Gift of the Goddess (13 page)

He smoothed the hair over her shoulder, noting with a strange detachment that his fingers actually trembled. Strange, he’d always adored women, loved everything about them, their weakness and their extraordinary strength, their endearing quirks and fascinating thought processes. He was the shaman of a goddess of love. He’d thought he understood females as well as any man could do.

But now? So much hung on the response of this single amazing woman that he actually felt himself lose the high, strong edge of his arousal. Lufra! He slid up and down in her succulent sheath and felt the rush of blood return.

He said, “I’ll always have a sense of where you are, sometimes of how you’re feeling if the emotion is very strong.”

She snorted. “I don’t feel that about you.”

Brin smiled slowly. “You do, but you refuse to believe it. Besides, I’m blanketing most of it. A shaman’s training is very useful.” He distracted himself by watching her pulse jump when he mouthed her earlobe. “Remember what I told you? About trust? Give enough trust and you can wear my torque half a world away.”

65 Denise Rossetti

She moved her head aside. “Might as well sign on as a life-partner and be done with it.”

“Is that what the Children of the Mother call it?”

Intimately entwined as they were, he felt the exact second she comprehended his meaning.

“Brin, what have you done?” It was an appalled whisper.

He drew Twink to a halt and stared deep into her eyes, letting her see the flames in his, showing her his ravening hunger. “Lufra sent you, Anje. First in my dreams, now in the flesh. I’m the shaman of a goddess. I have my duty. She wants you to come to Feolin and the Bond ensures you will.” He shrugged. “But I’m selfish. I want you too.”

Her honey-toned skin, flushed rosy with passion, went dead pale with shock and fury. Her mouth opened and closed. Watching her work through it was like teetering on a precipice. His gut clenched with tension, but through it all he stayed rock hard inside her, wrapped in a hot, tight glove that sheathed him perfectly. It was perverse, but somehow no more than he’d grown to expect. She had the most extraordinary effect on him, his sweet warrior.

“You bastard!” Anje bit out the words. “So I’m a pleasure slave after all? After all the fine speeches?”

“No.” He began to feel irritated. There was nothing he could do to change matters.

“You talk of duty.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “What of mine? The Children need my map. I’m honor-bound to put it in the hands of the Matriarchs.”

Tears of rage glittered in her amethyst eyes. With a sigh, Brin ran his hands down her arms to the thong binding her wrists and loosed it. The game didn’t matter anymore.

“A map is it? I’ll have someone deliver it for you, as soon as we get back to Feolin.”

The tears disappeared. She rubbed her wrists and treated him to a narrow-eyed glare. “I’ve never failed in my duty. I don’t intend to now.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry, scout,” he said, meaning it. “The Feolin need you too.” He circled his hips, reminding her.

“I’m no one’s property. And what is it they need me for? You didn’t say.”

“No, I didn’t.”

As he let the silence run on, her lips thinned with temper. “You’re going to pay for your arrogance, mighty shaman.” She sank her fingers into his upper arms, the nails biting into his skin. “Pay ‘til you weep. How much further?”

The challenge in her expression heated Brin’s blood. “Ten minutes.” They were in an open area of the foothills, grassy and flat.

Twisting her lithe body like a fareng, she turned and punched Twink hard behind the ear with her closed fist. “
Yee-hah!
”

66 Gift of the Goddess

With a high-pitched whistle of alarm, the vran reared, dropped its forelegs back to the ground with a bone-jarring thud and took off at a panicked trot.

“
Lufra
!” Brin blessed his trained reflexes. He’d arched in time to prevent his testicles from being crushed, but now his cock was thundering inside her slick, grasping pussy. Every stride slid his rigidity over wet satin, muscular walls, up and down, fast and gut-punchingly hard.

It was insanely dangerous and she was pressed up against him, clinging for dear life, her crazy laughter tattered by the wind of their passage.

“Woman, you’re mad!” It was all he could do to ride Twink in the right direction, while Lufra’s Gift rode
him
, whooping like a lunatic, her hair whipping across his jaw.

His cock burned with an ecstasy so hot it was painful. A bubble of feeling grew in his chest and burst out of him in a great bellow of laughter. Who knew whether it was insanity or joy?

Twink was heading for camp, Brownie laboring in pursuit. The mightiest shaman of the Feolin, a man famed for his iron control, abandoned himself to mad impulse. He dropped the reins, wrapped his arms around his warrior woman and let her ride him into a climax that shredded his spine, fogged his vision and had his excruciated cock spurting in rapture.

He was barely aware that Twink had skidded to a stop, sides heaving. From somewhere very far away, he heard her gasp, “I won!” She rippled around him as he softened.

A hard hand gripped his knee. “I’d say it was a dead heat, love,” said Trey.

67 Denise Rossetti

Chapter Ten

Hssrda—Anatomy:

The scaly, armored bodies of Hssrda are vulnerable at two points only—under the jaw and in the armpit. Their sheer bulk and strength, together with natural armaments of talon, fang and spur, make them almost impossible to kill.

Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

Anje didn’t wait for Twink to kneel. Ignoring Brin’s wince, she swung her leg over and slid down the vran
’
s feathered side—straight into Trey’s arms.

“Brin’s gone all strong and silent. What did you do, you bad woman?” He kissed her enthusiastically, paying no heed to the rigidity of her spine, her lack of response. When she turned her head away, he guided it back with a gentle palm against her cheek.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, believe me.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Later.” He looked over her shoulder at the shaman, removing the fareng carcasses from Brownie with grim efficiency. “Brin, I’ve got something to show you.”

“Later?” she asked, though she told herself she shouldn’t.

Trey laced up her shirt like a fond parent. “Don’t worry, I promise we’ll finish you off.”

Anje stared. The man was surely mad.
Finish her off?
He’d just seen her screaming in the throes of a climax so brutal she’d nearly passed out and he was saying she needed
more
?

The flesh she’d thought sated pulsed hard and she realized with a shock that she’d never felt more alive. Her body buzzed with energy, so hot she could have sworn she had a fever. Appalled, she clenched her fists against her sides, lest she seize Trey and wrestle him to the ground.

Through a fog, she heard Brin’s dark chuckle. “Ay, but me first. We have a score to settle, Anje and I.” Surely that wasn’t pride in his voice?

Trey gave her a brisk pat on the bottom. “It breaks my heart, truly it does.” His smile twisted. “But you need to see this, Brin.” He led the way past the tent to the grove of candlewood trees.

The heavy body of a Hssrdan lay sprawled in the shade, its eyes with their slit pupils half-lidded in death, the fanged snout drawn back in a snarl. A trail of bitemes trekked toward the pool of greenish-black blood soaking into the leaf litter beneath it.

68 Gift of the Goddess

Anje’s stomach lurched. She stared from one face to the other. The Feolin warriors studied the fallen Hssrdan in thoughtful silence. They looked pleased, but only mildly interested.

“
You
killed it?” she asked. Trey nodded.

“
By yourself?
” He nodded again.

She laid an urgent hand on his arm. “Gods, you’re not hurt?”

Trey’s brow creased as though he was puzzled. “No,” he said at last.

The ornate handle of a slim blade blossomed from the soft skin under the Hssrdan’s jaw like an improbable accessory. It had been a precision blow, delivered with masterly skill.

Anje estimated the creature was not much taller than she was, but its girth was bigger around than her arms could reach, its tail longer than her leg. Its scales ranged from sewage brown on the back to a mottled khaki underneath.

“I’m still winning though,” said Brin. “Four to three.” He shoved the heavy tail with his boot. “This one’s such a tiddler, I’m not even sure we should count it.”

Trey put indignant hands on his hips. “Not fair,” he argued. “It’s hardly my fault it wasn’t the biggest in the clutch.”

“What—
exactly
—are you talking about?” she grated.

Two masculine faces stared at her with identical expressions of surprise.

“We’ve been ridding this part of the Empty Lands of Hssrda,” said Brin finally. “While we waited for you.”

Anje gritted her teeth. “You’ve been killing Hssrda?” Her voice rose. “
Indiscriminately?
”

“We didn’t know you were so fond of them.” Brin arched a brow.

Anje tugged at her hair.

Trey said, “We’ve given them every chance, Anje, if that’s what worries you. But if they go for us—” He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

No wonder they’d shown no signs of apprehension. She would have wasted her time warning them they were Hssrda-bait. Because that was exactly what they wished to be.

“Mother save me,” she husked, “you’re mad, the pair of you!”

Steeling herself against the carrion reek already emanating from the carcass, she crouched and used two hands to tug Trey’s blade free. “How much do you know about them?”

“Enough to know the world’s a better place without the bastards,” said Brin. “They deal in human bodies. There’s nothing lower than a slaver.”

“I agree.” With the blade, Anje indicated one of the Hssrdan’s clawed hands. “See that?” A finger was missing, the knuckle joint red raw and weeping. “This one’s been punished. Recently, by the look of it.”

69 Denise Rossetti

She stood and faced the Feolin. “I’ve learned more about the Hssrda in the last few months than I ever wanted to know. Gods, they’re foul creatures.” She swallowed. “This one is low caste, to judge by its size. Do you know how Hssrda grow bigger?” Two heads shook.

“They eat,” she said grimly. “Anything. And that includes each other. A high caste Hssrdan will bite and swallow chunks off an inferior, to intimidate or to punish. See where its tail’s regrown?” She pointed. “This Hssrdan offended someone important.”

“It came barreling into camp,” put in Trey. “The wards gave me plenty of warning. Not very bright.”

Brin touched her shoulder. “What are you getting at, scout?”

“I’m guessing our hideous friend here is a TailSoldier, the lowest of the low, the smallest of the small. Expendable. Or perhaps it was young and stupid, out for glory. Were the others you killed bigger?”

The men exchanged glances and nodded.

“Alone or in groups?”

Brin frowned. “I met two of mine in a valley just south of here. Then there was the raiding party of three who thought we’d make nice trophies. And a couple of others.” He bared his teeth. “It passed the time, scout.”

Anje studied Brin’s massive form with new respect. Despite their strange goddess, the Feolin must be warriors without peer. Holy Mother! How could he speak so casually of such a vicious foe?

“The Hssrda caste system is based on brute strength and cunning,” she went on. “There are four castes—Tail is the lowest, then Spur, Claw and Fang. Within those, they use military ranks. I saw a SpurSergeant kill a man once.” She shuddered, remembering the hot spray of Deklan’s blood as the creature tore his throat out. “Using that one as a gauge, a FangGeneral would be about nine feet tall and three feet wide.”

There was a thoughtful silence.

“A raiding party is usually around a dozen strong. I’d say this TailSoldier was all the commander had left,” she said. “Congratulations, you’ve just about cleared the sector.”

“But?” Brin took the long knife out of her hands and cleaned it on a grassy tussock. “Say it, scout. But?”

“The commanding Hssrdan has no choice, not now you’ve humiliated it. It’s got to destroy you or be eaten for incompetence.” She rubbed her forehead. “Once it realizes stupid here isn’t going to waddle home with a full belly, it’ll call for reinforcements.”

Brin scanned the peaceful camp, the pool glinting a calm, golden-brown in the early afternoon light, the gray-green of the surrounding hills. “We couldn’t hold off a whole raiding party, not here. How long, scout?”

“Who knows?” She shrugged.

70 Gift of the Goddess