Authors: Jess Granger
Beyond the Rain (12 page)
If only he knew how much she longed to free it, to free him completely. If only he knew how free she felt with him.
She spun and whipped the sticks out of her hair. She heard a collective gasp as her hair tumbled down over her back. She shook her wild mane free and smiled at Soren.
He stood.
With the mysterious blue burning bright in his eyes, he slowly stepped toward her, lifting the necklace over his head.
She felt drained all of a sudden, and her knees almost gave out as he placed the necklace around her neck. It nestled against her skin as if it knew where it belonged. She ran her fingers along its edge, and looked up at Soren.
“You dance beautifully,” he whispered near her ear as he pulled her into his body.
She trailed a hand over his bare neck as he leaned in to kiss her.
The crowd around them erupted in cheers, and Cyani broke away in shock, suddenly aware of their situation.
Soren laughed as he escorted her out of the circle, and let her settle down in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned back against his smooth chest.
A little part of her felt a stirring of pride as she watched the rest of the dancers sway in the flickering light of the fires.
“Drink this.” Soren handed her the bowl he had been drinking from earlier.
She gratefully lifted it to her lips and took a deep drink. The cool, tangy-sweet liquid burned down her throat.
She felt her eyes water and coughed in shock.
“This is not kiltii water!”
Soren laughed again. “No, no it is not.” He nudged the bowl, and with a smile, Cyani took another drink.
She wasn’t supposed to partake in intoxicants of any kind, but as the rich and slightly spiced wine began to loosen her muscles, she acknowledged she’d been doing a lot of things she shouldn’t lately. The blood of Cyrila the Rebel wouldn’t be ignored. She rubbed the scars on the backs of her thighs.
Perhaps a little freedom was the sweetest revenge.
“So what happens now?” she asked Soren.
She thought once she was done dancing she could escape to their hut, but now she found she didn’t want to leave. She had enjoyed herself, and she wanted more.
As if to answer her question, the queen appeared out of the women’s house. A breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt around her ankles.
The crowd hushed in anticipation, and the last of the dancers took their places with the men whose necklaces they earned. The king stood and took two steps closer to the queen.
She smiled at him. The look of love shining on her face radiated brighter than the fires. Cyani inhaled and found herself holding her breath as the queen began to dance.
It was mesmeriz the king’s heirs. The Makkolen women are all at their most fertile this night.” Soren’s voice tickled the sensitive flesh behind her ear.
It was such a logical answer, so straightforward. Why did it have to make things so difficult? Drinking a swallow of wine was one thing; this was quite another. She couldn’t do this.
She tried to look away, turning to a couple to their right. The woman’s abdomen was swollen to the point of bursting. She could deliver her baby at any time. Her mate’s hand slid over her protruding belly and snaked under her skirt. The woman arched her back and moaned.
Cyani whipped her eyes to the ground in front of her. She tried to focus on her bare toes. Wriggling them into the soft sand, she kept her eyes fixed on the dirt.
The queen gasped then let out a soft cry. Cyani looked up before she could help it.
The king’s hips nested between the queen’s legs. He rocked with her, pulsing with the rhythm of the drums and something deeper, more elemental. Cyani recognized power in many forms, but she had never seen power like this.
She couldn’t breathe.
Soren’s hand strayed down her arm.
The breeze picked up, seducing the fabrics hanging around the mating couple into a yearning dance of their own.
This was life, the very beginning of life. Across all the worlds and all the different races and species she had encountered, this was a glowing golden thread tying them all together.
Life, not death.
It was breathtaking.
She felt a wave of pleasure rush through her body. She felt swollen, and slick with her rush of shock and awareness. She couldn’t take her eyes off them. She tried, but she couldn’t. She wondered what it would feel like, to have Soren’s lean hips, his body, joined with hers.
Her head swam with dizziness. If she didn’t breathe, she was going to faint. Soren kissed the back of her neck the way he had when she suffered from the shock blast during their escape from the slave cells.
She moaned and tried to stop her body from shaking. She felt like she was dangling off the edge of a great branch, and she wanted to let go. She wanted to fall.
The king thrust harder into the queen’s body, pulling her into him as she frantically clung to his shoulders. He pounded into her with desperate ferocity over and over, and she took him deep within herself.
A lion roared in the night.
The king answered.
The queen cried out and arched her back, before falling languid on the altar.
A cheer erupted from the crowd as the king collapsed onto the queen, the sheen on his back glowing in the heat of the fire.
Cyani watched the queen weave her fingers into the king’s hair and laugh.
Now she knew why this was forbidden.
This was power—power at its most elemental.
Now she knew why so many of the Elite risked blackmail and bp>
14
“DON’T LOOK AT ME THAT WAY,” SOREN SAID AS HE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL of their hut. Cyani had a strange, focused look in her eyes. Her movements were slow, smooth, deliberate, like a great cat on the hunt. The lingering drums still called from the center of the village, reminding him of the way she had moved when she danced for him. It nearly killed him.
She smiled as she lifted the bowl of wine to her full lips. “Look at you what way?” she asked, taking a long, slow drink. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the smooth column of her neck. As she lowered the bowl, her tongue darted out and stole a drop from her shapely upper lip.
Great Grower of life, she
was
trying to seduce him. The Lankana had gone straight to her head.
was
trying to seduce him. The Lankana had gone straight to her head.
“I need to know something.” She stepped toward him, her fingertips teasing the beads of her necklace. “When you bond, is it a choice?” she asked.
Soren’s stomach rolled over. He needed to sit down. He lowered himself on the furs as he contemplated her question. Normally, it was a choice. Normally, he would have had to acknowledge her with his mind, his eternal spirit, and his body to truly bond with her. Unfortunately, it seemed at least two of the three had made a decision without him. He was already partially bonded to her, and he couldn’t break it now.
“Normally it is a choice,” he acknowledged. “Bonding is a long process.” He was slipping off the edge of the blade. He couldn’t help himself. He was a weak and selfish man, but he needed her so badly. He needed her to breathe, to think, for his heart to keep beating.
She took another drink of the wine. Her hands trembled as she pulled it away from her lips. “So, it is possible for your people to mate without bonding.”
He crossed his arms as he stared up at her. The light from the brazier flickered over the pale skin of her stomach and made the waves of her hair glow with soft green lights. Great Grower, he wanted her.
She tried to set the bowl aside, but accidentally spilled some of the tangy wine down her wrist. It seemed she couldn’t control her shaking hands. She lifted her hand to her mouth and suggestively suckled one of her own fingers. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, pushing toward her with every beat.
“What do you want?” He had asked her once before, and she had trouble answering. Could she answer him now?
“I want to . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Tell me, Cyani.” He pushed her, he couldn’t help himself. His body thrummed with lust for her. If they were going to fall, they would fall together.
She looked down at the floor then slowly brought her bright blue gaze to his. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted. “I know who I used to be. That girl is a stranger, but what am I now? A set of rules, of orders that I don’t even believe in?”
“Cyani . . .” Soren began, trying to caution her against rash decisions they couldn’t back away from.
“I know what I want,” she stated, her eyes unwavering.
“Cyani, it’s the Lankana,” he protested.
“I want you,” she whispered, cutting him off.rough his blood. She wanted him. He rose to his feet, stepping into her body as he looked down on her.
“Then take me,” he murmured. How far would she really go?
He wound his hand into her hair at the base of her skull and brushed his thumb over the sensitive spot behind her ear. If she chose to give herself to him tonight, or if she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. He belonged to her. He would never survive without her. How did he resist it so long?
She pushed him back. “Lie down,” she murmured. “Please, I have something I want to give you.”
He reluctantly lowered himself onto the bed. The few feet that separated them seemed like a vast ocean. She would have to cross it. She had to willingly come to him. He had to give her that choice. Did she really have the guts?
He fought back the memory of hot metal on his back, and the straps holding his hips and arms. He didn’t like being on his back. He was exposed, in the same position he had suffered in for so long.
Cyani reached up and slowly pulled the leather strap from the hooks of her bodice and peeled the clinging leather from her skin. Every thought faded from his mind.
It took all of his control to remain on the bed. He wanted to leap at her, rip her skirt from her hips, and bury himself in her until he drove the pain away.
Her dark hair fell over her creamy breasts as she unclasped her skirt and stepped out of it. He clenched the furs in his fists and struggled to keep his sanity.
He had never seen a woman like this. Not like
this
.
this
.
She took one slow step closer to him and let her dark hair fall around her face. He held his breath as he felt his body reaching, stretching. A sweet ache blossomed deep in his abdomen as he drank in the glorious sight of her.
He loved her.
Her enigmatic smile, the one that only turned one corner of her mouth, touched her full lips. It had been the first smile she had ever given him. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Cyani,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say, not knowing what else to do.
Save me. Purify me.
She kne
lt on top of him, letting her hands splay out over his chest. She unlatched the clasp at his hip and pulled the leather kilt away from him. Then, with deliberate grace, she leaned forward. Her long hair kissed his chest, his face, until her lips met his in a teasing caress.
lt on top of him, letting her hands splay out over his chest. She unlatched the clasp at his hip and pulled the leather kilt away from him. Then, with deliberate grace, she leaned forward. Her long hair kissed his chest, his face, until her lips met his in a teasing caress.
“Cyani,” he moaned. He couldn’t think about anything else, his mind flooded with hot violet. It burned as her hand closed around his aching flesh.
He exhaled and clenched his teeth. His muscles tightened through his shoulders and back, his hips, his thighs. He reached up and clung to her waist as she lifted her hips and hovered over him.
I am going to die.
He tried to fight back the memory of hot metal closing around his exposed flesh, pinning him down. He tore off his translator then reached up to touch her. He let his hands slide up her cool, soft skin, and stroked the tips of her hair as they whispered over her smooth back.
He tried to fight back the memory of hot metal closing around his exposed flesh, pinning him down. He tore off his translator then reached up to touch her. He let his hands slide up her cool, soft skin, and stroked the tips of her hair as they whispered over her smooth back.
My Cyani, my beautiful savior.
There was no abuse, no ize="3">She let out a long low moan as she eased down, letting him slide into her until her hips nestled completely against his. He sank into her hot sweet fire, undone by the pure pleasure of it. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. He looked up at her face, at the long dark lashes closed over her beautiful blue eyes.
“
Ahria, cell atah
,” she gasped out as she looked down on him.
Ahria, cell atah
,” she gasped out as she looked down on him.
He reached up and touched her face, trailing his fingertips over her cheeks, her lips. She turned her face into his palm, as he pulled the translator from her ear and tossed it over by his.
He gently pulled her face to his as he whispered to her. “
Behra en lyah
, Cyani.”
Behra en lyah
, Cyani.”
I love you.
She kissed him as her shaking hands touched his temples.
He burned. He burned for her as she deepened the kiss and lifted her hips at the same time, only to slide down once more.
He shook—he couldn’t help it—and he couldn’t keep the hot tears from flowing down the sides of his face as she kissed him. She kissed away the tears, and gently kissed his brow that bore the small puckered scars of the blinders he had worn.
“Easy,” she whispered in Makkolen. He clung to her arms, grasping to hold on to her. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control the flood of pain suddenly pouring from him. All of the darkness, all of the torture came rushing toward him like a black wave. He needed her so badly.
“It is okay.” She stroked his face as his body shook beneath her. “Take me.”
Cyani watched him closely as he looked up at her with such pain and awe burning in his aqua eyes. He had looked at her that way before, on the night she had freed him.
He was embedded so deep in her, she could feel the sweet ache of it behind her navel. Her body throbbed around him, so stretched, so full.
He wrapped his strong arm around her waist and lifted his hips into her. She gasped in shock as he turned her over and pushed his hips deeper into hers as the soft fur of his bed kissed the sensitive skin of her back.
She let her body splay out on the fur as he began to move, surging into her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. The push of his body sliding into hers made the colors swirling around the room pulse with vibrant blue and violet. It was too much.
She reached up and clung to his shoulders then let her hands slide down to feel the lean muscles of his hips pumping into her.
She felt helpless and whole, wild and alive. She felt wanton, hot, powerful, and free.
Glorious Matriarchs, she could feel something powerful building within her. With each hungry push of Soren’s hips, she felt a tightening, like a bowstring being pulled to its limit. She couldn’t escape it, it ached, it begged her to make it stop, but she didn’t want it to. She didn’t want it to stop.
She desperately grasped at Soren’s taut muscles, raking her hands over his lower back.
He clenched her thigh and pulled her up into him. She cried out, desperate for relief from the frantic need coursing through her.
She looked up at him, reached up for him. She was going to fall. His face was a hard mask of concentration, so visceral, so male. Under hooded lids, his eyes gd turned off. He stashed it back in his belt.
“We don’t have much time; Bug can only block the signal on listening devices for a few minutes,” Smith said, as if he hadn’t carried on a conversation with a machine.
“Where’s the Byralen?” he asked.
A chill raced up Cyani’s spine. She couldn’t trust the man anywhere near Soren.
“Cyani,” he softened his low voice, and for a moment his accent melted away. “
Help me help him.
”
Help me help him.
”
Cyani’s heart sped up and stuttered in her chest. He had spoken Azralen, and not schooled Azralen, ground-shadow Azralen.
“Med.” It was all she could say in her shock.
“We have to go,” he ordered. “Now.”
Just then she heard the clicking from Vicca’s claws stop. It had been a constant static in her ear. Cyani turned her attention to the sounds coming through her ear set. Vicca barked once, and a door hissed open.
“I’m not going in there,” a disembodied voice proclaimed. “Nrea hasn’t woken up yet.”
“What did he do?” another asked.
“I don’t know.”
“We should prepare the sedatives.”
“If you try to gas him, we’re all going to be on the floor.”
Vicca barked again.
Cyani moved to the door and broke into a run. Smith followed her. She continued to listen to the disaster unfolding in Med.
“What is that scout doing in here?”
Something crashed.
“Keep her away from the door, she’s going to let him out,” the second voice shouted.
“This way,” Smith pointed, turning down another corridor. They rushed down it at full speed.
Cyani heard clanging, a victorious bark, and the hiss of a door, and suddenly everything went silent.
Something thumped against the floor. It sounded like a body. Was it Soren? What had they done to him?
Her heart raced with stark terror.
By everything that is powerful and holy in the universe, please let him be okay.
Smith grabbed her arm and pulled her down another corridor.
Finally they turned the corner to Med. The large white doors hissed open.
Cyani stopped in her tracks.
The bodies of four medical officers lay on the floor, passed out. Soren bent over one of them, inspecting the officer’s head while Vicca perched on the man’s thigh.
Soren looked up.
The yellow red in his eyes blazed blue violet as he rushed to her. He caught her face in his hands before he kissed her with desperate hunger. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his clean ponytail slide beneath the fabric of her gloves. She ripped them off and wound her fingers in his hair, as he continued to take her breath as if he hadn’t been able to breathe without it.
Finally he broke the kiss and buried his face in the top of her hair. He inhaled deeply as he held herd oheading.” He buckled leather cuffs over his forearms, carefully hiding his Azralen coloring and his tattoos.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t you trust me?” He flashed his sardonic smile as he tied a sash over his head. The back draped down, giving him the impression of long dark hair. He looked like a criminal.
“If you think you’re going to sell me, I’ll show you exactly what I did to the people in Med, only you won’t wake up,” Soren challenged.
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