-
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pale, like some perfect china doll. I'd never been this close to a man that brought to mind words like
petite. My shoulder ached where he'd left his mark: a perfect set of his teeth marks set in the flesh of my
shoulder. The skin had bruised wonderfully around it, reddish purple, almost hot to the touch. It wasn't
poison, just a really deep bite. It would leave a scar, and that was the point.
Sometime during the third or fourth time with Frost I'd invited Kitto to us. I had waited until Frost's body
brought me to a point where pain and pleasure merge, and let Kitto choose his bit of flesh. It hadn't hurt
when he did it, which told how far gone I'd been last night. It had hurt a little as we finally drifted off to
sleep; this morning it hurt more. It wasn't the only thing that ached. My body hurt, telling me I'd abused it
last night, or rather that I'd let Frost abuse it.
I reveled in the small pains, stretching my body, exploring exactly what hurt. It was like the ache after a
really good workout with weights and running, except the muscle soreness was in different places. I
couldn't remember the last time I'd woken with the feel of sex riding my body like a silken bruise. It had
been too long.
Kitto had been honored that I allowed him to mark me so that all would know I was his lover. I don't
know if he realized that he was never going to get intercourse from me, but he hadn't asked last night. In
fact he'd been utterly submissive, doing only what was invited, or asked, never intruding. He was the
perfect audience because he simply wasn't there until called, then he followed directions better than any
man I'd ever been with.
I sat up and Frost's hair spilled down my body like the brush of something alive. I ran my hands through
my own woefully short hair. Now that I was outed as Princess Meredith, I could grow it out again. My
wrists hurt as I touched my hair, and it had nothing to do with the sex. The bandages at my wrists hadn't
survived the bath last night, and we should have re-dressed the wounds, but this morning the marks of the
thorns were scabbed over, nearly healed, as if they were a week or more old, instead of hours. I ran my
fingers over the healing wounds. I had never healed this fast before. Kitto must have bitten me after the
fourth time, otherwise it would have healed more. Assuming that the sex was what was healing me. We
still didn't know that for certain.
I had a small corner of sheet, but the rest was wrapped around Frost. He was a cover hog. It was chilly
in the room. I tugged at the covers, and got only a small protesting noise for my troubles. I stared down
at the smooth expanse of his back and had an idea for how to get the covers away from him.
I ran my tongue down his back, and he made a small sound. I leaned over him, drawing my tongue up
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
his spine in a slow wet line.
Frost raised his head from the pillow, slowly, like a man drawn from a deep, dark dream. His eyes were
slightly unfocused, but when he looked at me a slow, pleased smile curled his lips.
"Haven't you had enough?"
I draped my naked body the length of his, though the covers kept us from touching below the waist.
"Never," I said.
He laughed, a low, pleasant chuckle, and rolled onto his side, propped on one elbow to look at me. He
also freed the covers. I pulled them over the bed to cover Kitto, who still seemed to be deeply asleep.
Frost's arm encircled my waist, drawing me back down on the bed. I laid back against the pillows, and
he bent down to place a soft kiss across my lips. My hands slid over his shoulder, his back, pulling him
against me.
His knee slid over my legs, between them, and he'd made that first movement of his hips to slide on top
of me, when he froze, the look on his face totally changed to something watchful, almost frightened.
"What is it, Frost?"
"Quiet."
I was quiet. He was the bodyguard. Was it Cel's people? This was their last day to kill me without
costing Cel his life. Frost rolled off the bed, snatching the sword, Winter Kiss, from the floor and crossing
the room to the windows in a movement like blurred silver lightning.
I got my gun from under the pillows. Kitto was awake, looking wildly around.
Frost jerked the drapes back from the window, and his sword was in midmotion toward the glass, when
he froze. A man with a camera was on the outside of the window. I had an instant to see him raise a
startled face, then Frost's fist smashed through the window, and grabbed the reporter by the neck.
"Frost, no, don't kill him!" I ran across the room naked, the gun still in my hand. The door behind us
burst open, and I turned, gun pointed, safety off, at the door.
Doyle stood in the doorway, sword in hand. We had a moment of eye contact where he saw the gun in
my hand. I pointed the gun at the floor and he kicked the door shut behind him and strode into the room.
He didn't sheathe his sword, but tossed it on the bed as he moved toward Frost.
The reporter's face had turned that violent red-purple that said he wasn't able to breathe. Frost's face
was unrecognizable, torn with fury, enraged.
"Frost, you're killing him."
Doyle came up beside him. "Frost, if you kill this reporter the queen will punish you for it."
Frost didn't seem to be hearing either of us, as if he'd gone to a distant place and all that was left was his
hand on the man's throat.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Doyle stepped behind him and kicked him in the small of the back hard enough that Frost fell into the
window, cracking more of the glass, but he let go of the reporter. He turned with blood running down his
hand, the look in his eyes feral.
Doyle had gone into a fighting stance, bare-handed. Frost threw his sword on the floor and mirrored
him. Kitto huddled in the middle of the bed and watched it all with wide eyes.
I went for the drapes, intending to close them, and I saw the reporters running like a pack of hounds
toward us. Some were snapping pictures as they ran, others screaming out, "Princess, Princess
Meredith!"
I closed the drapes, so there was no gap for them to peer through, but it wouldn't last. We had to get
into the room next door where Galen and the rest had slept. I sighted the gun on the wooden headboard
of the bed, to one side of the two guards. Kitto saw me and dived on the other side for the floor.
I fired the gun just once, the report thunderous in the room. It whirled the two men around, staring and
wild-eyed. I pointed the gun at the ceiling. "There are about a hundred reporters about to descend on us.
We have to get to the other room, now!"
No one argued with me. Frost, Kitto, and I grabbed sheets and clothes, and made it into the other room
before the reporters started climbing in through the broken window. Doyle brought up the rear with the
weapons. He, Galen, and Rhys went back for the luggage. I called the police and reported the reporters
for breaking into our room.
The three of us who were naked took turns dressing in the bathroom, not for modesty's sake, but [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- zambezia2013.opx.pl