I thought I’d go with a different direction on this one. My couples tend to be pretty ride or die with each other, so if one is charging into danger, the other one is coming along. Then I thought, what if the situation was something else. So here is this drabble. Only trigger warning is maybe mention of therapy.
Jared stared at the screen. He should call the number there. He should. He really should. He needed to. He just had to pick up the phone and call. Hell… he could give the place one of his email addresses and they would reach out to him. That’s all he had to do. Send them an email and they’d reach out. Easy. Simple. Straight forward. Minimal effort on his part. All he had to do was type in an email address. They couldn’t have made it any more simple or straightforward.
None of that explained why he was still staring at the web site. His fingers rested on the edge of the laptop. All he had to do was move them. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. He had and it had helped. It definitely had helped, but that was over a decade ago and a lot more had happened since then. He closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated with his own cowardice and hesitation. It was a simple thing to do. Why couldn’t he do it?
“Fuck! Just do it!” he yelled.
“Just do what?” Kyra’s voice snapped his attention to his study’s door.
His hand slammed the laptop shut. “Nothing.” He stood, holding his hand out to her in invitation. “You’re home early.”
She took his hand, curling his arm around her as she leaned against him. Her other arm went around his waist. “Fewer people trying to kill themselves tonight, so I got off early.” She kissed him, long, slow, and so damn sweet. Her eyes gestured to his laptop. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” He kissed again, drawing solace from having her here with him.
“Sure about that?” she asked when he decided he needed to explore her neck.
“Yes.”
He didn’t want to think any more. He just wanted to feel. Her arms around her. Her body against his. Her skin under his lips. Even more, her mouth on his skin. Her hands on his back. Her legs around him. He just wanted to sink into her and not let that go. No thought at all. Just the feel of her, all the different parts of her, and how they all made his breath catch and his heart sing. That’s all he wanted.
“Cap.”
The way she said his name made him still. That tone of worry, that hint of conjoling, but always with such care behind it. He mattered to her, as much as she mattered to him. If he didn’t tell her, she would worry about him and he didn’t want her to worry. Yet, if she knew, she’d worry as well. He rested his forehead against hers. So which was the lesser worry? Her hands cradled his jaw and neck, holding him delicately and with such care his heart fell anew for her.
So he decided. Slowly, he drew her to him, her back to his front before he opened his laptop. She rested her arms over his around her waist. He gestured to the screen blindly, his face pressed against the back of her head.
“Oh.” Her hands tightened over his.
“Yeah.”
“Probably a good idea.”
That surprised him. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Foolish of him to think that he could hide his struggles from her. She knew him too well. Hazard of knowing each other since they were five. He sighed and nuzzled against her neck. She smelled of astringent and iodine with a hint of cinnamon and shea under it. The latter always reminded him of snickerdoodles. He closed his eyes and sank into feel and smell of her.
“Cap,” she called. He lifted his head slightly. “So what’s stopping you?”
He rested his forehead against her shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“And that frustrates you.” He nodded. “Of course it would.”
“It should be easy.”
She turned in his arms. “Theoretically.” She drew him closer to her. “Except that you know what happens after you engage again. You know that there’s going to be a lot of work and emotion and challenges and likely your lizard brain is protesting against all of that.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, not because he doubted her, but because he so desperately wanted to tease her. Yet he couldn’t. “My lizard brain?”
She shot him her all-knowing look which made him smile. He loved that look from her. “Yes, your lizard brain. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I do.” He kissed her gently. He did. He just needed that look from her. For whatever reason, he felt love in that look. “I... just… I don’t know.” He stopped, not sure how to express all the words and emotions. “Seems stupid that I can’t set up my own therapy appointment.”
“It’s not stupid, Cap.” Her hand traced over his cheek in the way that reminded him that she loved him as well. “That first step is hard to take or even consider, so be kinder to yourself about it.”
“So you keep telling me.”
She smirked, that one that made him want to kiss her senseless. “That’s my job, isn’t it? To be Miss Know-It-All?”
He grinned. “Yes.” Then he kissed her, long and hard until she made that low moan that so heated his blood. He broke the kiss, his breath coming quick like his heart. “Mostly definitely yes.”
“So glad we agree.” She kissed him back, just as long and hard and senseless. At the kiss’s end he wasn’t sure how he was still standing. “If you go, I’ll go with you.” Her hands lifted his shirt up to rest on his bare skin.
He groaned, his own hands working on her scrub top. “They usually don’t let you into the sessions.”
“Then I’ll be sure to bring a good book while I wait.”
He paused in undressing her. Knowing that she would go with him made it easier to think of going. He wouldn’t have asked, but she knew him well enough to offer. “OK.” He kissed her again. “Thanks.”
She grinned. “My thanks is for you to make the appointment.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Now?”
“Oh, hell no.” She pulled his shirt off completely. “Ravage me first then make the appointment.”
Just a quickie. Brief mention of breast fondling, but it’s still pretty PG I think.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” Christian kissed the side of her head as he snuggled her more comfortably against him.
Jocelyn glanced back at him. “You could have said no.”
“And miss the opportunity to spend time with you? Not a chance.”
She smiled, trying hard not to blush as she did. At some point she hoped she’d stopped being surprised by his interest in her. This moment was not that point though. She settled her arms over his, relaxing into the feel of him behind her. He had his back against the pine tree. They’d had a blanket under them and another over them given the chill in the air. However, the fire provided some warmth as did his body against her.
“So it wasn’t the promise of s’mores that lured you out here?” she managed to quip.
“No, most assuredly not.” His hands settled lower on her hips.
“Or my extra special flap steak with the pan bread?”
“No. Just the promise of time with you.” He kissed the side of her neck. “And a chance to do something I haven’t done before.”
Her hands spread over his thighs. “Which is?”
She felt the smile against her skin. “Have sex under the stars.”
“What?” She instantly sat up straight and turned around, kneeling now.
“Unless you don’t want to.” He held his hands up, watching her in surprise and confusion.
“What? No, of course I want to have sex with you,” she said swiftly. “I just… you’ve never had sex outside?”
“No?” he said slowly.
“Like never ever even in the day time?”
He shook his head. “Uh, no.”
“Not even on a shoot?”
He shot her a disbelieving look. “That is not sex.”
“OK. That’s fair, but like never?”
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” He sat up straighter. “Why is that so surprising?”
“Because it is.” She just shook her head. “I mean, no nookie on the beach or clandestine hook-ups in the back of someone’s truck or hiking trips or anything?”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m rather afraid not.” A smirk crossed his face. “However, sounds like this is something of which you have a lot of experience?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say a lot.”
He reached for her, drawing her onto his lap. “But you have had nookie on the beach.”
“Yes, and I don’t recommend it. Anakin is right. Sand does get everywhere.”
“I will remember that.” He settled her so that her knees straddled his hips. He draped the blanket back around them. “And you’ve hooked up in the back of someone’s truck?”
She looked away, but she smiled at the memories. She would never be ashamed of what she and Jason did. “Only private place we had.”
“Hmmm… maybe I should invest in one.”
She laughed. “Only if you want to be a teenager again.”
He grinned, his hands caressing over her back then over her hips. “Tempting, but no. Definitely no.” He kissed her, long, slow, and sweet. “What about the hiking trips?”
Her turn to grin. “Now those were really fun.” She kissed him back, less slow and far more heated. “Except for the time the bear crashed the camp.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “A bear?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I learned a lot from that experience.” Her hands spread over his chest to trace over to his shoulders.
“Like what?”
“Like don’t leave the food out.”
“Is that why it’s all hanging from the tree?” She nodded. He pulled her into another kiss, even more heated than hers that left her weak against him. “Excellent.” His hand found its way under her pullover and shirts to rest against her bare skin. “Anything else I should know?”
“Always put a blanket down first.” Her mouth found his for another kiss. God, he really did know how to kiss her.
“Check.” His fingers traced along the edge of her bra.
“Don’t fall asleep naked in the sun.” Her fingers searched for the edges of his shirt to pull out of his jeans.
“Sunburn?” Somehow he unhooked her bra
She nodded. “In particularly unfortunate places too.” She arched into him as his hands covered her breasts.
“Yes, I’m sure.” His mouth plundered hers as his hands caressed her. “So glad I have someone experienced to show me what to do.”
These are the characters I think I’ll work on for Camp Nanowrimo next month. I’m still trying to figure them out. Is Athmora really a himbo? Is Analicia really that unsure of herself in her core? That’s what I’m finding-why do my women have this uncertainty about them. It doesn’t always show up, but it’s there in different ways. My men seem to have it far less. I’m trying to work it out, discovering my own bias. These drabbles help me.
And yes, there’s a non-zero chance I abandon it all and do something else.
I don’t think there’s any
Analicia leaned back against the bathtub. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat soaking into her muscles and joints. Catha’s tears, it was good to be home again. They’d ridden hard to return just after nightfall. Time past she wouldn’t have noted the ride as much. At least she had Cyrela’s tea to ease any lingering aches. She stretched out her legs, letting her feet rest on the opposite side of the tub. With a good night’s rest she should be doing well on the morrow.
Footsteps interrupted her quiet. She frowned. No one was supposed to bother her. Her guard would stop them. Yet the door to her chambers opened. She frowned harder before she eased. The only one the guard would let through was Athmora. She recognized his step across the stone floor. She dropped her feet into the tub. She sank deeper into the tub until the water reached her chin.
“What were you thinking?”
His question and the anger behind it prompted her eyes to open. “That a bath sounded rather lovely.” She settled her gaze on him. “Care to join me?”
He frowned. She knew the question would throw him. It was why she had asked it. She didn’t expect him to accept her offer. She didn’t need his scolding or fussing. She’d had enough from Cyrela. Asking him something unexpected was certain to keep him from scolding her. Not that she would mind him joining her in the bath. That could actually be a rather enjoyable way to spend the night. Having him holding her close, his skin on hers, his mouth on hers, him filling her in the way he could… there was much to commend it. She drew a breath more ragged than she expected. A lot to commend it.
She studied him, marveling again at his quiet beauty. He must have been at some court function. The court dress complimented him, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and chest. Valnir had redone his braids; this time gold mixed in with his black. A tie held the mass of braids at the nape of his neck. He’d trimmed down his beard to just follow along his jawline and around his mouth. Her eyes lingered over there. Memories of his mouth on her raced through her, drawing heat between her thighs and to her face. Catha’s tears, did he notice? Would it matter if he did?
Internally she shook herself. She sat up to find Cyrela’s tea. As she did, his breath hitched. She heard it. It was swift, gone almost as quickly as she had heard it. Yet it was there. Fleetingly she questioned her nakedness before him. She dismissed it in the next instant. He was her Consort. He’d seen her naked before and with luck would again. Foolish to question it. Why should she? Pure foolishness
She picked up the mug and took a drink, trying to center herself. She leaned back against the bathtub and studied him again. He was more still, his hands pressed hard against his thighs. His thighs. She had a vision of herself on his lap, her thighs straddling his as she rode him to shared ecstasy. She held her mug tighter. Catha’s tears, why the sudden want for him? She hadn’t been gone that long and yet she was wanting like the besotted idiot she most certainly wasn’t. True that Athmora was one of her better lovers, but that was all. Wasn’t it?
She watched his fingers flex then relax over his pants. “That wasn’t what I was talking about.”
“Then what were you talking about?” She held the mug up to her mouth.
“Count Ferian. You went to battle him.”
She shrugged. “I went to deal with him. We just ended up battling.”
“Why?”
“Because he refused to see sense and some things must be learned from first hand experience.”
He shook his head hard. “No. I mean, why go at all?”
She took a drink of tea, considering how to answer. “I do believe it was your idea.”
His rich brown eyes, nearly black, like well-tilled earth, opened wide. “Me?” He shook his head. “No, most definitely not mine.”
She shot him a disbelieving look. “Do you not remember?”
He frowned again and she had the urge to kiss the frown away. She drank more of the tea instead. “I remember telling you about the count.”
“Yes.”
“But I do not remember telling you to battle him.”
“Not in so many words, no, but you did say, and I quote, ‘I dare you to do something’, so I did.” She tilted her head. “Was that not what you wanted?”
“No. Yes. Just…” He crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his gaze to the floor. She waited. He would find his way to speaking again. He looked up at her. “I thought you’d send Ozara or someone else. I didn’t mean for you to end up personally battling him.”
“Don’t think I’m capable?”
He shot her his own disbelieving look. “Certainly not.”
“Then what?”
He huffed out his breath, stretching out his arms above his head before lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching more. She stilled, caught by his beauty and how that stretch brought his arm muscle in sharper relief. More want filled her. Catha’s tears, why this want and would they get to a place where she could ask him to ease it?
His arms dropped. “Just… I worry about you.”
She caught her eyes from rolling. “You and everyone else.” She finished her tea before she looked at him again. She caught his hurt expression that he cleared swiftly. That hurt pricked at her heart. She looked away. “Sorry.” The word left her mouth before she could keep it from escaping. However it was out and she owed the courtesy of finishing the thought. “That wasn’t kind.”
“Apology accepted.” He moved closer to the tub. “You matter to people, Ana, and we’re going to worry about you.” He sat on the stool by the tub. “And not just because you’re the queen.”
She turned back to him. “Certain of that?”
“In my case, yes.”
“Oh.” It was breathless and very quiet, but it was there.
Her eyes traced over his face, memorizing the pattern of gold flecks in his eyes, and the way his lashes touched his cheeks. A healing nick at the corner of his jaw captured her attention. She would have to kiss it later. She shifted to his mouth again and that bow’s curve to his upper lip with the sweep of his lower one. She wanted that mouth against her, his tongue on hers, his lips moving in all the right ways over her own. Catha’s tears, she wanted, and she wasn’t sure she could wait that much longer.
She moved as he did, but instead of moving closer to her, he stood. Disappointment flooded her. She was certain none of it showed on her face. So why was he smirking? “What?”
His smirk widened before he started undoing the ties on his clothes. “You’ve been undressing me since I came in here.”
She bit her lip, ready to protest, but she had, so might as well own it. “Perhaps I have.”
His smirk shifted to a grin. “And you invited me to join you in your bath.”
She straightened. “So you’re going to join me?”
He graced her with a look of want so clear her thighs clenched and liquid heat pooled low within her. “Yes.”
He moved quickly, pulling off his clothes swiftly. She set her mug on the nearby table. She wanted him to stop so she could study him, but he entered the tub before she could form the ask. He reached for her, drawing her onto his lap. Her thighs easily straddled his as his hands settled low over her hips and rear. Her breath caught at the sensation of his skin on hers, his heat so close to her own, his chest moving against hers with each breath. Catha’s tears, it was arousing. Her hands settled around his neck, her fingers entangling themselves in his braids. His mouth captured hers, his tongue plundering her until she was liquid heat in his arms. Would he not stop?
Her breath spent, she had to end the kiss. She rested her forehead against his. His fingers caressed over the side of her face. “Tor,” she started, the tenderness sinking deep into her skin.
“Have a care for yourself, Ana. Please.”
His please undid her. It always did. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask then.” He shifted, somehow managing to close the space between them and not spill any water.
“All?”
He grinned, his mouth claiming hers. “Perhaps not all.” His hand slid up to capture her breast. “May I?”
Something different from some random writing I did a while ago (and by a while I mean years). I keep having a vision of a OC in a duster with guns or blasters. This is meant to be more in the vein of Firefly-sci-fi Old West.
Crister passes me. I walk backwards, keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who might try to take a shot at us. Mayla and her back-up are gone. Doesn’t mean we’re out of trouble yet. A block down, I turn and hurry up to catch up with Crister. He’s headed for Northin and Cards. The bar there is a safe place to stop. We just have to get there. We aren’t running. Running draws attention. However, we move like we’ve got a purpose. Folk scurry out of our way. Crister has his grim look on and I’ve got my Murder Someone strut down pat. I check, but I don’t suss anyone following us.
We reach the Triple Cannons and get a table against a wall. I shake off the water from my hat and duster before I sit on the high stool. The hat I take off, but I leave the duster on. Never know when I’ll need it to stop a bullet or a blast, even in a place like this. I lean against the wall and survey the room. Just the usual crowd. Nothing leaps out at me yet. Dona saunters over to take our orders. Whiskey with a beer chaser for Crister, cider for me. We don’t talk while the drinks come. I pull my mask down and take a sip of mine.
He downs the whiskey in a single gulp. “Well, that was interesting.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
He cracks a grin. “Think that was her plan?” I shoot him a puzzled look. “To get you to show off your guns.”
I snort. “Sure. Why not?”
He nods, though he’s still grinning. “They are some mighty fine guns.”
“Why, yes, they are.” I crack a smile. “Thanks for noticing.”
“You betcha.” He takes a hearty drink of beer. “So, why did you show them?”
“My guns?” He nods. “Heard some extra ones around.”
His smile drops. “How many?”
“Twelve.”
“I heard fourteen.”
That voice coming from my right makes me still. Damn it. How in all the planes of Hell did he manage to sneak up on me like that? And what is he doing here and why isn’t he with Mayla? He shakes off the water off his hat and sets it next to mine. They’re almost a matching pair. He sits next to me. Crister glances at him and mutters something about taking a leak. He skeedaddles off. I think about shouting something after his cowardly back, but instead I’m quiet, too shocked that he’s here.
He pulls his mask down. I study him. I can’t help it. Lashes still brush against his cheeks as he blinks. Black eyes as intriguing as they get. His black hair is cut close, but he hasn’t shaved in a few days. The stubble looks good on him. Truth be told, he’d look good coming out from the Wild after a month’s stint. I know because he did. He starts to smile, drawing my eyes to his mouth. I shouldn’t be looking, but memories of what that mouth can do flood me. Damn him and his mouth.
Dona appears with two whiskeys and sets them in front of him. He smiles at her and she gives him a flirty smile back. I manage to not roll my eyes. I however cannot quiet the annoyed noise I make. He cocks an eyebrow up at me.
“Yes?”
“Nothing.” I take another drink of cider, glad I went with it instead of whiskey. Best to have a clear head around him. “So, fourteen?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“I heard twelve.”
He grins, that smug, self-satisfied, and utterly infuriating grin he has. “I was counting yours.”
I growl in annoyance. “Bastard.”
“Never said I was anything else.” I narrow my eyes at him, but I hold my tongue. What can I say? “Thinking ‘bout shooting me again?”
“Maybe.”
He has the audacity to chuckle. “Go ahead.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
That’s when he leans in, the merriment gone, replaced by a heat and intensity I know all too well. “Maybe I want to.”
Once upon a time, that look and that growl in his baritone would’ve been enough to make my knees weak and my parts go all funny and wet. I mean, he is sex itself walking around and he’s good at it. So damn good. It’s been a while since I’ve had the desire to do the dirty with someone. Anyone else, we’d probably be signaling for one of the rooms they have upstairs for those who need them. However, I know him and I’m not falling for those eyes, that voice, or those hands again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Shame on me and I’ve no intention to feel shame like that.
“Oh, really?”
He nods, turning up the charm. “I still think of you, Ana.”
I snort. “That hard up, huh?” I’m petty enough to grin at his confusion. “Mayla seemed pretty willing.”
He makes a face and it’s not a pleasant one. “No, thank you.”
I lean back against the wall, taking far too much delight in his annoyance. “Thought you liked those small blondes.”
“Not my type.”
“And what is your type?”
“Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, and ornery.”
“Ornery?” I protest more than I want, but damn if I don’t hate that word.
“Fine. Not ornery.”
“Thank you.”
“Definitely prickly.”
I hide my glare behind my cider glass. “Careful, Tor. Talking like that may get you shot again.”
“Think I’ll risk it.”
Now I’m confused and I hate it. “What in all the hells are you talking about?”
He shrugs, that easy shrug that is so damn sexy. “Like I said, Ana, I’ve been thinking about you.”
I straighten. “Think about someone else.” I make it as much of a threat as I can. I’m not letting him in again.
“I tried.” He finishes off his whiskey. “Believe me, I tried, but at the end of the day, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Not my problem.” I cross my arms over my chest, as if that could keep him at bay.
“That would be truth.”
Damn it. He’s back to confusing me again. “Then why are you here?”
He settles his sincere look at me and I know it’s his sincere look and I hate that I know that it is. I can’t trust him, but my stupid heart is melting. Later, I’m going to have to have a talk with my heart about how we don’t take back men we’ve shot, that doing so sets a dangerous precedent and Tor is dangerous. So damn dangerous.
“I got to thinking,” he starts.
“That’s usually trouble,” I snap.
He ignores me. “And seeing you tonight reminded me that you are a good damn good shot.”
“So you weren’t expecting me?”
“Were you expecting me?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t think that you’d work for Mayla.”
“She wasn’t the one paying me.”
“Who did?”
“Who paid you?”
We just look at each other. Client confidentiality is a big deal and we both know it. I drain my cider. “What does my being a good shot have to do with anything?”
“Well, it’s like this.” He leans forward again. “Given you’re such a good shot and given you did shoot me, why am I still alive?” He stops, letting his words stretch between us. “Because we both know if you’d actually wanted me dead, I would’ve been buried six feet under. So I’m left with thinking that maybe you actually don’t want me dead.”
His words hit me like a double-fisted punch into my gut. I just stare at him, struggling to find enough breath to answer him. However, it’s been too long, and if he didn’t matter in some way then or now I’d have shot some comeback at him. The problem is, I don’t have one. I want one, but I don’t. That is why he’s so dangerous because he’s right. I don’t want him dead. Oh, I wanted to hurt him and shooting him was the best way to do it, but dead? No. Even now, I don’t want him dead. I hate that is how he makes me feel and I hate him for making me feel it.
So I do what any self-respecting gunner does when she’s in an impossible situation. I deck him. Hard, so he’s on the ground and I’m standing over him. “Like I said, Tor. Think of someone else.”
I drop coin on the table to cover our drinks and slap my hat on my head. I head for the door, the crowd parting in front of me. That Murder Someone strut is handy. I pull my mask up and head the long way round back to where I bunk. If I move fast enough, I might make it before the tears start. My vision blurs. Then again, maybe not.
I saw the prompt and decided that Malia and Jhalil would work the best. One possibility of how the quest ends.
“What?” Malia couldn’t believe what she just heard.
The light around them grew brighter, more white. She didn’t look, though. She just focused on Jhalil standing so close yet so far away from her. “It’s your choice, Malia.” Nalani’s voice was warm and soothing. Malia could hear the steel behind it, though. The magic user was nothing if not clear about her purpose. “Use the Hand and end the war, but lose Jhalil or do not use the Hand and the war will continue for another century or more.”
Malia’s chest collapsed into itself, making each breath a struggle. “No.”
“I am afraid those are the choices.”
She shook her head. “No. There has to be another way.”
“There is not.”
“There has to be.”
The light flared in black before settling back to white. “This is what Blessed Amari has decreed. Whoever holds the Hand must lose what is most dear. Think that arguing with her is wise?”
She didn’t look at Nalani. She couldn’t. She just kept her eyes on Jhalil, on the one who was her world, her heart, her soul, her everything. “Wisdom is not my strength.”
The elf snorted. “That would be truth.”
Malia ignored her. She moved towards him. She couldn’t believe that it had come to this, that to save the world she’d have to lose Jhalil. Why? Why was this choice she had to make? After everything she’d done to secure the Hand, why did she have to lose him? Why? Searing pain gripped her chest. Why did she have to make this sacrifice? She held out her hand to him. He took it, pulling her into a tight hug against him. One hand held her waist while the other cradled the back of her head. She buried her face into his shoulder. She held the Hand between them, the other held him as tight as she dared. Why did she have to lose him?
“Mal,” he started.
She shook her head. She knew what he was going to say and it was going to be very reasonable and logical and right and no. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t make that choice. Tears flowed down her face. “No.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
He sighed. “It will be all right.”
“No.”
“I know where I go.”
A sob closed her throat. She couldn’t do this. She shook her head harder. “I can’t,” she confessed. She looked at him, caught again by just how much she loved this one man.
His fingers traced along her cheek. “I’m not worth the world.”
“You are to me.”
He shook his head slightly before kissing her forehead. “I’m not worth all those lives.”
“It’s not fair,” she protested, hating the whine in her voice.
“Life isn’t fair.”
“No, but this?” She held his cheek with her free hand. “This is beyond bounds.”
“It’s one life for thousands, Mal. Seems like a fair enough trade to me.”
She almost argued with him. Almost. Then she remembered what Nalani had said, that whomever held the Hand would lose that which was most dear. She just stared at him, Nalani’s words repeating over and over inside her. One life for thousands. One life. The choice was clear. The only question was if he would ever forgive her for making it.
“Yes, I agree.”
Surprise crossed his face, but she stole it away with a kiss. She kissed him hard. If this was her last time to taste him, she would make the most of it. She may never get to again, in this life or in the hereafter. Fresh tears squeezed from her eyes. She loved him and he loved her back. It was what made this choice so terrible. However, it was clear. There was only one path forward. She really did hope that he would forgive her for making it.
She ended the kiss when she had the Hand in his hand. She lingered at his lips. Gods, the man could kiss. “Mal,” he started.
She shook her head before looking up at him. “Forgive me.”
Swiftly she pushed him down and away from her. As she did, she spoke the incantation. She kept her eyes on him. He frowned at the push, clearly confused. However, the confusion ended as he realized what he held in his hand. Her heart shattered, but she kept reciting the words. She couldn’t stop, though. No matter how much she hurt him, she couldn’t stop. He took a step towards her, but the words were almost done. She met his terrified gaze, the last words of the spell falling from her lips. For a heartbeat everything stilled. She couldn’t swallow for the pain in her chest.
“I love you,” she mouthed to him. Then everything exploded in silvery light and she felt nothing at all.
“Malia.” She frowned, curling away from the voice and the light. “Open your eyes.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to... except she had died so why was she supposed to be opening her eyes and who was talking to her? The voice was familiar. She could trust the voice. Maybe? She opened her eyes to blinding gold light. She immediately closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes, Malia.”
She didn’t want to, but the commanding tone in that voice didn’t let her. She blinked her eyes open. The golden light faded to something more manageable. She couldn’t see much more than the light. However she seemed to be laying down. She scrambled to her feet and immediately shielded her eyes from the source of the light. Of course. Amari. Who else?
“Where am I?” she asked.
“Safe,” the goddess reassured. “Interesting choice, Malia.”
She shrugged. “It was the only one I could make, Blessed Amari.”
The goddess laughed. At least Malia hoped that noise was a laugh. “Yes, of course, but not everyone would make it. You, though, with your distinct lack of self-preservation, was certain to do so… once you realized you could.”
Malia frowned hard. “You knew I’d make that choice?”
“In a fashion. It’s why I chose you for this quest, Malia.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, I suspect you don’t.” The light grew brighter again, forcing her to close her eyes. “Perhaps Solaria will be able to explain it to you.” Warmth enveloped her, soothing like a hug from her mother or her father. “You’ve done well, child. Time to go back. We’ll talk again another time.”
Lips kissed her forehead before she could ask what the goddess meant. There was a flash of gold light then noise and pain. Gods, her whole body hurt and who in nine planes of Hell was crying? She wasn’t crying. Someone else. She moaned, trying to move and open her eyes. She was on the ground, staring up at a rather grey sky.
“Mal?” Jhalil’s face came into view.
She shifted to study him. Tears were on his face. “Jhalil.” She smiled, reaching out to touch him.
“You’re alive?”
She frowned. “I think so. I…”
Her words were lost as he lifted her and crushed her to him. She held him just as tightly, still in shock she was alive. Her mouth found his in a kiss. It was needy, sloppy, hard, but good. So good. The kiss turned more refined, but still as full as need and want as before. She was alive and back with Jhalil. The kiss ended, evolving into a hug. She held him tight, determined not to lose him again.
“You’re crushing me,” he said into her ear.
“Too bad.”
“I’d like to breathe.”
“Picky, picky, picky.” She eased her hold on him but only so she could kiss him again.
“I thought I’d lost you.” His fingers trailed over face, though his other arm held her still.
“You did.”
Confusion pushed out his joy. “Then how are you here?”
She smirked. “Seems that my lack of self-preservation was a good thing.”
He shook his head even as he kissed her. “And you’re going to be insufferable about it, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, kissing her all the while. “If it means you live, so be it.” His amusement dropped, replaced by a pain she never wanted to see again. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“You know I can’t promise you that.” She pressed her forehead to his. “But I will try. For you.”
“For me.” His hand cradled the back of her head. “For us.”
“For us.” She kissed him again. “It also means that you’re not getting rid of me. I’m holding onto you tight.”
He grinned, pure joy on his face. “Gods, I hope so, Mal. I truly do.”
This one turned a little hotter, so putting it under the #sundayheat tag. Kyra and Jared are back.
Word count: 785
TW: No one actually does anything, but there’s mention of oral sex m/f receiving, masturbation, use of toys, penis in vagina sex, sexting.
Kyra tucked her hair back behind her ear. She glanced at her ringing phone and smiled. “Well hello there.”
“Hey.” Jared sighed. “I miss you.”
“Miss you too. How’s the job going?”
“It’s a job. Getting done as fast as I can.”
“Good.”
“Doesn’t help me when you send me texts like that.”
She grinned, knowing exactly what texts he meant. “Texts like what?”
“You know which ones.”
She leaned back against her couch. “Enlighten me.”
He growled, making her smile harder. “Kyra.” He dragged out her name in the same when he was annoyed with her. A part of her loved it when he did. “You know.”
“I send you a lot of texts, Cap. Which ones are you referencing?”
She could see him narrowing his eyes. “Oh, you so know which ones.”
“Whatever makes you think that?”
“Because your grammar becomes pitch perfect when you’re being a pain and you know it.”
She giggled. “Does it now?”
“Yes, and you know it, so stop please.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop the texts.”
“You don’t want me to send you texts at all?”
He groaned. “No.” She could see him shaking his head. “God, you’re such a pain.”
“And yet you love me.”
“And yet I love you.” He sighed. “It’s hard to concentrate on work when you text me like that, sweetheart.”
“Text you like what?”
“You know like what and yes, you do, and no don’t ask me which ones. The ones that are for my eyes only.”
“Oh.” She shifted in her couch. “So you want those texts to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Sure you want them to stop?”
There was quiet on his end. “I feel like I shouldn’t say yes.”
“Maybe. Just want to be sure that you don’t want me sending you texts about how much I miss you and your mouth against mine?” He didn’t answer. “About how much I want your lips on my skin, your tongue on my breasts, making my nipples so hard and hot in your mouth? About how wet I get thinking of taking your cock in my mouth, sucking you, licking you, caressing you until you come?”
“Kyra.” He drawled out her name again.
She wet her lips. “Or how much I want that mouth of yours on my pussy, kissing me, sucking me, licking me? How I need your fingers on my clit, then your tongue, then your whole mouth until I’m crying your name out because I’m coming so hard? Or maybe I should stop letting you know how much I want your hard cock inside me, pounding me, filling me so fucking good that I can’t think or move or breathe, just feel you fucking me so damn good? Should I stop doing that?”
He let out a long breath. “No.”
She smirked. “Didn’t think so.”
“Christ, you do know how to drive me crazy.”
She laughed. “Well, I’ve had a lot of experience at that.”
He laughed. “That you do.” They fell into a comfortable quiet. “Christ, I really miss you.”
“Me too.” She sighed. “And of course now I’m just horny thinking of you.”
He chuckled. “Are you now?”
“Yes. May have to invite Bob over.”
“Thought we sent Bob on his way.”
“You wanted to and I thought about it. Then I realized that if you’re going to go abroad for two or three weeks at a time, I was going to need Bob because while my fingers do fine in a pinch, you’ve kind of ruined me for orgasms and only Bob gets me something satisfying. So he stayed.”
“I see. What if I could get you something better?”
“Something better than my favorite vibrator?”
“Eh yeah.”
“And what would that be?”
“Open the front door.”
She frowned, but dragged herself off her couch and headed for the door. The three square windows across the top revealed someone was there, someone with dark hair and just the right height to be… She slammed the porch light on, flipped the locks, and yanked open her door. Jared stood there, that knowing grin on his face. He hung up on his phone.
“Hey,” he started.
“You’re back.”
“Your texts were highly motivating to get the work done swiftly.”
“Thought you wanted me to stop texting you like that.”
He drew her against him, edging them both into the house. He closed the door behind them. “Momentary insanity.” He kissed her, hard, sweet, and so damn good. “Told you that you drive me crazy.”
She grinned, her lips still against his. “So I do.”
He smiled even as he locked the door. “And now it’s my turn.” He edged her towards the stairs.
I’m taking this from my Nanowrimo project. I wasn’t expecting how it went, but sometimes characters surprise us. So it goes. I had to edit down a lot as the original bit had over 2100 words.
Tagging @sunday-romance
They slipped into the library. Trevelyan used Power to light the candles by the chess boards. He led her closer to the light and turned to her. Carefully, he rolled up her sleeve to reveal where Miranda had held her so tight. She drew a ragged breath at the tender touch. His fingers traced over the bruises starting there. Feather light but enough to draw heat into her veins. A dark look crossed his face.
“It’s nothing,” she soothed. She pulled away from him, rolling her sleeve down as she did. She moved towards the chess boards, needing the space from him.
“But Miranda hurt you.”
She blinked in surprise before shaking her head. “What makes you say that?”
“I saw her grab your arm.”
“Oh.” That detail pleased and worried her. “She can’t hurt me, not in a way that matters. It’s not worth making a fuss over it.”
“So you’ll forgive her for it?” His voice sounded hard, rough.
“I didn’t say that.” She moved White’s pawn. “I just said it’s not worth a fuss.”
“If you say.” He stood across from her and moved Black’s pawn.
“Convenient of Aerilon to cause a diversion.”
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”
She smiled. “Something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s done this.”
“Whatever makes you think that?”
“Call it a hunch.”
He smiled. “He is a good friend.”
“Yes, he is.”
They played in quiet, still standing across the table from each other. “Henry had you at his table this evening,” he observed.
“Yes, so he did.” She moved her Celestial.
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“Am I supposed to be?”
“Some consider it an honor.”
“Then he really should find one of them instead of me.”
“No desire to be queen?”
She made a disgusted face. “May the Goddess and the Consort save me from such a fate.” She studied the boards. Why had he moved his Castle there? She moved her Dragon to counter. She looked up to find him smiling. “What?”
“Not afraid I’ll tell Henry how you feel?”
“Why should I since Henry already knows?”
He nodded as he took her pawn. She captured one of his. They kept playing. Jocelyn tried to concentrate, but the way he looked at her was distracting. Truth be told, he was distracting. What was he doing here with her? Why did he have Daniel create that diversion so he could bring her here? It couldn’t have been just about the bruising. She went to move her Troll then realized that it would be a mistake.
“You’re not playing very well.”
She sighed. “No, I’m not.”
“Any reason why?”
She looked up. Her heart caught on the beauty of him. She studied the curve of his lips, wondering again what he would taste like and knowing it would be so good. Gods, why did she have to think of kissing him? Her fingers itched to trace over the planes of his cheeks. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, his weight against hers. Gods, she wanted him. It was just that simple. Yet, he did not want her and she knew it… except he was here, studying her in a way he hadn’t before. Why was he looking at her so?
“Jocelyn.”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She raced to remember which question she had avoided. “I suppose I didn’t.”
“Will you answer it now?”
Her eyes dropped his lips again. They would be soft and sweet and good. Yet he wasn’t hers. He wasn’t. She saw too much in his look. Her heart led her down a dangerous path. She needed to leave. He wasn’t hers. He really wasn’t. She needed to remember that.
She dragged her eyes away from him. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. I’m just not playing well.” She sighed. Her hands started for her hair to run her fingers through. She stopped, remembering all the combs there. She dropped her hands, brushing her palms over her dress. “Sorry, Wexton. Perhaps we could continue this game another time.”
“If you wish.”
She nodded. Now was the time for her to leave. Yet, she stayed where she was, still caught by him. How did he do that? Why was she so enthralled with him? Did it matter even? He wasn’t hers. He wasn’t. Gods, what was she going to do when he married another? The thought crashed through her, pummeling her heart, and stealing her breath. Another. He was going to marry another. He was, wasn’t he?
“I should go,” she said.
“Stay.”
The word froze her. “Why?” she asked even as she wished she hadn’t.
“Because.” He stopped. “I want to say something to you.”
“Which is?” He didn’t speak. He just studied her like she was a wonder. “Wexton.”
He shook his head, sending his gaze to the floor. “It was easier to say in my head.”
She grinned. “Most things are.”
He nodded. “Yes.” He blew out his breath, looking away. She drew her brows together in puzzlement. Why was he nervous? “I didn’t mean it, you know.”
She frowned, confused beyond measure. “Didn’t mean what?”
“What I said to Northam, about you having no qualities to commend you as a wife. I didn’t mean it.” He looked at her then, pain crossing his face. “I had to stop him pestering me about you. You weren’t meant to hear what I said.”
“But why?” she asked. “Why say them at all if you didn’t mean them?
“Because I can’t have him or anyone know how much you matter to me.” His voice was rough with emotion. “I’m the King’s Enforcer. I cannot put anyone before my king, but I’d put you. You’re my weakness and there are many who’d use you against me and I’d let them if it would keep you safe. I thought I could marry Miranda as she mattered less, but I can’t. Not if I have a chance with you.” He drew a long breath. “Gods, Jocelyn, with you, I’m at peace. Time loses meaning and…” He stopped. “What?”
For a moment, she had felt joy. She mattered to him. Those words sent her heart soaring. Then he spoke of Miranda mattering less. She could see his reasoning, the cruel logic in it, and it infuriated her. How dare he. Fury exploded through her.
“You’d marry someone so you could sacrifice her if necessary?”
“I…” he started then stopped. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. Most certainly oh because that’s what you’re implying even if you don’t realize it.” She glared at him. “How could you think of doing that to Miranda? Marrying her just because you don’t love her is awfully cold-hearted and cruel.”
“But…”
“And what of your children?” she demanded. “Do you really think your enemies wouldn’t target them?”
He frowned. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Of course you hadn’t considered it.” She threw her hands into the air. “Gods, Wexton. Your family isn’t meant to be your weakness. They’re meant to be a source of strength and I can’t believe you thought about doing that to Miranda.”
“You’re defending her?” he asked in puzzlement.
“Well, someone has to.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We both know she’s not my favorite person, but I’m not going to let you use her in such a way. That’s cruel and it’s not you, Wexton. It really isn’t.”
“No?” he asked, his voice edged with anger. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! And before you ask me how I know, I remind you of William and your men. You think you’re a hard man, but inside you is a very good heart. I really wish you could see that, but you don’t and I don’t know why. Which makes your plans for your marriage completely ridiculous and quite frankly stupid considering everyone you hold as a friend is a weakness.” She stopped, suddenly aware of Trevelyan’s focus on her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
She frowned. “Like you either want to fight me or kiss me and you can’t decide which.”
He snorted. “That would be true.”
“Oh.” She stilled even as her heart raced again. “You want to kiss me?”
He snorted again, this one more a laugh than before. “Woman, I’ve wanted to kiss you since you took my Castle on our tenth game together and smirked at me in triumph.”
“Oh.” She remembered that game well. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
She bit her lip. “But I did.”
“But you were betrothed to Marsten.”
“And I still wanted to kiss you.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Perhaps I should’ve then.”
“You could now.” The words left her before she could consider the wisdom of them.
“I could?” She nodded. “Thought I was too cruel.” He leaned towards her over the boards.
“Only if you’d actually married Miranda.” She leaned towards him as well.
“Which I’m not going to do.”
“No.”
His lips were close to hers. “What am I doing instead?”
Trigger warnings: brief mention of non-consensual kissing, brief mention of non-consensual sex, short description of consensual kissing.
For @sunday-romance and @viawrites-andacts
NaNoWriMo has begun. This is from what I’ve finally decided to be the project, though honestly, anything can change. Trevelyan likes to think he’s a hard man. Truth is, he’s pretty soft inside. So it goes.
Trevelyan stretched his neck and felt a satisfying pop. The ache in his shoulder eased, but persisted. He picked up the washcloth from the hot water, squeezed it out, and set it over his shoulder. It helped. He stretched and moved his neck from side to side. Perhaps he should have ordered a bath. He had a multitude of sore spots that would do well with some heat. Yet, he hadn’t asked for it. He was accustomed to doing his camp bath. He sighed and dropped the cloth into the hot water. Perhaps another time. He wiped his face.
A knock on his door stilled him. He frowned. He was bathing. Short of an attack, no one was to intrude. It was his time to be by himself. No William. No Marcus. No one. Just him. Yet, someone was knocking. Before he could protest, the door opened. He whipped a towel around his waist in time for William to shuffle into the room. He shot his squire an angry look. The young man’s face crumpled into remorse.
“My apologies, Your Grace.” He glanced back behind the door. “I know you do not wish to be bothered, but… ummm… well…”
“But I’m making him bother you,” Jocelyn announced as she strode into the room. “So save the tongue-lashing for me and not poor William.”
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
“Making sure you have a proper bath.” She opened the door wider. Two servants brought in a bathing tub that they set by his fireplace. Another two brought in buckets of water to fill it.
“I don’t need this,” he said.
“Yes, you do.”
He scowled. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” She crossed her arms over her chest as more servants came with more water and other items. “I watched you at the training grounds.”
That revelation surprised him. It also pleased him far more than it should. Yet the revelation raised a whole host of questions. “Why?” he asked before he could think of wisdom of it.
“Because you need a good soak in hot water.”
Irritation swelled that she didn’t answer the question he wanted. Then again, why would she? Reasonable for her to assume that he was asking her about the bath, not why she watched him earlier. If he wanted the answer to that question, he’d have to ask her. He opened his mouth to ask, but decided against it. He didn’t want to know the answer. He really didn’t.
“Whatever makes you say that?”
She arched an eyebrow up. “As I said, Wexton, I watch you at the training grounds. You need this bath.”
Irritation flared again. “I’m not a child.”
“Never said you were.”
“You’re deciding how I’m to clean myself.”
“I’m deciding that a full bath would do you more good than a camp bath.”
He scowled, disliking the truth in her words. “I like bathing this way.”
“Really?” Her tone dripped skepticism.
“Yes.”
“And when was the last time you actually sat in a tub of hot water for a bath?” He frowned, struggling to find the memory. Irritated, he shook his head. “You don’t remember,” she observed.
“Doesn’t matter”.
“Oh, it most definitely matters.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
He waited for her to elaborate. She just stood there, as if her one word answer explained everything. “That explains nothing.”
She smirked. “Actually, it explains everything.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Of course it does.”
“No. It does not.”
Her smirk slid into a grin. “Oh, it most certainly does.” Her grin widened. “Particularly since it’s distracted you for long enough to get the tub filled with water.” She gestured to it. “Seems a shame to have the servants undo all of their work.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She had him and they both knew it. His scowl deepened. “Fine. You can go.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“No, and don’t claim modesty, Wexton. You can keep that towel around you and I promise I won’t look.” Disappointment surged through him. He tamped it down hard. She turned to William. “Thank you, William. That will be all for now. I’ll attend to the duke.” William nodded, sparing his duke an encouraging look before closing the door firmly behind him. “Right. Into the tub with you.”
He didn’t move. The disappointment that she promised she wouldn’t look flustered him and he didn’t like it. Why? What was she planning? He mentally shook himself. He had to take control of the situation. Now. Before it was too late. The disturbing thought of too late for what flitted through his mind before he chased it away.
“No.”
“Yes.”
He frowned. He was the duke. She should be listening to him and yet she wasn’t. What was she doing? Gods, he wished he knew. That was the trouble with Jocelyn. He so often didn’t know what he was doing with her or her with him. He didn’t. She didn’t act like anyone else. She just seemed to do what she willed and right now she willed to have him in a bath.
“Why?” he asked again, hating it and yet the word just kept slipping out. She rolled her eyes in response. “Trying to seduce me?”
She snorted. “Wexton, if I wanted to seduce you, I’d be naked on your bed, or at least in something more appealing than this.”
She gestured over the plain blue tunic she wore over a gray shirt and loose fitting leather pants. Unbidden, his eyes followed her hands. They lingered over the skin at the base of her throat, perfectly framed by her shirt. His eyes caught the curve of her breasts and hips, barely hinted at under her clothes. Those hints enticed him, making him want to strip her of her clothes until she was naked on his bed. The fantasy surprised him. He pulled his eyes from her. Whatever made him think that?
“So rest assured that I’m not here to seduce you.” She set her hand on his shoulder and turned him to the tub. “Go.”
Her touch was fire on his skin. Want raced through him, catching him off guard. His eyes traced over her face, the angles of her cheeks, the curve of her lips, the bright amusement in her amber eyes. They stopped on her mouth. His mouth dried. He wanted to kiss her hard, senseless, speechless except for the sweet moan of her pleasure in his ears. The thought shocked him as much as it made him ache. A kiss to taste how sweet she was and how delicious. It would be a long kiss, hard, deep, his tongue caressing hers, feeding on her mouth like it was a favored treat. He could imagine it. Gods did he want that kiss.
He mentally shook himself, hoping he hadn’t embarrassed himself or her by his thoughts. She still had that smug look on her face. Gods, now he wanted to kiss that smugness from her. He forced his eyes away. He needed to stop thinking these thoughts. He straightened, desperate to be in control again.
“Rather dangerous for you to be alone with me, don’t you think?”
She laughed. “Oh, most definitely not.” He frowned in confusion. Her smile stretched wider. “Don’t look at me like that, Wexton. We both know that you’re not one to force yourself on anyone, even if you did find them naked on your bed.”
A perverse desire to grab her, to make her fear him in some way, flowed through him. He stalked towards her. All he had to do was take her, show her that he wasn’t who she thought he was. He was faster, stronger. It would be easy. She could fight him, but he would prevail. He knew it. He could ravage her, do with her as he willed, and none would gainsay him. He was the King’s Enforcer. Ruthless. Hard. Dangerous. Even cruel. He had to be. He needed people to fear him. That was his work, his duty to his king. Yet she didn’t take a step back. No fear touched her face. She just stood her ground like she always did.
“So certain of me?”
“Yes.”
Instantly the desire was gone, undone by the simple conviction in that single word. He couldn’t trespass against her belief in him. Gods, why? Why did her opinion of him matter? “Bound and determined to see me in a rose colored light, aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “Far worse, Wexton. I’m determined to see you as you are.”
He believed her. It frightened him as much as it delighted him. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked quietly.
Her amusement faded, replaced by an emotion he didn’t want to name. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
