Bannon squirmed. “Please, I—” He stopped and swallowed again. If anything, his throat had become drier. He wasn’t sure whether he was asking her to please stop, or please continue. Audrey reached into his loose pants and used the washcloth to stroke him with its moist softness.
“I want you completely clean,” she said, then pushed him back to the pallet, but Bannon’s knees were weak and he was ready to collapse anyway. As he lay there looking up at her with shining eyes, Audrey loosened the laces of her bodice, removed it, then slipped out of her white shift, letting the soft wool slide away from her creamy shoulders to expose her ample breasts. The dark circles of her nipples reminded him of the berries she had fed him at the banquet table not long before.
He gasped with wonder at the sight, and she turned to him let him admire the curve of her back, the gentle swell of her perfect buttocks. But Audrey wasn’t going away from him. She just wanted to snuff one of the candles, leaving only a single orange flame flickering in its pot. It was enough light for them to see, but most of the time Bannon had his eyes closed. He gasped many more times as she joined him on the pallet, pressing him down on his back. She slid one leg over his waist and straddled him.
When returning to his quarters, Bannon had been exhausted and sleepy, but now sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.
He touched Audrey’s skin, felt its warmth, then reached up as she leaned forward, inviting him to cup her breasts. When she shifted her hips to settle on top of him and he slid inside her, he felt as if he had fallen into the embrace of paradise. And it was.
Bannon lost all sense of time, hypnotized by the sensations that Audrey showed him. And when she was done and climbed off of him, she leaned forward to kiss him long and full on the lips, then trailed her lips down his cheek, and his neck. He let out a long, shuddering sigh of ecstasy. He was even more exhausted now and not at all tired. His entire world had changed.
As Audrey picked up the supple white shift and pulled it over her head, his heart already ached for her. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
She giggled. “At least you knew what to do.”
“Does this mean that you—you’ve chosen me? I’m sure I’d be a good husband. I didn’t know that I wanted to get married, but you’ve made me—”
She laughed again. “Don’t be silly. You can’t marry all of us.”
“All?” he asked, not understanding.
After Audrey finished dressing, she came back to his pallet, where he lay drifting and happy, his entire body tingling. She kissed him again. “Thank you,” she said, then slipped out of his chambers, darting silently into the corridors.
Bannon’s head was spinning. He was sure he would have a foolish grin on his face for days, if not months. He closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and tried to sleep, but his body was still on fire. He had heard many love poems before, minstrels singing about the yearning of romance, and had not quite understood it. Of course, Bannon remembered his foolish attraction for Nicci, his inept flirtation in giving her the deathrise flower, but he had never dreamed of anything like Audrey. Perfect, beautiful, and hungry Audrey.
He lay for an hour, wanting to sleep, but not wanting to let go of a single moment of these cherished memories. He relived in his mind her every touch, imagining the feel of her lips on his cheek, on his mouth, on his chest—everywhere.
He heard a rustle of the fabric door hanging and didn’t at first understand what it was, until he raised his head, blinking. Had Audrey come back?
Laurel stood just inside the doorway, her strawberry-blond hair brushed and shining in the faint light of the remaining candle, adorned with a single decorative braid. She responded with a seductive smile, and her green eyes sparkled. Her tongue flicked around the corner of her mouth, and she showed perfect white teeth.
“I see you’re still awake.” She glided closer to his sleeping pallet as Bannon struggled to sit up. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.” As Laurel moved toward him, her hands worked at the tie at her waist, and she slid out of her acolyte’s gown like a beautiful naked butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.
Bannon drew in a quick breath. He was alarmed, confused—and aroused again. “Audrey was just—” he said, reaching up, but instead of being pushed away, she met him, took his left hand, and placed it against her breast. It was smaller and firmer than Audrey’s. Her nipples were erect.
“Audrey has already had her turn,” Laurel said with a smile. “I hope you’re not too tired.” She reached down, ran her fingers along his belly, then farther down to stroke the corn silk there. She grinned with delight. “I see you’re not tired at all.” She started kissing him, and now that Bannon knew exactly what to do, he responded with increasing enthusiasm. Given his earlier practice, Bannon decided he might be getting good at this after all.
Laurel was slower and gentler than Audrey, but more intense. She caressed him and showed him how to caress her, wanting to enjoy his entire body, and Bannon proved to be an avid student again. When he tried to rush, feeling the passion build within him, she held him back, strung him along, teased him. Then she rolled him over, slid beneath him on the narrow pallet, drew him down on top of her, and wrapped her arms around his back.
She whispered hotly in his ear, “It’s all right. There’s no hurry. Sage won’t be here until closer to dawn.”
CHAPTER 49
After seeing the desolation of the Scar firsthand, Nicci immersed herself in the lore in the wizards’ archive, devoting every hour to the piles of old books. And although Thistle tried to help in every way, fetching books she thought looked interesting, bringing food from the kitchens, she was bored.
The girl wished she could offer some assistance, but her skills as a scholar were minimal. When she had helped her friends survive in the wilderness, she’d felt important, useful to be catching lizards, finding water. But, books … Thistle didn’t know enough about magical lore or ancient languages.
Her aunt and uncle had taught her letters, so she knew how to read some basic words. She took it upon herself to memorize certain key terms that Nicci was interested in—“life,” “energy,” “Han,” “diminish,” “drain”—and she would stand in front of the shelves in the great reading rooms, going from spine to spine, book after book, scroll after scroll. Each time she found a likely prospect, she would hurry with it over to Nicci, adding it to the sorceress’s reading stack. Nicci always took her offerings seriously, but so far no one had found any revelation about the Lifedrinker’s possible weaknesses.
Thistle had always been independent, able to take care of herself. She sensed that Nicci valued her in part because the sorceress appreciated someone who could handle her own problems. Thistle wanted to prove that she could be a valuable member of their group, but she felt left out, without a purpose to serve.