Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  His tongue snaked out to bathe her aching cheek before his lips settled on hers. With a sigh, Miranda opened her mouth to accept his kiss. Brandwulfr was tender, gentle, yet possessive in a way he never had been before.

  “The skin on your back’s not mended yet,” she said, wanting him to rest even though what he was doing to her felt so good she just wanted to close her eyes and enjoy.

  “By tomorrow, I’ll be fully healed. Now let me do this.” His voice was a husky whisper against her lips. There was no way she could resist him when he was this tender, this caring. “I think I need it as much as you do, love. Maybe more.”

  When she gave her consent with a contented sigh, Brandwulfr deepened his kiss, rolling over to cover her body with his. Neither of them was dressed. The healers had seen to that when they’d tended their various wounds. He settled between her legs, rocking side to side to get the fit just right.

  “Your back. Brand—”

  “I’m fine. Just...let me have you, Miranda.”

  “Then take what you need,” she sighed. “Whatever you need.”

  The possession in his kiss turned to desperation as he thrust his tongue between her lips over and over. His hand bunched in her hair, angling her head so his mouth fit against hers perfectly. Growling as he continued to kiss her, Brand rocked against her flesh, his cock slipping over her with a silky glide that nearly drove her mad. Miranda found herself clutching his ass with her fingers, urging him to enter her, trying to angle her hips so he slipped inside her. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  Sliding down her body, Brand grazed the side of his face over her chest, the thick stubble on his cheek abrading the fleshy globe of one breast deliciously. Miranda thought she’d come just from the feel of that alone. Her nipples ached for his touch, as did her sex, but he seemed intent on avoiding them altogether, as if he knew that, by denying his touch, he was only inflaming her more and more.

  He continued to kiss his way down her body, over her belly to the small thatch of downy hair of her mound. Once there, he didn’t delve into her sex as she’d expected, or hoped. Instead, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her hip bones, skimming his lips over the skin all around her sex to the insides of her thighs. Once there, he licked and nipped the sensitive flesh until she was whimpering and squirming, unable to hold still with want and an intense need she’d never experienced, not even in her room with him making love to her so fiercely.

  “Brand!” The sharp cry of his name was all she could manage. As injured as they both were, as much pain as he had to be in, he was giving her more pleasure than she’d ever thought possible. She’d gone from being terrified, from realizing she was about to die to feeling such intense and overwhelming pleasure she was unable to process any of it. All she could do was scream in abandon.

  “That’s it, love,” he encouraged roughly. “Let everyone know who you belong to.” The realization that she’d completely forgotten they weren’t alone, that the entire camp could probably hear her should have embarrassed her, and it probably would when she came to herself. But right now, it was an erotic enticement for her to continue, for them both to make it known they were lovers.

  “I need your mouth on me, Brand,” she whimpered. “Please.”

  “Ah, gods!” He snarled as he covered her sex with his mouth, licking and flicking her clit with his wicked tongue. Crying out once again, she tugged him to her, her hands threading through his thick, glossy black hair. He ate at her cunt as if it were his lifeline, ambrosia for a starving man. Each time she neared her climax, he pushed her over with a brutal intensity that bordered on savage. Brandwulfr gave her everything she needed, yet demanded so much more from her. Miranda felt as if he were demanding her soul, and she was powerless to resist him.

  Gradually, he ended the sordid kiss, holding her gaze as he moved over her once again, his hips between her thighs, settling himself there yet not slipping into her as she needed. Miranda had a moment to realize something momentous was about to happen. He must have realized it too, because no sooner had the thought entered her head than Brandwulfr grunted, raising his chin as if in acknowledgement of something. Then, with excruciating slowness, he penetrated her, his cock stretching and filling her deliciously.

  When her eyes slid shut, he snarled, “No! Look at me!” Miranda was startled by his harsh tone, but when she saw the pained look of controlled lust on his face, some of her apprehension dimmed. “I should let you go,” he said, his voice breaking low. “But I can’t. Returning to your home is out of the question now. But I never intended to let you anyway.”

  Her breath caught. “But—”

  “Shhh…” He shifted inside her, putting friction on her clit so the pleasure seemed to zing through her body and she cried out once again. Brandwulfr slid his hands through her hair, holding her as his face descended to hers. “You’re mine, Miranda. No matter what happens in the next few days, I won’t let you go. Ever. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t, but she sensed now wasn’t the time to argue with him or to ask him to explain something he likely couldn’t. Instead, she nodded slightly. Then he kissed her, his hips moving much the same way his tongue did. In and out with a slow languidness designed to build their pleasure slowly. Only Miranda was on the verge again, had been since her last orgasm on his mouth. She needed this, needed him. Brandwulfr. Her gladiator wolf so fierce and proud. Was any woman ever so enthralled with a man?

  As he continued to thrust into her, Brand wrapped his arms around her, groaning as he settled into a steady rhythm. “Feels so good,” he whispered against her hair. “All mine. My beautiful little female.”

  Miranda wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his ass as she urged him on. Faster. Harder. Before long, they were both panting and moaning. Miranda’s little squeals of pleasure were punctuated with his grunts and growls. He sometimes snarled at her, nipping the side of her neck or her collarbone. Always in response to something she did that he liked. Miranda had never been a particularly aggressive lover, but she found Brandwulfr demanded it. She also found she liked it.

  It wasn’t long before she came again, this time screaming to the sky visible through the open top of their carriage. The sun chose that moment to peek out from a cloud to shine straight on Brandwulfr’s back, bathing him in a golden, healing light. His eyes flashed an intense blue as his back bowed and he let loose his own roar of completion. Before her eyes, the few remaining scratches marring his handsome face healed completely, and the places on his shoulders that had been pink and raw looking turned to smooth, healed skin. Her amazement was overshadowed only by her relief. He truly was healing. The horrible burns he’d sustained protecting her no longer hurt him.

  Sweat slickening his skin, Brandwulfr collapsed on top of her, their bodies moving together in an erotic glide. Though she loved the feel of his weight, Brand turned them to their sides, wrapping his arms around her tightly even as he tugged a sheet over them.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was husky from his earlier shout. Husky and sexy.

  “Yes,” she breathed, rubbing her face against his chest.

  “Rest. Later we’ll go to a stream and bathe.”

  “Are we even near one?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I can smell the cool, clean water not far to the west. If we’re heading to Denwulf City, the road follows a stream that supplies the city’s water.”

  Instead of responding, Miranda merely nodded, exhaustion overtaking her. “Thank you for what you did at the temple,” she murmured. “That was the bravest, most selfless act I’ve ever witnessed.”

  “Only for you, love,” he said as she drifted off. “Always for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The water in the stream Brand brought her to was cold and invigorating. Miranda wasn’t too proud to admit she had been less than thrilled when she’d stepped in along the muddy shore, but the cool mud between her toes and the cold water on the warm day turned out to be quite relax
ing. The water came up to her chest at the deepest part and, despite the muddy bottom, was clear and clean. Brandwulfr had led her through the water to a boulder in the middle of the wide part of the creek and given her toiletries to wash her body and her hair. But he didn’t leave it at that. He seemed to take great delight in helping her soap and rinse her hair, taking every opportunity to touch her cool, wet skin. As the strands of her hair sifted through his fingers, he groaned softly. Had he been a cat instead of a wolf, Miranda would have sworn he purred.

  After helping her bathe, Brand had taken her thoroughly in the water, giving her more pleasure than any one woman had a right to. Miranda had done her best to please him as well, but she was certain any pleasure she gave him was more from the way he’d played with and petted her body at his leisure than from anything she had done.

  Now he had her draped over the rock, soaping and kneading her back and shoulders with strong, tender touches. The pressure on her sore muscles was heaven, wringing a moan from her.

  He stilled, urging her from the boulder and back into the chest-deep water. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw his head cocked, his eyes watchful as if he scented someone close. His body was still, but not tense, as if what he scented wasn’t danger, but Miranda was decidedly uncomfortable with her nakedness. And his.

  “Guardian Brandwulfr.” The voice was a lovely contralto, distinctly feminine. At the edge of the forest surrounding the water stood a tall, muscled female. She wore the same dark uniform as the guards, but sported a vest instead of a tunic, displaying superbly formed arms that bespoke her strength. A leather tie bound her arms above her biceps, which only emphasized her powerful upper extremities. Her midriff was visible under the leather armor over her chest. Fine muscle rippled with every movement. Thinking of her own slight build, Miranda thought she would give anything to be as strong and confident as this woman.

  “Astrid,” he breathed. He sounded surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

  “When I heard you’d returned, I had to see for myself.” The look of affection on the other woman’s face and the stunned expression on Brand’s told Miranda all she needed to know about Astrid’s relationship with Brandwulfr.

  He didn’t respond to her with anything other than an inclination of his head. She seemed perplexed by this, as if expecting something more. Astrid’s gaze flickered over Miranda with little interest, as if she’d sized her up and dismissed her.

  “Can we talk privately?” Astrid raised an eyebrow, sweeping her hand toward the shore as if expecting Brand to simply step out of the water. Naked.

  He turned to Miranda. “Can you finish on your own?”

  “What?” She had to have heard wrong.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Finish and meet me back at the carriage.” Before she could process what this might mean, he’d turned from her and headed to the shore, making no attempt to cover himself. The fiercely beautiful Astrid made no attempt to shift her gaze from his naked body, either.

  With Brandwulfr gone, Miranda had to seriously think about everything that had happened. He’d shown possessiveness toward her, had seemed to want to keep her with him. But as what? Would he make her his wife? His mate? Or would he...not?

  A shiver went through her body, freezing her to the bone. What if he intended to keep her, but as a slave? As her father had once kept him.

  * * *

  Of all the things he’d expected to happen, having Astrid seek him out wasn’t one of them. He’d made it clear to her before he’d left she was nothing more than a friend. A fellow warrior. Yet she still thought to tempt him into taking her as his mate. Even if he’d been inclined once, he was no longer. He left the water nude, his arousal evident for all to see, and he’d done it on purpose. As he neared, his erection waned quickly. Nothing would make Astrid realize he didn’t desire her in his bed like seeing she had no effect on him. That she’d turned up now irked him to no end. He needed to focus on how to integrate Miranda into his world because there was no way in hell he was keeping her as a concubine. He wanted her as his mate. Nothing less.

  “The woman is an insult to our people’s suffering. Yet you treat her as if she were an equal?” Astrid’s voice fairly dripped censure and disgust, which made his hackles rise. So soon after he’d nearly lost himself to the beast, he didn’t need this.

  “It’s not like you were captured, Astrid. While I sympathize with those who were actually there—I felt much the same way about her at first—at least they have reason to feel resentment. You, however, don’t.”

  “Don’t I? Her kind—her own father—took you from me for five years, Brandwulfr. Five long years! I searched tirelessly for a way to enter, but the portal you disappeared through hasn’t opened since you left. We didn’t even know about this one. Had the patrols not happened on you when they did, we still wouldn’t know of it.”

  “I told the king my intentions. Since no one had ever returned from that realm, I had no anticipation of a rescue. I told you the same. I’d thought we’d settled things between us, Astrid. You’re a trusted warrior, and a great one at that. But no more than my friend.”

  “How can you say that?” she snapped. “I mourned you. Searched for you. We’ve shared so much together. Had each other’s backs on more than one occasion. I can’t even begin to count the number of times we bandaged each other, bathed each other’s wounds intimately.”

  “As all my men have,” he interrupted. “We are a brotherhood, one I gladly welcomed you into because of your skills and cunning. I’ve never seen you as anything other than a valuable ally, something I’ve told you again and again. It’s past time you accepted this.”

  She stepped closer, for the first time in their history together daring to touch him. As he stood naked before her, aroused from Miranda’s body before he’d separated from her, there was no denying how her touch affected him. Where he’d been semi aroused before, his erection now waned completely. There had been a time when he’d briefly thought of taking her as a lover, but with her being under his command, he’d not thought it prudent. Now, he was glad of it.

  “Guardian!” A call came from further up the embankment. Jorak stood surveying the scene with a pensive look on his face. “The runners return with the means to rid you of the collar. The king rides to meet you as well. He will arrive shortly.”

  “Prepare his campsite next to mine. Tighten the guard. I’m certain the portal Earthside is destroyed, but I’d rather not chance the king being captured.”

  “As you wish.” Jorak gave a questioning glance at Astrid, raising an eyebrow at Brandwulfr. When Brandwulfr shook his head, Jorak nodded before turning away to make preparations for the king’s arrival.

  “You should go.” He turned to Astrid, giving her a level gaze.

  “I will see you safely back to your carriage. I’m certain you’re still recovering—”

  “Astrid,” he said through clenched teeth, growling his words. “I am no weak pup for you to manage. I’ve been hardened by more battles in the past five years than I’ve participated in my entire life.”

  “Which is exactly why this woman is no good for you! Brandwulfr! Please see reason!” She reached up to caress his face. Suddenly, the thought of her touch disgusted him, and he caught her wrist before she could touch him. Still she persisted. “I could be a good mate to you. Someone to confide in, to help you in battle and the defense of our people. Together you and I could even help the king, be the confidants he needs to lead.” She added the last almost desperately. “Things have changed,” she whispered. “There are those who believe the king is no longer fit to lead. With so many—yourself included—disappearing, it is thought perhaps it is time for him to abdicate. You could be the leader they’ve all been looking for!”

  And it all became clear to Brandwulfr. Astrid saw him as a means to wealth and prosperity. She would do anything she had to in order to attain the crown. Brandwulfr was merely a stepping stone until she could either have the king in he
r bed or could get Brandwulfr to engineer a coup, taking over leadership from Leif, their king. Her actions in the past had given him insight into this, but he’d refused to believe it. Seeing her realize she was on the verge of losing him now, he saw it with a sudden and brutal clarity.

  “I’ve made my choice, Astrid. Don’t interfere. If Miranda is harmed in any way, I’ll be most displeased.” He let his words sink in a moment before he continued. “As to Leif”--he used the king’s name to indicate their close friendship, to remind her that to go against the king was to go against him and the guard he led--“he will lead for many years with me as his loyal, trusted servant.” With that, he left her to dress himself, and to take Miranda back to their camp to make love to her.

  After the confrontation with Astrid, he found he needed Miranda more than ever. There was no duplicity in her, no malice. From the first, she’d been true to him, never lying or trying to deceive him. She had no agenda, no reason to be with him other than she wanted to be. After that first night, when he’d frightened her, threatened her, he’d been surprised she’d returned. Now, he realized she wouldn’t have if she’d been like Astrid. She’d have turned her back on the lot of them. Instead, she’d risked her life to help them all—not just him. She would make a glorious mate indeed.

  But when he reached the creek, she wasn’t there. She’d dressed, but hadn’t waited for him. Not that he could blame her. Brandwulfr had left her to go to another woman. It had been a stupid move on his part, but with everything that had happened he’d been caught off guard and only needed Astrid gone.

  “Miranda!” he called to her, hoping she’d answer but knowing she wouldn’t. “Miranda!”

  As he scouted the creek bank, looking for a sign as to which way she went, Jorak ran down the bank. “What’s wrong?”

  “Miranda’s gone,” he growled, fingering his collar. “I need her back!”

  “I was afraid of that.” Jorak ran his hand through his hair. “What do you want me to do, other than get your collar off?”