The Lone Warrior (34 page)

“Really?” Something ugly twisted inside him. “You’ve got balls, I grant you, but what did you intend to do when he discovered you don’t have the cock to go with them?”

She gaped. Even beneath the stain of the blengo juice, he could see the dull red of a flush rise in her cheeks. Her mouth shut with an angry snap. “That’s not fair! He was just being nice. He actually lives in the palace, can you believe it? He was telling me all about it. And wait ’til you hear about—”

“I’m sure he was highly entertaining.” Walker sat on one of the beds to pull off his boots, his blood buzzing with fright and fury combined. To the seven icy hells with scruples, she’d come within a whisker of discovery and ruination. And all because—he ground his teeth—she wanted someone
decent
. Gods, what would she do next? Who would she choose?

He said, “The man likes boys,
Meck
. He would have taken you there, to the palace.”

The angry color receded. “No,” she said, her voice thin.

“Yes. To his bed, to
fuck
. Imagine how well that would have gone.”

He had to close his eyes for a second. ’Cestors’ bones, it didn’t bear thinking of. Helpless and raging, unable to reach her, while the Janizars—Oh, gods, gods . . .

Mehcredi tossed her spectacles onto the dresser with a petulant clatter and his eyes snapped open.

“You nearly got yourself killed because you had an itch to scratch,” he growled. “That won’t happen again.” He shrugged out of his robes, his heart hammering. “I told him you were mine and I meant it. Strip.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He ripped the shirt off over his head. His pulse pounded hard and heavy between his thighs, his body racing ahead, exulting. “You’re about to get exactly what you want. Pleased with yourself?”

Her eyes were huge, the same shade as storm clouds. “But I wasn’t going to—” She stopped and started again. “I only said that to make you angry.”

“Congratulations,” he snarled, reaching out to remove her head cloth with a flip of his wrist. “You succeeded.”

“But you don’t want me, you said so. Not enough, remember?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. A half step forward and he had her shirt gripped in both fists. A quick wrench, a tearing noise and it ripped straight down the middle. “Fucking breastband.” His blade appeared in his hand as if by Magick. “Hold still.”

“Walker.” She put out a hand. “I changed my mind.”

“So have I.” Grasping her wrist, he spun her around and slit the laces at the back with a single stroke. The fabric fluttered unheeded to the floor. Dropping the dagger onto one of the narrow beds, he released a long breath of pure relief as he pulled her back into his chest and her breasts filled his palms, warm satiny weight, the blood beating hard just beneath the skin. When his thumbs rasped her nipples, Mehcredi cried out, bucking against him.

Gods, yes! The
ch’qui
surged through his blood with an almost discernable roar, potent as the best brandywine. Exactly as he remembered, but this time . . . this time, he’d be deep inside her when he came. Unable to deny the instinctive desire to thrust, he pressed his cock against her gorgeous ass, eyes sliding shut with the delightful friction.

She rose on tiptoe against him, her head falling back on his shoulder, baring the long lovely line of her throat. Everything male in him roared with triumph.
His!

Bending his head, Walker buried his nose behind her ear and inhaled deeply. Loosening the laces of her trews, he skimmed a palm over the slight curve of her belly, feeling the nerves flutter in response to his touch, her breathy gasps and sighs.

The trews slipped to her hips, hung for an interminable second and slithered down to pool at her boots. His fingertips brushed a silky tuft of hair, his smallest finger tracing the tender crease where hip met thigh. Gods, he had to see!

In a single smooth movement, he swung her up into his arms, ignoring the yelp of surprise. Mehcredi the assassin was hardly a lightweight, but at this moment, he could have carried her against his heart from one end of the Spice Trail to the other.

Two steps and he had her on one of the beds, tugging off her boots with ruthless dispatch, ridding her of the trews. He thought she might be speaking, but the words were a meaningless jumble on the periphery of his consciousness. He couldn’t take his eyes from the juncture of her thighs, the sweet cleft bisecting a plump little mound.

Nearly bare, no more than the thinnest silkiest covering of fine blond hair. ’Cestors save him. He couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes wide and smoky, Mehcredi pressed her thighs together. She was blushing, so fiercely that the rosy color began on the pale silky skin of her breasts and extended upward, to disappear under the brown of blengo juice. Suddenly, Walker loathed that stain, and the necessity for it. He wanted his assassin as the gods intended, all long strong limbs and cool blond beauty.

“What?” he rasped. “What did you say?”

“Your hair,” she whispered, folding her arms across her breasts. “Untie your hair.”

Even a single word required concentration. “Wait.” Kicking off his boots, he unlaced his trews and let them drop.

Mehcredi made a noise like a surprised kitten, but Walker gave her no time to stare, descending on her like a storm front, grabbing her wrists and pressing them into the pillow.

Skin against skin, all the way from thigh to shoulder. Mind-numbing, cock-searing sizzle. The breath punched out of her in a gusty rush and she undulated beneath him, all woman. “
Oh,
” she whispered. Her lashes fluttered. “That’s—You feel—Oh, gods.”

It was difficult, but Walker forced himself to loosen his grip. Then he pulled the tie from his hair and shook his head. When he bent to nuzzle the pit of her throat, a curtain of sable silk spilled onto her shoulder and slithered over her breast. Another of those small shocked noises and she turned her head, her lips brushing his ear in a shy caress. Fingertips skated gingerly across his shoulder blade.

He slid a hand under her neck, where the fine hairs were soft and life pulsed warm beneath the skin. So fragile for all her strength. A quick twist, that was all it would take to end her. His guts clenched. No more intrusive questions, no more foolish trust and big eyes, that quicksilver intelligence gone forever, condemning him to the dark.

Fitting his lips to hers, Walker set himself to seduce her with all the ruthless skill of which he was capable. Her lips, at first cool and smooth beneath his, warmed and grew pliant. When they parted on a sigh, he slipped inside, caressing her tongue with his, not coaxing or asking permission, but demanding. Mehcredi quivered. With a little moan, she dug her fingers into his skin, her hips rising against his. The kiss became deeper, wetter, harder. Nothing existed save the woman beneath him—and the green sapling strength of the
ch’qui
filling his balls and cock, the pressure and scalding heat driving him out of his mind.

He tore himself away to lick a trail down the side of her neck, tasting blengo juice and hot skin. But when he reached her breast, the taste changed—pure Mehcredi, satin smooth and hot cream, flavored with the dark spice of the Mark. A kind of purr-growl vibrating deep in his chest, Walker stroked her distended nipple with his tongue. Sex and Magick exploded in his mouth, sweet and fiery as summerberries soaked in raw spirits.

Mehcredi didn’t scream as he’d half expected. Instead, she choked and went rigid, her fingers spearing into his hair and gripping hard. Ignoring the pain in his scalp, Walker redoubled his efforts, licking all around the crinkled velvet of her areola before returning to suckle her deep, compressing nerve-rich flesh between his tongue and hard palate.
Sweet,
something babbled in his head.
Gods, so sweet
.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee and without preamble, skimmed eager fingers over her cleft.
Yes, godsdammit, yes!
She was flowering for him, plump with desire, her delicate folds slick and hot, open as a velvety, full-bloom rose. His cock leaped, ravening.

When he strummed the prominent bump of her clitoris with his thumb, she keened with pleasure, her head thrashing on the pillow. Walker inserted the tip of one finger into the tight sucking entrance of her body and rotated it, very gently. With a last regretful lick, he lifted his head from the temptingly ripe gleam of a wet nipple.

“Tell me you still want this.” Was that his voice, so guttural it was barely human?

Mehcredi’s laugh came out more like a sob. “What do you think?” Her fingers trembled as she reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. She swallowed hard. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

Utterly shameless, she squirmed, her thighs falling open beautifully as she bore down, trying to impale herself on his finger. Such beautiful strength, like a slippery velvet vise.
Fuck
. He’d never been so hard in his life, so engorged with desire the tender skin of his cock felt like it might split, his balls tense and ripe, drawn up hard into his body.

His brain had degenerated to a lusty soup where an errant thought whimpered for his attention.
Irrevocable,
it wailed.
Never the same. Never again
.

’Cestors’ bones, who the fuck cared? Walker bit the inside of his cheek, using the small pain to anchor himself. “Ready?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes turned nearly as dark as his. “
Nngh!
Sister have mercy, do that again.”

Instead, he settled into the cradle of her pelvis, the broad head of his cock nosing against wet satin. Eyes rolling back in his head with the effort of restraint, he flexed his hips. Probing.

Her knee rose against his hip and he hooked an arm beneath it, splaying her open, leaning forward, covering her with his body, making her prey.

“Walker?”

Ah,
there
. “Mmm. What?”

“Will it hurt?”

Walker froze above her, his face stark, and once again, she was trapped by his compelling hunter’s gaze. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel so many sensations at once, so much emotion. Every nerve under her skin sang in concert, greedy lip-smacking hallelujahs. She felt feverish, dizzy with it all, a feast for her starved senses. Her mouth watered with the need to bite off huge chunks of the physical gorgeousness of it—of him. Then she’d be able to keep this forever, pull it out of memory to roll around her mouth and savor at leisure.

Sweet Sister, just the press of his weight was amazing. She’d had no idea—how could she?—that a man’s body would be so heavy, so incredibly solid, all bone and muscle clad in satiny resilient bronze. Godsdammit, she felt
small
.

Nor had she realized sex was so . . . wet . . . so hot. So splendidly wicked. The head of his cock shifted against her most secret flesh, a smooth dense presence. Every insistent slide, each slippery rub, forced a gasp out of her, sent vicious tingles surging through her body, not just in her loins, but up her spine, into her belly and over her ribs. Compressed by the wall of his chest, her breasts ached, already desperate for his fingers, his mouth.

Panting, her pulse juddering in her ears, she ran her fingers through the cool silk of his hair, over and over, as she’d always longed to do, watching him think. He was searching for words, she could tell. And wasn’t that flash of insight a complete surprise?

At last, he said, “Hurt? I don’t know, but I imagine so.” Every muscle in his body had turned to stone, the breadth of his shoulders setting like a girder, but his head dropped so the curtain of hair concealed his face. “Think quick, Mehcredi.” He sounded like he’d gargled with gravel. “My willpower is . . . limited.”

Her laugh bounced off the walls. Still smiling, she reared up to press her mouth to his and he hissed as cock flesh slid through her slippery folds. How the touch of him could . . . well,
sear
like that when she was so wet remained a mystery.

“Don’t care,” she said, fizzing with joy. “Hard and fast, Walker.” Grinning, she nipped his lower lip. “Do it.”

Walker’s hips drew back, buttocks flexing. She’d expected another of those deep sensual growls, but instead, he surged forward with a pained groan, driving what felt like a tree trunk partway into her body.

The breath left her in a strangled shriek.

Walker froze, bracing himself over her on his forearms, shuddering. “Mehcredi? Love?”

“Shit,” she said through gritted teeth. “Stings like a bitch.
Move
.” Wrapping her long legs around his hips, she dug in with her heels.

A long release of breath and Walker thrust again, not stopping this time until he was wedged hard and high inside her. There he stopped, chest heaving. “Better?”

They were as close as it was possible for two people to be. Sweet Sister of mercy, a part of his body was
inside
hers. And yes, it did hurt, though the initial sting was fading to a dull ache.