A Kiss of Fire: A Kiss of Magic Book 2 (2 page)

Tonight the triumvirates were having a ball. All of the highest of their society would be there, as well as ambassadors and leaders from other countries all over the world. She would have to be at her best tonight.

But it was exhausting sometimes, this call to be perfect at all times. She had to be beautiful, to satisfy the gossip columns in the papers, she had to be poised to make the best impression on others, and she had to hold an air of power around her constantly, so no one would see her to be weak in any way. She was the youngest of the three triumvirs and she always felt like she was having to prove herself the equal to them.

She shouldn’t really. She should just be content in her own power and to hell with everyone else, but she was not so arrogant. At least, she didn’t think she was. She knew herself to be fallible. It was simply that she could not show it to anyone else. It would be like bleeding in front of a savage fortit beast. One would call to another and another and you would be set upon before you knew what was happening and torn to pieces.

As much as she loved her people, she knew just how savage they could be if they smelled a weakness on her part.

The high-waisted gown hugged her ample breasts before falling away to the floor in nearly sheer sheet of midnight blue gauze silk. The underskirt was of a slightly heavier silk to prevent the gown from being seen through, but the top layers were thin and frothy. Beneath her breasts beading and gem work had been encrusted into the waist in a small stripe. The short puffed sleeves were also banded at their ends with similar patterned beading. The neckline was square and as daringly low as was still proper.

She moved to the floor length mirror and eyed herself critically. She was tall for a woman. Her build slender and willowy. Graceful bones and features could be seen beneath pale skin. Her eyes were of a light amber color, almost coming across as gold. She had always thought they did not suit her hair. She should have had green eyes or blue. Those would have complemented a redhead better.

Mariah came up to her holding up the fenwa necklace she was to wear, the beautiful midnight blue fenwa stones a perfect complement to her dress. The necklace would drape elegantly against her upper chest, accentuating the long, graceful lines of her throat. There were small stone earrings to match. Nothing gaudy. Delicate. Simple.

Yes. She would be beautiful. And it was not conceit that said so. She worked very hard at being the paragon of beauty her people demanded her to be. Very hard. But that beauty, along with her power, was also a curse. No one had the nerve to come up to her and approach her as a man would approach a woman. Her lovers were few and far between because she not only had to judge them acceptable for her to be seen with, but they had to be brave enough to put themselves in her purview to begin with.

There were very few with that type of nerve that she could find herself even remotely interested in.

She pulled on her long evening gloves, tugging them up to her elbows and a little bit beyond. They were black lace. As she did this, Mariah moved her slippers onto the floor in front of her. She stepped into the little beaded things. Every time she took a step black faceted beads would sparkle from beneath her gown’s hem.

Her last touch was a black lace fan looped around her wrist. It hung there ready to be picked up, opened, used with coy flirtation as she charmed dignitaries from around the world.

She turned her head and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was time.

It was time.

Raja Sin was dressed in more clothes than he usually liked to wear. He had not dressed as the Sarens did. Lords no. He could never be trussed up in such high collars and intricately knotted cravats. They wore jackets with square tails as well. More clothes. Sin wore a simple cross-tied white jerka, the light fabric resting loosely around his body. It had long cuffed sleeves, but they were loose and free as well. Along with a pair of snug white breeches and highly polished black knee boots, he was as dressed up as he could possibly manage and still feel as though he could breathe.

He looked around the crowded ballroom with sharp eyes. He was waiting. Waiting for the one reason why he had come there dressed in all this confining finery.

She entered the room and a silence, followed by a rush of approved sound fell over the crowded room. He didn’t blame them. She was magnificent. As beautiful as he had remembered her to be. His heart thudded with excitement. He was overwhelmed with the urge to go to her, scoop her up and march out of the ballroom with her. He would take her on his horse and ride to the farthest reaches of what the Kiltians now called the New Territory. He longed to take her to his home…to his bed. Where he would drink wine from her navel and lick honey from her skin.

The very thought of it made him hard.

Sin moved to the wall, leaning back against it as he watched her and tried to get the reactions of his body under his control. Tried to get everything under his control. He told himself, not for the first time, that this was sheer folly. That he was risking everything for the want of a single woman. For all he knew she was a shrew without an ounce of passion in her, awkward in bed and cold to the touch.

But he didn’t think so. As he watched the grace with which she moved he could imagine her moving like liquid beneath him, those longs legs eagerly wrapping around his hips and buttocks as he lunged into her again and again.

Damn it to both hells. He was never going to get his body under control long enough to approach her. And he would approach her. It would just be a matter of time. He would let everyone else swarm her at first. He would bide his time.

“Raja Sin,” someone spoke up beside him.

He jerked his eyes away from Ariana and looked at Triumvir Hittite. The man was almost as big as Sin was in both weight and height. His hair was shock white, his eyes a probing silver. His hair was long and caught back at the nape of his neck, as was the style of Saren men. Sin’s own hair was cut short to his nape, falling in short waves along his crown.

He liked Hittite. There was something hard in the man’s eyes that Sin respected. Like Sin, he was not an encumbered man. No wife. No children. If his research was correct, no close family living. And his research was almost always correct.

“Mason Hittite,” he greeted in return, trying not to look guilty of ravishing his fellow triumvir from afar. “How do you fare this evening?” It was as polite as Sin knew how to be. He wasn't one for pretty words or speeches, wasn't even decent in mixed company like this, but he would try his best not to make too many waves.

“Well, thank you,” Hittite said, raising a brow in marked surprise. Clearly he had marked Sin’s politeness for what it was. An act. But the other man accepted Sin’s attempt at civility. “And yourself?”

“Well, thank you,” he echoed.

“There are a great many people here,” Hittite pointed out needlessly. There were. Too many. But it was the only guise he could use to get close to her. The guise of diplomacy. “You should be able to see many old friends and make many new ones.”

“Yes,” he said. “I think I have already struck a new trade agreement with a Hajee. They are great purveyors of porcelain and silk.”

“Porcelain and silk?” Again that brow rose. “Do you have much need of those?”

It was a thinly veiled racial remark. He knew that hard living in the mountains meant there was little room for delicate things. But things had changed. And some things had stayed the same. Silk was a luxury, it was true, but it was one they had loved well enough in the Kiltian culture.

“There is always use of porcelain. Everyday things are constantly in use and in need. You know this.”

“I do indeed,” Hittite said amiably. “I had thought porcelain to be something you created yourselves.”

So perhaps it had not been a cultural slur after all. Hittite was curious as to why they didn’t make their own porcelain.

“We have not the clay nor the skill to make our own.”

“Hmm. I had thought with all those mountains there might be good clay. I am wrong. Well then, I am glad you have made a new friend for your country.”

“As am I.”

“Better still that we are now friends.”

“Better still,” Sin agreed. “Though it will take more time to forget the war than it did to wage it.”

“Such is always the case with war. Plus, there are many who took great offense to giving you the land that we did, making so many Sarens homeless in the process.”

“And how did you resolve this?”

Sin already knew the answer.

“We gifted free lands in the wild country. It is a hard life, but it will be a good one.”

“Had the wild country been along the Kiltian border we would have gladly taken it. It is not as much grasslands as the New Territory, more wooded. But we would have made our way, cleared fields. We would have done anything for more space.”

Hittite regarded him with a leveling look. “I have no doubt. You went to war for it.”

Sin refused to apologize for that. “We did what we thought was necessary. I did not wage war for the joy of it. For the lives we could take. Contrary to your popular opinion, we are not barbarians.”

“I never listen to popular opinion. The population is very often misinformed.”

“If you had listened to what was popular you might never have given away the land you did.”

“We didn’t give it away,” Hittite said with a grin. “We sold it. As such a great many things have been improved upon in the cities. Aquaducts. Sewage. Other public works. The army has been paid, the homeless are being tended. Orphans have beds for the night. It’s all done. The question is…do the people comprehend that it’s all possible thanks to the land sale?”

“And do they?”

“It depends on who you ask,” Hittite said with a shrug. “But it is done and there is nothing to be done about it now. The tithe you pay us is handsome and we are at peace. It is ideal almost all the way around.”

“It was well done. It took much negotiation and we both drove a hard bargain. I am quite satisfied.”

“As long as you stay satisfied and on your side of the border.”

Sin chuckled. “It will not be in my lifetime that my people might grow discontented with what they have. Not in either of our lifetimes.”

“I plan to live quite a long time,” Hittite said. “I must go. I am being beckoned over by Lady Salisburg. She is intent on making a husband of me and seeks to dig her claws in.”

“And will she succeed?” Sin asked, although he supposed he already knew the answer to that.

“It would take a far braver woman than she is to take me on as a husband. I despair of there ever being such a woman. Certainly not in this society,” he said, encompassing the room.

“Perhaps you require a Kiltian woman. They are made of sterner stuff than these.”

Hittite seemed to consider that a moment. “Perhaps. I often thought it wouldn’t be a Saren woman…if any woman at all. They are too civilized for me. Too genteel.”

Sin regarded his civilized and genteel clothing a moment. “You are more civilized than I think you give yourself credit for,” he said.

“Perhaps. Excuse me.”

Sin nodded to him and watched him move through the crowd to where a woman              was violently waving Hittite forward. The moment he was within reach she threaded her arm through his and he saw her nails literally sinking into the sleeve of his coat. Sin smiled a little at the sight. Better Hittite than him.

Now that he was alone, his gaze snapped back up to the room, sweeping around it in search of his quarry. He found her, still surrounded by fawning worshippers. He frowned. What were the odds of him ever getting her alone? Fairly slim he was certain. He would have to manufacture a method. But how? What?

He felt a breeze enter the room and it drew his attention to the doors that had been thrown open leading onto the terrace which then led down into the gardens. The capitol building was an enormous structure. Large enough to house three of the triumvirate and their families, all of the diplomatic offices, the ballroom and the most extravagant manicured gardens in the entire city.

Sin smiled.

And waited.

Chapter Two

Ariana moved toward the terrace doors. The heat of the room, all of those bodies, would have been stifling if not for the cool breeze blowing in the doors. It was unusually balmy for autumn, the cold of the previous days having given way to an almost summer-like clime. But if she knew the weather as she thought she did, it would not last.

She walked out onto the terrace and up to the stone railing, the carved marble matching all of the marble that made up the capitol building. White with a slightly pinkish hue. It was funny because all of the marble quarried for the building had come from Kiltian lands. It had come overland with weeks of travel in great lumbering ox carts. It had not been the most convenient of buildings.

“Will you walk the gardens with me?”

The deep voiced request made her smile. It was a pleasant voice, rich and masculine, for all it, too, was expecting something of her. But this was something she might be inclined to give because she had been thinking of doing that very thing.

She turned to face the owner of the voice and her heart sank, her smile faltering.

It was he. The Kiltian. It had been six months since she had seen him last…at some such diplomatic thing or other, she couldn’t remember which. She had known he would be there tonight, but she had acknowledged the name on the guest list and then put it out of her mind. It wasn't as though she could have refused to invite him. At an event where everyone and their brother was invited? It would appear a slight and their peace was still too young to handle slights, perceived or otherwise.

“Raja Sin,” she greeted him coolly. “No, thank you,” she said turning her back on the tempting gardens. “I have to remain here and play hostess.”

“Surely they would not miss you for a little while.” His smile was almost charming.
Charming
? On Raja Sin? It was nigh inconceivable.

“Really I—“

“Come,” he said, picking up her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow as if he were a first class gentleman. “A short walk to clear your head.”

Before she knew what was happening, he was leading her down the terrace steps and onto a white gravel footpath. Ariana looked back toward the ballroom, hoping someone would come to stop her. Call out to her. Demand her attention. But drat it all, the one time she wanted interference there was none to be had.

They left the din of the ballroom behind.

He kept his gait slow and easy. Meandering even, if such a thing like that were possible for the man. Raja Sin was many things, but indolent was not one of them. He kept his hand over hers, preventing her from dropping it away. The shirt he wore was thin and loose fitting, and she could feel the heat of him through it. She could feel the power of the muscles her fingers were unconsciously gripping. She loosened her grasp as if it might encourage him to let go.

She popped her fan open and fanned herself by turns slowly and more rapidly. She felt as though she was burning up. Strange, since she had control over all things fire and heat. But while she could heat things up, she could not cool them down. That had to happen naturally. But the point was she shouldn’t
feel
the heat. She was impervious to it.

Except around this man. Every time she saw him she was overwhelmed by this sense of heat.

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes, trying to judge his motivations for bringing her out there. He seemed easy and relaxed, lacking in any direct motive. He was just one leader of a country walking with another leader of a country. Simple yes?

Only there was nothing simple about this man. Nothing at all. Oh, she liked to think he was a shallow pool, one dimensional and lacking in complexity, but she was just kidding herself. He was no mere barbarian easy to dismiss. He was shrewd and cunning. There was likely purpose to everything he did. Including taking her for a walk in her own gardens.

“It’s a lovely night for a ball,” he said.

What
? Was he really going to talk about the weather with her?

“Yes. It’s unseasonably warm.”

“It will be cold enough soon enough. There have already been dustings of snow in the upper mountain country of my home.”

They really were talking about the weather. It seemed almost…normal. Only, it was boring. She’d had this conversation a dozen times already tonight. She felt somehow…disappointed in him.

“Soon the lakes will freeze and the children will be ice sliding.”

That made her smile. She had done that as a child. But her days for ice sliding had been too few and too short. She had had to grow up very quickly in her father’s house.

“I remember ice sliding,” she said. “I think it’s sad that adults don’t do it. We’ve lost something in that I think.”

“You can still go ice sliding any time you want. You own a country. You can do anything your heart desires.”

“You know that isn’t so. Everything I do comes under scrutiny. I couldn’t be seen doing something so childish. It would make me seem…”

“Less? Young? You are not less and you are not young. Not childish in any event. But you are young in that you have many of your best autumns ahead of you yet. There is nothing wrong with having a little fun. You pride yourselves on your civilization but I do not think you realize what you have lost in the achievement.”

“We’ve lost barbarism. Poverty. Starvation. Civilization has brought us many wonderful things. We thrive because of it.”

“And you think we are barbarians because we do not dress properly and we do not bow when we greet someone?”

She gasped a softly indrawn breath. “I never said you were barbarians!”

“No. But you think it.”

“How do you presume to know my mind?” she snapped, drawing to a halt on the path. She would have snatched her hand away, but he held it firmly in place.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

She flushed. She had called him a barbarian more than once aloud, never mind what her thoughts had been.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I did. That wouldn’t make for very good diplomacy.”

“Walk,” he commanded her, pulling her along again. She had no choice but to follow him. She was tempted to drag her feet, but she wouldn’t act like a spoiled child. “It is all right that you think we are barbaric. To us you are uptight and obnoxious. We each have our racial prejudices.”

“Well…I prefer to think I can rise above mine.”

“And have you had much success with that?” he asked.

She didn’t answer and that in and of itself was an answer. He chuckled softly as he led her into the hedgerows. After a moment she realized they were completely out of sight of the ballroom. Anxiety tickled at her senses.

“There is something about all your many layers of clothes and civilization and manners,” he said to her, pulling her to a stop and turning to face her. He stepped closer to her, reached out and picked up one of the curls trailing down her chest and brought it to his nose. He drew in his breath, obviously taking in her scent. “It makes us want to peel it all away.”

This time she did jerk her hand free of him. She took an awkward step back.

“Don’t do that!” she barked.

“Do what?” he asked. Clearly he knew what had bothered her. His amused eyes said it all.

“You know exactly what!” She stepped back again when he stepped forward. He reached out and caught her by her arms and pulled her up tight against his body. She gasped at the contact, all of that hard masculine body pressing up against hers. She squirmed.

“Your movements only excite me,” he told her in a whisper against her ear. “Do continue.”

She froze. She was panting for breath. She felt her nipples tightening for some unexplainable reason, her belly going taut and quivering anxiously. She felt his breath coasting over her ear and down her neck.

“I’ll scream,” she said breathily.

“That will excite me too,” he said. “Everything you do excites me. May the One God damn me straight to both hells, I have tried to resist you, but you make me…you make me…” He growled and took her hand in his, bringing it to the front of his breeches. She gasped when he pressed her hand to the hard, hot bulge there. “I’m like hot forged iron around you. Hard and unyielding and it makes me want to cry out to the heavens.”

His free hand dove into her hair, ruining the pinned up masses of curls as he pulled her up to just an inch away from his lips. Their rapid breaths mingled as her hand, of its own volition, molded to the hardness he held her to.

“God!” he gasped.

He crushed his mouth down on hers and she released a little cry. He caught it in his mouth as he slanted his lips over hers. His mouth was firm and damp, open and strong. There was no introduction, just ferocious need and hunger. His tongue sought hers, tangled with it, and before she could comprehend what she was doing she was responding to him. She moaned as his hand left the one holding him to her and slid into the small of her back. He pulled her in tighter to his body, the hard heat of him burning onto her every nerve. She felt him in her hand, the size and shape and hardness of him incredible. He was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. He was exactly what she would have expected him to be given his body type and size.

However, to consider was one thing, to feel it was quite another.

He kissed her violently, ravaging her mouth, almost punishing her. And she felt every moment of it. It was like swallowing pure fire. He scorched her. Left her raw and hungry and needing.

When he broke away from her mouth he was gasping for breath almost as much as she was.

“I knew it. I knew it would be like this,” he said before he swept her up into another torrid kiss.

Ariana’s head was spinning, her body burning. He was turning her inside out. She couldn’t think. All she could do was react. At first she melted against him, let him have her, followed the burn where it wanted to lead her. But then, in the next instant she was remembering who she was. Where she was. What she was. She ripped away from him with a cry.

“No! Don’t!”

He caught her before she could gain more than a couple of inches in distance and jerked her back into his body.

“This isn’t over. Don’t you think for even a second that it is.”

Then he kissed her again, brutalizing her mouth until she thought she would burn away like a wisp of moth wings set afire. She was too delicate for this. Too elegant and refined. She did not get savagely kissed in the bushes by barbaric strangers!

She had no sooner had the thought then he was putting her away from himself, turning on his heel and stalking away. She stood there swaying in shock, unable to think. Unable to do anything but replay the fire of his kisses over and over again in her mind.

It was quite a few minutes before she was composed enough to head back to the ballroom. She reached up and touched her hair. It was a mess. Half of the curls had been set free by his marauding hands. She couldn’t go back in there looking like this. Everyone would know.

She felt that even if she’d been perfectly coifed she still would have felt as though he had branded her. As though everyone would know.

She changed direction and took a path that led to the other side of the capitol building. She could sneak back to her rooms from there.

Sin stormed down the garden path, his heart pumping hard, his body raging with need. His mouth burned with the memory of the feel of her. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back. No matter what she might convince herself of later, she had kissed him back. She had touched him, her hand molding to him. He throbbed in memory of her touch. He was hard and he was going to stay hard for quite a while he knew, so going back into that ballroom was not an immediate possibility.

That left him with time to walk and to think.

He had to have her. At any and all costs. But he knew he couldn’t court her in the way of her people. She would never have allowed it. One of the triumvir consorting with a Kiltian barbarian? Never. It would never be encouraged or accepted.

Not her way.

But his way—the way of his people—that was something different. That was the way he knew. The way he wanted to have her. But that was not going to be an easy task. He would need help. A lot of help. Had it been in his lands with one of his women, he would have done it alone…by himself. But as it was…

After about fifteen minutes alone in the gardens he composed himself enough to return to the ballroom. The first thing he did was seek out his aides. With a short nod of his head he called them to him.

“We leave now,” he told them brusquely.

“Is something wrong?” Lindo asked.

Lindo was Jadoc. He could read the minds and emotions of others. But in spite of that it would have been very obvious that something was disturbing him. He ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration.

“We need to go. I have to think and plan.”

“Plan what?” Lindo asked.

“I’m fairly certain you don’t want the answer to that,” Sin said.

“I’m fairly certain I do with a comment like that.”

Sin didn’t reply.