The Marking Blood {Excerpt}

They were tearing Sonea to pieces.

After God knew how long, she managed to escape. Not one scrap of clothing remained on her body, and the fresh air on the balcony was cool and delightful on her skin. Sonea felt invigorated. She felt alive. For the first time in an earthly age, she found a semblance of beauty in the early sunset. Of course, the sky was heavily overcast, but beautiful regardless.

The moment was idyllic—it was almost enough to make her forget that they were currently lowering her father into the cold dirt on the other side of the city. And that she had neglected to make an appearance. She tried not to think about his dead and unmoving body. Or her sisters standing over it.

Sonea leaned her elbows on the chilly metal railing and bade her shoulders relax. Sylah wouldn't be happy with her. Water was wet. Attending the funeral itself had never been an option for her. Commiserating with her sisters after the fact had always been her plan. Assuming they would have her—she wasn't entirely sure.

So, she had been stalling.

The fine establishment known as The Mount served the town and its gutters in the same manner that lungs served a living body. Though patronage was always slower while the sun was up, this day had been particularly sluggish. But come nightfall, it would be plenty abuzz. The far travelers would be wanting company after paying their sacred respects to their dead protector. If the girls' gossip was true—and if water remained wet—the people were anxious. And anxiety needed soothing.

At present, the balcony offered her a vantage over a narrow and quiet backstreet. A man hurried by underneath her. Even from this height, she could still see the glaring red of his face as he endeavored to keep his eyes from turning upward. Pussy, she thought. She licked a sweet taste off of her lips, then wiped her mouth on the back of a hand as the creature hurried off.

She heard a faint jostling behind her—the ruffling of the curtain that separated the balcony from the bedroom that had been in use. "Jesus," came the soft and lilting voice. "Y'ever heard of pants, hussy?"

Sonea cast a cheeky grin over her shoulder. Maja could say anything and make it sound melodic.

The woman drifted out onto the balcony and settled next to Sonea at the railing. Sonea saw that a chemise had been thrown over her fair and ample curves, and her bed-tossed sepia waves had been rectified with a cursory brushing.

"Enlighten me," said Sonea.

"Hmm." Maja's reply was slow, and mock-thoughtful. "No."

She had a dazed quality to her that Sonea had always found endearing. It was as if she were forever half-dreaming—her gray eyes yearning for something in the far distance, rarely ever making contact with the gaze of another.

"Are you coming back inside?" Maja asked.

"Aye," Sonea replied. "I would imagine at some point."

At this, Maja chuckled a bit. Had the sun been out, a lovely light might have shimmered in her hair. "You know what I mean." She paused a moment. "It's just me, now, y'know. Everyone else wanted to freshen up—or nap, I s'pose, afore tonight. So..."

Sonea raised a taunting brow. "Now you want me all to yourself?"

She was met with a palm pushing flat against her cheek, nose, and eye, and the chimes of Maja's rippling laughter.

"Stupid. I was only thinking I might help see to it your nerves are thoroughly eased."

"Aren't you sweet."

"Ach, if you don't need me, just say so!" Maja wrinkled her nose. Sonea had always been displeased with the splash of freckles that dotted her own cheeks before she met Maja, who wore them so well.

The girl started to turn away, making to return inside.

At once, Sonea slipped wiry arms around the girl's waist, securing her in place with little resistance. "Maja, Maja, Maja," Sonea cooed over her shoulder, "you and yours have eased me 'n more."

"Well," Maja shrugged, but did not protest at small kisses pressed to her neck, her cheek, "you make a good errand girl."

A condition of her being permitted to have slept the previous night in one of The Mount's beds. When she had arrived, the girls had flocked to her in excitement, gushing over how she had cut her hair short since they had seen her last, scoffing at the ratty state of her clothing, offering theatrical condolences for her loss.

When Madame Simona Argint, the bony, bespectacled mother of the place, had found that Sonea had barely a single pon to her purse, she was far less enthused than her girls. The Lady Silver had decreed that she would get not a mite of rest nor sympathy until she had earned it. The girls wouldn't have defied her, of course. Yet, above their heads, the little flames had flickered. Or, in the case of Maja, been entirely absent. To exert her influence over them, to settle into a bed and a sweet embrace free of charge would have been a simple thing, but Sonea had felt that painful twist of guilt in her gut, and refrained.

Even as Madame Simona had put her to work scrubbing at the hearth and attending to the girls' whims, Sonea refrained. Even as the girls had sent her this way and that all evening, posting letters to lovers, tending to malfunctions of wardrobe and hair, searching the entire establishment high and low for lost or stolen beloved little things, she refrained. Back in Asdom, they would have scorned her for this.

And when some of the girls went off to the funeral today, and when some of those who remained sought out Sonea to entertain them, and when they blessed her exhausted body with their energy and liveliness, she was grateful.

To think of it as a reward for her restraint would have made her sick.

"No one's around, girl," Sonea hummed into Maja's ear. "You don't have to play all coy—you are free now to confess your undying love—"

"Oh, get over yourself!" Maja wiggled in her arms, a halfhearted attempt to wrench herself away. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"I've got time 'n time 'n time," Sonea sighed. Her hands slowly gathered the cloth of the chemise, inching the hem ever higher. "And I'm just—so nervous..."

"Yer just so annoying."

"I need naught but a comely wench to tend to my ills..."

"My hand'll tend to yer cheek."

Hints of Maja's laughter had returned. Sonea felt victorious when the girl leaned back into her arms. Slipping her hands beneath the thin gown, she reveled at the feeling of the soft and delicate body beneath her palms and fingertips. Hips, stomach, the valley between her breasts. She would rather die than admit it, but if it were possible, Sonea would like nothing more than to hold Maja forever.

Her lips lingered on the pearly, unblemished stretch of the girl's neck. Maja was always particular about the marks she would permit on her skin. Sonea's tongue and teeth tread with caution, grazing their way up to her cheek, blushing and warm. And she smelled lovely, so lovely. A floral fire that beckoned and danced and recounted runaway nights spent on rooftops, linked by nothing but the vaguest, shyest of suggestions. The whisper escaped Sonea before she could quell it.

"I missed you."

A hearty wind stormed down the alley, bundling her words away just as she breathed them into being.

Maja tilted her head. "What?"

Relief tangled with shrieking alarm bells inside Sonea's head. By way of an answer, she planted a quick kiss against Maja's cheek before changing their positions.

Maja allowed herself to be pressed back against the railing. The wind tugged her chemise about every which way until Sonea pulled it upwards and pinned the flailing hem still with her body. She braced a hand against the railing on either side of the woman's waist.

As she leaned in to kiss gently around her cheeks and nose, Maja snorted. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were being romantic."

"You wish."

They shared a low chuckle. Sonea relished in the warmth of Maja's body, supple and inviting against her own.

A dreamlike quiet swaddled them both for a precious moment.

"Yer freezing," Maja said at last. Those eyes danced with plausible deniability over Sonea's lips. Sonea leaned closer, flashing a wolfish smile.

"I've been standing out here naked, dummy."

"You—" Sonea closed what little distance remained, silencing Maja with her lips. For a heartbeat, Maja was still, as if surprised. As the wind swelled once more, Sonea felt those soft hands capture her face. Maja's lips met Sonea's as a parched woman meets water, as a drunkard meets the flagon.

Sonea's hands, once ignited, could not keep still. They trailed up Maja's sides to palm at her full breasts. She pinched a tender nipple, hard. At Maja's sharp, indignant gasp, Sonea felt an impish satisfaction. Her uneven nails grazed down the soft expanse of Maja's body, delighting in how she shivered beneath the touch.

Sonea felt a shapely leg hitch over her hip as her fiendish hands grasped indulgently at Maja's ass. Their lips separated, and Sonea dove again at the column of her neck. With a trembling inhale, Maja tilted her head back, laying bare her throat.

Sonea grinned slyly against the sweet skin there. "You won't get in trouble with Lady Silver if I mark you up, will you?"

"Sonea—" Maja spoke in half whisper and half exasperated groan. "I'll kill you."

With one hand, Sonea supported Maja's raised leg. With the other, she probed the plain of dewy curls that now lay exposed to her. A finger dipped lower to trace her lips, and came away wet. Sonea could hear the stuttering of Maja's breath.

Sonea's voice was low and husky, surprising even herself. "Stop me then, if you don't want me to."

Her hand continued to tease around the velvety lips, slick with Maja's want. She slid a finger between them to toy daringly with the nub that swelled there. Maja's hands wove their way into Sonea's short curls, but she said nothing. No playful rejoinder, no flippant ease. Beneath her hands, Sonea felt a distinct tension possessing Maja's form.

"You want me to." It was not a question. Sonea allowed her teeth to nip dangerously at Maja's fluttering pulse. She could hear it thrumming through her own skull. "You were waiting, aye? For me to come back?"

Sonea knew that she was encroaching on violation of their unspoken accord. She wasn't playing, as she usually might. More importantly, she was frighteningly close to opening a door that she would ordinarily do anything to keep closed.

But in her haze, none of it mattered more than hearing Maja say those words, say that she was right.

In the tentative silence that held them, Sonea could feel the words rise up within Maja. She could feel the hesitation—perhaps the fear. She could feel the pounding, pounding, pounding of Maja's heart. They stood together on the precipice, and Sonea begged for the thrill of plunging over it.

A swift and sound exhale from Maja executed those stupid fantasies. "When yer gone," she hummed, and Sonea could tell she was smiling, "I hardly notice."

Sonea all at once remembered herself. She too smiled, against the soft skin of Maja's neck. "Thought as much," she said, slipping two of her fingers deeply and unceremoniously inside of Maja.

Her lips latched onto the enticing flesh, wresting a bouquet of sound from the girl under her hands—astonished gasping mingled with quaking breath as words died on Maja's tongue, all above the slick and sudden rhythm of Sonea's hand thrusting in and out of her.

Burning pinpricks lit up Sonea's back where Maja's prim nails dug into her dusky skin. Those hands in her hair were firm, but Sonea was not pulled away from the skin of Maja's neck, so she continued her work. Biting, mouthing, sucking, she trailed her way up to Maja's cheek, to tease at the lobe of her ear with mischievous teeth.

Sonea could hear the reluctance in the quiet moan she drew out from the girl. It took great willpower to refrain from any triumphant grinning. Instead, she maneuvered her lips over Maja's once more, inundating her with kiss after kiss, as if any meaningful space between their lips might allow the escape of words better left unsaid.

Her fingers stroked Maja's soft inner place with purpose and confidence, and without much in the way of respite. Sonea was nothing if not confident—confident that none of her visitors tonight would show her this zeal, this fervor in sole pursuit of her pleasure.

When she abruptly withdrew her hand, Sonea watched with some vindication as those gray eyes flew open, wet with emotion and affronted by the departure of her touch. Sonea pressed one placating kiss to Maja's cheek, to her lips, to her chin, down her neck and breastbone.

"Sonea—"

"Shut up, Maja."

Her lips dragged a leisurely trail down the length of Maja's lush figure until she knelt before the girl. She adjusted Maja's leg to hook over her shoulder and left her to hold the chemise out of the way herself.

When her tongue first met the slippery heat of Maja's slit, it felt as if a flame had been struck alight in her belly. A wordless craving urged her on. The tips of her fingers dug bruises into the skin of Maja's thigh as her discerning lips found and toyed with her clit. Her dutiful attention was rewarded by a shiver that ran Maja through. One of those delicate hands found Sonea's hair again, flexing and grasping at the little curls where they could.

Every taste of Maja drove Sonea a little more crazed. Her tongue plundered into the sweetness of Maja's eager hole. She deliriously slaved at Maja's pussy, savoring every sensation of it—from the tang of her arousal, to the scent of her sweat, to the song of faint moans and sighs as Sonea fucked her with her tongue.

As she felt the tension building in Maja's core, Sonea replaced her tongue with her hand, stroking the girl into breathless tremors. Again and again she caressed those soft inner walls. Sonea only parted her lips from Maja to look up at the girl. Her face was mostly hidden behind her breasts, arms, and the fabric of the chemise, but Sonea ravenously watched the way the contractions shook her body.

The motions of her hand were fierce and without reprieve even as ecstasy cascaded over Maja. Her back arched out from the railing, her hips jolted, and the hand in Sonea's hair tightened its grip. Sonea felt Maja's wet heat clench over and over around her restless fingers. From on high, Sonea heard her name escape between stammering moans.

With a satisfied smile, Sonea gradually eased her hand free of Maja's grip. When she rose, it was on sure legs. When she took in the dizzy flush of Maja's cheeks, and the swell of her pink and over-worried lips, it was with cool eyes. When she spoke, it was with a nonchalance she could only have gained by driving another to unravel.

"Aye. Who would notice that missing?"

Maja's eyes were unfocused for the longest moment before she shook herself loose of the daze. With her shaking legs, she had to lean on Sonea for balance. Her lips quivered, opening and closing as she seemed to search for words. Nothing came.

Sonea stepped away, pretending not to notice Maja stagger as she did. She wiped her mouth on her forearm and strode through the curtain, into the now-emptied bedroom. The bed, its duvet on the floor and its sheets wrinkled to all hell, was among the largest in the establishment, Sonea knew. It was large enough to accommodate three for sleeping, and slightly more for fucking. The memories of the sweet gathering of bodies that had taken place not so long ago now seemed murky and distant.

"You know where my clothes are?" she called back, her green eyes scanning the wooden floorboards, the plush carpet.

A moment passed without answer from the balcony. Then: "Check the—"

"I found them." Sonea bent over to pull her shirt and pants from where they'd been kicked underneath the bed. Her cloak—the object of such ridicule from the girls—hung loosely from a bedpost. She located her boots by the bedroom door. As she walked about, gathering her scattered attire, she listened for any movement from the balcony.

The telltale rustle of the curtain came just as she slid her shirt over her head. Maja sat on the unmade mattress, and began adjusting her windswept hair using a hand mirror from the bedside table. Not a word passed between them until Sonea started sliding on her boots.

"How long're you in town for?" Maja asked. The distant quality had returned to her voice, perhaps threefold.

"Not sure," Sonea replied.

"You sleeping here again?"

"Maybe."

"Yer nerves eased?"

Sonea stopped in her tracks, and turned to look at the girl on the bed. Maja wore the faintest of smirks on her lips, eyes firmly fixed on her reflection.

"More or less."

"Well, If yer sisters don't kill you," Maja said, rising from the bed and meandering to where Sonea stood by the door, "Yer more'n welcome to come wash my hair for me tonight."

Sonea parted her lips, the "Yes" a heartbeat away, but she halted herself. She thought of the unheard whisper on the balcony, how she had been pulled in by the gravity of longing, how her yearning had been riposted. As she had faltered, Maja had remained strong. The reality of it doused Sonea like frigid water. She could not waver again.

She shrugged. "You might see me," was all she said. She turned and left.

On her way out of The Mount, Sonea moved as if she were the puppet of some unseen self. She moved past the girls she knew, now in the haste of preparing for the evening, and she greeted them without seeing them. Ambient chatter, laughter, bustle, the thudding of steps on the floor—all of it flowed above and around her. Gray eyes were burned into her mind.

She had a wretched feeling about this night.