Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (28 page)

“I don’t have time for this,” Tiana said at the same instant.

“We don’t have time for this . . . for . . .” he started, and stopped.

She nodded, meeting his eyes. “Anything major.”

“That’s right.” He paused, and they looked at each other for a solid minute. “Would you like to have dinner with me? Privately? At T’Blackthorn Residence?”

Her blood beat fast and hot and her mind struggled to understand that he wanted her—wanted to do more with her than have sex.

Not HeartBond, of course.
Not.
But be with her.

He stared at her and she couldn’t break that gaze. Didn’t even want to. She swallowed. “Not T’Blackthorn Residence. Come to TQ,” she said on a whisper of breath.

He bobbed his head. “Yes. Right now.”

“Yes. Right now,” she agreed.

He grabbed her hand. “Let’s hurry.”

“Yes.”

“Damn, I wish I knew TQ better so we could ’port,” Antenn said.

“Yes.” Catching her breath, she said, “GreatCircle Temple, may I have the use of a glider to the Turquoise House? It can automatically return.”

“Of course, FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort. There is one available at the east door.”

She trembled at the fire heating, heating, heating her blood, and walked quickly toward the east exit and out.

The glider door rose and Antenn slid in first and Tiana followed. “To the Turquoise House,” she gasped to the autonav. The door descended and the glider accelerated away.

Antenn tugged on her, sliding her across the long bench close to him. With a hasty Word, she used Flair to retreat to the length of their arms, though their fingers remained clasped.

“Wait, wait,” she said, breath still coming too quickly, desire flooding her so that her mind swam in it, barely functioned. “This is a
Temple
glider.” Her eyes met his and saw his pupils wide with need, too. “I . . . I have no willpower with you.”

He grunted. His mouth formed words that she couldn’t read. “I understand,” he croaked. “Glider, go as fast as possible, just below emergency status.”

“Speeding up,” the glider’s mechanical voice said.

This time the ride seethed with tension. Their hands had clasped, but otherwise they stayed as far apart as they could. Tiana
felt
the cycling heat of their passion. Her mind wanted to consider the ramifications of finally meeting and having—soon to have!—her HeartMate. But her body was readying for sex, her breasts tightening, feeling heavy, her core dampening. From just a touch! The touch of her HeartMate, the man made for her.

He’d been here in Druida City all the time and she hadn’t been able to sense him, a puzzle she’d think about later. Much later.

“Thank the Lord and Lady,” Antenn mumbled as the glider halted before TQ’s front door. He dragged Tiana out of his side of the vehicle and around it heading straight for the entrance. “Open the door
now
, Turquoise House!” Antenn demanded.

The front whisked open. “Please tell me there’s a bed in your bedroom, Tiana. A couch. Large body pillows. Anything.”

“At least a bed,” she muttered.

“There is a bed in Tiana’s bedroom, of course,” TQ said. “And one in the MasterSuite and the MistrysSuite, and I can have—”

“That’s enough. Privacy mode, TQ.” Antenn and she ran lightly through the rooms, the corridor, heading straight for her chambers. Obviously he had a great memory.

“Privacy mode?” Tiana asked.

“He won’t watch or listen or record our bodily functions such as heart rate, breathing, whatever.”

“Lady and Lord,” Tiana said. “Thank you for privacy mode, TQ.”

“You are welcome. I am withdrawing from your bedroom,” the House stated.

“Good. Great,” Antenn said. “Thanks.”

“Felonerb RatKiller is exploring beyond my environs,” TQ said.

“Thank you,” she repeated, a little dazed. She hadn’t spared her new Fam a thought; instead images of what Antenn might look like naked rolled through her mind.

Antenn gave a snort of laughter.

“What?” Tiana asked.

“He’ll be back at dinnertime.”

“Oh. Yes.” Then the door was there and it didn’t open. Tiana stopped and set her palm on it, undid the spell lock, pushed it open, and stared a little at the peach-yellow-cream walls. Warm and welcoming and beautiful.

“Your bedroom to the right or left?” Antenn asked.

“Ah, to the left.”

“Can’t wait. Gotta get my hands on you.” He picked her up and the feel of being carried, being
held
, against him, the scent of him, that windblown plateau smell, whirled in her head.

Lord and Lady, she wanted him. His arms were warm, strong behind her back, under her knees, and she became all too aware that she wore nothing under her dress but skin.

Then he grunted as he opened the latch to the bedroom door and they were through. Here, too, was a rich cream with a tinge of yellow.

He lowered her to her feet and her eyes widened at the new huge bed with light-colored wood lattice corners and top with live plants twining around them, and buds of some flower that already graced the air with a light fragrance even before blooming. Or maybe that was the leaves themselves. She didn’t know.

Didn’t care because Antenn stood before her, looking down at her and what was important was seeing him, the softened expression on his face, the brown of his hazel eyes darkening, the flush across his cheekbones. Surely that meant his desire flamed as high as her own.

H
er hands lifted to his shoulders, felt the curve of muscle under well-woven cloth. “You have too many clothes on,” she said, then blinked that the words came out of her mouth. She hadn’t been too sexually aggressive before—except for that one dream they’d shared, just last night. It seemed eons ago, yet her body recalled the exquisite release and her head tilted back in provocative surrender. “I want your kiss.”

His mouth opened on a moan and his breath caressed her and she more than wanted his kiss, she ached for it, the taste of his tongue, the probing of her mouth that would prelude his shaft driving within her.

Yes, all of that.

But he didn’t move, held completely still.

So she broke her stare from his and pressed her fingers against his shoulders again, said a throaty Word and smiled from under lowered lashes as the bespelled tunic and shirt fell away from him. Lifting her hands, she took a half step back, not too far, still within the tingling caress of his aura—his non-spellshielded self—so she could see him.

He was lean, and probably would never have the height or the bulk of a man who’d been well fed and cared for as a child, but was subtly muscled. Strong. He’d thought nothing of carrying her. He’d be a fencer, a duelist, if necessary. That’s how the FirstFamilies settled some of their problems with each other, by calling feud.

She—her father—her Family could have called feud on T’Equisetum. Her mind blurred at the impossible thought, and she threw it out. Much nicer to stroke Antenn’s smooth chest, feel him tremble under her fingertips.

Another moan, and his hands twitched by his sides, but it appeared to her that his brain had just turned off.

He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her hair—for that particular sensation? To memorize her scent as she had his? Her hands settled on his hips, the leather of his belt, the sturdier fabric of his trous. His flanks were muscled, and she’d noticed his butt was prime . . . but the front of his trous showed a thick, long bulge that her fingers itched to touch. Another goal surfaced in her mind. To make him move. To snap his control. To drive him mad.

Touching his belt buckle, she nibbled on her lips. It had been a long time since she’d undressed a man. Couldn’t, right now, even recall her last lover.

“Undo,” she whispered, and the belt flicked open and slithered from the loops and fell to the floor; the trous dropped, too, but caught on his boots. Something she didn’t notice at first because she was staring at his loincloth.

Seeing him ready for her had her dampening more. Her nipples beading and nubbing against the front of her dress.

“Mine,” he said roughly. One of his arms came around her and fisted behind her back and he arched her, then lowered his head and brought his mouth to her right nipple and began sucking at it through the cloth.

Her hands fell away from him. The only thing in her entire universe was the feel of his lips, the edge of his teeth on her breast. Her nipple being laved, the damp cloth rasping against her.

Then he trailed kisses that blazed through her bodice to her other nipple and began to suck on that one. Her breasts moved against the dress with her panting whimpers and her fingers went to his biceps and felt the tensile strength of him beneath smooth skin, and her body bowed. And yes, yes, she surrendered to lust, to passion, to him.

He lifted his mouth and said, “Dress
off
!”

It fell from her.

“Lady and Lord,” he cried, like a prayer. “Mine. Must have. Now!”

He lifted her and swung and tossed her onto the bed and she sank into the puffy comforter and her legs parted and the air between them cooled the heat of her sex and she
throbbed
there, needing him.

“Boots gone!” he said gutturally, and leapt after her and then he moved up her and he thrust within her and again went completely quiet.

They gasped in unison. His smooth hair had tufted out around his strained face. His neck, chest, arms dampened.

And he felt incredibly wonderful inside her. Filling her just right. Completing her.

But his arms braced on either side of her, his face, his body, was so beautiful. The feel of his lower body against hers, his legs around hers, the slight slide of his skin dazzled her.

Hot.

He was inside her, and heat filled her and burned through her from her veins to her nerves to the outside of her skin. All was heat and desire soon to tip into madness, and not just his. Hers. Theirs.

“Want to wait,” he said through gritted teeth. “Can’t.” He pulled back, nearly out of her, and she moaned at the wonderful sensation, and the loss of him, and her
need
of him. Then he thrust into her and her body ruled. She wrapped herself around him, feeling the flex and release of his muscles, letting the blood pound through her, arched and curved herself, and they spiraled upward as passion seized them, and he shouted and she cried out and she exploded into sizzling fireworks with him.

Her senses worked oddly. Darkness when there should be afternoon light. Thrumming heartbeats racked her body. She thought she heard wind chimes. Or it could be clashing sword blades. She smelled herbs released from the comforter as it cleansed automatically, Antenn, maybe a lingering fragrance of the soap she’d used in the waterfall.

A groan? Did she do that? Coldness as weight left her and breath came into her lungs. She discovered she could open her eyes and the light, all mellow and pretty, nearly dazzled.

Rolling onto her side, she stared at the man who was her HeartMate. She’d found him sexually attractive but now scrutinized his face, his body. “You’re beautiful,” she said.

His eyes opened, greeny-brown and looking startled, a flush flowed under his skin. “No.”

She nodded and the smoothness of the linen under her cheek pleased her, too. “Yes, you are.”

“It’s the . . . the
you know
talking.”

“The HeartMate connection? Perhaps.” And at that he tensed. She continued conversationally, “I didn’t see anything like the golden HeartBond that is supposed to be there for us.”

He leaned up on an elbow, scowling. “By the Lady and Lord, we’ve really only known each other for a few days.”

She nodded. “I suppose that makes a difference.” Keeping all judgement from her tone, she said, “I was sure that my HeartMate wasn’t in Druida City because I couldn’t feel the connection with him—with you.”

Flushing even redder, he dropped flat onto the bed, put his arm over his eyes, and then removed it, as if thinking better of hiding from her. And, yes, she was receiving input from their bond. A small but strong link between them.

HeartMates newly met.

She breathed steadily, making sure any tiny thread of resentment that he hadn’t looked for her was far from the bond. In truth, the sex had been so incredible that she felt more relaxed and easy about her whole life than . . . for weeks. “So why didn’t I feel you?” she prompted.

“The first days of my Second Passage to free my Flair were horrible,” he said. “So we—my parents and I—knew the whole term of both dreamquests would probably be bad, too.”

She frowned. “I think I
did
feel you a little during your Second Passage, though not much during my own. Did you make me a HeartGift?”

He glowered, then turned and stared up at the ceiling, which had no mural or anything interesting. It was white.

“Yeah,” he said. Snuck a glance at her. “Did you make one for me?”

“Yes. Do you want it?”

“No!”

“All right. So why couldn’t I find you when I looked?” Now the shadow of old pain lurked in the back of her mind. She wouldn’t, didn’t think she dared let it out.

He rubbed his face. “It’s a long story.”

“Um-hmm.” She sat up. “Would you like something to drink? I think there’s a beverage no-time in here. Juice?”

“Yeah, sure. Water.”

She nodded and studied the walls, the bottoms of which were paneled, and decided she didn’t want to break privacy mode with TQ.

Antenn pointed at a handle that appeared to be the same color as the cabinet, and she walked over and opened the no-time. She got tubes of water for both of them, turned, and lobbed his toward him. He caught it at the last minute and laughed. He’d sat up and was staring at her with appreciation.

Opening the top, she settled next to him and drank a few sips. “So, HeartMate, go on with your long story.”

His frown returned. “Even after Mitchella and Straif adopted me and the Clovers and Blackthorns welcomed me into their clans, life wasn’t . . . easy.” He chugged some water, staring at the tube. “Mostly because of my vocation. SupremeJudge Elder assigned me—the second time—to the Cang Zhus to study under them as an apprentice and journeyman. They liked the gilt I brought in, but all the other students were relatives. And they didn’t appreciate my Fam, Pinky.”

“Hmm,” Tiana said.

“And when the parents took me to FirstFamilies events, I wasn’t exactly welcomed. Because my brother had murdered some of those high-status Lords and Ladies.”

“You are not your brother. If you weren’t different from him, you wouldn’t have been adopted by good people.”

Antenn angled his water tube at her. “You have a point. But it’s not something I’ve ever been allowed to forget, not during my years before I tested and passed my FirstLevel Master status, and not at social gatherings.” Another gulp or two, then he met her eyes. “My situation was especially bad in my seventeenth year, when I became an adult as I suffered another horrific Passage. I was in no shape to connect with a HeartMate. Furious. Rebellious. Barely skimming through my studies. We talked. By the Lady and Lord, did we
talk
. My parents. My employers. SupremeJudge Ailim Elder. T’Blackthorn Residence. All my friends of my age group. Lord and Lady.” He wiped his arm across his forehead to remove beaded sweat she hadn’t noticed. “All of those and me, in all the different combinations you can imagine. I hung on to human decency by a microfilament.” A huge sigh escaped him and he stared at the shuttered northern windows that showed bars of moving shade from the trees outside. “I had constraints put on me, on my behavior, some I agreed to, some I fought bitterly.” He turned to face her fully. “No one thought me finding my HeartMate at that time would be a good thing. Not for me, and especially not for you.”

She was some years younger than Antenn and was forced to inwardly agree that she couldn’t have dealt with an angry teenaged boy.

“But you should know that it was my decision—when I was slightly more sane—to have the lockspell to suppress our link placed on me. My decision that I rarely thought about and didn’t regret.”

“So what happened recently?”

He finished the tube, got up, walked over to another panel and opened it to show a reconstructor, and flung the tube in. The sight of his excellent backside nearly distracted her from the question.

“T’Blackthorn Residence said it was time to remove the lockspell, and it did.”

“Hmm.”

He turned and put his hands on his hips and, of course, her eyes went to his sex and that was even
more
distracting. “You’ve hummed a couple of times. Just what does it mean?”

Tearing her gaze from the most interesting part of him, that was doing equally interesting things, she met his stare . . . which lifted from her breasts.

“It means that when the High Priest and High Priestess discussed my promotion, being a HeartMate was briefly mentioned. And the fact that destiny might be catching up with me.”

“You seem fairly calm about all this,” he said. He didn’t move from his spot.

“Perhaps right now.” She smiled. “And after amazing sex. And knowing I won’t have to go on a quest to find you, which, it appeared, I might have to do. I have enough projects I need to fulfill right now.”

“The complaint against T’Equisetum and the petition to the NobleCouncil are your priorities.”

“Along with working with the Intersection of Hope as they build their cathedral.” She lifted her chin. “My career is as important to me as yours is to you.” She pressed her hand between her breasts. “But I think, in a while, I’ll be angry with you for that lockspell. Surely you haven’t needed it for years.”