Chapter 12
The Peak
Sahar lay shivering under the thin blanket on
Aleksi’s bedroll, missing the heat of his body while watching him
move about their camp as he checked his saddle bags and Zolotoy’s
ties for the tenth time. In between each check, he would look down
at her and then turn away, grumbling under his breath as he sorted
through his bag or retied Zolotoy’s reins to the bush yet again. At
last, he lowered himself down with a resigned sigh and lay behind
her, stiffening as she scooted her backside up against him.
She snuggled in closer, waiting to feel his
arm reach around and tuck her in to him, but he only stiffened
more. It was his morning rejection all over again. She buried her
face into her hands and stifled her threatening tears.
He sighed again, heavy, irritated, and
started to slide his arm over her shoulder. She jabbed him in the
belly with her elbow.
“Oomph.” His breath hit her neck in a great
whoosh. “What was that for?”
“I don’t wish to be forced into bodily
contact with you any more than you wish to be physically close to
me,” she huffed.
“Then why do you keep wiggling like that
against me?”
“Like what?”
He bumped his pelvis against her buttocks,
shooting liquid heat from her core to her chest. “Like that,” he
said, his breath close and hot on her nape.
“I wasn’t wiggling,” she insisted, and
purposely wiggled her backside against him. “I was cold.” She
burrowed her buttocks into the curve between his belly and his
thighs. “Why does it bother you so much more tonight than last
night?”
“I was too tired to do anything about it last
night.”
“And this morning?”
“I told you, men wake up that way quite
often.”
“No.” She shook her head, and her body
flushed from her head to her toes. “I mean this morning in the
stream, when you stormed away from me after we—”
“Stood skin to skin and kissed.”
She nodded, the bedroll rough and painful
against her still bruised cheek, which was nothing compared to the
sting of her bruised pride.
His silence had her ready to jump up and
spend the night high in a tree as far away from him as she could
safely be. Then he placed his arm around her and pulled her in
tight.
“What do you think happened this morning?” he
whispered in her ear, his voice low and rough.
“I think you didn’t want me after all.”
He laughed so sharp and quick that he
actually barked. “Is that how you think a man who doesn’t want a
woman responds?” He nipped the tender skin at the back of her neck
and nuzzled her nape. “I want you, my tigress. I’ve wanted you
every cursed moment of every cursed day and night since I laid eyes
on you.” He growled low, nudging her backside with his hardening
length. “I want you so badly it hurts.”
“Then why did you walk away? Why were you so
angry with me?”
“I was angry with myself. I knew better, and
I let my wanting you put you in harm’s way.”
In a long slow sigh, she let out the breath
she’d been holding since he had walked away from her in the stream.
Aleksi rolled his forehead between her shoulder blades.
“If those crows and that stag hadn’t
interrupted us, I wouldn’t’ve had the will to stop.” His voice grew
low and his cock grew rigid. “I would’ve laid you down on the grass
at the river’s edge and made love to you until we both were spent,
heedless of the dangers all around us.”
“And now?” She knew she was being brazen, but
she didn’t care. All she cared about was the feel of Aleksi’s big,
warm hand cupping her breast.
His thumb rubbed her nipple, and she gasped
with pleasure.
“Now we are still in great danger,” he
whispered hotly. He kissed her neck where it met her shoulder, his
thumb continuing its tantalizing circle around her beaded nipple.
“We are in great danger of crossing a line that once crossed cannot
be redrawn.”
She rolled to face him, the heat in her body
reflected in his gaze. “Who would know besides us?” she asked, her
voice lower and deeper than usual.
His thumb stopped its delicious circling, and
he held her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes.
“Your future husband would, whoever the lucky bastard of a prince
turns out to be.”
Aleksi craned his neck from side to side as
they reached the mountain pass in the late afternoon, trying to
work out the kinks from sleeping with his back propped up against a
tree’s trunk. The almost constant ache in his loins was not so
easily assuaged.
He rolled his shoulders and felt Sahar’s head
loll between them, her soft snore telling him she was finally
sleeping after sitting rigidly behind him for most of the day. He
held her clasped hands at his belly tighter, to keep her from
sliding off of Z onto the damp ground. She’d tossed and turned as
much as Aleksi had last night, neither of them getting much, if any
sleep.
He snorted at his confession of wanting her
more than anyone, and at his “noble” restraint. Z spooked and
danced, causing Aleksi to pull up on the stallion’s reins. Sahar
snuffled and pressed closer. He held his body as still as possible
as she settled, chuckling quietly. He’d do to the same with Kiska
staying in one position until his limbs grew numb lest he disturb
the little tyrant. It seemed he was doomed to serve as a fool and
lackey for kittens and tigresses in his attempt to protect them
from weasels and wolves.
He’d been terrified when he realized she’d
been abducted. Then, after he’d rescued her, when he finally had
her panting and willing in his arms, he’d stopped them before they
went too far.
Mostly—and in spite of what he’d told her—it
was because he was scared. Scared that once he had her, he would go
from want to need to nothing. A bastard and a princess had no
future. He’d lied when he’d told her they were nothing to each
other.
She was everything to him.
Which was why he was doing her bidding to
reclaim Lasair and take two worthless princes as captives to try to
stop a war from starting between the southern tribes. Meanwhile,
Serge and Pyotr were in King Asad’s city, trading horses, getting
started in the new life they’d dreamed and planned for. A life that
would always have a Sahar-sized hole in it. Still, there would be
some solace in showing up at the gate to his father’s palace with a
purse full of gold and a string of fine broodmares.
As long as his father was alive to see
it.
Aleksi had tried not to think of his father
being ill. Unable to do anything to remedy whatever ailed his
father from here, he’d pushed that worry to the back of his mind,
which had been filled first with running the race, and then with
finding Sahar and keeping her safe, and now with saving Lasair and
capturing Yago and Taweel. He hoped Anastasia hadn’t been lying
that their father’s illness was trifling. He trusted her about as
much as he trusted the Wolf.
Right now, he needed to concentrate on
catching the Wolf and getting Sahar home, safe and sound with her
virginity intact.
When they made camp, she shaved the end of
the last stick into a spike while he dug a hole to prop it into
next to six others set in a line along the only path leading into
their camp. When they were done, he spread out the empty husks of
the chestnuts they’d eaten around the borders of their
campsite.
He tied Z to a bush at the path’s opening
while she strewed the small pile of twigs they’d collected around
the outer edges of the glen.
“There,” he said approvingly. “If they come,
we’ll hear the crunches of their boot fall or them screaming.”
She handed him his blade. “If they don’t come
to us tonight, we go after them and Lasair tomorrow night,” she
confirmed.
“Barring any unforeseen circumstances.”
She said nothing.
“Sahar?”
“Don’t ‘Sahar’ me,” she snapped. “I’m going
after Lasair tomorrow night with or without you.”
“What about Yago and Taweel? How do propose
to capture them without me?”
She gnashed her teeth and growled low.
“Be reasonable.”
“Be reasonable?” she snapped. “I’ve been
kidnapped, beaten, starved, and threatened with rape, public
humiliation, and death. You think I’m being unreasonable?”
“I think,” he said calmly, “that you are
speaking too loud.”
“I think,” she hissed, “you are being… That
you are…” She gnashed her teeth and fisted her hands at her sides.
“Confoundedly reasonable.”
He fought his twitching lips and then gave in
as his chest shook with silent laughter.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” she said coldly.
“That my frustration is a matter of mirth for you.”
“Sahar.” He reached his hand out to her
face.
She slapped his hand away. “I told you, don’t
‘Sahar’ me. I’m in no humor to be mollified by you or any man.” She
glared at him as if it was his fault he had been born male. “None
of this would’ve happened if I’d been a man.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I, for one, am glad
you’re not.”
“Why?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, wondering
if she was baiting him or that na?ve. Then he blew his breath out
and ran a hand through his hair knowing he’d couldn’t tell her his
truth. “Because your father wouldn’t’ve paid me a hundred gold
pieces to watch over his son.”
They ate their meager meal of chestnuts and
jerky in stony silence. Then he checked the traps they set and
retied Z’s reins to a bush for the seventh time, putting off lying
next to her on the bedroll.
He stopped distracting himself and slid under
the blanket behind her, keeping his body from touching hers. Making
sleepy little snuffles, she wriggled her backside against him. He
went stiff and grumbled low in his chest, and she snuggled closer
until the length of her body pressed against the length of his.
Sahar sighed, then turned to face him.
“Sahar?” He cocked his head and his hair fell
down over his forehead. She reached out and pushed it back from his
eyes, smiling as the stubborn lock fell again.
“Aleksaandrrr,” she purred, running her
fingers through his hair.
He reached up and grasped her by the wrist,
stilling her hand. “Be careful, my tigress,” he warned. “You’re
playing with fire.”
“I’m fire, my stallion,” she rasped. “I want
to burn with you.” She slid her hand down his belly and pressed her