To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2) Page 14

  Stop, stop, stop! He strode to the fireplace, grabbed the iron poker, and stoked the embers to revive the flames a bit. He thought about how much Jiandra would hate him if she returned from her trip to find him seducing her sister. And how disappointed Yajna would be, for he looked up to Yavi as the eldest. And though he hated to even entertain the thought, deep down a part of him suspected that the persistence of Nandala’s curse of starvation and poverty was related to his own past sins. He worried that he was unfit to wear the emperor’s ruby, and that the Gods would never bless Nandala under his rule.

  But if the Gods were angry with him anyway, why not give in to temptation and seduce Graciella? She definitely seemed to be feeling some attraction. All he had to do was turn on the Yavi charm; he was well-versed in the art of seduction. Or used to be. Now he felt old, bitter, out of his element, out of practice.

  But every time he imagined pissing off his oath, scooping her up, and carrying her up the stairs to his chambers, he felt empty inside. Why not do it? Because it wasn’t who he was anymore, and it wasn’t who he wanted to be.

  And he had an even stronger motivation than being the man he wanted to be: protecting the woman she was. He couldn’t bring himself to disrespect and take advantage of the purest, most untainted, angelic being in his life—Graciella Stovy.

  §

  Graciella poured some of Wilten’s special herb onto the worktable to examine it closer. “Could we grind this to a fine powder with the mortar and pestle? Would it still work?”

  Wilten nodded. “Oh yes. It get stronger if you grind.”

  “So has your mother ever used this herb on a man? Have you seen exactly what it does?”

  Wilten giggled. “No, I have not seen. But everyone in Nandala know what it does to a man.”

  Graciella got a vivid picture, made all the more vivid by her glimpse of Yavi’s groin bulging in his towel last night. “Is it for men only, or does it also…do something to women?”

  “It work on woman too, but not same way as man, because woman don’t have pircuk.”

  “Peer what?”

  Wilten’s silver eyes filled with amusement. “Pircuk. That how we say—” She motioned something protruding out from her apron.

  Graciella dissolved into laughter. “Oh, Gods. I hope Zehuraster the Protector isn’t watching me right now. I’ll be damned for sure.”

  “Gods watch everything. They forgive you, milady, because know Emperor Yavi need good wife.”

  Graciella’s laugher died in her throat, and she swallowed. “Do you think I would make him a good wife?”

  The girl nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

  Graciella smiled and turned her attention back to the pile of dried flowers and stems, picked up a petal, and chewed it to test its flavor. “I’m thinking this might be lovely in a spice cake, mixed in with other spices like ginger, cinnamon, and clove.”

  Wilten nodded her agreement.

  Graciella scooped the little pile of flowers and twigs back into its pouch and hid it behind some jars in the larder. “All right. Are you all set to serve lunch by yourself, Wilten? Cold chicken, bread, and cheese?”

  “Yes, milady. I know what to do. No need you stay.”

  The kitchen door opened, and Yavi strode in. Graciella and Wilten curtsied to him.

  He inclined his head. “Miss Stovy, are you ready for your sword lesson?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “If you would accompany me to the armory, then?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She removed her apron and winked over her shoulder at Wilten as she followed him out.

  Nine

  Graciella took the shortsword Yavi selected for her from the rack, gripping it by the hilt and giving it a few swings.

  “How does that feel?” he asked. “Too heavy?”

  “No, this one is very light.”

  “It’s made of iridium. It’s lighter than steel.”

  Graciella admired the carvings in the pommel and crossguard. “It’s a beautiful sword.”

  His lips gave a hint of a slight smile, the first one she’d seen that day. “Keep it if you like.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes—it’s only collecting dust down here.”

  “Thank you!”

  “I’ll even sharpen it for you so you can do more damage to the cave trolls when they invade the palace.”

  She looked up. His grin told her he was teasing, and she smiled in return. “Those cave trolls won’t stand a chance.”

  He selected a similar-sized sword for himself from the rack, then led her to the center of the large, echo-y chamber. Light streamed down on them from the intricately designed windows in the domed ceiling high above.

  “All right, let’s work on holding the sword properly. Let me see your grip.”

  She held up the sword as if she were threatening someone with it.

  He laid his sword down, grasped hers by the blade, and moved her hand up closer to the crossguard. “Grip it here, so the crossguard will stabilize your grip and help you control the sword’s movements better.” He stepped back. “Now swing it around.”

  She did. “Yes, that is much better.”

  “All right. Let me see your fighting stance.”

  She crouched and raised the sword again, balancing with her other arm out.

  “Good, but straighten your back.” He stepped closer and placed a palm against her lower spine. “Don’t hunch forward.”

  She pulled her shoulders back, lifting her chest. She noticed his gaze slipping down to her breasts momentarily, which sent an unexpected shiver through her body. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her chemise, and her face flushed a little.

  Whoa! Is it…warm in here?

  “Bend your knees a little more.”

  She did, glancing at his face to see if he approved.

  “That looks good. Now what you want to do…” He scooped up his sword from the floor and modeled a stance next to her. “…is move this left leg back a little for firmer support as you attack or defend.”

  “Like this?” She scooted her left foot back.

  He put his sword down again. “Put your foot out more to the side, like this.” He reached down, grasped her calf through her skirt, and moved her leg into position. The touch sent another shiver through her, and again she felt unusually warm and tingly. Every cell in her body was suddenly hyper-aware of Yavi—of his height, his wide shoulders, his silvery gaze, his steady breathing, his deep voice, his masculine scent. She almost felt as if she could taste him, and she definitely wanted to.

  Oh, dear. This is way worse than normal. I wonder if the petal I ate is having some effect?

  He had her practice some thrusts with the sword, and Graciella did her best to focus her heightened senses and aroused energy on her technique rather than on his sexy lips.

  “Good. I can see you remember some things your father taught you. Now face me, and we’ll work on your aim.”

  She did, getting into the stance he’d taught her and raising her sword.

  He crouched and readied his sword to defend himself. “All right, thrust at me. You want to aim right here.” He indicated a spot below his left pectoral muscle, along his ribcage. “It will be harder for me to deflect if you aim here, because you’re shorter than I am, and you will have more power at that height than I do having to reach down.”

  “I don’t want to accidentally stab you.”

  He chuckled. “You won’t.”

  She thrust forward gently, and he tapped her blade aside.

  “Good. Keep your shoulders back and thrust harder.”

  “Harder? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He slapped the spot on his armor that he wanted her to aim for. “As hard as you can, right here.”

  She took a deep breath, thrusting at him. He gently deflected the blow to the side.

  “Again. Harder, Graciella. Put your weight into it.”

  She tried again, her nipples distracting her because they were still ha
rd as little pebbles and scraping against the fabric of her dress as she moved.

  Again he deflected her easily. “Come on, Graciella. I am a vicious, ugly, smelly cave troll. I’ve broken into the palace, and I’ve come to eat you up. If you don’t sink your sword into my torso as hard as you can, I’ll be roasting you up for dinner and feasting on your flesh.”

  She chuckled throatily, then resumed her stance. She drove the tip of her sword toward his ribcage as hard as she could. “Hah!”

  He deflected her thrust, then straightened, smiling. “That’s more like it.”

  She grinned and reached up to swipe at the dampness on her forehead with her forearm.

  He cleared his throat. “Let me show you a trick for defending yourself from a sword thrust.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “When I come at you like this,” he moved toward her with a slow thrust, “I want you to try to catch my blade against your crossguard. Catch it now to get a feel for how it’s done. Use both hands on the hilt for more power.”

  She raised her sword, and he stepped forward to place his hand over hers on the hilt, helping her catch his sword at the right spot. “See? Catch it right here.” He backed up. “Okay, get ready to catch it just like that.”

  She did.

  “Perfect. Okay, then what you want to do is parry the sword away from your body to deflect my blow. Twist your wrist to the left.”

  She tried to follow his instructions.

  He laid his sword down. “Let me show you the move. Here. Turn around.”

  She turned her back to him, and he moved close behind her, put his arms around her, and grasped the hilt of the sword over her hands to show her the move. He pressed his chest against her back, using his hands over hers to force her to stab forward with the sword. She held her breath, shivering at his nearness.

  “Turn your wrists this way, loop your blade over mine, and push my sword to the right so I can’t hit you. Then what I want you to do is go in for the kill while my sword is out of the way and my torso is vulnerable.” He let her go and backed away. “Got it?”

  Gabriella released the breath she’d been holding and nodded. “Yes. Got it.”

  He scooped up his sword. “Okay. Get ready. We’ll go slow.”

  He thrust; she parried the blade away and thrust toward his ribcage. He performed some lightning-quick flick of the wrist to deflect the blow, grinning. “Well done. Gods willing, your opponents aren’t as practiced at swords as I am, and your blade runs them through.”

  “You’re a good teacher.” She swiped at the strands of hair that were stuck to the perspiration on her face.

  “Are you feeling overheated?”

  Yessss. “A little. I guess I’m getting more accustomed to the chilly climate up here. I haven’t been this warm since I got to Nandala.”

  “I think that’s enough for today.”

  Nooooo! “All right…as you wish.”

  “I’ll take my leave, then, Miss Stovy.” He strode to the weapons rack and replaced his sword, then headed for the door.

  Graciella watched him go, fanning herself with one hand.

  At the door, he turned back to her. “Same time and place tomorrow for more lessons?”

  Her heart surged in her chest. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  He inclined his head to her, then left.

  §

  Lovely indeed. He enjoyed how flushed and healthy she looked when she worked in the kitchen, but she was even more beautiful when she was taking exercise in the armory. He was pleasantly surprised that she was more agile and physically stronger than he’d thought she would be, never complaining about the weight of the sword or letting it drop down to rest her arms.

  It was all he could do not to stare at her hard nipples pushing against her chemise, but he’d managed reasonably well by focusing on the sword lesson itself, on explaining things well and watching for the proper technique. When it came to sword skills, he was completely in his element, and it gave him something to channel his nervous energy into while he was in her presence. He congratulated himself, in fact, as he left the palace and headed for the stables to check on Sikar. Perhaps he was getting stronger, more able to control his lust in her presence. Tonight he wouldn’t have to flee the dinner table, if all went well. He could stay and enjoy her company. Think of her and treat her as a younger sister.

  A younger sister with the most delectable, enticing, tempting breasts you’ve ever seen? There is something wildly wrong about this, Yavi.

  “I know,” he whispered aloud to himself in Nandalan, sighing as he swung open the stable door.

  §

  Graciella requested a hot bath be drawn in her room that afternoon while Yavi was in his meeting. She and Wilten had prepared the spice cakes for dinner that night, one with the ground aphrodisiac herb in it for Yavi, and four others without it for the staff. They glazed the tops with a cinnamon glaze, swirling the glaze in a spiral design on the cake laced with the herb so they wouldn’t get them mixed up.

  When her tub was filled and the servants gone, Graciella stripped down and sank into the steamy water with a blissful sigh. She leaned her head back against the side of the tub and closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Yavi’s strong arms around her during the sword lesson. She could picture him coming up behind her while she was cooking and holding her like that, kissing her neck, caressing her waist…

  A window beside her bed creaked, and when Graciella looked up at it, the curved latch seemed to move. Thinking she was imagining it, she watched as the latch slowly unhooked itself, and the glass pane flew open. A cold blast of wind blew in.

  Father!

  Graciella sat bolt upright, grabbing her washcloth and pressing it to her chest over her breasts. It was the same ghostly voice she’d heard before. “Who’s there?”

  Wind whistled in from the open window, but there was no other sound. She rose from the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and went to close the window. She pushed down on the latch as hard as she could to make sure it was secure, then glanced around the room. No one was there, so she decided it must have been her mind playing tricks on her again. She didn’t want to waste her hot bathwater, so she got back in the tub to quickly finish washing up, keeping a wary eye on the windows.

  §

  Yavi dressed for dinner in black leather trousers and a white lawn shirt, then pulled on his boots. He washed his hands at his washstand, then patted his face with the cool water and ran his fingers through his short, spiky hair. He dried his hands on a towel, then stared at his face in the mirror a moment.

  “You keep your hands to yourself tonight,” he ordered his reflection, giving himself a stern look.

  When he descended the staircase into the dining hall, Graciella was already there, dressed again in her pink gown, the one that accented the shape of her breasts so excruciatingly well. By Tejeshwar—didn’t she own any other gowns? He pressed his lips in a firm line, then offered her a taut smile as he took her hand to press a kiss to it.

  “Good evening, Miss Stovy.”

  She curtsied prettily. “Good evening, Emperor.”

  He turned his attention to the bottle of wine he’d ordered for dinner, studying the label. He’d told Liel to just choose something at random. “It looks like we’re having a blended white wine tonight.”

  “Good, because I found some dried salmon in the larder and made salmon cakes for dinner.”

  “Oh?” He loved salmon. “I didn’t know we had dried salmon.”

  “I didn’t either. It was hanging inside a barrel in the very back.”

  “Well, then. Would you like a goblet of wine?”

  “Yes, please.” Her smile warmed his soul.

  He poured them each a goblet, then raised his to her. “Here’s to a very apt pupil at swordplay.”

  She chuckled and raised her glass. “Here’s to the best sword teacher in the land. Probably in several lands. I’d pit you against Villeleia’s or Xilaterra’s best any time.
”

  He touched his goblet to hers, and sipped his wine. “Well, shall we have our dinner now?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled her chair out to seat her, glancing down the front of her neckline as she sat down, as was his custom—or compulsion, rather—and then ordered Tinni to tell Kitran to serve the meal. Out came a platter of crispy salmon cakes laced with green herbs, a large bowl of mashed potatoes with melted butter drizzled over the top, and roasted cabbage. As usual, Graciella’s food was exquisite, as were her bewitching hazel eyes, her arching dark brows, and her shiny hair. It was braided and pinned on top of her head, with a few escaped strands falling beautifully over her cheeks and neck.

  “Yavi,” she asked, setting down her goblet, “do you know if this palace is haunted?”

  He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her question. “Not to my knowledge. I have never seen anything out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, it’s probably just my foolish imagination, but twice now I have thought I heard a voice in my room.” Her expression told him she wasn’t joking.

  “What kind of voice?”

  “It sounds like a child, a boy, saying ‘Father.’ I’ve heard it two times when the window blew open. It happened the other day, when the window blew open the first time, and again this afternoon while I was taking a bath.”

  He frowned. “You didn’t tell me about the voice when you mentioned the window blowing open the other night.”

  “I thought I was imagining it. I still think I might be imagining it.”

  A disturbing thought occurred to Yavi. Thakur had a perverted taste for adolescents, particularly boys. If any young boy’s spirit had cause to haunt Thakur’s wing of the castle, it was probably one of the young male concubines Thakur kept there.