Warcry

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Eln shut the door swiftly behind her.

  “They followed me,” Anna said in an offended whisper. “One of Lord Durst’s men, up from the kitchens, if you can believe.”

  Eln took the tray. “Anna—”

  “Standing around my kitchen, eating my food, disrupting my staff,” Anna growled. “I’ll see to it that their bellies—”

  “Anna,” Othur said. “Anna, look who’s—”

  “Mama?” Heath said softly.

  His mother’s head turned, and her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She just held open her arms in a longing plea.

  Heath walked into them and swept her into a hug as she clasped him tight. He felt her body start to shake as she began to weep—great sobs that shook her entire body.

  “Mama, mama, it’s all right.” Heath’s voice cracked. “I’m here, I’m here.”

  “My baby, my baby.” Anna lifted her tear-stained face to look at him. “Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you, thank you. Oh, my son, I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I’m home, Mama,” Heath whispered. “And Lara will be here tomorrow.” He hugged her tight, then eased up, letting her get her breath. “Healthy, happy, and as big as a cow.”

  “Heath!” Anna stepped back, wiping her eyes. “You best not have said that to her!”

  “No.” Heath grinned at his mother. “But you’ll agree.”

  “No, no.” Anna shook her head. “You never say that to a pregnant lady. The very idea—”

  She stopped in mid-sentence and stiffened, her eyes going over Heath’s shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”

  OTHUR GAVE ATIRA QUITE A BIT OF CREDIT. SHE only snarled and put her hand on her dagger hilt. Far better than he expected.

  “You have a lot of nerve, showing your face here after luring my son off, chasing after you like a dog chases after a bitch—”

  Othur moved, then, to take his wife by the shoulders. “Anna, that’s enough. You must return to the kitchens. The man that followed you here will leave with you. That will clear the way for Heath to return to Lara with our warning.”

  Anna’s glare was hot, but Othur had years of experience dealing with it. He just turned her toward the door. “Come, my love. Heath will be here officially tomorrow. That’s time enough for this conversation.”

  “I’ll go with Anna,” Eln said. “Escort her to the kitchen, get some more medicines.”

  “And no doubt eat your own meal,” Othur grumbled.

  “A Master Healer needs to keep up his strength,” Eln agreed. “Come, Anna.”

  “Very well,” Anna sniffed.

  Eln and Anna slipped through the door together—Anna still weeping, Eln offering quiet reassurances as to Othur’s health.

  Othur pulled Heath and Atira over to the hearth and lowered his voice. “Time for you both to go. Make sure that Lara makes a big impression during her entrance tomorrow.”

  “I think she planned on it,” Heath said.

  Othur nodded. “I will make a miraculous recovery a day or two after her return—attributed to Eln’s amazing healing powers, of course. Or Lara’s.”

  He reached for Atira’s hand. “You’ll forgive my ladywife? She loves Heath, and it may take time for her to adjust to this idea.”

  “Idea?” Atira looked confused. “Idea of what?”

  “Ah.” Othur glanced back between the two of them. “Well, that will wait as well. Best be on your way.”

  Atira went to blow out the candles, leaving only the fire in the hearth to light the room. Othur reached to give Heath a hug at the same time his son reached out for him. He gave thanks to the gods at his son’s return, as those strong arms held him close.

  “Go, go,” Othur said, stepping back into the shadows behind the door.

  With that, they were gone, closing the door behind them.

  Othur sighed, then picked up the tray that Anna had brought and went over to the fire. He sat, replacing the blanket so that he looked the proper invalid, and took up the bowl of broth. It tasted fine; for all of her sharp tongue, his Anna was an excellent cook.

  Othur settled into the chair with a sigh of pleasure. Heath had returned from the Plains, and he looked fit and healthy. Lara would be back tomorrow, and that was cause for joy, and not just because she bore a babe. She and her Warlord would deal with the governance of Xy, with Othur in the background where he belonged.

  Othur grimaced as he contemplated the amount of work that would be waiting for him. But Heath had been trained in a Seneschal’s duties; perhaps he could take over some of the tasks. Captain of the Castle Guard would be a good start.

  Maybe he could start to recover tomorrow, and at least call for real food again. He was fairly sure he could eat a haunch all by himself, and a few loaves of Anna’s good bread.

  Provided her bread was good. Anna’s cooking tended to sour when she was unhappy, and she was not happy about Atira’s role in Heath’s departure.

  But then again, it seemed that Atira was uncertain as to her place in Heath’s life.

  Well, one thing was sure. He’d seen the look in his son’s eyes, and he knew full well that Heath had lost his heart.

  Othur decided to concentrate on enjoying his broth. These things all tended to work themselves out one way or another, and worrying wouldn’t make anything happen any faster.

  “WHAT GIVES HER THE RIGHT TO TALK THAT WAY?” Atira demanded.

  They’d returned to the pines with little more than silent steps through dark halls and whispers to the palace guards. The only delay had been in the last room, the one that Heath claimed as his own. He’d paused, rummaging in one of the trunks, removing something that he’d bundled up and brought with him.

  The horses were resting undisturbed where they’d left them. Heath had filled a waterskin with cold water from a creek, and they had gurt and dried meat to share. The stars gave enough light to see by as they settled under the pines.

  “You ever see a warrior about to make a mistake, and care enough to stop them?” Heath asked.

  “Of course.” Atira took a drink from the waterskin.

  “Well, take that care and turn it into a herd of thundering horses, and you have a mother’s care. That’s what makes her think she has the right.”

  “Think?” Atira asked slyly.

  “My mother doesn’t decide how I live my life,” Heath said firmly. “I do.” He took the waterskin from her. “Clouds are moving in; it will be pitch dark in a few hours. We’ll bed down here and sleep until first light. With any luck, we can get back to camp before they’ve had their kavage.”

  Atira nodded. There was no sense risking the horses in the dark. She offered Heath her pouch of gurt, but he shook his head, so she tucked it back into her saddlebag. “What’s in that bundle that you brought from the castle?”

  “Something for tomorrow.” Heath stood. “I’ll get our bedrolls.”

  “We should share,” Atira stood, brushing pine needles from her trous. “For warmth.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Heath repeated. “If you are not interested in a life with me, Atira of the Bear, then no, I am not going to let you string me along like a spare mount.” He appeared out of the darkness, and dropped the bedrolls at her feet.

  “I am not string—”

  “Yes, you are,” Heath said calmly. “I want a life with you, not just sharing.” He looked off in the direction of the castle. “I’d also forgotten . . .”

  Atira waited, but Heath just shook his head and knelt down to spread out his bedroll in silence. “Forgotten what?” she asked.

  For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he sighed. “I’d forgotten that once I was back in the city, I’d be expected to return to my duties. My responsibilities. Serving in the Guard. Aiding my father.” Heath frowned at the blankets in his hands. “There’s something going on in the castle and it’s my job to prevent it.”


  “The Warlord will protect the Warprize from any threat, as will all of his warriors,” Atira pointed out.

  “You’ll protect her from any threat you see,” Heath corrected her. “But it’s a very different world from the Plains, and I can detect unseen threats.”

  “Not so different,” Atira sighed. “The Council is sundered, and warrior fights warrior now.”

  “True enough,” Heath said. “Dangers all around, I fear.”

  “But for this night, we are safe enough,” Atira said. “We are off the path, and the horses will warn of any approach. No need to keep watch.”

  Heath nodded and unbuckled his sword-belt. Atira stepped closer and put her fingers on his. “We’re not within those walls, my city-dweller. And I am here . . . and I want you.”

  “Atira,” Heath’s whisper was a breath on her cheek. “Tomorrow . . .”

  “Who can say what tomorrow will bring?” Atira asked, then pressed her lips to his.

  For a moment, she feared he’d resist her or push her away. But then his lips opened under hers.

  “I want you,” Heath groaned.

  “You have me,” Atira said, pressing as close as armor allowed.

  “No, I don’t,” Heath said. “But if I can’t have you, I can have this night . . . this memory.” He claimed her mouth then, a kiss that seared her soul. Atira gasped against his lips as he crushed her in his arms. “You’ll not forget this night, my lady.”

  CHAPTER 9

  GODS, HE WANTED TO RESIST HER. HE’D THOUGHT to say no, to refuse to have sex with her. But more than anything, he wanted her to want him. And only him.

  One last time. One chance to make her his. After that . . .

  To hell with ‘after.’ All he really had was now.

  He crushed her in his arms, kissing her, and curled his hand up into her hair, pulling it loose of its bun. As desperate as he was, he forced himself to slow down, easing up on his hold. He concentrated on Atira’s mouth, all its textures and tastes. He felt her sigh, felt her arms go around him, felt her warm hands spread out to caress his upper back.

  Heath moaned softly, drawing her closer, letting his hands drift down to cup her ass. Atira bucked into his groin and groaned into his mouth. “Heath . . .” she whispered.

  Heath broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck. They both breathed deeply, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Atira broke the silence first. “Want this. So much. Your arms, your mouth. Heath, I just want you.”

  Heath drew a breath. “You have me.”

  “Want more.” Atira reached for the bottom of his chain shirt.

  Armor melted away, weapons carefully placed within reach, as they took their time to stroke and caress each other’s skin. When they were finally naked, Atira lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, which brought more of her skin in contact with his. She rubbed herself against him like a cat, almost purring.

  Heath hummed in satisfaction and brought his hand up to caress one of her breasts. Her nipple hardened against his palm. Atira melted against him, pressing herself closer, spreading her legs. Heath used his free hand to pull her close and let her feel the extent of his desire.

  Atira gasped at the contact.

  Heath chuckled and pulled back slightly. “Perhaps I should stop?”

  “Skies, no.” Atira tightened her grip on his neck. “Feels so good.” She drew in a ragged breath. “Please, Heath.” She moved closer, trying to rub against him.

  “Not yet,” Heath murmured. He pulled back slightly, letting his hands rest on the upper swell of Atira’s ass, using his thumbs to brush lightly at the base of her spine.

  “Please.” Atira lowered one hand and reached for him, to take him in.

  Heath turned her in his arms and wrapped one strong arm around her chest. With his other hand, he reached down and circled her heat with a gentle touch. Atira moaned and arched back, pushing against Heath’s hardness.

  Heath nuzzled the spot behind Atira’s ear and started to play with her nipples. “I love that I can do this to you. That my touch affects you this way.”

  Atira leaned back against him, rubbing her ass against his groin. She covered his hand with her own, trying to increase the pressure. “Please, Heath. I want—”

  “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

  “Skies, please, stroke me again. Here.” Atira took his hand and guided it down to her depths.

  With a gentle touch, Heath grasped her wrists, pinning them against her body. Attira struggled, but Heath tightened his grip. “My way, my beloved.”

  Atira put her head back and moaned.

  Heath allowed his touch to deepen as his fingers explored her. Atira jerked her hips, trembling in his arms. She shifted slightly, spreading her legs. “Deeper, lover. Go deeper.”

  Heath paused, holding his hand still.

  Atira pushed against him, trying to drive his fingers further into her slick, wet heat.

  “I’m not just any lover, Atira.” Heath held perfectly still as Atira writhed in his arms. “Say my name,” he demanded.

  Atira tried to get her hands free, but Heath resisted. “Say my name, Atira of the Bear.” He whispered the words against her skin, placing soft kisses on her neck and shoulders.

  “Heath,” Atira whispered. “Please, Heath. Your hands, your touch. Skies, please, I need—”

  He answered her need, pushing in deep and brushing her nub.

  Atira grabbed his arm and came with a shout before melting into his arms. She was boneless, sweaty and sticky, and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air. He lowered her to the bedrolls, watching her breathe. He was still hard. Still aching. But that was all right.

  The night was not over.

  ATIRA AWOKE TO BLINK SLEEPILY AT HER LOVER. She could just see the outline of his head against the sky. “Heath,” she whispered.

  “Beloved.”

  “Such a city-dweller you are, lover.” Atira lifted her arms over her head and stretched. Heath watched as she eased out of her stance, his eyes hooded and intent. Atira gave him a soft, sultry look. “Something I want, Heath.”

  “Anything.” Heath whispered the word, then said it again. “Anything, Atira.”

  Atira attacked then, pulling him down, wrestling around so that he was flat on his back, and she was astride him. He was hard between her thighs. Atira smiled down, shaking her hair out so that it formed a curtain around them. “Oh no, city-dweller. You have to tell me that you want this.” She put her hands on the blankets by Heath’s shoulders and leaned down, letting her nipples graze his skin. “On my terms.”

  Heath blinked up at her.

  “You’d bind me to you, possess me, yes?” Atira shifted slightly, increasing the pressure on Heath’s groin. “You’d try to use our pleasure for that purpose. Well, I want you, Heath of Xy. Want you bad.” Atira kissed him, then pulled back. “Do you want me?”

  Heath swallowed hard, shuddering beneath her. All he seemed able to manage was a nod.

  Atira shook her head, making sure the tips of her hair brushed his chest. “Say it, Heath. Say it, for all the skies to hear.”

  Heath had to moisten his lips to get the words out. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, putting his hands on Atira’s hips. “Gods help me, yes.”

  Atira eased back, a satisfied smile on her lips. Then she lifted up slightly, and reached between her legs, taking Heath in her hand—

  HE’D FORGOTTEN THAT SHE WAS A WARRIOR, almost as strong as he was, truth be known.

  Now she was poised above him, having taken the upper hand, and damned if he was willing to fight her. He wanted her on any terms. His, hers, whatever, his body knew nothing more than want . . . and desire.

  She eased back, smiling that triumphant smile, and then reached between, taking him into her hand, positioning herself.

  She eased down, and there was pressure and heat. Atira gasped, suddenly stiff and rigid.

  “Atira?” Heath managed to stay still as she braced herself on hi
s chest, and panted. He moved his hands up to cover hers. “Did I hurt you?”

  Atira shook her head, her eyes closed. “Just been so long.” She swallowed, drawing in deep breaths.

  “We can stop, if—”

  “No,” Atira drew another breath, slower this time. She moved back, and Heath felt himself slide deeper into her heat and pressure. He gasped, fighting the urge to buck his hips up, to move into that pleasure.

  Atira eased up and then sank down a bit more. “Ah, so damn good,” she panted again. “Just don’t move, Heath. Give me some time.” She opened those beautiful eyes to grin wickedly into his. “You’re so big, warrior.”

  Heath drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to hold still. But the sensation was amazing. “There are no words,” he gasped, hoping she would understand.

  Atira’s eyes were half closed as she breathed, “There aren’t supposed to be.”

  She sat up then, bracing herself with her thighs. Heath moved his hands up to stroke her, but she caught them and brought them up to her breasts. “Not . . . yet.” She bit her lip and allowed herself to sink down a bit more.

  Heath moaned, and Atira joined him, each lost in their own sensation. Heath managed to force his eyes open, only to see Atira, her thighs trembling, raise up slightly. The sensation was incredible, and he had to fight the urge to move.

  Atira rocked slightly, then sank down again. “So powerful.” She pressed his hands over her breasts. “I want it all. All of you. On my terms.” She sat up again, and then impaled herself again, taking more of him each time. “Want to feel you deep within me.”

  Heath kneaded her breasts, urging her on. He shuddered again and watched Atira, her skin gleaming in the fading starlight. Hot, sweaty, and beautiful.

  Atira cried out and threw her head back, using her nails to scratch at Heath’s skin as she sank down until she had all of Heath.

  They froze, each breathing hard. Atira opened her eyes to gaze at Heath with such a look of desire that he groaned at the sight. For one moment, he lost control and bucked up into the heat.