The Rose of Shanhasson Read online

  Gregar smirked. “A competition I always win.”

  Rhaekhar laughed, his manner unchanged. Yet the current of tension still vibrated between his two Blood. “What say you, Shannari?”

  He had to be jesting. “You want me to judge… arses? Gregar’s and… ”

  Rhaekhar smiled, a hard show of teeth and dominance. “Mine.”

  She couldn’t help the blush stealing across her cheeks. They wore so very little clothing already— did they even have any sort of underclothes on beneath their memshas? Inwardly groaning, she couldn’t even believe she contemplated such a thing.

  Gregar laughed so hard he bent over his knees, gasping for breath. Varne gave him a disgusted look and turned back to the other warriors for more stories.

  Very carefully, she kept from looking at either the Khul or his Blood. She didn’t want to let her mind begin imagining…

  Rhaekhar sat down beside her and leaned in against her side, his incredible warmth soaking into her even through her leathers. For her ears alone, he whispered, “I shall be most pleased to remove my memsha so you may see what I wear beneath.”

  Damned bond. She hated him sensing everything, especially such embarrassing questions. “No, no thank you.”

  “As you wish, na’lanna.”

  She thought the subject dropped until he picked up her left hand. He kissed her palm, his tongue swirling against her skin. And then he pressed her hand against his thigh.

  Ever so slowly, he eased her hand higher, beneath the memsha, to his hip where another much smaller cloth wrapped tightly beneath the green material. His breath was hot and moist against her ear. “Loincloth.”

  His tongue probed her ear canal, and she moaned. So quickly, so effortlessly, he stirred such overwhelming need in her. Need to stroke his body, to feel his heat, his strength, his hands.

  He shifted beside her, long, powerful muscle moving beneath her hand. “I do not always wear one, but riding is much more comfortable with a loincloth holding everything secure.”

  Nearly panting now, she couldn’t help but think about “everything” so close to her hand. He released her hand, gave her plenty of space to move away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

  Inching her fingers across his abdomen, she worked deeper beneath the loincloth. Of her own accord, she turned into his embrace, dropping her head against his chest. Hot silken skin beneath her mouth, his scent musky and rich.

  He drew her closer, and she was lost. When he picked her up and carried her away from the whooping warriors, she made no protest. She was too busy tasting his skin.

  “Wait but a moment, na’lanna, and let me wash the grime away.”

  “I don’t mind,” she whispered against his skin. Salt, sweat, dirt, warrior. It didn’t matter. He tasted wonderful. The broad expanse of skin and muscle beckoned. She suddenly wanted to sink her teeth into him, find the rich, spicy blood beneath, and leave the imprint of her teeth deep in his skin.

  “Aye, bite me. Put your mark upon me so all may see our passion.”

  * * * *

  Shannari suddenly pitched backward in his arms. Striding through the trees as fast as possible in the dark, Rhaekhar stumbled and nearly fell flat on his back. She recoiled from him, where moments before she had been eating him alive, much to his great delight.

  The na’lanna bond flooded him with dark emotions: rage, betrayal, and blackest shame. Her memory was so strong that he saw it as his own. A man in her bed, her hesitant desire blooming. He felt her youth, realized she was just a girl, barely a woman. She bit the outlander on the neck, harder, need rising after the initial pain of his entry.

  Rhaekhar tasted the barest hint of blood in his mouth, felt her response, pleasure humming nigh to completion, and then…

  The outlander shoved her aside and struck her. The cur actually hit her in the face while shouting obscenities.

  Growling with fury, Rhaekhar seized her chin and pulled her higher in his arms. She fought wildly, trying to escape, him or the memory, he couldn’t tell. Her sense of shame drowned him, only increasing his rage.

  “Listen to me.” He leaned down so their noses were touching, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I’m not this cur who would strike you. I shall never turn from you or your needs, whatever they may be. It is impossible for you to repulse me, for you are my very heart. What you need, I need. What you enjoy, I enjoy. To harm you in any way would destroy me. If I ever lay eyes on this cur who hurt you, I shall cut off his cock and make him eat it before I strangle him with my bare hands. Do you understand?”

  Chest heaving, tears pouring from her eyes, she stared back at him. She swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. “If I lose control… ”

  “I want you to lose control. I relish your passion, no matter how wild, or raw, or bloody. It is impossible for you to hurt me.”

  She closed her eyes, laughing raggedly, and the sound nigh tore his heart in half. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “I know your heart, your mind, your soul, your body. You cannot hide anything from me. Listen to me— my feelings, my desire— and forget this other man. I am your warrior. Any other must come through me to you, even this outlander’s memory, and I deny him. I deny him.”

  His last words were vehement, ringing between them. If only he could deny all who had interest in her, but his honor would not allow him to shirk his duty to his woman. He had not mistaken or imagined the sliver of interest she felt for his Shadowed Blood.

  If she needed, he provided, whatever it might be. And now, she most needed to forget this memory that tormented her.

  Clamping his hand at the base of her neck, he kissed her with all the passion and longing that burned in him. The command and dominance that roared in his blood. Her head fell back beneath his onslaught, her mouth opening beneath his. He claimed every inch of her mouth, possessed it, took her very breath and gave her air from his own lungs, until she was limp in his arms.

  On the sandy bank of the pool, he set her down on her feet, carefully steadying her. Swaying, she blinked, her eyes dazed, her lips swollen and soft. He silently swore to kiss her often and hard. She needed both conqueror and tender lover. The trick would be deciding when she needed one and not the other.

  She made no objection when he stripped off the leather and metal keeping her body hidden from him. Even her sword. Dazed lushness fled from her face when he began removing his boots. Challenge gleamed in her midnight eyes, sparking for a skirmish when he yanked off the cloth about his waist.

  Instead of hauling her into the water, he tossed the memsha and loincloth into a heap on his boots and strode into the water without a backward glance.

  He didn’t need to see her eyes locked on him; he could feel her desire flaring through the bond like wildfire. Perhaps he could provide Gregar some competition after all. “Are you going to stare at my arse all night or join me in the water?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Deliciously cool, the water lapped at Shannari’s legs as she waded deeper. She averted her gaze from the gloriously nude temptation almost within hand’s reach and concentrated on washing the grime from her body.

  She felt fragile and raw, as if she’d rolled about on punishing sand and sharp rock. She had never intended to share that horrible memory with anyone, let alone another lover. Even with Devin, she had kept that secret tightly concealed. Not that it helped. She had never so much as nibbled on him, yet he’d still turned on her.

  Everyone turned on her sooner or later. Best she remember it.

  “This Devin— he is the one who broke your heart?”

  Startled, she faced the barbarian before she could stop herself. He had his back to her, so she let her gaze linger on his magnificent body.

  A thick mane of golden-brown hair cascaded over brawny shoulders and down his broad back, teasing her eyes lower to his firm, rounded ass. She’d never been interested in looking at a man’s backside before, but Leesha help her, he had a fine one. “How did you k
now his name?”

  “The bond.”

  For such a giant of a man, his movements were graceful and carefully controlled, even while doing something so mundane. Her eyes traced the lines of muscle and ligament from his thick warrior neck to his tremendous shoulders, down his wide chest to his chiseled waist.

  “Is he the one who struck you?”

  Only two lovers in her whole life before the barbarian, and both of them had ended badly. Very badly indeed. “No.” Not exactly.

  “Is this one dead, too, or will I have the pleasure of exacting my justice?”

  “I have no idea whether Jared lives or not. It was many years ago. Would you truly strangle someone with your bare hands?”

  “Aye. Strangulation is the worst possible death sentence on the Plains. You were little more than a girl, correct?”

  Embarrassment made her hunker down in the water up to her chin. Discussing her previous lovers was disconcerting to say the least. “I was a woman.” Technically. Her monthly flows had started. “It was necessary.”

  “Why?”

  How to explain something she didn’t fully understand herself? Besides, the whole event was a nightmare gone wrong from the very beginning.

  The barbarian turned and looked at her expectantly. Sighing, she tried to explain. “As a direct descendant of Our Blessed Lady Leesha, I’m supposed to have power. Magic. I’m supposed to use it to help our people and protect our lands from evil. According to legend, this magic is awoken through love. But it didn’t work for me.”

  Rhaekhar seemed more intrigued than alarmed by her failures. “We believe much the same thing. We carry the Great Wind Stallion’s blood in our veins, and we are charged with protecting the Sea of Grass and His Children, the na’kindren. He often gives us great gifts to carry out our duty.”

  Moving closer, he pulled the heavy braid over her shoulder and began unraveling it. Since she really was filthy, she made no protest. The sensation of his powerful hands moving through her hair was incredible, though. How such a mighty warrior could be so unfailing gentle— when he chose— astounded her.

  “You have magic, na’lanna. I feel it.”

  “Oh, some, I suppose, but nothing like I’m supposed to wield as High Queen.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice. So many times, she had dreamed about uniting the Green Lands into a strong republic instead of loose, squabbling countries always currying political favor with enemies and allies alike. No disease, famine, drought. No injustice. In her foolish fable, no one suffered or went without in a land of plenty and happiness as the Lady intended. “Now, it’s too late.”

  “Why?”

  “Love awakens the magic.”

  “And you believe you will never love again.” His tone of voice wasn’t accusatory or threatening, merely curious. “Did you love Devin very much, then?”

  She started to hunch deeper into the water, until she realized that put her on a level with the barbarian’s navel. Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard on keeping her secrets buried very, very deep. “Not so much, no.”

  “Then why do you believe you will never love again?”

  “Love nearly killed me,” she answered flatly. “I’m the Lady’s Last Daughter. If I die, no one stands between my people and the greatest evil of all.”

  Lygon, the Lord of Darkness. He waited for her in dreams, shadows sucking her down to agony and endless pain. Nightmare upon nightmare upon nightmare. Trapped, locked away from the sun, she would die there, and He would be free.

  Rhaekhar touched the scar on her chest, his fingers tender. Terror screamed through her. She jerked back, tried to turn away, to hide, but his hand in her hair held her firm. Oh, Lady, please don’t make me live that nightmare again!

  He drew her against his chest, swamping her fear with his rich scent and the warmth of his skin. “Shhh, my heart. You’re not ready to tell me about him, so I shall not ask. Tell me instead of the one who struck you. I must understand how your magic should awaken.”

  With his arms gentle around her and his muscled chest beneath her cheek, she couldn’t find the strength to refuse. “Usually the High Priest chooses the man who can awaken the Daughter of Leesha, or at least approves her choice. But Father Aran was delayed in Shanhasson. We were at war with Pella, and it was going badly. Our Captain was wounded, our troops disheartened, and Dalden Bay was on the verge of collapse. We needed help, and we thought my power would save us all. So my father selected one of his most trusted advisors for me. Our joining… Well. You saw how it ended.”

  “The man was wrong for hurting you, but I consider it a greater wrong that your father forced you to share your blankets with this man with no love, no tenderness, no shared desire between you. No wonder it ended badly, Shannari.”

  She tried to remember the nervous but excited young woman who’d taken Jared to her bed. He was a good looking man, distinguished, well liked, with a nice smile. She’d been pleased enough with her father’s choice. The fault was hers. “No one forced me. I was willing, but I felt nothing afterward. No enjoyment, no happiness, no pleasure, no love.” Shame welled up in her heart, and aching sadness. Oh, how she failed. “No magic.”

  “Nay.” Rhaekhar’s voice was harsh as he tilted her chin up to meet her gaze. “I shall give you all the love and care and pleasure you will ever need, Shannari. I shall give you my honor, my very life if need be. I shall even find a way to heal your wounded heart. And perhaps my love will awaken your magic as well.”

  He pressed his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss that stole the arguments and doubts and fears from her mind. This conquering barbarian could have used her vilely. Beaten, raped, tortured, starved, she would be powerless to stop him short of death.

  Instead, he touched her with such gentleness, such passion, that he stole her very breath. For the first time, she actually let herself consider that he might very well succeed.

  * * * *

  Enthralling her with slow, deep kisses, Rhaekhar eased her down to the waiting blankets. He settled against her, between her thighs, and she trembled beneath him. She pulled at his hair, her lips demanding, her body rising up to meet his, urging him to greater speed.

  His answer was to move away from her mouth, pressing soft, moist kisses across her jaw, down her neck. And then he began licking beads of water from her skin.

  “You’re not actually going to… to… ”

  “Lick you dry? Of course I am. I must.” Her skin tasted like summer fruits and cream, silken and velvet beneath his mouth. “I wanted to do this the moment I recognized you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. She fought him, wiggling and struggling to free herself from beneath his weight. Not because she had no desire for him; on the contrary, he knew she wanted him to hurry. “I never accepted your challenge or this so-called loss. Besides, how on earth could you recognize me when we’ve never met?” She paused, suddenly noticing the blanket beneath them. “Where did this come from?”

  “Aye, I did recognize you. A warrior always recognizes na’lanna. I smelled you, and I knew. My heart knew.” He decided not to mention the Great Wind Stallion’s vision he’d received as a lad. She would likely think him even more foolish. “The Blood spread my blankets while we were otherwise occupied.”

  Unease trickled through the bond and she froze beneath him. “Are the Blood here even now? Watching?”

  To distract her, he gripped her throat with his teeth briefly, letting her remember the thrill of his bite the previous night. “Watching for danger, not us. Don’t even think of them.”

  She surged up again in one last desperate attempt to flip him over. “I want to be on top.”

  “Another night it will be my great pleasure to let you love me however you wish. This night, however, lie still and let me care for you. You need do nothing but enjoy it.”

  Uneasy, she stilled beneath him, her body vibrating with tension. He spared several strokes of his tongue against his mark at the base of her neck. Too mu
ch attention to the bite would arouse her too quickly for what he intended, but he couldn’t resist.

  Arching up against him, she clutched his shoulders. “Why does it feel like that?”

  “Like what?” He pressed his open mouth over the entire mark, reveling in her response. Lush and hot, her scent spiked with rising desire. “Like my tongue is reaching deep inside your body? Like my heart is moving toward yours?”

  She whimpered softly, winding her fists into his hair to hold him close. “Melting.”

  “Aye, melt for me, na’lanna.”

  Swirling his tongue, he moved across her shoulder, down her arm. Here and there, he grazed her with his teeth. Not a bite, just a reminder. A promise. He lathed the crook of her arm, nibbled his way down to her hand, and sucked each finger into the heat of his mouth one by one. By the time he pressed his mouth to her palm, the last bit of unease had bled out of her.

  He picked up her other hand and gave it the same loving care, working his way back to her shoulder. By the time he finished lavishing attention on her breasts, her every breath caught on a soft little moan.

  “That’s quite enough.” Shannari panted, tightening her fingers in his hair. “Really.”

  Ignoring her pleading tugs, he licked a path of fire down the valley between her breasts to her navel. “Nay, it’s not nearly enough.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Sliding lower on her body, he allowed all the need and hunger he felt to roughen his voice. “I want to breathe your scent, taste your desire, feel your heat against my mouth. I want you to near rip out my hair with your passion. I want you to yell so loudly the Blood will wonder if I’m killing you. And then, my heart, I want you to ask me to do it all over again.”

  Her cheeks colored and her eyes flashed in the moonlight. “It’s indecent for them to be so close. We’re not far from the others, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hear our voices, let alone… er… ”