All the King's Men (15 page)

Well, to hell with that.

Not pausing to contemplate what he was about to do, Kirel
dug his fingers into the side of the heavy rock from which the castle had been
carved and hooked a knee over the tall barrier surrounding the tower. Heart
hammering in his chest, he eyed the width of the narrow projection jutting out
from the stone half a foot away. There were such outcroppings of heavy rock at
regular intervals along the side of the castle wall but they were irregular,
formed by nature over thousands of years.

Dust crept into his eyelashes, scratching his eyes each time
he blinked. Struggling to see through a blurred field of vision, he held his
breath and stepped out from the comfort of the tower’s edge. There, he hung
suspended in space, gripping a narrow crevice with the tips of his fingers and
using his toes to support his weight.

Nelina’s window was halfway across the castle and down at
least twenty feet from where he stood.

Moon Gods help me. I can make it.

Moving agonizingly slow, Kirel crept along the side of the
wall, inching from one jagged protrusion to another, often failing to find
corresponding chinks in the stone to which he could cling. His heartbeat
thundered. Blood roared in his ears, joining the cacophony of wailing wind as
it howled its displeasure at his intrusion into its territory.

The tri-colored moons cast pale beams through the dark,
illuminating his way. Without their help, he knew he wouldn’t have made it.

After what seemed to Kirel like an eternity, he found
himself clinging to the rock just above Nelina’s window. His fingertips had
gone numb halfway through his trek.

Straining his quivering muscles, he scaled the rest of the
way down and propped his feet on the ledge of the windowsill. The window had
been carved into the wall. He slid his palms down the side edges of the sliced
rock, finally reaching the bottom bracket supporting the glass.

It slid upward easily and he exhaled a sharp breath of
relief. Gliding inside the room was infinitely easier than scaling the wall had
been and he quickly landed on the plush carpeting inside Nelina’s chamber.

His head reeled. For a moment he could only stand enthralled
and inhale the scent of cherries that permeated the room. Blue, red and
green-tinted light flowed through the open window, finding its way through the
storm to linger on Nelina’s sleeping form.

Her lithe, slender body was bare from the waist up. Her
beautifully plump breasts lifted with every breath, the nipples soft and puffy
in the center of the dark areolas. Her crescent-shaped birthmark glistened in
the moonlight, inviting him to lower his head and sweep his tongue over it.

The velvet sheet was bunched around her legs. It clung to
her narrow waist and dipped in the slight crevice between her legs, sending his
imagination soaring as he took in the curved triangle at the apex of her
thighs.

“I won’t let you touch me. Take me,” Nelina said in a husky
whisper. “Not without them.”

Her words slowed his racing thoughts. Understanding struck,
weighed down by the deep ache of despair. He flexed his fingers at his sides to
keep from touching her. When he spoke, his voice was hardly recognizable to his
own ears. The wind howled through the interior of the room but he didn’t raise
his voice to be heard. “You think you need them. The Guardians…your protectors.
To protect you from me.”

She lifted her head and propped it on an outstretched elbow.
Her hair fell around her face in a beautifully rumpled sheet of dark satin. The
sight of her sent an excruciating mix of immense joy and extreme pain to mingle
in his chest.

She licked her lips, the gesture too quick to have been
deliberate but it still managed to send a surge of heat straight into his
groin.

“Maybe I’m afraid of you.”

“Of me?” He pushed the window closed with his fingertips,
feeling his way, never taking his eyes off her. “Or of what you feel for me?”

“Is there a difference?”

In three strides he’d crossed the distance to the bed,
yanking his mask off as he went. Gathering her into his arms, he kissed her
quick and hard. He made no pretense at striving for romance but simply pushed
his tongue between her lips and inside her soft, velvety mouth.

A surprised groan escaped her lips. He captured it with his
own, trapping the sound inside the enclosure their sudden connection had
formed. For a moment, he forgot why he’d come here. He didn’t think of the king
or of the Guardians or of his duty.

He thought only of her. Of the way her breasts pressed
against his chest, infinitely soft and curvy and warm. Of the way her lips felt
pliant against his demanding mouth, of the way she tasted like cherries and
sleep, of the little mewling sounds she made low in her throat as he kissed
her.

When he pulled away, he was surprised to find his body
quivering, not with lewd desire but with a deep-seated tenderness that unfurled
through his veins and shook him to the very core.

“Let me hold you.” The request came out on a hoarse whisper.
If she refused, he’d leave without protest but he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t
crumble outside the door. “Please.”

Chapter Seven

She should have said no.

If she’d known she’d be waking up curled into the crook of
Kirel’s arm with the unabashedly masculine scent of musk enveloping her in a
haven of lust and comfort and warmth, she would have.

Maybe.

Sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass window. The
colored pane filtered the bright light, muting it to a dull reddish-yellow.
Maddeningly, the sun’s rays seemed to caress the dusting of shadow on Kirel’s
cheeks and tangle in his dark locks, the soft wave of light glinting off his
cheekbones and shining on his black lashes. His mouth was open a fraction and a
slow, satisfied rumble emanated from deep within his chest.

Taking great care not to wake him, she lifted herself to a
sitting position. She felt the absence of his body heat like a physical
presence that had suddenly been torn away. It took all the discipline she could
muster to steel her nerves against the sudden compulsion to burrow against the
lean line of his body and place her head on his chest.

Where she belonged.

Blinking back the sting of tears that had crept unnoticed to
prick her eyes, Nelina drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Unfortunately the air
was filled with the heady scent of spilled cum and slumbering male, neither one
helping to clear her muddled thoughts.

The feelings streaming through her were borne of pure
feminine desire. The sight of Kirel in her bed drove a pulsing ache deep
between her legs, straight to her clit.

It was all his fault of course. She’d been adamant that she
wouldn’t let him fuck her when she’d opened her eyes to find his unmistakable
silhouette in the middle of her room. Thinking back, that was the biggest
mistake she could have made.

But Gods, she’d never expected him to assent to her absurd
request!

Yet he’d done just that. When he’d asked to hold her, he’d
meant he only wanted to
hold
her. She remembered watching him strip
quickly, knowing it was only a matter of time until he’d force her onto her
back and sheathe his cock inside her again. But she’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

Instead of satisfying his carnal needs inside her body, he’d
pulled her into his arms and murmured softly in her ear for most of the night.
Thinking back, she could only recall bits and pieces of what he’d told her.

He’d spoken of anything and everything. She recalled
listening to stories of endless days spent at the king’s side. He’d told her of
his pride in Shivar when he’d stood up to the alien forces trying to push him
into a war Aris was ill-equipped to handle and of his appreciation for his
fellow Guardians. The fondness in his voice wasn’t lost on her. He clearly
cared for them and judging by what she’d seen the previous night, she guessed
the feelings were mutual.

As he spoke, she tried to imagine herself at the king’s
side. At first it was so she could keep her thoughts from straying into
forbidden territory but she soon realized it didn’t help. Every time she tried
to picture herself with Shivar, Kirel trespassed upon her fantasy. His voice,
rich and warm with a depth of feeling that left her breathless, intruded on her
thoughts, imposing his image atop the king’s.

She’d given up at last and had allowed herself to be lulled
to sleep by tales of Guardian bravery. The last thing she remembered was
thinking that even though Kirel had spoken at length about the way he spent
what little free time he had, he’d never once mentioned another woman. Oh he’d
shared plenty of information about Domenic’s conquests, always with a hint of
unmistakable amusement, but of his own diversions he’d kept surprisingly quiet.

She’d expected him to boast about the women who’d graced his
bed. Guardian-worshippers they were called in town. Since Guardians were rare
sights outside the palace walls, bedding one was cause for celebration. There
was no shortage of women willing to drop their clothes at the tip of a
Guardian’s hood.

Nelina wanted to think the lack of saucy tales was due to the
fact there weren’t any to tell, but allowing that flight of fancy to go much
farther would have been a folly she couldn’t afford. More than ever, she needed
to keep her wits about her if she was going to find a way out of this.

And she was determined to find a way out of this. Kirel had
managed to thoroughly tangle her emotions into a chaotic mess with his odd
behavior. The man was a walking, talking mix of raw authority, sinful
lasciviousness and sincere sensuality.

Yet there was one thing she was as clear about now as she’d
been when the Guardians had first brought her to the castle. There was no way
she was going to consent to mate with the king, no matter what the Tradition
demanded.

Especially not now when she knew that for as long as she
lived, she’d never want another man the way she wanted Kirel. She thought she’d
accepted that fact when she’d believed him trapped in a dungeon somewhere, lost
to her forever. But now she
knew
it deep in her heart, and that
awareness sent curls of heat low in her belly.

With trembling fingers, she pushed the edge of the velvet
bedspread down an inch to fall just slightly below his navel, revealing the top
of a dark patch of curls. Her nipples stiffened, tightening even before she’d
peered beneath the covering at the beautiful cock she knew to be laying
beneath.

She could hardly believe they’d both been naked all night
long and the only thing they’d done was talk. Every time lust had reared its
unwelcome head, Nelina had stifled it by thinking of the million lies he’d told
her, of the heartache she’d had to endure because of him. Yet now, the myriad
reasons why she shouldn’t touch him strayed into the back of her mind, drifting
on an euphoric wave of pure desire.

On a sharp intake of breath, she flung the bedspread down to
settle on his knees. Kirel murmured something incoherent and flung his arm over
the opposite pillow then stilled.

Nelina’s throat closed as she forced herself to swallow a
strangled sigh. He was magnificent. There was no other way to describe the lean
lines of his body, the trail of hair that led from beneath his navel to the
dark curls that provided a perfect cushion for his quiescent cock. Even
flaccid, it was thick and long, curved slightly in the crease of his right
thigh.

Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch him. She
allowed herself a featherlight stroke from base to tip, a caress so gentle he
couldn’t possibly have felt it. Yet his cock responded to her almost instantly,
stirring into semihardness.

Kirel didn’t rouse. Emboldened, she trailed the tip of her
thumb over the tiny slit in the rosy head of his cock. Her finger came away
wet. White-hot arousal flooded her veins and she brought the precious elixir to
her mouth then flicked the tip of her tongue over the masculine essence.

Kirel groaned, a sound that was part sigh and part growl.
“Do that again.”

She bit down on her thumb, like a child caught with her hand
in the pastry dish. A wicked grin flashed on Kirel’s features, tilting one side
of his mouth higher than the other in that crooked smile she remembered and had
ached to see for so long.

For a moment, the world stood still. Her heart stopped
hammering in her chest and her brain refused to move forward. She was trapped
in space and time, a prisoner of this moment, the moment she’d come face-to-face
with absolute perfection.

Before either of them could speak again, she splayed the
fingers of her other hand over his stomach and slid them down through the crisp
curls at his groin. Fisting her hand around his now fully erect cock, she began
to stroke him gently from root to tip.

Kirel watched her from beneath half-open eyelids. A flush
crept up his cheeks in sharp contrast to the dark shadow dusting his jaw. “I’ve
seen alien worlds and beings most people couldn’t even begin to imagine. I’ve stood
on the precipice of Tradition Mountain every year when Shivar renewed his
pledge to obey the Fates in all things and looked down upon Aris in all its
glory.” His voice shook for a moment and he cleared his throat. “But I’ve never
seen anything half as beautiful as you look when you touch me that way.”

The tears that clogged her throat were hot and salty. She
swallowed them down. Tightening her grip, she slid her hand down his shaft and
used her fingertips to massage the tight, velvety skin of his balls. “You’re
not helping.”

The boyish smile returned. “Neither are you.”

Heat traveled through her, burrowing deep in her core. Kirel
shoved his hips upward and pumped into her fist, the soft velvety tip scraping
against the inside of her palm with every smooth thrust. Raw passion flushed
the head of his cock a deep red color. Pre-cum gathered at the tip and dripped
down the shaft, slicking her strokes.