Untouchable. Part 15

"I know," she said.

"I'll be right here," he a.s.sured her.

Unfortunately, right here was not good enough. "Would you come in with me?"

He did not turn around, but she saw his shoulders tense. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Perhaps she should be embarra.s.sed by her nakedness, but in her lifetime many personal maids and nurses had seen her without clothing, and she trusted Laris much more than she trusted any of them, even now when all she wore was a lucky talisman she was afraid to remove. She would never take it off! If she found herself in this dire situation with the luck of the talisman, where would she be without it? Dead, most likely. No, she was not taking it off.

Laris removed his vest and then his s.h.i.+rt, and he set his weapons aside. My, what a fine chest he had! He wasn't at all hairy, and she could see lots of fascinating b.u.mps and bulges on his chest and his arms. His stomach was flat and ridged and not at all like her own soft belly. Interesting. He kicked off his boots and removed his belt, but began walking toward her without removing his trousers, though once he had a close look at the creek, he rolled his pants legs up to his knees.

"You're going in the water half-dressed?" she said as he took her hand.

"Yes." His voice was tight.

"That doesn't make any sense at all," she argued. She gripped his hand tightly as she stepped into the creek. "The water is cold!"

"Good," Laris muttered.

Gooseb.u.mps crawled up her arms and across her shoulders. Her nipples hardened. And still she kept moving deeper into the water. At the deepest point it barely came above her knees, and still the rus.h.i.+ng water scared her. She hadn't told Laris, but for the past two nights when they slept, she dreamed that she was in the river and it was pulling her down to the deepest depths. In some dreams he arrived to save her. In others he did not.

She bathed quickly. That task required the freedom of both her hands, and she did her best to make sure she wasn't without support for any longer than was necessary. Her eyes flitted often to Laris, who was much nicer to look at than the stream at her feet or the green landscape which surrounded them. Even when he didn't hold her steady, he remained close. He was certainly close enough for her to notice that he was aroused.

All along she had told Laris that she had to be a virgin when she wed the emperor, but that when the wedding night was done, she could be his. Sometimes she'd even meant those words, usually as he held her late at night, but she had never before truly felt them. Not until now. She now felt that promise in her quivering belly, in the ache she had not paid much attention to until this moment, in the ardent desire to press her soft belly to his hard one to see how such a touch might feel. She wanted so much to reach out and touch the ridge in his trousers, to wrap her body around his and never let go.

She wished fervently that he was as naked as she.

Maybe the emperor would not choose her after all. She'd been so confident that he would, thanks to Mavise's prediction and her own self-confidence, but at the moment she thought that perhaps he would not. There was also the possibility that if she decided she did not want to be chosen, she could withdraw from the compet.i.tion.

And then what? She knew Laris loved her; she had seen to that. But she couldn't be a sentinel's wife! Could she? What of the destiny she'd been promised? Could she, should she, turn her back on a promised future?

"You're clean enough," Laris said hoa.r.s.ely. He took her hand and led her from the creek, not looking at her, not saying another word. He kept his back to her while she donned the dress he had bought for her, while he put on his s.h.i.+rt and vest and weapons, while he fastened his weapons to his belt. He didn't even look at her when she told him she was done and began to brush out her hair.

"You're mad at me," she said as she brushed out the tangled strands of her usually well-cared-for hair.

"I'm not mad," he said tersely.

No, he was miserably in need. So was she, truth be told. She could say a few words right now and they'd both be much happier. She could command-or ask-that he make love to her here and now, and he would accede. She could hint that perhaps she did not have to be a virgin when she wed the emperor-if she wed the emperor at all. She could just say his name in the right tone of voice, and he would be here.

A sadness welled up inside Verity. Would Laris want her so much if she had not given him the blasted potion? Would he have saved her, held her, cared for her, kissed her forehead? She wanted to know. She wanted him to love her without magic, the way she was beginning to love him. Anything else would be less than perfect, and she wanted perfection.

Perhaps in Arthes there would be a witch who could undo what she'd done.

TRYSTAN could barely keep his eyes open as the last light of day faded from the sky. Sleep, Sanura said, and perhaps she was right.

He fought the need for sleep because he remembered taking control for short bursts of time while the other slept. Would Alix be able to do the same? No. He had existed in darkness for years before he'd learned how to make an appearance while Alix slept. He was stronger than Alix, more determined.

He yanked on the tether by which he led Sanura as he moved into the forest which lined their path. In a way he wished Vyrn and the others would find him. He wanted a fight, he wanted to draw blood and expend some of the fury which was building up inside him. But he also knew that the woman was right when she said he needed rest before he took on the next fight.

What if she ran while he slept? He could, and would, make sure she was tightly bound, but that didn't mean she might not escape while he was senseless. She'd make her way to Arthes if she did escape, and warn Jahn that his brother was no longer entirely his brother, that the man who wore a prince's face wished him dead.

Would Jahn believe her, a strange, sensuous woman who dropped out of nowhere? Not necessarily. The thought soothed Trystan. He could kill Jahn while he was trying to convince him of the truth.

He'd been second best long enough. Born a few minutes too late, born to a battle which could not be shared-born in the shadow of his brother and destined to fight the shadow of his soul.

Trystan saw to Sanura once he had fed himself. He gave her some water, but not too much. He shoved a leaf wrapped around a small piece of wild fruit into her mouth, and before she swallowed, he followed with another, reminding her that if she had not scared off the horse, they might be eating bread and dried meat instead of foraged plant life. Her mouth touched his fingers, and he was reminded sharply that he still had not bedded her. He was also reminded that he did not dare.

Sleep was coming upon him; he felt it. He bound Sanura's wrists more tightly than before, and made sure that her ankles were lashed together as well. From about her waist he took the other end of the rope he'd fas.h.i.+oned from her underskirt and tied it to his own. If she moved about too much, she would wake him. There was little rope left after he attached it to his own waist, so they were forced to lie down close together. He expected she would stay as far away from him as possible, but instead she settled down close to his side. It was disconcerting.

He could feel her body heat, her closeness. Her hand settled on his side, soft and warm. The fingers barely moved, but they did move. She sighed, and he could feel her breath. Her body s.h.i.+fted and was suddenly closer to his, so close that he could feel the energy rolling off her flesh. She said not a word, and she did not blatantly touch, but she was there, so d.a.m.ned close he could feel her. She was still trying to seduce him; she was simply trying to be clever about it.

He could resist Sanura. She underestimated his patience. Thirty-one years of being restrained had forced that patience upon him.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, she spoke. "Perhaps you are right," she whispered. "What you said about us being two sides of the same coin, I suppose that could be true."

"Of course it is." He was being pulled toward slumber, but she continued to speak.

"Besides, what woman would not want to be empress? I am so tired of walking, of being dirty, of wearing this horrid hand-me-down dress, of being forced to run and hide from men who think I'm a murderess." She sighed. "I want a bath and servants and clothes and jewels. I want to sleep in a soft bed and make proper love to a proper man. I want..."

"I don't care what you want," Trystan said testily. "Shut up, or I will kill you."

"No, you won't," she said confidently.

He rolled atop her, crus.h.i.+ng her into the ground with the weight of his body, wis.h.i.+ng he could see her face more clearly. In the dark of night beneath the heavy limbs of ancient trees, it was impossible to see more than the shape of her cheek and the very faint s.h.i.+ne of her eyes. "Do you think what remains of Alix will save you? Do you think I'm incapable of wrapping my hands around your throat right now and squeezing the life out of you?"

"No," she whispered. "But I do believe you will keep me alive at least until you have what you want of me. If I can make you want me more, if I can make you need me, then perhaps you will allow me to live a while longer."

"You overestimate yourself," he said.

"I don't think so."

The fingertips of her bound hands raked against his stomach as they moved lower. Everything in him tightened. If she touched him, he would be lost. He would lose control and bury himself inside her, and then she would see. She would see Alix; she would see Trystan's weaknesses.

He could not lose control, but it would be lovely if she did. She thought she had command of this situation, of him, but she was wrong. He had command of everything- including her. He slid his body downward, moving his hard c.o.c.k out of her reach.

"If you will not let me sleep, I suppose I should make the best of the night," he said as he pushed her skirt high.

"Yes," she whispered, and though he could not see her face, he heard the apprehension in her voice.

"This is why you were created, after all," he said as he slid his hand between her thighs. "You are and always have been a pleasure slave, an offering to men's needs and desires. "

"Yes," she said again.

He lifted her legs and parted her knees, leaving her ankles bound as her wrists were. His fingers found her slick center. He stroked and she responded. "You said once that you were made to give pleasure, not to take."

"That is true."

"I can make you take," he whispered. "Not Alix, a man you claim to love, not Jahn, who supposedly possesses you, but me. A dark soul you despise, the death of the man you love . . . I can make you scream."

"You can," she whispered.

Sanura likely thought that he would take her on the ground, that he would jump upon her and penetrate her and allow her to see all that he was. She was wrong.

He slipped a finger inside her warmth. "Do you like that?" He could tell by her reaction that she did.

"Yes, but I want more."

"You'll get more," he promised her. "There is no need to rush."

He moved back up her body. A bit of moonlight broke through the limbs overhead and illuminated her face. It was flawless, no matter what the shade, and it was full of desire. Desire not for Alix, but for him. Perhaps her motives were not in his best interest, but she did want him.

"Unfasten your dress, as you did last night."

She did so, moving quickly and clumsily in her haste. When that was done, he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head so she could not touch him and take control of this game, then leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. He suckled soft and then hard, deep and then shallow, while his free hand very lightly trailed against the soft folds of flesh he wanted so badly but would not take tonight. Soon her body took on a rhythm of its own, a rhythm that sang of the rush of blood and ancient need. Her hips rocked against his hand, her back swayed off the ground to bring her b.r.e.a.s.t.s closer to his mouth. Trystan trailed his mouth down to the tip of her opened bodice, then flicked his tongue between fabric and skin before allowing his mouth once again to find the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her nipples, and her throat.

His touch was light and easy as he aroused her. She had begun this game thinking to seduce him, but he was the one seducing her. The thought made him laugh as his tongue found and tasted the hollow at the base of her throat.

"What's so funny?" she asked breathlessly.

"You," he said. "Me," he added. "Is anyone what they appear to be at first glance?"

"No," she said. "No one." Her body lurched and she gasped. "What are you waiting for?"

"Do you want me?"

"Yes."

He placed his face close to hers. "Are you imaging that I'm him? In your mind, do you see and feel Alix touching you? Don't lie," he added sharply. "I will know if you lie."

"Yes," she admitted. "I know that Alix is still within you, and I believe in my heart that it is he who touches me."

Trystan imagined that being so close to Sanura would awaken Alix, but he heard nothing, felt nothing that did not come from himself. Still, he could not be sure that the other was gone for good.

"Tell me that you want me."

"I want you," she said.

He slipped a finger inside her and felt her lurch and quiver. "No, say I want you, Trystan." If Alix heard that, if he believed it, perhaps what was left of him would slink away like the coward he was.

The woman beneath him hesitated and swallowed hard, and he felt her body stiffen.

"Say it," he commanded. "Tell me, tell him, that you want what I can give you. Tell your precious Alix that it doesn't matter which of us rules this body, it is only the body you care for."

"I care for much more," she said, but she continued to respond to his touch.

"Ah, that is too bad." He lifted his body from hers. He took his hand from between her legs, he released the arms he pinned to the ground.

"Wait!" She all but threw herself up and toward him, wrapping her restrained arms about his neck. "I'll do anything. I'll say anything, just... come back to me. Don't go."

He smiled as he slipped his head from her grasp. "Say 'I want you, Trystan.' "

"I want you, Trystan," she said obediently.

"Say 'I will die without you, Trystan.' "

"I will die without you, Trystan."

He placed his face close to hers. "Say 'I love you, Trystan.' "

She swallowed hard, then said in a weak voice, "It would be a lie."

"Have you never told a lie before?" he asked. "Have you never said what was expected in order to get what you desire? "

"Perhaps," she whispered.

"Then lie now. Lie to me."

He heard her breathing, he heard her clothing rustle as she squirmed. Finally she said, reluctantly, "I love you, Trystan."

"Very good." He kissed her throat and b.r.e.a.s.t.s again, but did not linger this time. He pushed her skirts higher and spread her thighs and circled his thumb against the nub at her entrance. She was so ready for him that she was about to scream. Yes, she was his. He had taken Alix's woman and claimed her for his own. It was another victory, as important as taking control, as momentous as taking command of the body they had once shared.

She thought he could not control himself, but he was so well acquainted with control it came quite naturally to deny himself. He was painfully hard, on the edge of his own release, but he did not dare penetrate Sanura as he wished. The time would come, when Alix was entirely gone and he was sure she would not see anything which might lead to his being banished into nothingness once again.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"I want you, Trystan," she said breathlessly.

"No, the other," he commanded hoa.r.s.ely.

"I love you, Trystan."

At that moment she meant it, at least a little bit. He knew this because he heard the pain and the pa.s.sion in her voice. She was not at all controlled, not as he was. Then again, she had never been forced to deny herself everything that she wanted.

He could pull away and leave Sanura wanting, but making her o.r.g.a.s.m with his touch was another way of owning her-of possessing this treasure, this gift of kings. She jerked and trembled against his hand, she cried out, and though he longed to hear her call his name as she shuddered with release, she offered only a nameless cry.

He pulled away from her, rearranged her skirt, and arranged himself on his back beside her. Her hand or his would quickly take care of the pain he suffered, but he embraced pain. He embraced control.

For a moment he waited for Sanura's seductive voice to coax him to return to her, to finish what they had begun, but she remained silent. Perhaps she now knew that he was not as easy to manipulate as she'd thought he would be. The sleep he needed once again drifted upon him. Before giving in, he whispered once more, "Say it."

Sanura's response was immediate and not at all breathless. In fact, she sounded quite annoyed as she delivered a very convincing "No."

Trystan didn't push. He was too tired, and he was too hard. If he tried to argue with her, he would end up inside her, which was just what she wanted. An unpleasant thought stayed with him as the blackness of sleep came. He had longed for life and power and control for as long as he could remember, but he had never realized that he also longed for love.

The thought was startling, and proved to him that somewhere inside this body Alix still lived.