Authors: Kate Douglas
Tags: #Romance, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Fiction, #General, #Paranormal, #Demonology, #Revenge, #Paranormal Romance Stories
Starfire (21 page)
Then, as if from another plane entirely, new voices intruded. First a whisper among the blades—whispers that became words—until he knew that the voices he heard were those of the spirits of the women warriors coming together, growing stronger, calling out to their daughters and their oppressors alike.
The whisper became a mighty shout as their many voices rose in battle song.
We are avenged,
they cried.
We are one people. Not wardens and slaves, not men and women, not adversaries. Now we are and forever, one people. We are Lemuria!
We are avenged,
they cried.
We are one people. Not wardens and slaves, not men and women, not adversaries. Now we are and forever, one people. We are Lemuria!
Their passionate cry faded as the glow of many blades slowly dimmed. As raised swords lowered, men and women looked first at one another and saw their comrades for the coming battle, and then turned to their swords—crystal swords held by guards and former slaves alike. Swords with the sentience of the brave women who had gone before.
Birk was the first one to step apart from the crowd. The massive guard walked to Artigos and knelt at his feet with his blade pressed across his heart. “I pledge my sword and my heart to Lemuria, to her protector, Artigos the Just, and to our cause. All hail Artigos the Just. All hail Lemuria!”
Artigos stood tall as he tapped Birk’s right and then left shoulder with DemonsBane. Birk rose, and Selyn took his place. Another man followed, and then a woman, until every single soldier—male and female alike—had pledged his or her loyalty to their leader and their land.
Soldiers. All of them. Not a single slave in the group.
When they were finished, Artigos clambered atop the desk so that he could see his army, all of them standing in formation now without regard to gender. Men beside the women they had mistreated; women next to men they’d sworn to kill.
Brought together by the spirits of warriors long gone, by the power of crystal.
“We march to the upper levels tomorrow. I’ve not heard from any of our comrades who went ahead, and can only assume the worst. I want you to eat well, and sleep.” Then he grinned at the robed men lined up before him. “Philosophers fight in robes. Soldiers need pants to better maneuver. If any of you gentlemen know how to turn those robes into clothing such as the women are wearing, you may find yourself better able to fight.” He sobered as he looked at them. “And if so, do it quickly. I think we will fight before too long. Rest well. We leave with first light.”
Dawson held Selyn’s hand as they walked away from the soldier’s barracks. They’d eaten well, and the dynamics between the women and men had been fascinating. Everyone had been so tense at first. Then some of the women had offered to help the men turn their robes into pants. Before long, one of the men had approached a young woman and told her she looked exactly like his mother.
From there it had become a game, with the women trying to figure out which of the men might have fathered them. What could have been horribly uncomfortable had ended up with small groups of women and men cutting and sewing, and quiet discussions among others about who might or might not be related.
No one would ever know for sure. The men had little memory of that period, when they’d gone against all their natural instincts to protect women, and had abused them instead. Yet none could deny the powerful sense that those women warriors were there, in the same room, in the sentience of the swords.
Attending, and approving of the unexpected emotional connection between their daughters and their former guards.
“I didn’t expect tonight.” Selyn glanced at Dawson and then looked away. “I thought there would be a more lingering anger, a stronger need for revenge. We’ve talked of revenge all our lives. But those voices …” She shook her head. “Those were the voices of our mothers, the women warriors, and they’re right.” She sighed and leaned her head against Dawson’s shoulder. “I once had so much anger against the wardens, but it’s gone.”
Dawson wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They were almost to the room they’d shared the night before. Anger and revenge were the last things on his mind.
“Maybe because you’ve found a new target for it,” he said. “A common enemy. Something that pulls all of you together, rather than drives you apart. As Artigos said, you need to concentrate on fighting demonkind, not each other. The spirits of the women appear to agree.”
“Are we truly ready for this?” Selyn rested her fingers on his chest. “I’m worried that we haven’t heard from anyone. If they could have contacted us, both Roland and Taron would have done so. They know how important it is that we have news.”
“That’s why you and I are going on ahead. If we leave early enough, we should be able to get word back. Lord Artigos said he doesn’t want us taking any risks, but if we can reach a level where you can contact Ginny or Alton, find out what the hell’s going on, and get back below without getting caught …”
“Or worse?” She tilted one eyebrow.
He nodded. “Or worse. But I’m not going to think that way. I can’t, not if I want to have the courage to carry out Artigos’s wishes. What I really wish is that I could go without you, but we need the information, and I don’t do that telepathy thing you do.”
She stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “Yeah, but there are other truly amazing things you can do. We don’t have to leave until morning. That gives us a whole night… .”
He stood there like an idiot staring at her. She grabbed him by the hand and led him inside their room, but he didn’t remember to breathe until she closed the door behind him. It was as if she’d shut the world, the war, and all of demonkind outside, leaving just the two of them. And, like she said, there was a whole night before they needed to return to reality.
“I need to bathe.” Selyn let go of his hand and headed toward the bathroom. Then she paused in the doorway, glanced over her shoulder at him with a look that could melt ice and added, “Would you like to join me?”
If there’d been a prize for speed undressing, Dawson was positive he’d have won. But by the time he got into the small room where he’d showered the night before, there was no sign of Selyn. Then he noticed a narrow alcove he’d missed, and the sound of water beyond.
Slipping around a corner, Daws stumbled and had to hang on to a stone outcropping to keep from tumbling into the pool. If this was a typical Lemurian bathtub, he was giving up showers forever.
Selyn sat shoulders deep in a bubbling pool of dark water about six feet in diameter. It appeared to be cut from solid stone, so that the gray walls rose up around it on all sides. Hot water flowed in from a small waterfall on one side and trickled out through a hole on the other. Steam rose all around, and a soft, blue-green glow emanating from the walls cast strange shadows across the roiling surface.
“What’s this? A hot tub?” He knelt beside the pool and dipped his hand in the steaming water.
Selyn tilted her head and frowned at him like he was a complete dolt. “Hot tub? We call it a bathing pool. We had one like it in the slave quarters, though it was much larger. Showers are for hurried bathing.” She smiled, and he could have sworn she actually fluttered her long lashes at him. “Remember, we have all night.”
“Oh, yeah.” He slipped into the pool beside her. The warm water came to his waist—a perfect temperature for bathing.
Or other things.
Except he couldn’t go there. At least, not beyond the amazing images crowding his mind. He found the ledge Selyn was sitting on and sat beside her.
Or other things.
Except he couldn’t go there. At least, not beyond the amazing images crowding his mind. He found the ledge Selyn was sitting on and sat beside her.
She was sleek and warm where she leaned against him, all soft breasts and smooth skin. He slipped his arm up and over her back, tucking her close against his side where she fit perfectly—a wet, warm, and willing woman clinging to him. The water bubbled and steamed around them, and they had hours before they needed to slip into the upper levels and see what was happening among the free folk.
All night. Just the two of them. Dawson felt like screaming his stupidity to the world. They had all night, and no condoms.
Never, ever again was he leaving home without his pockets full of the damned things. He could have kicked himself, except it wouldn’t help a bit. He told himself to accept the fact they weren’t going to make love tonight, and relax. The warm water bubbled over his aching muscles, and Selyn was so close that at least the problems of demons and danger and a looming war melted away with the billowing steam.
Unfortunately, his raging libido remained, literally front and center—a painful reminder of his absurd lack of preparation. Selyn’s fingers brushed his arm, and she gazed at him from pools of deepest blue. Dawson groaned and tightened his grasp around her. She surprised him by moving closer. Causing barely a ripple in the pool, she slipped willingly into his lap and straddled him.
Her puckered nipples brushed his chest. Her lips swept gently over his mouth. She was so close. Too close. Her feminine thatch of hair meshed with his dark tangle, and it would take just the slightest adjustment for him to slip inside her. Her heat surrounded him. She pressed her breasts closer against his chest, and her lips followed the line of his jaw. Her slim, muscular arms slipped around his neck; she tangled her fingers in his damp hair. It was too good, too much, too hard to resist.
He shouldn’t risk this. She couldn’t risk it, but still it took an act of will he wasn’t sure he had, to wrap his fingers around her waist and lift her away. She laughed and tightened her arms around his neck, clinging like a burr.
“There’s no need to push me away. Unless you’ve decided you don’t want me.” Her laughter raised shivers across his chest, and he was almost preternaturally aware of the taut points of her nipples teasing the hair that covered his pecs. Not want her? Who did she think she was kidding?
“I talked to Nica.” She kissed his chin. “Her mother was a healer before she was a warrior.” This time she planted a small kiss at the right corner of his mouth. “She taught Nica lots of her ways, including how to prevent babies.”
No kisses this time. Instead, she leaned her forehead against Dawson’s, and there was a sense of sadness in her voice. “It’s not difficult for us, not when we prepare ahead of time. It’s much harder for Lemurian women to conceive than it is to avoid conception, but because you worry, I’m being careful.”
He was almost afraid to ask. “What do you mean? Just how are you … ?”
“Being careful?” She kissed him. A real one this time, a long, lingering kiss that spoke of sexual experience he knew she didn’t have. Experience she was going to get if they both weren’t careful. Whatever willpower he’d had was dissipating along with the steam rising above the surface of the pool.
“An herb,” she said.
Her soft whisper against his mouth had him rising even higher, swelling even harder against her. “An herb?” Was that his voice?
“A simple herb in my meal tonight. Once a month is all it takes, until I want to try to conceive. Then I stop eating it and hope that somehow, at some point, we make a baby.” She shook her head. “For most women, that never happens.”
Her fingernails scraped the back of his neck, and his entire body trembled with need. He took a deep breath. Then he sucked in another and grabbed her hands from around his neck, held her arms down at her sides, and looked directly into those guileless blue eyes. Speaking very slowly and clearly, he said, “I need to be sure what I think you’re saying. You ate an herb with your dinner tonight, and that’s all it takes to keep you from getting pregnant?”
He almost laughed, but the sound he made was more of a croak. “I’m assuming that’s including sex… . You’re saying that you can have sexual relations and not conceive? As long as you’ve eaten this … whatever?”
She laughed, only Selyn’s was full-throated and filled with joy. “Ah, Dawson. I wish you could see yourself right now. Yes, that’s what I’m saying. But, knowing you, healer of small furry creatures and grown Lemurian women that you are, you want specifics.”
She kissed him once again, and then, speaking as if she were teaching sex education to a room filled with seventh graders, said, “Listen, carefully. I ate an herb known to our healers that will prevent implantation of the male sperm with the female’s egg. It is one hundred percent effective in preventing pregnancy for Lemurian women. Is that information precise enough? I can’t get pregnant if we make love. No matter how many times or what positions we are in, which means you have absolutely no excuse to avoid showing me what making love is like. Now do you understand?”
Oh, shit. Did he ever.
Chapter Seventeen
Selyn settled her bottom over Dawson’s thighs and tried not to giggle, but it was so hard. Then she did laugh, but the laughter exploded into an unglamorous snort that morphed into uncontrollable giggles because it was definitely hard, that thing between his legs he’d identified by at least half a dozen silly names last night.
She tried to stop laughing and snorted again, which made the giggles even worse, but nine hells
he
was hard, and it was hard not to laugh, and he was poking her belly, not between her legs where she really wanted to feel all that perfectly hard length of him.
he
was hard, and it was hard not to laugh, and he was poking her belly, not between her legs where she really wanted to feel all that perfectly hard length of him.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Any reason you’re laughing at me?” He sounded angry, but the twitch in his lips gave him away.
She sniffed and wiped her streaming eyes. Bit her lips and fought for control. Lost it entirely and doubled over, shoulders shaking, giggles making it almost impossible to breathe.
“I’ve certainly had unenthusiastic reactions from women, but yours takes unenthusiastic to an entirely new level.”
His dry comment set her off all over again.
Finally, she took a deep breath. Then she took another and held it until she felt as if she had everything under control. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed and had to clench her teeth to keep the giggles from breaking loose. “I guess I’m nervous and sometimes I laugh when I’m nervous, and then I thought how hard it was, only I was thinking how hard it was not to laugh, but then I realized how hard
that
is and … and …”
that
is and … and …”
She slapped a hand over her mouth. His blue eyes twinkled. He didn’t say a word. Instead he slipped his hand between their bellies, and his long fingers inched slowly between her legs.
Laughter was suddenly the last thing on Selyn’s mind.
She moaned, thrust her hips forward and tilted her head back. His fingers slipped gently over that sensitive bit of her that he’d played so well last night. She whimpered. Then one finger slowly, gently worked inside her body. In, out, and in again. He added another, and the pressure was exquisite. Muscles rippled and pulsed—muscles she hadn’t even known she had—and she caught his rhythm, sliding up and down his fingers, tilting her hips to find the perfect friction, amazed by what he could do to her with nothing more than his beautiful, long fingers.
The warm water lapped over her breasts and gave her body a buoyancy that turned everything dreamlike. The thick, hard ridge of his penis rubbed over her belly, but she didn’t want him there. She wanted him inside, filling her, and she lifted herself away from his fingers, actually floating away from his slow but steady teasing.
“Now,” she demanded, with a voice gone harsh from desire. “I want you inside me. Now.”
He focused on her face, his blue eyes dark as midnight in the shadows, and he watched her while she shivered in his grasp. Watched her, she imagined, to be sure she knew what she was asking of him.
She did. She’d never wanted anything more. Not her freedom, not even her life. She’d not experienced life before now. It was her turn. Her time.
For whatever reason, he must have been satisfied she wasn’t a complete idiot, because his hands grasped her hips, and he lifted her even as she lifted herself. She reached between them, grabbed the thick, hard length of him, and slowly, carefully settled herself down, taking him fully inside.
He was much bigger than she’d expected. Longer. Thicker. And hard. It might feel as if that part of him was covered in silk, but he was all steel and strength and hard, male muscle. Her channel burned as he stretched her. She felt her muscles rippling along his length, but her body adjusted. The burn slowly faded away, replaced by a pleasure so perfect, so utterly sublime, she knew she never would have believed had someone tried to describe it.
He filled her in more than just this physical sense. Though she’d not realized what was missing before now, Selyn finally felt complete. Emotions she’d never appreciated burst into life, feelings unfamiliar and yet so deeply embedded in her soul, she had no idea how she’d existed without them.
Dawson stretched her, and she clung to him, taking all of him, needing him inside her as much as she needed air to breathe and food to eat. Needing this fullness, this amazing connection, but not merely to another. No, specifically to Dawson Buck.
She’d never imagined needing a man—not like this. Her life had been as complete as a slave’s life could be. Work in the mines; downtime with her sisters; the love she’d known from her mother so long ago.
This was completely different. Unexplainable, unimaginable.
Perfect.
Dawson’s lips fastened over her nipple, and he suckled so hard she felt it between her legs. His hips kept up a simple rhythm—such simple physical acts to create such a complex tangle of physical sensations and emotions.
He moved inside her slowly, carefully, but Selyn wanted more. He was probably being careful because this was her first time. Nine hells, but she didn’t want careful!
She planted her knees on the stone bench on either side of his thighs and took control. Rising and falling, tilting her hips to take him even deeper, to feel that delicious friction grow stronger, closer, she reached for something indescribable. Her breath burst out from between her parted lips in short, sharp gasps. Water splashed out of the pool and spread in ever-widening circles across the dark stone floor.
Dawson’s eyes were closed, and his lips twisted in a rictus that could be either pain or pleasure. The cords on his neck were drawn taut—his entire body felt tight beneath Selyn’s hands, straining, as hers was, against the climax hovering so close.
She didn’t want to finish. Not yet. This felt too good to end it, but then she realized they could do it again, and again if they wished.
This wasn’t an end, it was a beginning.
A beginning for her and for Dawson. The simplicity of it filled her mind, the joy and the absolute certainty of her feelings. Buoyed by unexpected love, she set herself free.
The first rippling contractions deep inside her body must have been the signal Dawson waited for. He thrust inside hard and fast, deeper still until the hard crown of his erection rode across the mouth of her womb.
She heard a loud, keening cry and barely recognized her own voice, that unfamiliar howl ripped from her chest as her body tightened and shivered and trembled in Dawson’s powerful embrace.
She was still trembling, long moments later as they half lay, half floated in the pool. Dawson had slipped lower on the stone bench so that only his head remained above the water. Her chin rested on his shoulder and water lapped across her lips, but she made no effort to move.
What was the point? She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried.
His lips caressed her brow. “You’re not giggling anymore.”
She groaned. “I think you’ve found the cure for my giggles.”
“Good.” He kissed her again. “No man wants to be laughed at. That’s not the reaction we’re looking for from a beautiful woman. Not at all.”
She snorted and then choked it back. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“We should probably get out of the water.”
She raised her head. “Why?”
“Gonna get all pruny.”
She frowned. “What’s that mean?” Some of the terms he used really didn’t translate well at all.
He held up her hand and showed her the water-wrinkles on her fingertips. “That’s pruny. Plums are fruit. When they’re dried, they get all wrinkled, and they’re called prunes. Your fingers are all wrinkled. Hence, pruny.”
“But they’re all wet. They’re not dry at all.”
“Exactly.” He blew bubbles at the end of the word.
She held up her fingers and looked at them. “Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Selyn wriggled her hips and felt him grow hard inside her once again. “I don’t think you really want to get out yet.”
He opened his eyes, though his lids looked heavy and slumberous. “There’s out, like do we want to get out of the water, and then there’s out … of you.” Slowly, with a tilt of his hips, he lifted and thrust deep inside her. “I’d rather stay in.” He emphasized his position with a quick kiss. “Though I don’t mind pulling out again.”
Wrapping his big hands around her waist, he lifted her just enough to slip himself almost free of her sheath. “As long as I can go back in,” he whispered, plunging deep again.
Selyn shivered as she caught his achingly slow rhythm, taking every deep thrust with a tiny cry, and whimpering each time he withdrew.
Over, and over again.
A long time later, Selyn confirmed they were both really pruny when they finally dragged themselves out of the steaming, bubbling pool and into bed.
Eddy stared glumly at the ghostly image the streetlights cast through the steadily falling snow outside the window of Freedom and Spirit Schwartz’s house. Trees sagged beneath their heavy load. A few branches had given way and lay broken and twisted in the yard. The narrow street outside the house was covered in an impassable layer of white.
Bumper slept in front of the woodstove that Freedom kept stocked with split pieces of oak. Gaia, Artigos, Freedom, Spirit, and Eddy’s dad Ed were in the next room attempting to play a Lemurian card game Gaia had spent the afternoon trying—amid much laughter—to teach them.
They were having way too much fun. Artigos laughed, Ed cursed, and Freedom, feeling much stronger this afternoon as he recovered from back surgery, made some silly comment about Lemurians and their luck. Eddy turned and glared at the five older adults sitting at the kitchen table. They’d been in there for hours now, drinking cheap sangria and laughing, enjoying themselves as if all was right with the world. They were so damned happy she wanted to scream.
“How can they just sit in there and play cards like there’s nothing going on and it’s just a normal day? I don’t get it.” She flopped down on the couch next to Dax and glared at their reflection in the big picture window. “The whole world is going to hell in a handbasket, and they’re in there playing games, acting like everything is fine.”
Dax grabbed her hand. “Ah, Eddy. What would you like them to do? We’re stuck here. There’s nothing any of us can do for now, not until the storm ends. Mari’s magic isn’t enough to stop the snow; the roads are closed; airplanes aren’t flying… . We just have to wait it out.”
Damn. She hated when he was reasonable. “Aren’t you worried about Ginny and Alton? They haven’t contacted us since they went back into Lemuria. We should have heard something by now. If they were okay, they’d have access to the portals and could use their frickin’ cell phones, if nothing else!”
Before Dax could answer, Mari flopped on the couch beside Eddy and sighed. “I’m with you, Eddy. I know worrying doesn’t do anyone any good, but something is definitely wrong. Just look out the window. This isn’t a normal storm. Evergreen never gets snow this heavy this early in the year. It’s not even Halloween yet. The weather service can’t explain it, and my magic doesn’t affect it.” Grumbling, she added, “I thought I was getting pretty good with weather.”
Darius wandered in from the kitchen. The big Lemurian guard stood in front of the window and stared at the blowing snow. After a bit he turned away and folded his arms across his chest. “Mari? You’ve been concentrating so much on changing the weather. What about trying something different? What if you were to use your magic to transport us up the mountain? I don’t know exactly what you’re capable of, but …” He shrugged.
“Neither do I. Remember, I’m still pretty new at this.” She stood up. “But I know who might have some answers. Mom? Got a minute?” She left the room in a swirl of her long skirts.
Grinning broadly, Eddy watched her go. “Mari’s really embraced her inner witch, hasn’t she? She always used to dress in button-down shirts and dark slacks, and wear her hair in a neat little twist at the back of her neck. I swear she was an investment banker in the sixth grade. Now look at her. Long blond hair, dangly earrings, a gauzy skirt, and a gypsy top with no bra …”
“I heard that!” Mari’s indignant laughter had them all in stitches.
“I was complimenting you, Mari. I was just saying that you’ve set your inner witch free at last.”
Mari stuck her head around the corner. “My inner what?”
Darius laughed. “Witch. Your inner witch is finally free. Now see if she can get us to the vortex.”
Mari saluted and went back into the kitchen to talk to her mom. Bumper raised her head and growled. Darius reached for his sword, and Dax jumped to his feet. The lights dimmed, blinked, and went out.
“I was expecting that,” Freedom said out of the dark kitchen. His flashlight flickered on. “Spirit, where’d you leave the matches?”
“No problem, Dad. I’ll get the candles.” Mari moved through the dark room, pausing over candles and a couple of storm lanterns that flickered to life as she passed. “I knew this magic was good for something.”
Eddy stared at Bumper. The dog had gone on alert before the lights went out. Now she stared at the front door. A low growl vibrated in BumperWillow’s chest, and her ears were pointed forward. She focused so intently on the door, Eddy wondered if she heard someone.
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