A wide, sheer canopy covered part of the sandy expanse near the water, its pale blue color staining the white sand as the sun glowed through the fabric. The area beneath the canopy was furnished with comfortable lounging furniture; freestanding hammocks shared space with low-slung chairs and comfortable chaise loungers. No one was around, but she’d expected that. When she’d spoken with Lady Rayne last night, the woman had explained to her that, while the grounds around the Noble House weren’t strictly private, it was rare that the citizens ventured onto the land close to the House.
Choosing a wide, comfortable looking chaise, Temair sat down and exhaled, looking out to the crystal blue waters.
She loved this Land. Its simplicity and beauty were breathtaking. The Children of Rayne were friendly and relaxed, true lovers of life. Life here moved like the calm waters she now stared at, slow and smooth with barely a ripple. Poor Miach was slightly uncomfortable with the informality of the Land. She wished her Consort could relax and enjoy his surroundings, but she knew it was unlikely to happen. The Fyre Lands were much more formal and conservative. The easy-going lifestyle was completely foreign to him. Of course, Dathan’s teasing wasn’t helping matters any.
No, relaxation wasn’t in Miach’s nature in the first place, and after the attempt on her life, he was even more intensely casting a suspicious eye on anyone he came into contact with.
A shiver of awareness trembled through her, letting her know she was no longer alone. It felt very like her awareness of Miach, only somehow cooler, refreshing instead of intense.
“Princess, you are far too lovely to look so serious.”
She smiled as Dathan walked into the tent. “Lord Rayne, I am always serious.”
Dathan grinned. “A waste of energy when you are surrounded by all this beauty.”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Tell me, are you always so informal? So easy with life?”
Dathan sat next to her, his presence causing a shiver to skate along the back of her neck. The awareness she had of him reminded her so strongly of her reaction to Miach. It didn’t matter how unsuitable he might be, Temair couldn’t help enjoying Dathan’s company.
“Life requires a balance,” he answered while reaching out to toy idly with one of her curls. “While seriousness and formality certainly have their place, that place is not here and now.”
He twirled the hair along her temple, seemingly absorbed by what he was doing. When those long, golden fingers brushed lightly over the tip of her ear, Temair shivered again with pleasure. Such a light, innocent touch, yet she felt it as vividly as a stroke between her thighs.
“Shall I show you the joy of just living in the moment, without any expectation other than feeling good?”
She wanted to say yes with an urgency that surprised her, but she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d be agreeing to. Dathan seemed to sense her distress. He stood, and with another of his heart-stopping grins, offered her his hand. Unable to help herself, Temair returned his smile and allowed him to tug her from her seat.
“Come, Princess,” he teased, towing her toward the water’s edge. “Come and play with me for a while.”
He didn’t stop pulling her along until the water swirled around her calves, cool and smooth. He moved behind her, one arm wrapped loosely around her waist while he pointed out the brightly colored fish darting around near their feet. One brilliant emerald fish scooted the length of her calf, seemingly investigating the interloper. Temair couldn’t suppress her giggle at the light, tickling sensation of fishy lips along her skin.
Dathan towered over her, a sensation she should be used to since she was by no stretch of the imagination tall. In fact, all four of her fathers, Nuriel and Sorcha, and most especially Miach towered over her, too. Somehow though, with Dathan the sensation was new all over again. She felt wrapped in the cool, silken brush of his skin. His jaw brushed lightly against her temple as he leaned over her, the gentle scrape of his emerging beard seeming painfully intimate. His breath washed, warm and moist, over her cheek and throat. And, oh Sacred Elements, she could feel the press of his cock against the small of her back; their garments so thin it nearly felt like skin to skin.
It was a lure she wasn’t quite ready to give in to. Instead she twisted lithely in his partial embrace, reached down with one hand and scooped, sending a glittering arc of water straight in his face. Dathan gasped, a stunned look on his stunning face, and for one moment Temair was almost afraid she’d made him angry. Then he sucked in a huge, watery breath and roared with laughter.
Grabbing her around the waist, he spun in circles, not stopping until they were both breathless with laughter, water spraying like diamonds from the hem of her skirt.
When he finally released her, Temair staggered a bit, giddy and dizzy from the play. He caught her again, a hand twisting in her loose dress to pull her up tight against his body. She lost her breath again, this time at the intensity of the heat flashing through her at the sensation of all that hard, golden muscle pressed against her own soft curves.
The edges of his smile had grown softer, more sensual, and she found herself responding, her body going fluid and wet under his intent gaze.
Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back or stop him, Dathan bent his dark head and brushed his lips over hers. His kiss was cool, like the ocean and, she could have sworn, slightly salty.
The rush of sensation from his mouth on hers was instant. Her skin heated where it pressed against his, her fyre meeting his rayne in a steamy cloud. Something stirred deep within her, and suddenly cool swirls of sensation slid down her spine like drops of water.
His tongue stroked lightly along her bottom lip, as smooth as the surface of still water, and as liquid. That gentle touch rocked her to the core, leaving her flushed again, and off-balance. Suddenly needing some sort of anchor in this flood of sensation, she reached out to him, laying her palms on his chest. The golden skin shivered beneath her touch. When one finger brushed his flat, male nipple, the velvety flesh tightened, drawing up into a soft point. He caught his breath at the touch and his sigh flowed from his mouth to hers.
Her pussy swelled, a rush of liquid slicking the tender flesh between her thighs, and she was taken aback by the ease with which she was ready to take him.
He pulled back and his intent gaze met hers. His dark eyes were alight with swirling blue, the illusion of rushing water reflected in them.
* * *
Dathan didn’t think he’d ever wanted so much in his life. He wanted to run, but couldn’t move a muscle. He wanted to get lost in her shy embrace and fierce eyes. Her taste burned on his tongue, and he’d swear her touch was seared into his skin.
He pulled back, needing aire, needing something to regain his equilibrium, but then his eyes met hers and he might as well have been swamped by a tidal wave. Those quiet hazel eyes flashed a deep aqua blue.
Hell. Dathan didn’t even try to hold back his groan. Oh, fucking Hell. He’d known it, known it when he’d first seen her, heard her laughter. Dathan just might want Emetra’s Crown Princess even more than he wanted his freedom.
He scooped her into his arms, ignoring her protests about how heavy she was and how she could walk perfectly well. To Dathan, she was a perfect, warm armful; one he was painfully reluctant to let go. But he placed her gently on a chaise because, as amazing as she felt in his arms, he wanted more from her. More of her.
She lay back, propped on her elbows, and watched him, all glowing eyes and moist red lips. His cock was so damn hard he thought he might explode from the visual feast alone. He wanted to ravage her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to run his hand up her thigh and under her gauzy dress and press his fingers into her pussy to see if she was as wet as he imagined her to be. Most of all, he just wanted to touch her, to absorb her satin heat into his very skin.
She must have read his turmoil in his gaze, because hers suddenly became uncertain. In spite of her position, in spite of the magic swirling a
round her and her magnetic pull on him Dathan realized that, in the end, Temair was just a young woman struggling to find her path through a twisted landscape.
“We should stop.” He hated the words, hated the choked sound of his own voice. “This is something you should save for your Rayne Consort.”
Temair shifted so she could raise her hand, cupping his jaw. Her warm touch shivered through him.
“I don’t want to stop, Dathan,” she murmured, and the words licked over him like fyre. “In the next few days I’m going to make decisions that all of Emetra will have to live with. I’m going to make choices that will affect my life and the lives of my Consorts, whether for better or worse. Right now…” She cupped his jaw, letting her thumb sweep over his lower lip. “Right now I just want to rest, to bask in the beauty of Rayne, and to experience all you have to show me.”
Her words devastated him, humbled him. Her magic had washed over him with their brief kiss. Now it knocked him to his knees.
“I’m not worthy of your trust, Princess.” He moved to sit at her hip on the chaise, stroking a hand up her calf to rest on her knee because he couldn’t stand another second without touching her. “But I am yours.” And if the words sounded like a vow, like a promise of more than his body, he’d worry about it later, because she was licking her plump lower lip, and the sight shot straight to his cock like lightning over water.
He placed his other hand on her bare knee and slid both hands up, slow and easy gauging her reaction. He pushed the damp, gauzy fabric of her dress upward until it gathered at her waist. When she only lowered her lids and leaned back slightly, he ventured further, placing a palm on each knee and gently easing her legs apart.
Her legs were like satin to the touch. She was bare between her thighs, glossy wet with arousal, and Dathan’s mouth began to water. A light coating of moisture formed on Dathan’s brow, sweat gathering along his hairline. He cupped a hand around one plump thigh and stroked his thumb over the sensitive skin behind her knee. She sighed and fell back on the chaise, humming in pleasure as he repeated the caress.
He smiled at her reaction, and bent to lace chaste kisses from her knee to mid-thigh. He gripped each of her thighs and moved them even further apart to give himself a better view, and more room to work.
He rubbed his cheek over her inner thigh, and knew his smile grew hungry when the soft flesh grew pink from the abrasion of his stubble. He needed more, suddenly needed to taste her more than he needed aire. More, even, than he needed the magic of his rayne. He licked a line of liquid heat along the back of her knee. Her sigh told him she liked that as much as he loved the taste of her skin.
Moving swiftly, he came to his knees on the chaise between her legs, draping the silken limbs over his own thighs, opening her fully to his eyes and his mouth.
Her pussy was gorgeous, flushed lips swollen with arousal and coated with the honey of her passion. He bent, intent on tasting her sweet nectar, but paused when he caught a small movement from the corner of his eye.
Dathan readily admitted he wasn’t the most serious of men. He liked to play, looked at life as an adventure. That didn’t make him unobservant or stupid. He might be a lover instead of a fighter, but as the eldest son of Villa Rayne, he’d been trained to be both. Maybe he tended to look at his battle training as a game of strategy and power. It was a game he was very good at, and one he’d yet to be beaten at.
A glimmer of alabaster skin, a glint of black-ruby hair, and Dathan knew he didn’t have to worry about who was hidden among the thick foliage. Miach had followed Temair down to the lagoon, no doubt to keep a watchful eye on her.
He flashed a smile toward the tree line and extended his tongue, deliberately giving the man in the trees a show. He wondered if Miach was regretting his self-appointed guard duty.
With the first stroke of his tongue over her velvety folds, any thought of teasing the First Consort evaporated from his mind like steam. She tasted sweet, honey and salt, and a unique spice he just knew was all hers. He used his thumbs to spread her wide, and dove in. He wrapped his lips around her clit, feeling a rush of power, of magic, flood him as she arched against his mouth.
He could feel Miach watching, feel his gaze like a whip of flame along his spine, but all thoughts of taunting the other man were gone. No, at some level of his awareness, Dathan was pleasuring the Consort every bit as much as he was pleasuring the Princess.
Sucking gently, he pulled her clit deeper into his mouth. She threw her head back and pushed her pelvis upward to give him more access. Planting a wide palm on her lower belly to keep her still, he pulled back slightly, inhaling her scent. Honey and sea salt, it went straight to his head and the words more, more, more, pounded in his brain.
Slowly and deliberately he sank two fingers into her weeping channel, feeling the strong, muscular walls pulse around him, sucking him deeper into her wet heat. He thrust deep, hitting that magic spot that dragged loose a cry that arched her in his grasp and clenched her almost painfully around his fingers.
Her climax exploded, glorious to behold, and with it, so did her magic. Like a tidal wave crashing over a dam, her rayne burst free, her orgasm filling his hand with liquid fyre. With a thought, he drew her rayne into himself, absorbing the evidence of her release and reveling in the feel of her magic, her sex.
His body ached with the need for his own release and, as though she knew what he needed, Temair gently pushed him back until he was sitting on his heels before her. She rose to her own knees, movements languid and sensual enough to steal his breath.
Her small, deft fingers worked the knot in his sarong, leaving him totally naked to her gaze. Dathan held himself perfectly still as she inspected him savoring the fascination in her gaze, the way her tongue slicked over her lower lip in obvious anticipation. Unable to stop himself, he grasped his cock, making long, hard strokes along the hard, thick length, pausing to tease the super sensitive skin up under his sac. It was, he knew, as much a show for Miach as it was for his Princess.
They exchanged no words. None were necessary. What they were doing felt too right. They’d connected on a level that defied logic, and while he might be the last man qualified to be her Consort, Dathan knew no one at Villa Rayne was more qualified to be her lover.
Chapter Five
Miach had a perfectly unobstructed view of the lovers from his place amid the trees. He’d had no intention of spying on them, had just planned to follow Temair to the lagoon and keep watch, make sure she was safe in her solitude.
He’d started to come forward when Dathan arrived, determined to keep her safe from the man’s casual advances. Why couldn’t the bastard have focused on Sorcha? Or Nuriel? Yes, Nuriel would have more than welcomed a dalliance with the Rayne Lord.
He stopped dead at the sound of Temair’s laughter. It wasn’t that he’d never heard her laugh. In fact, she laughed often, and the Elements knew he’d laughed more in his brief time with her than in the rest of his life combined. But there was such a note of innocent enjoyment in this laughter that he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt her pleasure.
He’d nearly come forward again when Dathan had swept her into his arms, laying her gently on the chaise. He’d been certain the fool had allowed her to be hurt, maybe stung by some water-dwelling creature. Again he was frozen in his tracks, this time by the way Dathan touched her, confident and teasing, as though he knew she wouldn’t resist. And she didn’t.
He caught his breath as Dathan placed his hand on her knee, trying desperately to ignore the pulse in his own cock. A blue spark flickered in her eyes, a spark he could see even from this far away, and Miach was frozen in place. He recognized the desire on both of their faces for it mirrored his own.
Temair was truly a beauty to behold and he was riveted as Dathan slid his hands up her legs. Miach’s cock, already half hard from watching them play, shot to full readiness in a painful rush. He might as well have been down there tasting Temair’s sweet juices himself.
His
hand strayed to press hard against the throbbing flesh, trying to sooth some of the ache. She arched in Dathan’s grasp, crying out in the way Miach knew signaled her pleasure, and Miach’s cock gave a hard, hungry throb. An odd, dual sensation shot up his spine; cool water and the hot spark of his fyre, and the electrical storm it set off in his nervous system made his knees weak.
He didn’t realize he’d squeezed his eyes shut until he dragged them open again. Temair was kneeling now, facing Dathan, picking at the knot securing his sarong and revealing a cock as long and hard as Miach’s own. He tried to look away, but the Rayne Lord was stroking himself, lingering at all the places Miach knew would make him crazy with pleasure.
Dathan was the very image of strength and male perfection. His golden skin stretched silkily over long, hard muscle. His chest was free of hair, but a thin blue-black trail picked up below his navel and arrowed down to that impressive dick. A mat of silky dark curls surrounded the base, and Miach imagined Temair’s fingers tangled in it, tugging pressure that would make the Rayne Lord beg for mercy.
As if she’d read his mind, Temair leaned in, stroking her hands up the insides of Dathan’s thighs. The Rayne Lord’s head dropped back in obvious pleasure when she cupped one tiny hand around his balls and wrapped the other around the base of his cock, just below Dathan’s own grasp.
She tilted her head and licked the tip of Dathan’s cock. Miach choked back a moan. He knew exactly how that felt, the heat and madness of Spark’s mouth on his dick. The Rayne Lord responded dramatically, moaning loudly enough that Miach could hear him, and leaning back into a deep arch, hands braced behind him on the chaise, dick an angry exclamation point aimed at Temair’s swollen lips.
She spread her legs, sinking lower; the better to reach that blood-dark crown. Her dress had fallen to puddle around her hips, but instead of hiding her, the nearly transparent fabric only highlighted the most intriguing sights. The generous heart shape of her ass, spread wide by her position. The dip at the base of her spine that fairly cried out to be licked.