Pixilated (16 page)

"Have you become a follower of Lathan
Bruin’s invisible, nameless god?"

Kree sat beside his mother and took her
fine-boned, trembling hands between his own battle-roughened ones.
"No, Mother. I can safely promise you I am currently without
deity."

"That will never do. A life without faith is
not for you. You are born to serve."

"I do serve. I serve the Ladies of Elhar and
the garrison at Qets." He gave a tired laugh. "And I serve Sandahl
of Thallasi at least for the present."

His mother soon recovered from the shock of
his confession enough to fix him with a sharp eye. "With your head
and your strong right arm." She touched his chest with her
fingertips. "What about your heart, Kree?"

"My heart is..." No sense in lying to
himself. "Otherwise engaged."

"I see." The Matriarch rose to her feet
bringing him with her. "I have kept you too long. Our master healer
will wonder why we disturbed his supper. Please return and take
last meal with me. I must know how my celebrated Goddess-born son
came to accept a contract with an elf girl and a pixie
half-cast."

"Times change." He kissed her cheek,
relieved that she accepted him, forgave him and even loved him in
spite of his faithlessness. "May I tell you about it tomorrow? It
is a long story and I’m—not supposed to admit it I know, but I’m
whipped."

She smiled at him. "Let it be breakfast
then. Cook will prepare all your favorites."

Of that, he had no doubt. He touched his
fingers over his heart. "I live to serve."

Kree hurried to the solar. He needed to
check on Kayseri and Sandahl before he sought his own bed. The
little princess needed the healer striding along beside him, and
Kree knew there was no way in the hells she would let the scarecrow
Templeman touch her without his presence. He would make the
introductions and after the healing, he'd have a bath and a bed in
that order. It sounded so good he almost cried.

Kayseri let them in when he rapped on the
door. She had been getting ready for bed and held her nightgown
closed with one hand at an awkward angle behind her back. The
healer took Sandahl behind one of the tapestry partitions to work
his art. But Kayseri kept moving her arms behind her back trying to
fasten her nightgown. Finally, she whirled on Kree and pulled her
hair over her shoulder. "Do me up, My Captain."

Kree's gaze followed the smooth curve of her
back. He did not dare touch her silky skin, but damnation he wanted
to. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, little girl. I’ll call an
Initiate to help you." She glanced at him over her shoulder, a
weary look that, for the first time since she arrived home, he had
no trouble interpreting.
Quit being an arse
. He hesitated
for an instant, took a deep breath, and stepped up to the task.

The problem, he soon discovered was the
garment had tiny fabric loops designed to fit snugly over equally
tiny pearl buttons. Small wonder Katie could not manage it. A woman
would have to be a contortionist to fasten the cursed garment.
Truth to tell the buttons did not willingly surrender to his
fingers either. Kree slipped one hand inside her gown to hold the
round button in place from the underside.

Kayseri’s warm caramel skin felt as smooth
as silk. He let the back of his hand rest at the small of her back
for a heartbeat or two savoring the sensation. Slowly, as if of its
own volition his hand slid upward. The back of his fingers brushed
the side of one small breast. She made a soft little sound in the
back of her throat. Consent enough, Kree flexed his knees adjusting
his height to hers. Dipping his head, he placed a light kiss on
soft skin where her neck joined her shoulder. She dropped her head
to one side baring the graceful column of her neck. Buttons
forgotten, Kree's other hand skimmed across her bare midriff. His
cock was so hard he thought it would burst free of his trousers. He
had lusted after scores of women, made love to nearly as many, but
what he felt for Kayseri transcended anything he'd known before.
Everything about her aroused him, her laughter, her courage, even
her damned mischief. When he touched her, by the sweet breath of
Namar, he felt like he could fly.

His hands continued their exploration,
cupping her small high breasts. Kayseri’s nipples hardened to
diamond pebbles at his touch. The way she responded to him filled
him with possessive male pleasure. He rolled that sweet little
pebble between his thumb and forefinger tearing a moan of from her.
His need to be inside her eclipsed his constant need for Goddess
nectar. In this moment, he was truly free of it. Kayseri must have
felt an answering need for she pushed against him pressing his
needy member into the sweet curve of her bottom with delicious
friction.

Oh. Yes. Give me more of that.

Kree kissed his way up her neck, nuzzling
her ear. His tongue traced its outline from lobe to point as he
rocked against her. Kayseri shuddered and arched her neck giving
him greater access to her pointy little seashell ear.

Do you like that?

He flicked his tongue along her ear again,
this time his lips closed over the sensitive point, and Kayseri
bucked in his arms.

Yes, you do
.

They charged toward disaster with Kree
leading the rush. The last rational corner of his brain screamed
retreat, but his rogue hands had other orders. They stroked the
taut plain of her stomach, moving lower and lower, brushing over
the tight curls between her legs. Her thighs opened for him, his
fingers teased her soft wet fold. The scent of her arousal
permeated the air. She filled his senses. Utterly lost, all thought
of retreat vanished. Then Kayseri went still in his arms. Bloody
sodden hell! What kind of monster was he? Kree opened his eyes. The
healer watched them, a slight smile on his thin lips. He had told
the man he wanted a full report, and no one disobeyed a Gryphon. No
one interrupted one either. He glared at the man over Kayseri’s
head until he lowered his eyes, and his smile winked out.

"Forgive me, Gryphon."

Kree held Kayseri against his chest while
his racing heart calmed and his breathing slowed. She shivered in
his arms. Was she cold? Was she humiliated? He decided on cold,
because he could not bear thinking he had shamed the woman he
loved. He grabbed the patchwork quilt on the back of a nearby chair
and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I’ll send an Initiate to you," Kree
whispered next to her ear. Taking a deep calming breath, he stepped
away. "How fares my contract, Master Healer?"

"There is nothing to concern you,
Gryphon—severe sunburn, heat exhaustion, mild dehydration, in
addition to the aches and pains expected when one is unaccustomed
to days on horseback. I performed a comprehensive healing, and I
can assure you she will sleep soundly through the night." The
healer shot a meaningful glance toward Kayseri.

Kree stepped toward the man blocking his
line of sight. "We could all use a good night's sleep. Come, Master
Healer, let us leave these ladies to their rest. Sweet dreams,
Katie."

In his own suite of rooms, a priestess and
two novices waited to attend him. Most nights he would have sent
them away, preferring as he did to do things himself. Tonight he
was so tired that letting someone take care of him held a certain
appeal. Later, soaking neck-deep in a steaming hot bath with his
head resting on soft towels while expert hands scraped three days
of itchy red stubble off his face, he wondered why he ever resisted
this simple luxury. In the end though, he toweled himself off. A
man had to have some standards. Kree entered the bedroom still
toweling his hair dry, tossed the towel onto a leather chair, and
shook his hair out. A lovely novice stood near the foot of his
bed.

She bowed. "I am for you, Goddess-born."

First night ritual words, Kree had forgotten
this custom. It had been a long time since he slept in a temple.
The novice’s simple diaphanous gown hid none of the woman’s ample
charms. She was tall, full figured, blessed with the flawless
porcelain skin he so admired. Her generous mouth smiled in
invitation. Wide cornflower-blue eyes sparkled with an eagerness to
please that made his cock twitch appreciatively. Glossy
honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders in soft waves. She
was everything that usually stoked his fire, but while his body
appreciated her assets, his heart was filled with another vision—a
vision of a woman whose caramel colored skin was kissed by the sun,
whose high firm breasts did not fill his hands, but might fill his
mouth if he were fortunate enough to taste them. Kayseri filled his
heart, his mind, even his soul, so completely he heard himself say,
"No."

The woman dropped a very deep curtsey. "As
you will, Namar's Gryphon."

"Wait." If he sent her away, she would lose
face. Kree had been away a long time, but not so long he had
forgotten how spiteful novices were. "Have you trained in the art
of massage?" She nodded, but did not meet his eyes, did not speak.
"Stay then.

Kree threw himself face down on the bed. The
mattress sagged as the novice crawled onto the bed. Her smooth warm
thighs straddled his hips. Another time the gentle pressure of her
knees at his waist would command a response, but his thoughts were
all on his encounter with Katie. Was he now one of those pathetic
chumps who pined over women they could not have? Namar's bloody
tears! He hoped not.

Strong hands stoked the back of his neck
easing tension, aches, and pains almost magically. The novice’s
hands hesitated at his shoulders. Her fingertips brush across the
gryphon shaped scars burned into his flesh. Likely, she’d never
seen gryphon marks before. Not many men boasted the Goddess Namar’s
highest honor. After a moment, her hands resumed their soothing
movements.

"Are the rumors we hear of you true,
Goddess-born?"

"Almost never," he mumbled into his pillow.
"Did you have a particular rumor in mind?"

"The one where you lose your beloved, and
our Goddess, touched by your grief, frees you from her nectar? It's
so romantic. It's my favorite."

Kree opened his mouth to tell her it was not
romantic. It was in fact painful as hell, but the sound that came
out was
aah
.

Chapter Thirteen

‘
Sweet dreams, Katie.’
Kayseri tossed
and turned on the soft feather mattress. Sleep eluded her. She
counted the stars winking at her through the solar's wide windows.
It didn't help. The only stars Kayseri wanted to count were the
stars she seen when Kree suckled her sensitive ear-point. How had
he known to do that when she had not known it herself? Her breasts
tingled with the ghost of his touch. Kree’s hands were rough yet
his touch was magical, and as his magic fingers stroked the flesh
between her legs, something wild sparked into life. Pleasure she
had not known existed clamored for release. The memory of it made
her body hot and restless—hungry—unsatisfied. The satisfaction her
body craved lay just down the hall. She needed the magic of Kree’s
hands and lips. If she could just lie down beside him, she would
fall right to sleep. She knew it.

Kayseri spent several minutes trying to
convince herself Kree would not mind if she slipped into his bed as
she used to do when she was little and something frightened her,
but in her heart, she knew he would mind. He would mind very much.
He hated mischief and he had been acting so strange of late. She
did not believe his behavior reflect on her race, but if not race,
then what? Kayseri stared up at the stars but the answer wasn't
there. The stars looked lonely. Staring at them, she felt an
overwhelming longing for Kree, and she could not—would not ignore
it. Cloaked in mischief, Kayseri slipped from her bed.

The hinges on Kree’s unlocked door protested
when Kayseri opened it. She froze, listening. Nothing. She slipped
inside and found herself in a parlor furnished with large scale
overstuffed couches and big wing-backed chairs. Books lined the
wall behind a long mahogany table upon which lay an open violin
case. Kree played the violin. Kayseri smiled. He favored sad
tunes.

She crept over to the opposite door and
eased it open. Soft snoring greeted her. His saber hung on a brass
hook inside the door. His broad hand-and-a-half sword and his
ivory-handled fighting knives rested in a wall rack. Assorted
smaller knives lay on an inlaid marble table below it. He sprawled
in the huge bed a good ten feet from his weapons with his back to
the door. He felt safe here. His gryphon knives hung from his
headboard even in own garrison. He did not stir as Kayseri eased
the door shut. Mischief held tight around her, she skirted the
enormous bed and froze. There was a woman in his bed. Jealous rage
rocked Kayseri to her toes. Her mischief slipped. The woman spooned
against Kree, one of those pale-skinned blonde beauties whose lush
bodies made Kree stupid. He had married such a woman once, and she
had made him miserable. Kayseri would never make him miserable.
Pain crushed her chest. After what had happened in her chamber, she
had dreamed—she had hoped. The pain of her heartbreak tore a gasp
from her, and the woman woke peering sleepily around the room. She
had cornflower-blue eyes. It was too much. Kayseri exchanged her
hold on mischief for a hold on the trollop's honey colored
hair.

Kree woke to the sound of a woman screaming.
He shook off sleep and instinctively reached for weapons that were
not there. What the— He rolled from his bed coming to his feet in a
fighter’s stance. Kayseri Bruin straddled the screaming novice.
Using a fistful of the woman’s beautiful hair, she slammed the
novice’s head against the carpeted floor.

"Katie!"

Kayseri sprang to her feet and broke for the
door, but Kree's combat honed reflexes trapped her between the wall
and the bed. She tried darting under him, but he anticipated her
move. She called up mischief. He grabbed her wrist.