Page 50 of Of Blood and Fire
“Crudeness is as unappreciated as stinkiness,” I replied with mock primness. “Besides, is it not the husband’s duty to ensure his wife’s purse is ready?”
“Indeed, it is. Problem is, said wife will not let her husband near her purse or anything else until he is obscenely clean.”
“If said husband will stop talking and turn around, cleanliness will happen far sooner.”
He sighed heavily, an aggrieved sound that was countered by the light laughter that danced through our link, then dragged his legs from under mine and turned around. I washed his back, shoulders, and arms, then dropped a kiss on the back of his neck and said, “Right, I do believe breakfast is ready to be had.”
“Then shall we move into a more suitable environment to consume?”
“Well, unless you like prunes, that might be an idea.”
“Depends on the location of the prunes.” He turned around again and slid his hands up my waist, then cupped my breasts, his thumbs casually flicking my puckered nipples. “These delectable pieces of fruit are certainly consumable when they’re pruned.”
“From what I’ve observed, you’d consume them in whatever form they might present themselves.”
“A truth I cannot deny,” he said solemnly, then laughed, caught my hands and tugged me upright with him. We stepped out of the bath and toweled each other dry, which became an overly long and teasing process that had me more than ready to skip the whole eating thing and just get down to the main course.
“Shall we take this over to the bed platform?” he asked, his wicked smile suggesting he was well aware just what his tender ministrations had done to me.
“I’d rather you just take me.”
He tsked. “Crudeness is?—”
“Husband, shut up and just do as you’re told.”
He laughed, swept me up into his arms, and raced me over to the bed. He spent the next half hour or so teasing and tasting and eating, driving me to the brink and then beyond so many times that I lost count. How on earth he maintained control, I had no idea, but when he finally thrust inside of me, it was unlike anything we’d ever shared before. It was more than a meeting of flesh and desire, more than mere emotion. It was soul and destiny. A merging that was meant to be, had always been, and would always be, whether in this life or the next.
Dhrukita.
I stared into the lovely blue of his eyes and was tempted, so damn tempted, to say those three little words;I love you. But the fear of tempting Túxn still held sway. I just couldn’t do it, no matter how perfect this moment was.
An odd sort of smile tugged at his lips, then he kissed me and began to move, gently at first and then with increasing intensity. With each thrust, he drove away thought, drove away fear of the future and what it might hold for us, leaving me caught in a spiral of pleasure that rose and rose, until it felt like everything within was so tightly wound I would surely shatter.
Then I did, and he broke with me, and it was glorious.
Eventually, when our breathing returned to some semblance of normality, he slid to one side, wrapped me in his arms, and held me close as we both went to sleep.
A soft knocking at the door woke us too few hours later.
“Yes?” I mumbled, not wanting to tear myself away from Damon’s warm embrace.
“I’m here with the breakfast you ordered, Lady Bryn,” came the reply.
“Thanks, Janny,” I said. “Please bring it in and place it on the table.”
She did so, filling the room with the warm, slightly bitter scent of shamoke. The minute she left, I flung off the blankets, deftly avoiding Damon’s reaching hand, and padded naked over to the table. I poured us both a drink, walking his over to the bed platform, then moved over to the bathing area, sipping my drink as I cleaned up and got dressed.
He still hadn’t moved from the bed, though he was at least sitting up. “Be careful flying out there this morning, Bryn. The fact that they allowed the watch tower at Crooked Thumb to see their movements before closing the peak down with fog really does suggest a trap to me.”
“Probably, but it’s one we’re nevertheless going to have to spring.” I scooped some pottage—a thick, honey sweetened soup made from various grains boiled in milk—into a bowl. “I hope you’re not expecting me to deliver breakfast in bed.”
“I believe that was delivered last night, and quite brilliantly I might add.”
I picked up a piece of fruit and tossed it at him.
He caught it with a laugh and bit into it. “I know Garran’s asked the air witches to arrange the mother of all storms to hit the peaks, but it still might be better if you do a long loop aroundthem and come in from Mareritten’s side of the continent rather than Esan. You’ve more hope of catching them unaware.”
“I was planning to. But speaking of being careful—” I rose and walked over to where my packs were hanging and dug out one of the trackers. “You’d best take this tracker with you, just in case you get stuck in the wall and I need to rescue you.”
