Chapter 25 #2
“If it could aid in an alliance,” was what Syla said, “one that brought a lasting peace to our people and offered all of humanity the protection of the gods… that was what they’ve always desired.”
Another vision wafted through Vorik’s mind. He and Syla were still naked, but they were flying away from the harbor and out to sea, he on Agrevlari’s back and she on Wreylith’s. They sailed through the barrier together without a hitch and headed off on some adventure.
“So manipulative,” he murmured.
“But it’s offering us what we want.”
“Everything we want,” he agreed and lowered his lips to hers.
Without hesitation, Syla shifted her hands and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she returned the kiss. Eagerly. Yes, the visions had made her randy too.
Hot desire swept through him as they molded their bodies together, tongues tasting, hands exploring. Even if the artifact was manipulating them—even if a god was manipulating them—Vorik couldn’t bring himself to object. He wanted Syla. He always wanted her.
As they kissed and stroked, he guided her toward the wall, as the vision had shown them. Let the gods have exactly what they wanted.
She pushed her hands under his tunic, rubbing the taut muscles of his chest, avoiding the places where he’d been cut, though her expert healing ensured the wounds didn’t hurt much. He slid his hands down her sides to the hem of her dress, lifting it so that he could stroke her bare flesh.
The magical silver light of the shielder washed over them, gleaming on their bodies, as they removed each other’s clothing. Love and lust mingled equally in Vorik as he relished their touches, their kisses, their excited movements.
“I think…” Syla whispered against his lips, “I’ve realized something.”
“My magnificence?”
“I knew about that all along.”
“Good.” Vorik wanted to return to kissing and more, but when she glanced toward the artifact, he made himself pause and ask, “What?”
“Why it wants us to join.”
“For peace.” That had been her hypothesis, but he was happy to go along with it.
“Yes, but I think there’s only one reason the gods might care about sex.”
“Our intense satisfaction and eternal happiness?”
“That’s why we care.”
“One of the reasons.” He smiled and cupped her breast.
She leaned into his touch, her lips parting as she looked at his mouth, wanting, he suspected, to return to kissing as much as he did. “Yes, but you should know… I think it means for us, for me to get pregnant.”
“Are you sure? We haven’t before.” The words sounded silly once they came out. Of course he knew that sex didn’t always lead to babies, but they’d joined often enough that it seemed it could have come about before.
“As I’ve shared with you before, I’m taking a contraceptive.”
“Yes, but is that guaranteed to work against divine influence?”
“It’s not guaranteed to work at all. It’s just… mostly effective.”
“Except in extreme circumstances?”
“Probably except when the gods want you to get pregnant.” Syla’s brow creased as she studied his face. “Would you… I mean, we haven’t even married yet. Would it matter to you?”
“My hand is still holding your breast. What do you think?”
“Your other hand is between my legs. I think you just like to have them on me.”
“I do indeed.” He smirked and kissed her again, not moving his hands except to stroke her, to heighten her pleasure, but, sensing that she wanted a real answer, he added, “I would like to have a baby with you. And to marry you.”
“Not only because your brother suggested it?”
“Despite him being the one to suggest it.”
She smiled and set her spectacles aside. “Yes. I… even if we’re being manipulated, I want that too. I want a life with you. And I want your hands… right where they are.”
“Perfect,” he murmured.
Ignoring divine influence and everything else for a time, they returned to kissing.
Kissing and stroking, and, oh, he loved the feel of her soft, warm skin.
And, as she shifted and pushed into his touch, he loved her eagerness for him, that all the machinations of all the beings in the universe didn’t matter to her.
She wanted him, whether others were trying to influence them or not.
Just as he wanted her. From the beginning, she’d aroused him and impressed him, and he’d been drawn to her.
Maybe it had been meant to be. Maybe she was the one for him and always had been.
She grasped him, her hand delicious and stimulating on his shaft, oh, so stimulating.
As she guided him toward her core, he groaned, and all thoughts save for the purely physical vanished.
With her back against the wall, he hooked her leg over his hip.
Her hands shifted to grip his shoulders, and she hung on as she arched toward him.
As he slid into her, their eyes met, her gaze as charged with love and lust as his.
Intense pleasure accompanied his movements, and animalistic thoughts took over as he drove deep again and again. She met his every thrust as she gripped him, and he loved the way she hung on, even as she gasped and pushed, as if she would never let him go. Just as he wouldn’t ever let her go.
As they built toward their climax, they remembered the vision and clasped their sweaty hands together.
Zings of magic swept through them as well as raw physical sensation.
Their pace quickened, magical light bathing their damp bodies.
As their breaths grew ragged with their frenzied need for release, the apex coming closer and closer, that magic seemed to fill the entire chamber.
The divine artifact and even the long dead in their tombs anointed the living, approving of their joining and the creation of life.
With an explosive release, they came together, exquisite pleasure crashing over them both.
After all the pain they had endured of late, it was wondrous, and Vorik kissed Syla as their bodies relaxed, satisfaction filling him in the aftermath.
He lowered her to the ground, wishing they had soft furs to relax on, but he used his body to pillow hers and stroked her hair.
Slowly, the magic and some of the light died down, leaving them feeling alone together.
Unmonitored. Maybe the gods had gotten what they wanted and no longer felt the need to manipulate and spy.
He supposed only time would tell if Syla would become pregnant because of their joining, but there’d been a certainty when she’d spoken of it that made him believe it would happen.
They would have a child, and he looked forward to it.
He would teach it juggling and many other things.
“You were wonderful,” Syla murmured, her head settling on his shoulder. “You are wonderful.”
“I felt the need to perform adequately,” he said. “I’ve never had divinely monitored sex before.”
“It was stimulating, but, maybe later, we can go to my suite and have private sex that’s entirely our idea.”
“I’m most amenable to that, but, when the gods are concerned, can one ever have true privacy?”
“I think they got what they wanted and are probably done keeping an eye on us for a while.”
“Are you glad for that? For everything?” Vorik hoped she was, but she’d mentioned taking a contraceptive, which implied she hadn’t wanted a baby. But maybe that had only been while their peoples were at war and the world had been in flux—in chaos.
“I am glad.” She lifted her face to meet his eyes. “For that and for you.”
“Will you allow me to name the baby if it’s a boy?”
“Are you trying to arrange the same deal with me as your dragon is with mine?”
“Yes. I believe he’s promising to bring Wreylith sword iglets to secure her agreement. What may I bring you?”
“If you can find some juicy berries that haven’t yet gone out of season, I’ll make you a cobbler and let you suggest names for a baby, whether it’s a girl or a boy. But I want veto rights. You might have something weird in mind. Like naming the child after your loathsome brother.”
“That wouldn’t be weird. Jhiton has been a favored name among my people for many, many generations. There are myths older than the Kingdom about a great warrior called Jhiton who saved sailors from the wrath of epic storms spat by the sea god.”
“Pick another name, or you’re not getting a cobbler.”
“Perhaps one of your relatives would be more agreeable to you.” Vorik knew she’d adored her father, but he supposed they should wait to see if she had a boy or a girl to decide.
“Perhaps,” she murmured, “I’ll make you two cobblers.”
“Oh, good. You’re going to be a wonderful wife, mother, and queen.”