A Kiss of Fire (A Kiss of Magic #2)(2)

But she did not trust Raja Sin.

She didn’t know why. The man made her uncomfortable. He was extremely large in stature, made strictly of the finest muscle. Muscle that was on display more often than not. Today was no different. He wore nothing but a vest made of some kind of supple animal skin, the fur gleaming black against the dark tan of its wearer’s skin. He wore black breeches that clung to every hard muscle in his thighs and furred boots that swallowed his calves up to his knees. The fur of those boots were as shining black as the fur on his vest.

He didn’t get cold. Like her he could manipulate all things fire. She was a Torrenic majji. He was a Fyre shaman. They were called different things by culture, but as far as she knew their abilities were comparable. She also did not grow cold in even the most frigid of temperatures. She could call fire to her hand and knew he could too, though she had not seen him do so. Creating a ball of fire was a low level ability, and she was level 22.

She wondered what level he would be comparable to. The Kiltians did not measure by levels as the Sarens did. You either had power or you didn’t. You were either new at it or experienced.

Raja Sin had hair so dark in brown that, like his eyes, could easily be mistaken for black. It was all a matter of the trick of the light in a room. At the ends of each of his thickly muscled arms were beaten gold bracelets. There were gold rings on each of his thumbs, and at his throat was a golden torque with the head of a great cat at its center, the eyes of which were set with glowing green gemstones. In his left ear was a thick ivory piercing, the curved ivory coming to a point about an inch below his earlobe.

Compared to the Saren males who were dressed in cravats, high collars and coats, the Kiltians were dressed like savages. But Ariana did not let the savagery fool her. There was a very clever and cunning brain behind those inscrutable dark eyes.

And he kept staring at her.

His regard made her skin flush warmly, her hands turned damp and her heart clenched with anxiety. Afraid he would ask for something she was unwilling or unable to give him, she desperately wished for the negotiation to draw to a close. There was no telling what he might ask for next. No telling if it would mean peace or war for them because he did not get what he wanted.

When Jutsin Felone and Mason Hittite, her triumvirate counterparts, stood up and bowed to the Kiltians, she knew it was over. Finally. They had escaped with peace in their back pockets. Only, when the Kiltians were finally out of the capitol building, Dendri Adiron turned to her and told her:

“He is attracted to you,” he said.

“He is a barbarian,” she said with a shudder.

“He is a shrewd man and a thoughtful leader, not unlike yourself. He is also used to getting his way. I fear that if you are an object of desire he will do his level best to acquire you.”

“I would sooner sleep with a gorgon lion,” she spat.

Dendri replied in some way, but she was focused on his previous words. She shuddered at the thought of ever being under those large coarse hands. Her skin grew hot and she forced her mind away from the images such thoughts provoked. Lover to such a man? It was unthinkable.

And yet…images of her pale skin under the darkly tanned skin of his hands came unbidden to her mind. How would it feel to have those hot caresses? To be victim to the burning kisses of his mouth? Would he even bother with a kiss? Tales were told that Kiltians simply rutted like beasts in the fields. There was no respect. No lovemaking. It would be coarse and dirty and primal.

So why then, beneath the shudders of distaste, were there shivers of excitation running beneath her skin?

No! No, it was simply revulsion she was feeling, she told herself. She forced herself to pay attention to the conversation at hand and dismissed all thoughts of Raja Sin from her mind. It was over. There was peace. And outside of the usual governmental niceties, she would not have to spend extended periods of time in his presence. It didn’t matter if he wanted her. He was never going to have her.

Never.





Chapter One


Two autumns later.



Ariana sat before her mirror naked, her flame red hair dressed up high on her head, only a few strategic curls left to bleed down her neck and chest. She reached for the jar of blue freesia scented lotion sitting on her dressing table and regarded her reflection with judging eyes.

She was young yet. A mere twenty-eight autumns old. She had come into her power at a very young age, her ambition and political power inherited from an equally ambitious and politically powerful father. Her lands were vast and valuable, her province one of the three largest in the Saren borders. The only one larger than hers was Mason Hittite’s. He too had inherited his place and power from a powerful father and mother.

She didn’t know very much about her fellow triumvir’s upbringing, only that it had been hard and he had fought his way to his current position through great hardship. It had not been as easy for him as it had been for her…relatively speaking. It had not been easy for her either. Manipulating large power never was. You always sold your soul a little bit each time you made a big decision. And there was always someone unhappy with you for your choices.

She dipped her fingers in the crystal jar of lotion and began to smooth it over her elbows and arms and hands. She had very soft hands. Hands that had never known manual labor. She wondered sometimes if that made her somehow less. She should have learned what it meant to be out of power, she thought. She should have learned what it might feel like to be a non, what the Sarens called those who had not been born majji. Those who had not been born with majic.