The Ritual (20 page)

“I… um…” I hesitated, and in that short pause his mouth crushed down on mine and his tongue invaded. Heat flared through me and I moaned, threading my fingers into his thick hair to pull him closer. “Maybe we should stop talking again,” I suggested when he finally pulled away.

He smiled and ran a finger past my cheek before pushing me back down into the grass. “Maybe we should.”

*   *   *   *   *

Later, much later, we lay naked in the grass, sated, sore and spent. Zash was on his stomach, dozing with his head on his arms while I slowly trailed my fingers along his back. My eyes kept lingering on a mark high on his left shoulderblade, some sort of sigil tattooed into his skin. I had noticed it before, on those days when the men had walked without their shirts on, and I knew that Mior had the same tattoo, in the same spot. It was simple, no more than a few lines in black ink, and I brushed it lightly whenever I reached the top of his back.

“What does this mean?” I finally asked.

He raised his head. “Hmm?”

“This tattoo. What is it? Why did you get it?”

He tensed, swallowed once, then relaxed again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said after a while, his voice curiously resigned.

“Does it mean anything?” I asked, pressing my lips to it and tickling his skin with my tongue.

He shivered, but this time it took even longer before he replied, “I don’t know.”

“You got a tattoo but you don’t know what it means?”

He sighed. “I told you, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” With that he stood up and gathered our clothes together, tossing me my tunic. “Come, get dressed. The others should be back soon, let’s get some tea going.”

I pulled the garment over my head, wondering at his sudden melancholy mood, but when I walked up to him he pulled me into his arms and gave me another one of his heartstopping kisses, and I thought no more of it.

When Shani and Mior returned, shortly after, they found us both fully dressed and several feet apart. Zash leaned against the pillar with his shirt untucked, chewing on a sprig of grass, and I lay dozing on my back on my sleeping roll, keeping half an eye on the teakettle. I had managed to salvage most of my drawstring, but it was barely long enough to tie now. It looked like Zash would indeed need to buy me another pair of trousers.

“No luck again?” Zash’s voice drew me out of my sleepy haze and I sat up, tucking my hair behind my ear just as Shani plunged down next to me.

“Nope,” she grouched. “Not even close.”

I gave her a sympathetic squeeze on her shoulder, and she glanced at me and smiled. Then she looked more closely, narrowing her eyes for a heartbeat, and her expression turned to an open-mouthed stare as she looked from me to Zash and back.

I blushed, even though she hadn’t said anything, but when I looked at Mior I just caught his grinning thumbs-up to Zash. He saw me looking and grinned even wider. “Congratulations, you’ve finally fucked each other,” he said gleefully, and I blushed deeper.

“Says who?” I muttered, and both brothers laughed out loud.

“Twins, Little Firelocks,” Zash said as he got up, giving my hair an affectionate tug. “They
know
.” He motioned to Mior, who also got up again.

“Come, tell me every sordid detail,” Mior said, waggling his eyebrows, and they walked off together, sniggering.

“You’re a cock, Mior!” I called after them, though I couldn’t quite suppress my grin, and he gave me a cheerful wave over his shoulder.

Once they were out of earshot I looked down, pretending interest in one of my toenails, until I felt Shani’s hand on my arm and knew I could no longer avoid her eyes. For once I wasn’t sure how she would react, not after all the dire warnings I had given her, but the look she gave me was warm. “
Now
do you understand?” was all she said, and I nodded.

“Yes… Yes, I do.”

For a while we were both quiet, then she coughed. “So, um… Did he do the, um, the ear thing?”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, he did.”

She coughed again, then giggled, and suddenly we both collapsed against each other, giggling until we were completely out of breath.

When we went to sleep that night, Zash looked at me and invitin
gly held open his sleeping roll, and I hesitated a moment. Reality had reasserted itself during dinner, and no matter how amazing the sex had been, it changed nothing about our situation – I still didn’t know what Zash and Mior were up to, still couldn’t trust them.

Then I gave a mental shrug. The situation wasn’t likely to change any time soon, so why deny myself the pleasure he could give me?
I dragged my own sleeping roll over and crawled in with him, and melted into his arms as his lips drew a path across my cheek. To my surprise he didn’t seem to want to make love again – he simply drew me close and nestled his head on my shoulder in a gesture so natural and tender that I knew I was lost forever. I wrapped my arm around his back and buried my face in his hair, inhaling his unique, familiar scent, and slid into sleep faster than I ever had before.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When I woke up the next morning it was in such a tangle of limbs that it took me a while, in my groggy state, to figure out which ones were mine and which ones were Zash’s. It was a new experience to me – the only person I had ever woken up with before was Shani – and I decided I liked it. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was a heady sensation to be this intimate with him, and one that I wanted every night from now on.

I discovered my right arm, stuck underneath his body, and as I carefully tried to shake some life back into it Zash stirred, pulling me closer. His lips found my shoulder where my tunic had sagged, then my collarbone, and I shivered as he trailed little nibbling kisses along it until his face was buried in my neck.

“Mmm, I could get used to this,” he murmured, and my breath hitched at hearing my own thoughts echoed.

“It’s a bit earlier than I usually wake up,” I replied, unwilling to admit to him that I shared the sentiment. Dawn was tickling the horizon and haze curled over the grass, the air smelled fresh and since the wind always rose with the sun it was still breathlessly quiet.

“So get some more sleep,” he suggested. “You’ll need it, I’m planning to exhaust you today.”

My heart shot into a stuttering gallop. “Exhaust me?”

“Mmhmm.” His mouth moved to my ear, and I could feel the heat of his breath as he licked the rim. “I’m going to fuck you today, Little Firelocks,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Again, and again, and again, and–”

“I get the picture,” I said hastily, and he chuckled.

“Do you? Because I’m going to make you scream, and I’m
very
much looking forward to it.”

“So why wait?” I asked with more eagerness than I had intended. “I’m here, I’m awake.”

“Didn’t I say that you would scream? We can’t afford to wake
them
up yet.” He inclined his head towards Shani and Mior, still asleep on the other side of the remains of the fire. “They need their sleep more than we do, so hush and get some more yourself.”

“Like I can, after that,” I muttered.

“Hmm?”

“You say you’re going to fuck me to exhaustion, promise to make me scream, and you think I can sleep again after that?”

He nuzzled my ear again. “Are you saying I’m turning you on?”

“Do dragons shit in the mountains?”

He lifted his head and looked at me. The sun was starting to creep over the horizon now, and in the soft, pale light his eyes were darker than ever, and the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. “I suppose I could try and remedy that, but you’d have to keep quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I assured him, still lost in his eyes.

His mouth curled, then he lowered his head and kissed me. It was a slow kiss, unhurried and a little teasing. He nibbled my lips, sought my tongue with his own and wrestled with it lazily before he pulled it back out and returned to nipping at my mouth. Whilst he was doing this his hand cupped my breast underneath my tunic and caressed it at leisure. His fingers delicately rolled my nipple into a hardened peak, after which he used it to tickle his palm.

It was a slow arousal, and the build-up was intoxicating. I had to gasp for air every time he lifted his head, but I remembered to keep quiet, difficult though it was. Then his hand drifted down, stroked my stomach and dipped between my legs. I heard his breath catch when he touched my slick folds, and held my own breath when he slipped a finger into me.

My kiss became hungrier, more demanding, and I started caressing his chest as I slid my other hand into his hair and pulled him tighter to me. I could feel his heartbeat speed up, but he resolutely took my hand and pushed it away, back down next to me, then untangled my fingers from his hair and placed my other hand above my head.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “You’re tempting enough as it is, and I can’t keep both of us quiet.”

The desire to touch him was overwhelming, but I obediently kept still and sighed when his finger returned to my moist sheath and slid back inside of me. A few moments later he added a second finger, and then he slicked his thumb past my folds and sought out my centre of pleasure, muffling my involuntary moan with his mouth.

He adju
sted his position and pressed his erection against my thigh. I wanted to touch that too, but then I felt the light brush of his fingertips against the shell of my ear and the world fell away.

From that point on I knew nothing but his fingers, stroking, circling and teasing my swollen nub on one side and gently, carefully trailing up the rim of my ear on the other. He lifted his head, looked at me as I ascended on waves of pleasure, then closed his fingertips around the tip of my ear.

My orgasm rose like a tempest, slammed through me, and as I arched and began to draw in a breath to cry out – all promises to remain quiet forgotten – he pressed his mouth onto mine and smothered me.

It was bliss, torture, rapture beyond compare and breathless agony. I soared, tried to draw in air and found his tongue instead, hot and demanding. Only after the first violent spasms did he take his mouth away and clamp me tightly to him, pushing my face into his chest to smother my gasps for breath.

“Shh, easy now,” he soothed, stroking my hair while I still twitched. I pressed my lips against his chest, still dazzled, and he lay back down and drew me close, so I could nestle my head on his shoulder as I basked in the afterglow. I felt drowsy, sated and blissfully happy, and was nearly asleep again when his voice reached me, on the edge of my hearing. “I hope you realise that that’s going to cost you.”

“Cost me?” I murmured.

“You’re all sleepy now, and I’m wound up. When you wake up again it’s payback time.”

A delicious shiver travelled down my spine. “Deal,” I breathed, and drifted asleep.

*   *   *   *   *

The days that followed were sheer bliss, as far as I was concerned. Zash was without a doubt the most generous lover I had ever had. So generous, in fact, that at times he seemed almost reluctant to simply lie back and take what I tried to give him in return for the endless pleasure he coaxed out of me. I already knew that he disliked not being in control, but was surprised that he would display this trait even during sex. Then again, maybe it was simply that he did not like giving up control to me. I could sympathise, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him get away with it.

That first day after waking up with him I spent on getting to know his body, and by nightfall I was confident that I knew all the places that aroused him the most, like the skin just below his ribcage and his instep. During subsequent days I used that knowledge – and the newfound knowledge of the sensitivity of our ears – mercilessly, giving him the same overwhelming, mind-blowing orgasms that he gave me. We also continued our fighting lessons, sometimes even going to the trouble of getting dressed for it, since it was a lot easier to grapple with someone when they were wearing clothes. Still, everything we did invariably ended in sex, and I loved every blissful moment of it.

Zash seemed happy with the arrangement as well. He appeared relaxed, satisfied, and just as intent on me as I was on him. I had never known that my elbows were an erogenous zone, but he could have me melting on the floor and begging for mercy after only ten heartbeats with them. His mood was cheerful, often even playful, and in those days it was almost as if he had switched personalities with Mior, who became increasingly withdrawn, snappish and sarcastic due to the lack of success in capturing a wind sprite.

Until the eighth day.

It was barely mid-afternoon and Zash and I were on our backs in the grass, catching our breath, when Shani and Mior returned, shouting excitedly as soon as they came within earshot.

“We did it! We got one!” Mior crowed in triumph as Zash sat up and made a grab for his trousers, grinning widely. I did the same with my tunic and caught Shani in my arms as she launched herself at me.

“Wonderful!” I enthused, pushing away the stab of disappointment that my lazy days of incredible sex were now over. Meanwhile Shani let go again and sagged to the ground, panting like a bellows from her run. Only then did I notice her dishevelled state and the wad of cloth she clutched in her hand. Her braid looked like it had been plucked apart, with wisps of hair sticking out along its entire length, and her face and hands were covered in welts again.

A quick look at Mior showed a similar picture. His hair was standing on end and one side appeared to have a hank of it missing, but he grinned when he saw my appalled expression. “They didn’t like us catching one of them. Got a bit physical.”

“Yeah, the little shit bit me when I plucked its feathers,” Shani said with grim satisfaction as she gingerly unstuck the bloodied cloth from her fingers and showed the bite marks as if they were a mark of victory.

“Feathers?” Zash asked. “You got more than one?”

Mior nodded and tossed him the rune-engraved magical wooden box he’d bought, then dug around in his pack and crawled over to Shani with his medical kit. “Figured we might as well,” he said. “We had it there in our hands, and those feathers really are very brittle. We managed to get three intact ones and then it bit her, so we let it go again.”

“So what do they look like then?” I asked as I got dressed.

“Kinda like a tiny elf, but pale blue, bald and with wings on its back,” Mior said as he began to clean and bandage Shani’s finger. “They’re wriggly little fuckers really, and surprisingly strong. Shani had to keep hold of its arms and legs while I tried to keep its wings still, and it kept struggling loose.”

“Until I got a good grip,” Shani said smugly when I sat behind her and started combing out her hair to redo her braid. “That’s when we got the three good feathers, and that’s when it had to resort to biting me.”

Zash nodded and thoughtfully twirled the little container between his fingers. “I guess that’s it for the Whistling Plains then,” he said, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he looked at his brother. “How are you two feeling? We can start walking now and get a few miles in before dark, or you can get some rest and we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Mior shared a look with my sister, and gave a casual shrug. “I should be exhausted, but I’m too excited to feel it,” he grinned. “I’d prefer to stay here for the rest of the day and, um, celebrate.” His smouldering look at Shani left no doubt as to what kind of celebrations he had in mind, and I bit back a smile as I tied off her braid and crawled away.

“So what you’re saying is you’d like some privacy?” Zash asked, amused.

“Do as you like,” Mior replied as he started to unlace Shani’s boots, then trailed his fingers up her calf into her trouser leg. “I’m not shy, just don’t interrupt.”

“Gods forbid,” Zash sniggered, getting up. He beckoned me over and pulled me to him for a deep kiss, then said, “How about we go replenish our water supply? I think we’re running low again.”

Three times so far we had had to hike to the nearest stream, and apart from it being a good excuse to give our siblings some well-deserved time together, he was right about it being necessary. I gathered our water bags and we set off.

As we walked I wondered what would happen next in our relationship. I had never had this much sex in my life, but although I was sore and had aching muscles in places where I didn’t even know they existed, I only had to look at him to want him again. I’d had eight days of him, but it seemed that the more I had him, the more I wanted him.

“Well, I guess that means no more sex all day long then,” I eventually said, keeping my tone light.

Zash chuckled wryly. “Probably not such a bad thing. Another week of this and I doubt I’d have any skin left on my cock.”

I nodded, wondering how to interpret that. Did he really think it was for the better? His tone had been as light as mine, though, and I had not sensed even a hint that he was tiring of me.

I was still mulling over his words when from the corner of my eye I saw him turn his head and look at me. “Chiarin,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

He stopped and halted me with a hand on my arm, cupping his other hand around my jaw. “You’re wondering whether this is it altogether, aren’t you?” His voice was gentle, but his eyes were serious. Far too serious, I decided – it was making me uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn’t. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Black Eyes,” I said with a teasing grin, hoping to reach his playful side.

It didn’t have the desired effect. He froze, and a look close to pain flickered across his face before he kissed me hungrily. I didn’t know what sparked the sudden passion, but my own desire flared up in response and I returned the kiss with the same fervour, burying my hands into his hair.

“Gods, Rin, I want you again,” he muttered as he drew away to take a breath. “You’re so alluring – I look at you and I want you. Sod breaking for lunch when we’re travelling, I’ll call a stop just so I can fuck you again. I can’t stay away now, not anymore.”

“And I don’t want you to,” I panted, pulling at his shirt and sliding my hands into his trousers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Good, I like that,” he gasped as my fingers found his cock. “I like that very much. Come here.”