Warrior

by Zoë Archer

  The light from the lantern suddenly felt too bright, too intrusive, so she adjusted the wick to dim it to a faint glow before walking toward him. She knew he heard her coming by the slight stiffening of his shoulders as she approached. Perhaps he’d come out to find some solitude. She didn’t want to disturb him, but, after the absolute terror she’d felt just moments earlier, it would be impossible for her simply to turn around and leave him alone. Not without saying something, or at least being near him. Selfish of her, maybe, but she needed reassurance just then, even if it cost Gabriel a few seconds of privacy.

  Coming to stand next to him, Thalia glanced over at Gabriel. A trace of panic unwound inside her. Had she gone too far with her song? Was it possible she had misconstrued his feelings for her, and he’d needed to put welcome distance between them? He did not look at her, but continued to watch the horses leading their peaceful lives under the starry blanket of night. Something, some wave of energy, barely contained, radiated out from him. The dim illumination from the lantern turned him into a creature of dusky gold and shadow, slightly menacing. Now her heart beat strongly again, but not quite from fear. She set the lantern on the ground.

  “Is my singing so dreadful?” she asked with a lightness she didn’t feel.

  She didn’t even see him move. One moment, he was sitting silently, and the next, he stood before her and—oh, God.

  He was kissing her. But not so much a gentle caress of mouth to mouth as it was a devouring. He pulled her tightly against him, his hands large and firm, one on the back of her neck, the other on her hip as she was pinned against the taut span of his body. There would be no retreat for her. She felt captured, pinned, but in the most exquisite way. The intensity of his kiss would have frightened her, if she had not matched it with her own unfettered desire. She needed him with a desperation that could destroy fields, level cities.

  He tasted warm, wonderful, his mouth both velvety and relentless. She wanted to crawl inside him. Against the curve of her belly she could feel the hard length of him pressing into her. Instinct had her rocking her hips against his, and their combined groans were swallowed each by the other. The sensation seemed to shred whatever scrap of restraint he’d held. His hands were now everywhere: palming the swell of her behind, stroking the sides of her ribs, cupping her breasts through the silk of her del. His fingers played across her already tight and sensitive nipples. She leaned into the lightning-hot pleasure, lost to everything but him. Before tonight, before the stolen time in the shelter of the cave, it had been so long. So long since any man had touched her like this. But not like this. Something that approximated it, but all other touch was a candle and this was the sun. She would burn to oblivion.

  Touching him was as necessary as life. Thalia quickly re-learned, as her hands roamed over his body, that there wasn’t a part of Gabriel that was not solid with muscle. His shoulders, back, thighs, buttocks. Stomach. Ridged, sculpted, but sensitive to her fingers as they splayed across his abdomen. He twitched beneath her hand. And when her hand moved lower, caressing his rigid thickness through the fabric of his trousers, the breath was drawn from her mouth as he sucked his own breath in. Thalia reveled in this evidence of his desire, growing powerful, more feminine than she had ever felt before.

  They were on the ground before she was aware of moving. He pulled her on top of him as he stretched out in the dust. She pulled off the headdress in one impatient move, heedless of pins ripping from her hair, and let the ornament fall to the ground. Thalia’s legs opened. She straddled him. Moved against him, their hips meeting and pulling back, and, even with fabric separating them, he fit perfectly, rubbed her exactly as she craved. Something bright and strong began to build inside her. She reached toward it the only way she knew how. He growled as she pressed even closer. At her waist, his fingers shook as they tried to untie the fastening of her trousers.

  Then his hand stopped. He panted with the effort.

  “Why…?” she murmured, deeply swathed in the spell of desire.

  “Not in the dust,” he growled. “Not you.”

  She would have been touched by his concern if she hadn’t been so damned close to tearing his clothes off. “Maybe we could find an empty ger.”

  “And have someone come in to get an eyeful.” He shook his head.

  He was still hard and alive beneath her. She blazed with desire, needing him with a desperation that was painful. Words of love formed on her lips, but she couldn’t let herself speak them. Not yet. For now, there were needs that had to be satisfied. “Gabriel, please. I don’t want to wait for you anymore.”

  With sinuous speed, he rolled to his feet, pulling her up with him. He reached down and turned the lantern off completely, and for a moment, Thalia was in utter darkness. But her eyes adjusted quickly, enough to see him backing toward the large rock on which he’d been sitting earlier. It was tall enough so that he could sit with his legs comfortably stretched out in front of him, and he sat down now. He tugged on her hands, drawing her forward, so that her legs straddled his as she stood in front of him. She understood.

  Thalia wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing her and Gabriel together for another deep, greedy kiss. Her hips cradled his so that when the length of his erection slid up and down, he pressed perfectly against her sex. His fingers resumed untying the drawstring of her trousers. Thalia managed to collect herself enough to move away. Frantically, she pulled off her boots, then her trousers, and in seconds, she was naked beneath her del. Cool night air was a sweet sting as it touched her most hidden places; the earth was rough under her bare feet.

  She stepped close again, and both she and Gabriel fumbled to unbutton his pants. A hiss escaped his lips as he sprang free from his constricting clothing, and then he groaned as she took him, bare, in her hand. He was thick and large. Could she take him? She had to.

  “I wish,” she whispered as her hand glided up and down his shaft, “that it wasn’t so dark. I want to see you.” A tiny bead of moisture escaped from the very tip of his penis, and she used it to ease her progress.

  “Sweetheart,” he gritted, “I wouldn’t last…ah, that’s it…two seconds if I could see your pretty hand on my cock.”

  “No more waiting,” she gasped. “I want you inside me.”

  Smiling against her mouth, he said, “Thank God I know when to obey orders.” He placed his broad hands on her hips. Then, with a strength that left her breathless, he lifted her up easily and held her above him. She braced her feet on the cool surface of the rock, one on each side of his hips, as she held tight to his shoulders.

  “Tell me your full name,” he rumbled.

  “What?”

  “Do it.”

  “Fine. Thalia Katherine—ah!”

  He brought her down so that he plunged up into her with one deep thrust. After almost a lifetime spent on horseback, there was no tearing, yet she felt an intense internal stretching that made her eyes sting. “You said to tell you my full name,” she gasped as she learned the new experience of having a man, Gabriel, deep within her. It hurt more than she expected.

  “I’m…impatient,” he growled against her neck. Then he kissed her. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I had to distract you. Does it hurt too much?” He started to pull away, but she held him fast.

  “Stay, stay inside me,” she said in labored puffs. For a few moments, neither of them moved, Gabriel gripping her securely as he kept his legs anchored to the ground. They were both breathing heavily, even though they remained still. She could feel him shaking with effort, holding himself back. Thalia experimented by moving her hips up and down. He slid almost completely out, then all the way back in again. Discomfort faded and pleasure began to take its place, faster than she would have anticipated. “Oh!”

  Something like a laugh thundered deep in his chest. His hips rose up as he surged into her, and he guided her, with his hands, as she found a rhythm. “Better?”

  “Yes…much…oh, God…” Thalia tried to keep her voice down, kno
wing that, even though the nadaam feast was a noisy affair, someone in a nearby ger might hear her moans and investigate the sound. But it was almost impossible to stay silent as she rode him. Again and again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, needing to be as close to him as possible. Clenching him, feeling his girth, an extraordinary, blinding pleasure began to build.

  “That’s it, Thalia,” he gritted, bucking. “Come for me.”

  He thrust again, and it began to roll over her, starting deep inside her and spreading out in growing surges, bigger and bigger, until it hit her fully, a crashing torrent of rapture that she threw herself into with a recklessness she never knew she possessed. Her jaw ached from holding in her scream. Just moments after she was lost to the flood, he stiffened beneath her with an agony of bliss.

  He held her close as she collapsed against him. And though a heavy quilt of drowsiness threatened to drag her into sleep, Thalia kept her eyes open. She wanted to see the stars.

  Chapter 11

  Nadaam

  Nearly four dozen men on horseback were lined up at the edge of the encampment. A large crowd stood close by, already cheering. The horses sensed the excitement, and were eager to run, Gabriel’s mount included. His stallion tugged at the reins, wanting to let loose the power of his legs. Familiar faces from the night before greeted Gabriel as he took his place between some riders. He called out his own greetings in painfully awkward Mongolian, but no one seemed to mind his butchering of the language. Everyone was too caught up in the thrill of the moment. Gabriel even felt himself smile. He loved action, loved doing, and after waiting and agonizing over the Heirs’ next move, finally taking charge of the situation was bloody marvelous.

  Bloody marvelous didn’t come close to describing the night before. Thalia. Finally. After an eternity of days, a misery of wanting but not having. Good Christ, even waiting for the race to begin, when he should be thinking about how best to take the course, his body demanded more, his pulse sped with desire. He wanted nothing more than to gallop up to Thalia, throw her over the saddle, and ride away with her to some secluded spot where he could take her sweet body again and again, making her come relentlessly, until she was hoarse from screaming, until they were both tapped dry. Last night hadn’t even approached dulling his hunger for her.

  When he’d cleaned himself later, he’d been surprised not to find any blood. But there had been no tearing, either. She had been a virgin. He knew that completely. But she was also a horsewoman and no English sidesaddle for Thalia, and he was grateful that had tempered her pain. He couldn’t stand causing her any pain.

  Gabriel’s attention snapped back to the moment when Bold came forward. He addressed the riders, saying something in Mongolian that Gabriel could only assume meant, “Ride well, and watch your arse.”

  He saw Thalia and Batu join the crowd, and his heart knocked into his ribs to see her and the encouraging smile she gave him, but he made himself focus on scanning the territory ahead, learning the landscape so he could be prepared. But nothing prepared him for what he saw next.

  Muscling between two riders, mounted on his own wild-spirited horse, was Tsend, the Heirs’ henchman. Jesus, how close were the Heirs, to send their thug? They’d kept themselves hidden, somehow, and belated recognition of danger turned to fire up Gabriel’s back. So near. The Heirs had been so near, and Gabriel unknowing the whole time. Christ and devils.

  The large Mongol mockingly saluted Gabriel with his riding crop, then flicked his greedy eyes to where Thalia stood. Gabriel followed his gaze, and saw that a surprised and angry Thalia recognized him, too. She took a step toward them, as if she could somehow fight the vicious Mongol herself. But Tsend just smiled coldly. Black rage poured through Gabriel. Not only was Tsend leering at Thalia, but the bastard was going to vie for the ruby. Probably easier than trying to steal it outright from several hundred tribesmen. He’d win the Source and give it to the Heirs.

  “Like hell,” Gabriel muttered. He started to wheel his horse toward Tsend, maybe try to knock him down, but there was a shout from Bold, and suddenly the race had begun.

  Every day in the army hadn’t been a battle. In fact, there could be months on end when almost nothing happened, and the soldiers had had to find a way to amuse themselves or else go barmy from boredom. Horse races had been just one of the entertainments they’d devised. Gabriel had competed in, and won, his fair share.

  But none of those races had the urgency, the necessity, of this one. Only the first eight men to finish this race would advance to the next stage in the tournament, and Gabriel had to be one of them.

  Sounds of hooves beating hard into the earth rumbled on every side as riders galloped hard across the fields. Gabriel bent low over his horse’s neck, while dust rose up in huge, choking clouds. The first part of the course was nearly flat, half a mile of steppe without interruption. Gabriel pressed his heels into the stallion’s sides, kept the quirt resting lightly on its flank as a reminder for speed. He didn’t want to tire his horse too soon, but had to establish an early enough lead to separate out from the throng of riders.

  He chanced a quick glance around and saw that already half of the competitors had fallen behind. That still left nearly two dozen men, all of them whipping hard at their horses. Tsend was among them.

  They forded a stream. For half a moment, Gabriel wondered if the Heirs might summon more water demons to sweep the riders from their saddles, but, in an instant, everyone had crossed the stream. Flat steppe swelled up to rolling hills dotted with birch trees. Gabriel wove his horse through the trees, nimbly dodging them. By the sounds of horses neighing and men shouting, followed by a few crashes, other riders hadn’t been so careful.

  He ducked under a low-lying branch and felt a few twigs brush his hat, which almost came loose. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few other riders keeping pace deftly, including Tsend. Somehow, the Heirs’ Mongol had found a horse large enough to support his bulk. Folded awkwardly over his own knees, Gabriel wished he’d been able to do the same.

  Abruptly, the hills and trees gave way to a steep and rocky slope. Some of the horses were unprepared, and they and their riders stumbled as rocks blocked their descent. One pair even toppled over completely, rider and horse somersaulting together. Gabriel almost swung his own mount around to help, but saw the fallen horse immediately get up and trot away while the dazed rider tottered to his feet.

  Gabriel leaned back in the saddle as his horse careened down the hill. Without a firm hand on the reins, the horse would have galloped madly, directionless, heedless, but Gabriel held tight, guiding the beast around rocky outcroppings when possible, or urging it to leap over smaller obstacles in his path. The bright blue sky seemed to reach down to meet him as wind pushed against his body. A strange, wild joy thundered in his chest in those brief, airborne moments. His mind and body both pulsed with life. He laughed aloud.

  He took that thrill and directed it toward staying on his horse and toward the head of the pack of riders. The stone-covered slope ended, stretching back into grassy steppe, which meant it was time to bring the horse about and complete the course. Quickly, Gabriel counted eleven other riders, with Tsend part of that number. At least three riders couldn’t cross the finish line ahead of Gabriel, or the battle would be lost. This wasn’t just for the ruby, not merely for the Blades of the Rose, but for Thalia. The thought spurred him on.

  Like a booming flock of birds, the competitors wheeled around en masse. The rest of the course was flat steppe, so it was an all-out sprint to the clusters of gers off in the distance. Gabriel lifted up, crouching in the stirrups, and his horse caught his urgency. The sight of the other horses around it spurred it onward, ears folded back, neck stretched out, sandy hide flecked with foam. Tsend managed to pull up alongside Gabriel. The Mongol’s horse’s flanks were striped with red welts from his indiscriminate use of the whip.

  Then Tsend moved closer, snarling. Gabriel anticipated the blow, and caught the strike of the whip on his forearm as
he shielded his face. Tsend struck again and again, the force of the blows almost knocking Gabriel from the saddle. He grimaced in pain as the leather bit through the fabric of his jacket, catching flesh. He cursed, as the attacks were causing his horse to fall back, losing ground. More riders passed, either unable or unwilling to help, and Gabriel had to act.

  The next time Tsend slashed with the whip, Gabriel managed to wrap his hand around it. A struggle ensued as the Mongol mercenary and British soldier fought for dominance, their bodies suspended over the racing grasses beneath them, each tugging furiously on the whip. Gabriel felt as though his arm, burning with exertion, was about to be torn off. With a growl, he pulled hard. Tsend shouted. The whip went flying, cutting the air, and was lost somewhere on the steppe behind them.

  Gabriel spared neither the lost whip nor the swearing Mongol any further thought. He was a few hundred yards from the finish line, could already hear the crowds shouting encouragement, but there were ten riders ahead of him. The race could be lost or won in the next moments. He nudged his heels into his horse, and the animal, wanting to taste victory, hurtled forward.

  Shapes of the other riders slid past Gabriel as he bridged the gap between himself and his competition. He didn’t look to his left or right, didn’t look behind. His sole focus was the blue silk banner that marked the finish. As he pushed onward, sweat formed and cooled on his back. Closer. Closer. He felt himself, his horse, begin to flag. Now he could give the horse’s flank a swat with the quirt, and did so. The animal broke out of its complacency, drawing upon reserves of energy Gabriel had carefully tended throughout the race. The crowd’s indistinct roaring became individual voices as he neared. And in the midst of that sound was Thalia, yelling in English, “That’s it, Gabriel!”