Chapter 11 #2
“Yes, it’s true,” he said softly as he reached out to touch a thumb against her temple, brushing her in a tender caress.
“No woman before you has been in this bed, and no woman beyond you will ever be. I won’t pretend to have never had lovers, kébé, nor will I pretend you won’t run into a few in my court.
This is a closed society, you being the first outsider to ever take up permanent residence here.
It makes for a lot of gossip and few strangers.
But I promise you this, there will never be anyone else for me so long as we draw breath together, and beyond.
Anyone who tells you otherwise will be a liar and an enemy to you.
Therefore an enemy to me. I’ve barely begun to love you, but I can already swear to you that it will take me a great deal of time and energy to satisfy myself with you, Mystique.
I’ll be fortunate to find the stamina to rule, never mind take a mistress. ”
He got a smile for his efforts with that remark.
Still, it didn’t light her eyes and he knew she wasn’t certain, just as she wasn’t certain where her conviction that all men were philanderers came from.
It marked her deeply, but he felt her powerful desire, as always, to trust him.
He’d said all he could on the matter. It would be up to her to come the rest of the way.
As he’d said earlier, the more she regained snatches of memory, the less he liked it, for her sake.
She’d been far more bold and confident before this.
Then again, she’d also not felt her heart was at risk before.
He could understand her caution. He’d felt it keenly himself, that fear of potential hurt.
That thought was followed by the realization that if she felt her heart was at risk, it meant her heart was actually involved.
She’d said nothing to him of her feelings for him.
Not even a hint. Just that she was willing to allow him to love her.
But her fear hinted at so much more, and it made his pulse dance with joy.
He hadn’t asked for her love. He’d hoped to win it slowly through time, trust, and contentment.
This was a promising first step, and he felt happier than anyone probably had a right to feel.
“Come!” He leapt out of bed and grabbed her, swinging her onto her feet in a rush that sent the blanket flying off her body.
He held her naked figure against his for a long moment, reveling in the sensual warmth of her and her amused chuckles.
“Get dressed so Drago can feel at ease about returning. It’s time you had Para ready you for the banquet.
Wear this red,” he encouraged her as he scooped the dress from the floor, frowning briefly at the wrinkles.
“If you think she can repair the damage I’ve caused,” he said ruefully.
She smiled at him as he gathered the dress and dropped it over her head and arms. “Must it be this red, or any red, My Prime?”
He grinned at that. “You mean Para has given you more than one?”
“Well, there is a black velvet that is quite beautiful,” she said, leaning into him as he frowned slightly, “and it has your crest, My Prime, in a repeating chain of red around the hem. Also, here.” She leaned back and ran her palm along her neckline to indicate the path of a second, smaller chain of crests.
“Only the neckline is far lower, so it will actually come across here …”
Reule watched with a suddenly parched throat as she swept slow, teasing fingers in a dip over her breasts. So slowly, in fact, that she stimulated herself, the perking up of her nipples under red velvet sure proof of that.
His crest, across her incredible breasts.
The idea had the most intensely satisfying erotic effect on both his mind and his body. It almost landed her in bed again, on her back with her skirts tossed up around her ears.
“Wear the black,” he commanded her in a growling rumble that made her laugh at him, her light eyes dancing with mirth.
He was happy to see her usual spirits returned, even if it was at the expense of his overheated body.
There would be plenty of time after the ceremony to make her pay the price for her mischief.
“Now, off to Para with you,” he said, dragging her to the door by her arm and using a spank on her backside to propel her out into the hall.
“Drago! Get in here,” he barked to the attendant he’d known would be waiting close by in the hall.
He grinned as he listened to Mystique giggle all the way down the corridor.
When Drago closed the door, sealing away the last of the bright, wonderful sound, Reule moved to inspect the contents of the tray brought in earlier.
It was all the decorative emblems required when he dressed in state.
Two rings, chain of rank, a belt decorated with his seal in front, and several short gold chains, with small hexagonal rubies set within and his seal etched on the surface, to be affixed in his hair, also an indication of his rank.
One day, he hoped this regalia would be seen by delegates who came to visit Jeth City with respect, without fear, without prejudice.
He knew it was possible it wouldn’t happen in his lifetime, but he did wish it.
Drago’s silence was notable and he turned to see the attendant brushing out the handsome choice of black trousers, a black shirt, a golden vest with red embroidery, and a ruby red evening jacket that tied low enough to display both the vest and the shirt beneath.
He would look all of the Prime Packleader paying his deepest respects to an honored friend and colleague.
But usually Drago would be trading bits of information with him about the preparations, the goings-on in the keep that might be of interest to his Prime.
Not chatty, not like Para, but informative and discriminating.
His quiet was telling, and Reule became aware of his tight displeasure.
He frowned. “Out with it, Drago. What troubles you?”
“It’s not my place to say, My Prime,” he responded politely.
Reule grabbed up the robe Drago had draped on the end of the bed, tying it on. He faced the attendant once more. “Don’t play the demure servant with me, Drago. We both know it’s horseshit.”
Drago turned, his almost black eyes gleaming with hard repressed emotion. “May I speak freely?”
“As you dare” Reule said, his permission just as tight as the request.
“Or as you do,” Drago countered instantly. “How can you possibly take a woman like that to your bed? It’s shameful and a disgrace! You completely disregard—” Drago broke off with a squeak when his Prime was suddenly nose to nose with him, a low, vicious growl of warning turning over in his throat.
“You watch your tongue regarding Mystique, valet, or you will find yourself feasting on it!”
“I won’t, and I beg your pardon, My Prime, but how dare you treat such a fine woman in so low a manner! Tumbling her like a common … common … well, she’s not like the women you’re used to! She’s good and caring and she has no idea how to handle a male of your experience!”
Reule snorted out a laugh. She’d been handling him better than fine since the instant she’d first looked at him with those diamond eyes of hers.
The Packleader had to blink through his surprise as Drago flushed bright red with indignation.
The man’s dignity had flown out of the window, as had his unswerving loyalty, apparently, as he prepared to furiously defend the honor of …
Of a foundling girl who had clearly made her mark. At first he’d thought Drago was insulting her, calling her common or beneath his notice, but in truth, he realized with no little shock, the valet was acting as though the opposite were true.
“Drago,” he said sharply, cutting off further retort with a raised hand. “Do you think so ill of your Prime? You’ve known me for much of my life. When have I ever taken an innocent girl—a fertile innocent, at that—to bed without regard to the consequences?”
“Well, I must say that was why I was so shocked when I saw …” Drago blinked. “Well, then, you mean you’ve considered the consequences?”
“Happily,” Reule said dryly. “It’s good to know my honor is so easily doubted when it’s supposed to be the mainstay of my rule.”
“Oh, but I—-! That is to say, I didn’t mean … Well, yes I suppose I did, but I knew you were terribly attracted to her, and she to you, and I thought perhaps it just got out of control … perhaps in your grief. The entire Pack has been acting so out of spirits.”
“They are grieving,” Reule said carefully. “We’ve never lost Pack blood before.”
“It shows,” Drago said gravely. “Rye isn’t himself at all, contentious and full of rage.
Delano ceaselessly stalks and prowls every hall and every chamber open to him.
Saber walks the walls and rides sentry without sleep.
Chayne won’t leave his quarters even though Mystique finished healing him two days ago. And Darcio …”
“What of Shadow?” Reule demanded.
“Merely the fact that you don’t know should tell you something, My Prime. When has he ever left your side willingly?”
He’d seen none of them for days, only felt their anger and grief as it ran through them all in a ribbon of anguish that flowed in repetitive whips.
He’d closed his thoughts to them, and theirs to himself, unable to bear the added intensity it would bring.
He was intending to change his isolation now that the Depths had concluded.
Being solitary, yet together, was a normal way of grieving.
He hadn’t even considered Darcio’s absence. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.
“Damn selfish of me,” he muttered. “Seems like a lot has been going on in my keep right under my ignorant nose.”
“You’re not the only one,” Drago said with pointed dryness, glancing at the mussed bed.