Mating Rights

by Jaide Fox

  “How exactly would you do that if I let you go? The first thing you’d do is go runnin’ back to ma and da.”

  He wasn’t making this easy on her. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. I’m nah interested,” he said gruffly.

  “What?” she asked, flabbergasted at his refusal.

  “You heard me. I’m not interested in bucking someone willing to barter with their body. How do I know you have nah done it before?”

  If he’d been facing her, she would’ve slapped his face despite the charming brogue he let slip. “I’ll have you know I’m a virgin,” she said, her voice brimming with disbelief and outrage.

  “I’ve heard it before. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m following orders, ma’am. No sweet little brown tail is worth losing my arse over.”

  Mali gnashed her teeth. Her grip tightened on the pommel until her knuckles paled and her joints ached. She didn’t have enough experience to talk her way out of the hole she’d dug. Her pride stung that he’d rejected her bid for her freedom. Her mother and father had always ensured that she felt treasured and beautiful. That this man, Jaxon, would arbitrarily dismiss her giving him her virtue was enough to shatter her self-confidence.

  “I think you’ll find the others will keep you better company anyway. I’m sure you’ll feel more at home with them than testing your wiles out on me.”

  “Others?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained ahead on the small trail.

  Jaxon lifted his arm, shielding her head from a low hanging branch that tried to snatch at her hair. “The other women. We’re escorting them to the festival.”

  As they passed beneath the tree, Mali could see a balding giant of a man sitting on an open air bench with his chin propped in his hands and the reins to a pair of plow horses across his thick thighs. Behind him, white canvas stretched over the frame of a wagon. Her ears pricked at the cacophony of female voices drifting through the flimsy barrier.

  Jaxon halted his horse and swung down off its back. He raised his arms, lifting her off the saddle and setting her on her bare feet. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to the back of the wagon.

  “Welcome to the lion’s den,” he said without looking at her face.

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t you mean wolves’ den?” she asked, lifting the flap on the back of the wagon. She was looking forward to the company of other women of her kind. She’d never had the chance to be around girls her own age. Actually, she’d never been around anyone her own age. The occasional delivery of supplies to her home didn’t count in her mind. Sheltered didn’t begin to describe the sum experience of her life.

  He gripped her hand, supporting her as she climbed inside. “Yeah, that’s right,” he muttered, dropping the flap and disappearing from her view.

  Lion’s den. What could he mean by that sarcastic statement? She wondered. If he was as ornery and rude to the other women as he’d been to her, they’d probably given him hell too.

  Mali stood on the back of the wagon, feeling trepidation creep through her as she took in her new surroundings and companions. The driver called to his horses and snapped the reins, sending the wagon into motion. Her knees buckled, threatening to send her careening backward outside. She caught herself on the framework, gripping the post tight as she held her footing.

  A dozen lovely youthful faces met her gaze as she righted herself and stepped further in. Cushion covered benches ran the distance on either side filled to the brim with women’s bottoms taking every available seat. Beneath the benches were tapestry bags she presumed belonged to the women. They’d been allowed to bring belongings. The fact that she’d been uprooted from her home and allowed to retrieve nothing, not even her shoes, sent a fresh outrage shooting through her.

  “Can I have a seat?” she asked the crowd in general.

  She received no response to her question.

  Mali looked them over, but no one seemed willing to scoot over enough to give her a place to sit, and she didn’t feel like instigating a fight. Shrugging, she sat on the floorboards amongst their feet.

  Someone snickered.

  Mali trained her eyes on the source, finding a brunette with startling green eyes staring down her pointed nose at her. Mali glanced side to side and decided the girl’s snobbish attitude was definitely directed towards her. Mali frowned, hugging her knees to her chest as the wagon rocked and swayed down the road. “What?”

  “You look like a little dog begging at my feet,” the brunette said, spurring the others into laughter.

  Mali’s jaw dropped before she remembered to shut her mouth. “Excuse me? What’s your problem?”

  The girl flipped her long silky hair off her chest to rest behind her back then pointed down at her. “You. Look at you. Is this the best you have to offer a mate? Your hair is a tangled rat’s nest. You have no shoes, and your clothes are…” She wrinkled her nose. “…dirty and old. You smell like a wet dog. Have you been rolling in the—”

  The girl didn’t get to finish her sentence.

  Red filled Mali’s vision. Her heart pounded with viciousness. She launched herself from the floor, grabbing two handfuls of the bitch’s hair as she yanked her head down to the floor and kicked the air out of her gut. The girl gasped for breath then screeched. She clawed at Mali’s hands, but Mali had a death grip. She wasn’t letting go unless hair turned loose from the bitch’s scalp.

  “Stop!” she screamed. “My hair! Somebody get this bitch off me!”

  Mali couldn’t talk. Words eluded her. She knew if she was going to survive the group, they had to either fear or respect her. She’d take fear any day.

  Half-hearted blows landed on her back. Another woman yanked her hair, but Mali had a tough scalp and bloodlust giving her the strength to ignore the nuisances.

  “Adolpho! Jaxon!” the brunette shrieked, clawing into Mali’s hands.

  “Get off her!” someone else yelled.

  “Someone stop the wagon!”

  As if realizing they weren’t having a simple disagreement, the wagon rocked violently to a halt. Mali and the brunette pitched forward, landing on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Mali rolled on top, slamming the girl’s head into the floor.

  “Bitch,” she hissed, gouging Mali’s arms until blood dripped from her skin in little rivers. The crescent shaped holes healed slowly, leaving dried stains on her skin.

  Fine slippers stomped the floor boards as the other women scattered and jumped out of the way of their rolling bodies. Dust rose, choking Mali. She coughed, releasing a hank of hair to punch the girl repeatedly in the face. She thought if she flattened that pert little nose maybe she wouldn’t be so quick to look down it at her again.

  “What the hell?” A masculine voice ripped through the dust storm clouding Mali.

  Strong hands encircled her waist, hurtling her through the air and out the back of the wagon. The mob of women piled out, surrounding Mali, Jaxon, Adolpho, and the brunette. The other guards wisely remained seated atop their horses, watching the fray with smiles on their faces.

  The brunette lunged to slap Mali. Jaxon lifted his forearm, blocking her strike.

  The girl launched into pitiful princess mode with the men watching her. She pouted and cried, though no tears fell from her eyes. “She ripped my hair out and ruined my nose! You need to beat her!”

  Jaxon stood between the combatants, hands on his hips and feet spread wide. “You’ll heal, Angelica.”

  “What about my hair?” Angelica shrieked, holding up the frazzled ends of her hair.

  Mali dared a grin at the girl, earning a glare in return.

  “It’ll grow back,” Jaxon muttered, tight lipped as if hiding a smile. “Now, who started the fight?”

  Angelica pointed at Mali. “She did. She can’t take a joke.”

  Jaxon glanced at Mali. “Is this true?”

  Mali crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin. “I’m not going to take abuse from anyone. Her mama should have taught he
r not to taunt a caged beast.”

  Jaxon stroked his rough jaw, tilting his head as he studied over the women. “We can’t have you two tearing each other apart on the ride to the festival.”

  “Well, I’m not riding with her back here. None of us are. She’s an animal!” Angelica said.

  “Figured as much. That’s as good a solution as any. Come on, you can ride with me, Mali. Everyone else back inside the wagon. We need to make some good time. We’ve had enough delays,” Jaxon said, giving Mali an admonishing look.

  Mali widened her eyes, attempting to appear innocent. She couldn’t help the fact that the other women had formed a clique and shut her out the moment she stepped foot under the canvas.

  Everyone piled back inside. Adolpho took his seat at the front, and Mali walked ahead of Jaxon back to his horse. She’d rather ride with the asshole than a bunch of vipers any day of the week.

  Jaxon lifted her onto his horse. When she was settled, he stuck his foot in the stirrup and launched himself up with a soft grunt. From his action, she could see his knee pained him.

  The trees shook their limbs, sounding like baby rattles. Dead leaves whirled across the road. Her mood seemed reflected in the dark gray clouds roiling through the air above, turning the sky to slate.

  “I thought it was going to rain. My knee’s been acting up,” Jaxon said, settling behind her on the horse and taking the reins in his hands. The bay horse’s skin twitched with the change in weather. He clicked his tongue and shook the reins, urging the horse forward. The small caravan followed suit.

  She’d never ridden a horse before, and the beast’s nervousness made her own nerves react much the same. “What’s wrong with your knee?” she asked.

  Jaxon snaked a hand around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. “Got taken by the Bear Clan. About ten years or so ago.”

  Mali frowned. He wasn’t very forthcoming. “That’s it?”

  “I don’t like ta talk about it much,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not like we have anything else to talk about.”

  He sighed. “Bear Clan came up before Nicodemus had finished walling in Capitol City. I was captain of the guard then and responsible for everyone’s safety. We took down the first wave with silver tipped arrows, but then the Grizzlies and Kodiaks came. The arrows hit them like mosquitos. A squad of our men were surrounded with no way to get out. I went in with another squad to break a line for them to escape, but managed to get myself captured instead.”

  Mali put a hand on her chest, glancing at him over her shoulder. His face looked like stone. “What happened?” she asked, her tone soft.

  “They slaughtered most of us. Held me for weeks as an example, torturing me. They fed me wolf’s bane to keep me from healing or shifting. That’s why my face looks like hamburger and I’ll never win any races with this knee of mine. I also lost my mate Jen.”

  He said it matter-of-fact, but there was an undertone that spoke volumes of the pain he’d suffered. She wanted to question him more, but sensed she’d drawn as much information out of him as he was willing to give.

  They rode for a while in silence as the weather deteriorated around them. She watched the trees twist their branches as if bound in some bizarre, magical dance. Mali regretted the fight with Angelica now that she had to endure the weather with the men.

  With only a few hours distancing her from her family, she already missed the soft, comforting warmth of her mother’s bosom and lap. Grown as she was, she still enjoyed resting her head on her lap and having her mama comb and braid her hair. Sadness permeated her thoughts. Her eyes watered. She rubbed them with the backs of her hands before grabbing the pommel again.

  As if he could see her face, he said, “You shouldn’t antagonize the other women. They’ll make it bad for you at the festival.”

  “I’m not crying about them. Though I do wish I could ride in comfort. That would never happen back there. They know I’m different—not one of them.”

  “Being different has its perks,” he said.

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “When I figure that out, I’ll tell you,” he grumbled.

  Mali couldn’t stifle the laugh that erupted from her. “I think you’re trying to cheer me up.”

  “Why would I do that? You haven’t been anythin’ but trouble for me.”

  “Somewhere beneath that scarred, hard exterior, I think there’s a soft heart. You wouldn’t have risked your life for your men if there wasn’t.”

  Jaxon made no response. Mali wondered if she’d offended him, then decided she probably had. The man was as sensitive as an achy tooth and just as worrisome.

  Wind whipped through her hair, bringing the first stinging pellets of rain. “Wonderful,” she said, looking up at the ferocious sky.

  “Hang on. Hold these,” he said, handing her the reins.

  Mali accepted them, feeling a moment of terror to have control of the horse. She gripped the reins tight as he dug in a side pouch off his saddle and withdrew a brown cloak. He whipped it around his shoulders.

  “Get inside,” he said, holding the edges open for her.

  Feeling silly, but wanting shelter from the rain, she leaned close to his chest until her back melded to the sculpted plains. He closed his arms around her, allowing her a small hole for her to poke her face through to breathe. She chuckled to herself, imagining that they must look like some two headed monster, but she welcomed it for the rain began to pour in sheets.

  “Can’t we stop and take shelter?” she asked.

  “Not if we’re going to make it in time for the festival. I thought we’d get to hunt for fresh meat by noon, but we’ll probably wait closer to nightfall.”

  “How long will we be on the road?”

  Mali felt him shift as if working a kink from a muscle. “Until tomorrow at the earliest. Are you eager to find a mate?”

  She wrinkled her nose, holding the edges of the cloak closed against the rain. She moved her head back, peering from inside the waterproof fabric. Inside, his masculine scent filled the air creating a heady perfume that intrigued her nose. Her body warmed with the matching heat of his. Something niggled in her belly, making it cramp with his nearness. Mali chose to ignore the strange, unfamiliar feeling.

  “I don’t want a mate. I’m only going because you’ve forced me to,” she said, wondering if he could hear her muffled voice.

  He grunted. “You’re the only one then. The others are out to get the wealthiest members of the clan.”

  “I just want to go back to my home.”

  “Maybe you’ll be ready next year then. If you’re lucky and no one chooses you,” he added.

  The rain intensified. She could feel it pounding against the cloak, making a tapping sound like a drum. Tired of slogging through the rain, Jaxon halted his horse.

  “Let’s shelter here under these trees,” he yelled to the men.

  Jaxon guided his horse off the road to the copse he’d pointed to. He pulled his cloak from around her and dropped to the ground, helping her off the horse before tying the animal to a low hanging branch to graze.

  The lanky man with the reddish-blond, scruffy beard came next, tying his horse off to another tree. He leaned his back against a tree trunk, his long blond hair dripping water down his nose and chin.

  “My name’s Ranger,” he said, nodding at Mali.

  “I’m Mali,” she said, huddling close to Jaxon beneath their leafy shelter.

  Behind the heavily muscled Adolpho, who apparently decided he’d rather wait out in the rain than join the ladies, came the last man on his horse. This one was stocky with broad shoulders, though he was half a head shorter than Jaxon and Ranger.

  “Torolf,” he said, introducing himself like the others.

  “It’s good to have a name for everyone,” she said, rubbing her damp arms. Luckily for them, lightning hadn’t cut across the sky, or they’d be sitting ducks under the tall trees.

  Jaxon looked up at the sky as if try
ing to judge how long the storm would last.

  “The road’s going to be mud pies from here on out,” Ranger said, picking at his teeth with a blade of grass.

  “If we go ahead and make camp, the morning sun and this wind might have it dried out enough by mid-morning. The wagon won’t bog down first thing,” Jaxon said. He pulled his cloak off and laid it on the ground, taking a seat. He patted the ground, looking at Mali. Grateful to sit on something other than a hard saddle with her legs spread to the point of dislocation, Mali settled on the cloak and crossed her legs.

  Rain filtered through the canopy, dripping occasionally on the top of her head. Small beads of moisture found the part in her hair and tickled down her scalp. Mali scratched her head, feeling mistreated just by being there instead of home. She hadn’t played or sat in the rain since she’d been a child. Back then, it’d seemed like fun—especially with her mother waiting inside with a warm fire and dry clothes. She didn’t have anything here, and the dampness of her clothes combined with the sheeting wind made her thin cotton dress damp in spite of the fact that Jaxon had sheltered her from the weather as much as possible.

  She was disconcerted to notice her nipples poking against the fabric. Mali shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Guess you wish I’d taken your side now, hmm?” Jaxon said, glancing from her chest to her face.

  Something in the look of his eyes and the set of his jaw made a rush of heat flow through her and settle in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean? I thought you had taken my side.”

  “They didn’t want you in there. You’d be dry right now if I’d made them behave themselves.”

  Mali shrugged. “They’re grown women. I don’t think you or anyone else could make those bitches behave.”

  Ranger and Torolf exchanged a glance and snickered.

  “Nest of vipers,” Ranger muttered.

  “I feel sorry for anyone taking anyone of them home as a mate,” she said. Her brow furrowed.