by Ruby Storm
Mating Ritual
Ruby Storm
It was a new world. A new way of life after the land known as North America ceased to exist.
Kella is on the run after the Stonemen warriors surprise the women of the Magya tribe as they prepare to be the chosen ones.
Jaggar, an elevated soldier of the tribe, has decided the white-haired woman will be his mate, and nothing will deter him. Nothing and nobody—not even Kella herself.
Spirited Kella fights him, knowing captive women are never returned to their homeland. But Jaggar will tear down her defenses with a loving hand, helping Kella to discover the mating ritual, one where both male and female give freely of themselves when sharing sex with the perfect mate.
Inside Scoop: In this world, men take what they want, and Jaggar really wants Kella. Their mating dance is a fight until Kella finally gives in to Jaggar’s lusty onslaught.
A Romantica® fantasy erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Mating Ritual
Ruby Storm
Introduction
It was a new world. A new way of life. Three thousand years earlier the land known as North America ceased to exist. Now? The rugged expanse hails as the Grand Mountains, a savage towering landscape governed by a breed called the Stonemen. The black warriors’ strength and resilience filtered down through the low-lying jungles at the mountains’ base. The few remaining tribes of eons ago dared not stand in their way. Those minor tribes scurried to hide in the dense foliage when the fierce hunters were afoot…unless complacency set fate on a different course.
Chapter One
Jaggar raised his wooden spear to silence the warriors behind him. Immediately the band of Stonemen halted and clutched their weapons in readiness. Jaggar’s alert gaze swept the surrounding jungle, his senses filtering out the many forest sounds to focus on the implausible.
There it was again. Amid the caterwauling of overhead birds and screeching monkeys came the sound of human laughter in the distance.
Though more than three summers passed since he explored the area they now trekked through, he was still surprised by the sound. No lesser tribes had ever dared enter the perimeter jungles at the base of the mountain, no matter how far from the fortress. His Stonemen clan had seen to that, had staked their claim to the land years earlier. Adrenaline ran hot in his veins. Surely a battle was imminent, and Jaggar knew who the victor would be.
Sensing his next-in-command step close, he turned his head to meet the man’s dark gaze. “Did you hear that?” he softly inquired.
Crete’s head tipped as he strained to listen. Muffled squeals of laughter floated on the breeze. His straight, thick lips turned upward at the corners, and he knew the hunting party had just turned to more than securing stores of meat in an unfamiliar and unexplored terrain. “We have company,” he whispered back.
Jaggar nodded as he tightened his fingers around his spear. Turning to the others who waited for his next command, he again raised a muscled black arm and silently gestured in a half circle. They understood immediately as he knew they would. The men moved as one, fanning out with their leader in front. Not a twig snapped beneath leather foot coverings. Not a breath was heard. Furred tunics brushed silently against the men’s skin. They continued forward, the unexplained voices in the distance becoming louder, and laughter more riotous.
Jaggar crouched low to the ground, every nerve in tune as he crept forward. The rays of sunlight filtering down through the foliage brightened, indicating an open area most likely only a few steps in front of him. When he heard the sound of splashing water, he reached out and parted thick, heavy leaves from a hanging branch. His eyes widened. He had expected to give the battle cry, but stifled the call in complete amazement. A handful of naked females played by the pond’s edge close to where water cascaded down from an open crag in the stone. Two others immersed in the cold, swirling center squealed and giggled while splashing water at those on the shore.
Jaggar’s gaze skittered from one woman to the other, shocked how their white skin shimmered in the afternoon light. He’d never seen such a sight, but had heard tales about this light-skinned breed of humans over council fires. It was thought this particular strain died out centuries earlier when the earth they walked on now had nearly disappeared when hot molten lava belched from open holes, swallowing nearly everything in its wake.
Jaggar’s gaze swept the area, on the lookout for any male clan members who might be accompanying the young vixens. Nothing. What sort of tribe would leave young maidens at the mercy of a wild jungle—or an opposing clan?
Crete crouched beside him. “I see no warriors, only the strangely colored females. I have heard of the breed, Jaggar, but never witnessed any in my lifetime.” His words were barely audible as he peered from behind the cover of thick leaves. “Are we to kill them or take them captive?”
Jaggar didn’t answer immediately. He watched the women intently even as his mind wandered. Kill them? Yes, that would be the probable thing to do. He was the leader, and a leader needed to make decisions that would benefit his people. These women were of a breed thought to have long perished. Did he dare expose any members of his clan to possible strains of disease they might carry?
His eyes narrowed as shaft of pain rippled through his chest. If it were men he watched now, he could easily raise his spear and dispense them to the nether worlds, but Jaggar did not believe in killing innocent women. His own love had left him in such a way, gone from the world in a deadly attack only footsteps from the Stonemen’s fortress, a victim of a cowardly, marauding band of nomads, murdering for sheer joy. No matter his status now as a leader, when his mate died, he vowed he would never kill a female again. He breathed deeply to clear his head from those long-ago visions, shoving aside his roiling emotions.
Crete leaned close again and whispered. “What is your decision?”
Jaggar contemplated both the oblivious women, and then the man beside him. He and his men left the Stonemen’s fortress three days earlier with the sole purpose to obtain stores of meat. Their fortune to the north was minimal at best, so he had decided to swing southward through a dense jungle area he had not visited for many a season. They’d managed to bag a few large jungle buffalo, but the slim pickings were disheartening. And the last thing he’d thought to come across would be a band of females completely on their own. Yes, he needed to make a decision.
With the white-skinned women dancing along the wet sandy bank, his attitude suddenly lightened. There would be no death on this day. “We will take prisoners today. There will be no bloodshed.”
His small band of warriors could easily have slain any opposing male clan members, but it did not seem they would get the chance. The women were alone and easy targets. “Pass it to the men. When I signal, we will take all females alive.” There was no need to hurry forward. Jaggar would be certain his men knew his wishes before leaping into the throng of soon-to-be female prisoners. He waited and suddenly his attention riveted to a particular woman as she stepped from the pond with water sluicing in rivulets over her full, rounded breasts. His cock hardened to stone at the sight of her naked body. Though she was the farthest away, his sharp gaze flitted over her pubic hair, the womanly pelt so sparse her feminine slit was easy to discern. What was it about her? Why, with so many women playing in the sunlight, was it her alone that sent sparks of fire shooting through his gut?
He actually ducked his head when she tipped her chin and seemed to stare straight into his soul. Heat pinged through his groin and warmed his blood. He planned to capture the small group and hand them all to his men, but the sight of her peppered his senses with lust that flamed out of nowhere. Jaggar shook his head. His lips pursed. He had not thought about another female since his mate succumbed so long ago. Hi
s stomach clenched and the breath whooshed from his lungs just before she turned away, presenting him with a full view of her slim, tight ass. She reached for a furred sarong folded on a rock. His lips parted as she slipped the garment over her head and pulled it down to settle around slender hips.
Jaggar’s fingers clenched the shaft of his wooden spear, his cock tingling with the same strange desire and need of a moment earlier. He continued to spy on her as she strolled along the bank, laughing with the other females. He had never glimpsed hair the color of hers. Stonemen tribal women were dark of eyes and possessed straight, black tresses, their skin as black as the wild jungle panthers. But the woman at the water’s edge? Her curling white waves rested on the breeze as it dried. Shafts of sunlight filtered through her long tresses, highlighting the strands to the color of mountain snow. The air from his lungs whistled sensuously across his lips and, in that moment, Jaggar understood the strange burn to claim her as his. There was no denying it. Stumbling upon the woman and her clanswomen was fate in its purest form.
“The men wait, Jaggar.”
“They understand there will be no bloodshed? That all are to be taken alive?” His gaze never left the beauty as she moved farther down the muddy bank.
“No bloodshed. The men have much better plans for them.”
Jaggar nodded, then raised his arm to give the signal. Excited black warriors leapt into the clearing amidst instant screams of terror.
The women scattered, some being easily detained while others struggled and kicked in their captor’s hold. One jumped into the pond and struck out for the other side, only to be quickly overcome by a warrior and dragged back to the shore. Jaggar effortlessly hauled a squirming woman over his shoulder as he kept his eye on the white-haired beauty. Fleet of foot, she disappeared into the thick brush and she was gone in an instant.
“Crete!” Jaggar hollered as he committed the spot to memory. “Take this woman.” He handed off his squealing captive, placed his hands on his hips and took in the scene around him. Except for the white-haired vixen who escaped, the women were all secured. He glanced at his second-in-command, who easily brushed off the punches of the woman in his grasp.
“You’re in charge,” Jaggar issued. “Take them back to the fortress. One of these fine beauties took off into the trees. I’ll track her and meet up with you later.” He turned and stared at the spot she’d disappeared into. His determination to have her burgeoned bright. He struck out on his own, knowing he would find the woman eventually.
* * * * *
Absolute bone-chilling fear spurred Kella’s reckless flight through dense underbrush. Her gaze darted about, her mammoth panic and terror acting as a shield against the sting of razor-sharp brambles grating the exposed skin of her body. Hesitating only momentarily when she came to a flowing river, she leaped into the murky waters, disregarding the fact the dark depths most surely hid dangers she could only imagine. She slipped and fell headlong into the cold churning river as the terrified screams from her fellow tribeswomen continued to echo through the early morning mist. The eerie sound forced her back to her feet in the waist-deep water. She slogged forward, and with each labored breath she took, she struggled to stay upright in the current. Twice she nearly succumbed to the heavy weight of the swirling water, but Kella refused to give up. Her reward was the opposite riverbank as she scrambled up its side.
She wilted onto the muddy shore, winded, but gathering a deep breath, she struggled to her feet and staggered through more of the dense vegetation, fighting heavy vines and realized the screams were fewer now. Her heart lurched in her chest. How many of the young women managed to escape? How many did not? She could not be captured!
She kept moving and soon the only sounds were those of monkeys chattering overhead and birds cawing out warnings. Her heart tumbled inside her chest. Surely she was not the only woman to escape, but the absence of human voices told another story. She rested only once, stopping just long enough to ease the aching muscles of her calves and thighs before forging on.
She needed a place to hide. If they caught her, she would be doomed. To her relief, she burst into an open glen and spied a small jagged opening to an underground cave. She sank to the forest floor, unmindful of the scattered twigs and stones cutting into the tender skin of her knees as she frantically crawled into the musty darkness, praying to the gods the hole was not a den for the horned wild pigs that roamed the forests or a ferocious long-toothed cat known to rip open a throat with one bite.
Kella shrank against the dank, moss-covered stone, afraid to go any deeper into the dark recess. Her sharp breaths echoed through the cavern. Her pounding heart made the blood roar through her ears as she strained to hear anything. And again, only the frightening silence that boded evil.
Shoving aside tangled strands of white hair melding to bloody scratches on her cheek, she drew her knees to her chest. Her nostrils flared at the gut-wrenching stench of animal feces, but she would not leave her temporary sanctuary such as it was. Far better to take her chances with one of the wild animals than lend herself to captivity by an enemy clan, especially the Stonemen.
Minutes passed before her breathing slowed and her heart quit racing. The icy wall at her back sent a shiver through her body. Clutching her arms tighter around her knees, she waited on the edge of extreme fear, struggling against the urge to flee the small cave and distance herself from the panic that gnawed at her dwindling self-control. She craved the warmth of the sun but needed the safety of the darkness around her.
For countless years now, even before the time of her birth, the Stonemen had slowly invaded the Magya’s terrain, chipping away at the sides of the Grand Mountains that edged the flat, forested plains, building their stone fortress and altering the landscape to suit their purpose. She had been told since the beginning of the new time and new Earth, the mountains always belonged to the Magya people. But now for as long as she could remember, Kella’s clan and the other dwindling Grand Mountain tribes had been forced to travel farther and farther from their homeland to put as much distance between them and the tyrant warriors. Slowly the many surviving clans had adjusted to a precarious life of forest dwellers. They’d become the hunted and persecuted, a people lost to a safe haven of what had always been.
Trembling fingers pulled through tangled hair from brow to neck. She had heard the stories from the time she was a child, tales of how the frightening oppressors had plundered the many Magya clans. They were fireside tales of horror, but this day had brought the reality. When the warriors had come upon her and the other nine women, she had instinctually known who they were. The leaders of her tribe did not lie. The Stonemen were giants with their massive chests and ebony skin, black straight hair and eyes the color of night, not unlike those beings that belonged to the underworld. They were warriors who stole women from the Magya, and those women were taken along with them never to be seen again. Tales of torture and cannibalism filtered back, instilling a fear in the Magya women such as they’d never known.
Her eyes fluttered shut as her stomach churned. A renewed shudder rippled down her spine. Only the gods knew what trials those female captives endured before dying.
Her head shook slowly as she cupped her face. This particular day had started with such anticipation and joy. It was set aside for her and nine others, starting first with a Purification Rite. That was the reason the women were at the pond earlier. They’d cleansed themselves in the morning light with clear spring water melted from the mountain snows. And they’d done it to become fully mated Magya women at a future ceremony, an honor not held for all women of their clan. Only ten special women were selected and she’d been among them. It was an honor all females hoped for their entire lives, to be chosen by a male clan member, to bear many offspring and know that she and her young would always be protected not only by her one mated warrior, but by the tribe as a whole. If she hadn’t been chosen, yes, she would have found another road to survival on the clan’s fringes. Even that life with t
he outcast women was better than being a captured slave of the Stonemen.
Kella refused to let that fate be hers. She would wait until the bright sun moved completely across the sky, and then leave the cavern just before nightfall and the return of the den’s four-legged owner. She prayed the Stonemen had not discovered her village. She and her clan had been safe through three seasons of the moon, remaining undiscovered. Kella needed to find her way back to her home to warn them all, to save as many lives as she could. To save her own life.
A crack of a twig preceded a familiar rumbling growl that instilled a singular thread of terror in her heart. Kella’s chin snapped upward and her compact body tensed for only a split second as another growl reached her ears. Scrambling to her knees, she feverishly searched the damp ground to find anything to use as a weapon to ward off what would surely be an impending attack by a fanged cat. When her fingers scraped against a club-like object, she clasped it quickly and raised it before her.
Kella blinked away frightened tears, her eyes straining toward the small opening, her heart pounding chaotically. The jagged rib bone of some long-ago dead animal would most likely be useless against the hungry beast. She had no other choice but to clutch it tightly in defense and hold her ground. To crawl deeper into the den would mean entrapment and certain death.
Her breath hitched in her throat when a furred paw came into view. Dagger-like claws sprang outward, marking a trail through the bits of stone and decaying bones before a huge, whiskered snout with gleaming fangs poked into the entrance of the cave. Kella had no doubt the cat breathed in the scent of its next kill.
A paw swiped inward once more. Kella screamed when sharp claws grazed her knee, and she brought down the jagged edge of the bone with all her might.
Jaggar’s square jaw lifted, his nostrils flaring to sniff the air. Another scent, an odor that carried imminent death, mingled with the muskiness of the woman he hunted. His bulging arm flexed tight and he drew his spear higher and tightened his fist around the heavy wooden staff. His steps lengthened as he moved effortlessly through the tangled underbrush. He had no doubt he could slay any predator he would meet and accomplish it easily. It was the woman who concerned him. His powerful body and adept warrior skills would be of no use if he could not reach her in time. Jaggar refused to lose this battle. With each step he took as he followed her trail, desire gnawed at his gut. He wanted the woman and nothing would stop him.