Kismet's Kiss: A Fantasy Romance (Alaia Chronicles) (24 page)

She shook her head and resumed her trek through the palace. It would not be
right
for him to do that outside his marriage. Marriages. To be unfaithful to his…many wives.

Are you so sure?
asked a voice in her head.
Who are you, Varene na Seryn, to judge the sultan of Kad? If you were a Kaddite, you’d understand the harem. You wouldn’t think it wrong, but normal. The way it should be.

Reluctantly, she conceded that point.
So
, continued the voice,
since he already makes love to many women, since that is normal here, he wouldn’t betray anyone if he were with you.

Yes, he would! she snapped back. He was still wedded. Besides, she wasn’t built for sharing a man. If she wanted to be with someone, she would want only him. And
he
should want only her.

In the case of Kuramos and his six gorgeous wives, that was impossible.

This…
thing
she had for him was clearly nothing more than a sexual fascination born of his magnetism. It had just been far too long since she’d been with a man. Really, it was just easier
not
to be. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had her share of one-time pairings, but it was a path that grew old quickly. No one had even stirred her to consider it since she’d fallen for Findar so long ago.

Not even Findar himself.

Oh, Mother Fate…

She paused again in the middle of the hall. Even the man she’d loved for so many years hadn’t stirred her. She hadn’t craved to be sweaty and naked and wild in his arms. He’d never shown her more than kindness and a gentle companionship in the decades she had known him. That was all she’d wanted from him. She’d accepted that, had taken it into her being and settled for it.

At Findar’s funeral, she’d felt guilty for never telling him of her feelings, when a confession might have changed things between them and altered the course of his too-short life. But maybe it wouldn’t have. And even if it had… could there ever have been any passion between them? There in the hallway, she tried to imagine kissing Findar, undressing him, yearning for his long, pale hands to glide over her skin… But thoughts of someone else got in the way.

Kuramos. Sexy. Aggravating. Magnificent. Utter temptation.
Married to six women.

A panicky squawk startled her, and she raised her head. Gunjan sped down the hall. “Healer! Hide me, hide me!” Around the corner, heavy footsteps pounded toward them.

“Who—” she began.

“No time, no time!”

She grabbed the nearest doorknob and pushed. The bird fluttered through the arch and she followed, closing the door closed behind her. They were in a linen storage room lined with racks of fresh sheets and towels. Gunjan landed on the top rack, his sides poofing in and out with his breaths. “Thank you! I tried to fly out a window but they were closed, so—”

She interrupted him with a hissed whisper. “Who’s chasing you? And more to the point,
why
?”

“The sultan.”

Her eyes bulged. “
What?
”

The door banged open. Kuramos stood in the doorway, his muscular arms folded across his broad chest and a scowl thundering over his gorgeous face. “You!” he said, turning his glare on Varene. “I should have known you were part of this.”

“
Me
? And what is ‘this’?”

“And
you
!” He stabbed a finger toward the jencel. “Two full days you’ve been out of your cage! Your poor keeper just groveled at my feet, ready to cut off his own hands for having lost you.”

Damn
, Varene sighed, recalling Gunjan’s plea for freedom and her promise back to him. Technically, she
was
part of this.

Gunjan’s wings unfurled as he backed along the rack, trying to stay out of range of the sultan’s arms. When he reached the edge of the blanket he was on, he flapped comically to keep his balance. “B-b-but…”

“Ahem!” Varene jammed her hands on her hips. “No wonder Gunjan’s keeper was groveling. Stop snarling at the bird or you’re going to give him a hemorrhage.”

Kuramos whipped his head around to glower at her and she matched him gaze for gaze, her eyes narrowing in challenge. His nostrils flared wide, and for a moment she wondered whether the steam would exit there or out his ears.

And then, of all things, his tense stance relaxed. “Gunjan, I see you have a champion.”

“Uh, yes.” The bird pulled himself up to his full height. “Well, I, er—”

“Enough talking.” He half-turned and sent Gunjan a one-eyed stare. The jencel clapped his beak shut and Kuramos pivoted back to Varene.

“Am I correct, Healer, in assuming you know about Gunjan’s absence from the Cage?”

She pursed her lips and her gaze wandered to the side.

“Right,” said the sultan. He swiveled to Gunjan. “Return to your Cage, where you are—and have always been—doted upon. Your champion and I will battle this out.” As Gunjan stepped to the edge of the rack to take off, Kuramos added in a growl, “And make your heartfelt apologies to Hadi, who seems to think—erroneously, I might add—that his days in this life are soon to end, all because
you
decided to be truant.”

“Yes, O Lord,” Gunjan said, lowering his head meekly. He jumped off the rail, blazed a wide path around the sultan, and swept into the hall.

Kuramos reached out and shut the door, sealing Varene in the small room with him.

She eyed him warily, waiting for his first words.

He leaned against a rack and rubbed a hand over his forehead as if it pained him. Or as if
she
pained him. “I found Prince Burhan today in his quarters, feigning ignorance about my order for him to stay in the city.”

Varene remembered Burhan’s undaunted demeanor. Her lips twitched.

“As I thought! You knew he’d returned.”

“Perhaps.” She leaned back against the wall, mirroring him. “He was scared for his mother. He came to make sure she was all right.”

“He disobeyed me. And risked his life. If the sickness had been contagious…”

“But it isn’t. Taleen has recovered and all will be well. To be sure, Burhan shouldn’t have gone against your wishes,” she said with a shake of her head, “but perhaps you could give him some credit for being loyal to his mother.”

He straightened to his full, towering height. “Burhan’s
safety
is paramount. His aversion to obeying orders could have cost him his life!” He threw up his hands. “Must you spread your disobedience around my palace?”

“My
what
?” Her mouth fell open. “I didn’t tell your son to come back. I didn’t do anything more than answer his questions about his mother’s health once he was already here.”

Red seeped into his cheeks. “First you make a fool of me in my own court, then you manage to incite a riot—”

“Just one damn moment! Don’t you blame that killer horde on me.”

“I’m not saying you started it, or even that you were at fault. But trouble ensues wherever you go—your presence stirs up rebellion! The dratted jencel decides to toss tradition aside, and now Burhan defies me—”

Varene snorted. “Just a guess, but it didn’t seem like the first time Burhan has done that.”

His scowl intensified. “Are you criticizing how I raise my son?”

“Of course not!” She stamped her foot in frustration. “He’s a teenager. They
do
these things. Why are you trying to make this my fault?”

He took a step toward her. “Maybe I’m wondering if I should take you back to my quarters and punish you as you so richly deserve.” Though the words were threatening, the sudden hungry expression in his eyes suggested that his thoughts were straying to a more sensual form of penance.

Liquid fire pooled at the junction of her thighs. She drew back, deliberately misunderstanding, and shouted with all the affront she could muster. “
Punish me?
Don’t treat me as your servant or your slave. I’m neither of those, nor beholden to you. I’m a freewoman of Teganne, and its Royal Healer!”

Her choice to misconstrue seemed to throw him for a moment, and then his eyes glinted and he squared his massive shoulders. “That you are, and I am the Great Sultan of Kad, sovereign of the realm and responsible for the lives of an entire people. Have you not noticed? Ever since you arrived, you’ve expected me to treat you with the respect due your position, but you refuse to give the respect owed to mine!”

She looked into his fierce gaze, stunned.

He was absolutely right.

Her anger vanished. This man ruled a nation, and kingship was not a light burden, nor was it safe for him or his family—yet he reigned over Kad with honor. With integrity. Back in Teganne, she’d believed he was a ruthless monster. Now she knew otherwise. And she hadn’t once acknowledged him for that.

She stared at him a moment longer and gave a nod of understanding, of apology. Then she descended in a heartfelt formal curtsey, the backs of her hands touching the floor.

When she rose, he looked away, his hand clasped behind his neck. “Varene, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want—”

“No.” She stepped forward and touched her fingers to his sculpted lips, reveling in the pleasure of such an intimacy, even for a moment. “What you said was true.”

His breath warmed her hand, slid down her skin as if flowing directly to her heart. Under the green intensity of his eyes, she nearly forgot to breathe. When she remembered, she inhaled the scent of him; a warm, exotic musk.

She wanted to lean into him, taste the bare expanse of his chest, nestle against the muscles of his stomach and the hardness below.

His breath caught at her bold caress. Under her fingers, his beautiful mouth moved. Parted. She imagined him touching her with his tongue, licking her in the sinful way that she desired.

She pulled her hand back, afraid.

“Varene.” His voice, husky and virile, caressed her ears. It thrilled her to hear him speak her name that way.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” Kuramos’s gaze swept her face. “You want me. Just as I want you.”

He closed in until the air between them disappeared and looked down upon the woman who’d been stealing into his thoughts from the moment they’d met. He didn’t just want Varene, he craved her. He knew she felt the passion just as he did. It flamed hotter each time she drew back, threatening to burn him to cinders.

He reached for her waist, the delicious curve of it, and felt the warmth of her through the ludicrously prudish Tegannese gown. He vowed to give her Kaddite garb that would display her figure and torture him further. Staring into her eyes—so impossibly blue, like a morning sky in spring—he leaned in, starving for a taste of her pink and perfect mouth.

“Stop,” she whispered, and turned aside.

He studied her averted eyes, the pulse beating in the milk-white skin of her throat. He felt, too, her hands, warm and flushed with her desire, on his bare stomach. “Why?” he whispered, grazing her dainty ear with his lips. She sighed and her head tipped a fraction, involuntarily giving him better access.

“Mmm, because…” But her answer tangled in another sigh. He nuzzled his lips down the side of her bared neck, then slipped a thumb under the wide collar of her dress to expose more sweet skin to his mouth.

“Because,” she whispered, her gaze heavy-lidded.

Lost in her luscious scent, jasmine and herbs, he slid one hand around to the small of her back, then down to grab her glorious bottom and cup her against him. He groaned into the spun gold of her hair, thirsting to take her. Now. Here, against the wall.

“G-Gunjan!” She opened her eyes with an effort and braced her hands against his unyielding stomach, pushing herself away.

“Forget the bird,” he rumbled, closing the distance.

“We can’t.” She scrambled back, bumping into a shelf. “I mean, he’s waiting.”

“
I’m
waiting,” he growled. “And I am far more important. Come here.”

“N-no.” She grabbed a vertical edge of the rack to steady herself.

He gave a wolfish smile, pleased his embrace had affected her enough to weaken her knees. He stalked toward her, wanting to do it again.

“Gunjan deserves to live free,” she said on a shuddering breath, avoiding his gaze.

“Why do you talk about the dratted bird when we could be—”

“He’s more than earned his freedom, hasn’t he?” Before he could snarl his answer, she hurried on. “He’s very loyal, you know. I think he’d do anything for you. Seems to me he deserves this.”

He halted and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Are you asking me to release my jencel-bird from service?”

“No, not at all. As I said, he’s loyal. He just doesn’t want to be caged up any more.”

“The jencels in the sultan’s service have always lived in the Golden Cage. It’s where he belongs—and where he’s spoiled, no less! The Cage has been good enough for several thousand years of jencels. It’s good enough for Gunjan.”

“‘Because it’s tradition’? That’s the best reason you have?” She shook her head and her blonde ponytail flicked from side to side. “He loves to fly. He’s a
bird
. Let him.”