The Ritual (31 page)

“He drew blood,” he murmured. “The bastard drew blood.”

“Let it go, Zash,” I said, stroking his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me. He marked you, when you weren’t his to mark. He hurt you.”

“So make me forget, rather than reminding me.”

He froze for a heartbeat, then nodded and bent over my breast again, closing his warm lips around it and flicking his tongue across my nipple. As he did so his hand crept down to between my legs and sought my pleasure nub, and I closed my eyes with a contented sigh as he found it and started stroking it.

He lingered on my breasts, taking his fill nuzzling, nibbling and licking them until my breath was fast and shallow, then he transferred his lips to my ear and I gasped and moaned out lout when the pleasure crested, then overflowed.

“Again,” I breathed when I had recovered, and with a groan he repeated the process, his breath now as shallow as mine as he left me twitching.

I stretched, sighed and kissed him deeply, then looked into his eyes. “Again,” I murmured. I didn’t know whether I could, whether he could make me – all I knew was that I wanted him to try forever. His eyes widened, but he bent over my body without protest.

I took him longer every time, certainly, but to simply lie there and feel the ecstasy build up slowly, to hear him make his own soft sounds of pleasure and desire was bliss in itself. He coaxed another slow orgasm out of me, and the feeling was as intense as the first time he had done it.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t ever stop,” I begged, and this time he covered me with his body and claimed me again with one quick, deep thrust.

I tangled my legs around his, grasped his buttocks and pulled him in as deep as I could, and his breathless moan made me smile in delight. His skin was hot and slick against mine, and for several long heartbeats I simply enjoyed the way he slid over me as he thrust into me with steady, deep strokes. Then I ran my hands upwards along his back and fisted them into his hair, and pulled his mouth down on mine. He moaned again as I devoured him, and then I stuck out my thumbs and started rubbing them past the rims of his ears, in sync with the thrust of his hips.

The sound he made was one almost of distress, but although he tried to pull his head away I held on tight and kept kissing him. His movements faltered, but only for a moment, and then he picked up his rhythm again, echoed by the soft stroke of my thumbs.

I wanted to see him now, so lifted his head by his hair, and smiled at the glassy look of lust clouding his eyes. “Mmm, I love doing this,” I crooned, and his gaze focused on me.

“Rin… Oh, Gods… fucking… Rin,” he gasped incoherently, and I couldn’t help it – I laughed.

“Lost for words, Black Eyes? Don’t worry, you’re doing great,” I encouraged him, and that brought some awareness back into his eyes. He rolled us over and raised his hands, burying them into my hair as tightly as mine were in his, then started copying my stroking thumb movements.

From that moment nothing existed but him. We stared into each other’s eyes, and the emotions I read in his were enough to last me a lifetime. We were already sated almost to completion, but the simple double act of pleasure we performed on each other still drove us onward and upward to that ultimate bliss, until we topped the ridge together, collapsed together, then curled up together.

*   *   *   *   *

I must have dozed or slept, because when I opened my eyes next the shadows had shifted and lengthened around us. Zash was still curled up against me, his head on my shoulder, his arm draped over my waist and his leg pinning down mine. He was fast asleep, and I cursed myself for allowing us to relax this much. It looked to be dusk soon, and I knew the monks would not have sat idle.

I tried to get up, but Zash’s arm tightened around me, and when I pushed it away he made a noise of protest and rolled on top of me.

“Wake up, Black Eyes,” I said, tickling his ribs, but although he grunted again he didn’t shift until I jammed my fingers into his sides.

“Alright, alright!” he grumbled, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he rolled off me and sat up. “I was comfortable!”

“So was I, but we can’t stay here,” I said, crawling over to my backpack and digging inside for my spare – now only – set of clothes.

Zash crawled up behind me, kissed my buttocks, then draped himself over my back. “We can’t?”

I shook my head. “I want to be a long way away from here, as soon as possible. And I want to go and have a look at the monastery. I don’t trust those bastards.” My voice shook a little, and he slid his arms around me.

“You’re right,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them get you again, but you’re right. You have a more pressing problem right now though.”

Fear reasserted itself. “I have?”

“Shh, nothing like that,” he said, nuzzling my temple. “You’re safe, but you have no shoes.”

My gaze automatically went to my feet, and dismay replaced the fear when I realised he was right. I had left my boots in Tiziel’s bathroom, and only now did I notice – and feel – the blisters and cuts my bare feet had sustained on the rocky path from the monastery to here.

“Some of these look nasty,” Zash said, taking my left foot in his hands and running his thumb over a cut. “Did you not feel this? I never heard you cry out.”

“I… No, I didn’t. I was too angry, too scared, I think, and then I was with you…”

He smiled and lightly kissed my big toe. “I’ll clean them off, then you can borrow Shani’s boots for now. We’ll think of something else later.”

“That’s your whole attitude to life, isn’t it?” I remarked, narrowing my eyes at him. “Everything you do, it’s all ‘we’ll see where it goes’ and ‘we’ll think of something’.”

He raised an eyebrow, but kept his face neutral as he poured some water over my foot and started rubbing the grime away. “Your point?”

“My point is that I’ve got a bone to pick with you about that attitude. We went into that place with no more of a plan than ‘let’s see what happens’, and look where it got you! I was worried sick about you, and so was Mior!”

“I know,” he said easily. “I’m sorry.”

“And you never even… You what?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

I gaped at him, utterly flabbergasted, and he chuckled. “So that’s how I get you to shut up? I wish I’d found that out sooner.” He finished cleaning off my foot, then his smile disappeared as he locked his gaze to mine. “I’m sorry that I got caught and that you had to worry about me, but I won’t apologise for not having more of a plan as we went in. What would you have had me do, observe the place for two weeks? Do you think we’d have found out anything more, that we’d have been able to devise a better plan?”

“Well, we’d have had–”

“And don’t you
dare
tell me off for having such a sketchy plan, Rin. What was your plan when you fetched me out? Did you have it all worked out?”

“Not fully, but I knew that Mior–”

“
Mior
,” he snarled. “I nearly knocked him out when he told me your so-called plan! He should never have let you go ahead with it!”

I glanced at Mior, understanding now where the black eye had come from, but Zash’s words made my own anger flare up again.

“
Let
me? He should never have
let
me go ahead with it? No one
lets
me do anything, Zash! I told them both what I was
going
to do and then I bullied them until they agreed!”

“You bullied them! And you dare tell
me
off for having a sketchy plan? I never had to bully anyone into agreeing with it!”

“Only because we all know you’re too stubborn to ever back down! Zash, I was going to get you out, and I was going to do it on my own if I had to!”

“I know.” He suddenly pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair. “Do you know what Mior told me? He said you’d trade yourself for me, and then you’d ‘somehow’ escape, and he had to be ready to levitate you out if necessary. That’s all. Now what would you have said to me if I’d presented you with a plan like that?”

“I’d have said you were too heavy to levitate. Ow! Don’t pinch me!”

“I’ll pinch you until you admit that your plan was as sketchy as mine. Gods, Rin… You say you were worried about me? I nearly threw up when Mior told me that.” He kissed me deeply and I melted against him, my anger draining away.

“
Fine, maybe you’re right,” I admitted grudgingly. “But I had to do it, Zash. I couldn’t leave you there.”

“So we’re even then. Let’s say no more about it.”

“Agreed,” I replied, and kissed him again. My blood started to race when his hands began to roam across my skin, but I resolutely pushed them away. “Not now, Zash.”

“You sure?” he said, nibbling at my shoulder. “We’re both still naked, it shouldn’t take long…”

I was sorely tempted, but pushed him away again, then stood up to move out of his reach. “We’ve got some scouting to do. I need to know that we’re still safe.” I avoided his eyes when I said it, unwilling to let him see my residual fear, and heard him sigh before he also got dressed.

“We should leave under cover of night,” I said, gingerly pulling Shani’s boots over my damaged feet. “Hopefully by then these two have some energy again. We can always stop early tomorrow.”

He nodded and held out his hand, “I agree. Come, let’s go check on our religious friends then.”

We crept back to the monastery, and arrived in time to see a monk carefully pulling himself across the ravine on a rope they had lassoed around one of the wooden posts that still remained of the old bridge. A second monk had already crossed and was waiting for him, and both carried a lumpy satchel.

“Messengers, I bet, to fetch help,” Zash said quietly.

“Do we have an axe to cut down those poles?” I asked, glowering at the men from our hiding spot.

“No, but I can just kill them and cut the rope again,” Zash said, starting to get up from his crouch.

“No, don’t!” I cautioned him. “They may have stationed their own sorcerers on guard now. Shani isn’t the only one who can fireball people.”

“Mmm, point,” he admitted. “In that case, let’s ambush them further up the path when they can’t be seen anymore. Shani can set fire to the posts and the rope later, before we go.”

It had been disconcerting to watch Mior magically silence and bind his opponents before killing them, but Zash was unnerving in a different way. He waited until the men – who were glancing fearfully around all the time – had to walk in single file, then quietly dropped behind the man in the back, clamped his hand around his mouth and drew his dagger across his throat. He did it with casual grace, like he did everything, and actually made me feel a brief stab of pity for the monks.

Despite all his wariness, the man in the front never noticed anything was amiss until the dead body behind him hit the ground, and then he whirled around only to find Zash’s dagger against his throat.

“Where are you headed?” Zash asked quietly.

“Let me go, please, don’t hurt me,” the monk whimpered. “I never did anything to you, please.”

“Where are you headed?” Zash repeated, enunciating every word.

“Maniaris. Please, don’t hurt me, let me go, please!” The man closed his eyes, trembling, and continued to whimper.

“And what were you going to do in Maniaris?”

“Get help, one of our patrons lives there. He’ll send men to rebuild our bridge.” Then something seemed to occur to him and he sent a vaguely defiant look at Zash. “He’ll also send people to hunt you down for what you did.”

“Will he? You’d need to reach him first to tell him about it,” Zash reminded him, pushing the dagger a little higher so it dented the man’s skin underneath his jaw.

“No! Don’t kill me, please!” the monk begged. “Please, I never touched you, I never touched your woman, let me go!”

Zash moved like lightning, grabbing the man by the front of his robe and shoving him up against a boulder by the side of the path. “Tell me,” he hissed, his dagger now against the monk’s cheek, the point hovering near his eye, “if my
woman
had survived the abbot and gone to your
pillow room
, would you still not have touched her? Hmm? Well?”

“I… N… What? Buh…” the man stammered, and Zash slammed him against the rock face another time.

“Answer me!” he shouted, and the man whimpered again.

“We bought those women legitimately!” he said, now sounding desperate. “They know what they’re there for! I never mistreated any of them! She came of her own accord!” he added, pointing at me.

“
She
came for
me
,” Zash growled. “Did you ever give any of them the choice to refuse you?”

The man blinked at him in startled confusion. “Choice?”

Zash smiled. “Wrong answer.” He stepped back and drew his dagger across the man’s throat, and the monk’s eyes were still puzzled as he dropped forward and slumped to the ground. Zash meticulously wiped his blade clean on the dead man’s robe, then sheathed it and lifted one of the monk’s feet.