“These skirmishes are by men Kuran cares not for. Their deaths mean little to him. He hides for fear the Overlord will crush him. It is time you send a message on behalf of Vaan.”
Against his will a fine tremor rolled down Saran’s back and his heart thumped madly. His skill improved greatly and finally reached a point where he could defeat Ramar and hold his own against Kavan. He could also last longer than a piss when faced with Argan. None of that reassured him nor did it prove him capable of defending the land for his brother.
But Saran would not voice his concerns aloud to these men after the work they put in training him. “Speak clearly, Argan.”
“Vaan wants you to lead a party the next time an attack occurs. Show them in a way no one can deny that Kaban will not fall whilst in your grip.” Argan subtly tipped his head toward Kavan. “Later we will all have our true vengeance for what they did in Raasa that day.”
Not knowing what Vaan planned concerning the taciturn Kavan left him unsure. The Warlord spoke very little during his time here but Saran admitted the lengthy matches between them increased his edge and reflexes. Kavan gave little away and maintained a stoic expression even when Saran managed to slide his blade along his side in a potentially dangerous move. Kavan fought on as blood dripped in a steady cascade. He was not a Warlord Saran wanted to ever face in true battle.
“What say you, Warlord Saran?” Argan’s gaze never wavered.
Nerves twisted into a tight coil in his gut. “I will do as you ask.”
As if his agreement was all they waited for, his brother’s Warlords rose to their feet.
“Then we leave you to it,” Ramar said. “Blessed One watch over you.”
Argan’s lips curved up. “A fala fir Galip randala.”
Then the Shadow King stepped back and vanished into a slice of darkness, consumed by the shifting shadows in their tiny corner of the room.
Kavan cursed but Ramar only laughed. “I think he likes doing that more and more.”
Despite his unsettled feelings, Saran found himself smiling. Later the smile faded as he walked outside to see the Warlords off on their hapfe and spotted Casin and Melane standing together, hips brushing as they spoke. Casin cupped her cheek and tipped her face up.
All of his good feelings dropped and a growing hole opened in the pit of his stomach. Casin spoke and chuckled. His hand fell to his side, lending Saran some relief at the closeness he witnessed. Melane laughed, her lips moving in some tease before she danced away, coming to a hard stop as her gaze landed on him.
Saran stared, taking in the brief flare of awareness flashing between them. She licked her lips and beneath her gown her nipples budded. All was not lost then. She still desired him despite whatever she shared with the other Warlord. But for how long? Saran knew Casin wasn’t opposed to having her to bride. If that happened, she would be out of his reach. No worthy warrior approached another’s woman.
Taking a chance, he moved forward, stepping into her path deliberately when she would have veered off to go around him. “Good even tide, Melane.”
She had no choice but to acknowledge him. To do less was an insult but she made it a point to avoid direct eye contact. “Warlord Saran.”
Warlord Saran. So that was to be the way of it. “I gave you leave to call me Saran.”
“I remember.” She cleared her throat, head still turned away.
He refused to give up. “I would sit with you for the evening meal.”
“What?” Her gaze snapped to his face.
Saran pressed in closer, the skirts of her gown twining about his legs. He pushed the former connection between them and ran a hand through her loosened hair. Silky soft. “Dine with me.”
Melane clutched her hands together. “You do not want me, Warlord.”
That she believed this of him hurt more than he expected but the fault lay with him. “I speak truth. I would have your company.”
“No.”
His hand froze in her hair and he checked her expression to confirm the seriousness of her refusal. “No?”
“I plan to share the evening meal with Casin.”
His fingers tightened, tugging her near as he lowered his head to whisper. “I once asked this question and you answered me true. I will ask again. Do you yet share his bed, Melane?”
Fire lit the depths of her eyes. Mouth pursed, she gritted out, “I think we both can agree, this is not a concern of yours, Warlord.”
“I want it to be my concern again.” He wanted the right and much more.
“Too bad you will not get your way.” She shifted away from him and pushed at his chest.
Saran didn’t budge. “I want you. Nothing has changed in that regard and I believe you still want me.”
Melane smacked his chest, putting force behind the blow. “You are dense! This is not about physical pleasure.”
Saran tensed. Physical pleasure had always connected them in the past. If he didn’t have that, how could he tempt her back. Brown eyes glared and she trembled in his hold. He worried that his attentions really were unwanted. Then his gaze dropped to the rapid beat of her pulse at her neck. Not as uninterested as she proclaimed. By her own account love for him had guided her every interaction.
Unless she no longer held feelings for him. If he’d ruined the chance at having this beautiful woman, Saran would never forgive himself. His gaze fell on his gloved right hand, then the left, which he fisted. Or was there another reason? Doubt played with his thoughts. “Speak truth. Is it because I am not the Warlord you knew before?”
Temper ignited, Melane poked his chest and bent forward. “You are the most fierce Warlord in Kaban. You train with the same level of dedication as any other warrior. The only thing standing in your way, is you.”
Her voice rose with each declaration and the stares of those remaining outside the hall turned in their direction. Humor bubbled up with such joy he could barely contain it. “You watched my training?”
How else would she know how hard he worked? Circles of pink appeared on her cheeks and Saran refrained from laughing. Melane crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her head. “It matters not.”
Saran sobered and held up his gloved hand. He’d become comfortable wearing the brown and black leather. “This changes things for me and I am aware it will effect how another female will view me. Does it change things for you?”
“Of course not.” Her gaze narrowed. “It only worries you. I knew you would overcome this.”
Her faith staggered him. Saran gripped her elbows and held firm when she struggled, too pleased at this sudden display of temper from her. “Then why refuse me?”
She sighed and canted her head to the side. “How many times must I open myself to you? I have accepted that the Blessed One has other plans for both of us. I wish you nothing but good fortune when you find your bride, Warlord Saran.”
Her deliberate use of his title frustrated. It took effort but he studied the earnest look on her face. Disappointment and sadness glinted from the brown orbs. And resignation. He couldn’t lose her now that he realized he wanted more from her. “Share the evening meal with me. I will prove I deserve another chance.”
His voice didn’t sound the same to him. It reeked of desperation. Urgency. A Galip did not beg.
She stepped back and Saran only allowed it because of the moisture gathering in her eyes. “Goodbye, Warlord Saran.”
Blood thundered in his ears. He sucked air like a hapfe after a hard run. Stop her. Plead. His mind demanded he do all of those things yet Saran stood still as Melane bowed and walked around him. If he acknowledged all of the strange urges running through his mind she would think him weak.
“Warlord Saran, a moment please.”
The eager voice acted as a timely diversion. Saran turned his back on Melane though it pained him to do so. What if he was too late? He thought of her courage, her pride in standing up to him and was hit with another wave of remorse.
***
M
elane quickened her steps to reach the safety inside of the building. Emotions swirled up and down keeping her heart in a flutter and her mind in disarray.
“Melane.”
Saran’s voice caused her to hesitate on the stairs. She wouldn’t look back. Couldn’t. If she did, she’d give in to the pull of his midnight gaze. The love she still felt for him was fragile. Like the delicate wings of a tiny bug, he’d break her if she let him.
“I will see you this evening, Melane. I will not give up.”
Breaking into a run, Melane rushed inside. That’s what worried her.
Chapter 17
It had been a long day but the sight of Melane revived Saran. He cornered her as she was about to retire for the night in her room on the lower levels. It was quiet as most were already asleep.
“What do you want, Warlord Saran?” she huffed.
True annoyance met his stare, sending a shaft of pain through his heart. “You know what I want, Melane.”
Something in his answer must have increased her ire. No longer slumped against the door, she leaned forward, tiny chin jerking upward. “You still do not hear my words. The time of your wants has passed. What I want you refuse to give me, Warlord and I am no longer content to accept less.”
Saran blinked, his breath increasing with her ire. What did she want from him?
“Everything.”
He must have spoken allowed but her answer couldn’t be any more simple. Saran swallowed, fear on pace with his racing heartbeat. She would strip him bare with her demand. “I am not sure I can do that.”
Hurt flashed but no tears this time. Melane shrugged. “This I now realize. Let me be. I will find what I want and it will not be a concern of yours.”
Saran slammed his palms on the wall by the sides of her head. Emotions bubbled to the surface. “You seek to threaten a Warlord now, yes?”
“What?” Color bled from her face and Saran regretted scaring her but he didn’t move away. “I don’t want to threaten anyone.”
He ran the tip of his finger down the soft line of her cheek. “And yet this is what you have done.”
He pushed back from the wall clearing the way for her to flee inside her bedroom. “I will think on your words.”
With reluctance he stepped back further and waited until she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Saran rested his gloved hand on the barrier separating them.
“I will earn my way back in your heart, Melane. I vow it.” The whisper was for him alone.
***
“Speak truth, Melane. What are you about with Warlord Saran?”
Neera’s question left Melane sighing. She faced her friend as they worked together to wrap the utensils for the last meal of the day. Due to the hour, they had the kitchen to themselves for now.
“Nothing goes on.” The lie slipped from her lips.
Placing the blue roll beside the stack of others, Neera frowned and leaned a hip on the counter, leaving the pile close to tipping over. “He chases, yet you refuse his invitation. I thought you wanted him back.”
How to explain? Melane paused in her own efforts to wrap and tried to put her thoughts into clear words. “I fear accepting the Warlord’s invite is not good for me. You warned me to seek another.”
The last came out in desperate accusation. Neera humphed. “This was before.”
“I am torn, Neera. I wish to be his bride but if it is not what Warlord Saran seeks then I must move on.”
Neera’s lips quirked. “With Warlord Casin?”
Laughing at the sly innuendo, Melane said, “He is a handsome Warlord much desired.”
But not the one her heart craved. Turning back to pick up where she left off rolling the utensils, Melane fought against her own wishes. It really bothered her to lack a clear direction.
“Warlord Casin and Warlord Saran hold a good friendship between them.”
Confusion and unease shifted in her belly. “I know this.”
Neera stared deep into her eyes. “Have a care, Melane. Do not ruin what they share.”
Outrage hit Melane. Why would her friend question her in such a way? “That is not my way. You encourage my interest in Warlord Casin.”
After another penetrating look, Neera nodded. “I offer my apology for the offense. I see the way they look at you. I did not expect it to create strife between them but it is clear Warlord Saran may feel different.”
“It has been difficult.” To say the least.
Beside her, Neera picked up a blue cloth and reached for a set of eating utensils to wrap. “I meant no harm.”
“I know.” Melane puffed out her next breath before continuing. “Is it wrong to long for a warrior to love you? I wish to feel my heart overflow with his affection for me and mine for him.”
Melane pressed a hand to her chest for emphasis. She knew her desires confused Neera but her friend didn’t belittle her and took the question seriously. Her dreams veered far away from the Kabanian ideal.
“I do not know what it feels like to want what you want. I know of no other who voices similar desires. But...mayhap it is not so much wrong as...rare.”
Because she didn’t fit. Their culture defined a woman’s place and none other wished to change things. Kabanian women enjoyed the protection of their men and the freedom to move from warrior to warrior or Warlord to Warlord if it gained them more stature. Like her sister.
Thinking of her only sibling brought on another wave of frustration. Born to servants, it never bothered Melane to follow in their footsteps at the Galip stronghold but her sister chased warriors in want of more. Always looking for the strongest or one who would dance to her tune. She’d found such a man who came from wealth and catered to her whims. Now they lived in one of the neighboring villages.
“Do you think Overlord Vaan and his Raasa share such a connection?” Melane hesitantly voiced the question, knowing of her friend’s former care for the ruler of Kaban.
Neera rearranged their growing stack before answering. Her brows pinched into a frown but at least she didn’t look as if she took offense. “Yes. I believe the Raasa, Mikayla, would accept no less.”
Then why should she? Or any of them for that matter. Melane pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and pondered her future. “I must think on this. At first I wished to be what I thought he wanted but my dreams are important too. I will not sacrifice them because it is not done. If the Overlord can love, then other Warlords can. I will find one who considers my heart worthy to hold in safety.”
***
Days blended and brought more of what she worried about. Melane had known Saran possessed a formidable spirit. He had to in order to overcome what he had. What she hadn’t expected or prepared for was his aggressive pursuit. Despite her continued refusals, he increased their encounters. Making the situation worst, the annoying Warlord made no effort to hide from others his desire to have her back in his bed. The household servants found it amusing.
“Why do you resist?”
“I wish a Warlord looked at me the way Warlord Saran looks at you.”
“You should accept his invitation, Melane.”
Hardened warriors coaxed her toward Saran with knowing grins.
“Saran awaits you, Melane.”
“I envy Saran the chase.”
Blatant stares, smoldering desire and dark looks established Saran’s new attempts to sway Melane. Along with cornering her in the halls to plead his case, he now added rough touches and hot caresses. She wanted to give in. In fact, the only thing holding her back from temptation was fear. Fear he planned to change his mind again and fear he didn’t truly wish her to be his bride.
Not that he’d specifically asked.
“He is most persistent.”
Melane tipped her head up and met Casin’s amused stare. Everyone seemed to find this chase humorous save her. Casin understood her reasons. During all of this, the Warlord had become a most unexpected ally. Today was one of her rare days off and he’d chosen to
eat with her instead of with the other Warlords. She appreciated his gesture.
“He is bothersome,” she returned, knowing her tone conveyed irritation.
“A true warrior will go after a prize worth having.”
Melane flushed. “It is too late for that.”
Casin’s lips twitched. “If it were too late, you would be open to invitation and yet you’ve taken no other to your bed in the time since you two parted.”
She hated admitting the truth and blew out a breath. “It means nothing.”
His snort dismissed her denial. “You only hold interest for Saran and others have noticed. No Warlord or warrior will approach you because of this. In the past, it was understood you enjoyed his attentions only and were not interested in another. When you parted ways, many wanted to extend an invitation.”
Casin never ceased to share his thoughts. Their blossoming friendship pleased her far more than he would ever know. “I sense you wish to say more. Blessed One continue.”
“You are a beautiful woman, Melane. Your heart and spirit are generous. Several would take you to bride if they didn’t fear Saran’s response. But drawing his ire is not all that holds them back.”
Melane shoved aside her half-eaten meal. The noise in the hall rose and ebbed but she needed to hear this. “What else holds them back?”
Casin tossed a bone to his empty platter and licked the juices from his fingers before answering with a maddening smirk. “Your eyes.”
“What?!” He made no sense. Laughter broke out behind them but she ignored this to give Casin her full attention. Propping her elbows on the table, she waved for him to go on. “My eyes?”
Humor danced in his gaze. “Your eyes follow Saran whenever he enters a room. Outside your eyes seek him before any other. If there is training about, your eyes focus to see if he takes part.”
Now her face flamed and Melane ducked her head down. “You lie.”
Casin chucked her on the chin and pulled her face up. His brown eyes darkened. No longer amused, he said in a softer tone, “I speak truth. I did not only hold back because of my friendship with him. Your heart is taken by Saran, Melane. Else, I would have long since pushed for more between us.”
Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6) Page 12