The Lone Warrior (61 page)

“Oh, yes.”

A giant hand gripped his chest and squeezed so hard he could barely breathe. “Good,” he managed. “Who?”

Instead, she frowned. “Walker, you look terrible.” She moved close enough to touch, so close he could smell the light perfume that rose from her skin and detect the female warmth beneath it.

“Your hair’s got more gray in it now. Did you know? Just here.”

Her fingertips fluttered over his temple, the touch bittersweet. Memory took him between one breath and the next. Because she’d touched him like this before. What had he said in his cold fury, a lifetime ago?
You are not my servant, nor my student. You are not my friend. Nor will you be, ever.
He winced.

“Are you all right?” Her brow furrowed with concern. “Have you been ill?”

Fuck, this was torture.

He gripped her wrist. “
Who is it?
”

Every vestige of softness died out of Mehcredi’s face. “You know,” she said. “You’ve always known.” She stepped right into his arms, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. “You, Walker.” Her smile went crooked. “It’s only ever been you.”

Hope stripped him to the bone. He cupped her cheek in his hand, dimly aware he was shaking like a tree in a gale. “I left—” His throat was so dry. “A piece of my soul, my Magick, inside you. It could be you don’t have a choice.”

Her brows rose. “You mean this?” Fishing in her shirt, she produced a fine silver chain. Suspended from it was a small pearly globe encased in a network of fine wires.

“The itching drove me crazy for about a week, but thank the Sister, it worked its way out of the wound while I was in Ged. Didn’t take long to heal either, though it bled a fair bit. I was going to throw it away and then I realized . . .”

Stroking a finger over the smooth opalescent surface, she glanced up from under her lashes. “This is your gift to me, freely given. Your life, your love. The most precious thing I’ll ever have.”

Walker closed his fingers over hers. “Be sure, Mehcredi. Be very sure.” The words came out so raw and desperate he sounded like a stranger. “I can’t do this again.”

He watched her searching for words, his heartbeat thudding in his ears like a battle drum.

“No,” she said at last, and his pulse jolted, hard and nasty. “Let me show you.” Taking his hand, she drew him toward a rough bench in the shade of the cedderwood. “Sit down.”

“Mehcredi—”

“I’m getting there. Just give me a minute, all right?” Her breasts rose and fell as if she’d been running. She wiped her forehead with one sleeve. “I’ve been practicing.

“Gods. Right. Don’t laugh.” Pulling in a huge breath, she clasped her hands before her at the waist like a little girl and opened her mouth.

“Welderyn’d’haraleen’t’Lenquisquilirian, babe twice blessed with life and love,” she sang in Shar, the notes breathy but true, the accent impeccable.

He’d never felt less like laughing. ’Cestors’ bones, it was
his Song
she sang
.
How was that even possible?

“First Mother’s breath to sing his Song, First Father’s touch on his downy head.”

She was midway through the next line by the time he’d recovered enough to speak. “Wait. Do you understand the words or did you learn the sounds by rote?”

Mehcredi sent him a long level look, implicit with a woman’s challenge. His blood bubbled. “Judge for yourself.”

Her voice rose again, soft and pure in the light summer air.

“Welderyn’d’haraleen’t’Lenquisquilirian, last of the Shar, dealing death, swift hands, cold heart.”

This was new, the lines unknown. Gods, had she—? No, surely not. Not possible. The strain was beginning to tell, the consonants slurring, yet the way she emphasized certain words, the emotion on her expressive face . . . She understood the import of every syllable.

“Yet his soul he gave me, never counting the cost. True son of the’Cestors, First Father’s courage, First Mother’s heart.”

Her voice wavered, dropping so he could hardly hear it. Desperate, he leaned forward.

“Mehcredi’s beloved, two Songs twined like vine and tree, through all the years, ’til we lie as one in starfire’s heart.”

Completely incapable of speech, Walker grasped her hips, pulling her close and pressing his forehead into the resilient softness of her breasts. Tentatively at first, then with more assurance, Mehcredi’s fingers stroked the length of his thick braid, picking at the ties that bound it, separating the strands, spreading it over his back and shoulders.

She sighed, letting it ripple through her fingers like water. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Walker filled his hands with the firmness of her backside and let out a long breath. “Any time,” he said. “Come here.” He tugged her down into his lap, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. There’d be time for kisses later, but right now, he was so rattled, all he could cope with was to hold her and never let her go.

The canopy of the cedderwood rustled overhead, fragments of shade shifting over her bright head, as light and loving as First Mother’s gentle touch.

At last, Walker stirred. “You are without doubt the most amazing woman I have ever met. How did you do it?”

As she shifted, the pearl between her breasts rolled, glistening a delicate pink. “Amae tutored me.” Smiling, she nuzzled the curve of his brow with her nose, drew back. “I’ve done nothing but work since I last saw you. You’re going to be so proud of me, Walker.”

His chuckle sounded rusty, disused. He cleared his throat. “
Carazada
, I already am.” He considered for a moment. “I think I have been, for a very long time.”

“
Carazada
.” Mehcredi’s lashes fluttered down, her lips trembling into a sweet knowing curve that was all woman. “I asked Amae what it means.”

She turned her head, brushed her lips over one corner of his mouth and whispered, “Beloved, heart of my hearts, my world, my all. Mine.” The huskiness of her tone, the pure temptation of her, coiled at the base of his spine, rippled over his balls. The point of her tongue crept out, asking for entry.

The soul-link bloomed with warmth and color and life, the energy of it pounding through him, blood and bone. With a deep growl of pleasure, Walker took over the kiss, hauling her into him and sinking into her mouth. Mehcredi met him stroke for stroke, humming deep in her throat, fingers tangled deep in his hair. She took his senses by storm, more intoxicating than the attar of his own dark roses.

Fabric ripped. Deliciously heavy and full, her breasts filled his hands, the stiff nipple burning into the center of his palms. Mehcredi made a breathless wanton sound, a delightful cross between a mewl and a wail. It went to his head like richest spicewine ’til he could barely breathe with the need to hear it again, to hear her scream in passion, his name spilling from her lips as she hit the peak and tumbled over.

He forced his eyes open. She was sprawled across him, her lips swollen, her thighs spread wide in a shameless display. Immediately, he clamped his hands on her hips, pulling her forward, notching his aching cock where it longed to go. Even through the trews, she scorched him. His groan split the air.

His shirt was hanging open. When had that happened? Mehcredi leaned forward, her breath scorching against his skin. She bit him, just above the nipple.

“Fuck!” Walker bucked. He knew there was a reason he couldn’t throw her to the grass, rip her trews off and sink balls deep into the wet heat he craved, but he was having difficulty remembering what it was.

“Room.” Mehcredi nipped his earlobe. “Upstairs.” Her voice sank to a tortured whisper. “P-please.”

He’d never felt such desperate urgency, not even in his adolescence. It took every scrap of warrior discipline he possessed to draw back. As he stared into his assassin’s beautiful face, her pupils flared dark, almost eclipsing the pale irises. The creamy skin of her throat and cheeks flushed with gorgeous color.

“Yes.” He cradled her cheek, his thumb tracing over her lower lip. “Ah,
carazada
, this is going to take a very long time.” Gently, he helped her to her feet, rose and took her hand. “Hard and fast. Long and slow.” Walking was a matter of breathing deep and taking care. He led her toward the tavern. “And everything in between.”

At the whimper she couldn’t repress, he chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in years, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a burden he hadn’t known he carried.

“In there.” Pausing at the top of the stairs, she pointed to a chamber at the back of the building. The inn drowsed in the warmth of the afternoon, business virtually nonexistent. ’Cestors be thanked, because the gods knew what they looked like, flushed and disheveled.

The moment the door closed behind them, Mehcredi dropped the bar across and set her back to it. “I want it all, for always. With you. Is that what you want too?” She fixed him with a serious silver gaze. “You know you have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Mehcredi couldn’t take her eyes from him. Walker gazed at her in silence, his hair falling across his forehead, his eyes the rich rare brown of chocolat. His shirt hung open, exposing a slice of smooth bronze chest, the dark crescent of one nipple. Helplessly, her gaze flickered down to the magnificent bulge in his trews and her breath hitched. From her fingertips to her aching nipples to the swollen liquid folds between her thighs, she throbbed and tingled, her skin too tight for her body.

Slowly, Walker’s firmly cut lips curved into a smile, the tenderness warming his eyes beautifully, wonderfully, clear. “What does the soul-link say?”

Holy Sister, she’d been so caught up in him, she’d forgotten all about it. The moment she turned her attention inward, the floodgates opened. A great warm rush of love and tears and lust swept her away, tossing her this way and that, bearing her higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

“Gods!” She yelped with shock, reeling, her arms flying out in an instinctive grab for balance.

Strong arms banded around her. She was drawn up against the unyielding heat of his broad chest.

“I’m here,” rumbled a deep voice in her ear. “I will never let you go.” The grip tightened until her ribs creaked. “I love you, Mehcredi.”

Oh, gods, it was true. Submerged in the soul-link, fathoms deep, she could see him with absolute clarity, immovable as the solid earth that gave him his Magick, steadfast as the ancient cedderwood in the yard. His soul was shot through with the exhilarating energy of the
ch’qui
, yes, but beneath it all lay the bedrock of him, so plain, so honest, it owed nothing to Magick—only to a great and giving heart.

What he gave her was the whole world, newly minted. She might stumble and fall as she explored it, but what he offered too was all of himself, a refuge that was hers and hers alone. Joy made her lighter than air. Laughing, she gathered up the love and the pleasure, magnified it and pushed it back at him through the link. Coherent thought was no longer possible, her mind had dissolved into a coruscating rainbow that danced and sang,
Yes, yes, yes
! with every beat of her heart.

Still bubbling, Mehcredi clung as the world shifted around her. Peripherally, she was aware of being lowered to the bed, of cooler air washing over her bare legs. Gladly, she spread, opening herself as Walker came down over her, his muscled flesh searingly hot and strong against hers. He murmured in Shar, the words so quick she couldn’t catch them, but the link gave her the sense.

She was
his
—his life, his future, his
carazada
. And he’d die if he couldn’t join his flesh with hers—right—now.

Her eyes flew open in shock, all the air punching out of her in an undignified grunt. Merciful Sister, she could
feel
the instinctive male urge to rut and thrust and spill, the way the soft wet heat of her drew him irresistibly forward, his hips already shifting with the urge to pump. Only his iron will held him back, because to give her a moment’s discomfort would kill him.

“Gods, do it.” Tilting her hips, she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m dying. Now, Walker, now!”

Almost before the words had left her lips, he surged forward, seating himself to the hilt in one smooth plunge. Her muted shriek stirred the silken curtain of his hair. Walker froze, holding his breath.

For a charged moment, he rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” she whispered, licking into his mouth.

She tried, she really did, but the slick satin walls clamped around his girth throbbed to the beat of her pulse. Or was it his? She could no longer distinguish. Feminine nerves fluttered, impaled by an exquisitely brutal pressure that stretched and filled. But simultaneously, she had the amazing sensation of succulent woman-flesh, slippery and hot, sliding all along the length of his cock. Soft skin stretched over an engorged core, so sensitive that even the smallest movement was excruciatingly pleasurable. Her head spun as each sensation amplified the other in a dizzying, upward rush.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, arching into the beautiful blessed pressure. “Walker, I’m—I can’t—”

“Wait! Gods, fuck!” He dug his knees into the mattress, buttocks clenching with the force of each ramming thrust.

His climax triggered hers, so closely they were almost simultaneous. Mehcredi writhed and flailed, the double sensations hitting her from inside and out, so exquisitely powerful her vision clouded over. All she could do was cling while the world imploded. She could have sworn the building trembled as the earth shifted in its bed. The door rattled and something tumbled off the dresser to land with a dull thud.

Panting, she reached up to smooth the hair out of his eyes. “You didn’t,” she said. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Walker cleared his throat. “Didn’t what?” His bronzed face was ruddy with color.

“Make the earth move.”