Not a secret. Casin declared his feelings early on and Melane gently turned him down. As time passed they continued to talk and realized they could enjoy time together without it including bed play. Others probably wondered. Saran surely did. It was obvious he thought Casin and she shared more. Whenever he glanced upon the two of them, his lips thinned.
Thinking of her situation with the troublesome Warlord causing all of her frustration, Melane became annoyed. She knocked Casin’s hand loose and glanced around. Saran sat at another table, two Warlords and all of the Council members seated around him. Conversation heated and Saran’s brows lowered more and more the longer the talk continued. At one point, he slammed his fist on the table startling those around him.
“You care for him deeply.”
Melane jumped in her seat. “What?”
Casin’s mouth dipped and a deeper emotion blazed from his gaze. “I did not think it possible to find a woman like you and yet I am still too late. Saran is lucky and foolish.”
Heart thudding, Melane peered over her shoulder drawn against her will. Saran and Sellic exchanged glares neither giving in. Biting her bottom lip, she asked, “Do you truly believe this?”
Or was he saying what he thought she wanted to hear. Casin slid closer until their thighs brushed on the long bench they shared. No one paid them attention, too intent on what seemed to be occurring at Saran’s table.
“Not every warrior is looking for a lasting connection with someone. It is not our way. But I am learning the value of having a woman gaze upon me the way you gaze upon him.”
Searing heat burned its way from her throat to settle in her cheeks. If her feelings were clear to Casin then others would note them as well. “He pushed me away.”
“From fear.” A dark look passed quickly before Casin blanked his expression. “A Warlord will behave most foolish if he is afraid.”
Melane never considered Saran’s feelings in that light. If fear guided his words the evening he yelled at her and the day in the woods, mayhap she judged too quickly. Except...opening her heart again posed a risky endeavor.
“I will think on your words.”
In a voice rich with foreboding, he added, “Do not let it go overlong.”
***
Melane shared her meal with Warlord Casin. Again. Always the two seemed to be in one another’s company. Saran blocked the complaints of the Councilors sitting with him and focused on the two. When Casin slid closer to her, Saran held his breath but they continued their intense exchange.
“Do you agree, Warlord Saran?”
Disgruntled, Saran snapped at Sellic. “You need remember your place, Councilor.”
Sellic glared and shoved to his feet. “It is clear to all, you wish not to hear the truth.”
Or Sellic’s version of the truth since he continued to seek ways to undermine Vaan’s authority. It was no loss when the Councilor made himself scarce, Saran’s attention far more interested in the woman ignoring him.
As soon as Melane stood and excused herself, Saran jumped to his feet. Councilor Raiden eyed him curiously but Saran kept his sight on the woman leaving the dining area. Let them make of it what they would. There was something more important he needed to do.
Casin blocked him from following through the door behind Melane. Saran tensed. “Move aside, Casin.”
“Have a care, Saran.”
“What say you?” If Casin didn’t step aside he’d lose his chance to try and speak with Melane. She’d ignored him all meal once more.
Casin didn’t move. “Any woman here would accept invitation from you.”
Saran knew that but another woman would not do. “What is your point?”
“She sees you. Melane thinks not of the Overlord when in your presence. Only the man.”
“I know not...”
Casin gripped his upper arm and Saran froze. “Think, Saran. Not of Kaban, not of your brother. Think of Melane for once and not of yourself. Are you good for her? Is she worth more to you?”
Saran pulled on his arm sharply and Casin freed him with a knowing look. Taking a deep breath, Saran reflected on what his friend said. The draw to seek Melane still pulled at him along with a strong sense of remorse. He considered his friend closer. “You would have me stand aside for you? Speak truth, Casin. Do you wish Melane to bride?”
Casin shook his head sadly. “You still do not see her. She would not have me if I asked.”
“Then there is another?” A knot twisted within Saran’s chest as he waited for the answer.
Casin snorted on a laugh. “Ever do you show your wits lacking when it pertains to Melane. Think on it, Saran.”
Having said what he wanted Casin stepped aside clearing the way for Saran to pass. “I have tried to get you to listen. No more.”
Hovering by the door, Saran cast his friend a heavy glance. Their relationship was firmly divided. If he could repair the damage, he would. “I heard you, Casin. Know that I will heed your advice.”
Relief flashed across Casin’s face and he turned to walk away. Saran rushed off and caught up with Melane in the hall. “Melane! A moment.”
She turned smoothly. Saran wanted to reach out and touch her. For days, she avoided him and tried to not be alone with him. Employing tactics best suited for battle, he’d created various methods to steal time in her presence. He waited as warriors passed in the hall then cornered her.
“What are you about, Warlord?” Her glare spit fire at him.
Casin had the right of it. Melane had a spirit equal to any of his warriors. How had he been blind for this long? “Will you agree to accept my invitation again?”
“I don’t wish to talk of it.” Her chin rose a fraction with the declaration.
As he stared into her innocent face the truth of his persistence hit. Saran was willing to do anything to have her back but not because of her beauty. According to Casin, Melane alone stood by him at a time when others thought him less. If given the chance to have her accept him he would not waste it again by being a fool.
In order for that to happen, Saran decided to push beyond the boundaries she set. No more waiting. No more taking his time for her to believe his resolution. He moved forward and Melane moved backward with each step until she hit the wall. Exactly where he wanted. Cupping her face with his left hand, Saran whispered, “How long, Melane? How long will you make us wait?”
He dragged his thumb across the slight curve of her jaw, fascinated by the softness he failed to appreciate in the past. Her thighs cushioned his own as he allowed his weight to pin her in place. Inch by inch, he pressed along her frame until nothing separated them. He remembered the kiss they’d shared before the durvish attack.
Compelled by a desire he could not explain, he brushed his mouth across her cheekbone paused at her ear and fought the odd temptation to nip the delicate lobe.
Melane’s breath hitched. “War—”
“No,” he cut off what she planned to say and gripped her chin, holding her head still for the exploration of his mouth. He dragged his lips down the side of her throat rewarded with her fine boned shiver. “You will call me Saran or we will stand here all night.”
He assuaged his curiosity and used the tip of his tongue to taste the arch of her throat. Saran expected to be corrected for his brash action or shoved back. What he didn’t expect was the breathy word sliding past her lips. “Saran.”
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head to the side of hers, rubbing cheek to cheek. “Melane.”
Her name. It was all he could muster the energy for and she melted against him, the last of her denial fading. Warmth and a sense of homecoming filled Saran. Blessed One. He sighed and inhaled the sweet scent she used to spread over her skin. How he remembered the nights he was lucky enough to watch her slather the scented cream on her legs and arms.
The time without her made their mark and this moment exemplified the loss he’d endured. The truth slammed into him with the force of a devastating blow. Casin had tr
ied to make him see. So intent was he on being a Warlord worthy of his brother that he’d almost ignored the most important revelation during all of this.
This was the woman he wanted as his bride.
A worthy female didn’t need to be bold in her behavior. She didn’t need to proclaim her independence at every opportunity. Sometimes the sweetest gift came in the smallest, most unexpected package. Strong, steady and with a will of iron. Like Melane.
All along she’d proven she was every thing he didn’t know he wanted. She’d stayed by his side during his recovery and gone so far as to defend him even at the risk of the Overlord’s wrath.
“I am afraid,” she murmured.
A great weight lifted from Saran at the confession. This he understood very well. Like a gentle storm she overtook him without trying. “As am I.”
***
A band of emotion deeper than any she’d ever felt wrapped around Melane’s chest. Eyes burning, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Saran’s grip on her chin slid to her throat where his fingers stroked in a gentle caress.
“What would you have of me to make amends?” Saran rasped the words from beside her, their faces still touching.
Melane kept her head down trying to speak but for the lump lodged in her throat. His spicy masculine scent curled around her and she wished the smell didn’t hold warm memories. After taking a deep breath her words came out in a choked whisper. “You have hurt me, Saran. I freely offered my heart to you yet you wielded your words with unerring accuracy time and again. The wounds are deep.”
The palms of his hands glided down her upper arms, fingers caressing the crease of her elbows before continuing a slow trail over her forearms.
One gloved, the other bare.
Goosebumps pimpled behind the path he blazed and Melane couldn’t move if she wanted to. When he reached her hands, he entwined their fingers and the pads of his thumbs stroked back and forth in a mesmerizing pattern over her inner wrists.
One rough, one smooth. Neither bothered her.
“Truth. I would make amends.” He repeated the offer in a husky murmur, tongue teasing with little flicks at her neck and Melane bit back a whimper. “Give me the chance to heal the hurt I caused with my harsh words.”
Her head tipped back and their gazes met. Heat blasted from his brown eyes as he leaned back slightly to see her face. Melane swallowed. The hair at her nape tingled and the pit in her stomach grew. But fear held her immobile as hope bubbled forth.
“You ask for much,” she said at last.
His lips grazed her temple as he spoke. “I ask for your trust. Trust that I will not hurt you again.”
Blessed One. Melane sagged in his hold and his grip shifted to catch her about the waist. “Saran.”
He ignored her interruption and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. The words rasped against the curve of her shoulder as he set her skin ablaze with light touches from his mouth. Different yet appealing. What manner of torture was this?
“You claimed to love me. I am not sure of this emotion enough to return the words but you will know the strength of my desire each night you grant me the right to your body. I will protect and honor you with every breath and beat of my heart. Accept my invitation and one day I will make you my bride.”
Her heart twisted, yet she remained silent. He offered everything she wanted. Almost. It was there in the timber of his tone, the taut posture he held as he waited for her answer.
“Accept,” he whispered, the words tickling her ear as he cradled her close.
She wanted to be strong. Needed to be. But Saran didn’t fight fair. “I seek more, Saran. It cannot be the way it was before.
Firm lips teased along her jaw. “Accept.”
“I do—”
His hands explored her mid-section, slowly gliding upward until he cupped the heavy weight of her breasts in his palms. “Trust me, Melane. Please.”
She did. And though everything in her rebelled against it, Melane did trust him. “Yes. I accept.”
A shudder rolled through him. His head thumped on her shoulder. “You honor me.”
“Don’t hurt me.” She shifted to face him. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Never,” he vowed. “You will see I am committed.”
She repeated her answer. “Then yes.”
At her response, Saran erupted. Melane squealed as Saran bent and lifted her into his arms with a cheer. He took the stairs two at a time and raucous applause exploded from warriors and servants alike witnessing his behavior. Saran didn’t stop until they ended in his bedroom. Giggling, Melane rolled to the side when he dropped her on the sheets and joined her.
Frantic hands unclasped the front hooks of her dress baring her breasts. Lower still, he yanked until the material ended tangled about her legs. Her under clothing and stockings soon followed. Melane shifted into position and stretched out beneath him as his weight settled above her, pressing her deeper into the bedding.
“I missed you...Saran.” She loved saying his name.
He paused, lips curved. “You are where you belong.”
She flushed and his chuckle rasped against her senses. Saran stood and removed his chest harness and leathers. Boots were kicked into a corner with a loud thump as he moved to rejoin her. Melane eagerly tipped her head back to take in his fine form.
“I must...I.” Red streaks flashed on Saran’s cheeks and she witnessed an unfamiliar vulnerability in him. He held up his hand. “Will you mind?”
Chapter 18
Panic began a distant drumming in Saran’s chest as he waited for her answer.
“No!” Melane sat up. “Nothing has changed my feelings for you.”
He exhaled in relief and yanked the leather from his right palm. He climbed on the bed and almost pushed the mangled hand from sight but Melane surprised him yet again. She clasped his hand between the both of hers. He turned his head away from the twisted fingers.
To his amazement, Melane gripped his jaw and turned him back. “No, this is a part of you and not cause for shame.”
She forced him to look down at their joined hands. One rough, large and with fingers bent cruelly. The other small in comparison with delicate, soft fingers as they probed the old injury.
“Enough.” He didn’t want to deal with those regrets tonight. If she willingly ignored it, then he planned to do the same. Saran pushed her back and lay atop her. He guided his toqa to her warm toque, pleased at the wetness there.
After speaking with other warriors and his experience in the past, he knew the wetness was not common. Only Melane ever grew damp with him but the sensation most pleased him. He stroked deep, rocking back and forth as remembered pleasure bombarded him.
Arousal grew along with his need. Eyes closed, Saran braced his hands on the bed and pushed as deep as possible. To his surprise, Melane moaned beneath him. Saran’s lids flickered open and he took in her tormented expression. Hands flat by her head and legs parted, she remained unmoving to allow him a warrior’s release but the strain on her face hinted at more. Suddenly Vaan’s words came to him. Females in Raasa moved, they touched in bed play.
“Place your hands on my shoulders, Melane,” Saran gruffly ordered.
She looked confused but complied. Saran slowed the pace of his hips and eased back. Melane’s neck arched up and another moan slid past her lips. Could it be? Could women enjoy bed play with the same level as a warrior?
Pert nipples tempted as his next thrust pushed her chest forward and Saran followed the urge to...kiss them. Such a strange concept but he couldn’t still the need. His lips enclosed the stiff bud and he sucked. Melane cried out, her hands clutching him to her. The wetness between her thighs increased and Saran wanted to laugh. How like his brother to once more discover something before Saran.
He tongued her crinkled flesh and whispered his next command. “Wrap your legs about my waist.”
“What is this, Saran?” Even as she asked the question, Melane’s legs folded abou
t his hips and Saran bit off a groan.
The shift in position clasped his toqa in a different manner. Sensation ripped down his spine and blood rushed to his ears. Inside her muscles flexed and fluttered around his shaft. Saran choked back a shout and pressed deeper where her body continued its rhythmic milking of his length. More wetness ensued and Melane’s hips bounced against his awkwardly.
Despite their clumsy motions, nothing had ever felt this good in bed. Following his instincts, Saran suckled the opposite breast and received the same response from Melane. Broken pleas, whimpering cries and rough groans filled the room.
“What manner of bed play is this, Saran? I feel strange.” Unnerved, Melane struggled within his grip.
“Hold.” He stilled her nervous twitches. Resting on his elbows on either side of her shoulders, he pressed deeper and said, “It is only pleasure you feel.”
Her denial rose instantly and she shook her head. “I am most pleased whenever we join, Saran.”
He pulled out and teased the rim of her toque with the head of his toqa and she gasped. “Do you wish me to stop?”
Mischief glinted in her eyes. “Do not dare to cease this madness.”
Saran threw back his head and laughed. When he had his humor under control he shared. “I give you leave to touch me in the same way.”
Brown eyes flared and soon her hands roamed his shoulders, his back and his lower hips. Every touch, every brush of her fingers sent Saran to a fevered pitch. But what rocked him and drove lust beyond his control was the touch of her mouth on his skin. She nipped his neck, brushed her mouth against his throat and licked.
Ecstasy exploded and Saran’s hips lunged forward. His breath grew ragged, each choked grunt a confirmation of how good he felt. Head falling back to the bed, Melane’s expression dimmed and worry creased her brow. Mouth open, he gasped, wanting to explain but his release tore from him and he collapsed with a yell atop her naked body.
Dazed, he lay silent for a moment. Sweat formed a sticky path down his back. Melane’s fingers teased the hair at his temple. She threaded the strands on the end then returned to massage his scalp, free with her touches now that she had his permission. Saran rolled to the side, keeping her within his arms. She curled against him chest to chest.
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