The Rose of Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Shuddering, she made another ragged cry, raising her hand toward him, but still she hesitated.

  He didn’t know why she felt it, but the intensity of her fear and shame made his heart ache. “Please, Shannari.”

  “I might… hurt you. Your Blood… ”

  “You cannot hurt me, na’lanna, and the Blood will only come if I call them. I desire this greatly, as greatly as I desire to breathe.”

  She placed her palm on his stomach, her gaze locked on the seeping blood. “Get rid of the sword and your knife so there are no… temptations or accidents.”

  His heart pounded with anticipation. He slid the weapons as far away as possible. “The thought of your mouth on me drives me mad.”

  “You drive me mad,” she growled, leaning over him. “I swore I would never do this again.”

  Closing his hands on her shoulders, he held her away a moment. “I must warn you. Sharing blood can be a very arousing thing, for both of us. I must know now, before you taste me, whether you truly— ”

  “I want to taste you,” she said, forcing her mouth lower. She looked up at him, her brilliant eyes dark with need and rising hunger. “And then, I want all of you, as hard and as fast as you can.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wrapping his hands in her hair, the barbarian hauled her mouth down to his chest. The taste of his blood erupted on her tongue, metallic, but strong and rich. Mixed with his scent, the blood intoxicated her. Her head buzzed and roared and her heart thundered so loudly she could hear it like reverberating drums. Her fears and guilt floated away, and the world dwindled to this man beneath her.

  His blood burned a path of fire through her body. Lower, from her mouth to her stomach to between her thighs. The desire she’d felt earlier was nothing compared to this heavy, aching need. Bathed in fire, she felt a primitive urge to sink her teeth deeply into the muscle over his heart.

  Fighting for control, she tried to lift her mouth, but he held her so tightly against him she could barely breathe. Fed by his blood, his delicious scent and the incredible rock-hard press of muscle, tension coiled in her stomach. She swallowed another mouthful. Deep inside, she felt a swelling bloom of pleasure.

  Horrified at how quickly he brought her to the verge of climax, she jerked against his grip. Not a kiss, not an intimate caress— her undoing proved to be his blood. A tidal wave roared through her.

  Shuddering, she came hard. Need rushed through her, cresting higher.

  With a rumbling growl, Rhaekhar rolled, pinning her to the floor beneath him. He gripped her wrists over her head with one hand and tugged at her pantalettes with the other while he mashed her lips with his own. The taste of his mouth was as good as his blood, wild and raw.

  Releasing her mouth, he moved lower to press biting kisses against her neck. Each time his teeth touched her skin, a surge of heat and wetness pulsed in her groin. Arching against him, she tried to force him along. The damned barbarian didn’t seem to be in as much of a hurry as she.

  “Patience, na’lanna.”

  His deep warrior voice vibrated his chest against her, a strumming pulse she felt clear to her spine. “No patience!”

  Laughing, he sat up, straddling her hips and trapping her legs between his. He looked down at her, stark possession and hunger darkening his golden eyes. Squirming in an effort to ease the intolerable ache he stirred but refused to satisfy, she wanted to scream with frustration.

  At least he’d released her hands. She slid her palms up his muscular thighs, reveling in the strength and power in him. Blessed Lady, he was so big and rough and muscled. The thought of his full might driving into her…

  He was close enough to touch, but not close enough to kiss or bite. Groaning, she tried to buck him off her. With scrambling fingers, she caught the cloth he wore and jerked it away.

  What a mistake.

  The barbarian wanted her. She was more than willing. Why did he wait?

  “What is this cloth called?”

  Sweat trickled down her forehead, burning her eyes. She strained harder, using his thighs for leverage, but he would not be moved. Panting, she said, “Linen shirt.”

  He fingered the carved bone buttons as though he had never seen such a marvel. While she lay beneath him burning up with need and naked from the waist down.

  Rage quaked through her. Growling at him, she seized the neck of her shirt and ripped it open. Linen tore; buttons flew. Breathing hard, she glared up at him. Then she remembered the hideous scar on her chest. What would he think of it?

  Heavy lidded with lust, Rhaekhar licked his lips, his white teeth flashing against his full bottom lip. His golden gaze settled on her breasts, lingering a moment on the scar without a flinch. No tightening about his eyes that might reveal disgust. “If you want my hands on you, all you need do is ask.”

  “Damn you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  Those rugged, glorious hands remained stationary on his thighs. “You know what I want.”

  Swearing beneath her breath, she gnashed her teeth. He wanted her to beg. “Never!”

  “I recall someone swearing she would never ask me to make love to her as well.” An arrogant smile curved his lips. “I can see how much fortitude that oath contained.”

  Her cheeks flamed. Asking was different than begging, but to be perfectly honest, she hadn’t exactly asked, either. She’d ordered him. “Bastard.”

  “You want this to be hard and fast, full of raw need, meaningless, like a stallion maddened by the scent of a stray mare in heat.” He leaned down and tenderly brushed away a lock of hair plastered to her face. “But I want more from you than your body, Shannari. This stallion intends to drive all others away with hooves and teeth, because I will keep my mare forever.”

  “You won’t break me.”

  “Breaking you is the last thing on my mind. I treasure your courage, your strength and your pride. Nay, I want to love you. There is a difference.”

  Not in her mind.

  He was a man, a man who wanted her fiercely. Obviously stronger than she, he thought to corner her, overwhelm her senses to the point of weakness and surrender.

  So she would play along.

  She allowed her eyes to flutter shut and released a hopefully pitiful sound. Biting her lip, she feigned shyness and averted her face.

  “Shannari, na’lanna, let me love you. Let me show you exactly how it might be between us. Bend your pride to me in this small thing, and I shall never give you cause to regret it.”

  She felt a blanket of tenderness and warmth from him, as if he tried to wrap her up in a mental hug of comfort. Hiccupping another fake cry, she slipped her hands down the floor slowly, avoiding his arms and chest, then raising her palms carefully without touching his stomach or thighs.

  She closed her hands around that impressive erection and squeezed.

  A shudder wracked his big body against hers, his breath rushing out on a groaning roar. He fell forward, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of her. Breathing raggedly, he laughed. “I’m no untried lad, but a warrior with a warrior’s control. While I greatly appreciate your caress, I still must hear you plead most sweetly for what you hold in your hands.”

  She couldn’t resist giving him a smug, sultry smile. “What I hold in my hands is just as hungry and desperate as I.”

  Shifting, he thrust into her hands. The glide of velvet and marble between her palms made her eyes roll back into her head, wiping away her confident smile.

  He pulled back, slowly, drawing every inch through her clutching fingers. “Wouldn’t this feel much better inside you, na’lanna?”

  She nearly sobbed. Every muscle in her body clenched with longing.

  He rocked his hips again and again, dripping sweat on her, his breathing rough, his muscled body flexing above her. “I feel your need. You’re so tight, so close, my smallest finger slipping inside would bring you screaming and clawing with pleasure.”

  The thought alone was almost enough to send her s
oaring again. Desperate, she raised her head and pressed her face against his neck and chest. All hot warrior and sweet hay baking in the summer sun, his scent only increased her torment. She longed to sink her teeth into him, gnawing through the muscle and his relentless control.

  She dropped her head back to the floor and bit her lip to the point of drawing blood to keep from begging him.

  He dropped his forehead against hers. “Great Vulkar, woman, your pride will kill me.”

  It was the abject longing in his voice combined with the fierce, overwhelming ache of desire she felt through their bond that defeated her. He truly was on the edge of release; only his phenomenal control prevented him from spilling on her stomach.

  He ached as badly as she did. She knew it, deep in her heart where she couldn’t lie, even to herself. This man suffered when he could have commanded. He waited when he could have taken what he wanted. He refused her careless, crass offer of fulfillment despite his own physical need, because the emotional need of his heart was greater.

  Blessed Lady above, the barbarian already believed he loved her. Love.

  Wrapping her arms about his shoulders, she threw back her head, drowning in emotion. Frustration, because she ached so badly. Despair, because she could never love like he did. Agony, simply because she wished she could. “Please!”

  He trembled against her. “Are you sure, Shannari? Once we are joined, I cannot— ”

  She wrapped her fists in his hair and jerked firmly to quiet him. “Blessed Lady, yes!”

  Kneeing her thighs apart, he demanded, “Say my name.”

  “Rhaekhar,” she whispered against his lips. “Please.”

  He pressed against her, and his size snared her breath in her throat. Despite her need, her tightness prevented him from thrusting as deeply as she wanted. Blowing hard and straining to keep from hurting her, he twisted his hips and eased bit by bit into her.

  Too slow! Groaning at the fullness, she arched against him. The near pain stalled her orgasm. Until he gripped her shoulder with his teeth.

  Her spine bowed. The blood she’d tasted from him earlier flared and ignited inside her. Bubbling upward, erupting like a volcano, pleasure spilled from her on a silent scream of agonized pleasure. Grinding his hips against her, he plunged deeper, driving the molten explosion even higher.

  “Mine,” he growled around a mouthful of her flesh.

  She knew the moment his teeth broke her skin. The fresh blood shattered his control, flaming through him as wildly as her own release had flamed through her. Something deep inside her snapped, clicking into place as if it had always belonged. An interwoven binding gleamed in the secret darkness of her heart.

  Sliding into oblivion, her last thought was one of regret. She should have bitten him as hard.

  * * * *

  Dreaming, Shannari floated on her back. The full Moon above gleamed as brightly as the noonday sun. Cool water cradled her, carrying her away from her troubles.

  The moon took on a reddish tinge. Curious, she let her feet sink so she bobbed upright.

  She knew this Lake. She saw these calm silvery waters in her mind every time she held a weapon. When she faced battle of any kind, she pictured this Lake in her mind and pushed all her thoughts and fears below the calm waters to improve her concentration.

  Why was she here? She held no weapon. She didn’t face a battle. She didn’t even have any clothes.

  The sandy bottom firmed beneath her feet closer to the misty shore. A formidable black Mountain towered above the Lake. Three jagged peaks crowned by a glowing red center pulsated like a living heart. Sparks and flames shot to the heavens and distant thunder rumbled the ground, casting ripples through the mirrored waters.

  Silent power weighed upon her, humbling her soul. The Moon seemed larger than ever, taking up the entire velvet sky. The air reverberated with a sweet, haunting melody she could sense but not hear. Her soul knew majesty was all around, but she was blind and deaf.

  SHANNARI, DAUGHTER OF MY BLOOD.

  The ringing, melodious voice danced over the waters, filled with all the joy and love and warmth in the world. She knew this voice, too, although she had never actually heard it before. She was in the presence of the Blessed Lady, Leesha.

  Shannari glared up at the gorgeous silvered Moon. “Why? Why didn’t you save me? I’m your last Daughter. If I die, Your land and people will perish into Darkness forever. Your own priest has told me these things. Yet You allowed barbarians to conquer my army.”

  Silence was her answer.

  Hurt rage filled her, burning her cheeks like acid. “Why? Why have you forsaken me? I’ve always tried to do Your will. I’ve fought for the Rose Crown my entire life so I can protect Your people. And my reward is captivity with a barbarian warlord who… who…”

  She couldn’t voice the truth shrilling in her heart. Rhaekhar made her feel. He made her wish— that she had a softer, gentler heart, that she could trust and love with passionate abandon like he wanted. Like he deserved. Instead, her heart was frozen, wounded by death and blackened by blood.

  Her heart shattered, shards of glass and ice piercing her with pain. Gasping, she cupped her palm over the aching scar. “You never heard my prayers.”

  I HAVE NEVER FORSAKEN YOU.

  Falling to her knees in the crystal waters, Shannari cried harder.

  I SPEAK, AND YOU DO NOT HEAR. I ILLUMINATE YOUR MIND, BUT YOU DO NOT SEE. I THAW YOUR HEART, AND YOU REFUSE TO FEEL.

  “Forgive me, Leesha. I want to see. I want to hear. Help me, I beg you. Save me from the barbarian. If this is a test, spare me, please. I can’t bear it.”

  WE SENT HIM. HE WAS BORN TO PROTECT YOU, MY DAUGHTER. HE WAS BORN TO LOVE YOU. HE WAS BORN TO SAVE YOU.

  “Love,” Shannari whispered, closing her eyes with shame. “Love nearly killed me.

  DO NOT BE AFRAID TO LOVE, MY CHILD. LOVE IS MY GREATEST GIFT TO YOU. LOVE AS WE MEANT YOU TO LOVE. HE WILL NEVER WOUND YOUR HEART.

  Mist rolled across the Lake, concealing the mirrored waters. The full Moon disappeared behind a cloud, and shadows closed all around her.

  She had so many questions, so many doubts, so many… “Wait, please! You said, ‘we.’ Who else sent Rhaekhar? How will he save me?”

  Faintly, the Lady’s final words whispered in her heart.

  COME TO ME, HERE, AT MY SILVER LAKE. I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU.

  * * * *

  Watching her sleep, Rhaekhar could not keep the grin off his face. Such a Rose, such a warrior, such a lover. He couldn’t ask for a more perfect mate. With her desire for his blood and her fearless passion, Shannari had solidified their na’lanna bond in one glorious joining he would never forget. She would never be quit of him now.

  Reveling in the connection he felt to her, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply of her scent. Dreaming— he knew she was dreaming, although what he could not tell. Her heart felt very far away. He stroked her back lightly, listening to her steady, deep breath. Her natural fragrance of hot summer nights and enthralling flowers soaked into him, easing his loneliness.

  The rhythm of her breathing changed, and his heartbeat quickened with anticipation. He wanted to stroke and kiss every inch of her body, imprinting every hollow and curve in his memory forever. He would take her slowly this time, giving her pleasure after pleasure until she could not move, and then—

  She shot upward and her fist caught him underneath the jaw. His head snapped back and his teeth crashed together hard enough to make his jaw ache. Through the pain, he caught a glimpse of wild eyes and pale, strained face before she whirled away in a flurry of black hair.

  Scooping up her sword as she moved, she crouched in a corner, blade held before her in both hands. She breathed heavily, but her hands didn’t tremble. She scanned the room quickly and then stared at him, eyes narrowed and braced for battle. Her scent was as sharp and hard as the sword in her hands.

  He sat up slowly so as not to alarm her into trying to chop off his head again.
<
br />   “What the hell did you do?”

  He moved his jaw side to side to make sure it still worked. “I was breathing your scent, and watching you sleep, and… I think I touched your back.”

  “I don’t like to be touched. Not when I’m asleep.”

  “All right.” He would have to work on that one. He would like nothing better than to sleep wrapped around her body. Allowing heat into his voice, he said, “Why don’t you come back and lie down with me?”

  She stood and walked away, deliberately putting the table between them. “How long did I sleep?”

  Astonishment and confusion warred inside him. After the love they’d just shared, why would she distance herself? “Not long. We have a very long night ahead of us yet, na’lanna.”

  Raising an eyebrow, she gave him a long, pointed stare. “I really don’t like for you to call me that. Besides, haven’t you had enough for awhile? Aren’t you… satisfied?”

  Perhaps she had no understanding of a warrior’s control. She didn’t understand his burning need to touch her, to cover her with his body and kiss her the whole night through. “Can outlanders only make love once a night?”

  She blinked and the corner of her mouth quirked. “Once a week is more like it. Or longer. Why, I’ve heard at court that some nobles don’t visit their wives’ beds more than once a year.”

  Great Vulkar, once a year? He nearly choked and cursed and challenged every outlander he could find at the very thought. Until he caught the wry amusement softening her scent. “Come kiss me, Shannari, and I shall show you what I think of once per week.”

  “Is that an order?”

  Frowning, he sat up straighter. Did she honestly believe he would order her to his blankets? “Nay, a warrior rarely orders his mate, and certainly never to his own pleasure.”

  She poured herself another cup of that bitter-smelling brew, even though he knew it must be cold. “Truly?”

  His stomach felt queasy and not from the thought of her vile drink. Surely she did not think he would use her in such a way. “What honor would I earn by commanding you to my pleasure? I shall only command you for your protection.”