Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (35 page)

Avellana Hazel had glanced at her part, and though she continued to hold the sheet, she didn’t refer to it. And as the ceremony progressed, Tiana fell into a moving meditative state and got little peeps into the young woman beside her so Tiana
reached
for her aura, found it slightly odd, but caught Avellana’s attention and blended that aura with hers, sinking again into a light trance and bringing Avellana along with her.

Everyone met in the center, lined up and sang the simple blessing, then bowed and curtseyed to those around them and continued straight down the opposite arm. With the last quatrain, they stepped from the “door.”

There they joined hands and each minister took the lead in gathering the Flair of his group—Avellana’s great but mostly untamed—and linking together with the other ministers and those who knew spellshield chants. Then they raised a golden dome, stories high, over the area.

Then the cathedral itself showed in glowing golden lines, like an architectural drawing. Gasps of awe rose in the night air. Antenn must be doing the visualization and projection and Tiana looked to where he stood, linked with his father, T’Blackthorn, and other members of his Family, most with a large amount of Flair.

“Ooooh,” Avellana said, staring at the airy construct. “So, so beautiful. Do you think they would be interested in holo artists?”

Since Avellana was the daughter of a FirstFamily and
the
holo artist of the age, Tiana said, “Absolutely. You can speak with any of the Chief Ministers or Antenn Blackthorn-Moss.” She paused delicately. “I’m sure they would love any donation you might give them.”

Avellana’s smile was dazzling. “Oh, I would have to do something for the space and the ambiance of the cathedral.”

“Of course.”

Avellana said, “Time to join in the spellshield chant again.
Not
as beautiful as your ritual. You should think of revising some old spells and giving them new vigor,” Avellana said, then frowned and bit her lips as she funneled energy to Chief Minister Younger.

Narrowing her own eyes, Tiana strove to
see
the spellshields, both physically and with Flair. She
did
, glossy silver layers coating the stones, hopefully threading through them, too.

With a last sustained Word, the spell ended and people dropped hands.

Tiana turned to look at her Family, but they were already gone. Head tilted, she
sensed
the atmosphere and was pleased at the shrouded quiet of people who’d been drawn emotionally into a rite . . . or experienced a spiritual uplift. One by one, couple by couple, or Family by Family, people winked out like stars, teleporting home. A lesser number of celebrants walked to gliders.

When GreatLord T’Vine came up and took Avellana Hazel’s arm, she said, “Thank you so much for inviting me to this wondrous ritual.” She curtseyed deeply to Tiana.

“You’re welcome.”

“My Family should have come. I think they will regret not doing so.”

“Merrily met, FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort,” T’Vine said.

“Merrily met,” Tiana responded, and knew she
did
feel joyful, her spirits lifted from the ceremony.

With a last nod, T’Vine vanished with Avellana.

Then, as at the end of the workday earlier, there were only Antenn and her and the Chief Ministers—who had sent the guards home, confident in their spellshields. As they should have been. More than half of the twenty-five FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies had attended and given their strength and Flair to the spell. As many as often worked together in the important quarterly rituals to shape Druida and Celta in GreatCircle Temple.

With a formal bow, in unison, the Chief Ministers said, “Thank you for aiding us on our journey; may yours be sweet tonight,” and left.

Antenn slipped an arm around her waist. “Yes, my thanks.” He cleared his throat. “The ritual went well?” he asked.

She stared at him. “You tell me how
you
felt about it.”

He considered, nodding slowly. “Really good. Not as connected as I am in the best of the rituals at GreatCircle Temples, when I sometimes experience the Lord, but . . . really good.”

“Excellent.”

“My parents and siblings and cuzes were impressed.” Antenn kissed her on her cheekbone. Not an asexual buss. “Let’s go back to TQ.”

“Yes.” The breath had gone out of her with anticipation.

“I saw a fabulous bedsponge in the MasterSuite, bigger than the one in your bedroom, brand-new and top-of-the-pyramid. Let’s try it out.”

Her mind fogged with the images coming from him of various sexual positions on that bed. “Yes.”

During the quiet glider ride they cuddled together. Tiana let all the loveliness of the ritual, the small buzz of anticipatory sex swirl through her, exhilarating her senses . . . until her hand accidentally brushed the front of Antenn’s lap as she shifted closer and found him thick and hard. All her focus narrowed to passion and her blood ran fast and hot. She took his hand and his fingers linked near violently with hers. His face showed strain.

She began to tremble from the inside out and the familiar yearning for him, his hands on her body, his thumbs rubbing over her breasts. Him inside her, surging with her to explosive release.

Yes, she trembled. But she savored the moments that seemed strung like glittering beads, one after the other, precious.

The glider halted and let them out, then left for GreatCircle Temple. Pinky and Felonerb met them, sniffed around their feet as they walked, and then the Fams shared a look and, without one mental word, ran around the House to the back in opposite directions.

Wrapped in each other, she and Antenn looked at TQ.

“It’s a beautiful House,” Tiana murmured.

“Yeah. Looks good. Great personality,” Antenn said in a distracted voice.

“Thank you, Tiana. Thank you, Antenn,” TQ said. “Please come in.” He opened the door.

T
hey walked together, arms around each other, and it wasn’t awkward, through the door and the entryway and turned right toward the MasterSuite. Her body swayed, brushing his, teasing him and herself.

The moment the MasterSuite bedroom door closed behind them, her whole being seemed to expand. Free. She turned to him. If she knew anything, it was the construction of ritual robes. She touched the tabs at the top of his shoulders, flicked at the seams of the garment made with Flair, easily dismissed the spells.

His robe fell away, lay in folds at his feet. She should send it to the wardrobe to hang well. She didn’t care.

A sleek man but as she ran her hands over his chest, down his arms, she felt the strength . . . and his slight perspiration under her palms. She slid her hands to his hips, touched his loincloth, and it dropped, too. Looking down at him, large and thrusting, she smiled, all of her body warming and flushing, preparing for sex. She loved the way he made her feel, this burgeoning weight to her body, to her blood that would release in orgasm.

Freedom.

No constraints. Not here in the bedroom.

Not with Antenn.

“Tiana,” he whispered hoarsely, put those callused palms of his on her face, urged her to look at him . . . as she’d stared at him throughout the last time they’d made love. His eyes had widened, showed vulnerability again that she reveled in. She thought he masked himself as much as she did herself. She reached down and circled his sex with her fingers, stroked him. He closed his eyes and shuddered, his hands curving around her shoulders as if to hold on to her.

She liked that. Loved the urgency of their coming together. No polite little dance as sex had been for her before.

His head angled and he nibbled her earlobe and it was her turn to shudder, letting the full sensuality of every action vibrate through her. His hands went from her shoulders to feather down her sides, lift and caress her breasts, her nipples.

“Tiana,” he whispered—like no other, that catch in his voice, that lilt or huskiness or pure emotional resonance. “So perfect,” he murmured, playing with her hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

The sentiment bothered her, but she didn’t stop to correct him, since his fingers had gone between her legs and he was stroking, stroking until pleasure washed through her and he enlarged in her fingers and she didn’t want to be vertical any longer. With one last caress, she let his shaft go and took his hand and led him to bed.

Softly, lingeringly they explored each other, with hands and mouths. His tender and slow touch freed her again, to take, then to gasp, then to give. Minutes slowed and only the next skim of his fingers, the next taste of his skin under her tongue mattered.

Seduction, both of them. She wouldn’t have thought it of him, but the once-street-boy knew how to give, and she pleased them both in returning his gift, showing him her need for him, and that he fulfilled her.

She drew him over her, free to express the sweet craving for him, free to be gentle and vulnerable and utterly true to herself. And they joined, so naturally, so wonderfully that she knew no other lover, no other love would match this.

Again, they linked gazes, and hands . . . and emotions through their bond. They moved together, giving and taking, each second fluttering exquisite sensation through her. No rough demand, awful need now, but winding tension that flung her to the stars, burst through her, and then he peaked and they spiraled down on a drift of starfire back to the bed and slipped into sleep, still entwined.

*   *   *

T
he Turquoise House’s Family was here. Again for the night. Two in a row!

They were sleeping now, and the privacy rules had been lifted. Because they weren’t in Tiana’s bedroom. A small detail, but a vital one.

He liked feeling them within his walls, sensing their breathing and their heartbeats. They were together under his roof.

Maybe it was time for a nudge. He could send them subliminal visions and suggestions that might be incorporated in their sleep, but that wasn’t allowed. But he was allowed to . . . whisper quietly to them, he thought. He checked the Residence Ethics. Yes, he
could
whisper. So he did, as they slept in each other’s arms, as they dreamed—perhaps of one another. They
were
HeartMates; a nudge should be fine. Everyone would say so. Especially all his other Residence friends.

“You want to HeartBond.” He sent the barely humanly audible words to them, lilted them in the voice he knew people paid the most attention to, along with an airy tune that also caught humans’ attention.

Tiana frowned, but held Antenn tighter.

*   *   *

S
he floated in a dream with her HeartMate. Finally found. Finally lost to him. And she wanted to HeartBond. The beautiful golden rope lay in coils near her, ready for her to send to Antenn during sex.

Reaching out, she found him, glided her fingers over him until he became erect.

Yes, the HeartBond was there, ready for him to accept. Would he? She didn’t know.

And she hesitated, too. Everything moved so fast lately. She didn’t feel ready to bond for her whole life with someone she barely knew. Or was she wrong,
was
she ready? To tie him to her forever? She let her fingers fall away from him, confused.

Antenn’s dream turned from a simple stream of pure white happiness, to lying next to his HeartMate. He knew her now, was learning her body, celebrated mating with her. Sex. Loving.

He looked at her in his dream, studied her, picked up the HeartBond to send to her once he slipped inside her again. Then he saw she wasn’t whole. That jarred him from feeling into thinking.

Within the dream, when she slept, he could scrutinize her as never before.

Yes, there was a barrier between her and some seething fire of emotions. Easier to see, and he understood her well enough that he could sense her down to her foundation. Her serenity wasn’t false, but she’d built that block over something he was sure needed to be released. Strong, such a strong lady, his Tiana.

Should he touch that block? Dared he?

Dare, yes, he’d dare anything for her. But he’d already prompted her to demand justice for the crimes against her Family . . . and done that not only for her, but for himself.

All the thinking woke him up. He rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow and looked at his HeartMate. Still gorgeous. Still outwardly perfect. Still inwardly better than he was. He didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t sure he’d tell her that again. A flaw.

He could still see that blockage . . . as dark and heavy as the granite cathedral foundation. Surely she, as a priestess, would want the block gone.

Her eyes opened. She smiled, stretched lingeringly, then stared at him with puzzlement on her face, lifting her finger to touch the knot between his brows.

“What’s wrong?”

Despite himself, he said, “I’m not deserving of you.”

Now his frown transferred to her. She sat and gave him a stern priestess look, and said crisply, “You’re still reacting to the fact that Shade did terrible things and you’re his brother and responsible for them, too. That’s just wrong.”

Oh, yeah, that stung. He jutted his chin. “The fact is, some people will always judge me by him, FirstFamilies people.”

She tilted her head, considering him as he had her. But he was awake and didn’t like it.

“How do you know?” she asked. “You assume that, but how do you know those people are so unforgiving?”

“They’re FirstFamily Lords and Ladies, not known for their flexibility.”

She sniffed.

“And their careers, unlike yours, don’t include being forgiving.” But he shifted uncomfortably, sat up himself. Her words had echoed T’Equisetum’s the day before, though their motives were directly opposite. Antenn ran his hands through his hair, scrubbed his scalp, gave her a sideways look. “And maybe you think I lack a trifle self-confidence.”

“I do.”

“But I’m not the only one with flaws here.”

She jerked as if she’d been struck, and he winced. “I didn’t mean it—”

“I think you did.” Her lips compressed before she spoke again, “I never said I was without flaw.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“So?”

“So, what?” he asked.

“I gave you an unwelcome truth. You can tell me one.”

He took both her hands, and the thing was, he could now
feel
that lid she had on her emotions, the solid door she’d locked them behind, the block she’d squashed them under. Whatever image he thought of it, the thing was real. And irritating, and would be that way until one of them fixed it.

The flow between them came haltingly on her part. He dragged in a deep breath. Yeah, he was prepared to remove it for her. He thought he could do that, though he wondered what the explosion might do to him. He could deconstruct as well as design and build.

He stood and she rose at the same time and they faced each other. He settled into his balance and matched her irritated gaze and said, “You don’t give all of yourself to me, Tiana, and I want it.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in outrage. “I certainly do give you everything I am!”

“No. You don’t. I want all of you.” He scanned her from top to bottom. “Despite all your serenity, you’ve blocked a part of yourself off.” He coughed. “Like I did when I put a lock on the HeartMate connection between us.”

She stared at him, scowling.

“That barrier might never shift, might never crack or break . . . but you won’t be living a full life if it doesn’t, will you? And if I’ve learned anything from this whole situation, I know that I want to experience every moment of my life, and treasure every instant with you.”

“You must be wrong.”

“I have a bond with you, my lady. I can sense your deepest self.” He paused, then said deliberately, “And it is not serene.”

He heard her teeth grind. She jerked her hands away, her fingers fisted, and then she took a deep breath and her hands uncurled.

“No!” he snapped. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to be careful around
me
. You don’t have to suppress what you feel around
me
!”

“I . . . I . . .”

“All the time since I’ve known you, you’ve been trying to ‘work through’ this crap. Like you’ve ‘worked through’ it for years.” He swore he could see flashes of Flair lightning through her eyes, and some might be directed at him. So be it. He went on. “Maybe it’s better that you just let it all out.”

She hunkered down, her back curved a little, her head thrust forward. Good, he was getting to her.

He smiled a charm-the-client-smile he’d practiced for hours when an apprentice.

A growl came from her.

His smile widened. “Good, good.” He tilted his head, lifted his hands, and wiggled his fingers in the bring-it-on gesture. Even she, who wasn’t a fighter, would recognize that.

She did.

Narrowing his eyes again to check her inner self, he saw there was a crack in that barrier—like a stone flooring. “Come on, darlin’, tell me what’s botherin’ you.” His voice lilted with a patronizing note.

And that was all it took.

Boom!
Not an audible sound, but an emotional one that hammered through the atmosphere. And that rush of fury crackled out in huge sheets, nearly searing him with the real and heartfelt heat. He caught the edge of it and the power of her Flair shoved him into the closest wall, which he banged with his shoulder.

He grunted, felt her surprise, her hesitation.

But he wouldn’t let her stop. Not now. This needed to be
done
. His mind scrabbled to grab on to the
reason
behind her anger, and he settled into his balance and gave it to her.

“You are angry at your parents.” Yeah, that surprised him.

“No!” she nearly shrieked.

“Yes, but—”

“No!”

The barrier had blown up and away now. “Yes. You are.” He frowned. “Why?”