by Inez Kelley
In wildlife, males preened for female attention, with bright plumes and spread tails, engorged necks and displays of prowess. The races, the arm wrestling, the dagger throw had all been pure masculine strutting. Males did not strut unless the prize, the female, was primed and ready, her subtle lure enflaming warm blood to heated need. Instinct fueled the animal, and man was not much more than an animal who walked upright. She’d find another to experience that enthralling haze.
And she knew just where to go to find such a man.
By air, it took her less than ten minutes to travel what had taken Jester over two hours to traverse. Penna’s tavern house shone with light on the darkened street. Music and boisterous laughter rang through the damp night. Salome swirled to a stop just outside the tavern, in the shadows of the still town. The building pulsed like a frantic heart, each beat filled with gaiety and celebration. She searched through the open window until she spotted the serving wench who’d placed bread before Bryton, the one whose gown she’d mimicked. She sat atop a burly man’s lap and smiled as his hands traversed her body. One beefy hand squeezed her behind and a feline-like grin appeared on painted lips. She pulled the man to his feet and up the stairwell.
“What are you doing out here, dearling?”
A sharp jolt slammed her temporal heart into her chest and Salome spun, her hand wrapped around her throat. She’d not heard the man approach. He noticed her fright and his hand went immediately to a large hunting knife at his hip, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Are you all right? Did someone hurt you?”
“No.” She wet her lips and drew a slowing breath. “I am unharmed.”
“Well, it’s not safe out here for a woman alone. Last week should have proven that to you.” A kind smile tilted his mouth. “I don’t remember seeing you here before. What’s your name?”
“Salome.”
“Salome? That’s different. I like it. I’m Roric. Are you new here?”
“I—I have been here only once.” She motioned toward the tavern. “It is very loud in the tavern.”
“It can be. Men just need to blow off steam, relax a little. Don’t worry. Penna keeps a close watch on her girls. No one will hurt you here.”
Roric seemed nice. He had thick hair the color of walnut cropped close to his head, and the sun had weathered his skin to a polished oak. There was a gentleness in his eyes that soothed her. Simple cotton, his tunic and leggings were clean and stretched across a body used to grueling farm work. He would do nicely. But how did she proceed? If he were sitting, she could climb into his lap as the serving wench had done.
“Would you like me to take you back inside? I mean, you seem a little lost.”
“No, I am not lost. I found you.”
His left eye twitched and a small smile grooved lines around his mouth. “I’m flattered but, um, I’ve no more coin for the night.”
“I require no coin. I simply wish to…” Gathering her nerve, Salome stepped close. He carried the scents of earth and grain, natural familiar smells spiced with a sudden burst of male essence. His jaw was clean and smooth under her palm. The bite of Bryton’s beard shadow leaped to her mind and she shoved it away. He wasn’t as tall as Bryton and she had no trouble reaching his mouth when she went to her toes. His lips fell to hers.
The hand that slid along her hips rasped calluses against the muslin skirt. There was strength in him and she waited for the flood of sensation to come. She waited. His mouth moved along hers, his palm creeping lower, closer to the swell of her behind. Nothing. Her eyes opened. Roric nibbled at her lips, soft sweet movements that felt…nice. Just nice. She did not resist when his tongue slid to hers, touching in timid strokes. Where was the rush of excitement, the tingle of fire along her marrow?
Perhaps it didn’t occur when standing. The hulking black shadow of a wagon lurked behind her. He offered no protest when she pulled her mouth away and tucked her hand into his, tugging him toward the wagon bed. He lifted her to the bed, his hands on her waist firm and powerful. She reclined against feed sacks and bundles and drew him closer.
“You are so pretty, Salome.”
A warm tongue glided along her neck. The hand at her breast kneaded gently and she tightened her embrace. Why didn’t her emotions fly into a tailspin? What was wrong? He kissed her deeper, firmer, and she did not fight him. Nothing. It was just two bodies entwined with no need blazing, no hunger. His hands slid under her skirt and Salome corrected her thinking. Roric’s growing firmness pressed hard into her thigh. He was reacting naturally, why wasn’t she? She felt no need, no longing, as she had with Bryton.
His name in her mind brought a swift hot flame to her chest and shame exploded within her. What was she doing with this stranger? She pushed him away and scrambled from the wagon bed.
“Salome? What’s wrong?”
“I am sorry. I cannot…I’m sorry.” She shot into the shadows of the tavern, a lilac swirl unfolding around her. Her name called out again but her breeze blew harsh, drowning out the questioning cry.
Tears of sleet sparkled in her mist as she soared to the clouds. The restless hunger Bryton had created now wept with abandoned emptiness. She’d erred. She only responded to him, could not replace him in her arms. She devalued what occurred between them, reduced it to biological function when it was more, something she hadn’t understood and still did not comprehend.
Bryton was no animal to obey primal urges but a thinking, feeling man. He understood the sensations he’d stirred but would not act on them. Why? Why had his rejection hurt as much as his blade? Roric had wanted her, why hadn’t Bryton?
Was there some flaw in her design? Why did she crave his comfort, his touch and more when she was supposed to aid him in finding peace? How could her calm be rippled so tumultuously with a kiss, a caress?
The rhythm of nature sang in a mystical song and she opened her mind, the tune pouring through her, soothing her in a timeless embrace. Trees swayed in time and she let the pure, sweet melody of life flow. Mountain ridges jutted into the darkness, steep ominous crags that challenged the sky. She skimmed the snow-capped tops. Faster and tighter she drove through the heavens, twisting and spinning, channeling the rumbling chaos in her essence.
Salt infused the air and she dove toward a white-frothed sea. Waters black as the night churned with her passing, reaching up to touch her flight. Ships rocked against the docks and tiny sailors far below scurried to secure lines and sails. Salome went farther. The sea and heavens met without end, stretching to a blind horizon. A sudden pain shuttled through her.
Bryton.
Her frantic escape and disastrous ploy had not lessened their bond. His anguish cleaved her spirit. Anger and resentment crumbled away as fear burst into her consciousness. He ached. Scorching agony cried out to her. The torment he carried threatened to tear his mind. A tsunami’s wail spilled from nonexistent lips and she spun, flying back to his side.
Landscape blurred beneath her. Stars smeared to streaks of light. The sea salt never left her vapor, or maybe her mystic tears had permeated her soul. She did not take time to think nor care which. Nothing mattered. Nothing but reaching her charge.
Bryton.
A small orange fleck appeared, his jagged pain enveloping her like a blanket. He’d built a fire and sat near the blaze on a damp log. The amber light kissed his hair to glossed brass and gilded the black with gold. Fisted hands covered his face, thumbs pressed tight to his eyelids, elbows on his knees. His chest heaved, struggling to draw air. Salome slowed. He was unhurt. Bewildered, she swirled to form in the tree line, watching him.
He rocked. Waves of shame and regret undulated and a piercing soundless cry screamed from his soul. Though she could not read his thoughts, one word echoed in startling clarity—her name. Her essence cringed in distress. What had she done to him? Guilt and doubts assailed her and she stepped into the fire’s glow.
His rocking ceased. His head slowly rose. His cheeks were dry but the lines around his mo
uth grooved deeper, more pronounced. Shadows layered under blue eyes that raked her chiton then scoured her face. Scarred knuckles fisted to white and a swallow moved his throat. His gaze fell to the fire.
“I didn’t think you were coming back.”
A hollow fracture, a vulnerability never heard from him before, weighted her misery. She dropped her gaze to his knees. “My duty exists still. You shall not die alone.”
Minute embers leaped from the campfire, striving to join the heaven’s lights. They died scant feet from the blaze, too weak, too small, to embrace the lasting glory of the stars. Though they glowed with scalding power and sizzled with heat, they were merely castoffs of a larger fire. Bittersweet knowledge filled her mouth. Just as the flame could not become a star, she could not become what Bryton wanted.
His face went blank, a slab of expressionless granite. Tiny rocks kicked out from under his boots as he stood and stomped toward her. Anger wafted across the fire-lit circle in waves of heated ire. His jaw shifted and he fixed his stony gaze on her face. The black lacing on his shirt collar hung undone. Above it, in the valley of his throat, a rhythmic pulse fluttered. His heartbeat. Salome searched his eyes. They were cold.
“You’re wearing your silk. Did you go to…Did you find a man?”
Wetting her lips with a too-dry tongue, she intertwined her fingers and forced her chin to rise. “His name was Roric.”
Chapter Six
A knife of agony jammed into his gut. Shame bled through with a bitter sting. Oh, fuck, what did I do? He clamped down, gritting his teeth to avoid the howl that burned in his belly. “Where?”
“The tavern belonging to Penna.”
The knife twisted until it hit bone. She went into a tavern dressed like a whore and fucked some guy named Roric? Bitterness welled in his throat, burning with a hundred needles. He couldn’t force the swallow down. Resentment rushed him and he pushed past the pain, past the disgrace, and sucked in huge gulps of air. Each one was flavored with honey he refused to acknowledge.
This was his fault. He’d shoved her away when she was confused and still flushed with desire. He’d yelled and…A growl rumbled from his mouth before he could catch it and he spun on one heel, headed for Jester. He’d ride bareback and be there in two hours.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
A swift breath rang out on a sharp-pitched note and Salome darted in front of him, blocking his path. One long finger poked into his chest with such ferociousness that he took a step back. Brows arched like a raven’s wing cut sharply downward. Her nostrils flared and her eyes glittered in menace. The display of feminine ire clogged his throat with admiration, a respect he rarely gave without merit.
“You will not! You have no say over who I choose to fuck.”
Spots of heat formed on his cheeks. “Don’t use that word! It’s crude. I shouldn’t have said it. I was angry and…Just don’t. Nice women don’t use words like that.”
“What does a woman call it then?”
Bryton dipped his head and rubbed his temples. “Loving is the polite term. Bedding occasionally and…Oh, hell, Salome, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to…It shouldn’t have been like that. Are you all right?”
“Of course.” She would not look him in the eye. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“Some women…hurt the first time. Please tell me he didn’t hurt you.”
“He did not hurt me, you did.”
His head snapped back. She might not know how to throw a dagger but she threw one hell of a sucker punch. Sorrow shaded his whisper to a low gruff scrape. “If I could take it back, change things, I would. It wasn’t you, okay? It’s me. I just…You deserve something more. You need someone who can love you.”
“Love?” Salome squinted. “What is love?”
Bryton twisted his neck, staring at her with shock parting his lips. A groan closed his eyes. “You don’t know what love is? Oh, shit, you are naive.”
“Perhaps you could instruct me and not berate me,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
“Love is…I don’t know, it just is.”
He reached for her hand and she didn’t shy away. Her palm slid along his, velvet on iron. The delicate bones of her hand entranced him. She seemed so frail and yet her fire, her passion, burned like a candle flame in a darkened room. Would she have the same spirited nature in bed? His hunger had not been satisfied and now roared. He guided her to the fire’s edge and sat her on the log. He had to stop touching her.
Deep shadows bisected by watery streams of moonlight played across her face and he drank in her quiet beauty. Her lips were still tight and her brows drawn, jabbing his heart like tiny pins. He had hurt her without meaning to and she’d lashed out. She should have slapped him but, instead, she’d gone looking for what she thought he wanted—an end to her virginity.
When she’d fled into the night, for fifteen minutes he’d been so angry he couldn’t see straight, cursing her down to the last feather. Let her go, he didn’t care. The last thing he needed was a woman slowing him down and interfering. Then he’d started worrying. She wouldn’t really find some man and have sex with him, would she? An hour passed and sick dread churned his bowels. More time and guilt became a tightened noose, choking him. Truth came somewhere in between.
Horror and absolute dishonor had sickened him. He’d sworn a solemn oath to never harm a woman. He’d broken that vow when duty opposed it, questioned a female prisoner and killed a female assassin. Both had made him uneasy. But with Salome, he’d done worse. He’d made her a whore. He’d pushed her into an intimate act with a stranger. It was no better than rape to him. Self-disgust left a thick film on his soul.
She’d lost her innocence because he was a coward. The dream had left him shaken and exposed, and her touch, her caring, lured him. He’d been with women since Katina died, each time closing his eyes and imagining her. One taste of Salome’s mouth and all his reasoning fled. It was no longer Katina beneath him, it was Salome. Every kiss, every caress, had been solely for her. He had trouble conjuring Katina’s smile. All he could see was Salome. It frightened him. He didn’t want to forget.
The thought of Salome with another man, any man, soured his tongue. He couldn’t deny it, he wanted her. But it wouldn’t be right and she didn’t even understand why. How do you explain love to a magic spell? How do you explain the difference between raw, hard-core sex and making real love? How could he make her understand that he was afraid he’d lose Katina all over again, this time in Salome’s arms?
Flustered energy pulsed as he paced around the fire, scratching his head and mumbling to himself about birds and bees. Hell, she knew all that, knew more now than she had when they made camp. But all that was physical. He didn’t know what to say. He could teach her swordplay or battle maneuvers, wrestling or the best poisons to silence an enemy, but love? No, he had no clue what to say.
“Where the hell’s Taric and his love poems when you need his royal ass?”
“I believe the king resides in Thistlemount.”
Bryton stopped and shook his head. A smile tickled his lips, nearly curling his mouth. A softness wedged into his chest. Still so innocent. “Yeah, he does.”
Kneeling in the sodden dirt, he reached for her hand. “Salome, listen. I’m not very good at this. I’m a soldier, not a poet. Love is…When you love someone, you want nothing more than to make that person happy. If it takes a jewel or a gift or an embrace, you’ll do what you have to just to see them smile. Something here—” he touched her breastbone with a gentle fingertip, “—gets warm when you think about them and you can’t get them out of your mind. You don’t want them out of your mind. If they’re near, your heart races and everything is better, brighter. When you’re apart from them, you feel empty. Nothing is as important to you as being with them.”
“What you describe, this is love?”
“The best I can describe it, yes.”<
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“Then I love you, Bryton.”
A flutter nestled under his ribs. She didn’t understand but those words, so sweetly whispered, touched deep inside him. He almost wished she meant them. A squeeze to her fingers accompanied his sad smile. “No, you don’t. You’re duty bound to me, that’s different. Love is magical, Salome. It’s a force that doesn’t have a match. It’s stronger than any man and softer than any woman. You’ll know it when it comes.”
“My time in this world is tied to you, Bryton. You are my purpose.”
A bewildered slant lowered his brows. “I guess it is. I didn’t think about that.”
“Have you loved many women?”
“Only one.”
“But you have loved with others?”
“Yeah, I don’t know how to explain it any more but they were just…sex. Sex is only a sliver of what real loving is. It feels good but it doesn’t touch the soul of who you are.”
“When you touched me, kissed me, I felt…alive, hungry, empty. I wanted more.”
“That’s lust. Too many stupid things happen in life because people get lust and love mixed up. My point to this whole thing is innocence is a gift. You can’t get that back. It’s not something you should have given away to just anyone. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough. You are, Salome. It’s me who isn’t worthy of you.”
Salome nibbled her lip. “I found a man who seemed kind. He kissed me and touched me. I expected the same from his touch as I feel from yours. I felt nothing.”
Could she twist that damn knife any deeper into his belly? It should have struck bone by now. Bryton fought the grimace thinning his mouth. He didn’t want to hear about her lover. But if the man hurt her, he was dead. Bryton would carve him like a roast goose and enjoy every screaming slice.
“But you’re okay, right? Even if you didn’t fly with him, he didn’t hurt you?”
Her head angled sharply and her brow dipped. “Fly with him?”