02 - The Barbed Rose (27 page)

Kallista smiled against the warm silk of his sun-browned skin. “Not in my bed?” She felt the rumble of his quiet chuckle.

“Yes, in your bed, too.” His voice dropped softer than a whisper. “In your body.”

Kallista shuddered, his words sliding into her through their link, borne by the weight of his passion. “Then—?” She had to force herself to speak.

Obed took a deep breath, but didn’t let it go again. Finally, he let it trickle out between his teeth as he spoke. “I find that while I may be willing to share you, I am not so willing to share myself. I do not want anyone but you, and it…offends? It
disturbs
me to be touched in such a manner by another.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, wry apology in his expression. “And while I know that I may choose to say no, I am reasonably certain that
that
was not the proper way to do it.”

Kallista pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder and laid her cheek against it again. “Do they have iliani where you come from? Is that why this is so hard for you?”

“Of course that is the reason. You know that.”

She wanted to smack him, but settled for turning him around to look him in the eye. “How could I know? You don’t tell me anything. You don’t talk, Obed. The first I knew that you were a virgin was after you weren’t one anymore. I’ve lived with you for a year. I know you—who you truly are. I love you.

“But I don’t know anything
about
you. Except that you were a dedicat champion and a holy sinner. But I don’t know what those things are. Please, don’t expect me to know. I don’t. Tell me.”

He kept his eyes cast down. Kallista bent her knees, lowering herself until she could catch his gaze. She held it, slowly straightening again. He followed, the exotic brown of his eyes never leaving hers. She sensed someone in the open doorway—Torchay by his link.

Obed didn’t seem to notice, which was probably best. “In Daryath, where my home is, and in most of the lands south of the Mother Range—Mountains of the Wind, you call them—it is true that there are no iliani. One man marries one woman. He gives his children only to her, she bears only his.”

Kallista smoothed her hand across his beard-stubbled cheek. “Poor Obed. It’s been one shock after another, hasn’t it? The twins must have been the biggest.”

After the birth, the local prelate-clerk had been called in to read the girls’ bloodlines for the official records. They’d all been a bit surprised to learn Kallista’s babies had different fathers. It had happened the night their ilian had first been formed, when the magic and her own desires had driven Kallista to bed Stone and Torchay one after the other. Her contraceptive spell should have been working, but something—likely the magic—had negated it.

Rozite was fair like Stone, a tiny bundle of energy who already seemed determined not to miss anything happening around her. Lorynda was dark-haired and chubby, like Kallista’s blood sisters had been, but she had Torchay’s wide-set hooded eyes and seemed to have his patience. Kallista hoped it didn’t mean she would also have his stubbornness.
Goddess
, she missed her babies.

Obed turned his face into her hand, kissed her palm, recalling her from her thoughts. “Once, perhaps,” he said. “But I think I have had a greater.”

“Mmm?” She wanted to stretch onto her toes, bring him down into a true kiss, but just now, letting him talk was more important.

“I thought it would be the same as before—the jealousy—but it’s not. When you and Torchay go apart together, knowing why no longer disturbs me as it did. That was the greatest shock, I think. That I have learned to share.”

“Have you now?” Torchay spoke, startling no one. Perhaps Obed had not been so distracted as she thought. Torchay sauntered over, set his hands on Kallista’s hips and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “No more backlash?”

“I—” Obed frowned. “I cannot swear in complete certainty it will not happen again, but I do not believe so.” He lowered his head as if to kiss her cheek where Torchay had, then turned and kissed her other.

Kallista didn’t know whether she should squeeze from between the two of them and refuse to play this challenge of manhood they seemed to be caught in, or if she should stay and enjoy it, possibly turn it to her own purposes. She opted for distraction. “Viyelle?”

“Joh took her next door. Seems she’s not feeling quite married without sex.”

“She isn’t quite married.” Kallista leaned the top of her head against Torchay’s shoulder to look up at him.

He shrugged, never taking his eyes from Obed’s. “What the One binds together, and so on. The rest is technicality.
Have
you learned to share, ilias?”

Obed took a step back, spread his hands wide. “Take her. Enjoy her.”

Torchay shook his head. “That’s not sharing. That’s giving up.”

A rush of heat flooded her as Kallista understood Torchay’s intent, hot enough, deep enough it made her sway and surged out through the links. Torchay’s sudden catch of breath, the throb of his erection against her told her he felt it, as did the flare of Obed’s nostrils, the tension on his expressionless face.

Kallista held her hand out to him. “Stay,” she said. “Share.”

Obed’s hand rose toward hers, but still he hesitated.

“Can’t you feel it?” Torchay leaned closer, stroked his cheek along Kallista’s. “How much she wants this? Wants both of us? Don’t you want to give her what she wants?”

“Yes,”
Obed whispered. He shivered, then in one flash of motion, he locked together the pentivas cuffs he still wore. Kallista’s heart began to thump faster, echoing through her whole body.

“I want to.” He lifted his bound hands. “But I do not want to fail you. You promised—
you swore to me
that you would not let me fail. I beg you to keep that promise now.”

Torchay, bless him, didn’t say a word, didn’t indicate in any way that he even heard what Obed said. It freed Kallista to take that necessary step and draw her Southron mate into a kiss.

A sweet touching of lips at first, Obed deepened the kiss, drank from her mouth with lips and tongue. Kallista fell headlong into passion—Obed’s, Torchay’s, her own—she didn’t know which. All three, she realized.

She didn’t call magic. Not now, not yet. She wanted this to be just them, pure mortal passion. And she wanted Obed’s hands on her.

Fumbling only a little, she released the latch locking his cuffs together. Obed broke the kiss, his eyes a bit wild as he stared at her.

Kallista held both his hands in hers. “I promised,” she said. “You know I won’t let you fail. But I don’t think we need this now, and I want—” She set his hands on her breasts. “Touch me.”

Torchay was whipping Kallista’s tunic over her head before Obed’s surprise left him and he smiled. His hands covered her naked breasts, moving, sliding, adjusting, until her taut nipples popped into the gap between palm and thumb. He squeezed, gently. Kallista gasped. Obed’s smile changed, filled with certain knowledge.

He shifted, kicking his trousers aside and when Torchay moved in close behind Kallista again, she understood that he and not some new magic had made all their clothes go away.

Kallista leaned back, turned her head and twisted her hand in a tangle of red curls to bring him in for a kiss. Torchay drove his tongue into her mouth at the same moment Obed licked a line of fire along her neck. Kallista’s whole body went taut. Then as Obed’s mouth closed over her nipple, she went limp. Only Torchay’s arm around her held her upright.

His other hand caught her chin, adjusted her position, held her in place for his kiss. He kissed her as if that alone would give him all he wanted, as if nothing more was needed. It had Kallista opening her hand, cupping his head in a caress. But her other hand had other business.

It was tangled in hair just as silky, black as night rather than darkest red, subtle waves rather than wild curls. Obed kissed his way from one breast to the other, every kiss making her squirm.

“Call the magic,” Torchay murmured in her ear.

“Why?” She struggled to identify the hurt, her body’s needs fuzzing her mind. “Isn’t this enough?” Wasn’t
she
enough?

“Goddess, that’s not—” He kissed her, hard, almost bruising, as if he was angry or upset. The kiss gentled suddenly, went sweet and tender. Obed pressed a kiss to her stomach, his hands cradling her hips. Kallista whimpered, wanting more. Everything.

“Of course this is enough.” Torchay turned her suddenly, so she faced him. Obed brushed his lips across the beginning swell of her bottom. Torchay cupped her face in his hands, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “You’re more than enough for any man. I only asked for the magic because—Just a little. Just enough to know what you’re feeling, so we can know you like what we do.”

Obed’s hands slipped around her waist, into the gap between Kallista and Torchay, roving across her stomach. She shivered, set her hands over his and held them still. “Can’t you tell without it?”

Leaving Obed’s hands in place, Kallista slid hers across Torchay’s shoulders and down his chest, needing to touch him.

“I can guess,” he said. “I want to
know
. Please. Call magic, just enough that we can know.”

Obed was rising to his feet, kissing his way up her spine.

“Is this what you want, Obed?” she asked.

“I want you.” He brushed her hair from the nape of her neck and pressed a tingling kiss to her godmark. “In any way that pleases you.”

Still holding her face between his hands, Torchay kissed her, long, sweet and lingering. “Call magic for us, Kallista. Call our magic.”

Unable to resist his plea, both silent and spoken, Kallista
reached
. It required more magic to blend the senses than it did merely to arouse, but perhaps—Instead of pulling magic from the men, Kallista tried sending it the other way. She felt stretched thin, her senses so aware, the faintest whisper seemed a shout, the lightest touch an intimate stroking.

Torchay flicked his tongue over her nipple and she cried out. He gasped, then laughed with knowing delight. “Yes, exactly.”

Obed kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, his erection nestled in the cleft of her bottom. She arched her back, pushing her hips against him. Torchay directed Obed back onto the bed so he sat on the very edge. Kallista found herself lifted into the air and settled onto his lap. Another tick later, Obed was flat on his back, lodged deep inside her and Kallista was fighting for air.

Torchay stumbled, fell to his knees without any of his natural grace. “Saints.” His naturally raspy voice sounded even rougher. He laughed. “Be careful what you ask for indeed.”

“Sorry.” Kallista started to draw the magic back.

“No, don’t.” He forced his way between their legs till he was close enough to wrap his arms around Kallista’s waist and nuzzle her stomach. “Don’t take it away. It’s exactly what I wanted. I just didn’t know—”

He licked his tongue over her nipple again, flat, wet and hot, then blew on it. The sudden chill drew her whole body tight. Obed groaned and thrust against her internal hold, which brought a moan leaking from Kallista’s throat.

“Goddess, it feels so—” Torchay slid his lips along her skin, down her stomach, as if he barely had energy to talk and none to spare for making kisses. “So good. I don’t know if I can bear it.”

Obed’s hands tightened on Kallista’s hips, lifting her slightly as he pulled back, drawing himself out of her a little way. Then he lunged upward as he shoved her back down over him. Kallista’s cry sounded deeper, wrong—until she realized it hadn’t been her voice alone. Obed thrust into her once more and the shock of pleasure had her hands tightening in Torchay’s hair as he lost his balance again. He would have collapsed to the floor save for her grip on his hair and his position braced between their legs.

“P’raps,” he gasped, “you could dim the magic a trifle.”

“If you cannot bear her pleasure,” Obed growled, “perhaps you should leave her to those who can.” His hips found a rhythm and he began to pound her with pleasure.

But she could still think—if barely—could still move her magic. It was uneven, because their magic was uneven. She shook her head, trying to concentrate on the bright flow of power between them as Obed tried to drive all concentration from her and Torchay shuddered in the grip of her building sensations.

He clung to her, face burrowed into the curve between her hip and thigh. Kallista’s feet dangled outside Obed’s legs, giving her little to brace herself against except her two men. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, but she could see the magic. Too much poured into Torchay where he knelt before her, too little into Obed where he lay beneath her.

She did the only thing she could think of with her mind so fogged. She leaned back. The physical action allowed her will to pull the magic back from Torchay. The power she diverted from him slid into Obed until it was balanced.

Obed cried out, his body shuddering beneath her. “You
promised
.”

Oh damn, she had. Kallista thrust a desperate fist into his magic and held on. “Then be still.”

He obeyed. Torchay kissed the angle of her body where his face hid and slid a hand up her thigh until his fingers tangled in her triangle of black curls. He slipped one into the very top of her slick channel, found the spot that ached for attention and pressed down, gently, carefully at first, then firmer, harder until her climax swept out of nowhere.

It smashed into her, drove her hard onto Obed so that he joined her, spilling himself inside her. Kallista didn’t notice that Torchay had regained his feet until Obed’s hands fell away and Torchay rolled her from his body.

Kallista rolled again, scrambling higher on the bed, laughing. Until she saw Torchay’s face, Torchay’s eyes as he threw himself after her, sensed his half-crazed arousal through the link. She opened arms, legs, self, and he was on her, driving himself inside her as if deep enough meant he came out the other side.

She fed every sensation back into him until the wild rush of pleasure flooded her again. And again and again. Torchay shouted, a sound that was almost pain. It startled her into releasing a hold she didn’t know she’d taken, and his magic rolled free. He shouted once more, a different sound. His body jerked and he poured into her, seed, self and magic.