The rebels were the key to removing her aunt from power and ending the war, and Zarrah tossed and turned for a long time after they’d said their good nights, frustrated with the knowledge that the key was out of reach. “The commander knows we are here,” Daria told her with confidence. “He will come for us; have faith in that.”
Except all the faith was burned out of her. Too many times she’d passively been a pawn in other people’s plans, and Zarrah had no desire to do it again. She was a worthy ally to the rebels, knowledgeable and well-connected, and her involvement would give them the legitimacy they needed to take on the Empress. She just needed the opportunity to convince them of that.
Which was a challenge, given that she dare not admit her true identity.
As far as these prisoners knew, Zarrah Anaphora was the Empress’s chosen heir, premier blade in the Endless War, and vocal hater of Maridrinians. Trying to convince them otherwise would seem far too much like she was attempting to save her own skin, or worse, that this was all a ruse by the Empress to infiltrate the rebellion.
She finally fell asleep, but just before dawn, the sound of Saam returning from patrol woke her.
More accurately, the sound of him kissing Daria woke her.
There was no privacy in this place. How could there be when the small structures cobbled together with deadfall and nails plucked from supply barrels were shared by all? When wandering outside the glow of the campfires risked an encounter with one of the demons that haunted the prison’s shadows?
There was safety in numbers, in the combined might of the camp, in the defenses that had been erected, so it was no surprise that she’d witness any and all things that people did.
Even lovemaking.
It wasn’t as though Zarrah hadn’t seen people coupling before. All of her adult life had been spent in barracks, and she’d long ago lost track of the number of times she’d seen men and women losing themselves in the arms of paid company, or each other, warding off the strain of a life at war with the pleasures of sex.
Daria’s laughter was soft and amused, and from the corner of her eye, Zarrah saw the rebel leader straddle her lover, hips rocking against him. Their kisses were long and deep, only the crackle of the fire drowning out the sounds that she knew all too well. The sucking. The click of teeth knocking together as passion intensified. The moans of pleasure as well-practiced fingers explored curves and valleys.
Ignore them, she chided herself. Stare at the fire.
Yet for all her admonishments, Zarrah’s eyes drifted to the pair. Watched as Saam drew off Daria’s ragged coat and shirt, exposing her naked torso. His fingers trailed down her back, tracing over scars that appeared to be from a whipping. Had it been done to her when she’d been captured? Zarrah didn’t know and knew better than to ever ask.
The rebel leader whimpered, back arching as she intensified the rocking of her hips, dragging a groan from Saam’s lips. “I need you in me,” Daria whispered.
Saam gave no argument.
Zarrah knew she should look away. Knew that she shouldn’t watch. Except she’d more easily have reversed the sun in the sky than have drawn her eyes away, because it was not Daria and Saam she saw, but herself.
And Keris.
Daria’s words had triggered a memory, and her mind returned to the days they’d spent on the ship traveling south to Nerastis. To their lovemaking.
There’d been a mirror in the cabin. Not cheap polished metal but glass and silver. More than once, she’d watched their reflection, admiring the rich brown of her arms against his skin, like strokes of paint over canvas.
key was out of reach. “The commander knows we are here,” Daria told her with confidence. “He will
“You like to watch, don’t you?” Keris’s lips had abandoned the inside of her thigh, his eyes on the mirror.
Zarrah’s cheeks burned hot. Watching felt forbidden, like something only a harlot in a cathouse would enjoy, not a general, not a woman of the highest birth. “I don’t.”
they needed
Keris’s mouth turned up in a devilish smile. “Liar.”
Catching hold of her wrists, he drew her upward, guiding her until she knelt on the edge of the bed, her back pressed against his chest and her body in full view of the mirror.
Zarrah looked anywhere but at her reflection. Not because she didn’t want to.
But because she did.
“Beautiful.” He nipped at her throat. “I can’t blame you for wanting to admire yourself.”
“I don’t.” She glared at the floor, knowing her whole body was burning hot. Knowing that with the way she was pressed against him, he’d feel it. “You’re being ridiculous, Keris.”
There was no privacy in this place. How could there be when the small structures cobbled together His body shook with silent laughter. “Perhaps.”
with deadfall and nails plucked from supply barrels were shared by all? When wandering outside the
“Go back to what you were doing between my legs,” she told him, counting the patterns woven into the carpet to keep her gaze from drifting. “Then order food. I’m hungry.”
“So demanding,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her throat, between her breasts, over her navel. Stopping just above her sex. “Look, and I’ll do anything you want, for however long you want.”
“All for a look?” She scoffed. “You’re a terrible negotiator, Your Highness.”
He kissed her shoulder, breath leaving lines of fire in its wake. “We both know that’s not true, General.”
She did know it. Knew that he’d find some way to tempt her into giving in, and excitement throbbed through her veins at the anticipation of what he might do. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile; then she closed her eyes.
His breath caught, the hard length of his cock pressing against the small of her back as he leaned into her. A challenge always seemed to entice him more than anything she could do with fingers or tongue, and her body trembled with anticipation.
“I want you to see what I see,” he said into her ear, sending shivers through her body. “I want you Yet for all her admonishments, Zarrah’s eyes drifted to the pair. Watched as Saam drew off Daria’s to worship at your own shrine so that you know what it’s like to be on my knees before you.”
“Words won’t win you this battle,” she breathed, tilting her head back to rest it against his shoulder. “I want you in me.”
“Then look.” His voice was velvet as he closed an arm around her body, hand beneath her breast as he pulled her tight against him. “One look.”
Smiling, Zarrah shook her head, and a second later, his free hand captured her own. He lifted it to her face, guiding her fingers over her cheekbones and brow, tangling them in a lock of her hair before trailing them down her throat and over her collarbone. She quivered as her fingertips moved over the scars on her arms, over the peaks of her breasts, the faint lines on her hips. Keris didn’t touch her once, yet touched her everywhere, showing her what he saw. Showing her what he worshipped.
Desire burned like an inferno between her thighs, the aching need to be filled by him making her want to weep as she shuddered beneath her own touch. “Please, Keris. I need you in me.”