Savage

by Lila Dubois

  Tears stung Siara’s eyes and she whimpered, her head thrashing, hitting against his. Anleeh leaned into her, shifting and bringing her other leg to her chest, hooking his arms around her legs, bending her body, holding her still.

  She was captured, controlled. Within her the beast tasted the confinement of his touch, and found it to her liking. Siara’s nails dug into Anleeh’s back once more, scratching him, but this time with a view to entice, arouse, with the small pain.

  Lifting his head from her shoulder, Anleeh fastened his mouth to hers and began thrusting. Her legs hooked over his arms lifted Siara’s ass from the floor, tilting her body to new angles, allowing Anleeh to touch different places inside her. When a long hard thrust had the head of his cock bumping a sensitive place inside her, Siara let out a long high cry of pleasure. Again and again his cock touched her there, and a low orgasm began to build, the kind that pulled at every muscle in her body.

  Anleeh shifted slightly, and his cock slid away from the sweet spot. That was no good. Pulling herself up, Siara nipped at his jaw, biting his lower lip hard enough to let him know that she was greatly displeased. Anleeh tried to jerk away, but she held his lower lip between her teeth, growling at him.

  With an odd huffing noise, he began thrusting again, changing the angle of his thrust each time, until she released him, lying back and whimpering her satisfaction.

  Anleeh’s thrusts increased in speed, his head dropping to her shoulder, his warm breath falling against her neck.

  Siara opened her eyes, the beams and planks of the cabin roof slowly un-blurring. A curled lock of her hair lay over one eye, and she could feel it against her lips. Turning her head, she pressed her lips and nose into Anleeh’s hair. He smelled of man and beast and snow. Of the tall green trees and beautifully stark landscapes.

  Closing her eyes once more, Siara could see their beasts, dark shapes against a midnight landscape. They were intertwined, sleek and powerful, bodies fitted together. Siara pulled at her beast, wanted to see, to understand, her human nature hating the dark mists that hid the creatures.

  The scene in her mind grew lighter, and against her breasts the muscles of Anleeh’s chest twitched, as if in reaction to her calling of the beasts. He thrust, and in the pleasure of her building orgasm Siara lost her hold on the beasts, their undefined forms taken by the mist.

  Anleeh released one of her legs, wrapping it over his back, and his free hand went to her breast. Thumb and index finger clamped down on the tender pink of her nipple, pressing and rolling.

  The extra sensation was all that she needed.

  With a cry of pleasure, like the scream of a mountain lion, Siara came, her body tight around his, one leg clamped over his back, toes pointed. Anleeh held himself in her as long as possible, pulling out at the last moment, spilling hot seed between their bellies and then collapsing atop her.

  “When do you think we will be able to leave?”

  They lay together, Anleeh’s large warm body molded along her back, the remains of two of the roast foxes burning away in the coals of the hearth, the other packed away.

  Anleeh toyed with her fingers, lifting her hand to nip the plump flesh at the base of her thumb before answering.

  “If it does not snow tonight, we will leave tomorrow. It will be rough going, but the path, which wends through the forest, will have been protected from the worst of the snow. We are at the summit now; from here we will travel downhill. I doubt that they saw this much snow at my uncle’s hall.”

  “How much longer do you think?”

  “Before we arrive? A day and a half. If we leave before dawn tomorrow we might be able to make it in one day, but it is best if we arrive in full daylight.”

  “What will happen when we arrive?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t really know. It depends on how they accept me.”

  “Will you have to fight?”

  Anleeh’s sigh ruffled her hair. “This might have been easier if you weren’t so clever. How did you guess I might have to fight?”

  “You speak often of the hardness of the warriors of Den, that you traveled to the Great City to become a better warrior. It seems only logical that part of your return would be a display of those skills.”

  “Very perceptive, Royal Historian. You are correct. One way or another I will fight. The question is whether it will be a fight to the death, a true fight for our safety, or a fight for rank and superiority.”

  “Anleeh, what if…” Siara trailed away, unsure how he would react to her question. Male egos could be so troublingly fragile.

  “I lose?”

  “Or if they take you captive,” she hastily amended.

  “They would not take me captive, not without giving me a chance to fight, but it is valid that you ask what would happen if I were to be unsuccessful.”

  Anleeh moved away and eased Siara onto her back, leaning over her so that he could look into her face. “I want you to know that I will do anything, everything, in my power to be sure that I win any challenge placed before me. I will do all that I can to protect you.”

  “Because it is your duty.”

  He looked away. “Because it hurts me to think of what you might suffer otherwise.”

  “You are a good man to care for others so.”

  “Do not think better of me than you should, for my altruism does not run so deep. It is you, the thought of another man touching you, seeing you naked and having rights over your sweet flesh that drives me to madness.”

  She lost her breath. Did he care for her, truly? It seemed so impossible, as if her years of wanting to hold his affection made the reality of it beyond her realm of understanding. Surely she was interpreting too much. Perhaps he did not want anyone to touch her because, in his mind, she belonged to him, if only temporarily.

  Afraid her face would give away her thoughts, Siara rushed in with another question. “What would happen to me if you lost?”

  “You would be taken under the custody of my uncle, claimed as a spoil of war, and a great prize you would be. They would fight for you and the winner would have you.”

  “You speak of slavery.”

  “Of possession, for while the man who took you would do everything in his power to coerce you, he would never force you. Imagine days, weeks, of a man pleasuring you, his tongue and fingers always playing with your sex and breasts, but never letting you find fulfillment.”

  “That is how they gain obedience?”

  “Yes, it is one of the ways.”

  Siara pressed her face into Anleeh’s chest, her heart torn by sick arousal and absolute dread.

  “I would want no man save you to touch me so.”

  “And I will do everything I can to ensure no one does.”

  When she trembled, Anleeh rolled onto his back and pulled her upper body across his chest, stroking her back until her fear subsided.

  “I begin to understand why you were so reluctant to bring a woman.”

  “Though I regret the worry and pain I have caused you, and that I will yet cause you, I no longer regret bringing you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are beautiful and strong, and a better partner than any man could ever ask for.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, heart breaking a little as she fell more in love.

  “It is I who thank you.”

  Siara wanted, oh so desperately, to ask him what would happen when they returned to the Great City, who they would be to each other when he was once more the Lord Justice and she the quiet historian in a brown dress, but she didn’t. Instead she forced herself to be content with lying in his arms. For now, it was enough.

  Chapter Eight

  The day of their arrival dawned clear and bright. Siara slept fitfully, her slumber disturbed by nightmares, and when she did finally slip into deep sleep it was only to be awoken by Anleeh tossing and turning in his own private hell.

  He’d taken away her pants and tunic the night before.

  Wrapped in
a blanket, Siara snuck outside to relieve herself. They’d traveled down out of the high mountains, and as Anleeh predicted, left the snow behind them at the summit. Now the cold crisp air felt warm by comparison.

  Siara took a moment to look up at the sky. Star and moon gazing was a common pastime in the Temple, for the night sky was the Goddess’s pallet, and each night she wrote upon it her love for her people. Siara had watched the Priestess call up the moons and bring down the stars.

  To the east the morning rays bled into the sky, red, powerful. Siara turned, looking to the western horizon, where the night still clung stubbornly to the black. There, low in the sky, the double moons hung. Normally Akita and Ishlay retreated long before the dawn came.

  It was a sign from the Goddess, an omen and a blessing. Pressing her hand against her breast in a sign of supplication and thanks, Siara whispered a prayer into the wind.

  Confidence bolstered, a mantle of peace around her heart, Siara returned to the cabin.

  Anleeh was inside, the bags packed, an oatcake and several strips of meat waiting for her, the fire already banked.

  “You are anxious to leave?” Siara indicated the packed bags and then picked up the food, chewing quickly. He merely nodded.

  Since leaving their mountaintop cabin, Anleeh had grown distant. Last night they’d lain together but had not coupled. Unwilling to let troubles of the heart distract her, Siara refused to let herself think about it.

  As Siara finished eating, Anleeh carried the bags out, two at a time, packing the horses.

  “I need the blanket.” Siara looked over her shoulder when he spoke, the first words he’d said since last night. “I need to pack the blanket,” he clarified.

  Keeping her back to him, Siara released the blanket, letting it fall at her feet. She made no move to hand it to him.

  Anleeh stepped up behind her and Siara expected him to snatch up the blanket and leave, but, as she’d hoped, his hands settled on her shoulder blades, sliding down her back, over the swell of her ass, and then down each leg as he knelt.

  His hands traversed a return path up her legs to cup her hips. Anleeh pressed a kiss to the small of her back.

  “I am sorry, lover, but this will be hard for me, and so hard for you.”

  “Do not forget that I am here, to help you in whatever way you need.”

  “I remember. All I ask it that you remember your training, remember what I have told you of Den, and keep your beast alive and alert. They will expect you to be weak, and you are not.”

  “I will do my best.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  With her back to him it was easy to speak the truth. “Yes.”

  “Good. That will keep you alert.”

  “I am afraid for you.”

  “Ah, then you are wise, for I am afraid for myself also.”

  “Anleeh…” but he’d risen and moved away, folding and rolling the blanket he’d scooped from around her feet.

  Fastening a strap around the blanket to keep it rolled, Anleeh tossed it near the door.

  “It is time to get dressed, are you ready?”

  “It is optimistic of you to use the word ‘dressed’ as ‘dressed’ implies I have clothing to wear. That is not clothing.”

  “I think I’m insulted. I made that for you.”

  Smiling inwardly in relief at the return of his light, teasing tone, Siara adopted her best Head Mistress lecture voice. “And while I truly appreciate the fact that I will not have to arrive naked, I refuse to refer to those scraps of fur as clothing.”

  “Be nice, lover, or I will not make you new garments from the pretty fox furs.”

  “I won’t be excited until you catch a nice BIG animal, like a bear.”

  “I will certainly work on that.”

  “Please do.”

  Smiling, their banter a break from the silent tension, Anleeh scooped up her garments. He held them out, sweeping one arm to the side in a courtly bow. “Your garments, Madame.”

  Siara, naked, pantomimed a curtsy, eliciting a smile.

  “Arms up,” he instructed.

  Siara lifted her arms so Anleeh could slip the skin over her breasts. The soft fur rubbed against her nipples as he began drawing the laces tight.

  With each tug, her beasts were lifted and pushed.

  “Anleeh, that is too tight.”

  “Let me look.” Tying a quick knot he came around the front. “No, it is not tight enough.” Slipping his hand down inside the fur Anleeh lifted each breast, settling them higher in the cradle of the fur.

  Siara looked down at the lush mounds he had created, startlingly white against the dark fur.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am.” Anleeh gave the laces a few more quick tugs and then tied it off securely.

  Coming around to look at her once more, Siara watched him take in her lushly offered breasts. His beast flickered behind his eyes, causing her own sleeping beast to stretch awake.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I will attack you,” she warned.

  “We do not have time.”

  “My beast does not care.”

  “As long as she is awake.” Anleeh grabbed the skirt and slipped it around her hips, fastening it on the right side with a bone pin.

  The sewn furs of the bottom part of her garment hung longer over her left hip. The fabric held closed on the right hip with only the single bone pin. Each time she moved the fabric parted offering a view of the entire length of her right leg and hip.

  “If I move wrong … or there is a breeze…”

  “You will just have to be very careful.”

  “Wasn’t there a fourth fur?”

  “We don’t need it.”

  Between the sections of the garment, Siara’s soft white belly curved, lush and womanly, the tight dip of her waist begging for a man’s hands to settle there.

  “I am practically naked.”

  “I know. It is glorious.”

  “Why do you still get to wear pants?”

  “Enough stalling, we need to leave.” Anleeh knelt and laced her boots, making sure they were properly fastened, and wrapped the leg warmer skins over her bare calves and thighs. When he finally swirled the cloak over her shoulders Siara could almost pretend that she was wearing real clothes.

  “You look like a fantasy from my youth.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. As a young man, when I did not dream of battle, I dreamed of a lush woman, clad in nothing but fur, her body mostly bare, breasts and sex ready for my enjoyment.”

  “Don’t most men wish for that?”

  “Yes, but very few live to see their fantasy made flesh.” Anleeh pulled her against his, bending her back over his arm as he kissed her.

  Breaking the kiss, he pressed his lips against her forehead one last time before taking her by the hand and leading her out to the horses.

  Anleeh placed a fur pad over her saddle to protect her bare sex as she rode. Boosting her up, he made sure she was situated, running through his now familiar list of last minute riding instructions.

  “Keep your heels down, fingers loose. We’ll be heading down some steep trails, lean back, put your weight in the stirrups not the reins.”

  “I will, I remember.”

  “I know you do.” Anleeh cupped her bare knee, “This is the last time we will have to speak like this, with complete freedom.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I hope that you’re right. I hope that I can protect us both.”

  “Anleeh, if something were to happen to you…”

  “Don’t run. They will hunt you if you do. Do your best to submit, survive. Eventually the other Zinahs will come for you.”

  His answer was what she had expected, but the swirls of fear in her belly solidified into a hard knot. Unable to speak past the fear, she nodded. He hesitated, as if he wanted to do, or say, something else, but in the end he turned away, checking each of the horses before mounting his own.

 
; Chapter Nine

  The beat of war drums heralded their arrival.

  Anleeh rode ahead, his chin high, eyes forward, acknowledging no one.

  Thump, thump-thump, thump, thump-thump.

  The drums were a tool of intimidation, used to frighten those who approached the walled village. Despite this knowledge, Anleeh’s heart beat sped up, battle anticipation like quicksilver in his veins.

  Deep in his belly, the beast rolled, awakened by the danger of their situation. It was not fear he felt, but anticipation. There were few things he enjoyed so much as a good fight. Today was a good day to die, and had Siara’s presence not dictated a need for survival, it might have been worth fighting to the death.

  They followed a muddy track through the outskirts of the village, heading towards a wooden wall made of sturdy tree trunks sharpened to points, so large that it encompassed a section of the forest beyond. Only one roof peaked over it, thin plumes of smoke rising from it. This was the Great Hall, his Uncle’s Hall.

  There was a clearing in front of the gates. Stripped bare of trees and grass, that desolate plot of land had seen more blood spilled than anywhere else in the village. He could feel the eyes of the people on them, but they had yet to see any living person besides the guards, who stood silent and watching at the gate as the drums boomed over them.

  Anleeh reined in at the edge of the clearing, dismounting, sword in hand. He stood for a moment, fighting the urge to look back at Siara, reassure her, warn her.

  The gates were flung open, a straight path between the gates and the Hall offering a clear vision of the long, tall building. The doors opened; a blond man stepped out, his shoulders thick with muscle, giving him more weight than Anleeh, though they were of a height. The solider wore only deer hide leggings and boots, and a collection of claws and teeth dangling from a cord around his neck. He swaggered down the path from the Hall to the gates.

  Anleeh moved forward, his steps quickening, the other man’s pace increasing as he reached the wall and passed through the gates. By the time they reached the center of the clearing, each was running. The blond man let out a loud war cry, swinging the battle axe he held in a vicious arch, aimed at Anleeh’s neck.