Dance of the Gods
Page 54

“They’re nothing. Yours?”
“My mother fussed over them. That made her happy, as did weeping all over me. She’s anxious to meet you, all of you.”
“I guess.” Awkward, Blair thought. Why was it all so awkward? “I, ah, it never really computed before. You being royalty.”
“Oh well, that’s not much to do with me, really. It’s more ceremonial than anything. Honorary, you could say.” He cocked his head as he moved toward her. “Did you think I wouldn’t come to you tonight?”
“I don’t know what I thought. It’s all pretty confusing.”
“Confused, are you?” A smile flirted around his mouth. “I don’t mind that. I’ll just confuse you a bit more, seduce you.”
He traced his finger along the edge of her tank, just teasing the skin.
“You spend a lot of time on seductions? Say, working that on the blonde with the br**sts? What was her name? Isleen.”
“Flirtation, all in good fun, never seduction. It’s not proper or fair to take advantage of one who serves you.” He leaned to her, brushed his lips over her shoulder, nudged the strap down. “And while I might have dallied in the past, you weren’t here. For it’s the God’s truth there’s not another woman in Geall to compare to you.”
He brought his lips to hers, just to nibble. “Blair Murphy,” he murmured. “Warrior and beauty.”
He played his hands down her back, deepening the kiss just a little. Then just a little more. And when his lips cruised over her face, along her throat, he all but crooned to her in Gaelic.
The sound of it, the feel of him nearly had her eyes rolling back in her head.
“I keep thinking this is a mistake. But it feels so damn good.”
“Not a mistake.” He caught her chin with his teeth while his thumbs slid up, circled her ni**les. “Not at all.”
Part of the journey, she told herself as she melted into him. They’d take something good, something strong for themselves along the way.
So she met his lips with hers now, sank herself into him, the warm, solid flesh. There was sweetness in those easy strokes of his hands, and a shivering thrill whenever they found her secrets.
When he lifted her into his arms, she didn’t feel like a warrior. She felt conquered.
“I want you.” She pressed her face into the curve of his throat as he lay her on the bed. And just breathed him in. “How can I want you so much?”
“It’s meant.” He lifted her hand, kissed the cup of her palm. “Ssh,” he said before she could speak. “Just feel. For tonight, let’s both of us just feel.”
She could be so soft, he thought, so pliant, so giving. In surrender she made him feel like a king. Those eyes, the drowning blue, watched him as they moved together. They blurred with pleasure as he touched her, tasted her. Those hands, so firm on the hilt of a sword, trembled a little when she drew his shirt aside to find him.
Her lips pressed against his chest, against the heart that was already lost to her.
They took each other slowly, quietly, while the firelight shimmered over their bodies. There were murmurs and sighs instead of words, and a long, lazy climb instead of the frantic race.
When he slipped inside her, he watched her face, watched her as they moved together. As everything in him gathered for that final leap, he watched her still.
And at the end of it, he thought he’d simply fallen into her eyes.
Chapter 13
T he guy was a snuggler. He just curved in, body to body, with an arm hooked around her waist—the way she imagined a kid might hold on to a teddy bear.
Blair just wasn’t used to having someone hang on to her at night, and couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. On one hand, it was sort of sweet and sexy to wake up with him wrapped all over her. Everything was all warm and soft and cozy.
On the other, if she had to move fast, get to a stake or a sword, he was dead weight.
Maybe she should practice breaking loose, rolling out, reaching the closest weapon. And maybe she should relax. It wasn’t as if this was a permanent situation.
It was just…convenient.
And that was a stupid attitude sunk in bullshit, she admitted. If she couldn’t be honest inside her own head, her own heart, then where?
They were more than a convenience to each other, more than compatriots. More, she was afraid, than lovers. At least on her side.
Still, in the light of day she had to be realistic. Whatever it was they were to each other, it couldn’t go anywhere. Not beyond this. Cian had spoken the pure truth in Ireland, outside of the Dance. The problems they faced were a lot bigger and more important than one person or their personal needs and wishes. And so their personal needs had to be, by definition, temporary.
After Samhain it would be over. She had to believe they’d win, that was essential, but after the victory dance, the backslapping and champagne toasts there would be hard facts to face.
Larkin—Lord Larkin—was a man of Geall. Once this was done and she’d completed the mission, Geall would be for her, in a very real sense, a fairy tale again. Sure, maybe she could hang around for a few days, have that picnic he’d talked about. Bask a little. But in the end, she’d have to go.
She had a birthright, she had a duty, she thought as she touched her fingers to Morrigan’s cross. Turning her back on it wasn’t an option.
Love, if that’s what she was feeling, wasn’t enough to win the day. Who knew better?
He was more than she’d ever expected to have, even in the short term, so she couldn’t and wouldn’t complain about her luck, or her destiny, or the cold will of gods. He accepted her, cared for her, desired her. He had courage, a bone-deep loyalty, and a sense of fun.
She’d never been with a man who possessed all that, and who still looked at her as if she were special.
She thought maybe—it wasn’t impossible—he loved her.
For her, Larkin was a kind of personal miracle. He would never walk away from her without a backward glance. He would never shove her aside simply because of what she was. So when they parted, there could be no regrets.
If things were different they might have been able to make a go of it. At least give it a good, solid try. But things weren’t different.
Or, more accurately, things were too different.
So they’d have a few weeks. They’d have the journey. And they’d both take something memorable away from it.