To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(28)

Grace and light, Master Volkan had called her. Bringing good fortune and hope to Nandala. All Yavi knew was that her presence in the palace had already changed things for him, at least. He’d discovered his own laughter again, for one, and a fierce protectiveness he hadn’t felt toward a woman since…no, not since Svana, for he hadn’t truly felt that protective over her. If he had, he would never have left her alone with Gerynwid and gone with Yajna to hunt Jiandra.

It was part of the reason for his dark guilt over Svana’s death, the fact that he’d given in to his lust for the servant girl, and wasn’t deeply in love with her. She had died because he had been weak.

But things were different now. He was thirty, not twenty-five, hardened by battle and loss. He was the emperor of his homeland, not an overconfident assassin for hire who thought nothing of taking willing young women to his bed. He was not the same selfish man Svana had known—he had learned to control his impulses, his desires. He’d remained celibate for almost six years as proof of that fact.

But…Graciella. That evening at dinner, they had conversed about the trip to the monastery, and later in his study over a glass of katsuri she’d confided in him about her fears and sadness concerning Rafe. How she felt his kidnapping was partially her fault, because she’d sent him outside with a bucket of her used dishwater to dump on the herb garden when Gerynwid took him. Yavi had tried to soothe her misgivings, assuring her that Gerynwid would have found a way to take Rafe anyhow. He’d confessed to her his own feelings of guilt about his father’s death at Thakur’s hand, because he had not been able to reach him in time to stop it, even though he’d run as fast as he could. As he’d spoken of those painful memories, Graciella’s enchanting face held such a compelling look of understanding and compassion that he’d found himself desperately aching to gather her into his arms and hold her, to comfort her as well as feel her comforting him.

If not for the presence of his brother and Jiandra in his study, he might have done just that, and then—then what? Graciella was the last woman on earth Yavi would want to hurt intentionally. Gods forbid. He could never forgive himself if his desires caused her pain and suffering somewhere down the road.

Stop this now, Yavi, before it goes any further.

She had leaned close enough to him tonight for him to smell the lavender-lilac soap on her skin. She had touched him briefly as he spoke of his father, laying her delicate, feminine fingers over his forearm. He could imagine feeling that touch on his bare skin, feeling her sweet lips pressing kisses to his neck, his chest, and…lower. He slipped a hand down to his stiff cock, massaging it a moment.

You sicken me! his conscience screamed at him. Oath-breaker!

“Calm down,” he whispered aloud to himself. “I haven’t broken any oaths yet.”

He closed his eyes and slowly stroked himself to climax, then lay still until his heart rate returned to normal. He rolled over to his stomach, bruising his upper ribs a bit on the ruby when he crushed it against the mattress. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, moving the heavy stone out from under his body, then smiled.

§

After lunch the next day the twins left to visit the farms and the guard outpost at Hajan, in the foothills of the western slopes of Nandala, and Jiandra went to her quarters to take a nap. Graciella decided to do a bit of snooping in hopes of learning something that would help her better formulate a plan for seducing Yavi. She tiptoed down the hallway of his wing of the palace and opened the door to his room, slipping inside to have a look around.

A huge, tall, four-poster canopy bed stood in the center of the room, draped with off-white curtains that hung to the floor on either side. She avoided the bed for the moment, surveying the room’s other furnishings. There was a red-and-gold rug on the stone floor next to the bed. His washstand stood in the far left corner, near a bookcase that held knives, shortswords, and pieces of leather armor, all carefully laid out and arranged. Next to the bookcase stood a weapon rack holding one very ornate greatsword forged from some type of strange grayish-black metal, its hilt decorated with intricately carved designs. She traced the carvings for a moment, then stepped closer to the washstand and scooped up his cake of soap, sniffing it. It smelled of musk and bergamot, a scent she recognized as part of his personal fragrance on the few occasions she’d been able to get close enough to him to detect it.

She went to his armoire and opened it to look inside. A couple of clean white lawn shirts hung there along with a pair of black leather trousers. She felt the soft fabric of one of the shirts, then the sleek leather of the trousers.

She wandered back over to his bed, still unmade from the previous evening, and bent down to run her hand into the indentation in his feather pillow.

The door swung open, and Graciella jerked upright. “Oh!”

Kitran stood in the doorway, holding a basket of fresh linens. Her silver eyes narrowed.

“Hello, Kitran, I, ah…I was just…looking for something.”

The Nandal girl didn’t respond, but continued to stare at her.

“I didn’t find it, so—I’ll just be on my way.” Graciella moved toward the door.

Kitran didn’t step out of her way. “Emperor Yavi doesn’t allow anyone into his room.”

Graciella glanced over her shoulder at the room. “He told me I could look in here for the—um, book. He was loaning me a book.”