Butterfly Swords (19 page)

Finally she found his eyes. He watched her as he pushed past a point of resistance within her. Then he slid down endlessly until he was seated fully inside. His harsh breath escaped through parted lips. She shifted beneath him as her body adjusted. Her inner muscles stretched and moulded to him.

‘God.’ He shook his head, eyes closing as he laid his forehead against her shoulder. Then he murmured her name as he lifted himself and nudged deeply into her once again.

She gasped as another shock streaked through her, curling her toes. He repeated her name, his forehead damp against her skin as he curved a hand around her breast. Touch reflex, she thought dimly. They were learning each other’s bodies, action and reaction. She wrapped her legs around him as he began to rock into her, angling himself in a slow glide against her core.

She found his mouth as the pleasure built in tingling spirals within her, radiating from where they were joined. His movements became harsh, his fingers digging into her where he held her, but all of it welcome, all of it wonderful. She bit into her lip as the sensation crested. Her awareness curled in on itself, narrowing in on Ryam and the rhythm of their bodies, the pulsing of her flesh around him.

He placed his fingers between them, his lips against her neck. His fingers circled, rubbing at the point of pleasure just above where they were joined. She writhed against him. It was too much and it was exactly what she needed. His thrusts shortened, became more powerful.

‘Soon, Ailey,’ he gritted out.

She shook her head, not understanding. Cry after cry escaped her lips, the pleasure sharpening to a honed point until the world went black and her body clenched tight, jagged euphoria crashing in wave after wave over her.

Ryam cried out as she climaxed around him. Taking hold of her hips, he pushed fully into her, seeking every last bit of sensation. Then with the tense cradle of his arms around her, his control shattered, his body racked with spasms as he spilled himself into her womb.

He held on to her afterwards, his body sated and heavy. Gradually she regained control of her breathing. It was the first reminder that she was still alive and here in this world.

‘You were speaking in Chinese,’ Ryam said.

‘Hmm?’

Ailey was curled up on top of him, her hair tickling against his chin with an arm draped across his chest. Soft and pliant and his.

For the moment.

His hand tightened on her shoulder amidst his languid exploration of her back. He waited for serenity to descend upon him. Another sort of drunkenness that followed sex. But his mind churned with a tangle of thoughts. Most of them about having her again. That would keep the other thoughts at bay. The dangerous thoughts. The pointless ones.

Her fingers played along his ribcage. ‘I don’t know what I was saying.’

‘I think I understood every word.’

Her nails had dug into his neck so hard he could still feel their imprint. He loved that he had done that to her, driven her to the brink and beyond.

‘We call it the clouds and the rain.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest and drifting.

‘Poetic.’

‘We probably have other words for it, but I don’t know them.’

He probably did, the baser ones at least. He lifted his head to enjoy the sculpted beauty of her back: strong, agile and feminine all at once. It had been heaven to have her long legs wrapped around him, all trace of bashfulness gone. But now, Ailey had her face buried against his shoulder and refused to look at him.

God’s toes. He looked to the flicker of the oil lamp. The orange light danced over the butterfly swords. He was in her home, in her
room
. Once the shock of this wore off, would she be torn apart by shame and regret?

He rolled her on the bed and turned so he could look at her.

‘Are you hurt?’

His stomach lurched in the seconds it took her to answer.

‘I’m happy.’ She opened her eyes and looked at him shyly. ‘I’m glad for this. I’m glad that it was you.’

Her tiger’s eyes glowed in vibrant gold and green. A surge of possessiveness clawed at him, like talons around his heart. He had wild thoughts about taking her with him. They could keep on running, accountable to no one but each other. She’d never have to marry a man she didn’t want.

But that was what his life had always been. Ailey needed more. She needed honour, tradition and family. Yet she’d chosen him. She’d given herself without reservation. The knowledge stunned him. It made him believe that he could be more.

He kissed her. It was the only way to stop thinking. He was never a thinking man anyway. He kissed her again, then released her lips to move his mouth over her breast, sliding his tongue over her nipple, sucking gently until he could feel her squirm beneath him.

He ran his hands over her satiny skin until her breath caught and she whispered his name, her breath fanning soft against his ear. He had never gone hard so quickly. When he entered her moments later, she closed around him and he moved within her, lifting and lowering as he waited for the dark pleasure to overcome him.

But it wouldn’t. Not completely.

Through the slick heat and the unbelievable tightness gripping him, Ailey was there. When he shut his eyes, he saw her face.

Mine, he thought as the blood rushed through his skull. For as long as she would have him. To the ends of the earth if she needed him there.

He was a fool.

A
iley bowed to him from across the stone courtyard, swords in hand, her silhouette a perfect form in the distance. Resilient and strong, yet soft in all the right places. Any moment now, she would come rushing at him, out for blood with two sharp blades. Ryam couldn’t wait.

His head wasn’t right. It was filled with memories of waking up beside Ailey with her arms tangled around him. He raised his sword with a grin, feeling pretty damn near invincible.

He held back and waited, rolling his shoulders to let his muscles warm beneath the midday sun. Ailey watched his every move. From her look of grim determination, no one would have known that they were lovers and not sworn enemies.

‘Should I tie one hand behind my back?’ he taunted.

He detected the ghost of a smile before she was upon him, swords flashing as the clash of her blades rang through the courtyard. She deflected his strike, blocking edge on edge, but the force of it pushed her back.

‘You seem a little slow today,’ he mocked, breathing hard. ‘Did something keep you up late last night?’

‘You talk too much, barbarian.’

She sprang at him again, more than comfortable with remaining the aggressor. Up close, she could take away his size advantage, jam his movements while she carved him to pieces. He appreciated the differences in their training. Her lightning style was truly akin to art, thoughtful and precise. Ailey didn’t have the strength to go for the quick kill against a larger opponent, so her strategy was to disable. She aimed for weak spots, joints and tendons. He could see what they meant by death by a thousand cuts.

One of the blades broke through his guard. He evaded at the last moment as a sword whistled by his ear.

She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Nothing to say?’

‘You missed.’

Time to show her he wasn’t without technique. Against her precision he had to tighten his attack to avoid leaving any opening. She frowned, her wrists straining to fend him off before she backed away.

‘You were holding back when we first fought,’ she accused.

He could almost hear her thoughts.
Dishonourable.

His father hadn’t been some ambling mercenary, a brute with a sword. Ryam had a couple of tricks to show off when he needed them. He smiled as Ailey wiped her brow with her arm. Her eyes narrowed as she analysed him. She was irresistible, radiant.

He circled and tried to figure out how to put a quick end to this fight so he could take her in his arms without getting his fingers sliced off.

‘You giving up?’ he asked.

‘Never.’

Her feet flew lightly over the stone tile. She used both swords to twist his blade aside just enough to slip in close and drive towards his centre.

Not bad. The quickest line of attack was always the straight one, but it was risky.

He dodged and his arm shot out to hook around her back and pull her towards him. She gasped and dug her heels into the ground. Before he knew what was happening, her forehead smashed against his jaw. A snap like the breaking of a branch echoed in his skull.

‘God’s nose, woman—’

It was some consolation to see Ailey reeling from the blow while he blinked away the black spots clouding his vision. A wave of pain radiated from the point of impact.

‘Scoundrel!’ Ailey had a hand pressed to her temple. ‘No one would do that in a real battle.’

He wasn’t done swearing yet. He spat out another stream of curses.

‘I told you I can fight dirty,’ she said.

The tip of his tongue reached out to swipe at the corner of his mouth. He tasted blood. ‘I fight dirty too,’ he said, his tone low and dangerous.

Her eyes grew wide when he tossed his weapon aside. It clanged against the stone floor and he charged before she could recover her guard. With a shriek, Ailey tried to scramble away, only to be scooped up over his shoulders. He held on to the back of her knees as she dangled helplessly over him. She slapped at his backside with the flat of her blade.

‘You are the worst bully ever!’

Laughter erupted from him, welling deep from within. He wanted to throw his head back and feel the wash of the sun over his face. This was how it felt to stand at the centre of the universe.

Ailey squirmed on top of him, demanding to be let down and threatening him with all sorts of death. He spun her around before setting her on to her feet. The front of his tunic brushed against her as he leaned in to gloat. ‘I think I won.’

She pointed her chin at him defiantly. ‘You didn’t win.’

‘You’re not fighting back any more, which means I win. Where’s my kiss?’

His arm stole around her waist. Playfully, she twisted her face away as he lowered his mouth.

‘Never.’

‘You struck me so ruthlessly and now you won’t even kiss it better.’

He brushed his lips against her fingertips as a small consolation prize, and sensed the shiver that ran through her. She grew still then and for the next long seconds, they simply looked at one another, taking their fill.

‘You’re bleeding,’ she said.

His hands lowered to settle on her hips as she touched the corner of his mouth gingerly. Then a sharp voice rang through the training yard.

‘Shen Ai Li.’

Ailey fell away from him, startled. A man in padded armour stood in the portico of the main house. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword by his side and his black eyes glittered with a growing fury.

‘Huang.’

She choked out her brother’s name, but he didn’t seem to hear. His eyes stabbed a line towards Ryam as he strode forwards. He scarcely resembled the brother she remembered. Huang had grown a moustache and beard and looked almost a stranger.

‘What are you doing with this unwashed, no-name bastard? Have you forgotten who you are?’

Her face grew hot. It was fortunate Ryam couldn’t understand the stream of insults her brother flung at him.

‘You don’t know anything about him.’

Ryam came up behind her, speaking her name gently. She tried to draw strength from his closeness as she positioned herself between the two of them.

‘Where is your husband?’ Fifth Brother demanded.

‘I have no husband.’

Huang’s expression hardened and suddenly, she saw how much he resembled Father. ‘What have you done, Ai Li?’

‘I won’t marry that bastard Li Tao. What he did was unforgivable.’

She needed to find a way to explain about Ming Han and the warlord’s schemes. Fifth Brother knew her better than anyone. If he didn’t take her side, then she was lost.

Her brother was more interested in Ryam than her explanations. Huang looked him up and down, his face twisted in disdain. ‘What is this
Bái gu
to you?’

‘I have done nothing wrong.’ Her voice faltered.

She’d sacrificed part of herself to be with Ryam. That was undeniable. But what she felt for him was the only thing that seemed untainted while her ideals of honour and family were torn away.

‘Little sister, this is unforgivable.’

His formal way of addressing her made her go cold. Where was the cheerful brother who had always been her ally? Huang was only three years her elder. Out of the entire lot of them, he was the only one who had never bullied or lorded over her.

‘I have always stood behind you,’ she said fiercely. ‘Remember the weaver’s daughter?’

Huang went pale. His voice cracked, and for a second he was her brother again. ‘I told you never to talk about that. And this is much more serious.’

Ryam took hold of her shoulder and Huang’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight of his hand on her.

‘Let me speak to him,’ Ryam said. The sound of the foreign language in the midst of their argument seemed to be the most vulgar breach of propriety, a glaring reminder of the gap between their cultures.

Huang refused to speak to Ryam. He directed his next accusation to her. ‘He has shamed you.’

She could see her brother’s pain beneath his anger.

‘I love him,’ she whispered.

The sound of the words, spoken in her native tongue, resounded in her ears. Across from her, Huang froze and his frown grew even deeper.

She hadn’t realised what she was saying. Ryam’s hand tightened on her shoulder and she wondered if he understood her words. She prayed he didn’t.

Huang’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword, his mouth clenching into a grim line. The look on his face made her heart plummet. He stared through her as if she wasn’t there.

‘Draw your sword, barbarian.’

‘He doesn’t understand you,’ she said desperately.

‘The barbarian understands.’ Huang switched to the Western tongue. ‘Are you going to hide behind my sister?’

With that, he drew his weapon. The hiss of the blade sent a chill down her spine.

She glanced over her shoulder into the cold steel of Ryam’s eyes. She knew that look. It was the deathly calm before a battle, cold resolve.

‘Don’t do it,’ she begged him.

‘You’d better move aside.’ Ryam freed his sword and held her away. ‘Everything will be fine.’

Ailey’s brother watched every look between them, his eyes growing colder. She finally stepped back, having no other choice. Her fingers knotted together so tightly that her knuckles grew pale. He was going to have to do this without hurting her brother. Perhaps he could manage to disarm him. It was much harder defeating someone when he had to be careful.

‘She chose you,’ Huang muttered. ‘Worthless.’

Ryam figured he deserved the look of murder the man cast on him. Hours earlier, he’d been in Ailey’s bed with her naked beneath him.

There was no backing out now. Exhaling slowly, he raised his sword. It was greater in length and width than the sword Huang wielded. He imagined Ailey’s brother would rely on speed, the same way she did. He would have the same skill and agility, but with more experience and greater strength.

Huang raised his arms, blade high and glinting in the sun. With a battle cry he charged, hefting the blade downwards as if wielding an axe. Ryam jumped aside easily. Huang swung again and Ryam blocked with the flat of his blade.

This was unexpected. Fifth Elder Brother was really bad.

Huang was overcautious, pausing for a fraction too long before making his moves. He signalled the direction of his intentions so clearly with his eyes that he might has well have been shouting them aloud. Ailey’s older brother had the same aggressiveness, but none of the precision and strategy that marked her fighting style.

Huang charged again, swinging in earnest. With every movement, Ryam could see the errors and openings. Huang locked swords with him, pushing forwards with a snarl.

Huang glanced beyond the cross of their blades to his sister. She watched them wide-eyed, hugging her arms to herself. Her brother had to do this. Honour demanded it. Ryam effected a retreat and wondered how he was going to disengage without getting either of them killed.

Ryam attempted a war cry of his own, checking his attack as he swung. It was a challenge to make the fight look respectable, but somehow Ryam knew that he needed to. Sweat poured down Fifth Brother’s face. He gritted his teeth in concentration.

‘There are better ways,’ Ryam tried to say. He sidestepped and cringed when Huang overcommitted and stumbled.

‘Quiet!’ Huang panted. ‘You deserve death…or at least…a good beating.’

They crossed swords a couple more times with a spectacular clash. Huang’s thinner, sharper blade rang against his broadsword.

‘Please stop!’ Ailey cried. ‘Both of you.’

‘Enough.’ Fifth Brother stepped back with a short bow. ‘Anyone can see you are a great swordsman.’

Ryam exhaled with relief and bowed awkwardly in return. ‘Thank you for being easy on me.’

Ailey ran to him. ‘Are you hurt?’

Ryam made a face at her. Huang’s blade hadn’t come within a foot of him.

‘The barbarian fought well,’ her brother conceded.

Ryam struggled to keep a straight face. ‘It was an honour.’

Ailey broke the formalities by punching her brother in the arm. ‘You need to think before you start a fight, Six.’

‘Well, Seven, you should think before looking at a man like that in front of your brother.’

Apparently, he wasn’t absolved yet.

Huang sheathed his sword and then looked Ryam squarely in the eye. ‘This white demon and I have some things to discuss.’

Ryam stared at ten white porcelain cups laid out in a row before him. Huang faced off against a similar array over on his side of the table. Did Huang really think he could beat him in a drinking contest? The man was only a foot taller than Ailey.

‘All in!’ Huang lifted the eighth cup high. The others before it had been upturned on to the table top.

Ryam mirrored his movements. He knocked back the shot of rice liquor, then slammed the open end onto the table. After three rounds of this, he had the ritual down.

‘Eight!’ Huang chimed. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.

The sweet acid burn of the liquor emerged, not entirely unpleasant. He watched Huang warily. He’d been waiting for the true purpose of this ‘discussion’ for an hour.