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  He should have known better than to tease her. She said, voice throaty, “Like this,” then reached down and wrapped her hand around him to guide him inside her.

  Her cunt was slick and tight and wrapped around him glove-like. It made his hips drive in hard against hers, the slide of wet flesh a caress of molten honey. He dragged himself out of her, slammed deep again. The soft, wordless sounds she made were descant to his growl, and as they rose, they pulled the blaze of his lust higher as well.

  She raised her legs along his body and wrapped them around him. It changed the angle so that his cock reached the very end of her passage, and he reached it again and again. He tensed as she suddenly began to spasm around him, trying not to follow her over the edge. But when she cried out brokenly, “Ryu,” he lost all control and began to pound into her without holding back, caring for nothing but the building ecstasy. When he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, his climax spilled out, wrenching a long groan from him. He stayed pressed against her, savoring the feel of her body.

  She was still catching her breath. He eased away slowly, letting her legs drop, and caught her when her knees gave out and she began to slide downward. She looked soft and used, her lips swollen and face flushed.

  Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw him watching her. She smiled wickedly. “What if I said that wasn’t fast enough?”

  He was learning her ways. “I would have to try again,” he said solemnly.

  She stretched luxuriously, fingers trailing up the length of her body, making him react all over again. “Or perhaps I’d prefer long and slow.”

  He kissed her long and slow. It took almost as long for her to untangle her fingers from his hair. “Any other variations?”

  “Let’s try them all,” she decided. Then, half-seriously, “That was good, Ryu. But what if there’s some way it could be even better?”

  “Only Prince Kaen shortens my name thus,” he said, feeling curiously light-headed.

  “I ran out of breath.” She tilted her head to one side as her fingers traced the line of his jaw. “How should I know you, then?”

  “No, call me that,” he said. It wasn’t lack of privilege that kept others from using the name, but a lack of affection.

  Her smile was slow and lovely. He didn’t understand why it washed through him like a warm wind.

  It was dark now, too soon for nightfall. When he looked up he saw that clouds had gathered swiftly overhead, covering the sky in gray.

  “It must be summer now,” she said, following his gaze. “The monsoons are starting.”

  Something was starting indeed, he thought, but it was far deeper than a mere season. The knowledge burrowed into the marrow of his bones and the chambers of his heart, that she would not come and go like the brief summer storms. He wanted to share more than one morning with her—as many mornings as he could have.

  A raindrop pricked the back of his hand. Another struck his shoulder, and then he saw them falling everywhere, silver streaks in the air and sudden wetness on his skin.

  He grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

  She laughed and followed as he began running. Her legs were long and she matched his strides easily. Thunder crashed all too close, spurring them even faster toward the shelter of her home. They ducked inside into merciful dryness, and the pounding of the rain became suddenly distant. Calanthe let go of his hand. “Definitely summer,” she said, still laughing. “I’m soaked.”

  He could not resist her like this—her hair slicked with rain, her skin gleaming with it, the jounce of her breasts as she shook her head, spraying droplets of water everywhere. She turned to look at him, and whatever she saw in his face made the laughter stop and something kindle in her own eyes.

  “We left our clothes outside,” she said, then grinned. “Or I did, at least. I know you don’t need them, wolf-born.”

  “You don’t need them either,” he said.

  He strode to her and pulled her against him, wet flesh against wet flesh. Hers was chilled a little. He set about the task of warming it again, but this time with a heat that would last.

  Chapter Three

  He meant to leave the capital at first light, but Kaen insisted he take a horse and supplies. He did not have to say It will keep you human. Ryuan would have no need to hunt if he had unbloodied food to eat, and he would have to stay in his two-legged shape to take care of his mount. It was one of Kaen’s worries, that Ryuan would choose his other shape and never return, so Ryuan humored him. It took time to accustom the horse to him, though, for it smelled the wolf on him and was skittish.

  Kaen came also with a message. “Our lady mother asks that you take your leave of her,” he said.

  “You told her?” Their mother had retreated into near-seclusion after their father’s death, and Ryuan and Kaen had agreed not to disturb her unduly. It usually meant telling her nothing of the men Ryuan hunted down.

  “Melea asked what thoughts I was dwelling on, and…” Kaen shrugged. His wife, whom their mother had championed as a faultless bride, was known to spend time with her mother-by-marriage.

  Ryuan was careful never to speak a word against Melea, whom he had nothing against, but he had never understood what either Kaen or their mother saw in her. He only blew out his breath, then said, “I’ll go see her.”

  Their mother had chosen a set of chambers by the private royal garden, and it was outside that he found her. She was dressed in mourning gray, as always, though her erect carriage belied any fragile air of widowhood. At the moment she stood on tiptoe, reaching for an early blossom at the end of a tree branch.

  “Here.” Ryuan took hold of the branch, then plucked the flower and held it out to her.

  Even through her veil he could tell she disapproved. “I wanted only to smell it, Ryuan. There was no need to kill it so thoughtlessly.”

  He looked at the pale flower in his palm. He could have described its scent even had it been on the highest branch of the tree, but that was not the point. There was real pain in her voice behind the admonishment. He imagined that death in even its slightest form was a reminder of her husband’s passing. “Your pardon, my lady mother.”

  “And now you go to kill a sorcerer.” She began walking along the path and Ryuan paced her, scattering the petals behind them.

  “But not thoughtlessly. He had his chance at life in exile.”

  “Yes. Kaen explained that he killed a bandit, a year ago, and that he was willing to grant clemency since the bandit attacked first.” She paused briefly to check the leaves of a shrub. “But the sorcerer should have been executed then. It bothers me that he would make his presence known again, after that. Sorcerers have been rare since the Law of Century was passed, and the few that remain have been careful to keep quiet.”

  The sorcerers of old had devastated the land with their wars for a hundred years, until the last of them had gathered and declared that they would use their powers no more, establishing the Law of Century. Many of those sorcerers had been set upon by the people who had suffered under them. The rest had managed to disappear. But their legacy lived on in folk like Kaen, with his minor talent with winds; in the wolf-born, who hunted in two shapes; in small artifacts with strange properties that surfaced from time to time.

  Even Kaen had faced his own share of suspicion, but their father had been well-liked and Kaen was much like him. He had won over the people by being a charming man, a fair ruler, and never raising so much as a breeze.

  “He didn’t kill anyone this time,” Ryuan said, remembering the confused report Kaen had received. The first time they had heard of the sorcerer, the messenger had come to court still smirched with soot and gasped, “A sorcerer called fire down upon a man, and left but ashes.” Nothing so dramatic this time, only a merchant mumbling, “They say a sorcerer-king is thereabouts.”

  “He may yet still. He thinks he’s gotten away with it once, so why not again?”

  “Are you worried about me?” he asked, incredulous. His mother was
the most imperturbable person he knew. “I’m wolf-born. I can hunt down any man.”

  “I know. But sorcerers are more dangerous than you know—their gifts are far greater than the minor ones you’re familiar with. The wolf-born are safe from the worst of their power, but they can still harm you indirectly. And they’ll know of your weakness to silver.” She bent and pushed a seed deeper into the earth. “Kaen thought the people could most easily accept you as a protector of the realm, but I wish it didn’t mean you had to kill.”

  “It’s in my nature,” he said, bemused. She had always taken it in stride before.

  She turned to Ryuan. “I hope you find her,” she said.

  The old, familiar ache for Calanthe filled him. So Kaen had told her about that. He supposed it was inevitable that, having meddled with one son’s love life, she would do the same with the other’s. “I’m seeking a sorcerer.” Not quite a lie.

  She only smiled sadly and made him bend down so she could kiss his cheek. He was glad of her blessing, at least, as he finally set off.

  As promised, last night’s heavy rain clouds had dispersed. Kaen could always tell. It always mystified Ryuan how he knew, but even that had brought them closer.

  “Can’t you sense the fog moving in from the coast?” Kaen would ask.

  “Can’t you sense the pulse of that man’s blood?” Ryuan would counter, and they would grin at each other.

  Kaen was the only person to whom Ryuan had ever tried to describe how it felt during the wild-mind. His brother had listened quietly, then said only, “Don’t let it take you away from me.”

  It was why Ryuan never removed his signet. That light touch upon his chest was like an anchor. A badge, too, which let people know who he was in either shape.

  His way led northeast, toward the savanna ranges that bordered the realm, and he often passed people on the roads. They looked at him curiously until they caught sight of the signet. Although lone travelers were rare because of their vulnerability to ambush, Ryuan welcomed any bandits to try and attack him.

  None were so foolish, though, and his ride was uneventful. Lodging was his for the asking, but he preferred to make camp a small distance from the road. Lurking in inns and hoping to hear news was futile, since no one was unafraid enough to speak in his presence and he had little faith in village gossip. He trusted instead in his own tracking skills, which had never led him astray but once, when they directed him to the well where Calanthe stood.

  She was always the exception. That failure gnawed at him, and would until he found her and wreaked his exquisite vengeance on her body. She wouldn’t be far from the sorcerer. He was certain they were in league. She had admitted to having a man before him—he had smelled traces of him in her home—but then distracted Ryuan from asking about him.

  One last good fuck, he promised himself. Under his terms. And then he would be able to set her out of his mind forever. No more reliving the dawns that might have been missing the sun as well as her, so empty did they feel. She had left unexpectedly, just when he was about to speak to her of what they would do after summer ended. It had left him so stricken that the thought of following her and finding her had been more painful than not. What use, if she cared not for him? He had only been able to stumble back to the capital, back to his heart-brother and the solace of court women. But now he had no softness left for her. He would use her precisely the way she used him.

  Chapter Four

  Each morning was as hollow as the last. He counted them thus:

  The first morning, she was not there. It surprised him, for he had confused a dream of her with her presence. But his arm was thrown over nothing.

  The second morn, he woke late and didn’t travel as far as he wished. It had been hard to fall asleep the previous night while tormented by yearning.

  On the third morning, she still wasn’t there. He spent the rest of the day looking for her in every shadow. A bird soared overhead and he thought, She might as well have flown away on wings.

  The fourth morning, a withered leaf had been blown onto his face, like a dry kiss. He reached up to it and then deliberately crumbled it in his hand. It should have been her lips there at the corner of his mouth.

  Finally, when he opened his eyes on the fifth morning, he deliberately brought Calanthe to the forefront of his mind. He recalled every detail of her body and let his thoughts slide over her constructed image. His hand moved down to his growing erection. She was dark and fair, her hair so soft… He grasped his cock and began to slide his hand along it. The undersides of her breasts were incredibly sensitive, and the lightest touch of his fingertips there would make her instantly ready. His arm worked in steady motions. Her voice was low for a woman’s, and she would moan his name—

  He uttered hers as he spilled onto his stomach. A sweet lassitude began to creep over him but he cursed and shook it off, wiping himself off. More time wasted.

  On the sixth morning he flung himself into wolf-shape and lost himself in the thrill of chasing a rabbit. It stood no chance against his keen nose and swift paws, and there was little satisfaction as he tore into its hot flesh. It wasn’t what he truly craved. He turned human and left the bloody mess for the vultures.

  Of course, he had to catch his horse, as it had bolted free when he shifted.

  After that he stopped caring, because the days would pass no matter what he did. He had felt a summer slip through his fingers. And despite his desperate attempts, he had never been able to reverse time. He let the sunrises and sunsets blur together.

  Eventually he came to the drylands. He was on the border of the savanna now. The tall, brown grasses were only occasionally interrupted by trees. Sometimes he came across stretches of little vegetation at all, where fires had swept the land. Then he crossed a road, no more than a dirt footpath. It meant there was a small settlement a short way off. It was from there that word had come of a sorcerer.

  The message had been confusing. A sorcerer-king, the man had said, clearly too simple-minded to do anything but repeat the words he had been given by a chain of travelers. It was how one might describe one of the sorcerers in the ancient era of chaos, carving out kingdoms petty or vast as according to their whim. It sounded not at all like the sorcerer who had burnt down a man then fled. But there were few sorcerers remaining, as his mother had noted, and the chance of two revealing themselves in a single year was slight. He would find out more at the village.

  Strangers were rare enough that curious stares followed him as soon as he entered the town. They would be likely to remember the sorcerer, then. He didn’t acknowledge anyone and kept riding toward the center of the settlement. Somewhere, a child called excitedly, “A rider, a rider!”

  When a small crowd had gathered around him, he hooked his thumb into the signet and raised it into the air so that they could see it. He was used to the swift exchange of looks and the palpable dread that rose among them. The thoughts behind each face were transparent: had they done anything that warranted the attention of the prince’s hunter?

  The fear was useful, and he had learned to harden himself against it. “I seek a sorcerer,” he said. “He has used his powers to kill, against the Law of Century.”

  And now the fear shifted, and so did the people, moving to one side to let an older man approach.

  “I was the one who sent word of him, my lord,” he said. “I am the speaker for these people.”

  Ryuan dismounted and inclined his head in greeting. “Our lord prince valued your message. But it wasn’t entirely clear when it reached us.”

  “We couldn’t spare anyone to travel so far,” the speaker said in apology. “I had to trust that traders would pass along our warning. I thought others might say something as well.”

  Others? Perhaps more reports had arrived after his departure. “How many has he revealed himself to?”

  “My lord, he is building a city.”

  “A city!” Ryuan’s eyes narrowed. This was not a man planning to run. “With what p
eople?”

  “The sorcerer let it be known that any with the old gifts were welcome with him. Like to like.” The man spat.

  Ryuan couldn’t blame him for his disgust. Most of those with minor talents were harmless and suffered from the prejudice against sorcery. But to join a sorcerer who had used his powers to kill was despicable, and treasonous.

  “None of us went,” the speaker went on. “We are all pure.”

  Ryuan almost said, Our lord prince is not so pure. But it was unwise to remind people of that. He reined in his temper and said instead, “It is not their birth which condemns them, but their choice.”

  “You will deal justice, my lord?”

  It was like a dark tide rising within him as he thought of the justice he would bring. “I will deal with this so-called sorcerer-king.”

  A sigh rippled through the village folk.

  “The city is being built to the east,” the speaker said.

  “Will one of you watch my horse?” Ryuan was already scanning the horizon.

  “We would be honored,” the speaker said automatically, and a boy stepped forward to tentatively take the reins. Then he paused, clearly realizing Ryuan’s intention. “But it’s a fair distance, my lord. You should probably ride.”

  “It would only slow me down,” he said briefly.

  The speaker backed away. “It’ll be well taken care of.” His nervousness jangled into Ryuan’s perception, a distraction from his true prey.

  Ryuan did not look his way. The hunt sang to him. The villagers dropped away from his awareness as his focus narrowed. They weren’t what he sought.

  There seemed to be but one direction open to him. Some insignificant creatures were in his path, but when he began to move, they cleared his way.

  He managed to wait until he was out of their sight before he cast off his clothes and let the wild-mind sweep over him. Ryuan curved his fingers and felt his claws respond, and then the prickling of fur ran up his arms and along his body. He fell forward onto all fours, his legs stiff until bones twisted and settled, like a taut bow loosened. His jaw lengthened. The earth felt alive underneath his paws.