Gift of the Goddess Page 3

  Gods, it was gorgeous! They had to be better than any pleasure slave in the Ten Nations.

  Anje angled her mouth to curl her tongue gently around Brin’s and heard him make an involuntary sound in his throat. She smiled in triumph beneath his kiss. He knew. In retaliation, he took her aching nipples between his fingers and tugged, an exquisitely light touch. A wash of heat joined the fire banked low in her belly.

  But that was all right. She was in control.

  A broad, warm wave rolled up gently from her loins. It whispered over her like a placid tide, washing back and forth, in and out, in tune with the caressing rhythm of Brin’s tongue and fingers, the feel of Trey’s soft lips nibbling and laving the skin of her belly.

  It was a lovely, drifting dream, being bathed in slow, sumptuous pleasure. Immeasurably good.

  Deep within her, something dark and rich hung suspended, quivering for endless moments. With a sweet little tremor, it gave way, all of a piece, like a sigh drawn out of the heart. Long, luscious ripples spread from behind her clit up and down her spine, her belly, her breasts. Delicious, seemingly infinite, like warm honey-wine in her veins.

  Her breath whispered out unobtrusively, a long, slow exhalation. She fought the need to smile, feeling shaken. Mother save her! She’d never had an orgasm like that before, so deep…so all-encompassing. It had stolen up on her so quietly, she hadn’t even tensed, let alone made a sound. And gods, they hadn’t even touched her sex!

  They’d never know.

  Even her toes felt mellow.

  “Was it good?”

  Reluctantly, Anje peeled her eyes open. Brin eased her back against his shoulder, his lips a smug curve. “What?” she asked, her brain thick and stupid.

  “You offered to the Goddess, scout.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You came.”

  The mists cleared abruptly. “No, I didn’t!” She sat up, pulling out of Brin’s arms.

  Trey chuckled. “You can’t fool Brin, Anje. He’s a shaman of Lufra.” He was crouched between her thighs, his face alight with anticipation. One hand grasped his cock, stroking slowly from balls to tip. The smooth head was flushed a pretty shade of rose pink.

  “Here, lean on me.” Brin pulled her back into his chest. His heavy forearms came down firmly over hers, long fingers wrapping around her wrists.

  Trey bent forward and licked her lower lip. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” With the tip of his finger, he traced the softness of her labial lips, the entrance to her vagina. Humming with approval, he feathered the touch over her clit and all the way back to her anus. When she twitched and cursed, he grinned and did it again, finishing with that debonair twirl at the top.

  “You’re so much hotter than the water, Anje. And wetter, so much wetter.” Then he leaned forward and sucked one nipple deep into that luscious mouth.

  All the air went out of her with an undignified grunt. The stimulation was unbearable and now Brin was kissing the side of her neck, nibbling on a tendon, his breath searing her skin. Something like a bar of hot iron was welded to the small of her back.

  “If you’re going to do it, for the Mother’s sake, bloody do it!” she snarled, driven almost insane with lust and fury.

  A deep laugh rumbled through the chest pressed up against her spine. She set her teeth. She was going to kill him! Kill them!

  After it was over.

  “Get on with it, man,” Brin growled, but the humor lingered in his voice. “I’m dying back here.”

  Trey lifted her thighs over his. The tip of his cock kissed her labia, nudged the lips aside. He hissed at the initial resistance of firm flesh, sighed as he twisted his hips and pushed further into her resilient tissues.

  Then he slid all the way home.

  Buried to the balls, his eyes drifted closed and he swallowed, breathing hard. “Lufra’s tits, you feel gorgeous.”

  He impaled her beautifully, stretching her channel just enough to make nerves jump and flutter. Oh, but it was marvelous to be so crammed with heat and hardness. Involuntarily, Anje’s flesh clamped down and they both groaned.

  A dark voice murmured in her ear. “Tell me.”

  “What?”

  Brin’s long fingers cupped her breasts from behind, rolling and pulling at her nipples. The sensations streaked straight to her clit, straight to the depths of her sex, full of Trey’s beautiful cock. She moaned.

  “He’s in there and I’m out here. Tell me what you feel.”

  Trey pulled out, a dragging friction.

  “Uh. Can’t,” she gasped, her head tossing from side to side.

  Trey pushed in, a long glide.

  “Tell me or I’ll make him stop.”

  “No, no!”

  Trey was slowly building a steady rhythm, shoving her back into Brin’s chest with every stroke. She gulped for air.

  Trey lifted her hips and slung her higher. Brin braced her with two big hands under her buttocks. His fingers bit hard into her flesh, but Anje was beyond caring. The new angle deepened Trey’s penetration and he hit her clit full-on with every thrust. She gasped and writhed.

  “How’s that?” came the diabolical voice in her ear.

  “Shut up! Oh, oh!”

  Trey slammed into her, pushing her higher and higher, closer and closer. His neck and cheeks were mottled with a sexual flush. He groaned, deep in his throat. “Sorry— Ah, Lufra!”

  His cock swelled hard and high within her and he collapsed, shuddering with the force of his climax, driving her back into Brin’s unyielding body with the urgency of his final thrust.

  Anje let out a wail of frustration and Brin rasped, “Mine now, scout. All mine.”

  His big hand grabbed Trey’s shoulder and shoved. With a groan, the smaller man landed on his back with a splash. His chest heaved, but the smile on his face was beatific.

  Brin set his hands to Anje’s waist and spun her around. He lifted her so he could take her nipples into his mouth, one after the other, in a quick, pulling suck. Then he began to lower her.

  When she reached down to guide him, he growled, “No. Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Anje glanced down. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  This was man pared down to the predatory, powerful essence. He was utterly intent on her, on fucking and possessing her. His eyes were completely, fiercely black, but she could swear she saw tiny flames dancing there.

  His cock nudged her weeping pussy and thought blew away like leaves on the wind.

  He was hot. And huge.

  No wonder he wouldn’t permit her to look down. Probably thought he’d scare her to death.

  Frowning with concentration, he worked the head into her. “Gods, you’re tight.” The breath hissed from between his teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said and he sounded irritated. “Don’t you use this cunt the way Lufra intended?”

  If she hadn’t been so needy, Anje would have laughed. Instead, she wriggled down another inch, puffing with the effort.

  His eyes brightened and he grunted with pleasure, letting her drop another fraction.

  Anje rested her head on his shoulder, panting. Brin turned his head and kissed her, long and luxuriously, tangling their tongues, exploring the inside of her mouth.

  Trey’s wet hands stroked soothingly down her ribs and over her buttocks. Kneeling beside her, he murmured, “Don’t be frightened, sweet. You’ll get used to it, you know. They all do.”

  The dark warrior’s glare was so frankly murderous, she had to smother a chuckle against his shoulder. But Trey was right. Though she was stretched tight around Brin’s girth, every nerve and muscle quivering, it was all pleasure—a pleasure so acute, it was almost pain. The sort of pain that is darkly addictive.

  Brin slid his hands around to her buttocks and squeezed, mashing her flesh more firmly around his massive cock. She could feel every beat of his heart, transmitted to her engorged tissues through his penis. “Gods, you have a luscious ass.” He licked the corner of her mouth, sucked the tip of her to
ngue. “Not much more, scout. All right?”

  At Anje’s nod, he surged upward until he was seated to the hilt. She huffed out a breath, refusing to panic. “I think I can feel you in my throat.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re stronger than you look.” He began to rock into her, deep inside.

  Insulted, Anje reared away from the heat of his body. “I’m a Child of the Mother!”

  “I know.” He anchored her with his hard hands.

  The change of angle had the head of his cock strafing a sweet spot she hadn’t known she had. She lurched. “Gods!” Her voice came out half strangled.

  “Hold on, little one.” He picked up the tempo, gradually changing the rocking motion to thrusting, until he had her digging her fingers into his shoulders, crying out with pleasure at every jolting stroke. The sweet tension built again, but this time it spiraled up to a dark, ferocious need that seared and burned, whipping her on and on toward a pinnacle she couldn’t quite reach.

  Now he had her flat on her back on the bank, her legs wrapped as tightly around his waist as she could manage. She sank her nails into his skin and tilted her pelvis, matching him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, moaning and tossing her head.

  He was killing her. She couldn’t. She was going to die. She’d kill him.

  “Open your eyes!”

  She looked straight into his midnight eyes, straight into the flames dancing there.

  “Come for me, Anje!”

  She whimpered.

  “You’re Lufra’s Gift!” He was panting, sweat and water slicking his skin. “Now, Anje! Now!”

  The blaze reached out and engulfed her. Dark fire exploded from her clitoris, licked up her spine. Her womb clenched hard and she screamed. The spasms went on and on, jerking her about as if she was boneless. Dimly, she heard Brin’s guttural roar and felt him jam hard up inside her.

  After a long interval, Trey’s voice whispered, “Brin, you haven’t killed her?” Fingers fumbled for the pulse in her throat.

  Brin’s arms tightened into a steel cage, then loosened. With a long groan, he rolled away. “No, but I think she’s killed me. Lufra, what an offering!”

  Without the blanket of his big body, her skin stippled with gooseflesh. Blearily, she forced her eyes open.

  Brin knelt beside her. “Come on, scout, up with you.” He slid strong arms under her shoulders and thighs. When he rose to his full height, he didn’t as much as grunt, curse him.

  “Wait a minute.” Trey’s voice. “She’s cold and wet.” Gentle hands patted her skin with soft fabric. Ah yes, the shirt.

  She tried to bat him away, shrivel him with an oath, but the words were swallowed by a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “Don’t fight it, Anje.” Brin was walking, carrying her with ease. She smelled canvas and a drift of incense. His chest was warm and hard against her cheek.

  “I’ll put the bedrolls together,” said Trey.

  “Good.” Brin began humming, deep in his throat, the noise oddly soothing.

  Her consciousness lurched and she grabbed it back. “No, I—”

  “Yes, you can.” Brin laid her on a blessedly soft surface. He stretched out beside her.

  “No…” She struggled through thickets. “Mustn’t.”

  She felt Trey settle on her other side. He took her hand and held it to his cheek. Brin sighed, turned his head into her neck and started the humming again. It vibrated through her, weaving a heavy blanket over her senses.

  Anje slipped into velvet darkness.

  Chapter Three

  Feolin—Religion—The Great Rite:

  Shrouded in secrecy, the Great Rite of the Feolin is performed infrequently, and only on the Day of the Dark (See Sun and Shadow—Celestial Movement). Participants are driven literally mad with lust, the object being to engender a spiritual connection with the Goddess that will gain her favor. Death or insanity usually results. Little more is known, save for salacious speculation.

  Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

  She slept on her stomach, stretched boneless across both bedrolls, so strong and beautiful she made his throat ache. Cautiously, Brin bent and pushed aside the tangle of her hair. There was a scar on her shoulder, another marring the satiny smoothness of her hip, nicks on her capable hands. He wanted to soothe each one with his tongue, like a fellwolf comforting its mate. He gave a wry grin. She’d be more likely to kick him in the teeth than purr.

  His miracle.

  A Child of the Mother. A fiery warrior from a tribe of matriarchs.

  He snorted. If nothing else, it proved the divine Lufra had a devilish sense of humor.

  He’d woken at first light, his cock flexing with a firm, reminiscent twitch. Now the Shadow had caught up with the Sun, high in the sky, and he was still hard. He could have done a meditation exercise, willed it away, but the anticipation was too luxurious to spoil. As for Trey… The lad had looked so hungry, he’d sent him out to check the perimeter wards twice already.

  He rose to rummage in a saddlebag. Though he knew he was a sentimental fool, he never traveled without the Bond torques that had belonged to his parents. Untying the drawstrings of the velvet pouch, he shook the braided circlets into one big palm.

  So light to be so strong.

  “She awake?” Trey’s square shoulders were silhouetted against the light at the entrance to the tent.

  “Not yet. Keep your voice down.” Brin rubbed his thumb over the plaited locks of hair that comprised the torques.

  Trey came to lounge beside him. “Gods, I’m dying to fuck her again,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Brin chuckled. “Your finesse should sweep her clean off her feet.”

  Trey flushed, the curse of the fair-skinned. He looked down at the trews tented over his groin. Then he glanced at the sarong around Brin’s hips and smirked. “Don’t give me that, you hypocrite.” He reached out to tap his friend’s erection with a forefinger.

  It leaped.

  So did Brin’s pulse.

  “Sorry,” murmured Trey. His fingers closed, gave a quick, soothing squeeze and released.

  Brin cleared his throat. When he shot a glance at Trey, his young friend was frowning at the torques. Imagination, nothing more. He let go the breath he was holding and disciplined himself to put the shameful lick of heat aside.

  “I have a bad feeling,” said Trey, “but I’m going to ask anyway.” He gestured at the torques. “What are they for?”

  “Can you think of a better way of keeping an experienced scout somewhere she doesn’t want to be? We have to sleep after all.”

  Trey’s beautiful eyes flew to his. They looked wide and golden in the clear light that spilled into the tent. “But Brin—”

  Brin shrugged. “If Lufra refuses, it’s my risk. Will you help me?”

  Trey sat back on his heels and his lips firmed. “No, I don’t think so.” He stood abruptly and stalked out.

  Brin stared after him.

  Perhaps he was jealous. Ay, that could be it. By Lufra, Trey certainly had more to offer a woman. He was the son of Feolin’s Queen; his Bond torques were encased in gold filigree, dotted with fire opals. And he was young, with all the energy and enthusiasm of youth. His life was still before him.

  Brin frowned down at his thick wrists and broad palms. He was a blacksmith’s son, not a prince. All he had was generations of his family’s love, in hair every shade of black, brown and gray, braided together and finished with a plain silver twist. It was simple enough, but the power of it was formidable. It would hold her.

  It had to, if he was to save his people.

  He fetched his dagger and crouched to cut a lock of her shining black hair from underneath, where it wouldn’t show. The nape of her neck was tender, pale. Leaning forward, he drew the warm scent of her into his lungs.

  Anje snuffled in her sleep.

  He ran the lock through his fingers. It was so smooth and slippery, he had to concentrate hard to plait it into the to
rques, together with strands of his own. When the task was complete, he slipped the larger collar around his neck, the smaller around hers. Placing a hand on each, he pressed the silver clasps closed between finger and thumb. It wasn’t orthodox by temple standards, but he didn’t have much time.

  Kneeling, he bowed his head and slowed his breathing, ‘til all he could hear was the steady throb of the blood in his body. Deep inside, he formed an image of the living flame that was Lufra. Humbly, he laid his soul bare before Her, all that he was, and begged Her blessing.

  The seconds passed excruciatingly slowly. Divine Mistress, don’t turn Your loving face from me. Not now, when I’m so close. I beg You.

  He sagged with relief when Her heat answered his call. It started at the base of his spine and spread, licking his buttocks and genitals, warming his belly and cradling his heart. Lufra’s song vibrated deep in his throat; the silver melted under his fingers, flowed, folded and joined.

  It was done. For good or ill, it was done.

  “What are you doing?”

  Anje’s narrowed eyes were cold as amethyst and as hard. She put a hand to her torque and tugged. “What’s this?”

  How long had she been awake? It took him a moment to shake free of Lufra’s warm embrace. He blinked once, slowly. “A torque. To keep you with us.”

  Anje pulled harder, fingers fumbling for a catch. They trembled. “Magic?”

  Her struggles were leaving a pattern of fine red lines on the clear skin of her throat. Brin leaned forward and laid his big hand over hers, stilling it. He made his tone deep and soothing. “It’s shaman’s magic, Anje. But I swear I mean you no harm by it.” He held her gaze. “On my life, I swear.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Walk away and find out.” Brin smiled thinly. “It has a range of about a hundred paces.”

  All the animation smoothed from her face. It was a fair effort at concealment. Others might find her hard to read, but to him, her thoughts showed clearly in those violet eyes. He could see the anger there, the fear and confusion, but also a glimmer of arousal, a white-hot ember. She was fighting not to drop her gaze below his chin. Poor sweet warrior, they’d stripped her of a measure of self-control yesterday and she’d learned to doubt herself. And they were going to do it again and again.