Mask of Fire Read online

  “I don’t know if I have the skills to handle something that big.”

  And the last of the blood in his brain relocated.

  Snagging her fingers inside his waistband, Fire drug his loincloth down his legs. The skin on her exposed face matched her mask. With a lick of her lips her right hand surrounded him and her red lips circled his hardened shaft.

  He braced himself to stop from filling her mouth prematurely. His balls tightened and begged to release their load from her one wet glide down. Tangling his hands in her hair he made sure to not grasp the ribbon of her mask. Although clergy locked it, making it impossible to remove, he still feared exposing his lover.

  With her right hand leading her mouth up and down his cock she let her left hand balance her by digging into his ass cheek. The sensation of light pain mixed with soft warmth tightly stroking him had his knees buckling. Barton didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before he released.

  Tremors began along his thighs and calves as he discovered the enjoyment women must find in sex. Oh how he wanted to please this woman to no end. Forget the Prefect’s warning. He was going to make love to this woman.

  His face contorted and his hips thrust forward as warm jets spilled from the end of him. She didn’t stop milking him until he had to fall forward and use his arms to brace himself on the bed as he gasped for air.

  She too fell back and sat against the bed. He turned and collapsed next to her.

  “Did I please you?” she asked as if it mattered. Barton nodded since she’d not granted him the right to speak yet. “Good, it pleased me as well. You may rest a moment while I refresh myself, then I hope you will be able to please me.”

  Fire was back to being the woman from the reception hall. Walking with determination she went to the table and sampled a deep red wine, then brought him a handful of grapes.

  “I know you’ll need the energy since I was not your first tonight.”

  Grateful, since his last two lovers had only allowed him a small sweet bar, he tried not eating as if he were an animal. His full meal from earlier had not been enough for the woman who demanded he take her against the wall three times. He’d ended up shorting his last lover and she scratched the crap out of his back, bitch.

  Fire sat on the chair watching his every movement while swirling her wine in the goblet. She hadn’t had more than a sip. Barton brought the last grape to his lips and sucked it in, giving him the desired response. It was not only Fire’s face that flushed red, but the skin exposed on her chest.

  She placed her goblet down and stood. Taking the clue without an order he joined her and claimed her lips as his. Grasping the bottom of his braid, Fire removed its binding and her long fingers combed through his thick dark hair. With one arm wrapped around her trim waist and his other cradling her face, he lifted her off her feet and turned to the bed. When back on the ground he released her and wished he could see her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Abby feared hearing the man’s voice for she was on the brink of claiming him as her mate as it was. From the first kiss she’d wanted him to be a part of her forever. The smell of him travelled from her nose into her lungs and through out her body setting off every nerve as if he’d infected her blood. Looking up, she willed him to read her mind. Anything to confirm this attraction was what the Prefects spoke of.

  The man’s finger brushed across her lips as his head cocked to the side. With light licks she tasted his flesh once more. His calloused finger told of his work ethic, and his flavor came through even on his skin. When she released the appendage he trailed it down her chin to her neck.

  His smile endeared her as his fingers traveled along her goose fleshing skin. Hooking his fingers around the straps of her dress she felt as if she’d melt into a puddle. Instead it was her dress that pooled around her feet. Again his arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her toward him. Although he wasn’t the size he’d been initially, his hardness was returning. His skin was warm, and she noticed he had a few scars that weren’t sexual. What did he do for a living?

  “It does not matter what the male does, if it is the one for you your love shall thrive through poverty, disease and strife. For those of you who’ve found personal success he will relish and support you in every way he can, for that is what a good mate does.”

  He laid her back on the bed, resting her head on the soft pillows, and breathed her in while nibbling on her neck. Although he was on top of her it was his seeming need to discover her that had her feeling warmth even though she was naked in front of him. When his lips touched the cleft between her breasts she shivered. With his hands trapping hers above her head he trailed his tongue down her body. Above her pelvic bone he bit her skin. But it was when he kissed her delicate folds between her thighs she knew. They didn’t need to go further for her to be sure he was the one she always wanted.

  He lightly blew against her now swollen flesh. Her body was attuned to every small action he took to please her. When his tongue swiped from the bottom to top of her cleft she arched toward his face and he took her into his mouth. She fought against his tight hold, because she wanted to run her fingers through his hair. The want became a need as he delved deeper and an orgasm rose inside her.

  Nerve endings were stimulated as her stomach began to clench, but still he would not release her hands. She screamed out and clasped her thighs on either side of his head, but it didn’t stop the sensual assault on her core. She looked down as his head buried itself closer and she no longer controlled her body’s reaction.

  “Please,” she screamed. “Oh please.”

  She needed to pull his hair, but all she could do was rotate her hips against his amazing lips as they sucked in her clit until she could no longer hold back. The orgasm rolled up her spine and her hips bucked against him. A satisfied growl came from him as she prayed he’d stop because she needed a break from the skin raising sensation. Instead of a rest he sent his tongue inside her and circled her as a second wave overcame her.

  With her back arched she felt the hard invasion of his cock. It rode the wave of her last orgasm that clutched his shaft so tightly she feared he’d be unable to reach his hilt. Still he did not free her hands as her fingernails dug into the back of his hands and she felt a warm liquid sliding between their palms.

  Falling back to the bed she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pumped inside her core. Having filled it she felt every stroke. When his lips found hers he finally released her hands and he cupped her head in his hands. Instantly she clung to his strong shoulders. Now she understood the claw marks on his back. What she didn’t understand was how any woman would let him go.

  “Because he is yours,” the Prefect’s voice echoed in her head from her Gala classes. “Some women will pass on their soul mate, thinking other women didn’t want him, he must be defective. It is not that, they did not have the connection you have with him because he was waiting for you.”

  As love overtook her she became lost in the weight of his body against hers, her perked nipples being rubbed against his firm chest, and the way his tongue possessed her mouth. While her head swam in the third and most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced, the sounds in the room were heightened. She heard the strain of the bed every time he thrust inside her, the crack of a tree against the window, and most importantly the growl that escaped his lips when he released hers. With an amazing shudder his body fell onto hers and she felt him fill with what she wished would lead to a child, but knew couldn’t.

  Pulling back, a satisfied smiled crossed his lips as she felt a soft caress of wind on her cheeks, and, for just a moment, she was sated. When she brought her fingers to her face dread filled her. Her mask was gone. How had it fallen off? They were never supposed to come undone. No man could look into the eyes of a woman until they were chosen.

  “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  “How dare you look upon me,” she screeched and pushed him off her.

&nb
sp; Scouring the floor she found the crack she’d thought had been a branch. To her horror, it was her mask cracked in half beside the bed. With tears in her eyes she scooped the pieces into her trembling hands. How could it have fallen?

  “It’s an omen,” she sobbed. “I’ll never find love.”

  “Using men for sex I wonder how any woman could think they’ll find love.”

  “What?” she balked as she turned toward the man who’d destroyed her bridal mask. “I wanted this on my bridal wall. I wanted… it doesn’t matter anymore. I might as well join the clergy.”

  “What? You mean you want to be mated?”

  “Why else would I be here? I thought you were the one. Why would you remove my mask? Worse yet destroy it.”

  “I didn’t try to destroy it.”

  “It is ruined.”

  “It can be fixed.”

  “My heart cannot. It’s an omen. Go to the cleansing and leave me.”

  His warm arms surrounded her, betraying the feelings of disappointment.

  “What is your name?” he asked as his nose tickled her neck.

  “Why do you spit on all the traditions I was raised to uphold? You are not a mate of worth.”

  “I didn’t speak until I saw your eyes and if any man could hold his tongue after beholding such beauty he would not be a mate of worth. I thought you removed your mask until you yelled at me like a banshee. My words were ones spoken in hurt because I’d believed for a moment you’d chosen me.”

  “Because of my eyes,” she said through sobs as she held the broken mask in her hands.

  The man wrapped his hands around the pieces and placed them on the bed.

  “Maybe the break is an omen, but not about our love.”

  “What would you know? Men do not feel love as women do.”

  “Then why do I fear you sending me to cleansing and back to the Gala with every ounce of my soul? Why do I fear never knowing a woman who with one kiss finally made me understand why I’d never been chosen before?”

  He held her hands in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumbs. Through her muddied eyes she saw the blood that dripped from where she’d clawed him. She’d never been that rough with a man. Everything was different with him. Then again she hadn’t been with that many men and she came in search of a mate; she could be deluding herself.

  “You may not choose me, but know in my heart no other woman will, because there is such a thing as a soul mate. I’m blessed to have seen her eyes once in my lifetime. They shall haunt me forever if I walk back into the reception.”

  Abby stroked her lover’s hand, then reached for a cleansing cloth from the nightstand. Slightly damp she dabbed at the wounds on his left hand, but he covered their hands with his right. She looked up and him, then suddenly felt more exposed than when her dress fell. Instantly she dropped her gaze to the floor again.

  “You… you… you said you could fix my mask.”

  The man stood, covered himself, and picked up the two pieces of porcelain. Digging through the sex drawer he found a bonding tape and lined up the pieces perfectly. Only those who looked closely could see the crack he mended.

  “Thank you,” Abby said as she held her mask, now whole, in her hands. “I still fear it’s an omen.”

  He stroked her cheek, kissed her deeply, and took one long look at her eyes. She wished she could see his. Were they dark or light? Could she see a longing for her in them, or would it be lies? The little bits of silver hair mixed into his dark locks gave the impression he was older than most of the males.

  “Let me,” he offered and placed the mask on her face. “We shall go to the cleansing then?”

  “No, not yet,” Abby sighed and reached for the sheeting to wrap around her body.

  Her bare feet walked across the soft carpeting and she opened the balcony doors. A light autumnal breeze caressed her bare shoulders as she stepped on the cold stone balcony. Darkness enveloped her and she felt the anonymity she couldn’t, even with her mask back in place. She felt so exposed to him now.

  “I’m Barton,” the man said as he stood behind her and placed his warm hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m…” Abby caught herself. All the traditions she’d been raised with were slamming up against the reality of the situation. “Do you have no respect for the Royal Family? The rules established by generations of minds greater than our own?”

  “What makes them greater?”

  “The results. Those who marry stay that way until their death. People aren’t rushed to doctors with injuries suffered at the hands of the person who is expected to love them. When a woman feels the rush of love… it’s real.”

  “What do you feel when I touch you?” Barton asked as his lips brushed against her neck, sending tremors down her body.

  “I feel,” she gasped, unsure of her words.

  In the distance she saw bright lights. They appeared to be from a distant landmass.

  “Are we facing north or south?” she asked, and Barton stopped his gentle caresses to rest his chin on her shoulder.

  “Appears north, why?”

  “There are fireworks.” Abby pointed to the bright white and red explosions in the distance. Barton stiffened behind her and his fingers dug into her arms.

  A loud pounding caused her to jump. Barton pushed her behind him and looked into the room. When the doorknob jiggled he tucked her into the corner of the balcony.

  “Stay here. Don’t move,” he said.

  “Don’t be absurd. What do you think—”

  “I said stay.” This wasn’t a suggestion. His muscles were tensed and Abby caught a chill that wasn’t from the breeze.

  ****

  Barton grabbed a candle and tossed it to the ground. He hefted the candle holder to feel its weight. It was solid metal and less than five pounds. Fire should be able to wield it if necessary.

  “Take this. I will let you know if it’s me returning. If you don’t hear my voice, smash who ever approaches in the head. We’ll sort it out after.”

  This time Fire didn’t object. She nodded and curled her fingers around the decoration, then turned to look behind her at the explosions and bursts of light.

  His training and intuition told him those lights weren’t the result of mere riots. With trepidation Barton walked to the door, snatching a bar used to hold a lover’s legs in place from the sex drawer.

  “Who disturbs us?” he called in his deepest baritone.

  “Cleric Gonnerth,” a voice replied. “I am entering now.”

  The lock clicked and the clergy member entered as if they were on a floating platform instead of walking.

  “Is there one trained in medicine in this station?” the cleric asked with an almost urgent tone.

  “I can do simple field medicine,” he replied and brought the bar down to hip level. “What are the injuries?”

  “Injuries? We have no injuries.”

  “But what about the bombing?”

  “We’ve had no bombing?”

  Barton eyed her with suspicion. He knew what was happening beyond these walls. Something that’d been a long time coming. “I thought you had doctors among your sect.”

  “We do, but this is above their abilities. You are also unnecessary, we need more than field medicine. We need a doctor.”

  Unnecessary… doesn’t the cleric know his importance of being a hard cock for some woman to throw away? Worse, that Fire may throw away.

  “I must speak with the female in this room. Where is she?”

  “On the balcony.” He tossed the bar onto the bed and led the way. “It is I.”

  His call did not stop Fire from coming at him with the candlestick. Quick reflexes saved him. On instinct his hand shot up and caught her wrist. With a sudden movement she was turned around and her arm trapped between his body and hers.

  “I said it was I,” he grumbled.

  “Anyone could be I.” She panted and he could feel her heart pounding throughout her whole body. “
Why not use your name? You gave it to me as if I wanted it.”

  She wouldn’t want it—he’d been a fool on that one. He wasn’t even sure why he gave it to her. What could possibly come of her knowing it? Just because he was starting to think she could be his mate, didn’t mean she felt the same way.

  “I didn’t want the cleric to know you knew my name. Aren’t you the one who respects the traditions fully?”

  Slowly he released her arm and she pulled away.

  “There’s a cleric?”

  “They are in need of someone with medical training. I do not have the level they need.”

  “What level? Surgeon?”

  “That I do not know. Are you trained?”

  “Yes, I am a doctor.” Fire’s shoulders straightened as she adjusted the sheeting tighter around her chest.

  Her hands went to her hair to comb out non-existent knots and Barton felt himself warm at her propriety. Sure it was annoying when it came to her mask and fear of curses, but she truly believed in this process. There was a reason she attacked one woman and took on a gaggle of them to select him for the night. Of all the lovers he’d had, from virgins to women close to the end of their time, he’d never thought he’d see one worried about how she’d come across to a cleric. It wasn’t about being a woman; it was about being satisfied and moving on to the next man. What made her different? Was it because of the way he felt to her? Or was she like this always?

  “I hear you require a physician,” she stated plainly as she entered the room, then nervously felt the front of her mask.

  “There are three women that have gone down in the last hour. They state they were not well, but felt it was just a minor illness. Then five men arrived with the same condition. We verified they had not been together.”

  “Fevers?” Barton asked, and the cleric and Fire turned.

  “Yes, why? Are you also not well?” The cleric’s voice broke from its normal monotone to a light feminine level.