"Bored?" Silphae was startled by the sound of Tulūk's seductively deep voice. The splinter plummeted to the ground where it was extinguished by the fine covering of sand.
She turned and stared at the tall, dark warrior looming just beyond the light ring. The evening air was still hot from the blistering heat of the day and Lord Cilandro had shed his
burnous. Hard muscles beneath the leather and gold adornments of his noble house were exposed to the flickering amber light, but his face remained in shadow.
She shrugged
dropping her eyes almost shyly. "A bit. So far I have no occasion to use my talent here."
"Thankfully." Tulūk commented dryly as he came
forward to kneel before the small but cheery blaze. He reached out to turn a log. Sparks flew floating and snapping and then trailed away on the hot currents to extinguish themselves in the darkness.
He looked at her over the flames. "Perhaps you will be allowed to continue your studies as a healer in Jithra. Many Sorca would welcome your training though we already know much of the medical arts and
of the functions of the physical body."
"So I have heard." Her mouth twisted wryly, her tone disapproving. Silphae had heard of the human sacrifices of the Nekros
cult. It was easy to read her mind.
Tulūk shook his head. "Not all Rimland wielders are evil. Not all indulge in the power feeding rites of the Nekros." He
cautioned.
"No?" She narrowed her eyes. "It is said that my future husband was educated with you in the Orokorda by one who is their leader. Don't
either of you bear the taint of the dark cult?"
Tulūk ignored the implied insult letting the silence lie undisturbed for a moment. He rolled back on his heals and sat leaning up
against a mound of baggage. He crossed muscular bare arms across his chest. Deep blue eyes regarded her intently.
"Vardarion is a strong ruler, even ruthless, if he has
to be. Qualities required in man born to lead warriors."
"You did not answer my question."
Tulūk sighed and then nodded once.
"He is Sorca also. As you have been told, all males of noble blood in Harand are sent at ten years of age to be educated by the priests of the Orokorda. Occasionally one or two
of these are found to have the gift and can, with hard work and commitment, ascribe to the higher levels of the arts. Vardarion and I were both found to be such. It does not necessarily follow,
however, that one so trained will develop a taste for the feeding rites any more than an Ail Magus would."
"Sorca." She tasted the strange word. Somehow
it fit the mix of mystery and danger that was so much a part of the handsome mage before her. One moment he was charming and devastatingly seductive and the next hard, remote and as deadly barbaric as any one of
his Denassai.
"Forgive my outburst. I know your words were meant kindly."
Tulūk nodded acknowledgement of the apology slipping easily into
the polite deference expected of the Guardian of Harand. He leaned back tilting his chin to study the bright spray of white stars in the deep blue sky. Warm firelight turned his dark skin to velvet brown and
lit the barbaric gold at his ear and throat and wrists inviting her touch. Silence fell broken only by the crack of the fire and the sporadic bursts of laughter of the Denassai in the main encampment.
Suddenly Silphae yearned to break it. She wanted know more of Tulūk. Wanted to test the limits of their mutual estrangement. More than anything Silphae admitted to herself she wanted to keep the
handsome Sorca close on her last night of freedom.
"As you have guessed, I was indeed hoping that Vardarion will allow me to use my talent if only to work as a healer." She ventured
tentatively.
Tulūk's head came level with a jerk.
"It is possible." He replied carefully. Actually, he thought it very unlikely, but he did not
want to discourage Silphae if she had found some grounds to be hopeful about her forthcoming marriage. He decided a guarded warning was best. "Though a King may discourage his wife from delving in an
occupation - even that of an accomplished mage healer. He may wish her energies directed to her home and her children and to him."
Silphae laughed shedding her burnous. It
fell in a puddle of soft blue silk on the sand surrounding her hips. "Then I shall have to persuade him otherwise. All men, no matter their station in life, find it ... advantageous to please their
brides."
The dark mage swallowed hard.
It was an innocent, unconsciously seductive gesture, but it served to emphasize her words in a clear
direction. The light of the campfire traced the sleek outline of exposed neck and throat and hinted at the line of breast and hip and the long slender muscular curve of her legs beneath the soft linen.
Tendrils of pale hair drifted gently on the fire's warm air currents moving in a silver cloud above her head before falling to caress the satiny smooth flesh.
Every
ounce of him ached to follow their lead, but he remembered Curudan's warning and knew it would be foolish to lay hands on Silphae again when he was already so conventionally aroused by the sight of her. The
journey together had weakened him more than he had realized. Even he, a Magus Keltar, a man who had long known pleasures of the flesh, could barely control it. The denial of the link only seemed to make it
stronger. Every glance, every word, every meeting for day after day had left him strung with an undercurrent of longing so acute that the mere wanting of her was now a thing to savor.
"I have no doubt I can convince him." Silphae said softly reaching up to sweep the shimmering curtain out of her face and over one shoulder exposing the pale skin of her
neck and throat to the amber light of the fire.
"You are boasting." Tulūk accused hollowly feeling his mouth go dry.
She leveled deep green eyes on him pleased at last to get something more from the Guardian than polite indifference. She ran slender fingers through the silky locks freeing them of tangles letting the tension
build as she wound the long silver blonde coils into braids. "It is only a boast, Sorca, if I cannot do it."
Tulūk laughed softly, bitterly. She was
right. King, sorcerer or man stood little chance of resisting Silphae when she wanted something. A sudden hot surge of jealousy rose in his chest as he imagined just how well she could use her charm on
Vardarion. The feeling had grown, he realized, with every mile they drew nearer to Jithra and the man who awaited his bride. He wanted her, would gladly have claimed her for himself if not for his
King. Vardarion was not a good loser. Claiming Silphae now would be lethal. Tulūk tried to appear bored pretending not to watch, struggling to resist the temptation to look. He stared anyway even
though he suspected the woman was vexing him on purpose.
She was. It was irresistible with the jiinea mercilessly working its spell on her. Silphae felt the same pull
as Tulūk. Felt it and feared its unreasoning power. It was a force she had no idea how to handle. She was barely in control of herself in his presence, she admitted to herself. It was
almost as if she was daring him to cross the line. If he touched her now, she knew what would happen and longed for it even as she feared it. Feared her sense of duty to her family and her people and
the oath she had sworn to guarantee their safety would be extinguished as easily as the cinder she had magicked.
When Silphae was done with the braid, she tied the end with a piece of
silk and tossed the long tail over her shoulder and leaned back tilting her chin up to study the stars dusting the jet sky. A soft wind gusted. She closed her eyes clearly enjoying the pleasure of the rare
coolness against her skin even as she hoped for a more overt reaction.
She didn't have to wait long.
"Kul Maddo, enough!" Tulūk swore lurching to his feet abruptly.
Silphae's eyes widened at the Guardian's curse surprised at his
outburst despite her blatant attempts to set him off. She opened her mouth to protest the profanity and slammed it shut again at the look he leveled on her. She rose slowly keeping the fire between
them. A sudden counter gust tousled Tulūk's dark hair bringing with it a hint of sandalwood and sweat and spice. Scents that spoke of darkness and pleasure and forbidden things, things that had haunted
her most secret, sensual dreams since she had first seen him. Compelling and, yet, only living in fantasy. Powerful arms rippled as he swept his hands impatiently though the errant black locks broad
shoulders bulging beneath the silky black tunic, massive biceps flexing, gold armbands glinting barbarically in the firelight.
"Do not seek to play games with me
Princess." He came close until he stood so near she could feel the heat of him jump across the meager inches he left. "I have far better uses for you than that."
Tulūk raked his gaze slowly over her. The unexpected sensual force of the look had as much impact as if he had drawn a velvety tongue across her skin. A delicious shiver of pleasure
echoed down the length of her back. She held his gaze seeing in his eyes for the first time since the Yemneldris
a hint of his pent desire, of male frustration, of tempered impatience only thinly held in check for all those days. It was a sight that both excited and terrified her with its implication. Lord Tulūk was no wispy dream. He was real enough now and she saw he was not indifferent to her at all.
Silphae jerked back turning to go to her tent.
"Daro!" Tulūk commanded reverting back to his native tongue in his agitation.
She did not stop.
He moved with unbelievable swiftness around the fire and caught her with no trouble in the soft sand on the other side. One large
hand encircled her slender wrist as he pulled her to him. Unbalanced, she stumbled against him. He reached out with the other hand automatically drawing her closer as she steadied herself his touch burning
like fire against the curve of her hip. Obeying his own order he did not move again for a long moment. When Tulūk did not release her nor do more, Silphae looked up at him questioningly.
"How you tempt me, Kirvana." Tulūk whispered feeling her nipples hard against his torso her hips and legs pressed against his trembling with her own desire. All his
senses were inflamed his body strung tight with lust and longing and something else. He inhaled sharply, feeling alive, vibrantly alive suddenly experiencing emotion he had not allowed himself for years if
ever.
"No!" She protested. "You have no right to touch me."
"Right!" Tulūk laughed harshly.
"Right you say? Right is a pitiful deterrent under such temptation as you have offered."
"I offer nothing." Silphae protested haltingly jerking once in
his grasp for emphasis.
"Don't lie to me or to yourself." He lifted his hand to brush aside a wisp of pale hair that trailed over her shoulder. Silphae grew very, very
still. His soft, silken shirt brushed against her bare arm and a lock of thick black hair fell across his forehead casting his eyes in shadow. She held her breath not daring to move except to close her eyes
as a ripple of pleasure shivered down her spine. Encouraged by her stillness, Tulūk's fingers dropped lower lightly tracing the soft curve of bare skin along the back of her arm. His touch, his
seduction, this is what she had craved and yet now in the face of his overpowering masculinity and will she was suddenly unsure.
"Let go!" Silphae jerked back as if burned by the caress .
"Sounds like an order."
"If it needs to be." Silphae replied faintly turning her head away.
Deliberately ignoring her words, Tulūk reached out again this time
lifting her chin, tilting her head toward him so that his vibrant blue gaze bore into hers. "If it is truly what you want, then I will obey."
What Silphae wanted was to
touch him, to kiss him, to melt into him. Every muscle in her body ached for it. Instead she pushed against Tulūk's chest in a nearly desperate effort to ward against the Harandrim's
intimacy. It was a mistake. The increased contact only made the jiinea stronger. Under her palms she felt his heart pounding furiously through muscle, skin, and deep black silk. Alarmed,
Silphae twisted away struggling to put distance between them. Their feet tangled in the sand and for a brief moment she pulled free, but she was no match for Tulūk's quickness and immense strength. He snared
her again easily though much less gently. This time he pushed her back against the outcrop leaning forward, towering over her with his hands braced against the canyon wall at her back deftly cutting off any
escape she might attempt again.
"Tulūk Stop! What either of us wants no longer matters. I am bound now."
"Yes, you are bound. To me! Your own father put your hand in mine." He cried fiercely catching her hands in one fist, bringing them up between them.
"In place of Vardarion, your King, your friend. Not for you." Silphae threw the reminder at him in cruel desperation.
A low growl built in
Tulūk's throat and he tightened his grip stretching her arms high above her head, flattening her shoulders against the rough surface, molding his rock hard body into hers leaving no doubt of his arousal and her
helplessness to avoid him. Silphae put her head down whimpering in frustration as she struggled in futility against the hard muscles of his chest. When she stilled, he lowered his head to her ear and
whispered.
"Here in Harand I would have only to consummate that vow to make you my own."
Silphae's chin shot up. Tulūk's
dark blue eyes glittered dangerously in the firelight.
"Is this not a tradition in Galathil also?"
When she did not dispute it, he laughed softly. She
was sure he could hear her heart beating crazily betraying the excitement his nearness and his threat woke in her despite her resistance, despite her words.
"You are bound, Silphae.
You were mine from the moment you risked your soul to bring me back from the brink of chaos. We are linked by the jiinea and no worldly oath can supersede that bond nor can you deny its power now. " Tulūk
argued urgently. For a long time he didn't budge and then slowly Tulūk released her wrists. With great deliberation, he leaned back placing both of his hands to either side of her again on the rough canyon
wall holding himself only inches away. Immediately Silphae felt a terrible longing sweep through her like a void opening in the absence of his touch. It was not fear of him that caused her pulse to race
crazily. It was desire. She had no wish to escape or even to put any distance at all between them just an overwhelming urge to be closer to this dark Rimland barbarian though every logical thought she could
grasp screamed the outcome if she chose to give in to it.
Tulūk tilted his head back and looked up at the stars this time without seeing their bright beauty only seeking to gain control
of himself as he counted them. Once he could breath again, he looked down at the lovely Ail Magus healer encircled in his arms.
"Do you deny the bond?" He demanded quietly.
Silphae returned his hungry gaze and then tentatively she lifted her hand and stroked his
cheek. Tulūk closed his eyes in a frown and she sensed his thoughts and his struggle to keep his own passion under control. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers not quite touching her. She felt
him silently inviting her to wet her lips. Joined by the jiinea link, wreathed in a lover's intimacy, Silphae knew his mind as well as her own. His yearning was nearly unbearable, but he would not force her.
"Tulūk." She whispered his name. Only the one word, spoken so softly he could not tell if it was said in refusal or invitation. Either way, he found he did not
care. As her mouth shaped his name again, Tulūk cupped her head in his hands and kissed her hungrily claiming her lips with a breathtaking passion. Silphae melted wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing
her fingers through his thick dark hair, attempting to draw him closer. She leaned into him running her hands down his spine wanting to drown in his warmth and strength. She felt a tremor course
through him at her touch and he went with her allowing the weight of his muscular frame to push her slight one gently yet firmly against the canyon wall this time in invitation, this time in submission.
Tulūk deepened the kiss and Silphae responded with a ferocity that rocked them both. She pressed her hands flat against his back drawing him closer instinctively pushing her hips into
his. Waves of pleasure suffused her body and a sudden languidness flowed through her urging her on to surrender herself totally as the earth seemed to spin beneath their feet and time stopped entirely.
"Kul Maddo!" Tulūk swore stepping away from her abruptly his breath coming quick and heavy.
The jiinea was
too powerful, he realized. Neither of them would be able to control it much longer and once consummated he knew he would not, could not, allow Silphae to go to Vardarion. And if she did not go to Harand, the results were certain and devastating.
They had not chosen it. Neither could be blamed for the random whim of the Magus. But, Kings and the acquisition of land and power were at stake. The towering pride
and ambition that drove such things would strip away the fragile preferences of two lovers as easily as the wild winds of a desert sherook shaved the skin off a man. Vardarion's wrath, Tulūk knew, would be
unquenchable. He would raze Galathil to the ground while he hunted for Silphae and his sworn man - his best friend, who had betrayed him.
Tulūk reached out and lifted her chin far
enough to read Silphae's expression in the pine-filtered light of the moon shining far above the trees. He watched the confused mix of emotions cross the exquisite features, felt again the unreasoning urge
to pull her into his arms. The jiinea link must be dispelled. He had no idea what would happen when it was quenched. Would each lose the part of themselves offered and accepted on the edge of
oblivion? He hoped it would not cost so much, but, with all that was at stake, it must be done.
He dropped his hand as if stung. Distance from Silphae would be a
necessity for him until he found a way to break the link permanently. Otherwise he would surely go insane in the days it would take to get from Carasil to Jithra. Clenching his teeth, Tulūk forced
himself to take another step back and release her completely from his embrace.
"Are you displeased?" She asked softly. Her eyes were very bright and large in the
soft moonlight as they searched his face. He loomed in silence before the fire legs splayed, arms folded over his chest - a man so savagely beautiful, she couldn't tear her gaze away.
"Displeased?" The dark Harandrim laughed hoarsely bringing her to her feet again and then quickly withdrawing his touch as if stung. "I would call this all but
displeasing, Kirvana. It is the unexpected intensity of the pleasure I find in this situation that I fear."
