The Healer's Warrior

by Lewin, Renee

  Standing before her, Tareq’s heart raced as he started to participate in the unwrapping of his gift. His fingers skimmed her back as he found the bow of her strapless breast cloth. He was so close to her as his fingers undid the knot. His breath warmed her neck. Jem’ya’s skin yearned for more contact. The breast cloth fell away. Tareq’s eyes trailed down to her exposed chest. He couldn’t help but claim them both with his large hands. He brought his mouth down to the dark slopes of her breasts and kissed them as his hands wandered to her hips, tugging down her panties and making her completely bare. His hot hands caressed her skin. He lifted his face away from her chest and smiled, appreciating the sight of her nakedness in the white light of the morning sun. How magnificent it was to see his woman wearing nothing but those gold and pearl earrings and the matching engagement ring. “Perfect,” he breathed.

  Jem’ya’s trembling hands worked to remove his black shirt. Tareq helped her pull it over his head. She wanted to feel him, the front of him, his chest and his stomach. She was already so familiar with his back and his legs after being his masseuse for so long. It was his solid chest and hard stomach, once forbidden areas for her hands to touch, that were an erotic treat for her senses. Her lips accompanied her hands in exploring the carved landscape of his muscles. A few dark freckles on his chest caught her eye. She kissed each one while her hands delighted the sensitive skin over his ribs. Jem’ya was happy to feel his tremor of pleasure against her mouth. She lifted her head, gripped his weighty arms, and pressed her body against his. As they kissed, her fingers carefully trailed down his taut stomach, down his navel, and hooked onto the waistbands of his undershorts and his black pants. Together, they encouraged the last of his clothing to fall down his hips.

  She’d never seen a man unclothed and in an excited state before. His erection looked demanding and powerful. Jem’ya was a little frightened of it, yet she felt impulsive and needy as her eyes bashfully studied it. Charged with lust, they embraced each other and kissed hungrily. Tareq’s fingers pressed into her thigh. His hand slid down to the back of her knee and lifted her leg. She squeezed her leg around him. Her calf pressed against the firm curve of his behind. As he directed them toward the bed, Jem’ya wrapped her other leg around him. He carried her to his bed. Jem’ya was gently lowered onto the plush white sheets of the king’s bed. She ran her fingers through his silky hair and kissed his jaw line and his chin. Tareq touched her all over and admired her. “Beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling and kissing her soft brown skin, smelling her, tasting her, down to her hips where he caressed the faint stretch marks there, scars created when she developed into the supple, womanly body beneath him.

  She watched his hands and his gaze glide all over her. She glanced at his stiff manhood, anticipating the moment they would become one. Tareq kissed and embraced her. He rolled onto his back and brought Jem’ya with him so that she was lying on top of him. He gratefully cuddled her soft body against his, clutching at her feminine shape. Jem’ya loved the sensation of her breasts pressing against the swell of his firm chest muscles, and enjoyed the feel of his defined stomach against her belly. She kissed at his collarbone, following it to his neck. He turned her onto her back again.

  His searing hardness nudged her inner thigh. Submissively she parted her legs to him. Her thighs succumbed to trembles as he pressed the head of his member against her slick opening. Breathless from a hot rush of adrenaline, she grasped at the valley of his spine. The cool band of her engagement ring grazed the healed scratches on his back. “I love you,” Tareq breathed as he penetrated her. Jem’ya bit down on his collarbone as his girth stretched her and the seal of her virginity was broken.

  Tareq almost lost control. The combination of her hot mouth on his neck and of being inside of her was euphoric. She was so tight and soft. He could hardly speak. He paused, fighting for control of his body. They were suspended in the moment, panting. “Mahsalom, did I hurt you?”

  “A little.” Her eyes twinkled with tears. The harmony and pleasure overshadowed any pain. “Don’t worry. You feel so good, Tareq.” Her hands slid down to his hips to pull him in deeper. “Please,” she whispered, begging.

  “No, don’t move,” he whispered, desperately holding on. It was his first time with a woman and he wanted it to last. Every level of his being was where it was supposed to be. His mind was with Jem’ya, his heart was with Jem’ya, and his body was with Jem’ya’s. He kissed her but had to pause again because his control was slipping.

  She saw how tense he was, straining to contain himself. She wanted him to relax and feel good. “Just let go,” Jem’ya whispered and rubbed his back. So he began to move. They moved together, their minds and bodies wild with the lightning and thunder of pleasure. Their hearts were like the eye of the rough storm, serene and at peace within their experience of oneness.

  Jem’ya’s special bud was swollen, aching to be touched. Instinctively, her hand wandered down and she began to massage herself. The stimulation was toe-curling. She felt Tareq growing inside of her, furthering her pleasure to a new dramatic level. Tareq and Jem’ya moved rhythmically together until finally their orgasms crashed through them, again and again like the waves of a hot deep ocean barreling against soft sand. Passionate cries burst from their mouths. Then there was stillness.

  Tareq had collapsed on top of her. Their tired tingling limbs were entwined. Tareq shifted his weight, pulled out of her and lifted his face from her neck. Jem’ya read the wonderment and the love in his hazel eyes. The same emotions sparkled back in her gaze. Moved, they smiled at each other through tears. Tareq stroked Jem’ya’s right ear and ardently kissed at her tender lips. Their bodies became energized again. Tareq wanted more. “Do you want to go again? Can you?” he asked.

  “Yes, your Highness,” she smiled.

  Tareq smiled. His hand traveled into the valley between her legs. His thick fingers thrilled her nub. “It feels good to you to be touched here?”

  “Mmmm. Yes,” she breathed. Her eyes became hooded.

  “Then I’m happy to caress you there, my queen,” he murmured. He rubbed slow circles against her bud and watched her writhing and whimpering with pleasure. He teased her nipples with his tongue, surrounding the rigid peaks with his warm mouth. Painfully hard again, he positioned himself to re-enter her. He pushed into her easier than before. She was still gloriously tight.

  She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back. “This time you don’t have to be as gentle,” she hinted. Tareq lowered his face to her neck, gripped his fingers into her hips and began thrusting wildly into her. She cried out in pleasure. “Tareq!” Her fingernails made fresh scratches on his muscled back. He pounded into her until she floated away on a cloud of ecstasy.

  Early the next morning, the exotic birds in the aviary gradually awakened as the rising sun cast a glow across the glass dome of the atrium. Lovebirds, macaws, parakeets, parrots, toucans, cockatiels, conures and canaries shuffled along branches and flapped their wings, singing, tweeting and squawking as they preened their vivid feathers. As the small birds began their flurry through the trees, the great falcon finally stirred awake. Sitting on a fifteen-foot perch, in a solitary twenty-foot cage, the falcon peered down through his wide, glassy black eyes at the flitting birds he could never make his prey. He stretched his brown striped wings, opened his sharp beak and released a terrifying screech.

  Jem’ya woke up with a gasp. Tears clouded her eyes and her heart was slamming inside her chest. She sat up in bed. “Kibwe,” she whispered and buried her face in her hands. The bed sheet slid down her naked chest. Jem’ya tried to be as quiet as possible as she cried. Tareq was asleep beside her. She’d been tortured by a nightmare about her brother’s killing.

  Everything seemed possible in this beautiful palace. The future seemed perfect when it came from Tareq’s lips, but it wasn’t perfect at all. He loved her and he respected her people, but her tribe would not respect who he was or forgive what he’d done, nor could Jem’ya fill the
role of a queen. She could not be the humble wife she always dreamed of being if she was the Queen of Samhia. Tareq’s perilous kingdom would always come first in his life. Jem’ya’s family would always come first in hers. Her family’s rejection of her and the love of her life would leave her destroyed.

  Jem’ya looked over her shoulder at the sleeping king. Her stomach and her heart protested, assaulting her with twinges and aches at the thought of leaving him. She reached out and touched a curl of his hair. She admired the fan of his dark eyelashes against his fair skin, and his strong build half hidden by the sheets. They made love three times yesterday. The second time was wild and loud. Both unleashed the primal passion and carnal curiosities they’d kept inside for so many years. They forgot all concerns of gentleness as they strived to possess each other. Afterwards, they took a long bath together. Hot water pulled some of the soreness away. Tareq’s input was required for a number of important political decisions. He had to leave her to address them at Commander’s Hall. The third time they made love was when he returned to the palace that evening. Outside, the night sky had glittered with stars and the moon was full. Tareq and Jem’ya’s bodies were weary but their hearts longed for their transcendent connection. They exchanged loving whispers, ghostly kisses and lovedrunk smiles, and stared into each other’s eyes as he moved gently inside of her. A slow, sensual buildup led to an earth quaking release that took them both by surprise. She would remember his love always.

  Jem’ya removed the engagement ring from her trembling hand and slipped out of bed. She got dressed and snuck out of the room, careful not to wake Tareq. The further she walked down the hall, the weaker she became, as though her soul was still lying by Tareq’s side and she was leaving it behind. She ran out of the palace and into the stables. “Please, hurry and give me my horse,” she asked a horse keeper. He scurried to Empress’s stable, brushed down her back, threw on her saddle and jogged with her to Jem’ya in a minute’s time. Jem’ya climbed into the saddle of her brown horse and rode it to the gates. Slowly the thick gate doors were pushed open by the guards. With straight posture and a stoic expression, Jem’ya whipped the reins. The horse dashed out of the courtyard. She directed it south across the desert.

  Jem’ya’s brave composure dissolved with every hoof beat. She slumped forward, bereft. “No, no, no,” she sobbed. “I love him. I love him. This isn’t fair! God, why did you bring us together if we weren’t meant to be?” Her hands began to tingle incessantly. She raised her head. Who did her Creator want her to heal? No one was around her. “Am I supposed to heal myself?” she muttered. “Am I to be by myself for the rest of my life?” Her mouth soured. “Then I don’t want this ‘gift’ any longer. Don’t use me anymore, God. I cannot devote my entire life to soothing other’s pain while I am left to suffer alone.” Her mouth trembled with bitterness. She struck Empress’s sides with her heels and the horse galloped full speed. “If I can’t have him, You can’t have me!”

  When Tareq’s sleepy eyes opened to the new day, he immediately reached his arm out to hold Jem’ya, but her side of the bed was empty. “Jem’ya?” he called, thinking she might be in the bathroom. There was no answer. He rubbed at his face and stretched. He forced himself to sit up. The sheets were twisted about his naked waist. He squinted at the sky through the windows. He could tell it was rather early in the morning. Usually he slept a few hours longer. The sense that Jem’ya was not near him must have roused him so soon from his slumber. He glanced at her side of the bed again. That’s when he saw the engagement ring on top of her pillow.

  The blow to his heart knocked the air from his lungs. He stared at the ring as his mind was sucked down into a dark hell. Every painful memory of his life swirled in his head. Her sentence is death! KIBWE! Murdererrrr! It would not sadden me, warrior prince, if today you took your last breath. You are the monster, n-not me. I mean, look at yourself, Qadir. Haven’t you taken enough from me?! He’s gone, King Tareq. Bahja, I killed him! He almost surrendered to it all. He almost accepted another death, another loss. But Jem’ya’s voice broke through the darkness. When what we love is threatened, then we fight. He had to fight.

  He pulled on undershorts, a wrinkled white shirt and a brown pair of pants that were strewn about the floor and ran out of his bedroom. “Where is she?! Where’s Jem’ya?!” he questioned the servants in the hall. A young lady spoke up. “I saw her leave the palace on horseback about ten minutes ago, your Highness.” He sprinted down the hall. “Sultan!” he shouted toward the stables as he bounded down the front steps of the palace, not wearing any shoes. A horse keeper prepared the horse within seconds and the guards began opening the gates. A stable boy training to be a royal horse keeper met Tareq at the gates with Sultan. “She went south, your Highness,” the young boy offered. Tareq bounded into the saddle and tore out of the gates, leaving the guards behind in a cloud of dust.

  His heart was pounding against his ribcage. Riding south, he began to panic as the miles rushed by without any sign of Jem’ya. What if the stable boy was mistaken? He could be going in the wrong direction. But she had to be heading south if she was trying to get home. His stomach leapt at the sight of a rider on the horizon. Immediately he knew it was Jem’ya. “Yah!” The midnight horse dug its heels into the tough terrain and propelled itself and its owner across the desert. “Jem’ya! Jem’yaaa!” Tears came to his eyes when she began racing faster away from him without even looking back. “Jem’ya!” he roared. Sultan was barely closing the distance between them. “Have the decency to tell me why you are rejecting me!” Her horse slowed slightly. He pleaded with her to speak with him. He shouted in desperation. “Can’t I have a word with my wife before she leaves me forever?” Empress slowed significantly, and then stopped. Sultan caught up to her ten seconds later and slid to a stop in front of her.

  Wide-eyed and breathing hard, Tareq stared at Jem’ya.

  She wouldn’t look at him. She swallowed. A ceaseless stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Tareq shook his head. “Why?”

  She was silent.

  Tareq could see that she was in a lot of pain. Something was torturing her mind. “Please, come with me to the stream,” he asked softly. “They need water.” Finally Jem’ya met the eyes of the man she promised never to abandon. He sighed. He wanted to touch her so badly. She nodded. Relieved, Tareq turned Sultan east and started him galloping at a moderate speed. Jem’ya followed. They reached the fresh water in the tributary of the Algezzir. Tareq dismounted from his horse. He helped Jem’ya down from hers by taking hold of her hips and carrying her down to stand before him. He rubbed the length of her arms, massaging her brown skin as he gazed into her eyes, then he cupped her face, then he caressed her ears, and then his hands fell away. A sad smile stretched his lips. Tareq took a calabash from Sultan’s saddle and walked the horse to the stream. He filled the small wooden drinking bowl with cool water. Jem’ya stood leaning against her horse, watching. Tareq walked back to Jem’ya, drinking from the cup. He passed the calabash to her. She drank from it and stared up at him. Tareq reached out and wiped away the water from the corner of her mouth. Drawn to her, he dove in and ravaged her mouth, needing her lips to be against his, needing all of her. The bowl fell from her hands. Her fingers slid up his back to his shoulder blades and her body fit naturally against his tall form. Tareq broke the kiss and admired her face. His hazel eyes pleaded with her. “I cannot have peace without you.”

  Saddened and serious, Jem’ya’s brows furrowed. “Peace? Marrying me, a commoner, a black tribal woman, would not allow you peace. It would turn your life and your kingdom upside down. They will hate me and they will hate you. My people and yours.”

  Tareq’s jaw tightened with determination. “I am the king, Jem’ya. I give the orders. My people will do as I say. They will treat you with respect or bear the consequences.”

  “But it doesn’t change how they feel. You can’t change their hearts. Not in our lifetimes. You can’t bend their will. Mayb
e one day the world will be different. I cannot live comfortably in a land where everyone privately curses and spits at the mention of my name, wishing me dead even. I can’t continue being a healer if I am also a queen. I want a simple life, Tareq. And what about my family? I was stupid to think that my family would not cast me away as a traitorous, heartless whore that married her own brother’s killer, a greedy Arab king. That’s all they’ll think of you and me. They will turn their backs on me. Tareq, I love you so much,” she cried. “I love you so much, but I need my family. I will not hold any person above them.”

  Family is precious. Tareq deeply understood that. Now that his mother, his father and his brother were gone, he felt like half a person. Without Jem’ya he would be no one at all. “Then I will give up my kingdom.”

  Jem’ya gasped. Then she laughed nervously and searched his eyes. “Are you mad?!”

  Tareq laughed, realizing that what he’d proposed was exactly what he wanted. The dangers and stresses of ruling would no longer be a burden to him. He could divide Samhia along the borders of the multiple nations it once was, appointing new leaders who would carry on the ideals of community, responsibility and justice that Tareq held. Then he could live with Jem’ya, travel the world with her, and make a home with her that was safe. He smiled. “You are my peace, not Samhia. I will give up this kingdom and your family will see how much I want their mercy and forgiveness. They will see how much I love you.”

  Jem’ya embraced him, trembling with joy and love. “Tareq,” she sighed.

  Tareq squeezed her and kissed her shoulder, ready to begin a new life. “Let’s go home,” he murmured. Tareq tied Empress to Sultan so that Jem’ya’s horses would walk alongside him. Jem’ya sat in front of Tareq in Sultan’s saddle. Tareq’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close to him. With the other hand he managed the reins and set the horses north, back to the palace. Jem’ya laid her head on his chest and kissed his neck, happy. Tareq rubbed her stomach. Both immediately wondered about the possibility that they conceived a child during yesterday’s rounds of lovemaking, but neither uttered any speculations aloud. It was bad luck to do so.