Kigh - Fifth Quarter Part 19

A weapon.

A weapon didn't have to think, didn't have to reason, only had to do.

Laying a finger on the damp tip of his chin, she turned his head to one side.

She'd lost track of the number of times she'd distracted a guard for Bannon, or he one for her. This was just one more time.

The soft mat of hair in the center of his chest rose and fell more quickly as his breathing became labored. His hands opened and closed in the water-she could feel the currents he created swirl against her hips. Dropping her gaze, she nodded, satisfied, and leaned closer.

His eyes snapped open again and stared directly into hers.

"Now, Bannon!" She was completely unprepared for the rush of desire...

They'd been naked together a dozen times since Gyhard had taken over her brother's body, but as his hands closed around her waist, they crossed the line where a simple lack of clothing became something more. Breathing raggedly, she moaned low in her throat as her arms snaked around his neck and their mouths pressed together. Desperately trying to hold onto reason, Vree kept her eyes open to give Bannon as much of a chance as possible. Her loss of control, her surrender finally to what she had wanted for so long, her failure to remain a weapon for his use, must not destroy his chance to regain his body.

"Bannon..."

They pulled apart and her hands began to dance over wet flesh as though they'd never touched it before. She marveled at its texture, at its resilience, at its sculpted beauty. She marveled at her own responses, at how the brush of a callused palm across a nipple resonated groin deep.

Which was when she realized that it wasn't her desire she felt, but Bannon's.

Bannon. Whose desire to make love to his own body while in hers was so strong it was all she could feel. Bannon, whose desire was blinding him to the one thing he should want above all else.

Gyhard murmured her name into the curve of her throat, shifted his body...

"No." Her rage burned hotter than Bannon's desire. She twisted away to the other side of the bath, leaving Gyhard reaching for her desperately. "I said no."

He stared at her incredulously. His mouth opened and closed and then he managed a strangled, "Why?"

Struggling to steady her breathing, she turned on him. "Why? I'll tell you why. Bannon was supposed to use this, this seduction, to get back into his own body. You'd be distracted, he said. It doesn't make any slaughtering difference if you are because he's more distracted than you ever could be. Oh, he's having one slaughtering good time being me f.u.c.king him."

"Vree, I..."

"Shut up, Bannon." She heaved herself up out of the bath and jerked a drying cloth off the hook.

"What about me?" Grasping the shreds of his composure with both hands, Gyhard waded toward her. "I want you, not him."

Vree stared down at him through narrowed eyes, fingers clutching the warmed cloth tightly so he wouldn't see them tremble. "What about me?" she asked. "I know what Bannon wants, I know what you want; what about what I want?"

"All right." His voice picked up an edge. "What do you want?"

"I want..." The safety of an army around her. Knowing always exactly what was expected. Her place in the Empire secure and unchanging. Her brother; not

always kind, not always careful, but hers. "I want what I had before you showed up."

"Even if I left your brother's body, you couldn't have that life again."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the terrifying vision of life

going on with no parameters she could understand. "I know."

"Learn to want something else."

"Like what? Like you? Like..." A quick gesture at the bath sketched in the

details of what had almost happened.

His control regained, Gyhard shrugged. "Why not?"

Vree's upper lip curled into a sneer. "You destroyed my life."

"I changed it."

"Same thing."

He looked up at her for a long moment, then he sighed. "If that's what you

believe," he said quietly, "then we have nothing further to discuss."

She nodded once and strode out of the room, not angry at him so much as at

herself for being taken in by Bannon's plan.

"Vree, I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry, too, Bannon..."

It took Gyhard a very long time to sleep that night. It helped only a little that the pair of Imperial a.s.sa.s.sins in the next room were no doubt having a sleepless night as well.

Over and over, he heard himself say, I want you.

Her.

Vree.

The twenty-year-old body he wore would've been willing to couple with any willing partner.

But he wanted her.

She was the first person he'd been honest with, been himself with, in over ninety years. Circ.u.mstances may have been responsible for that but it was a strong bond nevertheless. He was amazed that she'd managed not only to provide a refuge for her brother but to stay sane while doing it. He admired her speed and strength and grace, and he thrilled to the danger her presence denoted.

Removing the mirror from its case, he stared into the silvered gla.s.s. The expression on young Bannon's face, on the reflection of his face, seemed less c.o.c.ky than it had.

"I think I may be falling in love with your sister," he told it softly. "If only..."

If only he didn't have to kill her.

Chapter Eight.

"Vree, I..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Bannon."

"But..."

"I said no. We'll go on. We'll find another way."

"And if there isn't another way?"

Vree checked that both of her wrist daggers would release if needed, then pulled

down the long, full sleeves of the silk shirt Aralt's gold had provided to cover the sheathes. Swinging her saddlebags up onto one shoulder, she strode out into the suite's main room, eyes squinted shut against the brilliant morning sun streaming in from the tiny private garden.

"Vree! What if there isn't another way?"

Gyhard glanced up as she came in, noted the shadows around her eyes, and handed her a bowl of figs. "Still sane?" he asked neutrally.

"Vree! Answer me!"

She chewed, swallowed, and picked another piece of sticky fruit out of the bowl. Turning it over in her fingers, she shrugged. "Sane? Well, nothing's changed." "And it wasn't all my slaughtering fault either! You added your own hunger to the mix, sister-mine."

"About what almost happened last night." The memory brought a heated buzz

that Gyhard ignored. "It was a good idea that could have worked, but I want you to know that you won't get that close again."

"Why?"

He blinked. "Why what?"

"Why do you want me to know?" Dropping into a chair, she poured herself a

mug of beer out of the clay carafe on the low table.

"Uh..." He rubbed his jaw where the touch of the razor she'd wielded lingered.

He'd intended not to even mention their brush with... well, with each other.

"You're in a strange mood this morning," he observed instead of answering.

"No s.h.i.t."

Lifting her head, she met his gaze.

Her eyes, he noticed, were hard, unreadable; shields in front of her thoughts. The

confusion that had lingered in them from the beginning was gone.

He stood. She stood with him. If he reached out his hand, he wouldn't quite be able to touch her. Will you kill your brother to save a prince who means nothing to you? He had glimpsed her strength last night and, for the first time, he thought she might.

"Perhaps..." His hand came up but he forced it back down again. "Perhaps I should have killed you, killed you both when I had the chance."

Vree nodded. "Perhaps you should have."

"Vree!"

"If there's no other way, we'll all die together. At least we'll die with honor."

"Could you kill me, sister-mine?"

Her expression softened and, eyes locked on her face, Gyhard wondered why Bannon needed comfort.