Savage

by Lila Dubois

  Siara pulled a small journal from her sack. She’d brought many such journals with her. Due to her years of reading both more serious studies and personal journals, Siara knew that it would be foolish to chronicle her personal life in these pages. As much as she had loved to read those personal accounts, and as much at they had taught her about life, Siara did not want to let anyone, even some future student, to know the innermost workings of her heart. She knew that no journal of this journey would be complete without the explanation of why she’d volunteered, and therefore a written admission of her love for her companion, but that was a secret she could not bear to reveal, even in the silent pages of a journal.

  Unscrewing the cap of the inkwell she carefully dipped the already sharpened quill into the dark ink. One of Siara’s vanities was her penmanship, practiced over long years of teaching young women to read and write.

  “A Journey to Den. Journal One.”

  Smiling in pleasure at setting the first ink to the page Siara carefully noted her name in the bottom corner and turned the page.

  Anleeh, well and truly frozen, cursing each icy step he took, nearly collapsed in relief when he reached the door to the cabin. Ripping it open, he stepped in, dropping the satchel and his clothing from numbed fingers.

  “I need to get rubbings of the door, would you do that? I don’t want to forget. I have several questions. If you like I can make a list of them so we may discuss while we ride, or we can go over them now…”

  Ignoring her, Anleeh stumbled to the fire, collapsing beside her, almost upsetting the inkwell.

  “Careful! You almost…”

  Anleeh drew his legs up. The drying sheet wrapped around his hips was cold from the water and air, but too much of an effort to remove.

  “Anleeh.” Gone was her scolding tone. “What’s wrong?” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Goddess, you are like ice!”

  “It was to-too-too…” Clenching his teeth to still their chattering, Anleeh merely shook his head.

  “Too cold.” Her hand touched his cloth-wrapped hips. “This is wet and cold. Remove it.” Siara prodded him to his knees, unwrapping the cloth from his hips. Trying not to think about the fact that she would see him completely naked for the first time, when he was so cold and therefore smaller than normal, Anleeh let her ease him down onto the furs. The warmth of the fire against his front, and the furs on his side, was painful.

  Some noise must have escaped him because she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you in pain?”

  “Yes.”

  Siara pulled the furs over his back and side, covering those parts of him not touched by the fire. Anleeh took a moment to twitch a section of the fur down over his cock.

  “I’ve read about this…”

  “Of-f c-course you have.”

  “Is now really the time for such comments?”

  “There is always t-t-time for such comments.”

  “As I was saying, I read that if the flesh becomes too cold, it can die.”

  “I know this, b-bu-buuu.” Overcome by shivers Anleeh could not finish his sentence.

  Settling at his feet, Siara wrapped her hands around them. “You are very cold.” Anleeh could see real fear, spurred by whatever horrors she’d read, written upon her face before her expression closed down.

  Carefully lifting his feet, she settled them against her belly, the cold flesh of his soles flush with her warm, soft skin. She neither flinched nor made a sound, as she bent low, wrapping her arms over the tops of his feet.

  He’d always found her to be a courageous woman, even when he did not know her the way he did now. Her quiet strength had been one of the pillars of the Temple, and her calm manner a comfort to those in her care. Upon discovering her passion he’d thought her repressed, a woman forced to hide her passions, and there might yet be truth in that. But lying there, watching her warm his feet, her face the calm mask he’d always known, Anleeh marveled at her force of will, equal to that of his own or the Queen herself. She’d understood his need and acted on it, the intensity in her face indicating that if sheer force of will could make something truth, he would already be warm.

  All of his youth had been spent in bitter cold winters, so he had experience with digits killed by the cold. Carefully he wiggled each of his toes, concentrating to make sure each one moved. Siara, upon feeling the movement, looked at him.

  “Is all well?”

  “Yes, though there is some pain as full feeling returns.” Even as he spoke, the first stabbing prickles shot through his ankle. Anleeh turned his face to the fire and clenched his jaw.

  His foot jerked against her as the next wave of pain came. “Release me. I fear I might do you an injury.”

  “How can I ease it?”

  “Time will…”

  “How?”

  “If you rub the—the flesh.” His words were spoken through gritted teeth.

  Siara released his now twitching feet and began rubbing them hard. It brought relief, and Anleeh closed his eyes, nodding to silently ask her to continue. Siara flipped around. Straddling his knees she squeezed his legs with her thighs to hold him still as she worked each leg in turn, lifting the upper one off to give herself better access to the lower.

  After long moments the tingling abated. Aware of her turned back, Anleeh blinked tears of pain from his eyes, grimacing inwardly at what his father and uncle would have said upon seeing such a display.

  “I am well now. Thank you, lover.”

  Siara lifted off him and turned, the cloak she wore settling around her body. Impatiently she removed the garment, warmed by her body heat, and tucked it around his feet and ankles.

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded and moved away, unselfconsciously nude. Returning with the remains of last night’s meat and some oat cake, she knelt near his head and broke off a piece of oat cake, holding it out to him. Anleeh started to free his arm to take it from her, but Siara stretched out her arm, pressing the morsel to his lips.

  Taking it between his teeth Anleeh chewed and swallowed. Next she held out a piece of rabbit.

  “I was saving that for…” This time she shoved it into his mouth. Choking on a laugh as he chewed, Anleeh ate each bite she offered him. Just before he was preparing to tell her he was ready to burst, Siara started nibbling on the last oatcake.

  “Eat, lover,” he admonished, “it will be a long day, and now we have a late start so we need to ride hard.”

  “But no galloping.”

  “No galloping.”

  Easing into a sitting position Anleeh tested his body, loosening the muscles before the warmth of the fire. When he finally rose, it was to find that Siara had packed everything, save the bedroll he still lay on, and their garments.

  “I need to dress,” she said.

  Anleeh nodded. He started to turn around but turned back when he saw how she wiggled into her tight pants. Her back was to him as she shifted her hips side to side, working the garment, dark brown against her pale flesh, up her thighs. The wiggle increased as she eased it up over her buttocks and Anleeh’s eyes widened at the delectable jiggle of her backside. By comparison the quick pulling on of the shirt was tame. Anleeh schooled his face so that when she turned, he showed none of his amusement. Instead he was entranced anew by the way she pulled her wild locks from under the shirt and shook them out.

  “You are beautiful.”

  In the middle of lacing the ties at the top of her pants Siara looked up. She smiled, and it was tentative, hopeful, her cheeks heating in a blush, but just before she ducked her head, he saw her brows furrow.

  “You doubt my words?” he asked.

  “No. Merely the context.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “Perhaps I am beautiful to you now. Here, away from other women for comparison and dressed in the garments of your homeland. When we return to the Great City, I doubt it will be so.”

  “If you insist on using my previous behavior to judge the truthfulness of my
regard you will never believe me, and that is unacceptable, for my regard is sincere.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Don’t dismiss my words.”

  “I do not, but you will change when we return, you will once more become the dapper and graceful Lord Anleeh, sly-tongued purveyor of justice in our world.”

  “Siara, listen to me. My behavior in the Great City was governed by rules a thousand times more strict than those I have given you.”

  “Did the Queen…”

  His face hardened. “The secrets of the Temple are still sacred.”

  “I wasn’t asking…”

  Anleeh rose and pulled on his own garments, hoping his back to her would convince Siara to drop the subject. He could not speak on what he’d learned and saw as a Zinah. While he would never regret his service to the Priestess, Anleeh no longer wanted to think about that life and he did not want Siara to think of him that way either. He didn’t know how much of the truth of the Zinahs she knew. Was she aware that they were slaves to the Priestess, bound to her by magic and faith, as bodyguards, sexual servants, and slaves? Or did she believe the official propaganda, that the Zinahs were elite bodyguards and nothing more?

  He liked being the sexual aggressor with her. He’d missed it. After being released from his servitude to the Priestess, Anleeh had sampled the flesh of many willing women, relearning how to be the aggressor in sex, but it had never felt as good as it had with Siara.

  Once he was dressed, Anleeh picked up their furs and turned, motioning her over. Dropping to one knee he wrapped the furs around her, lacing them in place. Finally he swirled the cloak over her shoulders, leaving the hood down.

  Siara dropped to her knees to help him with his own wrappings and it was a struggle to keep from getting aroused at the site of her on her knees, her mouth so tantalizingly close to where it had been this morning.

  Swirling on his cloak, Anleeh gathered up the bags, and opened the door.

  Hoping to dispel the tension, Anleeh smiled. “Let’s ride, lover.”

  Chapter Five

  It was midday when they spotted the first bank of snow.

  Anleeh saw it coming, its glittering white unmistakable, but it wasn’t until they were almost upon it that Siara asked about it.

  “What is that? Is it snow?”

  “Yes, there will be more as we rise in the mountains. Here it is too warm and the snow melts.” They were riding at an easy canter, the horses’ gaits synched so that conversation was easy.

  “Too warm? How much colder will it get?”

  “At the peak of the mountain, where we make camp tonight, the cold can consume you. We will light a fire in the stable for the horses, for it is too cold even for them.”

  They passed the small patch and Siara twisted in her seat to continue to look at it. A few moment later, they rounded a curve in the path. There, in the shadow of a small rise, lay a wide piece of land, blanketed in snow.

  Siara reined in her horse, causing confusion and nervous sidestepping as the other horses also stopped. In a matter of seconds, she was off the horse and headed for the snow.

  “Siara, come back, there will be plenty of snow when we make camp tonight!”

  “I want to touch it now.”

  Anleeh leaned down and stroked his horse’s neck. “Well boy, looks like we will be taking a rest.” Swinging off his horse and grabbing Siara’s mount’s reins, which she’d carelessly dropped, Anleeh led all the horses into the trees that lined one side of the path.

  The trail they rode followed the edge of a great forest up to the peak of the mountains. While the incline was gradual on this side, going down they would be forced to traverse steep trails and paths no wider than a singe horse. He wondered if Siara was afraid of heights.

  Not wanting to waste the stop, he headed into the trees. If memory served, there was a creek located not too deep in the forest.

  With all four horses in hand, he was forced to take a winding route between the trees. When he finally came upon a little clearing beside the stream, he left the horses, making his way quickly back between the trees, concerned that Siara would be frightened by his absence.

  The closer he got the more worried he became; he’d not been gone for long, surely nothing could have happened to her, he would apologize for leaving her all alone…

  He found her sitting in the center of the path, hood pushed back, snow cupped in both hands.

  Anleeh took a knee beside her. “I’m sorry, lover, I won’t leave you again.”

  Siara took a moment to look up, and when she did it seemed to take her a minute to recognize him. “Did you go somewhere?”

  “I should have known… It doesn’t matter.” Anleeh sat beside her. “Tell me, what do you think of snow?”

  “The color and coldness are both quite different. I have never seen anything in nature, save flowers, so white. But the consistency puzzles me.”

  “How so?”

  “When I first picked it up, the snow was light and fluffy, like down, now it is hard, and when I press it together, like this,” she compressed her palms, “it turns hard as rock, but at the same time melts. How can this be?”

  Anleeh smiled at his little scholar, imagining the frantic scribbling in her brain as she tried to note every observation. Her reaction was more interesting than he’d imagined. As he’d grown up with snow, he’d never stopped to consider the exact properties of the substance.

  For the next hour they sat in the road beside the snow as Anleeh slowly and carefully explained what he knew of snow. Talking with her made him realize how very little that was.

  “Here,” attempting to distract her from the barrage of questions—it was starting to hurt his ego to know nothing—Anleeh scooped up a handful of snow and hard-packed it into a ball. Standing, he moved several feet away and then lobbed it to her. Siara, still seated, watched the snowball arch and fall, smashing against the path with a pitiful ‘plegh’ sound.

  Siara looked up expectantly. “Yes?”

  Anleeh, his head in his hands, no longer knew if it was despair or mirth which filled him. Bending, he made a second snowball. “Stand up, lover. I will teach you a game.”

  “A game for adults or is this a childhood memory?’

  “It is a game played by young and old, women and children. This,” he held up the hard packed snow, “is a snowball.”

  “That” she pointed, dutifully repeating his words. “is a ball of snow.”

  “No. It is called a snowball.”

  “But it is a ball of snow.”

  “Yes but … never mind. The point is that you take these balls and throw them at the other players.”

  “You take something as hard as a rock, and cold, and throw it at people?”

  “They are not that hard, and they explode when they hit the other person.”

  “Explode?”

  “That was a poor choice of words. Here,” he held out the snowball, “now throw it at my chest.”

  Siara, with a worrisome lack of concern or questions regarding the order, flung the snowball at him. It exploded when it hit, covering the front of his cloak with specks of snow.

  “Ohhhh, that is actually quite satisfying.”

  “I hope you mean throwing a snowball, not throwing something at me.”

  “Both items have their strong points, but for now I mean throwing the snowball. What exactly are the rules of the game?”

  “Well there aren’t really any rules.”

  “Of course there are. All games have rules.”

  “In this game, the rules are decided by those persons who want to play.”

  “That hardly seems effective. Wouldn’t each person lobby for the rules to be set in their favor?”

  Anleeh sighed and then stooped low, scooping and handful of snow in a loose packed ball. Half bent he lobbed it at Siara, who ducked.

  “That is all there is to the game,” Anleeh commented, even as he ducked a flung handful of powder. “You have to pack it togethe
r, squeeze it with your fist.”

  “Like this?” Whoosh. Splat.

  “For the love of the Goddess, woman! That hurt!”

  “You said pack it hard.”

  Anleeh scooped up another handful but instead of throwing it, ran towards her. It took Siara too long to figure out what he was doing, and her retreat only lasted a few steps. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

  Pressing her back to his chest, Anleeh raised his hand and touched the palm full of snow to her lips. Siara squeaked and wiggled but he held her still, her lush lips ruthlessly chilled by his action.

  “Hold still, lover,” he ordered, and she stilled. That she would obey, despite her lack of understanding and her discomfort, stirred his beast.

  Anleeh dropped the handful of snow and spun her around. Even as she took a breath through her bright pink lips, Anleeh brought his mouth down to hers.

  She tasted of winter and woman. Roughly he warmed her lips with his, nipping to draw the warm blood to the surface and letting his hot breath fan against her chilled cheeks. When her tongue came out to touch her cold flesh, Anleeh caught it with his lips, sucking gently, before pressing their lips together once again.

  “Tonight,” he whispered.

  Siara blinked eyes dark with arousal. “What happens tonight?”

  “Tonight I will take your virginity.”

  Siara shuddered, in what to Anleeh was clearly disgust, and he clenched his back teeth. He was foolish to have thought that the passion she showed meant that she was ready for this, or that her feelings toward him were anything more than awakening desire. How could she help but dread his touch after the way he’d treated her?

  Lost in his dreary thoughts, Anleeh was unable to keep his balance when she flung her arms around him. Together they toppled backwards into the snow, Anleeh landing on his back. Then again, maybe it wasn’t disgust…

  Siara leaned over him and nipped at his jaw before tracing the tip of her tongue up his neck to his ear. Cheek pressed to his, she whispered, “Good.”

  What had come over her?

  It was the second time that she’d knocked him down. She’d often reprimanded girls for calling others ‘wanton,’ as it was a favorite insult among the students, but now she felt that description applied to her. What else could cause her to behave in such a way?