Chapter 11
Searching
Aleksi shook out his bedroll and laid it on
the ground. “Here,” he told Sahar. “You should lie down before you
fall down.”
It was a testament to how tired and worn out
she was that she did what he said without argument. He took his
otter cloak out of his saddle bag and covered her with it,
clenching his fists at the red welts and raw sores on her wrists as
she rolled over onto her side and pulled the cloak up under her
chin. Gently, he touched his fingers to the black and blue swelling
above the hollow of her cheek, and she whimpered and flinched at
his touch.
“Shhh, Kitten,” he soothed. “I won’t hurt
you. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you
again.”
He tucked a snarled, unkempt lock of hair
behind her ear, and growled low as she shrank from his touch. It
was obvious from her physical wounds that they had beaten her, but
as bad as they were, they would heal. What worried Aleksi was the
damage done to her spirit. He’d heard every vile word the Jackal
said before smashing his face into the tree. They’d meant to hand
her over to the Ox, to be publicly humiliated and raped and then
executed, to be sacrificed for their war, all to settle a
twenty-year-old grudge.
“They’ll pay for what they have done to you,”
he vowed. “As well as for what they meant to do.”
“They never would’ve succeeded,” she said,
her voice a raw whisper.
“No?”
She shook her head, and his cloak fell away
from her chin. She turned and met his gaze, her beautiful face
mottled with bruises. Aleksi’s bile rose.
“I knew if you weren’t dead…” Her voice
cracked, and her eyes welled, and his heart stuck in his throat. “I
knew if you were still alive, that you’d come after me.” She smiled
as sweetly and tenderly as she had never smiled at him before. “If
you were dead, and I was on my own, then I would die by my own hand
before I ever gave in to the likes of them.”
“I’ll kill them,” Aleksi swore. “Yago and
Taweel are dead men.”
“You can’t.” Her gaze held his, serious. “We
must bring them back to my father as proof of their plans.”
“Your father will believe us without
them.”
“My father will, but the other kings may not.
If the Ox gets his war…”
“Your father will need the other kings to
ally with him.”
Sahar gave a rueful grin, then grimaced and
licked the cracked and bleeding corner of her mouth.
“If I can’t kill the worm and his cur,”
Aleksi said, pulling a wash rag from his saddle bag and pouring
water from his skin onto it, “then at least I demand the right to
repay him in kind.”
He touched the wet cloth to her lip and
dabbed gently. She reached up and placed her hand over his, and
then she grinned, fierce and feral. “Only after I have done with
him,” she said.
“There’s my tigress,” Aleksi said, relieved
her spirit remained fierce.
He wet the rag again and dabbed at the cuts
and sores on her wrists, grinning like the village idiot. “Ratter
gave me a healing balm,” he said, rummaging through his saddlebag
and pulling out the tub. He rubbed the pungent salve on her wrists,
and then her lips, the soft, plush feel of them pulling at his
cock. He coughed and sat back. She needed comfort and healing, not
some randy stallion pawing at her. Which made what he was about to
say even more difficult. “We do not dare light a fire,” he said,
“and we only have the one bedroll. I need sleep, or I will be of no
use tomorrow, and you need sleep to heal, so…”
“So...”
“So, Z is tethered next to us, he’ll warn us
if anyone comes near. I’m going to lay down under my cloak with
you, and we’ll share our bodies’ heat.”
She rolled a reddened eye at him, but she
scooted forward and made room.
“Do not worry,” he said as he lay down behind
her. “I am too tired to want anything but a good night’s
sleep.”
She huffed as he slid in closer and reached
an arm around her, tucking her in tight. He prayed to the gods that
his body would not make a liar out of him as his cock nestled into
the firm heat of her round backside. If he became aroused, as he
had in the kraal, and she felt it, she would bolt.
“Was that Yago and Taweel I saw tucked up in
a bedroll together?” he asked, needing to think about anything
other than the length of her pressed against him.
“It was.”
“Were they huddled together for warmth?”
“No,” she said. She shifted even closer, so
that Aleksi’s heart was hammering against her back. “They’re
lovers.”
“Are they now?” Aleksi chuckled. “Well, that
explains the sounds I heard earlier, as well as a few lingering
glances from the worm after he arrived.”
She giggled, and it was the sweetest sound
Aleksi had ever heard.
“It seems he was jealous of me,” she said,
“not you.”
Sahar woke cocooned by the length of Aleksi’s
body, his arm holding her tight to his broad chest, her backside
tucked into the warming heat of his front side and her legs twined
with his. His breath tickled the hairs on her neck where his nose
was buried into her nape, but true to his word, he’d demanded
nothing of her but easy conversation until they had both drifted
off to sleep.
She shifted a little, trying to untangle her
legs from his. He mumbled something into her shoulder and tightened
his arm around her, his legs tucking into the back of hers. She
held still for a moment, and then tried to move again, and felt
something growing hard against her backside where there had only
been soft heat. Curse the man, he truly was a stallion. She flipped
around to face him, ready to accuse him of breaking his promise,
and was surprised as his eyes opened and took a few moments to
focus on her.
“You were still asleep?” she asked.
He yawned and rubbed his nose and stubbled
chin. “Apparently I was more tired than I thought.”
“Apparently,” she nudged his groin with her
thigh, “you’re not as tired as you claim to be.”
“You can’t blame a man for his body’s natural
response,” he said. He chuckled at her glare, not at all
apologetic. “It’s what happens when a man awakens, even if he is
not lying next to a woman as desirable as you.”
She licked her dry, swollen lips and touched
her fingers to her dirty, matted hair. “You think me desirable?”
she asked, feeling about as desirable as the wash rag Aleksi had
used to tend her wounds, now hanging dry and stiff on the bush
Zolotoy was tied to.
He laughed, short and harsh, and his brown
eyes bore into hers. “I don’t chase after women, or kiss them, or
propose marriage to them, unless I find them desirable, you
beautiful, maddening creature.”
“Oh.”
His gaze focused on her mouth and a pained
grimace crossed his face before he gently tipped up her chin to
close her mouth. He let out a short, ragged breath. “We better get
up,” he said, flipping his cloak off of them.
He stood, groaning a little as stiff joints
popped, and offered her his hand. Blushing at the obvious bulge in
his breeches, she reached up, and saw what looked like fresh teeth
marks on the meaty edge of his palm.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked as he
pulled her up. Her bruised knees creaked as she stood and turned
his hand over to see what were obviously human teeth marks. “Who
bit you?”
“A tigress.”
Sahar’s head snapped up and she felt a pull
along the side of her neck as she met his steady gaze. She shook
her head, working out the kink and her confusion. “I bit you?”
“Last night,” he said, “after I cut you loose
and you fainted. You woke up frightened and thrashing while we were
hiding in the trees.” He gave her a cocky grin. “I had to keep you
quiet somehow.”
She did not know whether to cuff him or kiss
him. He’d saved her life. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
He shrugged. “A man can expect nothing less
when he tangles with a tigress.” He coughed and blew on his cupped
hands and went to his saddle bags and pulled out a linen square of
dried meat. “Here, my tigress,” he handed her a strip, “this will
have to satisfy your blood lust for now.”
She sat down and tore into the meat, her
empty belly growling. She chewed the stringy meat then asked,
“What’s your plan?”
“My plan,” Aleksi said, “now that I have
gotten you safely away from those curs, is to keep you that way
while staying a league behind Yago and Taweel. Close enough to
follow, yet far enough to remain unseen until the time comes to
steal Lasair and take the men alive, if possible. We’re less than
half a league from their camp,” he told her as she reached up to
assess the mass of snarls and curls that had escaped her unkempt
braid. “We’ll wait here awhile to give them a head start.”
Nodding in agreement, Sahar winced, dropped
her left arm and rubbed her shoulder.
“Here.” Aleksi sunk onto his knees behind
her. “Let me.” He started at the bottom of her braid, gently
untangling the plaiting. “We will forage as we go,” he said,
working his fingers up until the braid was undone. “Whatever we
find will supplement the dry goods I still have. No hunting or
fishing, no fire until we have those curs collared and leashed.
They got overconfident last night and lit a fire, which was how I
found you in the dark. My bet is that they’ll do it again in a
night or two, thinking we rode straight for your father’s palace.”
He began to lightly rub his fingertips along her temples. Sahar
sighed. “We can bathe in the stream this morning, if you like. I
have a tub of soap in my saddle bags.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
His fingertips moved over her scalp in slow,
rhythmic circles. “What was that, my tigress?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He continued circling his fingers down her
neck to her shoulders, applying a little more pressure, and her
head slumped forward with a soft groan.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, kneading
the spot between her shoulders where the fulcrum of her tight
muscles were knotted.
She shook her head. “No. Please, it
feels...”
He resumed his kneading, and leaned in
closer, whispering into her ear. “Wonderful?”
Sahar shivered, and he lowered his mouth to
her nape and nipped her flesh where her neck met her shoulder. “You
taste wonderful,” he murmured.
She shrugged him off. “I feel like a piece of
dried jerky,” she said, skittering away.