Selected for Sport Ch. 17

SfS ch17

Sitting on Xanir's knee, wiping his wet shirt across his scarred chest, Alanna's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the beads of water tracking over the planes of muscle. She flushed, not needing her husband's reminder of how easily he could reduce her to a mindless, lustful wanton.

"What makes you suspect the two tonight were rivals?"

Alanna's eyes softened; despite the obvious, urgent need Xanir had spoken of practically lifting her from his lap right now, he wanted to talk to her more. "Well, he killed her," she said in a 'duh' tone of voice. Xanir cast her a 'just you wait' look. She grinned and kissed him softly on the shoulder, smiling as his heartbeat speeded up under her palm, and mused quietly, "But then again, maybe the two factions are no longer rivals. Maybe the woman - Rebeqa - was killed due to internal power struggles."

A rough hand under her chin and she met Xanir's narrowed eyes, darker shadows gleaming in the darkness. "No longer rivals?" his query was soft. "Do you have any reason to support this theory, princess?"

Her heart jumped as his other palm slid down over the curve of her hip. Down, girl. Focus.

She drew a long breath. "Nothing set in stone. But my father's agents have seen the Lord Mika meet with a suspected agent of Beguine; someone who I have noted speaking to Beguine here in the palace."

Xanir blinked, eyes going blank. That information had not been in any of the letters that had reached his bride, either the public words or the hidden ones which Limaq continued to intercept now Em Feliz was absent from the palace. Evidently the princess had another secret method of communication that Emf had not discovered. Not altogether surprising: the Kjeldahl intelligence network was whispered to be the best in the known world.

His lips twitched: his cousin and spy-master would be gutted when he heard. His eyes softened again, looking down into the bewitching little face raised to his. What did it matter, his princess was sharing her knowledge with him anyway. He kissed her softly on the lips, feeling her melt. Delicious. Drinking in her sweetness, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, to taste, tease. Enjoy.

Alanna let out a despairing little whine and pushed against his chest, tearing her lips free to gasp, breathlessly, "You told me I had to report first. Stop distracting me!"

Xanir raised one eyebrow and wrapped his palm around the back of her neck, pulling her lips slowly, inexorably back. "You're saying I'm just a distraction?" he growled softly. His eyes were dancing.

Her hand whipped up to cover his advancing lips and she scowled at him. "You know damn well you can stop me thinking whenever you want. Nothing to prove, here."

Xanir kissed her palm, feeling the shudder run through her, and smiled smugly.

"Or we could take a tea break, get back to the reporting later?" she moaned hopefully.

Xanir straightened, releasing her with a smile. "Of course not, I told you. Stop getting distracted."

Alanna glared at him, letting out a long hiss of breath, and pulled a hideous face at her tormentor. "Whatever." She took another long breath, composing herself. "The Lords Mika and Faisal borrowed heavily to invest in their new plantations along the coast, but with the three battalions you sent down there actually enforcing the new laws on serf registration and treatment, they cannot maintain those young plantations with cheap, disposable workers from overseas as they had intended, and so will not recoup their outlay for decades, longer."

Xanir sat back, eyes narrowed again as he frowned at his princess, following her suspicions. There was a slight smile on his face at how well she was informed. "Who lent them the funds?"

Alanna's heart jumped as that intelligent, fierce gaze met hers. He was so delicious. Dangerous. She shook her head, shrugging her lack of definite knowledge, although the word Siane echoed silently between their connected gaze.

Xanir looked away, scowling into the darkness, one hand absently stroking over the soft curve of her hip. "Initially I thought this was just a bit of internal unrest, and I don't have any proof otherwise, but - a high proportion of their new serfs were Sianese -- and too healthy to have been indentured long," he mused quietly. "Naturally the death rate was disproportionately slanted towards those who weren't so fit."

Alanna met those intent eyes, nodding quietly, "So replacements were being brought in. More Sianese. Building up numbers." Suddenly she rolled her own. "And here I thought you were being charitable to the wretches, passing that law." Tahlm'ese citizens only became serfs due to criminal activity or when they failed to repay severe debt, and there were laws about the duration of serfdom required to make recompense. Harsh penalties protected them from the worst abuses, but until very recently there had been loopholes that had not protected foreign 'serfs', who in reality had been slaves.

Xanir smiled and brushed a thumb across her lips, "I can have more than one reason for my actions, little maia." Then, looking out at the stars, "Why is Beguine staying within the Zalmat? If invasion is on the cards it would make more sense for him to head south, join the uprising."

"Maybe he is more useful here - he has met three different mercenary captains at taverns in the city in the last two weeks."

Xanir's eyes were suddenly ablaze; he lifted her and turned her to face him, demanding, "Which captains?"

Startled, heart pounding at the easy strength with which he had just moved her around, Alanna reeled off the names on a gasp.

"Why did you not tell me this immediately?"

She froze, quivering under the sudden blast of anger. Xanir sighed in exasperation and pulled her in by the chin to tilt up her face and kiss her, hard. "Alanna. If Beguine is employing that many outlanders -." He broke off abruptly, surging to his feet and hauling her after him towards the door guarded by his friends. He cast a hard glance back her way. "Continue."

Tears lit Alanna's eyes. Dammit. "I thought he was just choosing between them. I didn't think -," she broke off before her voice turned into a whine.

Xanir glanced back again at the downcast face, and sighed, halting. Rough palms cupped her cheeks, tilting up her face for a soft, swift kiss. "I cannot tell you everything in one night. But that piece of information was the most important you have yet given me, and you just dropped it into the conversation as an aside." He scowled in exasperation, already hauling her on.

"How was I supposed to know?" Alanna muttered grumpily at that muscled back. The moonlight skimmed the hard planes, muscles moving seductively under the skin as he towed her along, and she gulped, flushing again.

"You need to tell me everything immediately; you don't yet know all the nuances, princess."

"Then you need to stop distracting me," she groused.

Xanir cast an impish smile over his shoulder, tapped almost silently on the door and swivelled with a warrior's grace to curl behind her and hug her back against his chest. His chin tilted to whisper in her ear. "Patience; I will gag you soon and reward you thoroughly for that titbit."

She shivered, flushing with embarrassment and a crash of lust. The door cracked silently open. Limaq's eyes fell on Alanna's expression and he blinked, shooting an amused, very male look over her head at his Tahl before inclining his head in a silent bow.

"I need a watch set on -." Xanir's breath again tickled her ear, rioting her pulse. "Which taverns? Tell him the captains too."

Alanna had to swallow twice before she managed to whisper her reply, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart swelled, glowing with a different satisfaction as she took part in the short, tactical discussion that followed, hand clenched on Xanir's. Then she froze in shock, a starburst shattering through her when her husband added, "And when I am away, heed my princess's advice and observations on further such matters." His teeth nipped her ear. "My assistant spymaster bride. Discuss everything with Limaq and Zander."

Her mouth opened in silent shock, watching Limaq incline his head gravely, a little smile flitting across his face. She managed to stop gaping when Xanir towed her away from the closing door, head whirling. Then her thoughts evaporated when out of sight of the door and walls her husband pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her with serious intent.

"Mikla, I missed you too, my princess."

*

"What do you think Rebeqa was doing in here?" Xanir asked later.

Alanna's eyes were unfocussed and soft, her breathing erratic while her thoughts slowly resurfaced. Xanir was cross-legged on the carefully nurtured grass under the trees. She was sitting cuddled close on his lap, her arms wrapped around him and his lips brushing gently down the side of her neck. She shivered, whining, "Do we have to talk?"

The smile was back in Xanir's voice. "No kisses for you if you don't talk first," he decreed. "But the better the information you give me, the better placed the kisses. Promise."

Her breath caught, mind flashing back to that long, beautiful afternoon on his terrace when he had kissed her there. Her blood thundered, mind racing. "But we're touching, so playing opposites, yes?" Alanna countered, nuzzling kisses down the strong column of his throat. "Don't kiss me Xanir, don't, please don't!" she pleaded teasingly.

His fingers in her hair eased her head back, and he kissed her lingeringly before looking questioningly down into her face. "Playing? You liked that tortuous pretence?"

Her smile was beautiful, smug and she turned her blushing face into his palm to nibble the pad. "You and me playing a secret game in the teeth of them all? You bet I did. I still fantasize about all the things I didn't get around to begging you not to do."

Heated eyes met hers, and her pulse jumped. The fire in him grew until she felt she was drowning in it. "Tell me," he said.

After a few short breaths she managed to pout, "Only if you promise to enact them without delay."

Xanir ignored her condition, eyes aflame as he whispered, "Do you want to hear my fantasy?"

Alanna gulped, feeling as though her skin was on fire. She wasn't sure she could take this, but he didn't wait for an answer.

"Incognito, I will ambush your caravan home," his hot breath in her ear shot heat through her. "I'll drag you off to my tent in the desert," her breathing was ragged as he traced the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck. "And keep you all to myself. You will never be heard of again," Alanna panted, stared up into his molten gaze, feeling her body shifting needily towards him.

"I'd be on Rigal. You'd never catch me," she managed to croak. Then she licked up the moisture along his stubble-rough throat, hearing him snort in answer while his arms tightened around her. Against his skin she whispered, pulse completely out of control: "Would you keep me in your secret room under the palace and have your wicked way with me whenever you wished?"

He surged against her, caught her face between rough palms and tilted her head up for a fierce kiss. "Every night. But I would smuggle you out sometimes for horse-races or sword-play, sneak you down to the Mikshal Festival so that you could see the fire-dancers and acrobats and I could get you drunk and affectionate on pavé."

She giggled against his lips, sipping softly. "Well, go for it. I could also spy for you during the day, sneaking through the hidden ways to identify any nefarious plotters, help keep you safe."

"You would be sleeping all day to recover from the nights."

Xanir smiled against her lips at her body's unthinking reaction to that promise. Then he sighed, smile turning rueful. "But I could not so dishonour you."

"Yes, you could," she insisted, kissing along his jaw. Her heart was fluttering: Xanir wanted to keep her.

He drew back and smiled down at her a little sadly. "I would not hide you away like a dirty secret."

"But I want you to," she interjected plaintively.

"Not after all you have done for me; you are my partner. And you would not thrive in a box, Alanna."

She looked away, flushing in disappointment, biting her lip. She knew it was only a fantasy: somewhere, somehow the secret would out and bring dishonour and possibly war to both their houses but -- she wanted it. To stay with him, by whatever means. Swallowed.

"I would stay in a box to be with you," she muttered, very low.

Xanir closed his eyes on a long sigh. Slowly he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers, arms around her in a loose embrace. "But I would not put you in one. I would keep you by my side, proud and free. And oh, so beautiful."

They leaned together quietly in the moonlight, each taking comfort from the other.

After a long, peaceful interlude, Alanna tried to lift the mood. "If I were to stand proud and beautiful at your side. Rihanne would suffer an unfortunate accident or be recalled to Siane -- why do you even keep her when you know she's a spy? Scratch that question." She cast him an angry look.

Xanir smiled wryly. "If I could keep you, I'd give her up."

"What, really? All of them?" she demanded.

Xanir squirmed. "Well -- maybe not all. I have some very exotic appetites. I wouldn't want to shock you. Or exhaust you."

Alanna tried to wrench free. Laughing silently, Xanir twisted her under him and plastered himself on top of her, nudging a knee between her thighs to settle, heavily and fully aroused, against her. "You really think you could handle all of me?"

The look she cast him stopped his heart; vulnerable, hurting, and resigned. It was the last that cut off his laughter. "What?" he demanded.

Her eyes left his to look up at the stars. A long swallow, and she began to shiver. Xanir felt a chill against his skin: fear. He, who was afraid of nothing, feared that he had hurt her. No; he knew he had. How?

"I have begun to dread the crash," she whispered.

"Crash?"

"Whenever you leave. My body, my thoughts all burn for you; before you left last time you were summoning me two or three times a day. Then nothing. For days, weeks even, I can't sleep, can't concentrate, can't think of anything except your missing touch -- Limaq and the others had to physically restrain me a couple of times when I went for my attendants on a wave of desperate fury when they insisted on binding my hands."

The look she cast him was beyond fury as she quoted, ""Your pleasure belongs to the Tahl.""

Xanir swallowed and rolled to lie beside her on the grass, staring up at the same stars.

"The fucking Tahl should stop whining about a fortnight's abstinence," was hissed beside him.

Xanir sighed. His mind was seething: he knew it was unreasonable, but he wanted all her pleasure for him; he had delighted in her sleeplessness during their impasse over her apology, knowing that she craved him that much. But he could hardly delight in her need for him, yet cling to the outdated belief that women needed sexual release less than men as an excuse for ensuring she couldn't find that release without him.

"I am torturing you?"

"Yes," she snapped, sitting up to glare down at him.

Xanir looked back gravely, mouth opening and closing, fighting his primal urges to try and force out a promise to revoke the binding at least. Alanna's face suddenly crumpled, amusement, frustration, love, tolerance, all flitting through her slightly sad smile. "Oh, don't kill yourself. I miss you more. Just you. Your arms around me. Talking to you. Can I have a hug at least? I don't want to waste the moments I get with you."

She leaned down and bit him hard on the jaw.

Xanir yanked bank, rolling her underneath him so swiftly her breath was left behind, the dangerous spark darkening his eyes and voice. "I warned you before not to mark me, Princess."

Gasping under his weight, Alanna writhed, protesting on a whisper, "But no-one will see it! You're not here! You're nowhere! You're a ghost!"

The Great Tahl stared at her, plainly weighing her words and irritated that she was correct. Then retaliation flashed in his eyes and an evil smile lit his face. "Right." Xanir yanked her head sideways and bent his mouth to the exposed column of her throat.

Alanna bucked underneath him. "They will see me! You can't mark me, Xanir!" she warned urgently.

Her husband pulled back to glare down at her.

She grinned smugly.

His glare got more forceful.

She brushed her lips over the mark of her teeth, smiling at his irritation. "You have to be very careful not to bruise me. Maybe you should let me take over for tonight, hmm?"

Xanir's eyes changed again; a punch of something deep, charged, before they blanked opaque. Releasing her, he rolled onto his back on the grass beside her again.

Alanna turned her head, wondering, and watched his chest rise on a long, slow inhale. Then fall, equally slowly, while he stared up at the stars, silent.

Tentatively, she reached her fingers to brush them over his lips.

Her husband kissed them, gently. Her heart melted. Infuriating man.

Blood fluttering with the hopeful happiness inside her, Alanna snuggled in carefully along Xanir's side, head resting on his bicep, and felt that arm curl around her back, pulling her in. She began to indulge herself, dancing her fingertips over his face, tracing the muscles and old scars on his chest, pressing kisses to the warm skin.

Xanir sighed again, long. His voice was a thread of sound when it came.

"My father used to say that to me."

Alanna stilled, a palm resting lightly on his pecs, and tilted her face to look up at his profile. Inches away, yet so remote.

"There were always plots, even then, episodes of treachery among the splendour, and growing up I was always aware, always fighting, always ready," Xanir murmured. "But father would kidnap us from our tutors, me and Haman, take us to the desert, or the mountains, sometimes just his rooms with only his personal guards and him, and -- live with us. Just us. Teaching, teasing, testing, playing." Xanir's voice was a hoarse thread, "He was always telling me to relax."

Alanna stroked a thumb over the ridges of his abdomen, moist eyes soft on that beloved profile. She could so easily see in him the little boy growing up under constant threat: vigilant, scared and battle-ready. Always.

Xanir coughed quietly and deepened his voice, tightening his arm around her as he quoted, ""Always watchful, my little fighting-cock. Maybe you should let me take over for tonight?""

Alanna inhaled when abruptly she was on her back again. Xanir rolled on top of her, wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into the join of her neck and shoulder. He fell still.

No sound, no movement, just long, harsh breaths against her neck.

Alanna tilted her head back against the grass, staring up at the stars and began to brush her fingers gently through Xanir's hair. Tears trickled down across her temples. His breath slowly calmed and his thundering heart eased while she watched a cloud drift across the moon, heart aching for the watchful, fighting child grown into a man; still watchful, always suspicious except with the very select few he trusted, with whom he could relax.

After long minutes, Xanir lifted himself and aligned their bodies so he could drop his full weight on her and fasten his lips greedily to hers. Drinking, demanding, tongue entering forcefully, he tilted her head to just the right angle and then stopped, lifting his head to stare down at her.

"Why are you crying?"

Then, before she could answer, his voice changed, laughter threading through it, "Are you crying because I stopped? Your wantonly hot little body can't handle even this short hiatus, so desperately do you miss my kisses?"