Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  “Ree, what are you doing riding out in this rain? Go over to the couch and dry your hair in front of the fireplace. I’ll fix you some tea.”

  Joan chuckled at the expression on Rhia’s scrunched up face.

  “I’m kidding. I know you hate the stuff. How about some coffee?”

  Rhia donned the robe quickly and made her way to the impressive and equally familiar living area. Everything in Joan’s house was white and immaculately clean. Thick, plush carpets in which Rhia loved to wiggle her toes, complimented the comfortable couch with its huge overstuffed cushions that sat in front of the iozene fireplace. Even the glass table in front of the couch had a sparkling white stone-looking base with silver slivers running through it. Rhia sat and inhaled her favorite scents which wafted from Joan’s kitchen—cinnamon, apples and, thankfully, coffee.

  Joan called out. “What’s going on? You look a bit out of sorts and you smell like wet Moonlight.”

  Damn it. Just beginning to relax, Joan’s question caused Rhia to stiffen up all over again.

  “Well, with that answer, or lack of, I think you need something a bit stronger than coffee. I’ve just mulled some wine. I’ll serve it up and let’s cut to the chase.”

  Joan poured two mugs of wine and joined Rhia in the living room. The wafting scent of honey and spices always reminded her of the Christentide holidays. After moments of sitting without either of them talking, Joan ran out of patience. Never one to beat around the bush, her best friend leaned forward, sat her mug on the table in front of the sofa, and turned an impatient glare on an already irritated Rhia.

  “Alright woman, what happened in the meeting with your father? And who was that gorgeous hunk you challenged this morning? He looked awfully familiar, but I couldn’t place him, especially given the wildness of the, uh, situation.”

  Joan the diplomat. Bleh.

  After a fortifying gulp of warm red, Rhia scooted down into the plush cushions of the couch.

  “He’s RuArk Miwatani,” she said with a clearly disgruntled sigh.

  “RuArk Miwa...? Wait, he hasn’t been around in forever. I remember you used to chase him around with your practice sword when we were kids. The last time we saw him, he was going off to train to fulfill his duties as Protector of the Realm of Gaia. That was him in the circle this morning? That hunk of male perfection is RuArk Miwatani?”

  “Yep. That’s the one,” Rhia spoke into her cup, obviously none too happy.

  Joan crowed. “Oh, Rhia, he’s totally gorgeous. What’s he doing here? And acting like he’s new in the High Counsel’s service when he’s known your father all his life.”

  ‘He’s in the High Counsel’s service, all right,’ Rhia thought, taking another large swallow of hot, spicy wine.

  “So, what did your father want to talk to you about? Are you in trouble for that spectacle in the training pavilion this morning?”

  “No, I’m not in trouble. I’m mated.”

  “What the fu...? Mated? For rolling in the mud? To that fine as hell warrior? Maybe I need to go roll in the mud. They haven’t cleaned it all up yet have they?”

  “I’m serious, Joan.”

  “So am I,” she squealed, scooting just out of reach as Rhia tried to pinch her.

  “My father called me to his study to tell me RuArk is here because he sent for him. To mate with me on a totally permanent basis.”

  Joan, in the middle of pouring herself a second mug of mulled wine, promptly sat the kettle down with a loud thunk on the thick glass of the living room table.

  “Well, he certainly meets your criteria of you not wanting a man you can pound into the floor, eh?”

  “Is that all anyone has to say about the man? That he meets my criteria?” Rhia, wine forgotten, was now on her feet, pacing, as Joan’s robe flapped around her knees.

  “So, what’s the problem?” Joan asked.

  “I haven’t seen him in, what, ten or fifteen cycles? He was never really mean to me, but it doesn’t change the fact that he did tease me back then.” And she’d carried such a torch... No, no, scratch that. “What if he’s become a total asshole? Besides, I just don’t feel like myself where he’s concerned.” He was overwhelming. And he would expect her to surrender to him. But ‘surrender’ just wasn’t something she knew how to do.

  “You can’t possibly be upset because you’ve caught the most gorgeous man on this side of the border who happens to be an old family friend and the son of a king? Not to mention he’s a warlord.”

  “I just don’t see why RuArk’s profession is important in all of this. What does it have to do with me having to uproot and leave behind everything I know?”

  “Everything you know? You’re going to Gaia?”

  “No, Draema Neine.”

  “Rhia, you aren’t making any sense. You’re staying in your own province and he is leaving his. For you. But you’re upset? Not to mention this man is worthy of joining with the First Heir. Even I know they call him the Wind Storm. None of his enemies have ever been able to catch or track him. And he’s never lost a battle. Ever. Why do you think we keep petitioning the Gaian to allow our soldiers to train under him? We don’t do much warring with our neighbors, but Gaia has to keep the Borderlands in order, plus those wild assed, unsettled provinces to the North. Tough job, that.”

  Rhia sat wide-eyed and tongue-tied. She’d been so out of sorts about the mating business and her insane desire for her bodyguard-husband, she hadn’t taken the time to think about who he really was. He wasn’t just the boy she knew. Not anymore. As much as she’d ignored her Gaian heritage over the years, even she was familiar with the stories around the Wind Storm of Gaia.

  It was well known that Gaia had the best trained assassins. Skilled soldiers from other provinces petitioned Gaia yearly for a spot as one of the Wind Storm’s soldiers. It was almost unheard of for an outsider to be accepted among those giants, but many tried anyway.

  Wind Storm? Yep, she knew all about him. What she hadn’t known was that RuArk, her RuArk, was the man behind the myth.

  She had a living legend in her father’s house and hadn’t even realized it. She knew of his exploits, all of his battles. Everything. She’d battled, kissed, married and then told off the Wind Storm? Blasted fucking hell.

  “I made a complete fool of myself today. What am I going to do? And stop gaping at me!” She knew Joan was shocked to hear such a confession from her. Rhia didn’t usually care what anyone thought about anything she did. But for some reason, she cared about what RuArk thought of her.

  “You tried your best to beat him Rhia. You should be glad you didn’t succeed.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Well, what the blasted hell are you talking about then? For goodness sake, Rhia, he’s not a Noman from the storybooks. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’ve told him off, challenged him to a blade contest, and... Oh hell, when I see this guy my heart leaps into my throat and I just lose it and I don’t know why. My father says he’s a good man and thinks I need him to protect me.” She was very careful not to say what RuArk was supposed to be protecting her from. “But I was given no choice in the matter, none at all. And what if he’s not being straight with me? After all, Bryan Collaidh had been a perfect gentleman when I first met him and...”

  “Will you forget about that Bryan idiot? He has nothing to do with this. I’m so tired of hearing about him and all the other assholes every time a potential mate stumbles across your path. This is what you’ll do, woman. The next time you see RuArk, be receptive. Give him a chance, Ree. Your father’s not stupid. And neither are you. Do you honestly think that just because you haven’t seen RuArk in a long time that it’s changed who he is at his core? More importantly, would your father bring him here if that was the case? It won’t hurt to trust him unless he gives you a reason not to.”

  There was no arguing with Joan’s reasoning, though she really wanted to. So instead Rhia sat, sipped, and then sipped some more.
>
  After gathering up their cups, Joan tapped her shoulder in a show of camaraderie. “Hey, it’s getting late. Grab your wet stuff and I’ll walk you home. I would suggest we take my shiny new conveyance, but the thing is more of a pain to get out of the drive than to simply walk such a short distance. You can borrow some of my clothes to get back to the Citadel.”

  “You know your clothes don’t fit me. They’re cut too short, but fit too large.”

  “Well, you can go naked. I’m sure RuArk wouldn’t mind if...”

  “Oh, shut it, smart ass.”

  “You know I love you, Ree.”

  “Yeah, yeah, just give me the blasted clothes. And bring something for yourself. We’re having dinner with my father tonight. You can meet, or rather re-meet RuArk.”

  “Re-meet? You know that’s not a word, Rhia.”

  “Oh, hush already.” Yet there was no suppressing the wiggle in her belly at the thought of seeing that man again.

  Sigh.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Marth stilled in his chosen corner of the huge stables to watch and listen as the two women turned Rhia’s horse over to the groomsmen.

  Other than the young boy who’d delivered his message about RuArk and Rhia fighting this morning, Marth had allowed no one to see him since the day they’d arrived. But tonight he would reveal himself and Joan Rouillard was the reason. At home in Gaia, he’d never seen anyone like her. She was so beautifully dark, her skin as smooth as chocolate silk. Her short, curly hair was as light as summer sunlight, beyond blonde and contrasted brilliantly against her dark skin.

  He’d trailed Rhia daily, and since the two women were together often, he’d become pretty familiar with Joan as well. He couldn’t help but compare them and Joan caught his eye every time. Rhia was tall and femininely muscular, but Joan, who was obviously fit, had everything in abundance. Her breasts were full, her hips wide. Marth was a big man and Joan was the kind of woman he could wrap his arms around without fear of breaking anything. The only parts that appeared dainty were her small waist and little feet. Perhaps he’d get a chance to span his hands across that waist and nibble on those feet.

  “Joan, it’s almost o-seventeen hundred. We only have an hour to get ready for dinner.”

  Joan slowed, then stopped altogether in the stable’s gigantic double doors, looking back toward the stalls as Rhia stepped out into the still-pouring rain.

  “Joan, can’t you move a little faster?”

  Marth smiled in the shadows when Joan didn’t answer, but looked back in the direction of his hiding spot, trying to see into the shadows. Rhia stood in the doorway and peered past Joan’s shoulder trying to see what her friend was looking at, but he knew all she saw was the back of Moonlight’s rump as the groomsman led the huge mount away.

  “I thought I saw something,” Joan said. “I’ll be right along. Just give me a minute.”

  Rhia called over her shoulder as she turned and disappeared into the gloom. “Sure. I’ll have a bath ready for you when you get to my place. Hurry up and get out of this weather.”

  Joan stood just inside the stable doors, watching Rhia move her quickly along the tiled walk leading up to the wide stone steps of the High Counsel’s residence. When the woman turned back around, her eyes widened as Marth moved slowly across the large building, headed right for her.

  “Hello, my name is Joan. I’m a friend of Rhia’s. You came with RuArk from Gaia, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you joining us for dinner in the hall?” she asked, her voice deepening with a sensuous quality that made the base of Marth’s spine tingle. Being this close to Joan wreaked havoc on his senses. He didn’t see any point in playing games with her or trying to hide his attraction.

  “No,” he spoke gently, appearing to lean casually against a hitching post, but he was all predator. He let her see it in his eyes as they traveled slowly from her cropped, platinum curls down to her small booted feet. She dipped her head at his assessment and gave him something else to adore—a deep dimple on her right cheek.

  “You don’t say much, do you?”

  “No,” his grin widened.

  “Well, nice to meet you. Perhaps you’ll change your mind about dinner,” she said, offering her hand for a friendly shake.

  He took her extended fingers, stepped deliberately too close and raised it to his lips. Turning the palm up, he planted an intimate kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her dark brown eyes clashed with his flaming green ones. Knowing she was as much a warrior as he was, he held back a grin when she demurely lowered her lashes. She moved away and off into the rain muttering under her breath.

  “If all Gaian are like you, perhaps I need to get me one.”

  Marth would ensure her words became truth. He was a warrior. And when a warrior saw something he wanted, he would have it.

  Chapter Eleven

  RuArk stood on the landing near the top of the tower atrium, brooding as he pondered the woman he’d been sent to protect. In spite of Rhia’s noble status and outrageous behavior, she had yet to whine, cry or connive her way out of facing the consequences of her actions in the pavilion this morning. Nor had she balked when he and her father said the words that made her his forever. RuArk was reluctantly impressed, which made his mood all the more sour, though for the life of him, he had no idea why.

  He prided himself on his patience and iron control, but Rhia stretched both to their limits. The woman had gone off riding alone, not an hour after her father told her of a plot against her life. RuArk had never put his hand to a woman, but by the time Marth reported her safe return just before their scheduled dinner, he’d been ready to lay her over his knee. Stiff-necked. Stubborn. Luscious and so—yes, a Draeman word was more than appropriate just now—fucking beautiful.

  The one woman who turned his common sense inside out, didn’t want anything to do with him. Oh, she may have taken the vows, may even find his touch hard to resist, but that didn’t mean her heart was in it. Interesting. Wooing a woman wasn’t an activity he typically engaged in, yet found himself strangely exhilarated by the thought of the chase.

  Eyes raised in quiet supplication, RuArk whispered a prayer to the Ancestors. “You have gotten me into joining with this woman. I expect you to guide me through it. Or at least help me to stay sane.”

  His gaze shifted to Rhia’s door at the barely-there sound of a soft schnick followed by metal gliding on well-oiled guides.

  Finally. What did a woman do that made getting dressed take so long?

  Rhia and her best friend stepped out onto the landing. RuArk continued to lean against the wall as if he hadn’t a care, yet his head had taken off into the atmosphere at the sight of her. His body tightened until his skin felt snug from neck to knees. Thankful for a long dress tunic he forced his hands not to adjust the quickly filling cock in his leathers. It was times like these when he wished men weren’t such visual creatures. And why in all the hells was this the only woman who got to him, who made him want to jump her and throttle her all at once? He raised his eyes again to the stars that shone through the glass ceiling above. With a snort and a subtle shake of his head, he hoped like hell his prayer had been heard.

  “Good evening,” Rhia said politely. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she tried not to smile. Definitely stubborn.

  “It is indeed.”

  The two women moved toward the stairs with such feminine grace he could almost forget Rhia’s attempt to gut him like a fish, followed by the two of them mercilessly wailing on him with fists and feet.

  He’d fully expected them to waltz into dinner wearing combat gear, boots and trousers. Or at the very least, one of those much-too-revealing one piece outfits Rhia had sported earlier.

  Tonight she’d exchanged her soldier’s garb for a silky-looking skirt. The matching short jacket was embroidered over the left breast with her family’s sigil. The fit and flow of the fine material screamed sensuality as it clung to her hips, then fell in a silvery-
gray swish around her knees as she walked. The high wedged shoes made his fingers want to trace the straps around her ankles and then travel part way up her muscled calf to play with the bare skin there.

  The ensemble was finished off by a single strand of creamy white gems clasped around her throat to match her earrings.

  Her hair was twisted up into an elegant style with wisps of red-streaked curls floating against her ears and nape. Perhaps he could play in it later.

  He stepped to her, unsure what to do with his hands.

  “Woman, you are simply beautiful. And your hair...” His words trailed off.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Rhia’s cool demeanor crumbled under the gentle slide of RuArk’s fingers across the back of her neck. Her eyes traveled over his body taking in the fit of his leather tunic and trousers, and the muscle that bulged underneath. His beautiful hair hung loose with a thin lock braided at his right temple. Her eyes caught the unusual ornament tied there—a small feather. A coup feather to be exact, taken with reverence from an animal extinct for at least a thousand cycles. Tiny red, black, yellow and white beads were woven down the shaft and it was tied to the braid with a thin leather thong.

  Rhia might not know much about her mother’s people in particular, but she knew her ancient history when it came to wars and battles. The Elders of many of the ancient races gave these ornaments to warriors who had shown great prowess in battle. Nothing like this was preserved in Draema. Even the Society of Antiquities, who kept the most complete museums, had only a few pieces of rare collectibles salvaged from the ruins after the Breaking.

  The Gaian must hold their culture closer than anyone really knows, she thought.

  She reached up to touch his raven locks, but pulled her hand back. What in blazes was she doing? She was First Heir and Blademaster. She couldn’t be seen groping men in the hallways, even if she and RuArk were ma-, mar-, marri-... damn she couldn’t even think the word.