Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Prisoners of the Wind (15 page)

Marin tightened her hold
on his hips, arched herself up as far as she could, reveling in the intensity
of his rhythmic thrusts. She could hear their lower bodies slapping together,
punctuated by low grunts of need from him and tiny moans of pleasure from her.
Her nails were scoring his broad back but she was as unaware of that as he was
of the indentions his nails were making in her rump as he held her to him,
lifting her to meet his thrusts.

When pleasure spilled
over to satiation, her cries were muffled within his mouth. His own growl of
completion was lost between her lips as their tongues dueled. With one last
deep thrust, he stilled—holding his cock at the very core of her—and felt the
last of her clenches relaxing around his spent member. He jerked one last time
within her then collapsed atop her, his mouth sliding from hers so his lips
were pressed against the line of her jaw, his heavy breathing fanning a stray
wisp of hair at her temple.

Marin gathered him to
her, moaning a little as his shaft slipped moistly from her body and lay upon
her thigh. She stroked his damp hair and crooned to him as though he was a
child.

Chapter Seven

When Marin woke, she was lying beside Taegin, yet they were
not in her small bunk, crowded against the bulkhead, but in a lavishly wide bed
in a stately room she knew must be his quarters. His head was on her shoulder,
his arm draped across her waist, one powerful thigh wedged between hers.

Overhead the ceiling was covered with a comprehensive star
map of the galaxy, the pale yellow stars spreading out over a black heaven and
interspersed amid the stars were the planets of the Réalta Galaxy. Beneath
their naked bodies was a soft, sleek fur throw, warm from the heat of their
bodies.

“Do you see our homeland?” he asked.

Marin turned her head as he shifted away from her, rolling
to his back, claiming her hand where it lay between them.

“That big red ball over there on the left,” she replied,
looking at his profile.

“Can you name the Federated Moons of Parhelion?” he asked.

Marin’s eyebrows drew together as she stared at the five
moons, which revolved around Riochas Prime.

“SOPOS. Saifír, Omrá, Péarla, Opál and Smaragaid,” she
replied.

“Very good, wench,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Now what
of the countries on Stoidiaca? Can you name them?”

Groaning, Marin knew she couldn’t, so she challenged her
lover to see if he could.

“In alphabetical order there are an Cúpla, an Gabhar, an
Leon, an Mhaighdean, an Mheá, an Portán, an Reithe, an Saighdeoir, an Scauro,
an Tarbh, an tUisceadóir and Na hÉisc,” he rattled off.

“Well, that’s impressive,” she said. “I always forget about
an Tarbh.”

“It’s easy to forget that ineffectual monarchy,” he said
with a laugh.

They were quiet for a moment, each looking at the detailed
drawing overhead.

“Do you still claim Riochas Prime as your home?” she asked.

“That was where I was born, though I have not stepped foot
on that world since the war. No man has been allowed to.”

“I’ve not been there for ten years,” she said. “And I don’t
care if I never go back.”

“You won’t have to,” he said as he lifted her hand to his
lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

“Are you going to keep me onboard the
Revenge
for the
rest of my days?”

He brought her hand to his chest and held it there. “You
will be wherever I am, wench. You’re in my blood.”

“No more thoughts of punishing me for what my mother did?”
she asked quietly.

“Just having you lying here in my bed, my essence within you
will be enough to make that bitch pull her hair out,” he said, chuckling.
“That’s revenge enough for now.”

Marin stiffened. “Is that all this is to you still?”

He turned his head on the pillow and locked his eyes on
hers. “You know it’s far more than that, Marin,” he replied. “I think we both
found that out the moment we first mated.”

“Did you make me fall in love with you when you sent me
those erotic dreams?”

Taegin stopped breathing. She was admitting she loved him
and his heart soared with the knowledge.

“No Tiogar has such power, Marin,” he said.

“Then explain to me why it is I feel the way I do,” she
said.

His heart skipped a beat. “Because the Fates decreed it?”

“You think I was destined to fall in love with you?”

“And I with you?” he countered.

Marin’s lips parted. “Is that true?”

“As true as the black blood that pulses through my veins,”
he replied. “I have deep affection for you, Marin.”

“Deep affection?” she echoed, a bit let down because he had
not used the word love.

“While I was tormenting you with those sensual images, you
got beneath my skin, wench. Every time I touched you, a part of me became lost
in that touch. When I wasn’t looking, you burrowed beneath my skin and into my
heart, and there is no force on earth or in heaven that will ever dislodge you.
I am truly trapped, held fast to the line you threw out so carelessly.”

“Do you want to be set free?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I would be miserable without you, Marin.
I can’t sleep at night without dreaming about you.” He stared into her eyes.
“Are you sending me erotic sublims, milady?”

She smiled. “If only I could,” she laughed.

“You’d torment me for sure, wouldn’t you?” he asked,
matching her grin.

“Aye, I most certainly would!”

“T’would serve me right, I suppose,” he said with a sigh.

“So you don’t want me to cut the line and let you escape,
milord?”

“No, wench, I don’t. You have firmly snared me, so if you
don’t like the catch you reeled in, it’s too gods-be-damned late. I’m so much
obsessed with you, I can barely function normally.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I think I fell in love with you
weeks ago.”

“Marry me,” he said
abruptly.

Marin gasped. “You don’t
mean that!”

“I never say anything I
don’t mean!” he told her. At her raised eyebrow, he grinned. “Well hardly ever,
unless I’m trying to intimidate someone, but this I mean with my entire being,
wench.”

Marin was looking into
his eyes, searching. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she could hear the blood
rushing through her ears.

“Marry me,” he said
softly, stroking her face gently with the tip of his index finger.

“But it’s too soon,” she
protested. “We don’t really know one another and—”

“I know all there is to
know about you. Ask of me what you wish to know and I will gladly tell you,” he
interrupted.

“Taegin, I don’t want
to—”

“Don’t ask then,” he
said. “We’ve a lifetime for you to learn all about me, for I’ll never let you
go,” he stated, his eyes firm. “I’ll never allow another man to lay hands to
you. If you prefer we not Join legally, you’ll have to content yourself with
being my doxy.”

“Doxy?” she repeated,
her eyes narrowed. “Like that woman on
Contúirtian?”

“After ten years a common-law wife is considered legal. Will
that suit you?”

“I think not.”

“Then marry me,” he said
again. “Make an honest man of me.”

“I don’t want to make a
mistake,” she said, finishing the sentence he had cut short.

“There is no mistaking
our feelings for one another, is there?” he challenged.

“I don’t think so but—”

“I am pledging myself to
you, wench. I am offering my sword hand for your protection and placing my
heart into your keeping.” He rubbed his forehead against hers as he looked
deeply into her eyes. “Treat it gently, will you? I am a fragile being, you
know.”

Marin snort. “You are
about as fragile as a titanium shield.”

“But a thousand times
warmer,” he said.

She smiled. “You are
sure this is what you want?”

“Surer than I have been
about anything in my life.”

There was only a moment
of hesitation.

“All right, Taegin Drae.
I would be honored to be your wife.”

The Tiogar gathered her
to him in such a tight embrace Marin could barely breathe.

“Taegin, stop!” she
said, grunting. “You are smothering me!”

“I will set McGregor to
seeing to the details when we return from Ennead,” he said, releasing her only
a little. “We can have the ceremony on the image deck. What setting would you
like?”

“Ennead?” she repeated
then her eyes grew wide. “The penal colony!”

“I think not,” he said,
shaking his head. “Why would you want your Joining at a penal colony for—”

“No, you oaf!” she
protested. “Sweet Aneas! My friends!” She sat up, turned and stared down at
him. “Where are my friends?”

“Ah, well, they are at
the penal colony on
Fiáin
,” he said,
scratching his jaw.

“Without me?” she asked
in a tiny voice. “I have to perform my community service or the Tribunal will—”

“I had no intention of
you going to that hellish place,” he said. “And before you yell at me, I’ve
made sure those women are well protected. By the time we pick them up at the
end of their four-month community service stint, I think they will be glad to
find I didn’t molest you.”

“You did molest me,” she
reminded him.

“Aye, but it was a
gentle molestation, wench.”

“I’d say you gave me one
hell of a fright before you gave me that gentle ravaging,” she snorted.

“I want to give you the
world, Marin,” he said. “I
will
give you the world!”

“But what about my
community service?” she asked, worry clouding her green eyes.

“You are performing it
right here,” he said.

Marin rolled her eyes.
“I don’t think the Tribunal will consider servicing you as a fulfillment of my
community obligation.”

“Well, it should be,” he
pointed out.

“Taegin…” she began in
an exasperated voice.

He held up a hand. “I
assured the Tribunal that you would be made to atone for the grievous act of
mutiny in which you shared culpability with the other women.” He scratched his
unshaven jaw. “Unfortunately, I told them I’d then return you to Laidineach
when you were through—ah, atoning—so I’ll have to let them know that won’t be
happening now.”

“I doubt my mother cares
what happens to me so I don’t think you need to tell the Tribunal anything,”
she said.

“If that’s what you
want,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t let her have you anyway.”

She reached a hand up to
cup his smiling face. “All I want is you, milord Tiogar.”

He threw back his head
and whooped, his joy so obvious Marin had to laugh at his exuberance. “Well,
for better or worse, you have me, wench,” he agreed.

Marin reached down and
wrapped her fingers around the hard length of him. “How tightly do I have you?”

“Ah,” the Tiogar groaned
and his flesh leapt at her touch. “Damned tight, I’d say.”

“Shall I make sure
he
understands that?” she asked softly, his member clasped loosely in her hand.

“Aye,” he said, his
breathing ragged. “I think he’d appreciate knowing how you feel about him. He’s
a bit—well—hardheaded at times.”

“A very hard head,
milord,” she giggled, bending toward him.

As her lips closed
around him, Taegin gently stroked her hair. He spread the heavy locks around
her shoulders then placed both hands on her head, guiding her, teaching her the
rhythm that would give him the most pleasure. He closed his eyes, leaned his
head back and gave himself up to the sweet pain her mouth was exacting on his
throbbing flesh.

Marin liked the
saltiness of his juices on her tongue as she swirled it around the bulbous rim
of his hot shaft. She lapped at that saltiness and slid her hands under his
balls to cup him gently, but did not venture too far down his rigid length for
fear she would gag.

“Relax your throat,
wench,” he said. “Allow me to go as deep as possible.”

There were no taboos
rising up to hinder Marin, no forbidden worries to concern her. She did as he
asked and enjoyed the way his member filled her mouth. His hands were clutched
in her hair, his rod as hard as a cord of wood, and his breathing was coming in
gasps that gave her a heady feeling of control.

She felt him stiffen and
knew he was on the verge of releasing his seed. She instinctively clamped her
lips tightly around him and when his tool jerked, she felt hot liquid flowing
down her throat. She drew on his flesh, swallowing the essence of him, draining
him with such ease he lay weakly in her power—her lips and tongue clearing away
all vestiges of his cum. When he was clean, she cuddled against him, her head
on his shoulder, her fingers weaving through the thick hair on his chest.

His breathing labored,
his blood pounding in his ears, Taegin rose up and leaned over her, swooping
down to claim her lips with his own.

She tasted warmly of him
and the scent of his juices on her tongue sent a shiver down his spine. His
kiss deepened as their tongues dueled and when at last he could take no more of
the passionate pain, he dragged his mouth from hers and held her tightly against
him, his chin on the top of her head.