by Nalini Singh
Though now that she thought of it, a sharp pang struck her chest. She wasn’t afraid of the warlord, but Kavik’s refusing her help and warning her away from Barin had mattered. Did he not care anymore whether Barin tried to hurt her?
His expression had iced over again. “You’re on a quest to bring me to him on a leash. You’re the last person he would harm now.”
The ache in her chest eased. So he’d accepted the gelding because he thought she was safe. “But why you? Even if he was amused by a boy, why single you out in such a way?”
Mouth flat, he looked to her, then to Shim. “Tell me how you tamed him.”
Caught unawares by the change of topic, she only stared stupidly back at him—until Shim seemed to realize Kavik was talking about him. The stallion’s head shot up, and he reared toward the warrior, trumpeting an outraged neigh. The black gelding balked and shied. Kavik rode out his mount’s fright smoothly, the heavy muscles of his thighs tightening on the horse’s sides, his big hands easy on the reins.
“Shim isn’t tamed,” Mala snapped. She smoothed her palm down the stallion’s tense neck. Shim was snorting air like a bellows. “He’s my friend and my companion.”
“You ride him.”
And now he trembled with rage beneath her. Was Kavik trying to anger Shim so much that the stallion would attack him? Even now, Shim probably only held back because he might injure the gelding. Fortunately, Mala had traveled with the stallion long enough to know exactly how to deflect his anger. She leaned over to scratch his shoulder, just where she knew he liked it, and fondly teased him, “Because he’s weak-minded and easily led by his stomach.”
Laughing, she rode through the stiff-legged hop and buck that was the stallion’s response.
Kavik tensed and reached for her, then seemed to realize she wasn’t going to be tossed. He frowned at Shim, then his gaze went to Mala’s hands when she let go of the stallion’s mane. “No bridle or reins?”
“Of course not.” Mala didn’t know if Shim would kill her if she ever tried to put a bit in his mouth, but he’d certainly see it as a betrayal. Losing his trust could never be worth having the security of reins. She scratched his neck again. “We came across each other in the highlands west of Krimathe shortly after I set out on my quest. I told him he was beautiful, and that I thought he would enjoy traveling with me, because there’d be bandits to kill. I assumed that he disliked humans, just as so many others born of Hanan’s seed do.”
Shim snorted again, as if to say that “disliked” wasn’t a strong enough word.
Kavik smiled faintly. “But not you?”
“He did then. He blew air at me and walked on.”
“What did you do?”
She bit her lip, but still couldn’t stop her grin. “I followed him through the highlands until he gave in.”
Kavik said flatly, “I did not give in.”
“I know.” Instead he’d filled himself with iron. “I didn’t even ride him at first—I had another horse. But we were fording a river and a paddle-serpent stung my leg.” She pushed down the top of her boot to show Kavik the veiny scar that burst like a pale star against her brown skin. “I thought Shim would abandon me then, but he carried me to the nearest village, and we found a healer there. After that, he let me ride him, but only because he realized how much faster we travel when I do. No other mount matches his speed.”
He nodded. “You came upon us at the maze faster than any other I’ve seen.”
“That is Shim’s gift.” She rubbed his neck. “So you see he is not tamed. Not as other horses are—and not as humans think of it. If he ever was, I would fight to the end of my life to free him.”
His hard gaze found hers again. “Even if Vela had made your task breaking him to a bridle and bit, instead?”
In truth, she didn’t know. Because it didn’t have to be force; if so much depended on his taking a bit, Shim might willingly submit.
But it mattered not. “It isn’t the same, warrior. The taming is not what you think. There will be no collars or leashes. I would never be so cruel to anyone. So I have faith that Vela won’t ask it of me.”
Kavik didn’t look as convinced.
MALA’S stomach was grumbling when they stopped for the night in the shadow of the mountains.
“I’ll cook,” she told Kavik, and was glad when he didn’t argue. They’d only caught a few snakes and lizards that day, and she suspected by the meager amount of his possessions that he typically shoved a blade through their stomachs and roasted them.
Though no longer raining, the ground was sodden and the horses soaked. Mala tended to the animals while Kavik built the fire, then wished she hadn’t sent them to graze so quickly when a fat crescent moon shone through thin clouds, shedding weak light over the valley below and the ribbon of muddied road winding through it.
“Is that a village?” A ring of shadows lay in the distance—if she wasn’t mistaken, that was a village wall. “Should I have Shim herd the horses back this way? Perhaps we can find an inn.”
“We can’t.”
She glanced back. Their tinder was dry and had started well, but the peat he’d added to the flames was slightly damp. The fuel smoldered, the thick smoke obscuring Kavik’s face, but she couldn’t mistake the bleakness of his reply.
“You patronized an inn in Perca. An innkeeper has to take you in. Surely Barin doesn’t punish them for it?”
“He already did. All of them. There’s no village there anymore. He razed it to the ground.”
Stomach tightening, she looked across the distance again. “Why?”
“We aren’t far from where my men and I fought the demon tusker. Most of us were injured. The villagers took us in. They tended to us. And they all died for it.”
The tension in her gut rolled into a sick ball. He didn’t glance up when she crouched next to him, his gaze fixed on the tiny, flickering flames beneath the heavy peat. She studied his strong profile, remembering the matted tangle of his hair, his long beard. That hadn’t just been because he’d been doused with revenant blood. Unable to abandon the people in this cursed land, and unable to reside among them, he’d chosen to live like this instead. Not just while on the road, as Mala did. But all the time, except for when he escorted others to the bridge.
“So you became the beast of Blackmoor,” she said. And she’d been sent to tame him.
As if reminded by the name, he finally glanced at her. “I did.”
Determination had hardened his expression again. She met his gaze with iron in her own.
“We will see Barin dead.”
“You’re favored by the goddess. Perhaps you’ll find a way that I could not.” Abruptly he stood. “But it is too late for them.”
Mala knew that well. Even if she completed her quest, Vela’s help would come a generation too late for thousands of Krimatheans. “We help those we can, warrior.”
He only shook his head and retrieved the lizards lashed to his saddle. With a sigh, she concentrated on encouraging the fire. The weight of hope for her people couldn’t compare to the burden of death that he bore. But Mala would know that burden if she failed her quest.
It would not be completed tonight, however, so she focused on what could be done. Such as skinning lizards. She was too hungry to wait for a stew, so she stuffed them with yellow peppers and sweetroot before laying them in a clay pot, filling the remaining space with ale, and setting the pot in the fire. It would be a hearty meal, especially after adding tender slices of the opossum she’d smoked throughout the previous night. She would do the same for the snakes this evening—they were better eating on the road.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. Kavik had already gathered their sleeping furs and saddles, and he joined her by the fire. He glanced into the crackling flames. Fragrant steam was slipping from the pot. He leaned over and breathed deep before settling down beside her.
She passed him the wineskin of ale. “I hope that you are weak-minded and easily led by your
stomach.”
His grin seemed to increase the heat from the fire. She watched his throat as he drank, slipping her fingers down the length of her own. Mala wouldn’t touch him now, not without permission. Oh, but she could imagine so well.
She needed a deep drink when he returned the ale, aware that Kavik watched her mouth, and of the slide of his gaze down her body.
It came to a rest at her hips. “You wear your mother’s trophies.”
The jawbones suspended from her belt. An outdated tradition, but one that Mala was glad to carry on. At least for these.
“I do.” She took another drink, regarding him curiously. He’d spoken as certainly about their origin as if he’d seen her mother wearing them. “How did you know they were hers?”
He looked into the fire. “They’re old. And I think you would be wearing many more.”
So she did. Many more eyeteeth studded her belt. But she only said, “One is my father’s.”
His eyes met hers again. “They were the Destroyer’s men?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head back, looked up at the moon. Her mother had told her it had been full that night. Vela had seen it all, but there had been no help for Krimathe. “I’m fortunate that most of my traits resemble my mother’s, because they must have been the stupidest of soldiers. They turned their backs on her when they’d finished.”
Kavik didn’t respond. But this time, only because there was no response to make. Mala passed him the wineskin, then untied the jawbone hanging from the middle of her belt.
“I think my father must have been this one,” she said and held the bone up to her own jaw. “It’s the same shape, don’t you think?”
And in this short time with him, love must have been coming upon her. Because when Kavik choked and spit ale into the fire, she didn’t think about what a waste it was. Instead she watched him laugh, and the deep sound of it made her heart seem stuffed full. Then he looked at her, and his laughter quieted, and she hoped he felt the same.
If he didn’t, she would see that he did. “I hope you still intend to lie with me on my moon night.”
Fire filled his eyes even before he looked away from her and into the flames. “If you are so willing to take my cock, then I am still willing to fuck you.”
“I’m not only willing, warrior. I am eager. But I should warn you that once I have you, I will not share you.”
His hands clenched. He stared into the fire, his broad chest rising on a series of deep breaths. Finally he looked to her again. Hard determination had covered the heat.
Slowly he stood. “Come here, then.”
Her heart pounded as she rose. With each step, her breasts seemed to grow heavier, her nipples teased by soft linen behind stiff armor. Her gaze locked on his, she moved close enough to touch. His face a mask of tension, Kavik reached for her, his big hand cupping her jaw before sliding back to fist her braids.
“Down.” His voice was harsh. “Take my cock now.”
And taste him. Finally taste him. Anticipation sliced through her, hot and sharp. She sank to the ground, her knees cushioned by the folds of her cloak bunched beneath them. Her hands gripped his thighs, her palms sliding over the threadbare brocs and thick, steely muscle.
Oh, sweet gods. So strong.
“Now.” His fingers tangled deeper into her hair. “If you are so eager for it, take it all now. Tug as hard as you can.”
Her gaze shot to his face. A grimace had pulled his mouth taut, as if he lifted a weight beyond his might. Strain made sharp lines of the sinewy strength in his arms as he reached beneath his furs and shoved down the front of his brocs. His stance widened, powerful legs braced apart.
Because she was about to yank his leash, and he was apparently determined not to be moved by it.
Mala didn’t care if he moved. This wasn’t about taming him. She just wanted her tongue on his skin, and to give him pleasure. So if Kavik wanted the satisfaction of resisting what he felt for her, and if he needed it hard, and now, that was how she would give it.
Wetting her lips, she pushed aside the furs hanging from his belt. Oh, generous goddess of creation. There was so much for her to taste. Already his cock stood so tall for her, thick and heavy, with ruddy shaft and substantial crown.
“Thank you, Mother Temra,” she breathed against the broad tip, and after a swift lick to catch his flavor—like precious salt—she swallowed him down.
With a grunt, his body stiffened as if he’d been kicked in the gut. His hand tightened in her hair. She heard his sharp inhalation, followed by a long, slow release that was cut short when she drew back and took him as deep as she could.
It wasn’t deep enough. Surrounded by his scent, like rain, like leather and a long hard ride, she sucked hard upon him and worked his thick length to the back of her throat—then was forced to release him, coughing and afire with frustration.
Temra had been too generous, perhaps. “I can’t take all of you, warrior.”
“You will,” he said hoarsely, then guided her lips back to his shaft, the head still glistening from the wet heat of her mouth. “Your moon night and every night after.”
All of this inside her. She groaned and swallowed his cock to her limit again, and every hard draw upon his length stoked her hunger. His left hand joined his right, his fingers clenching and unclenching in her braids, the rest of his body like stone.
“Your hands.” The ragged words seemed ripped from him. “Stroke what you can’t suck.”
Her fingers were already slick from tending to her own need. She gripped his shaft tight and looked up to see his gritted teeth and his nostrils flaring, his eyes as fierce as when he’d first seen her and his gaze had been filled with the madness of battle.
I waited for you, little dragon.
Her warrior did not have to wait much longer. Her eyes locked on his face, she pulled him to the back of her throat and pushed her hand between her legs, gathering the wetness there. His shaft throbbed against her tongue. His breath shuddered with each stroke of her fingers down his length, but the rest of him didn’t move at all, except for his grip growing tighter and tighter in her hair.
Abruptly he stopped the movement of her head and pulled her from his cock. Mala glanced up. Oh, how he fought. His eyes were closed, his face contorted as if in agony. But there was never any stopping this.
Huskily she said, “Give to me your seed, warrior,” and with a savage thrust he filled her mouth, first with his heavy cock and then his salty release, and she took all of that though she still couldn’t take the rest of him.
Not yet.
Softly she licked away the remaining seed and thought she knew why he’d placed such reverent kisses upon her thigh. It was so easy to give pain and to become hardened to it. To give pleasure instead—and to know it was accepted—was a real gift. Mala had never felt so gently toward anyone as she did at that moment.
“No more.” Fingers rough in her hair, Kavik pushed her away from his cock and held her there. “I’ve finished.”
With his iron determination in place again, along with satisfaction—as if he’d passed a test of his own making.
So he would not show her any tenderness, as if tenderness meant he was tamed. Very well. In all her life, Mala hadn’t known much softness. She didn’t need any now.
And the dull ache in her stomach was just hunger.
With a nod, she licked her fingers and turned to the fire. The juices in the clay pot steamed and bubbled around the edge of the lid. “The supper is ready, warrior, and at just the right moment. Your cock isn’t as filling as it appears.”
A sudden tug at the base of her throat pulled her back—Kavik had grabbed the hood of her cloak. Mala suppressed her instinct to fight and let him take her. Dragging her against his hard chest, he wrapped his fingers around her neck.
“Make your bed with mine this night.” The soft gravel of his voice rasped against her ear. “You won’t go to sleep hungry.”
She nodded and shivered as h
is callused thumb scraped over her racing pulse. “I’ll lie with you.”
Kavik let her go, and with shadowed eyes he watched her prepare the rest of their meal. But this one did not pass in silence, for she asked him about his travels as a sword for hire, and he told her of a mad king who’d paid a thousand soldiers to escort him to the southern jungles, only to sacrifice himself to the jaws of a great thunder lizard. He spoke of creeping vines that would wrap around a sleeping man like a constrictor, and continue holding on until the rotting body had been drained of its fertilizing juices. He’d seen the Salt Sea’s beaches stacked high with giant bones, and he’d hunted wraiths at the feet of the monoliths of Par, said to have been built by the gods themselves.
Belly full, limbs warmed by ale, Mala listened in wonder. He had been farther than any other person she’d known. “Have you ever traveled north? Have you seen Krimathe?”
He looked into the fire for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’ve never been north of these mountains.”
Mala had never been south before her quest. “Have you seen any place untouched by the Destroyer’s hand?”
“No,” he said softly, and they fell quiet then. Finally she rose to prepare the snakes for smoking.
Kavik laid out their bed. When she’d watched him the previous night, he’d only removed his armor. Now he stripped down to his brocs and boots before laying his sword by his saddle, where he would rest his head. The glow of the fire bathed his skin in orange light, and even the fiery sky above could not draw her gaze away.
She laid her sword beside his. Only their exposed position prevented her from removing her tunic and loincloth, and sliding in next to him skin to skin. If bandits came upon them, best to be wearing more than her boots and cloak.
His body was as hot as the fire. She tried to turn toward him, but he pulled her back against his chest, lying on their sides with her head pillowed on his right biceps. His rigid cock nestled into the cleft of her ass.
Frustration bit deep. “Warrior—”
His heavy thigh pushed between hers and lifted, separating her legs. His left hand swept down the curve of her ass and delved through her slick folds from behind. Gasping, Mala arched her spine, pushing closer. His biceps flexed as he pulled her up higher against his shoulder and wrapped his arm across her chest, holding her tight against him. His fingertips teased her entrance.