Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (34 page)

“I’m dusty,” she said on a quiet breath.

“So am I. Don’t care.” He drew her close, close, close, so he could feel her body against his, the softness of her breasts and belly against his chest and shaft. The most wonderful sensation since he’d left her that morning.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight. His. As no woman had ever been his. A dangerous feeling, almost threatening, that could rip him into pieces. He disregarded it.

She hugged him back and the lifting of her arms, the arching of her body caressed his sex, and he fought to say words through ragged need. “Gotta have you. Now. Terrible day. Lucky day. Cave of the Dark Goddess, it was strange.”

“Yes.”

He vaguely recalled he should ask her about something but couldn’t think of it. Could only manage his thick fingers undoing the tabs in her clothes and kissing her neck where her essential fragrance tempted him.

“Sorry,” he said gutturally. “Gotta be quick.”

“Yes.”

“And hard.”

“Yes.”

Thought evaporated. This time he couldn’t let go of her, of her skin under his hands as all their clothes fell away, not even to throw her on the bed. Instead he walked her back, nibbling up her neck along her jaw. When she ran into the bed he pushed her back, took her mouth, and as her legs opened, he thrust inside her.

Wet. Ready for him. A whimper of delight from her.

Fabulous. He groaned, long. His cock thickened.

Couldn’t talk. Knew he wouldn’t last long, wanted to give her tenderness. He rose to look her in the eyes. Hadn’t ever cared about seeing a woman as he had sex with her.

But not sex, now. More. Not love. Not yet. But more than sex.

The bond between them throbbed strongly, red with desire. With a jolt that cleared his brain a bit, in his mind’s eye he saw the famous golden coil of the HeartBond! Couldn’t be, could it? So soon? Too soon!

She shifted under him, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, and that was it.

Only plunging inside her, again and again. Looking at her eyes that watched him. Gazes locked. Bond pushing feelings back and forth, passion.

“So. Good,” she said.

And his control snapped and they moved together, strained together, whirled through a cyclone together. He saw her eyes go wide. His own blurred and only the rocking slide of skin against skin, the pulsing bond, mattered. They broke into ecstasy, holding each other.

Long minutes later, she murmured a couplet and they rolled, but he kept his grip on her. They settled against the pillows at the top of the bed. He couldn’t say anything. Didn’t want to say anything. That she didn’t need to fill the silence with chatter pleased him.

He didn’t deserve her, though he felt the cycling of their emotions as if they were true equals, meant for each other.

Most emotions. He frowned, considered her. Some of her emotions seemed thready. What—?

His perscry pebble alarmed in obnoxious pulses. He jerked to sit. “Damn. That’s the guard at the cathedral site.”

S
he hopped to her feet. “Lady and Lord.” That was a quiet moan. “Not another Whirlwind Spell.”

The thought hadn’t occurred; he
hated
those. Most men didn’t bother with them. But he’d learned it. Because his mother was fussy Mitchella D’Blackthorn.

“Right. Block scry. This is Blackthorn-Moss.”

“Better get here, Boss. Got an interesting situation.”

Not something any man wanted to hear from a guard. “On my way.” He cut the scry.
“Whirlwind Spell, twinmoons ritual robe!”
Damn, damn, damn,
fligger
! Rasped clean, skin stinging, especially the skin of his favorite part of his body, then a soft loincloth wrapped a little too tight. A heavy blue robe draped around him.

Between gritted teeth, he said, “I don’t like that.”

She sighed, looking perfect and immaculately groomed in a bright yellow gown, hair falling simply to her shoulders. “No one does.” She took his hand. “You can teleport?”

“Yeah. Privacy off. Turquoise House, can you send the Temple glider to the cathedral site?”

“Yes, Antenn.”

“Tiana and I are leaving now to deal with an urgent situation.”

“Good luck,” TQ said.

“Thanks. On three.” Antenn took her hand, counted down, and then they were there, in one of the two designated teleportation areas.

Three guards holding three men stood only a few meters away.

Antenn strode up. “What’s the problem here?”

The burliest guard jerked his chin at the man he held. “Perimeter alarm went off. We came running, found these fliggers.” The guard’s gaze went past Antenn. “Beg pardon for my language, FirstLevel Priestess.”

“Not at all,” Tiana soothed.

“They
said
they belong to the Traditionalist Stance movement,” one of the other guards added. He snorted. “Don’t know whether or not that’s true, but they had their privates outta their trous and looked like they was trying to pee in the trenches.”

Tiana gasped. “Desecrate the Intersection of Hope cathedral?”

“Yes, FirstLevel Priestess.”

“That is . . . that is . . . just so wrong.”

“Call for backup to take your place, then take them to the guardhouse and file complaints against them.”

“Hey, man, wait. It was just a little fun. Nothing to be concerned about. Just the Cross Folk church. Nothin’ special!” one of the men whined.

The biggest one broke away, pushed at the guards and Antenn. Hot blood flooded Antenn’s veins. A different kind of release for this day tempted. He waded into the general melee, and in a few minutes, guards and violators were gone.

He’d just risen from the dust and flashed a grin at Tiana, who’d calmly watched the fracas, when the four Chief Ministers teleported in.

It was later than Antenn thought.

Tiana went to intercept them and she and the ministers dropped deep into conversation. Religious professionals discussing
their
business . . . ceremonies. Slowly, the five of them began circumnavigating the cathedral, as if none of them had been there that entire day.

Antenn guessed the number of onlookers had cramped their style when considering all the details that the rite might have.

Before they’d returned, he’d briefed the newer guards, and participants in the rite began to show up.

Tiana joined him, holding stacks of the papyrus prompts for the four different parts and appearing distracted.

Then Chief Minister Custos sounded a gong, letting folk know that the ritual would begin in half a septhour and a familiar voice hailed them, and Antenn turned to smile at Vinni T’Vine and Vinni’s fiancée and HeartMate—Antenn swallowed at the designation—Avellana Hazel.

The gong brought Tiana from last-minute memorization of her part to scan the goodly amount of people—perhaps a hundred and twenty—who’d shown up to take part in the Intersection of Hope’s ritual to set spellshields in the foundation. People only—the Chief Ministers hadn’t allowed Fams because none of them
had
Fams.

She recognized GreatLord T’Vine, the prophet, walking toward her and Antenn. She thought he was near in age to Antenn, but he appeared older—especially his expression and the shadows in his eyes. A young woman accompanied him, fingers intertwined with his.

“Greetyou, Antenn,” T’Vine said, then smiled at Tiana. “A pleasure to meet you again, FirstLevel Priestess.”

Tiana had been introduced to him a while back when she’d still been a ThirdLevel Priestess.

T’Vine said, “May I introduce you to my fiancée, Avellana Hazel?”

Avellana inclined her torso slightly. “Greetyou, FirstLevel Architect Blackthorn-Moss.”

Antenn bowed. “It’s been a while.”

In a colorless voice, Avellana said, “Yes. Muin says the plague is completely eradicated from Druida City and won’t come back. He’s allowed me to return.”

“And this is FirstLevel Priestess Tiana Mugwort,” Antenn said smoothly.

Turning to Tiana, Avellana curtseyed. “Greetyou, FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort. It is an honor to meet you. And I thank you for inviting me to such an interesting event.”

“I’m glad you’re attending,” Tiana said, “and I’m sure the Chief Ministers are also. The more people who participate in the ritual, the less confusion and ignorance there will be about the Intersection of Hope faith in those hearts and minds.”

“Also, the spellshields will be stronger,” Antenn said.

T’Vine inclined his head. “Always a consideration.” He scanned the area like a nobleman checking to see who of his allies had come and who had not shown up, and Tiana thought he’d used his influence to draw people to the ritual. Nerves about her work crawled under her skin.

“Looks like a good showing—” T’Vine began.

“Please hush, Muin,” Avellana interrupted.

He did. Tiana looked at her and noted that Antenn’s gaze had slid to her, too. Avellana let go of T’Vine’s hand and dipped her own into one of the long rectangular sleeve pockets of a formal gown that cost about five times the amount of Tiana’s best. The young woman drew out four sheets of unfolded papyrus, copies of the four parts of the ritual. She fanned them out, stared at Tiana, and gave them a little shake. “I understand that you wrote this ritual, FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort.”

Tiana nodded. “Yes, along with my mother, who is a member of the Intersection of Hope Church.”

Avellana looked down at the uppermost and read the first line aloud. “I am a wayfarer on a great Journey, a hopeful innocent child toddling into the bright light of my future.” She slipped that page to the back, squared the papyrus, and read the next opening: “I am a mature adult strong in my vitality, master of my intellect, my emotions and my Flair, striding along the path of my Journey with the knowledge I am guided.” She flipped that to the back, took the third. “I am the guardian spirit ever present in each wayfarer on this hopeful Journey, touchstone for each.” Finally, Avellana read the last. “I am the eldest approaching the end of my Journey, full of light, knowing I have done my best, hopeful for whatever comes next.”

Brows down Avellana stared at them, from one to another. “
This
”—she fanned the papyrus again—“
these
concepts make sense to me.”

“Avellana?” T’Vine’s voice rose, and Tiana understood that unlike most situations in his life, this was unforeseen and had jarred him with surprise.

The young woman pressed the pages to her breasts and repeated, “This makes sense. Life as a Journey.
This
is right.” She smiled with radiant beauty that lightened her serious expression.

“The Intersection of Hope faith was founded by the generational crew during their centuries on the starships. Of course they would think of life and religion as a journey,” T’Vine said reasonably.

Avellana sniffed. “That doesn’t make the faith any less viable.” Shuffling the papyrus, she said, “I will take the part of the innocent child tonight.” She glanced at Antenn. “Which is the proper entrance for those of us who are innocent children?”

“The southwest,” he replied.

T’Vine reached out and touched her fingers. She clasped hands with him again.

“I thought you’d walk with me down the guardian spirit path,” T’Vine said.

She gazed up at him and said, “I don’t feel much like a guardian spirit yet.” She sounded younger than she should have and must have been very sheltered.

Then Tiana stilled her face in a pleasant expression, remembering that Avellana Hazel’s brain had been damaged as a small child. So she might sound young, but Tiana sensed great Flair . . . and will . . . and determination and a bright mind.

Avellana offered GreatLord T’Vine the appropriate papyrus and slipped the other two sheets back into her sleeve, then tapped the back of her head. “My guardian spirit part hasn’t unfurled itself yet. It’s still a little cramped. But you go ahead.” She looked at Tiana. “Muin makes a very good guardian spirit.”

“I usually take the role of guardian spirit,” Tiana said, “but this evening I will be walking along the southwest aisle, as the innocent child, too. We can proceed together.”

“I’d like that,” Avellana said.

“The space between the foundation blocks is wide enough for four abreast,” Antenn said.

“And I’m pleased that two such Flaired women are walking together,” T’Vine said. He bowed to Tiana. “Thank you.”

“I will go as the vital adult,” Antenn said.

“And that surprises no one,” Tiana said, with humor in her voice.

“All my focus is on this project,” Antenn stated.

The four Chief Ministers took their compass points at the end of each arm of the outline of the cathedral.

“Greetyou,” Custos said, his voice augmented with Flair and loud enough to carry to everyone. “Welcome to the sacred site of the cathedral of the Intersection of Hope. Please gather at the indication of the doorway of your chosen pathway.”

A small gasp came from Avellana, and Tiana, Antenn, and T’Vine glanced at her.

“What?” asked T’Vine.

Whispering, Avellana asked, “Those are the four High Priests of the Intersection of Hope?”

“The four Chief Ministers, yes,” Tiana answered.

Even lower, Avellana said, “They are all men.” She paused. “That is
not
right.”

“Something to think about,” Antenn said. He reached out, took Tiana’s fingers, and bowed over them, and her whole body clenched in pleasure at his touch, in remembrance of their coming together sexually, physically, and the emotional bond resonating between them. “Later,” he said.

“Yes.”

She glanced around and saw her Family, all of them stationed at the door for those participating as the guardian spirits, and she thought her father had persuaded Garrett and Artemisia to do so as protection for Tiana’s mother, the true Intersection of Hope member.

Father is a little nervous
, Artemisia said to Tiana telepathically.
We have arrived late and will teleport home the instant the ceremony is over. Then we’ll eat and talk and discuss everything. Blessed be.

Blessed be
, Tiana returned.

The High Priest and High Priestess stood with Elderstone at that minister’s outlined entrance, another surprise for Tiana since she’d thought they’d be with Antenn and Chief Minister Foreman. They nodded to her and she felt their appraisal . . . and approval, and let out a little sigh.

As Tiana progressed to the correct area with Avellana, T’Vine sent her a grateful smile, but it only made her wonder what danger he might have foreseen.

Each Chief Minister held a hand gong and Younger struck his first, followed by Foreman, Elderstone, and Custos, and the ritual began.

“I am a wayfarer on a great Journey, a hopeful innocent child toddling into the bright light of my future,” Tiana said in a measured way with everyone else in her area, about thirty people, only five who might be Intersection of Hope faith followers. By the end of the sentence those reading and those reciting had caught the rhythm. Echoes of the other three parts came to her ears, in a different beat . . . Foreman’s slightly slower and more forceful, Elderstone’s much slower and contemplative. By the time everyone reached the inner end of the equal arms of the cathedral, the chant would be the same in words, rhythm, and tenor.