Return to Shanhasson (6 page)

Rhaekhar’s eyes were clenched shut as
tightly as his mouth, the cords in his neck strained, his shoulders roped. He
hung onto his control by the skin of his teeth. He cracked one eye open and
rasped out, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid…I’ll eat you up.”

He gave a harsh bark of laughter.
“Vulkar, woman, bite me again and again and again. I don’t care.”

Need beat inside her, straining against
her ribs as though a monstrous beast hovered inside her. Fire licked through
her veins. She’d planned to torment him with her mouth, sucking and licking his
impressive length until he begged for mercy, but now she feared maiming him.

Reading her intention through the bond,
he fisted his hands in her hair and dragged her mouth to that very task. She
fought his grip, the pain in her scalp merely feeding the frenzy building
inside her. She clawed at his thighs, writhing and twisting against him, which
only served to spread more of the dangerous oil on them both. Need hammered
inside her, a brutal vise winching tighter with each passing moment. She wanted
to torment him, but she just didn’t trust herself.

Is
it the oil—or this place—that makes me want to rend him limb from limb?

Shadow loomed in His prison directly
below the Palace.

Gripping her head, Rhaekhar thrust
slowly, filling her mouth and stretching her sensitized lips. He pulled back,
letting her teeth scratch all the way down to the tip and his breath hissed out
on a low curse. With relentless control, he paused there, letting her do her
worst.

She wrapped her tongue around him and
tightened her teeth. He shook beneath her, thighs bulging with the effort of
restraining himself when every instinct demanded he thrust and pound this
burning need. The bond crackled with fire, flames leaping back and forth
between them, spreading like wildfire across the Plains, fanned by the winds of
a thunderstorm.

Something pounded through her mind, the
steady, rhythmic pulse of hooves. No. The Great Wind Stallion didn’t gallop
through the clouds with this oil.

This need had wings, massive sails
filling the night sky, claws and razor sharp teeth, vicious hunger to raze her
love.

Tears sizzled her cheeks.
:Enough!:

* * *

GRABBING HER ARMS, RHAEKHAR HAULED her
up his body. In one hard thrust he filled her completely. He held her like
that, his hands tight on her thighs, relentless pressure at the very gate of
her womb, until she shuddered.

She cried out, her voice breaking,
rising to a scream that rattled the squares of glass in her bedchamber window.

He rolled her beneath him, and glass
tinged on the stone. Great Vulkar, that damned oil spread in a puddle beneath
her. Her eyes widened, her throat working. He saw the fear shadowing her eyes.

Whatever was in this oil fed the Shadow
that she carried. Through their bond, he felt the hunger rise in her. Sharper,
more vicious than the bloodlust they’d felt before, a slumbering beast had
awakened, ravenous after centuries of starvation.

Gathering her tightly against him, he
rolled back toward the pool. She thrashed in his arms, rolling and fighting,
not to jerk free of his grip, but for dominance. She wanted him flat on his back,
his throat in her mouth, her claws buried deep in his stomach. Challenging his
control was risky enough; now, she inflamed the warrior bent on conquering his
mate, whatever it took. Always, she challenged him, standing toe to toe with
him despite his size and formidable strength as a warrior, but this time…

He feared he would break her.

It took his full weight smashing her to
the bottom of the pool with their lungs straining for air before she ceased
trying to toss him on his back. He jerked them both up for a desperate gasp of
air and then crushed her against the side of the pool. He slammed into her,
hard, jamming as deep as her body could take him.

Her choking gasp of pain stilled him.
Regret clawed his heart to ribbons. Had the strange oil driven him to the brink
of his control, or something else?

Deep down, he feared he was losing her,
whether to her Blood or her High Throne, he didn’t know. He jerked back,
determined to withdraw and calm his fury before he seriously hurt her.

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, throwing
her legs up around his waist. “Give it all to me.”

Fighting to hold on to the last bit of
his control, he forced himself to remain still, until she planted her mouth on
the old scar on his throat. She worked his flesh with her teeth, reminding him
of how she’d marked his arse, and the last bit of his control shattered.

He thrust as deep as he could. Deeper.
Vulkar help him, he could not fill her tight enough, deep enough, even when her
body convulsed around his, her arms squeezing off his air. Flames danced at the
edge his vision, tinging the water to blood, and still he took her hard,
punishing them both until he collapsed against the side of the pool. He could
only pray he didn’t drag her back to the bottom to drown.

Hauling in another lungful of air, he
shifted her higher, determined to get her limp body out of the water before the
last of his strength faded.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when
Dharman reached down and lifted her out of the pool. Still breathing hard,
Rhaekhar gathered his strength and heaved up out of the water, shaking a moment
on his knees.

Sal slapped him on the back and helped
him stand. “You’re wheezing like a fat old stallion that just bred a whole herd
of mares in heat.”

Nay, he felt as though the whole herd
had trampled him.

Rhaekhar couldn’t be angry with the
lads, although if she’d been aware enough to realize her nearest Blood was
carefully scanning every inch of her naked body for injuries, she would have
blasted them all from here to Vulkar’s Mountain.

“She’s unharmed, Khul, though she’ll
have a few bruises to remember you by after you leave on the morrow.”

Grateful, he felt the last of his worry
melt away. “Whatever you do, lads, never let that oil anywhere near her again.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Khul,” Sal said. “It
sounded as though you found it very…entertaining.”

Rhaekhar gave the lad a look that would
have sent many a warrior reaching for his
rahke
,
but the young Blood merely grinned wider. In many ways, the lad carried on
Gregar’s tradition of wicked humor.

Rhaekhar held out his arms, and Dharman
gently transferred her over to his embrace.

Nestling her face against his chest, she
whispered, “I smell like a dragon.”

Taken aback, he sniffed her face and
shoulder. Traces of the oil remained despite their rolling frenzy in the water,
but he smelled nothing but spice. He didn’t even know what the mythical beast
looked like, let alone how it might smell.

“I almost ate Khul.”

Wincing, Rhaekhar braced for the
inevitable joke. Sal did not disappoint.

“Don’t worry, Khul’lanna. You can eat me
anytime you desire.”

* * *

AS NIGHT FELL IN VELVET SHADOWS across
this miserable blasted land, Mykal stumbled into a low group of tents shielded
in a modest lee between dunes.

“
Tal
!”

Shouts echoed in the night. Hands caught
him, lowering him to the blistering sand. His tongue was swollen, a massive wad
of cotton in his mouth; his throat as dry as the countless riverbeds he’d
stumbled across. He’d run out of water hours ago, but somehow, he’d known where
to go. Someone lifted water to his mouth, a wet blessing even though the fluid
was bitter enough to curdle on his tongue.

Words flew about him, and for a moment,
they made no sense. This language was not his own. Panic raked claws down his
spine.

Several men squatted around him, swathed
in black cloth. “We thought you were dead.”

“Not yet.” Dunes blew in his mind,
graceful waves scalloped by the winds. At least the words made sense this time.
“What happened?”

“Nearly a week hence, we had gathered
about the fire to discuss our strategy, when a large black shape floated
overhead. Something flapped, and you were gone.”

Teeth and claws flashed through his
mind, sinking deep but gliding through the blowing, shifting sands without
leaving a mark. Indeed, his body bore no wounds of any attack, just the dead
dragon as soon as he’d awakened. He took a deep, steadying breath, and his
spiced scent smoothed the straining tension.

I
know exactly who I am. I’m Mykal
tal
’Mamba, and nothing will prevent me from fulfilling my destiny.

“Will you be able to challenge
tal
’Cobra as planned?”

He closed his eyes. Memories flickered
dimly in the dark corners of his mind. Brilliant green fields had faded to
blasted sands, but the hint of roses wafted through that memory.
Sands and wells
, he sighed, longing
trembling through him. “I will do what is needed.”

The answer seemed to appease the men.
One by one, they touched his shoulder, murmured a soft word, and then left,
until only one remained.

“It was
Him
,” the man whispered, his voice tight with fear. He reached over
his shoulder and ran a long rope of oiled hair through his hand, tugging
firmly. “Shadow took you, and yet you live.”

“Tell me your name.” Calmly, Mykal sat
up, absently twisting the ring on his smallest finger. “As well as everything
you know about this tribe and the others. Pretend as though I know nothing and
we have just met.”

“Asad
rav
’Mamba.” The man touched his forehead, lips, and heart in quick
succession, his eyes as wide and wet as the deepest well. “I’m your second and
we…” He gulped and rushed through the rest of the words. “We’ve been friends
since childhood. On the morrow, you are supposed to fight three other
tals
for the title of
azi
, the leader of all Keldar.”

Perfect
,
he thought, letting his lips curl in a smile. The other man paled. “I want to
know everything about these
tals
,
especially their weaknesses and fears.”

As the man babbled every dread secret of
the tribes of Keldar, Mykal stared up at the slip of moon sliding across the
evening sky. A chill settled in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t know why.

CHAPTER

THREE

LITTLE
ARMS SQUEEZED SHANNARI’S NECK AND SHE NEARLY BROKE DOWN INTO LOUD, MESSY SOBS.

Already mounted on her mare, Rhyra
called out, “Let’s go, Papa!”

Anya squirmed in her mother’s tight
grip, more than ready to join her twin. In fact, the entire Sha’Kae al’Dan
contingent was snorting and pawing the ground, anxious to leave the Green
Lands—and Shannari—behind.

That’s
not fair. This is my choice. There’s no other way to keep them safe.

Resisting the urge to crush both girls
in her arms once more, she set Anya on her mare’s back. As all Sha’Kae al’Dan
children, the twins had practically grown up on horseback and were more than
comfortable, despite the maternal worry Shannari pushed away at seeing such
small children on such large animals. The cream-colored mare made a derisive
noise and shook her head.

Harder yet was to walk over calmly and
look up at her beloved warrior preparing to leave her behind. Rhaekhar had
awoken her hours before dawn and made slow, tender, sweet love to her until
she’d stopped crying. He knew her well. Her pride would not take well to
breaking down in public before the nobles and people of Shanhasson.

“We ride straight south.” His voice
sounded perfectly normal; his manner reserved, some might even say hard or
cruel. He spoke as a warrior, not a husband or lover.

No one could feel his love flooding
their
na’lanna
bond which tied their
hearts and souls together. He warred his own
kae’don
in order to present so calm a façade. A warrior took what
he wanted and then kept it, or he was no warrior. His instinct demanded he haul
her up before him on his golden stallion and gallop straight for the Plains.

“Drendon’s last messenger said the Camps
are already moving toward Vulkar’s Mountain. I’ll delay the Summer Gathering
until you arrive.”

The Summer Gathering was the one time
each year that all Nine Camps met on the banks of the Silver Lake at the foot
of Vulkar’s Mountain. Camp status would be challenged and adjusted, and
warriors might challenge their khuls for leadership of each Camp. In fact, any
khul might decide that Rhaekhar should no longer be the supreme Khul of the
Sha’Kae al’Dan. Although looking at his impressive warrior physique and the
heavy braids of beads in his hair, she didn’t think such blind stupidity very
likely. Each bead represented a battle in which Khul had been victorious, and
it was no boast to say he was the most honored warrior on the Plains.

Not trusting herself to speak, she
simply nodded. Although his people had certainly come a long way from the
outright fear and hatred many had exhibited when she’d first come to the
Plains, the khuls would not be pleased if they had to wait for her to arrive
before Khul would hear their grievances. It was no easy feat to graze thousands
of horses and keep so many warriors occupied.