Pariedes had gotten to know her charge quite well over the past few days, and she found her to be an intelligent and even-tempered woman for the most part. This was the first time she’d ever heard her address anyone with the authoritative tone of a woman used to giving a command and having it obeyed. It resulted in Para helping Mystique into a set of boy’s snug pants, shirt, and vest within minutes. It was indecent, but the sigh her foundling released and the expertise she used to bind the clothing onto her body said that this wasn’t the first time she’d dressed herself in such a fashion. It was scandalous, but Para had to admit she wore the disguise terribly well.
“Para, dearest, I need you to listen carefully,” Mystique said breathlessly as she rapidly twisted her dark hair into a plait. “There’s fire on the flatlands. One of the soldiers mentioned farms. That will mean injuries, burns, smoke cough. They’ll need a healer there, rather than waiting here. I need supplies. I haven’t had a chance to make salves or creams yet, but we can find disinfectants, clean cloths, and fresh jars of water for the cough. Men. Good strong men and litters to carry out the injured. We cannot have them in the way of a shifting fire. I need someone who can keep her head and stay beside me. A girl with nerve and a head for listening to instructions. You know everyone in the keep.” Mystique looked at her with expectancy and waited while Pariedes digested all of what she was saying and its implications. She waited to see if Para’s instincts would be to help or to hinder.
“I know just the girl,” Para breathed at last.
Reule hadn’t bothered to saddle Fit, time being precious and the smoke having been visible even as they’d exited the bailey of the keep. Now, rounding the fire burning ferociously in the field grasses, his legs gripped Fit’s bare sides and they tore over the land as a perfectly blended creature of speed. He rode the off side of the fire, the winds pushing smoke and heat away from him and making it just barely bearable for him to approach so close to the line. It was a dangerous thing to do, flatland winds being extremely shifty and unpredictable. The wind could turn suddenly and he would be ash before he even realized it.
But the speed and dangerous shortcut were very necessary.
The fire was extremely close to the walls of Jeth, only a few farms standing in the mile between fire and civilization. The height of the walls would prevent most damage, but sparks could travel forever on the wind, and all it would take was one spark on a thatch roof within the walls to light hell around them.
They must keep the fire from advancing toward Jeth even so much as a foot. The wind was partially in their favor; there was even a river of good size to act as a firebreak. What Reule didn’t trust was the Jakals.
They wouldn’t be far. They’d want to watch and devour the fear and anxiety of the Sánge as they struggled to save their homes. They’d never pass up the opportunity to gobble up such powerful emotions. And if they were close, then they were capable of making the situation much worse. Reule wanted armed guards and soldiers riding the flatlands in tight circuits while their compatriots fought the hellish fire itself. He was too far from Saber at the moment to make the orders clear telepathically, so he was racing back around the fire and toward the walls of Jeth.
Reule drew within sight of the main road and saw a dust trail coming from Jeth that was quickly growing nearer to him. At first he thought it was reinforcements from the city, but it took only a moment for him to realize the riders were too few. He recognized the livery of the city guards even from a distance because of the red in the design, but the leader of the group was wearing common clothing.
He’d already turned to intercept them when it struck him who he was watching approach the danger of the fire. Struck was the perfect word, because it was like a psychic wall of kinetic energy that slapped him back. Fit felt the tensing of his rider and jerked into a turn and canter by instinct. By the time Fit came full around to the road again, Reule had a full visual of the redheaded beauty riding to hell on a big russet stallion named Riot that Reule had added to his stables only a year earlier. The young horse was all speed, youth, and attitude, and Reule was furious to see Mystique riding a creature that was dangerous for a telepath to ride, never mind a tiny female who had no means of communicating with it.
He was going to kill the stable hand who had given her the beast.
Several times.
With this thought of venom hazing his brain, Reule rode Fit to cut off her and her little entourage. At least she’d had the sense to bring an armed escort. With Jakals nearby? Had she come out alone he’d have likely burst a blood vessel in rage by now. As he neared her and got a good look at the outfit she was wearing, he almost did exactly that.
Mystique was riding short-stirrup, which brought her feet high to the saddle and allowed her to ride above the leather. Her knees were bent close to the animal and her backside was lifted in the air as she leaned into the animal’s neck for speed. This position, while fast and graceful for horse and rider, was giving the others a fine display of her tightly clothed bottom as she jockeyed high above the saddle.
He knew when she saw him because she slowed and stood against her stirrups. She turned to meet him, loose strands of her hair flying across her face as she now rode partway into the wind. As furious as he was, as terrified for her safety as he found himself, Reule could hardly breathe for how beautiful she looked to him right then. The remaining riders stayed on the road and drew to a halt as she came up to him alone, dust and now traces of smoke drifting around her, the braid of her hair bouncing against her breast. She was small, but she was vital and alive. He could see her eyes shining bright with determination. This, he realized, was no lark to her. She was here for a purpose, whether he agreed with it or not, and it was written grimly in her pretty features and the emotion he felt washing off her.
By the time they reached one another, blind fury fueled by fear had ground back to a more controlled anger. He reached for the horse’s leather and jerked them both to a halt. Without a word, he stripped her out of her saddle and sat her in his lap before she could so much as think to protest.
Yet even when she was seated against the hard flex of his thighs, she still made no protest of his treatment of her. All she did was tilt up her chin and gaze at him with expectant eyes, her hands resting resolutely against his chest. He was covered in soot, dirt, and sweat, but she didn’t complain. He wondered why he kept expecting her to act like the high-born women he was used to.
He reached out and seized the side of her face and head in a proprietary palm, the grip of his fingers in her hair drawing her to within inches of his emotionally stormy eyes.
“You come out into danger riding a treacherous animal and dressed indecently. Tell me, kébé, why I shouldn’t be strangling on outrage at the moment.”
He spoke softly and purposefully, so Mystique knew very well just how much he was controlling his temper just then. She reached up and curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt, her skin touching his warmly as she grasped hold.
“I’m a healer. Danger always begs the presence of a healer. I didn’t choose the horse, he chose me. Rather insistently, I might add. He’s fast, beautiful, and spirited, but only dangerous to an inexperienced rider. I’m delighted to realize that I’m a greatly experienced rider. As for the clothes, I hardly think skirts would have sufficed. They slow me down. I’d rather not be slow while near a fire, thank you.”
“By the Lord and Lady,” he swore softly, giving her a sharp shake that drew her to his chest. He despised her logic and matter-of-fact tone, especially when she made it so hard to argue against her. “Have a care, Mystique! I don’t want you near this fire and out on the roads when a horde of Jakals is running wild! You don’t have the power you need to protect yourself if—”
He broke off to crush his mouth against hers. He felt her determination and stubbornness and that she wouldn’t let him sway her no matter how hard he tried. She’d just as soon force him to physically restrain her, something he would have no right to
do. Besides, it would hurt her deeply if he did.
He smelled and tasted of smoke, but she opened herself to his assault, taking his attack the way she did everything from him. With acceptance. Always such acceptance. And he knew it was only for him that she would ever exhibit such patience even when she didn’t agree with his opinions or behaviors. His heart squeezed into a knot. It was this acceptance that was teaching him to be more tolerant himself. He loved to preach about how open-minded he was, railing against those who turned away from the Sánge, yet he barely tolerated the independent ways of a single woman.
He gentled his kiss, and she accepted that as well. Reule broke off, holding her face in his huge palms and rubbing her wet lips against his. “The wind changes too fast, kébé, for you to set up a permanent place. Find your injured and take them away from here. Keep moving and keep telepaths with you. Two guards, at all times. Put them to work if you like, but keep them near. They’ll be responsible for your life and safety, and I will kill them if you’re harmed in any way. Are you willing to take that responsibility? Do you understand this is a truth and not an idle threat?” he demanded.
“Yes, my Sánge lord, I understand quite well. I’ve brought two guards and five other attendants to assist me, as you see.” She lifted a hand in the direction of her escort. “I’m not eager to die, Reule, but I won’t wait around while others risk their lives for what is now my home. Not when I can be useful to them. You would never be able to do that, and neither can I.”
“I fear losing you,” he said, suddenly fierce against her lips again. “Do you understand that? I fear nothing so much as I fear losing you!”
Mystique took his kiss, blinking as tears welled above her lashes. She felt his words throughout her soul, and they sang delight deep into her bones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the boomerang intensity of the emotion he’d created within her. His hands wrapped around her ribs, thumbs brushing beneath her breasts and fingertips grasping her back. He crushed the breath from her in his intensity.
“Now,” he said gruffly, his voice hoarse from emotion and need, “get to a safe distance and follow my orders. If I see one thing…”
“You’ll send me to bed without dessert. Yes, I know.” She sighed in a put-upon manner, but she was smiling.
“Oh no, kébé,” he corrected her, those thumbs sneaking up over the undersides of her breasts to rub over her accessible nipples through the very thin material of her shirt. They hardened rapidly beneath his skilled taunt. “I won’t be denying you your sweets tonight.”
The implication was clear, and Mystique shivered as she looked up into the hot promise of his eyes. She nearly protested when he removed his touch and hoisted her back onto her saddle. He shot her a final warning look before reeling Fit around and leaping off in his original direction. She watched him go for a minute. He was so beautiful, hair streaming behind him and muscled legs clutching muscled horseflesh as though they were part of each other. She felt the imprint of his hands on her body. One day she was going to have to let him know exactly how frustrating that could be. But first they had to take care of the Jakals’ latest deadly mischief. Shielding her eyes, she looked toward the fire and the wall of black and brown smoke. She prayed there wouldn’t be too many homes lost and that the conflagration could be stopped quickly.
Grabbing her reins, she turned and headed back to the group waiting on the road, determined to be what help she could.
“What do you think?”
“I think this is Chayne’s area of expertise,” Darcio said with a sigh as he rose from studying the ground. “Where’s Delano? He’s far better equipped to track the bastards.”
“He’s fetching Saber from the city. Now that the fire is out, the Jakals will want to find a nice cozy camp to enjoy their glut of emotion.” Reule spat onto the ground, then looked up at the bright moon. “I won’t wait until morning for this. I know we’re all tired, but I won’t let them get away. We lost three innocent people tonight. Not to mention a hundred acres of farmland that won’t be able to grow anything until the char has been gone at least a year.”
“Think this is retaliation for our killing the Jakals in the damplands?” Rye asked.
“I don’t really care. If the Jakals are wanting an outright war, they’d best be prepared. We have shelter, food, supplies, and electricity. The winter can be very long in the wilderness if I start kicking them off my lands. Ungrateful animals.”
“Reule, before Delano and Saber get here, I want to ask you something,” Rye said suddenly.
“Mmm?”
“It’s not like you to be the last to sense trouble. What the hell was that at dinner tonight?”
Reule looked up at him, understanding instantly that Rye knew perfectly well why he’d been slow to identify trouble. “Well, Blade, I could be wrong,” he mused scornfully, “but I’d guess it was because I was preoccupied by the idea of making love to the redhead to my left. Since you damn well already know that, stop playing games and get to your point.”
“It’s just that you’ve been really distracted over this, My Prime,” Rye said, bowing his head in respectful apology. “The entire Pack feels it. It’s been a little—”
“Rye!” Darcio cut him off sharply.
Rye’s amputated point suddenly became clear and Reule couldn’t help the fit of laughter that came up unexpectedly. It made lungs and a throat rough with smoke rebel into coughs. It took him a while to recover, and when he did he saw Darcio and Rye looking at him in bemusement.
“Let me get this clear,” he chuckled, coughing again. “Are you trying to tell me I need to get laid? That the Pack is inconveniently horny and restless because for once I’m not obsessed with the workings of Jeth, and you don’t know what the hell to do with yourselves? I gather if I take Mystique to bed all of your problems would be solved?”
Reule snickered when Rye winced at the painful accuracy of his observations.
“That about sums it up,” Darcio said with a self-deprecating grin. “But it’s just a suggestion, mind you.”
“Darcio, you’re an ass,” Rye grumbled. “Just because I said aloud what we were all complaining about doesn’t mean I’m the designated idiot.”
Reule looked from one man to the other, aware of approaching hoofbeats in the distance. “Doesn’t it bother any of you that Mystique is an outlander? That she’s a fertile woman? What if I bed her and she conceives? I would be honor-bound to make her my Prima. You would have an outlander for a queen.”
“Does it matter if it bothers us, Reule?” Darcio countered. “We know you care for Jeth and the Pack above all else, but there are some choices a man makes solely for himself. Prime or no,” he insisted when he saw Reule building a response, “there are things that make being king worthwhile, and one of those things is the power to choose whomever you wish for your queen. Don’t worry about us.
“I saw you born, Reule. In all the time since, I’ve never seen you take to a woman the way you’ve taken to Mystique. That says something to me. To us all. We’re all aware of how extraordinary she is.”
“We know so little about her,” Reule said absently as he tried to absorb Darcio’s surprising words.
“We know she has a good heart, more guts than most men, and the grace and beauty needed to guide and represent your realm,” Rye interjected. “She’s also a powerful ’pathic, which means introducing fresh power into Sánge royal bloodlines. And,” Rye paused a beat to grin, “I think she’s sweet on you.”
Darcio burst into laughter as the approaching riders finally drew to a dusty halt. Three of them dismounted, another ten remaining on horseback. The smell of smoke and soot was heavy on the newcomers and Reule turned to greet them.
He looked straight into diamond eyes that glittered in the moonlight.
“What the…?”
Before he could work up the appropriate protest, Mystique stepped up against him and slid her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back and smiled a
t him as she infused his tired, soiled body with her pleasant warmth.
“Delano and I had an idea. One that could end this hunt far more quickly than a routine tracking. Since we’re all tired,” she added, “and would enjoy a bath and our beds…” Reule felt her fingers stroking him along his spine as she said bed, making sure the word received appropriate emphasis in his mind. “I thought a faster solution would be welcome.”
Delano stepped forward and held up one of the canisters of fuel they’d found emptied near the field where the initial fire had been started. The metal was melted and charred and bent, but there was no mistaking it. Mystique stepped away, swiping at her already dirtied face with a small soot-covered hand. Then she held out both hands, nearly black as they were, palms up to show him just how bare they were all of a sudden. No gloves. Nothing to protect her from connecting to whoever had held that can before it had been maliciously emptied.
“Your telemetrics,” Rye whispered. “An excellent idea!”
“To hell it is! I don’t want her anywhere near a Jakal camp!” Reule roared. He rounded on Mystique, pointing a finger in her calm face. “And don’t you ever try playing me like that again, kébé!”
“I wasn’t playing you. I was communicating silently.” She shrugged. “I thought a subtle hint would be more acceptable than bluntly saying I wanted to help so we can finally get around to becoming lovers. Since I prefer the frank and honest approach better anyway—”
She broke off and grinned, a flash of white teeth in a soot-streaked face, when the entire Pack all but fell on the ground laughing. Reule was just grateful he was filthy because he had a feeling he was blushing. He’d forgotten that nothing embarrassed her and she was never afraid to be forthright in company.
Reule found himself grinning when the snickers and snorts of laughter surrounding him were lowered in an attempt at respect. She was waiting expectantly, her big eyes blinking with a pretty moonstruck effect she was completely unaware of. He folded his arms over his chest and, very slowly, allowed his gaze to travel from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, with some strategic and lascivious pauses along the way. The cough-covered laughs began again, but his grin grew because he felt the quick response of her sensually attuned body leaping across the distance between them.
Drink of Me Page 18
