Page 23 of Oracle's Reign
Eight
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Peroen waited, hisbreathing ragged, needing Yslie’s answer. Words—declarations—fought his control, wanting to be voiced. But until he understood why she had come to the city, he couldn’t say them. He couldn’t give in to the pull between them without knowing what she wanted long term.
“W—what do you mean?”
“You aren’t like Triese or Odela, set on becoming empress. You knew nothing about me, so if your goal wasn’t the title I could give you, why did you agree to come?”
She pulled back, and Peroen let her go. He watched confusion morph into a pain she tried to hide, and had his arms back around her before she could take another step back. “I need to understand what you want.” His arms tightened. “If we go any further, and I want to—you must know how much I want to—then I need to know what to expect. I’m not going to assume that physical attraction equates to a willingness to marry me. But if you don’t tell me so now, I will hope. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do my duty toward Pynth if I hope and then lose you, Yslie.”
Her arms wrapped around him, and this time when she pulled back, it was only enough to meet his gaze. “I don’t care about becoming empress, but I care about you, Peroen.” She licked her lips, and he followed the motion of her tongue withgreedy eyes. “I came to Kalitalo because I couldn’t stand the idea of Triese becoming empress. But I stayed for you. Otherwise, I’d have thrown my support behind Odela, then slipped away.”
He didn’t tell her that Odela was only a slight step above Triese in his mind, that Sophenie would have been his second choice. Because he didn’t need a second choice. “Marry me, Yslie. Be my partner through all that comes next. Let me love you.”
Amber eyes, bright with unshed tears, met his. “My conscience says I should remind you that I’m not the most popular at court, nor am I experienced with politics. Despite being an oracle, I can’t see the future. I might be a horrible choice for empress. In fact, the Assembly will never choose me if they revoke your right to make the decision.”
“You underestimate how much of an impression you made on the Assembly members the other night. You have supporters. And you might have already thwarted their plans to take away my choice. Together, we can learn to handle anything else the Assembly throws at us—and the court doesn’t matter.”
Peroen paused, trying to decide how to word his next reassurance. He’d heard Triese disparage Yslie’s power already; how many times must she have heard the same thing? It was no wonder she considered her power useless, if that was what those around her always told her. He wouldn’t change her mind on that point quickly, but he could still convince her that it didn’t matter.
“If I weren’t required to marry an oracle,” he said, hoping she’d believe his sincerity, “then I wouldn’t care that you are one at all. Your magic isn’t a consideration for me—though you don’t give yourself enough credit for how useful looking into the past can be.
“Most importantly, you are the only empress I want. You are all I want.” Peroen pressed his lips against her forehead, thenpulled back. “Now that we’ve addressed your conscience, what does your heart tell you?”
“My heart is already yours.” She pressed her fingers to his cheek. “You are everything I dreamed of, but told myself I could never have.”
“You have me, Yslie, and I’ll do everything in my power to make all your dreams come true.”
“You already have.” This time she initiated the kiss, and it was sweetness and hope and love.
For an endless eternity, the kiss was everything: all Peroen wanted, all he needed. Then tenderness wasn’t enough. It didn’t give way. It was still in every stroke of his tongue, every press of his fingers against her, but desire, hot and urgent, slipped in alongside the tenderness. His hands roamed up and down, until one slipped under the edge of her tunic.
Her skin was soft against the calluses on his fingertips, but she didn’t pull away from the contact. She moaned and pressed closer. He followed a meandering path, needing to touch all of her, not wanting to rush, and finally reached the underside of her breast.
She arched into the contact. “Yes. Yes.”
He tugged the tunic up, and Yslie eagerly helped him pull it over her head. She went for his vest next, but he bent, cupping her breast and swirling his tongue around her nipple. “You are so incredible,” he whispered against her delicate skin. “Your heart. Your mind.”
He caught the waistband of her trousers and underwear and dropped to his knees, pulling the cotton with him. He looked up at her, his hands on her ankles, his voice thick with desire. “Your body.”
She stepped free of the clothes, her hands resting on his shoulders for balance. Then she tried to tug him upright. “You shouldn’t kneel for me.”
He ran his hands up her calves. “I would crawl for you. You deserve everything.”
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Peroen didn’t giveYslie a chance to argue. The first stroke of his tongue had her knees buckling, but he was there, supporting her. She tangled one hand in his hair, but instead of pushing him away, she held him closer. “Peroen!”
Her thoughts splintered. There was nothing but waves of pleasure, the heat of his mouth, the feel of him, strong, steady. Determined.
The climax tore through her.
She was distantly aware of finally losing her balance—or maybe that was Peroen urging her down onto cushions she didn’t remember seeing. He stretched out next to her, running a hand up her stomach, but stopping just below her breasts. His thumb swept back and forth, brushing the underside of one and sending shivers through her.
Peroen leaned over her, balanced on one arm. “Do you understand yet what you mean to me? How important you are?”
“You make me feel too important,” she admitted, tracing the curve of his cheek with her finger.
