The Horse Master of Shanhasson (Blood and Shadows) Page 3

  Agitated, she twisted her hands in the ropes. Immediately, he went to her, soothing her with a hand on her wrists. She bowed her head, clutching his fingers between her bound hands. “You held me while someone ran to the Palace. You. I remember. I wasn't afraid in your arms then. When I smelled that tea, I could sleep, because it reminded me of you. I could pretend I was all right. I'm not afraid in your arms now. You. . . You know. Don't you? You know who I am.”

  Gently, he untied the scarves covering her eyes and unwound them from her head. “Iyeh. I knew before I ever stepped foot into that room. Think you I would come tame any other but you?”

  “My father wouldn't let me out of his sight for years until his death. We were so terribly afraid.” Her voice broke, tears filling her incredible deep blue eyes. She didn't weep when tortured so cruelly, but she cried now. “I. . . I was pregnant.”

  Jake trembled, fire bubbling up inside him so violently he bit back a roar of fury. That creature of Shadow, torturing her, maiming her, forcing her to accept its child?

  “Father begged me to rid myself of the baby before it could be born. It was half me, though, half the Lady, half the Light of the world. The priests told me nothing happened that wasn't part of the Lady's will. No matter how grim, terrible, or hurtful, Our Blessed Lady was with me, in my heart, and whatever I chose would be right.

  “So I sent the baby north. I couldn't keep him, couldn't bear the memory of his father, but I couldn't have him killed. He was innocent, no matter what his father did to me.”

  She shuddered, pain ravaging her face. “We kept it absolutely secret. I was so afraid of what the people would think.” Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. “Afraid of what you would think. I didn't drink the tea until he was gone. The priests weren't sure what it might do to him, and I. . .”

  Jake cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. She searched his eyes, looking for condemnation, understanding, even forgiveness, but for what, he didn't know. All he knew was that he loved her, her courage, compassion, and most of all, her strength. He let all that emotion blaze in his eyes, roaring to match the fire burning in his veins.

  “I loved that tea because it reminded me of you. Because I loved you.”

  His heart split open, his stomach rolled, and his knees shook. “Why didn't you send for me, then? Blessed Somma, I would give my last drop of water for you! My last drop of blood! Five years. . .”

  He jerked her into his arms and clutched her to his heart. Sweat dripped off him, burning his eyes. His skin felt sore and tender, baked by the internal furnace blazing to life in him.

  Fire threatened to overwhelm him. It would burn her, while forging him into something else entirely. Dra'gwar. Exactly why he couldn't stay with her forever. He couldn't risk her.

  Breathing hard, he doused the flames, calmed the volatile emotions, and locked the raging fire back deep inside where she wouldn't be hurt. He would rather strangle himself with his whip than injure or scare her.

  “I didn't feel worthy.”

  “What?” He winced at his own roar. With effort, he brought his voice and rage back under control. “I'm a Keldari stable hand, Your Majesty. I would wipe your boots and count myself blessed.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she retorted just as fiercely. Shaking in his arms, she dropped her gaze. “Please, not you.”

  He tugged her chin back up and the tears glimmering in her eyes horrified him.

  “You don't understand,” she whispered. “He told me such awful things.”

  “Who? The tainted monster of Shadow that your soldiers executed on sight? Why would you care what he said?”

  She jerked her chin, whirling to try and flee him. “Because he was right.”

  Grimly, he freed her chin to avoid bruising her, but he locked his fingers into the ropes still binding her wrists. Fighting and struggling against him, she stumbled over the cape dragging about her legs. She fell, kicking and crying.

  He forced her flat on her stomach, her arms stretched out over her head and his knee planted in the small of her back. He pinned her while she kicked and screamed, just as he would a mare rejecting the Master's bit. Panting, she finally calmed her struggles, but the sound of her sobs shredded his heart.

  “Tell me,” he ordered harshly. “Tell me what he said.”

  “I drew him to me. The taint in me called him. He only did to me what I secretly desired, feeding the darkness already there.”

  “Filthy lies.” He bit off the words, trembling as wave after wave of fury pulsed through him. Talons twisted his gut in agony, fire burned his lungs, and oh, Somma, the wings. Wings fought inside him, stretching him until he feared he would burst.

  Roses. Pain. Tears.

  Her need calmed him, brought the fire back to a manageable blaze, and lulled the rising beast for a time. But soon, too soon, the beast would slumber no longer.

  “He was right,” she said flatly, her voice ragged. “At first, I was afraid, but he didn't hurt me immediately. Not so much. Just enough that I. . . I. . .”

  “You enjoy small pain.” He said it hard and baldly. Any tenderness in his voice and manner could be mistaken by her as weakness or pity. Now, more than ever, she needed the Master. “Say it.”

  “I enjoy small pain.”

  “You enjoy my taming.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, shuddering beneath him.

  “Not as High Queen, but as a woman in your bed, you like a man to be in control. You enjoy a Master commanding you.”

  Shame washed over her, her scent of roses turning to ashes in his mouth and nose. “Yes.”

  “You like my whip. My leather. My ropes. Say it!”

  “Yes, damn you! Yes!”

  “Now I’ll tell you the truth, za'hira. I say this as your Master, as one who treasures every inch of your luscious body, every beat of your heart, and every drop of blood in your veins. When I say it, you will believe me.” He waited for her response, and when it didn't come quickly enough, he gave a little jerk to the rope binding her wrists. “Am I your Master?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then say it.”

  “I believe you, Master Jakon rav'Tellan.”

  “Just because a woman enjoys small pain, does not give a man any right to give large, harder pain. A Master knows the difference. The monster who hurt you might have recognized this need in you. Iyeh, you might have been startled by it. Afraid, even ashamed, at first, young and untrained. A Master would have taught you to find pleasure in your body's needs. No one, I repeat, no one, had any right to destroy your trust by hurting you so badly.”

  She didn't disagree, but from the lingering tenseness in her body and the way she hid her face, she still doubted.

  “Let us trade intimate secrets, za'hira. I'll tell you something only a lover should know, and you judge me worthy or unworthy of love.”

  He removed his knee from her back and helped her up so they knelt face to face on the floor. Tenderly, he wiped her tears, smoothing her damp hair back from her face.

  “I like teeth.” Jake allowed some of the raging desire to flare on his face. “I like to be bitten when making love to my woman, and I like to bite my woman in return. I'm not talking soft tender little love nips, but teeth hard enough to leave a mark deep in my woman's skin. I want to bite so hard that I can taste my woman's blood when I spill my seed inside her, and if I'm not bleeding in at least a dozen spots when I finally find release, then I’ve failed to give my woman enough pleasure.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed and barely breathing. Shock flickered across her face. Then her jeweled eyes sparked with desire and a wave of smoldering roses filled his nose.

  “Now I ask you this. A woman knows this need in me, and instead of biting my neck or chest or arm, or anywhere I would greatly enjoy, she eats off my manly bits. Is that my fault? Did my need excuse her actions and give her permission to maim me forever?”

  A ghost of a smile softened her face, wiping away the shame and a
gony she’d borne all these years. “How about your rump? Is that allowed, Master?”

  “You want to bite my arse?” He laughed, joy and love swelling his heart in his chest until it hurt to breathe. “Absolutely, za'hira.”

  Her lips twitched. “Manly bits?”

  “I didn't wish to offend the High Queen with my crude language.”

  At the mention of her title, her face turned solemn again. So much lay between them: Politics, countries, years of suffering, a wasteland as endless as the Keldari desert. Not to mention his own dread curse of fire that would eventually force his departure.

  Cupping her precious cheek in his calloused palm, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her lower lip. “You, my love, could put this incredible mouth on my cock and bite me, and I wouldn't flinch a muscle. I trust you. I love you. I would surrender my whip and my last saddle to lie with you and break your fear, to give you the pleasure you deserve. I want to feel the rush of your magic on my skin and know that you're healed.”

  He sighed. Ah, this last part hurt, but he must be honest with her. “And then I will leave you to take a proper royal husband, while I return to Keldar where I belong.”

  The High Queen lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed. “You must be mistaken. This mare is a one-man horse. If you lie with me, my Keldari Master, then I'm keeping you. Forever.”

  THREE

  HIS HEART BLED. “I will always love you, but I cannot stay, no matter how much I long otherwise.”

  She drew back, her regal shoulders straight and proud. “And why not?”

  “Surely you know why. There are many reasons.”

  “Name them.”

  Frustration tightened his jaw. “You're the bloody High Queen of the Green Lands!”

  She arched her brow at him haughtily. “Indeed. Is that your only pitiful excuse?”

  “I'm a Keldari stable hand.”

  She let her gaze drop to his bare chest, and the open appreciation gleaming in her eyes was nearly his undoing. “And you're my Master. Mine.”

  “Your Majesty, please, you can't honestly—”

  “Don't call me that.” Her mouth hardened with determination. “Or if you do, at least believe in my authority. As High Queen, I'll marry as I wish. No one will dare tell me otherwise. Any children. . .” Her chin trembled, her voice catching.

  His heart broke, remembering her sorrow, her fear all these years that he would believe her impure or tainted.

  “Any children we may have will be legitimate heirs to the High Throne by my blood alone. A little Keldari fire mixed in with Our Blessed Lady's blood will only strengthen the royal line.”

  Fire. He shuddered. “You have no idea of what you speak.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He clenched his hands into fists on his thighs and bowed his head, fighting the bitterest battle of his life.

  “Trust. It all begins with trust.” She reached up and awkwardly untied the queue with her bound hands, letting his hair fall loose. She pulled the long black strands over his shoulder, pooling his hair into his lap between them. “Oh, Jake, your hair is gorgeous.” She picked up a handful and buried her face in his hair, shivering with delight. “It smells like you, like your leather. Shiny, soft, wonderful. Why do you keep it pulled back so fiercely?”

  “Control,” he ground out. “I mustn't lose control.”

  “Masters can never be vulnerable? Masters can never let anyone inside their hearts?”

  “You’re in my heart, za'hira, but if I relinquish control, I could kill you.”

  “Never,” she retorted. “You would never hurt me. I know that.” She rubbed the back of her hand against his face. “Can you untie me now? I want to touch you, if that's allowed.”

  He retrieved a knife from the table and knelt again to slice the silken ropes from her wrists. “You may always touch me, za'hira. If I wish to limit your natural reactions, I’ll tell you so in advance.”

  As soon as the ropes fell away, she raised both hands to his face. Closing his eyes, he let her touch sink into him, easing the strain burning his muscles. She stroked delicate fingers over his eyes, cheeks, nose, mouth, down his neck. Heaven.

  Then she pressed her mouth to his.

  Fire roared up inside him, searing his throat, bubbling into his mouth, hot and hungry and terrible. He scrambled away, breaking contact with her before it touched her. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

  Breathing hard, he tried to push the fire back down inside him, but it stayed just beneath his skin. So hot. His flesh blistered from the furnace blazing inside him. Sprawled back on his elbows, he tried not to move for fear of splitting his skin wide open.

  “I felt—”

  At her whisper, he searched her face, relieved to see she wasn't afraid or hurt by his violent reaction. Her eyes were dazed, her lips soft, her fingers sliding back and forth over her mouth.

  Wings stretched. Fire curled inside him. Painfully hard, he tried to adjust his trousers but there simply wasn't room. Her eyes locked on his groin, her fingers stroking her mouth, and he groaned.

  “Kiss me again.”

  “Somma, no! I almost burned you.”

  “I know.”

  The pleased wonder in her voice made him grind his teeth. “You mustn't kiss me!”

  She reached out her pale, slender hand and trailed her fingers across his chest. Her flesh gleamed against the baked tan of his skin, the darkness never fading all these years in the Green Lands. His head fell back, unable to resist the onslaught of fiery need pouring through him.

  “Tell me about the fire.”

  “I'm cursed.” He gasped. “A dragon lives in me. The older I get, the less control I have. Eventually, it’ll tear its way out me and destroy everything in its path.”

  She let the heavy cape slide from her shoulders, baring her glorious body for his gaze.

  He couldn't seem to catch his breath. So hot, he blazed with fever that cooked his eyes in his head and stewed his internal organs. “Didn't you hear me? I'm cursed with fire and death. Someday soon, very soon, I'll transform into a dragon.”

  “That's very interesting.” Instead of fleeing or recoiling in horror, she dared to curl against his sweaty, heaving side, her fingers playing with his nipple. “I'm blessed with Our Blessed Lady's magic, assuming you'll continue teaching me about love between a man and a woman. Surely my blessing will break your curse, just as your Mastery will break my fear. Besides, you can't tell me all Keldari men turn into feral dragons and kill everyone around them, or your people would have died out by now.”

  He groaned again, trying to remember what they were arguing about in the first place. “Very nearly. There are fewer dra'gwar than ever, and the tribes are constantly warring among themselves. Besides, you're not Keldari. You have no defense against my fire, no way to survive the flames. I love you too much to risk you.”

  “If I were Keldari and you felt this fire coming, what would you do?”

  “It's a hard land, za'hira, and a hard life. I would give my fire to you and pray you survived. If not, you likely wouldn't survive the blasting sands and misery of constant thirst anyway. Then, if my fire didn't kill you, taking you as a dra'gwar mate is even more dangerous.”

  She kissed his chest, her mouth wet against his sizzling skin. “How would you give me your fire?”

  “A kiss,” he admitted hoarsely. She dug her teeth into the muscle above his heart, and he collapsed flat on his back. “I won't risk you. You're too precious to me and too important to your people. You've suffered violence already, and a full dra'gwar mating is all blood and teeth and fire.”

  “I like your fire so far. It makes you smell even better, and I liked the heat from your people's tea.” She licked up his chest and neck to nibble on her ear. “I believe I’ll like your teeth. When you spoke of your secret, I felt. . .”

  He didn't think he could get any hotter or harder, but he did. “Tell me.”

  “I ached, deep inside.” She breathed
into his ear. “My breasts tingled, heavy and aching for you. Then I felt a pool of cool, pure water welling up inside me. Our Blessed Lady's magic, I think. It's there, waiting for you to love me.”

  “And what of the blood?” Nearly killed in violence, how would she feel about sharing blood with him? “I have no desire to increase your fear.”

  Slipping astride his abdomen, she cried out, likely because he scorched her tender flesh. “I'm not afraid. I believe Our Blessed Lady gave me to you, and you to me. When I needed you the most, when everything looked so grim that I was prepared to give up the Rose Crown entirely, you came. You touch me, and all the darkness and fears disappear.”

  She leaned down, holding his gaze with her own. “I've never wanted anyone the way I want you.” Lightly, she brushed her lips against his. “I've never loved anyone the way I love you. If the unthinkable happens and I do die for some reason, then I'd rather die with you, fighting for you, then live alone for years and years, dying a little more each day. I've done that for five years, Jakon rav'Tellan. I'm done with cowering, hiding, and waiting. I want you, Master, and I'm going to keep you. Make me your dragon mate, whatever it takes.”

  Writhing flames surged inside him, engulfing his heart and mind and soul. He opened his mouth and sealed his lips over hers, burying his hands in her hair to hold her close.

  Fire raged, pouring from his mouth into hers, bursting from his pores. His skin roasted, his flesh baked, fiery agony ripping through him. He smelled roasting spices, smoke, and melting rose petals.

  He feared for her, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't contain the flames any longer. All he could do was hold her, burn with her, and pray to the Lady, Somma, Blessed Moon above, that She would keep Her Daughter safe.

  Her tongue slid into his mouth, flooding him with crystal cool water to soothe the inferno within. Mercurial silver, the blessed water mixed with his fire, not dousing it entirely, but taking away the punishing agony.