by Tina Gayle
Her perspective shifted. “Oh, Sara, why don’t we wait on tea until your father gets home?”
Sara’s face fell. “But he won’t be home until forever . . . he’s at work.”
Seeing the girl unhappy, Marohka threw back the lap spread and shifted to stand. “Then why don’t we go out?”
The girl shook her head. Then, she laid her hand on Marohka’s stomach. “Oh, no, Daddy wouldn’t want us to do that. Not with my little brother on the way.”
She glanced at her large round belly. A pain in her ribs—a sharp kick—drove home the reality of the baby nestled in her womb. Fear sped through her mind. This couldn’t be. She didn’t know anything about having a baby.
Panicked and desperate to escape, she struggled to stand. “I have to get away from here.”
Tender brown eyes suddenly lit with alarm. “But, Mom, it’s not safe out there. You have to stay with me.”
Marohka paused. A dizzy haze circled her vision. She fell back on the couch and closed her eyes.
The irritating buzz of all the decisions she needed to make kept humming in her head. Career? Family? Children? Stihl? Qualtrilium ore?
She brushed her hand at the pesky beasts, but the noise grew louder.
* * * *
“Marohka, talk to me. Are you all right?”
She lifted her hand, and Stihl grabbed it.
“Marohka?”
Her hand fell limp in his with no response to his touch. He checked the body scanner, which read the signals from the micro transmitters in her clothes. No broken bones or internal bleeding. The knot on her forehead could mean a concussion. He studied her ashen face and placed a cold compress on her head to help with the swelling. Dark color bled into the cavity around her left eye. His stomach twisted into knots at her pain. Again, he’d failed to protect her from harm.
“How is she?” Cyd interrupted Stihl’s thoughts. “Want me to fly down and help?
“No, you stay where you are. No point in taking the chance of you getting hurt,” Stihl said to Cyd over his ECD. “She simply has a bump on the head.”
Cyd posed the next question. “How about her alba-ox?”
Stihl glanced at the alba-ox that had saved Marohka’s life. Its large wing had wrapped around her, protected her from the rough wall of the cliff, and cushioned her fall on the rocks.
Recognizing the animal’s distress because of the ones he owned on his ranch, Stihl shook his head. “It appears to have a broken wing, and a few deep cuts on its neck and chest. There’s a lot of blood covering it.”
He smelled the stifling odor and turned his head to gulp in a whiff of fresh air.
“Is it in any pain?”
The alba-ox tried once to rise, but since then, it’d lain lifelessly in the dirt. “Don’t know. It might be dead.”
He left Marohka’s side and walked to the animal. Its tail twitched when he drew near. “It’s still alive, but I’m not sure for how much longer.”
Stihl hunched down and talked in a calm voice to the beast. “All right, big boy, what have you done to yourself?”
Examining the animal’s wounds, he spoke to Cyd. “From the injuries I see, it’s not got long.”
He stroked the animal’s face, trying to ease its suffering. “I’ll do what I can. After you arrive at the mining camp, make sure to contact Hank and tell him what happened. He might be able to send a team out here to help.”
Applying med-strips to the major wounds, Stihl hoped to reassure the alba-ox. He hated to see any animal in pain. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do much.
“All right, but you know if Hank doesn’t arrive by early twilight, there won’t be much for him to recover.” Cyd’s sad tone confirmed Stihl’s estimation of the animal’s fate. “What about Marohka?”
Stihl stood and walked back, contemplating his next course of action. He had to carry her some place safe. “Isn’t there a cabin near here?”
Stihl bent over her again. Blood stained her clothing, but it appeared to be mostly the alba-oxen’s blood. Fur and dirt sprinkled her short, curly hair. Her eyes remained closed.
“Yes, remember the cabin we camped in a few years back? It’s not very far. Just cross over the little stream to your left,” Cyd directed. “Then travel through the woods about twenty leg-lengths. The code for the lock is nine-nine-seven-seven-five.”
“All right, you head on to the Trisar camp. Marohka and I will rest here today. Then when she’s feeling better, we’ll meet up with you at the camp.”
“Are you sure?” Cyd’s voice sounded gruff. “The canyon can be dangerous this time of year with flash floods and animals venturing out after the winter. Once you’re out of the ECD’s range, you’ll have trouble reaching anyone.”
“I know.” Stihl hated the idea of being stranded too. But what other choice did he have. Marohka needed to rest. “Don’t worry. The trip might take us a little longer, but we should be able to make it to camp by tomorrow afternoon.”
“If not, then—”
Stihl clicked his ECD off.
No point in arguing any further. He had bigger issues to address.
Chapter Nine
Marohka struggled to open her eyes. The smell of fire sticks burning tickled her nose. Feet shuffling around the room teased her hearing.
A picture of the little girl flashed in Marohka’s head. Her parched lips wouldn’t move. A sandpaper tongue didn’t help the process any either. Forcing her eyes open produced only a grainy blur. She blinked once. After several more, images formed in the fog.
A tin roof, an iron bed, a dim view of the world outside, a wooden door took shape. A structure.
Primitive, but a roof. Shifting her head on the pillow, a drum pounded a hard beat in her head.
In pain, she moaned after the simple movement. Her eyes closed. Seeing her surroundings wasn’t really that important.
“Marohka?”
She knew the voice.
“Starlight, open your eyes.”
The soft tremor of the voice enticed her. Slowly, to keep the band from sounding off in her head, she opened her eyes. Stihl’s face formed in her line of vision.
“How are you feeling?” He smiled.
“Ah . . .” She licked her lips.
“Wait an iton. I’ll bring you some water.” With no more than those few words, he disappeared.
An illusion, her mind reasoned, like her other dreams. She closed her eyes again, unwilling to think about how much she wished he were here. Wherever here might be.
A cool drop of water washed over her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out to taste the sweet flavor. Rain. Opening her mouth, she caught the liquid essence of life on her dry tongue.
* * * *
Stihl dribbled a small amount of water into her mouth and waited after each spoonful for her to swallow. He lifted the cold compact on her head and checked the bump above her left eyebrow. It appeared to be going down, but the coloring around her eye grew darker. She’d be sporting a multicolor soldier’s patch by morning.
Luckily, she’d not caused any permanent damage. When he’d seen her disappear over the side of the cliff, his heart had plummeted along with her. Reacting without thinking, he’d followed her over the side. Her alba-ox hadn’t stumbled or fallen, or even, as far as Stihl could determine, misjudged the terrain. The animal simply walked off the side of the cliff.
Emotions stirred in his chest. She tugged at something within him, a part of himself he hadn’t known he could give. Protecting her, taking care of her, or simply being with her wasn’t enough. He wanted more, required more. His hands trembled, and he stroked her hair away from her face. Unable to resist, touching, pleasing her, having her in his sight, all those little things gave him pleasure. Somehow, she’d taken possession of his soul. Now, he needed her.
Sudden clarity hit. Only by blending with her would he be complete. His loins tightened with lust. She opened her eyes. A misty fog clouded them.
“It’s all right, Marohka. You’re safe.�
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“Stihl?” She wet her lips. “Where are we?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just rest.” He shifted next to her on the bed.
She frowned.
“Is your head hurting?”
“Yes, but . . .” She wiggled on the bed and then groaned.
“Easy there, you have a few bruises which need time to heal. Lie still, and I’ll get a med-patch to ease the pain.”
“But, Stihl.”
An unsteady hand touched his arm. He paused before rising, her gaze pleading with him to explain. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
He laid his hand on her cheek. “Right now, you need to rest. The next time you wake up, I’ll explain.”
She opened her mouth to argue, would’ve if she’d been stronger. But with a sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
He smiled. She wouldn’t let him off so easy again.
* * * *
The light shining through the window hit Marohka’s eyes the moment she’d opened them.
It must be morning.
Memories from the day before flashed through her head—her alba-ox’s fall from the cliff, a remote cabin, Stihl’s gentle touch. He slept beside her on the warm, cozy bed. Her head nestled on his bare chest, and her cheek pressed against his heart. A steady thump reaffirmed her own heartbeat.
She slid her fingers over his smooth skin and toyed with his curly chest hair. She worried the skin back and forth with her strokes. The granite strength of him appealed to her soft feminine center, a place she’d always kept closely guarded from a man’s rough touch.
Stihl, with his bedroom brown eyes, had entered her life uninvited and stormed the gates of all her carefully laid plans. He’d changed her view as to what she longed for in a mate. His patience tested her, making her doubt what she truly wanted in life. His gentle probing forced her to question her will to resist.
The idea of truly bonding with him teased her with a chance for happiness. After the way he’d been taking care of her for the last few zitons, a desire she hadn’t known existed blossomed into a gut-wrenching flower of need.
Each time she woke up, he’d been there giving her water, feeding her, reassuring her with gentle gestures. He’d held her close, shared his body heat when she’d been cold, offered comfort after her disturbing dreams. Not once did he desert her.
Her mind full of images of him, she tried to assess the endless number of reasons to leave. But her body cried for him to relieve the ache in her soul.
Could she accept what he offered for a little while? Sample the pleasures of having a mate? Or did she have to blend with him to experience the joy? She snuggled closer and worked to fit him into her life’s path. Would it be wrong?
“Marohka?” He stopped her hand. “What’s the matter?”
Unsure as to how to achieve her dueling objectives, she lifted her head. His face, rugged from a night’s growth, awoke her over-sensitized desires.
“I liked you stroking me, but you’re rubbing the skin raw.” He squeezed her hand.
She glanced at the fingers he held and dismissed his comment under the heavier weight of her thoughts.
Gathering her courage, she peeked at him under her lashes. “Stihl, I want to make love to you.”
His gaze grew warm, sparkling in an unfamiliar way. “Do you have a certain time in mind?”
A grin formed at the corner of his mouth. Was he laughing at her? The idea upset her, and she backed away. “If you’d rather not, I won’t force you.”
“I was teasing.” He rolled over with her in his arms and pinned her to the bed. “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do.”
He smiled, and his head dropped. His chin nudged her shirt away from her neck. Kisses rained down on her skin.
The moist stroke of his tongue caressed and worshiped her ear. She slid her hands into his hair. “Stihl, I—”
“You have such beautiful skin.”
His hot mouth against her neck fired ripples of pleasure to race down her spine. She yearned to relax and enjoy herself, but the weight of Stihl’s heavy body lying on top of her sent a swarm of tingling fears through her veins. Desire and fear warred within her mind.
Stuck beneath him, she wiggled. Her nervousness about his power over her added to her terror. To calm herself, she glanced around the room. The icy metal ceiling, the rudimental furniture, and the fire’s cold embers—her gaze darted from object to object. Harder and harder, she struggled to enjoy Stihl’s touch.
She closed her eyes, and flashed back to the bout in the mating arena. Stihl’s broad chest pinned her to the mat. Her victory lost, her life changed.
Marohka tightened her hands and tugged at his hair.
* * * *
Sensitive to her emotions, Stihl worked his way back to the soft tender skin behind her ear. A warning sounded in his head. He checked her face and noticed the tension resonating from her shoulders and arms.
She remained stiff and unmoving in his arms. Desire no longer held her in its grasp. Another reason explained her elevated breathing and tightly closed eyes. One in which, Stihl wasn’t a party to. He traced a single finger down her nose. “Marohka, look at me.”
Her eyes opened, and fear flashed in their depths. “Stihl . . .”
Stunned, he drew back seeking answers. Ones, he knew, she didn’t have. He shifted his weight off her and settled back on the bed. His mind racing for clues he’d somehow missed until this moment. Her reaction after he’d pinned her in the first challenge. The way she’d become unnerved on the train. The lady panicked whenever she found herself under a man.
* * * *
Marohka tugged the blanket up around her and rose to a sitting position, taking slow controlled breaths. Her heart rate settled, and she searched for the reason for her panic attack.
The man beside her didn’t stir.
Not sure how to proceed, she started talking. “Stihl, I understand if you’re upset, but I wasn’t playing a game with you.” She turned to gauge his reaction. He lay staring at the ceiling.
“I’ve never encountered this problem before.” She tried a smile, but couldn’t achieve it. “But, then again, I haven’t been in this type of situation before.”
With her words, his gaze met hers. She expected to see some form of judgment, some anger for playing with his emotions, but understanding surrounded her instead.
“You’re right.” He covered her hand. “Why don’t we try again with you on top?”
Confused by his answer, she shook her head. “But aren’t you mad?”
He directed her down onto his chest. He stroked her shoulders. “There’s no need. I rushed you.” His hands slid to her waist and stopped on her lower back. “Now I’ll let you set the pace.”
She eyed him. What exactly did that mean? Could he be giving her another chance?
He captured her lips and diverted her thoughts. Little samples of his mouth teased her with his flavor. Each time he drew back, she hungered for more. A meeting of lips, a stroke of his tongue, a sensual dance of desire drew her closer and closer. The wet heat of his mouth built a flame which set her on fire.
His hands, never still, caressed her, and he slowly worked her out of her shirt. Each stroke awoke a yearning, almost an obsession to blend with this man, to become one. She could not only feel his hands moving over her, but she viewed them in her mind too.
Her underwear offered no barrier. He slid them from her hips, down her legs, and squeezed her buttocks. The mix of seeing and feeling his hands drove her to explore. She longed to spark the same emotions in him and roamed her hands freely over him. Her palms flat against his chest, she molded his flesh. The powerful strength of his muscles, the solid force of his ribs and smooth silk of his skin, all caressed her fingertips. The rhythmic beat of his heart played like a drum to her senses, stealing her breath away.
Lifting her head, she studied his face then blushed. Lust, dark and hot, swam in his heavy-lidded eyes and on his swollen lips. Sh
ocked because she’d invoked such a response, she stared at him with an unbelieving glare.
“Yes, Marohka, you turn me on.”
His gleaming white teeth showed in his huge smile. Doubt engulfed her mind. She’d been taught how to please a man and knew the mechanics of lovemaking. The problem rested in putting theory into practice. Thoughts of different techniques ran through her head. Flashes of her stroking him in an assortment of places lit her face with embarrassment. Could she go through with this?