by Dara Joy
She immediately began stroking his back in long, light sweeps, knowing that such an action would lull him back into a relaxed mode. It was something she had learned of his Sensitive's nature. When awakened from slumber, he was very susceptible to touch and massage. It seemed to enervate him and all his focus pooled into whatever he was feeling. On a few occasions, he had become drowsy yet unbelievably aroused at the same time. The fascinating juxtaposition was one more facet to his intriguing response to stimulation.
Was it any wonder that throughout the ages, scores of odes had been written about the enigmatical Sensitive?
"I... " He inhaled the scent of her skin; a low moan rolled from his throat. Green continued to stroke his naked back, still warm from his sleep. Her foot slid between his legs.
"Mmm, what are you doing with your foot?" He sighed against her breast. Then his teeth scraped sensuously along its edge.
"What were you going to say?"
He took a deep breath. "I can prevent it. Green," he finally admitted. Green looked down at him in dismay. Did he realize what this could mean?
"How?" She tried to keep the worry out of her voice.
He raised his eyes to hers. "I can tell the cycle of your natural rhythms. I know when... how you are responding to that cycle."
"That is impossible! No one can just know such things."
His palm cupped her breast. "It is possible." He flicked the peak with his tongue.
"But... you... that is... you do release, Jorlan."
"Of course."
"Then there is always the possibility that—"
"No. I know you have been off your peak cycle."
Green gasped. He was right. How could he know that? "I have never heard of this!"
"No?" He seemed surprised. Then she felt him grin against her chest. "Perhaps I will teach you something then, my name-giver."
Green frowned at him. "Men do not just know these things, Jorlan."
"Really?" He playfully bit the side of her breast. Without thinking, she brushed her thigh against his. "Ah, I love the feel of you... " Jorlan, so relaxed, almost seemed to fall back asleep again.
Green absentmindedly stroked him as her mind raced for answers. "Tell me how you know this," she prodded him.
"Hmm?"
Green arched warmly against his body. "Your way of knowing?" she asked.
He yawned. "It is simply the cadence of nature..." He yawned again.
There was nothing simple about this. "Are you saying that you somehow intuit my cycle?"
He hesitated. "I cannot put it into the correct words exactly... but, yes."
"It's never simple," she murmured to herself. He bit her shoulder and stretched out against her, promptly falling back to sleep. Sometimes it was impossible to wake a man.
Sometimes that was a good thing.
Cadence of nature. He was about to learn something new about a woman's cadence.
The next day. Green took Jorlan on an extensive tour of the plantation, all the while giving him a detailed lecture on the hukka crop.
Jorlan realized most She-Lords would not bother to discuss the intricacies of a working plantation with their name-bearers, believing that their only interests were of the frivolous kind.
She not only explained how the crops grew and how they harvested, but she included a detailed description of the best methods of minimal processing in order to maximize the wholesomeness of the grain. She then went on to teach him about how the grains were priced on the market, and included some secret Tamryn techniques for getting top plat-coin for their crop—which was, by and large, considered by the Slice to be a select variety of grain.
Jorlan listened carefully. As was his wont, he remained quiet while he learned what he needed to know.
Green was amazed at his retention level; she was more than pleased with his acute interest, making a note to herself to begin teaching him everything she could about the Tamryn holdings. She had always believed that knowledge was the best weapon. Too many times she had seen vast estates go under due to poor or corrupt management as the result of something untoward happening to the She-Lord. Most name-bearers did not have a clue as to how to step in and take control; the job usually fell to the nearest female relative. Sometimes unscrupulous relatives would take over the properties entirely, ousting the former name-bearer to a monkery, along with any of his sons.
Green wanted to make sure that Jorlan would be able to carry on their legacy if something should happen to her. To that end, earlier, she had shown him the secret route through the jinto forest to the second cistern. The route was known only to five of her most trusted household members. She explained to Jorlan that if the location of it should ever be discovered, it would mean the Tamryns had a traitor in their ranks.
By the time they checked the silos, night was falling.
"Are you tired, Jorlan?"
He straightened, lengthening his spine in a stretch as he sat astride Kibbee. "No, just hungry." He grinned.
He gave her a smoldering look that left no room for interpretation. Which was just the mood Green wanted him in.
She had plans for her unrestrained name-bearer. Plans he was going to love.
And hate.
She answered his glance with a slow, seductive smile.
"You are thinking like a true Tamryn, wilding." She purposely turned her mount toward the big house. It was going to come down to tonight.
When they got back, a much improved Sweeney led them to a small dining area in one of the alcove plantrooms. As they took their chairs at the two-seat table, Sweeney informed Green. "The strain of the biocrobe has been identified, my Lordene. You were right. Avatar has already sent to Capitol Town for a neutralizing agent."
"How are the tenants?"
"Well, with the untainted water now reaching them, many are much improved. But then we knew you'd fix it all up right, Marquelle—once you got here."
Sweeney beamed at her, then lit the small flamelight on the table. "I'll tell tonight's serving boy to bring your meal. Looks like you two can have a nice quiet dine. It's right pretty tonight, now that Arkeus is high and the other moons are shining." She gave Green another beaming glance and left.
"She looks upon you as a savior," Jorlan teased.
Green blushed. "They are not used to our city ways out here."
"Maybe that is not a bad thing. I like it here in the South Lands. It is so open and free." He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on the small circular table.
"Ha! You might think twice before you say that. This is only the Hadley Tip of the South Lands; they are still somewhat civilized here. Go farther south and you would be scooped up by a savage tribeswoman. And she would treat you with less cordiality than she does her Klee. They are nothing like Capitol Towners who know how to spoil their men with comfort and Ramagi silk."
She grinned at him.
"Hmm." He rested his chin in his palm. "Avatar indicated as much. I thought she was exaggerating."
Green shook her head. "Hardly. Although I imagine a leader might indulge her name-bearers as a way of showing off her wealth to her sisters."
"Name-bearers? As in plural?" Jorlan eyes rounded.
A dimple grooved her cheek. "Oh, yes. It's quite the custom down there even though we in Capitol Town consider it barbaric. But then that is the South Lands." She shrugged.
"You are jesting, aren't you?"
She gave him an innocent look. "The Western Colonies are worse in some ways."
"You won't tell me, will you?"
She gave him a tiny smile.
He gave her a beseeching stare with a slow sweep of his black lashes.
Green chuckled. "I will tell you this—it is worse than you imagine and better than you think."
He exhaled, pretending frustration at her response. "I shall just have to see it for myself then."
Green became serious at once. "No. It is far too dangerous a place for you."
"I can handle myself, as you have seen."
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"Not against tribeswomen. I'm afraid you will have to stay out of that region, my name-bearer. I could not guarantee your safety down there. You would be taken... in every way. Perhaps by many."
His mouth parted slightly at the crude picture she painted.
"I am sorry to shock you, but that is the way it is. It is better you do not harbor any romantic illusions about the place as some young men do. It would be an assault on your nature."
"Mothers let their sons be treated like this?"
"No. That is the fate of outsiders. Their sons are strictly watched over from birth. They are kept cloistered and sheltered in the family home until their fastening day—which in most cases is the day they meet their name-giver. Once fastened, name-bearers must show respect by coming to their name-givers from the foot of the bed. Sometimes they pleasure their name-givers silently under the covers—a symbol of their never intruding upon their name-giver's importance or life."
Jorlan scowled disgustedly. "I do not think I will be asking you to take me there."
"I didn't think you would."
Their meal arrived with a young serving boy, who was so nervous to be serving the Marquelle and Marqueller that he almost dropped his tray. Jorlan caught it just in time and righted it for him. "There's nothing to be worried over, lad," he spoke in the smooth tone Green had heard him use on Hugo and Sabir. It seemed to calm the poor fellow right down, for he finished laying the dishes in a competent manner and left.
"Does that only work on males and animals?"
"What?" Jorlan paused with his drink lifted halfway to his lips.
"That voice you use to tame." "The voice I use to—What are you talking about?"
"Don't act as if you don't know. That smooth, silken tone that rolls over one like flowercream."
His aqua eyes flashed amusement. "I don't know—but I'm willing to test out your question later... if that is what you desire, name-giver." He looked as if he were enjoying some secret merriment.
"Hmm." Green sipped her hukka brew.
Jorlan snorted and dug into his plate of steamed snob-bobs. "Mmm. They don't taste like this back home."
"That's because they have to be imported from out here." Snob-bobs lived exclusively on the bottom of the southern rivers. Only certain fisherwomen had the ability to dive for them. Their pink flesh was extraordinarily sweet and beloved by the Slice, who thought nothing of paying exorbitant prices for importing them.
Hence the name, given them by the fisherwomen: snob-bob.
As they were enjoying their companionable meal, Avatar's and Miara's heated voices, from the other side of the house across the courtyard, peaked and waned over the various shrieks of night creatures.
"Are they having a row?" Jorlan chuckled. "If they are, my plat-coin is on Avatar."
Green laughed. "They are playing shredder. They always do when we come down here. Rural life curtails the night life of Capitol Town. I wouldn't be surprised if Sweeney is in there with them as well, having her wages neatly skimmed by those two."
Jorlan's brow furrowed. "What is shredder?"
"It is a southern game of chance played with small, stiffened pieces of shredder plant. I will show it to you sometime, if you like."
"Might be interesting. Can we wager?" He viewed her through half-closed eyes.
Green sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. When it came to games of sport, she was an expert. As he was about to find out.
"What would be the point if we didn't, my blaze-dragon?"
She gave him an enigmatic smile.
Jorlan hesitated at that smile. He paused for a moment as he observed his Marquelle. Then he arched his brow in challenge.
Chapter Thirteen
While Jorlan was bathing, Green went over to her pharmkit.
She was in her fertile cycle, but the implant on the underside of her upper arm would prevent a pregnancy. Women always had complete control over their cycles. Most women simply put their cycles into a latent, dormant state when they were not thinking of having heirs. The phase maintained proper hormone levels while blocking fertilization.
Every so often, a woman came out of the "dormancy" for several cycles. Green was in such a phase now, which was a good thing because she would not be able to do what she was about to do if she wasn't.
She took a handheld out of her pouch and flipped open the top. Then she simply clicked a button and snapped the lid shut. Sweet Cybella, it was good to be female!
Already, her hormone levels were rising to complete an ovulation. Without the implant releasing its coded instructions, she had just made herself fertile.
She was about to find out how sharp Jorlan's instincts were.
Green was already in bed when Jorlan came into the room from the bathing chamber.
She decided to immediately draw him into her sensual battle.
It wouldn't take much, she knew. He had been headed to this point all along. She was simply going to prod him over the edge. And with good reason.
There was too much danger around them for her not to take this step. She had saved his life, now he must save their name and their lines. Regardless of her personal wishes, she had to do this.
"Are you waiting for me, lexa?" he drawled as he eagerly approached the bed. Like most new name-bearers, he became rigid simply from the thought of sex. Once through the ordeal of losing a veil, come-outs usually became quite eager for what they had been missing all those years.
Especially if they had been broken in right.
She purposely baited him. "What makes you think I would wait for you?"
Jorlan stopped advancing and stood at the foot of the bed. His lips parted in surprise at her mood. "I did not mean anything untoward. Green. Surely you realize that?"
"Do I? Why is that? You have been overly bold this entire day."
As she had intended, her jibe flamed the mark. His nostrils flared. "How so?"
"Your comment at the table, for one. The serving boy heard you—I think it was why he almost dropped our meal."
Jorlan blinked. "I—"
"And yesterday, on the jinto leaf. Do you have any idea how you flaunt convention and risk your name?
"My name? What are you talking about?" His pupils flared in anger.
Very good. Green thought. Her name-bearer was a man of hot emotion. In all ways.
The steely azure eyes narrowed. "I care not for convention and you know it well!"
Green crossed her arms over her ample chest and stared at him as haughtily as a Marquelle could. "Yes, I know it well. You should be submissive like other name-bearers!"
A pulse beat in the side of his neck.
Her provocation worked. The one thing guaranteed to raise Jorlan's ire was a reminder of a name-bearer's status. His nostrils flared as he stared at her stonily.
"Do you hear me? I said submissive."
"Oh, I will be submissive, if that is what you desire, name-giver." His voice was chillingly low.
Resolutely, he walked over to the foot of the bed. Lifting the silken sheet, he insolently slipped underneath. Whereupon, he slid his way up under the coverlet toward her on his back.
It was a calculated insult to the traditions of the southern tribes. Green prepared herself for what was sure to follow.
When he reached her legs, his untamed touch was anything but submissive.
Green gasped as his strong fingers clamped around her ankles and yanked her down so she was lying flat.
His sharp teeth caught fast at the back of her heel nipping roughly as his hands roughly pushed her legs apart. Slowly, on his back, he slid up between her calves. Silken strands of hair brushed her leg. She could feel his anger in the rapid, hot exhalation of his breath against her body.
His mouth clamped on the tender skin of her inner calf. The bite he administered was an exquisite blend of erotic fury.
A puff of air escaped Green's lips as she tried to yank her legs free.
Not that she actually wanted them
free. She had set out to provoke him and the tournament was just beginning. The more she invoked his "submissiveness," the more furious he would become. Green was counting on her ability to know exactly how he would react. She had no doubt that she was about to fuel the blaze-dragon out of control.
She also knew that she was the only one who could ever do this to him.
Jorlan had made himself vulnerable to her. Such vulnerability denoted a high level of trust. His perception of this would be a violation of that trust. She prayed that in time he would realize that his trust in her was inviolate. What she was doing now would hopefully protect them both in the future. It was the only thing that could protect them.
His mouth worked along her legs in quick heated bites, sharp presses of his lips. His tongue slid against the backs of her knees. Then he dragged his open mouth behind her thighs, the sting of the edges of his teeth scraping pinpoint flicks of a needle wing. His breath was coming in short, shallow pants; already he was delving into the passion of his anger.
Green's fists caught at the material of the coverlet, squeezing it between her fingers, steeling herself for this erotic onslaught. Her heels dug into the bedding as his lips moved higher on her, trailing moistly between and behind her thighs. As he worked, his jaw purposely scraped and kneaded against the soft skin. His arms locked tightly on her legs as she pretended to attempt to twist herself free.
"I think you should release me, Jorlan," she hissed, breath catching in her throat as his teeth tugged at the soft exposure behind and under the curve. He did not respond to her directive except to spread her legs farther apart.
She felt his long hair sliding against her buttocks. Then his fiery tongue stroked a molten trail at the juncture of her legs.
"Jorlan!" Green threw her head back against the pillows, upper body arching.
Jorlan's arm tightened across her legs, pinning them to his chest. "Am I not submissive enough for you?" he rasped.
Not waiting for an answer, he spread her nether lips from beneath her and began to devour her. In front of her, his fingers tangled in her woman's curls and tugged sharply.
Green had anticipated a strong response from him; she had just not anticipated this utter surrender to his Sensitive's side. Somewhere she had read that a high Sensitive, if angered, might free fall completely into his sensual responses. Since no high Sensitive had ever been tested, the supposition was pure conjecture.