Leander smiled as he saw recognition dawn across her face. He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek.
“Where was I? Oh, yes, secondly, Morgan’s disclosures of your own quite astonishing Gifts were taken into account, and finally the fact that you risked your own life to save Daria—which, even Durga had to admit, is something only the pure of heart would ever do—they’ve made the formal proclamation that, pending proof of all your Gifts, you are the Queen.”
Jenna swallowed and blinked, breathing unevenly. “Pending proof of all my Gifts? But I...I can only Shift to vapor...and just that once to panther.”
His finger stroked over her cheek, back and forth, back and forth. His smile deepened. “The Ikati have an ancient saying,
Blood follows Blood
. What your father could do...that could be in your Blood too. Most likely it is. Needless to say, we’re all quite eager to find out.”
A dimple flashed in his cheek. “Some of us more than others.”
She stared at him. Her mouth made several odd shapes, but nothing came out.
“I...I...” she finally managed. She dropped her eyes back to the bed and drew lazy circles with her finger on the fur coverlet between them. “I see. Well. That’s all very...
interesting.” She took a long, shaky breath. “To say the least. But—”
She lifted her eyes straight to his and gazed at him steadily, her eyes cool, quiet green.
“I don’t want to be your Queen.”
“Another title, perhaps?” he murmured, watching her closely. “Duchess? Empress? She Who Must Be Obeyed?”
Her expression soured. “You Englishmen are way too fond of your titles.”
He waited, not speaking, holding her gaze.
“What good is it to...rule...over people who have no say in their own fates, people who can’t even decide who they’re going to marry? People who hate you for having what they don’t have—
freedom
.” She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “I told you before. You have no idea how wonderful it is to be free. If I’m the...whatever you want to call me...and I have a choice—I choose my freedom.”
“So you have no desire to make changes to the Law, then,” Leander said, matter-of-factly.
“Changes?” She frowned at him while he remained gazing at her benignly, handsome and enigmatic with the light sketching patterns of gold and red over his skin. “What do you mean,
changes
?”
“Well,” he drawled, perfectly serene, raising his eyebrows at her. “Who did you think would be able to make changes to the Law, if not the Queen?”
It was a full thirty seconds before she comprehended him. The blood began rushing through her veins like wildfire.
“Ah.
Changes
. Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve always thought the Law was too strict. Despotic, in fact.”
He nodded solemnly. “Archaic.”
“Yes, exactly. In dire need of a few...updates.”
“Adjustments,” he agreed.
“Hmmm. Yes, the Law is in need of a few revisions. And if only the Queen can make those kinds of changes...” One shoulder came up. Leander watcher her lips purse, ripe as cherries against the glow of her rose-cream skin.
“Think of it as an opportunity to right the wrongs of an imperfect system,” he murmured. “To bring liberties to the oppressed. You could bring the Law of the
Ikati
into the twenty-first century.”
Her lowered lashes made a silken dark curve against her cheeks. “I never pictured myself a crusader for change...” The tiniest of smiles played around her lips. “Although I must admit,
liberties
are something I am particularly fond of.”
“Not to mention trouble making and rule breaking,” he added. She looked up at him. His face was placid, but his eyes were bright, laughing green.
“Don’t forget baubles,” she said.
His smile deepened. He slid his hand up her arm and over her shoulder, his palm skimming over her bare skin. He curled his hand around the nape of her neck, buried his fingers into the cool weight of her hair. “Large baubles, if I remember correctly,” he said, husky.
His eyes took on a new light, burning and intent, as he bent his head toward her.
He brushed a kiss across her cheekbone, her temple. He nosed her hair aside and nuzzled her neck. “And the ever-popular bent knee,” she said breathlessly.
He laughed low into her ear and put his arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms wound up over his shoulders. “I was just getting to that,” he murmured, tightening
his embrace. A slight, mocking sigh left his lips. “How much easier my life would be if I weren’t in love with such a headstrong, demanding woman. I think you’re going to be very bad for my blood pressure.”
“Yes,” she agreed, tilting her head to his. “I’m afraid I am going to be a very difficult wife. ‘High-maintenance’ I believe is the correct term.”
Wife
. His heart began to swell in his chest, so big he thought it would burst.
“A real hellion,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. He felt her smile, curving and taut against his kiss.
“That’s Queen Hellion, to you, my love,” she breathed, lying back onto the pillows. She stretched her arms out to him, and he leaned down over her and smiled, a genuine smile this time.
“God, yes,” he whispered. He bent his head to kiss her neck, the fine skin of her throat. His lips skimmed the rise of her breasts exposed in open invitation above the neckline of her dress. “Say it again.” His fingers discovered the delicate pearl buttons of her sundress. He worked the top few open.
“Queen—” She broke off as his tongue probed the flesh the opened buttons had exposed. She twined her fingers into his hair, turned her head to his neck. “Queen Hellion?”
“No, the
other
part,” he murmured with a low laugh, dropping kisses over her skin. He lifted his head and gazed deep into her eyes with his hand spread against the side of her face.
“Oh, let’s see.” She pretended to think, looking at the ceiling and drawing her eyebrows together. “I’m a bit tired, my memory isn’t quite clear—”
“
My love
,” he insisted, scowling down at her. “You said ‘my love.’ And I want you to say it again.”
Her eyebrows climbed. “And
I’m
the demanding one?”
“Jenna—”
“And as for headstrong—”
“
Jenna
.”
“My love,” she whispered, relenting, her eyes shining and unguarded. “I admit it. You are my love and my life, and there is nothing in the world that could ever make me leave you. Not even your ridiculous titles.”
“My beautiful girl,” he breathed. He surrendered his caution, eager for her supple, feminine body, for her passionate heart. He pressed his lips to hers, and the animal in him awoke and stretched and roared
I want, I need
until he could hardly hear the words that left his own mouth. “Large baubles and bent knees will only be the beginning. I am going to worship you every day for the rest of our lives.”
And he lowered his lips to hers once more.
Later, much later, after the fire had burned down to embers and ash and a huge, glowing moon had climbed into the sky, Jenna watched Leander sleep.
He slept on his back, one arm around her neck, his face turned to her hair. She lay on her side next to him and trailed her fingers over his muscled chest, over the edges of the white bandage. His skin sent up heat everywhere she touched.
She had that aching feeling again, that feeling she knew was happiness. It seemed not only unfamiliar but terribly fragile—and frightening. She wondered how people man
aged to live with it. Like a skittish wild animal, it appeared poised to bolt at any moment.
She smiled ruefully. She was beginning to understand wild animals. Very well, in fact. Maybe one day she would fathom this unpredictable beast called happiness too.
“Whatever you’re thinking, keep thinking it,” Leander murmured, opening his eyes to gaze at her with a drowsy smile. He rolled onto his side and turned her to her back with his hand against her hip. She settled against the smooth satin and angled her head to see him better. In the gloom, he was reflection and shadow, hooded green eyes against warm umber skin.
“It wasn’t anything important,” she said, skimming her fingertips over the unyielding muscles in his bicep, his shoulder. “You know, the nature of reality, the meaning of existence. Light stuff.”
He bent his head to nibble at her lips, his hair soft and fragrant against her throat. “That sounds dreadfully boring.” He took her hand and gently pushed it under the sheets, down between his thighs. His erection was already stiff against her hip. “I’m sure we can come up with one or two more
exciting
topics.”
“Some people would find discussing the meaning of existence very exciting, I’m sure,” she smiled with slow, sensual mischief.
“No one in this room,” he countered, trailing kisses along the crest of her collarbone.
“And what about the future? Maybe we should be discussing that.”
He paused, lifted his head to stare at her with a guarded look. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve changed your
mind about us, are you? Did I fall asleep too quickly? Did I say something wrong?” He struggled to sit up. “Do I snore?”
She pushed him back to the pillows, smothering a laugh. “
No
, you didn’t say anything wrong, and you don’t snore.” She lowered her gaze and fingered the edge of his bandage, letting her hair drape over his face. “Although I must admit, you do fall asleep really fast. Like, in five seconds. You might want to see a doctor about that.”
“It’s not
my
fault you’re so goddamned beautiful I have to have my way with you,” he said, relaxing again. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair from her face. She nestled in under his arm and he smiled down at her. “Vigorously and repeatedly,” he drawled. “Until I am completely exhausted.”
“Until you pass out,” Jenna corrected, blinking at him from under her lashes.
He lifted his finger to trace over a ragged red seam that marred the flesh of her shoulder, his fingertip following the path of a knife blade. His teasing smile disappeared.
“Tell me I didn’t hurt you,” he murmured, leaning over to press a whisper-light kiss to her shoulder. “Tell me I didn’t lose myself and forget to be gentle.” He lifted his eyes to her face and she saw the self-recrimination there, the pain. “You’re still hurt, still fragile—I should have been more careful, I should have waited—”
“If you had waited, I might have had to throw myself at you, and that would be very unbecoming for a queen.” Jenna raised her hand to trace the planes of his face with her fingertips. “I’m fine, Leander. Just a bit sore.”
“From me or from...”
He left it hanging between them. She thought she’d never seen him look so troubled or so beautiful, his hair
capturing the light in midnight colors, onyx and mink and deepest indigo.
“You did not hurt me,” she slowly enunciated, raising both her hands to press against his face. “In case you couldn’t tell the difference, those were moans of pleasure, my love.”
He released a breath through his nose, pressed his eyes closed, and tilted his head down to hers. “Nothing can ever hurt you, not ever again,” he whispered against her ear. “Not me, not those bastards. When I saw you there, chained and pale as death, all that blood...”
He buried his face in her hair and didn’t speak for a long while. She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his heart thump strong and erratic under her palm.
“I almost lost my mind,” he finally said, tightening his arms around her. “I
did
lose my mind. And then when you didn’t wake up for so long...”
She lay against him quiet and still, feeling his heat, the strength of his arms cradling her body.
“I will make them pay for what they’ve done,” he whispered fiercely. “
They will pay in blood
.”
“Yes,” Jenna said softly. She stroked her hands over his back, trailed her fingers down his spine. “I know. And we are going to win this war, or whatever it is, because we’re stronger than they are. Smarter.”
“
Better
,” he said, rough.
She nodded against his shoulder. “Also better informed.”
He lifted his head to consider her in silence, waiting.
“One good thing happened back there,” she said, serious and soft, gazing up into his face. “That day I went to find Daria. The day they...caught me. One very good thing.”
His face went dark. “I find that extremely hard to believe.”
“He touched me,” Jenna whispered.
“I’m well aware of that, Jenna,” Leander said stiffly. He rose from her side to sit upright with his arms crossed over his bent knees, the sheets rucked up in folds around his waist. “I’m well aware of what they did to you.”
She sat up next to him and slid her hand up his back, feeling hard muscle under smooth skin, the silken hair at the nape of his neck. “No, I meant—he touched me. Their leader. With his bare hand.”
It took a moment of silence before he comprehended her. He twisted around to stare at her full in the face, the moonlight pouring through the window behind him so she couldn’t see his expression.
“Are you saying...?”
“Yes,” she interrupted, nodding. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“So you could—?”
“See everything. His memories. His thoughts.” Her voice darkened. “His plans.”
His breathing was the only sound in the room aside from the small, restless murmurs of the dying fire. After a moment he leaned over and, with his palm on her shoulder, pushed her gently back to the mattress.
“Tell me,” he said softly, raised to an elbow over her. His eyes glittered bright.
“It won’t be easy,” Jenna began haltingly. “There’s a lot of them. They’re very organized and very well—” she grimaced, then went on, determined—“trained. The leader of that little cell wasn’t even that high up in
their organization. They know about all the colonies except one, and they’re very driven. Driven to infiltrate, to attack. Driven to wipe us out of existence, at all costs.”
She turned her cheek to his shoulder and closed her eyes. “They hate you...us...so much.”
“Now can you see why we had to stay hidden all these years?” he whispered. He brushed her lips with his fingers, trailed them over the curve of her cheekbone, her jaw. “People hate what they can’t understand, what is different from themselves. They hate it and they want to eradicate it. Violence and intolerance are woven through the fabric of human nature like a scarlet thread.”