This man was beyond vexing. I had half a mind to storm into his bath and explain to him, for the fortieth time, that I was not the sole hero in those tales nor was I making sounds like a backed-up bruin. I actually took several steps before I stopped myself just short of the rounded archway leading to the bathing room. It was when the thick, steamy cloud of sand sage hit my nostrils that my ire began to change into something else entirely.
“Dearest me, itmustbe the bear as Pasil Greenleaves is known to have a tart tongue,” Teryn commented, water splashing, and then just as I was taking a step in reverse, he appeared in the arch wearing only a thin peach-toned robe that hid nothing of the nude, slick male body beneath. My sight went to his cock, hanging along the inside of his thigh. A thicket of black curls at the base looked silky soft. His balls dangled and swayed as he walked. With a grunt, I tore my sight from his prick to look at his face. Golden eyes glowed like his cat’s. Small beads of water lingered on his goatee and thick hair. His lashes were clumped from his bath. His lips parted into a knowing smile as I fumbled to find what to say. “No, I was mistaken. It is not a bear at all. It is the man who quelled a yeti attack.” He strolled to the bed to pet his cat. “We have company, Pehdra. Be sure to be on your best behavior as I am trying to impress him.”
“Not alone,” I managed to croak out as he padded across the cool tile floor, his elegant feet bare. The alluring smell of sand sage billowed off his damp skin, whispering at me to step closer and get lost in the sensual fragrance. Now I knew. The man literally bathed in perfumed oils. I could see the shimmer on his dark skin as he passed in front of the glowing coals in the hearth. He wore no adornments other than the slim gold chain fastened to the tip of his elegant, long ear. What charms were attached to the end I’d not been able to discern yet. The fire glinted off his hair, showing dark russet highlights amid the ebony strands.
“Yes, I recall. You’re a humble, dedicated man. I find that very appealing.” He stopped beside a small table that I’d not noticed. Some highly skilled guardian I am. Atop the delicately crafted ashen table were fruits, cheeses, and an urn of tea. Red tea, I suspected. Steam rose from the spout of the glass teapot with intricate imagery of a yellow sun and black shores. “Wouldyou like a cup of tea? I had the kitchen send up a pot of honey. I have seen how much you mainlanders enjoy your sweets.”
He had feasted with Aelir for days. No one enjoyed sweets like our king. It was obvious where his children got their sweet tooth.
“Thank you, but no, I’m here at your request, but I do have plans for the evening,” I said, my sight dropping down to stare openly at his round arse through his robe. The orbs were tight and high, looking as if they would sit in my hands like one of the dark orange melons the Sandrayans had brought over with them. Desire coursed through me. Truly, I needed to see what the man wished of me and leave before something disastrous took place.
“Oh, I am sorry for interrupting your plans.” He poured some tea into a cup, stirred it with a small silver spoon, and then, cradling the cup in his hands, turned to gaze at me. The room seemed to pull inward, growing smaller and duller, until there was no tea, no cat, no hearth with shimmering briquettes. “I had thought that we might take a ride. The king has said your horses are high-spirited with a love of running.”
“You wish to ride?” I asked dully, my mind mushy with the sight and smell of this man.
“I thought to offer to ride with you as you seem to need an outlet for your pent-up energies. Unless you can think of a better cathartic release?”
Surely this was Ihdos himself testing me. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” My voice sounded scratchy.
He blew over and then took a sip of tea, his sight never straying from my face. “Yes.”
One simple word. My heart sped up slightly. “We should not.” I fisted my hands at my sides. “Your station is higher than mine.”
A single lean black brow quirked upward. His head tipped slightly, the gold chain coming to rest on the side of his throat. All I could think of was pushing it aside with my lips so I could feel his pulse thrumming under my mouth. My cock ached now, my balls heavy with the want he spoke of so poetically.
“Did your king not wed two consorts of common blood?” he countered as I knew he would. To be truthful, my excuse was flimsy at best. I’d argued with V’alor not to look at his affections for Aelir under such a light, and now here I stood, spewing the same tired rhetoric.
“He did, yes, but I am not a king,” I fired a feeble volley back. “If word of our liaison were to spread, some of the nobles of Melowynn would be greatly displeased.”
“No, you are not and thank the sun goddess for it. You’re above the machinations of the courts, and I find that a joyous respite. As for your second point…it is quite sad that the mainlanders still cling to such outdated and choking ways. If. That is a clever word, is it not? It is based on supposition or conditions. There is no predicting the future unless one is a prophet of Shamsira, which, sadly, I am not. What I do know, Pasil, is that we desire each other. The want floats on the air like the sea spray from the Silvura. Surely you can smell it, taste it?”
“All I can smell or taste is sand sage. It haunts me.”
And the truth was freed. Would that I could pull the words back but I could not for they floated on the salty wind like morning vespers.
“As does your aroma of lavender and leather, horse and man, steel and honor.” He placed his tea on the table and walked to me with sure strides. This man knew what he wanted. Ihdos bless me for a fool, I seemed to be what he desired. “I’ve sat before you, the wind at my back, and found myself working to keep my head in the negotiations instead of wondering if the skin of your back carried the scent of lavender.” He steppedbefore me, hands at his sides, gaze as hot as the sands of his homeland. “Now, I present myself to you if you would have me?”
“We should not,” I repeated even as a shaking hand rose to tug at the silken ties holding his shift closed. His throat worked as he swallowed. The backs of my fingers brushed his glistening flesh as I pulled gently. The tie fell open. The robe glided down off one shoulder, baring his biceps and one taut nipple to my hungry gaze. I wet my lips. Unsure in the blink of an eye and then certain beyond any question the next. “This is going to end badly.”
He shrugged his covered shoulder. The robe slithered to the floor. “I do not see why it would.” He placed his hands on my chest. My heart thundered now. “Taking pleasure in the open arms of a willing lover is the path the goddess has laid out for us. Loving others, taking them into our hearts, into our homes and lives, is the truest way to discover the joys of divinity.” Words froze on my tongue. I feared for many things as I stood there with his hands on my breast, his gaze questioning, waiting…“I would bring no dishonor to your name, Pasil. My people are more open and giving when it comes to sex and the joys of the flesh. No one would look askance at you and me sharing a bed.”
“None ofyourpeople,” I replied, the words raspy as a bog toad’s croak.
“We are the same people, Pasil. Elven blood runs through all of our veins. Elven hearts beat in our chests. The only difference between us is the tone of our skin. So perhaps for the time that I am here, you and I can begin to breach the divides that keep us apart?”
The man knew how to speak. Hundreds of years as a diplomat and negotiator had not gone to waste. I let my hand settle on his shoulder, reveled in the feel of his slick skin undermy calloused palm, and lowered my head to taste those red tea-stained lips.
Never had I tasted anything so divine.
His tongue slipped out to tease mine, sliding back into his mouth where I chased it, delving deeply into his mouth as his fingers bit into my chest. My hands found his lean hips, locking him against me, then pulling him tighter as I tasted the pungency of ginger, the sweetness of cinnamon, and the bite of the famed Black Sand peppercorn. Saffron and sumac mingled with a fruity undertone that I could not place. Not that I cared overly if it was yellow apricots or purple rukah pears. His taste blurred the line I had tried so diligently not to step over. As did the pulsing heat of his cock as it rode alongside mine.
“I feel your tension still,” he whispered into my mouth when the kiss broke suddenly. “In this chamber there is no ambassador or guard, Pasil. There are only two men who have finally folded under the weight of the yearning they have for each other.”
My hands moved up his silken sides, fingertips growing slippery from the oils clinging to his skin. I cupped his face, my thumbs grazing the soft whiskers around his swollen lips. I had never kissed a man with facial hair. I found the scrub of it against my face and thumbs wildly erotic. I gazed into eyes as dark as the tiny cocoa breads that Widow Poppy served the children for afternoon treats.
“Then, if I take command of our evening, that will not bring a rebuke down upon me when the moons fade at dawn?” I rolled my hips. His mouth parted with a sigh as my cock moved over his.
“The only rebuke you will get from me is if you do not fuck me into a delirium this night.”
