Saran’s heart started to pound. What was taking Neera so long with Melane? He wished to question her about Bran and the argument. If she had concerns about Helin, he would answer them though he thought he’d eased her concerns.
“I have done nothing, Saran. My vow.”
Breathing harshly and sword held tight in his grip, Saran asked, “You will make amends with Melane for any misunderstanding?”
Bran couldn’t hide his distaste and sputtered. “You can’t...”
“Enough! She held my invitation.” Saran breathed through his nose as he replayed what Neera said about Melane. Attacked. Scratches on Bran. Blood on his person. What if...?
“Saran, all know you set her aside.” Bran’s smile remained in place as he once more attempted to sway.
Saran’s hands shook but he kept his position and refrained from attacking on the off-chance he was wrong. Saran prayed with all his might to the Blessed One to be wrong about the direction his thoughts took. He should have made his feelings clear earlier. “She. Is. To. Be. My. Bride.”
Gasps rang out behind him but Saran paid them little heed, his focus on the hapfe dung before him.
“If I had known.” Bran held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Casin took delight in being with her. I thought she was open to invitation.”
Casin growled low behind him but Saran held his arm, palm out, to still his friend. He did not mention invitation. Bran said they argued over Helin and Melane was not respectful. More and more Saran’s worry dug a hole in the pit of his stomach.
“Where is Melane? I want to see her now.”
Another voice spoke before Bran could. “Bran has treated Melane roughly many times in the past but she feared speaking up.”
The whispers grew as Neera walked out after her announcement, holding her arm about Melane’s waist and Lanna holding her on the other side as they exited from the washroom. Casin moved faster than Saran and punched Bran, who lurched backward. With a much more gentle touch, Casin tipped Melane’s face up and Saran’s world crashed round him.
His rumbling roar eclipsed Casin’s. Melane lifted her head in his direction and Saran slipped straight into Fenal between one blink and the next. She attempted to smile at him but her bottom lip cracked and blood dotted the skin. One eye already swelled almost to closing, leaving her to stare at him from the thin slit.
The Warlords and warriors around them voiced their displeasure with grumbles. Servants cried, their sniffles and shocked gasps tearing at Saran’s restraint.
He fought to speak, to clear his head enough of Fenal to pronounce his judgment. Anger at the offense to her, regret at failing to protect what was his and the need for vengeance cascaded through Saran, filling him with the need to act immediately.
His words were a harsh rasp but he managed to get them out. None would say he did not give Bran the list of his wrong doing in this matter. “You knew Melane was mine. She wanted no part of you but you violated the one true tenant of a warrior. For that you shall be stripped of the title Warlord.”
Bran paled and backed away, his gaze searching the crowd for a supporter. Unfortunately, those present glared at him. Melane did no ill to anyone. She was generous of her time with youngling, she took meals to those elder and weak of body. Always a smile graced her lips in kindness. She did not play the game of some women. Her good nature was without taint and none would believe she sought out Bran when she never made secret her feelings for Saran.
Saran held his sword aloft. “For touching the bride I planned to claim, you shall offer your life in amends.”
All softness vanished from Bran’s gaze. Coldness filled the void, his evil nature revealed.
Bran unsheathed his sword, taking a steady step and widening his stance. “You were ever the fool for a woman. Just like your brother and his disgusting choice for a bride.”
The comment didn’t deserve a response. Saran gave Bran no chance and no honor for fair battle. He lunged for the other Warlord. Bran danced back but another warrior pushed him forward. Saran’s blade thrust forward and Bran jerked to a stop. His mouth fell open, surprise flashing over his features. Saran withdrew his sword with a slick sound and slashed again, his aim true at the widening wound across the middle. This time Bran’s body dropped to the ground unmoving.
Saran stepped over him, paying the highest insult to a fallen Warlord. He paused near Melane still supported by the two women and sheathed his weapon. He opened his arms. “Come to me.”
Melane didn’t hesitate and ran into his embrace. “Saran!”
He cradled her close, his head resting on the top of hers, the scent of her hair doing little to calm the remnants of Fenal. He wanted to set her to the side and hack Bran to pieces. Shuddering, Saran shifted and met Melane’s gaze. “Blessed One, I almost lost you.”
The very thought left his knees weak.
***
Saran helped Melane from the bath of hot water and wrapped the drying cloth about her body. She leaned into his weight as he picked her up and carried her to his bed. When he sat, he kept her on his lap. “Forgive me for my mistakes.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I only wished to be worthy of a Warlord such as you.”
He cupped her bruised face, flinching at the sight of his deformed hand touching her. Would he ever get used to it? In a voice choked with emotion, Saran tried to tell her his feelings. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Tears trembled on Melane’s lashes. “A weak, soft person not worthy. I dropped the knife when Warlord Bran attacked me.”
She’d already gone over her guilt and expressed how she’d failed because she couldn’t hold off a fully trained Warlord. Saran’s thumbs brushed her cheeks, catching the tears that spilled over. “You shame me with my own words twisted to suit your purpose. When I look at you, Melane, I see my mother.”
She snort laughed and the sound wormed its way through his chest.
“That is not what a woman wishes to hear.”
He smiled. “My mother was a woman of great courage and fortitude.”
Melane’s eyes widened and Saran couldn’t stop himself from kissing her parted lips. It took effort to pull back and finish what needed saying. “You have a courage of heart I envy. I am sorry it took me long to see your warrior spirit.”
Melane choked and pressed her hands against his sides. Her brown eyes blazed with wonder and hope.
“I have something to ask you.” He ran his hand up her back and held her tighter as he thought of what could have happened.
“Ask me.”
“Will you be my bride?”
Tears welled and sparkled against hr lashes. She nodded. “You are sure?”
Saran tipped her face up so she would not miss any of his words. “All will envy me.”
“Do you think you could...love me?”
He let himself fall back on the bed, tumbling her down with him until she straddled his hips. “I already do.”
“Saran!”
He ran his fingers over her lips to close her mouth. “Think you a Warlord could resist one such as you?”
Saran was prepared to stroke and hold her as long as she needed to feel safe but a timid knock on the door interrupted their special time together. He debated ignoring it but Casin might have news to report. “Enter.”
Helin came in but left the door cracked. Melane stiffened. Saran set her aside and stood. “Why are you here?”
“I have something to say to Melane if she will let me.”
Against his judgment Saran checked with Melane as she tugged the drying cloth about her. “It is fine.”
“My apologies for the trouble I caused and my part in Warlord Bran hurting you.” The words came out in a rush as the beautiful woman sniffed then said, “When I learned Kuran was not good, it was too late. I was scared to leave him. He finally left me when I refused to go along with his plans to overthrow the Overlord.”
“We were friends, Helin.” Hurt tinted Melane’s questi
oning tone.
“I am shamed. It took one visit to the kitchen to learn of you and Warlord Saran. I envied you a strong match and wanted him for myself so I threatened you.”
Saran growled but Melane reached out and grabbed his wrist. He could break the hold easily but stayed.
“I don’t expect us to be good friends again but I vow I am sorry.”
“You are forgiven.”
Melane was too soft but Saran couldn’t complain. She’d forgiven him for his actions. As he’d told her, she had more courage than many warriors.
“Thank you.” Helin blinked away tears and closed the door behind her.
Saran crossed the room and locked it. Melane snickered and his heart lightened. He strode toward the bed and stretched out beside her. “You will rest tonight for I wish to take you to bride as soon as possible.”
Melane curled against him. “I am eager to be yours. I love you.”
Saran played with a strand of her hair. “I love you, Melane. Never doubt it.”
Epilogue
Vaan
Mikayla huddled next to Melane, whispering in her ear and waving her arms about. At one point Melane’s laughter spilled forth and her gaze went directly toward Vaan. He would find out what his mate shared later. He needed to have a serious discussion with Saran and hated that it had to be done on a day of celebration.
“Would you be Overlord, brother?” Vaan asked.
Saran turned surprised eyes toward him. “What say you?”
Vaan waved a hand at the masses of warriors gathered in the courtyard as the corner of his lip tugged up. “I offer what you already rule.”
Saran’s gaze followed the gesture. Hundreds of men cheered and shouted. Many chanted Vaan’s name and others shouted Vaan’s battle cry though it was Saran’s day of joining.
“I...I could not. I am not you—” Saran started but Vaan gripped his forearm, his gaze burning into eyes a mirror to his own.
“Do not finish. You are Teag Galip’s son as well. A great Warlord. There are no finer warriors than the Galip.”
Vaan could tell his words hit Saran hard. The lines of his shoulder tensed beneath the black cross chest harness holding his sword at his back. He ran a hand through his newly shortened hair. His kutthra for his bride. “The people love you, Vaan.”
Vaan nodded and the long braid of his hair slid over his shoulder. “What you said a while back has merit. I have ruled them well.”
Saran shook his head. His lips pressed firm as he stressed, “They would bleed for you. Have bled for you.”
Vaan wanted to shrug off the words. He could not. What his brother spoke held truth. “I gave them glorious battles to tell their youngling, offered them peace in a time of strife and war.”
“You gave them honor,” Saran interrupted. “Our grandfather was not known for mercy. He cut down those who would seek to oppose him and left a trail of blood in his wake. Our father approached matters different yet with the same iron grip of battle. Kabanians follow you because you offer something else for their support.”
The corner of Vaan’s mouth curled. There would be no arguing with Saran this day. “You are saying no, are you not brother?”
Saran’s shoulders eased and he laughed. “With utmost respect, Overlord, I must decline your generous offer.”
Vaan shook his head, smiling all the while. “Very well. I shall continue to rule from Raasa but know that the seat is yours for the asking.”
Relief at his brother’s easy acceptance released the last of Saran’s tension. His grin grew boyish. “He who rules Kaban must battle the reigning Overlord for the position.”
Vaan’s teeth flashed. “Have no worry. I would throw the match for you.”
Their eyes met and both burst into laughter. Stares turned in their direction.
“I am no longer a youngling, Vaan.”
Vaan slapped him hard on the shoulder but Saran braced his weight and did not stagger. “You will always be my little brother.”
Saran shook his head. “Not so little.”
***
Saran
It had been a glorious week of celebration to recognize Melane as his bride. The only dark spot was the man who continued to wreak havoc.
“May the Blessed One curse Kuran for what he seeks to do.”
Melane ran her hand over the taut skin of his chest. “What happens, Saran?”
He glanced down at her and Melane’s heart kicked in her chest from the anger and fear blazing there. “He will do what my brother has fought so hard against. Kuran will bring war back to the land of Kaban.”
“We will not let him. You will not let him.” Melane looped her arms about his neck and tugged Saran down.
He lay beside her in their bed and reached for one of her hands. Entwining their fingers, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the fingers. Kissing was a pleasure they both enjoyed and Saran no longer cared who knew and witnessed their affection outside the bedroom.
“Have I told you this day of my love for you?” he asked, changing the topic to one more fitting the happy day.
Melane grinned and boldly reached down to cup his toqa. “You have not.”
Saran’s hips pumped back and forth, enjoying her touch more than he thought possible. “I love you. You make me a worthy Warlord. I am better and stronger for having you in my life.”
Her hands paused in their stroking. “Oh, Saran.”
“I speak truth.” He leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss.
Melane sniffed but at least the tears he caused were not of sadness this time. “Being your bride is all I ever wanted. Thank you for letting me love you and for loving me.”
As she resumed the sensual touches on his toqa, Saran gave thanks for Melane not giving up on him.
Author’s Note
Finally! It’s been a pleasure to get Unexpected Bride into the hands of readers who have been fans of the Warlords and who have eagerly anticipated Saran’s story. I hope it was worth the wait. I struggled with Melane because she wasn’t strong outwardly like Mikayla or a kick butt fighter like Shaina. I found myself wanting to shake her and say leave Saran. LOL. It’s good when your characters make you feel like a reader.
Then I had to accept that Melane is exactly the way she’s meant to be. She’s a Kabanian female raised in a certain role and to step outside of that would be unusual based on their culture. I could have done some movie magic and made her a skilled fighter in secret or something else but I wanted to prove that strength isn’t always physical. For Melane her strength came in her belief in love and that it was possible. (which was in its way unusual too but more believable then her wielding a sword as if she’d been born to it) Of course it took Saran a bit longer to get there but I’m glad they had the opportunity to work things out.
We have one more Warlord who will find his love next and that is Kavan in My Fierce Warlord. I bumped his story back to write Saran’s and it fits the timeline I set up. Many things will happen in Kaban and Raasa, some good and some bad but it will all end happily. (Promise)
About 6 months ago, I shared a short story about Assa and Balal called Seducing Her Mate with my newsletter group. The story was to tide over fans in between this release. I’ve spruced it up and included it here for those who missed it. This year I plan to write another short and send to my subscribers (not sure which characters or series yet).
If you are not already signed up for my newsletter you can do so via Facebook author page or my www.michellehowardwrites.com website.
As always, I appreciate your emails and comments when you reach out to share your enjoyment of my books. If you want to spread the word for others to enjoy my stories, write a review on the platform you purchased the book. Reviews help readers decide on trying a new author.
Happy Reading,
Michelle Howard
Seducing Her Mate
Assa and Balal
Chapter 1
From the sidelines, Assa watche
d the Warlords finish their training for the evening. Many of her people had grown accustomed to seeing the large Kabanian males fight, muscles bunching and long hair flowing. It was an impressive sight, the barbaric display proving why their people conquered their lands and created fear in other races. The crowd of Raasa who usually observed had eased over time as they adjusted to seeing the warriors train.
There was one warrior Assa never tired of watching. Her eyes focused on the bare-chested man in black leather pants as he forced his opponent to his knees. The brutal blows they exchanged with their fists caused her to wince but the warriors gathered all laughed. Another strange thing to her and her fellow Raasa. These males found much humor in harming one another.
At last, the man crouched on top of his opponent and delivered a massive punch to the face of the one below him. Blood spurted from his nose followed by a rousing cheer from the crowd. Assa pressed a hand to her middle to contain the morning meal she’d managed to consume. The victor laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. His bleeding opponent grunted and said something Assa missed but the warrior standing over him extended a hand and pulled the other to his booted feet.
Hearty back slaps were given as the group closed in recounting the details.
“Bal!”
Assa’s head jerked as did all of the Warlords present. The winner of the match drew her gaze as he broke away from the others to attend to the two girls waiting on the edge of where the fighting had taken place. Identical youngling, Arane and Erana, belonged to the Overlord and the Su-Su.
Both youngling remained firmly behind the designated ring lined with waist high stones which had been created for one purpose. To hold them back. The stones reached beyond their height, requiring the girls to crawl and peer between the cracks at the bottom. A month ago prior to the barrier, Arane had boldly waddled into a sword practice with her tiny wooden weapon. Warlord Marek’s blade had passed within a hairs breath of her head. Only Warlord Ramar’s reflexes as he twisted his sword between them to block the blow in a feat Assa still found hard to believe, saved the youngling from losing her neck to the deadly slash.
Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6) Page 18