Drink of Me

  “Shh…” This time it was she soothing him, her soft voice and fingertips stroking against his face. “Your mind struggles so, Sánge. Where is your peace?”

  Reule jerked back in shock. He looked at her with hard, mistrustful eyes and even had to fight the urge to shove her off his lap. Perhaps he was disturbed and a little off guard, but she’d spoken as if she were intimate with his mind. No one crossed his mental boundaries without his permission.

  Just as abruptly, Reule tried to rein in his temper. There was no way she could accomplish it. Perhaps…yes, perhaps he’d unwittingly emanated his emotional upheaval. It wouldn’t be the first time and unfortunately wouldn’t be the last. Still, the way she’d worded the phrase…it was something a telepath or empath might say. Reule reached out and gripped both her shoulders, giving her a little shake as he stared hard into her peculiar eyes.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “No one who will harm you,” she responded, wincing.

  A sharp cut of remorse and self-disgust lanced through him, and he abruptly released her from his abusive hands. With a startled cry, she tumbled back over his knees and fell into the water. Reule grabbed past her flailing legs and had his hands around her waist in an instant, dragging her above water and back against his chest. She gasped and sputtered, her hands clutching his shoulders. Her thighs, now on either side of him, clenched his sides in a death grip. She shook in fright, her nails biting into his skin as water streamed down her disgruntled expression, which lay beneath straggles of thick hair once again. He apologetically pushed aside the tangled mess.

  “Are you all right? I’m so very sorry,” he apologized.

  Apparently, she forgave him. Reule drew that conclusion when she wrapped both her arms in a strangling hug around his neck and plastered her chest against his. There was desperation in the hold, though, and Reule cursed himself. She didn’t need him adding to her fear.

  “Easy now. I won’t let it happen again,” he promised her softly, wincing when he felt the thundering of her small heart against his own. “I take it you don’t know how to swim?” he asked.

  She snorted against his neck, a scoffing laugh that made him smile against her hair. The situation was so surreal, it didn’t even surprise him when she giggled.

  “Listen,” he said softly near her ear. “You need to bathe, eat, and rest. I’ll save my questions for later, fair enough?”

  “Yes,” she whispered against his pulse.

  “But then you’ll satisfy my curiosity?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Are you injured? Were you…? Did they…? Do you need an apothecary?”

  She lifted her head, sniffling from the water that had rushed up her nose when she’d been dunked. “No,” she said. “I only need you.”

  He was so startled by the remark that his hand tensed against her bare back. It was as though everything that came out of her mouth was dragged from a dusty old place in his brain where he’d thrown away all the things he’d never expected to hear someone not of his people say to him. Questions surged through his mind, but he’d promised to save his grilling for later, and he’d adhere to that promise. However, how did one transition away from a remark like that?

  “My Prime!”

  Reule closed his eyes and sighed, remembering to be careful what he asked for in the future. He looked up at Pariedes with his best innocent smile. “Yes, Para?”

  “Release that child this instant!” she commanded imperiously, pointing at the female as if he wouldn’t know which one she meant. The “child” reacted by tightening her hold on his neck to the point of throttling him.

  “I would, Para, only she doesn’t seem intent on releasing me.” The “she” in question vigorously shook her head to confirm that fact. Knowing Para’s sense of propriety would have cast him as the villain, he could have kissed the outlander right on her bruised little cheek for it.

  “Prime Reule, this is terribly improper,” Para fussed, twisting her hands together.

  Before Reule could respond, he felt the woman in his lap react, jerking back and even releasing him slightly as she sought his eyes. He felt her fingers blending into his hair as her expression turned into pleasured wonder. She smiled and he swiftly realized he’d never seen a woman look so ethereal before. She hardly seemed real, with that expression on her face and the ever-present undercurrent of sadness still washing against him in a placid tide.

  “Reule,” she said softly, her voice musical. Reule looked into those crystal eyes and felt his chest constricting in response. “Reule,” she said again, her hand coming to stroke his face from forehead, to cheek, to jaw, and then to the tip of his chin. Her touch was tender and almost…treasuring. Reule’s heartbeat doubled in cadence, hurting in the closed confines of a chest tightened with unnamed emotion.

  She was like a bolt of lightning, searing him head to toe before he even knew what had hit him. Now he was left dazed, his mind blank to anything that didn’t involve the two of them, the hot soothing water, or the warmth of their clasped bodies. It wasn’t exactly sexual, as his earlier reactions to her had been, but it wasn’t exactly not, either. He realized then that she’d neglected to give him her name, just as he’d forgotten to give his.

  “What’s your name?” he asked softly, reaching up to sweep back an errant strip of hair with his thumb.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  The diamonds gleamed with increasing brilliance as her eyes filled with tears.

  Chapter 3

  Strangely enough, that confession was the first thing that made sense about her. It explained why, when he’d been seeking for her, he’d felt nothing but sorrow and pain. It turned out that she knew nothing of who she was or how she’d come to be in that attic. In truth, the only thing they were both certain of was that she knew he was Sánge, and that she seemed to trust him with outrageous simplicity and totality even though she apparently knew little else of the world around her.

  Reule supposed she didn’t have much of a choice. He also figured that might be why she felt no revulsion or trepidation concerning his breed. Yet he wasn’t certain. If he was confused, he could only imagine how she must feel.

  “My Prime, I’m certain she is warm enough now. You ought to leave her to me and one of the girls to tend her bath and work through that hair of hers,” Pariedes said with a cluck of disapproval at his lingering behavior. “You can save these endless questions for after she has a full belly and a decent dress on!”

  The remark reminded Reule of his own intentions, and he gave the naked woman in his arms a sheepish grin.

  “I did promise that, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to break my word.” He hadn’t been able to help himself. Her confession that she did not know her name elicited a barrage of questions that he absolutely had to ask. Did she know where she was? What she was? How she’d gotten there? What had brought her to the point at which he’d found her? As he asked each question, she gave a decided no or shake of her head after she gave it a moment’s thought. Determined to do the right thing now, Reule tried to stand, gently explaining to her when she tightened her hold around his neck in refusal.

  “These steps are shallow, as is all this side of the pool. You could stand and it would never go above your…chest.” He cleared his throat hastily as he skipped saying “breasts,” as if it would help him deny the feel of them against his chest. “Or you can just sit here and Para will help you to bathe. If—”

  “No!” she cried, clinging to him as he gained his feet so that her legs were clamped like a vise around his waist and her arms were back to choking him about the neck. He didn’t have to hear Para’s gasp to be aware of her shocked sensibilities. The poor thing was so flustered, Reule could feel it buzzing all up and down his mind. However, her emotion was nothing compared to the terror coming from the woman wrapped around him. “No, don’t go! I don’t want you to. Reule, please. You can bathe me, can’t you? Why do you want to leave me?”

&n
bsp; Reule ignored Para’s horrified squawk and looked into frightened, faceted irises. His hands curved around her waist, her silky skin wonderfully warm now.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said gently, keenly realizing the reasons why she might react in such a way. She was either so disturbed by the idea of being abandoned that she was willing to throw away all propriety, or she came from a culture in which women behaved vastly differently than in theirs. “I wouldn’t abandon you,” he tried to reassure her. “I’m only going across the hall for my own bath. Para will—”

  “But you can stay and bathe with me. There’s plenty of room. I won’t bother you. Or I can help you bathe!” she tacked on, clearly delighted to have come up with the inspiration.

  Lord and Lady. The images she provoked appeared too quickly and far too vividly before he could head them off. Those small hands…the slippery slide of soap…his body.

  Reule sat back down quickly as tight, wet fabric stretched to accommodate his blazing erection and the rush left him light-headed. Reule sucked in a deep breath because he felt as though he wasn’t breathing. He watched her blink at him with innocent candor. She wasn’t bargaining her soul away to keep him there; she simply didn’t see any reason why he should leave. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t share this large bath and bathe one another with practicality, and because she didn’t understand, she wouldn’t believe he wasn’t trying to discard her.

  “Okay,” he murmured as he raised a hand to stroke gently along her collarbone. He wasn’t agreeing to anything. Rather, he was merely preparing to be firm as he tried to find the logic that would help her to understand or trust. “Kébé,” he began carefully, “it’s considered improper for men and women in this society to bathe together.”

  “But aren’t you bathing with me now?”

  “I was only warming you from a bad chill.” That, he realized with an inner wince, was a bit of a lie. Whatever his reasoning, he had indeed been bathing her. “And, as you see, I’m clothed…mostly.”

  She sat back, her bottom rocking provocatively against his thighs as she obediently looked down at him. The pulse of heated blood that rushed through him would’ve made a weaker man swoon. He was very nearly that weaker man, Reule thought as his heart thumped with a fury against his breastbone.

  “And in your society men and women never bathe one another? Never at all?”

  Reule was about to agree, but realized it would be inaccurate. “Well, sometimes if a man and woman are lovers they will share a bath or shower.”

  “And that’s not improper?”

  “Um…no. What lovers do in private between themselves is acceptable if both desire it.”

  “Then send her away”—she jerked her head toward Para—“and we’ll become lovers. Then you’ll have no need to leave.” She gave him a satisfied smile at her own logic. Reule, meanwhile, almost choked up a lung. He’d never heard such outrageous reasoning in all of his life.

  “Kébé,” he choked out, “people don’t become lovers just so they can bathe together!”

  “Well, why not? They become lovers for far less practical reasons, only to regret it later.” She paused to nod after a moment’s consideration. “I wouldn’t regret it. You’re very handsome and I can tell you desire me very much.” She punctuated the observation by sliding her hand quickly down the front of his body and over the bulge in his breeches. She boldly cupped his balls and cock, outlining her evidence with palm and fingers. “I suspect you’d be an excellent mate. You’re strong and powerful, and quite well-endowed for a male.”

  There was a resounding thud as Pariedes hit the floor in a dead faint behind them. Reule hardly had the presence of mind to care. He was strangling, in clothes, in reactions, and in raw heat that far outshined that of the pool. He could feel the difference between that small, small hand and his large, engorged body, and it was devastatingly arousing. He hated himself for feeling that, for wanting that, when he knew this was all so wrong. Even so, he saw her eyes widen as she got a true idea of his measure and he throbbed against her seeking touch in response. She licked her neglected lips slowly and he knew her thoughts, no telepathy necessary.

  She was killing him, he thought with a groan.

  He was hungry, tired, and honorable, and yet she made him ferocious with the desire to throw it all away and accept her taunting invitation.

  “Kébé,” he rasped as he reached for her wrist, “you’ve been through too much to make such choices right now. Especially when you can’t remember if…” If she already has a lover? If she’s been raped? If…? “Besides,” he forced out in cruel reminder for them both as he placed her hand safely at his neck, “you wouldn’t want to be my lover. I am Sánge. Outlanders don’t take Sánge for their lovers. Though I know not which kind, you are most obviously an outlander.”

  “Why not?” she asked softly, her frown deeply troubled by the revelation. “What’s wrong with taking Sánge for lovers?”

  Tension coiled through Reule instantly, clenching at every muscle in his body. She doesn’t know. This was why she’d been so warm and accepting. Of course she didn’t know. If she’d known, she’d have reacted with disgust just as all the others did. He’d been foolish to expect or think otherwise. But how to explain what she’d said the moment he’d found her? A remnant of memory? Of nightmares? A fevered snatch of recall from a horror story about the Sánge?

  “You don’t want to know,” he said sharply, his tone extremely harsh as he got up and stepped out of the water.

  “Yes, I do! Tell me, please,” she begged him as she clung as tightly to him as she could.

  Tell her? Could he tell her? Impossible. At the moment, he was the only anchor she had in a world torn apart by terror. If he took that trust away, replaced it with fear, who would she have?

  And how could he ever explain it so she’d truly understand that the drinking of a lover’s blood wasn’t the horrifying, blasphemous act other cultures thought it was? How to describe that moment, just before climax, when a man sank his teeth into a woman? That instant when the essence of her very life pulsed onto his tongue, slid down his throat, and then spilled through him in the most intensely erotic sensation, so that it made his entire body clench and shudder with pleasure until he came in endless, drenching pulsations of ecstasy? There was no delicate way to explain an act that was so intensely wonderful when he knew none but Sánge could ever really understand; could ever really accept. If he couldn’t explain that, then he couldn’t explain the rest. Acts of body and mind beyond outlander sensibilities. The possessiveness, the ferocity, the sheer intensity of mating with a telepathic Sánge. Especially a telepathic Sánge like him.

  In a sudden fit of anger, Reule overpowered her physically to pry her off him and she landed on the bench with a thump and a small sound of pain. Regret twanged through him, but he couldn’t pause to apologize or he’d never leave the room. He had to leave. Now.

  Reule reached down to Para and lightly smacked his fingers against her cheek until she opened her eyes with a flutter. “Wake, lioness,” he called to her gently. “Your cub needs you. Are you well?” She blushed and nodded vigorously and he felt her embarrassment over her display.

  Reule surged up to his full imposing height, unable to find it within himself to reassure her just then. His tone was clipped as he instructed the servant. “Bathe her, dress her, and feed her. Install her in the north wing.” In his current temper, he wanted to forbid her from staying on the same floor as he. But her innocence didn’t deserve punishment. He was the only one she trusted, whether she should or not, and it would be wrong to exile her to a lonely place in a strange world. “Across the hall from my suite will do. No one is to approach her save yourself and another girl to help you. She’s frightened enough.”

  It was all the instruction he could give. He turned on his heel and marched out of the bath. He didn’t have to look back to see the beseeching hand that tried to grab for him or to hear the panicked gasp of fear as he completed the
act that terrified her from sense to soul.

  He abandoned her.

  But he felt it all quite plainly as that tidal wave of sorrow burst forth in full majesty once more.

  As promised, Reule didn’t go far. Apparently he was something of a masochist, he thought grimly as he sat in a private bath across the hall and washed away the grime from his body, if not the spreading stain on his soul. He could feel her like a sharply rising and falling aria, painfully honest as her emotional expression expanded from mere sorrow to fear and a raw sense of betrayal and rejection.

  Lord. Reule rubbed his fingers against his temple as his head began to throb painfully. He despised knowing that he’d provided those newer emotions to her mostly blank canvas of feelings and thoughts. But what was he to do? It was the only choice. If she knew the depth and truth of what was seen as Sánge savagery…

  Sánge, bautor mo.

  The phrase she had spoken rushed into his mind like a flatland wind scour, an infamous windstorm that scrubbed away everything along its path. People, animals, every blade of grass, all would be swept away.

  Sánge, bautor mo.

  Sánge, drink of me.

  Reule shuddered at the erotic rush that remembering the words sent through him. If she didn’t know, why would she say that? It kept coming back to that single, crucial command. It wasn’t an accident she’d said it that way. It couldn’t be. It was ritualistic, that phrase. It was what a Sánge bride said to her husband on the night of her marriage, the first time she stepped into his arms and prepared to make love.

  Reule reached below the water and wrapped a fist around his savagely aroused penis, closing his eyes as another shudder rocked through him. He shouldn’t be feeling this. He shouldn’t be reacting like an untried boy getting hard at every thought of a woman. It wasn’t who he was. It never really had been, even as a youth. He’d been born in war and the desolation of starvation and persecution. He’d learned to flee before he’d learned to walk. He’d been heir to devastating responsibility, taking on the mantle of it when he was only sixteen years old. Too young to become responsible for the lives of a tribe numbering in the thousands; old enough to understand his parents had been murdered simply for being what they were.