Soji looked around the room. It was basic enough, Spartan even. The large bed that sat against the wall filled most of it. The only other furniture was a chest that sat at the foot of it. As with the rest of the place, the lighting was dim and she could not quite figure out its source as there did not seem to be any candles or torches about.
He pulled his shirt over his head and the air left her lungs in a giant whoosh. She had seen and enjoyed more than her share of male bodies, but never one so perfectly formed. She knew that his shoulders were board, as her head had leaned on them most of the evening. But it was the perfect form of his chest and the dark marks that criss-crossed it and his back that had stolen her breath. The scars pulled at something deep inside of her, made her want to touch them, test her healing powers, soothe the pain.
He turned to her and shook his dark head, "Glad to like the view, priestess, because it is the last male form you are going to see."
Soji was unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a commanding manner, "Excuse me? How do you think you are? I am Soji, High Priestess of the rock, servant of the goddess. And just because you," she began.
But the words froze in her throat when he stood before her. That chest filled her line of sight, was all that she could see. How had a man of his size moved so quickly? But before she could ask the question, his fingers were laced through her hair, tugged hard enough to pull her head back. Tears clouded her vision as she stared up at him.
"And I am The Spirit, servant of the dark god Fate," he hissed. His fingers ran around the edge of the collar about her neck and she would have stepped back, but could not seem to make her body obey her commands.
"And I am your Master," Soji swallowed hard, tried to push the anger and panic back as it rose up inside of her, but she was only able to manage a weak shake of her head in denial at the assertion that felt so incredibly right somewhere deep in her core.
"Kneel," he commanded.
Her head moved from side to side more swiftly and she forced a single word past the blockage in her throat, "No." Why did it sound so damned needy and weak?
His dark eyes stared deep into hers, "You are my true mate, my partner and my equal. You will be respected for that, by me and all that follow me." His brows knit together, "But you will learn your place."
He turned and walked over to the only other door. He opened it and disappeared for a moment. Soji heard the sound of water running and almost followed him, but her feet seemed incapable of movement. What was happening to her? She was a High Priestess, always in charge, worshipped and adored.
Sure, the guy was hot. The way that her nipples stood at attention, the tingling wetness between her thighs could not be denied. But that was no excuse. So maybe he had saved her sisters and her. Maybe it was gratitude that she felt, the tight knot in her tummy when he said those words. But she was a priestess...and she knelt to no one.
He returned, standing before her for a long moment. His eyes darkened until they shown black as the darkest evening when clouds covered the moons and stars. His large hands brushed across the soft shimmering material of her robes. She looked down at them and wanted to cry. The deep purple was stained dark with blood. His blood. She felt the tears slip from her eyes, breathed her only thought, "Oh sweet goddess, what have I done?"
***
Tam felt her tremble, saw the tears cascading from her deep green eyes. He knew that she was going into shock. Her whole world had disappeared in a matter of hours. She had lost the women that had been her best friends and sisters for a life time. She had lost all remnants of her power. She had killed a man that if his boasts were to be believed had been her lover. She had even torn down the altar of her goddess with her own powers. She had gone from being a High Priestess worshipped by the whole fuckin' planet to a mere woman.
What she did not understand was that her power had just multiplied a thousand fold. She was a woman. And that held the greatest, the ultimate control. Over his heart, his body, over life itself. But from the gulping sobs that shook her too fuckin' tiny body from head to toe, he knew she saw none of that now.
He ripped the bloody and offensive material from her body. It was indecent. What passed for clothing in that place should have been seen only by a lover's eyes. By his eyes. He would have to find something more appropriate.
It would not be easy. There were less than a handful of women on Harnest. Morian women, what few remained, were collared almost before they came of age. Shackled and controlled by mates that had no true care. Only one had been freed of that abuse and even she continued to struggle. A few of his men had managed to find suitable mates during their battles about the universe.
But few were the operative word. He sighed; he could not deal with the weight of his responsibilities to them now. This tiny wisp of woman that was his biggest responsibility weighed too heavily upon his shoulders at the moment. And if truth be known, the fate of their peoples was tied intricately with this moment.
He tossed the offensive garment aside. It would disappear into the incinerator before she awoke tomorrow. A break with her old life so that she might face the new. He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. The tub that sank into the stone flooring of the caves as if by magic was almost full. He lowered her into it slowly, testing once more to make certain that its waters were neither too hot nor too cold.
He watched her head drop back against the side of it, her eyes closed even as more tears raced down her cheeks. He pulled his boots off, tossed them against the wall, where they made a loud thud before slipping to the floor. Not even that roused her. He ripped the pants from his body and tossed them aside as well. "Fuckin' hell, could you have not sent me to her before the bastard destroyed her very soul," he cursed his god Fate as he slipped into the waters next to her.
He drew her against his body. Her soft curves seemed to align perfectly with every hard inch of him. He pressed soft kisses to the side of her neck and shoulders as he held. He wanted to dry her eyes, command every tear away, but he knew he could not. They needed to flow, to be released. She needed to mourn all that she had lost before she could begin to understand and embrace all that she had gained.
He was completely powerless to do anything more than hold her as they spilled forth. He had never felt more lost, more helpless. Not even as a boy, when his father had trained him, taught him to be a man, a 'real' man. Not even as he stripped him bare and tore the skin from his back and chest with the whip, had he felt this completely helpless.
He was glad that his father's lessons of what it meant to be a 'real' man had never completely taken. What the man did not get, what his people did not understand was the power to be had in those tears, not in mastering emotions out of existence, but in embracing them, feeling them. That was the true power. And he was only this night, only in her arms, beginning to understand his own.
He smiled as he buried his face in her long hair that floated about them both in the water, wrapping about them, entwining them both in its web, just as their souls already were. He was glad that they would have a lifetime to learn their power...together.
He felt her sobs begin to lessen, heard the soft hiccups that followed. She tried to pull out of his embrace then, probably realizing for the first time how naked they both were. "Shh, don't move. I've got you now," he whispered as he reached behind him for the soaps. It was not easy pouring it with just one hand but he had no intention of releasing her, giving her the slightest chance of pulling away, running from him, from them.
He stared at the top of her head. His fingers slowly but firmly massaged the liquid into her hair. He had learned enough of her people to know that it was this unique color that set her apart. If his own people's practices of collaring its young women almost before they could be claimed and beating its boys until their spirits were as broken as their bodies were scarred, the way that Tavia's seemingly peace loving peoples searched out and tore such young girls from their families seemed almost more horrific. That these precious resources should become nothing more than prostitutes, offering their bodies to any man that had the money to pay for the goddess's blessing turned his stomach.
That his mate had endured such a fate made him want to retch and vomit. He forced the anger back. It would neither of them any good. As his god of Fate taught, what was the past was the past. It could never be changed, only channeled into making the future better. And together they would. He swore this as he held her close, washed away the blood that marred her pale skin. Never again, he promised would she be used or abused.
Together they would discover the pathway, the hidden meaning upon those scrolls. Together they would fight back, fight for and save both their peoples, and teach them new ways, better ways of living and loving. His fingers tugged firmly at a matt of hair that was coated in hardened blood. Her eyes opened for the first time and though swollen and puffy he choked on the vulnerability he saw in their depths.
"I've got you now," he whispered again as it finely gave free; that last stubborn tangle of the blood and carnage that had come before.
His mouth covered hers. His tongue traced her bottom lip softly until she moaned and opened sweetly for his invasion. He inhaled deeply, taking all that was her soft surrender deep inside him, as he plunged them both under the refreshing and cleansing waters, washing away all that had come before.
When they emerged together, she sputtered softly, shaking her wet head, "Next time warn me before you try to drown me," she said as she tried to push out of his arms.
He tightened his hold and stared down at her as he shook his head, "Are you determined to have this soft bottom spanked until it is as red as your hair, my salvation?" His hand caressed slow circles on her bare bottom to emphasize his point.
She glared at him, "That is barbaric," she spat as her dainty hands wedged between them, tried to pry loose from his arms wrapped tightly just beneath her full breasts. The way her nipples hardened and rose when she saw him watching them caused an equal reaction much lower in his body.
"Really? Is that why these are as hard as Martonian crystals?" His fingers brushed so lightly at the tips it was more the air itself that moved across them than his flesh. Despite her protests, her body arched upwards seeking his touching, pleading for what he was not yet ready to give her.
He stood, scooping her into his arms and walked out of the tub. He paused just inside the doorway as the dryer gently blew fingers of warmth across their skin. He cursed low under his breath when he saw how dark the bruise across her cheek had become. He knew that killing was unnatural to his mate, but was glad that it was she that had dispatched her former lover; his mean streak would have tortured the bastard for days before allowing him the release of death.
