A Warlord's Lady

by Nicola E. Sheridan

  ‘Hungry?’ A silky voice came from behind him.

  The ham caught in his throat and he coughed a little before spinning around. Through his watering eyes he saw Mags.

  A flurry of outraged German followed. Mags stalked over to the netted bed and reclined, her blonde hair shorter and her lips redder than ever before.

  ‘Not the welcome I had hoped for, Jürgen,’ she crooned, and as she reclined back her short skirt rode up displaying the white of her inner thigh.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Did he bring her here?’ she said at the same time.

  ‘Get out of here, Maggie. Now.’

  ‘No, I need to get Sabra. Faustus is furious I have lost her.’

  ‘The Warlord is furious I lost her, too,’ Jürgen growled in response. ‘He is not here, nor is she. You are looking in the wrong place.’

  ‘I spent some time pretending to be a nurse in that damn hospital and I nearly got to her, then your Warlord whisked her away somewhere. I had hoped here…’ She lifted her legs and crossed them.

  Jürgen felt his loins tighten. He kicked the little fridge closed. ‘No. You must leave. Even if he brings her back here, you cannot stay.’

  ‘I cannot go back to Faustus without her.’ She smiled displaying her white capped teeth.

  ‘That is your problem, Maggie, not mine.’

  ‘But you made it my problem,’ she hissed, and the sudden fury in her tone made him nearly jump. ‘When you nearly killed her.’

  ‘An accident. You know it was.’

  ‘Shall we fight again over her? Winner gets her?’

  ‘No! How did you even find me here, Maggie?’ Jürgen retorted. ‘Do you know there is a government army headed our way as we speak? I’ve got to set up defences. Now is not the time for me to think about my Warlord’s damn chameleon.’

  ‘But she’s not just a damn Chameleon, is she?’

  ‘She is to me. More trouble than she’s damn well worth.’ He grunted and stuffed the remainder of the ham in his mouth and chewed it slowly.

  ‘What are your lord’s plans?’

  ‘Like hell I’ll tell you…’

  ‘Isn’t there something I could do to persuade you?’ she cooed.

  Jürgen felt himself stir beneath the towel, and he felt Mags’ cool brown eyes slink down the length of his chest and linger on the telltale swelling.

  ‘I’m very good at persuading…’ She smiled. ‘How long has it been since you’ve had a woman, Jürgen? A real woman, of your own kind?’

  ‘You damn well know just how long it’s been,’ Jürgen replied, his body’s reaction to her words betraying the calmness in his voice.

  ‘Do you want my pussy?’ she crooned. ‘You can have it, you know, for a little promise.’

  ‘No, Maggie. I won’t betray the Warlord for you, or your damn pussy.’

  Mags pouted. ‘Shame, because…’ She paused, parting her legs a little further. ‘Smell the air, Jürgen. Can you smell it?’

  He could smell it, her natural perfume hung like a delicate web in the air between them, captivating, beautiful and thoroughly enticing.

  ‘I’m in heat, Jürgen, and you can have me.’ She growled, and the sound rolled in her chest.

  Jürgen bit his lip, but could not manage to suppress a groan and a reciprocal growl deep within his own. ‘No.’

  She let her legs relax and the skirt, that covered little, began to cover less. ‘Please, I need you.’

  Jürgen took a step forward. He felt his body strain to shift, he wanted to pull the towel from his body and expose himself to her, show her his strength, bite her and dominate her. The mating between Aufhockers was not a gentle process, and one Jürgen was loathe to ever attempt with a human woman.

  I can’t betray Cain, he thought, but found himself moving towards Mags on the bed regardless. He walked as if entranced, which he was — by the sensual perfume she exuded and sexual promise in her eyes. He’d been alone a long time. Aufhockers were solitary by nature, coming together to mate and procreate and little else.

  How did she get here? A remnant voice of reason questioned. Has this Faustus given her the power to use the motus spell just to come and seduce me? Probably.

  Yet despite this thought, Jürgen realised he’d moved. He was standing before the bed now, and Mags was fully reclined. Her legs were parted. She was making it clear that there would be no barrier, no impediment to taking her — if he just let the towel fall.

  ‘Get up,’ he growled, but his words were so thick with longing they were barely audible.

  ‘No,’ she mouthed, and pouted her ruby lips.

  That low growl rumbled in his chest, and Mags released one in response, and the sound and scent became overwhelming.

  He crawled onto the bed and allowing the towel to fall, he leaned over and kissed Mags firmly on the lips. The kiss was hard and ferocious. They growled and snarled at one another, and Mags’ red-nailed hands ran lengths down Jürgen’s broad solid back. Poised at the entrance to her womanhood, he stared into her eyes.

  I’m weak…damn her! He kissed her savagely once again with punishing force.

  He had no chance to move, as a loud American voice pierced the symphony of their mating growls.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Christy swore.

  Chapter 15

  Sabra sat opposite Cain in a sunlit café beside the Indian Ocean. The light hovered between day and dusk, and the horizon promised a spectacular sunset with the beginnings of a pinkish blush.

  Sabra rested her elbows on a wooden table that was old and heavily varnished. She could almost feel the ages beneath her hands in the knots of the wood. She smiled at him, a little shyly, and stared out over the golden sands and ocean. The water was so blue it looked as if it were painted, small gulls cried, and other birds she didn’t know dipped beneath the water and chased tiny fish.

  ‘This is lovely.’ Sabra smiled again.

  ‘It is,’ he agreed.

  Her warlord had been very attentive. She still wasn’t sure whether she believed in this prophecy, or any of the things Cain had said. She needed more time, and thankfully Cain was prepared to give it before returning to Laos. She didn’t know what exactly she felt for the man sitting opposite her. Lust certainly, affection definitely — but love? How could she love him, after everything she’d been through? How could she possibly trust him when until now, his motives had been completely hidden from her? She needed time to explore what she felt.

  Cain didn’t prompt her into conversation, but waited in companionable silence. His golden tan skin was dusted by the last rays of daylight, and he seemed completely at ease and in no hurry to go anywhere.

  ‘Could I read this prophecy?’ Sabra asked eventually, taking care to keep her tone quiet. She was aware that the waiter may find her conversation a tad peculiar if he overheard it. ‘Or can one of the thriae tell it to me?’

  For a tiny, microscopic moment Cain’s expression changed. She almost missed the look. ‘Can I?’ she repeated, feeling her brows furrow.

  ‘Of course,’ he said slowly. ‘But like I said, it’s full of riddles, and I do not have a copy of it here in Geraldton, and Hexa would not know the words by heart. The prophecy is a part of the thriae collective mind, not part of the individual.’

  Unease gnawed in her belly, making her bruschetta and coffee churn uncomfortably in her gut. She tried to discern any further change in his expression, but it was carefully neutral.

  ‘Cain,’ she said very softly, ‘if I can’t believe in this prophecy and can’t believe what you say about those women at the compound — I will not go back to Laos, not willingly.’

  Sabra watched his brows collide low on his brow, and his lips twisted unhappily. ‘I will not forcibly take you anywhere against your will,’ he promised. ‘I made that mistake once. I’d be a fool to try it again.’

  ‘You would be,’ Sabra agreed and her heart lifted somewhat at his words.

  ‘But you will never be safe with
out me,’ he reminded her.

  The feeling disappeared instantly and a feeling of suffocation threatened to choke. It was horribly true; if she declined to go with him, she’d be left for the government or mafia, or even worse, the shadow man.

  ‘I’m doomed, aren’t I?’

  ‘Not quite, you have me.’ He smiled. ‘I will keep you safe.’

  His words made her feel weird, because they were hard to believe. Was it all just ploy? She’d had too many betrayals. To trust him, or heaven forbid, love him, was it just foolish?

  Am I fool? she wondered, staring out off the ocean. Do I love him? Yes, she thought, but wasn’t completely sure. There were so many things that tainted her affection for him. The ridiculous prophecy, the women, the murder, the danger…and yet, there was no place she felt more content than by his side.

  Cain was watching her, and he looked a little ruffled. ‘Usually there are reciprocal words of affection when a man professes his affections.’

  Sabra felt a laugh bubble. ‘Well, I’m afraid these aren’t usual circumstances, are they?’

  ‘Well met,’ he replied and inclined his head.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Sabra said.

  ‘Of course.’

  Although his words were in agreement, his expression spoke of something else, but she forged on.

  ‘Did you think all your other girlfriends were part of the prophecy? Did you have the same feelings for them that you claim to have for me?’

  He didn’t even pause in his answer. ‘Never. They were just girlfriends to me. The Laotian government thought they might be more, and they all claimed to feel something for me, but I never did. You, however, are my prophecy and our children will be powerful and good.’

  Children?

  Sabra shook her head, disbelieving. ‘There you have it, Warlord, it all comes down to genetics. It isn’t the woman you want in this prophecy, but the children we might make…why don’t you steal the eggs like the rest of them?’

  Cain groaned and rolled his shoulders. ‘No, Sabra, there is more to it than that.’

  ‘Like what?’ she heard herself snap. ‘The brood mare gets a say, does she?’

  Frustration shimmered in the air around the warlord. ‘The prophecy speaks of our love, that we are each a face on the same coin. We need each other. Didn’t you feel that when you left? Didn’t you suffer from flashbacks? Memories? Endless lonely nights?’

  Sabra hesitated. Of course she had, but he could have read that from her book.

  ‘Because I did, I do.’ He sighed again. ‘Every night and every day since, you have rarely been from my mind.’

  She closed her eyes, and listened to his soft breathing. She felt sad and was more convinced than ever that their relationship was not destined at all, it was doomed.

  ***

  The meal had been meant to convince her of his love, and perhaps tempt her to love him fully in return. Alas, she seemed further from his reach than before. Cain studied her face, she was working hard to keep her skin from shifting, he could tell. The last rays of the day caressed her cheeks, and glistened on her hair. A strong sea breeze had risen, and the gulls and birds had left. The beach below was empty, as empty as he imagined Sabra’s heart might be.

  ‘I’ve spoken too much,’ Cain said, and stood offering her a hand. ‘You’re tired, so we’ll go back to the apartment, and I’ll see how things are progressing at the compound.’

  He trusted Jürgen’s ability to protect the compound but disliked not being actively involved. If the Laotian forces got through and destroyed his headquarters, he’d be forced to leave Laos and set up base elsewhere — it was something he didn’t want to do. Yet he also knew he had to convince Sabra of the truth.

  Things weren’t looking promising.

  ***

  As they strolled back to his apartment, Sabra knew they looked like typical tourists, which was probably what Cain had hoped for. She was dressed in loose fit jeans and a flowing red, black and purple blouse. The evening sea breeze cut through it like butter, and she felt herself shiver.

  ‘Cold?’ Cain asked.

  ‘A bit, I’m fine though. It’s good to get the fresh air.’

  He looked at her with concern and was about to speak again when his telephone rang loudly from his pocket. Then he frowned, looked at the caller and answered.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked without preamble when he brought the phone to his ear.

  Sabra could faintly hear a loud but feminine voice bellowing down the phone line, the tone excited and angry. She glanced up to try and read Cain’s expression, but needn’t have bothered. His next words were telling enough. ‘Jürgen was doing what?’ he growled.

  ***

  Jürgen didn’t know what had happened. One minute he was with Mags and then the next? Blood oozed from his ear and the voices around him sounded tinny and distant.

  He shook his head to try and clear it, but it hurt. He looked around dazed; Christy’s crew surrounded him, all heaving muscle and tight disapproving lips.

  He struggled to his feet but the rough hands of an adult male werewolf called Tommy pushed him down. Still dizzy, Jürgen reeled and fell on his backside. He closed his eyes to steady his pounding head, and focus on the tinny voices. The gentle perfume of Mags’ musk season scent wafted to him and he felt his body begin to shift. ‘Where is she?’ he growled, his voice sounding more Aufhocker than human.

  ‘She’s over there, big boy,’ Tommy grunted and gestured beyond the circle and towards the bed. ‘Out for the count though.’ He added, ‘I ain’t never seen Christy so pissed.’

  Jürgen sighed. He’d fucked up now. Big time. He heard Christy swear and her boots slap on the stone as she walked towards him.

  ‘What the hell? Jürgen?’ she growled. ‘Fucking the enemy now?’ She pushed past Tommy who backed up gratefully.

  Jürgen felt Christy’s feral yellow eyes alight on him.

  ‘I came back to see what the hell was taking you so long and find you fucking Maggie South?’

  Jürgen growled — he could still smell Mags. ‘On heat,’ he grunted and gestured to the unconscious Mags. His voice was guttural, his mouth and teeth had shifted and his muscles were growing bigger and bulkier. ‘Trapped me, can’t stop…’ he growled low in his chest again, ‘when…female on heat…’

  Christy raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see your excitement hasn’t been dampened by that blow to head, has it?’ She gestured to his erection.

  Jürgen could only growl in response.

  ‘I’ve rung the boss, he’s not impressed.’

  Jürgen wasn’t listening. The desire to go and mate with Mags was a powerful lure. He couldn’t think while he could still smell her scent. It was both a clever and cruel trick, and one that had nearly succeeded in getting him to betray Cain, and still might.

  ‘Get…her…out…’ he grunted, ‘quickly.’ He growled, his eyes riveted to Mags’ unconscious form and her splayed legs. He was going to lose it. He could feel it in every fibre of his being.

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do,’ Christy snapped, but it was too late.

  Jürgen felt his body react without his permission. He launched from his squatting position. His bare feet pushed from the smooth stone floor with the force of a coiled spring. He slammed past Tommy and two others sending them sprawling. He’d mate with her! He’d get to her! His heart was pounding. He was nearly at the bedside when suddenly someone else was in front of him.

  She smelled wrong, canine, but not Aufhocker. Jürgen looked at her through his narrow shifted eyes. ‘Out. Of. My. Way.’ He growled, and saliva trailed from his snout.

  ‘No way, lover boy. You’ll have to get through me first,’ Christy said.

  ‘Fine,’ Jürgen snarled and reached out and grabbed Christy by the biceps.

  Intoxicated on pheromones as he was, Jürgen didn’t see the lightning fast uppercut coming, but he felt it. He reared back howling.

  Christy snarled at her crew to remo
ve Mags’ unconscious body and the big men stalked behind her and began to do as they were bid.

  Rage inflamed Jürgen’s brain. It cloaked him in crimson heat so bright, so dense that it left him with no control at all. Men touching my mate.

  He leaped forward. It was one Aufhocker against seven werewolves and demons — the odds weren’t good, but he didn’t care. He had to get Mags, he had to.

  ***

  ’I have to go,’ Cain said, when they arrived back at the apartment. ‘Things are deteriorating back in Laos, they need me.’

  ‘I need you, too. What happens if…’ What if Shadow Men, the government or mafia find me? She didn’t need to say it.

  ‘Come with me then.’ He extended the blue box. ‘Marry me, be my wife. I will always keep you safe.’

  ‘But…’ Her words died, and the hope that shone in Cain’s eyes faded.

  ‘You still don’t believe me do you?’ he asked.

  ‘I…I…can’t,’ Sabra whispered, and turned her head from the ring box and his extended hand. ‘I need time.’

  ‘Then stay, I will come back.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘It is your choice, Sabra, but I must go. I cannot afford to lose my compound. It would be a devastating blow for magical kind if I did.’

  His eyes were hooded and sad.

  ‘I…’ Her chest hurt.

  I do care about you though. I feel safest by your side. Don’t leave me. She wanted to say it, but couldn’t.

  He released a heavy sigh and his eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s fine, Sabra.’ Although, clearly it wasn’t. ‘Take your time. I had a lovely evening with you and will be back as soon as I can.’ He uttered a soft spell beneath his breath. The room exploded in the shimmery, exotic smell of his magic. A telephone appeared in his hand. ‘Here, keep this with you at all times. To speak with me, just press ‘talk’.’

  He stretched out his hand and placed the smart phone look-alike into her palm. ‘I don’t want to leave you…’ he murmured, and leant closer, burying his head in the hair beside her ear.

  A shiver tingled down her spine and her head fell back on its own accord. Cain nuzzled past the hair and kissed her neck. ‘Please, just come,’ he whispered against her skin.