By Chance Met (20 page)

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Don't tell me you're complaining," he said.

Naeth shook his head. "Only if you don't let me do the same thing for you," he whispered, lust making him bold.

Reijir skeptically regarded him. But when Naeth pushed slightly against his chest, he smiled and obligingly rolled on his back. Naeth followed him closely. When Naeth bent to kiss him, he hungrily returned it. His immediate response gave Naeth the courage to let instinct take over, sweeping away his inhibitions before it. He did as Reijir had done and

soon discovered just how great the satisfaction of knowing his lover so intimately could be.

He lovingly drew his tongue across Reijir’s chest before playfully tugging at his nipples with his lips. That tore a ragged gasp from Reijir. Naeth slowly moved lower, following the same path Reijir taken with him earlier. When Naeth enthusiastically peppered his groin and upper thighs with kisses, Reijir half-laughed, half-groaned.

Another groan was wrenched from him when Naeth suddenly took him into his mouth.

Naeth savored the experience, the sweet salty tang of emerging semen making it an even more delightful exercise. He hungrily drew upon Reijir’s shaft, the recollection of how often and thoroughly this same flesh cleaved him stoking his greed for it. Knowing the night would not pass without Reijir spending inside him further enflamed Naeth, and he moaned around his luscious mouthful.

"Naeth, stop!"

He glanced up at Reijir questioningly. The Herun quickly pulled him up to lie beside him.

"Why did you stop me?" Naeth whispered as Reijir pushed him on his back.

Reijir reached between his legs, sliding his fingers behind Naeth’s seed pouch. "I'd rather do this," he thickly replied.

Naeth caught his breath as he was stroked in a place even he had seldom touched, much less examined. He knew about the process of turning, the method by which a Deir’s body was readied to receive another in reproductive intercourse. But it was one thing to know about something, another altogether to undergo the actual experience of it.

He shuddered when unruly sensations and a strange tightening in his groin

blossomed and spread to his belly as his seed sac contracted and rose to expose the entrance to his sheath, the Deiran seed channel. Veres almighty, he could actually feel himself moistening and opening up! And on the heels of his body’s turning came an irresistible need to be penetrated.

Forgetting all inhibitions, Naeth raised one leg and curled it behind Reijir, pulling the Herun insistently between his thighs to press against his groin.

Reijir grinned. “How very eager you are,” he murmured as he touched the tip of his shaft to Naeth’s sheath, entering just that slightest bit.

Naeth moaned at the tantalizing sensation. “Take me!” he begged. “Please, Reijir, I need you so.”

Reijir’s eyes glittered at that wanton plea. He drove into Naeth, filling him in one smooth thrust. Naeth winced as the vestigial protective membrane inside his seed channel gave way before Reijir’s invading shaft.

But after so much foreplay, the sting of it was fleeting and soon forgotten. The exquisite sensation of thick, tumescent flesh filling and stroking his sheath superseded any discomfort. Naeth began to quiver as the long, rhythmic thrusts slowly unraveled the tightly wound tension in his abdomen. With each plunging stroke, he gradually came undone, and he lost track of time and space, oblivious of everything but the need to be one with Reijir

The tension in his belly splintered apart, and Naeth cried out as shattering satisfaction overtook him. Sobbing from the tremors that rocked his body, he clung to Reijir while the Herun rode him to his own release. Naeth caught his breath at the rush of heat toward his lower belly—Reijir’s seed making its way to his womb. There the heat

slowly dissipated, but a spate of spasms ensued upon contact between the semen and his womb, thus prolonging the sensations of his release. He tightly closed his eyes, gasping as he waited out the last waves of pleasure.

Several minutes passed before he stirred once more, drained but elated nonetheless.

About to comment on the wondrous experience, he was shocked into speechlessness when Reijir proceeded to make love to him again, barely giving either of them time to recover from that first turbulent union. Reijir did not even withdraw from him while he kissed and stroked Naeth near senseless with mindless need.

It was at the height of that coupling, as Reijir thrust into him over and again while adorning his neck, shoulders and chest with vivid love bruises, that Naeth felt the gentle incursion into his consciousness. He recognized Reijir’s presence at once and innocently reached out to meet his lover in the otherworldly plane of his mind. At once, he was caught in a mental embrace and subjected to a kiss that seemed to obliterate him even as it built him up again.

Naeth sobbed when fear collided with burgeoning rapture. As his body was

repeatedly pierced and filled, so was his mind inundated with pleasure so powerful he was left wide open to suggestion. Or in this case, Reijir’s command.

It was little more than a whisper, a claiming of his heart and body that would prevent him from responding sexually to anyone other than Reijir. But in its wake came more pleasure, and the sensations of his body’s cleaving intensified into volcanic force. No longer in control of himself, Naeth cried out repeatedly as an impossibly strong orgasm overwhelmed him.

To his shock, hardly had the nigh unearthly rapture completely faded away when Reijir took him yet again, driving him to peak after peak of fulfillment until his very veins seemed raging rivers of liquid fire. Each time, Naeth believed he could take no more only to be aroused anew by Reijir’s teasing lips and caressing hands. Over and over the Herun sparked the potent chemistry they shared until Naeth thought he would die from sheer pleasure.

It was nearly dawn when Reijir withdrew from him one last time, kissed him gently and finally allowed them both to drift into sated slumber. But even then, he did not let Naeth go. He held him so that even in sleep their bodies pressed close, their limbs entwined with intimacy.

Yet, though weak and limp and satisfyingly sore, Naeth did not fall asleep

immediately.

What he had experienced awed him. He was now in thrall to Reijir, but the manner of its achievement was mind-boggling to say the least, not to mention exhausting in the most pleasant way. He was also mystified.

The difference in their couplings had startled and filled him with wonder. There had been no restraint whatsoever this night, only all-consuming passion. It seemed his transformation from avowed leman to imprinted lover made a whole world of difference and had likewise precipitated a change in the pattern of their lovemaking.

Naeth now realized that Reijir had previously kept a tight leash on himself and their couplings, exerting control over Naeth’s body as well as his. Cautious and spare in revealing too much of himself when there had been no surety of their relationship’s continuing, this night, Reijir had exposed more of himself to Naeth. He had unveiled the primordial passion and savage hunger of a hot-blooded Deir otherwise well hidden

behind the cool and measured sophistication of an aristocrat of long and exalted lineage.

A protective barrier
, Naeth deduced. A wall long ago erected and, if the gossip he’d heard was anything to go by, so impenetrable it had never been breached or scaled.

He could not help wondering how many of Reijir’s previous lovers had been

subjected to imprinting. Or was he the first one?
The only one?
It was an intoxicating thought but also sobering. He was not certain if it bespoke Reijir’s greater affection for him or a troubling lack of trust in Naeth’s capacity for fidelity.

But before he could collect his thoughts and form a coherent theory out of his scattered musings, sleep overtook him. Naeth nestled farther into Reijir’s embrace, a tired but contented sigh escaping his lips.

His name was Syvan Fiori and what he had to say changed Naeth’s life forever.

Whether it was for good or ill, Naeth did not know for sure.

“I am also a solicitor,” Syvan told them after the introductions. “Though much of my attention of late has been on one account. I have been looking for the heir of my uncle, Albran Fiori, a baronet of Sidona, and it seems I have found him in the most unlikely of places.” He looked at Naeth and said, “As your sire and older brothers have all passed away, Uncle Albran’s title and estate are now yours.”

Naeth nearly fell off his seat. “Mine?” he incredulously exclaimed. “How can I be a baronet’s heir? My
aba
was a simple teacher.”

“Your sire was Uncle Albran’s only son and also my cousin.”

“What? But-but his name was Morel Orosse—“

“Yes, he took his spouse’s name when Uncle Albran disinherited him.”

Naeth stared. “
Aba
was disinherited? Why?” He caught his breath and continued before Syvan could respond. “Because he chose my
adda
?”

Syvan nodded. “The Fiori name is one of the oldest in Sidona. Uncle Albran was terribly displeased when Morel had his affair with Jiron Orosse. Mind you, he had nothing against Jiron personally, but my uncle deemed him an unsuitable mate for a future
serl
.” He glanced a little nervously at the Arthannas. “You have to understand, this was long before the Ardan Rohyr wed his leman. As far as my uncle was concerned, it simply wasn’t done.”

“Sidona.” Naeth blew his breath out. “That’s a fair distance from Losshen. Where in Sidona?” he asked.

“Irdaran,” the solicitor replied. “It’s one of Sidona’s more prosperous towns.”

“So Albran Fiori thought the threat of disinheritance would deter his son from marrying below him,” Reijir dryly said. “Obviously his son did not agree.”

The solicitor sighed. “Morel eloped with Jiron a week after Uncle Albran’s

ultimatum. He left only a short note of apology but also stated that he would not give up Jiron for either title or wealth. He gave no clue as to his destination and verily it has taken me all these months to find Naeth. If your solicitor’s path and mine hadn’t crossed, I wouldn’t have known to look here, and by the time I did, it might have been too late.”

“Too late?” Keiran questioned. “You are constrained by a deadline?”

“Indeed I am,” Syvan replied. “There is a condition in my uncle’s will wherein he required at least a year’s search for Morel and/or his issue. If they were not discovered within that period, they would be bypassed and the title would then go to the next Deir in line. As his executor, it fell to me to conduct the search.”

Naeth shook his head. “I don’t understand. If
Aba
was disowned, then how came I to be heir? Wasn’t
Aba
’s line barred from succession?”

“He was barred but not his sons,” Syvan explained. “Your grandsire—” He paused when Naeth visibly flinched at the unfamiliar reference. “Uncle Albran put much stock in family lines. He wished to be succeeded by a direct descendant—in this case, one of Morel’s sons. As you are Morel’s only surviving issue, you are the foremost legal claimant to the Fiori baronetcy. If you accept your inheritance, you will be entitled to a generous annual allowance until your majority whereupon you will receive the entirety of the Fiori fortune.”

“Is the estate considerable?” Reijir asked. When Syvan looked at him with a somewhat scandalized expression, he said, “I only wish to know if it is worth my ward’s notice and the time and effort needed to put his affairs in order. If Albran Fiori died many months ago, his estate will have been vacant in the interim with only stewards to see to its care.”

Syvan stiffened and said a little proudly, “Fiori Hall is nothing to sniff at, Your Grace, I assure you. A goodly amount was set aside for its upkeep until such time that an heir was found and took over. It is in good condition. I have personally seen to that. It was my duty to see to the well-being of our property until I located my cousin or nephews.”

“So you have been seneschal as well as solicitor,” Keiran commented. “Quite a responsibility I must say.”

“I’m also family,” Syvan murmured. “After Morel left, my uncle asked me to visit him quite frequently and not always for my legal expertise.”

“For what then? Did you act as his companion as well?”

“Er, yes, you might say that.”

Naeth frowned thoughtfully. “If I accept my inheritance, you said. What does that mean? May I decline it then?”

When Syvan stared at him in mute surprise, the Arthanna solicitor spoke up.

“You may,” he said. “A baronetcy is not a rank of the nobility and may therefore be handed over to another by the primary heir provided there is no stipulation in a title’s articles of succession that disallows such an act.” He looked questioningly at Syvan who shook his head. “Fiori-
tyar
indicates there are no obstacles in this case. Therefore you have the option to refuse it. Though why you would wish to I must admit I find puzzling,” the Deir remarked.

“Perhaps you resent your grandsire’s actions,” Syvan assayed. “Thus you have no desire to affiliate yourself with him in any way.”

“Nay, I don’t resent him,” Naeth demurred. “How can I feel one way or another about someone I don’t know? But I was raised in a simple country household with no expectations of wealth or higher station or even a name of consequence. I know nothing about being a
serl
or running a great estate and ordering folk around. And truth be told I’m not sure I want to know.”

“It’s no easy task to take on,” Syvan agreed. “One must have the stomach for it else it will be difficult to manage the, shall we say, more unpleasant aspects. But you must be very certain of your decision. Once you surrender your claim, there can be no reversal of it.”