Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
TIA
W e don’t kiss for long, of course. We’re not stupid, just horny. There’s no time to waste, and we dart down a few more tunnels before coming across a strangely walled-off cave with metal bars and a guy sleeping inside.
Rem’eb makes a sound of distress. “We are too late. They have left already.”
“Who has left?”
“Set’nef the Wanderer and the others. He has freed your suitor, R’jaal.”
Oh. Shit. I point inside the cave. “Who’s that?”
“Probably Kin’far the Exile. He is not a good male. It would be better for everyone if he stayed locked away and starved.” But he unlocks the door anyhow. “Even I cannot be so cruel, though.”
“No, you just lock women away,” I mutter, and then feel like a bitch about it, because it’s not him, exactly. It’s his father and the fact that they don’t know how to prevent sickness other than to separate the women from the men. Which is fine if everyone agrees to it, but the lock on the door that takes away choice? That pisses me off.
“Come,” Rem’eb says, grabbing my hand and tugging me after him. “We must travel faster if we are to catch up with the others. If they collapse a tunnel after them to stop pursuit, we will have no way of getting you to the surface. I only know a few routes in these tunnels.”
His words make me speed up, because the last thing I want is to stay. I’m not living my life behind some wall. I’ve been abandoned twice already, and I’m not about to let it happen again.
Trouble always comes in threes, I hear Stacy’s voice say in my mind.
I tell the Stacy in my head to shut up. Nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life.
We move through the tunnels, and I’m so glad that Rem’eb is with me. I would have never made it on my own. They twist and turn, and occasionally there’s a basket that blocks off a tunnel, telling him that that route is no good. I don’t know what the basket means, but every time we see one on its side, he mutters something like “By the ash” and then we head in a different direction.
Not all the tunnels we go through are unused, either. Some of them are gardens that are growing fleets of mushrooms. Some of them have a variety of wild creatures moving amidst the stalactites and stalagmites. In one, we have to be super quiet so snake-like things that move on the ceiling ignore us. In another, we have to take a high path because the lower path is far too close to the fricking river of lava that cuts through the interior and heats the entire tunnel to an oven. We steer clear of that area entirely.
We climb a few cliffs. Move past an underground spring that smells of sulfur. Another cliff, covered by vines, and we’re closer to the surface. I can tell because it grows distinctly colder inside. By the time we get to the top of that cliff, I’m shaking with exhaustion and more than ready for Rem’eb to carry me.
He sets down his pack. “We will rest here for tide-fall. Once we have slept some, we can move on. For now, you need your rest.”
Dramatically, I fling myself down on the smooth floor of the tunnel and spread my arms and legs wide. “Thank god.”
He huffs with amusement at my antics. I have to admit, the farther we get away from his village (and the fact that I was a prisoner), the more I feel like my old self. My worries are slowly receding, because Rem’eb is taking me back home, to the surface.
If we resonate, though, he’s going to need to come with me. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I just want to relax and give my poor feet a rest. I sit cross-legged, not caring if I flash him a pair of my leather panties, because it’s not like I’ve been given fresh clothing. I probably smell to high heaven, but Rem’eb has politely not said a thing. I pick up one foot and grimace that the sole is reddened and sore from walking. I rub it, watching as Rem’eb sets his pack down and unrolls a mat, then shakes out one of the shiny mustard-colored blankets and settles it atop the pallet.
“The bed is yours,” he tells me, and then pulls out a few of the plate-sized mushrooms plucked from the “gardens” we crossed through earlier. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Yes and yes.” I hold a hand out.
We eat quickly and in silence, and I drink plenty of water. It never feels like enough, though. The caverns are warmer than I’m used to, and I feel as if I’ve sweated all day. Once my belly is full, Rem’eb packs everything away but the water. He considers, and then offers it to me. “Drink your fill. We will cross an underground river not far from here and refill our canteen there.”
“It’s really hard to dislike you, you know,” I tell him as I tip back the container and drain it of every precious drop. “Even when I’m trying to be mad at you, I can’t.”
“You speak but I do not know your words, Tia the Stranger,” he calls, voice lightly singsong.
“Oh, stranger again, am I?” I arch a playful brow at him and then hold out the now-empty canteen.
He smiles back at me, his expression somewhat shy. “Are you comfortable?”
“So much better now.” I wiggle my toes and sigh happily. “I’ll be even happier when I get a change of clothes, but this’ll do for now.”
“We will not have a fire. This cave is too narrow to let the smoke dissipate easily. Will you be warm enough?”
Oh, I’m plenty warm. Maybe it’s the full belly or my lightened spirits, but I nod and pat the bed next to me, inviting him over.
He hesitates. “I should keep watch.”
“No, you can come sit with me,” I tell him, my voice sweet. I let my tone do the explaining for me, since I know he can’t understand me. “Everything echoes in here anyhow. We’ll hear anyone coming from a mile away.”
Rem’eb pauses for a moment longer and then moves to join me. “Are you sure?”
I nod and pat the bed again.
He sits next to me, his bigger body taking up practically the entire pallet. I don’t mind, though. He leans closer to me, trying to get comfortable, and I nudge him with my shoulder, still smiling. I’m feeling good. Happy. Light.
A little frisky. Probably has something to do with this weird connection we have. The one that’s not quite resonance, but feels like it could be at any moment.
When I nudge him, he leans closer to me, propping up on one hand and resting another on his knee. His gaze moves down my long, bare legs and I wiggle my toes under his scrutiny. “You do not have sandals,” he points out.
“I do not,” I agree. “You didn’t bring me any.”
“Do they ache? Shall I rub them for you?” His gaze flicks to mine, and that shy-yet-flirty look returns to his face. It’s an odd thing on him because he’s so big and fierce looking, but it melts my heart. Just a little.
I lift a foot, indicating that he, in fact, can massage my feet if he feels so inclined.
It’s probably a mistake. The moment one big hand wraps around my much smaller foot, I bite back a gasp. I’ve never had a foot thing before, but his touch feels positively erotic. I say nothing at all as he calmly and thoroughly begins to knead and rub my sole until I’m absolute putty in his hands. “Five toes,” he murmurs at some point, amused. “All of them small.”
“That’s right.” I try to keep my voice light and airy and I fail. Oh, I fail. I sound like I want to sex the hell out of the guy right now.
I wait for him to say more, but he finishes with one foot, rests it on his thigh (really big, thick thigh) and then gets to work on the other one. I erupt in giggles when he brushes a finger between my toes, and he smiles even as he bends over his task. “Ticklish.”
“I am, yes.” I am also getting really freaking turned on. Maybe it’s that he’s so huge and yet so devoted to taking care of me. Maybe it’s the strength I see in his arms that he uses to protect me instead of against me. Maybe it’s going to be resonance.
Whatever it is, when he finally puts my foot down, I’m disappointed. I curl my toes, feeling better, and tap my chin in thanks.
“You should get some sleep. I do not know how long we will be able to stay here.” Rem’eb casts a worried look down the long, winding tunnel.
I don’t feel quite like sleeping just yet, though. I lie down, still dressed in the same breast band and short skirt I was stolen in, and then pat the mat next to me, inviting him again to join me.
He doesn’t even hesitate this time. Rem’eb lies down at my side, facing me.
I smile at him, studying his face. The ruddy, thick fur that grows around his face like a lion’s mane and held back by decorative beads. The intelligent eyes that watch me with rapt devotion. His features are blunter, harder than a human’s, but they work for him. I can’t imagine him with delicate cheekbones. Not when he’s got slashing planes that define his face so sharply. Reaching out, I trace a fingertip along one heavy brow. “I wish we could have a real conversation.”
“I would give anything to stay on the surface with you,” he says suddenly.
“Oh?”
“Once I get you to safety, we must part. But I wish…”
I run my finger down his nose, learning its shape. There’s a bump on the bridge, which I never even noticed until now. “You wish what?”
“I wish you were my mate,” he murmurs. “A foolish wish, but one that I cannot seem to let go of.”
“You could stay,” I offer, my voice a mere whisper. I move to his jaw, tracing my finger along it as I slide a little bit closer. “Tia and Rem’eb, together forever and all that jazz. Conquering the world…or just having a nice life. No big deal.”
He hesitates and then reaches out to stroke my bare arm. It’s not the same as my light touches—his hand is huge and it’s a bit like being delicately stroked by someone wearing a catcher’s glove. But I still love it. I love the size of his hands and the calluses on them as they dance over my skin. I love the warmth of his fingers against me. I love how careful he’s being and how he looks at me as if I’m a fragile butterfly.
“My father is not well,” Rem’eb confesses. “He falls easily into sadness and will not leave his bed some days. And my people are fractured. They put up with much, hoping that when I take the chief’s seat, I will change things. I am my father’s only heir, the last of our line. I am responsible for their safety.
“If I am gone, I do not know who he would pass the chieftainship to. And I worry it would be someone that would destroy those of us who are left. So even though I am selfish and want to stay with you, I cannot.” His thumb strokes over my shoulder, even as another hand grazes my knee, and I briefly (and naughtily) wonder what it’d be like if he used all four of those big hands on me. “I do not even care what the surface looks like. I just want to stay at your side. Learn more about you.”
Oh. His words make me ache. I want that, too. I hate that we won’t get it. Not with how things are.
I take his hand in mine and guide it over my heart. “But what if we resonate? We’re both feeling…something.”
His gaze drops to my chest, to where I hold his hand. It’s between my breasts, snuggled against my cleavage. Was that intentional? Probably. Do I regret it? Not in the slightest.
Very slowly, I guide his hand to the side, toward my nipple.
Rem’eb’s gaze meets mine again, just as his hand clasps over my breast.
I gasp, heat flooding through me. With a whimper, I put a hand into his thick mane and pull him forward, locking his mouth against mine. He groans, and then we’re kissing furiously, his mouth slanting over mine with hunger. I slide onto my back and he moves over me, gripping and kneading my breast. His thumb skates over my nipple through the leather and I whimper with pleasure, kissing him harder.
My whimper turns into a moan when he flicks the leather down and bares my breast so he can tease my nipple properly. I’ve never felt such hunger or need through my body. I’ve kissed and fooled around in the past, but it never made me feel like I’d die if I didn’t get more in the next moment. Right now? I feel very much like the world will end if he doesn’t put his mouth on my aching nipple.
“Please, Rem’eb,” I whisper between kisses. “God, I want you.”
He licks at my lower lip expertly and continues to stroke and tease the tip of my breast, playing with it until the nipple is taut and aching. I moan, steering his head down even as I surge upward, and practically shove my tit into his mouth.
“Tia,” he breathes, and then his tongue is on my nipple and his arms are around me and I wonder if I could come just from this. I lock my legs around one of his arms, pulling it between my thighs, and grind against it. He growls low in his throat. “Tell me what you need and I will give it to you. Tell me how to ease your hunger.”
“Just…stay…right…there,” I tell him, even as I rock against the thick forearm that has somehow found its way under my skirt. I don’t care that I’ve mounted his arm and am grinding shamelessly against it. All I care about is easing this fire under my skin that has turned into an inferno.
Rem’eb lightly nips at the tip of my breast, and the shock of pleasure-mixed-with-pain makes me gasp—and gives me a sharp, quick orgasm. I come, groaning and clenching his head to my breast even as I rock against him. When I can breathe, though, the fire inside me doesn’t feel as if it’s been put out. If anything, it feels like the flames have been fanned.
This has to be resonance. Haven’t the others said that resonance always feels like no amount of touching is enough until your mate gets you pregnant? No amount of orgasms will soothe a khui that wants you knocked up. That’s definitely what this feels like.
Yet I’m not surprised—and only mildly frustrated—when I rub my chest and my heart is only pounding. Figures. If it’s resonance, it’s waiting for something. What, I don’t know. But it’s determined not to show its head just yet.
Rem’eb rubs his face against my exposed breast, his eyes heavy with arousal. “By the ash, you smell so good.”
I make a little humming sound of pleasure in my throat, feeling good. I love the feel of his mouth and hands on my skin, like he can’t get enough of touching me. It makes me want to touch him. It makes me want to give him the same experience I had.
And, okay, I want to see what he’s packing. Because he’s enormous all over and just thinking about what he might be hiding under that kilt makes me clench with need. I slide my hand down his chest and give him an open-mouthed kiss, letting him know I’m ready to keep this party going.
Rem’eb slides a hand under my skirt, clenching my buttock. “I want to rub my mouth all over you,” he tells me, voice ragged. “Will you let me?”
“Actually we have the same idea,” I tell him playfully, letting my fingertips tease against the belt holding up his kilt. “Can I keep going?”
And since I know he can’t understand me, I slide down his chest, wriggling out of his grasp, and kiss my way down his abdomen.
His breath hitches in his throat, making me feel powerful and delicious. One hand spasms on my shoulder, and another flutters against my back, as if he’s afraid to disturb me.
I chuckle and keep kissing my way down, encouraged by his response. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
Rem’eb’s stomach quivers as I kiss my way down it.