Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Squatting down beside her, Sal laughed, cutting it off to a muffled clearing of his throat at the look she shot him. Her fingers trembled on Dharman’s face and water flooded their bond, so cold he gasped and shivered.

  “I tore you apart, like I hurt Gregar.” She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears. “You disappeared. Lady above, I could have killed you!”

  “I’m well, truly, just bruised, and not from anything you did.” If he didn’t ache from head to toe, he would have sat up and pulled her into his arms. He did manage to lift his hand toward her. “It was only a Dream.”

  Sal sucked in a sharp breath. “Then why is there blood on your hand?”

  She breathed deeply and went rigid. “You smell like…” Reaching out to grip his forearm, she sniffed along his arm to his right hand still coated in blood. “Desert sands,” she whispered. “Sandalwood, smoked and roasted in the miserable sun. Dragon musk, faint, but unmistakable.”

  He felt the uncurling of desire in her stomach at the memory of the frenzy that had taken her and Rhaekhar when they’d used the strange oil. Her lips parted, her breathing quickened, and Vulkar help him, Dharman felt the surge of heat rushing through her body. She bent closer, hunger demanding she taste that blood still faintly warm on his skin.

  Jealousy galloped through him as viciously as the Great Wind Stallion’s fury. Even flat on his back and sore he wanted to draw his rahke and challenge that smooth-talking, light-eyed desert savage, even if he wasn’t the Black Dragon.

  “Nay!” He jerked his hand away and lurched upright, wincing at the stabbing pain in his head. Gingerly, he felt the back of his skull to make sure he hadn’t cracked it open. “Don’t give that blackheart another hold on you!”

  Her eyes flared wide and her face drained of color. Cold flooded him, brutal and alpine, but when she passed, every single one of his pains was gone.

  She averted her face. “Sal, carry him into the bath and wash the blood off him.”

  Dharman took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly, forcing his muscles to unclench from warrior on the rampage. “Forgive me, na’lanna Qwen. I shall never deny you anything you want. If you truly…” he swallowed hard, forcing the words out, “want his blood…”

  Standing, she moved away, as though she couldn’t bear to even look upon him. “Do as I said, Sal.”

  The red-haired Blood flashed a command to Lew and Jahne. Each took one of Dharman’s arms and dragged him upright toward the bath, but not before he saw her bury her face against Sal’s chest. Jorah wrapped around her back.

  His position.

  Vulkar help him, what had he done? Would he save her from Shadow only to lose her heart forever?

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  SHANNARI LAY IN BED WITH SAL’S WARM WEIGHT AT HER BACK, BUT SHE COULDN’T STOP THE TEARS. She gripped his arms tighter, until she could barely breathe. Lady above, she could have killed Dharman. She’d hurt him, attacked him, and then tossed him away like rubbish. She’d seen the blood, and although it wasn’t his, it very easily could have been. It certainly proved that her Dreams were a dangerous place for a living person to walk.

  The guiltier she felt at what she’d done to him, the more anger churned in her stomach. He shouldn’t have been guarding her Dreams. What if she’d managed to get inside the Tenth Camp? If she’d fallen weeping and kissing upon her two warriors to make love beneath the kae’sangral tree?

  “I can’t enter the Tenth Camp.” Dharman stood at the edge of the bed. “There, you’re Gregar’s, and I’ve never been able to enter.”

  By the harsh look on his face, he’d honestly expected to find Jorah in bed with her when he returned. Bitterness sharpened her voice. “So you think you’re all interchangeable? That what I feel for you and Sal could just as easily transfer to Jorah? Or Lew? How about some stranger as long as he swears a blood oath to me?”

  “How do you feel for me?” Dharman's voice tightened, his hands closed fists at his sides. “If you care so very much, why deny us? Why refuse us?”

  “You know how I feel.”

  “Do I?” His face darkened. “Then I should stand guard and leave you to your sleep.”

  “Come here,” she retorted.

  He hesitated. He actually hesitated.

  Blizzard snows began to blow within her, but not from grief this time. “Your blood is mine and I want you here, in my bed, this very minute.”

  If a warrior could slam himself into a fluffy soft mattress, Dharman did. He lay on his back and glared up at the ceiling, his bond as hard as red-forged steel in her mind.

  He’d closed himself off, she realized with a start. She could feel his bond, but his thoughts and emotions weren’t leaking through. He’d managed to seal the link between them and had locked her out.

  As I’ve done so many times since he became my Blood.

  Tears burned but she refused to soften. She touched his bond, seeking the red thread in her mind. Breathing hard, he stiffened beside her but the bond hardened, forged with his determination. He was First Blood, but he wanted to be more, so much more.

  He wanted to be First, the first she looked to for protection, comfort, and affection. He wanted to be First in her heart.

  He expected her to rage and tear at his bond until he broke down and let her in. In fact, that’s exactly what he wanted. He hoped to prove how much she would miss him if his bond was gone, and he thought he could force her hand.

  In some ways, he doesn’t know me at all.

  Rhaekhar had known to surrender such a kae’don before it ever started.

  Irritated more than she cared to admit, she simply arched a brow at him. “If you’re tired of serving as Blood, I’ll let you go.”

  Her brief satisfaction at the well-aimed barb dissolved beneath the raging panic that filled his eyes. “Nay,” he breathed, his voice broken. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Aye, I would,” she retorted, wielding her voice like a rahke. “You already think I would cut you out of my life because of a simple disagreement, so why would I stop short of breaking your bond entirely? If you want to be free…”

  “Never.” His control came crashing down faster than she’d breached the Shining Walls with his blood and his pleasure years ago, his bond roaring wide open in her mind. “Never free me, na’lanna Qwen, I beg you. Never release my bond. I’d rather you cut open my chest and hack out my heart this very minute than ever force me to leave you.”

  Lightly, she touched his mark over his heart. His entire body jolted as though she’d plunged a rahke between his ribs. In many ways, she had.

  “You were right,” she whispered, casting her breath across his bare chest. “I shouldn’t taste his blood. Even if he’s not the Black Dragon of my Dreams, he’s certainly Shadowed. I don’t want another blood bond.” Gently, she brushed her mouth over her mark in his chest, looking up at his face. “I only want you.”

  His eyes flew open. He held his breath, staring into her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” She paused to swipe her tongue fully over the old white scar. “I was afraid and ashamed that I’d hurt you, which always makes me angry. I wasn’t truly angry at you, certainly never enough to send you away.”

  “The thought of losing you turns me inside out.” He trembled beneath her, his voice ragged but adamant. “If you want this man who smells of sandalwood and dragon, I’ll find him. We nine will pin him flat on his back at rahke-point so you may have your way with him.”

  “Tonight, the only warrior I’m going to have my way with,” she slid her leg over his hips so she straddled his abdomen, “is you.”

  “And me?” Sal’s voice quivered, eagerness and desperation in equal doses.

  “And then you,” she agreed. “Isn’t that how you threatened the nobles who thought I should take a king?”

  Dharman closed his hands on her thighs. “Why now?”

  Her mouth quirked. “Are you saying no?”

  He laughed out a groan that vibrated his st
omach beneath her. “I shall never refuse you, but I want to know why. Why this night after that horrible Dream and our argument? Why now?”

  “I almost lost you,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I could have killed you in that Dream. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

  “Vulkar, is that all you needed to change your mind?” Sal pressed closer, earning a low rumble of warning from Dharman. “I would have let you rip me apart in your Dreams, too. Better, I would have enjoyed it.”

  She shifted her weight, and Dharman’s hands clamped even tighter. Now his low growl was aimed at her, as though he thought she might be moving to Sal first. “Take your hands off me.”

  His ground his teeth so loudly she could hear it, but he finally slammed his arms flat on the mattress.

  “Before we begin, we need to discuss limits.”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask,” he growled out. “I’m going to die if I don’t get inside you.”

  Carefully, she stood up with a foot between his legs and one between his and Sal’s, balancing on the soft mattress. She grabbed the hem of the nightgown and slowly lifted it toward her waist.

  Both warriors stared at the growing expanse of skin like they were starving wolves who’d just laid eyes on a wounded deer. Dharman’s hands twitched. Sal made a sound very like a whimper.

  “So if I tell Sal to lick you some more…”

  Dharman narrowed his gaze at her, his whiskey brown eyes smoky with desire. “Aye, but only if you watch and enjoy it. Otherwise, Sal can keep his Vulkar-damned mouth on you, for I know we shall all enjoy that very much indeed.”

  She glared back at him and let the cloth drop a few inches. Sal reared up desperately, but froze at the look on her face and quickly lay back down. “I don’t want you doing something just because you think that’s what I want.”

  “Why not?” Dharman shared a genuinely confused look with the warrior beside him. “That’s all we care about. If you desire something, we shall do it without delay, without question, without hesitation. All you need do is ask.”

  She blew a breath out, frustrated and so damned aroused she could smell her own scent rising from her body. Lady help her, it had been so incredibly long since she’d felt a warrior’s strength, filling her up and holding her tight. Now that she’d made up her mind to let her two nearest Blood fully into her heart, her body had slipped into a hard gallop toward the finish line. “But I want you to enjoy it.”

  “We shall,” Dharman replied.

  “Immensely.” Sal nodded his head vigorously. “Without question.”

  “There’s absolutely nothing you could ever ask us to do that we wouldn’t enjoy.”

  She decided to test them. “If I bind your hands and feet to the bed so you’re unable to move, you would enjoy that?”

  “If you did it and tormented me with your luscious body, aye; I know Sal would love it.” Dharman replied with a wry look at the Blood beside him fairly quivering at the thought. “You would enjoy it for awhile, and so, then, would I. However, you want a warrior in your bed, na’lanna Qwen. A warrior who takes what he wants and ensures his woman has a most pleasurable time while he does so. A warrior who touches with upmost confidence because he knows exactly what you desire down to the smallest caress and he’s more than up for the challenge.

  “I’ll take your orders without question. In fact, I’ll gladly take anything you give me: pain, pleasure, commands, surrender, whatever you desire. Eventually, you’ll want me to be First. You need me to be First. I’m more than able to control both myself and Sal to give you the greatest pleasure possible.”

  Indeed, perhaps her virgin Blood did know a thing or two about what she wanted. Her hands were trembling, but she managed to get the nightgown up and over her head. Her skin burned with their fervent stares.

  “Except perhaps this first time,” Sal admitted on a low, reverent sigh.

  Dharman cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked with desire. “On my honor, we’ll more than make up for it by sunrise.”

  “Forgive me,” Sal whispered. “I was entirely mistaken.” At the confusion that flickered through her, he grinned. “I much prefer no drawers at all.”

  * * *

  ON MY HONOR, I SHALL not release until she does, Dharman swore. On my honor, her very life!

  She tugged his memsha loose, found the extremely strained loincloth beneath, and worked on the ties until his vision darkened and the room spun. Roses, melting velvet petals, her scent smoked hotter, driving him mad. He kept his hands at his side as she’d ordered, but only because he gripped fistfuls of sheet. Vulkar, he ached to slide his palms over her full breasts, to feel the weight of those curves in his hand and the heated glide of desire between her thighs.

  Her hands closed over him and he shuddered, his breath exploding from his chest.

  “Shhh,” she whispered, shaming him, but he couldn’t respond, not with the vicious pounding of his heart that threatened to crack his ribcage. “It’s all right if you can’t wait this first time. We have all night.”

  “I’ll come inside you or die,” he ground out. “Let Sal touch you. I want to feel your release with mine.”

  She nodded, and Sal scrambled up to take her breast in his mouth as his fingers slid between her thighs. Her head fell back on a low, ragged cry that sent the blood pounding even fiercer through them both. Her hands convulsed on him, but what made his back arch, hips rising off the mattress, was the desire blazing in her bond.

  Liquid silver and moonlight blazed in his mind, her pleasure a beacon brighter than the full moon on a clear night. Sal touched her like he’d always known exactly what she’d enjoy, which surprised her.

  “We know,” Dharman whispered. “We watched and felt Khul love you for years.”

  “Now,” she whispered, rising up to position herself, “it’s your turn.”

  Dharman could only gaze up at her. She hesitated a moment, her gaze locking with his, and he felt a horrible moment of panic and desperation. If she changed her mind, if she felt pain, regret, heartache…

  I can never be Rhaekhar. I can never be Gregar. I can only be—

  “Wasn’t there something you wanted me to say first?” So slowly he wanted to bellow at the top of his lungs, she slid over him, her smile breaking into a cry that was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  Until she said, “Dharman.” Her voice caught, rising louder on a cry of pleasure that drove his hands to her hips so he could thrust, hard, as deep as her body could take him. “Na’lanna Blood.”

  * * *

  PLEASURE RIPPLED BACK AND FORTH in their bonds, building and feeding her desire in a way she’d never felt through a na’lanna bond before. So much blood and honor lay between them. So much love.

  Dharman released his fierce grip on her hips and cupped her face in both hands, pulling her down so he could kiss her. He inhaled her mouth, sinking his tongue deep, his passion telling her he wouldn’t be long in recovery. Not that she doubted him. However, she had promised the other Blood…

  He smiled against her lips. :Stay right where you are. Sal comes to you.:

  She felt Sal’s hair first, the glorious spill of his auburn hair across her naked back. That incredibly skilled mouth pressed in the hollow of her spine and her hips lifted, her breath quickening all over again. Sal trailed his mouth up her spine, licking and nibbling delicately, dragging his hair up her skin until she shivered and twisted against Dharman’s hold on her head.

  :Who should we bind to the bed, na’lanna?: His bond shone in her mind, his warm honeycake scent mixing with Sal’s spiced gingerbread until she wanted to bite him, fill her mouth up with muscle and sink her teeth deep. :Your wish is my command.:

  He released her head, sliding his palms down the column of her neck. Somehow he managed to miss the old mark on her neck that Rhaekhar had given her. The heat of those big, powerful hands sank into her skin, the red silk of Sal’s hair caressing her back and
falling down to pool on the other Blood’s chest like blood.

  Dharman reached up and pulled her braid aside, unraveling it with one hand while Sal kissed the bared side of her neck. Again, he avoided the mark on her neck. The spot ached, the cord that connected neck and shoulder incredibly sensitive, vibrating with tension.

  On his hands and knees above her and Dharman both, Sal nestled his cheek against hers, lowering his chest so he lay fully against her back. Her breath rushed out. Heat and muscle, front to back, such incredible strength.

  “Sal,” she panted, “what are you waiting for?”

  He licked the small depression behind her ear and gripped her lobe gently in his teeth. :Permission.:

  His bond swelled, prowling fur winding in and out of Dharman’s, shining so brightly the world dripped with blood.

  The shy yearning in his bond cracked her heart in two. “My na’lanna Blood, yes, I want you. I need you. I—”

  His hands covered hers, pinning her between him and the other Blood, and on a deep, endless thrust, he slid inside her. She lowered her head so she could grip Dharman’s shoulder in her mouth, lifting her hips back for Sal at the same time. All pretense of slow tenderness had fled from his body; he withdrew, groaning, slammed back in hard and fast, his arms corded on either side of her.

  The mark on her neck throbbed. She gripped Dharman harder with her teeth. :Touch the mark.:

  :Are you sure?:

  His hesitation made no sense to her. :Yes!:

  Dharman closed his mouth over the old bite mark. His teeth grazed that tender spot, and a red-hot wire blazed from her neck to her breasts and down to where Sal was buried inside her. His hips jerked, his pleasure pouring into her on a hot wave that flowed back up that invisible cord to Dharman’s mouth at her neck. He gripped her harder, working the spot with his teeth and she screamed, muffled against the mouthful of muscle she held tight. Back and forth, pleasure spilling, pooling, fed by their bonds and that mark.

  Trembling, she and Sal both collapsed on top of Dharman. His chest heaved, damp with sweat, and she definitely felt the return of his need. She laughed breathlessly, squished beneath Sal but not caring if he never got off her. Keeping two young, healthy, vigorous warriors well satisfied might prove to be the death of her.