Chapter 3 #2
Silence reclaimed the canyon, broken only by the steady rustle of the evening wind and the heavy, controlled sound of Nartab’s breathing.
He stood near the edge of the bridge, his back turned to my terrace.
The last rays of the setting sun caught the beads of sweat covering his broad shoulders, turning each drop into a glistening spark of gold against his dark, sun-bronzed skin.
The muscles of his upper back rippled as he rolled his shoulders to work out the tension of the skirmish.
His thick amber fleece was dusted with grey stone powder, and the heavy spirals of his horns cast long, intimidating shadows across the causeway.
I stared at the slope of his neck and the hard line of his trapezius, my knuckles turning white against the terrace stone.
My breathing felt too loud in my ears. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sudden, intense throb of attraction that had taken root in my core.
I watched a drop of sweat trace a slow path down the groove of his spine, disappearing into the waistband of his linen belt where his human skin met his dark amber fleece, and my mouth went completely dry.
You are losing your mind to the altitude, I scolded myself silently, pressing my cold palms against my burning cheeks. He is your stepbrother. He is half-beast, a warlord’s heir who just broke three monsters with his bare hands, and you are staring at him like a starved animal.
Why was my body reacting like this to a violent brawl?
My pulse hammered in my ears, and my legs felt strangely weak beneath me.
I closed my eyes for a second, forcing my lungs to draw in the cool, juniper-scented air to clear the fog from my brain.
I needed to go back inside. I needed to sit by the cold slate table with Lesta and Miri and drink another cup of chilled water until my pulse returned to a normal human rhythm.
I could not let him turn around and see the flushed skin of my neck or the rapid rise and fall of my chest.
A heavy, scraping sound scratched against the stone floor just three feet to my left.
My eyes snapped open. I turned my head toward the dark corner of the terrace - and a sharp cry escaped my throat before I could clamp my hand over my mouth.
Standing in the shadow of the arched entryway, blocking the path back to the inner stairwell, was a bighorn male I had never seen before.
He must have scaled the outer defensive wall from the blind western fissure while Nartab was occupied on the eastern bridge.
He was leaner than my stepbrother, but his frame was corded with tight, wiry muscle that twitched erratically under his mud-smeared skin.
His dark brown fleece was ragged and full of burrs, his hooves scraped and bleeding from the vertical climb up the sheer sandstone.
It was his face that froze the blood in my veins.
His nostrils flared wide, pulling in ragged, whistling breaths that sounded like bellows in the quiet evening air.
Thick saliva coated the corners of his ovine jaw, dripping slowly onto his bare chest. His heavy, curved horns were scarred with fresh, pale scratches from recent fights, but his eyes - wide, bloodshot, and burning with a feverish yellow light - were locked directly onto me.
There was no reason, no civilization, and no restraint left in those horizontal pupils.
The summer rut had stripped away whatever rational mind this male once possessed, leaving behind only the raw, biological compulsion to hunt, claim, and breed.
He took a slow, heavy step out of the shadows onto the open terrace, his hoof clattering against the stone with a menacing ring.
His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, tasting my scent on the wind, and a low, guttural vibration rattled in his throat - a sound of pure, territorial hunger that promised no mercy.
I backed away toward the parapet, my bare heel snagging on the rough edge of a flagstone.
He stalked forward with the deliberate, heavy cadence of a predator cornering prey that had no room to flee.
His nostrils flared again, drinking in the scent of my rising panic mixed with the lingering pheromones of my recent arousal.
"Stay back," I whispered, though my voice sounded thin and useless against the expanse of the canyon.
The male tilted his head, his heavy horns tilting toward me as a thick strand of saliva fell from his chin onto the stones.
He took another step, closing the distance between us to less than eight feet.
The smell of him hit my nostrils then - a pungent, musky odor of sweat, crushed pine, and aggressive animal fever that made my head swim.
I reached blindly behind me, my fingers grasping the cold stone of the railing.
Beyond it lay fifteen feet drop to the rocks below.
In front of me stood a crazed beast driven by a biological imperative that knew no laws or boundaries.
He lowered his head, preparing to lunge across the remaining flagstones, and let out a broken, roaring bleat that echoed off the high watchtower above us.
A heavy shadow dropped from the upper battlement, blotting out the dying blood - orange light of the sunset.
Before the feral intruder could launch his weight across the flagstones, Nartab landed squarely between us.
The impact of his hooves against the stone floor shook the terrace like a localized tremor, cracking the sandstone tiles beneath his boots.
He did not waste breath on a warning or a display of dominance.
He rose to his full height, his broad, bare back blocking my view of the attacker, and let out a guttural, reverberating roar that rattled the teeth in my jaw.
The fever-crazed male did not retreat. The biological frenzy of the rut had burned away his survival instincts, leaving only a blind, territorial rage. He dropped his head, pointing the thick, scarred ridges of his horns forward, and charged across the terrace with a wet, whistling scream.
I stumbled backward, my bare feet slipping on the smooth flagstones until my spine slammed against the rough sandstone wall of the corner alcove.
I wrapped my arms tight around my own shoulders, pressing my back into the stone and willing myself to blend into the shadows.
My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps that burned my throat.
I could taste the metallic tang of fear on my tongue, sharp and bitter, mixed with the heavy, pungent musk of the two beasts filling the air around me.
The collision of their bodies sounded like boulders falling down a mountain gorge.
Nartab caught the charging male’s horns against the thick, sweeping spirals of his own.
The clash of solid bone echoed off the high defensive walls, sending a shockwave through the air that made my eardrums ring.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. They were locked in a test of pure, brute torque, their powerful, fleece-covered hind legs digging deep into the stone.
The muscles across Nartab’s broad back bunched into rigid, thick cords of power, his skin glistening with sweat and red dust as he absorbed the full momentum of the other male’s charge.
The intruder twisted his neck, trying to slide his right horn past Nartab’s guard to gore his exposed ribcage.
Nartab anticipated the shift. He dropped his left shoulder, trapping the invader’s horn beneath his own spiral, and drove his right elbow upward into the underside of the brute’s jaw.
The wet, heavy crack of bone snapping shut sent a spray of dark saliva across the stones.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, yet my eyes remained glued to the violence unfolding five yards away.
Fear held me pinned against the masonry, but a darker, hotter current surged beneath the terror.
Every time Nartab’s biceps bulged under the strain of holding his ground, every time his hooves stamped the rock to claim his territory, a heavy, throbbing heat radiated outward from my lower belly.
My pulse raced, not just from the threat of the feral beast, but from the raw, hypnotic display of my stepbrother’s dominance.
The intruder staggered backward from the blow to his jaw, shaking his head to clear his vision.
Before he could regain his footing, Nartab pursued him.
He lunged forward, seizing the male by the thick fleece of his shoulders, and drove his own forehead into the bridge of the attacker’s muzzle.
The crunch of cartilage was loud and sickening.
The invader let out a gargling bleat of pain, his knees buckling beneath him.
Nartab gave him no room to breathe. He grabbed the male by his spiraled horns, using his superior upper-body strength to hoist the brute bodily off the terrace floor, and slammed him spine-first against the outer stone parapet.
The low sandstone wall groaned under the impact.
The defeated male clawed weakly at Nartab’s forearms, his legs kicking out in a desperate attempt to find purchase on the flagstones.
Nartab leaned his full weight into the hold, pinning the brute over the drop until the male’s eyes rolled back and his ears pinned flat against his skull in absolute submission.
Only then did Nartab release his grip. He grabbed the intruder by the nape of his neck and hurled him over the short set of stairs leading to the retreat trail.
The male rolled down the incline, scrambled groggily to his hooves, and fled down the narrow mountain path into the gathering darkness without looking back.