Seduce Me in Flames (43 page)

Rush didn’t know why the movement Eirie made next struck him as odd, but instinct made his hand snap out to grab hers. He felt and saw the small spray container in her hand.

“It’s only perfume, General,” she said. “To freshen the bed.”

“They do it all the time,” Ambrea said with amusement as she rested a calming hand over his.

“Would you care to smell it?” Eirie asked.

The Tarian let go of her hand. Eirie extended her arm, held it out practically under his nose, then sprayed the contents of the vial onto her wrist.

But just before she did it, he heard her take in her breath and hold it.

It was the very opposite thing a person would do when about to spray a fragrance. But before it could all register, she had sprayed the entire space between himself and Ambrea with the mist. His reaction was fully reflexive and completely subconscious, he would later realize. Fire burst out of him on the exhalation of his breath. He literally breathed it out into the air, setting the mist on fire as its flammable properties ignited. The Lady Eirie screeched in surprise, falling back away from them as her hair and gown caught fire. But it seemed as though the fire were selective, because even though it roiled over Ambrea’s face, it did not burn her, and it did not set her on fire. The fire inside of Rush was like a living, sentient thing. It knew what it wanted to destroy, even if the man it lived inside of didn’t fully comprehend why.

The canister that Eirie had held fell to the floor, rolling away, while Rush surged to his feet and grabbed for the burning woman. He threw her down to the floor, covering her body, using the sweep of his hands to extinguish the flames.

There was an eeriness to the sound in the room. It was silent in the wake of Eirie’s horrible screams, but it was far from quiet. The young woman lay curled in the fetal position beneath Rush, the sounds of pain and shock bursting out of her. Most of her hair was burned away, her dress, that fine silk, had burned like flash paper all around her and was sticking to her skin, which in turn had begun to burn and blister. Her face was raw and red, and she no longer had any lashes or brows. There was no sign of the beauty that had taken her so far in life. Too far.

“What was that?” Rush demanded, feeling no pity for her. She cowered in fear of him, and it was no wonder. He was a fire-breathing monster to her. “What were you trying to do?”

She whined and shook her head.

“Mercy” was all she could croak out.

Rush had not realized it, but Ambrea had risen from the bed. She now leaned over the unfortunate woman on the floor.

“It seems you really will protect me to all extremes, my fine Tarian brute,” she said softly. “Whether you realize you are doing so or not.” Then she turned toward Eirie. “If it was you who put that vile burning robe in my path, then I hope now you can appreciate the enormity of what you did. Perhaps now you know the pain you have caused.” She straightened up slowly, her movements a little off because the narcotics of the pain patch were entering her bloodstream. “Take her to the nearest Allayan trauma center. She can hope Allayan medicine will help. If she survives, put her in the wet rooms and question her thoroughly. If she survives that process and is found guilty of treason …” Ambrea smiled. “After the crown takes away her lands, her wealth, and her status, perhaps it will be too cruel to let her live, her beauty damaged, her position in life destroyed. I would not wish to be thought of as cruel.”

“No, madam,” Rush agreed. “You are above such petty cruelties.” He leaned close to the suffering girl. “Aren’t you fortunate that none of those vicious Allayan males rule this place?”

All Eirie could do was whimper.

“My goodness, she’s really quite pregnant.”

Rush turned his head to look, seeing Ravenna enter the enormous catering hall of Blossom Palace. He had not seen her in many months, so she did, indeed, look very much more pregnant than she had at his last visit with her. The knowledge made him frown a little. He had expected he would drift away from his IM family a little as their lives took them in opposing directions, but seeing it so starkly represented in the size of Ravenna’s belly made him more than a little sad.

“I’ve been neglecting them,” he said quietly.

“Perhaps. A little,” Ambrea agreed. “You’ve been somewhat preoccupied of late. But things are getting better now,” she reminded him. “You’ve reformed nearly the entire Imperial Guard, my personal aides and assistants are all trustworthy, and we’ve routed out I’d say sixty-five percent of the poisonous prelates and paxors.”

Rush smiled and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “I bet you can’t say that three times fast,” he mused.

“Hush,” she scolded him in a fierce little whisper. “And you aren’t supposed to look at me.”

“A ridiculous custom,” he insisted for the hundredth time. But he turned his gaze forward again to the catering room and waited with her until the room had been
wholly settled, all their most distinguished guests having been marched past them in a respectful procession line.

Once everyone was seated, Rush gave a slight nod to Suna, who then hurried to touch the shoulder of the hall manager. At his direction the window shutters were dramatically lifted, rising to expose thirty-foot-tall sheets of crystal clear therma glass and the brilliant sunny day beyond them.

As well as the tremendous crowd of commoners that had been allowed onto the grounds of Blossom Palace, all pressed as close to the therma glass as they could possibly get in order to see the spectacle within the catering hall.

“I feel like a flit-flyer trapped in a jar,” Rush muttered, his gloved finger touching the snug collar of his uniform.

“Shh,” Ambrea soothed him softly, breaking protocol in order to take hold of his hand, threading her gloved fingers between his.

“This is ridiculous. Any number of those people can try to attack you and your guests through the glass—”

“
Our
guests. And you had the glass replaced and reinforced, did you not?”

“And I don’t like them running loose on the grounds—”

“The lower grounds. Our private areas and residences are perfectly guarded. You saw to that. Or don’t you trust your people?”

“I do.” He nodded his head then, exhaling strongly in an act of moderate relaxation. “Yes, I do. They’re good men. Better than I had hoped for.”

“Distinguished guests,” the hall manager suddenly announced in a strident, booming voice that echoed into every corner. “Welcome to Blossom Palace. You honor us with your presence. Now, if you will, allow me to introduce to you our most benevolent and beauteous
mistress, the Empress Ambrea Vas Allay, and her betrothed, General Rush Blakely!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, the effect radiating like a wave through the vast windows and into the excited crowd beyond. Ambrea broke protocol yet again and turned her head to look at Rush, leaning close to him so their shoulders touched.

“Now tell me, my fine Tarian brute,” she whispered to him, “does that sound like a country that hates you?”

Ambrea had known that it was fear that had been causing him to be a bundle of nerves and testy temperament the past few days leading up to this, their official betrothal event. This despite the fact that they had been working so publicly hand in hand for months, that she had visibly taken his guidance and advice on a nonstop basis, and that the people had long ago come to understand that the Tarian was much more to their empress than a glorified bodyguard.

Perhaps it was because her people were high from the dramatic, life-improving changes that her regime had been instilling seemingly nonstop since her coronation, or perhaps it was because the common people weren’t quite as prejudiced against Tarians as her father and his brutal military sect had been, or more likely it was because they had come to respect this particular Tarian as they realized he was good at what he did, fair in his actions, and quietly intelligent as he thought things out. Whatever the reason or combination of reasons, they had looked very favorably on Rush. And therefore much more favorably than expected on this, their sanctioned betrothal ceremony, and the impending wedding to follow sometime within the next cycle.

“It doesn’t hurt that you look incredibly delicious in Allayan uniform,” she whispered to him.

That made him laugh, completely out of protocol, which required them to stand apart, eyes forward, on
quiet display for nobles, guests, and commoners alike for a good half hour before they could relax and begin the party. The idea was that all involved could judge them, come to an opinion about them, and then let it be known how they felt about the union to come.

But in his amusement the Tarian threw off protocol and lifted the hand that was threaded with their queen’s to his lips, pressing the most sincere of kisses to the back of it and looking so baldly into her eyes that there was not a person in sight who couldn’t see the love for her that was radiating out of him like a storm.

Every woman in range released a collective sigh.

It was only a moment after that that he was ringing her around the waist, drawing her up close in a romantic sweep, her dress with its brocade and platinum panels sweeping around his strongly braced legs. He did not kiss her. Did not need to. He touched his forehead to hers as their eyes met and held.

“I want to invite my friends to evening meals. Frequently. I don’t wish to grow apart from them,” he said to her, brushing back the red and gold cape of her hair.

“Anytime you like. Does that include Justice?”

Rush frowned. “I will invite her, but it doesn’t follow that she will accept. She’s still sore at me.”

“She’s here,” Ambrea whispered.

Ambrea, in this case, didn’t mind being thrown over for another woman. Her husband-to-be jerked to attention and his eyes swept the room. There she was, leaning out of sight, trying her best to not be where she was and definitely not stand out in the process.

He grinned. One thing Justice had never understood was that she was too much woman and too much Tarian to ever successfully blend in with non-Tari-infused cultures like this one. She was wearing her dress uniform, although she had not been asked to come in an official capacity. A little bit of protective armor, he supposed.

“She’s coming around,” Ambrea noted softly. “And whether she wants to admit it or not, she misses you.”

“I miss her as well,” he said deeply.

“You miss all of them,” his bride-to-be said a little sadly.

He smiled at her then, drawing her into his warmth once more.

“I’m far too busy to miss them most days. It’s when I stop and stand still like this that I realize it.” He touched gloved fingers to her temple. “I don’t regret my choices, Ambrea. I’m far too content for things like regret to show their ugly faces.”

Her lips turned up. “Even when I force you to dress in uniform and parade you in front of the entire continent?”

“Even so. But I do regret not being more social with my friends.”

“Then we will remedy that, Rush. I never wanted you to completely cut yourself off from your family.”

“I know.” Rush shaped the curves of her face with the gentlest touch of his fingertips, wishing he could shed the dulling gloves he wore and actually feel the softness of her skin. Time had only proven to more strongly bond his heart to her, and, he had no doubt, hers to him. It was ridiculous how much delight he took simply in watching her go about her daily business. And Rush knew she often took time out of her busy schedule to come down to the headquarters of the Imperial Guard and watch him train soldiers to a proper way of thinking and acting. A fair and legal way.

“I love you terribly,” she breathed suddenly, her free hand coming to grip his wrist where his fingers revered her face. “And once we are done settling this country, I want to start a family with you.”

Suddenly Rush recognized that there had been a tinge of longing in her earlier observations of Ravenna. A
whole new anxiety gripped him down the length of his breastbone, but it wasn’t the paralyzing and adamant denial he had always felt when faced with this concept in the past. It was no longer about his genes, or even her genes. They both had risky material to play with, they knew.

“I think I might make a terrible father,” he admitted to her.

“Liar. No one knows better the importance of true family. I, however, might make a terrible mother.”

“Liar. No one has a better example of what not to do to a child than you do.”

She smiled.

“Then it is settled. We will start a family.”

He gave her a dirty look.

“Trickster,” he accused her.

“Perhaps,” she breathed as she leaned against him. “But I have never known you to fall for anything you weren’t willing to fall for.”

Rush had to agree with her. She had known him such a relatively short span of his life, and yet she knew him so incredibly well.

“Aye,” he admitted on a whisper, before he totally blew protocol out of the water and drew her mouth to his for a soul-defining kiss.

The cheer that went up around them was powerful enough to shatter that bright protective glass.