“You’re ready for me, aren’t you? Damn, you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of holding those sweet curves in my hands. Being inside you.”
She nodded against the ground, every part of her screaming in agreement. Begging for more. For him. She groaned in denial when he left her body, her brow furrowing as he turned her on her back.
“I want to see you, Xian. I need to see those eyes.” He lifted her legs high over one shoulder, his thumb thrusting inside her ass, coating her already-tingling flesh with more oil.
She didn’t need any more help. She needed him. She reached out, her hand grazing his hip, his cock, and wrapped her fingers around him. A rumbling, primal sound emerged from Hel’s throat as he thrust instinctively against her. He pushed her hand away and she gasped, feeling the head of his erection pushing through the snug barrier.
“Fuck. Xian, open your eyes. Look at the man who takes you.”
Xian couldn’t help but respond to the command in Hel’s tone. She lifted heavy lids and looked into the face more familiar to her than her own. He snared her gaze, refusing to let it go as he slowly slung his hips forward.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. This was beyond anything she’d experienced before. Ecstasy and pain, panic and exhilaration. It was as though every inch of her body, inside and out, was focused on where they were joined, sensitive to each thrust and drag of his cock.
It was the most intimate experience of her life. Her soul felt as though it was floating, leaving her body to merge with his. For long, wondrous moments, there was nothing but the sound of their breath, the beat of their hearts.
They came together, still staring into each other’s eyes as the inferno blazed around them. Hel looked the same way she felt. Staggered. Bewildered. Overwhelmed.
Dear Goddess it was true. She loved him. More than her calling. More than her people. More than anything.
He smiled tenderly and separated from her body. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her into the steaming pool beside them and bathed her with gentle hands. She still felt dazed, still felt like she was floating. As he held her she found herself telling him about everything. Her doubts. Nitara. What she’d read of the journal, and the reason she’d stopped.
Hel was silent for long moments. “This woman sounds very wise.”
Xian pushed back to study his expression for signs of mockery. There was none. “Wise? If what she wrote is true, then the world we built wasn’t the design of the Goddess. Our world would be a lie based on—”
“Xian,” Hel interrupted her. “I know men. I have fought with them, lived and bled with them. I know the evils they are capable of. Without the Sun Guards to protect the Temple, the chamberlain and the other men of the council would have taken over. Perhaps never attempted to recreate any type of civilization at all after The Burning Time. And the Sun Guards were created because of faith in the Goddess. Without that…” He shrugged.
“You’re taking this very well.”
Hel kissed her brow. “My faith was never for the Goddess. It was always for you. Meidra believed in you too. She said you were important. That you would bring salvation by finding your own path.”
Xian shook her head, certain he was wrong. “I am no one’s salvation. I have no answers. After the last few days all I have are more questions.”
Hel lifted her out of the pool and began to dry her off with her outer robes. “You need to finish reading the journal. After Siraj returns we can go for the box. Together.”
“Siraj has returned. I hope we have enough food for company. I’ve brought some old friends.”
Xian turned to the cave entrance, puzzled by the strange tenor of Siraj’s comment. Hel stiffened beside her at the same time she saw them. Three men in desert gear surrounded Siraj. The largest one held a knife to his throat.
Chapter Eight
Hel laced his pants, standing in front of Xian as she frantically pulled her robe up over her body. He used the time to try assessing the situation. His weapons and ruin artifacts were in the corner of the cave. They were outnumbered, and they blocked the only exit.
He cursed himself for not being more aware of their surroundings. He’d been so lost in Xian, in his own selfish desires, that he hadn’t protected her properly. Now they were all in danger.
Hel knew from their ragged dress and hostile manner that they were criminals and renegades. Desert pirates. They followed no law. They were less trustworthy than the ocean pirates. More volatile than the warriors.
He attempted to distract them from Xian. “So, Siraj, I see you have made another strong impression. Do you know these men?”
Siraj’s jaw locked. “Only too well. We had a slight misunderstanding recently. They believed they could ransom a clan elder’s heir for fuel and supplies. I, humbly, disagreed.”
The larger man snorted. “You more than disagreed, Siraj. You stole him from us. Do you know how hard it was to get him? How much danger you put us in? We should have killed you the last time.”
Xian shocked Hel by stepping out from behind him, hands on her hips. His Priestess. The warrior. “So you are responsible for his injuries when we found him?”
“Xian, be silent.” Hel swore silently when the three men’s gazes focused on her.
One particularly grungy man with a thick scar from his forehead to his chin sneered. “Siraj, you do well for yourself. A Kroy Wen Sun Guard and a Priestess? Perhaps there is hope for you to live another day. Shall we make a trade? Your life for these two. We’ll also be taking that fine-looking mare outside.”
“Oman, if you think the Wanderers were difficult adversaries, than you must know the Sun Guards would be just as deadly should you take a Priestess. Soon you’ll have to move to the southern desert, just to get away from everyone who wants you dead.”
Oman pressed close to Siraj’s side, his large, crescent-shaped blade caressing his hip. “I gave you shelter. Took you in and shared scarce supplies because I thought… But you don’t have what it takes to survive in the Wasteland. Other than your quick tongue and ready cock, you are useless to me. No wonder you have no family, no group of your own. You betray everyone.” He walked forward, studying Xian. “You, however, are something different. I know a particular clan in the Wasteland who would readily agree to trade with us for the chance to get their hands on you and your protector. They’ve lost many healthy young males to your bloody sacrifices, pretty one. A chance for payback may be worth food and fuel for us.”
Hel was enraged at the threat that put fear on Xian’s face. If there were time, he would kill him slowly, painfully for that. But he could see that the three men were on the edge with nothing to lose, and that made them dangerous. He had to get to his weapons.
He didn’t count on Xian having a plan of her own.
“What if we can give you something even more valuable to trade? The treasure of the Temple is hidden in these ruins. Would you let us go if we show you where it is?”
Hel watched Siraj make a pained face, closing his eyes at Xian’s words. Mistake. He couldn’t agree more. What was she thinking? These men would take her bait…and she would be in even more danger.
Oman was true to form. “Treasure? I knew it. We’ve seen the Sun Guards march into the ruins, year after year, going who knows where. We knew there must be a reason. You have a deal, Priestess. You will take me to this treasure. If it is as valuable as you say, we may let Siraj and your Sun Guard live.”
Xian took a step forward and Hel gripped her arm. “Don’t do this.”
She lifted her chin, every inch the regal Priestess. “I do not believe I gave you permission to speak.”
Oman chuckled harshly. “He can fuck you, but he can’t talk, eh? You’re my kind of Priestess, my lady. Lash, Moyle, stay here and keep your eyes on these two. Careful with Siraj—he’s slippery.”
Hel growled, stepping toward Oman. He wrapped his fingers around his throat and lifted him off his feet. “You take her nowhere.”
H
e heard an unusual crackling sound, like the rumble of a gathering storm. Felt a pinpoint zap that quickly spread throughout his body in waves of pain.
The last thing he saw were those eyes. Beautiful violet and blue, and so worried. For him.
Why had she opened her mouth? She’d seen the men with their weapons on Siraj, seen their expressions, and knew there was no way it was going to end well. All she could think of was getting them away from Hel and Siraj, getting them out in the open to give her Sun Guard a chance to attack.
She’d failed.
One of the renegades had slipped behind Hel as he’d held Oman in his crushing grip and touched him with an unusual weapon. Blue sparks had flashed from it into Hel’s skin, and he’d fallen to the ground in an instant. His heart still beat, but she wasn’t sure how much damage had been done. She had done that to him with her talk of treasure. She’d never forgive herself.
“Keep walking, Priestess.” Oman laughed. “Never seen one o’ those, have ya? That is what you get when you trade with the Wanderers and their inventors. Man said it picks up the static charge in the air, then slams bolts like lightning into the body. Would have killed you for sure, but your big Sun Guard’ll just have a nasty headache. That is, unless we hit him with it again.”
It wasn’t that far to the Vault. Xian had to find a way to escape him. A way to circle back and save her men. Her man. Hel. If they got out of this she promised to tell him she loved him. Promised to never give him reason to doubt it again.
She stumbled, accidentally on purpose, and fell to her knees on the rocky ground. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to being out in the elements. Especially not during the day.”
Oman sniffed without bothering to help her up. “Aren’t you the lucky one? We can’t escape the elements, as you call them. I call it a bloody evil sun and a soul-sucking desert. It’s no way for a man to live. But at least it doesn’t rob you of your manhood the way the cities do. The way your high and mighty High Priestess does.”
“She does no such thing. What are you talking about?” Xian couldn’t help but be insulted. The men had everything they wanted. They had freedoms the women could never dream of. It was the women who had to be hidden. The women who had to play roles.
“Oh sure, pretend you don’t know.” Oman shook his head, pushing her forward as soon as she got to her feet. “I know about your eunuchs. Well, you may as well have cut the dick off every man in that city. As it is you have them shackled by it. Don’t do this or you won’t get a Rose, don’t do that or no lottery for you. Men aren’t dogs, you know. You can’t keep them in line forever with the promise of a sweet cunt. We need to be men. To fight and hunt and stalk our prey. Sooner or later your tame pups will turn and bite you. I know that much.”
He had a point. The fact that she found herself agreeing at all with a filthy criminal who would probably kill her when he realized she’d been lying to him was disconcerting. But if it was true for the men, it was also true for the women. Nitara had proven that. The Roses who’d disappeared had proven that. Fear and faith kept people in line for a time, but sooner or later they would want to be free. To make their own mistakes. To fight their own battles.
Just as she had to fight hers. She stopped in her tracks, bending down to reach for a large rock. “Oman, you may be right. Women want strong men. Men who take what they want.” She hid the rock in the folds of her robe and smiled sensually at him when he turned to study her suspiciously.
She arched her back slightly, showing her breasts to their full advantage, grateful for the sun’s heat and the lover’s flush it gave her body.
Oman whistled. “You are a lusty one for a Priestess. No wonder Siraj took a liking to you. He knows about the delights of the flesh.”
Xian quirked her lips. “I bet you taught him everything he knows.”
“A few things.” He nodded. “A few. I bet I could teach you something right now. I’m sure you’ll still be a good trade even if you’re a little used up.”
Her heart thundered as she watched him slip his pack off his shoulders and plant his knife in the ground beside it. One hand began to unlace his pants, the other reached out awkwardly toward her breast.
Xian lifted the stone and hit Oman on the side of his head. He screamed and fell to his knees, gripping the injury. “Godless bitch! You’ll pay for that.”
She ran. She had no idea where she was going, farther into the ruins where she’d never been before. But she didn’t care. She had to get away.
“You can’t get away, bitch. I know these ruins better than you. If I don’t get you the wild things that roam this place will. You’re safer if you just give up and take what’s coming to you.”
She shook her head. She’d rather die. She crawled up a jagged mound of rubble, her hands and knees already scraped and raw, desperate to escape. Some loose stones shifted, and she was falling, unable to stop, tumbling down the other side.
She cried out when the sharp protrusion of metal pierced her side, trapping her, near blinding her with pain. In moments a shadow blocked the sun. Oman. His smile was not pleasant.
This was not the way she’d wanted it to end. Raped and killed in the Wasteland. As he scrambled down the hill after her, she had a moment of clarity. This was what the woman who wrote the journal experienced after The Burning Time. This powerlessness, helplessness. This was why they’d done what they’d done. Because of men like Oman. Men like Chamberlain Vey. Violent men who lusted after power and control, but were too weak to win out over other men, so they abused women instead.
“I’m going to enjoy this. I really am. I’ll just have to get your Sun Guard to tell me about the treasure. As for Siraj, well, it will take years for Siraj to make up for what he’s done to me.” Oman pulled down his pants, spreading her legs. He ignored her shout of pain as the movement pushed the metal farther into her side. The pain was excruciating.
Xian closed her eyes, clinging to the image of Hel smiling above her, love in his eyes. His was the last face she wanted to see. That was the last memory. Not this. This was only a nightmare.
“What the fuck?” Oman squealed and his heavy weight flew off of her. Xian opened her eyes in time to see Hel fling him to the ground, one hand at his throat, the other clutching his dagger.
“You will die for touching her, you bastard. But not as quickly as your friends. I’ll stake you in the sun with your insides dangling out for the wild dogs.” Hel set down his dagger where Oman could see it, and began to use his fists to break the bones of the renegade’s face.
“Oh, Xian. Sweet, you’re wounded.” Siraj’s voice sounded far away. Xian couldn’t take her eyes from Hel. So much rage. So much anger. Like the Sun. For her.
He wasn’t going to stop.
“Hel. Don’t make him suffer. Siraj, don’t let him…”
Hel looked at her over his shoulder, hearing her words. Siraj leapt over the rock to lay a hand on his back. “Hel, she’s hurt. We need to get her out of this heat, clean her wound. End it. Now.”
“Traitor.” Oman spit blood out of his mouth, his voice garbled with pain as he spoke to Siraj.
Siraj leaned over his bruised body. “I owe you nothing. You fed me. I fucked you. I never signed on for kidnapping. Or rape. You deserve everything you get.”
Xian watched as Siraj took Oman’s head in his hands and twisted sharply, breaking his neck. Hel snarled up at him, but Siraj sent him a bitter smile. “She is watching, Hel. Better me than you.”
She slipped in and out of consciousness, getting bits and pieces of images. Hel carrying her, tending to her wound. Siraj wiping her down with a damp cloth, singing softly under his breath as though to soothe her.
When she woke, the cooler air told her it was night. She heard Luna’s neighing and relief washed over her. She was glad the mare was safe.
“Xian? Don’t get up too quickly, my love. Wait for me.” Hel came over and sat beside her, helping her to a sitting position. They were back in the cave, the small fire pit ligh
ting every corner. There was no sign that the men had ever been there. No sign of what had happened to them.
Hel noticed her expression. “They are gone. Dead. They won’t bother you again.”
“Are you all right?” Xian accepted the agave juice he handed her, the soothing liquid making her sigh in relief.
Hel shrugged. “I didn’t enjoy that weapon. But it’s ours now. You are alive. That is all that matters.” He reached behind him and handed her the black metal box. “I brought this from the Vault. So you could finish reading the journal while you recover.”
“Hel, I need to tell you—”
“Anything you need to tell me can wait until you read. Siraj has made us something to eat. You need food.”
Siraj came inside, a metal plate topped with food in hand. “Talking about me? I’m just glad your Sun Guard hasn’t killed me yet for putting the two of you in danger.” He knelt down beside them, sincere concern in his eyes. “I had no idea they’d found me, Priestess. I swear to you.”
Xian cupped his cheek with her hand. “I know. This, none of it, is your fault. Hel knows that.”
“Hel knows that. He also knows that the next time dangerous men with weapons surround us, his woman will not decide to take it upon herself to save the day.” Hel’s growl drew her gaze back to his piercing green eyes. He didn’t hide the emotion in his expression. The fear. “I couldn’t take it again, Xian.”
His woman. Not High Priestess. Not his charge. His woman. That was what she was. Her true destiny. “I know, Hel. I just wanted you safe.”
He kissed her forehead and pointed to the box. “Eat. Read. Before I forget you’re wounded and bend you over my knee for the spanking you so richly deserve.”
A small thrill of arousal shot through her, but she nodded dutifully, knowing he needed that from her right now.
She ate the small bits of meat and herbs on her plate and opened the box, removing the journal with a sad sigh. She didn’t want to finish this. Didn’t want to read about any more pain or hardship. But Hel was right. She had to find out what happened. The whole truth, not bits and pieces.
Wasteland: The Priestess Page 7