Storm Lord's Bride (Rite of the Raknari Book 1)

by Alana Serra

  It was good to know that even in this, Elora could be an optimist. Imara couldn’t help smiling.

  “Then I’ll see you soon, El,” she pulled her sister in for another hug and tried not to cling to her.

  Because unlike Elora, she wasn’t an optimist. She fully assumed that when she left this village, it would be for the last time. Maybe her sister was right, though. Maybe she would return.

  Whether she’d return the same person… that Imara wasn’t willing to count on.

  Chapter 5

  Rheor hadn’t intended to watch her bid her family farewell, but as he prepared Varuk for a longer ride with another passenger, he caught sight of her. There was something stiff in her interactions with the older of the two women. Her mother, he assumed. He would not guess as to why, and shut down his curiosity as soon as it appeared.

  Nothing good would come from knowing this human in any other way than the physical. She would share his bed and please him just as he would please her. She would be well-kept, given everything she could want outside of his chambers. But Rheor would not be a part of that. It was a ruinous path, and considering how drawn he was to this woman already, it was only a matter of time before he found himself pulled under.

  That is the curse of our people, his father once told him. We sit atop our mountains, atop our thrones, and we want for nothing. But our hearts are empty.

  Rheor’s heart was not empty. It was hollowed out. Decimated from once having been so full. For a brief, shining moment, he thought he’d had what his parents once had. And then it was ripped away from him, leaving nothing but any icy void in its wake.

  He hadn’t even taken a bed partner since. Not one he kept around. Casual dalliances, women who threw themselves at his feet only satisfied a fleeting need. With Imara, he had a way to sate it. If she was as willing as she seemed, he would have no difficulty appeasing his ravenous appetite.

  But he’d already decided they would keep separate chambers. He would come to her and never the other way around. When he was done, he would leave. Some might consider it callous, but she would be given great status among their people and she would always know where she stood with him. It was more than fair.

  And it kept Rheor from ever being as weak and vulnerable as he had in the past.

  As if to ensure that fact, he deliberately looked away when Imara interacted with the one the chieftain had intended for him to have. Meek and mild, she would have made a very poor bedmate. No doubt she’d do her duty, but nothing more.

  “Scout the pass,” he told Kost, one of the younger warriors who’d proved invaluable on recent expeditions. “I don’t want any surprises.”

  Kost nodded, as silent as ever. It was an admirable quality, though not one he employed by choice. Four large scars raked over his throat, the evidence of a wound he’d had from the time he’d wandered into a mother Machai’s den when he was a child.

  He’d never made the same mistake again. He was overly cautious now and hyper-vigilant. Everything Rheor could ask for in a scout.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Loken asked, his booming voice cutting through Rheor’s quieter thoughts.

  “I always expect trouble,” Rheor said, “and we can never know when the Svag will strike.”

  “Well, Tiva and I will be ready for them if they dare it.”

  One of his most trusted warriors sat atop a pure white Machai, his hand buried in the ruff that surrounded her neck. She nuzzled at Rheor’s mount, then made a noise of complaint.

  “She’s eager to get back to her cubs,” Loken said, a fond smile on his face. “She’ll tear out the throat of anyone who gets in her way.”

  “Oh, I know,” amusement sparked in Rheor’s eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.

  It hadn’t been his choice to mate Varuk with Tiva. She was one of the smallest from her litter, and while she was agile, he was more interested in breeding hardy Machai that could withstand the treacherous climb through the mountains.

  He’d not been given a chance to deny her, though. She’d decided she wanted Varuk, and that was the end of it. His beast had been powerless to resist her, and soon her belly swelled with six perfectly healthy cubs, all of whom had survived the first four weeks of their life.

  “And what of your ‘offering’?” Loken asked, inclining his head in Imara’s direction.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s a feisty one. She’ll keep you in line, if I had to guess it.” His tone softened as he added, “you could use someone like that.”

  Rheor just scoffed. He didn’t need someone to “keep him in line.” That would imply a larger space in his life than he was willing to grant her or anyone else.

  “The only use she will have to me is warming my bed. Outside of that, she can have her own life at the Peak and I will have mine.”

  He climbed atop Varuk, giving the Machai a gentle pat on the neck. His mount made a chuffing sound in the back of his throat, then stretched languidly, his mouth opening wide and displaying rows of perfectly pointed teeth. Rheor had to chuckle when he saw Imara staring at his beast, a spark of trepidation in her eyes that she tried to ignore.

  “I don’t suppose you have anything with fewer teeth?” she asked, making a wide berth around Varuk, only to have Tiva step up behind her and press her broad nose against Imara’s back.

  The human yelped, scrambling away before she realized the Machai meant her no harm. Varuk let out a throaty sound that Rheor thought rather matched his own laugh.

  “A Machai with fewer teeth is of little use to me,” he pointed out. “Come.”

  She cast him a sidelong glance, looking warily at Varuk once more. “On the biggest of the bunch. With you.”

  “Unless you’d rather walk.”

  “Which I would not recommend,” Loken said, a broad grin stretching across his weathered face. “You’ll freeze the instant we set foot in the pass.”

  Imara pulled her furs tighter around herself, her gaze still cautious. To her credit, though, she stepped forward, coming to stand beside Varuk. His shoulder was several inches taller than her, and Rheor smirked as she valiantly tried to grab on and hoist herself up.

  Then he reached down, looped one arm beneath her, and pulled her up himself, settling her in front of him, between his thighs. She gasped, wriggling against him in a way he thought was unintentional, but arousing nonetheless. The warmth of her body, the softness cushioning his muscles, the scent of her skin… it was too much.

  “Be still, woman,” he growled.

  “It’s not exactly the most secure seat,” she hissed in return. “I feel like I’m about to fall off any moment n—”

  The word ended in a squeak as Rheor braced an arm against her middle and pulled her more tightly to him. Her round, pert rump was pressed against his cock now, and she went very still, her breathing ragged.

  Goddess above. If this kept up, he would have to have her as soon as they reached the Frozen Peak. There was no way he’d be able to get any of his work done with her in reach.

  “As I said,” his voice was low in her ear and he delighted in the shiver he felt from her, “be still.”

  He expected some quip, but she said nothing. With his free hand, Rheor buried his fingers into Varuk’s shaggy mane and felt the muscle beneath, pressing against it to direct the Machai into motion.

  “Wait!”

  A young woman’s voice called from the village as he began to turn his mount away, back toward the path that would lead into the mountains. Imara turned against him, and he saw her sister approaching. While her steps were cautious, her eyes darting warily between the beasts, she did not stop.

  “Elora…” Imara’s voice was pained, and Rheor could feel her muscles tense against him.

  “I’m not here to stop you,” she assured her. “I just want to give you something.”

  She unclasped her cloak and Rheor watched as she pulled the leather cord from around her neck, gradually revealing a pendant that had been hidden beneath her
layered clothing. It seemed to be some kind of carving set into a material that looked like it might have been part of a flat bone of some kind.

  “I can’t take this. You love this pendant.”

  “That’s exactly why I want you to have it,” she said, holding it up as far as she could reach.

  Unfortunately she was even smaller than Imara, and her reach just barely made it past Varuk’s shoulder. So Rheor held out a hand, waiting for the trinket to be offered to him. As curious as he was about it, he didn’t examine the thing once she allowed him to hold it. He just gave it to Imara, and she put it around her neck, tucking it beneath her leathers.

  “Here.” Again she wriggled, but this time with purpose, reaching into a pouch at her hip.

  She pulled out a flat disc that at first glance looked like nothing so more than polished stone and metal. When it began to hum and glow with soft energy, Rheor was intrigued.

  “Gran always said it could detect magic,” Imara said. “I guess she was right.”

  The disc was loud and vibrant in his presence, dimming a bit when she handed it down to Elora. It seemed to be some kind of magical compass, or some other item that resonated when it was close enough to a source of power. Scrutinizing it from a distance, he could see it wasn’t just any polished stone, but a deposit of rock from the Tempest Spine.

  “I’ll keep it with me always,” Elora said softly, holding it to her chest before she slipped it into her own belt pouch. “I love you, Immy. Be safe up there, and don’t forget who you are.”

  Elora’s gaze cut from her sister to Rheor. He kept his face as unreadable as a stone, permitting the exchange but otherwise not engaging with it. If he engaged with it, he’d become interested, and he couldn’t do that.

  “I love you too, El. Take care of Mom and Dad.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Rheor inclined his head to Loken and the warrior turned his mount, starting down the path with two others who fell in line with one another, waiting for Rheor to overtake them. Giving the sisters another moment, he finally did so, fitting into formation between the two warriors and Loken, with an empty space reserved for their scout.

  They walked then, Varuk seeming eager to run, but keeping a steady pace. It did no less to jostle Imara who was unused to the Machai’s movements, and Rheor clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, ignoring the demands of his body.

  “Where did you get that stone?” he asked, more as a distraction than anything else.

  “I found it at the base of the mountain.” After a beat, she added, “why, does that break one of your sacred laws?”

  Rheor snorted. “No. I’m just surprised you made it that far. Most humans do not venture so far from their villages.”

  “Most humans have not had to hopelessly chase game because the winter will not end.”

  Her response was sharp, the words biting into him as though Varuk had gotten hold of his arm. The humans’ plight should be of no concern to him, and yet Rheor found himself feeling the smallest stab of guilt. Enough that he quickly said, “Perhaps you should have planned better and salted more of the meat you already had.”

  He felt her suck in a breath, felt the shift of her hips against him as she tried to turn and face him. The best she could manage was to glare up at him over her shoulder.

  “It has been half a year. How do you think we’ve survived this long? My people are not fools. We know what it means to have a lean winter. This is something else. This is the wrath of your vengeful goddess.”

  Rheor’s ears twitched slightly, his head canting to the side. “You believe in Kiova and the other Tempests.”

  “I believe in whatever’s going to keep me alive,” she shot back. “If appeasing your goddess will spare me and my people, then yes. I’ll believe in whichever god or goddess you want me to believe in.”

  Rheor’s heart sank at that. He had no idea why he’d invested hope into the thought that this human might worship the goddess who had chosen him. It mattered little. She would perform her duties no better or worse for having known the favor of Kiova. In fact, it was better if she didn’t. Or if she was entirely mercenary with her faith, as she professed to be now.

  “I do not know why Kiova has gone unchecked by her sisters for so long,” he admitted.

  It wasn’t the answer Imara had expected. She twisted to look up at him, a frown on her lips. Soft lips, he realized. Soft and pink and likely quite warm.

  “What do you mean ‘unchecked by her sisters?’” she asked.

  He considered for a long moment, following Kost’s guidance along the path, a steady incline the first of many ascents they would make on their journey into the mountains. There was no harm in telling her, he decided. It would be better for her to know what he and the rest of the Raknari believed. She would integrate better into their society that way.

  “Kiova is one of four great Tempests, all beautiful and terrible in their power. She is joined by Igvis, who controls the eternally burning flame and the blazing heat of summer. Marev, who controls the billowing wind and rain, along with the promise of new life in spring. And Vara, who controls the shifting stages of the earth and the quiet certainty of fall.

  “Each have strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices. They keep watch over one another and balance each other so that this land is not controlled by any one Tempest, and so that the seasons may pass peaceably.”

  “So your goddess isn’t playing nice with her sisters and is taking more than her share?” Imara asked.

  He made a sound in the back of his throat. Of course a human wouldn’t understand the nuance. Then again, Rheor himself didn’t fully understand. He had no idea why this conflict existed or what part he’d played in it for Kiova to punish him so.

  “Perhaps,” he admitted, “but that is in part why the Tempests’ Chosen exist. We mediate and solve these disputes, acting on behalf of the goddess who has chosen us.”

  She was quiet for several long moments. Rheor thought she’d perhaps become bored of the stories, of his peoples’ beliefs, but it seemed she was just processing. Preparing for the next words she uttered.

  “Then it was your duty to end those storms. You just decided to get something out of it for your trouble.”

  Rheor snorted. “Is that meant to insult my integrity?”

  “You’d have to have integrity for me to insult it.”

  That did rile him, which was what he suspected she wanted. His fingers curled against Varuk’s muscles, stopping the beast. His hands were on Imara then, turning her roughly, as much as she could be turned given her position. Fingers gripped her chin hard enough that she hissed, but still there wasn’t any fear in her eyes. Only that blazing spark of defiance.

  “I could have demanded much more. I could have taken what I wanted from your people and given nothing in return. I owe the humans nothing, do you understand? Integrity is the only reason I did not take you and your sister both as payment for my powers.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, then tried to tear herself away from him.

  “Let go of me!” she snarled, smacking his hand away.

  Rheor let it fall and released her. If she wished to carry on and end up on the ground, so be it. He wasn’t going to be insulted and demeaned by a tiny human who knew nothing of who he was or what he’d had to endure. The only downside was that he would have been forced to slow so that she could keep up. Or perhaps he’d just tie her to the back of his mount and then she could crow about how little integrity he had…

  “The pass is clear,” came his scout’s voice, and Rheor was ashamed that he hadn’t even heard the man approach despite the fact that he was still mounted.

  He recovered, squaring his jaw and offering a nod in answer. “We’ll ride for the Crystal Caverns, then. We can stay there during the night and set out for the Spine at first light.”

  He urged Varuk onward, blatantly ignoring Imara’s struggle as she tried to get comfortable again. It was only three days’ journey to reach
the Frozen Peak. Once they were at the summit, she would submit to him with her body, if not her spirit.

  Then he would go back to his life, free not to care over the opinions of one human who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

  Chapter 6

  The trip through the mountain pass was no less grueling, despite the fact that the Raknari mounts covered the ground in a fraction of the time it took her to walk.

  The ride wasn’t comfortable, for starters. Imara had some experience with horses, though it was limited and long ago. There’d been something almost intuitive about their movement, as if it was in her blood to understand it. Her father told her once that their ancestors were nomadic and traveled everywhere across these lands with the aid of their beasts.

  But these great fanged cats were not horses. They were broad and muscular, but those muscles were distributed in such a way that Imara never felt as if she had a solid hold on the creature with her legs. She had to squeeze her thighs around it and they burned now from the effort. Her back ached, jostled constantly by the uneven gait that seemed to change from full to half then back again, never really giving her any indication as to which the cat would do at any given moment.

  Add to that the fact that she was trapped by the massive, solid body of the Storm Lord and Imara was primed to ill enjoy the trip. Especially when the temperature seemed to drop significantly with every passing hour. The further along the pass they traveled, the more the winds howled through the canyon, and the more she felt as though she might freeze to the back of the Storm Lord’s mount.

  While she might have been stubborn, and annoyed with him for his cavalier attitude toward the suffering of her people, Imara was not stupid. She sought out his body heat, abandoning her pride in favor of staying warm, hoping against hope that they would stop before night fell and the temperature truly plummeted.

  They did stop, right as the sun disappeared behind the tall walls of the canyon. But no one was fetching firewood. There was no pit dug out in the snow. The only possible wind block was a nearby cave, and the chill coming from inside of it far rivaled the frigid air that whipped through the canyon. After a closer look, Imara realized why: The walls of the cavern looked to be sheets of solid ice, and they gave off a cold that settled deep into her bones.