All the King's Men (19 page)

The other Guardians didn’t seem concerned about the
possibility of her escaping from the hot springs cavern. Did Kirel know that
there was a tunnel that would lead her to freedom? Or was he simply insightful
enough to realize she wouldn’t rest until she found a way out of this?

He nodded briskly toward her. His straight shoulders and
broad chest brought to mind a regal stance, a bearing that most royals could
never hope to pull off. The heartache that had been building steadily since
she’d drifted from his arms intensified, making it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Goodbye, Kirel,” she said, surprised to find her voice
quivering.

He watched her for a moment longer while Thor and Domenic
both took a hold of his arms. They looked ready to haul him out of there by
force if they had to. For a moment, she thought they might.

Kirel’s eyes narrowed. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His
biceps corded as tension stiffened his muscles. He looked like a predator ready
to strike. When he opened his mouth to speak, she found herself holding her
breath. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but the simple
“Goodbye, Nel” wasn’t it.

She waited until the three men disappeared from view before
allowing the first tear to slide down her cheek. A dozen more followed,
plopping into the surface of the pool, trickling between her breasts, caressing
her skin with salty rivulets.

There wasn’t much time. Steeling her nerves lest she change
her mind, Nelina swam to the tunnel where she’d found the
morang
.
Filling her lungs with a gulp of cum-scented air, she plunged underneath the
surface of the water and propelled her body through the whirling current.

The ice-cold flow numbed her muscles in the span of a few
strokes. Her lungs and eyes burned with effort. She pushed on, inch by
excruciating inch. Velvet darkness encompassed her, closing in, trapping her
from all sides.

Her shoulder scraped the jagged edges of rock. The tunnel
narrowed upward. She followed it even as panic began to build in her chest,
expanding her rib cage, making the desperate need to suck in a breath of air
scorch the inside of her throat.

When the first rays of sunlight filtered through the water,
she almost screamed with joy. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she pushed her
straining muscles to the peak and wriggled through the tight mouth of the tunnel
to break the surface.

Cold, dust-imbued oxygen clogged her throat when she dragged
in the first gulp of air. She had to narrow her eyes to keep them from watering
as the sun’s beams shone into her dark-accustomed orbs.

Shivering, she glanced around her. The castle loomed dark
and foreboding against the side of the mountain. She could make out a few
windows carved high in the rock from where she stood.

The stream she found herself in traveled around the
perimeter of the gardens, curving gently toward the right where it disappeared
into a steep, sloping landscape. The rocky terrain was dotted with bushy plants
and the occasional brown-leaved tree. Their branches hung low to the ground,
bent by years of untamed storms.

Casting another cursory look over the area to ensure there
were no stray guards nearby, she pulled herself out of the stream. Goose bumps
broke out instantly over her skin. Her nipples ached as they stiffened and the
damp breeze played in the curls between her legs, reminding her of the carnal
sensations that had gripped her in their midst only minutes earlier.

Unable to resist, she ran a finger down her gaping slit,
prodding the sensitive flesh of her pussy, testing its resistance to her
questing fingertips. Then pressing her lips into a thin line, she looked back
at the castle only once before breaking into a desperate sprint toward the
shelter of the rocky terrain that beckoned with the promise of safety.

The wind kicked up a notch as she ran, whipping specks of
dust at her bare flesh. She lowered her lashes against the assault. First, she
had to find clothes. Then she had to figure out a way to get off this planet.

Only when she was halfway across the universe could she be
sure the king’s men wouldn’t come looking for her.

Chapter Eight

“Shivar has left instructions not to be disturbed for the
remainder of the day, though he wants us ready to meet him before the dinner
hour. I trust you’ll behave until then?”

Kirel’s lip curled. Tension coiled in his gut, tightening
his muscles. He stood in the middle of his chamber and watched Thor eye him
suspiciously over the top of his mask.

“Get. Out.” He made each word a threat. The turmoil of
emotions surging through him threatened to burst out of his chest, leaving him
uncertain as to what would happen if it erupted while Thor remained in the
room.

He caught Thor’s almost imperceptible shake of his head
before the Guardian pulled the door closed. Instead of calming Kirel’s nerves,
the sound of the latch clicking into place sent another jolt of adrenaline
through his veins.

The green-glazed goblet filled with Siccian wine that had
been left out for him seemed as good a candidate as any for the release he
craved. Lifting it by its slender curved handle, he used all his strength to
hurl it at the window.

Glass shattered against glass with an ear-splitting crash.
Broken shards sprayed toward him, bathing the lush crimson carpet in fragments
of fine porcelain.

The door opened another crack. “You all right in here?”

Kirel’s eyelids drifted closed. He squeezed them shut and
clenched his jaw, trying to calm his frantic breathing.

“I can stay with you a while if you want to talk.”

The soft concern in Thor’s voice almost undid him. His
friend’s sympathy caused a surge of desperate agony to lodge in his chest.
Every breath burned going down his throat as though his lungs no longer wanted
to accept even the life-giving air that filled the room.

“I don’t want to talk. I want Nel. I want to defy this
stupid Tradition and make Nelina mine.” He stalked to the window, stepping on
the shattered remains of the goblet and peered out through the pale smears of
pink wine that stained the glass. “She
is
mine, you know. None of the
training will change that.”

“The Tradition changes that.”

There was no smugness in Thor’s claim, no judgment. If there
had been, Kirel would have forcefully removed the Guardian from his chambers
without a second’s hesitation. Instead, he splayed both palms on the window and
leaned his forehead against the cool pane.

“Does it? Or does it simply force us all to live a lie? Nel,
me…even Shivar. Do you think the king wants a queen who’s in love with
another?”

“How can you be so certain…”

Kirel didn’t have to see Thor’s face to know the man had
clamped his mouth shut before completing the sentence so as to not provoke him
further. He almost smiled at that. He’d already reached the end of his
restraint. How much further could he be pushed?

“That she loves me?” Kirel finished for him. “I felt it when
I was in her. I could tell by the way she held me close in the grip of her
tight little pussy. By the way she dug her fingers into my shoulders and asked
me to fuck her. And I felt it last night…when I held her. Because that’s all I
did, Thor. I held her. I could spend the rest of my days holding her.”

“For what it’s worth, I do wish things could be different
for you. But they’re not, and you’ve no choice but to accept that.”

Clearly, Thor’s gentle caress on Kirel’s shoulder blade was
meant to comfort him but it only served to frustrate him further. He’d loved
fucking Thor with his mouth while Nelina had watched. The intimacy of the act
had been invigorating. Absolutely rapturous.

Thor was wound up as tightly as Kirel only for different
reasons. He needed a woman who could teach him how to unwind as much as Kirel
needed Nel. Yet until their Guardian terms came to an end, neither one of them
was free to find that kind of comfort in a mate’s warmth.

Kirel’s huffed breath left a misty streak on the clear
window. He’d pulled back a few inches and had barely finished brushing it away
with the side of his fisted hand when the unmistakable glimpse of a shapely ass
caused his breath to catch in his throat.

For a moment, the planet tilted on its axis. His eyes
widened as he tried to make sense of what he saw.

Kirel pressed his palms hard into the glass, convinced that
the woman running naked from the stream toward the rocky mountainside couldn’t
possibly be his Nel…yet knowing instantly that it was.

He whirled around and snatched a fistful of Thor’s tunic
just below the hollow of the man’s throat, pulling him so close anyone looking
in might have thought they were about to kiss.

“I’ve asked you before to leave my room.” Kirel spoke in a
low whisper no less menacing than his earlier command. “I’ll call for you if I
need you. Right now, what I need is to be alone with my sorrow and my memories.
If you care for me, you’ll do this.”

Thor parted his lips, stretching the fabric of the mask over
his delectable mouth. Kirel held his breath, not daring to push Thor away lest
the man begin to suspect something was happening. He prayed Thor wouldn’t see
Nelina, that she’d already ducked out of sight beneath a tall outcropping of
volcanic rock.

After what seemed to Kirel like an eternity, Thor leaned his
forehead against his. “Just because Nelina is meant for the king doesn’t mean
you have to be alone.” He nudged his thighs forward and pressed his chest
against Kirel’s so his thick erection prodded his groin.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Kirel’s mouth.
“I’ll remember that.”

With a sigh, Thor disengaged from Kirel’s grip and headed
for the door. Forcing himself to wait until the door had shut behind the
Guardian for a second time, Kirel lunged for his leather pack the moment he
heard the latch snap closed.

Holy Moon Gods! What on Aris is she thinking?

Anxiety traveled a sudden path through his veins, turning
his blood to ice. He’d known Nelina was determined to escape her fate but he
had no idea she’d go to such lengths, take such risks! There were creatures
that made their home on the slopes of Tradition Mountain the likes of which
she’d never encounter elsewhere. The majority of them weren’t friendly.

If the beasts didn’t set upon her, the elements would. The
storm that had been whipping the terrain into quiet submission for the past few
weeks had taken a break today but he knew the stillness that had settled over
the landscape wasn’t meant to last.

She was nude and unarmed, a perfect target for any predator.
The mere thought of her out there, at the mercy of myriad evils made bile rise
in his throat.

He shoved a handful of coins into the side pockets of his
pack and filled the rest of the space with his spare uniform, a loaf of bread
and hard cheese that had been set out for him, a soft blanket and two of his
best knives. The ceremonial Guardian curved blade slid easily into its sheath,
which he buckled at the waist. Pausing only a moment longer than necessary to
grab the mask the servants had retrieved from Nelina’s room, tie it around his
face and pull up his hood, he gripped the door handle, halting a fraction of a
second before yanking it open.

In an effort to avoid a repeat of the previous night’s
forbidden activities, Thor would surely have set a guard outside Kirel’s
chamber. Attempting to leave through the front door would only bring more
suspicion upon him, which would ultimately prevent him from going after Nelina.

He loosened his grip on the handle and stepped back. That
only left one other option. Taking a deep breath, he flung his pack over his
shoulder and used the leather strap to secure it to his chest. He tested the
fit by yanking on the belt and gave a satisfied grunt when the pack didn’t
budge from its location at the middle of his back.

It took only one vigorous pull on the window’s hinge to
slide it upward. The wind had stilled and the cool air that shifted inside his
chamber brought with it the scent of dry dust. And, he thought, the delicate
aroma of sweet cherries.

Hooking a leg over the windowsill, he adjusted his grip on
the raw stone and positioned his booted feet into the first narrow crevice he
could find. Having scaled the wall just recently in the dark, with the storm
whipping at his face and clothes, this time should have been much easier.

And it was, at least until the square tip of his boot failed
to grip onto the slippery rock and he found himself sliding down the face of
the castle wall at an alarming rate. His heart stopped beating for the span of
countless long moments as he watched the black rock fly through his field of
vision. He grasped fervently for the smallest dip in the rough surface, his
fingertips scrambling to hook on to the slightest protrusion.

He felt sharp stone tear at his skin, ripping his flesh.
Mercifully, he managed to clasp on to a jagged edge just above another window.
Blood dripped over his knuckles and ran down the back of his arms in trickling
crimson rivulets. His legs dangled in empty space and the tips of his boots
knocked against the glass pane of someone’s chamber.

He closed his eyes, silently sending an unspoken prayer to
the Fates who held his very existence in their grip. He knew how ironic it was
that he should count on the same forces who had wreaked such havoc in his life
to save it but at the moment he had little choice.

After waiting for the span of a few pounding heartbeats to
see if anyone would open the window and snatch him inside, he resumed his
descent, much more cautiously this time.

When the soles of his feet made contact with the firm
ground, he whispered another prayer, this one of thanks, and lifted his gaze up
to the sky. As though in answer, the brilliant blue stretching as far as he
could see above his head began to darken, announcing the impending arrival of
another storm.