by Autumn Dawn
Mathin looked at the other two Haunt already in place, his interest quickening. Something must be very wrong if Raziel felt the need to stand guard.
Keilor was in his office.
"We didn't want to disturb you right away," Keilor said, breaking off his conversation as Mathin walked in. "Not on your wedding night."
Mathin stared at him stonily. "Forget it. What's the problem?"
"The Master of the Hunt tells me you are ready to move come morning," the young man, a distant cousin of Mathin's, said. "I'd been sent by the overseer to summon you, but now I will simply hurry you along." Contempt twisted his mouth as he raked Mathin with his eyes. "Unless you wish to see your lands fall into the hands of another, you'd best see to them. If you're capable."
Never one to let a challenge pass, Mathin froze him with a look. "I'm more than capable, and I'm coming. Did you have something else to say, boy?"
It was clear the young man did, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
Mathin dismissed him and turned his attention to Keilor. "We'll leave within the hour. I'll have Raziel rouse Andrea and her grandmother while I see to the arrangements. Thank you for alerting me."
Andrea was not happy to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.
Her grandmother was even less so.
"I am fifty-six years old, young man," she all but snarled at Raziel. He'd tossed the covers off her when Andrea's gentle attempts to wake her had failed.
"So am I," he returned, unimpressed. "You travel with the Haunt, you keep our hours, woman. Get up." He grabbed her hand and pulled her firmly to her feet.
"How dare you!"
"I dare anything." To prove it, he gave her a smacking big kiss on the lips, turned her while she was still dazed, and gently pushed her toward the clothes laid out on a chair.
Andrea watched in astonishment as he strode from the room. "Wow." Never had she seen anyone silence her grandmother so swiftly.
"Impertinent man." Fuming, her grandmother got dressed, muttering all the things she was going to say to Raziel.
* * * *
Wide awake now, Andrea opened the door to the apartment and entered the hall with anticipation. It was a big disappointment to find a Haunt outside. Until she recognized him as Raziel by the blue eyes, red sash and earring. No way would her grandmother dare to dress him down now.
She was wrong.
"Don't try your Haunt tricks on me!" Matilda said the moment she saw what he'd done. "I know you can hear me just fine."
Raziel bared his teeth at her and started off down the hall.
"You nasty, rude man!" Matilda followed just behind him, venting spleen.
The two Haunt at the door exchanged toothy grins.
Andrea had to agree, it was a sight. They followed Raziel down to a yard lit with laser torches at the stables. A confusing mass of men and Haunt strode to and fro, intent on their various tasks. Excitement hummed in the air.
Raziel stopped in front of a covered platform that was hitched to a pair of stags. It hovered in the air, the invisible force that held it flattening the grass beneath.
"An anti-gravity device?" Andrea muttered, bending down to peer beneath.
"I will not speak to your back!" Matilda shouted, then squealed as Raziel picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously on top of the sled behind the driver.
"Andrea."
She looked up at Mathin, who was seated on his stag.
Bloodlight snorted at her, his nostrils flared to catch her scent.
"You can ride with me or Matilda. The rest of us don't need the light to see, and there will be little of it on this cloudy night. There's a bed set up if you wish to go back to sleep."
Was he mad at her? Andrea couldn't tell from his expression, but his tone and manner made her wonder. Is this how he was going to act when he couldn't get any? "I guess I'll stay with Grandma."
"Fine." He nodded curtly to Raziel, who helped her into the wagon, then rode out. The rest of the column followed.
Hours passed. Tired of watching black trees and bushes go by, Andrea stared at the bottom of the canopy, feeling out of place. Occasionally she'd look out the bug netting, watching the dark shapes of the other riders. What was she doing here?
"What happened between you two tonight?" Matilda asked quietly.
"I thought you were asleep." Andrea rolled her head to glance at the dark shape beside her, really little more than black on black.
"What happened?"
She sighed. "I was sick," she answered miserably, careful to keep her voice low. "You know how I get when people fight."
"I know it makes you think of the man who killed your parents, but that was a long time ago." Matilda's voice was gentle.
She stared at the canopy. It was wider than the base of the wagon bed, and the netting tapered to the platform below. "It's not as if I dwell on it. It's just that when I see men fighting, my gut remembers." And the memories of blood and screams of agony returned. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I can handle it."
"Hm. So well that it messed up your wedding night?"
Andrea rolled over, putting her back to Matilda. "Goodnight, Grandma."
Mathin listened in the dark, absorbing their words. He would have to warn them about Haunt hearing, but for tonight he was glad they didn't know. On his own he might never have thought to ask why Andrea became ill at the sight of violence, thinking it merely an odd quirk.
Becoming his wife would be difficult for her. It might be possible to shelter her from the rough side of his life, but he couldn't avoid it himself.
To her credit she seemed to realize that. She hadn't asked him to become a pacifist. But ... he considered the woman in the wagon, whom he could see perfectly well. He could stop participating in the tournaments. The idea scraped like a dull blade, but it wouldn't kill him. Not if it were so important to her. As for the other....
His mind raced ahead, considering the terrain. They would stop at dawn to eat, and not again until dusk.
Mathin smiled as he considered what he wanted for breakfast.
* * * *
"You want to go for a walk now?" Andrea demanded, not yet fully awake.
Mathin took her hand and led her out of the camp and into the redwoods. Ignoring the knowing looks they gathered, he shifted the thick blanket she had yet to notice over his shoulder and tightened his grip on her hand to prevent her from stumbling. "Walking is good for you."
Someone snickered.
Feeling his face heat for the first time in ages, he walked faster. Soon they were out of earshot of even the most sensitive of Haunt.
"Why--” Andrea began, then her eyes fell on the blanket as he spread it on the ground. Her mouth fell open. "Here?"
"Here." He took off his vest.
"N-now?"
"Right now." He sat down and unlaced his boots.
She backed up. "We're right out in the open! Anyone could see us." A frantic look around confirmed that they were alone, but one could never tell.
"No one will." He unfastened his weapons belt and reached for the buckle at the waist of his pants.
"Wait!" She threw up her hands, palm out. "I just can't do it out here, Mathin. I really can't."
Mathin froze in disbelief. "There are no villages or towns in this direction for many miles, woman. Is it your plan to wait for weeks?" When she hesitated, he reached out, took her hands and gently tugged her onto the blanket.
"They'll know what we're doing," she protested weakly.
"They already know." Before she could comment, he kissed her.
Chapter 8
One kiss was all it took. Mathin's lips were firm and hot. She took to them like kindling to flame as bonfires erupted all over her body. Forgotten was the idea they might be interrupted. Gone were the thoughts she'd entertained in the night of reconsidering her desire to wed Mathin. The feel of his hard body welded to hers, the smooth glide of his back muscles under her hands ... everything felt too right to give up.
When he wedged his thigh between hers, she moaned. The first deliberate drag against her inner parts lifted her to her toes. Shock waves traveled up her spine and vibrated to the ends of her fingers. It felt like she'd touched lightning. Again he did it, and this time she screamed, glorying in her first climax.
Mathin pulled back, fierce pride and satisfaction in his expression. For a moment it seemed he would slip his leash. Instead he took a deep breath and pulled her shirt over her head, casting it over his shoulder. Neither watched it fall.
His eyes devoured her breasts, barely hidden by her bra. The nipples ached in response. "Mathin?" she asked in a very small voice. It made her self-conscious to stand here like this, yet very excited.
Their eyes locked. "I've wanted to strip you naked almost from the moment we met. You'll never know how hard it was for me to stop."
"Don't stop now." She blushed as soon as she said it, but the words were out. Would he think her too bold?
With a groan he seized her lips, assuring her that he thought no such thing. "Touch me," he commanded as he released the clasp in the back of her bra.
Instantly clumsy, she stammered, "H-how?" Of course she knew how, but she'd never actually done it. What if she did it wrong?
He frowned at her curiously, then twined the fingers of his right hand with her left, raising it between them. Each fingertip received a tender kiss. "Like this." He placed her hand on his waist, then guided it back to cup his buttock. He gave a gentle squeeze. "And this." He stroked her hand down his thigh. "Just like this." Slowly he brought her hand to gently cup him, groaning in approval. "I think I may just die."
She thought she might, too, but not for the same reason. She'd never realized ... was he supposed to be this big? And how could she possibly ask without sounding like a complete ninny?
The next moment she felt her own pants slipping down her legs. How had he managed that? Sudden panic made her grab for them. "M-mathin....”
His hands gently gripped her shoulders, slipped the bra straps off as they trailed down to her wrists. Trembling, she ducked her head and held onto her pants for dear life, torn between the need to cover her breasts and the greater one to hide her femininity.
Mathin's thumbs made slow circles on the pad between her thumbs and first fingers, relaxing until they loosened their death grip. And all the while he was murmuring sweet things in her ear. Enticing, wicked things.
"Let me love you, my rogue. I long for a taste of you. The smooth feel of you as I touch you with my hands, my tongue." She shivered, and he teased her lips with his, adding a gentle flicker of tongue. "You like that? It gets better." The tongue dipped deeper. "Hotter." The next kiss was truly wicked. "Ah ... and deeper." This time his hand dipped between her legs, straight into her wet cleft. She tried to close them, but it was too late.
He had possession.
Andrea gasped as first one finger, then two eased deep into virgin territory, giving her a taste of what was to come. Heaven and a comet zapped through her blood, and it was all she could do to stand. In seconds a primal scream of pleasure ripped from deep in her throat as her body arched. More! Another ragged burst of sensation crashed within, lighting up the darkness behind her closed eyes with white lightning. Vaguely she felt herself being lowered to the blanket. "I'm going to die," she moaned, almost delirious with pleasure.
"Take me with you," Mathin commanded, his voice ragged. He removed his teasing hand and gripped her hips, surging deep within.
With the suddenness of a record being rudely ripped off, the pleasure stopped. Gasping at the searing pain, she struggled, but he had her firmly pinned.
"Wait."
His voice was close to the edge and she instinctively stilled, knowing not to push her mate.
The symbiont moved, glided down her body and flooded her thighs with gentle warmth. In moments the pain was gone.
"Better?" he asked, his body trembling above hers. At her shy nod he began, very slowly, to move.
Surge and withdraw. The gentle tempo of the sea. Soon it was not enough.
"More!" she gasped in desperation, feeling as if she might die if he didn't.
Instantly the glide gave way to the thunder of surf, crashing over them both in waves of pleasure. "Yes. Yes! Oh, Mat, yes!"
* * * *
If he wasn't dead, he was close enough to heaven not to care.
Mathin groaned and let his hand wander over his wife's backside, unable to help himself. Half draped over him, she gave a sleepy wiggle, her hips instinctively moving against him. Already half-hard, he strove to remember why he needed to get back and couldn't think of a single compelling reason.
Nothing in his life had prepared him for the blistering heat of his first time with his wife. Nothing came close. Even his most experienced lover had paled in comparison with his innocent wildflower. Had he only known....
Pretty green eyes, full of slumbering heat, regarded him. She wiggled experimentally on his chest. "More?" Pink stained her cheeks even as she asked the question. How could he refuse?
"More," he answered firmly and rolled her onto her back.
They found Raziel lounging with his back against a tree within sight of their breakfast camp.
He dropped his foot to the ground and uncrossed his arms. As they came abreast of them he took a deep whiff in Andrea's direction. "I see we can all toss out our nose filters."
Andrea gasped on a mortified laugh.
"Hm," was all Mathin said.
"Congratulations on your new bond, sister." Raziel kissed her forehead and handed her something.
It was a holstered gun and a knife.
"You've just married a warlord," Raziel explained when she looked at him askance. "Believe me, Jasmine came to love hers."
"Er, thank you." Unsure what else to do with it, she buckled it on. The unfamiliar weight dragged at her pants, forcing her to hitch them up. She felt like a fool.
Mathin grinned fondly at her and stroked her cheek. "You'll get used to it."
She grimaced. "Heaven help me if I ever have to use it. I'd probably get sick all over the victim."
"Here." Raziel handed her a blue velvet pouch with rainbow-hued flowers embroidered on it. "This is from Jasmine."
A tug of the silver cord opened it. Andrea reached inside, found a card on top. It read, "Dear Andrea, Congratulations on your marriage--I think (grin)! Seriously, try to resist strangling him. The man can be impossible, but you'll never find a better one. He loves you."
Andrea sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye, angling the card so that Mathin, who was trying to read over her shoulder, couldn't see it. "I know these things might seem a little odd for a wedding gift, but I know who you're traveling with. Learn to use them--you never know, and they could save your life."
Curious now, Andrea left off reading the note and investigated. Inside was a leather belt with several pouches sewn on it, similar to a commando supply belt. The pouches yielded a fire starter, fish hooks, a poncho, and other survival gear. "I'm starting to wonder about all this," she muttered, tucking the items away.
There was one more thing in the velvet bag. As her fingers closed over the silky material, she knew she'd better peek before pulling it out. What she could see of the rainbow-hued cloth was sheer, and the straps told her it was meant to be worn. The volume of the garment told her without looking that there wasn't much to it. She consulted the note, and grinned.
"What does it say?"
She smirked but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "She wishes us well."
Mathin's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you blushing?"
Andrea stuffed the note into her shirt. "It's just girl talk." Marital advice, more like. Definitely nothing she wanted him to read.
"It won't be safe there," he practically purred, and wrapped his arm around her waist.
"Behave!" She elbowed him in the ribs. He just drew her closer as Raziel laughed and escorted her into the camp.
Raziel wasn't the only one with a gift for t
hem, and she was surprised to discover a feast had been prepared for them in their absence. Although slightly wary of her, the men were genuinely happy for Mathin and treated her with respect. Although necessarily short, breakfast was merry. Everyone was in a good mood as they prepared to leave.
Instead of helping her into the wagon with Matilda, Mathin took her hand and led her to an already saddled stag. The beast turned its face to them, sniffed at Andrea, and snorted full in her face.
"Part of my gift to you." Mathin suppressed a grin as she wiped her face in disgust. "I know you'd rather have a horse, but you do need to have something to ride."
"Tell me something, Mathin," she asked as the beast turned its hind end in their direction, lifted its barbed tail and very deliberately farted. Andrea backed off a half dozen paces. "You guys have light sabers, laser guns and hover barges. Why don't you just attach an engine to a barge and get rid of the stags?"
"We like them. And unlike your people, the Haunt don't care to spend their lives in factories making parts."
The obnoxious stag looked over its scaly shoulder and narrowed its eyes on Andrea.
Walking was looking better by the moment. "I like cars," she muttered, but swung up into the saddle anyway. The stag stiffened. She just knew it was going to buck.
"Be aggressive with him," Mathin warned.
"Fine!" she snapped, galvanized by anger, partially directed at Mathin. Why would he stick her on a dangerous beast and then leave her to deal with it? She grabbed the beast by its small ear. "Listen up, buttercup! I'm in no mood to be messed with, so you either knock it off or I'll rip this thing off and kick it around on the ground. You got it?" She felt guilty even for saying it, no matter how deep their mutual dislike went, but the stag settled right down.
Mathin nodded at her. "Good. As his rider you're the only one who can win his respect."
She scowled at him. "You could have warned me."
"Forgive me." He gave her a quick kiss and swung up on his own mount.
He didn't look very sorry. Andrea's resentment grew as they rode. Hadn't the intense passion they'd shared this morning meant anything to him? The memory softened her a little. The smiles he kept sending her told her he more than remembered. Anticipation unfurled in her belly.