Pleasure (10 page)

He raised his hand to her face, making her click her tongue at him because it was on the end of his injured arm. He trailed his thumb through the river of salted tears on her right cheek.

“K'yatsume
,” he said, his deep voice as gentle as something so naturally rough could achieve. “Malaya, I know you better than anyone. Call me a traitor, but I will say I know you even better than Tristan does. So you have to believe me when I say I understand why you reacted that way.”

She shook her head, unwilling to forgive herself while his blood was seeping through her fingers.

“No. I should be shot myself for behaving so stupidly.”

“Aiya!
” he exclaimed with frustration. “Just what we need! What an asinine thing to say!”

“Shut up,” she snapped back. “You should have let me go! I would have deserved what I got!”

“Yeah, but then there's that whole part where it's my job to protect your ass no matter how stubborn it is!” His voice and his temper escalated with every frustrated word. He
grasped her shoulder and shook her. “I swear, Malaya, there's more danger of me wringing your neck than there is of anyone else ever getting a shot at you!”

“Nice. I'm amazed anyone would trust you with my care,” she said dryly.

“Because it's a damn sight better than trusting you with it!”

“Bite me!”

“Don't tempt me, Princess, I already owe you one,” he rumbled dangerously.

Malaya's dark eyes lifted, the whiskey-warm color almost like darkest gold to his night-suited vision, and he watched a sly smile slowly spread over her sensual mouth.

“I suppose that was rather bad form,” she admitted, though she looked far more amused than she did contrite. “But it was the closest target. And might I say that is one extremely tight ass you have there,
Ajai
Guin. I could barely get hold of you.”

To Malaya's surprise, she saw heat flush up his neck and face, and her brick wall of a bodyguard actually looked away and all but blushed. She watched with amazement as his throat worked to swallow, yet no retort emerged. His reaction was clumsily brushed aside, though, when he set her back a step and swept her hand away from his shoulder. He moved away from her and now the retort came. “Don't think flattery is going to get you anywhere,” he groused as he snagged her wrist and pulled her forward into the cavern. “I'm going to remember this.”

“What are you going to do, tattle on me?
‘M'itisume,'”
she said, mocking his deep voice and puffing up her chest and shoulders, “‘your sister bit me on my ass. Then she spanked me.'”

“You did not spank me!” he burst out, turning on her and dwarfing her under his indignation. “You hit me!”

She snorted a giggle, far from intimidated as usual. “I hit you…on your ass. Better known as a spanking.”

“Malaya, I swear to Darkness and Light and every other god you can think of, you are pushing me too far!” he warned.

“Okay, okay,” she relented, holding up her free hand in a gesture of submission. She waited for him to turn away again and then said, “It's not as though you get off on that sort of thing, now is it?”

Wounded or not, or maybe especially because he was wounded, it wasn't wise to piss Guin off. Unfortunately, Malaya seemed to have a knack for it. She might even say it was a calling. Not a day went by where she wasn't butting heads with Guin over one thing or another. The very familiarity of it was already calming her frazzled nerves.

That is, until she found herself spun roughly up against a damp wall, her massive guard trapping her there with the entire monument of his hard-muscled body until she felt like she was quite literally caught between a rock and a hard place. She looked up as he lowered narrowing gray-black eyes closer to hers, his breath hot and furious against her face. She was not a small or helpless woman, certainly not a weak one, but Guin could make a tribe of Amazons faint from intimidation.

“Listen to me very carefully, Malaya,” he said with midnight dark menace in his almost purring tones. “The next time you ask me a question like that, I will give you a deeply in-depth and guided tour into what ‘gets me off.'
Claro
? Do not push me any further tonight,
K'yatsume
.”

The thing was…he meant every word of it. Watching her come so close to getting herself killed had snapped his patience to an end. Oh, he loved her sass and the way she butted heads with him without so much as a hesitation, but when it came to her safety…
her life
…he was the end authority. He was God and Goddess. And damn her, she would learn to take him seriously and obey him for her own sake if it was the very last thing she ever did! If that meant shaking her up a bit, then that was exactly what he was going to do.

Guin moved his head down around to the side of her neck, exhaling warmly over her as he nosed himself under the heavy curling mass of her hair. He smelled her warmth and the scent of natural jasmine that lifted from her skin, delicious and enticing and easily making him shift from vacant threats of anger to a window of opportunity for deeply hidden cravings to shimmer to the surface.

“Is that what you want?” he demanded of her, his coarse voice suddenly rolling over Malaya as smooth as dark, melted chocolate. “Do you want to push me that far?”

Malaya wanted to laugh at him, but the suddenly nervous expression seemed to catch in her throat. The overwhelming presence of his big, rough body was pressing against hers, smothering her in his heat and the heavy scents of leather, blade oil, and blood. His breath on her neck sent shivers of sensation skipping down her vertebrae and, to her unimaginable surprise, she felt her breasts tighten with the stimulation, her nipples drawing into taut points against his chest. She couldn't seem to help it. Companion or no, decades familiar he might be, but there was no denying that Guin was a great deal of male animal packed into a barely civilized package, and there was something inside her that found that all too exciting.

He wouldn't win any beauty contests with his thickly callused hands and scar-nicked body, his rugged features with his broad forehead and deep-set granite-colored eyes making the blade of his nose and chiseled cheekbones that much sharper. But for a brute, he was as awesome and sexually magnetic as they came. He reeked his own particular brand of savagery, wore the aromas of his trade in a cocktail of virility, and bore his body with proud dynamics that seemed sometimes to draw all the breathable air from the room.

This was one of those times. It didn't matter that they were in a vast cavern that Malaya knew full well opened out to the beach from a wide cave—Guin still ate up every molecule of oxygen and made it his own.

“Now you're just being a bully,” she said, wincing inwardly when her voice fell breathily from her, with a betraying catch in it and everything. Damn it, she didn't want him to think he could get to her. In fact, neither of them wanted the other to have a smidge of advantage in their constant battle of wills and willfulness.

This was why Guin pretended not to notice the way her nipples were prodding against him so suddenly. If she had any idea how the simple sensation cut the knees out from under him, she would just as well have him wrapped up for herself with a pretty bow and everything. Malaya would never let him live it down. She would taunt him until doomsday about how he secretly wanted her. Or worse, she would use the incredible sensuality she had thriving in her outrageously perfect curves and vigorous body to manipulate him whenever she wanted to. She would never follow through, cock-teasing him until he would want to scream for mercy or, more ideally, do anything she asked of him, making him into a much devoted and well-heeled pet.

Guin growled meanly at the thought, shoving himself away from her and storming off as the idea raged through him with contemptible disgust. She was, as she had always been, miles out of his league. She was cultured and refined, highborn and beautiful, the promising heir to an entire species. She was as religious as he was agnostic, as talented as he was deadly, and so damn clever she wore him out as she challenged his less educated mind to keep up with her. She would always have power and prestige, responsibilities she embraced wholeheartedly, and the dynamic fate of a destiny so much greater than his would ever be.

Malaya was, in every way, a queen. It was because he knew this through to his soul that he called her
“K'yatsume
” even though she had not been crowned as yet. The same was true of her brother. He was
M'itisume
to Guin and nothing less.

And Guin was nothing more than hired muscle that had
the great fortune to own her trust and friendship although he didn't always understand why she found him deserving of it.

With his temper thoroughly fouled, this time he left her to her own devices as they traveled through the cavern, no longer helping her along her way. Not that he didn't keep a close eye on her every second, because he did, but he wanted her to remember how much she had infuriated him. She would know that had it been any other circumstance, he would have aided, held, and touched her every step of the way. Despite the way they bickered in private, Guin had always and would always treat her with the queenly respect he knew without a doubt that she deserved.

When they were closer to the mouth of the cavern, harmless moonlight cutting back the shadows and making possible exposure to potential enemies more dangerous, he drew her into the darkness behind himself as he searched for opponents. It was not an easy thing to do, since all 'Dwellers could blend into the shadows around themselves with near perfection. Some were so good at it, it was possible to walk right through their bodies and never know it. Provided you weren't a Shadowdweller, of course, because breed almost always could sense breed.

Guin could sense others nearby.

“Guin!”

The voice was soft and feminine, easily recognized. Not Xenia, but Rika, Malaya's vizier. She slid into the shadows with them, out of breath and shaking with obvious fear and adrenaline.

He drew the smaller woman close, ready to protect her behind him as well, like a mother hen gathering chicks. He heard her sob softly, trying to muffle herself as Malaya wrapped her arms around her advisor and friend to comfort her.

“They took Trace!” she whispered in despair. “I saw it. He was helping defend Xenia and Tristan and took a blade through his belly. He fell…I think he is dead!”

If he wasn't, he soon would be. Trace, Tristan's vizier, was a strong male and a wicked fighter in his own right, but few survived the kind of wound Rika was talking about even with the best of care…never mind after being taken captive by an enemy.

Guin's next worry would have been for those Trace had sacrificed himself for, except Tristan and Xenia both sidled up to them just then, joining their group and looking only a bit worse for wear. Malaya threw herself into her brother's embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck with a cry of relief, not caring a bit that he was covered in the blood of enemies.

“Come on, let's get out of here in case some genius finds the hidden stairs,” Xenia urged them. “I think we have had more than enough excitement for one night.”

Guin couldn't agree more.

Present day

Guin's ears were ringing, the sound growing louder and louder, loud enough to nearly drown the ambient sounds of the Senate members who were murmuring loudly. Some spoke in sage agreement, others in outright astonishment. Those who were taken by surprise had probably been left out of the loop on purpose, just for the advantage of shock value and the fact that a bell, once rung, could never be unrung.

It was the sound of that proverbial bell that rang in Guin's ears as he watched from his position of stiff attention within the Chancellors' balcony as Malaya stood at the podium with perfect posture, her figure straight, proud and radiant with the calm elegance of the office she had fought so hard for and had proved so often that she deserved. She was superbly dressed in a gown of body-hugging sheer amber netting that covered her from throat to ankles. It was the lazy drizzling of tiny ropes of lace in honey gold that gave her a semblance of modesty. The lace covered the netting everywhere and, at first glance, made the gown solid and austere.
Conservative, one could say, despite the slit in the skirt that traveled most of her leg on the side where he stood, baring the perfection of her smooth mocha-colored skin. However, if you were as close to her as he was, you could see the teasing array of dusky and intimate places on her body kept just barely out of focus and revelation by all of that lace.

Behind her, sitting at stiff attention, was her twin. He had been amused and casual, joking with Xenia as the Senate proceedings for the day drew onward, but now…now, like Guin, he was tight with tension and emotion, mostly anger, as the echoes of the speaking Senator's address faded from the rotunda ceiling.

None of those in the balcony were actually in shock at the nature of the proposal they had just heard, because they had been expecting it for some time. It was merely the understanding that the moment of reckoning was at hand that held them so straight and still.

Except for Guin, who had dreaded every instant of what was going to happen next more than anything.

“My Lady,” the Senator drawled to fill in the silence from the royal box, “I can read the law to you if you like.”

My Lady. The devious bastard hadn't even given her the respect of calling her
K'yatsume.
The fury that rolled through Guin at the obvious insult to Malaya begged for release and a target, and while he remained motionless, he flicked an acidic glare at Senator Jericho for the slight.

“The law reads,” Malaya spoke up with a clear, calm voice, “‘Within the royal house of the Shadowdwellers, tradition and honorable ideal must dictate that any female ruler wielding the power of the monarchy must take a proper mate. This is done to quickly ensure succession and to fortify the female's position in the eyes of men and enemies who might deem her an easy target for overthrow otherwise. To avoid discontent, civil war, and detrimental unrest among the people she guides, the female will show her willingness
to abide by this law of peaceful intent and the respect she holds for the traditions of her people.'”

This time it was the Senate that fell silent under Malaya's steady and accurate recitation of the law they had meant to take her off guard with. They had meant to catch her ill prepared and unawares, hoping to steamroll her into capitulating to their desires. But these Senators had no real power over her, and she was proving that to them with her preparedness and her consummate sophistication. Guin watched with pleasure as her soft, shiny lips curved into a half-smile of amusement.

“Senators,” she said with resonance, “surely you do not mean to beat me with the dusty scroll of a law that is 1,846 years old and, clearly, a tad outdated.” She wrinkled her nose as she held up two fingers with a small space between them, eliciting laughter from her listeners. “I am always the first to hold tradition in the esteem and honor it is due, as all of you have seen me do time and again, but this was meant for a time when we were savage little clans fighting each other for power and when other Nightwalkers were our territorial enemies. I have no obligation to take this law seriously when you see my brother and I are firmly seated in the Chancellery, and all of Our challengers who were courageous enough to confront Us directly have been long defeated.”

That made Guin smile broadly. There was no missing the backhanded insult she had just slapped down on her enemies who had been insidiously trying to infect the Senate against her and her brother for months now. Already two attempts had been made on the life of the royal vizier Trace, who now stood alive and well behind the chairs of office looking equally amused. An attempt had also been made on the life of Malaya's priest and close personal friend, Magnus.

Malaya herself…

Guin had to fight back the shudder of emotion that overtook him every time he remembered that
k'ypruti
assassin
who had reached to stab a poisoned weapon into the Chancellor he protected. He relished every reflex and instinct he'd been given that had allowed him to see and to know what was going to happen even before that creature had moved to make Malaya her mark. He had been happy to spill Karri's blood, even in spite of her being a so-called holy woman, delighting in making her pay for her crimes against Malaya.

“Madame, as you often like to point out to us, it was not that long ago that we were savage little clans infighting for power and plunged into civil war,” Jericho pointed out, once again omitting her rightful address but still making himself appear respectful. It was the old clan chieftain's way of feeling powerful and on equal footing with the beauty who had soundly beaten his ass in war. “Yes, there is peace now, and yes, the clans are dissolved…for the most part. But your monarchy is only a decade free of the challenges of the war. This law—and I stress the term
law
, My Lady—provides you with a time-honored method of securing your reign. So many of us here depend on you so greatly for your traditional heart and the respect you have always given to our religion and our cultural practices, in order to keep us from dissolving into the chaos of some of the human societies we have seen. The Americans are a prime example. The more they shed the respects and traditions of their cultures, the more violent and contemptible their behaviors have become. Especially as pertains to women.”

“For you to so casually dismiss a single deference to custom,” Senator Angelique spoke up, adding a female voice to the argument almost as if it had been practiced, “is to begin a domino effect throughout the people. They will think this is a permission to take liberties that will incite danger in the community. If the Chancellor flouts tradition and law, what example does it set?”

“I would never dismiss any matter this Senate brings to me ‘casually,' and I resent the implication, Senator Angelique. As has been pointed out,” Malaya said sharply, “I
am renowned for being a woman of traditional values. But I am also one with a progressive streak. It used to be law that a wife submit to the beatings of her husband without any interference from outsiders, but I thank
Drenna
that this law was seen for what it was and was abolished.”

“K'yatsume
, that is like comparing Light and Dark. This law of securing succession is no different than any other royal protocol, and certainly it hurts no one,” another male Senator injected.

“It hurts my sister's right to choose her mate!” Tristan exploded suddenly from his seat, surging to his feet and approaching the rail of the balcony to address the assemblage. “It damages her right to her emotions. She has an inalienable right to find love for herself. To make the best choice possible without pressure and direction from all of you! Not a one of you would cede to such a dictate if it was turned on you. You think to marry her off like some worthless daughter who drains household resources and is a burden to you. What you risk is haste and poor choice and introducing a foul influence into a monarchy that is working just fine as it is. As you say, we are fresh out of war. There is time now to slowly come to issues of family and succession.”

“She can choose whomever she wants for a mate so long as he is worthy of her,” Jericho countered. “She can choose someone she loves and will be able to trust. I think it is you,
M'itisume
, who fears the influence of an outsider within this knitted clique of the royal household. Are no others worthy enough to join that clique? Are you so far above us all?”

“I never said—”

Tristan was drowned out by the rush of loud protest that sounded uniformly angry. Guin moved closer to Malaya and saw Xenia doing the same with Tristan.

“Senators! Senators, please!” Malaya's call for attention lowered the fury to a dull roar. “I never said I would not give your proposal its due consideration.”

“Laya!” Tristan hissed in protest, the instant rage in his
eyes a perfect expression for the emotion Guin felt kicking him in his gut.

“Hush,” she hissed back at him. Louder she said, “I will accept a proposal from the Senate as to what or who will determine a ‘worthy' mate, and a suggested timeline for when I can expect myself to fall in love.” Her light, teasing sarcasm made her audience ripple with chuckles. “And I would like to consider examples of proof that this is a working law. Also, I will appreciate a list of candidates for this applied marriage.”

“Fuck me.”

Guin spat out the angry oath under his breath and Malaya turned her head to throw him a dark, warning look. In that moment he was so angry at her he came extremely close to flipping her off. But he had never disrespected her in public and he wouldn't start now. No matter how much she pissed him off.

“But, Senators,” she added clearly and carefully, “this is only a proposal that will help guide me in my decision to accept or reject the need for this law. This is in no way a foregone capitulation to your wishes. At the very least it will open the law up to modernization. Is this satisfactory?”

Of course it was. The Senate had made headway in their agenda and it made them happy. Now the benefits and detriments of the old law would be citywide gossip and opinions would pour into the royal household. Malaya and Tristan would quickly get an idea of what majority public opinion was leaning toward. And while they ruled with a strong autonomy from both the people and the Senate, they couldn't ignore their desires completely. Everything had to be taken into consideration. That meant that there was a chance that Malaya would submit to this ridiculousness.

And that was what Guin could not stomach. Just knowing she was contemplating the possibility had already driven him from her side once because he couldn't control how it made him feel. Three weeks ago he had abandoned her safety to
others for the first time in fifty years and had gained a distance so he could figure out how to keep himself sane in the face of this.

He had tolerated so much in those fifty long years of loyal and dedicated service to his mistress. He had learned to live closely with her every minute of every night. He had learned to blind himself to her stunning beauty as he saw her in every state of dress and undress imaginable. He had put up with her dangerous insolence and defiance during the wars and her insistence on joining pitched battle alongside her brother. Guin had borne fifty years of other men, albeit rare and carefully chosen, in her bed, where any one of them could do anything to hurt her. And since he was never to leave her side except when she was asleep in the privacy of her chambers, Guin had learned to watch and protect her with stony calm while she tried to sate her sexuality on men he thought were so much less than worthy of what she needed.

But this…

Here he drew a line at his patience. All he had borne and everything he had suffered these five decades had been with the goal of striving for her eventual happiness. When the war had finally come to an end and they had truly begun to see the city flourish with peace and the quibbling decrease among former clans, she had begun to grow into that happiness. He had seen it in her beautiful whiskey-colored eyes, the warm brown-gold sparkling with it so very often. The bodyguard had seen it in her constant smiles and the way she had begun to lavishly enjoy her life, this in spite of the fact that her beloved Rika was dying of the horrible Shadowdweller disease known as Crush.

But those freshman pleasures had been ripped out of her the day Tristan had confessed to knowing the Senate was going to spring this on her soon. She had had only three weeks to prepare herself for it, and Guin had been unable to stand by and watch as she readied herself for the possibility of accepting the dictate and throwing away every chance of
happiness for herself that he had spent years of his life fighting to give her the opportunity for.

It was because she was riding the fence on the choice that he could keep his feet firmly planted beside her once more. He had returned to her a week ago, afraid to leave her alone any longer when so much danger lurked, unwilling to trust her safety to others. But he had sworn to himself that he would walk away the moment she let others choose her mate for her. Because as hard as he had strived to prepare her for better times, he could never simply stand by and watch her become a victim of a loveless union.

He had lived through it once before and knew what it could do to a woman. Malaya was far too precious and beautiful to be destroyed in such ways. So now, his only recourse was to fight some more. Fight with her. Force her to see that love and contentment trumped tradition. He had no idea who would ever be worthy of her, who could give her those things he craved for her, but he would see to it that she craved them for herself if it was the last thing he ever did.