Unraveling Stories - Chapter 6

<-Chapter 5

 

"My two sides deceive even my own heart."

 

(Trinan, Imperial Castle)

The seven generals of the Empire could count on one hand the times they had all been called together to the palace at one time. The six Lower Generals and the one High General knew that when all seven were demanded, it was a sign of grave importance.

When Marcus Quint arrived, he found Alexander Renduex and Vincent Martine in the hall outside the throne room. "Well?" he asked the taller males quietly. "Is it true?"

"I'm waiting to ask General Southerwind." Alex's gaze lowered. "But I suspect it is true."

Vincent let out a long breath. "It's . . . disturbing." His head lifted quickly as he sensed a familiar presence. "Hello, Samantha."

"Well met, Vince." Samantha Yureny sighed. "Or, at least, I wish it was." She ran her hands over her arms to ward off a brisk chill. "There's nothing welcoming about being summoned all at once and with such rumors flying around, I might add."

Gordon D'terio came around the corner in time to hear her last comment. "Agreed," he said. His voice had an odd rasp to it that his fellow generals were well used to hearing. No one asked where it had come from. "It's hard to believe."

"Believe it." The sixth Lower General, a woman named Diamond Cutter, approached from another hallway. "I just confirmed it with a soldier who was released. Tyrian Southerwind is the leader of the Rebellion. Newly, however. He came onboard when he went looking for his brother's murderer."

In a very quiet voice, Marcus asked, "So then why did we issue a bounty for him before he joined the Rebellion? Lady Blaine may have driven this prophecy to occur by having a price put on his head."

"And if so," Donald said calmly as he joined them, "then there may as yet be something to be done. For now, if Tyrian is a danger to the Empire then we will deal with him." He paused and then added, "And let your soldiers know that we prefer him alive, not dead. You can't ask questions of a corpse."

"Yes sir." Vincent exchanged a glance with Samantha but neither said a word.

Marcus, ever the one to ask questions, said, "Do you think he's just being fooled?"

"Someone's being fooled in this scenario, that's for damn sure." Donald opened the throne room doors and walked inside. If he felt anything when he saw Annareal standing to the side, his face didn't show it. He crossed the room to stand before the throne and bowed deeply with the Lower Generals right behind him. "You summoned us."

Albanion nodded curtly and his fingers gripped the arms of his throne. Beside him, a hand on his shoulder, was the Lady Blaine. A slender and beautiful young woman, she had long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Something cruel almost always lurked at the edge of her mouth even when she was smiling.

Often, Di had wondered if Blaine's smiles were even capable of warming her icy eyes. Neither she nor Samantha liked Blaine in the slightest. Their male associates had at first, but they had eventually listened and really looked. Now none of them trusted Blaine. They especially didn't trust her power.

"Lady Annareal reports that she removed Ophelia Goldwind as a threat, but that Tyrian Southerwind has taken Ophelia's place." Albanion's fingers flexed and gripped the arms harder. "What in the name of the gods is your son up to, Donald? Is he trying to destroy the Rebellion from the inside or has he truly turned traitor?"

Without hesitation, Donald said, "If Tyrian is in the Rebellion, he is in the Rebellion because he wants to be. He's not the type to use subterfuge and deceit. If he was out to destroy them, he would have challenged them to a duel, one by one, until they surrendered."

"So he has been deceived." Albanion nodded curtly. "Blaine was right."

Di opened her mouth and then closed it. Seeing it, Blaine purred, "Did you have something you wanted to say, General Cutter? You are known to be quite sharp and cold."

The very subtle digs made Alex and Marcus both tense. Vincent shifted his weight warningly. Gordon's eyes narrowed. Samantha's hands curled into fists. Di just lifted her chin. She had heard every insulting reference to her name possible. "I was merely going to ask if perhaps we drove him there by offering a bounty for him. A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you like."

Albanion paused and Blaine leaned down intimately. "She's just offering a ridiculous opinion. You know it's not true."

He nodded, the frown fading from his face. "Of course." He brushed off Di's words almost carelessly. "Since you seem to believe Tyrian is there of his own will, the bounty stands. We cannot underestimate this boy. We will have to be more aggressive if we want to stop him. If they make a move for other towns, we will try to stop them. However, you, Generals, will focus your attention on the checkpoints."

Marcus blinked. "May I ask why?"

"The mentality of power. If the Rebellion starts to take control of checkpoints, the people will rally around them."

Very, very softly, Alex asked, "Do the people have reason to rally around a Rebellion?"

There was a long silence. No one moved or spoke. Then, curtly, Albanion said, "There is always discontent when a ruler does something for the better of his people and they don't understand. You may take your leave, Generals. Keep the checkpoints safe. General Southerwind, I ask for you to remain."

All seven generals bowed and the Lower six left the throne room. As they walked down the hall together, Gordon commented idly, "He didn't answer the question. Not really."

"We serve the people," was Samantha's murmur. "So we need to evaluate what is best for the people." She glanced at Di. "If you'd just marry Alex and put him out of our misery, you could get a new name."

Alex grinned. Di just scowled. "He'd be miserable married to me. And the Emperor would never allow it. We might distract each other." She stalked off down the hall, her white hair swinging behind her.

"Not that you're not already distracted by her," Vincent murmured to Alex.

Alex snorted softly. "She's distracted me since we were five. It's been thirty years and I'm not over it. I probably never will be. But thanks for the vote, Sam."

She smiled. "Anytime."

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 7->

Unraveling Stories - Chapter 5

<-Chapter 4

"The loneliness of the past, the tomorrow of yesterday."

 

While Kyle took Ophelia's body to a place to be held until a proper burial could be done, Tyrian went to see the soldiers that had been captured from the Imperial Army. Cassie and Liang accompanied him, both concerned with how he had pulled further into himself. Marian tended to the wounded, but it was clear that she too had been deeply shaken. There was no one who hadn't been affected.

The soldiers were being held in the barracks under close guard by Rebellion soldiers. As Tyrian surveyed the room and the faces, he realized that most of them were barely older than his age and the rest were younger. They may well be new recruits. His father had severely underestimated the Rebellion. "Any trouble?" he asked one of the guards quietly.

"No, Lord Tyrian." The guard shook her head. "They've been amazingly quiet. Maybe they sense the precarious balance."

He walked further into the room. "I'm Tyrian Southerwind," he began, "and I would appear to be the leader of the Rebellion. I'm here to offer you a choice. You can join us, or you can go home. The fight is over. We're not going to kill you in cold blood. If you want to fight us again, however," he added mildly, "then all bets are off."

"Why did you join the Rebellion?" one soldier asked. "You betrayed your Empire and your father."

"Because my Empire betrayed its people. Have any of you talked to your families lately? Do you even know what they are suffering? Teasarn is just an example of the ways that the Emperor is choking his people to death." Tyrian stepped forward and lifted his chin. "I'm not standing by. I refuse to. I'm going to change things. If the Emperor won't listen to reason, then maybe it's time we had a different sort of government."

A little chill went down Liang's back. He had never heard Tyrian so eloquent, had never realized those thoughts were inside him. More still, he saw then something he had never seen before. That glitter in Tyrian's eyes, that indomitable spirit . . . it was the mark of a hero. Liang knew it for sure. In Tyrian's eyes was the glitter of a leader who would do whatever it took to protect his people and his land.

Silence reigned for a long while and then the soldiers began to remove their Imperial jackets. They pulled off the badges from their hats and dropped them on the floor. Then, as one, they all knelt. "You have our loyalty, Lord Tyrian," one said clearly. "We'll follow you to the end."

"Why?" Tyrian asked.

One soldier straightened up as a half-smile twisted his lips. "We're all from small towns too. We had heard rumors but never seen what was really going on. We want to fight for our families and for you."

Tyrian turned to the guards at the door. "See that they are given new clothes and any wounds are treated. We're going to be tight for space for now, but I'll look into obtaining a real place of operation. We can't hide under the streets forever."

"Yes sir."

He headed down another hall, very conscious of the fact that he was still being followed. "Are you going to do this all the time?" he asked on a sigh. "Because I'm fairly sure that it's going to become very vexing."

Cassie and Liang looked at one another for long moments. Liang leaned down to murmur something in Cassie's ear and she nodded. With a smile, he then turned and went the other way down the hall.

Tyrian lifted a brow at Cassie. She shrugged one shoulder. "There's no need to think you need two bodyguards while within our own base. Liang is going to go see how Kyle and Ewan are doing. They and Dylan knew Ophelia the longest."

"If it's safe, why have you stayed with me?" he asked. He turned the corner and found himself looking at his mother, housed in a holding cell. His shoulders tensed.

She softly wrapped her hands around his. "Because you need me. I'm not going to let you break, Tyrian."

He took a deep breath. Oddly, knowing that she was there was enough. Every time he thought he stood at the edge of a precipice, she was there to gently draw him back. Back straight, he walked over to where two guards stood on duty. "Any trouble?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"No, Lord Tyrian. She's been very quiet. Should we leave to give you some privacy?"

"Don't go far though," he agreed.

The two guards moved down the hall to be out of sound but not out of sight. When they had, he stepped in front of the metal grate that served as a cell wall and door. "So," he said evenly. "How does it feel to be a murderess?"

Annareal looked at him in horror. "But I was told . . . !" She sealed her lips shut.

"Told what?" When there was no answer, he added coldly, "I have no reason to treat you with mercy or kindness when you cold-bloodedly snuck into this base and attempted to kill children. You did, in fact, kill a woman I considered to be much like a sister to me though I knew her a short time."

Tears began to roll down her face. She had never seen her son like this. She hadn't wanted to believe he could be like this. "I was told," she whispered, "that if you joined the Rebellion, you would be destroyed. And I see I was right. You're not the Tyrian I knew."

"No, I'm not. Watching my mother commit murder had a strong impact on me."

"It wasn't murder!" She leapt to her feet, fury in her eyes. "I thought I was protecting you!"

"Yeah," he said evenly. "I was in real danger from a bunch of children. If you had been just after Ophelia, then you had no reason to be in that room. You should have taken the fight out, or called her out for a duel. She'd have responded. Instead, you forced a dozen children to witness the death of someone they loved. You went after them on purpose so that she would make herself vulnerable. They'll never forget that moment. I will never forget that moment."

There was movement from the shadows, and Kyle stepped forward. His blue eyes looked dark and volatile with grief and fury. A faint tremor shook his entire body. "Let me kill her," he told Tyrian. "Let me have my vengeance."

Tyrian was silent for so long that Annareal lost all color in her face. Finally, Tyrian turned to Kyle. He gently wrapped a hand around Kyle's wrist, staying him before he drew his sword. "No," he said quietly, "because it will do nothing for your pain. If I thought you would feel better, I would open the door right now and look away. But it won't. Killing her right now will make you a murderer as well, Kyle, and I will not see you suffer in that way. It won't bring Ophelia back."

Kyle's eyes closed and he dropped his head on Tyrian's shoulder. Tears slid soundlessly down his cheeks. "I know," he agreed softly.

Tyrian glanced at Cassie who nodded slightly. He then looked at the woman who had given birth to him. "You will be escorted back to Trinan. Feel free to tell them you killed Ophelia. But also feel free to tell them that I will bring the Rebellion to victory. Not just for Ophelia's sake, but for the people." A chill smile curved his lips. "I had already been made second-in-command before the battle began." He gently put an arm around Kyle's shoulders and escorted him away from the area.

Cassie walked over to the grate and studied Annareal. "It sickens me," the monk noted quietly, "that you could hurt your son like this. I don't care what you thought you were doing. It was wrong, and you know it." She pulled up her hood and wrapped her scarf around her face to effectively obscure her appearance. "I will escort you personally, Lady Annareal. And it won't take much of an excuse for me to take the vengeance that we all so dearly wish for. Monks live by a different code than the Commune."

As they walked down the hall, Tyrian said quietly, "I'm sorry, Kyle."

"I don't blame you, Tyrian." Kyle drew a deep breath that came out ragged at the end. "It was always a possibility that one of us might die for this Rebellion. But . . . it just doesn't seem real that this has actually happened. It hurts."

"I know." They were the same height, so it was easy for Tyrian to again put an arm around his shoulders in support. "I'm up to three people that I loved dying."

"Three?"

Darkness moved in Tyrian's eyes. "Ben was the first. Then Ophelia. And my mother is dead as well. When she drew a sword against innocent children, she died in my mind."

Kyle remained silent for long moments. "Are we really going to fight for freedom?" he finally asked quietly.

"Yes." Tyrian released him as they reached the meeting room. "And we're going to get it." He walked into the room with his head held high. "Cassie is escorting Annareal back to the capitol. We have one hundred new soldiers in our army, so we're on our way to having a second unit."

As he sat down, Ewan said, "Well, the townspeople stand behind us. We've been checking, but there's not a single person who doesn't support us. However, I'm concerned about their safety. We have to spread out somehow, but if we leave the town unprotected, then people will very likely be killed."

"I was thinking of that myself." The green-eyed warrior frowned thoughtfully. "We need a base. Something big enough to hold everyone we might possibly need to house, but something that is still defendable."

"Well," Dylan offered, "there's an abandoned castle a few days' journey from here. It was once the seat of the Empire, but when it was moved to Trinan, the castle was completely abandoned. If I remember legend right, it withstood a five-day siege from Foresalia over a hundred years ago."

"Isn't it in the middle of a nasty lake?" Liang asked warily.

"Nasty how?" Marian wondered.

"Nasty as in full of very cranky monsters," was Kell's dry explanation. Though still pale from losing blood, the old informant was well on the way to recovery even though the use of his cane was more practical than prop right then.

Tyrian sighed. He had nothing against the monsters of the world; they were more vexing than threatening for any seasoned warrior. They just served to stand as a constant reminder that the world was still being punished for events of more than a million years prior. When the gods handed down punishment, they didn't mess around.

"Well, we've got a solid group of fighters." If anyone noticed that Kyle's knuckles were white where his hands gripped together, no one said anything. "Tyrian, Cassie, I, Marian, and Liang can go check out the castle and try to drive off the monsters. Ewan and Dylan can stay here to keep things in line. If we get the castle, we can move everyone there."

Cassie suddenly stepped out of the shadows. She also startled Ewan who jolted so hard he almost sent his cup of coffee flying. "Wear a bell!" he demanded in aggravation.

"As I told Tyrian, that would defeat the purpose." She looked at Tyrian and then immediately crossed to him. She took his hand gently. His fingers gripped hers tightly though his expression didn't change.

A bit warily, Liang said, "You weren't gone long enough to escort Lady Annareal back to Trinan."

The smile that curved Cassie's lips looked chilling. "I left her halfway. She can walk the rest. If she gets eaten by monsters, it's not our business."

Kyle's eyes shot to Tyrian. His expression hadn't changed, but Kyle had started to understand him very, very well. The amount of emotion the slightly younger man pulled out of everyone seemed almost shocking, yet it was a two-way street because Tyrian clearly cared just as strongly for them in return. With that emotion came understanding. "You stopped me on purpose."

"It's not our fault if she can't hold her own in the wild and that Cassie was needed here with me more than she was needed out there." Tyrian kept his voice neutral. "I showed more mercy than most people would."

And it was cutting him inside. Ewan's eyes met Dylan's in understanding. Carefully, the former said, "Why don't we get some rest before we set out for the castle tomorrow morning? It's been a bitch of a day."

"I'd rather get drunk," muttered Kyle.

"We can do that too," Ewan agreed amiably. He dragged Kyle up out of his chair and shoved him at the door. "Let's see if we can get you to sing like a canary again. Dylan, you coming?"

"I don't sing," the other man said dryly.

"No, but you tell great jokes. Let's go."

"Kyle will be fine," Kell said quietly. "Ewan knows how to handle him. It's a repayment in a way. They've been through one hell together. Kyle helped Ewan pull out. So now he'll help Kyle."

"The Commune of the Soldiers?" Marian guessed softly.

"So I suspect. I don't have all the info." He got to his feet carefully. "Ugh. These old bones are indeed old." He brushed off Liang and Marian when they moved to help him. "I'm old not incapacitated," he groused, waving his cane threateningly.

"Do you want me to go so you can talk?" Cassie asked Tyrian softly.

"No." He brought her hand to his cheek. "I need you to stay close." A bit shakily, he admitted, "I'm about ready to fall apart."

She leaned down to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "I won't let you," she vowed softly. She looked at Marian and Liang who seemed completely at ease with the scene. "You've been amazingly . . . accepting of me."

Slowly, Marian said, "Based on the fact that we've known Tyrian his entire life, we know his mind and ways. So what we see here isn't surprising. It's almost expected, somehow. I feel as if I always knew he'd meet you."

"And," Liang said softly, "I want to apologize, Lady Cassie. I did not mean to infer earlier that you were incapable of protecting Lord Tyrian properly. I have protected him his entire life. So in my mind, the fact that I was not there was all I considered."

Cassie inclined her head in acknowledgment of the apology. "I apologize as well about being touchy. Monks are far too often seen as untrustworthy because we keep so many secrets of our skills and cities. It cut that you did not trust me with Tyrian."

He smiled. "I fully believe you are capable and willing to protect him."

She glanced down to see Tyrian tapping a finger on the top of the table even though his face revealed nothing. "You mean protect him when he can't protect himself?"

Liang's eyes flicked to Tyrian's hand and a smile curved his lips. She did indeed know Tyrian very well after a short time. "Precisely." His smile faded as he let out a quiet breath. "I can't believe all of this is happening, that everything is changing so quickly."

Marian laid her head on top of the table and closed her eyes. "It seems so unfair! Do . . . do you think Ben's death had anything to do with all of this? If he hadn't died, we wouldn't have come here when we did. We might have ended up being enemies with Lady Ophelia and Cassie."

Tyrian didn't respond, but his mind turned over and over again about the 'curse' he had supposedly broken on Ben and Ophelia. He knew the words were from the language of magic, and he was fairly sure it had to do with some relic somewhere. It had been after he said it to Ben that he began to pick up mannerisms of someone wearing a relic, and at thirteen, despite his great capacity, he had been entirely too uncomfortable to fuse a relic at all. Now, having said the same phrase to Ophelia, he could feel the skin of his right hand burning.

Someone knocked softly on the door, and he glanced over to see a young soldier standing there. "Pardon the intrusion," she said softly. "But a messenger pigeon just arrived with a note for Lord Tyrian." She walked over and held out the paper.

"Thank you." Tyrian took the note and unrolled it. He recognized his father's handwriting immediately. The note was simple and to the point: She made it back. In a murmur, he said, "Never gives away anything. I have no way of knowing what he feels about this, or if he even cares."

The soldier cleared her throat and drew Tyrian's attention. "Lord Tyrian, I just want to let you know, on behalf of everyone, that we believe in you. We know you won't let us down." She gave a little salute and left the room.

Tyrian took a quiet breath and then crumbled the note and threw it over his shoulder. Cassie released him and he got to his feet. "I'm going to try and sleep." Without waiting for anyone to say anything, he turned and walked out of the room with his back more stiff than straight.

Silence fell and then Marian said idly, "He likes brandy."

Cassie shot her a quick look but the other woman was studiously picking at a piece of broken wood on the table. Her eyes flicked to Liang who feigned an absorbed interest in a painting on the wall. Suddenly realizing it was acceptance, she got to her feet. "I better go make sure Ewan doesn't drink everything."

She left the room, and Liang and Marian shared a smile.

Cassie found Kyle, Dylan, and Ewan sitting together at a table in the galley, and all of them were drinking. Dylan was on his way to being drunk and Kyle had already gotten there. Catching the tail end of a decidedly bawdy joke, she felt glad she didn't blush easily. After a study of Ewan, she realized that despite his enthusiastic response to the joke, he was very, very sober.

She walked over to the table, and under the pretext of inspecting the glass, she took a sniff of his drink. It was tea carefully doctored to look like liquor. R.K. played bartender not far away, and she watched as he covertly poured three drinks from two different bottles. "Well?" she asked Ewan softly.

He took his glass back from her, his brown eyes guileless as he saluted her lightly. "Someone needs to make sure he doesn't break his neck when we're done here."

"You're a good man, Ewan Grizmar," she murmured.

"Shh. I have a reputation to uphold."

She smiled and went over to R.K. "Got any brandy hiding back there?"

He ducked under the counter and began rummaging through bottles. "Somewhere, I think. We need a bartender." He came up and held out the bottle. "I didn't know you drank." Something suddenly began to twinkle in his eyes. "Or is this our leader's drink of choice?" When she averted her eyes, he whistled softly. "Nice."

She snatched the bottle out of his hand and turned and stalked out. Everyone was a smartass. Knowing her luck, they would probably start a betting pool. Just because she was attracted to Tyrian didn't mean she would fall in bed with him. Well, okay, it kind of did, but it wasn't quite that simple. She was in love with him, and that was a whole new level of trouble. If she had a single working brain cell, she would turn and walk away, go back to the Clans, and have them send someone else.

But when she opened his door slightly and saw him sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands, every thought of leaving disappeared. She walked over and sat down beside him. She set the bottle aside and then gently smoothed his hair back from his face. "Tyrian?" she asked softly.

"There was a time when I thought my life was going to be simple." He didn't look up. "There was a time where I thought that my life would be easy. I'd go to Trinan. I'd become a soldier and then I'd become a general. I'd follow in my father's footsteps. Nice and simple and tidy."

"Life isn't simple." She pulled his hands away from his face so that he was forced to look at her. "I wanted simple, too, after my parents died. But it just doesn't work that way."

He looked at her for long moments and then straightened up. He wanted to ask about her family and her history, but he didn't. He could sense pain under the surface. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her. Instead, his gaze fell on the bottle. A brow lifted. "You want to get me drunk and take advantage of me?"

She pondered that for long moments. Long enough that his lips began to curve. Seeing it, she finally said, "No, I don't think so. But I'm willing to share a drink with you if you want to pretend for a little while that the world doesn't exist."

"How's Kyle?" He spotted two glasses sitting next to a pitcher of water and retrieved them.

"Telling jokes that would make even your hair curl. But when he pauses for a breath, there's something in his eyes. Hopefully he'll pass out soon. Even more hopefully, he and Dylan won't have hangovers tomorrow morning."

"If they do, Marian knows several cures."

She quirked a brow as she poured the brandy into the two glasses. "Are we intimately acquainted with them?"

He gave her a little salute with his glass. "Ben and I decided to experiment when I was sixteen. To say we never did it again would be an understatement. Of course, Marian laughing at us didn't help."

"I've never been drunk," she informed him gravely.

"Really?"

"Really. Part of the monk code. You don't give away your control to outside influences. Alcohol is the biggest item on the list." She sipped the brandy and wrinkled her nose. "Bleh." She set the glass aside. "On the bright side, I don't like the taste, so I don't miss much."

"Like me and most vegetables."

"You don't like vegetables?"

"Ones grown in the ground at least."

"And this is because . . . ?"

"My illustrious mentor decided to tell me a scary story when I was much younger. It involved someone being buried alive, and when they died, they turned into vegetables. The person who ate the vegetables would get possessed."

"And your mom doesn't know why you suddenly run screaming from carrots and potatoes."

"I wouldn't say I ran screaming." He shot her a grin. "It was more that I hid under my bed and had to be pried out. Liang tried to tell me it was just a story, but it didn't help. To this day, I get a chill. If I eat them, they have to be well hidden."

Gravely, she said, "Let us hope the Imperial Army doesn't decide to dress like potatoes before they attack."

"If they do, I'm letting Ewan and Kyle turn them into mashed potatoes. I bet it would be therapeutic."

She tried not to, but the mental image broke her resistance and she began to snicker. She had never realized he had this playful side hidden under the seriousness of his nature. It was highly alluring. She teasingly eyed his nearly empty glass. "You're not the type to get drunk on a single brandy, right?"

"Not hardly." He finished what was left of his drink and tossed the glass to the side. Before she could blink, he caught her in his arms and dragged her across his lap so that she sprawled against him.

Her pulse began to pound. Breathless, she stared up at his face. Only a few candles lit the room. In the flickering light, his face was more beautiful than she had ever seen. His eyes glowed softly with green flecks amid darkness, and she wanted him more than she wanted air. "Tyrian," she managed to whisper.

He lowered his lips without hurry to hers. He softly teased her lips as his hands smoothed slowly up and down her back. She felt so good in his arms. It took all his willpower to not kiss her at every turn. Just looking at her made him burn.

A shiver went through her entire body. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed upward to deepen the kiss. His hands, where they pressed against her back, burned through the layers of her clothes. His right hand was the hottest and made her skin tingle with sheer delight. Every place their bodies touched was pure, torturous, pleasure, but he kept the kiss stubbornly gentle.

Shaking, he finally eased back a breath. His fingers had curled into her clothes and he forced himself to let go. He wanted nothing more than to rip the offending material from her body. She was stark and imposing and beautiful in monk wear, but he wanted her naked in his arms so he could see every inch. "I have never," he said roughly, "wanted anything more than I want you."

"You can have me." The words were out before she could stop them. When she saw his eyes flare with raw desire, she realized just how precariously he held onto his control. "You stopped for my sake."

"You think I stopped for mine?" He buried his mouth against her neck and drew her even closer until she sat on his lap. He hotly trailed hungry kisses down her collar to the edge of her tunic. The tempting swell of her breasts teased and seduced underneath. "Unless you want me to tear this off you right now, you need to stop me."

The sheer fact that he could make the offer to stop when she could feel his throbbing arousal pressed against her was impressive. She felt hot and empty, as hungry for his flesh as he was for hers. But something inside . . . wasn't ready. Her eyes closed. "Tyrian."

He pressed his face to her neck for long moments and then carefully released her. She got off his lap but he didn't move. His hands dropped to his sides. "That damnable monk control issue," he finally said, true humor in the words.

"Do you think that's my problem?" she asked softly. "I want you so badly, Tyrian."

He sucked in a breath. "Kindly don't say that, especially right now."

Her gaze lowered toward his lap. "Oh."

"Oh, she says." He fell over on his back and threw an arm across his eyes. "I'm going to go insane. I know I am." He let out a hard breath. "I think I need a shower."

"The water's always cold," she told him. His green eyes flicked to her, smoldering and volatile. "Oh," she said again. She cleared her throat. The idea of a cold shower sounded rather appealing to her as well. He wasn't the only one on the edge of insane. "I think I'd better leave."

His hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. "No," he pleaded softly. He sat up. "Please. Stay with me."

The lost note of pain in his voice broke her heart. She had made him forget for a little while, but her inability to be his lover meant that when passion cooled, his mind began working again. If she couldn't give him the most basic comfort of her body, yet, then she could at least offer this. She pressed her hand to his cheek softly. "I will. I promise. I'm not going to make you be alone."

He turned his head to press his lips to her palm. "We should sleep." He studied her clothes. "Can you sleep in that?"

"Comfortably?" she asked dryly.

"That would be a no." He got to his feet and began to unlace his tunic. "Here. You can use this. It's borrowed anyway."

Her mouth went dry as he pulled the tunic off. He was so outrageously perfect that it seemed a crime to even think he wore shirts. Every muscle was sculpted and defined from a lifetime of training. Golden from the sun, too, indicative that he was often outside without a shirt. And where the hell had she been when he was, she wondered crossly at herself. She had been working in various cities since she was fifteen. She had passed both Teasarn and Trinan more than once.

He suddenly pulled her up to her feet. Heart pounding, she wondered what he would think if she started petting and kissing him everywhere. Her body swayed unconsciously toward him but he held her back. His voice strained, he said, "Cassie? You're killing me here."

She got a grip on herself. "Sorry." She took the tunic from him and watched as he swiftly went to the bed and pulled back the covers. He got under them and then pulled the pillow over his face. She had a feeling it was more for his own control than her potential shyness.

She wasted no time in stripping down to her underwear and pulling on the tunic. It covered her more than decently and would be vastly more comfortable for sleeping. Under her breath, she muttered, "I've seen half naked men my entire life. What is wrong with me?" She slid into bed beside him.

"Do you feel more than attraction for me?" he asked as he pulled off the pillow. He fiercely ignored the way the tunic dipped open over her breasts. She was outrageously perfect; all soft curves and fragrant shadows.

"Of course I do."

"Then there's your answer." He turned onto his side and drew her closer with an arm around her waist. "Cuddle in. Save some time. Sure as hell you'd end up here even in your sleep."

She couldn't argue with that. She cuddled in with a soft sigh, and her head found a perfect spot on his shoulder to rest. The utter rightness of being held by him sank into every corner of her heart and soul. Suddenly tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. "I've never slept with anyone before," she murmured. "It's nice."

He went very still. "Never . . . At all? Ever?"

"Never." She tucked her nose more firmly against him. He smelled rich and dark and wild. "Never wanted to before." She gave a nearly jaw-breaking yawn. Her arms curled around him to give as much as receive comfort. "Go to sleep, Tyrian."

He closed his eyes, his heart and mind reeling. He had never even suspected she might be untouched like him. She was nineteen, and she was certainly beautiful and likeable. Were other monks idiots?

Her arms tightened as her body aligned itself to his. Almost completely asleep, she murmured, "Tyrian."

He buried his face in her hair and let everything go, accepting the comfort she readily offered. Oddly, he found it easy to rest as long as she was holding him. Knowing it was important but not really caring, his arms tightened around her as he fell asleep as well. He would never let her go.

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 6->