No Words Alone (12 page)

He ignored her, took a step closer. “I assume
kissing is innocent enough.”

She didn’t trust herself, didn’t trust the
fresh sweat that broke out on her skin. “It’s not innocent when you
do it.”

He grinned. “Thank you, sweetheart. You
haven’t answered my question, though. Perhaps you could trust me to
stop before that line is crossed.” The last was murmured against
her lips. He brushed them softly and withdrew enough to look in her
eyes. “I hold honor as strongly as you do. Though I have no qualms
about taking you now, I will respect
your
sense of honor. I
can wait for the final moment.” He curled a finger in her hair,
gently pulled her closer. “There is so much more we can do.”

She ducked his kiss, nearly moaned at the
feel of his lips on her temple instead. “No, Ryven.”

He withdrew, laughter in his eyes. “I’m going
to enjoy changing your mind.” He slapped her butt on the way past.
“I’ll wait while you shower. Don’t be overlong or I may be tempted
to come looking for you.” He cast her a look over his shoulder as
he walked out.

Xera shuddered. She closed her eyes. The man
was going to kill her.

He didn’t say anything when she came out of the
showers. He took her to a restaurant and ordered something he
thought she might like, since she wasn’t familiar with the food. In
public he was aloof, in command, but there was something in his
eyes, his touch, that had her uncharacteristically flushed. Chills
would strike her, and she actually felt faint. Her condition made
her clumsy, and she nearly spilled her wine. His hand settled over
hers as she struggled to right the glass.

“Easy,” he murmured. “The cause is also the
cure,
hiri’ami.
I could ease you.” He let go slowly, a
certain look in his eyes.

She glared at him. “Your aunt is right. You
are a rake.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

“We don’t respect them much where I come
from.”

“You are not on your world.”

“I don’t want to marry someone who won’t keep
the vows.”

He regarded her steadily. “You know I am a
man who keeps his vows. I even keep yours...when it can be
done.”

Direct hit! She drew a breath. “I apologize.
You have done much for me.”

He looked unsatisfied. “It has not all been
honor.”

Did he want her to ask? “Which part?”

Their food arrived then, and he chose not to
answer. Perhaps he’d already revealed more than he was comfortable
with, but he’d left her curious. She waited until the waiter left,
then looked at him with troubled eyes. “Do you
like
me,
Ryven? I’ve known you for such a short time, and I don’t understand
you very well. I don’t...” She shook her head, unable to organize
her thoughts.

His mouth turned up in the faintest of
smiles. “You’ll find asking Scorpio men about their feelings a lost
cause,
hiri’ami.
I will admit I like you. I would not marry
you if I did not. That is not being done to cause you pain.”

His answer bewildered her, but she wasn’t
sure why. She finished her meal in silence.

He waited until they had both eaten, then
leaned back in his chair. “There will be a small ceremony tonight
to introduce you to our society and to incorporate you into our
family. It is not difficult. Namae will instruct you.”

“What exactly is the meaning of the ceremony?
Not that I would accuse you of leaving out any details,” she said
wryly. Better to ask than to be condemned for her ignorance
later.

He looked amused. “It’s a public show of
approval by my father, telling those of rank that he approves of my
choice of bride. Believe that he has no intention of refuting
you.”

“And it’s not a marriage ceremony?”

He shrugged. “We do not celebrate the actual
‘wedding’ of the couple in any public ceremony. My father will give
his public approval and we will celebrate with a feast after we
have had our private consummation.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a
wedding.”

He shook his head. “Only the preparation. The
bedding completes the act, but we will wait until you have spoken
with your sister.”

She felt uncomfortably like squirming. “Is
there any chance of that happening soon?”

“Eager?” he teased her.

She rolled her eyes. “Just getting
information.”

“You’ll speak to your sister soon,” he
assured her. He rose and offered her his hand before he pulled out
her chair. “Come. You must practice.”

Practice, she found, did nothing for one’s
nerves when one was expected to walk down an aisle in front of
hundreds of spectators. The only consolation was that she was not
expected to give a speech. As gracefully as she could, she walked
down the sage green, tiled aisle, careful not to step on the hem of
her coral silk gown. The empire waist dress had short tulip sleeves
and parted down the center to reveal a gorgeously embroidered
underslip of pale pink. A golden clasp was centered just below her
breasts, at the point where the underskirt parted. Matching
slippers with a ridiculously dainty heel adorned her feet, making
the walk that much more challenging.

The room was huge, and although she knew she
was indoors, a blue sky chased with clouds arched overhead,
enlivened by the occasional bird. Trees grew out of the floor and
collections of potted plants lined the walls, giving the room the
feel of a hothouse.

Ahead of her, the Lord Governor waited on a
raised dais with a single throne, though there was room enough for
three others. If this had been a normal Scorpio wedding and her
family had been here, her sister Gem would have sat on a chair next
to him, and Ryven would have had his turn climbing the steps to
receive her approval. As it was, he and his family watched in a
circle below the dais. She chose not to look at them, afraid she
would lose her concentration.

Carefully she climbed the black crystal
stairs, raising her hem just high enough to assure her safe
ascension. She raised her eyes to meet the Lord Governor’s then
carefully knelt at the left side of his throne. She raised her hand
and let it rest on the arm of his chair, careful not to touch
him.

This was the place where he could reject her,
could refuse to touch her. She swallowed down a sudden qualm, but
the five-second pause that came before he touched her hand and bade
her rise was nerve-wracking. She made her bow and then met his
eyes. He wasn’t quite grinning; too undignified! The LG would never
grin, but a fierce light shown in his eyes, a mixture of glee and
pleasure.

“Rise, daughter, and be welcome in our
family,” he told her in firm, ringing tones. He looked at Ryven,
who climbed the stairs as soon as his father had spoken. The LG
then put Xera’s hand in his son’s. “All joy to Lord and Lady Ryven
Atarus!”

A great cheer rang out. In spite of herself,
Xera colored. She glanced at Ryven, who looked pleased. He
winked.

The reception was a dizzying round of
introductions and congratulations. As proud and fierce as the
Scorpio were, they still threw themselves into a party with great
enthusiasm. Xera was a little shocked at the sensuality of the
dances displayed on the dance floor. She was reminded of salsa and
various Middle Eastern dance, and these Scorpio varieties were both
similar and altogether different. She prayed Ryven would keep her
away from the dance floor; he knew she was helpless out there.

Her wish was not granted. “I can’t dance!”
she hissed at him as he led her out with the other dancers.

“I can make it seem otherwise,” he assured
her, a gleam in his eye. “You will be my reluctant bride. I want
you to resist me. Show me that, cross your arms and glower at me,
and I will show
you
.”

She’d never seen him like this; so wild, so
completely uninhibited. He made her his centerpiece, danced around
her as if showing her off. Wow, but the man could move his hips. He
did a hip thrust that actually made her shake her head to clear it.
Enjoying herself despite the attention, she fanned herself. He
grinned and moved closer, teasing her, sculpting the air around her
without actually touching her. She found herself following the
movement of his head, tracking his lips, until at the song ended
with a flourish and he bent her backward and kissed her.

Wild cheers broke out around them. Drunk with kisses,
Xera laughed and tried not to stagger as he stood her upright.
Dangerous man.

She had wine as well: bubbly, intoxicating stuff that
fizzed in her blood and messed with her judgment. She was giggly
and subtly leaning on Ryven by the time he took pity on her and
made their excuses.

She was a little fuzzy about how they got to her
front door. On closer inspection, the room wasn’t hers. “Is this
your place?” she asked, confused. She was going to have to watch
that wine. She’d had hard whisky that had hadn’t knocked her on her
tail so fast.

“Hm. Since I didn’t want to fight tonight, I thought
I would settle for giving you a massage...and kisses. I demand
kisses.”

She laughed. “Kisses are innocent enough, I
guess.”

His expression was angelic. “Perfectly innocent,
wife.” The room was lit with candles.

She let him undress her. In her current state it
didn’t seem alarming. He even had a massage table covered with soft
saffron linen, and he drew a sheet up to her shoulders. Nothing
alarming there, but it made her wonder. “Have you done this
before?”

He took his time about replying as he poured a subtly
scented oil over his hands. “I’ve had many massages and have
learned something of them. You’ll enjoy this.”

“This isn’t your table, though.”

“I could purchase one,” he murmured as his hands
began to work their magic. “You’d like that.”

Maybe she would. Those deep strokes he was using on
her back certainly felt good. He even found some knots in her left
lattisimal dorsi that had her moaning with the release of a tension
she didn’t know she’d carried. He stroked her arms all the way to
her fingertips before moving down her back, eventually slipping
aside the sheet and working his magic on her firm, round tush. It
felt good, but not in a sexual way...not at first. Not until she
began to think about whose hands were doing the work. It felt so
good, though, especially when he worked out the tension in her
thighs and bent her knee to relax her calves.

Oh, yeah. More people should spend their wedding
night like this!

He set her legs down and reached for a bowl. She was
surprised to feel a hot, wet washcloth moving over her skin. It
felt heavenly, but…. “You’re going to get the sheets wet.”

“It evaporates,” he murmured. “It is already steamed
off.” He drew a hand down her clean, dry back to demonstrate.

“Oh.” She relaxed again.

He washed all of her, allowing extra to stream down
between her legs, she thought just to tease her. The feet were the
most devastating, though. The nubby wet cloth made her feet tingle,
and the hot wet tongue that followed made her squeak in
surprise.

“Kisses only,” he reminded her. “What harm can it
bring if I kiss you here?”

Reasonable harm, she thought as waves of pleasurable
lassitude swept her. How had she never known that a sweep of a
tongue between her toes could send a shiver right up her leg, or
that having her toes suckled could make her moan? No one had ever
tried it. If they had suggested such a thing, she would have
laughed them away.

Shivers wracked her. His tongue caressed her instep
as his hands glided over her calf, and sudden sensation made her
cry out. It felt like someone had poured champagne right between
her legs. Her head came up and she shot a look over her shoulder.
Ryven looked pleased. He also looked...well, she didn’t want to
think about that too closely.

“M-maybe we should...” She puffed out a breath as he
switched to her other foot, and lowered her head. It just didn’t
seem worth the effort. She’d stop him soon.

He made her cry out again before he covered her with
the sheet and told her to turn over. She did, and began to wonder
it there had been more than wine in her cup.

He started on her toes again. This time he massaged
his way up her legs, inching the sheet higher as he did until it
just barely covered what it ought. She moved restlessly,
whimpering. A peek through her lashes showed his mischievous grin
as he lowered the sheet over her legs and took one of her
hands.

His mouth felt every bit as dangerous on her hands as
it had on her toes. It swirled and suckled, then made its wicked
way down her arm, dragged across her chest above the sheet and
licked its way back up to the opposite hand. Shivers wracked her
and she occasionally cried out with the hot pressure between her
legs. Sometimes it would culminate in a burst of light that raced
through her body and exploded behind her eyes. She didn’t know what
it was.

He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth.
She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging deep.
Instinctively turning away from the intense pressure, she pushed at
him, prompting him to snag her wrists and hold them over her head.
He made a leisurely feast of her breasts, then raised his head and
kissed her until heat burst like rifle shells between her legs. She
cried out, desperate for some relief.

He slid down her body. Down and down. Kissed, nipped,
until his head settled between her legs and his tongue thrust
deep.

She screamed. Frantic to dislodge the source of
torture, of pleasure, she grabbed his hair and yanked. That got her
hands flattened to the bed, his hands on top. All the while she
cried out as her thighs grew damp and heat drizzled between her
legs.

He loved her until she was weak, until the pleasure
stripped any resistance from her body. She didn’t remember “no,”
didn’t care what her sister would say. He could’ve taken her with
impunity....