“Please, no!” I cried as I kept struggling, his hand worked at his hides and I knew what he was doing, I felt him hard against me. “Please, please, please, no.”
His head came up, his eyes caught mine, the whites so white against the black of his paint, his hand at my wrists squeezed hard, causing pain, my back to the stone causing more, I gave him the only fight I had left.
I glared at him.
He held my glare for long moments.
Then, his eyes never leaving mine, he whispered, “Lahnahsahna.”
Then his head bent, he shoved his face in my neck and he violated me.
* * * * *
The second he entered me, I didn’t see it, my eyes had squeezed closed, but a flash of lightning rent the dark night.
Chapter Three
The Rite
I was bloody and naked before him on the massive steed, his arm around me, his big, hard, heated body all I could feel at my back, the horse moving all I could feel under me.
But I felt something else. I felt the aches in my muscles, the pains on my skin, both seemed to cover every inch of my body, inside and out.
And I felt something else, something so hideous I refused to feel it.
So I didn’t. I blanked out everything as I watched the lights, fires and tents of the Daxshee get ever closer and I concentrated on whatever horrors that were next for me.
He was going to parade me naked through his village, through his people, through his warriors, through those awful spectators, hunted, beaten, shamed and naked.
I closed my eyes.
How was I going to bear it?
The long way back his horse had walked, not trotted, not cantered, not galloped. Walked.
It took forever and he’d said not a word. He also didn’t hold me with tenderness or with triumph. It was like I was a bundle he had to deliver safely. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
I was his wife now.
Jeez. His wife.
Oh God.
I needed to get home.
The horse slowed then stopped.
My eyes opened and my body started.
Five women were rushing to us carrying a variety of things I couldn’t really make out in the dark. I looked beyond them to see we were well outside the outskirts of the Daxshee. It was visible but still a ways away.
Why were we stopped?
He dismounted and then his hands came up, closed around my waist and he pulled me off the horse.
I tried to hold it back but I couldn’t stifle the moan of pain. He set me in front of him but did not let go of my waist or move away.
I looked up into his painted eyes to see he was observing me like a specimen under glass. There wasn’t a lot of light but I could see his face and it was blank and uninterested.
God, I hated him.
Then his hand lifted, he unhooked the chain from my necklace, he turned his head and barked something at the women then he stepped away from me. The minute he did, one of them rushed forward. Gently taking my hand, she guided me away from the horse to the other women.
And that’s when, weirdness of all weird, they fawned and cooed over me, talking in their foreign tongue in gentle voices as they wet rags from big jugs and carefully, soothingly, wiped away the blood and dirt on my body. While they were doing this, one of them divested me of the silver ring around my neck.
What on earth?
I started to move away, not thinking to run, that monster would catch me, but to get away from the women. My body was twisting this way and that as their soft rags worked at me but one woman stayed close and held me firmly but kindly while the others cleansed me. The whole time the woman who held me murmured gently in my ear.
Once I was washed head-to-toe, the woman holding me said something softly, the others nodded, rushed away, bent to some trunk that was about five feet away and then they rushed back carrying things that sparkled in the moonlight.
Oh please, God, let it be clothes.
My prayers were answered, sort of.
First came what looked like gold chain links. Tinkling over my head, they pulled it down, fastened it and I saw it was a halter top exposing as much as it covered.
Not great but at least not nothing.
A short skirt of the same links was wrapped low around my hips.
Okay, still not great but not nothing.
Then a wide, low hanging, very heavy, battered gold necklace was pulled over my head. It was so wide and hung so low, it covered my breasts almost completely, just some flesh at the sides and bottoms showing.
All right, this was getting better.
Then a very heavy, very wide belt made entirely of gold disks, more dangling from the bottom, was attached around my hips, hiding my sex but, I could feel, not entirely covering the cheeks of my ass.
It wasn’t enough, it didn’t make me comfortable, all that gold was damned heavy but I was not going to quibble.
Then gold bands were pushed up my arms to my biceps on both sides, the same with very wide cuffs wrapped around that nearly covered me from wrists to elbows.
Well, I would have preferred that amount of coverage elsewhere but again, I was not going to complain.
And then, a thin band of golden feathers, so golden, they glinted in the moonlight like they had glitter on them was wrapped around my head at my forehead and tied at the back.
Finally, moving quickly, they coated my body in a thin layer of oil so that it glistened.
Totally weird.
This was, clearly, the finishing touch for the minute they were done with the oil, they all moved, stepping backward and bowing while the woman who held me murmured something to the Dax.
Before I knew it, me and all my heavy gold were swooped up in a powerful arm and planted on the horse. The second my ass hit the horse, the Dax swung up behind me.
But we didn’t move and one of the women rushed forward. She took one of my ankles in her hand, pushed up and made as if to swing my leg around the beast’s neck.
She was telling me I was meant to ride straddling, not as I had been, side saddle.
I didn’t demur. I didn’t have it in me to demur. Any demurring was left on a stone some ways back. So I swung my leg around. She nodded in approval, smiled at me and started to step back, bowing.
The Dax made a noise of tongue against teeth and the horse moved forward even before the woman fully cleared the animal.
Okay, so, the bad news was, I was in another world, I had no idea how I got there and that other world was absolutely no way a place I wanted to be. I’d been paraded before warriors and hunted. I watched a man die for me, a man who did not even know me. I’d been pursued through a wasteland and forced to receive the attentions of a savage king. Then I’d endured the humiliating ride back wearing nothing but a necklace, chained to a brute. I had no way of knowing when this would end, if it would end and if I would ever get back home.
But, at least I wasn’t going to be paraded through a primitive village naked. The gold was heavy, the chain links weren’t exactly the finest silk, the whole ensemble didn’t entirely cover me.
But I decided I’d look on that as the good news.
People started flooding toward us as the horse became visible outside the Daxshee and the Dax changed our positions on the horse. This change was minute but significant. His arm around my waist slid up so the swells of my breasts rested on it and it tightened so I was held snug to his big body. This said I was not a bundle to be delivered safely. This was more intimate. This said I was claimed.
Then his mouth came to my ear and he said the first words since he took me.
I didn’t understand a one of them but I recognized the last one and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t forget it. The last word he said in his deep, scary, rough voice was a forceful, “Lahnahsahna.”
Okay, whatever the hell that meant, it meant something to him. Therefore, I needed to find out what it meant. And I was figuring I needed to find that out fast.
&n
bsp; With the old-fashioned attired men holding back but their eyes still on us, his native people rushed the horse, took one look at me in my golden outfit and started cheering, smiling, laughing, jumping in joy, holding their hands up and waving them, some of them chanting as we rode through them. Then flowers were thrown, just petals but the deeper we got into the Daxshee, the more people there were, the more petals drifted around us until they were all I could see.
It sucked but I had to admit their softness felt nice floating and gliding against my hot, scraped, aching flesh. And, if this was a joyous occasion, like a real wedding of people uniting in love (which it was not) those light petals drifting through the torchlit night would be beautiful.
The Dax said not a word as he rode through the crowd and his horse didn’t miss a beat but kept his slow, steady walk through the throng.
The people and their petal throwing stopped when we reached the dais area. They hung back but their cheers and chants carried on as the horse took us to the center of a wide semi-circle of stone that bowed out from the dais. This semi-circle was created by warriors astride horses, their claimed women in front of them on the horse, straddling it, wearing nothing but their necklaces with the warrior’s chain hooked to it.
At this, I was realizing it might be good to be queen.
None of them, including, I looked and found Narinda, had a stitch of clothing on.
When I caught her eyes, I tipped my head to the side and gave her what I knew had to be a small, weird smile.
Her face grew soft and she returned it.
Then I looked at the other warriors and their women. Some women looked thrilled beyond belief. Some looked disappointed. Some looked frightened (and these were even the native women, apparently having men fight to the death for you then being raped in a barren wasteland was not all it was cracked up to be).
The Dax stopped us at the foot of the steps to the dais and didn’t hesitate in dismounting or pulling me off the horse.
I tried (and failed) not to think of my ass cheeks showing as he took my hand and walked up the dais toward the thrones at the top.
Yes, thrones.
Now there were two of them. The massive black one was now accompanied by another, smaller one. The same style but the horns were white and the feet were not elephant feet but some other animal’s feet. Maybe deer. Maybe gazelles.
Serious gross.
The black throne had no pad, as it had none before and obviously this was meant to show that seasoned, badass warriors didn’t need sissy things like cushions for their asses. But the white throne had a fluffy, gold silk covered pad on the seat and another one on its end resting against the back.
Okay, more good news. I got pads. I could use pads. My ass was freaking killing me.
We made it to the top and he turned us to the crowd. I could see beyond the large, wide arc of what had to be at least a hundred warriors, it could actually be more, their brides and their horses, the crowd had closed in.
The Dax stood there, holding my hand, his eyes moving over the gathering. Someone had taken his horse away so at the immediate bottom of the dais there was nothing but a vast open space, torchlight dancing on the smooth, cream stone.
He did not speak; he just surveyed the crowd with his frightening, painted eyes. They did not cheer or chant; they just stayed silent and watched us.
This, by the way, was not fun but I’d had less fun that night so I just took it and stood there.
Then he started shouting, so suddenly, my body jerked. I had no clue what he was saying but whatever it was, he meant it, like, a lot. And this was proved to be true when, twice, he banged his mighty fist on his muscled, painted chest.
He shouted for awhile then suddenly he tugged my hand, bent as my body fell into his, his other arm tagged me behind the knees, he let my hand go, his arm going around my waist, he swung me up with such force, my legs went flying and my arms automatically circled his neck so I wouldn’t be sent soaring through the air and he roared, “Kah Lahnahsahna!”
A deafening cheer tore through the crowd, so fierce; the wall of sound hit me like a physical thing.
But he didn’t bask in whatever glory he was receiving. He turned toward the chairs and when he did, my eyes tipped to his just as his bearded chin (he had a full, black beard, it was long at the chin and held at the point with a gold band) and his eyes locked with mine.
Then his arms squeezed me so tight, I thought he’d break bones.
Then he whispered fiercely, “Kah Lahnahsahna.”
Before I could say a word, he deposited me on my throne and then sat in his.
Okay, I seriously needed to find out what that meant.
I looked over at him to see him tip his head at the first warrior in the arc. More drums started sounding, not the booming sound, these were smaller, made less noise but it wasn’t music. It was just a beat and the wedding rite, I guessed, started.
Each warrior rode his horse right before us to the foot of the steps to the dais, stopped, dismounted, pulled down his bride and walked her up the steps to us. This happened one after another. All of the men jerked their chin up to the Dax then their eyes came to me and they bowed their head slightly. Some of the women bowed to the king and to me.
After the jerking chin, bowing thing, one of the warriors pulled his bride in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, one at her chest so he could lift his hand to cup her jaw and he grinned at his king.
Clearly, he was pretty pleased with his bride and, in spite of myself, I had to admit, it was kind of cute. And I allowed myself to admit this mainly because the girl looked a little tentative but also a little pleased too.
I looked at the Dax who had no visible response. He might have thought it was cute or he might have been fighting a roll of his eyes. But his face gave away nothing.
Still smiling, that warrior walked away with his arm around his naked bride’s shoulders.
A few couples later, Narinda came up with her warrior. She had blood on her too. Clearly, he’d fought for her because he had a minor wound at his shoulder. The chin jerks and bows went on then I leaned forward and caught her eyes.
“I’m all right,” she mouthed before she hesitantly tipped her head back to her (handsome, I was pleased to see, very handsome but also hopefully soft under all that muscle) warrior.
Then I was equally pleased to see him slide his arm along her waist in a way that looked kind of tender before he guided her down the steps.
Okay. Shoo. Maybe Narinda was going to be okay.
More warriors, more brides, more drums, more chin jerks and bowing and then, almost to the end, I was shocked to see the cruel warrior who got his chain on me before the Dax had severed it was striding up the steps dragging an extremely beautiful, native girl behind him.
He, too, was wounded, one eye swelling, a cheekbone too and he was bleeding profusely from his nose and shallow but nasty gashes on his chest.
But it wasn’t his wounds that freaked me out. It was his eyes.
His eyes were burning and this burn came from his soul, that soul was filled with hate and his eyes were locked on his king.
Oh man, that did not bode well.
His bride stumbled on the steps but he didn’t even slow; he dragged her on her knees to the top of them. This caused me to take in a sharp breath and then I felt it.
Something coming from the Dax. Something not good.
I tore my eyes away from the bleeding, vile warrior whose new wife was at her knees by his side, his blood and probably others, considering her beauty, all over her naked body, to look at the Dax.
He gave nothing away. His expression had not changed and his body was held loose and relaxed. And somehow I knew his not giving this man anything was taking away what that man most wanted. He wanted the Dax to look angry or alert to the obvious threat he posed.
But the Dax wasn’t giving him even that.
Still, my new husband did not like this guy. I could sense it.
My eyes
snapped back to the warrior when I heard his bride cry out in pain. Then I froze in horror when I saw he was pulling her up by her hair.
Unless I missed it, he didn’t give the Dax a chin jerk or me a bow. Instead, he positioned his new bride in front of his body, kicked her legs apart with his foot, then his arm circled her as his other hand stayed clenched in her hair, clearly in a painful way for both her hands had wrapped around his wrist and her stunning face was twisted in distress. Then his torso bent low, his hand moving from her waist, to her belly, down, over her sex, curling in…
My eyes shot to the Dax as I heard her whimper.
He did not look at me. His face was set to blank and his eyes were glued to the warrior. They were up, not down, not watching what he was doing but locked on the warrior’s face.
Then I watched his lip curl.
But I didn’t feel the warrior move away though I heard his woman keep whimpering.
He was still hurting her.
I couldn’t allow it. After what had happened to me that night, to Narinda, to all those frightened girls out there who had been claimed on rough rocks by savage warriors, I couldn’t allow it. Not this. What we’d endured was humiliating, this was beyond that.
I had to do something.
“Stop him,” I whispered to the Dax but he didn’t tear his eyes away from the warrior. “Stop him,” I repeated but he ignored me. Hesitantly, not wanting to do it, never wanting to touch him but spurred on by the girl’s whimpers and fresh memories of my own nightmare, I reached out a hand and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “Stop him,” I implored.
At my touch, the Dax’s head turned, his dark eyes dropped to my hand then they lifted to my face. I saw them move over my features but he gave me nothing. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I had no clue.
When the whimpers continued, I moved my hand to his, curled my fingers around, shook it, leaned in and begged, “Please, please, stop him.”
The Dax stared at me.
God, he had no idea what I was saying.
Or worse, he didn’t care.
The Golden Dynasty f-2 Page 3
