by Alana Serra
“It’s all right. Let him do it for a few minutes. Keep putting drops of milk there. It will help him take to the bottle.”
While he’d never doubted Imara’s confidence, she seemed extremely adept in what she was doing here, and Rheor was taken aback by just how smoothly she was able to handle one of his most obstinate men and a litter of cubs that should already be dead. In fact, she was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t even notice him watching from over the gate of the stall. Even Loken took time to acknowledge him, his gaze snapping up to Rheor after he touched another drop of milk to his wrist.
“They’ve been suckling,” he said, relief obvious in his voice. “Slowly, but they’re getting milk.”
“I see that.”
He couldn’t take his eyes from Imara and how gently she held that cub, one arm around the milk-rounded creature and the other holding the bottle. She finally looked up at him, one eyebrow arching as if she thought he might say something unkind about her methods. When he said nothing of the sort, she looked back down at the cub.
“This is the second that’s taken to the bottle, and even that was an all-day struggle. The others might take more time, but I’m hoping the more they smell milk on their siblings, the more willing they’ll be to try.”
“What is it that they’re drinking?” he asked, gesturing to the foamy, cream-colored liquid the cub she held now had smeared all over its face.
“Ox milk,” Loken said. “We tried a few different kinds, but they wouldn’t take anything else.”
“Ox and goat milk are what I would try with orphaned animals in the village, as well. Goat milk usually worked best, but I haven’t seen any goats this far up the mountain. Not any that look interested in being milked, anyway,” she said with a small smirk.
Loken grinned, looking half-delirious. “I’d like to see someone try and milk one of those large bucks that destroy our barricades out by the cliffside.”
Imara grinned back at him, and Rheor couldn’t help but look between them, wondering just how much he’d missed. They seemed to be on friendly terms, and Loken was rarely this friendly with anyone. Tiva had always been his closest companion. But perhaps it was Imara’s willingness to care for Tiva’s offspring that created this bond.
Whatever it was, he found himself strangely grateful for it, but curious just the same.
“How long have you been here?”
Imara leaned back and stretched. Rheor could hear her back pop even from where he stood, and saw her grimace slightly. His gaze roved shamelessly over her form as her back arched, but he forcibly returned his eyes to her face in time to catch her looking out the window. “Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize night had fallen. I came to find the cubs after you left, and then Loken found me. We’ve been trying different things ever since. We only got them to start suckling… an hour ago? At most.”
Persistent, just as she’d said she would be. Before, he’d seen it only as the temperamental behavior of someone who was unwilling to yield to anyone. Now he saw it as a positive trait. Something to be proud of. And… he was. For some strange reason, Rheor felt his chest swell with pride when he looked upon her, saw Loken following her example and eventually getting the other cub to suckle.
He had no claim over this woman, beyond what he’d bartered for with her father. She was not his Korun. Yet she cared for the Machai cubs with an ease few possessed, and she had befriended one of the pricklier Raknari. These were far from the only qualities she needed to possess, and Rheor still assumed Kiova’s blessing would tear her apart. But there was a place for her here, that much was obvious. And if she could fit so seamlessly into his home, with his people, perhaps there were other things he’d overlooked.
“If you’re just going to stand there, you could grab a bottle and join us,” she said, her tone openly combative but also playful.
Anyone else might have gaped at her for speaking to the Drotun in such a way. Just days ago, Loken likely would have held his spear to her throat and demanded she show her lord some respect. Now the warrior simply snorted, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Yes, make yourself useful,” Loken said, grabbing one of the empty glass bottles and offering it to him.
There were hundreds of things he should be doing. Shoring up their defenses against the Svag. Telling his trusted advisers what he’d learned in the meeting with the other Chosen. Climbing to the top of the Frozen Peak in hopes of communing with Kiova to learn what she wanted from him. Instead, Rheor found himself joining a tiny yet determined human and his newly reformed warrior as he sat cross-legged on the floor and let himself be instructed in how to feed a Machai cub.
* * *
Several hours later, once all the cubs were full and the Machai handler had been taught how to feed them as well, Rheor found himself accompanying Imara back to her home.
It was a strange thing, for while he spent a great deal of time among his people, he was still looked upon as a person of authority. Their Drotun who bestowed Kiova’s powers upon them, who guided and protected them. Few of his people saw fit to approach him under normal circumstances, nor did they expect him to simply be in the heart of the Frozen Peak after evening had fallen. The number of looks he got rivaled Imara’s, and he almost felt as though he was a young man sneaking away from his parents to spend just a bit more time with a woman he fancied.
Which was absurd. He wanted Imara, yes. From the moment she’d stepped forward and offered herself in her sister’s stead, he’d wanted her. But it was curiosity alone and a desire to tame a wild beast. He felt nothing for her outside of the grudging respect that had formed between them. Less grudging on his part, after today—after he’d seen her single-handedly save cubs that would have died otherwise.
He told himself these things, and yet there was no reason for him not to have a guard walk her home—or trust her to do it herself—if his interest in her was merely physical. He could have returned to his chambers and summoned her there. Fought the pull of Roinim and just taken her the way he’d intended to last night. Perhaps he still should. Or perhaps he should leave her be and ignore her very presence here; ignore the temptation she brought with her.
The storm that raged inside of him said otherwise. He’d kept a good distance between them, yet he was still intimately aware of everything she did, every breath she took. His body, his soul were tuned to hers, and he knew if he remained at her side, he’d be taken over by the frenzy that bond created. As they approached her home, he remembered Brunyr’s words, remembered the look of his friend and the Molten Peak.
Would it be so terrible to offer Roinim to this woman? She’d been in the Peak for less than two full days, and she’d already made allies. There was a place for her here, one she’d carved out herself despite the fact that he’d been willing to give her what she wished and allow her to live an effortless existence. Those traits did not necessarily mean she would make a good Korun, but Kiova would not be pushing him toward her if there was not something to be pushed toward, would she?
“I do not believe I’ve seen Loken take orders from anyone other than me,” he commented offhandedly, tearing himself away from his own conflicted thoughts. “He seems to like you.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “You aren’t going to attack him the way you attacked Almir this morning, are you?”
His jaw tensed, shame washing over him… until he saw that glint in her eye and the slight quirk to her lips. She was teasing him. Something few would be brave enough to attempt. Something he scarcely allowed from his closest friends and companions. But somehow his little human managed to make him smile.
“No. And the circumstances behind this morning weren’t… ideal. I knew Almir was not a threat to you. Or competition.”
That stopped her. Rheor was able to sense it, and he stopped as well, almost immediately as she did. They stood mere feet away from her home and he could tell she was cold, but she merely stood in the middle of the snow-covered road and stared up at him.
&n
bsp; “What is he competing for, exactly? Because I was under the impression that I was here to ‘serve’ you, whatever that means. But after what happened last night…”
Rheor’s body stiffened, his muscles tightening. He stared back at her, meeting her unflinching gaze. Despite the defiant lift of her chin and the depth of challenge in her eyes, he could see a flicker of uncertainty behind it all. Insecurity beneath the bravado. It was a curious thing to witness, as if he’d just drawn back the curtain on something he was never meant to see.
And it was for that reason—more than his own comfort—that he took her arm and led her into the house.
The temperature inside felt mild to him, perhaps even a little stuffy. But once she shrugged out of his grasp, he saw Imara immediately go for the stove. He’d have to find something more sustainable for her. It hadn’t occurred to him that humans had so few defenses against the cold—especially humans who made their home in Kiova’s territories. But they’d traveled often, in the early days of their existence, and perhaps they weren’t as adaptable as he’d once believed. He’d need to speak to Brunyr and see if there was some way to impart a bit of Igvis’ blessing into an item or something else that could keep her warm.
“He is competing for nothing, first off,” Rheor began, because it felt important for her to know that Almir was not a threat to him. Perhaps that was his own pride and vanity speaking, though. “Almir is... The Svag took him when he was young and they drained him of his power.”
He heard the sharp intake of breath, saw her face pale as she turned toward him. “Is that why he looks…?”
“More like your kind? Yes, I think so.”
Rheor had not spent much time thinking about the implications of that. He’d seen so few humans in his lifetime that it hardly signified. But now he wondered. Raknari were much taller than humans, at least a foot on average. They were more broadly built, more muscular—especially the women. Their ears were longer, their features finer. But outside of that, the main differences were granted by the Tempests.
He thought Imara might be puzzling over the same information, but when she spoke again, she’d already moved past the topic.
“And what about the rest of it? You had me brought to your room. Even if you didn’t want to do… Roinim, or whatever it is,” a blush suffused her cheeks, “you must have wanted something from me. There’s no reason to demand a woman from our village otherwise.”
“I made that demand to see if it would be paid; to see how desperate your people were,” he admitted.
Predictably, her gaze narrowed. “My people were starving. You could see that easily enough, if you cared to look.”
“They were not my concern.” Rheor fixed her with a hard look which she returned, her arms crossed over her chest. “Would you prefer I lie to you? I am not a kind man. I do not do things out of the goodness of my heart. I went to your village in search of Kiova’s favor. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yes, I know,” she forced the words through gritted teeth. “I’m well aware of how little you or your people care for humans.”
She would have made a good chieftain. It was a curious thought to have, when she regarded him with open disdain. But there was something vitally warm about her. Compassionate. It was hard to see it as a weakness when she was so fierce in caring for those who needed it. Her sister. Her people. The cubs. Could she come to care for his people in the same way?
Could she come to care for him in the same way?
Rheor took a step closer to her, then another. Her eyes widened just slightly, but she held her ground, neck craning as she strained to keep eye contact with him.
“I could take what I want from you,” he said, his voice low, but careful. “You’ve made it very easy to imagine thus far. I doubt you’d even fight me.”
He caught the hitch in her breath and stepped even closer.
“You would have done it already, if that’s what you wanted.”
She didn’t deny it, though it would have been foolish to do so. They were both well aware of her neediness the previous night, and Rheor could certainly sense her desire for him during their trip.
“True,” he said, standing before her.
She was so small compared to him. Small, but fierce, her eyes still lifted to his, her arms still guarding her chest. He watched the movement of her delicate throat, watched her swallow down her own trepidation. Or perhaps her own interest, as her gaze strayed briefly to his arms and chest.
“What do you want then? You keep avoiding that question, Storm Lord.”
Because the answer wasn’t easy. Even outside of Roinim, Rheor was unsure what he wanted with this woman. He thought he’d known. Then he’d come perilously close to getting his wish, and he’d wanted infinitely more. Not just one night of pleasure and complete submission, but a lifetime of push and pull.
Right now, though, the answer was becoming ever clearer. He ached to touch her. To map her smooth, pink skin with his hands and mouth. To show her the pleasures of her own flesh, unlock those desires he knew she brushed up against time and time again. To merge his body with hers and fill her with his seed over and over. These were not the desires of someone who intended to slake his own lust and be done with it. He knew that.
But at the moment, he didn’t care.
“I want you,” he said, his voice a vibration much more than actual sound. She heard him, though. Her pupils dilated, her lips parted, her breathing became more ragged. “And I always get what I want.”
There was no force that could have kept him from touching her. His hands gripped her hips and he pulled her to him, her body against his, searing his skin even through the layers of clothing she wore. She gasped, but she was already reaching for the ties of her leathers, shrugging the furs off her shoulders simultaneously. Rheor tore them away from her, feeling that frenzy overcome him and not bothering to stop it in the least, especially when he caught a glimpse of her smooth, creamy skin beneath her clothing, her rosebud nipples pert and taut with desire.
His runes glowed, Kiova’s blessing flowing through him just as surely as the blood flowed to his cock. It sparked ice between his fingers, begging to be utilized, and Rheor was in no position to refuse. Lowering his hand to her breast, the whole of it small enough to fit in his palm, he eased the magic into something he thought she could tolerate and touched her nipple with the tips of his fingers.
She moaned sharply, her back arching as she thrust her chest into his touch. Rheor couldn’t help the smug smirk that settled onto his face. So she didn’t care for the cold, but she liked that. A great deal. He could sense her arousal, sense the heights it reached at that single action, and he wanted more.
Taking her breast in hand, he massaged it with his palm, all while his fingers teased and tweaked the taut nipple. She shuddered beneath his touch, her own hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, her short nails digging into his skin. Rheor’s nostrils flared and he drew in a sharp breath at what should have been an ineffectual touch, but one that seemed to set all of his senses ablaze.
“That’s… not fair,” she panted, arching toward him again.
“I make the rules here. Is that not what you assumed when you agreed to come with me? That I would take what I wanted from you?”
He kept one hand attending to her breasts as the other left a cool trail down her stomach, the barest hint of frost spindling over her skin. It suited her, he thought. It would be rather striking as a regular fixture.
Not bothering with the ties of her pants and the woolen clothing that kept him from touching her as he wanted to, Rheor nudged her thighs apart with his hand and cupped her sex, channeling his magic into his palm as well as his fingers this time.
He could feel her heat even through the layers between them. It responded to the bite of cold he offered and she bucked against him, gasping. Rubbing herself against his hand as though she were a wild animal in heat, seeking relief.
Rheor’s cock pulsed, painfully hard beneath his ow
n leathers. His control was slipping away from him. He could feel himself losing more and more ground as her body called to his. For as much as he was able to control his magic in the moment, his runes still glowed. Everything in him sought Roinim with this woman.
And right now, he was inclined to give in. Especially when Imara gripped her pants with firm abandon and yanked them past her hips, practically tearing at the woolen underclothes beneath, their crotch dampened by her need. A growl tore through him as he caught her scent and all he wanted was to keep his face between her thighs and lick the honeyed sweetness from her cunt until she could stand it no longer.
“You can’t take what’s being offered,” she said, a husky edge to her voice that sent a shot of lust through Rheor’s entire body, ending with another needy twitch of his cock.
“I certainly can.”
“Then stop talking and do it,” she growled, her words sounding half-feral.
She grabbed at the bindings of his leathers, pulled them apart, slid her hands beneath. The sheer warmth of her seared his skin, her audacity something he’d never known from a partner before. He couldn’t do anything other than tug the garment down, his cock springing free, thick and insistent, just begging to be sheathed within her.
And when she tried to wrap her tiny hand around him, he nearly lost control of himself completely. She felt so blissfully warm, so hot against his cool skin, and all he wanted to do was be joined to her. To feel that warmth in his soul, forever. He knew it was that bond talking, Kiova’s need to toy with him and shove him toward her will, but was it not his will too? Right now, he wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He was ravenous with that need, filled with a deep, insatiable hunger only she could sate.
His hands left her just long enough to tug his leathers the rest of the way off, his boots toed onto the floor. He went for what remained of her clothing then, hearing it rip and tear as he relieved her of it as quickly as he could manage, his body practically shaking with the need to be inside of her. He could taste her, touch her after. Right now he needed to be joined with her or he wasn’t going to survive. That storm building inside of him wouldn’t allow it.