Wayfarer's Keep

by T. A. White

  Just like that, their passion returned, sending shivers down her back as his large hands settled on her hips. He turned her, backing her towards their bed, never once removing his lips from hers.

  The bed hit the back of her knees. Before she could do anything, Fallon picked her up, his strength impressive as he laid her on the blankets, following her down. The press of his hard body against hers made Shea’s belly quiver.

  One of his hands snaked under her shirt, his palm cupping her breast as he pulled her up. In the next moment, her shirt whipped over her head.

  Their movements were almost frenzied as they made the climb together. Fallon parted her legs, dropping his lower half to drag deliciously against her core. Her head fell back as the sensation made her eyes slam shut.

  In the next moment, she surged to meet his passion with her own, running her hands up his chest as she jackknifed up, catching his lips with her own. She sensed a moment of surprise then he buried his hands in her hair, tugging her head, tilting it so he could get better access as his tongue invaded.

  They took turns being the conqueror, each touch sending them higher, each iteration making their passion burn brighter.

  Somehow Shea lost her pants, but she couldn’t say when. It was all a blur, until he pressed one hard thigh against the bare core of her.

  His fingers skated down the peaks and valleys of her front, before diving between her legs. She groaned as one thick finger pushed inside before withdrawing to circle her clit before entering again.

  He repeated the maddening sensation, his warm masculine chuckle a breath across her skin.

  “Fallon,” she hissed.

  She was no longer in the mood to play, need and urgency riding her too hard. He was, however, and as warlord he tended to get what he wanted. He went back to tormenting her, drawing it out until her breathy moans filled the air.

  She dug her nails into his back in protest. He ignored her, kissing his way down her body, searching out her sensitive spots and giving them special attention until she was a writhing mass of desire.

  He looked up at her from his spot between her legs, dark possession stamped on his face, need in his eyes, a frantic yearning no amount of sex would ever tame.

  In that moment Shea felt a profound connection to this man. He challenged her, supported her when she faltered, and played with her in those rare instances they had the time. He was her heart, her soul, the perfect complement that softened her rough spots as she did his.

  “I will follow you wherever you go. To the dark underworld if necessary,” he vowed.

  He didn’t wait for an answer, plunging two fingers inside her as he pressed a kiss to that most intimate of places. His tongue flicked out, touching her clit as sensation crashed through her. She was already primed from his earlier teasing and it wasn’t long before her release coursed through her, firing each muscle to a delicious tightness before pushing her over.

  Her cries filled the tent as she writhed under his masterful hands.

  Fallon sat back and wiped his mouth, his gaze fixed on his telroi displayed before him. Her hair was a wanton tangle around her head, her eyes and face softened from her release. He loved the look of her when she was like this, it made him feel like the conqueror in truth.

  It never lasted long, and indeed, her normal forceful personality was already filtering back into her expression—fire in her eyes and a challenge on her face.

  He didn’t give her time to say anything, grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her stomach.

  She pushed up onto all fours, stilling when his hands settled on either side of her hips. She looked back at him with a teasing expression, as if daring him to do his worst.

  She pushed into him and he groaned at the feeling of her soft flesh. Her wicked smile lit up her face and he gave her a dark one in return.

  He held her still as he pushed inside, giving her what she wanted. They both paused and panted at the sensation. Then he pulled out to glide back in, searching, adjusting his stroke so he rubbed against the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside. He knew he’d hit it when a breathy moan was his reward.

  He set a rhythm, driving her relentlessly back up the edge until her hands bunched in the covers in front of her and she was pushing back against every stroke, taking him deeper, heightening the sensation. Sweat ran down his back and his balls drew tight. His release wasn’t far off. It lurked just out of reach, threatening to swamp everything in its path.

  “Get there,” he growled.

  A wordless garble of sound was her only answer. A denial even as she shivered and writhed under his hands.

  He chuckled. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

  Without altering his rhythm, he reached around, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew would drive her wild. She let out another cry.

  “Fallon,” she pleaded.

  He didn’t stop. She was close. He flicked her clit again and sank deep. It was all she needed. Her climax was powerful, the warm heat of her clenched at his cock, milking it with powerful trembles.

  He lost the rhythm of his strokes, his need for his own climax stealing his control. Then he was there, one stroke, then another as he joined her in release. He held her still, riding out the last sensations as he panted above her.

  She collapsed onto her stomach and he followed her down, careful to keep most of his weight off her.

  “So much for being quiet,” she muttered into the pillow.

  He couldn’t help the smile that statement spawned as he brushed some of her hair away from her face and dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

  She opened one eye to glare at him. “Wipe that smile off your face. I hold you entirely responsible for this.”

  As well she should. He’d taken her desire for quiet as a personal challenge and felt oddly euphoric at wringing such a reaction from her.

  He couldn’t stop himself from touching her, stroking her back with gentle hands, utterly entranced with the feel of her soft skin under his. This was what he’d yearned for, what he’d fought for. Together they would create a home, a family.

  He’d battled countless people all for a chance at this—something that was totally his.

  He dropped a kiss onto the middle of her back and slid out of bed, picking up his washcloth and resuming wiping away all signs of the day’s battle.

  She propped herself on her arms and turned to him, blowing her hair out of her face as she did so.

  “I take it we’re not going back to the Keep tonight,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’m tired of being caged in stone. I’d like to be among my people again.”

  She didn’t question it, just grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her. She curled up under it, folding her arm under her head as she watched him bathe.

  “You’re happy,” she said.

  Fallon paused. Was that what he was? He’d never given much thought to the emotion. The struggle for survival and the day-to-day tedium of managing what he’d taken so long to assemble often drove out any consideration for happiness.

  His needs were simple. Safety for those he loved, power to bend the world to his view, and the strength to create those first two. Happiness had never entered into any of that.

  Shea lifted up, understanding on her face. They, both of them, had spent so much time just surviving what this world had to throw at them, that they’d never given much consideration to the softer emotions like happiness and joy.

  “I’m happy too,” she said, a soft amusement on her face. “I didn’t think I would be, but, somehow, despite everything, I am.”

  Fallon stood rooted in his spot, his goals and focus in life realigning. This woman, she was what made everything worth it. She was what he’d been striving to deserve. He might not have known it at the beginning, hadn’t even recognized it when she was standing right in front of him, but he knew it now. All the trials and disasters in his life, they were all leading up to this
moment, this gift that was beyond anything he’d ever received.

  She was his moon and his stars, the light to his darkness. If she asked it, he would do just about anything for her, give anything. He’d known for a long time she was special to him, known he’d loved her. He’d die for her. More importantly, he’d live to relish each moment spent with her at his side.

  He threw the washcloth back into the basin and stalked across the room. Shea sat up with an interested expression on her face. She didn’t shy from him, though he knew his expression had turned fierce, some of the darkness inside peering out.

  He tore back the blanket, one thought on his mind. Conquer and possess. Another woman might have felt fear, tried to escape. Not Shea, she gave him her crooked smile, the one that said she planned to give all she got.

  This time, his passion lacked the finesse of before. It was raw and desperate, mirroring the feelings surging through him.

  It was a long time later that they parted. Fallon rolled onto his back and then hauled her to his side.

  “I don’t want you to just be my telroi,” he said to the ceiling above. “I want you to rule at my side, an equal partner—not just in my eyes but our peoples’ as well.”

  Shea lifted her head, her expression hard to read.

  He held himself still, even as he knew she didn’t quite understand the significance of what he was asking. If she accepted, it was something he couldn’t take back. She would be his equal in all things, her word would be obeyed with the same rigorous diligence as his. If he fell, she would pick up the mantle of warlord in his place and lead. They would be the mother and father of the Trateri people, equal in responsibilities and benefits.

  It was something very few warlords ever offered their telrois. His grandfather was the last Hawkvale to unite the people, and even he had never considered elevating his wife to that position, beloved though she had been.

  As Telroi, Shea had authority over his warriors, but it was an extension of his own good name. As his equal, she would have her own name and authority, not reliant on his. If he ever fell, she’d be protected in a way she wouldn’t be if she remained just a telroi.

  That wasn’t to say the position of telroi wasn’t one of respect among the Trateri. It was. Just as a commander was a position of respect, but a general garnered more esteem. That was what he was proposing.

  “How is that different than what we have now?” Shea asked, her face cautious.

  “Not much would change,” he said. “You would still act as you do now. The biggest difference is you would have your own power separate from my own. I could not gainsay your decisions, as you couldn’t mine, though I’d hope you’d listen to my council. You would be my partner in truth. If I fell, you would lead. It is not reversible; we would be each other’s for the rest of our lives, no matter any disagreements that might arise in the future.”

  The Trateri weren’t like the Lowlanders or the Highlanders. They formed relationships, but they understood that people changed through time. A bond could be broken any time either person wanted. Some never broke the bond, others had so many relationships through the course of their lives it was impossible to count on all their fingers and toes.

  What Fallon was proposing was permanent. A marriage, for lack of a better term, similar to what the rest of the Broken Lands shared. Only, without the male being in the position of power.

  Shea gazed off to the side. Fallon waited, something that didn’t come easily to him. Not with this woman. She might reject his offer, but that didn’t mean he’d give up. Like any good warrior, he knew how to pick his battles and bide his time.

  “You’re sure about this?” Shea said. “These are your people. You’ve done the work. I don’t mind not being in a position of leadership.”

  He took her hand in his, playing with her fingers as he fought to put into words what he thought and felt. He wasn’t a poet. He was a warrior, given to action, but he’d try. For her.

  “I’m sure. This is the best path for us.”

  It was not lost on him how she’d struggled to find her place among them. This would give her purpose and direction. He could think of no better person than a former pathfinder with an unshakable moral compass to shepherd his people into this next era.

  Shea was a visionary. She saw the world as it should be rather than as it was. She saw hope where he would destroy so he might start again.

  She studied him for along moment, her thoughts indecipherable. “This means a lot to you.”

  It was a statement not a question. He answered regardless. “It does. It’s everything I can offer you.”

  Shea sat up, touching his cheek as her gaze delved into his. Whatever she saw there made her face soften, and she dropped a kiss on his lips. “I accept.”

  Fallon’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. He climbed to his knees and let out a victorious cry.

  Shea sputtered, reaching up to try to cover his mouth. “Shh, what are you thinking? They’ll want to come in and make sure you’re alright.”

  Sure enough, Fallon heard his Anateri moving through the other chamber. Shea dove for the covers.

  “We’re fine,” he called, not moving from his kneeling position.

  “Perhaps you could yell a little louder,” Caden’s dry voice came. “I don’t think the entire camp heard you.”

  Shea smothered her giggle as Fallon grinned. “I’ll do my best next time.”

  They waited until the Anateri had retreated before Fallon crawled into bed next to Shea and tugged her into his arms. Before long, the two drifted to sleep.

  *

  Fallon jerked awake, coming to alertness in less than a second. It was a valuable talent for any warrior to have, one he’d cultivated over many years. No one snuck up on him anymore.

  He looked down at Shea sleeping by his side, surprised she hadn’t done the same. His telroi—no, battle queen now—was as light a sleeper as any warrior he’d served with. She’d have to be, given the inherent dangers she faced on the trail.

  That she hadn’t woken spoke to how exhausted she must be. Not really surprising. For all that she had undergone rigorous training by her own people and later Trenton, fighting during battle was different. You expended energy at a much faster rate, the fear of death and the adrenaline rush from fighting for your life burned through your reserves faster than most would understand. That, coupled with the restless sleep and dreams since they’d reached this place, meant everything had finally caught up to her.

  Fallon was careful as he slipped out of bed, making sure his absence wouldn’t wake her.

  There was a soft tap on the privacy screen. Then Wilhelm’s voice. “My lord, there are two men here to see you.”

  “Who is it?” Fallon asked in a low voice.

  There was a pause. “The leaders of Rain and Earth clans.”

  Fallon paused in the middle of pulling on his pants. What did those two want? He glanced back at the bed, the lure of the soft body there and the possibility of rest calling to him.

  He sighed.

  “I’ll see them. Show them in,” he said.

  “As you wish,” Wilhelm said, moving off.

  Fallon finished dressing and left his personal quarters, careful not to give a glimpse of his bed and the sleeping Shea as he slipped past the privacy screen.

  Gawain glowered as Fallon made his entrance, the standard frown on his face. Fallon didn’t let it bother him. As the son of Fallon’s mentor, Gawain got away with more than any other clan leader.

  Perhaps that was because Fallon felt guilt over the partiality Gawain’s father showed Fallon. Henry had made no secret that he considered Fallon the son he’d always wanted. It had led Gawain down a path of bitterness. Made worse by the fact that Fallon was the warlord, his superior.

  Sometimes Fallon wondered why the other man had ever consented to join Fallon’s horde. There had been other options, few though they might have been.

  Ben was a
mirror to Gawain, welcoming Fallon’s presence with a slight smile. The other clan leader had a wrapped bundle placed next to him on the table.

  A glance outside revealed it was still the middle of the night. What could these two want at this late hour?

  “To what do I owe this visit?” Fallon asked in a dry voice, crossing the room.

  While it wasn’t unheard of to have late night guests, the matter was usually of an urgent nature. Given the calm look on their faces, Fallon had to wonder why they had disturbed him.

  “I’m sure Rain wishes to discuss his matter with you first,” Ben said, deferring to the other clan leader.

  Gawain waved a hand, his face disgruntled. “My matter can wait.”

  The response was obviously not what Ben was expecting and he looked momentarily off-kilter.

  “Someone speak now,” Fallon ordered when the silence lingered. “You’ve pulled me from my bed. The least you can do is make this quick.”

  “We do apologize for pulling you from your woman’s warm body,” Gawain said, his voice slightly snide.

  Ah, there was the man Fallon was used to. His and Van’s support this afternoon had been unexpected. This response was more in keeping with the man Fallon knew.

  “That’s the Battle Queen you’re talking about,” Fallon said, satisfaction at being able to give that title to Shea, coursing through him.

  Gawain’s mouth popped open, complete surprise on his face. It didn’t last long as his expression turned thoughtful.

  Fallon registered Ben’s choked gasp, a flash of horror before his face smoothed back into placid lines, but most of his focus was on Gawain.

  Fallon lifted his eyebrows at the man who was both enemy and family all at once. Their relationship was complicated. They should have been the best of friends, brothers in all but name. That they weren’t could be laid at his mentor’s feet, but also at Fallon’s. He’d barely taken notice of the short, skinny child who tagged after him when his mother and he had come to live with the Horse clan.