His sexy, sated eyes came to mine and his hand moved back up, now trailing our combined wetness through the paint on my skin to come to rest light on my belly.
“Kah quaxi, nahna quaxi,” he whispered and I had no idea what that meant but whatever it was, it was important to him.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“No,” he whispered back and leaned an inch into me, “good.”
I wished he wouldn’t be like this, for instance, great in bed and sometimes so damned sweet.
“Right,” I muttered, “good.”
He grinned at me, bent his head and ran his tongue along my shoulder. Then he settled down on his side but not on me like the last two nights, just beside me. He grabbed my hand, cocked my arm and held it against his chest but that was it.
He was minding the burn.
Shit, shit, he could be sweet.
Damn.
Then again, I reminded myself, I wouldn’t have the burn if it wasn’t for him.
I turned my head to look at him.
“Trahyoo, kah fauna,” he whispered, his hand pressing mine to his chest.
There it was again, kah fauna. His doe. Now I had three. Not knowing what it meant, it felt nice. Knowing what it meant, it felt freaking great.
Damn.
“All right, Lahn,” I whispered back, he tipped his chin back and closed his eyes.
I looked at the ceiling and closed my eyes.
And I decided one of my steps if I woke up here tomorrow was going to be avoiding my king. And I’d keep taking that step until I figured out some way to get myself home.
Because if I didn’t, I knew all would be lost.
*Translation: “No Geoffrey, Circe. The King commands it, you understand?”
**Translation: “You and me. Gold and paint. King and Queen. Tiger and Tigress. Your gold is on my body now. My paint will be on your body tonight, my Circe.”
***Translation: “My paint, your paint.”
****Translation: “Take my paint, Circe, take my cock.”
Chapter Ten
Sunstroke
My body’s uncontrollable shaking woke me and about a second later, it woke Lahn.
“Circe?” he called, getting up on an elbow in the bed and looking down at me, his hand still holding mine at his chest.
Sunstroke. My skin was chill at the same time it was burning, it was tight and it hurt like hell.
I turned my head to look at him and saw his face awash with concern.
My body was shaking so hard the bed was moving with it and I felt shit but neither of those took away from the fact that that look made him more beautiful than ever.
“Sunstroke, baby,” I whispered.
“Sunstroke?” he asked and seriously, feeling crap and needing to explain why was not a good time not to be able to communicate.
I looked to the tent flaps to see weak sun washing through. It was nearly dawn.
Then I looked back at Lahn. “Diandra,” I whispered as the shaking turned to quaking and my teeth started chattering.
He noticed, his brows drew together under narrow eyes and he growled, “Circe.”
I clenched his hand. “Sunstroke, it’s just sunstroke, Lahn. I need water.” He glared at me with no comprehension. “Shit!” I snapped in frustration and the tremors gliding over my skin didn’t feel nice. “Baby, get Diandra for me so she can translate.”
He looked at my body, mumbled something, let my hand go and then instantly jerked the silk sheet out from under me. Then he threw it over me and its coolness felt nice and tortuous at the same time.
He rolled off the bed on the other side and I chattered, “Wah… water,” to him.
He didn’t go to the jugs. He went to the tent flaps, slapped one back and thundered, “Teetru!”
“Lahn! Water, honey, please,” I begged as he walked to the pile of hides, tossed aside the pillows so forcefully they flew across the tent then he seized the top hide and came to me.
I was holding onto the top of the sheet and shaking my head as he stalked to me and carefully draped the hide over my body.
“No, too much weight, too much heat,” I whispered but his head turned to the tent flaps as Teetru stuck her head in and he paid no attention to me.
He barked orders at her, her eyes came to me then she rushed out of the tent she hadn’t fully entered.
Luckily, in his orders I heard Diandra’s husband’s name.
He turned and scowled down at me. I’d moved an arm outside the hide and was trying to shove it off.
“Too heavy, baby, too hot,” I semi-repeated but he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, gently pushed my arm back under the hides and my eyes flew to him. “No, Lahn.”
“Yes, Circe,” he growled.
Okay, I’d give up on that.
I heard the tent flaps open and Jacanda, Beetus and Packa came in, wearing worried looks.
“Water,” I said, tipping my head to the jugs, Jacanda caught it and hurried to the water. “Yes,” I whispered and kept quaking.
Jacanda poured water and rushed to me but didn’t make it. Lahn snatched the cup out of her hand, sat on the bed beside me, wrapped his other hand around the back of my neck, gently lifting me, and put the cup to my lips.
I drank.
Hydration good.
He kept tipping it to my lips until my eyes lifted to his indicating I was done and he took it away, lowering me back to the pillows.
Then he growled something at me and the only word I understood was my name at the end.
“I’ll be okay,” I assured him.
“Not okay,” he fired back and kept scowling.
I bit my lip then I dropped my eyes and realized he was buck naked.
“Lahn,” I said when my eyes returned to his dark ones that were still painted, “put some pants on.”
He started his next sentence with “Lahnahsahna Circe…” but the rest of it I had no clue except it had the exact cadence of me telling him I didn’t understand what he was saying.
I gave him a shaky smile, pulled my arm from under the hides and ran my fingertips up his naked thigh to his also naked hip.
“Pants, hides, you need to put something on,” I said quietly.
He kept scowling then he surged up, stalked to the table, slammed the cup on it then he went to his hides and yanked them on.
Okay, that went better.
The tent flaps opened, Gaal rushed through followed by a small, round woman with lots of dark hair mixed with gray and she was carrying a small trunk. She looked like she’d had fun that night and had been interrupted in sleeping it off. I guessed this because her complexion was gray and she was wearing what I would assume was a Korwahk-style nightshirt, short, off-white gauze, strapless, shapeless, held up over her breasts by a drawstring tied tight at the front.
