City Of Tears (24 page)

They’d been nearly inseparable for the past two weeks, focused entirely on each other. He’d ignored the warlords’ repeated attempts to contact him until this morning, when Trey arrived in person to plead their case.

“How did the meeting go?” She came right to the point when Lyrik reached her side.

“They unanimously nominated me as the next overlord,” he grumbled.

“You don’t sound pleased.” She remained against the railing, the warm night breeze ruffling her skirt.

“I knew what they were going to suggest before — I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

She licked her lips, her excitement beginning to fizzle. “You don’t like it?”

He swept her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “After the day I just endured, you’re a slice of heaven. It just caught me a little off guard. My warrior turned into a princess.”

She smiled at the praise, surprised how well the words pleased her. “I have wine or Bilarrian ale. I know you’re partial to the latter.” She guided him toward the small table on which she’d arranged the beverages.

He selected the ale, as she’d suspected he would, and closed his eyes in utter bliss as the cool drink slid down his throat. “I don’t deserve you.”

She chucked. “Me or the ale?”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I’m pretty sure I could live without ale.” He let his expression say the rest.

Ignoring the warmth curling through her body, stirring sensations she wasn’t quite ready to indulge, she poured a glass of wine for herself and asked, “You don’t want to be overlord?”

“I’m not sure what I want.” He paused for another drink before he continued. “A part of me expected to follow in my father’s footsteps. I’ve been educated and trained from childhood to become overlord. In fact the only time it doesn’t happen that way is when the warlords challenge the successor.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“After what my father did … I guess I think the COT might benefit from a new beginning.”

“Isn’t that what they’re getting?” He looked at her, and she smiled, caressing his face with her gaze. “Your primary concern isn’t what would make you happy, but what’s best for the COT. That’s exactly the sort of leader this place needs.”

“You sound like Trey.” He set his mug aside, took her wineglass from her, then drew her into his arms.

She rested her hands on his chest, absorbing his warmth and the strong steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “When do you have to give them your answer?”

“Next week.” He pushed his fingers into her unbound hair and brushed his mouth against hers. “We have a proposition for you.”

“We?” She laughed. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“I’m far too possessive to ever make that sort of proposition for a ‘we.’ This is strictly business.” He moved his hands to her hips and eased back, allowing the night wind to curl around their bodies. “Eleven D-2 soldiers were evacuated from the compound before it was demolished.”

Her heart lurched, and she licked her lips. Was it starting all over again? “Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“The Joint Council unanimously agreed that they had to be disarmed and deprogrammed. I wasn’t sure they would survive the first, so I didn’t … You’ve been through enough. I didn’t see any reason to upset you with the details if we couldn’t save them.”

She couldn’t decide if his protectiveness pleased or annoyed her, so she asked, “Then, they’re still alive?”

“Yes. They were kept in a sort of hibernation state that allowed a group of Mystics to drain their power supplies. All of their implants are still in place, but without power, they’re harmless.”

“Why didn’t the Rodytes foresee this weakness and take steps to protect them? Ensley bragged about the improvements they’d made in the D-2 implants.”

“If the soldiers had been awake their shielding mechanisms would have prevented the Mystics from accessing them. I guess arrogance is a common flaw. The Rodytes presumed they were safe within their compound, just as the Mystics presumed the Conservatory would protect them.”

“What’s the proposition, and who is included in ‘we’?”

“Trey, High Queen Charlotte, and the soon-to-be-appointed overlord would appreciate your assistance in helping the D-2 class soldiers adjust to life on Ontariese. If they want to join the armed forces — and you determine that they are emotionally stable enough for the position — Trey has some interesting ideas. If they want nothing to do with that sort of life, you would help them find another vocation.”

Hope welled within her. This was how she should have been treated when she came
home
. Freedom wasn’t just the absence of repression; it was opportunity and purpose, making each moment count. She would help these soldiers understand the difference and treasure what they’d found. A warm tingle coursed down her spine, and a smile parted her lips.

“I’d be honored.”

Lyrik grinned. “I’ll give you fair warning. Trey has plans for you far beyond this one assignment. He is fascinated by your abilities and determined to recruit you for one of his covert teams.”

“One step at a time.” She moved closer, craving his fiery brand of tenderness and the possessive passion burning in his eyes. “Everything is perfect. I don’t want to screw it up. I can’t believe how much I love you, how happy I am just being in your arms. I’m still trying to convince myself this is real.”

He cupped the side of her face and traced her lips with his thumb. “Let’s see if I can help convince you.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “You’ve found a home among people who care about you.” Guiding her hand to his chest, he slipped it inside his jacket and pressed her palm against his flesh. “And I love you more with each beat of my heart.”

She enjoyed the intimate pose for a moment, then he swept her into his arms, carrying her swiftly toward the entrance to their bedroom. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when we’re apart. But you don’t look convinced.” He paused to nibble her neck.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives to convince each other.”

His mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss, and they didn’t make it to the bedroom.