Chapter 14 #3
And why couldn’t she step fully away from him? She’d broken the kiss, but her body remained molded to his, her soft curves pleased to be pressed against his hard length. Anticipation filled her lower region, as if, independent of her mind, it was certain of where this would go.
“Believe it or not, it’s happenstance. Well, not exactly.
I have orders that will take me elsewhere, but my dragon—you may remember that Agrevlari is also pining—brought me here to check on Wreylith.
Apparently, she’s hunting elioks on Harvest Island?
” Vorik arched his eyebrows, silently asking if Syla knew what Wreylith was up to.
Wariness crept anew into Syla as she recalled his questions back at the castle. He remained curious about her relationship with Wreylith. His general probably did too.
“I understand dragons find them irresistible,” was all Syla said.
Vorik smiled, probably recognizing her evasion. Since he was being evasive too, she refused to feel guilty about it.
“For once, I’m relieved that my dragon has a crush even if you didn’t truly need my help.” Vorik glanced at the spot where the body of the man she’d killed had been.
They had needed help. Syla might have kept one man from assassinating her, but there’d been too many enemy ships.
No, Royal Fleet ships that shouldn’t have been enemies.
Eventually, her allies would have been overwhelmed.
It had been the dragons showing up that had convinced the military ships to depart.
She decided to keep those thoughts to herself. Vorik was probably aware of all that, but she didn’t think she should admit that she owed him a favor. Not when she still knew nothing about his orders.
“I can’t speak of my mission,” Vorik admitted, “but I do want to warn you… You’re aware that Captain Lesva survived, right?”
Syla grimaced. “You implied that, yes. I’d rather hoped she hadn’t.
Sorry. I know she’s your…” She thought about saying lover, since Lesva herself had said that, but it had sounded like a relationship from the past. Syla hoped it was all in the past. Even if she couldn’t have any kind of relationship with Vorik, she hated the idea of him being close to such a vile woman. “Colleague,” she finished.
“Yes.” Something in Vorik’s eyes suggested he knew what she’d almost said. “We have a contentious relationship, so I won’t be affronted on her behalf if you wish her ill. It would, in fact, be wise if you are extremely alert going forward and keep an eye out for her.”
Syla’s stomach sank. “Is she after me?”
“I’m sorry.” Vorik lifted a hand to the side of her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “It’s not an order from General Jhiton or any of our superiors. It’s… personal.”
Syla didn’t want to tear up again, but it was hard not to feel overwhelmed. This was the last person she should confide in, but she couldn’t keep from whispering, “Everyone is after me, Vorik.”
“I’m not,” he offered with a smile.
“No, but I think that makes you more dangerous than all the others.”
His smile grew sad. “Does that mean you won’t kiss me again?”
“A part of me is tempted to do that and more and hope you’ll let me know what you’re up to while in the throes of passion.
Inspired by my mouth around… a certain body part of yours.
” Syla tried to make her tone teasing, but was it even a joke?
If they’d truly been alone instead of with people—and dragons—around to overhear, might she have attempted to seduce him and extract information?
She admitted she would love to have sex with him without any other motivation beyond their shared pleasure.
Besides, she was such an improperly trained seductress that she would probably forget to ask him anything.
As she recalled, he’d been more in charge than she last time.
She’d been lucky he hadn’t questioned her.
“A certain body part of mine would like me to be less than honorable by suggesting you might indeed extract truths from me in that manner,” Vorik said, “but I don’t think my lips are that loose.”
“No. All of you is taut.” Syla squeezed his shoulder, enjoying its hard roundness under her grip.
Humor sparked in his eyes, mingling with passion and desire. “A certain body part especially is.”
Agrevlari shifted his weight, and a few pieces of the wooden ceiling clunked to the floor behind them. A reminder of all the potential eavesdroppers.
Sighing, Syla leaned back. Disappointment flashed in Vorik’s eyes. She held up a finger, recalling that she’d brought something for him. Maybe that would make her choice feel like less of a rejection.
She slipped away long enough to grab her pack from the corner of the wheelhouse. Fortunately, it hadn’t been disturbed during the battle. She fished out the paper bags of cookies she’d gotten from the children, then returned to stand close, facing him.
“A small gift for you,” she said.
His eyebrows rose as he accepted the bags and peered inside, nostrils twitching. “Baked goods?”
“Yes. I received them as barter in exchange for healing someone this morning. I’ve not tried them, but I hope they’ll be delicious and that you’ll enjoy them.”
“Excellent.” Vorik turned toward his own pack, as if he might tuck them away for later, but he paused to delve into one of the bags and break off a piece of a cookie. Without hesitation, he popped it into his mouth and chewed.
Though Aunt Tibby had tried to talk Syla into poisoning a blackberry cobbler that she’d made for Vorik, and she was positive he’d heard at least some of that discussion, he never hesitated to consume anything she handed him.
That he trusted her that much was surprising.
And it touched her. He shouldn’t have trusted her, but maybe…
Well, considering how little time they’d actually spent together, he seemed to know her well.
He didn’t assume she wasn’t dangerous—surprisingly—but he knew she wasn’t dangerous to him.
The broad smile that sprawled across his face as he chewed, his eyes rolling, was achingly handsome. He was achingly handsome, and she longed to reach out and run her fingers along his jaw.
“It’s delicious. Blissful. So sweet but also the chunks of… what is this called? These pieces are sweet but rich with the fat of… not an animal.”
“Those are chocolate chunks, I believe. They’re made using milk from cows and roasted cacao beans that come from our southernmost island, the same place we get our bananas, coconuts, and coffee beans.”
“So amazing. There’s nothing like this out there that I’ve foraged.”
“Well, we process it to turn it into a sweet. The natural beans themselves aren’t very… uhm.” She’d grown distracted by Vorik licking his fingers. Memories of how he’d used that tongue to lick her sprang to mind, and her cheeks heated. Her entire body threatened to heat.
Oblivious, he raised his eyebrows and lowered his hand.
“I wish I had a gift for you.” He gazed contemplatively at her.
For some reason, the heat intensified. Was it possible he was thinking of intimate gifts he might give?
The mission, she reminded herself, was more important than gifts, intimate or otherwise. Besides, this wasn’t a very private spot.
“You could give me the gift of telling me what your general has ordered you to do.” Syla looked into his eyes, willing him to feel enough for her that he would share his people’s secrets, at least those that endangered her people.
But that wouldn’t be any more honorable than what they’d just spoken about, and she wasn’t surprised when he shook his head.
The sadness that lingered in his smile suggested he did regret that he couldn’t accede to her wishes.
“I can’t do that,” Vorik said, “unless you’d like to come with me? I know you’re not exaggerating when you speak of all those who want you dead. As unfair as it is, your existence must be interfering with the plans of many.”
“I healed General Dolok of a plethora of injuries, and he’s still against me.”
Syla didn’t want to whine, but, as she’d told him, everyone was after her, and it was frustrating. She’d healed a man, and her reward was assassins on her trail.
His eyes narrowed contemplatively, as if he might visit the general with a dagger. If only Syla could send Vorik to deal with her enemies.
“Is he the one who was behind this?” Vorik waved toward where the body had been.
“I don’t know. There are others, as well, who aspire to rule the Garden Kingdom.”
Many others. Syla shook her head bleakly.
Vorik brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “If you come with me, I can keep you safe.”
Was that a genuine offer? She couldn’t go, of course, but she wished she could.
“Your people want me dead too,” Syla said. “Especially Captain Lesva, apparently. Since I had the gall to not spew my secrets when she tortured me.”
“You did have gall.” The brush turned into a caress that sent tingles to her core. “You were magnificent.”
Her nerves sang from his touch, his words, and the warmth of his smile and approval in his eyes. He leaned back enough to look her up and down, longing in his gaze, and it heated her as much as his touch. By the molten core of the earth god, she wanted to work with him, not against him. She wanted—
With a faint growl, Vorik picked her up.
Startled, Syla tightened her grip on his shoulders, but her legs wrapped around him of their own volition.
He set her on the console next to the wheel, pushing aside a map of the islands, and settled against her, his hard shaft pressing into her through their clothing.
“Vorik,” she whispered as he leaned in for a kiss that she eagerly returned, her legs tightening around his hips, tightening him against her. “The whole ship would hear us.”
“Agrevlari will keep them from intruding.”
“Intruding isn’t what I’m worried about.”
He kissed her with such passion that she couldn’t keep from responding, from gripping and kneading his shoulders, then running her fingers over the powerful muscles of his arms and chest. Her heart pounded, or maybe that was his.
He slid a hand down her leg, shifting her dress up so he could stroke her bare thigh, his thumb brushing close to her underwear—to her heat.
Maybe her body’s earlier anticipation of sex hadn’t been without merit.
“Come with me,” Vorik said, an order this time. A command her body wanted to obey.
“Where?” she whispered. “Where are you going?”
His lips parted, as if he would answer, but his eyebrows drew together. Indecision marked his handsome face, and she sensed that he wanted to answer, to give her at least something.
Instead of replying, he kissed her again, hard and impassioned.
Passion of her own flared, and she rocked into him as she ran her hand down his chest, groping for the ties in his tunic.
She wanted to tear it off him, to slide her fingers over his bare muscles, to lick and kiss and nip at his taut flesh, and then shift lower, bringing her lips to his—
But he was the one to lower his head, dropping to one knee as he pushed her dress up farther. His thumb stroked the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, and she spread her legs, inviting his touch, inviting him.
Reminded of the pleasure he’d given her in the temple, she leaned back, breathless, eager, hardly caring that he hadn’t divulged his secrets.
She wanted him to give her pleasure like she’d known then, the memory so intense that she still woke up nights with it in her dreams, her lurid dreams that left her aching with need.
She arched toward him, throbbing with desire, hoping he intended to…
Yes, he lifted her enough to slide off her underwear, then, as if he couldn’t hold back, brought his mouth to her throbbing core. She gasped, barely able to keep from crying out, from alerting the entire ship of his intensely exquisite touch.
His hands gripped her ass, pulling her close so he could lick and stroke her with his skilled tongue.
She couldn’t keep from calling, “Vorik!” and begging, “Please.”
She tried to make it a whisper instead of a cry, but such ecstasy came with his every stimulating stroke that she struggled to remember why she cared that people were about.
What did it matter? This brilliant warrior was bowing his head to her and sucking her such that tremendous throbbing pleasure swept through her body.
Tremors made the console creak as she arched toward him, so close to her climax, needing just a little…
“More,” she whispered. “More.”
“Come with me,” he said again.
“Where?” she panted, gripping his head, digging her fingers into his scalp as he teased her with her tongue. He knew she was close to the edge, but he looked up, eyes intent.
“I’ll protect you and keep you safe.”
If only she could go with him. She could leave the convoluted mess of the Kingdom, the assassins now stalking her, and she could just be a woman. A woman who could have sex every night with this magnificent beast of a warrior with the most talented tongue.
“I can’t,” she whispered, though she feared he would stop, that he would leave her without satisfaction.
But, if anything, the fiery passion in his eyes grew stronger. Maybe he respected her decision?
He slid his tongue into her with a growl, and she arched up again, so close, so full of need for him.
He sucked her deep and hard, and she came with such intense satisfaction that she would have tumbled off the console if he hadn’t held her.
Waves and waves of pleasure made her eyes roll back in her head, and she longed to take back her words and agree that she would go with him. If only they could be together.
With another primitive growl, Vorik shifted up her body, his mouth returning to hers.
His fingers remained lower, to rekindle her need, to ready her for his need, and the thought of giving him pleasure made her wrap her arms around him again.
She could be ready again soon. For him, she could always be ready.
A dragon tail flapped against the window of the wheelhouse, and glass shattered. Syla jumped, pulling her mouth from Vorik as she turned to gape.
“Agrevlari,” Vorik snarled in exasperation.
Wreylith comes! the green dragon announced, sharing the words with them both.