by Treva Harte
“Yes, but --” Gor paused. “Shemen are valuable, too. Still worth stealing.”
“Not as valuable. And they’re known to defend themselves, so others are wary of crossing them. Having armed guards about them wouldn’t be as noticeable. Shemen or their procurers often hire them.” It had been a wild thought, but Quinn was warming to the idea.
“But look at the women! They have no more idea how to act like shemen than ‑‑ than you do.” Gor’s voice paused a moment.
Look at them indeed. Quinn couldn’t stop trying for a glimpse of her. Suddenly, he heard the last traces of Ara’s laugh as the women crowded into the shelter. He could imagine Ara was lifting her chin as the merriment flowed from her. Something caught in his throat before Gor’s voice cut through his abstraction.
“Shemen flirt. They’re quiet and attentive. They don’t laugh loudly or bellow threats.”
Quinn cleared whatever the problem was in his throat with a quick cough. For a moment it threatened to turn into a real one.
He’d almost forgotten how urgent his mission was in his fancies over a woman. He might not have much more time to complete his task. If his House had women to barter, though, perhaps he could buy the Sylvanian medicine that seemed to cure this damned plague. If he was too far gone, at least Gor and the rest would have a chance to be healed.
“Perhaps they act so because these females have no need to flirt. Men will take them no matter what they are. Gor, those females are real. They can do as they wish, be what they are. The shemen only act.”
Did Ara ever flirt? She’d always been direct with him. Perhaps too direct. Curse it! The woman was spoiling his focus. He was wasting too much time on her.
His next thought shook him even more. If he was this distracted by Ara, then perhaps he should take her.
Lust filled him, temporarily washing away his illness. Hot orange hues danced before his eyes, silently reminding him of his inner turmoil. He wanted her. Now. Anytime. He’d been a fool to hold back before. Despite everything, he wanted a chance again. A chance to fuck her. Once he’d done that properly, he could forget her.
“What difference does it make who or what is real? I don’t understand. We want them to act like shemen.” Gor sounded almost plaintive as he voiced his confusion.
“True.” Quinn’s brain went dizzy for a moment and he fought to retain sensible thoughts. Curse this illness. He couldn’t think clearly for long. No wonder he was letting Ara affect him so. He had to stay steady. Keep his thoughts straight and business-like. Stop. Thinking. About. Her. “Very well. We’ll hire one.”
“Hire a sheman?”
“To train the women. And to keep the men from twitching too badly when they don’t get inside the women. I won’t have the females hurt. They’re too valuable to us. Let the sheman take care of the men.”
“I don’t know if you’re mad or the smartest among us. Either way, I know I’d never come up with the thingzz you do.” Gor hissed and then slapped Quinn on the shoulder. “No matter which you are, you’re the leader. Lead on. We’ll follow.”
Lead on, indeed. I’m desperate, man. I’m the leader and have no idea what the right step is.
Chapter Three
“Well, Crispus?” Domini tapped her finger against the glassed window, staring outside. A stray raindrop hit the window. For any rain to come here meant that somewhere else a huge storm must be raging. She watched the water streak down. It was so pretty to look at.
Not everyone had old-fashioned luxury like her paned glass. It was particularly rare out this far in the Hinterlands, many leagues away from the cities. Her men had shipped in and then installed a window in her bedroom years ago because they knew how much she enjoyed it. “What do you think?”
He slid his sword belt from his waist, the tight lines of his face gradually relaxing into his usual half-ironic lines, slowly allowing the tension of guarding her to ease from him. Domini’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped forward, touched his still taut jaw. She forgot his responsibilities sometimes. After all, she gave her excursions outside no more than half a thought. She needn’t worry. Crispus and the others watched for her, keeping her safe from attack.
“Does it matter what I think, lady?”
“You know that kind of question annoys me, Crispus. In private I always listen to you. I do in public, too, far too often than is good for my status.”
He held her two hands and kissed them, head bowed. Domini almost forgot her question. But they’d been together too long, known each other far too well. How long had it been since she had contracted to the Miner House? She’d been fifteen.
Domini sighed. Too long now. She had to complete this task ‑‑ perhaps the most important task of her life ‑‑ very soon. “You are trying to distract me, my dear. How often are you able to do so?”
His smile glinted as he raised his head. He hissed a little, as all Bellizans did when they felt a bit emotional. “Not often enough, my goddezzz. Very well, I will obey you as always. You want my advice?”
Domini almost softened again. Despite his cool exterior, the hiss had given him away. His silent profession of devotion was not all a façade. Not even after all this time. Her voice roughed, trying to hide her own emotion. “Have I not been demanding it for the past fifteen minutes? If you can’t tell me something in my own bedchamber, then there is no place we can speak freely and privately.”
“Understood.”
Domini waited. Even after all these years, she was never sure when her most trusted man would finally speak up. Sometimes that was endearing, sometimes maddening. But it was a constant in her life.
Crispus finally stared directly at her. “You are not satisfied. If you aren’t satisfied, the girl shouldn’t be contracted for.”
“But why am I not satisfied?” Domini began to pace. “She seems well-trained, deferential to what I wish, but not without intelligence. Isabel ought to be a fine match for the House. Her mother appears willing to consider an offer from us, and that’s not an easy task out here in the salt desert.”
“We make a good living from the salt desert.” Crispus scowled, an old wound touched on. “There is no shame in being a Miner.”
“Did I say there was? Have I not lived here for decade upon decade now without complaint? Without need for complaint, Crispus, so don’t turn that scowl on me!” Domini stopped, shook her head. “You’re distracting me again. What is wrong with the girl?”
“Nothing.”
“Then it’s me? I have been turning down the few suitable prospects before our House because I ‑‑ I am too picky? Unwilling to give up my title to anyone? Not realizing my sons are growing into men and need a wife? What?” Domini began to pace again.
“Nonsense.”
Domini stopped, turned on her heel and laughed. “Ah. I thought I would eventually make you completely shake that deference, my dear, and tell me the real truth. Come. Out with it, man!”
“The truth will hurt you.”
“A truth that hurts is still the truth.”
“You’re waiting for Quinn. You need all your sons near you before you bring a prospective bride to the house.”
Quinn. Domini took a sharp breath, sharp as if an attacker had actually managed to grasp her on the street and harm her. “Quinn has been gone on his insane quest for over a year. He was ill before he left. Most likely he’s dead.”
Crispus didn’t bow his head deferentially this time. Instead he stepped forward to hold her, shielding her as best he could to ward off the hurt. “You don’t know that. Until you do know, you can’t decide.”
“You should tell me to go ahead. Bring a woman in for a trial period.” Domini fought the catch in her throat but she hissed a little anyhow. “Why should you be so gentle with me and my feelingzzz for that boy? He’s not one of yours.”
“I knew Quinn was going to be born when I voted for you to be our bride. I wanted you with or without him.” The vote of the eldest son weighed heavily in deciding who t
he bride of a House would be. Domini had known from the moment she first saw Crispus what they would mean to each other. So had he. He had been the eldest son and made her Quinn the eldest in turn. Even though Quinn had been the product of her rape by the enemy, it hadn’t mattered. She was too important to him to let it matter. She would have loved him for that alone, though he’d given her many other reasons to care for him through the years.
“But --”
“I grew to love Quinn for himself when he came to be. You can’t deny I’ve fathered him as one of my House all these years.” No, she wouldn’t deny that. She wasn’t sure how well a few of the Miner men had accepted Quinn, but Crispus had always been there to buffer the intolerance. She’d never been able to detect more than a flicker of dislike ‑‑ perhaps not even that ‑‑ in one or two of the others. Crispus had seen to it.
“No. Quinn was always the difficult one, not you. Even at his worst, though, he always loved you as a father. He honored all your House. Ah, Quinn.”
“You miss him.”
“I would miss any of my sons.” She’d often wondered what it would be like to have a daughter to go along with her brood of males. The unusual good luck of having a daughter hadn’t happened, but it would be pleasant to have female companionship. A daughter-in-law could make up for the lack. After all, the company of women was different from that of men. She cherished the meetings she had with other women of different Houses but ever since she’d become Lady of her own House, it was different. Women were her peers and might become her allies…or sometimes her enemy. But it was hard to have a friend or confidant with another woman when both of you were always in charge of caring for your House. Friendship could be seen as weakness, used to destroy the men who depended on you.
Ah, perhaps it was just as well she had no daughter. She’d have had to see to it that she was led to the right House, the right men for her. That was an even worse task than picking one wife for sons. You’d have to pray you had taught her suitably so that she could mold her males to what was needed. Those lessons were all-important.
When did you need gentleness, when firmness? When could you allow yourself tenderness? Ahhh. It was a struggle, commanding all that testosterone. Her men would die for her. But sometimes she wanted to be the one to kill them. How did one allow one’s daughter to blithely go off to marry her future testosterone-ridden husbands and not endlessly worry over her?
Eh. Picking a house for a bride, picking a bride to match a house. Two equally difficult tasks, but there was no better way ‑‑ no other way--to ensure a family’s survival. To make a House strong.
“I must make some decision soon. My next oldest is almost twenty now. If we wait longer Jaxxson will grow too used to having shemen or grow far too independent to submit to a Lady of the House.”
“When it is the right time, lady, you will know.”
“No. I will wait one more month. Then, Quinn or not, I will formally begin wife bidding for our House.”
* * * * *
“Ara. Stop.”
He stood in the path to the women’s tent, deliberately blocking her way. He’d ignored her for days. Kept them all walking through the forest. And now Quinn wanted to talk, did he? What could he possibly tell her that could make all this right again? What apology would work?
Not that he seemed likely to do anything of the sort.
“Why?” She couldn’t help asking the question, now that the anger had sputtered away. Fear, anger…she had used them all up by now. The only thing left was the hurt and the confusion. “It’s going to storm soon. We ought to be inside…”
She stopped. Ara stared at Quinn, trying to assess him with all she had learned about him. Spy. Kidnapper. Now that she knew him for what he was, she expected to see…what? Scales? The evil inside him reflected outside? Ara fought a silly urge to cry. All she saw was the same intent eyes, the coiled energy barely held in check by Quinn’s thin frame. He looked ill. She could tell now that there was a fever flush to his cheeks.
But evil? Repulsive? If only he looked what he was. Maybe then she wouldn’t wonder what happened. Then she needn’t question why, of all women, he chose her to betray.
He hadn’t even wanted to mate with her. What he hadn’t done to her shouldn’t make her want to cry. Why would she want to be with a lizard man? What he had done should be reason enough for her to weep.
“I have to.”
“You have to destroy us?”
“I won’t let anyone destroy you.” He sounded tired suddenly. He held the most inner energy of anyone she’d ever seen, but he was weary now. “I pledge that all of you will be safe.”
“You’ll just kidnap us and threaten us first?”
“I don’t threaten. Whatever I say I’ll do, I’ll do. I need you women to save my own men. There isn’t much left for me, but I will take care of what is mine.”
Colors. More colors again, stronger than ever before. Red lust streaked from his body. Angry waves of purple billowed from the trees by the path. He’d grown more sensitive to the colors as he grew more ill. Quinn knew that as the colors grew more vivid, swirled closer to him, he must be closer to death. He had nothing left to fight them with.
Silver. Cool and bright. Beckoning.
Ara looked at him, silvery swathes of light dancing around her. Quinn clenched his fingers tight against his sweating palms. He was tired. Tired of taking care of his men. Tired of trying to be strong when he was weak. When he saw her walking on the path he gave in to the overpowering need to be with her. He’d wanted to stumble toward her, to scoop her up and gather some of that bright energy from her.
When had he turned into such a needy, selfish bastard? He disgusted himself. No wonder she despised him.
But he wanted her ‑‑ not just the silver aura she had ‑‑ but the real her. Ara had always been simply herself. She wasn’t a comfortable person. There was no lying, no deceit in her. She told you what she thought.
He’d spent his last year spying and lying. He didn’t need soft lies. He wanted something real.
No. No, that was impossible. There were so many reasons he needed to deny any honest attraction to her.
Wouldn’t having her be the most selfish act of all?
For a moment the colors muted, graying and dying away. Die. He could die. Die and never know what she was like against him, what it was like to be inside her.
Flame his stupidity. He needed to make up his mind. What was he going to do with this female? A drop of rain hit his head. The last time they’d been together there had been a storm. He remembered. He remembered everything. They’d been back in her own keep and she’d nearly driven him mad with desire.
She looked at him directly and his breath caught. Oh yes, he was sure of what to do now.
Quinn was looking at her so strangely.
“Save you?” Ara began to ask when Quinn suddenly lunged closer, swooping in and covering her like a hot wind.
“Don’t talk right now,” he muttered, right before he kissed her.
Devouring. Encompassing. Curse him, she was sinking right into the mindless lust-haze only he seemed to inspire. She didn’t care.
“I don’t care.” His muttered words echoed her thoughts. He paused, then went back for another quick, bruising kiss. He was breathing fast. “I ought to care about what I’m doing, how I should treat you ‑‑ but I don’t. I can’t. I just want you.”
Now she could slap him. Better yet, she could knee him. His cock was certainly a big enough target at the moment. She could run ‑‑ somewhere.
Ara hesitated. She slid her hand down, cupping his testicles. He groaned at her touch, pulled her even closer to him.
She could hurt him. Her fingers tightened and he groaned again. Ha. Quinn wasn’t in pain, unless you called prolonging lust painful. He pulled her up tight against his erection, her hand still clasping his balls. His grasp was powerful, gripping Ara’s buttocks, his palms under the folds of her skirt so his hands were directly against he
r flesh. They panted together. Then one finger circled her anus.
She cried out, jerked against him.
“You like that.” He whispered the words against her damp temple, stirring the tendril of hair with his breath. “Silvery maiden.”
“I’m not a maiden.” He was mad to call her so.
“I know. But I like to think you come alive only for me, moon goddess.”
Arrogance. He was full of it. But it was the truth, too. For some reason he was the one who made her breath catch and set her body trembling.
He pulled her up higher, then walked with her, his hands cupped under her rear, backing her up against a tree trunk. Ara might have complained about the strain it put on her back but ‑‑
Ah. His cock slid inside her, as if to test the truth of her last statement, even as she reached her hands out to guide him to her. Ara knew she was supposed to be angry still, but for the moment what he did was so pleasurable, she couldn’t remember why.
All she could recall now was the way he managed to send shocks of pleasure through her. He hadn’t forgotten how to do so now.
Goddess. She loved the feel of his cock buried in her while he tickled her anus with his finger. Penetration upon penetration made her shiver. His finger slid inside up to the first knuckle. They were clinging so tightly they could barely pull apart long enough for his cock to slide back home. Ah. When she slid back, his finger entered her anus that much deeper. Her legs gripped hard against his thighs, just the way her vaginal walls tightened against his cock. They panted together.
Forward or back? Either way was delightful. Ara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to decide. She whimpered.
“Don’t scream,” Quinn gasped.
Ara bit his shoulder. Quiet. For some reason they needed to be quiet. But she couldn’t bear it. Not a moment longer.
Thank Goddess, she didn’t have to. He shifted, his cock brushing against her clitoris as he changed the angle of his movements. That was enough. Just that touch. That touch after days and days of wondering.
