Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Torrance

The morning after our wedding was the first morning Wylf stayed wrapped around me in bed until I woke up. When daylight turned the silver walls bright, I stirred, a thread of joy winding through me when I felt Wylfrael curved around my back, an arm and a wing thrown protectively over me.

“You’re still here,” I whispered, smiling and wiggling backwards.

“Of course, I am,” Wylfrael grunted, sleepiness making his voice husky.

It thrilled me – I’d never seen him just waking up in the morning.

“I hope you have not tired of your new husband already,” he muttered against the top of my head, which made me laugh.

“Nope. Not yet.”

I would have been happy to stay there all day, wrapped in Wylfrael’s arms, enjoying the quiet warmth of him and the furs. But anxious butterflies took wing in my stomach when I remember what today was.

The gathering of the gods.

It would be the first time I’d meet stone sky gods other than Wylf and Maerwynne. It would also be the first time I’d step through a stone sky door into another world for myself.

Wylfrael groaned in complaint when I wriggled out of his grasp. I slid out of the bed, bouncing on the balls of my feet on the stool and hopping down to the floor. I turned back to my husband, hands on my hips. He rolled lazily onto his back, the furs sliding to the side and revealing the thickness of his erection against his belly.

Oh, God.

My mouth went dry, and I forced myself to look away.

“Come on, we have things to do today!” I said. Realizing I was completely naked, I hurried to the armoire to grab a robe, feeling Wylf’s eyes on my bare skin the entire time.

“I have things I want to do to you,” Wylf grumbled, correcting me. I laughed, pulling the belt tight on my robe while striding across the room to the bathroom.

“You can take care of that yourself. Have a bath,” I tossed teasingly over my shoulder back at him, jerking my head towards his cock. “Use the jets. I know from experience just how effective they are.”

Wylf growled and sat up, wings flaring, gripping the furs, looking like a predator about to pounce. Shrieking, I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door, dissolving into giggles on the other side.

Despite the fact we did have to get ready for the gathering, Wylf insisted on taking his damn time.  We ate breakfast and lunch together in our room, with him eating slowly, staring at me the entire time. After lunch, he insisted we take a sleigh ride together again. When I protested, he merely silenced me with a kiss the way he’d done so many times before and told me that no newly mated god would come early to a gathering because he’d be too preoccupied with rutting his mate.

Ultimately, he knew stone sky culture much better than me. So, I decided not to argue further, put on a cloak over my dress, and followed him out to the sleigh.

Shame and arousal flooded me when I saw the broken bench.

“How are we going to explain that to Shoshen?” I lamented, ears burning as I sat down, staying far away from the jagged part.

“I’ll tell him the truth. I broke it out of barely restrained passion while deep inside my bride,” Wylf said nonchalantly, the verbal version of a shrug.

“You will not!” I gasped. “That is humiliating!”

Wylf sat beside me, and some of my embarrassment gave way to giddy warmth when his arm came to rest so naturally around my shoulders. He called to Barra to start moving, the path still clear from our last ride, and turned his face down to me as the sleigh rocked forward.

“My passion for you is humiliating?”

“Well, no,” I sputtered, cheeks flaming. “But other people use this sleigh you know! They don’t need to know what happened here!”

“Hmm,” Wylfrael said, sounding thoughtful even though his eyes danced with something wicked. “I rather like that everyone would know. Perhaps I will not even fix it. Will leave it as a sharp reminder of the first time I claimed you.”

“Leave it like that so someone can hurt themselves? No, thank you!” I glared at him. “Just smooth it out like you did to make that mirror in our room!”

He made another thoughtful noise, rumbling in his chest.

“And what do I get out of this deal?” he asked, his nose brushing my temple. My pulse quickened when I realized he’d gotten his hand beneath my skirt, running it up over my knee and skimming his palm up my inner thigh.

“You get a bench that won’t slice anybody’s ass open,” I moaned. “Does everything have to be bargains and deals with you?”

He chuckled softly, the timbre of his voice making my body react so viscerally that my legs parted without even thinking about it. He nudged my silk panties aside, sliding a finger against my flesh, drawing wetness out of me and coating the folds still tender from last night. I shivered and turned to him, already forgetting the stupid bench, which drew another dark laugh from my husband.

“Kisses were a good way to stop your questions and your arguments. I wish I’d known that this was even more effective,” he purred, sliding slick fingers up to my clit and tapping it gently, making my hips jump off the bench.

“Wylf,” I groaned, half in complaint, half in need.

“Don’t worry, beloved. What my wife wants, my wife gets. I’ll fix the bench.”

I sighed and relaxed into Wylf’s mouth as he kissed me. As if sensing I was swollen and sensitive from last night, he didn’t fuck me with his fingers. Instead, he stroked leisurely, languorous circles over my clit, easing me up to my orgasm slowly, the build a warm and luxurious spread through my core. It didn’t take long, even with his slow pace. Everything about him aroused me, even the parts I clashed with.

I panted against his mouth, hips grinding, riding his hand as I came. I’d barely recovered, my head swimming on a sea of oxytocin and serotonin, when I felt his hands moving, pulling his cock free.

Oh, no you don’t. If he could tease me about the bench, then I could do even more.

I smiled at him sweetly, batting my lashes, much the same way I had so long ago in the library when I’d been showing him just how wickedly good I could be at pretending to be his wife. And, much like that time, wariness crept into Wylf’s features. His cheek tightened when I ran a single gloved finger up the stiff length of his cock.

“Do you want me to touch you, husband?”

Wylfrael’s brows crashed downward.

“You know I do. What kind of question is that?” he growled.

“Hmm. Do you want me to suck you?”

His cock pulsed against my finger, a silent reply to my question.

“Yes,” Wylf gritted out.

“Well. I will take that under advisement,” I chirruped. “Stop, Barra!”

I said that last part in Sionnachan, having learned a few commands by now. The elegant sontanna slowed, and while my husband watched me in irritated astonishment, I jumped out of the sleigh to the snow below. Panting, legs shaking, and a grin splitting my face from ear to ear, I made a snowball and threw it as hard as I could.

It didn’t hit him in the face like I’d been aiming, but close enough. It hit his chest, exploding in a powdery puff, cold flakes falling down on his throbbing erection.

He rose instantly, wings snapping open, a predatory darkness entering his face, hardening his jaw. Between the look on his face and the inescapable demand of his erection, a giddy, pulsing, arousing fear filled me. I shrieked, starting to run, past the sleigh, past Barra, and onto the smooth path ahead. My legs were so weak from the orgasm that my boots slid more than stepped as I alternated squealing in delighted fear and laughing. I allowed myself a look back which made my breath nearly stop in my throat. Wylfrael was stalking me, like an animal, following me down the path he’d created with demanding hunger in his eyes. He could have used his wings and caught me in an instant, but he was enjoying drawing this out, enjoying watching me slide and pant and try to escape.

“Oh, shit!” I cried when he used his power to raise a massive chunk of snow, bigger than any snowball I could have made. It floated over until it was poised right above my head. I tried to run faster, but the huge snowball followed me, like a storm cloud tethered to my head

“No, Wylf!” I shrieked, stopping running and covering my head. It wasn’t enough snow to hurt – this snow was too powdery and light anyway. But it was still a lot. If he let it drop on my head, I’d be completely covered, frigidness slipping into every nook and cranny, saturating my hair and sliding down the back of my neck. Wylfrael finally caught up, never rushing, never hurrying, the immortal bastard. He came to a stop before me.

“Sorry,” I cooed, still fighting laughter that was both terrified and elated.

“And here I thought you said you weren’t a liar,” he drawled darkly. “I do not believe that you are sorry.”

I couldn’t stop the laughter. It bubbled out of my throat.

“OK, you caught me,” I said.

“So I have.”

Reminded of the threat he held literally over my head, I held my breath and hunched down, waiting to be doused in a blanket of cold white.

But it didn’t come. Hesitantly, I opened one scrunchy eye, then the other.

The snowball was no longer a ball, but a dispersed fluffy cloud over my head. Even though the sky was clear and pink, all sun today, it was snowing on me. One of Wylf’s hands was raised as he shredded bits of snow off from overhead so that they gently dusted my hair, my shoulders, my nose.

I could tell he was even controlling the descent of the snowflakes. They barely fell. They floated, which made me feel like I was in my own magical snow globe of his creation. After expecting the rush of cold falling down around me, this soft, gentle flutter of sparkling white crystals took my breath away. So did Wylfrael’s expression – no longer one of an irritated hunter but one of adoration so poignant it almost looked like pain.

In awe of the cascading wonder he’d created, my heart so full that no human method of measurement could ever comprehend it, I fell to my knees and finally took my husband’s cock into my mouth.

WHEN WE RETURNED TO the castle, entering through the kitchen, Wylfrael insisted that I eat something.

“I don’t see how I possibly could,” I chided, “considering how you just pumped my mouth and stomach full of-”

I slammed my mouth shut so hard my teeth clattered when I saw Aiko in the kitchen.

Wylfrael laughed behind me, deep and throaty. “What was that, my beloved wife? I don’t think Aiko quite got all of that.”

I cast him what I hoped was a cutting glance before holding up my hand to Aiko and muttering, “Don’t even ask.”

Wylf scooped two bowls of stew from the crystal counter, carrying them up to our room as I hobbled along like a newborn deer. He’d made me come twice more on the sleigh ride back, and I felt like every joint in my body had been replaced with soggy sponge.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t eat that,” I said, throwing myself into a huge crystal chair and sprawling across its seat. “I’m too nervous.”

Now that we were back, there was no way that Wylf could keep stalling. It was time to get ready for the gathering of the gods.

Wylfrael placed the bowls on the table and brooded.

“If I did not need information from the other gods, we would not go at all. I do not relish being in Sceadulyr’s Shadowlands.”

I wriggled into a more upright position.

“Why not?”

I knew little of where we were actually going or of the god hosting this event.

“Sceadulyr is powerful and treacherous. He controls shadows, and things are rarely as they seem in his domain. The only reason I’m willing to bring you there at all is because I know he wouldn’t do anything stupid with so many other gods present.” He fixed me with a hard stare. “Stay with me at all times.”

“Well, now I’m even more nervous!” I exclaimed, flopping back against the chair. But even so, even with the nerves, I was excited, too. I was going to be glimpsing a whole group of different aliens all gathered in one place. No doubt I’d be the only human, but Wylfrael had told me earlier that the other mated gods would bring their own brides, so at least I wouldn’t be the only mortal female there.

“Well, if you’re not going to eat, you should dress,” Wylfrael said, crossing to my armoire and flicking through it, sifting through silk and wool.

“Oh? I thought I’d just wear this,” I said, looking down at myself. I was wearing a simple but lovely grey wool gown with long sleeves, perfect for winter on Sionnach.

“It’s not winter there,” Wylf said.

“Oh, OK,” I said. I slid out of the chair and then draped my cloak on it. I hurried to Wylfrael’s side. I reached for a different outfit, but he grunted at me to stop.

“What?” I asked, raising a brow at him.

“I already know what you’re going to wear. Just need to find it,” he said, his gaze focused on the fabrics rippling under his searching hands.

“You’re choosing what I get to wear? I didn’t know that being married to you meant I had my own personal stylist,” I said sarcastically.

“You didn’t know that?” Wylf asked, deadpan. “Would have guessed you’d have figured it out that first day I brought this all home for you.

“OK... you kind of have a point,” I said. “Alright, fine. You know these other stone sky gods and the dress code better than I ever could. I trust you.”

Wylf stiffened, his hands going still.

“Good.”

I smiled, leaning sideways until my head bumped his shoulder.

“I remember that you once told me you didn’t care if I trusted you,” I murmured.

“Things change,” he said gruffly, his hands resuming their search. “Ah. Here it is.”

I recognized the fabric immediately as Wylfrael pulled it out of the armoire. How could I forget the devastatingly perfect black silk, the first thing he’d draped over my shoulders while I’d sat glaring at him in this very room?

It was no longer a slippery, shapeless bolt, but had been sewn into a long, flowing sheath dress with thin straps and a plunging V-neck.

“This one?” I gasped, flushing at the beauty of the garment.

“Yes. Gave Aiko instructions on the design the same day I held it up against you.”

I took it from his hands, marvelling at the perfect texture.

“There’s something else,” Wylfrael said, rummaging in the armoire again. “Here.”

He placed something else on top of the dress in my hands. Something made of stunning gold and white lace I hadn’t noticed in the chests of fabric last time.

“What is it?” I asked. But even as I asked, I instantly knew what it was. A mask, the kind you’d wear to a masquerade ball. I raised the dress and the mask closer to my face, astonished by the delicate beauty of the glimmering gold lace.

“Aiko made this too?”

“No,” Wylf answered. “I did.”

“You?!” I gawked. “I didn’t know you could sew!”

“Anyone who can write in Sionnachan can sew,” Wylf said simply.

“OK, but being able to sew and being able to make something like this are two completely different things and you know it! I don’t remember seeing this lace before.”

I’d been inundated with fabrics and clothing, but I would have remembered golden lace like this.

“I purchased it at a different time. Before the rest of it.”

“Before?” I frowned. He’d gone out to get all this stuff pretty soon after we got fake engaged. “I don’t understand.”

Wylfrael’s mouth puckered into an irritated frown.

“I bought it right after you arrived,” he muttered. “There. Are you satisfied? Even before I knew I loved you, I was a fool for you. Buying expensive lace in shops because it reminded me of your eyes. Ridiculous.”

I wanted to whisper that it wasn’t ridiculous, but I could see what bothered him. Back then, we’d been enemies. I was his prisoner. We’d hated each other. And yet...

And yet, he’d bought beautiful lace because it reminded him of me.

Wylf spoke again, all the bitterness gone from his voice.

“That was the first thing I noticed when I saw your face, you know. Your eyes. You may have been human, and I may have considered you a foreign invader, but your eyes were all Sionnach. Honey on snow. The sweetness of my homeland in the gaze of a woman from across the cosmos. I should have realized, even then, that it meant something.”

“Meant what?”

“That something tied you to me. That you would be mine. I was stupid not to see it then.”

“I don’t know if that’s fair,” I offered. While he’d made some pretty terrible choices when it came to how he’d handled me, I felt a sudden need to defend him. “You found me as part of a colonizing, invading force in your world after going through a ton of your own stuff with Skalla. You were enraged and hurting when you found me. You didn’t starburn, you didn’t feel a mate bond. I don’t think you could have predicted we’d fall in love just because of the colour of my eyes.”

“Perhaps,” he said slowly. “I wonder, sometimes, about the starburn. The stone sky mate bond.”

Insecurity pinched me. Was he second-guessing this? If he changed his mind, wanted to go find his true mate now, I knew with a searing pain that I’d let him. Because it would save him, even if it destroyed me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, but barely. “What do you think about it?”

“I wonder how that bond could ever possibly eclipse what I have grown to feel for you.”

Oh.

“If I had not been asleep, away for so long, I wouldn’t be dressing you in silk and lace to go see the other gods. I’d be tearing that beautiful dress right off of you before you could take a single step.”

He sighed, as if he regretted the circumstances deeply.

“But as it is, we must go. I need to speak with other stone sky gods. The only ones I’ve seen in eons are Skalla and Maerwynne, and Skalla wasn’t exactly in the conversing mood.”

Right. It was a reminder of our duties, of the people relying on us. We needed to keep going – go to the gathering, and get Wylf on the council – to find the human women and hopefully help Skalla’s mate, assuming she was still alive.

“What are you going to do when you find Skalla, after you’ve joined the council?” I asked. Wylf had mentioned lately that he had a feeling Skalla might be back on his mother’s homeworld of Bohnebregg by now. But even if Skalla was there, Wylf wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him or confine him without the power of other stone sky gods. He’d already almost died – twice – trying to beat his berserker cousin. “Are you going to kill him?”

“I’d rather not,” Wylf said. “Though he has caused immeasurable and perhaps irreparable harm, he is still Skalla to me. My cousin and my oldest friend. At least, I hope he is, somewhere in there.”

I folded the mask and dress into my arms and leaned forward, pressing my cheek to my husband’s chest in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. I understood Wylf’s need to keep Skalla alive. Skalla was someone he’d known and loved throughout his immortality. He was his father’s brother’s son, someone he’d grown up with. Someone I knew he still longed to save if he could.

“I understand,” I said. “He’s your only remaining family. Of course, you don’t want to kill him.”

Wylf’s voice grew stern, maybe even angry, with reproach.

“Skalla is not my only family.”

He grasped my shoulders and pushed me back so that I was forced to look into his serious face.

“You are my family now, Torrance. You are my wife. And I hope you know that if it ever came down to choosing between you and Skalla, between you and anyone else, it would be you. Only you, beloved. Every single time.”

He pulled me back to his chest, closing his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. I sniffed, then gave a shaky laugh. “I better get into this dress before I cry all over it.”

“Yes... yes, we should go.” His arms didn’t seem to agree with his words, and I had to pull myself away to get changed. As I peeled off my grey dress and slipped into the perfectly fitted black silk, I watched my husband as he prepared to leave. He apparently didn’t feel the need to change. The only thing he did was strap a long, shining sword to his back.

“Is that Sionnachan?” I asked, finger-combing my hair with one hand, the mask in the other. “The sword.”

“No,” he said. “It was my father’s, and it was forged by his father’s mother’s people, the Katanari.”

I paused, waiting to see if he’d continue, but he didn’t. A new tension had entered his wings and shoulders, and I wondered if wearing the sword, or maybe me asking about it, bothered him for some reason.

I decided to drop it, changing the subject.

“Care to help me put this on?”

I dangled the mask between us.

“Of course,” he said. He walked to me, coming in behind me, and tied the lace ribbons deftly at the back of my head. When it was done, I spun around, smiling.

“How do I look? Won’t embarrass you in front of the other gods, will I?”

I was totally fishing for compliments, but I didn’t care. Wylf didn’t seem to care, either. He dragged a knuckle between my breasts, making my nipples prick behind the silk. I wasn’t wearing a bra – impossible with this dress’ design – and Wylfrael’s breath quickened when he looked at my breasts.

“You look like perfection taken shape,” he murmured. He bent, placing a slow, tender kiss between my collarbones, dipping his tongue into the place where my heart beat. My thighs squeezed, and my spine arched. I knew we had to go, and yet I hoped he’d bring his mouth further down and tongue my nipples through the dress. This morning, I had been the one eschewing sex to get ready for this event. The tables had turned, and here I was begging with my body, now.

Though I could see the straining behind the crotch of his trousers, he pulled away. Not too far, though. He took my hand, and I squeezed his.

“Hey, don’t you need a mask?” I asked as he led me out of the bedroom.

“No. It’s not a necessity to attend. I just wanted to see you wear it.”

Flushing, I decided I’d keep it on.

Wylfrael and I ascended to the conservatory. Still holding my hand, Wylf pulled the lever that opened the walls. Goosebumps erupted all over me as the cold air hit my exposed skin, the silk doing little to conserve warmth.

“We won’t be out here long,” Wylf assured me. He scooped me up into his arms...

And took off.

My heart flip-flopped in my chest, and I threw my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. Not that Wylf would let me fall, but I wasn’t exactly used to this. He hadn’t flown with me like this, high in the air, since the night we’d gotten engaged.

The sun was setting, nearly gone behind the mountains, turning their ridges the colour of wine. We went higher and higher, as if we were fleeing the sun’s light itself, launching up towards the stars. I shivered and clung to Wylf, my hair whipping around my face, kept only slightly in place by the lace straps of the mask.

Eventually, the ascent slowed.

“Ready?” Wylf asked.

“Ready,” I croaked. Here we go.

Wylf’s face darkened with powerful concentration, though his star map seemed to grow suddenly brighter. His eyes sliced through the night as he tucked me closer to his chest, holding me with one arm and raising the other.

I looked away from him, turning my attention to the sky, speechless when I saw solid matter forming out of the air. The sky was condensing and hardening into a wall before my very eyes.

Wylfrael raised his fist, then slammed it down.

The force of his action made my teeth chatter and my bones rattle. A massive crack had formed in the wall. The door.

I held tightly to my husband as he stepped through.

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