Courting Kel Read online

  All their people would benefit. Ondrican need fear inbreeding no longer. Amazonia would prosper under Ondrican protection. Home would retain the peace and prosperity it had known for decades. Decades that would stretch into centuries, millennia, even eons. If only he could make Kel—who had known only war all her life…

  “I need to see Kel,” he said to Tage.

  “Now?” Tage grabbed Aren’s arm. The footmen who’d carried him to the altar stiffened and showed their teeth. “Besides, it is too late to call off this ceremony. Look.”

  Drew’s brilliant smile reassured him. If her honor maid was here, Kel would soon appear. Behind his back he crossed his fingers on both hands and sent a prayer heavenward to all the gods.

  As was the custom on Home, Drew took her place across the aisle from Aren and Tage. Storr escorted Basalia down the wide path edged with Home’s dignitaries and their own councils. Home’s people stood on tiptoes to glimpse the handsome older couple. For most, this was their first sight of their parents’ rulers.

  Striking, Aren admitted, proud of his and Kel’s parentage. Gods willing, he and Kel would age as gracefully as Basalia and Storr had. Storr, he noted with amusement, had a boutonniere of tiny seros that mirrored the buds crowning Basalia’s head. A symbol of peace, perhaps? Or only a momentary truce? More likely, given their history and fiery temperaments. At least it seemed they would avoid ruining the day for their children.

  At last Kel appeared. She paused in the open doorway, flanked by two guards from Home dressed in brilliant blue, gold epaulets on their shoulders, gold braid on the brims of their tall hats. One guard curtsied, the other bowed.

  With all the pride of their homeworlds displayed in their clothing and attitude, they led Kel to him. Their guests sighed. Aren inhaled a gulp of air, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

  The mere sight of Kel stole his breath. Her low-cut bodice revealed the tops of her creamy breasts, outlining them as firmly as his hands would this very night. Gods willing. The high waist and cascading pleats hid her slightly rounded belly—a belly he would kiss and caress until she guided him lower and took him into her liquid, heated cunt. The thought made him so hard he feared everyone present would see how he lusted for his bride. He willed lust away, returning his gaze to her face.

  Had he ever seen a lovelier woman? Not that he could remember. Had a woman ever looked at him with such love and trust in her eyes? Those remarkable eyes swirled blues and greens and pale grays, reminding him of sunrise here on Home. He and Kel would watch it together tomorrow and every morning for the rest of their lives. And he silently celebrated that she had forgiven him for arguing with her last night—if she had in fact forgiven him, he amended, seeing her eyes begin to swirl blacks and dark grays. Remembered anger or lust just beginning to stir? He had no time to ponder.

  As was the custom on Home, Basalia took Aren’s left hand and held it out, palm up. Storr took Kel’s left hand and placed it, palm down, in Aren’s. Together they faced the official, their eyes focused on each other.

  The official proceeded to marry them in accordance with every civil and religious ceremony practiced on the entire planet. He’d apparently memorized them all and droned on so long, Kel’s eyes began to swirl.

  “Enough!” Aren whispered the sharp command.

  “You may kiss your mate.”

  Do I taste relief on Kel’s lips? he wondered as they kissed. Does she taste it on mine?

  Their guests cheered long and loud. Together he and Kel hurried into their enormous gilded receiving room and sank gratefully into chairs some thoughtful soul had put on the dais. Lifting her hem, Kel toed off her satin slippers and sighed. Tage and Drew gave them each a goblet.

  “Water for now,” Drew told them.

  Tage said, “Winale from Amazonia once you’ve greeted your guests.”

  “In large groups?” Aren asked hopefully.

  “You may change the custom if you wish, Majesty.” Tage’s blue eyes brimmed with mirth at Aren’s discomfort.

  “Rest assured we shall,” Kel said, her voice low.

  “But not now,” Aren countered. “Let the greetings begin.”

  And so it went until all the citizens on Home had been greeted. When several score of children filed in, Aren choked back a groan. Soon their sweet voices soothed him to a mellower mood. Even Storr and Basalia seemed enchanted, nodding in time with the music, their smiles fond. From Kel’s dizzying blue-green gaze, she too was enchanted.

  “Now you must lead the dance. After that we’ll drink to your health then eat,” Tage told them.

  “Hurrah!” Drew whispered.

  “D-dance? I don’t know—” She looked at him, panic in her eyes.

  “Place your feet on mine,” Aren said, helping her stand then leading her to the center of the room.

  Puzzled by a sudden fit of giggling flowing through their people, Kel turned back toward the dais. Drew held one of her slippers, Tage the other.

  Aren laughed outright. Kel covered her mouth but soon joined in the merriment spreading throughout the room. As if their feet hurt as much or more than Kel’s, the women removed their shoes. Following Aren’s lead, the men loosened their neckwear.

  “I believe we have established a new custom, m’lady wife.”

  “I am not yet your wife,” Kel countered with a wink and a coy smile. She put one foot then the other on Aren’s booted feet. “Dance, m’lord.”

  “You’re heavier than you look, Flame.” As expected, her face reddened and her eyes swirled a kaleidoscope of colors.

  “It’s your fault. If you did not feed me so well—”

  “I do feed you well. And proud I am of it.”

  “There is a name for men like you.”

  He quirked a brow as he whirled her around the circle their people had formed when they joined the dance. “What’s that?”

  “Braggart.” Stepping off his feet, she headed toward the adjoining room where food-laden tables awaited.

  With her gown billowing behind her, she looked so much like an oceangoing vessel under full sails, Aren stood staring at her for a long moment. “Let us eat. And drink,” he announced in a loud voice. “The gods know I need one,” he added under his breath.

  “As does Kel,” Drew told him as they followed Kel into the eating room. “Something disturbed what little sleep she had.”

  “Was she sick to her stomach?”

  “A little nauseated but weary most of sleeplessness. Gastric upset, she claims.” Drew’s scowl made it clear she blamed him for Kel’s discomfort.

  “Is she…?”

  “Pregnant? I don’t know. But you needn’t sound so pleased with yourself if you have made her pregnant, Aren. Basalia told me Amazonian women bond early with their babes.” She flounced away, colliding with a strapping lad with Merry and Nicholas’ bright blue eyes. And an overly friendly smile that had Aren bristling with parental indignation.

  “If our daughters must endure that look I shall pray for sons.” With a firm tug on his arm, Kel led him to a small table in a dark corner of the immense room. Two plates with little food rested on a satin cloth.

  “Did you eat the rest?”

  “No. It’s but for show. We’ll nibble so our people may eat. In a short time…”

  Aren kissed her then sat with her on his lap. “I feel a draft. Are you warm enough, wife?”

  “Feed me something. When our people no longer stare at us, we’ll sneak out through the cook room.”

  “Clever, wife.”

  “I told you—”

  He kissed her again then filled her mouth with brac. Licking garoli from her lips, she laughed then kissed him back.

  * * * * *

  A horse-drawn sleigh awaited them outside the cook room door.

  “Where were we going, wife?” Even knowing how she would react to the term, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

  She sniffed at the title but said, “You’ll soon find out.”

  “Hmm.
I smelled meat.”

  “Leave the food alone, Aren. We’ll eat once we reach our destination.”

  “And until then?” He deliberately lowered his voice to a seductive timbre.

  “I believed you a creative man. Now I am no longer certain.” She stared straight ahead as if impervious to his attempts at seduction. But he could feel her thigh tremble against his.

  Chuckling, he nuzzled her ear. “Is this what you imagined me doing, Flame?”

  “It is a fair beginning, yes.” She snuggled closer.

  “Merry told me,” Aren said, looping one arm around Kel’s shoulders, his hand hovering but not touching her breast, “that on certain nights this time of year you can see all the Ondrican moons.”

  “Nicolas told me you can also see Amazonia’s moon at the same time.”

  Aren could feel the excitement flowing through her. She practically quivered with it. So he kept his mouth shut about only seeing the six moons from one spot. That spot was on the Snow side of Home. Which, he decided as they watched stars appear in the vast darkness, was probably where they were going.

  “Kel? Have you noticed this sleigh has no driver?”

  “Yes. But the horse knows the way.”

  “An interesting way of being alone.”

  “It is our wedding night.” She shifted her shoulders and his hand cupped her breast. The nipple felt hard against his palm. She glanced at his hand then focused on his face. “And your hand is exactly where I imagined it.”

  “I had imagined my bare hands on your naked breasts but I don’t want to ruin your gown.”

  Of its own accord the tight bodice loosened. Grinning, Aren eased the fabric down her arms, exposing both her breasts. Her nipples rose to rigid peaks he ached to suckle. Her breathing changed to shallow, soundless pants.

  “If you don’t want to touch me, Aren—” She raised her hands as if to stroke her own nipples, then let them fall to her lap. “I understand. After our argument last night—”

  “Don’t,” he commanded, feathering his fingertips down her neck. “We’ll talk about last night later. For now I’m going to make you come, Flame, touching only your beautiful breasts.”

  “Ohhhh?” Her groan became a growl as he rolled one tender nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  So responsive. As if she were discovering her own needs for the first time. Her wide eyes reflected starlight. Her lips parted, caught between a smile and an “O” of pleasure. He tasted a hint of garoli beneath her own sweetness. Caills and her musky arousal urged him to fuck her now, but he wanted more from her than a quick mating. He wanted her to admit she loved him, say the words in that throaty growl that proclaimed desire as well as love.

  Kissing her ripe lips, he gently caressed her breasts, never lingering long but stroking her. Circling her areolas. Grazing her nipples. Taking her sighs into his mouth. Mating his tongue with hers.

  “Oh! Ohhh Aren!”

  “It is only the beginning, Flame. An appetizer to the feast I’ll make of you.”

  A shiver coursed through her. “There is time, Aren. We can mate and still have time for you to recover.”

  “Are you saying you want to fuck now?” he teased, renewing his tender assaults on her breasts.

  Why this rush to fuck? Does she think I’ll back out of this marriage if we don’t consummate it now? Ha! She’s more likely to cry off than I am.

  “Are you saying you don’t want to?” Tender feelings underlay the caution in her voice and eyes.

  He caught her wrists before she could touch him. If she caressed his swollen shaft now he would explode. “As hard as you make me, Flame, I wouldn’t last a minute.”

  “As hot as you make me, Aren, neither will I.”

  She freed his shaft, straddled him, then slid down him, her cunt a liquid sheath of pleasure.

  “Suck me,” she pleaded, pushing her breasts together as she rode his shaft.

  “By all the gods, Flame,” he panted as her spasms built.

  “Suck me.”

  Her need triggered his on. Despite the hindrance of material, his fingers dug into her hips, urging her to a faster pace. Her pants cooled his sweaty brow until she lowered her head then drove her tongue into his mouth. Their tongues mated, duplicating the increasing thrusts of their hips. Groaning into her mouth as her cunt muscles milked his shaft, he spewed deep inside her slick walls.

  His breath lumbering in his chest, he gently eased her face from his neck. Her eyes opened to reveal the pleasure they had shared. When he recovered his voice he said, “Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined taking you like this. Now will you admit you are my wife?”

  “Not yet. But soon, I promise.”

  The horse’s stopping rousted them from sleep. Kel lifted her head from Aren’s shoulder then wrapped a blanket around her.

  “It’s colder here than on your mountain, Aren.”

  “I smell honey.”

  “Yes?” The coy look she slanted him made him harder than he was before they fucked.

  “There is a Honey Spring here?”

  “Yes. Which is, in a way, the bone Snow and Sun are fighting over. You see, both sides of Home want to develop tourism, but they’re at odds as to which side will attract the widest interest.”

  “Sun has beaches and rivers and oceans. And many secluded places in which to tryst.”

  “Tryst?” Kel echoed, quirking an eyebrow and grinning. He assumed tryst had caused her amusement. She continued. “Snow, obviously, has snow and many Honey Springs. Which—if the springs are as efficacious as those on Amazonia—is enough to outshine Sun.”

  “So… You brought me here to test the efficacy of Snow’s Honey Springs?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The shyness in her swirling eyes—now visible in the light from six moons—gave him hope that she loved him. And would now acknowledge their marriage.

  “Then why are we here, Flame?”

  She blushed. “No…relationship, especially a marriage, should begin with a broken promise.” She glanced down at her clenched hands then held them out to him.

  Laughing, he swept her into his arms. “Which way, Flame? Do you know?”

  “About a half-kilometer up the hill.” She pointed then clung to his neck. “I was told of the ritual Snoweans observe when they come to the springs. I think we—”

  “Whatever the rituals are, we should observe them as well. I agree.”

  When they reached the first spring, Kel asked Aren to put her down. He did but kept her hand in his.

  “This spring smells like honey and tnim,” he said, sniffing.

  “Which makes it easy to drink.” A hint of uncertainty tinted her voice.

  “From our hands?” he teased, hoping he conveyed his willingness to follow the ritual wherever it led them.

  “No.” Reaching between the smooth stones at the spring’s edge, she held up a golden, two-handled chalice. “We must fill it together then drink it one sip at a time. I was cautioned not to drink more than one cup.”

  “Must be potent.”

  As if remembering what she had said and done at Honey Springs on her homeworld, Kel blushed. “I learned my lesson, Aren. Snow’s delegation assured me that drinking from the springs will only enhance what we already feel for one another. Tonight I need no other stimulus but you. Tonight everything I say and do will stem from what we say and do to and for each other.”

  Staring into her eyes, he thought, And if that is the closest she will ever come to saying she loves me, I will cherish her words always.

  Each holding one handle, they filled the cup then stared at each other. At last Aren cupped Kel’s hands while she raised the chalice to her lips and sipped. Reversing their hands, Aren sipped.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “A little warm. You?”

  “Warm, yes.”

  They repeated the ritual until they emptied the cup. Kel stood, letting the blanket slide from her shoulders. “Very warm,” she adm
itted.

  “And…tingly.” Aren stripped off his shirt.

  “That too.” Her gown pooled around her feet.

  Groaning, Aren caught her to him. He craved the silky slide of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her labia along his rigid shaft. He craved her.

  “I believe we should continue to the next spring,” she murmured against his lips.

  “I want you now, Flame.”

  Her voice breathless, she said, “The ritual…”

  “Hang the ritual.” Freeing his shaft, he slid into her welcoming heat.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Laughing, she said, “We need a wall for leverage.”

  “The ground is too cold. Despite our heat, we’ll freeze.”

  “The next spring is only a few meters up. Am I too heavy? You did say—”

  “My arms were made to hold you, Flame.”

  He strode upward, his pace making Kel sigh with pleasure. “Basalia must construct hills on Amazonia. This sliding is exquisite torture.”

  “Yes.”

  Reaching the next spring, he discovered a wide, cushioned chaise. He lay down with Kel still in his arms, his shaft still in her.

  “Warm,” she sighed, grabbing his ass and writhing. “Good.”

  “Hot,” he corrected, pumping hard and deep. “So hot and wet, Flame. Tight and hot. Just for me.”

  As if his words had triggered it, her climax tore through her. But he wasn’t done with her. Reaching between their bodies, he rubbed her clit until she screamed his name and her spasms took them both to release.

  “Oh…my,” Kel sighed, arching her back like a well-sated cat. “Do you think the Snoweans lied to me? That these springs do far more than enhance our lust?”

  “Complaining that we came too fast?” By all the gods, he couldn’t have lasted any longer. She’d made him so hot he feared he’d come on her belly.

  “Maybe a little.” Laughter lurked in her eyes.

  “What does the ritual require here, Flame?”

  “That we bathe. You must remove your clothes, of course.”

  “Of course,” he echoed wryly. Withdrawing with a pop that made Kel laugh, Aren shed his boots and trousers. Seeing Kel’s eyes swirling with blacks and grays, his shaft hardened.