Chapter 5
Chapter five
Kelvar
Dileas stared at me accusingly over Alyx’s sleeping form. I glared back at her, and she flicked a judgmental ear.
I tried to silently argue with her—and myself—that this was simply more efficient than giving Alyx my robe and then trying to huddle against Dileas for warmth. Then we both would have to spend the night sleepless and cold.
As it was, it seemed that I would still be spending tonight awake and uncomfortable. Alyx’s soft form pressed against me as her light, sleepy breaths tickled my throat was torture.
Many women I had briefly shared a tent with had fallen asleep as I held them, and it had always been pleasant.
But never had I had such a visceral urge to bury my face in their hair and inhale.
Or to hold them so tightly that the magic that spilled off their skin in calming, effervescent waves might permeate the storm that constantly danced and sparked in my own flesh.
And never had it been a worse idea to do these things.
Dileas snorted, as if reminding me that I had also let my casual endearment slip again.
Flower.
I wrinkled my nose, trying to discern how this mission had gone so far off the path in just one day.
Still, it was not unsalvageable. It had only taken me a day to ride from Clan Katal to Clan Padra. If the desert was not angry, and I had no reason to believe she would be, it shouldn’t take me any longer to get back.
Half a day’s ride and I could have enough space from Alyx to think clearly—to realize how catastrophically stupid it was to be having these feelings.
The desert had already blessed me an inordinate amount to allow me to rise from an orphan hunting for myself with nothing more than a pilfered sling and stones to the most feared Warlord in the desert.
I would not throw it all away by risking the ire of not one, but two Clan Lords, all because I couldn’t ignore the way Alyx’s hair smelled like larrea flowers.
Or the way the calming waves of her magic felt like the ocean caressing the sands—at least the way I always imagined it in the legends, for I had never crossed the desert to see it.
I groaned quietly and laid my head down on my mat, resisting the visceral urge to tuck Alyx’s head under my chin.
One more day, and I could be free of this torment.
As the sun dipped rapidly toward the horizon on our second day of riding, I bit back a sigh of annoyance.
Alyx shifted before me, clearly uncomfortable after a full day of riding without rest as well.
I had driven us hard, hoping the tents of Clan Katal’s encampment would appear on the horizon if we just covered enough ground, but to no avail.
The Ballan desert was prone to shifting based on her mood.
Journeys that took a day when she was pleased could take two weeks when she was in a rage.
All who rode the sands knew to both respect and fear our home, knowing our very survival depended on her goodwill—the goodwill that had been earned when the first man crossed from the mountains to the ocean and tamed the monster-infested wilderness of the burning sands.
While I enjoyed riding through the wilds, rarely were my journeys long when time was of the essence. Today, though, the desert sought to vex me.
We would not be making it to Clan Katal before the sun set, and I would be faced with another sleepless night, either letting Alyx share my warmth or leaving her to freeze in the elements.
I already knew which option I would pick, as torturous as it would be.
With a sigh, I shifted my weight back on my sit bones, and Dileas ambled to a stop beside a cliff-like formation of weathered rocks.
“We will camp here for the night,” I declared, before dismounting.
Alyx, unable to support her weight with her hands bound, slid down with more force than she otherwise might have from Dileas’s considerable height.
Unconsciously, I reached out to catch her.
My hands grasped her waist, pulling her close to me and setting her gently on her feet.
Despite having her pressed to me all day, I was jarred by her sudden closeness—the slight catch of her breath and the way she leaned back into me for just a moment as she gained her balance.
Hastily, she stepped away, and I snatched my hands back, rubbing them on my robe to dispel the warmth of her skin that had bled through the thin shift she still wore.
Not for the first time, I cursed myself for not thinking to bring more clothing.
I stepped around her to unload a few packs from Dileas’s back.
“After I start a fire, I’m going to have to go hunting,” I explained. “I didn’t bring enough meat for more than one person for more than one night.”
Alyx huffed. “That was poor planning. It seems that Lord Deryn doesn’t keep you around for your brains.”
I snorted. “Thankfully, my skill with a saber is more than enough to recommend me.”
Alyx didn’t answer, instead bending from side to side to relieve some of the stiffness that accumulated in one’s spine after a day on horseback. I looked away quickly as it caused the hem of her shift to ride up, showing a dangerous amount of toned thigh.
Instead, I busied myself with building the fire in the protection offered by the rocky formation I had chosen as our campsite.
After making a pile of brush supplied by the obliging dry scrub in the area, I waved my hand over it.
With a lick of power unleashed in its direction, it burst into flame, although with slightly more force than I had intended.
“Sands,” I cursed under my breath as it immediately consumed half of the kindling I had carefully arranged.
Alyx looked curiously in my direction, and I shook myself.
“Sit down,” I instructed, inclining my head at the space before the fire.
She made a face but did as I asked, while I fetched the length of rope from my packs. While I couldn’t have her ankles bound while we rode, it wouldn’t do to have her running off while I hunted.
When I approached her with the rope, Alyx glared at me.
“Where would I possibly go?” she asked.
“I don’t want to find out,” I countered. “Besides, if you have nowhere to run, then why would you object to me stopping you from fleeing?”
I kneeled before her and held out a hand expectantly. Alyx’s nostrils flared in frustration, and she lifted her foot, managing to kick a healthy amount of sand in my face as she did so.
As I spat it from my mouth and blinked it from my eyes, the look of satisfaction on her face indicated it had been intentional.
I worked quickly to tie her ankles together, focusing on the grit now stuck in my teeth and stinging my eyes.
It was a good reminder that she remained my prisoner—and strictly off limits—despite the way my thumb unconsciously soothed over the arch of her foot as I finished off the knot.
I stood, dusting off my hands, and tried not to think about the way Alyx looked, sitting in the sand and staring daggers at me with her hands and feet bound. Quickly, I grabbed my saber and slung it over my back.
“I’ll be back,” I said, stalking off into the open sands.
The open air and the thrill of the hunt would do my churning mind good after a day sharing a horse with Alyx, before a night of her bundled in my arms.