Amyu sighed, and relaxed against him, seemingly going to sleep. But Joden’s thoughts raced like a herd of horses.
What had Xyson said? ‘A Seer, newly come into your power’ Joden frowned, staring up at the stone ceiling above him. What was a seer? There was no mention of that in the songs that he knew, the stories that he’d heard all of his life. Warrior-priests, certainly, but not by that title. But Xyson had said something more. ‘No control, no understanding.’
No understanding, that was a truth. But control? He could control it?
How?
Joden drew a deep breath, but let it out slowly, not willing to disturb Amyu’s sleep. There were no teachers, no tales to aid him in this. He’d have to enter the sparring circle with the visions, trying to command them as they came. Or maybe figure out how and when they came and see if he could create them—
He rolled his eyes. Might as well try to bridle a galloping horse, and the rest of the herd while he was at it.
Joden narrowed his eyes at the stone above him. Best to go to the source. He should go down into the crypts, confront Xyson and ask his questions. The only way to get to the truth of this was to—
Warm fingers pressed on his lips.
Joden shifted his head, to see Amyu’s bright brown eyes looking at him as she frowned.
“Don’t even think it,” she whispered.
Joden raised an eyebrow.
“Going back to the crypts,” Amyu said. “Wandering in the dark, almost freezing to death down there again.” She shifted, reaching up to cup his face. “Enough, Joden,” she said. “We’ll go,” she promised. “In the light of day, with a guide.” She sighed again, still tired and worn. “We will figure this out, somehow.”
Joden felt her shift against him, felt her sorrow in the hand that touched his face. He so much wanted to offer comfort, to reassure her, but the idea of trying to speak, made him tired before he even drew a breath to try.
Amyu shifted again, and he felt her hand lift, about to be drawn away. He reached up and pressed it close.
Maybe he didn’t need words.
Joden turned his head and tickled the palm of Amyu’s hand with the tip of his tongue.
Amyu sucked in a breath, wide-eyed, but she didn’t pull away.
Joden smiled, leaned over, and kissed her. It was long, slow and sweet, just lips soft against one another. He released her hand, and reached to stroke her neck, just below the hairline. Amyu shivered against him.
He shifted then, pulling her with him, so that they faced each other on their sides. Now his hands were free to touch, long slow strokes down the length of her arm, and her hips.
Amyu lifted her chin, granting him access to her tender throat. She moaned as Joden explored it with his mouth. Her skin was soft and delicious, invading all of his senses. He took his sweet time, keep his hands just below her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the central spot between. Her nipples had hardened, and they were a delight to behold, begging to be touched. But Joden held off, leaving them hungry, leaving her in a state of suspense as she writhed in his arms.
He chuckled against her skin as Amyu reached, trying to force his hand down to the center of her heat.
Amyu narrowed her eyes. She changed tactics, reaching for his length. It was his turn to gasp at her touch.
She laughed at her victory, but he turned the tables by taking a nipple in his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. She moaned, grabbing his head to try to keep him there. “Joden,” she panted, and he heard her plea. Joden rolled onto his back, bringing her up and on top of him, straddling his hips.
Amyu rose above him, the blankets falling back, letting the cooler air touch their overheated flesh. Now she leaned on him, her hands on his chest, her breasts swaying above him.
Joden reached up, kneading and squeezing, and rubbed her nipples hard with his thumbs.
Amyu pushed against his hands and started to thrust with her hips against him. She moaned in frustration, then reached with one hand to arrange things to her satisfaction. With a triumphant cry, she sank down, taking him in to both their pleasures.
Joden arched his head back, lost in her heat, lost in the delight that swamped his senses.
Amyu clamped down, then drew up, and then down again, and there was no way he could hold out against her. He could only meet thrust for thrust as the light exploded behind his eyes.
Amyu cried out her climax, shuddering around him, and he followed her into sweet release.
When his reason returned, and his vision cleared, he found Amyu on his chest, a soft warm blanket. He eased out of her, and gently pulled her on to her side, cradling her head on his shoulder. With his free hand, he pulled the blankets back over them.
Broken, she’d called them, and Joden acknowledge the truth as he slid into sleep. But broken together. That made all the difference.
Amyu hesitated at the darkness leading down to the crypts, but Heath held his torch high as he strode through the gate. “This way,” he said with a confidence she didn’t share.
Joden followed, so Amyu did as well, carrying her own torch, and one to spare. Shadows danced just outside of the pool of light. She’d no desire to be trapped down in this warren of tunnels with no light and apparently talkative dead.
She’d also no wish to find out if the dead spoke to any other than Joden.
“Here.” Heath was lighting the lanterns as he went, which eased some of her fears. He held the torch high and pointed. “Xyson is buried down this way.”
Their steps echoed against the stone in a way that Amyu hadn’t remembered from her frantic rush down theses paths. Her heart had been racing so fast in fear, she might not have heard them. But she did now and felt the damp chill of the stone. She might not be able to see her breath, but she felt it on her face as they moved down the narrow passageways.
Heath continued on in silence, lighting sconces as he went, until he stopped in front of a stone that looked newer to Amyu’s eyes. He stood there, his face still, and ran his fingers over the words carved there.
“O-o-o,” Joden grimaced, then tried again. “Y-y-your f-f-father?”
“Yes,” Heath said quietly. “You said you were called,” he continued, staring at Joden. Amyu could see the question that burned in his eyes.
Joden shook his head. “I-I-I d-d-do n-n-not h-h-hear h-h-him,” he assured Heath.
“No,” Heath’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled sadly. “Of course not. My father would go straight to the gardens of the Goddess. He is at peace. Still,” Heath grimaced, “I would give much to speak with him again.”
Joden nodded.
Heath straightened, and continued walking. “It’s just that, with Keir having to decide his course of action, I feel the lack. I turn to talk to him, turn to ask him something and it takes me a moment to remember that he isn’t there.” Heath glanced over his shoulder. “You know?”
Joden nodded.
Comforting even without words, Amyu thought as they kept walking. Joden didn’t need words sometimes. He had such expressive eyes, and his hands… She flushed, suddenly very glad to be at the back as her face flushed with sudden heat.
The sharing between them had been lovely. Warm and comforting and oh so pleasurable. Her nipples tightened under her clothing at the heat of memory.
“Do you think the Warlord will decide soon?” she asked, not really wanting to know, but she needed to think on other things.
Heath was silent for a while, lighting another lantern. Joden glanced back at her, looking puzzled. Amyu frowned. Had Heath not heard her? Or worse, would he not speak to a child? Amyu stumbled and caught herself. Heath had not seemed to think that of her, but he was bonded to Atira and she—