The King's Warrior (Pict King Series Book 2)

by Donna Fletcher

  “I looked and looked,” Neva said, never taking her eyes off Wrath. “I was frightened my da...” She sniffled.

  “You were frightened that the bad men hurt your da as they did your mum.”

  Neva nodded and sniffled back her tears again.

  “How did you get your wound?” Wrath asked again.

  “I saw my friend Hyde sitting on the ground crying, his head bleeding. I ran to him and pulled him away from the fighting. My arm hurt after that.”

  “You are a brave warrior, Neva. I would fight beside you any day,” Wrath said.

  “I am brave?” Neva asked, her eyes widening again, but not with fear this time, with surprise.

  Wrath brushed the wet tears off her full cheeks, taking some of the grime with it. “Brave warriors help those in need. You went for help for your mum. You bravely searched for your da and you helped your friend. You are a true warrior.”

  Neva tilted her head, staring up at Wrath, and smiled shyly. “You are the best warrior of all.”

  “And you are the bravest little warrior I know.”

  Her smile widened and her cheeks spotted red.

  Verity listened to their exchange, surprised by how Wrath taught the little lass strength yet showed her such caring. He would make a good da one day and the thought saddened her, for she would not know such joy, and certainly not with him. She turned her attention to the splinter and worked as delicately as possible.

  “Got it,” Verity said after a moment and held up a fairly long splinter.

  Neva stared at it surprised, then broke into a big grin. “It did not hurt.”

  Wrath gave the little lass a poke in the side. “That is because you are a brave warrior.”

  Neva giggled.

  “Some salve and a bandage and you are all done,” Verity said.

  When all was finished, Neva gave Wrath a hug, slid off his knee and ran to her mum.

  “I am grateful for your kindness and help with my daughter. The Raban Tribe is blessed to have the mighty Wrath and his wife among us.”

  Verity went to correct her as the woman turned and walked away.

  Wrath grabbed her arm. “Let it be. No one needs to know what we are about.”

  She supposed he was right, but it was also not necessary for the tribe to believe them wed.

  Wrath walked off and Verity returned to help where she could. She kept Wrath in her sight as he had said for her to do, though it was more from curiosity than obedience. She caught a glimpse of him speaking with Harran. She wondered what he had to say about the attack. It seemed strange. If peace existed among the tribes, then who had attacked the tribe?

  She had taken the opportunity while working with the women to ask several of them if any strangers, particularly a woman, had passed this way recently. Their answers were all the same. No strangers had been in the village until the attack today.

  Food was prepared and shared among all.

  Verity ate as did Wrath, though they did not eat together. Wrath still spoke with Harran and food was brought to both of them while she ate with the women. She continued to help where she could and when dusk drew near, Neva’s mum, Deryn showed her to a dwelling.

  It was small with a raised sleeping pallet and a bench. The fire pit was thick with flames that warmed the room nicely. The bedding looked fresh and there was a hint of pine in the air. The dwelling had been made fresh for her and Wrath.

  “We are grateful for what your husband has done for us and we wanted you both to have a dwelling of your own while you are here,” Deryn said.

  “We do not wish to put anyone out of their home.”

  “It is an empty home,” Deryn said sadly.

  Verity understood. It had belonged to someone who had lost their life this day.

  The door opened and Wrath entered.

  Deryn was quick to excuse herself and as she left another woman entered with two buckets filled with snow and a cloth. She placed them on the edge of the fire pit and with a hasty bob of her head hurried out the door.

  Wrath began to disrobe for the second time that day.

  Verity turned and hung her cloak on a peg, keeping her back to him.

  “You have seen me naked before why turn away now?”

  He was right. She had seen him naked and not just today. She had seen more than just naked men. Northmen slaves lived in the same quarters as the families they served. She had closed her eyes and wished she could have closed her ears against the sounds of mating. One man told her to watch and learn so she would know how to please a man. She never looked, except for one time when the grunts and groans woke her. She had opened her eyes to see the woman she served on her hands and knees on the sleeping pallet and the man on his knees behind her, his hands firm on her backside as he drove his shaft in and out of her with powerful thrusts. After that night, she always made certain to sleep on her side with her back to the Northman and his wife.

  “Come and help clean the blood off me.”

  She, like Neva, knew a command when she heard it. She turned and walked over to him.

  He was sitting on the bench and he held the cloth out to her as she approached. “I will not sleep beside you with the blood of battle on me.”

  The thoughtful gesture was lost to her since she was more concerned with sharing the narrow sleeping pallet with him. They would need to sleep tightly beside each other. Why did that disturb her? They had done so before. Why should she feel a twinge of worry? Or was it worry that she felt?

  She took the cloth and turned to the buckets. The snow had melted and she plunged the cloth into the water and shivered. “It is cold.”

  “It does not matter. The blood must be washed off.”

  Verity shivered again when she ran the chilled cloth over his back, though he showed no sign of it disturbing him. She washed his back twice, rinsing the cloth each time. When she finished, she gently ran her hand slowly along his shoulders to make certain his body drawings concealed no spots of blood, and she felt him shiver.

  “You are cold,” she said. “I will hurry and finish.”

  Wrath did not trust himself to speak. His shiver had nothing to do with the chill of the cloth. He had suffered through far worse cold than that. It was her tender touch that had sent a shiver through him. It had come upon him so quickly that he could not stop it, as did his arousal. He had learned, watching the foolishness of other men, never to let his need control him. Yet now his need was rebelling and all from a simple touch.

  Feeling for how he must be suffering through the cold, Verity hurried to wash his arms, though some blood spots needed a stronger scrubbing than others. Her concern for him grew when he once again shivered after she finished running her hands slowly along his arms.

  She rinsed the cloth once more and stepped in front of him to see to his chest. Some spots were difficult to reach since he kept his legs closed. Not thinking, she nudged them apart with her knee and stepped between them. She realized then why his legs had remained closed... his shaft was thick and hard, and ready for mating. She stared, never having seen him this size before and could not help but think of him behind her pounding into her as the Northman had done to his wife, and a strangely pleasant feeling tickled between her legs.

  “I will grow harder if you continue to stare and you will find me slipping into you fast enough if that longing in your eyes continues to grow.”

  She jolted back, stumbling, and his hands shot out and grabbed her arms. “What frightens you that you back away from me? Fear that it would happen or fear it would not?”

  “I have no wont to mate with you,” she said, yanking to free her arm, but his grip was like a shackle around it—strong and tight.

  He grinned and yanked her toward him as he stood. “Another lie, and one that will cost you dearly.”

  She held her tongue,

  “You cannot deny what shows in your eyes or what you feel between your legs.”

  She gasped, her teeth grabbing too late at her lower lips to stop
it.

  He laughed softly. “Why do you bother to lie when you cannot hide it?”

  She dug her teeth into her lip to stop herself from responding, fearful of what she might say or do.

  “Nipping at your lip will not help, though a plumped lip makes for a tastier kiss.”

  She gasped again and Wrath did not wait, he captured her lips with his, his tongue entering her mouth to take command as he swiftly tucked her one arm behind her back and tugged her hard against him with her own hand. His other hand quickly cupped the back of her head and held it firm so she could not pull away.

  Verity was so stunned that she did not know what to do, did not know how to respond. Instinct took hold and while she thought to push him away, futile as it was, something else in her begged her not to. She wanted him to kiss her and she wanted to kiss him in return, and she did.

  She enjoyed the feel of his lips on hers, the playful taunts of his tongue, the way he held her tight against him, and the pleasurable stirring that spread inside her. Her free arm went up around his neck as her lips begged for more from him.

  Wrath had seen desire flare in her eyes and knew she hungered to be kissed. What he had not expected was how hungry he was to kiss her. It was like a burning inside him that needed feeding, yet the more he kissed her, the hungrier he became.

  He could not recall feeling such an overwhelming need for a woman that the thought of not joining with her flared his anger. That his need dominated all else annoyed him, as did the reminder that lies came much too easily to her lips.

  He ended the kiss, his hand taking strong hold of her chin. “When you cease your lies, I may consider joining with you.” He released her and turned his back on her, reaching for the cloth to clean his legs.

  His words stabbed sharply at Verity and hurt more than she cared to admit, and she stepped away from him.

  “The night grows late and there is much to do on the morrow. Settle yourself in the sleeping pallet and I will join you shortly.”

  “I will not sleep with you,” she snapped, angry at his hurtful words, angry at herself for returning his kiss, angry that she had kissed him because she had let herself care for him. He had no such feelings for her. She met no more to him than the woman Simca whose sleeping pallet he had shared instead of remaining with her.

  He swerved around, that ember she had seen in his eyes had sparked to life. “You think I gave you a choice?”

  “The choice is mine,” she said surprised by the defiance in her voice.

  “Get in the sleeping pallet,” he ordered, taking a step toward her.

  She took a step back. “I thought you a kind man.”

  “You were mistaken.”

  “I will not—”

  “You will,” he finished.

  The anger mounting in his dark eyes should have been enough to do as he said as well as her custom to obedience. But something inside her refused to paid heed to his words.

  She had almost forgotten the word, not recalling when it last fell from her lips, but this time it spewed out sharply. “No!”

  Anger flared in his eyes, then he grinned.

  Chapter Ten

  Verity was caught up in his arms and was flat on her back on the sleeping pallet with him on top of her before she knew what happened. Her mouth sat agape and her eyes spread wide, simply not knowing what to do or say.

  “Close your mouth. I will not kiss you again, at least not yet,” Wrath said.

  Her chin shot up defiantly. “I do not want you to kiss me.”

  He grinned again and gave a short laugh. “There you go lying again.”

  “I am not lying,” she said and almost bit her tongue, for she had never lied so much in her life since meeting Wrath, but it was necessary. Or so she told herself.

  “Truly?” he asked, his grin having disappeared as if her words had shocked him. He brought his face close to hers. “Should I prove you lie?”

  Verity snapped her head to the side.

  “Your silence speaks louder than any words could.”

  She did not know if it was courage or foolishness that grabbed hold of her, or perhaps she had been forced to hold her tongue far too long that now she spoke as she pleased and without thought to consequences. “You are cruel.”

  He laughed again. “No, cruel would have been me stripping you naked and giving you a taste of the pleasure I can bring you.”

  “I will not couple with you ever and do not laugh at me again,” Verity said with an anger that surprised her.

  He grinned this time. “More lies.”

  “Never, ever would I want to couple with you,” she said firmly.

  He pushed himself off her to sit back and spread her legs apart so quickly that once again she was at a loss to respond.

  He slipped his hand beneath her tunic, running his hand up along the inside of her leg. “So you are not wet and ready for me?”

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  “That is not an answer,” he said as his hand moved further up along her leg, stroking softly, squeezing playfully, and tempting unmercifully.

  Verity shut her eyes, enjoying his intimate touch, wishing he was touching her because he wanted to, because he cared for her. But he did not and she could not let him continue.

  She whispered her surrender, “Aye, you are right.” She kept her eyes closed and waited for his words that were sure to sting her.

  His hand stopped moving along her leg and she felt him move over her, and she held her breath. He slipped to her side, turning her on her side to face the wall and fit himself close against her back. He spread a blanket over them before he draped his arm over her waist and tucked her back against him tightly.

  They would sleep. They would do no more than sleep and Verity breathed a soft sigh of relief.

  “We will couple,” he whispered in her ear, “often.”

  It was not that words had failed her that kept her silent. It was that she did not trust herself to speak. She feared the truth might slip out and then what? She would feel foolish that he would know that she had begun to care for him. He would probably laugh at her. She should laugh at herself for having any feelings at all for him. She did not truly know him, though she felt she had come to know him through her visions. He had been there to help her in every vision she had had of him. He was always there to keep her safe and he had said he would keep her safe.

  He did not, however, say he cared for her. She forced her eyes closed, trying to force the endless thoughts from her mind. She wished the wound to her head still pained her. At least then it would hold her thoughts as she fought against it. But it hurt her no more, unlike the pain she felt when she thought about Wrath and how he would never care for her.

  We will couple... often.

  He might think that, but Verity knew better. She would not couple with him and walk away like the other women did. It was not possible and so she would never couple with him.

  She yawned as sleep drifted over her and she let herself be carried off where no constant thoughts would haunt her.

  Wrath knew the moment she fell asleep. Her body grew limp and her breathing turned soft. He, however, would not be so fortunate. He was still trying to comprehend how Verity was making him feel. He never hesitated in coupling with any woman who had been wet and ready for him and yet when Verity admitted as much... he had stopped. She had wanted to couple with him and yet she did not, and he would have her no other way but completely willing.

  Cruel.

  It actually had stung to hear her say that and that disturbed him. He could be cruel when needed, but he had no wish to be cruel to her. What choice did he have when she lied repeatedly to him? Why the lies? That was what disturbed him the most. He did not think Verity was prone to lying. She was doing so for a reason. And he intended to find out, just as he intended to couple with her, when the time was right.

  The problem that kept nagging at him was that once he did mate with her, he did not know if he would ever be able to let her g
o.

  ~~~

  Verity ate with the women just after dawn. An early start was necessary since there was much yet to be done. Men were already busy repairing some of the dwellings damaged by the fire. Layers of pine branches would serve to cover the holes in the roof until it could be properly mended when it was not so cold.

  A hunting party left just after Verity had joined the women to eat. One of their dwellings that stored their food had been damaged along with the contents inside. If more food was not found and prepared, the tribe could go hungry.

  Some of the women helped the men make repairs to the weapons while others helped the healer tend the wounded and another group saw to keeping everyone fed. Even the children joined in to cart away debris, though they did more running and laughing, but they’re young resilience and joy in the face of such hardship was a healing help to all.

  Verity saw that although Wrath was busy speaking with Harran, he made sure to keep her in his sight.

  “Your husband cares for you greatly,” a woman said and the other women around the outside fire pit nodded in agreement. “He rarely takes his eyes off you.”

  Because he does not trust me. But then she gave him reason not to trust her and that disturbed her all the more.

  Verity did her best to smile and nod as if she agreed with them.

  “He is a powerful and fearless warrior. You must be proud to call him your husband,” another woman said.

  “I am very proud to have such a brave man as my mate,” she said and would have been if he was her husband. But even if he was not, she did believe him a brave man. She needed one as fearless as Wrath to help find Hemera.

  The cold lingered and so did the gray skies, but no snow fell. Verity kept working along with everyone else. It helped keep the cold from settling inside her. All was going well, the village repairs doing nicely and smiles returning to many faces.

  The smiles vanished quickly when loud shouts were heard. Men and women rushed to gather weapons, ready to fight, and the children were gathered and made ready to flee to safety. One of the hunters who had left earlier suddenly appeared and spoke with Harran and Wrath.