Wild Embrace (10 page)

Tears burned Tazia's eyes again, and then she was being hugged by her brother, who whispered, “Why did you never sneak in to see me?” A question that held hurt and anger both. “I waited for you.”

Tazia sobbed. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“I was—but you are my sister.” A crushing squeeze. “I will always protect you.”

And that was how it continued for all the hours of the day, family and only the most trusted friends allowed in. Mina and her family, her father's dearest, oldest friend and his wife. That friend also happened to be the village official authorized to marry people.

“I will make the legal papers,” the white-haired elder told them solemnly when he met with her and Stefan. “But I will not file them. Instead, I will give them into your keeping. When and if you can, you will file them.”

“Thank you,” Stefan said. “We'll do so the instant it becomes safe.”

The older man nodded. “It is a thing for the world. You will be married in the eyes of the family and the village as soon as the dawn ceremony is complete.”

Stefan disappeared for an hour after that, and Tazia worried until she saw his tall form beside her father and brother in the courtyard, where he was helping to put up the wedding pavilion of hanging silks. Not strictly according to tradition, for the groom wasn't meant to be at the bride's home until the time of the wedding, but the family was being flexible.

It was hard to sleep that night, and she twisted and turned. Part of her hoped Stefan would teleport to her, but she knew he was too respectful of her family to do so. The hours passed torturously . . . and heatedly, as she imagined the intimacies they would share once they were man and wife. She wanted to touch him, wanted to kiss him again and again, wanted his hands on her, wanted . . .

Sheets tangled around her legs, she came awake to her mother's soft, “Tazi, my Tazi. It is time to bathe and dress for your wedding.” A gentle hand brushing back her hair, a kiss on the forehead, a smile in Kaya Nerif's dark gaze. “He loves you very much, your Stefan.”

“I know,” Tazia whispered. She didn't need words, saw the truth in those eyes that said so much.

It wasn't until a half hour later, after she'd bathed in rose-scented water that left her skin soft and silky, and her mother came in to help her dry her hair, that Tazia realized how her mother knew the truth of Stefan's love. “Oh.” Her lower lip quivered.

In her mother's arms lay the beautiful aqua and silver outfit she'd admired, complete with the stunning scarf of fine silver lace.

Smiling, her mother laid out the clothing and cupped Tazia's cheeks. “You did well, daughter. A quiet man who does such things is worth far more than a man who says much and forgets to care for his treasures.” Another kiss on her forehead. “Now sit and let me dry your hair. Today, my daughter gets married and I would have her look a princess.”

Tazia felt exactly
like a princess when she entered the wedding pavilion in her finery. Stefan, dressed in formal black but for a black and silver man's scarf she recognized as her father's, waited for her.

Oh, but she
could not wait to call him her husband.

The ceremony was simple and poignant, the embraces afterward warm and loving.

“I wish we could stay,” she said to Stefan when they had a moment together in a quiet corner as the delicate hues of dawn became true daylight.

“We can stay another day or two,” he replied. “That'll give us enough time to get back to the Alaris offices on the jet and get in some exercise to further strengthen our bodies before we go back under.”

“No.” Tazia ducked her head, cheeks heating. “Much as I want to stay, I want more for us to have time as husband and wife.”

Stefan cupped the side of her face. “As do I.”

Turning her cheek into his touch, she blushed as Mina came over and waggled a finger. “Not yet, Tazi.” Laughter filled her friend's expression. “You are yet in your father's house.”

They stayed for another two hours and the leave-taking was filled not with tears but with joy, as they were ordered to return on
their next trip upside. Many kisses and hugs later, Tazia walked into Stefan's arms, and with a last look at her family until the next time, they 'ported directly to their hotel suite.

It was warm with sunlight, the windows opened by the staff.

“I don't know how far we'll be able to go,” Stefan said. “If there's a risk my ability will totally slip the leash, hurt you—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I know. We go as far as we can go.”

They kissed in the light, but the heat between them had nothing to do with the sun. His hands on either side of her face, Stefan glanced at the windows.

They all shut with a quiet snick, the shutters just open enough to color the room with a soft light that allowed them to see one another but kept the world out. When he lifted his hand to the pins that held her veil to her hair, she curled her hands against his chest and waited quietly. He took it off with care, and she saw it float to a gentle rest on the table.

“For our daughter,” he said quietly, and owned her heart all over again. “She will not have to marry in secret.”

She kissed him this time, this man who loved her and who she loved until it hurt, her fingers fisting in the silken, wavy hair that was just long enough to grip and that he'd get cut before they left. Mouth hot and wet, he thrust his own hands into her hair. Pins fell to the floor, her curls escaping her mother's loving creation for Tazia's wedding day.

Straining on tiptoe, she met him kiss for kiss, and when he swept her up into his arms, she sipped and sucked and licked at his lips until they tumbled into bed. The weight of his body on her own was unfamiliar, the scent of him in her every breath. And his smile, it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen. “I don't know how to do this either,” he murmured against her mouth.

Nerves snapping into laughter, she touched fingers to his lips. “Neither do I. What will we do?”

“There's probably a manual,” he said seriously.

“Probably.” She reached for the collar of his tunic, her fingers trembling. “How hard can it be?”

Stefan's own hand slid up her stomach to lie on her breast. “Let's see,” he murmured as her heart kicked.

Feeling scandalous, she tugged at his tunic and he pulled it over his head to throw it aside. When his eyes dipped to her own fitted top, she lifted her hands and undid the two hidden zips, then raised her arms. Reaching down, he stripped it off her in a single smooth motion. She brushed her hair off her face afterward to find his eyes on her breasts.

Those breasts were cupped in insubstantial black lace, the pretty underthings a gift from Mina. Her best friend had bought the set for Tazia on her own wedding trip and kept it until now, cheerfully optimistic that Tazia would one day find her own perfect mate and marry.

And she had.

That perfect mate bent to press a kiss to the creamy, never-exposed-to-sunlight curve of her breast, and she shivered . . . and realized he was trembling. His big body was held in fierce check, his hands gentle. Utterly undone, she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him with all the passion in her heart.

Warm muscle and strength, he gave her control, but then his hand closed over her lace-covered breast and neither one of them had any control. She didn't remember how they got the rest of their clothing off, but oh, it felt wonderful to have his skin against her own all over, to have his mouth taste her secret places, to taste him in turn.

They probably rushed everything, but they'd been waiting so long that patience was a futile hope. Locked together, their bodies
connected on the most intimate level and their breaths one, they completed the final bond that made them husband and wife.

“Perhaps not a technically assured performance,” Stefan murmured afterward, “but I have no complaints. What does my wife say?”

Feeling loose and soft and pleasured and his, she said, “That we should do it again.”

They took it slower this time and it was just as good as the first fury. And this time, they remembered to fill the bath with water so that Stefan could redirect his energy, hoping it would work. As for the broken furniture, splintered kitchen counter and crushed ceiling fan, he would 'port it all away and they'd pay for the mysteriously missing items.

Luckily, no one had reported the noise of the destruction, the neighboring rooms apparently empty at this time of day.

The most important thing was that even in the throes of passion, Stefan had directed his Tk outward, not at her. “Silence did that at least,” he said. “It gave me the skill to make sure I never inadvertently hurt you.”

She sighed and shuddered as he stroked his hand over her body from breast to thigh, his eyes intent—as if he was drinking in the sight of her. She did the same in turn, his body beautiful in its strength and grace.

Dipping his head, he kissed her breasts with an open mouth, licking at the sensitive skin, and when she gasped, suckled wetly at one taut nipple. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but then Stefan ran his hand over her ribs and lifted his mouth to repeat the caress on her neglected breast. Tugging at his hair, she brought him to her for a kiss as she wrapped her legs around his hips in shameless seduction.

One of his hands cupped the back of her thigh; he stroked as they kissed, said, “I love the way you feel. So silky and soft.”

Breasts crushed up against his muscled chest, the surface abrasive with a light layer of chest hair, she shivered. “You feel better.” All hard and rough and beautiful.

She petted his shoulders, shaped the muscle of him. “How are you so patient?” she asked, still a little shy with him. She might not be experienced, but she'd overheard the married women in the village talking, knew enough of biology to know a man often lost all control when he had a naked woman underneath him—especially a man who was violently aroused.

Like Stefan was right now.

His hand clenched on her thigh. “I wasn't the first time.”

“Neither was I.” She kissed his shoulder, a silly, happy smile on her face. “I'm not patient now, either.” He was the one who was keeping them from rushing—left to her own devices, Tazia would've driven them over again by now, forgetting all about the slight, intimate soreness of her body.

“There are certain advantages to the kind of training I underwent as a Tk.” Another lush kiss as he shifted his hand inward, touched the plump, wet folds between her thighs with a single caressing finger. “Does that feel good?”

Nodding at the low murmur, she kissed his throat, asked the same question. And they learned. For two days and two nights, they learned each other until there was no shyness and his skin against her own was something she needed to feel whole.

And they didn't speak about what would happen when the interlude ended.

The two of
them passed their physicals with flying colors. Sitting in the small green park behind the offices the day before their departure for Alaris, Stefan said, “Tazi.”

Her stomach tight, she turned. “Yes?”

“Do you have hope again?”

He'd remembered. It shouldn't have startled her, but it did. “Yes,” she said, though her heart ached at having to go back to what they'd been before this, to waiting at least three more months until they could touch again. “Did you know, Stefan?”

“What?”

“That my home wasn't far from the site of the quake.”

“Yes.”

Of course he had. Stefan never did anything by chance. “Thank you.”

“There's no need. You've given me yourself, a gift beyond price.”

Love burned in her, a hot flame. “What will we do?” She couldn't not touch him, couldn't not be with him.

Deep gray eyes looked at her with a thousand hidden secrets . . . hidden from everyone but her. “I cannot break the rules on the surface. I must be perfect.”

“I know.”

Concealed between their bodies, his hand, strong and warm, closed over her own where it lay pressed against the grass.

“I'm a teleporter, Tazi.”

Oh.

She covered her hand with her mouth, her smile so huge it cracked her face. “Will I sleep with my husband every night?”

“Of course. Going from one part of Alaris to another takes no effort.”

“I suppose I can bear the distance during the day then.”

It would be hard, but she'd think of it simply as if they were going to work like other husbands and wives. Knowing they'd meet again at the end of their shifts would be enough to carry her through, a secret joy inside her heart.

“No one but you,” Stefan said, “ever goes into the engine room at Alaris.”

Her pulse turned to thunder. “And,” she added, turning her hand palm-side up so their fingers could entwine, “there is no surveillance.” They could touch there at times when the need was deep, love there, safe in the darkness until they could come up into the light again.

“I can redirect my telekinetic energy into the sea when we love. It's so vast, the effect won't even raise the temperature a minute degree.”

Her fingers locking with his. The tightness in her chest blooming out in rays of fire. And a laugh bubbling into her throat. “Do you think changeling sharks exist?”

“Nothing is
impossible.”