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The Light Within Page 2
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Martise danced into his embrace. “For you, it is effortless. You please me just by being.” She squeaked a protest when he nearly broke her ribs in a hard embrace.
She kept her promise to trod on his feet during the dancing, and he kept his, hands dipping and diving under her skirts to stroke her slender thighs when he thought no one watched. He managed not to embarrass his aunt by falling into the bonfire, but he did drink enough arkii that the short walk to their tent at dawn was more a slow stumble.
He couldn’t quite recall if he took Martise that night or if she took him, or if it even mattered. The only thing that mattered was he woke to her wrapped around him, warm and naked beneath their layers of furs and blankets.
The sacred fire burned for two more days with more celebrating, feasting and drinking. Bets were laid as to size of the crop of newborn children each tribe would welcome in nine month’s time. By the morning of the last day, the bonfire had burned down to cooling ash, and Silhara thought he might lose his stomach if he caught so much as a whiff of arkii. His bones ached from the cold and sleeping several nights on hard ground. He missed the ramshackle sanctuary of Neith and the comfortable warmth of Gurn’s kitchen.
Martise didn’t look any better than he felt. She gave him a tired smile. “I miss home.”
Her words sent a rush of heat through Silhara’s veins. He forgot his aches and pains and loaded Gnat so quickly that more than a few tribesmen stopped to inquire about his haste to leave.
Dercima embraced them both before they left, her ever-present pipe clamped between her teeth. She spoke around the pipe stem. “You’ve doomed yourself, you know. They’ll clamor for you each year now, wanting you to make fire horses and hawks and set the torches alight with glowing balls of flame.”
Silhara scowled. He hadn’t considered such repercussions when he unleashed a touch of sorcery into the ritual. “We’ll see,” he said in his dourest voice. He ignored the knowing smiles Dercima exchanged with Martise.
The Kurmans offered him a small torch lit by the sacred fire to carry home to his hearth. Silhara politely refused.
They were halfway home when Martise put to words the question he’d been waiting for her to ask. “Why did you refuse a sacred flame? Don’t you want Damaza’s blessing at Neith?”
She shared the saddle with him once more, riding in front so that she faced him, her legs draped over his thighs, his body acting as shelter for hers. Her eyes burned bright in a face made pale by the cold. Silhara traced the graceful line of her neck with a gloved finger.
“I nearly killed us both trying to throw one god out of Neith, Martise. Why would I invite another one across my threshold after all that effort?”
She tilted her head, puzzled. “Damaza isn’t Corruption. He is a benevolent god to your people.”
“Benevolent or not, I haven’t met one yet who isn’t a boil on the butt of humanity.”
Martise sputtered, caught between laughter and a horrified gasp. “You are the most blasphemous man I’ve ever known.”
Silhara’s free hand wandered over her shoulder to gently cup her breast. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “You would seduce me with flattery?”
She chuckled and placed her hand over his, pressing more firmly against her breast. “Is it working?”
His nostrils flared. He wanted his wife, but in their comfortable bed. He’d have to coax Gnat to move a little faster. Silhara contented himself with planting light kisses across Martise’s chilly face, warming her until a becoming flush suffused her skin. He caught her mouth under his, tugging gently on her lower lip before sweeping his tongue inside to tangle with hers.
They broke apart on shallow breaths. Silhara ran a thumb along the slope of Martise’s jawline. I need no god-fire at Neith to bless my days. You are the blessing of my house, Martise. The light within me.”
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Coming soon in early 2015
RADIANCE
Discover other titles by Grace Draven
Master of Crows
Entreat Me
All the Stars Look Down
The Lightning God’s Wife
Draconus
Wyvern
Arena
Courting Bathsheba
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