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Then he began the journey into the abyss. Down, down, down while his mouth and fingers made her quietly desperate, while her grasping hands made him burn.
Down, down, down until he slipped under her inner barriers and saw the shining green web of herself.
Jared flowed upward. Carefully, delicately, he brushed a strand of her inner web.
Her body tensed. Thrashed.
His rolled, half-covering her to keep her still.
*It’s all right, Lia.* He brushed the strand again.
*Yes,* she said, but her body shuddered, and she didn’t sound at all convinced.
Following Talon’s instructions, Jared carefully flowed his Red strength between the strands of her web, then formed a shield above her. That, Talon had explained, was why it was better for the male to wear the darker Jewel. If the witch panicked for some reason and tried to descend into the abyss, she wouldn’t be able to get past the shield and inadvertently rip through her own inner web.
When he was done, he kissed her—and jerked back in surprise.
“What . . .” Lia said, her eyes wide with shock.
Jared caressed her breast, and felt the caress.
She pulled his head down and kissed him with a hunger that, when added to his own, left him reeling.
This was the seduction and the danger, Jared realized as he kissed her again. When a man was inside a woman’s inner barriers, he could become so tangled up in the physical sensations of being both the giver and receiver that he wouldn’t be able to distinguish his body from hers.
He covered her. Felt his body pressing her down. Felt the bed under her back. Felt himself press into the opening until he met the physical barrier.
Jared buried his face against her neck.
Breathing hard, Lia gripped his shoulders. “Do it.”
“Lia . . .”
“Do it.”
He thrust.
And took the pain as well as the pleasure.
For a moment, the world turned end over end, whirling them in a storm of sensations.
He wanted to thrust again, to feel that pleasure.
He was terrified of the blood that covered him.
Lia dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to break the skin and cried out in pain.
Sheathed inside her, the impaled and the impaler, Jared forced his body to remain still while they rode out the storm.
And realized that he could have stepped away from it. That he could have kept himself disengaged enough not to be swept away.
That’show a Jeweled male broke a witch. He mired her in the duality of sensations while staying in the eye of the storm. And then he gave pain instead of pleasure. The witch became her own enemy, feeling as if she were inflicting the pain upon herself. Unbalanced by the conflict, she would try to flee, but the pain would follow, driving her to her own destruction.
The knowledge made him shake.
“Jared.” Lia wrapped her arms around him. “Jared?” She shifted under him.
He struggled to find the self-control that would let him pull back enough not to get swept away by the physical sensations, not to lose control completely.
“Jared,” Lia murmured, stroking his back urgently. “Please.”
Even if he could have distanced himself from her body, he couldn’t bear to pull away fromLia .
So he wrapped her in his strength—body, mind, and heart—and surrendered both of them to the pleasure of the Fire.
Chapter Twenty-four
Leaning against his desk, Krelis slowly twisted the Sapphire-Jeweled ring on his right hand.
Darker than the Green Jewel, lighter than the Red.
But skill and training counted for something, didn’t they? What was a pleasure slave’s raw strength compared with centuries of learning how to fight? What difference did it make if the bastard wore the Red? He didn’t really know how to use it.
Except the Shalador Warlordhad held off the marauders who had banded together to capture the Green-Jeweled bitch-Queen. Had done a lot more than hold them off.
Had his pet been partially responsible for that? Krelis wondered as the Sapphire Jewel appeared and disappeared with each turn of the ring. Had he used his own training to support and guide the Red? It could have ended with that ambush.Should have ended with it.
His pet had been a serious miscalculation. He hadn’t expected loyalty. No Hayllian expectedreal loyalty from these here-and-gone races. But a man who allowed himself to be bought should have the good sense tostay bought.
Well, that was one other thing he’d take care of when he got to that privy hole called Ranon’s Wood.
“Come in,” Krelis snapped in response to a knock on his office door.
Lord Maryk stepped into the room just far enough not to be noticeably still in the corridor. “All the supplies have been gathered, Lord Krelis. The guards from the last two southern Provinces are expected within the hour.”
“I’d thought my instructions were simple enough to be clear,” Krelis said, keeping his eyes on his Sapphire ring.
“We don’t need a lot of supplies. We’ll be back here by tomorrow night.”
“Our men will need to eat after a fight,” Maryk replied stiffly.
A fight, Krelis thought, resisting the urge to laugh in Maryk’s face. How much fight would a village that had already sustained an emotional belly wound have left?
“We’re not fighting other warriors,” Krelis said curtly. “Whoever is left in that village already lost a battle with their own people. How much of a challenge can they be to a thousand Hayllian warriors?”
“Closer to fifteen hundred.”
Krelis finally looked up.
Maryk shrugged. “Because this was a special request from the High Priestess’s court, every Master sent along a few more than we’d asked for.”
The other Masters had undoubtedly added a few to keep tempers from flaring as well—not only in the guards’ quarters but in the manor houses of the Hundred Families. What young, ambitious male serving in a lesser courtwouldn’t resent being kept from an assignment that might bring him to the notice of the most powerful witch in Hayll?
He’d felt that way himself not all that long ago.
Some things, however, were best seen from a distance.
“We’ve already wasted enough time waiting for these young bucks to finish buttoning up their pants and shining their boots,” Krelis said. “We leave in one hour. If the southern guards aren’t here by then, they can stay behind or catch up to us.”
“I understand, Lord Krelis.” But Maryk didn’t leave. “Have you decided who will take command of the men?”
Krelis rounded the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a large, white feather. Tucking it inside his leather vest, he said, “I will.”
