A Warlord's Lady

by Nicola E. Sheridan

  He ground his hips against her, and the strength behind it told her it was no dream. He pushed himself up onto his forearms above her. With him looking down at her, she felt delectably vulnerable. Her hospital gown had ridden high. It was scorched and stained, but with a gentle whisper under his breath, she felt it disappear in a puff of magic. She realised with wry amusement that her legs were splayed, her body open and ready for him — as it always had been.

  ‘Sabra?’ he asked, and she watched his lips as they formed her name, displaying the white perfection of his teeth as he did.

  ‘Yes, it’s always yes.’ She groaned in answer to his unspoken question.

  Cain clearly needed no further urging; his hand delved south and his manhood sprung high and proud from his pants. It nestled close against her. Sabra held her breath and waited, feeling the heat of its head pushing at the very gateway of her femininity.

  Cain made one sharp movement forward and instantly she felt herself filled with him. She cried out and her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and goaded him to move against her.

  The rightness of the moment made tears leak from her eyes again. She’d wanted this, she’d needed this.

  ‘Cain,’ she murmured against him, and he dipped his head and took her mouth. His tongue mimicked those other parts of him thrusting into her. Heat built and grew within her, his body seeming to touch those deepest parts of her that she’d thought had withered and died from neglect over the past 18 months.

  He was slick and impossibly smooth with her body’s liquid desire. The groan of their lovemaking echoed around the room as the Warlord heaved above her. She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her. His gaze was filled with something she hadn’t expected. Affection blazed in the angular plains of his face. She held that look, her body absorbing the force of his thrusts readily. Soon, perhaps too soon, the ferocity and speed of his thrusts increased with urgency. Sabra felt her body tighten in reciprocal excitement. Her body tingled, heat like electric sparks gathered deep within her and she let out a guttural cry.

  Then it hit, an orgasm like no other cascaded through her body and flooded every fibre of her being. Cain’s eyes widened, and his lovemaking intensified for a few rapid, hard plunges as her body continued to contract around him.

  ‘Sabra, I love you,’ the Warlord whispered as his own orgasm racked him.

  ***

  When Cain lifted his head, to his great astonishment, he found Sabra limp beneath him. Her eyes were glazed pools of grey, and an amused smile curled her cupid lips. Shame crept through him, stealing through his confidence like rot. He’d done what he always did. Let their bodies speak without any words, when it was words, not sex that was needed. He knew it and cursed himself for his lack of self-control.

  ‘Sabra?’ he said softly, unwilling to break the moment, but concerned all the same for her wellbeing. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Mmmhmmm,’ she agreed drowsily.

  Without a word, he slipped from her with a wet sucking sound. Sabra giggled and yawned. Cain could see that the excitement of the past few days was catching up with her, and post-coital hormones were preparing her for sleep.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Cain said softly, his hand grazing over her bare shoulder before he tucked himself back into his pants once again. He touched her gently on the face, knowing he couldn’t allow her to fall asleep without talking to her. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, and he may not get another chance.

  Hexa flew up beside him, and settled on his shoulder. There was a quick moment of embarrassment. He’d forgotten about the thriae.

  ‘You’d best wake her,’ Hexa whistled. ‘She will be angry with you. It is imperative you tell her about the prophecy before it is too late, and there is also a high chance that she may be with child.’

  The thriae’s words startled him. Pregnant? Possessive pride exploded within his chest before being quickly followed by confusion. ‘Pregnant? Why would she be angry?’ he asked, recognising it was perhaps a stupid question.

  ‘She believes you are like the others, only after the genetics she can provide.’

  ‘She is my prophesied wife, not an…egg donor. I love her.’

  The tiny face of the thriae was implacable. ‘Some women believe it is one and the same. Still, you must tell her this. But do not delay. Time is very much of the essence.’

  ‘I will,’ Cain promised solemnly, his gaze falling to her sleeping body; she looked so peaceful.

  The thriae nodded and buzzed away and Cain conjured a hot cup of coffee. He had to plan his words carefully before she woke.

  He took a glance out the window. They were currently ensconced in one of his many properties around the world, an apartment located in the north-western Australian city of Geraldton, several hours by car from Perth. Cain had supposed that the shadows would not be able to trace her here until nightfall, so she’d be safe from them at least, for now. The Mafia, however, were another matter. He’d spotted Mags lurking in the corridor of the hospital disguised as a nurse. A good disguise, he knew, that would not be traceable through magical ion detectors as the shift for an Aufhocker was a physical one, not magical.

  Additionally, he knew that his own magical ions would have been detected in the burnt-out surgical theatre, and the government would be hot on his tail. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became.

  He glanced down at Sabra’s dozing form, wishing he knew more about what was going on. Her ability to camouflage was important to both the government and mafia, but he was certain other chameleons were not afforded the same treatment she was. What genetics could Sabra possibly possess to cause such an uproar?

  ‘Cain?’ Sabra groaned in her sleep.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said softly.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him. He could see confusion blazing in the deep grey.

  ‘Here, have this.’ He conjured a simple meal of chicken and salad for her, and rested it on the bedside table.

  ***

  Sabra stared at the Warlord, then glanced at the food. Without a word she moved into a sitting position and grabbed the plate. She stared at the shredded roast chicken and salad glistening with oil and balsamic vinegar. Her stomach screamed at her to hurry up. As she reached down to take a piece of chicken in her fingers, she saw her hand tremble.

  I don’t know what to say.

  She dropped the morsel into her mouth and chewed slowly. It was bliss; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She looked up and caught his gaze.

  Why is he looking at me like that?

  Cain’s gaze was unblinking. ‘So…’ he prompted.

  Sabra took another mouthful of salad without answering. Some naughty part of her realised that she was tormenting him by eating so slowly, but she revelled in it all the same. Besides that, she was so hungry she felt nauseous. She swallowed slowly.

  ‘Is there something you wish to talk about?’ she said finally. Her eyes held his and it was Cain who broke the gaze.

  ‘Sabra…’ he began, and she couldn’t mistake the sound of longing there. ‘I want to apologise.’

  ‘Apologise?’ she repeated. ‘I think you did that already, unless it was a dream.’

  Despite sounding cool, calm and collected, Sabra’s heart was caught in her throat. He was speaking and acting in a way she had only ever dreamed of. Or was he? If she thought back to the days before she’d discovered he had a harem of other women, hadn’t he always been this kind?

  ***

  [Excerpt from Memoirs of a Warlord’s Love Slave, Chapter 12]

  One afternoon, there was a torrential downpour. Afternoon rains were frequent in Laos. Large heavy drops of cool water cascaded from the heavens and created small torrents that fell over the rocks and made the compound look more magical than ever.

  ‘Sabra?’ His voice was soft behind me. I felt my chest tighten, and other parts of me loosen. I’d been watching him down there in the jungle, training with his guards. Lost in my t
houghts and daydreams, I hadn’t realised they’d finished.

  Every afternoon before the rains, they’d practice their exercises. It was the hottest time of the day, but Cain made his guards work hard, and he did the same. Their job was one of life and death, and their physique, strength and endurance had to match the job.

  I spun around and faced him. He was clad only in a pair of faded grey denim shorts. They were torn at the thigh where I’d witnessed Jürgen strike a particularly vicious blow. Blood oozed slowly from the wound, staining the cloth.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ I said, but didn’t move towards him. I stayed where I was, leaning against the fern-covered balustrade.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ He took a step closer to me. His chest glistened with rain, his muscles moved with feline grace beneath his golden brown skin. My throat dried.

  We were silent a while. I wanted to ask him again why he’d captured me, and what he planned to do with me — but I didn’t. I never got an answer, always an inscrutable smile and a good shagging instead. Not that I minded, as I have said before, my life as his love slave was as close to heaven as I’m ever likely to get.

  ‘I have something for you,’ he said, suddenly breaking my musings.

  I looked up with interest, as this was something new. ‘You do? Answers perhaps?’ I teased.

  Again he offered me that inscrutable smile. ‘It’s better this way, Sabra. Better you don’t know.’

  Better? Really? What kind of explanation was that?

  Without waiting for me to respond, he brought forward a small box. I recognised it instantly as a jewellery box. Something caught in my throat and I coughed.

  ‘What is this?’ I asked, and a heady humid breeze coiled around my body, making the silk of my clothes flutter.

  Cain’s eyes darkened on me. ‘Open it,’ he said and offered the box.

  He was a magician. There could be anything in that box, but I knew what it was. Something I’d once have given my eyeteeth for, and perhaps still would. I licked my lips, aware my skin was fluctuating wildly. I felt his stare burning into me.

  I stretched out my hand to take the small box. It was blue velvet with a mauve bow around it. My skin shifted to match it. I cannot describe the confusion I felt.

  Cain didn’t say anything more, he just looked at me, quietly waiting.

  With a slight creak, the box opened. Tears burned my eyes as the shape within the box registered, and my hand began to tremble.

  A ring. A glittering baguette-shaped jewel the size of a Christmas beetle glittered from the deep blue velvet. It was set on a vibrant yellow band of gold. I bit my lip, unable to take my eyes from it.

  I don’t know how long I stared at that ring, but it must have been a while, as eventually I became aware of Cain’s impatience. His bare foot tapped on the floor with a repetitive sticky slap.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  I looked up at him. He was standing an arm’s length from me, but it may have been a million miles. His face was not worried, but calm, perhaps even a little smug.

  Was he asking me to marry him? Or asking me to join his harem?

  ‘Take it, and you’ll have everything the world can give you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you if you become part of my house.’

  Pain pierced my heart. He wasn’t proposing marriage! He wanted me to be one of his kept women — be part of his ‘house’, along with all those women who occasionally padded into his den sniffing him out.

  Had he given them rings, too?

  I felt my throat tighten as if an invisible hand sought to strangle words from me — but I kept silent. I stared through stinging eyes at the ring and then back at him. His face gave nothing away.

  As much as I had been waiting for him to indicate that our relationship was special — that it might be permanent — I refused to delude myself. How could I possibly accept this? He was my lover, but he was also a murderer, a philanderer, and my captor.

  Unspoken words hung in the air between us. ‘I…’

  I couldn’t accept. I wouldn’t accept.

  ‘You’ve never even told me why you captured me.’.

  Cain’s eyes closed for a brief moment and I watched his lashes stroke his bronzed cheeks. A muscle tensed in his jaw and he looked at me. ‘You must trust me, Sabra.’

  I heard the sharp intake of my own breath.

  ‘Trust you?’ I cried out. ‘Why? What have you given me to trust? You’ve kidnapped me, you have other women offering themselves to you, and you killed my friend. What is there to trust? A pretty ring can’t buy trust!’

  As usual, he had no answer.

  ‘Keep the ring,’ he said softly and I imagined there was regret in his tone. ‘Please.’

  I shook my head and said nothing.

  He frowned, but I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or angry. I was about to say something, I don’t remember what, but abruptly he turned and walked from the room.

  I watched that broad back disappear behind the door and the tears, those damned tears, began to fall once again. I walked to the bed, and placed the ring still in its box on the ornate bedside table — and that’s where it stayed because the next day was the day I finally escaped.

  Chapter 13

  Cain was speaking. He’d sunk down onto the bed, and Sabra suddenly became aware of the slick wetness that oozed between her thighs. Heat roared through her at the memory of their passion, and her absolute abandon when he took her both shamed and excited her.

  What is it about him that makes me forget myself?

  Her insides tightened again and she struggled to listen to Cain’s words, but they drifted through her mind, slipping between saucy memories and unwanted naughty thoughts.

  ‘I should have told you the moment I found you, back in that bar in Laos,’ Cain was saying.

  This caught her attention and she felt herself frown.

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘What you’ve always wanted to know. It’s pretty clear I’ve always been attracted to you, but you need to know why I took you…’

  Her heart thudded. ‘Attracted to me?’ she whispered.

  I thought it was me attracted to him.

  Sabra felt her skin fluctuate and she waited for him to continue.

  ‘There’s a prophecy where I come from,’ he began, and for the first time ever Sabra thought he looked nervous, his hand fiddling with a small fray on the bed sheet.

  ‘A prophecy?’ She couldn’t keep the scepticism from staining her words.

  ‘Yes.’ He looked surprised, but continued. ‘I realise that perhaps it sounds odd to you, but this prophecy is old, and belief in it is strong in Laos. In the Laotian prophecy, there is a powerful but good warlord who finds a woman, and it is their offspring who help free the magical population from human control. It was written many years ago, and may seem strange to those who aren’t from Laos — but I have grown up under the shadow of this prophecy.’ He paused and examined her face, which she strived to keep neutral. ‘Most in Laos believe I am that warlord. I fight for magical rights. I’m not a terrorist, I am not a kidnapper. My men and I fight for what is right. It is not right that the governments of the world keep magical beings controlled, tax their natural abilities. I’m not what the world makes me out to be. I fight for the freedom of magical kind, and against the things the world government do, the atrocities that they cover up in the name of research.’

  Sabra felt something cold grow in her belly. I am one of those atrocities, she realised. Does he know that? She had to find out. Or was he just spouting what she wanted to hear?

  ‘Why me? What made you think that this prophecy referred to me?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘When I first saw you with Maggie South in that bar, I knew you needed my help. You were sitting drinking with the notorious Magical Mafia Aufhocker — clearly unwittingly. You seemed so lost and so innocent, I couldn’t leave you with her. So, I decided to play the gallant knight and get you away from her.’ He laughed very softly. ‘And th
en you caught my eye when your skin flashed rainbow.’ He paused and rolled his shoulders. ‘You’re a rainbow,’ he said and smiled. ‘The prophecy speaks in abysmal riddles. Many scholars have studied it, and continue to do so — but it does mention a rainbow. When I saw you in that bar, your skin mottling like a rainbow for the tiniest of moments, I knew. I knew you were the warlord’s rainbow, my rainbow.’ He breathed out heavily. ‘I had no doubt, and I still have no doubts.’

  He is lying. The thought came unbidden and ruptured the moment. He knows about the SABRA breeding program, and wants my genetics just like the rest of them. Prophecy. What shit.

  Cain had fallen silent and was watching her, and she could feel the burning intensity of his gaze.

  ‘Then what about those other women?’ she asked finally. If she had indeed been his ‘prophesied woman’ as he claimed, why on earth would he need a harem of gorgeous women dedicating themselves to him? She held his gaze in a way she’d never dared before.

  Guiltily, Cain’s eyes fell from hers and his cheeks became dusted by a deeper bronze. ‘They…’ He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. The gesture made her stomach clench. By the heavens, he was gorgeous. ‘They aren’t my lovers, Sabra. They never will be, and never would have been.’

  Lies. How can he expect me to believe this?

  ‘I could practically smell sex in that room,’ Sabra said, allowing her burning jealousy a voice. ‘They were giving themselves to you. I heard them. You cannot honestly tell me that they weren’t there for sex. The clothes alone said it!’

  ‘No.’ Cain shook his head and gripped her hand. The gesture made her gasp. ‘No, you’re wrong. They may have been offering themselves to me, but I never would have touched them. Why would I? I had you.’