by Rae Monet
She shifted an array of brown leaves over the line to disguise the rope. She assured him it would be thin enough not to see. The rope had been assembled by the village rope maker, who knew the secrets of his craft. The seemingly light rope was strong enough to sever a man's head.
This would be the first trap of several. They also had secured arrows to various trees, set with concealed trip ropes. They dug holes and masked them to trip up the horses and force the riders down. A few well-placed daggers were planted—to allow them to simply shove a man to a key area and assure his death. These traps were tricks taught to him by Serena. With so few warriors, the Solarians had learned to compromise in battle, to fight smart, and dirty, when necessary. The Scottish influence, he guessed.
"Now we wait.” She tied off the last arrow to a tree, setting the trip rope.
He examined the wooded area, trying to find the best location to wait. He spotted an indenture in a rocky cliff, toward the end of their traps. Perfect. He rested his hand on Serena's shoulder and felt the familiar heat where they touched. She turned and he pointed to the cliff.
"Ah, very good.” She purred her statement out in pleasure and amazingly, even with the promise of battle in her voice, his shaft hardened. He shifted on his feet, trying to block his emotions from her.
"Is something amiss?” She moved ahead of him, her leather-clad butt swaying as she climbed.
What he wouldn't give to take her right now.
The remembrance of running his hand over the smooth surface of her ass as he entered her came into his mind. His shaft growing, he groaned.
They reached the top of the cliff and dropped into their spot. It was a tight fit, and their bodies pressed against each other as they flattened to get a full view of the area. Roan was on top of Serena, his body so much bigger than hers, his leg pressed against her. There was no doubt in his mind she could feel his hard cock pushing against her hip. The heat of her body touching his made him swallow and grind his teeth. Finally he cursed, “Damnation."
"It is the threat of battle, it heats the blood,” she said, as if explaining away a bad head ailment.
"It is not the impending battle which stirs my blood, little one, I assure you.” He stiffened as she shifted around to a better position. He laid his hand on her rear to stop her.
"God's blood, woman, cease your movements or I'm going to come in my pants!"
* * * *
Serena chuckled at their situation and his response to it.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm wet, hot and ready for you,” she purred.
He gently caressed her ass and swore again. A small part of her enjoyed the fact she could stir him to such arousal, even with the strain of impending battle. It made her feel feminine. Being born a woman was an annoyance while she fought for acceptance as a warrior.
Although there had been other female warriors, like her mother, they were few, some even rebelling against their chosen path, selecting a less strenuous life. Those few women who accepted their calling and proceeded with the Wolf Warrior training, struggled not only with the physical demands, but also the mental ones.
For Serena, it hadn't been a choice. Her parents were both warriors, a love match they said. When she was identified at six summers as a Wolf Warrior, she was expected to pursue the craft. For her, it was necessary to train three times harder than any of the male warriors to gain acceptance and build the skills to match her male counterparts. She had always cursed her femininity. It was a barrier to approval. With Roan, that changed. Serena enjoyed the fact he saw her as a woman in every way. He rested his head beside hers as they eyed the trail leading to the array of traps they had set.
"I sense them drawing closer.” His voice was a rumble in her ear. “Make ready."
"Roan,” she whispered, fearful her voice would carry. He lifted his eyes from the trail to seek hers.
"I cannot sense them, your powers grow much stronger than mine. It is confusing."
"I do not know why, but I do seem to have enhanced senses beyond the traditional, let us not question it."
He had told her that before. He had demanded, after they had made love, she not question their powers. He had asked for her blind acceptance and trust of him. The strange part was, she was willing to give it. She nodded at him now and watched. As his eyes turned back to the trail, she followed his actions.
When his body tightened, her senses went on full alert. Her eyes tracked with his as she saw the group of mercenaries, with Sir Galen in the lead, stumbling along the trail.
"If Galen makes it through, I will take him,” he murmured. “You engage the other survivors. Above all, we need to retrieve the scroll and crystal."
"I understand.” She gave the group her full attention as she watched them approach the first trap, her heart beating in her chest like a drum warning of danger.
The first trip-line was triggered, and the arrows they had positioned flew with a whoosh, disposing of two mercenaries.
Pandemonium broke out.
The men scattered, their warning cries to take cover ringing through the air. Several charged forward on the trail, setting in motion a flurry of movement. Arrows and knives soared through the air, and men fell. Sir Galen pulled quickly to the right, bypassing the trail. He flew off his horse and took cover behind a large bolder.
Then Roan was up, giving her a hand signal. She was close behind him as they scrambled down the embankment, slipping and sliding, rocks and dirt tumbling in their wake. He drew his sword, the slash of steel against leather slicing through her consciousness.
When they reached the bottom, he veered right, straight toward Sir Galen. His quick hand movement directed her to engage the remaining mercenaries in the opposite direction.
She charged to her left, facing a dozen angry, injured mercenaries. They puffed up like enraged boars, roaring and drawing their weapons. For a split second, Serena paused, unsure whether she could fight so many skilled warriors. Then she scolded herself. She had to. Solaria counted on her, as did Roan. Raising her swords, she stepped forward.
She fought to the maximum of her abilities. Using every trick her father had taught her, she kept her swords in constant motion. Fighting two men at a time, she arched, ducked, thrust and parried. Sweat trickled down her neck, over her body, down her back, where it was finally captured. Her breath huffed out with each strike she absorbed. As her strokes fell true; one mercenary after another dropped.
With each blow, she shuffled forward, trying to back her prey against the rocky cliffs, the same trick the English soldiers had used on Roan and his friend. She wasn't averse to trying anything.
A strike from behind made its way through her leather protection, and a deep cut drove into her hip. Pain burned through her. Her cry came as a surprised croak, and the warmth of her blood flowed down her leg. She saw the man in front of her start to swing his huge battle-ax. Purposely, she dropped to the ground. The battle-ax whooshed above her head and struck the man behind her, taking him down, ending his life with a mighty blow. Serena rolled. Dropping one of her swords, she drug the cross bow from her back. When she came up, the pain in her hip made her stagger. Biting down on her lips, she ignored it and released as many bolts as she could. Her arrows took down three mercenaries. How many were left?
She momentarily wondered where Roan was.
* * * *
Roan roared as Sir Galen's blow struck his arm. Blood gushed out, pain coursed from his shoulder to his wrist. He knew the blow was serious. Without a hitch, he tossed his sword to his other hand. If needed, he wasn't opposed to using them both. He managed to move his injured arm, his hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword to guide it. He shut his mind against the pain.
"So finally we battle.” Sir Galen's sneer didn't distract Roan as he continued to drive Galen back against the rock wall. “After I kill you, Wolf, I will take your woman and make her pray to die while I fuck her.” Sir Galen's laugh broke into his senses.
Roan growled. He need
ed to keep his focus. He sensed this man wanted to kill him in the worst way. He had known it from the first moment they met.
"There is nothing between your legs my woman would not hesitate to cut off. You will never equal me. Isn't that what bothers you? You are no better than a mercenary, and you call yourself a knight.” He swung again and metal clashed against metal. “You are a shame to our order. You have no honor. Under the pretense of Knighthood, you work for a repulsive mongrel.” Roan taunted Galen, forcing him back, hoping to anger him into losing his balance.
He sensed Galen's anger before the man yelled. “You will die!” Galen struck out wildly, again and again, wearing himself down and tiring. Roan parried, absorbing Galen's blows. He waited and watched for the opportunity he knew was coming. Sir Galen allowed Roan to drive him back. Roan did it purposely, so Galen's legs would tire.
Soon, Sir Galen was struggling to raise his sword, his breathing labored and wheezing from his chest.
"Give me what I ask for and I will spare your life.” Roan attempted to grant him mercy. The knight in him still knew honor.
Sir Galen lowered his sword.
Even though Roan sensed Galen wouldn't give up easily, to honor his promise, he too, lowered his sword. Sir Galen reached up and removed the crystal from his neck, thrusting it at him.
Although Roan sensed Galen's deception, he knew he had to play along to get what he needed. Moving his sword to the side, Roan reached out his hand.
Just as Sir Galen dropped the crystal into his hand, Galen charged forward, raising his sword, intent on impaling him.
If Roan hadn't sensed his enemy's move before he made it, he would have been killed. Stepping sideways, he pivoted to avoid the strike and on the follow-through, he struck out. His sword pierced Sir Galen's chest and sliced into his heart.
Sir Galen dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, his hand coming up to cover the unexpected wound in his chest. His eyes wide with disbelief, he fell onto his back.
Dropping the crystal over his neck, Roan lowered himself to his knees. Galen's hand reached out as if he was asking for forgiveness. With regret, Roan clasped his hand and watched the blood roll out of Sir Galen's mouth.
His eyes sought Roan's.
"Forgive...” He choked on his own blood.
Feeling Galen's pain, Roan became distracted with remorse at what he had just been forced to do. The hand linked with his grasped tightly, and Galen pulled Roan toward him. When Roan saw the dagger in Galen's other hand plunging toward his neck, it was too late to jerk away. Crying out, he wrenched up his other arm and the dagger sank into his muscle. As Roan swore, Sir Galen's hand went slack. His head fell to the side, his own blood pooling beside his mouth. He was dead.
Roan quickly pulled the dagger from his arm, and ripped cloth from the bottom of his tunic. Wincing, he wrapped the cloth around his arm to arrest the blood flow. Now both arms were injured. Fighting a stab of pain, he searched Sir Galen's body and found the aged paper of the scroll. He pushed the document down the front of his breeches.
The sound of Serena yelling had him up and running before he could even think to bless the death of a fellow knight.
* * * *
I'm losing this battle, she thought.
She had six angry battle-ready mercenaries surrounding her. Another blow struck her back, and she cried out. These mercenaries were like a pack of angry wolves and they didn't fight fair.
They enclosed her, each taking their turn engaging her, taunting her. She pulled in a heavy breath, trying to regain her intensity and her sense of who would make the next move. Using an age-old Wolf Warrior technique, she dropped to her knees. Crossing her swords in front of her, she used her senses. All she could think of was if she was going to die, she would die fighting, just like her mother before her.
Her mother had been killed in a battle with English soldiers after a pilgrimage outside of the Realm. She had been struck down by a troop of English soldiers out for blood and searching for Scottish rebels, much like the troop who had attempted to kill Roan. Serena had been in her twelfth year. She had experienced a terrible disturbance in her senses and knew what had happened even before her father had told her that her mother was dead.
Sensing a strike, she raised one sword. Bracing it with the other beneath, she deflected the blow.
A fierce battle cry stopped the mercenaries as Roan struck from behind. Blood flowed from both his bare arms. Eyes fixed, his thick muscles contracted as he cut down one enemy after another.
She was again reminded of his skills when he whirled, taking the lives of two more. She saw the crystal hanging around his neck and knew he was drawing on its powerful strength as he freed her from her fate in seconds.
When not one man remained standing, he snapped his head around wildly, gazing at the bodies littering the ground. Unfortunately, it had been necessary to kill them all. They had shown no mercy and asked for none. These men were vicious and would rather die in battle than give up their way of life. Serena watched as Roan lowered his sword then re-sheathed it.
It was over.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she sank back against the leaf-strewn ground of the forest. Lying flat, she dropped her swords beside her. Her labored breath puffed in and out of her chest as she reflected on how close she had come to dying several times in the previous few weeks. She gazed at the greenery about her, the sky and the clouds. Unwittingly, tears fell down the side of her face as she was grateful she had survived another battle to see these glorious makings of nature. Sucking in a breath, she tried to slow her heartbeat.
Roan fell down next to her, his hands running over her body seeking injuries.
"Are you injured?"
The concern in his voice had her smiling and she again thanked the Gods for bringing such a man to her. She stayed his hand before he reached her hip. She opened her eyes, smiling at the glory of being able to gaze upon him.
"I am well,” she swallowed her tears of joy, “just need to catch my wind.” She saw him visibly drop his shoulders in relief. His hands released hers and he sat back on the ground, his head dropped forward as he too rested.
"Did you retrieve the scrolls?"
He nodded, pointing to his pants where they shifted precariously at his movement.
"Thank the Gods. Sir Galen?"
"Dead."
Finally able to catch her breath, she rose to her knees and again noticed the blood on his arms. Pulling strips from the bag Richard had given her, she began tending him. Unbinding the compress he had made, she rewrapped it tighter. He was already healing, the skin around the wound puckering.
"You are injured.” She stated the obvious as she worked on his other arm. After she finished, she sat back and checked his body, her hands probing, testing for further injury. With a groan, he plucked off his gloves. His hands came up and encircled her face.
Her gaze lifted from where she'd been probing. Roan pulled her forward, stroking her cheek. His lips hovered over hers, and as if he could wait no longer, they gently claimed hers. Her hands came up to encircle his neck as she deepened the kiss, desperately seeking the warmth and security he offered. His hand strayed to her neck and slid down her body until he reached her hip. She cried out against his mouth and jerked back.
His hand came up, and he looked at the red on his hand in disbelief.
"Serena.” He pulled back and forced her to turn so he could see to her wound.
"It is nothing, two cuts, one on my hip, the other on my back.” She pulled off her leather gloves, wincing as he examined her body.
"God's blood, why did you not tell me?"
"Because I knew you would overreact, as you are now. Leave them. They will heal quickly. You know this to be true.” She heard him growl as he worked on removing her clothing to better see the cuts. She sighed and leaned back, forcing herself to put away her disappointment at having to break their kiss.
"I would much rather kiss you than feel the pain of your hands against these small cu
ts.” He laughed at her statement. She closed her eyes as she slowed her breathing.
"I have created a wanton.” He gasped as he bared her wounds to his eyes.
"Since you have no interest in kissing, you'll not mind if I rest here for a short time, just to catch my breath."
"Aye, you rest, and catch your breath.” He gently pushed back a lock of her wild hair.
She sighed and smiled at his gentleness, something he continually confessed he was not, yet always was. At one point, she was lifted and laid onto something soft. The warmth of Roan's body slid next to hers and she rolled into his heat. His arms clasped around her, his breath evened in sleep. He had decided to rest also, she thought briefly before she drifted back to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Serena was having the most glorious dream. She was completely naked, basking in the cool blue water of a waterfall. The roar of the falls drowned out the noises of the forest and the spray of the water misted the air, blanketing her body in tender wetness. Drops eased slowly down her body, as it would on the outside of a cold, wet glass of ale. She moaned, running her hands over her face and down her body, delighting in the simple joy of bathing.
Unexpectedly, her senses came alert and her eyes swung to each corner of the water as she looked for the intruder. Her head snapped to and fro. She sensed someone.
Roan appeared, as naked as the day he was born and glorious. The Realm crystal hung from his neck. She smiled at him and, turning, she continued to glide her hands over her wet body. He moved slowly, silently, stalking her as if she were his prey.
He came up from behind her, his erection pressing against her back, his hands replacing hers. His finger delved into her slit and his other hand plucked at her breast. The pressure built inside her until he was bringing her to a frenzied orgasm, her hips rocking against him. At the same time he entered her from behind, his hard cock slipping into her wetness. His teeth bit down on her shoulder, intensifying her orgasm.
She laid her head against his chest and her voice throbbed with want as she groaned, “Roan.” Her head lolled from side to side as their wet bodies began to slide together, the friction intensifying her pleasure.
