“What?” Kett asked.
He touched her back. “You know how you can change your appearance? Did you fade out these scars?”
“No. Why would I? They’re covered up.”
“Yeah.” Bael took her hand, moved it to her back, and ran it up and down where her scars should have been.
The skin was disturbed by a few faint ridges, and nothing more.
“What the hell?”
“I kissed them better,” Bael said, still stroking her back. “They’re still there, just faded a lot.”
“But…how, Bael?” She turned to face him. “Where the hell has this power suddenly come from?”
He cupped her face in his hands. His green eyes were intense, honest, powerful. “You,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” Kett whispered, although she feared she did.
“My parents mated young,” he said. “Perhaps they found their powers at the same time. I’ll never know. But I’m wondering,” he stroked her face, “if Mage powers are linked to mates. If I’m only realizing my full potential now that I’m with you.”
Kett stared.
“It’s the only explanation I can think of,” he said.
“Maybe,” Kett began. “Maybe it’s…”
But she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her mouth felt very dry.
Bael kissed her, very soft and sweet, his hands framing her face, and her body melted into his. Oh hell. Seeing Striker naked earlier hadn’t elicited the tiniest response from her, and she’d known women to fall into orgasmic swoons just at the sight of him fully clothed. But Bael’s arms around her, his lips on hers, his tongue gently playing with hers, made her weak-kneed and dizzy and sent a pulse of heat through her whole body.
“I’m your mate,” she said shakily, and Bael’s eyes were warm.
“Yes, you are.”
“That’s it. Final. We can’t change it.”
He shook his head, smiling gently.
“I ain’t having kids,” she said, trying desperately to dissuade him, even though she knew there was no point.
“You don’t have to.”
“And-and-I’m not getting involved in Nasc crap. I’m staying with Jarven at the ranch. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t try to stop you.”
Panic fluttered in her veins. “I-I don’t want…”
Bael smoothed her hair and waited. Kett let out a shaky breath. “Bael, I-you-I’m not normal.”
“It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“And I don’t-I can’t-every time I try to get involved with anyone, when I get close, with my family or with the Order, when I try to do what I’m supposed to, it all ends up…really bad.”
“What you’re supposed to do? Who says what you’re supposed to do?”
“Well-well, you’re saying I’m supposed to be your mate-”
“I’m saying you are my mate. What you do after that is up to you.”
His tone was gentle, his expression warm, but there was a flicker of insecurity behind his eyes.
“Kett, it’ll be okay. I’m not asking anything of you. I don’t expect anything of you. I love who you are, right now, scars and everything. I love how brave you are, how kind you are even when you don’t want to be, how you’re frightened and angry and vulnerable and spiky and brilliant. I love everything about you.”
Kett gazed at him, stunned. Bael slowly twirled a curl of her hair around his finger and spoke carefully, as if he was still thinking through what he was saying.
“I’m not here because of this mate thing. I mean, I think it’s real and true, but that’s not why I’m here.” His voice gathered speed. “I came for you when I thought you weren’t my mate. I came for you when I thought you’d cheated on me and killed my mother. And if you proved to me right now conclusively that I’m not your mate and never will be, I would still come for you. I’d still want you and love you. I love you, Kett. I-”
He broke off, as if he’d run on too far, too fast, and his intense gaze dipped, darted away.
Kett grabbed his face and kissed him.
She’d never expected to hear something like that from anybody. She’d never even allowed herself to think of it. Romance and pretty words weren’t for scarred, damaged people like her. Eithne and Beyla and Giselle, delicate feminine girls, inspired speeches like that.
Part of her said it was just Bael talking bollocks again, but it was only a small part, and being drowned out by the big, loud, desperate need inside her to believe him. And that scared Kett more than anything else. She’d never wanted to believe anyone so badly.
She let Bael go and both of them were breathing hard. His eyes blazed green fire at her.
“I love everything about you, Kett Almet,” he said again, and Kett tugged him toward the sofa, tumbling and smiling and even laughing. It felt so damn good to laugh. She’d forgotten the last time she really laughed hard at anything.
Bael kissed her neck, her shoulder, pushing her shirt open and then tugging it off over her head when it got in the way. In a grand gesture, he threw her shirt into the fireplace, where his fireball gobbled it up.
“Uh,” Kett began to protest, but Bael just smiled wickedly and said, “Sweetheart, you’re not going to need it,” and smoothed back her hair to kiss her extravagantly, pulling her body against his until she was almost in his lap.
He kissed her so magnificently, Kett might not have minded if they didn’t do anything else. There was something so wonderfully liberating about giving in and knowing she couldn’t fight against him anymore. She was stuck with him, and she might as well take advantage of that.
She slid her hand inside his shirt, over the smooth skin of his stomach, feeling the muscles jump at her touch. Smiling against his mouth, she slid one leg over his, wrapped it around his waist and kissed him on and on as he worked his thumb over her nipple, through her bra.
The lace created a wonderful friction against her extremely sensitive flesh. For once, Kett was grateful to Nuala for buying her fancy underwear.
Impatient to touch more of him, she tugged at his shirt, and when Bael gave her a smoldering look she ripped the fabric off him and tossed it on the floor.
“Nice,” he growled, and rewarded her by sucking her nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her bra.
The hot wetness of his mouth through the softly abrading lace made Kett’s head swim. Her fingers dug into his hair and a moan escaped her lips. His tongue tortured her through the bra, until her hips were bucking and her back arching as she tried to get more of the glorious heat and pleasure. Digging her fingers into his arms, she moved one of his hands to her other breast and fumbled behind her own back to unfasten the bra.
When the fabric went slack, Bael looked up and grinned at her, then yanked it off and tossed it away. This time it didn’t go in the fire, but Kett wouldn’t have cared if it had. Bael’s mouth was back on her breast, this time with no barrier between them, and she thought she might come just from that.
His hand slid down her stomach, caressing her and making her muscles tense. His bare skin was heaven against hers, hot and smooth and dusted with just enough soft hair to tease her flesh. Every inch of her felt extra sensitized, especially where he touched her. Even the brush of her own hair against her shoulders was driving her wild.
Bael’s fingers unfastened her fly and slid inside, just a little bit, teasing her dark curls but not darting any lower. Maddened, Kett tried to wriggle out of her unyielding leathers but was tangled up in Bael so much it was impossible.
His teeth scraped her nipple and she realized he was laughing. “Want a hand, sweetheart?”
“Yours seem to be otherwise occupied,” Kett panted, but Bael withdrew them to help her peel off her leather trousers, underwear and boots. Naked, she curled against him, loving the rough denim abrading her bare thighs.
Then she stopped, because the thigh she had curled around Bael’s waist was her right one-and the scar on it seemed to have faded dramatically.
She jerked her head up to stare at Bael. “Did you do that?”
“Reckon so,” he said, stroking it. “I can do it again if you’d like, see if it fades more.” She shivered as his fingers tickled a sensuous path up her thigh. “How does it feel?”
“Wonderful,” Kett moaned, and he laughed.
“I meant the scar. The muscle. Inside. Has it eased?”
But the only muscle Kett could think of inside her was the big one threatening to burst out of Bael’s fly. She rubbed her hand over it and he shuddered. She unfastened the top button and felt his whole body tense.
Kett swung herself over him completely, straddling his thighs and pressing her bare body against his. His chest was broad and firm against her breasts, tiny crisp hairs tickling her into distraction as she slid her hand up his neck to his cheek and kissed him, hard.
Her other hand delved between them, freeing his cock and palming it, feeling its thickness and its strength, smearing the drop of liquid from the head all over. Bael’s fingers gripped her hard, his hand tightening on her breast almost to the point of pain, and he bit down on her lip.
“Kett,” he said, kissing her face madly, “I wanted to take this slow, and stroke you and lick you, I wanted-”
“I want you to fuck me,” Kett said, ravenous for him, and when she rubbed the sticky head of his cock against the slick, wet folds of her pussy, he groaned and pushed inside her.
She sank down, taking as much of him as she could, reaching down to free his balls from the confines of his clothes and pressing herself against them. He felt so damn good inside her, filling her up completely. She rose and fell, arching her back, pressing her breasts into his hands. Bael went one better and dipped his head to suck and bite on her nipple.
Afraid she was going to orgasm immediately and end it too soon, Kett tried to slow down, but Bael was pounding into her, sliding deep into her slick heat, his hands everywhere, guiding and stroking and driving her mad.
She couldn’t sustain it. Gripping his shoulders with both hands, she abandoned herself to the driving pleasure building in her and rode him to a hot, screaming climax.
She was barely aware he’d come, trembling and shaking as she was, breathing hard, her body heavy against him. Bael held her, stroked her back, kissed her hair. She thought he might be trembling too.
“You never, ever disappoint me,” he said softly against her temple, and Kett looked up at the simplest and fullest praise she’d ever received.
She kissed him, safe and loved and more content than she could ever remember being.
Kett cuddled against him, warm and quiet, and Bael tugged at the blanket she’d been wearing, draping it over her bare back and smiling at her murmur of thanks. She was delicious like this, boneless and lazy, her body soft and sated, snuggling up to him like a sleepy kitten.
She dozed for a while but he stayed awake, watching the flicker of the floating ball of fire he’d created. Rain spattered against the windows, blown in fits and jerks, and a draught came in under the door.
Bael manifested another fireball just by thinking about it, lengthened it out into a narrow shape about a yard long and floated it down to the gap under the door. A draught-excluder made of flames.
He was astonished he could do such a thing. No matter how much his father and Albhar had tried to tutor him, he’d never been able to master the simplest of spells. But then, this didn’t seem to be about spells. This was about power, innate magic. The sort Albhar had so little of.
His former mentor had made up for his lack of power by learning every spell there had ever been. Including, apparently, one that involved the death of his pupil, his friend’s son, and in fact the man who kept him in such luxurious style.
The fireballs warming the room grew a little brighter with his anger and he quickly tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to set the place on fire.
In his arms, Kett stirred, cuddling closer, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Overwhelmed with love, he clasped her tighter to him.
Albhar had tried to kill her. Twice.
Maybe three times.
Because who else could have turned her to stone when she was a baby? Who else would have?
He would burn.
The buzz of Kett’s scryer startled her awake, jolting her against him. Bael smiled at her as she opened her eyes, the silver fire in them banked by sleep. He brushed his lips gently against hers, eliciting a drowsy smile from her before she picked up the scryer and yawned, “Yeah?”
“Did I wake you, pet?”
It was Striker. Bael felt that prickle of unease run through him, like an animal sensing a predator. Annoyed that the last vestiges of his warm, satisfied stupor had been blasted away, he scowled at the handsome face smirking out from Kett’s scryer.
“Yes, you did wake me, actually,” Kett said, apparently unafraid.
“I’d pretend I’m sorry, but I ain’t. We all set for tomorrow?”
“Think so, yeah. Have you spoken to Chance?”
Striker grinned. “She wants to come.”
“Did you tell her she couldn’t?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell her why?”
Striker grinned wider. “Nope. Stupid girl ought to be able to figure it out herself.”
“Yes, well.” Kett shrugged her beautiful shoulders. “These things are often more apparent to other people. Is Dark coming?”
“Yeah. Apparently he can’t get enough of fighting the bastards.”
“A man after your own heart. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
She ended the call, letting the little hemisphere of rock thud onto the sofa, and curled back against Bael’s body, nuzzling his shoulder. Her back shook with a small laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“Chance. I bet she’s livid to be left out.”
“Left out of what?”
“A good fight.”
Bael couldn’t help smiling, wondering who she was going to fight. Then he frowned, tilted her face up to his. “Now, I know why she shouldn’t fight, but what do you know?”
“I know she’s pregnant.” Kett shrugged. “Animal senses.”
“She smells different,” Bael agreed. “And her fa- Striker knows?” He couldn’t think of that hideously evil man as being anybody’s father-let alone his queen’s.
“He always knows,” Kett said. “He knew Nuala was pregnant before she did. And he knew they were going to be triplets. And he knew there’d be two girls and a boy. He even knew the birth order.”
Bael whistled.
“Of course, being Striker, he wrote it down somewhere and didn’t tell her. Hey,” she said, sitting up and pushing her springy hair back, “will Chance and Dark’s kids be Nasc? I mean, she’s human. Well, almost human.”
Bael shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know any Nasc who’ve mated with non-Nasc. Hell, I don’t know any other Nasc at all, except for them.”
“None at all?”
“No.” He idly stroked her back. “I was always too frightened of being discovered. I listened for news about the king and his sister, but I never tried to find anyone. My father put the fear of the gods into me about the Federación. I heard news about the Nasc, kept my ears open, and I heard about what the Federación did to freaks like me.”
She gave a half smile and lightly punched his shoulder. “If you’re a freak, what does that make me?”
“Gorgeous,” Bael replied promptly. “Sexy.” He kissed one side of her jaw, just under her ear. “Perfect.”
“Give over,” she protested.
“Nope. I love you, Kett,” he said sincerely, not allowing her to duck away from him. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Kill Albhar,” she said tonelessly, and he straightened.
“Seriously?”
“That’s where we’re going tomorrow. Striker’s good at finding people. Plus he likes exploding things. I’m going to find him, I’m going to give him a chance to repent, and then I’m going to-”
“Move away while I incinerate him,” Bael finished for her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Kett, quite apart from the fact that Albhar is the closest thing I’ve had to family for twenty years and he intended to sacrifice me in a ritual, don’t you think I’d go after him for what he did to you?”
“I can take care of myself,” she said stiffly.
“I know you can, sweetheart, it’s one of my favorite things about you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “But you’re going to have to put up with me trying to protect you now, I’m afraid. That’s just the way it’s going to be.”
“You are so full of-”
“Love and admiration for you,” Bael said, kissing her mouth again. “Seriously, Kett. He tried to kill you, three times by my count. He had you turned into a statue for eight years! What sort of person does that to a baby?”
“A ruthless one,” Kett said. She frowned. “How do you know Albhar did it?”
“Who else would? He beat and starved you,” Bael said, his fingers tightening on her arms. He will burn.
“On your orders.”
Bael winced. “Yes. Well. Have I mentioned many, many apologies for that?” He gathered her in close.
“Bael,” she interrupted. “Look. You said he’s the closest thing you have to family. You shouldn’t be the one to kill him.”
“Yes,” Bael said grimly, “I should. Not just because of what he did to you, but because he’s supposed to be my family and he tried to kill me.”
“Don’t kill him for revenge,” Kett said, her eyes flashing. “Kill him because it’s the right thing to do.”
Bael, who’d never bothered hugely with what was wrong and what was right, frowned, but he nodded.
They were both silent for a while, then Kett said, “Anyway, it’s academic. Striker’ll probably get there first.”
“What grudge does he have against Albhar?” Bael asked, thinking of his mentor’s extremely minor talents.
“Oh, none really. Well, apart from Albhar being involved with the Federación, who are responsible for that huge scar on Chance’s back. But really he just likes killing people. Chalia doesn’t let him do it very often.”
“Lovely,” Bael said. “How-and I realize I may regret asking-how does Striker know where Albhar will be? He’s probably left the Vyiskagrad house by now.”
Kett nodded. “Yeah. Striker reckons he’s gone south. He’ll know better once we’ve crossed the Wall, but his guess was Pra-”
She froze.
“Pradesh?” Bael asked, and Kett gave a mechanical nod. She breathed jerkily for a few seconds, and when she spoke her voice came out very calm.
“Bael, when you said you used to know the Maharaja of Pradesh, you were just bragging, right?”
“Sure,” he said, and she relaxed. “But it was true all the same.”
Her eyes went distant, panicked. Her fingers traced the faded scar on her thigh.
“Kett?” Bael prompted.
“Does Albhar know him?”
“Probably. He used to brag about being friends with the Governor, when Pradesh was still a colony. Now it’s been handed back to the-”
“Maharaja,” Kett said, “who I was performing for the night before I found myself strung up in that cave with you.”
“Performing what?” Bael asked, terrible jealousy ripping through him.
“Shape-changing. As an entertainment. I don’t do it often. I just did that as a favor. Shape-changing, Bael, the day before the cave.”
A terrible silence followed.
“Albhar knows him,” Bael said.
“I know him,” Kett said. “He took me in when my leg was hurt. He was kind to me. He helped me get hold of my parents and Striker. I went back there to perform at his daughter’s wedding as a favor.”
“It could just be a coincidence,” Bael said without much confidence, and Kett gave him a disbelieving look. “No, I didn’t think so either.”
“I am going to eviscerate him,” she said, clambering off Bael and resisting his efforts to hold her in place. “I’m going to find that damn tiger and feed him to it!”
“And I’ll be right behind you,” he said, watching her pace naked. “But-”
“The sneaky rotten conniving backstabbing shit of a bastard!”
“Absolutely,” Bael said, “but the thing is-”
“I’m going to get his fat, slimy entrails and wrap them around his neck. I’m-”
“Yes,” Bael said, “but the thing is, the Maharaja of Pradesh has one of the biggest standing armies in Asiatica. He’s famous for it. Determined not to let anyone colonize his country again.”
“I’ll kill them all too,” Kett vowed carelessly.
“You and whose army?” Bael asked.
And Kett smiled.