Hers to Choose (22 page)

The slow glide
of his cock in and out kept them balanced precariously at the edge of a precipice over bottomless ecstasy. Her slippery heat gloved him in a tight fist, brutally challenging his discipline. Slipping into the meditative mind-set necessary for the more complex rites, he chanted to himself under his breath, “Just one more, just one more, just one more…” Keeping count was beyond him. He didn’t try.

“Please, Eric. Please.”
Sophi’s begging shattered Eric’s concentration. The epic wave of carnal pleasure, confined by only his will, broke free and inundated his entire body. Helpless, he surrendered. Holding Sophi’s aqua eyes, Eric took himself and Sophi over the precipice and a long fall into all-consuming rapture with one, final, torturous slide.

A
light storm of white radiance illuminated the small tent, accompanied by a subliminal thrum of heavy bass. The sound waves vibrated the ground they lay on.
What?

Rolling carefully over, Eric shielded his eyes
and propped up, trying to locate the source. As suddenly as it had come, the light and deep throb died, leaving only the pink light of the rising sun infiltrating the tent.

“Does your vest have
magickal
properties, too?” Sophi’s words slurred together, heavy with sexual satiation. Her eyes lids opened as if heavily burdened and she caught his gaze for a scant moment before closing them again.

Eric’s brow wrinkled.
“What?”

“That, ah, blas
t of light came from your vest—the sound, too.”

“From my vest?”
Eric’s eyes traveled to where he had discarded it in his hurry to be rid of his clothes.

“
Mmm.” Sophi bestowed a dreamy, somnolent smile on him. “Your vest.” She released a sigh of extravagant pleasure. “You were right.” She stretched like a lazy cat, unconcerned by the glorious display her nude body presented to his eyes. “About two things.”

Eric stood and walked to his vest
. He picked it up and searched its numerous pockets. Spare bridle buckles and hooks, a razor, a sliver of soap, a tin of salve and other medicines, a hoof pick, money, a compass—any number of essentials for day-to-day life in the field—rained to the ground. He grunted in surprise. “This is what created the light and sound. Obviously, one I forgot to give back to the villagers at Silver Grove.” Eric held up a pulsing,
diaman
crystal before tucking it back into the pocket.

Dropping his vest, he rejoined Sophi on the bedroll, snuggling up to her, pulling her into his arms
with a long, tender kiss. “I am always right,” he murmured against her cheek. “But tell me what I am right about this time.”

Sophi laughed through the kisses
he placed on her mouth until she had to push him away to answer. “I am too weak to stand.”

“Yes.” He grinned. “I am going to keep you like this. You are much easier to control.”

“Eric. You rutting beast.”

With a laugh, he smothered her half-hearted objection with more kisses rising in ardor, until he pulled away, both of them breathless. “What was the second thing?”

“Hmmm?”

Sweet girl. She is truly exhausted. She can hardly keep her eyes open.

“Pander to my ego. What else am I right about?” He pushed her hair away from her face and ran a knuckle down her cheek.

“You glow.” Without opening her eyes, Sophi frowned slightly. “Not really a glow,” she mumbled and snuggled further into his chest. “Nimbus. Yes, you have a gold nimbus.”

Well, shit.

The long shadows announced early evening as Sophi propped herself up from the haven of Eric’s arms. At some point, he had covered them with a light blanket and it slipped across her back. Blinking sleepily, she met Eric’s wide-awake eyes watching her, a bemused expression softening his features. A smile quirked her lips. “I am astonished Adonia or stepfather hasn’t appeared to roust us.”

“
Adonia did. She stood over me like an avenging angel come to slay a fiendish demon. Consideration for you stayed her tongue. Please tell me, what have I ever done to that woman?”

“You were born an aristocrat. It is enough.” Sophi sighed and stroked his cheek. “Did you get any sleep? Or were you ‘on guard’ the entire afternoon?”

He shrugged. “I rested. I have less need for sleep after, well . . . after.”

“After you died?”

“Yes.”

“So it is more than just the glowing thing
,” she said.

“Yes
, I have more stamina, more endurance. I don’t know what else.”

“It makes you uncomfortable. I can tell.”

“Well, I’d just as soon not glow.” His eyes held unease as well as laughter. “Off me, wench. Dress yourself, then I think we should rejoin the others.”

Sophi rose, dragging the blanket with her and collected the clothes they had hastily discarded hours earlier.
She chided herself for falling asleep, for not returning to Adonia and the others. It was a testament to how thoroughly she had lost herself in Eric—her golden man. Her lips curled in a wry smile.
He is such a dichotomy.
Savage warrior and tender lover. Insensitive at times but then surprisingly patient. Secure enough in his masculinity not to consider a female inferior or less worthy of respect for their abilities.
Thank you, my brother. You chose well.

A comfortable silence surrounded them as they organized the little they
had and redressed. Eric faced her with a long sigh, then straightened. He held the tent flap back for her as she ducked out. Standing just outside the tent, Eric gazed around. “What is the name of this place?”

Sophi scanned the
sheltered camp with its stunted trees and scraggly bushes. “It is aptly named Forsaken Grove.”

Eric turned a slow circle
, examining the area. “For me it’s now the ‘Enchanted’ Grove.” He paused for one last look then turned. “Stop lolly-gagging about,
Flight Leader
. Let’s go.”

A smart slap on her buttocks accompanied his command.
After a yelp of surprise, Sophi followed. “I’m not the one lolly-gagging,” she complained to his back.

Maeve was the only woman who greeted them at
a cold campfire. “
Flight Leader
, Adonia and Layna have ridden ahead with the men to scout the area. The
Primus
doesn’t stay in one spot for very long and we are not exactly sure where Krakoll is. Our scouts say he is on the move.” Her eyes flashed to Eric.

He returned the challenge in her eyes
. “More dispatch riders from Silver Grove rode with an alert to Sylvan Mintoth. I warned them to watch for ambush. Our own people betray us. By my estimation, we should see the armies of the
Second Tetriarch
moving toward
Sh’r Un Kree
in two or three days’ time. The cavalry will be the first to arrive.”

“I had thought to see them before now,” Sophi
admitted.

“Something must have happened to
Eudora and the first dispatch rider from Silver Grove.”

She nodded her head. “As you say. We have been betrayed by our own people.” Sophi turned to Maeve. “When did
Primus
G’hed and the rest leave?”

Maeve considered her question for a moment. “Perhaps mid-day?”

“And it is early evening. We shouldn’t have too long to wait for their return.” Sophi shivered in the rapidly cooling air.
As the sun sinks it takes its heat with it.
Strong arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into a body radiating warmth.

“Come, let’s
move out of the wind and I’ll provide us some heat.” He walked her back against a cluster of boulders and sat them at its base. Fishing in his vest, he pulled out the
diamantorre
. “Maeve, please move in tightly. This
diaman
crystal will not glow with the brightness of fire, but, still, I’d like to block out as much from sight as possible.”

Eric placed the amber crystal on the ground in front of their
tight semi-circle. He mentally composed himself then murmured some ritual words. Sophi recognized them as the
Lesser Rite for Small Flame
. As he did so, the amber glow seemed to pulse with activity. Her bare face and hands felt the warmth before the rest of her and she closed her eyes with a groan of pleasure. Maeve gave a startled gasp, which she stifled almost immediately. Sophi opened her eyes to see a soft aura of pale light surrounding Eric.

Maeve watched him as if he were a soul-stealer rising from
an open grave. “What sort of
magick
do you work?”

Sophi put her arm on Maeve
when the woman shrank away from Eric. “Don’t be afraid. Eric merely unlocked some of the energy stored in the
diamantorre
. You could have done it.”

“Well, is he supposed to glow like that?” Maeve halted her creep backward but still regarded Eric with suspicious eyes.

Sophi bit back a gurgle of laughter
at the put-upon look that crossed Eric’s face. “Eric is unique. I don’t think many people glow.”

“What do you mean
, I could have done the same thing? I thought you had to be an aristo and have sex to use those
magicks,
” Maeve said.

“
A misconception,” Eric answered. “During ritual sex, a
magister
gathers the energy coming from and flowing through his
magistra.
He channels that force into a
diamantorre
. Once a crystal is fully energized, anyone can unlock that power. It merely takes disciplined mental concentration. Do you want heat? Do you want healing?
If you concentrate on how you want the stored energy to manifest, you can do exactly as I did.”

Sophi continued when Eric stopped.
“This is not discussed or known among the desert people. But here’s how it works, Maeve. Eric and I have a genetic marker that allows our planet-mother to use our bodies as conduits for
Her
electro-magnetic energy. We have an affinity for our planet, if you will. Consider our nobles as a small group of fellow Verdantians who work hard to make life easier for everyone. A Seventh Level
magister or magistra
has studied for many years. They are far more ‘servants’ than ‘served’.” Warm satisfaction ran through her at the approval on Eric’s face. Sophi placed her hand on his muscled forearm and murmured, “I am finally beginning to understand.”

“Huh.” Maeve looked at the
glowing
diamantorre
inches from her. “So I can do this?”

Sophi and Eric nodded.

“Huh. Turn it off,” she ordered.

Sophi flashed her eyes toward Eric. She didn’t have the training. He would have to do it. Acknowledging her unspoken request, he composed himself. The muscles of his face smoothed in silent concentration. His eyes gazed at something unseen in the distance. At first, nothing happened. Then gradually, the light died and the heat cooled until the
diamantorre
was just a pretty amber rock lying between them. “Now, how do I turn it on? What are the
magickal
words?” Maeve said.

Eric smiled slightly. “Another misconception. Any concentrated thought
directed strongly is enough to activate the
diamantorre
once it’s been charged.
Magisters
and
magistras
are taught ritual words because the intensity of sexual arousal involved in energizing or recharging a large
diamantorre
can wipe all reason. We need a rote formula to fall back on—a mantra, a chant, so ingrained we can repeat it without thought.”

Maeve looked at Eric with an open-mouthed frown. “Just concentrate?”

“Yes. Think of heat, of warmth and nothing else. Think it repeatedly. Think nothing else.”

Maeve’s gaze pierced
the amber rock as if it were an enemy to be slain with the arrows of her eyes. Her brow creased and she stopped breathing. Letting her breath out in a gust, she grunted and inhaled again, stabbing the rock with her eyes. Nothing. She looked up in frustration. “I’m doing something wrong.”

Eric smiled slightly. “The discipline to focus your thoughts so nothing intrudes requires practice. Don’t be discouraged. Think the word, ‘heat’
—and nothing else. Try again—and Maeve—breathe.”

Do it! Do it!
Anxiety for Maeve’s success vibrated through Sophi.

This time Maeve relaxed her body and cl
osed her eyes. Opening a lid, she pinned Eric with a one-eyed stare. “It’s okay to close my eyes?”

“You may do whatever you need to help you concentrate. If closing your eyes helps, close them.”

With a grunt, she closed them and relaxed. Maeve inhaled deeply and for long, anxious moments Sophi watched Maeve’s ribcage rise and fall—and rise and fall.
Please, please work.
The amber crystal began to emit a soft glow.

“
Maeve! You are doing it! You are doing it!” Sophi whispered.

Maeve’s eyes flew open and she peered at the
diaman
crystal then picked it up in her hand and examined it. She turned a disappointed face to Eric. “This would make a good hand warmer but that is all. Why doesn’t it glow hotter?”

Sophi could see Eric struggling to master his amusement. “Try again. Keep your thought pure. And Sophi
...silence.” Sophi shot him an apologetic look and sat back, determined to confine her excitement. She was learning, too.

Once again Maeve closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. This time her results were much more gratifying.
The heat didn’t approach the level Eric had achieved, but the
diaman
stone radiated noticeably more heat and light it had after her first effort.

“Look at that! Look at that!” Her exultant voice bounced off the rocks surrounding them. “I did
magick
!”

Sophi and Eric
leaned back against the rocks and smiled at Maeve’s fist pump of jubilation. Maeve grinned broadly and turned to Eric. “Well, guess you can teach an old dog after all. Huh. Now, Commander, turn up the heat.”

With a tip of his head,
Eric’s face became a smooth study of concentration. Sophi watched as the
diaman
crystal increased in radiance and intensity until it became too bright to look at.

“Wow,” murmured Maeve.
“But, it is going to take some getting used to that glowing thing you do.”

Eric grunted. “I’m just a man
.” He wondered if he said it to convince Maeve or himself.

Maeve probed Eric with questions about the
magisters
and
magistras
of the ‘lowlanders’ and what uses the
diaman
rocks could be put to. Time passed quickly, but Sophi’s muscles still protested her movement as she stood to greet Adonia and Layna when they slipped into camp. The
medica
nodded, never leaving her horse.

“
The
Primus
and about twelve of our men are not far behind but neither is that band of mercenaries that kidnapped you and this time they bring
Fell
wolves.”

Sophi and Eric looked at her sharply.
“Explain,” Eric demanded.

Adonia bri
stled at his order but she answered. “It is as you said,
Flight Leader
, their captain has tracked you. Although that
magickal
show you indulged in this morning would have brought us to the attention of a blind man.” Adonia scowled hatefully at Eric. “Perhaps forty or more are camped between us and Mother Lyre. We must skirt around them. We don’t have sufficient numbers to take them on.”

A quiet baritone
called from the rocks behind them, “You do now.”

Sophi cried out in
unrestrained joy and turned. The inexpressibly wonderful sight of a tall, blond man of almost ethereal beauty met her eyes. Her beloved brother. He slipped effortlessly down the rocks, followed by at least a dozen others. Sophi recognized their uniforms—Blue Daggers. With a joyous shout of “Doral!” she ran to him, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. He held her tightly and with a low chuckle for only her ears said, “Release me, Bitsy. You are ruining my image. No one will believe I’m a fearsome assassin.”