Warlord Unarmed

by Cynthia Sax

  A shadow fell over his face and Murad glanced upward. A dust vulture dove toward them, its feathered wings folded close to its big body, its beak open, displaying rows of sharp teeth. Murad’s eyes widened, alarm gripping his warrior soul.

  “Son of a Gechii.” Murad flung Gale off him and sprang to his feet, extending his claws. “Stay down,” he commanded, standing protectively in front of his small human mate, painfully aware of how fragile she was.

  “Not another dust vulture,” Gale muttered behind him, her comment making him smile, his gerel adorably feisty. “Them you can hunt and I wouldn’t stop you.”

  Murad coiled his body lower and lower and lower, his body vibrating with the excitement of the hunt. As the creature neared, Murad sprang, grabbed the dust vulture’s bald neck and swung onto its back. The creature flapped its huge wings, their combined weight grounding it.

  Gale rolled out of the reach of its talons, pelting its exposed stomach with stones as she moved. One stone bounced off Murad’s shin, the sharp pain racing up his leg.

  “Gale,” he rumbled, swallowing a laugh.

  “Use your claws, Warlord,” she coached, her voice high and thin.

  She’s scared for me. Murad’s chest warmed. He calmly severed the tendons in the dust vulture’s wings. Blood spurted and feathers floated to the ground.

  The creature tumbled forward, screeching, the impact jarring both of them, water splashing over feathers and skin. The dust vulture twisted its head and frantically snapped at Murad’s legs.

  “Cursed beast.” He ran his claws over the dust vulture’s throat and the creature stilled, its blood washed away by the stream.

  “Are you hurt?” Gale hurried toward him, her bare feet flying, her golden curls flowing behind her.

  She’s so beautiful. Murad gazed at her with admiration, grateful she was his. “I’m well. I can’t say the same for the dust vulture.” He grinned.

  Gale touched his arm, her finger splaying over his skin, her touch as energizing as the hunt. “You’re well,” she repeated. She gazed at the dead creature. “And we now have food.”

  “Ugh.” Murad made a gagging noise, preferring to eat his boots than the creature he’d killed. “No. Dust vultures are tough and tasteless.”

  Gale raised her eyebrows. “And our rations aren’t tough and tasteless?” She gazed back at the field of tall grass. “If we soak the dust vulture with ground berries, it might be edible.” She smiled, looking so pleased with herself that he couldn’t disagree.

  “I’ll process the dust vulture.” Murad volunteered for that bloody job. He picked the dead creature up by its limp neck. “Gather ground berries close to here so I can watch you. Where there’s one dust vulture, there could be two. “

  She peered up at the sky and her eyes widened. “I’ll stay close,” his cautious female promised, depending upon him, the never-serious brother to safeguard her.

  I will. Murad plucked a handful of short brown feathers from the dust vulture’s torso, revealing dark pebbled skin. I won’t allow anything to harm her.

  Chapter Four

  Gale arranged the broken communicators on the cracked panel, assisting Murad with his plan to construct a functioning device from the pieces. The Warlord worked beside her, reconnecting the escape pod’s homing device. He clasped the fastening tool she’d taken in his big right hand, his muscular frame splendidly naked.

  “The signal should work now.” Murad set the tool down and strode to her, a cocky swagger in his gait. “We know it has power.” He grinned, having shocked himself moments ago on the live wires.

  She smiled back, joy bubbling in her chest. “How are your fingers, hon?”

  “Healed.” Murad held up his hands, showing her his fingertips. The burn had faded. “Chameles heal quickly.” The stained seat dipped as he sat down and her body slid into his, pressing against warm flesh. He wrapped his arm around her waist, securing her to him, his musky male scent flavoring the air.

  “Chameles scar.” Gale touched the silver mark on his forehead, the sole blemish on his handsome face giving him a sexy, roguish appearance.

  “I prefer to think of it as a memento.” Murad caught her hand and pressed his lips to her fingertips, his flirtatious behavior charming her. “Which reminds me.” He reached behind her, and his arm brushed against her side, the casual contact sending tremors down her spine. He revealed a long brown feather. “This is for your collection.” He presented it to her with a dramatic flourish.

  Gale covered her mouth with her hands, hesitant to accept his gift, to believe in its promise, the hope attached to the object. “I couldn’t take your feather.”

  “You can and you will.” Murad traced her fingers with the soft tip. “It’s a memento of our very first dust vulture feast,” he casually stated as though they’d have many more dust vulture feasts, spending a lifetime together.

  “Thank you.” Gale grasped the feather’s quill carefully, blinking back tears. Gifts had been rare for orphans such as herself. “I’ll cherish it always.”

  “That’s a touching sentiment, but I’d rather you use it now. On me.” He fell back onto the seat, pulling her with him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. “If we break your feather, I’ll retrieve another.”

  “You did enjoy the dust vulture.” She flicked the feather over his black eyebrows and glided the tip down his nose. “You sucked the bones dry.”

  “Don’t tell my brothers that.” Murad chuckled, his chest shaking against her fabric-covered breasts. “I’ve shared my dislike of dust vulture meat with them in the past and they’ll assume you’ve drugged me.”

  “I thought Khan must have drugged Zeta.” Gale swirled the feather over Murad’s chin. “Love at first sight seemed implausible.” She traced the vein in his neck.

  “And now?” He watched her with lazy eyes, allowing her to explore his body.

  “I don’t believe he drugged her.”

  Murad’s eyes widened and she dropped her gaze, knowing she’d said too much, showed too much, opening herself to pain when he returned her. He will return me. She ran the feather between his pectorals, certain of that fate, the only outcome she’d ever known.

  Murad’s flat male nipples tightened and his cock hardened. But he won’t return me today. She smiled. Today he wants me. Gale dipped the feather into his navel and he inhaled sharply. She swirled, teased, tormented.

  “Lower.” His voice rumbled through her. That single word dripped with erotic promise, moistening her pussy, Murad touching her without raising one rough finger.

  She brushed the inside of his thighs with the feather and he growled, the primitive sound exciting Gale. “This is lower.” She laughed, trusting him not to retaliate, to not punish her for being bad.

  “You know what I want.” Murad jutted his jaw, a vein lifting on his forehead.

  “This?” Gale flicked the feather between his balls and his body jerked. “Or this?” She skimmed the tip down his cock head, under his rim, over his shaft, around the intriguing ridge at his base.

  “Gerel,” he groaned, his fingers folding into fists, his toes curling.

  I do this to him. Gale reversed her stroke and his cock bobbed. I drive my powerful male into this sexual fervor. “What do you want, hon?”

  “You.” Murad gazed at her with a gratifying hunger, an open and reassuring passion. He didn’t move, he never moved, allowing her to control their fucking, to manage her fear, a fear she no longer had.

  Gale took a deep breath and slowly released it. I can do this. I have to do this, for me, for Murad, for us. She set the feather aside.

  “Then why don’t you take me?” She stripped the fabric from her breasts.

  “Are you certain?” Murad’s eyes darkened to the blackness of space, the endless emotional abyss enthralling her, his desire as addictive as any drug.

  Gale nodded and pulled the ties at her hips loose, removing the last barrier between them, transferring all the control to him, the man she…
<
br />   No. She met his gaze, shocked. I can’t love him.

  “It’s fine if you say no, Gale. We don’t have to rush this step.” Murad brushed her hair away from her face, his touch gentle, achingly reverent. “I can wait.”

  He’d wait for a future fuck that might never come. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t wait. Rut with me, Murad.” Gale pressed her body to his, his hard cock sliding between her thighs.

  “I won’t hurt you.” Murad flipped her onto her back and she gasped, exhilarated by his enthusiasm. “I’ll never hurt you.” He captured her lips and she opened to him, allowing him into her mouth, his tongue running over hers, exploring every crevice, stroking, caressing, loving, coaxing a response from her.

  She moaned into Murad’s mouth and gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, needing more, needing him. He tasted of meat and fire and ground berries, the feast she’d fixed for him utilizing her knowledge of exotic cultures, a byproduct of her bounty-hunter role.

  Gale cradled his hips between her thighs, welcoming the arousing weight of his large body, his thick shaft pressing against her pussy lips. As he ravished her mouth with his tongue, his rhythm sure and steady, Murad undulated on top of her, rubbing his cock head across her clit, setting off mini explosions in her pussy.

  She slid her hands over his shoulders, his muscles rippling under her fingertips, and he dragged his lips over her chin, down her neck, grazing her skin with his teeth, a reminder that he could hurt her if he wished.

  He’d never hurt me. Gale shivered. This fierce male is mine. She clutched Murad tighter, her hips instinctually moving with his, fucking without penetration. He rounded his back, mouthing over her breasts, his lips hard and insistent.

  “Please.” She arched, pushing her curves upward, offering them to him. He circled her right nipple with his tongue as he gazed up at her, laughter in his dark eyes. “Murad.” Gale wrapped her fingers in his long hair. “Suck.” She pulled him to her heaving bosoms.

  Murad chuckled, his lips vibrating against her breast, the sensation joyful yet decadent, and he submitted to her demand, inhaling her curves, drawing her nipple into his hot, wet mouth.

  “Yes!” Gale pushed her hips upward, increasing the delectable pressure on her clit. He drove her back into the seat, pinning her in place, and she lay helpless under him, restrained as he sucked greedily on her breast, tugging and releasing, tugging and releasing, the pulse spreading over her body, reaching her pussy.

  Murad swept the flat of his tongue between her breasts and applied the same delicious suction to her left breast. Need rolled through Gale, savage and undeniable.

  “Fuck me now, Warlord.” She yanked on his hair, unwilling to wait one moment longer for his cock.

  “Behave, gerel.” Murad nipped at her skin, the pinch of his lips heightening her pleasure even more.

  “Or what?” She squirmed, rubbing her pussy over his cock, reaching for her own satisfaction. “Will you punish me?”

  “Never,” he declared, his eyes flashing. “Instead of punishing you, I’d do nothing.” He laved her nipple with the flat of his rough tongue, prolonging her sexual agony.

  “Even…worse,” Gale panted, her thighs trembling. “Murad.” She was close, so close, and she didn’t want to come alone. She’d spent too much of her life alone.

  “Wait for me, bounty hunter.” He nudged her entrance with his cock head and she hissed her approval, tilting into him. “Impatient female.” Murad laughed, pushing forward, stretching her open, his girth gloriously large.

  She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, clinging to him, his sensual slide slow. He sank deeper and deeper and deeper, their encounters having ruined her body for any other male. Only Murad could satisfy her now, only he could fill her.

  Her pussy lips touched his ridged base and Gale sighed with satisfaction, his shaft temporarily easing her need. “My male.” She sucked on his neck, tasting salt and minerals, a unique combination that was all him.

  “Yes, yours.” Murad rocked into her, his chest brushing her aching nipples, his cock head skimming along her inner walls, his leisurely fucking fanning the flames of her desire, building a fire inside of her.

  She linked her ankles behind him and dug her heels into his firm ass, forcing him to move faster, thrust harder. He grunted, his lips flattening, the veins on his neck raising. Their bodies smacked together, breasts and chest, hips and thighs, heat radiating from the points of contact.

  In his arms, she wasn’t the orphan no one kept and the thief no one trusted. She was beautiful and wanted and perfect. Gale rose into each thrust, meeting him halfway, as an equal, naked and unburdened, no longer needing mementoes. All she needed was him, forever.

  Skin slapped skin, she panted and he grunted, their primal mating sounds mixing with the calls of the flying beasts and the hum of the insects. Sweat trickled down Murad’s chest. She licked that proof of his exertion, drinking up his desire, savoring every drop.

  Murad labored over her, riding her hard, relentlessly pounding into her pussy, his balls swinging against her ass. Gale shook, dangling on the sharp edge of fulfillment, her passion primed by his teasing. She raked his back with her fingernails, driving him faster.

  “Murad,” she pleaded, too far gone to articulate what she wanted, what she required.

  “Come for me, Gale.” He reached between them and swept his coarse thumb over her clit, breaking her into a thousand tiny pieces.

  She screamed, bucking upward, curving her body into his, her pussy clenching and unclenching his shaft. The ridge at his base swelled, stretching her so much Gale thought she’d split into two, and she tensed, knowing what was coming, dreading it, needing it.

  “Gale,” Murad roared, driving even deeper into her, dousing her pussy with hard jets of hot cum. She shrieked louder than any creature she’d heard on Chamele 3, colors exploding before her eyes, another bone-shaking orgasm yanked from her hapless body.

  Gale clawed at his back, bit his shoulder, writhed under him, his weight not allowing her to escape, his cock lodged inside her. He shuddered, his hips twitching, and he collapsed, flattening her.

  “Bonding with you is addictive,” Murad murmured into her hair, his chest rising and falling against her breasts, his tanned skin covered with a sheen of perspiration, his long hair draped over his back.

  She blinked, slowly collecting her scattered thoughts, her tremors easing. “You mean rutting.”

  “That wasn’t rutting, gerel.” Murad chuckled, rolling to the ground, dragging her with him, their bodies remaining fused together until his swelling abated. “Rutting isn’t as powerful, as lasting, as meaningful.” His muscles rippled under her. “Before Chameles bond, rutting can be done with any female.”

  “You won’t rut with any other female,” she growled, the possessive words slipping out before she could stop them.

  “Spoken as a true Warlord’s lady.” Murad laughed again and her face heated. She pressed her lips together, censoring her retort, painfully aware that she had no claim on him.

  “I can’t rut with any other female.” He rested his hands on her bare ass, cupping her curves. “We’re bonded, you and I.” Murad kissed her forehead, the gesture bewilderingly tender. “There will never be another female for me.”

  “You say that, but…” I can’t believe him, because if I do and he’s wrong, I won’t survive. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  “I know that.” Murad smoothed her curls. “I might not be serious about much, but I am serious about you.” He spoke the words solemnly as though they were a vow.

  Were they a vow? Gale closed her eyes, a small ember of hope burning in her heart.

  * * * * *

  Murad set the refilled water containers on the flattened grass. Gale lay on the worn escape-pod seat, her eyes closed, her mouth open and her lush body naked. His cock twitched in appreciation and a joy filled him, the last three days since regaining consciousness being the
happiest in his life.

  He sat beside her and brushed her golden curls away from her beautiful face, content to watch her sleep, his fifth attempt at piecing together a working communicator not as important as savoring this peaceful moment. His scent lingered on her skin, the night spent rutting, bonding their souls tightly together.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes opened and she stretched, undulating sensually. “Morning,” Gale murmured. She glanced at the sun high above them and her eyes widened. “I overslept.”

  “I wore you out.” Murad hooked an arm around her as she sat upright, supporting her comforting weight. “And I plan to wear you out again tonight,” he declared smugly. Color streaked across her cheeks. “I found this for our collection.” He pressed a small stone into her palm.

  Her lips curled into a smile, her reaction pleasing him, his gerel adorably easy to make happy. “It’s as blue as the sky.” She held the stone up to the light, examining it as though it were a precious jewel.

  “It’s as blue as your eyes.” Murad leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, possessively reaffirming his claim on her, wanting all of her attention.

  “Hmmm…” Gale draped her hands over his shoulders, the cool stone pressing against his skin. “You bring me gifts, kisses, dead dust vultures.” She laughed at her own joke, her eyes sparkling, her emotions refreshingly unfettered. “A female could become accustomed to this.”

  “I plan to smother you with gifts and kisses.” Murad rubbed their noses together. “Don’t become accustomed to the dead dust vultures though. There aren’t many in the city, thankfully.” He chuckled. His technology-filled home was situated in the largest city on Chamele 3, half a planet away from this desolate place.

  Her lips flattened. “If we stayed here.” Her gaze dropped to his chin. “We could feast on dust vultures every night.” She tapped the stone on his shoulder, the beat fast and steady.

  “Not even the unee stay here.” He played with her hair, her curls soft and golden. “During the upcoming dry season, the stream slows to a trickle and the grass turns to dust. The unee migrate in search of better pastures.”