were closed, streaks of fireworks still blazing on the inside of his lids.

“Uuhhn . . .” he stopped, tried again. “Ahhh.” He hitched a breath. “That was too fast. Next time, I'll do better.”

She choked.

He smoothed her hair from her face, enjoying how the fine strands clung to his fingers, but still didn't open his eyes.

Ailim spoke first. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”

He sighed. He would have liked to pretend a few seconds longer that they were normal lovers.

When she tried to roll away, he pulled her close, opening his eyes to scan her face for any regret. She looked well-loved, delectable, but concerned.

“How did you get in here?” She stroked his face and the pleasure that speared him held nothing of lust, only encompassing tenderness. “What am I going to do with you?”

Ruis cleared his throat and achieved a steady whisper. “Anything you want to, Ailim. Talk to me, play with me, bed me. Or turn me in to the authorities.”

Her eyes went wide and she snorted. “As if I could ever do that after what we've shared.” She averted her gaze. “What I want to happen again,” she ended on a murmur.

Her lips firmed and she met his eyes. “I could never betray you.”

His heart clutched. His entire life had been a series of betrayals, but he knew she meant what she said. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “The noble and most honorable GrandLady D'SilverFir.”

She reclaimed her fingers and her cheeks reddened. “I'm not going to turn you in.”

“GrandLady D'SilverFir,” he repeated, knowing his next words would remind them of the barriers between them. “Oathbound to lead and protect your Family.”

Her face crumpled. “Yes, I swore, just this morning. How can this ever be between us?”

She could give him her body, and her respect, and her affection . . . but she couldn't give him her future, and he ached. “We live in each and every moment. In the present, so long as we can.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm good at that, I'll teach you.”

Her smile was as lopsided as his. “I can learn so much from you. And in being with you, I can live in the moment, but otherwise . . .”

He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I know, you're the head of the Family and must plan for their future.” The deepest bedrock of Ailim's character would be honor; without that she wouldn't be the woman he cared for. He almost grasped what it would have been like to have been born into an honorable Family, accepted, then stacked his hands under his head as his imagination failed.

He looked up and saw the SilverFir Crest embroidered into the canopy above. A corner of his mouth hiked. She would never escape reminders of who she was, who she'd been taught to be. Nor would she ever betray her oath—as a GrandLady or a Judge. So Ruis had to recognize that.

“Speaking of Family, my aunt wears an evil, Flaired amulet. Could you help—”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, her eyes holding wonder. “Just that quickly.”

“Tell me how I can help you get your aunt's amulet.”

“In a minute.” She scooted close to him and put her hand on his chest, then smiled as if she liked feeling his heart's vibration. “A long time ago you said you wanted to ask me something. I was too dazed to pay attention.” She chuckled.

Heat came to his face and he kept his stare fixed on the cloth above him.

Her finger touched his cheek. “What is your question?”

Stupid to feel foolish and insecure after what they'd just shared. Awful to feel a surge of jealousy. Ruis licked his lips and said, “I watched the ceremony in the square today. Very impressive. You hardly seemed to be the same woman I'd met. I wanted to find out—”

Ailim tensed. She could read body language and knew when someone thought they'd said too much. She scowled. “Exactly what did you want to find out?”

“I wanted you to be with me, part of the crowd, not one of them—the elite, the nobles, the FirstFamily GreatLords.”

“And?”

He propped himself up on one elbow and again she felt the intensity of his gaze. She matched the steadiness of his stare. “What did you want to find out?” she repeated.

One of the moons broke from behind clouds and silver rays illuminated the room enough for Ailim to see the clenching of Ruis's jaw. “Tell me you had no pleasure in the company of the Holly,” he said.

She blinked, sure it wasn't the question he meant to ask, or only a question that reflected a concern of his that went much deeper.

Her mind scrambled a bit, grasping for the memory he wanted, so long ago—this morning. “The Holly? Do you mean HollyHeir? Holm?”

“Yes, Holm. The FirstSon. The man who will be T'Holly. He of the silver-gilt hair and charming smile. He who led you into the banquet.”

“Uh.”

“Yes?”

She shrugged. “You said it. He's charming. Amusing.”

“He can't give you what I can, stir the feelings in you that I do.”

She didn't know if he was stating a fact or voicing a hope, as he grasped her and pulled her close.

Before his lips even touched hers again, she surrendered to him. The red heat of desire rose once more. She wanted, she yearned. Her mouth opened against his questing tongue. His spicy scent enveloped her, and then blossomed into taste.