Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

the Queen is murdered, Giral is discredited and Sethril has much to gain.”

Eyes dark with trouble met his. “So does the Grand Pasha. Giral is a powerful rival. He has many friends at court, merchants and pashas with money and influence. They’ve been urging a peace, trade talks.”

“I thought the Grand Pasha wanted the treaty?”

A shake of the head, her hair a silky whip on his skin. “It’s all Giral’s idea. The Grand Pasha bowed to the pressure, but reluctantly. He’s an old man, conservative, and he was a priest before he ascended the throne. To him, your Queen is an abomination, an offense in the face of the Trimagistos.”

“Gods, what a tangle.”

“You said I was . . . expendable. Of no importance.” Her face shuttered, all the vivid life draining from it, leaving only a resolve as bleak as winter. “I am already dead.” A long sentence followed in the liquid tongue he’d heard before.

“What was that?”

“An oath. To my Ancestors, to those I lost. I will avenge them before I die.”

Rhio’s heart did that strange twisting thing again. “No,” he whispered, cupping her cool cheek, feeling her jawbone hard beneath his fingers, so strong and yet so easy to break, to smash, to splinter, to—

Gripping her shoulders, he stared into those raptor’s eyes. “Don’t you see?” He gave her a little shake. “You can die anytime you want. We’ll fake it. And once you’re dead . . .”

Her eyes widened. “I’m free.” Dancer’s lips framed the words, but no sound emerged.

“Welcome to my world, sweetheart.” His blood singing, Rhio wrapped both arms around her and tugged her down, the lean body sealed against his, all the way from chest to thigh. She didn’t tense, but she went very still, like a wary animal.

Gods, what had the bastards done to her? What had they made her do?

“Shhh.” He rubbed her shoulder blades in soothing circles, murmuring nonsense. He wanted her so badly he ached, but more than anything else, he wanted her coming to him free and light, the joy of desire shining her beautiful eyes.

Turning his face into her hair, he breathed deep of her wild green scent, acutely conscious of the firm cushion of her breasts pressed against his ribs. “I’ll get us a private audience with Her Majesty, first thing tomorrow.”

“But—”

“It’s her life too—and her Queendom. She has to know.” His tone brooked no argument.

“She’s my commanding officer. Brother’s balls, she’s nothing like those bastards. We can trust her.”

Every muscle in her back went rigid. “I am a Shar warrior—the last of my people. I will not give up my vengeance.”

Rhio gave a dark chuckle. “No problem. We’ll work out a way.”

“This is my duty, you understand?” she said into his neck. “Mine and mine alone.”

“Of course, but I’ll help.” Make sure you live to savor it—and me.

He thought she relaxed a trifle, but she said no more. Rhio went back to stroking her long spine, up and down, up and down. “Will Giral be angry if I keep you here tonight? It would be best,” he said softly.

She seemed to have regained her composure. “He’d be surprised if you didn’t.” A small smile playing around her mouth, she moved a thigh far enough to nudge his

semi-erection. “I’m grateful.”

Between one blink and the next, he swelled to full, throbbing life. “That’s not enough,”

he rasped.

Dancer undulated against him, a mind-spinning combination of supple muscularity and feminine delicacy. “You still want me though?” she murmured.

“Can you doubt it?”

“Not from the first moment.” The ghost of a chuckle.

Rhio nibbled the tip of her earlobe and for a moment, she went still. “Was I that obvious?” he said.

“Men usually are.” Skimming a palm up under his kilt, she stroked his length through the regulation linen drawers he wore beneath. Expertly, she strummed him with wicked, knowing fingers, not too hard, not too soft— perfect—while Rhio fought for breath, his hips arching, thrusting himself into the magick of her touch. His mind recognized the way she’d been trained, but his cock didn’t care.

Just as he regained enough control to speak, to stop her before it was too late, she rasped her thumb gently over the head and withdrew. Making a production out of licking each of her fingers in turn, Dancer sat up, watching him through a sweep of sooty lashes.

“Mmm.” Her thumb slid between sweet lips, all the way to the first joint.

“Why, you little—”

With a breathless chuckle, Dancer evaded his grab. Gripping her shirt by the hem, she reefed it off. She tossed her head, so that her hair flew about her in a shining curtain.

“Take,” she said, spreading her arms, her breasts mouthwateringly pert, honey copper and high. “I’m yours, yes?”

Too much, she was too much. He was only flesh and blood. To the seven hells with scruples. “Gods, yes!”

When Rhio lunged, she gave before him like water, like a dream of consummate grace.

Her thighs fell open, her hips cradling his desperate cock. The too-big socks flopped against him as she braced her feet on his calves.

“Wait,” she panted. “A minute only, I promise. Just . . .” A fumble at waist level and she was wriggling out of the trews he’d given her.

Yes, yes, yes! Rhio’s entire being narrowed down to his genitals, pulsing with the hot swell of his seed. Splayed beneath him was the relief he craved, a receptacle for the bursting, agonizing weight that was his cock. With one hand, he pushed up his kilt and freed himself from the drawers. His shaft brushed smooth, soft flesh, deliciously hot. A groan ripped out of his chest.

“Dancer?”

“I’m fine. Go ahead.”

He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, licking across the hard strut of one collarbone, enjoying the taste of her. “You’re more than fine; you’re fucking gorgeous.”

He didn’t give her the chance to speak again. Bracketing her head with both arms, he leaned down and took her mouth. Insinuating his tongue between her lips, he explored the moist, velvety interior, tasting, licking, twining. Shit, he