Chapter 25 #2
But he swallowed, released her, and nodded tensely toward the pillar.
When Syla walked in that direction, he stayed close, and she could feel the heat from his body even more than that from the sun.
She eyed one of the orange cactus flowers.
Was their heady scent growing stronger as they approached the pillar?
Her body remained aware of Vorik, and she envisioned pushing him against the ancient rock. She could tug off his tunic and trousers and climb atop him, legs spreading so that she could ride him as he held her up, roaring and plunging into her.
Syla gulped and pushed aside the sexual thoughts. She almost ran the last few steps to the pillar and the runes, stepping into the shadow from the overhanging platform above. A green dragon tail dangled over the edge, and growls—it sounded like a whole conversation of them—floated down.
She set her pack and the amphora down to study the pillar.
Most of the runes carved into the rock meant nothing to her, and she didn’t know if human hands had made them or if the storm god himself had marked the surface, but her gaze snagged on a dragon carving so similar to the one on the back of Vorik’s hand that it was startling.
At some point, a mark identical to the quarter moon on her hand had been engraved atop it.
Or had it been there first? And then some blasphemous dragon rider had put his or her sign over it?
No, the dragons had been some of the storm god’s creations.
It made more sense that a pillar outside his laboratory would have one of their kind on it.
Maybe it had been one of her ancestors who’d come through and placed the moon-mark.
Or could the gods themselves have done it?
The earth, moon, or sun? After all, the scroll had described this place, promising that a moon-mark would be required to gain access.
Vorik stepped close behind Syla and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him as he nuzzled the back of her head.
Delicious sensations swept through her body, her nipples tightening with eagerness, with the desire for him to pull off her clothes and stroke her with his fingers… his mouth… his tongue…
“It’s the flowers,” she blurted with abrupt enlightenment.
“I think so too,” Vorik agreed, his voice even huskier than before.
He didn’t sound surprised. Maybe he’d figured it out right away.
Even if he had, that didn’t keep him from lowering his mouth to the side of her throat and inhaling deeply as he slid his tongue out to taste her. She caught herself leaning into him, her head falling back. One of his hands came up to cup her breast, stroking her deliciously.
“We shouldn’t.” Syla managed to keep her gaze on the runes carved into the stone. The quarter moon and the dragon.
“No,” Vorik agreed, then slid his hand from her breast, down her abdomen, and between her legs.
She gasped, startled but instantly aroused.
Pleasure ricocheted through her as he rubbed her evocatively through her clothes.
Oh, how she wanted to yank those clothes off, but that would only make it easier to do something foolish.
Instead, she leaned toward the pillar, as much as she could with Vorik’s arms around her, and pressed her hand against the moon mark.
Maybe if her magic opened a secret passage and they slipped inside, they would escape the pervasive scent of the flowers.
Then their libidos could calm down. Inasmuch as they ever did.
Her body was always so eager for Vorik’s touch.
Even knowing they were being magically manipulated, she couldn’t help but squirm, not trying to move her lower half from his touch as she planted her palm on the cool stone.
A tingle of magic flowed from the pillar and into her hand.
Vorik stepped closer, pressing her against the rock formation as he pressed himself against her.
She could feel his hard cock through their clothes, rigid with need for her.
His expert fingers, far more deft at pleasuring her than she’d ever been with herself, kept rubbing her, stroking her, making her long for him.
Even as she watched the moon-mark on the pillar for a reaction, she pushed and arched into Vorik, so aroused that she struggled to focus.
And was she panting? Vorik’s breathing was heavy, too, as he rocked into her from behind, excited by her movements, her eagerness for his touch.
Would he bring her to a climax without taking any of her clothes off? Here with their comrades watching?
Despite the tingle against her palm, nothing happened. No trapdoors opened, nor did magic flare or promise that anything besides an old pillar was here in the middle of the desert canyon.
“Maybe you need to touch it,” Syla whispered, marshaling all her self-control to keep some focus on the mission when all she wanted was to turn around and give Vorik full access to herself. She longed to kiss and rub him, inviting him to plunge into her, to satisfy her like only he could.
“Yes,” Vorik agreed and pulled off his gloves, dropping them in the dust alongside his sword scabbard, but instead of reaching for the pillar, he slid her underwear down.
“Not that,” Syla gasped as his fingers delved into her. She cried out at the heightened stimulation, the exquisite pleasure. “The dragon,” she managed to get out.
“You like this.” Vorik sounded smug and aroused all at once, pushing into her from behind as he stroked her from the front. His teeth grazed her throat, nipping and teasing her from another direction.
Syla groaned, driven to distraction, and struggled to articulate herself.
“Yes,” she rasped even as he brought her closer and closer to a climax. “But I’m afraid it’s a trap.”
“If it is, I’ll protect you. Always.” Vorik almost snarled the words. “You’re mine.”
She wasn’t, but she nodded eagerly. She wanted to be his. This was amazing. He was amazing.
Though she was panting and could barely form words, she gripped his hand. Not the one pleasuring her. She couldn’t bring herself to push that away. She wanted him to continue, but she also wanted…
“Here,” she rasped and turned his hand to press his tattoo against the dragon rune.
Another tingle of magic emanated from the pillar, and did a slight blue light flare from that mark? It hadn’t done that for her. But the scrolls hadn’t said anything about a dragon tattoo being needed. Soon, the light faded, and she didn’t know what else to try.
“Syla,” Vorik said, drawing his fingers away from her needy core.
She moaned a protest. Even though she’d been struggling to complete their mission, to get them out of a possibly dangerous situation, her body didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want him to stop.
“Look at me,” Vorik commanded.
She turned, not wanting to disobey, not wanting to risk him leaving her unsatisfied.
A roar came from above, startling her, but not so much that she looked away from Vorik.
He’d untied the strings fastening his tunic, leaving his chest bare, and he’d unfastened his trousers, leaving his cock free.
It arrested her attention as it strained toward her, Vorik’s eyes burning with fiery lust.
She forgot all about the dragons as she stared at him, her hungry gaze riveted.
She couldn’t look away from his sleek muscles, his beautiful taut flesh, and his penis, so huge and engorged and full of desire for her.
He would never be able to fight with it hindering him.
In case there was danger, she needed to sate him, to make sure he could move freely. For their safety. Yes. It made sense.
She dropped to her knees, pushing his trousers completely off his hips so she could grip him with her hands as she took his hard shaft into her mouth.
Vorik threw back his head and let out a triumphant roar, thrusting toward her, as his fists clenched at his sides.
His response almost startled her, but she took him deep into her mouth, excited by how much her attention meant to him.
It even stimulated her, and her core throbbed as she licked and sucked, relishing his taut texture, his scent.
It was almost as arousing as when he’d been touching her, and she moved more quickly along his length, wanting to satisfy him but also eager for him to take her.
Another roar came from above, the platform creaking, a few pebbles sliding over the side. Vorik roared back.
Lost in her own desire, Syla forgot about everything but Vorik’s lust and hers as she took him in and out, eager to please him, to return the ecstasy that he’d given to her.
For the briefest of moments, it crossed her mind to wonder what Wreylith would think.
She’d approved that Vorik had knelt to pleasure her, but now Syla was on her knees before him.
But she couldn’t stop. She wanted to make him love being with her, to bring him such intense satisfaction that he wouldn’t want to return to his people, wouldn’t want a stormer woman. Or any other woman.
“Syla,” Vorik groaned, his fingers threading into her hair.
Her spectacles shifted down her nose. She hurried to take them off so they wouldn’t hinder her further and she could return her grip to him.
But before they left her eyes, she caught movement down the path.
Fel and Teyla. She’d forgotten about them and expected them to be gawking.
But Fel had moved behind Teyla, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her trousers down, and she…
she was rocking back into him, her magnifying glass in the dust as she moaned and matched his thrusts.
It was the flowers. They were making everyone—and everything—lose their minds with lust.
Even knowing that, Syla couldn’t stop. If anything, the eroticism of having others mating around her made her more eager to give Vorik pleasure—and have him complete hers.
She took him in and out, fingers flexing around his ass, her own need building again. Roars came from above. Human roars came from the path behind.
Vorik gripped Syla’s shoulders, lifting her from her knees and hiking up her dress.
As they’d been in the cave for their first joining, he leaned her back against the rock.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, wanting to mold herself to him and for him to—yes.
His fingers found her, checking to make sure she was still ready, still slick with need, still throbbing for him.
“Please, Vorik,” she begged, wanting more than his fingers now, wanting that beautiful thick—
“You are mine,” he said with lusty satisfaction, then plunged into her.
“Yes!” Syla arched into him as he thrust deep.
“Vorik!” she cried as they rocked and rubbed, so aroused that their movements were frantic.
The rock was hard against her back, but she didn’t care.
Every moment she was joined with him was so intensely pleasurable that no discomfort could take away from it.
They writhed and rocked against the stone pillar, sweat glistening on their bodies, breaths ragged, and the other roars faded from her awareness.
Soon, Syla heard only their own groans and pants and pleas for release as need and pleasure built and built.
When they finally came, climaxing and crying out at the same time, Syla flung her arms wide, baring her chest to Vorik, to the world.
Her moon-mark landed on the runes, and Vorik caught her hand, his fingers twining with hers as their sweaty palms pressed together.
Blue light flared, much brighter than before. A brilliant flash came from beyond and all around the rock pillar, visible in Syla’s peripheral vision. It disappeared before she could look squarely at it, but a faint hum sounded briefly in the canyon behind them.
Panting, she clung to Vorik and didn’t want to part, but sanity crept back to her, and she worried again about traps.
“That… was unexpected.” Vorik kissed her but also extricated himself from her and glanced at his sword scabbard in the dust. He touched her shoulder and tugged up his trousers as he stepped aside to peer around the pillar.
Syla knelt and grabbed her spectacles. Creaks and thumps came from above, and more rocks tumbled over the edge of the platter.
Belatedly—very belatedly—Syla realized Agrevlari and Wreylith were mating.
And Fel and Teyla… Syla almost didn’t want to look, but they’d finished and lay spent on the dusty path, Fel atop her.
Judging from the way Teyla was trying to look all around and also giving a nearby cactus a scandalized look, she was coming to her senses and perhaps bewildered as to what had happened.
And the dragons… Syla peered up again. Only a red tail was visible, twitching rhythmically over the edge. She and Vorik were lucky that platter was firmly attached to the pillar, and the ancient formation was sturdy, or they might have been crushed when the whole thing collapsed.
“You’ll want to see this, Syla.” Vorik held out a hand in invitation as he looked not toward the dragons but into the box canyon.
Spectacles back on, Syla joined him. Instead of the small trapdoor she’d expected, the path now led a few dozen yards through more cactus and to an entire laboratory that stretched from wall to wall of the canyon and hundreds of feet to the back.
Sunlight beamed upon crystalline formations, strange pipes and vats, and ancient equipment that Syla couldn’t name.
At the same time, she seemed to see the cactuses and the dusty desert floor, the same as they had appeared before, but they were faded now, the laboratory more solid and real.
“Since we activated the runes or whatever made this appear,” she said, glancing at the pillar and glowing dragon and quarter moon, “are we invited in?”
“I doubt the storm god ever intended for humans to enter his laboratory. He spent decades making creatures that like to eat our kind.”
“Yeah. But we have to go in anyway.” Syla gave him a significant look.
Vorik nodded, returning her look, his eyes sad but determined at the same time. Once they found the third component, they would be enemies again.