Prince of Magic (16 page)

He was so incredibly warm. That heat radiated out and infused her with a shared warmth that was unlike anything she had ever known. Two long fingers tweaked her nipple, and before her gasp was complete, his mouth was there, sucking, drawing her in.

Everything else went away. Ariana closed her eyes and was lost in wonder and a growing hunger. She no longer questioned any movement Sian made. She was his, at least for this moment. Her body was his. Her body and her mind were his to mold.

Sian finally removed her nightgown. He did not lift the hem to her waist, which was all she had expected and all that was necessary, but gently drew the nightgown across her hips and over her head, disposing of it with a flick of his wrist. There was no wizard's light to illuminate them, but she saw Sian well enough. He studied her as he touched and caressed. He liked what he saw.

She had felt a moment of shyness when she'd first broached the subject of making love, but there was no shyness within her now. He could look upon her naked to his heart's desire, and she would not mind. She felt different. Alive, in an entirely new way.

She felt like a woman.

"Now can I touch you?" she whispered.

"If you wish."

She unfastened the buttons of his shirt and drew the garment over his head. She'd already felt the muscles which were revealed, but the sight of them was still quite lovely. He did not have the body of a man who spent hours poring over old papers and moving objects magically. There was no fat here, no sign that he was on occasion sedentary. He was lean without being thin, muscled without being burly. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect. Her hands traced those muscles, and then brushed against his small, hard nipples. She lowered her head and tasted him there, brushing her tongue across his flat nipples and tasting the salt and maleness of his skin.

Unfastening his trousers was more of an effort, but she managed, and he was patient with her. It was not necessary that she do more than free his erection, but she wanted him to be as naked as she was. She wanted nothing in this bed but their bodies when they came together.

When his clothing was shed, she took a moment to study him, as he had studied her. She cupped and teased him, she stroked while she kissed the curve where neck became shoulder. And as she did so, Sian slipped his hand between her legs and stroked her, his thumb finding the nub at her entrance and teasing it with small, circular strokes.

Her hips began to move, as if they danced. Her eyes drifted closed, and she felt nothing but Sian. Nothing else mattered, but this.

It was beautiful. It was primal and powerful and
good
.

She was on the edge of something powerful when he took his hand away. A small sound of frustration escaped from her throat, but Sian did not allow her to remain frustrated for very long. He shifted his body and hers, and then his head was between her legs, and… oh, my, his tongue took the place of his talented hands, and the wonder escalated.

She wanted to hold him, but had to clutch at the sheets instead. Her body swayed to meet his mouth, and when he slipped a finger into her trembling warmth, she was swept into a firestorm of release. Her body jerked and trembled, and the climax she had only dreamed of whipped through her body. She cried out, and clutched the sheet even harder with her hands, as if she needed purchase to remain earthbound.

Slowly, languidly, she returned to herself. Her body seemed momentarily worthless. Drained and heavy and wonderfully warm.

Now would come the less pleasant part of the act. If memory served, it would not take long. She remembered the actual experience of having a man inside her as being uncomfortable and unnatural, but somehow, at this extraordinary moment, she thought it might not be so with Sian.

Instead of driving into her, he kissed her inner thigh, then rose up to kiss her still-trembling belly. She threaded her fingers through his hair. He had wonderful hair, long and silky and black as night.

"Satisfied?" he asked, his mouth against her skin.

"Yes," Ariana sighed, unable to speak plainly. She could feel her heart pounding, and her breath had not returned to normal. "Very."

And yet, she still felt alone, in a way she had not expected. Sian held her. He had brought her to unexpected heights of pleasure. She suspected that until he was inside her, a real and true part of her, she would continue to feel an aching emptiness.

Unexpectedly, he rolled away from her and left the bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked, rising up onto her elbows.

"Back to my room." Sian reached for his discarded clothes.

But they weren't finished. She knew Sian wanted her, at least physically. He was wonderfully erect, and even though she had just experienced a flood of release, she wanted him.

She wanted him.

"Why? Why are you returning to your room
now
?"

He stood by the side of the bed, apparently unconcerned that he was naked and aroused. There was visible tension throughout his entire body. She saw that tension in the set of his mouth, the tautness of his muscles, the trembling of his hands.

"Do you wish to conceive a child on this night?"

"No, but it's unlikely that I would conceive." After all, she'd not gotten pregnant in the two weeks when she'd imagined herself in love with Pryam. One night was surely not too much of a risk.

"Unlikely and impossible are very far apart, Ariana."

"But—"

"It's a chance I won't take."

Fine. He wasn't going to stay. He'd done as she'd asked, in a way, and now he was done with her. No, he was too aroused to be truly
done
with her, but still, he was leaving.

Sian dressed quickly, bowed to her with a new and formal crispness, and then he left the room. He did not slam the door, but closed it almost gently. The lock fastened itself, bidden by a magical hand on the other side of the doorway.

Ariana huddled naked beneath the coverlet. Somehow, she felt more alone than she had before she'd awakened to find Sian in her room. The warmth he had brought to her bed was gone. She felt his touch everywhere, on her skin and deep inside, and still… the loneliness was acute.

She heard the scuff of a shoe outside her doorway, and then another. A mild curse, barely audible, followed, and then there was a gentle thunk at her door. In the dark, Ariana smiled. The enchanter had not returned to his room. He was standing guard at her doorway.

Maybe she was not completely alone after all.

"Magic is nothing more than the manipulation of energies," Sian said crisply. One hand rested casually on Ariana's shoulder. "As you already have the advantage of being able to see energy better than most, when aided by my touch, this should be simple." His voice grew cold. "Apparently it is not."

Ariana glared at him. She'd been trying all morning to move a small bowl they had placed upon the long table which sported the inlaid map of Columbyana. In the beginning he had hoped to see her move the bowl from one end of the table to the other. At the moment, he would be satisfied with a twitch.

"Perhaps that which comes easily to you is not as simple as you believe," she said, her voice tired and terse.

"Am I asking too much of you?" he asked sharply. "Is the task of moving a small, lightweight object too difficult?" He should not take his frustration out on her. After all, it was not her fault that he hurt. It was not her fault that he'd passed three nights without sleep and had been hard most of that time. It was not her fault that the simple contact of his hand to her shoulder was maddening. Oh, wait. It
was
her fault. "I shudder to think that the fate of this world rests in the hands of a girl who cannot learn the simplest lesson…"

Ariana snapped her hand, and the bowl spun off the table and through the air. Toward his head. He deflected the crockery with his free hand, and it clattered to the floor. One piece chipped off the rim and rolled away, landing against the edge of the rug.

His pupil was surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, raising one hand to her mouth in horror. "I didn't mean…"

"Do not apologize. You are an empath, after all. It makes sense that your abilities are tied to your emotions. This is a valuable lesson, one we must take to heart."

She turned to him and he withdrew his fingers from her shoulder. "Did the bowl hurt your hand when you deflected it? Oh, it did, didn't it?"

"No," Sian answered crisply. "My hand is fine."

"Let me see," she insisted.

"That's not…" Before he could say "necessary," Ariana had taken his hand in hers and was intently studying the small red mark there.

"It might bruise. I can make a poultice that will—"

"I do not need a poultice," Sian said, taking his hand from hers with some force. "And you must stop worrying yourself over every small injury in your path. What will you do when soldiers fall around you? What will you do when you are surrounded by the blood of your comrades, and the fighting continues? You cannot turn your back on an enemy to mourn the dead or see to the wounded. If you are distracted, if you let your need to care for others blind you, then you will die."

He wanted to rile her, to make her understand what she was up against. Instead of taking the bait, she sighed. "You have been in a foul mood these past few days."

Was it any wonder? "I have been my usual cheerful self," he argued.

She smiled widely at that claim. "I am no fool, Sian. I know why you are uneasy. We did not finish what we started."

He took her chin in his hand and stared into her eyes. Was Diella gone? Sleeping? Or here?

Ariana sighed. "I know what you're thinking when you look at me that way. Can Diella talk of beauty and love and pleasure in the same breath, or does she only speak of her physical desires? Can Diella speak of her family with warmth of heart and unending love, or is her every thought centered on her own self?"

"I know what you're attempting to do, Ariana," he said. "It won't work."

She cocked her head, appearing to be truly confused. "What am I trying to do?"

"You wouldn't be the first woman to attempt to bind a man to her through sex. And the very possibility of creating a child… you know no man would send the woman bearing his son or daughter into battle, and if he had no choice, he would not allow her to go alone. It is still my intention to return home when your training is done. You will not change my mind in this way or any other."