Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  The fire pit in the middle of the tent cast a soothing, warm glow over his features, transforming his skin to molten gold. He was so thickly muscled and hard everywhere. Especially there. No mistaking the ginormous arousal pressing up between her legs. The pulse of his thick cock called, and a deep, flaring ache centered at her sex, answered. RuArk eased her forward and pressed her cheek to his chest, while his fingers stroked through the thick curls of her hair.

  His fingers worked magic as he dug into tense knotted muscle. The good kind of pain created a hum in her belly. The sound worked its way up through her throat as she responded to the attention.

  “You will relax now, Rhia,” he whispered softly into her ear.

  She’d been doing just that until thoughts of her friend came to mind and tension leached back into the very places he’d just rubbed it out of. This wasn’t right. How could she relax when she had no idea whether Joan was okay? She bit off the rumble of pleasure in her chest and forced it to dissipate as if it had never been.

  “Will you stop telling me what to do already? Besides, I have no right to relax when my father is probably worried out of his head and Joan...”

  “Someone tried to take her, Rhia.”

  “What?” Rhia bolted upright, her voice a high pitch she’d never heard herself make. Ever.

  “Someone attempted to kidnap her. They thought she was you. We believe it to be the same men behind the plot we’ve been investigating.”

  “Oh my god...” Her stomach lurched. She was going to throw up.

  “Joan is safe.”

  “How the hell does kidnapped equal safe?” She tried to raise her head so she could look him in the eye.

  “I said attempted kidnapping.”

  “But...”

  “Shhhh. Let me ease you. Joan is well. One of my men intercepted those who tried to take her.”

  “Where is she? Oh blazes, how is she?”

  “You will see her again soon.”

  “What? When? Where?”

  “No more questions tonight. I only share this news because I am selfish where you are concerned, and I want your attention focused right here. And your horse will be here in the morning. You can ride him the rest of the way to our new home.”

  “Seriously?” Another unfamiliar squeak came out of her.

  He laughed. “I said I want your full attention, not half of it, which is what I would have if I allowed you to needlessly sulk and worry for Joan and your horse day and night.”

  “I don’t sulk, damn it.” She tried to snap, but the way his fingers soothed the tense muscles in her neck caused the words to slip out on a wispy moan. He was bossy, bossy and more bossy, yet held her in his arms and rubbed away her worry.

  And it got to her, damn it.

  She wasn’t sure what to think when RuArk retrieved a small brush from one of several small leather pouches hanging from one of the tent poles near the bed.

  Her eyes drifted closed again and words ran together as she murmured, “Whaddar you gonna do wi-dat?” She floated closer and closer to what she knew would be sweet dreams. She’d almost made it when her eyes popped open with surprise when a firm but gentle stroke guided soft bristles through the thick locks of her hair. She soaked up the sweet calm that enveloped her until she was a boneless heap of ‘aaah’ from her scalp clear down to her toes. Hair brushing certainly never felt this good when she did it herself.

  “Tell me of your growing up time,” he said smoothly.

  “Well, you were around for most of the beginning. Where should I start?” She sighed, not bothering to keep up the fight with her eyes. They wanted to stay closed, so let ‘em. But now her mouth didn’t want to move either. All she wanted was to keep her forehead against his chest, listen to the strong thump of his heart as the brush slid through her curls until she was dead to the world asleep.

  “You may choose what you wish to share.”

  Huh? Share what? Oh, yeah, he wanted to talk about her childhood.

  Bleh.

  She yawned. “After my mother died, I continued blade training. I made First Blade well before my sixteenth birthday, then I...”

  “No. I wish to hear about your life, not your duties.”

  “RuArk, once my mother was gone, my duties became my life.”

  “Do you spend all your time thinking on your duties?”

  Okay, his questions were making her think, which made her more awake. Damn it.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could just be somebody else, somebody with no responsibilities and no title. Maybe join the Society of Equine Breeders, or Basket Weavers, or anything other than be tasked with the safety of all of Draema province.”

  She started when his deep, rich laughter resonated through his chest and up her arms. It made her fingers tingle. The bass of his voice traipsed along the nerves where her hands rested on the sculpted slabs of his pecs.

  “You handle a blade well enough, yet it would be interesting to see you weave baskets, Ree.”

  He called her Ree? Nobody called her that but Joan. She decided she liked it, but balled up her fist and thumped him lightly in the chest with a scowl anyway. He chuckled some more while parting her hair down the middle with the brush before pulling the mass of curls over her shoulders to play in it. His fingers felt as good against her scalp as the brush had.

  “I’m glad you like to joke. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand my teasing and become upset.”

  Huh. In truth, she hadn’t expected this man, this hardened warrior, to care the least bit about her being upset.

  When he planted a soft kiss at the base of her neck, she knew exactly where this was going.

  Time to say or do something to change his line of thinking or she would lose control of the situation entirely. Then again, given the sweet hum in her belly perhaps it was already too late.

  “RuArk, that’s nice and all, but I really don’t expect anything from you.” But there was no heat behind her words, and barely any breath. In fact, she sounded like a damn wimp.

  Rhia bit her lip to keep from moaning when his fingers left her scalp and eased lower to massage the knots from her shoulders. Mmmm. Maybe being a wimp wasn’t so bad? Surely wimps were good people, too? Raising her head, she looked deeply into his eyes and tried to solve the mystery of how she could want a man so much while not wanting to want him.

  “Of course you expect something from me,” he crooned softly with a bit of gruff mixed in. His response overflowed with intensity hot enough to melt the steel. “You want what all women want. To be taken and well loved. It matters not what a woman says outside the bedroom. Once inside, she wants to be mounted.” He licked the side of her neck. “And tamed.”

  Enjoying the massage much more than she would ever admit, Rhia snorted rudely. “A bit presumptuous on your part, don’t ya think?”

  “What? Do you believe that when we make love you’ll give nothing of yourself? Just move coldly through the motions? Mmmm...” He nuzzled her ear. “Not quite, gorgeous. I think you’re going to like it rough.”

  Instinctively, Rhia knew, knew that he’d just told on himself and said exactly what he’d been doing whenever he’d lain with a woman. He’d taken his pleasure, but left nothing of himself behind. Had never opened his heart, nor shared a single hope or dream with any of his former lovers. And here he was, in a marriage he’d never intended with a woman he’d never dreamed of being with. But if her intuition was correct, they both wanted the same thing—more.

  Now, how this resonated in her heart, she had no idea. But the knowledge was there all the same.

  “When we have sex, Rhia, you will gladly give me whatever I ask,” he whispered, slowly stroking the pulse point along her collarbone. “And I will do the same. Give it to you when you want it, how you want it. For as long as you want it.”

  “And when is this supposed to happen, big guy?”

  “When you ask me for it. I would never make love with an unwilling woman.”
<
br />   “Cheeky bastard.”

  He chuckled deep in his throat. Her body shivered in response. Even as tired as she was, there was no helping the response to the contact of the strong fingers traipsing along the tops of her thighs. She was so sensitized that his hands seemed to singe the hairs off her skin through her clothes. Her stomach muscles clenched, butt cheeks felt damp underneath where sweat began to gather. But she certainly wasn’t going to ask him to have sex with her, husband or not.

  Blasted man.

  She almost sighed with relief when one hand left her thigh. It took a few seconds for the heat to dissipate from that particular spot. He stroked his chin and gray eyes twinkled as he lifted his gaze toward the ceiling of their tent, contemplating. The side of his so-sexy mouth quirked up as he said, “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve ever met a woman that refused to sleep with me.”

  She wanted to smack him. Hard.

  Tiredness disappeared in direct proportion to the ignition of her temper. So, there’d been plenty of other women, eh? Just how many women was he talking about here? This was her husband and she’d skin any other female creaming, uh, screaming for him.

  “So, what if I don’t ask you, RuArk? Then what?” she snapped.

  No longer a boneless heap of longing, Rhia couldn’t keep her upper lip from curling. Spine ramrod straight, her anger flared enough to light up an iozene lamp.

  RuArk only shrugged and resumed stroking and teasing her body.

  “Does that mean there are plenty of others who’d take my place between the sheets if I don’t ask you to fuck me?”

  Still no answer.

  He’s playing me, letting me wonder. Bastard.

  His fingers gently skimmed along her forearms, the clean, tidy nails lightly tickled the smooth flesh from her wrists all the way up to her shoulders raising gooseflesh along the way. The butterflies in her stomach came out to play. She snarled at them until they flew the hell away.

  “Look at me, Rhia.”

  She didn’t want to.

  When she finally lifted her gaze, it was to be surprised yet again by the raw longing in the deep gray of his eyes. No longer steely with flecks of silver throughout, these were now stormy, wild and raging seas she wouldn’t mind being shipwrecked in. And all she had to do was ask.

  “I will never force you, but we can still learn each other, and what we like. Do you like when I touch you, Ree?”

  Oh, how she wanted to lie. Instead, she nodded and let her eyes drift closed.

  “No, no, look at me, love. I want to see your eyes as I touch you. Watch them darken from light honeyed amber to dark smoldering embers.”

  When she complied, he said, “It’s been too long. Kiss me again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  He was so much taller that even sitting in his lap, she had to scoot up to the juncture of his thighs so she could reach his lips. It felt a bit naughty that he was completely naked while she was fully dressed. Lifting her lips, she initiated a kiss for the first time since they’d been reacquainted. Instinctively, her hips pressed down harder over him, and she found herself rocking against the thick ridge of his straining erection even as his lips moved over hers.

  RuArk tightened his arms around her. His softly moaned pleasure urged her to part her lips and set her tongue into a duel with his. Surprising herself, Rhia gave no tentative, shy strokes. No, this was hot and unrestrained, wet and decadent. God, she’d never tasted anything so fulfilling yet unsatisfying. The more she got from RuArk, the more she wanted.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Rhia leaned into him, needing the brush of hard, chiseled pecs pressed, and then sliding against her swelling breasts. Frustration taunted her when RuArk removed her arms from around his neck where she wanted them most, and made her sit exactly the way he’d arranged her before, palms flat on his chest.

  She broke the kiss on a strangled sigh. Then again, maybe she’d simply strangle him instead. “RuArk, let me move.”

  “No,” he said, feathering kisses along the plane of her jaw. “And no more wearing clothes to bed, Rhia. The tunic and light leggings, off.” She squirmed as his tongue played with her earlobe.

  Remove her trousers? What? It was bad enough he wanted her to ask for sex. She’d held out so far, but if he managed to get her completely naked in her present state of horny-ness, she’d be a goner. After what felt like a cycle’s worth of moments, Rhia croaked out a sentence as her mind raced for a solution. Maybe she could stall?

  “Uh, I have to move my hands to take the clothes off.” Then, perhaps she could run for it.

  RuArk smiled. The sight chilled her even in the near-dark of the tent—now that was a predatory grin if she’d ever seen one—leaning forward until his lips were barely an inch from hers.

  “No need for you to move, Rhia,” he said, his mouth swooping over hers again, taking his time, and devouring her until all trepidation dissolved to little more than dust. He was all spice and lust as he proceeded to strip her naked, ripping the finely woven garment right down the seams, followed by leggings and silky, itty bitty, drenched underwear.

  She yanked her mouth away and half-heartedly grumbled about boneheaded warriors not caring how difficult it was for a woman her height to acquire leggings in that particular color. The protest died in her throat as he licked a path up the column of her throat while grinding his hard naked flesh against the slick folds between her now bare thighs.

  RuArk was so sinfully handsome, skin so golden, and all that thick, black hair like so much silk on his head. Other than a sprinkling of downy hair at the base of his cock—and an imposing sight that was—there was no hair anywhere else on his body. None on his sculpted chest, his ropy defined forearms, nor the firm thighs she straddled. Just miles and miles of smooth, bronzed skin stretched taut over bands of thick muscle.

  Her breasts screamed for attention and he didn’t disappoint. Rhia relished the feel of his warrior’s hands moving over her body. The calloused fingers teased her sensitive spots as he explored the planes of her back and hips, sliding around to the fluttering plain of her tummy, and back up to her breasts. She snatched in a quick breath, determined to maintain some semblance of control.

  If she had to give up breathing to keep from begging RuArk to fuck her, then so be it. Her head spun as the air whooshed into her lungs. But even as she breathed once more, her head continued to whirl with delicious pleasure as her mate’s talented hands became more insistent.

  No longer circling or teasing, but plucking, pulling, exquisitely torturing her flesh until she couldn’t have suppressed her sighs of pleasure or still her squirming hips if her life depended on it. Blazes, it felt so good. The sensation reminded her of the sound sharpening stones made when stroked against a blade.

  Zing! Zing! Zing!

  Pressing his own hips up to meet her, his hands full of her sensitive breasts, his rigid flesh seemed even harder under her ass than it had been only moments before. Well, at least RuArk wasn’t immune to what he was doing to her. She liked knowing that almost as much as she liked the sensations he wrung from her body.

  The blaze between them crackled and hummed just below the surface of her skin when suddenly she was consumed by the need to reach down and touch him. To wrap her fingers around him, feel every hard inch. To see if he was a huge as he seemed pressed so intimately against her tender folds. But RuArk had other plans.

  “Lean forward, Rhia. Let me taste your beautiful breasts.”

  She shivered uncontrollably, licking her lips, barely able to stand what he was doing right now. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that he could have simply ordered her to make love with him and she would have had to obey.

  Instead, he’d promised her that she would have to ask him for it. Sworn he’d never force his way inside her body.

  “May I have your breast, Rhia?” It was a hiss. The words, harsh and untamed. Needy. Sexy as hell.

  Shaking her head, silently begging for mercy, Rhia leaned forward at the same ti
me RuArk lay back, taking her with him. She practically panted with anticipation, but the man didn’t suckle right away. He licked slowly from the base of one achy mound all the way to the tip of its throbbing nipple.

  With full, carnal, open mouthed kisses, his tongue slid up, down and all around until she reeled from the pleasure of it. Finally, he suckled in earnest and pulled the entire crown into his mouth and drew hungrily. It was hard, rough, as if he wanted to eat her all together. Rhia yelped, then moaned loudly as sharp white teeth nipped one sensitive tip, followed by the soothing lave of his wet tongue.

  He was right, I like it rough.

  She wanted to demand that he bite her again, but it came out a strangled cry. The rosebud between her thighs bloomed and throbbed exquisitely. Rocking back and forth against his massive erection only seemed to make the hunger worse, but it was impossible to keep her hips still. A fine sheen of sweat soon covered every inch of bare skin from her neck down to the backs of her knees. God, she needed more. And if she didn’t get it now she would simply keel over on the spot.

  “RuArk. Oh god, please, do something.” She’d never begged for anything in her life. Guess there was a first time for everything.

  “Ask me for it,” he crooned, the slightest whisper in her ear.

  “No.”

  “Ask me for my cock, Rhia,” he growled, his arms tightening around her again.

  “I-I can’t, but I need...” She wasn’t sure why she resisted. Perhaps she’d give it more thought later. Right now she only wanted, needed release.

  “I’ll take care of you.” He reached down between their bodies until he found the bundle of nerves peeking out from its little hood. Pressed gently at first and somehow knew it wasn’t enough. Fingers circled hard. Then harder.

  Yes.

  Rhia soared. His demand that she stay still was completely forgotten. Her hands tangled in the thick silk of his hair as she smashed his face to her breast, and ground wildly against his questing fingers. One long digit slipped into her tight sheath, followed by another, stroking deeply. She was so wet and ready, honey overflowed until it mingled with her sweat and dripped down the inside of her thighs.