48. Clash of Stone and Steel #3
It had happened – or almost happened – about a week after they’d started sparring together when he’d been in Derridan for the trials.
He was always a bit aroused after a good workout, but he hadn’t thought Maziren would be interested.
She was usually reserved around him, and he’d also seen her slip off one night with one of the castle maids, yet she’d invited him out to a tavern with her one evening.
He’d been shocked as all hells when she’d straddled his lap after a few drinks and kissed him. He’d kissed her back, and they’d left shortly after. They’d made it back to her room, shed their clothing, and fallen into bed.
Unfortunately, that’s as far as they’d been able to go.
Maziren was a comically tiny woman compared to him – under five feet tall – and she’d clearly been in pain when he tried to push inside her.
For his own part, he’d felt like he was splitting her in two.
They’d tried a few different positions but eventually gave up.
He’d put his head between her legs instead and let his tongue work its magic until she’d clamped both hands over her mouth to hold in her screams. He’d been about to get up and get dressed when she’d urged him onto his back and taken his cock in her hands to stroke him until he’d roared his pleasure and spilled himself all over his chest and stomach.
They’d gone back to being nothing more than sparring partners the next day and hadn’t spoken of it since.
Samhail suspected she’d only wanted to bed him because of his reputation. Even if they didn’t know who he was, women recognized he was an elite warrior and often took him to their beds for the prestige of being able to say they’d had him. Not that he’d ever complain about it.
“Yes, she was worth it,” Samhail said to Maziren finally.
She raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“No.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Do I have a shot with her?”
He ground his teeth again. Honestly, he didn’t know. Talyn had admitted to fucking a woman. For all he knew, she might be interested in Maziren, but he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her all to himself.
“You’d have to ask her,” he said.
“But you’d rather I didn’t,” Maziren said knowingly.
He didn’t answer, partially because they’d reached the tent again and partially because he wouldn’t admit he didn’t want her to have Talyn.
Surgeon and Serise stood guard outside, and Samhail was grateful they hadn’t been privy to whatever was going on inside.
He held his breath when they re-entered and saw the two women standing together. Talyn and Cyra both clammed up as if they had indeed been deep in conversation.
He glanced toward the place near the side of the tent where he’d fucked Talyn, but the bedroll was gone. He felt a measure of relief at the thought that maybe Talyn had been able to get rid of it before anyone else besides Maziren saw it.
“Everything alright?” Bressen asked the two women, taking the words out of Samhail’s mouth.
“Perfectly fine,” Cyra said, giving her husband a pointed look. “Talyn and I were just catching up while I took care of her wounds. Neither were anything serious.”
“That’s good,” Samhail said, still eyeing the two women as he tried to gauge what they might’ve been speaking about right before they entered.
He caught Talyn’s eyes, but her expression gave nothing away as he stood next to her again. His positioning didn’t go unnoticed by Cyra.
“And what about you?” Cyra asked Samhail, her eyes roving over his body looking for injuries.
“What about me?” he asked.
“Were you injured?” Cyra asked. “Any wounds I can heal?”
Samhail stiffened, unsure if she was asking because she knew about the scratches on his back or if she suspected something and was fishing for information. “I’m fine,” he said. “No injuries.”
Cyra started to nod, then paused and narrowed her eyes at him. Her gaze darted around his body again as if looking for wounds he wasn’t telling her about.
“Are you sure?” Cyra asked, her tone suspicious.
Nemesis damn him. He really was fine, but strictly speaking, he was injured if you counted the scratch marks still stinging across his shoulder.
“I wasn’t injured in the battle,” he said carefully. “I let the beast out to play for a while, and you know he doesn’t bruise easily.”
Cyra looked at him for another few seconds as if she thought he might still be lying, but she nodded finally.
“Is there anyone else that needs to be treated?” she asked, turning to Bressen and Aidan. “Dare I even ask what it looks like out there?”
“It’s probably best you don’t,” Bressen said, and Cyra flinched. “I haven’t checked to see if anyone is still alive, but I’ll do that now.”
“I meant to leave one or two for questioning,” Samhail said, “but things didn’t go as planned.”
Bressen paused, and Samhail knew he was using his mind powers to sense any living consciousnesses besides their own. Samhail didn’t expect Bressen to find any, so he was surprised when both Bressen and Cyra looked in unison toward a cabinet in a corner of the tent.
“We’re in luck,” Bressen said. “One person survived the slaughter, and he’s been here in the tent with us the whole time.”