"Go," he ordered. "Your mother will have choice words for me if you shirk your duty to get your brothers and sisters off to bed."
Pareesa groaned. As the eldest of seven children, he suspected she had first been drawn to his archer squad to avoid babysitting than anything to do with shooting sticks at trees. He averted his eyes as she pulled off her shawl and rearranged it, belting it around her waist and tossing the end over one shoulder to cover her breasts the way a proper Ubaid woman wore her dress. His cheeks flushed pink as he pretended to pull his pulse rifle and examine the status of his nearly-depleted power supply.
Pareesa bid him farewell and stalked home. Ebad fell into line behind her, no doubt hoping to catch her eye. One by one the other warriors left, bidding him adieu, until only the deep-throated bellow of frogs and higher serenade of crickets remained to keep him company.
Alone…
He greeted his solitude with mixed trepidation and relief. He wanted to be free of the clamor of so many people, and yet their presence was reassuring, as though he needed to know a village lay just up the hill, willing to let him lurk in the periphery and watch, perhaps even once in a while partake the fruit of conversation, without truly becoming one of them, for truth be told he'd be very lonely without them despite his need to get away from them most of the time.
The riverbanks now clear, he stripped down to his underpants and waded in, relishing the way the cool water washed away the dirt and sweat. Wading out far enough to submerge his wings, he fluttered them beneath the water and used soap root to wash the dirt from his hair. His hands paused as he cleansed the scar in his chest where Ninsianna had stitched back together his lung. The injury had shattered two ribs and left his heart vulnerable, reminding him he should not be alive.
The last rays of sunlight faded. He flapped vigorously to rinse away the soap root then waded back to shore to pull back on his cargo pants, uniform shirt, socks which had developed holes in both heels, and the combat boots which were wearing thin. Soon, he would need to make a flight back to the wreckage of his ship to salvage his last remaining pair.
He realized he was being watched. The bullfrogs still caroaked, the crickets sang, and the ever-present mosquitos still bit his flesh. Whatever was there was not a threat.
"Hello?" he called into the shadows.
The shadows moved. The black-eyed girl stepped from the reeds, not making eye contact.
"I'm sorry," the girl whispered. "I forgot something."
She was a scrawny girl, with bones that protruded from every joint of her body, but a hard trainer, respectful, and handy with a spear. Her most distinguishing feature was her too-large eyes, darker than any in the village. Raven hair contrasted with pale skin to give her an otherworldly appearance. Even if her clothing hadn't been rags, she would still be plain as dirt, her head too large for her emaciated body, giving her the appearance of a little girl.
She was Ninsianna's cousin and his wife did not like her; that was all he knew. Except for the shape of the girl's dark eyes, black instead of gold, he could see no family resemblance. One day the girl had just appeared at his training. He hadn't even noticed until the day she'd thrown a perfect bull's eye and Pareesa had informed him the girl had been there for weeks.
He looked up to inquire what object she had forgotten and realized she was gone. She was a spooky child, always appearing out of nowhere at odd moments and then disappearing again, as though she were a mirage. No sooner had he finished strapping on his sword and pulse-rifle than she was forgotten.
Chapter 7
September 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Angelic Air Force Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili
Mikhail
The autumn air pierced Mikhail's still-damp feathers as he circled the perimeter searching for potential threats. In the darkness he depended upon his ears as much as his eyes, and also his nose, for while the Ubaid bathed multiple times each day, their desert-dwelling brethren could often be smelled before they were seen. His wings no longer dripping water to arouse his mother-in-law's ire, he landed in front of Immanu's house, his house until he built a suitable home for himself and Ninsianna.
Any stress he carried from training disappeared the moment he crossed the threshold. His senses were assaulted by the mouth-watering scent of freshly roasted acorns and the crisp saltiness of sliced cucumber. As was her habit, Needa had prepared a late-night snack while waiting for her husband and daughter to complete their nightly lessons. Unlike him, who was so tall he banged his head upon the rafters and had wings that knocked things off the wall no matter how tightly he tucked them, Needa knew how to remain discreet while her husband journeyed. She was not banished from the house as he was.
Immanu sat opposite Ninsianna on the prayer carpet, his eyes closed and expression peaceful. Today's lesson was taught not in this world, but the one where ungifted people such as himself could not follow. Ninsianna had tried to teach him how to cast his mind into the dreamtime so they could communicate as her parents did, but she'd grown frustrated when he hadn't been unable to sense anything at all. Not even the threads she spoke of all the time.
He ate his cucumbers in silence, mindful to keep his mouth shut so the crunching did not disturb her concentration, and drank in the beauty of the woman he had married. The flickering flame of the lantern gave her skin a golden cast. Warmth grew in his chest just looking at her, a feeling he knew, even without his memories, he had never experienced before meeting her.
Her lips moved, whispering secrets about the world she traveled with her father. At least she spoke tonight with her own voice, and not the voice of one of the old gods she encountered there. He should be honored his wife was Chosen to be a channel, but truth be told, he was also a little jealous. Some days it seemed she preferred their company to his.
At last her whispering ceased. He noticed signs she had chosen to return to this realm and inhabit once more her body. Mikhail shot his mother-in-law a grateful look, seeing that same relief in her eyes he was certain lived in his. Needa had grown accustomed to the time her husband spent away, but like him, her husband's gifts sat uneasily upon her. At last Ninsianna opened those beautiful, golden eyes, already knowing he was there. His breath caught in his throat as they did every time he beheld this woman, his mate, his love, his wife.
"Mikhail," Ninsianna arose and glided over to sit next to him. Warmth preceded her as she snuggled into his side, snaking her slender arms around his torso.
"Mo ghrá," Mikhail nuzzled her hair, inhaling her decadent scent, grown more intoxicating the more her pregnancy progressed. "How was your day?"
"The usual chores," Ninsianna smiled, giving his chest a warm, expansive feeling. Her hands found all the places his muscles ached, soothing them away as though they had never existed.
"Eat, child," Needa shoved the platter full of cucumber slices towards her. "Because if you don't eat now, nothing will stay down come morning."
"The morning sickness is not as bad as it was several weeks ago," Ninsianna said. "Hopefully it is beginning to pass?"
"It's a bit early," Needa said. She turned to Mikhail and raised one thick, shapely eyebrow. "Unless you fibbed about the date you really began your honeymoon?"
Mikhail's cheeks flushed scarlet at such a direct question.
"No, Ma'am!"
Needa was always blunt. A healer could not heal, she said, if the patient was not honest with her. Did she truly question whether he had failed to keep his hands off of their daughter until after they'd said their wedding vows? Or was the question asked in jest? With a woman as serious as Needa, it was often hard to tell. But he knew for certain one thing … Ninsianna's onslaught of teasing had nearly killed him! Oh! But it had been worth the wait!
Heat pooled in his loins at the mere memory of that delightful week. What he wouldn't give to have that privacy now…
Five slender fingers scampered beneath the table and trailed up his inner thigh. In front of her mother, no less! To
his credit, he managed to keep a straight face as his manhood hardened, but the rustle of feathers betrayed the tempting thought which popped into his mind.
Later…
He shifted to alleviate the tightness in his cargo pants, hoping his arousal was not obvious to his perceptive mother-in-law, and settled one wing against Ninsianna's back to distract them from his movement. His wife and parents chattered about who was sick and needed healing, the latest news from the Chief, and how warrior training was progressing.
The fascinating movement of Ninsianna's mouth as she bit into each slice of cucumber and licked the salty juices from her lush, pink lips distracted him from caring. Impatience warred with his tendency to be polite. As much as he adored his in-laws, they had precious little time alone these days and he resented every moment he had to spend with somebody else.
"Off to bed, you two," Needa ordered, her eyes sympathetic. "My daughter needs her rest."
"I'm alright," Ninsianna protested.
"You have dark circles under your eyes," Needa shot Mikhail a look that communicated 'you're a lousy conversationalist when you're lusting after my daughter.' "Now off! To bed!"
"We must do as Mama orders," Mikhail gave a grateful nod. Only Needa understood his craving to spend time alone with his wife, perhaps a symptom of the empathetic form of magic she possessed as a healer?
With a guilty grin, he abandoned his in-laws and led his wife up the narrow step to their bedroom. Oh, how he wished this house were ten times bigger so he could spread his wings without letting the entire village know what they were about to do!
"But I wanted to discuss village defenses," Ninsianna teased.
Mikhail nipped the base of her throat, his tongue darting at that little pulse point where he could taste salt, a hint of soap root, and the hormones of her pregnancy, a heady aphrodisiac more powerful than any shamanic love potion.
"You just couldn't wait to make love to me," Ninsianna's golden eyes brightened as his hands slid around to cup her curvaceous buttocks and pull her against him so she could feel the effect she had on him.
"Mmmm-hmmm…"
"Aren't we talkative tonight?" Ninsianna teased.
Her fingers danced across his cheek, igniting warmth wherever she touched. Oh! How he loved it when she touched him. It was as though, before he had met her, nobody had ever touched him before.
He unwrapped her shawl, fumbling with the belt she used to keep the dress from falling off. As he did, Ninsianna unbuttoned his shirt and reached around to unbutton the back of his collar where the shirt fit around his wings. He threw back his head and made a rumble that could only be described as purring as she kissed his chest, pausing to flit her tongue over his nipples.
"If you do that," he warned, "this will be over before it starts."
"Then you shall take me a second time," Ninsianna expertly undid his zipper. It was amazing how quickly she had learned to master the unfamiliar clothing.
Mikhail groaned as she slid down his pants just far enough to clasp her hand around his manhood, so much heat pouring off her palms it felt as though she carried within them a tiny sun. His wings twitched, slamming into the wall.
Ninsianna giggled.
"Shhh! My parents aren't even asleep yet."
She tugged him towards the sleeping platform using his manhood as a handle. The room was so tiny he barely fit inside of it. Ubaid beds were made for sleeping, not to unfurl his wings and carry his mate up into the heavens. Lovemaking at home was brief and hushed, or about as inconspicuous as a five-cubit man with a twenty-cubit wingspan that flailed uncontrollably the closer he got to ecstasy could make it in a bedroom only six cubits square.
"I think they want us to hurry up and get this over with so they can get some sleep," Mikhail growled into her ear.
Strategic ignoring was a part of Ubaid culture. Desperation to reconnect with his wife had finally rid him of his prudishness. He nuzzled down her neck, down to her collarbone, and then up again to scrape his lips across her lush lips, eager to taste inside.
"Do you think they can hear us?" Ninsianna asked. She bit his lower lip, the pain sending a sympathetic ache of desire down to the tip of his manhood.
Dust flew out of the mud-brick outer wall as his coarse primary feathers scraped against it, but he'd learned to aim his wings that way and not the fragile inner wall made of woven sticks.
"No," he lied.
He surrendered his mouth so Ninsianna could explore inside, relishing the heat as his tongue locked around hers and then returned the incursion into her mouth with a little strategic tasting of his own. She tasted of porridge, sweetened with honey and nuts, one of his favorite dishes, with a residual hint of cucumber. He picked her up and tugged her legs until she wrapped them around his torso.
"Take me," Ninsianna whispered. "I am yours."
Mikhail lowered her onto his manhood and buried it in her silken folds, relishing the way her feminine mysteries clutched around him. Her eyes gleamed brighter. What in daylight appeared to be an oddity of coloration illuminated the room like a hundred lanterns. He forced himself to hold back his release, watching the sweet expressions which danced across her face as her eyes changed from burnished gold to a bright shade of gold that was almost white.
Ninsianna greedily satisfied her needs along his thickness, built herself up to that place where he sensed they both could fly. Funny, happy little noises escaped her throat, the kind of sounds a child might make upon tasting a honey-cake for the first time, hungry, greedy, eager to taste more. Her lips parted, giving him a view of her pink tongue as she tasted the air, tasted the pleasant ecstasy she wished to consume.
He ignored his own groans of pleasure, pretending his in-laws couldn't hear the whoosh of his wings. A pleasant tingling burned in every nerve fiber, every square inch of his skin acutely aware of her thousands of tiny hairs brushing against his nearly hairless flesh. He knew she was close when she could no longer keep her eyes open and threw back her head to pant his name.
He lay her down upon the bed, the frail wooden wall shuddering as the change in direction caused his wings to pound against it, and covered her mouth with his own, eager to share a single breath until his lungs hurt so badly he had to come up for air. His heart raced faster as though it wished to leap into her hand. The walls faded as, just for a moment, it seemed as though they existed together in some other place as his wings pounded faster to carry her over the edge.
Just for an instant her breath tasted like the air after a spring rain, filled with electricity as her feminine mysteries clenched around him as he carried them both over the edge. Some part of him recognized there were two bodies intertwined beneath them as his consciousness exploded upwards and he gripped at her, the spirit-her, that part of her he wished to carry higher. In this place all was joyous, but there was also the shadow of a warning. Not yet. She was close, but she had not yet made up her mind.
His consciousness settled back to float with hers, back into his body, joyful, but with that vague sensation that he had glimpsed something wonderful and not been able to share it with her. It was too bad he could not remember what niggled at him, a warning that he had left some task undone.
Her luscious lips curved up in a smile, sweat glistening in the moonlight which streamed in the tiny window and gave everything an ethereal, magical feeling, as if this world belonged to them alone.
"Ah, Mikhail," Ninsianna gave him a lusty grin. "Do you think my parents overheard us?"
He drew her tighter, throwing the blanket over their lower limbs and covering her with one wing.
"Mo ghrá," he whispered into her mouth, his sides still heaving as he caught his breath. "We need more time like this together. Alone. Without the worries of your village constantly interfering."
"We will," Ninsianna nestled her cheek against his chest. "As soon as you finish training the villagers to fight, we shall go back to your ship to spend a little time together."
"Yes, we need that," Mikhail said.
"We need to complete…"
What they needed to complete eluded him, wiped from his memory like every other important thing he could not remember about his past. His heart clamored that whatever it was, it was important.
Ninsianna's hand slid to caress the sunken hole in his chest, the place where debris from his crashed ship had shattered his ribcage and very nearly his heart, leaving him forever vulnerable there. Warmth spread beneath her fingers, whispering to him to forget his worries.
Not alone…
"Tell me that you love me?" Ninsianna pleaded, greedy to hear him say it even though he spoke the words perhaps a hundred times each day.
Mikhail flattened her hand over his heart and whispered the words he knew, to his species, even though he could not remember them, was their wedding vow.
"I love you more than life itself," he pressed his lips to her ear, "and I shall never be parted from you."
He ruffled his feathers to provide extra warmth and arranged his wings to protect her from the autumn chill. Flattening her hand over the hole in his ribcage as though it were a shield, he held it there, waiting until her breathing evened out before allowing himself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter 8
September 3,390 BC
Earth: Sata'an Base
Sata'an Lieutenant Kasib
Kasib
Sata'an Royal Navy Lieutenant Kasib tasted the air with his long, forked tongue before knocking on General Hudhafah's door. He was an average lizard, perhaps more slender than the average male, with hard green scales that became spotted when he molted. Like all Sata'anic lizards he'd been born with sharp fangs, claws, and a dorsal ridge that gave him an edge when fighting primitives.
"Enter!"
Kasib tucked his tail along the right side of his body, too tight if anybody looked closely, before turning the latch. “Sir,” he said with a formal salute, “our Amorite intermediaries claim they know the location of the Angelic, Sir.”
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 9