Page 136 of The Seeker
His hand hovered over her breast, but it did not touch. “Are you hungry now?”
She could feel the heat of his palm. “Yes.”
Rhys lifted his hips, and she slid silk trousers down his legs. She unwrapped his linen undergarment as he leaned back, watching as she undressed him.
His skin was pale, flecked with dark hair that lightly covered his chest and trailed down his belly. His musculature was firm and lean, not bulky like so many of the warriors she’d known in the past.
“When I first met you,” she said, “you reminded me of a leopard.”
“A leopard?”
“Powerful and lean.” She pushed him back on the bed. “Watchful. Dangerous.”
Rhys swung his legs over to lie flat, his erection jutting upward, drawing her touch. He hissed when she gripped him, then let out a long sigh of relief. “You reminded me of an imp, sent to torment me.”
Meera smiled. “Do you want me to torment you?”
“In any way you like.”
“Like this?”
“Heaven above.” He groaned when she squeezed him. “Yes and yes and yes again.”
She wanted to kiss over his whole body, but that pleasure could wait. He was vulnerable in this moment, and she found herself uncomfortable with the loan of his power. She was uneasy with it, her body shaking with magic.
Rhys scooted over to the center of the bed. “Come here.”
Meera went gratefully, the magic so full within her that her jaw clenched. “I need to sing.”
“I know.” The playful teasing was gone from his expression. “Meera, come here.”
Her skin ached all over. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” Rhys took hold of her hips and urged her to straddle him. He lifted her up and reached between her thighs.
“I’m ready.” Meera ached with need. “Rhys, please.”
He arched up as she slid down, and Meera nearly cried in relief. He filled her, body and soul. Rhys knit their hands together as Meera rocked over him. He urged her down and captured her lips.
“Sing,” he murmured against her mouth. “Sing to me.”
Meera began theS’adrasa Kasham, the ancient mating song of the Irina that would bind Meera’s magic to Rhys. As she began, she felt the mating marks Rhys had written come to life as his magic rose and the marks glowed silver in the dim light.
The torches had flickered out, and the only lights illuminating the tent were the low light of the sacred fire and the silver-and-gold radiance of their magic.
Meera sang verses composed by the Forgiven that bound Irin and Irina magic into one, completing the circular power of the heavens. Feminine and masculine. Spoken and written. The language of the heavens alive in perfect harmony. As she sang, Meera saw the fullness of Rhys’s soul and her own merge. Dark and light. Night and day. They were necessary to each other, incomplete alone, only perfect in union. He was the body, she the breath.
Meera’s song lasted for over an hour; their conjoined magic gave her strength. Rhys held her over him, their bodies linked, potent with magic.
Coming to the end of the song, Meera finally felt the effects of borrowing Rhys’s power. She was hungry and exhausted all at once.
He urged her on. “Only a little more.” Rhys had been revived as Meera gave him her magic. His skin was ruddy and histalesmshone vivid in the darkness. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, their bodies locked together. “Sha ne’ev reshon.” He wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Give me just a little more.”
Rhys began to rock gently, the length of him filling her up as her body grew needy and focused on pleasure. Love and desire burned in her breast.
“Just a little more,” he whispered. “Give me your song,reshon.”
Meera opened her heart and sang the last of her song, the vow that would rest over Rhys’s heart, thetalesmthat would shine every time they made love.
