Aaaaand, that was something he hadn’t shared in their little talk earlier.
“Who in all the world can command Noman? It is fucking unheard of,” Rhia snapped. Well, unheard of until now.
“Put him back on his horse,” RuArk ordered. Rhia turned away, headed back to where she’d left her own mount. At a loud yell she turned around in time to watch Ricard leap at one of the mounted warriors, snatch a dagger out of a sheath on the warrior’s boot. With a cackle in his throat, he plunged that dagger into his own heart.
He was dead before he hit the ground. At least in death he looked somewhat like himself again, minus the wintery smile plastered across his bluing lips.
* * * * *
Sheltered for the night in a heavily wooded grove, they were a good distance from any commonly traveled road with the closest wide open space several miles away. If what Ricard and Bryan said was true, they were being hunted. While it would be difficult for them to spot anyone traveling through this wooded area, it would be equally hard for anyone to track them, whether human or Noman.
The scouts that Marth had sent out just before they’d left the scene of the skirmish now rode into camp. Sharyn, Joan, Ewan and a fully armed contingent of Gaian warriors were due to arrive right before the evening meal.
Hiding, uh, cuddling in their tent, both RuArk and Rhia heard the horses thundering through the trees long before they entered camp, but she refused to join RuArk in greeting the riders. She had no desire to see any of the warriors she’d duped by sneaking away. She might not be an all-around coward, but she was in no hurry to face their disappointment.
Peeking through the smallest hole imaginable, Rhia watched as Joan spotted Marth the second they rode in. The first one off her mount, she hopped over fallen limbs and dry timber with her sarand floating around her knees. Marth, squatting down to stack large rocks into a makeshift fire ring, looked up just in time to see his wife launch herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her as her momentum carried them backward. Even with the breath knocked out of her body, she could still manage to talk and kiss him at the same time.
“Marth, oh thank goodness! I knew you’d be safe, and now I’m going to kill you!” And on it went, with Marth grinning like a fool. Rhia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. However, the rest of the crew had no problem letting their humor show.
RuArk chided, “Well, O’dann, I see you’ve been swept off your feet.”
“We know what you’ll be having for dinner tonight, eh O’dann? Even better than Osgar’s cooking, eh?” called another.
Untangling their arms and limbs, Marth helped Joan up and picked twigs and leaves out of her short platinum curls. “I am pleased that my mate is so glad to see me. Perhaps I will skip dinner and enjoy her sweetness, as was suggested.” And they disappeared into Marth’s tent even as Joan threatened to skewer him for putting himself in danger in the first place.
Rhia ducked away from the little hole in the tent flap as Sharyn’s gaze moved her way. She might not be able to see the woman, but she heard her just fine when she asked, “Where is she, RuArk?”
Well, damn.
* * * * *
RuArk pointed toward the tent he’d just exited and then signaled to Sharyn to meet him and Linc at the edge of camp. On the way, RuArk was stopped by Ewan and listened to the man’s report, which confirmed what Rhia told him about the whole business. Ewan had, in fact, been the first to read the letter and allowed Bryan into the township.
“I have failed in my duties, Protector. I let that filthy worm into the city, into our home. I was the one that saw that he was taken to the First Heir. I was charged with her safety and I did not fulfill my task.”
“It is no fault of yours, Ewan. I have seen the letter and the seal. I do believe I would have been fooled as well.”
“It is not my place, sir, but I am angry that the lady put herself in such danger. And I am angry with myself for not seeing through the plot.”
“I am angry enough for the both of us, Ewan. Let it go. She is safe and I have no fault with you, and neither does the lady. She realizes what she has done.”
With a nod, Ewan dismissed himself and went to see to his horse and gear.
Sharyn listened as RuArk and Linc told of the so-called Dreadlord.
“We should speak with the Grandfather about this,” Sharyn suggested. “It sounds like someone with the ability to walk the Dream. Someone skilled enough to manipulate others in that realm, which is not an easy thing to do.”
Linc cut in, concern evident in his voice, “You believe one of the Realmwalkers is behind this?”
“I am not sure,” Sharyn replied.
“I do not believe it is a Realmwalker,” RuArk said thoughtfully. “The High Counsel was taught to walk the Dream by Rhia’s mother long ago, and he is not a Realmwalker. In fact, he has no Gifts that we know of, yet he can walk into the Dream with ease. Perhaps another has been taught how to do the same?”
They looked at one another as the enormity of RuArk’s words sank in. “The Grandfather will know. In the meantime, we must guard this closely. Tell no one, trust no one. We have no way of knowing who has been touched in their Dreams by this so called ‘Dreadlord’.”
That night, without being asked or prompted in any way, Rhia stood before the whole camp and gave her deepest apologies. She asked forgiveness for her recklessness and lack of consideration for how her actions would affect those she’d left behind. RuArk felt immense pride as she held her head high under the granite stares of his warriors and accepted the cool reception her apology received.
Chapter Ten
After returning home, Rhia was quiet and withdrawn. Keeping to their rooms, the woman was so solitary RuArk wasn’t sure what she needed or wanted. Where was her passionate nature, her spark, her fire? He had no idea, but by the fourteenth day, he’d had enough.
She hadn’t allowed him to touch her since her rescue, and her self-imposed abstinence was wearing on his nerves. Watching her come awake each morning as she stretched sinuously against the sheets was torture. Each movement brought to mind a memory of how her skin felt rubbing against his, slick with the sweat of their passion and their scents intermingled as his arms encircled her body.
Every breath overwhelmed him as her natural, enticing scent wafted up from under the covers. His mouth watered with thoughts of blazing a trail down her stomach, her fingers tangled in his hair as he headed toward his favorite destination—her strong silky thighs.
He understood that she still felt guilty about that debacle that had put her lifemate and her friends in danger. But he refused to spend one more sleepless night with a woman that wallowed in self-pity, or who scooted as far from him as she could get until she practically fell out of the bed.
This new subdued Sort-of-Rhia that lay in his bed was not the woman he’d joined his life to, and she was no longer welcome in their home.
Just after dawn, a bare chested, royally irritated warrior rose and fastened a soft, saddle colored buckskin breech around his hips. Yanking on a pair of soft soled moccs, his actions didn’t slow when Rhia mumbled from under the blankets.
“Wind Storm, where are you going? The sun’s barely up.”
“I’ll return shortly, then I will not leave this room until one of us breaks. And know now, Rhia, I don’t plan to lose this challenge.”
Her head snapped up even as her mouth fell open. “Breaks?”
“Yes, breaks.” He pinned her with a determined glare before the bedroom door closed solidly behind him.
* * * * *
Rhia wanted nothing more than to be alone and sulk in peace, but obviously RuArk wasn’t having it. When he ducked back into the bedroom, she watched him climb the stairs to the bed, and set a chiller down in front of her. On top of it was placed a carafe of juice and a platter full of fresh melon, grapes, roasted and sliced lean meat, bread and cheese.
She sat up, holding the blankets over her breasts and looked over the goodies. Rhia re
ached for a piece of fruit. RuArk’s voice stayed her hand.
“Don’t touch anything,” he demanded roughly.
“Okaaay? Did you bring all of this food upstairs just so I could look at it?”
Instead of an answer, he lifted a piece of melon to her lips and began to feed her. Mmm, now this was a sensuous undertaking. Her gaze strayed to his beautifully scarred, strong hands, while her body recalled how those fingers felt stroking her bare flesh.
On the last bite of melon wedge, her tongue slid over her top lip then deliberately wrapped around his fingers to lick the juice off of them. Grapes, cheese and a bit of bread were next, and she didn’t pass up a single chance to suckle his fingers seductively.
Wait! She was supposed to be depressed and sulky, damn it, but the whole me-warrior-me-feed-you thing was really getting to her.
He finally allowed her to touch something—a small glass of juice. She pressed it to her lips and moaned. The liquid was sweet as it passed over her tongue, then a burst of flavor from the slightly sour pulp made her jaw clench just a bit.
Delicious.
As Rhia sipped, her gaze dropped to the supple suede of RuArk’s breech. The longer she stared, the more it rose up to greet her. Suddenly, she wanted to push him back on the bed and do things that would make him call her name over and over as she rode him into the Wind.
The game was afoot and when he stood to take the platter from the bed she held on to his hand, more than ready to play.
“Wait. You haven’t eaten anything. Let me feed you,” she said. Her senses feasted on the sight of his bare chest and legs. The breech left nothing to the imagination, especially since what was under it was practically writing her name in the air.
Still holding the covers over her nakedness, she lifted a piece of melon to RuArk’s lips. As his teeth sank into its honeyed sweetness, he grabbed the covers and slowly pulled them down to expose her swelling breasts. She kept feeding him as if nothing had changed, lifting another piece of fruit to his mouth.
This time, as he bit into it, his hands caressed one of her breasts and teased the darkening tip until it was stiff and screaming for satisfaction. He caressed and smoothed her sensitive skin before he slid talented fingers down and around her sides to brush lightly against the quivering flesh of her belly.
In short order, her breath began to slip away in swift gasps.
This time she didn’t stop RuArk when he removed the platter from the bed. Their kiss began deep and slow, tantalizing her senses with the taste of honey melon, and the smell of musk and man. Her mind could only hold on to one word—delicious.
* * * * *
RuArk took his wife in his arms, gently cradling her body as he rained kisses across her beautiful face and throat. He moved gently over her fading bruises and continued a path down her throat. When her strong fingers clutched at his bare skin he knew she was beginning to allow the shell she’d erected around herself to crack. But a crack wasn’t enough. He wanted it destroyed and would press her relentlessly until he’d reawakened her passionate nature.
RuArk laid her back on the bed and lowered his head to nip at the flat planes of her stomach, then rolled her over and blazed a trail up her spine causing the flesh to come alive and shiver at his every touch. She began to writhe, ever so slightly.
The hot skin of her back scalded his chest as he rubbed against her body, sliding his hard cock back and forth between the crease of her lush bottom. Burying his nose in her hair, his words were hard at the back of her neck.
“I want my mate back,” he growled. “That willful. Stubborn. Fiery. Woman.” He nipped her soft skin with sharp teeth between each word. He knew she was hard pressed to get an answer out in between pants, but RuArk didn’t let up.
He would have what he wanted and he would have it now.
“Where is my woman?” he asked, laying her on her back to plant a wet open mouthed kiss underneath her right breast. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“Here! Oh god, RuArk, I’m right here.” Her body twisted wildly against his mouth, trying to scoot down enough to bring his lips into contact with her swollen nipples. Clamping down on his rising arousal, he continued to tease her unmercifully.
“Where is that self-pitying creature that’s been in my bed these past weeks?”
“Never heard of her,” Rhia breathed and reached down to pull him to her lips so she could lick and bite him. With every kiss came a hungry moan, and every breath became a gasp until she was completely wanton. He would not take her. Not yet.
Carnal, suckling kisses were planted along her inner thigh until she thrust her hips, begging to be tasted. RuArk wanted nothing more than to consume her.
So he did.
Teeth teased the sensitive flesh with gentle nips and laves of his tongue as his thumb brushed the little rosebud of passion at the juncture of her thighs.
“Taté Icamna!” Wind Storm, she screamed in Gaian, then exploded against his hand, her whole body trembling from the intensity of her release.
Slowly, he lowered his body over hers, coating his shaft in the honeyed juices flowing from her warm core as she spread herself, giving him perfect access. He wanted her so much it hurt. Full to bursting, his cock bucked wildly at her entrance but he gave her only the very tip. He felt her open for him, but the primal urge to slam into her heat did not override his true desire—he wanted to see her lose it. He didn’t have to wait long.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust her hips, impaling herself on his throbbing shaft. She pulled him deep. Urged him to fill her.
“Please,” she gasped when he didn’t move. “I want...oh RuArk, take me. All of me.” Wild with need, Rhia wrapped arms and legs around him and held tight until he could scarcely breathe. She moved with him, stroke for stroke as he rocked into her, buried himself, and then retreated until only the large throbbing head was inside of her tightening sheath. When she reached for the peak of fulfillment, he slowed his strokes just enough to keep her release at bay, torturing both of them.
His words a rough whisper against her ear, he called her name. “Rhia. My woman. My Fire Storm, yes?”
“Yes!”
He slammed home until her honeyed walls clenched around him in spasms and pulled his own release from deep within. His seed rushed toward her womb and his name left her lips over and over again, and with it came the one thing he’d desired to hear since the day he’d pledged himself to her in the Seeking.
“RuArk, I love you.” She continued to whisper those words as she ascended into the clouds. RuArk closed his eyes against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm his warrior’s mind. The thought that his woman might possibly feel such depth of care for him almost caused him to stop moving in and out of her body as he rode her down from her orgasm. Did she realize what she’d said? Did she mean it, or was it just a reaction to climax?
No matter. She would declare it again. He would see to it.
They slept and loved until they were so bone-deep sated the thought of moving took too much effort. Much later, after a bath spent whispering endearments, dressed and refreshed, they left their bedroom for the first time that day.
RuArk, Rhia, Marth, Joan, Linc and Sharyn all reached the main hall at the same time. The women were all flushed and languid. The warriors all wore cheeky grins.
Tomorrow they would cross the river to Gaia for an overdue visit to RuArk’s estate at Wind Song. He was sure his clansmen were preparing a huge celebration for them, given this would be Rhia’s first visit to his homeland. Unfortunately, this visit wouldn’t be all festive. A conversation with the Grandfather about their encounter with Bryan and Ricard by order of the so-called Dreadlord was definitely in order.
* * * * *
The household was abuzz as RuArk descended the steps and stopped at the wide open doors of the great hall. Where was their baggage for the trip to Wind Song?
“Lunis!” RuArk thundered, moving swiftly past the dining hall toward the steward’s office. Th
e man must have heard the bellow, along with the rest of the household, because appeared outside his door before RuArk got there.
“Lunis, we are to depart in half an hour. Where is our gear?” But Lunis wasn’t looking at him, but rather at something behind him as a firm, familiar voice answered the question.
“There has been a change of plans.”
RuArk turned and looked into the faces of the Grandfather and Azel Sholen. Greatly respected, Azel had been the Protector of the Realm until RuArk had come of age. Azel’s Gifts had continued to develop and strengthen with age and over the years he moved from skilled blade wielder to a truly powerful Realmwalker. While any trained Gaian could walk the Dream, Azel and those he trained, were expert in their craft, able to do amazing things in the Dream that others could only ‘dream’ about. While their expressionless faces gave nothing away, RuArk knew that whatever reason had brought Azel and the Grandfather to his door had to be urgent. That didn’t bode well at all.
Back in his apartment, RuArk encouraged the men to relax out on the terrace. His honored guests accepted an aromatic cup of steaming coffee from a slender young Houseman, but he noticed they waited for her to leave the room before either would open their mouths to explain their presence.
“Are you sure we are alone, Wind Storm?” Azel asked, setting his cup down on the marble and glass coffee table between him and RuArk.
“Yes, sir. My lifemate is asleep in the other room, otherwise we’re alone.”
The Grandfather sat his cup down with an easy grace, but his back stiffened with concern. “Fire Storm is asleep at this hour? It is well past dawn. Is she ill, grandson?”
“No, Grandfather, she’s not ill. She rose early and went through her usual morning routine.” His mate had dressed, went down for breakfast, packed her gear and all the rest of it before settling down on her favorite couch on the terrace. “She’s prepped and ready for our trip, but she’s a bit tired. I didn’t have the heart to wake her again after she dozed off in the middle of a coffee. So I left her.” He couldn’t have kept the satisfied grin off his face if he’d tried. Rhia had been up all night and it was all his very smug, very satisfied fault. Azel nodded his understanding at his old student and then got down to business.
Reckoning Page 8
