House of Moons 3: The Slave Page 3

  “You lie. I saw her die.” God, how she wanted to believe him.

  One eyebrow raised, he shook his head. “No. You saw her covered in artificial blood, drugged, and weak.” Zira’s guardian looked straight at her, daring her to call him a liar again. “You saw exactly what the Specter wanted you to see. You remember exactly what he told you to remember.”

  All the blood left her head in a dizzying rush, and her knees buckled beneath her on the bed. Could it be true? Could there be another capable of implanting memories? Someone who kept that skill a secret? Someone close to the family? Very close to the family. “No.”

  “Yes.” The pain in his eyes convinced her as nothing else could… and he’d been completely immune to her magic.

  “You will tell me your name.” The magical command flowed from her effortlessly, the strongest she’d ever uttered. A test.

  He leaned back in the chair as if he were bored. “Not until you ask nicely.”

  “Please.”

  “I’m Tobiath.”

  Kamara wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knees to examine the room and the man more closely. Details suddenly jumped out at her with alarming clarity. The room held no magic. Not a single spell. Everything in sight, the metallic walls, the lights, the very lack of scent, confirmed its absence. The linens felt like hand woven cotton. The lights were oddly yellow and dull, shining from small glass globes along the ceiling. Electric! Every item in the room was present as its true self. No alterations. No embellishments. No spells to make things more appealing.

  Other than herself, she’d never known any of her people to live this way, to exist without the illusions, the pampering of the senses magic provided.

  “You’re immune.” Even as she said the words, the initial taste of true fear burst metallic on her tongue. For the very first time in her life, she was with a man she couldn’t command or control. Her body flared to life at the thought, remembered the way his mouth had felt on her breast, the way she’d shattered beneath the onslaught of his touch. Tobiath would remember as well. God help her.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me everything you know.” Black as midnight, his eyes snapped to her face at the whisper. She didn’t command with magic, but with an elemental need to discover the truth, to seek vengeance. “Where were you? How did this happen?”

  He rose from the chair and began pacing. Muscle rippled beneath his uniform. Power and strength clung to him, confidence carried only by someone used to relying on himself. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to stop staring. Stop wanting…

  “I was ordered away for three nights. A sentencing.”

  Kamara nodded. Only the royals knew of this particular job. If someone of high rank or with very powerful magic were pronounced guilty by a Shadow Master, the Sentinals were called upon to either bring them in or kill them. They were the ruling families’ personal bounty hunters as well as protectors.

  When he didn’t continue, she opened her eyes to find him watching her intently. His gaze defied her to judge him, to chastise him for his role in their world.

  “You were gone for three nights. Did you bring in your prisoner?”

  “No.” He resumed pacing, but she would never forget the haunted look in his eyes. “It was a ruse designed to make sure I was gone when they took her.”

  “Zira?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I returned, I was a wanted man. All claimed she was dead by my hand, but I knew she still lived. Someone set me up and planted memories to implicate me in her murder.”

  “Why didn’t they just kill you?” The question stopped him cold.

  “I don’t know.” Tobiath resumed pacing, his black boots striking faster, and more forcefully as he crossed the hard metal floor. A deep scowl formed two lines between his dark brows. “Hell.”

  Kamara watched him very closely, wanted to measure his reaction to her next words. “Reese is dead.”

  “What?” Tobiath’s eyes widened with shock, with rage. “How?”

  “He collapsed the same night Zira died. He bled to death. Bleeder’s poison.” Tobiath’s eyes closed and Kamara rushed on. The vision filled her mind and recalled her anger. “I sent his body for examination anonymously. If anyone knew my Sentinal was dead, I would’ve become an easy mark.”

  “What makes you think you weren’t already?” Tobiath stalked toward her on the bed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Kamara tightened her grip on the sheet tucked beneath her arms and tried not to flinch at his words. “What makes you believe that poison wasn’t meant for you? That Zira’s fate wasn’t meant to be yours?” His fingers wrapped around her bare shoulders and squeezed his frustration into her. “They’re still looking for you, you little idiot. And you go traipsing around in a 5-S mask, just asking to be found!”

  No one in her entire life had ever dared call her an idiot. She slapped his hands from her shoulders. The sheet fell from her body, but she didn’t care. The air in her lungs hissed out in a long warning. “Don’t you dare judge me! I came out here to hunt her murderer! You’re the one who lost her in the first place!”

  “You’re right.” Tobiath turned away from her and put as much distance between them as the room would allow. His voice was tight; the pain wrapped around each word, giving them more weight. “But I will get her back, and kill the bastard who took her.”

  She knew of only one way to be sure he spoke the truth. Rising slowly, Kamara slipped off the bed. Cold metal stung her bare feet as she moved silently across the room. She now wore the sheet draped over her shoulders, a protective cape. Like a cornered, wounded animal, he stood frozen, waiting for her to reach him. To touch him.

  If what he said were true, he would never hurt her. If he lied, her life could be forfeit. She could not command him with her voice. He was immune to her spells and her memory implants. But could he keep her out of his mind?

  Few knew all the skills she possessed. She was the most powerful sorceress born in over a century. Perhaps longer. Like her brother Padraic, she could enter someone’s mind, become a shadow of their consciousness, of their memories. Unlike her brother, the task was difficult for her, required reserves of strength she wasn’t sure she possessed at that moment. But she had no choice. If she believed him, she would be trusting this man with her life, with the life of her cousin. With everything.

  Slowly, she curled her fingers around the solid strength of his, let the warmth of his hand meld into her own. Eyelids drifted closed. She swayed on her feet as energy coiled and twisted inside her mind waiting to slide into his consciousness. He caught her, wrapped his free arm behind her waist and pressed her body to the full length of his.

  “What are you doing, Mara?” The endearment used by her family and closest friends made her heart skip a beat, and unwanted tears welled in her eyes.

  “Hush.” She struggled to maintain control of the magic building within her, struggled just to breathe with his scent filling her nostrils, his strong embrace forcing her closer. “I have to know for sure.”

  “You can’t read me, Mara. No one can.” In a sudden move, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled as if his very life depended on drinking her perfume into his lungs. “You can try, but in the end you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “No.” Kamara shook her head, then gave in to her body’s demands and laid her cheek flat against his chest. Before she could lose her courage and all good sense, she let go of her consciousness, let it separate from within and move into Tobiath. Behind her, she knew her knees buckled, knew her body had gone limp in his arms.

  For a moment her will hovered, lingered to see what he would do, but he just held her and waited. The loud tick, tick, tick of his old-fashioned clock drew her awareness with its simple cadence until her entire focus shifted to the sound, nearly hypnotized by it. The steady beat of his heart drew her then, away from the sound, away from her body, away from herself. Loneliness.
Sadness. Resignation welled up from nowhere to disorient her.

  “So be it, Mara. Do what you will.” With those words she realized the emotions she felt were not her own. Still, she could not stop her search for the truth, for answers. The fate of many depended on what she would discover.

  She flowed into him then, softness and light. His sharp gasp distracted her, but the colors of his soul lured her until she basked in its glow. A thousand emotions swamped her senses, a million tiny bits of his memory, of his experience danced just out of her reach.

  Instead of seeing his thoughts, instead of learning about his life as she would with someone not Immune, she was left with glimpses of his life, his emotions. She felt the stark isolation of his existence, the duty and honor that gave his life meaning, the ache and acceptance of being needed yet never loved. On the fringes, she could actually feel Zira’s life force pulsing somewhere just out of reach, and an answering guilt surged to life inside the Sentinal. Intrigued, she tried to pursue the emotions, to delve more deeply into his heart and mind.

  Demanding more magical force from her body, she pushed deeper, ignored the vacuum within absorbing her power faster than she could summon it. A dark yawning pit awaited her; it pulled her in and siphoned her efforts, sent her energy winging out to rejoin the soup of the universe. This was the source of his Immunity, of his power. He was a funnel for energy, connected directly to the source. Untouchable.

  Weakened, she felt her essence, her very soul being pulled toward the vortex. She fought against the tidal wave of power she herself had summoned, the flood of magic which threatened to carry her away within it like an undertow sweeping her out to sea.

  “Mara!” Tobiath’s voice called her back, the soft echo far away.

  Mortality. Madness. Both loomed on the horizon to claim her. Unexpectedly, Tobiath entered the void; the warming light of his soul coiled around hers, anchored her. Called her back from the brink of nonexistence. Somehow, he distanced her from the void, protected her from its paralyzing attack.

  She gained control slowly and pulled back into herself. Eyes closed, she didn’t move from his embrace, couldn’t give up the comfort of touching him, of being held, rejoicing in being alive.

  “I’m sorry, Tobiath. I should have listened to you.” Kamara nearly collapsed with relief. He had told the truth. His soul was intact and his honor confirmed. Without doubt, if he hadn’t intervened, she’d be dead.

  “I don’t know how you did that.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Seen enough?” Still arrogant. Still on the offensive.

  Before, she wouldn’t have heard the vulnerability behind the question. His voice hadn’t changed, but the link still pulsed with life between them and she knew the question mattered a great deal, felt the sting behind his words. The relentless ache of his existence weighed heavily upon her. Never before had she worried about Reese or any of the Sentinals, of what their lives became when they swore their oaths. Tobiath had saved her, served her family for years with no acknowledgement and no reward. He’d suffered for it, for her, and she’d never once spared a thought for any of the Sentinals. What a truly selfish little bitch she’d been.

  Chapter Four

  “Yes.” Kamara slid her arms around his waist, rubbed her cheek into the soft, black fabric covering his chest.

  “And?” He stood still as a statue, a tortured animal shocked by the gentlest of caresses, a man who’d sacrificed his life for her, and asked nothing in return. A man who watched others live, protected them, and all the while hungered for acceptance, for gratitude, for a love he knew he’d never get. And still, he lived with honor, with peace and resignation in his soul. It nearly made her weep and beg his forgiveness, and did convince her she was falling in love.

  “And I will allow you to help me catch the Specter.” Unable to resist for another moment, she tilted her head up to taste the skin of his neck, first with her lips, then leisurely exploring with her tongue.

  “I will hunt him down tomorrow. You will stay here where it’s safe.” Belying his next words, he buried his hands in her hair, held her head in place, a silent demand for her to continue. “What are you doing?”

  Satisfaction purred to life within her when she felt his cock harden where it pressed against her stomach. He meant to resist. She sensed his determination through their new, unique bond. But she was equally unwavering in her decision, her need to have him. “I’m telling you my fantasies.”

  “No, you’re licking my neck.”

  Smiling, she visualized him naked and placed her hands on the fabric of his shirt. Her magic pulsed with life between them, ebbing and flowing, always in contact with the abyss. Why, she could not say, but Tobiath’s soul still wrapped around hers, protected her from the dark void and the sickness that came from exposing herself to its power. Satisfaction purred through her body as she concentrated on his clothing and said, “Vanish.”

  “Mara!” Her name burst from him, nearly a groan of pain. Beneath her seeking palms, hard, hot male flesh burned with life. Fully clothed, protected by the shroud of his duty, he might have been able to defy their mutual desire. Now, he would be so very easy to seduce.

  “I want to touch you, to suckle until you writhe and beg beneath me.” Recognition of his own words snapped through their link, but she ignored it, focused on the winding path her tongue took to his hard nipple. Hands still buried in her hair, Tobiath pulled her to him roughly at the first flick of her tongue over the sensitive peak.

  A thrill like none she’d ever known rushed through her system, more potent than the newest stims, heated her blood to boil. Her cunt roared to life, throbbing in desperate anticipation of being filled. Never had she held a man in thrall without the use of magic. For the first time, she was with a man who wanted her, not her crown. For the first time, everything was real.

  He tasted of wildness, of pain, and of freedom. Filling her nostrils, her lungs, his musky scent drove all rational thought from her mind until she felt like a wild beast starving for his flesh. A red haze clouded her thoughts. Her heart threatened to explode from her chest. Nothing mattered more than exploring every muscle, lingering over every secret, and discovering his flavor.

  Kneading fingers explored the strength of his back, massaging and roaming lower until she held his tight ass. Using just the tip of her tongue she swirled it over his abdomen and lower, until she knelt before him and lightly caressed his cock from base to tip before taking him into her mouth.

  Tobiath lost his balance; he swayed before her, a conquered man. Never, not even in his dreams of her, had he imagined Kamara kneeling before him, sexy and sweet in honey-colored satin. Not even in fantasies could he conjure the ecstasy of her mouth, hot and wet on his cock, and her hands driving him to madness. The future queen gifted him as if he were more than a slave. The enormity of the gift, of the genuine desire he sensed within her, pushed him to a place he never thought to be. Unconditional surrender. Madness. Lust.

  Her mouth surrounded him, slid up and down his cock and stole his sanity. “Mara.” He whispered her name, his talisman against the stark emptiness of his life up to this moment. If she didn’t stop soon, he would have to wait. Wait to spread her long, smooth legs out before him. Wait to lick the sweet nectar from her core, to taste and explore until she whimpered and begged him to fill her. And wait to pump into her until they both screamed with release.

  “Enough.” The skin of her shoulders was softer than the satin gown that slid over him when he pulled her up. Protest shone from her eyes, but he silenced her before it could be uttered, claimed her mouth with his own and tore the flimsy gown from her body. Sweetness and flame in his arms, her mouth was hungry and demanding beneath his. The moment her bare skin came into contact with his she jumped off the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist. Welcoming heat teased his cock, hovered at its tip and beckoned.

  “Now. Hurry.” Kamara tore her lips from his, nibbled at his shoulder, and wiggled her hips lower.
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br />   “No.”

  She bit his shoulder in protest, then yelped when he turned around and placed her in the chair.

  “My turn.” Slowly, he lifted each leg and laid them over the arms of the chair until she lay open and exposed before him. Chest heaving, her breasts lifted in offering with each rapid breath. He took his time, allowed his gaze to roam and linger on her nipples. They tightened to hard beads beneath his gaze. Goosebumps rose on her skin and the scent of her wet cunt teased his nostrils. Her legs were long, shapely. Curvy and soft, her hips would cradle him. Lush and full, her breasts would cushion his chest. Pink and swollen, her cunt opened before him, ready to be tasted. He savored her position, wanted to keep Kamara here, completely at his mercy.

  Like a jungle cat stalking prey, he moved slowly, kept his gaze focused on what he wanted. He grasped both nipples, filled his palms with her soft breasts, and kneaded. Explored. Satisfied his curiosity and male urge to claim every inch of her luscious body. Kneeling, he kept eye contact and lowered his lips to hover over her clit.

  Drawing her scent into his lungs, he took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled onto her swollen flesh. Kamara’s body quivered beneath his hands. She raised her hips, writhed and moaned, buried her fingers in his hair in a futile attempt to pull him closer.

  He didn’t deny her, sucking and flicking his tongue over her clit until she panted, unable to speak. He plucked and played with her nipples in rhythm with his mouth until she whimpered. Glistening with moisture, the pink folds of her cunt were soft and wet, ready to take his cock deep. Needing a taste, a tease, Tobiath entered her with his tongue, stroked the sensitive spot on the roof of her cunt until she sobbed and strained toward him.

  His cock bucked at the sound, seeming to have a mind of its own, and that mind took control. He rose to his knees and pulled her hips to the edge of the chair. Her legs still hung over the sides, leaving her cunt open and vulnerable. He pinned her knees in place with his arms, opening her wider for his possession as he pulled her hips toward him. Her hair fanned out around her head like a dark angel’s black halo. Her lips were swollen and red, her eyes nearly black with desire. The vision imprisoned him, held him still as a statue as a sense of the unreal made him wonder if this was a drug induced dream.