Courting Kel (13 page)

“I have…enjoyed these months with you, Aren,” she murmured,
as if months had passed in this dream reality.

He silenced her with one finger on her lips. She parted
them. Licked his fingertip. Bit it gently. Against her body, his shaft pulsed.
He saw her nipples rise to poke the sheer fabric she’d tied around them.
Feathering his hand down her slender neck, he felt her swallow. Heard her draw
a shallow breath then seem not to breathe at all.

Finding the knot under her bound breasts, he tugged on it.
His tug unraveled it and the gossamer fabric fell away, exposing her to him. To
his eyes. To his hands. To his mouth.

At his first lap, her nipple pearled. Her back arched and
she pressed her breast more firmly to his lips.

“I…enjoy,” he parroted, “how you respond to me, Flame.”

Snaking her hand between their bodies, she curled her
fingers around his shaft. “As I revel in your response to me.”

His breath hissed from between his clenched teeth.

“Tie her,” he commanded. The material that had bound her
breasts wound around her wrists and the stakes that materialized at her side
and slightly above her head. The fabric she had tied between her legs and
around her buttocks now secured her ankles.

“Pillows.” Two floated over her torso. “Head and hips,” he
told them. They obeyed, settling beneath her as he had commanded.

Aren surveyed his handiwork while Kel tested her bindings.

“One more, a little flatter, beneath her wing bones.” He
studied her again, smiling down before soothing away her frown with a silent
command. “Perfect,” he said at last. “You will see everything I do to your
breasts and cunt.”

Time—real time in their real world—seemed like sand flowing
through his cupped palms. He couldn’t stop it. He needed her to believe their
dream could and would come true. That they could build a life together—a life
filled with love, making love and safely having children. Along the way they’d
argue and cry but they’d make up, make love and laugh too.

Her desire seemed his only weapon. At least until he
convinced her that relinquishing control didn’t mean she’d failed in any aspect
of her life—warrior, mother, wife.

Twisting in a futile attempt to free herself, Kel said, “I’ve
only to close my eyes to shut you out.”

He chuckled. “You won’t want to shut me out.” Stretching
along her side, he ran his fingers through her hair and arranged the thick
strands to suit his fancy.

“One day I’ll paint you like this. Your hair in disarray.
Your body—arms and legs spread wide in welcome.” He stroked her lips with his
fingertip. “A different expression on your face, I think. One more wild with
need.”

“Nev—”

His lips smothered her disavowal of what he wanted her to
feel. She fought him exactly as he knew she would. Her lips pursed into a line
of denial. He teased them with his tongue until they softened. Caressed the corners
until she laughed. Plunged his tongue into her mouth to mate with hers. And all
the while he kneaded her breasts, rolled and pinched her sensitive nipples
until her hips thrust against his body. He felt her juices seep over his skin
and swallowed her mews of pleasure. Lifting his head, he saw myriad emotions in
the swirling colors of her eyes. Shame. Anger. Desire.

“I’ll take you higher, Flame,” he vowed, his voice raspy
with tightly reined lust.

Her eyes swirled stormy gray and black but she said nothing.

“Your nipples are so sensitive you came for me,” he murmured
against one pearled peak. “You’ll come even harder when I finger-fuck your
juicy cunt while I suckle your nipples.”

With his hand resting on her belly, he felt a sigh shudder
through her body. Laving her nipple, he cupped her mons. Her hips jerked up and
down and side to side as if she sought to escape his touch. Combing his fingers
through her damp curls, he sought and found her rigid clit. She moaned softly,
spreading her thighs as wide as she could with her ankles bound. He sucked her
nipple into his mouth. Laved it with his tongue as he thumbed her clit and
eased two fingers into her moist, hot cunt. Her juices gushed and she cried
out, thrusting her hips.

He stilled his hand and raised his head to look at her. She
bit her lips as if holding back a string of frustrated curses. Her eyes were
solid black—anger and need overriding all other emotions in their still depths.

“When I get my hands on you…”

He found the soft spot inside her. Pressed it. Caressed it
until she pumped against his hand, her soft cries growing louder. Her cunt
spasmed around his fingers and she screamed his name.

Her climax had barely subsided when he settled between her
legs and lapped her juices from her quivering core.

“Ar-Aren,” she protested weakly in a breathless voice.

“I promised you higher. Now I’ll take you even higher still
when I feast on you and drink your nectar.” His hands closed over her breasts.
His fingers kneaded her firm flesh, teased her nipples with tormenting light
strokes that match the patterns his tongue created along her swollen folds and
moist valley.

Groaning, feeling as though she were drowning in lust, Kel
fought her own responses to Aren’s tender onslaught. His tongue sliding over
her clit, sending arrows of pleasure shooting through every nerve ending,
popped her eyes open.

As if sensing her gaze, he looked up. She couldn’t see his
smile but could feel his lips curve against her labia. A blush flashed from her
toes to her scalp. And yet…she could not stop staring at him. Stop feeling as
if his dark hair were cool silk brushing her inner thighs. Stop herself from
inhaling the scent of her desire mixed with his. Stop hearing her sighs and his
groans that sounded like a starving man gorging at Storr’s ample table. Stop
the memory of tasting her cum on his tongue and lips. His cum flowing over her
own tongue and down her throat.

His tongue swirled around her clit and she surrendered to
pleasure. She forgot to fight the delicious tightening in her pussy as she
rushed toward fulfillment.

He stopped. She groaned and opened her eyes to glare at him.
But he was staring at her pussy as if it held all the secrets of all the
galaxies. She tried to close her legs but his position between them and his frown
kept her still.

“Beautiful, Flame. Your cunt is so pink and—” Stroking her
curls while thumbing her clit, he eased two fingers inside. “So wet, yet tight.”

Embarrassment fled as he looked up at her, his eyes filled
with so many emotions beyond lust that she couldn’t breathe. And yet—sweet
gods!—she felt as though she drew her first truly free breath since arriving on
Ondrican. And all because he looked at her as if he cherished her. As if what
they were doing meant more to him than slaking his lust. And then he looked
down again and kissed her clit, a whisper of his warm breath on her sensitive
flesh. Peace stole over her as if time itself had slowed. She needn’t rush to
bliss. It waited for her at the end of a long, slow climb to the top of the
highest mountain surrounding his peaceful valley.

Her eyes fluttered closed. A deep sigh of pleasure expelled
the last bit of tension as Aren kissed her clit again then flexed his fingers
on that soft flesh that brought her such quiet bliss she floated on a sweet cloud,
feeling so complete she couldn’t move.

When the cloud dissipated, she realized they were astride
Aren’s horse. His saddle-less, rein-less horse. She sat facing Aren, her legs
draped over his thighs, his cock resting at her opening. Her breasts rubbed
against his wide, warm chest. With every step his horse took, Aren’s cock
slipped inside her then almost out.

“I don’t think I can come again,” she murmured. “I know it
isn’t fair to you, Aren. I just—”

The horse’s gait changed to a faster walk then to a trot.
Uncertain she could keep her seat, she wrapped her legs around Aren’s hips,
taking his cock deep in her pussy.

“By all the gods, Flame, we may never fuck on a bed again.”

“Ooooh,” was all she managed before she grabbed the back of
his neck, pulled his face to hers and plunged her tongue into his mouth.

Another change in pace—a canter. While faster than the trot,
it seemed a smoother gait, allowing Aren’s cock a long, slick slide. Kel’s
climax began to build. She wanted this joining to go on and on and on. But it
seemed that Aren—or his horse—had a different idea.

The horse began to gallop. Kel’s and Aren’s joined bodies
bounced. Her nipples, sensitive to his slightest touch, rubbed against his
chest. Her pussy, soaked with her own juices, clenched his cock as if it were
her only lifeline. Aren grinned. Kel scowled. But as they bounced along, the
pleasure built. All she could do was hold on to Aren and pray the ride to
completion would never end.

Even as she crested, she felt Aren’s cock explode deep inside
her. In that moment, she felt so completely connected to him her heart pounded
with overwhelming love. She gloried in it, this unexpected emotion she’d never
thought to feel. It seemed to spread throughout her body, filling her so
completely she imagined she glowed from sheer joy.

The horse slowed then halted by their blanket. They slid
down from its back. Then, trembling still, they lay down. Aren cuddled her.

I love you
, she thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Awakening in the cave behind the waterfall, Kel sprang to
her feet. “No!” she shouted. “Whatever you hope to gain from making me dream…I
won’t have it!” She tore the cloth off her body then ripped it into shreds. But
every strip she tore away reattached itself somehow. Worse, the guanshit thing
seemed to grow larger! She had to get rid of it. She’d burn it if she could but
find a flint and wood. None available, she risked touching the cloth again. It
made her weak with renewed longing but she wrestled it, much as she would
battle an invader. At last, her heart pounding like a war drum, her entire body
covered with sweat from her exertions, she heaved it into the water. Panting,
her hands on her knees, she watched it slowly sink like a sailor who’d finally
released his hold on life and drowned.

Good riddance!

She refused to love Aren. Affection of any kind made a
warrior weak, robbed her of good sense, changed her priorities until…until she
would risk her own life to protect his. She had an obligation to her people.
She must bear an heir, love her child—her female child—but never her infant’s
sire. No queen in Amazonia’s long history had cared for, let alone married, the
man who fathered her offspring.

Unable to stop herself she looked at Aren. He sat with his
knees drawn to his chest, his head averted. Had he heard her thoughts? Had her
silent disavowal hurt him?

Which only proved how stupid loving him made her.

“That will do no good, Kel.” He stood.

Whirling, she charged Aren as if she were a bull intent on
destroying its tormentor. She rammed his belly with her head, satisfied when he
grunted and took a backward step. That pleasure lasted only a moment.

With his hands on her shoulders, his elbows locked, she
could not reach him with her fists. Neither could she kick his shins or knee
his balls and cock.

Trembling with rage, she met his calm eyes and spat. “Why
won’t it do any good to drown that wretched cloth?”

“It will only come back again,” he said. “Prophecy cloths
always come back.”

Chapter Nine

Early the next morning, Kel set out for Jocelyn and Caton’s
home. She had a bone to pick with the weaver and she intended to pick it clean—right
down to its marrow. The woman and her husband might be friends of Aren’s but
they weren’t friends to her.

She needed time alone with Jocelyn, so had left Aren a brief
note saying she required time to think. The last thing she wanted was him
storming all over the countryside to look for her. She didn’t know how long he
would be with his plants but had no desire to confront him should he catch her
leaving. If, after yesterday’s dream and her rejecting him again, he even
cared.

Distaste coursing through her, she wrapped the prophecy
cloth around a stick long enough to hold it away from her body. The wretched
material had somehow found its way to Aren’s lodge. Since it still felt damp to
him, he’d spread it on a limb, wafting in the gentle breeze. Kel had refused to
bring it inside. In truth, she hated the idea of touching it at all.

Now she intended to return it to Jocelyn and have the weaver
neutralize it. Surely the person who created it could undo her spell and make
the cloth stay where it truly belonged.

With the cloth-wrapped stick over her shoulder, Kel set out.
It took longer to walk to Jocelyn’s than it had to ride, but she hadn’t wanted
to take Aren’s horse. Not only was she afraid Aren would think she’d run away,
she feared the memories riding would fire in her mind. She plodded on, her
thoughts growing grimmer the nearer she got to Jocelyn’s home. In her haste to
be rid of the prophecy cloth, she’d forgotten to bring water. So she arrived at
Jocelyn’s parched and out of sorts with her own stupidity.

Another week in this place and I’ll lose all my warrior
skills!

Spotting Jocelyn sitting under a large shade tree, her
shuttlecock flying horizontally between vertical threads, Kel strode to the
weaver’s side. Saying nothing, she waited for Jocelyn’s greeting.

“You remind me of Erland when he decided to run away from
home,” she said at last, looking up at Kel and her burden. “He was six and
declared himself old enough to journey to Storr City. He packed his treasures
in a handkerchief and tied it to his favorite stick.”

“Going in search of his father, I suppose,” Kel said, her
obvious disapproval making Jocelyn look at her with surprise.

But the woman smiled. “Please bring us some winale,
Laurette. And Drew, please prepare something for us to snack on,” she called.

“I’m not staying.”

“In truth, Erland only wanted to see the city.” Jocelyn drew
a deep breath and motioned Kel to a chair. “It will do no good to bring the
cloth here, Kel. Moreover, returning their gift will hurt the girls deeply.”

Before Kel sat she put the stick and cloth on the ground
closer to Jocelyn than herself. Grinding her teeth, Kel pulled her hair so hard
she expected her hands would leave her bald. “Then undo the spell.”

Her smile soft, almost pitying, Jocelyn shook her head. “There
is no spell to undo, Kel. The cloth was woven with love and nothing can undo
that.”

“Then give it away. Or…take it to your shop in Storr City
and sell it. Burn it?” Kel added desperately, hopefully.

The girls placed the drinks and food on a small table
Jocelyn had summoned with the flick of her hand. Drew hovered, her turquoise
eyes taking in the cloth-wrapped stick Kel had dropped. Disappointment shone in
the girl’s eyes before she raced away, Laurette at her heels.

Misery at upsetting Drew made Kel’s heart ache. She squashed
the tender emotion, determined to save herself, no matter what she had to do.

“Is your life here so very horrible, Kel?”

Caught off guard, Kel said, “No. It’s… I didn’t choose it.
In fact, I had no say at all about my being here.”

“Aren mentioned the…unusual circumstances surrounding your
arrival.”

“
Unusual
?” Kel squeaked. “I was drugged, kidnapped
and sold. That blackguard, Tage, refused to take me home!”

“He didn’t know where you came from. Moreover—”

“So he claims! Had he asked—”

“He had to meet the ceremony’s timetable.”

“What ceremony? What timetable?” Her anger lessened, making
her want to pull on her hair again.
How stupid am I to let a feeble excuse
knock me off course?

“The brides’ ceremony. The Choosing. It only happens every
five years—the length of time it took the first Storr to invite and collect the
forty princesses.”

Kel felt as if steam were exploding out her ears. “If Tage
was in such a hurry, why did he keep
The Herald
circling Ondrican for
three days?”

“Tradition is highly important to Ondricans. The princesses—the
original ones—arrived here on Moonday. They spent two days acclimatizing and
preparing themselves to meet Storr I. Four days later they met the king.”
Shrugging, Jocelyn filled two tankards with winale and held one out to Kel.

Kel took it, sipped and sighed. This winale tasted different
than the drink Caton had served for linner. More like berries and less like
hops.

“Delicious,” she admitted, smiling at Jocelyn. A small slice
of tension slipped from her neck. Taking a larger sip relaxed her even more and
she leaned back in her chair.

“Take it easy, Kel. That brew is sneakily potent.”

“Perhaps…”

“Eat something,” Jocelyn ordered, holding out a tray of
bread and cheeses, another of fruits.

“If Aren sees me drunk, perhaps he’ll send me home.”

“Guanshit,” Jocelyn muttered, drawing Kel’s gaze to her
face. “I’m truly sorry, Kel, but Aren won’t send you home.”

“Stubborn, arrogant idiot!”

“He loves you. Moreover—”

“Loves me? Guanshit! He knows nothing about me.”

“The prophecy cloth never lies, Kel, but reveals only the
truth. It remains with those it binds to acknowledge the truth about what is in
their hearts.”

Thrusting out her chin, Kel glared. “What truth?”

“That you love him as much as he loves you.”

So furious she shook, Kel willed herself to stand. With
care, she returned her tankard to Jocelyn’s table. “Please tell Drew and
Laurette how much I regret returning their gift.” Before anger and sorrow
combined to blind her, Kel stalked away. Clearing the house, she ran.

When she reached her room at Aren’s lodge, the prophecy
cloth lay across the foot of her bed.

* * * * *

Aren found Kel in the cook room, staring into a tankard
filled to the top with—he sniffed—winale. Condensation slid down the sides of
the chilled pewter pitcher near her elbow. Seeing the prophecy cloth draped
over the back of a chair, he discerned the reason for her drinking.

Taking a tankard from a shelf, he filled it, settling in a
chair across from Kel. It struck him as ironic and symbolic that the prophecy
cloth sat between them.

“I assume you tried to dispose of it,” he said, swiping his
fingers through the water drops clinging to the pitcher.

Glancing sideways at the cloth, she nodded. “Not to belabor
the obvious… It came back.”

Aren took a deep swallow then returned his tankard to the
water ring it had left on his table. “It is indestructible, as you’ve seen for
yourself. I suspect…”

She looked up, her eyes sharp on his face. “What? What do
you suspect, Aren?”

“That the cloth will always find us. No matter where we go.”

She made a humming sound, looked down at her winale but didn’t
touch it. “Us,” she said long minutes later. “
Us
implies togetherness.
What if we weren’t…together?”

“So long as we— I see what path your mind has taken, Kel.
You think if you return to Amazonia while I remain on Ondrican, the cloth will
stay with me.”

“Won’t it?”

Sighing, he raked his hair. “In truth, I don’t know what the
cloth would do in such circumstances. I do know of couples who denied their
feelings and went to the farthest regions of Ondrican. The cloth found them,
first one then the other. They married soon after.”

“Guanshit!” she swore under her breath. “I have no feelings
for you, Aren. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you but—” She spread her hands. “There it
is. The truth exposed at last.”

Aren laughed. “Didn’t Jocelyn tell you that the prophecy
cloth never lies?”

Kel snorted. “She told me you loved me. She is either an
incurable romantic or an idiot.”

“Jocelyn’s no idiot, Kel. Did she tell you that the cloth
will flee from couples who are destined to be with others?”

“Guanshit!” Kel told him, a smirk twisting her lips. “Tell
me why I should believe such superstitious nonsense? What do your scientists
say about material that can make soul mates from strangers?”

“Our scientists cannot explain it.” Kel snorted and gave him
a snotty
told-you-so
look. “What they believe, however, is that some
Ondricans—especially girls and women—can weave magic, be it in their cloths or
their cooking.”

“If that’s true—and I’m not saying I believe you—then why
does it seem to work only on adults? I mean, why doesn’t Laurette moon over
Erland or Caton— No. He and Jocelyn are obviously very much in love, so they
wouldn’t need any such folderol.”

“They are now. But until Caton’s mother wove a prophecy
cloth for Jocelyn, she and he bickered constantly.”

“But when Jocelyn put the cloth under her pillow or over
herself as she slept, she awoke…madly in love with Caton.” Kel snorted.

“More like magically in love. But yes, madly as well and he
equally in love with her.”

Kel grunted with obvious disbelief. “Magic, huh? I suppose
your ability to move inanimate objects is also magic.”

“I’ve told you how that came about.”

“How your geneticists
think
it came about,” she fired
back. “Which—if I believed in it—could also be magic.”

“There is something you’ve forgotten, Kel, or are
deliberately ignoring.” Her chin canted upward as she glared down her nose. “You’ve
witnessed me lighting candles, summoning books and tables. You have also seen
that the prophecy cloth returns to you. To us. How do you explain that?”

She lowered her chin. “I can’t.” She folded her arms under
her breasts and averted her face. She seemed done with this subject. For now,
anyway.

So was he.

“Your breasts look more generous than usual.”

“My vest shrank.” She looked as if she wanted to draw the
cloth over her breasts and hide their roundness. She planted her elbows on the
table, her chin on her fists. A not so subtle attempt to hide her bosom from
him. “There has to be a way out of this.”

“The cloth knows our hearts, Flame.”

“Superstitious nonsense! And our hearts don’t rule us, our
minds do.”

Knowing arguments led to anger, Aren stood.

“Where are you going?” she demanded, uncharacteristic fear
in her voice, in her eyes.

“To fix us something to eat. After I’ve cleaned up. Gryph
and I took our first flight today and his glops are all over me.”

For the first time since he entered the room, she looked at
his body. Her frown acknowledged he was a mess. “Mmm. Anything I can do to
help?”

“Hungry, Flame?”

Her eyes widened as if she understood the underlying
question. “For food, yes. I’ll set the table.”

“Tak.”

* * * * *

While he showered he considered Kel’s disbelief in their
future. Since he could not confess that their shared dream had allowed him to
feel her love for him, he had to find a reason to keep her on Ondrican. Even
though it still hurt that she’d refused him yet again. But perhaps…yes! He
would enlist Storr’s aid to give Kel the illusion of going home.

Why not just take her home?

Because once they got to Amazonia he might never convince
her to return to Ondrican where she belonged. With him.

The plan would need some fleshing out but he was certain
Storr and Basalia would help. Now all he had to do was convince Kel to remain
in the country while he spent a few days in Storr City.

He broached the subject as they cleaned the dishes and pots
from dinner. Kel claimed she liked the chore, that washing up gave her time to
think about her day.

“Besides, it’s a small way of thanking you for cooking,” she
said, elbow-deep in warm, sudsy water.

“It is as easy to cook for two as it is for one.”

Kel looked at him for the first time in several minutes. “I
assumed you and Drew ate most meals with Laurette’s family.”

“Some, yes, not most.” Putting the last pot on the stove, he
said, “I need to spend a few days in Storr City. Would you like to accompany me
or remain here?” He knew if he ordered her to stay, she’d demand to go with
him.

“Does that mean you trust me not to run away?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, responding to the wry smile she’d
given him. “By necessity. I’m riding Peg and Gryph’s not trained enough for you
to ride—not very far at least. Horse knows only the paths around his stable. He’ll
take you willingly to nearby neighbors, but come feeding time he’ll gallop
home.”

“I can walk,” she pointed out. “A warrior—”

“Is accustomed to walking,” Aren finished for her. “But you
are unaccustomed to our mountains. It might take you weeks to cross them,
assuming you didn’t get lost. Which I know you wouldn’t—warriors having such a
keen sense of direction.”

“On Amazonia,” she added. “Strange, isn’t it? On my
homeworld, a clump of grass tells me where I am but here, one mountain looks
much like another.” Drying her hands on a towel, she shrugged.

“You could come with me.”

“And do what? Watch Tage mating with the princesses? Watch
the other women mating with their men?”

“At times you found that…stimulating.”

Laughing, she admitted, “At times.”

“So what will it be, Kel? Come with me or stay here?”

“Do Jocelyn and Caton keep horses?”