The Lotus Ascension (39 page)

Nathen
misunderstood Soren's dejection.
“Oh, Soren.
I
remember what it was like to lose my mother.” He rubbed his back. “Your friends
are here for you and Sillara. I'm here for you. We love you.”

Soren ground
his teeth at the unspoken profession of love for Sillara. He inhaled deeply in
his pillow to calm himself. It was Sillara's pillow.

Nathen massaged
Soren's shoulders with a skill borne of long practice giving back-rubs after
common quarters. “It'll be all right.”

Soren turned
over on his back, and Nathen looked in his eyes as he offered a half smile of
pity.

“My parents are
dead,” Soren said, his voice dead, “but that's not my chief anguish.”

Nathen rubbed
his hands across Soren's smooth chest. “What's the matter?”

Soren reached
up and tousled Nathen's hair. “I think I love Sillara.”

Nathen laughed.
“Of course you do, she's your sister.” But as soon as he said it, understanding
dawned in his eyes. He knew what Soren meant.

Soren nodded.
“I've always been in love with her.”

Nathen sat back
on his feet. He gripped his knees and stared at Soren.

Soren reached
out and ran his finger down Nathen's chest. It was time to lay the trap. “I
know you love her, too. That's why I asked you here tonight.”

Nathen watched
Soren's finger trail past his navel and farther down to hook in the belt of his
skirt. “If you love her, then you know what torment I've endured.”

“It's that
bastard, Konas.” Soren watched Nathen closely, who took a deep breath and kept
his gaze from Soren's own.

“She doesn't
love him.”

That was true,
and Soren silently rejoiced to know that her lack of feelings for her
kidnapping husband was plain to all. “He's popped in between us and the woman
we love. Sillara would've been happier with one of us, either marrying me in
Sunjaa fashion or being given in marriage to my dear friend.” He squeezed
Nathen's hand.
“The very flower of the Kesandrahn House.”

Nathen's genuine
smile lit up his dark eyes. “That's just what I thought. How can Konas think he
deserves her? He'll never appreciate her the way we do; he'll never love her
the way we do. He can't.”

And neither
could Nathen, of that Soren was sure. Soren knew Sillara best, and so he loved
her best. The idea of he and Nathen being equal suitors for her hand sickened
Soren, but he hid his disgust by kissing his friend. Nathen fell into Soren's
passionate kiss at once, opening his mouth to let his tongue slip through.
Soren sighed into Nathen's mouth and tackled his friend back onto the soft bed.

Nathen laughed
and looked down at Soren's mouth, the way old lovers do. “I missed this.”

“Me, too.”
Soren lay between Nathen's
strong legs and pressed his groin against his buttocks. He forced himself to
grow hard. “I need to feel someone's love, to know that someone loves me.”

“Your father
and mother loved you very much,” Nathen whispered, caressing Soren's golden
horns. “And I love you. How could anyone not? There's something special about
you and your sister, something I can't quite put my finger on.”

Soren and
Sillara were brother- and sister-souls, eminently mateable, a quality everyone
must have instinctively sensed. That explained so many people's sudden,
unreasonable, and incurable attraction toward the twins.

Soren leaned
forward and kissed Nathen's mouth again, tugging playfully at his bottom lip
with his teeth. Nathen reached down and undid Soren's skirt as Soren rubbed his
chest and lightly pinched his nipples. Soren felt his cock rubbing against
Nathen's hardening shaft. He tore Nathen's skirt from beneath him, causing
Nathen to laugh and wrestle Soren the other direction. Soren let himself be
handled, and Nathen pinned his arms down over his head. He glanced down at Soren's
cock.

“I want a
nibble.”

Soren wrapped
his legs around Nathen's waist, pulling him closer by pressing his heels into
his back. Their cocks touched again. “It's missed your lips.”

Nathen went
down on him, and Soren reached back to pull Sillara's pillow under his head.
From that angle, he could watch as his cock disappeared into Nathen's mouth.
Nathen played around Soren's bare, hard penis, kissing down on one side until
he reached the balls, which he licked. Then he kissed up the other side. Soren flexed
his cock and tapped Nathen on the chin with the head. Nathen looked up and
smiled, and then he kissed the tip. Soren groaned and reached down, forcing
Nathen's mouth onto his cock. He slipped past his tongue and into the back of
his throat. Nathen excelled at sucking cock, having learned on Soren years ago.
Although Soren could take a cock in his mouth and even work it to climax, he
preferred to be in the position of dominance. Nathen had always loved to lay
Soren back and pleasure him, so they had grown up as well-suited lovers.

Nathen worked
the cock with his hand and lips, coming off the tip only long enough to rub his
spittle around the head,
then
plunging back down the
shaft. It felt good, but Soren was not exactly aroused. He was forcing this, to
put Nathen at ease, and though he kept himself hard, he did not feel himself
getting close to coming the way he often did when Nathen sucked his cock.
Nathen looked away from Soren's face and concentrated on his cock. Soren lay
back and looked at the ceiling. He blinked quickly to keep the welling tears
from rolling down his face and into his hair. This friend who pleasured him
would soon die by his hand.

Soren stretched
out to the side of the bed and grabbed the vial of oil that stood on the low
table. He touched Nathen's cheek to get his attention, and once his friend
disengaged, he poured the oil over his cock. “I want to be inside you.”

Nathen crawled
up, kissing his stomach and chest along the way. “I want you inside me.”

Soren sat
halfway up and poured the rest of the oil into the palm of his right hand. He
reached back and lubricated Nathen's ass, slipping his forefinger into his
eager back passage.

Nathen moaned
and hunched forward, positioning himself on Soren's cock. But he did not lower
himself yet, instead licking and scraping his teeth down Soren's neck. A chill
of pleasure ran across Soren's skin, and he slapped Nathen's ass. He lay back
on the pillow and guided Nathen down on his cock. The head popped into Nathen's
back passage, and his cock slid home inside him.

“Soren.”
Nathen closed his eyes and
licked his lips. He sat up and braced himself by laying his hands flat against
Soren's chest, pressing on the Itenu falcon tattooed there. He rocked his hips
forward and back, taking Soren deep within him and pulling forward to bring his
cock to the edge of his anal wall.

Soren grasped
him by the hips and held him steady as he thrust up into Nathen, filling him
with his long, thick shaft. Nathen succumbed to Soren's lovemaking and fucked
in a gentle, closed-eye trance. Soren stroked Nathen's cock, running his thumb
over the hot, damp tip. Nathen was never able to last as long as Soren in bed,
and a few tugs of the cock would have Nathen spraying his cum all over both of
them. But Soren did not let it get that far. With his left hand, he reached up
and tweaked Nathen's nipple. Then he caressed his neck and cheek. Nathen rocked
against Soren's cock and turned his head to the side to kiss the palm of
Soren's hand. That was the moment Soren had been waiting for, when Nathen was
most vulnerable, most captivated by Soren's feigned passion.

“Oh, Nathen.”
Soren reached back with
his right hand under his pillow and grasped the cool metal of the dagger hilt.

“Soren,” Nathen
said between his kisses.

Soren's heart
thudded against his chest in anticipation. With all his strength, Soren brought
the dagger up and plunged it into Nathen's neck. Hot blood splashed down onto
Soren's naked body, and Nathen sputtered and futilely seized the dagger. Its
blade stuck out the other side of his neck. He would be dead in moments.

Soren pushed
him off and rose to his knees.

Nathen mouthed
opened and closed. “Merieke … have … mercy … on … her.” And his eyes closed,
never to open again.

The world fell
silent, and only the roaring of Soren's blood in his head filled his ears.
Nathen's blood soaked the sheets red and spread through the bed. Nathen was
dead. Justice was done. Kamen and Ajalira were avenged. Soren had proof of
Merieke's involvement. His plan had worked perfectly. And yet he wept. Soren
collapsed on Nathen's chest and rained hot tears on his dead friend. Not only
for the death of Nathen did he weep; he lamented his love for a woman he knew
he could never have. Sillara, his twin, his sister-soul, the only woman denied
him was the only woman he wanted—the only woman he could ever love.

Soren looked
down on Nathen in envy, for he wished he were dead. Itenu lord and King—what
did these matter if he could not have Sillara? Centuries of torment lay before
him, daily living beside Sillara, daily seeing her, but forever forced to
endure Konas's pompous smile and haughty eyes. Soren fell back into a hopeless
stupor.
Sillara.
Sillara.

Cries of alarm
outside restored Soren's wits. He snatched his bloody dagger, jumped to his
feet, threw on a cloak, and ran out into the night. One of the guards yelled
out about the Queen. When Soren arrived at the scene, he saw what was left of
Konas's body. The Tamari had hacked it to bits. Sillara swayed on her feet,
clearly stunned by the grisly death of her hated husband.

Merieke ran to
Soren, but he tossed her aside as one would swat a fly. Soren took Sillara to
his breast and held her there as if he would hold her against all the gathered
secret strength of the world. Konas was dead. Nathen was dead.

Soren kept
Sillara's head against his chest as he looked around in anger. “What happened?
What's going on here?”

“The Ausir
tried to carry the Queen off.” One guard pointed with his sword point to the
gore-soaked bag. “He had her bound and gagged.”

Soren realized
that he still held his dagger. He passed it off to the nearest guard and
nestled his chin against the top of Sillara's head between her horns. Sillara's
silent sobs wracked her body, shaking Soren's, too.

“You carry a
bloody dagger,” Merieke said behind Soren. “Did something happen to you, too?
Are you hurt, my love?”

“My love?”
Soren spun around, though
he kept one arm still around his sister. He would never let her go, not now
that nothing stood between them. “I've killed Nathen for his crimes.”

Merieke gasped,
and her eyes widened.

“Guards, bring
her. And summon Lord Kesandrahn. I have something he's going to want to hear.”

The guards
seized Merieke, and Soren led Sillara back to their house. By the time Soren
had bathed, all were assembled.

“What's this?”
Darien asked. “You bring me out in the night?” He saw Merieke held fast by the
guards, and his eyes flashed with anger.

Soren explained
quickly. “Your daughter had a hand in killing my father and mother.”

“What?” Darien
roared.

Soren could not
see where the old Admiral's anger lay, and he feared Darien would snap the neck
of the man beside him and lay waste his entire household guard before Soren
could explain. Soren stood and raised his arms. “You're a man who will listen
to reason. My father always trusted you. For his sake, hear me. Trust me.”

Darien mastered
himself. “Speak, boy, and quickly.”

Over the next
several minutes Soren laid out point by point exactly what Nathen and Merieke
had
done,
how they had laid their plot for Konas and
had snared Kamen and Ajalira in the process. And when the monstrous siblings
had learned what their evil had wrought, they were unrepentant, unremorseful.
Nathen had brought to the oasis a poison Merieke had concocted for the sole
purpose of murder.

Merieke denied everything,
calling on her father to free her. Darien shifted in his impatience.

“Nathen
confessed to me,” Soren said, “and if that's not enough, Admiral, trust your
judgment. How else could Kamen be poisoned? His slaves loved him, and doubtless
he had brought with him only the handful he implicitly trusted.”

Darien stared
at his daughter. “Why?”

Merieke,
realizing she had lost, hardened her gaze. “You wouldn't understand, father.
You got mother far too easily. You've never had to fight for love.”

Darien fell
back and tore his hair out in handfuls. “Bring Nathen before me!”

“That no power
in Gilalion can do, save Nistaran himself surrendering your son's spirit into
your hands.”

Darien howl was
the sound of a father's ultimate grief, of a noble heart breaking forever. He
had lost his beloved wife, the light of his eyes, and the image of her beauty
had turned murderess. And his son, the slayer of Darien's best friend, was dead
in the flush of his iniquity. “Has no man's dagger here a point for me?” The
old Admiral fell back against the wall and slumped down, his indomitable
strength broken. His face lost all expression, and Soren never heard him speak
again.