Chapter seventeen: Warmth
80 words to go!
(oh, and I promise that this steamy love scene won't end with a nasty surprise that replaces the Sexy with Creepy in a flash. Honestly it won't. You trust me, don't you? :D )
Chapter seventeen
They left the restaurant arm in arm, much as they had entered. Something was different now, though. Different in the way she was leaning slightly against Rinabaar, just close enough to feel his solid presence there. Different in the way their hips touched together every couple of steps. Different in how her heart was pounding.
Things had, somehow, someway, gone well. They had talked throughout the meal, and she had told him things she hadn't thought about in years. About her childhood. About how her mother had had something of her gift for awareness. About school - about the joy she had felt in learning, mingled with the pain of driving people away more the older she got. About her triumphs, the cases she had solved, so many cases, until she had enough of a reputation that she was allowed to close herself away from the world. She had told him, and while telling him, she had seen her own life all over again. At some points, it had even seemed to make sense.
They had talked about simpler things, too. About food. About the opera. About which Nobles had good policies, and which ones were clearly fools. About people they had met, and stories they had heard.
She wasn't sure that she had been charming - in fact, she was pretty sure she hadn't been. She wasn't sure that she had been interesting. But somehow, she had actually gotten through it, and it hadn't been a disaster. Dara of Sablecrest Manor, caste of Mystics, could actually go on a date and not have it be a complete disaster. Now there was a surprising fact to learn.
But it did raise the question of, now what?
They got into her carriage. Dara sat down in the plush seat, regretting that it was too wide for them to have to sit very close to one another. She managed to distract herself momentarily by giving the gargoyle horses their orders, but once they started moving she had to think again.
She felt like she could feel the potion she had taken running through her blood stream, taunting her with its existence, with the reason why she had drunk it. Just to be safe, she had told herself. Just in case. No harm in being prepared for anything. Except it turned out that when you were prepared, it seemed like such a waste to not do anything.
But that was stupid. Surely. This had gone much better than she had thought. There was no sense in ruining it by overreaching. She should count her blessings, accept this as a victory, continue spending time with Rinabaar and see what that might lead to at some point in the future.
Of course, according to Jalon, they just might not have any future...
Rinabaar rubbed his arms.
"The chill is growing more fierce," he said. "It's odd, at this time of year..."
Funny that you should mention it, because I happen to have some ideas for how we might keep warm... No!
"I think it might be another effect of the whole doomsday thing," Dara said. "Apparently one thing that happens when we get closer to... whatever is going to go down is that 'the dark grows cold.' It's not as dramatic as a rain of blood, but it'll become even more of a bother if it keeps up."
Rinabaar looked out the window.
"I suppose I have always known that it could all disappear in a flash," he said. "You can't be a Soldier and not be keenly aware of what a fragile thing a Demesne is, and how terrible the forces arrayed against us are. But it is sobering to know that it might be so close."
You know, if this is actually our last night on Earth, don't you think we should... NO!
She pinched the bridge of her nose. God, what was wrong with her? Did she just love to make herself miserable? Most of this stupid fretting was probably just caused by having taken that potion and feeling like it would make her pathetic if she didn't do anything about it. Did she even actually want anything to happen?
She paused and examined her mental - and physical - state. Her mind was a red-hot thing where surprisingly intense thoughts and images kept flashing through. Her skin felt like it was on fire, every inch of it begging to be touched. Her sparse dress was a solid sheathe of agony surrounding her, her entire body demanding to be free of it and pressed up against Rinabaar. Yes. Yes, she really, really wanted something to happen.
But it's not going to, she told herself. Not tonight. So you're going to be a grownup about this. You're going to accept that when dealing with real people instead of gargoyles, you don't get everything the moment you want it. You're going to be centered and focused and at peace, just like you apparently need to be to save the Demesne.
"Well, if it is," she said, smiling wearily, "I'm glad that we had this evening. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed anything this much - definitely not anything that involved dealing with other people. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure." Rinabaar slowly leaned over to her. He moved slowly and deliberately, and kept his eyes carefully on her face, as if watching for something there. A half-formed thought shot through Dara's head - oh God oh God I think he's going to - and then he was kissing her.
It was a slow, gentle kiss, just the firm press of his lips against hers. She felt his beard tickle her face, felt the tip of his tongue lightly touching her closed lips. He put his hand on her cheek, large and warm and calloused.
After a moment, he pulled back again, still watching her intently. Dara realised that he was looking for signs of what she was feeling, of what she wanted.
"Don't stop," she said, not wanting to leave it to chance. "More. I want more."
Rinabaar smiled and moved closer on the seat, putting his arms around her. Dara felt dizzy. His arms were as stony as a gargoyle's, but they yielded softly whenever she moved against them; he was so strong, but he was touching her so gently. He kissed her again, and she kissed back, with a desperate lack of experience but with great reserves of enthusiasm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his broad chest. He smelled of fine cologne, of starched uniform jackets, and with a faint, pleasantly musky scent beneath it.
It wasn't neat or comfortable. There was a tangle of arms and legs and spine-hurting contortions as they clumsily tried to adjust to each other's increasingly frantic embraces and caresses. Dara was beyond caring, though. If the door had opened and they had fallen out onto the frozen street, she didn't think that would have made her pause for a moment.
With a growl, she fumbled with the straps of her dress, managing through some miracle to pull it down to her waist without tearing it.
"You like them, huh?" she said, short on breath. "Well, here they are."
Rinabaar's warm, strong hands closed around her breasts, his calloused thumbs rubbing her stiff nipples. She felt a sting of fear mixed in with the whirlwind of lust that was filling her mind - those parts of her were so soft and sensitive, and Rinabaar could hurt her so easily with those big, powerful hands. But of course he didn't. In fact, part of her mind was screaming for him to be much, much rougher, as if pain and pleasure had lost all distinction and she was just aching for sensation.
She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as they kept kissing, trying to resist the urge to just tear them off - some lingering sanity told her that he would probably find it very embarrassing to turn up at the garrison with his uniform in tatters.
"We will arrive at the garrison before long," he said. His voice was steady, but his breathing was as heavy as hers. "People will wonder if we do not step out."
"Shit. Yes. Wait." Dara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate. With far more effort than it should have taken, she told the gargoyle horses to circle around the block for now. "All right, now we have time. Get naked."
"Yes, ma'am!" Rinabaar said, as if she had been a superior officer. He got up - he wasn't capable of standing straight inside the carriage, and so ended up in a sort of stooped crouch - and quickly began removing his uniform, piece by piece.
Dara's already half-removed dress was much easier to be rid of - she just pulled it down from her waist and kicked it away. She was dimly aware that the air was very cold, but right now she seemed to be burning like a furnace, and no cold in the world could bother her. It was more troublesome that the pause gave her a chance to think, and therefore to second-guess herself.
Are we really doing this? she thought. Is this right? Is this smart? Will I regret this?
Then they passed a streetlight, and she got a glimpse of Rinabaar's nude form. He looked like a young god. His whole body was swelling with powerful muscles, each of them honed to merciless perfection in the Demesne's service. The vision of supreme manhood was offset by the fact that he was hairless as a child beneath the neck - it took Dara a moment to realise that he had to wax every inch of his body, that he would no more allow hair to grow wild on his skin than he would allow his uniform bottons to go unpolished.
She could also say with certainty, now, that every single part of Rinabaar was as impressively well-developed.
Hell with it, she thought. What's the point of having the end of the world as we know it if you can't do something stupid and rash just because you want to?
She lay down on on the seat. It was a little too short to really spread out on, and it would be even worse for Rinabaar, but needs must. She lifted her hand and beckoned for Rinabaar to join her in what she hoped was a seductive way.
He slowly, carefully lay down on top of her, arranging his body after hers. His skin was rough and wonderfully warm, and the muscles beneath it were... she wanted to say like living stone, but she knew all about living stone, and it was never as complex as this, as yielding and changing even when it was locked tight, as filled with potential. He propped himself up on his arms, taking most of the weight of his torso off of her - if he hadn't, she realised, the press of his body would have all but crushed her.
Rinabaar began kissing her again, and she kissed back while straining up from the seat, wanting to rub her entire naked body against his. She reached down, fumbling, and closed her hand around that strange, interesting thing between his legs. It was as hard as the rest of him, and she could feel his quickened pulse in it. She squeezed it, a bit nervously - she wasn't sure how much force you could apply on this part of a guy before you hurt him - and Rinabaar groaned with obvious pleasure. Encouraged, she began to rub and caress it. The thought crossed her mind that she had Rinabaar's full attention in her hand now, and made her want to giggle hysterically.
Before long, she found that she wanted more - had to have more, or she thought her brain might just disintegrate from pure, overheated desire. She put her hands on Rinabaar's slender hips and spread her legs as far as she could given her somewhat awkward perch on the seat. She wondered if she was supposed to say something. She wasn't any good at etiquette at the best of times, and if there was a socially acceptable way of telling your male companion that you wanted him to stick it to you right the hell now, she had never heard of it.
Rinabaar seemed to get the idea anyway. He shifted his weight to rest mostly on one of his elbows, and placed the other between her legs, She shuddered as she felt one of his fingers enter her, just up to the first digit. He gave her a careful look.
"Yes?" he mumbled.
She nodded quickly. Yes, yes, damn it, YES.
He adjusted himself down there, and then slowly pushed forward, entering her inch by inch until their hips were firmly pressed together. Dara gave off an inadvertent sound, less of pain than of shock. She was as ready as a woman could be, but he was nevertheless very large, filling her so completely that it almost hurt.
He began moving, gently, carefully, sliding back and forth through her. At first, she couldn't move, but just lay there and tried to get her mind to accept that this was happening. Two days ago, she had been talking to Rinabaar about a case, pleasantly though uncomfortably aware of how good he looked in his uniform. Now the uniform was gone, it turned out that he looked very good without it too, they were pressed up against each other and he was inside of her. Her life was really moving disturbingly quickly at the moment, though this aspect of it had the benefit of feeling good. Really good. Amazingly good.
Rinabaar grew more confident as he went along - Dara realised that he was testing his way, learning how far he could go and how much force he could use without causing her pain. Dara found it easier to relax, as well, once she began to accept that it wasn't suddenly going to start hurting, and soon she was clumsily pumping her hips against his, trying to match his thrusts. She began to feel the strain in the muscles of her stomach and thighs - the unfamiliar exertion was taking its toll - but she couldn't have stopped if she had wanted to. Her body was in the full throes of mating frenzy, and her mind was just along for the ride.
She flung her arms around Rinabaar, enjoying how hard and strong his back was, how solid his chest was. His face was close to hers, and his expression wasn't carefully neutral as it usually was - it was naked with exhaustion and desire, and his warm brown eyes were wide and vulnerable as they looked into hers. He was strong, he was good to her, and he was right here with her, and that made her feel something that was deeper than lust but far more primal than love.
Their movements grew more frantic, and a feeling like light began to grow between Dara's legs. She had time to think oh oh I'm going to before it erupted, sending thrills of pleasure throughout her whole body, all the way out into the tips of her toes. She screamed a long string of unladylike words and dug her nails into Rinabaar's back so hard that her fingers went numb.
Rinabaar wasn't far behind - mere seconds later, he shuddered and she felt... something... happen down there before he slowly relaxed. For a moment, he lay over her, panting, though still carefully supporting his weight on his elbows. Then he carefully rolled, taking her with him, so that they lay side by side on the seat, with Dara pressed against the back of it.
For a while, there was no sound but the hoof beats and the rumble of the carriage's wheels.
"May I ask something that is quite private?" Rinabaar said quietly.
"Not sure I have all that much privacy left to hold on to..." Dara mumbled.
"Was this your first time?"
Dara grimaced.
"Not exactly," she said. "But near enough." She sighed. "There was once or twice, back in school. Before I had finished driving everyone away. Before I had finished deciding that I was happier the less I had to do with other people." She shrugged with her one free shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasn't any good at it."
"It was wonderful," Rinabaar assured her. He kissed her. "You are wonderful."
Awkwardly, Dara snuggled closer to him. She felt oddly shy now that the berserker lust had passed, wondering just what she was doing with her clothes off in company. In another way, though, it felt almost natural. Why should you wear clothes together with someone who you wanted to be as close to as humanly possible, anyway?
"Much as I want to see if I might get better with lots and lots of practice," she mumbled, "I think we should get you back to the garrison." She tried to look over the formidable wall formed by Rinabaar's broad shoulders. "Also, did you happen to see where my dress went?"
***
After much rummaging around for articles of clothing and some awkward maneuvers to put it all back on within a cramped, bumpy space, they were both decent again by the time they got to the garrison. Given how things seemed to work lately, Dara was unnervingly sure that anyone who took a look at her would know exactly what she had done. Angrily, she resolved not to care. It was a free Demesne, and she could despoil handsome Majors if she wanted to!
A woman came running towards them as they walked towards the garrison entrance, her long, white garment flowing around her. Dara recognised Aseena's Priest friend, Kim.
"He took them!" the Priest gasped when she came closer. "You have to do something! I told people here, but they just said that the demons are advancing on the city and that they have their hands full!"
"What? Who?" Dara said. She felt a chill which was more than the freezing cold that was descending over the city.
"Mansuur." Kim squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead, trying to steady herself. "It was Mansuur. He showed up with some other people. They took Aseena and Jalon." She gave Dara a haunted look. "I couldn't stop him! He threatened the children!"
"Oh, shit." Dara felt oddly detached from the whole thing - the full weight of it hadn't crashed down on her yet. All she could think was that this was just typical. You took a tiny break, and while your back was turned your work just piled up...
"We will get them back, ma'am," Rinabaar said. "I'll get a squad together."
"Make it two," Dara said. "Mansuur's goons aren't that good at fighting, but there are a lot of them."
Rinabaar nodded and headed into the garrison at a brisk run.
"We will get them back," Dara told Kim, helpless to think of anything else to say.
Her mind was starting to move, processing the situation. The first thing that came to mind was that this was strange. Mansuur had taken the time to go out and kidnap Jalon. He had also taken pains to keep Jalon ignorant but unharmed - collapsing a street to keep Aseena from him but leaving the part that Jalon had stood on intact, refraining from tearing down all of Sablecrest Manor over Jalon and Dara when he had the chance, even though it meant leaving the only possible threat to his plans alive.
What makes Jalon so important? Dara thought. He is part of the Unhallowed Sixty-Six, sure, but so are plenty of other people. What makes him so special to Mansuur?
"There is something else," Kim said. "Jalon whispered something in my ear before Mansuur dragged him out of Lordshaven Hall. A message for you."
"Yes?" Dara said.
"He said you have to ask the question that everyone should have been asking right from the start," Kim said.
"Meaning what?" Dara said.
Kim shrugged morosely.
"I doubt he knew himself. But he made it sound like it was the most important thing in the world."
Dara nodded silently. She felt cold. She felt numb.
Fine, then, she thought. Back to work.
(oh, and I promise that this steamy love scene won't end with a nasty surprise that replaces the Sexy with Creepy in a flash. Honestly it won't. You trust me, don't you? :D )
Chapter seventeen
They left the restaurant arm in arm, much as they had entered. Something was different now, though. Different in the way she was leaning slightly against Rinabaar, just close enough to feel his solid presence there. Different in the way their hips touched together every couple of steps. Different in how her heart was pounding.
Things had, somehow, someway, gone well. They had talked throughout the meal, and she had told him things she hadn't thought about in years. About her childhood. About how her mother had had something of her gift for awareness. About school - about the joy she had felt in learning, mingled with the pain of driving people away more the older she got. About her triumphs, the cases she had solved, so many cases, until she had enough of a reputation that she was allowed to close herself away from the world. She had told him, and while telling him, she had seen her own life all over again. At some points, it had even seemed to make sense.
They had talked about simpler things, too. About food. About the opera. About which Nobles had good policies, and which ones were clearly fools. About people they had met, and stories they had heard.
She wasn't sure that she had been charming - in fact, she was pretty sure she hadn't been. She wasn't sure that she had been interesting. But somehow, she had actually gotten through it, and it hadn't been a disaster. Dara of Sablecrest Manor, caste of Mystics, could actually go on a date and not have it be a complete disaster. Now there was a surprising fact to learn.
But it did raise the question of, now what?
They got into her carriage. Dara sat down in the plush seat, regretting that it was too wide for them to have to sit very close to one another. She managed to distract herself momentarily by giving the gargoyle horses their orders, but once they started moving she had to think again.
She felt like she could feel the potion she had taken running through her blood stream, taunting her with its existence, with the reason why she had drunk it. Just to be safe, she had told herself. Just in case. No harm in being prepared for anything. Except it turned out that when you were prepared, it seemed like such a waste to not do anything.
But that was stupid. Surely. This had gone much better than she had thought. There was no sense in ruining it by overreaching. She should count her blessings, accept this as a victory, continue spending time with Rinabaar and see what that might lead to at some point in the future.
Of course, according to Jalon, they just might not have any future...
Rinabaar rubbed his arms.
"The chill is growing more fierce," he said. "It's odd, at this time of year..."
Funny that you should mention it, because I happen to have some ideas for how we might keep warm... No!
"I think it might be another effect of the whole doomsday thing," Dara said. "Apparently one thing that happens when we get closer to... whatever is going to go down is that 'the dark grows cold.' It's not as dramatic as a rain of blood, but it'll become even more of a bother if it keeps up."
Rinabaar looked out the window.
"I suppose I have always known that it could all disappear in a flash," he said. "You can't be a Soldier and not be keenly aware of what a fragile thing a Demesne is, and how terrible the forces arrayed against us are. But it is sobering to know that it might be so close."
You know, if this is actually our last night on Earth, don't you think we should... NO!
She pinched the bridge of her nose. God, what was wrong with her? Did she just love to make herself miserable? Most of this stupid fretting was probably just caused by having taken that potion and feeling like it would make her pathetic if she didn't do anything about it. Did she even actually want anything to happen?
She paused and examined her mental - and physical - state. Her mind was a red-hot thing where surprisingly intense thoughts and images kept flashing through. Her skin felt like it was on fire, every inch of it begging to be touched. Her sparse dress was a solid sheathe of agony surrounding her, her entire body demanding to be free of it and pressed up against Rinabaar. Yes. Yes, she really, really wanted something to happen.
But it's not going to, she told herself. Not tonight. So you're going to be a grownup about this. You're going to accept that when dealing with real people instead of gargoyles, you don't get everything the moment you want it. You're going to be centered and focused and at peace, just like you apparently need to be to save the Demesne.
"Well, if it is," she said, smiling wearily, "I'm glad that we had this evening. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed anything this much - definitely not anything that involved dealing with other people. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure." Rinabaar slowly leaned over to her. He moved slowly and deliberately, and kept his eyes carefully on her face, as if watching for something there. A half-formed thought shot through Dara's head - oh God oh God I think he's going to - and then he was kissing her.
It was a slow, gentle kiss, just the firm press of his lips against hers. She felt his beard tickle her face, felt the tip of his tongue lightly touching her closed lips. He put his hand on her cheek, large and warm and calloused.
After a moment, he pulled back again, still watching her intently. Dara realised that he was looking for signs of what she was feeling, of what she wanted.
"Don't stop," she said, not wanting to leave it to chance. "More. I want more."
Rinabaar smiled and moved closer on the seat, putting his arms around her. Dara felt dizzy. His arms were as stony as a gargoyle's, but they yielded softly whenever she moved against them; he was so strong, but he was touching her so gently. He kissed her again, and she kissed back, with a desperate lack of experience but with great reserves of enthusiasm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his broad chest. He smelled of fine cologne, of starched uniform jackets, and with a faint, pleasantly musky scent beneath it.
It wasn't neat or comfortable. There was a tangle of arms and legs and spine-hurting contortions as they clumsily tried to adjust to each other's increasingly frantic embraces and caresses. Dara was beyond caring, though. If the door had opened and they had fallen out onto the frozen street, she didn't think that would have made her pause for a moment.
With a growl, she fumbled with the straps of her dress, managing through some miracle to pull it down to her waist without tearing it.
"You like them, huh?" she said, short on breath. "Well, here they are."
Rinabaar's warm, strong hands closed around her breasts, his calloused thumbs rubbing her stiff nipples. She felt a sting of fear mixed in with the whirlwind of lust that was filling her mind - those parts of her were so soft and sensitive, and Rinabaar could hurt her so easily with those big, powerful hands. But of course he didn't. In fact, part of her mind was screaming for him to be much, much rougher, as if pain and pleasure had lost all distinction and she was just aching for sensation.
She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as they kept kissing, trying to resist the urge to just tear them off - some lingering sanity told her that he would probably find it very embarrassing to turn up at the garrison with his uniform in tatters.
"We will arrive at the garrison before long," he said. His voice was steady, but his breathing was as heavy as hers. "People will wonder if we do not step out."
"Shit. Yes. Wait." Dara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate. With far more effort than it should have taken, she told the gargoyle horses to circle around the block for now. "All right, now we have time. Get naked."
"Yes, ma'am!" Rinabaar said, as if she had been a superior officer. He got up - he wasn't capable of standing straight inside the carriage, and so ended up in a sort of stooped crouch - and quickly began removing his uniform, piece by piece.
Dara's already half-removed dress was much easier to be rid of - she just pulled it down from her waist and kicked it away. She was dimly aware that the air was very cold, but right now she seemed to be burning like a furnace, and no cold in the world could bother her. It was more troublesome that the pause gave her a chance to think, and therefore to second-guess herself.
Are we really doing this? she thought. Is this right? Is this smart? Will I regret this?
Then they passed a streetlight, and she got a glimpse of Rinabaar's nude form. He looked like a young god. His whole body was swelling with powerful muscles, each of them honed to merciless perfection in the Demesne's service. The vision of supreme manhood was offset by the fact that he was hairless as a child beneath the neck - it took Dara a moment to realise that he had to wax every inch of his body, that he would no more allow hair to grow wild on his skin than he would allow his uniform bottons to go unpolished.
She could also say with certainty, now, that every single part of Rinabaar was as impressively well-developed.
Hell with it, she thought. What's the point of having the end of the world as we know it if you can't do something stupid and rash just because you want to?
She lay down on on the seat. It was a little too short to really spread out on, and it would be even worse for Rinabaar, but needs must. She lifted her hand and beckoned for Rinabaar to join her in what she hoped was a seductive way.
He slowly, carefully lay down on top of her, arranging his body after hers. His skin was rough and wonderfully warm, and the muscles beneath it were... she wanted to say like living stone, but she knew all about living stone, and it was never as complex as this, as yielding and changing even when it was locked tight, as filled with potential. He propped himself up on his arms, taking most of the weight of his torso off of her - if he hadn't, she realised, the press of his body would have all but crushed her.
Rinabaar began kissing her again, and she kissed back while straining up from the seat, wanting to rub her entire naked body against his. She reached down, fumbling, and closed her hand around that strange, interesting thing between his legs. It was as hard as the rest of him, and she could feel his quickened pulse in it. She squeezed it, a bit nervously - she wasn't sure how much force you could apply on this part of a guy before you hurt him - and Rinabaar groaned with obvious pleasure. Encouraged, she began to rub and caress it. The thought crossed her mind that she had Rinabaar's full attention in her hand now, and made her want to giggle hysterically.
Before long, she found that she wanted more - had to have more, or she thought her brain might just disintegrate from pure, overheated desire. She put her hands on Rinabaar's slender hips and spread her legs as far as she could given her somewhat awkward perch on the seat. She wondered if she was supposed to say something. She wasn't any good at etiquette at the best of times, and if there was a socially acceptable way of telling your male companion that you wanted him to stick it to you right the hell now, she had never heard of it.
Rinabaar seemed to get the idea anyway. He shifted his weight to rest mostly on one of his elbows, and placed the other between her legs, She shuddered as she felt one of his fingers enter her, just up to the first digit. He gave her a careful look.
"Yes?" he mumbled.
She nodded quickly. Yes, yes, damn it, YES.
He adjusted himself down there, and then slowly pushed forward, entering her inch by inch until their hips were firmly pressed together. Dara gave off an inadvertent sound, less of pain than of shock. She was as ready as a woman could be, but he was nevertheless very large, filling her so completely that it almost hurt.
He began moving, gently, carefully, sliding back and forth through her. At first, she couldn't move, but just lay there and tried to get her mind to accept that this was happening. Two days ago, she had been talking to Rinabaar about a case, pleasantly though uncomfortably aware of how good he looked in his uniform. Now the uniform was gone, it turned out that he looked very good without it too, they were pressed up against each other and he was inside of her. Her life was really moving disturbingly quickly at the moment, though this aspect of it had the benefit of feeling good. Really good. Amazingly good.
Rinabaar grew more confident as he went along - Dara realised that he was testing his way, learning how far he could go and how much force he could use without causing her pain. Dara found it easier to relax, as well, once she began to accept that it wasn't suddenly going to start hurting, and soon she was clumsily pumping her hips against his, trying to match his thrusts. She began to feel the strain in the muscles of her stomach and thighs - the unfamiliar exertion was taking its toll - but she couldn't have stopped if she had wanted to. Her body was in the full throes of mating frenzy, and her mind was just along for the ride.
She flung her arms around Rinabaar, enjoying how hard and strong his back was, how solid his chest was. His face was close to hers, and his expression wasn't carefully neutral as it usually was - it was naked with exhaustion and desire, and his warm brown eyes were wide and vulnerable as they looked into hers. He was strong, he was good to her, and he was right here with her, and that made her feel something that was deeper than lust but far more primal than love.
Their movements grew more frantic, and a feeling like light began to grow between Dara's legs. She had time to think oh oh I'm going to before it erupted, sending thrills of pleasure throughout her whole body, all the way out into the tips of her toes. She screamed a long string of unladylike words and dug her nails into Rinabaar's back so hard that her fingers went numb.
Rinabaar wasn't far behind - mere seconds later, he shuddered and she felt... something... happen down there before he slowly relaxed. For a moment, he lay over her, panting, though still carefully supporting his weight on his elbows. Then he carefully rolled, taking her with him, so that they lay side by side on the seat, with Dara pressed against the back of it.
For a while, there was no sound but the hoof beats and the rumble of the carriage's wheels.
"May I ask something that is quite private?" Rinabaar said quietly.
"Not sure I have all that much privacy left to hold on to..." Dara mumbled.
"Was this your first time?"
Dara grimaced.
"Not exactly," she said. "But near enough." She sighed. "There was once or twice, back in school. Before I had finished driving everyone away. Before I had finished deciding that I was happier the less I had to do with other people." She shrugged with her one free shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasn't any good at it."
"It was wonderful," Rinabaar assured her. He kissed her. "You are wonderful."
Awkwardly, Dara snuggled closer to him. She felt oddly shy now that the berserker lust had passed, wondering just what she was doing with her clothes off in company. In another way, though, it felt almost natural. Why should you wear clothes together with someone who you wanted to be as close to as humanly possible, anyway?
"Much as I want to see if I might get better with lots and lots of practice," she mumbled, "I think we should get you back to the garrison." She tried to look over the formidable wall formed by Rinabaar's broad shoulders. "Also, did you happen to see where my dress went?"
***
After much rummaging around for articles of clothing and some awkward maneuvers to put it all back on within a cramped, bumpy space, they were both decent again by the time they got to the garrison. Given how things seemed to work lately, Dara was unnervingly sure that anyone who took a look at her would know exactly what she had done. Angrily, she resolved not to care. It was a free Demesne, and she could despoil handsome Majors if she wanted to!
A woman came running towards them as they walked towards the garrison entrance, her long, white garment flowing around her. Dara recognised Aseena's Priest friend, Kim.
"He took them!" the Priest gasped when she came closer. "You have to do something! I told people here, but they just said that the demons are advancing on the city and that they have their hands full!"
"What? Who?" Dara said. She felt a chill which was more than the freezing cold that was descending over the city.
"Mansuur." Kim squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead, trying to steady herself. "It was Mansuur. He showed up with some other people. They took Aseena and Jalon." She gave Dara a haunted look. "I couldn't stop him! He threatened the children!"
"Oh, shit." Dara felt oddly detached from the whole thing - the full weight of it hadn't crashed down on her yet. All she could think was that this was just typical. You took a tiny break, and while your back was turned your work just piled up...
"We will get them back, ma'am," Rinabaar said. "I'll get a squad together."
"Make it two," Dara said. "Mansuur's goons aren't that good at fighting, but there are a lot of them."
Rinabaar nodded and headed into the garrison at a brisk run.
"We will get them back," Dara told Kim, helpless to think of anything else to say.
Her mind was starting to move, processing the situation. The first thing that came to mind was that this was strange. Mansuur had taken the time to go out and kidnap Jalon. He had also taken pains to keep Jalon ignorant but unharmed - collapsing a street to keep Aseena from him but leaving the part that Jalon had stood on intact, refraining from tearing down all of Sablecrest Manor over Jalon and Dara when he had the chance, even though it meant leaving the only possible threat to his plans alive.
What makes Jalon so important? Dara thought. He is part of the Unhallowed Sixty-Six, sure, but so are plenty of other people. What makes him so special to Mansuur?
"There is something else," Kim said. "Jalon whispered something in my ear before Mansuur dragged him out of Lordshaven Hall. A message for you."
"Yes?" Dara said.
"He said you have to ask the question that everyone should have been asking right from the start," Kim said.
"Meaning what?" Dara said.
Kim shrugged morosely.
"I doubt he knew himself. But he made it sound like it was the most important thing in the world."
Dara nodded silently. She felt cold. She felt numb.
Fine, then, she thought. Back to work.