Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (23 page)

She would have yanked her arm from his, but with his grip on her elbow, she couldn’t. “Let go of me,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“No.” Determined to confront her, he forcefully guided her along the hallways. Bithia held her tongue only so as not to attract attention. Once inside her suite, he closed and locked the door.

Flinging herself away from him, she gave him her back as she eyed the servant’s door. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she ran, but even injured, Drahka was faster. He caught her about the waist.

“You can’t stop me!” She struggled so hard she tore her dress along the waist.

Refusing to argue, Drahka carried her to the bed, tossed her down and then leapt upon her before she could slip away. Beating at his chest, she kicked and squirmed, ripping at his shirt, but there was no way she would ever move him. Breathless, frustrated, she finally stopped struggling. Silent tears fell, and he kissed them away.

“I am still here.”

At that, she winced, realizing how her cleaving to a dead man had hurt him more deeply than the initial loss had.

“I miss him so much.” Eyes closed, Bithia grasped his shoulders, clinging to him rather than pushing him away.

“So do I.” Drahka kissed her lips, tasting her sorrow. “But what you are doing will not bring him back.”

At first, the physician had been hopeful that Viltori would recover, but the damage was so great they’d placed him in semi-suspended animation. Drahka had not understood the concept until the doctor explained. The problem was, Viltori was healing at the same slow rate at which he was living. A lifetime would pass before he even partially recovered. Drahka thought the doctor did this to avoid Bithia’s wrath for not saving Viltori; however, all he’d done was prolong her agony.

“We must let him go.” Before she could argue, he kissed her, not hard, but firmly, showing her he needed her. “I cannot live without you and him both.” It was difficult enough to let one go; he could not abide losing both of them. “Please, don’t turn me away.”

Bithia opened her eyes. As he and Viltori had asked her to do, she left them bare. Beautiful mismatched eyes that reflected the depth of her sorrow.

“There will come a time when his passing won’t hurt so deeply. I promise.” When his tribe killed his companion, he thought the pain would never end, but slowly, each day, the ache receded just a tiny bit, until there came a time when thinking of him felt better than it hurt.

“I don’t want to forget him.” Tightly she pressed her lips together, determined to stop crying.

“We will never forget him.” Lying above her, balanced on one arm, he cupped her face. “One day we will be able to remember him without tears.” Tenderly he ran his hand along the fasteners of her dress, sliding the fabric away from her body, kissing the skin he revealed. “He will always be with us.” Lips against her neck, he worked his way across her shoulder, down her arm and all the way to the tips of her fingers. They were cold so he breathed against them, holding them within his hand as he pressed them against his lips.

Moaning, Bithia surrendered against the bed, her eyes closed and her mouth partially open as she uttered low sounds of encouragement from the back of her throat.

Drahka continued to peel away her dress, warming her with his breath and body heat as he went. Once she was bare, he pulled off his shirt, his pants, and tossed them over the side of the bed. Carefully he pushed the covers down and then drew them up and over their nude bodies. Pressing against Bithia, he turned her head up, angling for another kiss.

Nude, they lay twined together, simply kissing and touching. When Drahka grew hard, he sighed with relief, for he’d begun to believe he would never become aroused again. Bithia felt strong and sleek beside him, her body writhing against his, as if she wished to rub her entire form against his. Her fingertips glossed lightly over him, touching him everywhere, as if to reassure herself he was whole. There were bruises, but the deep gashes in his chest were gone, magically erased by the physician’s skilled blade.

Lowering his hand to cup her breast, he dragged his thumb across her nipple, teasing the bud to firmness before enveloping it with his lips. Drawing the tight little nub into his mouth caused Bithia to clutch her hands to his head. Her answering moan shivered pleasure down his spine.

Maneuvering gently, Bithia nudged him onto his back. He resisted at first, because he wanted to give to her, but he relented at the pleading look on her face. Lying still below her, he let Bithia straddle across his hips, her nipples rubbing against his chest as she brought her mouth to his.

“I need,” she whispered. “I need you so much.”

Her voice touched him so deeply inside he grasped her hips to hold back his answering tears. He had cried enough. Instead, stroking her, he whispered back, “I need you too.”

Cupping his face, she looked into his eyes, then kissed him, softly, sweetly, her lips gentle against his as if he were fragile. Drahka knew she worried not about hurting him, but she needed tenderness and not the hot, fiery passion they’d shared before. This wasn’t frantic mating but something far deeper, what he’d come to call love. Despite the empty space left by Viltori’s absence, there was still love between them. So delicate now, it would only grow stronger if they allowed their devotion to show.

As difficult as it was for him to lie passive, he did, willing to let Bithia set the pace. So many nights had passed where they couldn’t summon the energy, the will or, he suspected, overcome their guilt, to engage one another. Pleased they’d finally found their way back, he reveled in the feel of his chosen’s body against his.

Bithia nuzzled her face to his, softly placing her lips along his cheeks, his nose and his brow as if she could memorize his features with her lips. Toying gently with the dark hair along his chest, she rubbed her fingertips across his nipples, sending liquid fire along his flesh. His cock twitched against her belly and she moaned.

Lifting up, arching her back, she reached down between their bodies and angled his cock to the entrance of her glory. Her hand was now hot and moist, feeling wonderful against his still-hardening flesh. Her welcoming wetness and heat caused him to buck up, pressing the tip against her.

Contact caused both of them to shiver.

Powerful needs shook him. His chest rose and fell so fast he grew dizzy. Forcibly he calmed himself. Gazing up at Bithia’s face, he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “Never have I seen a woman as beautiful as you, my chosen. Those who have gone before blessed me greatly the day they sent me here.”

Gently she smiled. Keeping their bodies poised for union, she hesitated. “You don’t regret anything?”

Every moment, from his first day on Diola to what had transpired today flashed through his mind. “No.” He shook his head. “I closed myself down to learning your ways.” If he had been more open, he would have had more time with Viltori and handled his initial encounter with Bithia with far more grace. He almost winced at how he’d treated her. However, despite all his mistakes, he would not be the same man now if he’d done things differently. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

At that, she nodded. “I wouldn’t, either.”

In that moment, they made peace with Viltori’s passing.

Moving together, he lifting up, she sliding down, they joined their bodies. Slick heat smoothed down his shaft, making him groan and dig his fingertips into her hips, holding her still, giving him a chance to feel the completeness of their joining. Relief swept him that they’d found their way back to one another. Never would Viltori be far from their thoughts, but he would be grateful he had not ruined their relationship. Drahka believed Viltori wanted them to move on together, not stay mired in the past that would never be. Tossing up a prayer to those who had gone before, Drahka asked them to guide Viltori into their ranks.

Gripping him, moving her insides in that grasping rhythm, Bithia ground her clit against his body, rolling him inside her in a tight circle. Swiveling her hips was like adding kindling to an already raging fire. Bursting into an explosion of sparks, his body cried out for release. Building their movements slowly, bodies sliding, sweating as they worked, a slow-motion orgasm lifted up from his toes and fingers and jetted out from him in a rush.

Replete, Drahka wrapped his arms around Bithia and crushed her to his chest as she climaxed. Her glory contracted so hard around him she almost pushed him out, but he held her and thrust himself deeply within. Cradling her close, he had a moment of sheer panic when he wondered if he’d filled her with his child.

Chapter Twenty-One

Viltori had never considered himself a slave, but now he was a thrall to pain. Agony beyond comprehension tormented every cell in his body. Suffering was his world. Misery was his shadow. He wanted to die, but something held him back. A great wall rose up around him, keeping him from releasing his spirit unto
Jarasine
.

As an acolyte, Viltori had intently studied all the gods, goddesses, their powers and the rituals that governed their sacrifices. They taught him that if he had faith, they would reward him with an afterlife of ease among the clouds. If he failed to live up to his potential, he would drift forever after in the nothingness, watching the mortal realm and hoping he happened upon one foolish enough to grant him entrance. If they dared, he would wreak vengeance upon the mortal realm for being denied access to
Jarasine
.

Fear surged when he thought he might be a
fauben
, a fallen one. Had he died and the gods found him so unworthy they cast him out? What had he done that had been so horrible they would punish him ever after?

Viltori scrolled through his life. Those he’d hated, those he’d ignored and those he’d loved flashed through his consciousness. With the last, his mind found solace. Thinking of Bithia and Drahka gave him surcease from the pain. If he had only one regret he could rectify, it would be that he’d never fully expressed his love to Bithia. The morning below the ruby covers with Drahka caused joy to burst into his body like tiny flashes of intense fire that incinerated his pain. Had he put aside his pride and joined with Bithia, he might be able to eliminate his agony, or at least let go, and move on, but he’d been too worried about rights and position.

What a fool he’d been.

Viltori should have grabbed every moment he could while he could. In a flash of profound awareness, he realized that was the sadness of life; he did not regret anything he’d done, he regretted only things he hadn’t done. Foolish to worry on those missed opportunities now, because he knew the gods wouldn’t grant him a second chance. Miraculous things had happened to a handful of people in the Onic Empire in the last two seasons, but Viltori had done nothing of greatness, nor had he sacrificed anything of himself. He didn’t think withholding a climax from Bithia counted as much of an offering. Surely, the gods laughed at his puny, worthless oblation.

A new thought crept into this mind, taking his attention away from his pain for a while. He wondered what had happened to Drahka. After he screamed at Rown to run away, he’d suffered a series of blows that knocked him to the floor. He’d lost all coherent thought as they turned to kicking rather than punching. The last thing he saw was Drahka smacking two heads together in a sickening crunch as they slammed into each other face first. As mighty as he was, he could not beat down twenty angry men.

The only way to ease his mind was to imagine Drahka survived. Had he, Drahka could soothe Bithia. Tears fell beyond Viltori’s closed lids, stinging horribly as they fell into open wounds along his face. How he would have rejoiced in their bond. Had he survived, he would have put everything aside, including his stupid pride, to fully share his world with two people eager to share their worlds with him.

Drahka, so serious, all along hiding his astounding intelligence, and Bithia, the flirt, hiding behind sex as a way to reassure herself she was worthy of love. Had Viltori been brave enough, he could have shown her the truth. She was beyond worthy. So great was her due, the gods had sent two men to her. Sadly, one hadn’t been courageous enough. Viltori’s only hope was that Drahka would give her the love she so deeply needed and deserved.

Wondering now what would have happened if he’d just fallen to his knees and satisfied the two men in the basin room, Viltori almost laughed. Bringing the two excitable fools to climax would have taken so little of his time and might have been more enjoyable by shaming them with their greedy lust. Nothing humiliated a man more than making him climax with barely a touch, and Viltori knew all the secret spots. Yet he’d held to principal. It was wrong for them to demand. Had they asked, he probably still would have said no, out of respect for his relationship with Bithia and Drahka, but still he wondered what if?

With his life held in oblivion, Viltori had plenty of time to consider what might have been. What happened to the recruits he’d shared fleeting moments with? What of the girls from his village before he’d come to the palace? Had he broken any hearts in his need for satisfaction? He honestly hoped not. None had hurt him. Always, he’d looked to his lovers with an open heart and an even more open mind. When it came to sex, nothing was out of bounds. Viltori didn’t think he’d ever put his needs before his companion’s needs, but perhaps he inadvertently had. Was that why he was being punished? Despair gripped him when he thought he had unintentionally slighted someone.

Muffled voices drew his attention away from himself. They talked so fast they sounded like buzzing insects. He laughed at that. People as bugs. Bithia with wings. She would make a lovely picture with her spiky black hair, enormous eyes and great spanning gossamer wings. But what of Drahka? To lift his bulk into the air would take a gigantic wingspan. Not only that, but he would look silly flittering about. Time and again the buzzing voices came and went. Too, he sensed light and dark shifting very quickly. What was wrong with him? Why was everything around him moving so fast? He swore he’d heard Bithia’s voice several times, but the noise was so fleeting he couldn’t fully grasp on to her.