Cyrene blinked, striking Logan with a face full of water. 'Oh, you!' she scolded.
Logan failed to duck the liquid and sent a wave of his own at Cyrene. The girl's blonde hair darkened as the clear water flooded over her. She jumped backwards, half-out of the water.
Logan's eyes locked on her upper torso as it crested the surface, droplets of water running down her bare chest.
The pond seemed to get warmer, and Logan wished the water wasn't so clear.
Cyrene swam around him, and soft, wet arms draped around his neck. Her cheek pressed up against his own, and the feel of flesh on flesh made every nerve in Logan's body spark to life.
'I can never thank you enough,' she whispered into his ear. 'You saved my life.'
Logan lost the use of his tongue as Cyrene pressed up against him, her firm breasts flattening against his back. A long fingernail traced down Logan's neck to his shoulder, applying just enough pressure to leave a faint red line. Then she was gone, and Logan spun around as she stepped out of the water, brushing back her wet hair. The lowering sun gleamed off the liquid that trickled down her slim curves, and she extended a hand. Together, the two went to the grassy knoll, their wet clothes drying upon the rocks around them. Logan's eyes were transfixed on Cyrene's shapely backside as she led him to the hillock, grasping tightly to his hand. When she turned, her lips met his and her hands roamed across his wet body eagerly. Motions as fluid as water brought them down onto the grass, and the raging beasts of Logan's desires broke out of their cages.
An almost godly amount of restraint halted him.
Cyrene looked at him. 'What is it?'
'I-I don't…' Logan stuttered. 'What if you get pregnant?'
The blonde threw back her head and laughed. 'Matthew,' she giggled, 'we're not wed in Agellic's eyes-we can't bear any children.'
The young man raised his eyebrows in question.
'At the ceremony, the priest weaves the spell of bonding between the man and the woman,' Cyrene explained. 'It is that spell that makes the woman fertile. Before that spell is cast, women can't bear children. It's physically impossible.' Her deep blue eyes were aglow with amusement. 'Your world isn't like that?'
Logan shook his head in dumbed fascination. 'No, it isn't-but I wish it was.' Then he asked, 'And you can't get pregnant until after you're married?'
'It's that way for every woman on this world,' the blonde declared. 'And this is one unwed woman who is extremely grateful to you for saving her life.'
Their lips fused once more, and all the soreness was gone from Logan's muscles. His questing hands moved down Cyrene's body, traveling across her sleek hips and firm thighs. Desire overpowered him and his actions became faster, his fingers wanting to be everywhere at once on the gorgeous creature below him. Cyrene's own fingers ran through his black hair, her shapely hips undulating beneath him in her own hunger. Invisible tongues of fire remained everywhere Cyrene touched him, and the girl gasped as Logan's hands explored her beauty. Her shapely legs parted invitingly, and Logan paused a moment, drinking in every detail about the voluptuous blonde sprawled beneath him. Yearningly, Cyrene's fingers closed in about his manhood and directed him toward her moist orifice. Slowly, teas-ingly, his loins aflame, Logan slid into her, gasping for breath.
The fire built as the two gave in to their desires, arms entwined about one another as the rhythm of their hips quickened. Passion Logan thought he was incapable of experiencing burned within his body, and the ecstasy increased as he glided back and then pushed deeper. Cyrene's fingernails raked across his back, her breathing the heavy panting of a wild animal. The fervor heightened until the two shared an explosive release, and their grips slowly eased. Logan withdrew reluctantly from Cyrene's tightness, an arm about her waist. The blonde kissed him once, silently, and sighed as she lay back onto the blanket of grass.
Logan's passion gradually diminished and weariness set in. The harsh days of riding, the narrow escapes from the upheaval, all descended upon the young man until even his sexual drive was quenched.
Holding the slender blonde to him, Logan felt sleep challenge him, and he succumbed.
A gargling rasp pulled Logan out of his deep sleep, and he raised his head with a weary groan. Cyrene still lay beside him, beautiful in sleep, her bare breasts rising and falling as she breathed. The urges of the night before refilled his mind as he stared at the blonde's luscious frame highlighted by the midmorning rays of the sun. Suddenly, the hideous death rattle sounded again, and Logan snapped up and around.
Immediately, the young man looked to find any red and silver, thinking what he saw was a dream, and yet, nothing even glinted with the familiar colors. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Logan stared at the line of figures blocking the knoll. Cyrene stirred beside him and also saw the row of forms confronting them.
Reakmor Farkarrez took a step toward them, his severed flesh rasping as air passed through his windpipe. 'How quaint,' he mocked, his voice distorted by his slit throat. 'Matthew Logan has found a slut.'
Instant fury boiled away the fear and wonderment, and Logan made a threatening move. He realized, then, that he was naked and unarmed, his sword, staff, and dagger lying off to one side beside the talisman and Jewel.
'You…!' Cyrene gasped, sitting rigid. 'You're dead!'
Farkarrez grinned, and the effect was hideous: His mouth and slit throat gave his lean features two smiles. 'Oh, yes, I am,' he answered, 'and so are all my men.' He marched arrogantly toward the couple, glaring down at them with eyes unable to reflect emotion. 'And soon, so shall you.'
•10• Capture
Logan made a frantic dive for his weapons. His fingers were inches away from his sword when a cold hand clamped around his wrist and held him back. He glanced up to see the skeletal thief smiling down at him, its bony hand locked around his in a grotesque embrace. Although he strained against the skeleton's grasp, the young man could not break free. The creature had no muscles, and yet was denying him his blade.
Farkarrez took another confident step forward. 'It is hopeless,' he gargled. 'You now belong to us.'
Cyrene rose into a crouch, her blue eyes flaming angrily. 'You bastard,' she seethed. 'I killed you once-I'll kill you again.'
The dead Reakmor smiled down at her with his chipped teeth. 'You'll find that quite difficult to do, my dear,'' he stated, 'since you yourself realized I am already dead.' His pale, yellowish hand stroked Cyrene's blonde hair. 'But it is good to know you are as fiery as ever.'
In rage and revulsion, Cyrene went to jerk her head away when dead fingers suddenly snared her hair. She let out a startled gasp as Farkarrez pulled her to him, holding her by her yellow mane. 'I suggest you give in,' the Reakmor advised Logan, 'or I shall do to her what she did to me.'
The sight of Farkarrez's living corpse holding Cyrene prisoner sapped the rebellion from Logan. The girl appeared so helpless, so beautiful, so fragile; Logan could not imagine bringing harm to her.
Drained of his defiance, Logan pulled away from his weapons.
Farkarrez grinned, stroking Cyrene's bare shoulder with his free hand. 'Good,' he rasped. He turned his deadened eyes on the blonde, and Logan thought he saw lust flare in those emotionless pupils. 'It is a pity,' the Reakmor sighed with his hideous death rattle. 'You are as attractive as I suspected.' His green-yellow hand cupped a naked breast. 'How unfortunate that, in this state, I may not enjoy you properly. But I shall find a way.'
The cold, bloodless fingers on her chest sent a million icicles of terror and disgust through the blonde as she tried to rip her hair out of the dead Reakmor's grip. Roughly, he snapped her head back, bringing tears to her deep blue eyes.
'Do not struggle,' he growled, and his severed flesh flapped obscenely, 'or I may become very upset with you.'
Logan yanked his wrist away from the skeleton grinning over him and pointed an angry finger at Farkarrez. 'You leave her alone, goddamn it!' he commanded.
The eyebrows above the dead eyes arched upward. 'Is that a nice thing to say?' the Reakmor mocked. 'You certainly haven't been leaving her alone.'
