Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Lucius
Her scent was the first thing he noticed. Like a living thing, it punched him right in the gut. He’d told her that he’d accept Demos as her mate should she choose to claim the Servant, but reality was a far cry from hypotheticals. Now that she’d chosen Demos officially, Lucius was at least comforted by the fact that it hadn’t been done in retaliation; that would have been a slap in the face.
Resigned to the undeniable proof that Demos loved her and she loved him… Well, because Lucius loved her the same—if not more—then he’d accept their bond in full.
But by Ongar, it hurt regardless.
He pushed aside the commingled scent of their joining and drank in her own scent instead. Her cheeks were rosy from sleep and from the cold air around them, and her eyes were a haunting color of both lavender and teal, a stunning combination. A mouth like a rose, lips slightly parted. Hair mussed and curling to frame the delicate structure of her heart-shaped face.
She stole his very breath. Her, the only living being who could bring him to his knees with a word, with a look.
His wife.
Had she really forgiven him? Or was she about to tell him she was done with him, right here and now, with a “I love you but I can’t” statement?
They both remained silent, however, content to just look upon the other. Or was she waiting to say goodbye and he was memorizing what she looked like before his soul’s death?
He had to break the ice. “How did you sleep?”
She let out a long sigh. “Well. Thank you.”
“Sierra—”
“Lucius, I—”
They both chuckled, but it was an uneasy sound full of wariness, nothing comfortable, nothing intimate. A laugh between strangers, which was exactly what they felt like now. Lucius wanted to take whatever it was that had brought them to this point and skewer it with a sword, but since he was the one who’d brought them here, it was his chest the sword was embedded in. His own fault.
He gestured for her to go first. “Please.”
The corners of her mouth rose just a bit. “Want to come with me to find a place to wash up?”
He blinked. That was not what he was expecting at all, and it took him a minute to gather his wits. “My tent has steaming water already waiting for your use.” Gods, that sounded like something Demos would say, something pompous and formal. Just proved how nervous Lucius really was.
“Oh, that’s perfect.” Her smile was genuine.
He felt so stupidly foolish. “Do… Can I escort you?”
She smiled, and it was like the sun rising on his darkened heart. “Please.” With her hand outstretched, Lucius swallowed. He felt like a virgin again.
He took her proffered hand as if it were a raft being thrown at him in a raging river.
When his skin made contact with hers, the touch was everything. He knew how precarious the moment was and knew he had to reel himself in so as not to overwhelm her. So he stuffed the instinct to claim her right here on the ground and howl in release as he filled her, marked her for every fucking male in this camp.
Instead, hand in hand, they walked to his tent.
Pateus was inside, gathering something from the table he had set up for council meetings, and he turned when he saw Lucius and Sierra enter. Seeing them brought a smile to his face. “Good morning. I’ll be out of your hair in just a moment. Good to see you, Lady Dega.”
“And you, Pateus.”
The young Ongahri picked up his things and pointed to a ledger that was lying atop the pile in his arms. “I’m going to go ahead and get an inventory and roster together, Chieftain.” He winked then, and Lucius started at the action. “I’ll see to it that you’re not disturbed.” Then he bowed his head to Sierra and left them, closing the tent behind him.
Now alone, Lucius let go of Sierra’s hand and took off his cape, then went to the back of the tent to start her bath. With his head turned to give her a moment of privacy, he poured steaming water into the large bucket. It wouldn’t be big enough for her to sit in, but at least it would do for a standing wash. One of his men had laid out Sierra’s clothes and towels, her toiletries, including soap and a glass bottle of shampoo.
He’d had all that set up for her as soon as the tent had been erected. But it had been late when Lucius went to bed, and he had known she wouldn’t be sleeping by his side last night like she should have been, had it not been for what he had caused. All of this was his fault.
He set the things he needed aside and turned around. What he saw had his cock at full mast and his throat dry as the Volv Desert.
With her silver moon-touched hair falling down to her waist and perfect breasts with rosy nipples that were peaked from the chilly air, he imagined the gods weeping from above at witnessing such beauty.
Silently, she went to him, and he held out a hand, assisting her as she stepped into the water. Her skin was awash in goosebumps. While she tied her hair into a knot at the back of her slender neck, he picked up a cloth and drenched it in the water, then lathered soap onto it and began to glide the sudsy cloth over her skin in long strokes.
He washed her arms first, lifting each limb, starting from shoulder to fingertip. Next he washed her back. He filled a pitcher and watched as the water poured onto her sudsy skin, caressing the globes of her ass which he wanted to sink his teeth into.
When the time came to wash her neck and chest, his throat bobbed in effort to stay focused on the job at hand. But it was hard, just as hard as his cock was, pressing against his tight leather breeches. The only sounds in the room were the trickle of water and their breaths, which as the minutes went by, became a chorus of harsh sounds and almost-pants, both from her and him.
The cloth whispered against her mons, and Sierra effortlessly widened her legs enough for his access, her hands steady at her glistening hips. But when the cloth paused on the soft curls, his stroke nearing her folds, she placed her hand on his and he looked up, watching her watch him.
“Do you want me to let you finish?” he asked. His voice cracked with desire, but also fear that she’d make him stop.
She shook her head, and her eyes darkened. “Use your hand. I want to feel you, Lucius, not the cloth.”
The cloth in question plopped into the water seemingly of its own volition. His hand, warm from the water and slick with soap, cupped her sex gently. He stepped closer, eyes sweeping every detail of her expression. When his fingers parted her, her mouth parted as well, and he watched her pupils dilate with lust. A little pink tongue licked her bottom lip, and Lucius knew his control was chomping at the bit to be released, but he held those reins as tightly as he could.
His movements met his purpose, though, not drifting into the goal of pleasuring her but of washing her. And when he poured water over her chest and stomach, where it rinsed all the remaining soap from her clean skin, he dried her with a fluffy towel and carried her to the bedroll.
He brought her down, then hovered atop her—he fully clothed, she squeaky clean and so very warm. Without a thought, she wrapped her long legs around him, cradling his hips between her thighs.
“Will you kiss me, Lucius?”
He said nothing for a moment or two, not trusting what might come out of his mouth. The bond between them was enough assurance, though. Through it he felt her love, her desire, and most importantly, her precious trust that, Ongar be thanked, was still there.
He leaned forward and ever-so-slowly touched his lips to hers. The kiss wasn’t like their usual ones—needy, wet, desperate, passionate. No, this was a kiss of acknowledgment, of truth. It contained more than arousal, it was an exchange of love, a promise to never betray her, to always love her, to trust her and beg her to take him back.
As much as he wanted to claim her, he needed her to take the lead. So when she broke the kiss and put her hands on his shoulders, he waited patiently.
“So you are the rightful Heir of Trajan. Why didn’t you tell me, Lucius?” she asked. Her tone was genuinely curious, not a hint of resentment. It humbled him.
“I was afraid you’d leave me. Afraid you’d think I had used you.”
Her palm held his jaw, then went to his neck, where her bridal gift to him still hung. “Do not lie to me again, Lucius Dega. I demand all of you, not half. Not parts. I want all the bad and the good, no matter what.”
He nodded and shut his eyes briefly before staring back into hers. “I swear to it.”
Her eyes went back and forth, searchingly. “Good.”
Not trusting her tentative acceptance, he hid his face inside the crook of her neck, preparing for the rejection. “Will you come to my bed tonight?”
But she rubbed his back and pulled him closer. “I will.”
His sigh was relief personified. “I missed you. Missed you so much. My heart broke, Sierra, seeing your face that day. Never again will I lie to you. Just don’t run away again from me. Slap me, push me, yell at me. But don’t run.”
“I won’t.”
She held him for a long while, and finally the sounds of the world outside bled into his consciousness, reminding him of his duty. With reluctance, he pulled away, but not before giving her a lingering kiss on the forehead.
“I have things to see to. And I’m sure your new mate will want to know where you are.” Dammit, he’d tried to say it without feeling threatened, but a hue of it colored the words.
She raised her chin, looking adamant. “I’m a very lucky woman, Lucius. I have two mates who love me almost as much as I love them.”
He had to smile at that, at least. “That is true.”
She touched that smile with soothing fingers which he wanted to nibble. “Thank you. For sharing me. I know it’s going to take some getting used to but…” She let out a breath, feeling the weight of this new development. “We’ll work it out.”
He nodded. “I know.” He looked at her for a moment, his feelings all over the place. “So you really do forgive me?”
“I love you. And that love is strong enough to forgive you for lying to me. But like I said,” she swallowed, considering her words, “never lie to me again, Lucius. I may not come back to you next time.”
“There will never be a next time,” he said, desperation and fear coloring his words. “I swear to it.”
“Okay.”
He let out a breath. Standing, he held out his hand and she took it, getting to her feet. “I’ll let you get dressed. I wish we had more time but…”
“I know.” She smiled sweetly, still a bit unsure, it seemed. But he’d content himself with what she was giving him so far: a chance.
“I’ll see you at lunch.” He touched her cheek. “After that we’ll be heading north.”
“To?”
“To the Basilica.” He resisted looking at her beautiful body as the towel slipped to the floor. “But first, I have something of yours to return.” He walked over to where his saddle bag was and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. He walked back over to her and stood behind her. With his fingers, he lifted the heavy mass of her knotted hair, moving it aside, and secured the osnat around her neck where it belonged, then spun her around gently. “Better.”
She touched it. “How?”
“I found it in one of the fucker’s robes after I killed him.” He watched her face pale, her throat swallow. “I killed them all, Sierra. And I will kill every one of them if they continue to take what’s mine.”
It was mid-afternoon when a few of the tribes’ messengers returned with news that more men would be joining the effort. Whether they’d meet up on the way or by the time they’d arrived at the rendezvous point, it didn’t matter: he wanted all the men he could get.
Lucius felt a deep calm settle over him as he took in the Ongahri leaders around him. At the meeting two days ago back in Ghypsom City, he’d won them over to his cause: join him in recovering and destroying that gods-damned weapon hidden in the northern mountains and deal with the Owl. But when Sierra had been ransomed, the energy of the men had taken on a life of its own. Their cause now had a face: hers. She was the symbol, and Lucius couldn’t think of anyone more worthy of bolstering this war than his little dove.
His eyes sought her out and found her sitting at the foot of a tree talking with Ander. Demos, shadowing her in a defensive stance, stood next to her. Poor bastard, Lucius thought with a reluctant grin. Even though the Servant wasn’t Alpha, Lucius knew that fact meant nothing when it came to a mating. Indeed, the blue-eyed man today wasn’t anything like the man Lucius had seen back in Ordelpho. All day, Demos had worn a threatening expression, daring anyone to fuck with him, and when not giving death glares to every single man who looked at him or Sierra, his eyes were like a puppy’s, trained on his mate.
“How is that working out, Lucius?”
He turned and met Phobius’ eyes. His old friend wore a grin that spoke of understanding as he nodded in the direction where the new lovers were.
“I’ll get used to it.”
“Could be worse.” Phobius waved a lazy hand to where Fadon Trajan stood speaking to Pateus, both men in a heated discussion about winter-time roads and routes.
Fadon.
An influx of too many things, too many conflicting emotions came to mind when Lucius thought of his half-brother. But if he were honest with himself, the thought of Sierra taking on another mate with even a third of Fadon’s strength and character… well, he could see himself being resigned, even relieved with the choice.
Sierra being taken—again—had brought the crux of the matter home to Lucius. That things were only here when they were here, that they could be taken at a moment’s notice, out of his control. An omega with three of the strongest men as mates just plain made sense. Lucius despised the fact that it made sense. But if it meant never having to go through losing her again, well, he’d welcome it, albeit grudgingly.
“Is that so?” Phobius asked, surprise in his voice.
Lucius didn’t bother wondering how the man had read his mind.
He shrugged, turning back to watch as Sierra laughed at something Ander had said. “Things change, as well as priorities. Whatever it takes to see my mate safe and happy, that’s what I’ll do.
“I’m glad to hear that, Lucius.”
Something in his friend’s words had Lucius facing him once more. “Is there something other than my personal life you wish to discuss?”
His dark blue eyes turned serious. “If Fadon joins your little tribe, it will be two Houses merging, with one woman at the center. I foresee… complications there. The captain of Trajan’s armies, the second Heir to a throne, whose wife happens to be chieftain to a mighty clan like Ordelpho?”
“What’s your point, Phobius?” Lucius asked with a warning.
“My point is, have you thought of the ramifications of such a potential mating? Has Fadon? Where will Sierra live? Will you share her half of the year, the other half with the captain, in Goth Mor Helle?”
Fucking good point.
He rubbed the back of his head. “I follow.” There was too much going on right now to even begin to untangle all those scenarios. “Something to think on when we ride out.”
“Which is when?”
“Right now.”