Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  If she kept flashing back and forth between pissed off and flattered, she would soon be a summery shade of purple.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I’m just not used to having to give account to anyone of what I’m doing or where I’m going. Not even my father.”

  “I accept your apology,” RuArk cooed, handing her Moonlight’s reins.

  “So does that mean I can forego the full escort?” she asked hopefully.

  “There is new word of Joan.”

  Rhia froze, eyes wide with anticipation. Her lungs simply refused to work, but she could go without breathing for a while if Joan was really all right.

  “One of my warriors is escorting her here, to Province Springs. They will arrive within the next night or two.”

  She screamed at the top of her lungs, jumped up to wrap her long legs around RuArk’s waist, and held on for dear life. She hugged him and rained little kisses all over his face as she squealed between each loud, wet smack.

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  Moonlight danced about with all the commotion, and both warriors and soldiers alike appeared with weapons drawn. They took one look at Rhia plastered to the front of RuArk’s body, shook their heads and exited the huge stables as quickly as they’d entered.

  When she started to slip down his body, RuArk eased his strong hands under her ass, held her close against his body, and pressed into her. Her body responded instantly, swelling to press against his hot core. His lips lifted in a pained half smile when her thankful smacks became urgent, deep kisses and he met each one with equal fervor.

  RuArk leaned back against the wall, cradled her in his hands, and rocked his hips, pressing his hard cock against the tightening bundle of nerves above her dewy mound. A glittering flame danced in her blood, the warmth flowed from the top of her head and made her scalp tingle before working its way down her body.

  She knew he felt every tremor, every shudder. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her into the nearest stall and tumble her in the sweet grass.

  He wore no shirt and his tight fitting leathers left nothing to the imagination. Instead, they revealed the flex of his huge thighs and the dimples of his firm buttocks. His chest boasted amazing strength, and each taut muscle formed a deeply indented shield over his upper body.

  The smooth, clean skin was as smooth and firm as the golden apple she’d had for breakfast. And he was certainly just as sweet. She wanted to stroke him all over. Even with a bare chest, he had too many damn clothes on. Her fingers slipped up into his hair. She loved that it was longer than hers. It hung loose, blatantly inviting her hands to play in it. There was only one other place he had hair, and that’s exactly where she felt him, hard and hungry.

  “Do you see something you like, woman?” his deep voice floated over her sizzling nerve endings. The subtle circular movements of his fingers in the cleft of her bottom as he held her suspended against the wall set her senses ablaze. She looked up into his gray eyes and felt herself slip effortlessly into the depths of those beautiful, stormy pools. There couldn’t possibly be another man like him in the entire world, so perfectly built, wonderfully handsome, and hers.

  “Are you on fire, my Fire Storm?” he asked as she threw her head back on a moan, his tongue swirling at the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. He set her on her feet, but his fingers continued to draw lazy circles across her butt.

  She shivered. ‘Good gracious! I’m supposed to be mad at him and I’m standing here rooted to the spot wanting him to take me in the sweet grass hay.’

  “Rhia?”

  ‘Aw, hell.’

  Rhia eased away from RuArk and peered past his large frame. She sighed inwardly, shaking her head, only half glad at Sharyn and Brita’s interruption. She’d been mad at RuArk only a few moments before because... What again?

  Oh yes, his insistence of an escort at all times. His need to protect her was in his blood, in his very soul, and she knew it. Not to mention the whole reason she was here in this colony in Draema Neine was because they’d uncovered the plot of someone who wanted to “disappear” her. She just didn’t want to say it. RuArk brought out the stubbornest bits of her sometimes.

  ‘But he brings out the best when he’s inside of you.’

  No, she was mad at him for giving her such strict orders with no room for compromise.

  ‘Liar. You’re mad because you didn’t get any cock just now.’

  “Oh, shut up!”

  “Excuse me?” RuArk asked wryly, a cheeky grin on his face.

  “Not you, blast it.” She turned and called “I’m here,” to Sharyn and Brita, and tripped over Moonlight’s hoofs in her haste to get to the doors. RuArk reached out a sinewy arm, and caught her falling frame. She pulled away and unhitched Moonlight from his tie down.

  Sharyn was inside the stables now and readied her own gray mare. “Rhia, it is getting late.”

  “Yes, RuArk.” He stood behind her, nuzzling the back of her neck. “It’s getting late.”

  Her mate planted a final loud and sloppy kiss on her cheek that had her slapping playfully at his hands.

  He stepped back. “Go on,” he said. “I will see you shortly.” Then turned and walked away.

  Rhia stood there, and watched his perfect backside disappear out the stable door and out of view.

  Gah.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The thick clouds that had threatened all day finally unleashed the storm. In no time, any road that wasn’t covered with cobblestone, brick, or blacktop was quickly rain-soaked and muddy.

  With every passing moment, RuArk’s apprehension grew until it was lodged in his throat, choking him. He touched his Source and called on his Gift of Vision, but all he saw was a smooth cinnamon face, amber eyes, and a dark mass of red streaked waves.

  As the sun set, Brita and Sharyn guided their mounts inside the stables, where RuArk waited. He had just helped Brita dismount when someone shouted to him from the wide open door on the other side of the building.

  “Wind Storm!” Linc called, bringing his mount to a skidding halt just short of RuArk’s feet. “A scout has returned. There is trouble.”

  “Only one scout? Where are the others?”

  “Dead. The one who returned is severely injured. The healers are with him now. They were ambushed while scouting the borders near the land bridge.”

  “By whom?”

  “We do not know. The scout said they wore no sigil or crests, dressed in black and completely covered from head to toe. They were well armed, traveling this direction on foot.”

  “How many?”

  “Too many.”

  Just then, Sharyn came to RuArk’s side. “What is going on?” she demanded.

  “Someone took out our scouts. Where is Rhia?”

  “She was right behind me on the trail back. She must have stopped to wander a bit. We were so close to the inner gate, I did not give it any thought when she called out to me and said she’d be right along.”

  RuArk focused all thought on his wife. Their bond flared with such force it should have left a smoldering hole in his shirt just over his heart. But he couldn’t tell where Rhia was, only that she was alive, near... and anxious.

  Was she in danger? Was someone following her? Or was she concerned with something else? Damn it, he just couldn’t tell. And he didn’t have time to sit and ponder the matter.

  Fuck!

  Linc’s horse danced beneath him, eager to get moving in the gods-awful storm. Hooves splashed in the puddles that quickly formed in the deluge.

  “Sharyn, send someone to find Rhia. Now. Then take Brita to the healers to see if she can assist them in any way. Linc, tell our warriors to be prepared for an attack and be ready to close the inner gates on my command. And keep an eye out for my mate.”

  The First Commanders took off into the storm. The rest would be up to him and his men, Draeman and Gaian alike. The more he saw of this place the more he realized how m
uch he hadn’t considered before. This township had no public emergency system like in the central colonies closer to the High City. They’d have to spread word of the danger by mouth, meaning they were quite possibly, as Rhia would say, screwed.

  Only a handful of soldiers were assigned from the Society of War. If not for the warriors he’d had reassigned here, they’d be fighting a losing battle.

  In the harbor, there were no naval vessels protecting the waterways. No airships. No gunboats. Nothing.

  He was already angry at the thought of his mate in danger. The realization that this place had less protection simply because it was on the edge of the province set RuArk off.

  Minutes later, Drefan caught up with him. Riding bareback with no overcloak, his long dark hair was drenched and plastered down his back.

  “Wind Storm, we have secured the outer gates. The province is locked tight against the Borderlands.”

  “The inner gates?”

  “Still open so your woman can get inside. Once she’s in, they’ll close as well. That will keep anyone from the Borderlands or the other colonies of Draema from entering.”

  “And none of our enemies are getting out,” RuArk growled.

  “Understood,” Drefan said.

  The two men took off through the township and began calling all warriors and soldiers to arms. As the word spread, the townsfolk quickly took to their homes. Those who could fight remained, ready to defend their families.

  Night fell so quickly it was as if the Ancestors had flipped off an iozene switch to the sky. The darkness was palpable, full of malice and evil intent. Rain continued to fall in sheets, and Rhia was nowhere to be seen.

  What if she’d run into the attackers on her way home? He almost smiled because she would probably tell the bastards to come meet their end. Rhia was an excellent fighter, but if he could defeat her, others could as well. Now he wished he’d been more of a hard ass and forbidden her to ride out at all. But hells, that wasn’t him, and it chafed against everything that was Rhia.

  He’d have to worry about it later. Right now, he had a whole town to protect. Forcing himself not to invoke the bond with his mate, RuArk pushed his worry down to the base of his gut and readied his mind for violence.

  Rage bubbled up in place of his worry. Anger at those who would dare attack what was his to protect. His thoughts turned to the innocents that inhabited this place, the many women, men and children, all the townsfolk who’d welcomed him and his people with a ready smile and extended hand.

  The rage erupted.

  He was the Protector of the Realm and that now extended to these people. There would be no mercy. No quarter.

  RuArk pushed his horse hard through the town, yelling orders as he went. At the front steps of the villa he shared with his wife, he jumped off of Atsidi’s back before the big, black mount had come to a stop. Up the stone steps, he flew passed a shocked Linus and headed straight for the weapons cache in the main hall.

  He grabbed a set of long knives and metal alloy wrist guards out of a large display case, and then added a couple of daggers to the empty loops in his belt and an extra sword to the special double harness on his back. Weapons secured, he pulled his sword free and ran full speed for the front door. He met the first five attackers on the rise that led up to his home.

  ‘Where in blazes did they come from?’ RuArk wondered as he moved to engage the men. How the hell had they gotten this far into the township without someone sounding an alarm?

  Sword in one hand and a long knife in the other, RuArk pushed every thought from his mind until even the remnant of the bond with Rhia winked out.

  Quickly slicing his way through flesh and bone, he drove them back down the hill. More came out of nowhere, melted out of the night to join the fray until RuArk was pressed to keep up with the numbers. They fought like madmen, screaming and foaming at the mouth as they hacked at RuArk with their swords. They weren’t very skilled, but skilled or not, enough numbers eventually overwhelmed any prey.

  Behind him, the Draeman soldiers on duty in the house spilled out. Some fired laser pistols that left nice sized holes in several chests, others had razor sharp katanas a lot like the one Rhia preferred.

  Linc, Dalmore and Osgar were there to sever the heads off their foes as they formed a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, back to back. They guarded each other and dispatched one enemy after another until the pavement and grass around their feet were slick with blood. Unfortunately, some of that blood was their own.

  “Wind Storm!” Linc called out urgently over the rush of the wind and rain. “Wind Storm, you are hurt! Withdraw!”

  RuArk felt a slight sting over his left shoulder several minutes before, but hadn’t paid it any attention. As he looked down at it now the realization of the full extent of the injury brought with it a pain that swooped in on him, fast and merciless. His leather tunic had been sliced clean open to show the muscle and bone beneath. The wound bled profusely even as the rain drove directly into the gaping wound with a force so intense his vision wavered. RuArk pushed away the agonizing pain, willed it to nothing until it was bearable enough to continue fighting.

  “The battle is almost done, RuArk. Allow me to take you into the hall and see to your wounds,” Sharyn insisted, pulling on his sword arm to get his attention.

  “I will not withdraw until I know my woman is safe.”

  Together they hacked and slashed their way out of the courtyard and down to the villa’s low front gates. RuArk pitched himself into the thick of it until he weaved on his feet, soaked to the bone, wet with his own blood.

  “Wind Storm, you must withdraw,” Linc yelled again. The noise of the battle was now accompanied by the boom of thunder. Lightening was off in the distance, not quite over them yet. He wondered at the intensity of the storm and realized his mind was wandering. Probably not a good thing.

  “Find my lifemate, Sharyn.”

  “Rhia is well, RuArk. You must allow me to tend you.” She pointed across the square toward the low gate that marked the entrance to their home and yanked on his clothing until he followed her frantic pointing. He squinted into the night and could just make out a shape in the distance. He recognized that shape, the way it moved, smooth and graceful, like a dancer with a blade.

  Rhia.

  She guarded the entrance to their home just on the other side of the gate, a blade in one hand and a laser cannon in the other. Her hair clung to her face and her leggings were glued to her body like a second skin. Cloak and sarand lay in a sodden pile on the ground behind her, shed to give her freedom of movement.

  The woman had cut down at least a dozen of the masked intruders and was making quick work of several more. She gave no quarter, no ground and blew a smoking hole in the chest of one while slicing through the torso of another. The dim light of the iozene lamp posts glinted off her blade as it whirred in her hands. And when she brought her feet into play, the attackers didn’t know what to make of her.

  RuArk peeled his gaze away from his magnificent little warrior woman as another group of black clad insurgents approached. He shoved Sharyn away as he and Linc took up their positions. “Sharyn, Dalmore, guard Rhia’s back.”

  Before they could reach her side, a victory cry echoed through the township. They’d won the battle. Rhia delivered the killing blow to her last opponent. When she turned and caught RuArk’s gaze, her blade fell from her fingers as she bolted straight for him.

  He raised his hand and gently caressed her cheek. “Are you unharmed? Are you well?”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled and pressed her wet face into his palm.

  “You are late.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she demurred as his large hand left her cheek and traveled down her shoulders and arms checking for wounds.

  “RuArk, what happened?” she asked. “Drefan waved me through the inner gates and closed them behind me. I rode straight home, didn’t even stop at the stables. But I didn’t have a chance to find you before I was att
acked. I joined in the fight to protect our home. I had to,” she pleaded, needing him to understand.

  He didn’t answer and instead ran his hands over her body Rhia quickly and nodded. Relief, deep and profound, flowed through his spirit, his soul. She was safe. He hadn’t lost her.

  The edges of his vision blurred to a dull gray. Gods, it was almost impossible to pull breath into his lungs. He was so tired. And the pain slammed into his brain until his skull throbbed from the inside out. But Rhia was safe. That was all that mattered.

  RuArk promptly fell face down in the mud.

  Preview ~ Gathering of the Storms, Volume Two

  Reckoning

  Chapter One

  RuArk lay motionless, barely breathing. Linc managed to roll him over as Rhia pressed strong, but trembling fingers to the large vein in his neck. His heartbeat was much too faint and fever had already set in. He was so warm, the still falling rain should have evaporated the second it touched his body. The blood was everywhere. She reigned in panic as RuArk stirred, and a tired groan slipped from his lips. She might not be a perfect Gaian woman, but crisis? Crisis she could do.

  “Rhia...” He tried to lift his injured arm to touch her, but the weight of it seemed too much. It flopped into the mud in a puddle of red-tinged water. The ripped sleeve of his tunic fell away and she saw it—a huge gash across his left shoulder. The skin and muscle lay wide open and she could see clear down to the bone.

  Her temper flared. “How long did he fight with his shoulder hacked open? Why didn’t any of you take care of him?” she snapped at the group at large. Right now she didn’t care who answered. All she cared about was that she get one.

  “RuArk, lay still,” Rhia barked as he tried to get up. She was practically spread-eagled on top of him to keep him from moving, and realized he may be only half conscious but he was wholly pissed off with her.

  He stumbled to his feet. “I can take care of myself,” he hissed, throwing her own words back at her. He fell heavily against her chest, clutching the front of her soaked tunic. His lips tipped up into a half smile and Rhia wondered what the hell he found so funny while he was dying before her eyes.