Courting Kel (12 page)

Kel laughed. “Everything on Ondrican revolves around two
things. Food and sex.”

“What else is there?” he asked as he led her away.

With her stomach growling for breakfast and her body
yearning for Aren, Kel wisely said nothing.

* * * * *

Later That Day

When he led his unsaddled horse out of the barn, Aren
watched Kel’s face. As he had hoped, her eyes swirled with strands of stormy
gray. Her creamy skin showed hints of red, especially on her high cheekbones
and what he could see of her breasts above her sarong.

Ripe
, he thought, feeling his shaft stiffen. And she
had taken some care with her appearance. Ringlets framed her face and drooped
around her ears. A mass of red-gold curls fell over her shoulders and down her
back. Her sarong hugged her curves as he intended to hug her when they reached
the waterfall.

He had learned a little more about his wife when she visited
the greenhouse. The fact that he was hybridizing a flower for her pleased her.
He saw it in her soft gray eyes. In the way her cheeks reddened and her lips
formed an O. And when he said he’d rather be with her, her smile had brightened
until she glowed. Gifts that had cost him nothing more than a little time.

Courting Kel had taken on a whole new meaning.

“I don’t know where my mind went,” she was saying when he
refocused on her face. “I’ll change.”

“You’re fine just as you are.” He led his horse to a block
then mounted. “Come.”

He positioned her with both her legs on his horse’s left
side.

“Yesterday I wrote astride,” she said, her gaze on his face.

Suspecting she felt off balance, Aren wreathed his arms
around her waist. “Yesterday you wore a gown Jocelyn wove. I knew your riding
astride wouldn’t harm it.”

“Oh.”

Clicking, he set the horse in motion at a gentle walk. Since
Kel seemed disinclined to talk, he kept silent. When they reached the path to
the waterfall, Aren slid down, Kel in his arms. He put her on her feet.

She looked up at him, confusion evident in the swirling
kaleidoscope in her eyes. Fingering a ringlet at her ear, he kissed the tip of
her nose. He thought he knew what caused her confusion. Part of him wanted to
reassure her that he would do nothing she didn’t want. A less noble part of him
knew he would take whatever advantage he could win from her. Her desire was his
best weapon.

Feathering his fingertips down her arm, he linked their
hands. Shivering, her eyes darkened. He kept his face impassive, but
congratulated himself on predicting her vulnerability.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as he led her through knee-high
grasses with the scent of new-mown wheat.

“I think so. In truth, you feed me so well, I no longer
recognize real hunger. Eating has become habit, not need.”

“I hate the idea of your going hungry.”

She shrugged. “Food is fuel, nothing more. If it tastes
good, it’s a feast. If it tastes awful, we eat it anyway.”

“What proteins are available on Amazonia?”

“We raise sheep. When ewes no longer lamb or the lamb dies…
We fish. Raise fowl of all kinds. We don’t lack foodstuffs, Aren, but the
skills to make them tasty. I wish…”

“What? That Caton would immigrate to Amazonia? Jocelyn would
never permit it. And he values his shaft and balls too much to go, especially
to a planet where fucking is more important than food.”

Kel chuckled. “Can’t blame him. Perhaps we could trade books
with instructions on how to cook for…” She shrugged again. “I’m certain Basalia
can suggest something fitting to exchange.”

Kel halted so suddenly her hand slipped from Aren’s.
Wondering what she saw, he stepped behind her. “What?”

“Everything here is so beautiful.”

He looked around and recalled how awestruck he’d felt the
first time his mother brought him here. He heard the waterfall first, surprised
Kel had not heard it too. He could only hope her thoughts had centered on him
but doubted they had. She had an ability to focus on one thing, closing out
everything else. Most likely her thoughts were on cookbooks rather than on
their surroundings. Or on him.

Now he tried to see this place through Kel’s eyes. Tree
ferns grew a few yards beyond the opposite riverbank and continued up the side
of the mountains. Some wore gray-green fronds, others leaves of bright green.
Others still were the color of the sun, a bright yellow so intense it hurt to
look at them for long. At the top of the nearest mountain, it seemed as if the
granite boulders had tumbled from their foundations to crash into the pool
below. Where the water fell into the pool, it roiled but quickly calmed as it
spread. Aren knew the water was cool but not uncomfortable.

“Would you like to swim?” he asked, inhaling the scent of caills
wafting from her hair and skin.

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes questioning his
sincerity. “Our…” She hitched a deep breath, drawing his attention to her
breasts and pearling nipples. “Our clothes.”

“We’ve been together naked, Flame,” he reminded her, untying
the knot between her breasts. He released the fabric to slide down her body.

“It’s unfair, Aren, that my clothes are so easily removed
and yours are not.”

“Duly noted. Next time I’ll wear nothing at all.” Turning
her to face him, he said, “Hide in the water if you must. I’ll join you soon
and we’ll play.”

She spun away, seemed to assess the water’s depth then dove
in. When she surfaced, her fiery hair floated around her like a lion’s mane.
Her grin made him feel as though he’d given her a priceless gem. Another simple
gift. Shedding his clothes, he drove in and resurfaced with her body squirming
against his.

Giggling, she splashed water in his face. He released her
and retaliated.

“Here’s a game I needn’t teach you, Flame.”

“At home it’s a way to escape an invader,” she countered
before she submerged once more, emerging some twenty meters away.

“And makes you improve your lung capacity,” he commented
wryly.

“That too.”

Treading water, she stared at him so long he felt his
engorged shaft shrink. Watching her nibble at her lower lip revived his
erection. “What is it, Flame?”

“Have you noticed, Aren, that you only call me Flame when
you want to mate?”

He laughed. “I always want to fuck you, Flame, no matter
what I call you.”

“Has a prince nothing better to think about?”

“Yes. But this prince suspects you would dislike hearing
about it.”
Such as our marriage.

Paddling to her, relieved she stayed where she was, he held
out his hand. “Come. I’ve something more to show you.”

She glanced down. His shaft twitched.

“I’ve seen your cock.”

“Something else.”

He saw the exact moment curiosity overrode wariness. Green
became the predominant color in her eyes. Smiling shyly, she put her hand in
his. Towing her, he took them to the far side of the waterfall. Since they
could not hear over the roaring cascade Aren mimed his intention to take them
behind it. She bit her lip but nodded.

Taking her in his arms, he pushed them through.

Chapter Eight

Kel opened her eyes to total blackness. Feeling blind, she
squeezed Aren’s hand to assure herself he hadn’t deserted her. Her held breath
eased out.

“Close your eyes again. I promise you’ll like what you see
when you open them.”

“Shiny pebbles,” she sighed, looking all around the now-luminous
cave.

“We call them realloppas.”

She was so enchanted by the glowing cavern, she barely
noticed when Aren waded deeper into the cave then carried her out of the water
where the river became shallow. But she did notice the shimmering fabric he
wrapped around her. It was the same material she’d put under her pillow last
night. The same fabric woven by Drew and Laurette that had, Kel feared, caused
her nightmares.

She pushed out of it, frantic to shed it. It clung until Kel
gave up and half-relaxed into its gossamer embrace. Her skin heated and
tingled. Awareness overcame her. Aren’s naked body heat surrounded her, his
cock pressed between her buttocks and wreaked havoc with her good sense. A
curious longing washed through her, yet every nerve in her body felt tight with
anticipation.

“Aren?”

“Yes?”

“I think this cloth bespelled.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Kel thought for the moment it took Aren to ease her onto his
lap. “Not uncomfortable exactly. Uneasy and too aware of…everything.”

“Of me?” He tipped her chin, making her look at him.

“Especially you. I…I don’t want this, Aren.” Sighing, she
caressed his cheek and saw his eyes darken. “Yet even without this material, I
cannot seem to help myself. I crave your kisses. Your hands on my body.
Your…cock deep inside me.”

“But?” he murmured against her ear, sending hot shivers up
her spine and dotting her skin with gooseflesh.

“I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to make or have a
baby. I don’t want to raise one either.” She expected him to shove her away. He
cuddled her, the tenderness in his eyes bringing a lump to her throat.

“Will you tell me why?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “On Amazonia, birthing is
dangerous. Each year some women die. Too often, their babes died with them. If—”
She drew a shuddering breath. “If a boy survives the birthing, his mother never
sees him. He and his father are banished and the woman suffers from both
losses.

“I suppose you believe us incapable of grieving for a son.
Or a lover.”

“My parents grieved for the loss of several daughters. I grieved
for my sisters.” He sighed. “But I didn’t bring you here to mourn. There are
ways, Kel, to avoid pregnancy.”

“Withdrawal before ejaculation? Those determined little
fertilizers are in your juices, Aren. That much our midwives suspect, having
delivered babes to unmated warriors who… I believe you get the point.”

Aren grunted. “Why don’t you want to marry?”

Kel shifted, wanting free of the comfort she found in his
arms. Without any effort—mostly, she suspected, because she really wanted to
stay where she was, he restrained her. “Our histories tell of women who left
Amazonia with their lovers. No one ever heard from them until…a short time
after their departure, their
husbands
sent word of their deaths.”

“You think their husbands murdered them?”

Kel sighed. “I think they missed their homeworld so much,
they died from its lack.”

“You miss skeetmosques?” Aren asked, his light tone an
obvious attempt to make her laugh.

She did. Sobering, she said, “I miss my mother. Which,
frankly, surprises me, given how she tries to run my life.”

“I think parents never stop that.”

“Has Storr contacted you here?”

Aren frowned as if he knew she hoped for a way to contact
Basalia. “Tak the gods, he has not. He could, of course, send a messenger were
there an emergency. Are you tired of my company, Flame?” He kissed her ear,
nibbled the lobe.

“N-no.”

“Good.” He fumbled among the folds of cloth they sat upon
and produced a book. “I promised I would read to you.” A wave of his hand and
light from the realloppas brightened the entire cave.

“Where did the blanket come from? And the book?”

Ignoring her questions, he inched back and leaned against a
rock that seemed to soften and offer comfort to his spine. Pressing her head to
his shoulder, he opened the book.

The contents made her blush. Soon she lost herself in Aren’s
seductive voice and arousing words. She shifted on his lap and felt his cock
swell. His reaction gave her a sense of immense power and made her body heat
with lust. She pushed aside the cloth around her shoulders. Straddling him,
pressing her swollen breasts and aching nipples against his wide chest, she
inhaled the scents of peat and flowers and flesh that made him Aren. She heard
his breath hitch, his voice deepen and falter as he continued to read. Felt his
cock pulse against her moist nether lips. Pushing back, she saw that his eyes
were so black they almost frightened her. She could imagine him facing an armed
foe with that fierce intensity. Having that focused on her face made her
stomach whirl—fear or lust, she could not decide. As if she had wandered the
Amazonian desert for days, delirious from thirst, she had a desperate need to
taste him.

She licked his neck. Feeling his vein pulse, she lingered to
nip it gently then soothed it with her tongue. He tasted a little salty but not
unpleasantly so.

“Flame.” His soft voice hinted at lust under stressed
restraint.

Ignoring him, she kissed and licked her way down his body,
pausing only to long enough to sniff and lave his bellybutton. When she reached
his cock and its nest of dark curls, she inhaled deeply. “You smell like lust.”

Cupping his balls, she licked him as if his cock were a long
piece of hard candy. He groaned, thrusting his hips much the same way she
pushed her pussy against his mouth when he ate her. Circling his cock with her
fingers, stroking up and down, she lapped the dewdrop that seeped from its
head.

“Flame,” he groaned. His fingers curled in her hair.
Expecting him to pull her away, she bit him gently and swirled her tongue
around and over his cockhead. He clutched her head and surged up and down in
her mouth.

“You taste like lust.”

“In a minute I’ll taste like…” He gulped. “Like cum.”

Laughing, she swallowed him and sucked hard.

“By all the gods! Guanshit!”

“Gimme. I want to taste you.” Even to her, her voice sounded
sultry.

Obliging her, he thrust to completion.

Sliding up his body, she kissed him, fulfilling his promise
that he would taste himself on her lips and tongue. Would smell himself on her
cheeks and chin.

“How do you taste?” she asked him.

“Like krilmtubte.” She frowned her puzzlement and he
clarified. “A little sweet, a little sour and slightly salty.”

“More than slightly salty,” she said wryly, then licked her
lips.

“You’re so romantic,” he complained good-naturedly.

“This cave is a romantic spot. Have…have you brought many
women here?”

“None save you.”

Sitting up, she studied his eyes for a long moment. “I think
I believe you.” Sighing, she nestled against him, content to hear his heartbeat
drum in her ear. Content to feel his hands soothing up and down her spine,
lingering on her buttocks before gliding to her face to cup her cheek. She
nuzzled his palm. His tenderness made her wish they could stay like this
forever.

“I suppose… Would seeing our hospitals ease your mind about
birthing?”

“Probably,” she admitted. “Change it? Probably not. I…I don’t
think I’d be a good mother.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t believe in maternal instincts. I think mothers,
like warriors, must be trained. On Amazonia, that training occurs when a baby
is born. Some warriors are more adept at swaddling, feeding and caring for
their infants. Others act as though they have no further obligation to the
child beyond giving her life. I’m afraid I’d be that kind of mother. More
concerned about keeping Amazonia safe than my child’s happiness.”

“The two duties are not mutually exclusive, Kel.” When she
scowled, he continued. “What kind of mother was Basalia?”

Kel had never thought about her mother as a mother. Basalia
was simply there, wanted or needed or not. “She…she was sometimes very loving.
At other times impatient, especially when I misbehaved.”

Aren’s laugh rumbled against Kel’s cheek. “That’s typical,
Kel. I remember my mother making me sit in a corner with nothing to look at
except a blank wall. Yet when she put me to bed, she sang to me or read me
stories. I always promised her I’d be a better boy the next day. She’d laugh,
as if she knew our definitions of
better
were leagues apart.”

“And your father? How did he treat you?”

“Like a little man. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting
at his feet during council sessions. At first, when I was very young, only for
an hour. As I aged, the time I spent at his side lengthened.”

“A king in training.”

“Yes.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the crashing
waterfall a soothing background sound, much like the musicians playing from a
distance the other night. Aren toyed with the hair around her ear. She
shivered.

“You’re cold,” he said, drawing the cloth over them.

Pushing away from him, she also shoved off the cloth. “No!
I…I don’t want that fabric near me.”

“It was a gift, Kel. From my friends. From Drew.” He sounded
hurt, as if he’d woven the blanket himself.

“I know that!” she snapped. She had enough problems dealing
with her own up-and-down emotions without worrying about his feelings.

“Why don’t you like it?”

“I told you. It’s bespelled.”

“How?” Skepticism laced his voice.

He lived on a world where people moved things without
touching them and
he
was asking
her
? “I don’t know how. It…it
makes me feel strange. It makes me dream.”

“Of what?”

She studied her hands, disgusted with their shaking.

“Of me? Do you dream of me, Kel?” He tipped her chin as if
willing her to look at him.

“Not you…exactly.” Expecting him to prod her for a more
complete answer, his silence made her open her eyes.

“I also dreamed last night,” he said at last. “I dreamed I
was on your homeworld, surrounded by hundreds of women with your face. But I
knew none of them was you. I felt abandoned.”

Kel gasped, feeling as if he punched her belly while she
stood before him defenseless. “I stood in Storr’s throne room, surrounded by
all the men on Ondrican.” She licked her dry lips. “They stroked their cocks
and moved closer and closer. They all looked like you but I knew.”

“Did you also feel abandoned?”

She could only nod.

He drew her down and resumed stroking her. At last he said, “I
think there are two possible interpretations to our dreams. First, that we
secretly desire multiple partners. Second…”

She raised her head and glared. “What?”

“That we only want each other.”

Aren saw her eyes whirl with ever-changing colors. He sensed
she had withheld a crucial detail, but doubted she would tell him what. Instead
of pressing her, he brought her head to his shoulder and drew the cloth over
them. She jerked as if he’d seared her with a hot iron.

“It is only to see what happens when we sleep together under
this blanket. I’ll keep you safe, Kel. I promise.”

“I can’t sleep now. I’m too tense, especially with this
cloth over me.”

“Trust me, Kel.” Brushing his thumb across her brow, he
watched her eyes drift closed. A few minutes later, her breathing told him she
slept, deeply and thus far dreamlessly.

Of their own accord, his arms tightened around her.
Surprising him, she snuggled even closer, as if she knew what was about to
happen and welcomed the dream he hoped they would share. With a deep breath, he
shut his eyes and slid into her mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Luna, ripe and fecund, was surrounded by black velvet skies
festooned with diamond stars. Her silvery light fell like cool sunlight on the
verdant fields below. Kel’s hair tickled Aren’s chest as the gentle breeze
feathered it off her face. His own hair—much longer from the passing of several
months—streamed behind him as they galloped along, his horse striding with
carefree grace. Penis plants sprang up along their path, each pod open and
gleaming white as they revealed their unripe fruit.

Such is the magic of dreams, he thought.

Kel, wearing only scraps of cloth around her breasts and
lower body, laughed joyously. Aren felt as if he could see the musical notes
her happiness sounded. His own laughter melded with hers, seeming to create a
symphony in the sky above and all around them.

Wanting to feel her laughter, he slid his hands around her
then folded them over her flat, firm belly. She giggled, filling his soul with
a gladness he’d never known before.

As they neared the lake, the horse’s pace slowed. Aren, Kel
in his arms, slid off his mount’s bare back.

“I can walk,” Kel said, wreathing her arms around his neck.

“I know, but I like having you in my arms.”

He wished for a blanket as soft as eiderdown. One appeared
and spread itself over the soft grass beneath his bare feet.

“How—?”

“It is a dream, Kel. Anything is possible.”

“You could have wished for a bed.” Her soft smile
contradicted her mild complaint.

“Would you prefer a bed?”

“Would you?”

“Since I summoned a blanket, I suppose a blanket—with you on
it—is what I prefer.”

She met his eyes, hers swirling with so many colors he could
but hope her mood, her desires, matched his own.

“It’s a dream, Aren.
Your
dream.”

“
Our
dream,” he corrected, willing away the edges of
unease he felt in her. In himself. He knelt, laid her on the blanket and
brushed his thumb across her brow. Her frown vanishing, she smiled up at him.