Storms of Lazarus (Shadows of Asphodel, Book 2) (6 page)

Ardis shook her head and climbed onto Wendel. She straddled him on her knees. He untied her braid, then combed his fingers through her loose hair. He had such a gentle touch for a man who fought with his hands.

“For me to be your mistress,” Ardis said, “I would have to be a kept woman.”

“I see,” Wendel said.

He didn’t sound like he was paying much attention. He seemed to be more fascinated by running his hands along the curves of her hips.

“Considering how you have no money,” Ardis said, “you can’t afford a courtesan.”

Wendel lifted his head and dragged the pillow closer, as if to give himself a better view.

“I know little about courtesans,” he said. “Please, by all means, educate me.”

She scoffed at him. “I could be insulted.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Ardis bent down to kiss Wendel. His hands cradled her face tenderly. Then his fingers tangled with her hair, and he kissed her more fiercely. He caught her lower lip in his teeth and bit her just hard enough to make her gasp. Panting, her face flushed, she broke away and saw the stark desire in his eyes. The look was more lust than love, but she would take it. She wasn’t sure what love looked like, anyway.

Wendel distracted Ardis from her thoughts by thrusting against her. She rubbed him and savored how hard he had become. Then she leaned back and stripped off her shirt. She tossed it away and reached for her belt. Before she could unbuckle it, Wendel hooked a hand over her shoulder and flipped her onto her back.

“Allow me,” Wendel said.

Ardis shivered at the rasp in his voice. She loved seeing him like this. He unbuckled her belt. She helped him by wriggling out of her trousers. She laughed when the cloth bunched at her ankle and he struggled to tug it over her foot.

“That was a mistake,” Wendel said. “Imagine something much more seductive.”

“Oh, I’m imagining all sorts of things,” Ardis said.

Wendel knelt over her. “I’m listening.”

“I’m imagining you naked, first of all.”

“Done.”

Wendel slid off the berth and stripped naked in remarkable time. When he walked toward her, she saw his silhouette and raised her eyebrows. He was clearly imagining things of his own. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around him. He sucked in a breath and staggered nearer, his knees bumping against the berth.

“That feels good,” Wendel said, in very gravelly way.

Ardis stroked him in her hand. He groaned and closed his eyes. With her other hand, she felt how his buttocks tightened. She stroked him faster, then stopped and climbed onto her knees. He was inches from her mouth.

“Ardis?” Wendel said.

She was surprised how coherent he was. Still.

“I’m imagining something,” Ardis whispered.

Her breath breezed over him, and she saw him clench his hands into fists. He seemed to be having trouble holding motionless.

“God,” Wendel said, “don’t make me guess.”

Ardis smiled wickedly. “Is this torture?”

“If this is torture, I would sign up willingly.”

They had been through hell together, including actual torture, and Ardis didn’t want him thinking about that right now.

She didn’t want him thinking about anything right now.

Licking her lips, she bent forward and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“Do you want me?” Ardis said.

Wendel growled the words. “I want you more than anything.”

She laughed, then took him in her mouth. He gasped. She ran her tongue around the tip, then took him a little deeper. His fingertips brushed the back of her head. She sucked on him, and his fingers tightened in her hair.

“Ardis,” Wendel said.

She drew back and looked at him. “Yes?”

His face tensed. It took him a moment to articulate his thoughts.

“Tell me what you want. I want to know exactly how you imagine this ending.” Wendel exhaled shakily. “Please.”

Ardis smiled at his attempt to be polite.

“I want you to moan,” she said.

He shuddered, involuntarily, and she licked the length of him. When she lifted her head, he was clenching his jaw tight.

“To tell you the truth,” Ardis said, “I’ve never done this before.”

Wendel sucked in a shaky breath. “Never?”

Blushing, she laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. I was a good girl in San Francisco.”

“I’m honored to be your first,” he said.

“How gentlemanly of you.” She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. “Any requests?”

“Whatever you are comfortable with.”

She smiled. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I never said I was that innocent.”

“I’m quaking in my boots.”

“You aren’t wearing any.”

“A minor point.”

Ardis arched her eyebrows. “You are altogether too witty.”

“I don’t—”

Ardis licked Wendel again, and his words became a gasp. She stroked him in her hand, caressing him with her fingers and her tongue. He uttered something unintelligible. She smiled, and he flinched at the light touch of her teeth. She kissed him as an apology, but he backed away from her and blew out his breath.

“I won’t last like this,” Wendel said.

Ardis couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m good?”

He raised his eyebrows, as if this question were far too obvious for a reply.

“Or,” she said huskily, “very, very bad?”

Wendel let out a growling sigh. Ardis slid her lips around him and enjoyed every gasp and shiver she elicited. He groaned and closed his eyes, his head tilted back. She stopped only when her jaw started to ache.

“Ardis?” he said.

She rubbed her cheek. “My jaw hurts. I blame you.”

“What? Why?”

“Try to be less well-endowed next time.”

He laughed. “Apologies,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Wendel stepped away from Ardis, every muscle in his body taut with tension, and bent to grab his coat from the floor. He rummaged in a pocket until he found what he was looking for. He held the preventive high.

“Yes?” Wendel said.

Ardis plucked the preventive from his hand and tossed it away.

“No,” she said. “I want to finish what I started.”

She grabbed him by the hips and dragged him closer, then bent over him again. His breath became ragged.

“Ardis,” he said. “I’m close.”

She paused. “Good.”

Then she bent down again. She loved to explore him with her mouth, to find the places that pleased him the most. He held his breath and tensed. It didn’t take long to find his breaking point. He groaned as he let go.

She held still as he shuddered. The taste of him surprised her, and she swallowed.

Wendel staggered back. He looked weak at the knees. He dropped onto the berth, wrapped his arm around her waist, and dragged her down to him. She lay against his chest, his heartbeat hammering against her cheek.

Ardis touched her fingers to her mouth, and Wendel kissed the top of her head.

“Mmm,” he said.

She smiled. “Is that all you have to say?”

He tweaked her ear. “There’s still the preventive.”

“Ambitious?”

“Very.”

“I’ll take the moment to catch my breath.”

Wendel’s laugh vibrated through her chest. His arm tightened around her in lopsided hug. She kissed the hollow of his neck, then curled against him to steal the heat of his skin. His hand smoothed the tangles from her hair.

She couldn’t remember why she had looked for him. There was no past, and no future, only this time in his arms.

Ardis sighed and shut her eyes. She drifted through the darkness.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wendel said.

“I’m not.”

He slipped out from underneath her and kissed her softly. He wasn’t soft elsewhere, though, and she raised her eyebrows. She wanted to tease him about his impatience, but he kept kissing her until the feeling seared away her thoughts. He left her breathless while he found the preventive, then held himself over her.

“Wendel,” she said.

“Yes?”

She smiled. “I felt like saying your name.”

He smiled in return, though his was far more wicked.

“I want you to moan,” he said.

“Thief,” she said. “That was my line.”

“I’m not giving it back. I will, however, give you something else.”

He slid into her, slowly, and she savored every inch of him. She tilted her hips and pressed tight against him, until they were as close as they could possibly be. He drew back, and she whimpered an involuntary protest. When he thrust again, she urged him on with her fingernails biting into his buttocks. They found a rhythm together, hard and fast and unrelenting, her heart pounding a staccato beat.

He never stopped, never faltered, and her anticipation built until she could barely breathe.

Ardis gasped. “Wendel.”

“Moan,” he said. “I love it when you moan.”

After an instant of self-consciousness, she did as he said. The sound encouraged him to thrust even harder. She clung to him as she teetered on the edge, then fell over the brink and tumbled into ecstasy. He thrust one last time, shuddering, and held her tight. Wordless with the echoes of pleasure, she kissed him.

Wendel tucked Ardis into the crook of his arm.

With a sigh of sheer contentment, she closed her eyes. Now she could sleep.

On Christmas morning, Ardis woke in Wendel’s arms, and the luxury of peace felt like the best gift in the world. She had spent far too many Christmases alone, even one travelling between jobs as a mercenary.

When Ardis stirred, Wendel’s arms tightened around her.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “How long have you been awake?”

He laughed quietly. “I can never sleep on Christmas morning.”

Ardis imagined Wendel as a little boy, too excited to stay in bed, and found the thought both sweet and sad. Wendel had been only eleven when his family discovered his necromancy and disinherited him. She doubted he had much of a childhood in Constantinople, during his time with the Order of the Asphodel.

“Can’t wait to see what Santa Claus brought you?” Ardis said.

Wendel paused. “In Germany, children find their gifts under the tree on Christmas Eve. So today would be too late.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said.

“Why? Haven’t you been working for the archmages for several years?”

Ardis blushed. “Yes, but I spent the holidays alone. One Christmas I did buy a new tassel for my sword, after the old one fell off.”

Wendel lifted himself on his elbow and looked into her face.

“Are you joking?” he said.

“No,” she said, still blushing.

Wendel started to laugh, hard enough that he doubled over and pressed his face to the pillow. Ardis swatted at him to make him stop, but he couldn’t, and finally she started laughing with him. She laughed so hard that her eyes watered and her ribs started to hurt. At last their laughter faded, and they both lay silently.

Wendel cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said. “But then I imagined how pitiful that tassel must have been.”

Ardis sighed and dabbed her eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in months.”

Wendel sat upright and flicked on the light. The porthole lamp glowed softly.

“Ardis,” he said, “I promise you that we will have a proper Christmas.”

“It’s not too late for gifts?” she said.

“We can cheat.”

She grinned. “Can I have you for Christmas? Wearing nothing but a bow?”

“If you have a bow.”

Wendel kissed her on the cheek, then leaned back and frowned.

“Though I’m afraid that was the last preventive,” he said.

Ardis crawled off the berth. She searched her clothes, turning out every pocket, but she returned to him empty-handed.

“Sadly, you’re right,” she said.

Her dream from last night crept back into her head, and she felt her stomach squirm. She didn’t want to take any chances.

If it wasn’t already too late. A baby wasn’t the Christmas gift she wanted.

Blinking away those thoughts, Ardis grabbed her shirt and started to dress. Wendel stretched out on the berth and watched. His hand strayed lower, and she glared at him. He didn’t even bother to look innocent.

“Am I not allowed to touch myself?” Wendel said.

“No.” Ardis smirked. “Save your strength.”

She sat on the berth to tug on her boots. He knelt behind her and kissed the back of her neck. She shivered and tried not to let him notice.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “I want breakfast.”

His sigh stirred her hair. “I suppose I can put on clothes.”

She snorted. “It’s a crime, I know.”

Wendel didn’t stop smirking the whole time he got dressed.

~

They found Konstantin in the zeppelin’s dining room. He sat at a table laden with food, though he didn’t seem to be eating. He hunched over a newspaper, a pat of butter precariously balanced on the knife in his hand.

“Good morning,” Ardis said.

Konstantin looked startled, and he barely avoided dropping the butter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t see you there. Please, help yourself to breakfast.”

Ardis tugged out a wicker chair. It felt surprisingly lightweight, as did most zeppelin furniture, with a cushion filled by air. Wendel sat to her right, opposite Konstantin, and reached for a platter with slices of meat and cheese.