Chapter 3
Santiago didn’t know if he was dreaming, having nightmares, or if he was dead. Fever dreams of a beautiful woman in brilliant feathers haunted him as the forges of hell seemed to clang and beat in his head.
He strained against chains until the chains were no longer. Cool water and cool hands soothed his brow.
He could have sworn Darius even held his hand.
He must be dead. It was the only thing that made sense as the pain was eclipsed by blackness and oblivion overtook him.
“His fever has broken, My Queen. He will live,” Ella, one of their most talented healers, said.
They still did not know what had ailed this mighty man, but Katarine agreed with her—the worst had passed.
Darius, the boy who had clung to the man, had just gone to bed in the nurse’s room.
“I will sit with him, Ella. Please check on the others and then get some sleep yourself.”
“Are you certain, My Queen? Neither Freen nor Leander would like me leaving you alone with him.”
“He is an unconscious, healing man. I will be fine. Please. Others need you, and then you need sleep to be able to continue caring for them.”
Ella bowed. “Yes, My Queen. Please send Lila if you need me.”
“Of course. Have a blessed night.”
“You as well, My Queen.”
Ella slipped out the door of the solarium that connected to her royal chambers, where Leander’s men had looked askance at her for bringing this slave—former slave, she corrected herself. Now he simply appeared to be a wounded warrior in a deep sleep.
They’d discovered cuts and bruises, but Ella feared internal injury. After two days of fever, it had finally broken this eve, and Katarine knew he would live. She was only a rudimentary healer at best and had no proof, yet she had faith he would recover.
She sat by his side because of the way he had seemed so tormented in his fever dreams. She did not want him to wake alone in a strange place.
His body, although unconscious and covered in white linen, seemed to radiate power and strength. She could not help how drawn she felt to him. It was as if God Himself had commanded her to take care of him with all possible kindness.
Dried blood clung to a few locks of his hair, and she reached for a cloth and dipped it in the fresh water Ella had brought to clean the sweat from his brow.
Katarine smoothed it across the skin of his forehead and attempted to gently remove the dried blood as well.
He moved so fast that she had no time to react. One moment, he had appeared asleep, and the next, his large hand wrapped around her wrist, and she found herself dragged across his chest and then flipped onto her back, trapped beneath him.
“Who are you, and what are you doing?”
His heavy body pressed hers into the soft mattress. Every well-defined muscle she’d admired was being used to keep her captive beneath him as he pinned her hands above her head.
She should have been afraid, but Katarine felt no fear.
“I am Katarine. You were brought here for help. You were shipwrecked and injured. All is well, good sir. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Against all odds, her body relaxed beneath his.
The man’s emerald eyes glittered like the stones in her scepter in sunlight.
“Shipwrecked …” His grip on her wrists loosened, but he did not let her go. “The boy. Is he …”
“Darius is fine. He is sleeping but two rooms away. You can see him when he wakes. He sat by your side for hours today until he could not keep his eyes open any longer.”
“Where am I?”
“The palace of Kataria. You are safe. I promise. No one will hurt you. The slavers left at dawn.”
His eyes flashed. “With slaves?”
She shook her head against the pillow. “No, all those previously bound chose to remain here. Free.”
“What is this land? Ka-tar-i-a.” He said it slowly.
“Kataria is a land of freedom. Equality. A benevolent monarchy.”
“No monarch gives freedom or cares about equality.”
“This one does.”
Confusion shifted something else within his gaze. “Katarine of Kataria. You … you are a monarch here …”
She nodded beneath him.
Horror bloomed in his eyes. “No. Not possible.”
“Have no fear, sir. I know you meant me no harm.”
“I could have killed you.”
“I did not feel that in your intentions.”
He shook his head, as if fever still clouded his mind. “Please tell me I am dreaming.” He released his grip on her wrists.
Katarine lowered her arms and pressed her newly freed hand to his cheek. “Your fever just broke. You are not yourself, sir. I hold nothing against you for your actions.”
His face lowered until his forehead touched hers. “I am out of my mind.”
“Perhaps you will let me up now.”
Her request was so reasonable and said in such a polite tone.
“You are truly the queen of this land?” He whispered his question into her ear.
“Yes.” Her reply sent shivers racing through his body.
“Then your king will slay me.”
“I have no king. Although the people grow restless for me to take another consort as soon as the next full moon passes.”
“What?” Santiago blinked. Surely, he could not be hearing this correctly. “You, take a consort?”
He lifted his forehead from the sweet-smelling woman beneath him—the queen beneath him.
“We are a matriarchal land.”
Her eyes were nearly purple; they were such a deep blue.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I must take a husband to sire a daughter as my heir to continue hundreds of years of tradition.”
Something stirred within him. “I will give you a daughter. Many. And fine sons.” He didn’t know where the words had come from, but he meant them.
Her chest bounced against his as she laughed.
“Surely not right now, as you haven’t eaten in days, and you have no idea what you are saying, sir. But I thank you. I truly needed some levity after some very heavy days.”
He knew she didn’t mean it as a challenge, but his body rose to the occasion anyway. He felt his shaft thicken at the mere prospect of filling this woman with his child.
He knew the instant she felt it as well.
“Oh. My. Sir, please. You—”
“Came here for you. Was sent here for you.” He knew it. Knew it to the marrow of his bones. It was the only explanation for why he had gone through such hell and such loss. There had to be a purpose for it greater than himself. This purpose. “Why else would you be beneath me right now?”
“I am in mourning still, sir. For nearly one more month. And we have already decided that there will be a contest to determine who I choose as king consort.”
Santiago’s mind was finally clear and sharp. “Then I will win. Your hand and your children will be mine.”
His heavy shaft pulsed between her legs, and her breath caught as her hips lifted against him, seemingly of their own accord.
“Where did you come from?” she asked on a breathless whisper.
“A land destroyed by a storm. We were attacked as we buried our dead.”
“You are no slave,” she said.
He shook his head slowly, recognizing the hazy need and heat in her gaze. “Warlord. Chieftain. Leader of my people. Worthy to be your king.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because God sent me here for you.”
“And here I thought, we’d saved you and brought you here.”
“Why else but to serve you?”
He shifted—more aware than ever that he was naked and his manhood was separated from the heat of her body only by the sheet and her thin dress. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Her hips shifted again to cradle his, and her breath caught at the friction of their bodies.
“And how would you serve me?”
“As your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Well and truly, with utmost care and devotion.”
“You do not know me, Chieftain.”
“And yet I know all I need to know. You may be in mourning, but you were waiting for me. Weren’t you, Katarine?”
How he had gone from belligerent to charming in the space of minutes had Katarine mystified. But even more so, she was mystified at how her body seemed to know him already. Welcome him. Sink beneath him as though it was her natural place.
Was this why she’d felt no fear when he flipped her beneath him? Because something greater than herself knew this was where she belonged? In his arms?
Even with her first husband, she had not felt like this. Like she was at home in his embrace.
She did not have to know him to know she wanted more of him. And that should have scared Katarine. But it didn’t.
Her hips lifted against him, seeking his heat and hardness, even though she knew it was unbecoming of a queen in mourning. But she was a woman as well, and if there was a chance he might be her new king consort, then what was the harm?
It might have been a rationalization, but Katarine let out a breath as whispers of pleasure coursed through her body.
It has been so long.
And never ever had it felt like this.
His emerald gaze was soft yet molten, and he barely moved, but his shift was enough to make her breath catch.
Could God really have sent him for me?
She lifted and rocked against him. Need streaked through her, tightening her nipples and threatening her sanity.
“I can’t do this. I must go,” she said, breathless, even as her hips lifted against the hardness cradled between her legs.
“Take your pleasure. I will not take mine. Call it a thank-you for saving my life.”
Katarine knew she needed to get out from beneath him, but no part of her wanted him to move, except to let his weight press her deeper into the mattress.
“I can’t.”
“You mean, you won’t. Because surely, you can.”
“Sir, I must rise. Please allow me.”
It was all she had to say, and he rolled to the side. His groan told her it cost him, but she slipped from the mattress to stand.
“Are you unwell?”
He laughed with a gruff cough. “Fine. Nothing you need to worry about, Katarine.”
She loved hearing her name on his lips. For years, she had been only My Queen or Mother.
For the first time in many moons, she missed the feeling of a man.
It was this she couldn’t imagine with any of the suitors who had come calling during her mourning period.
And against all odds, this former slave, shipwrecked and injured, brought feelings out of her that she’d thought would never be.
“What is your name?”
He rolled onto his back and looked up at her. “Santiago Villa Ponto Fresca, chieftain and warlord of the Clan of Wind.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”
Katarine’s glance downward revealed his thick manhood jutting upward against the white sheet.
“My apologies for disturbing your rest, sir. I will leave you in peace.”
“Stay.” His word came out like a command from the chieftain she now knew he was.
“I cannot.”
“Will not, as you are able to do as you wish.”
She inclined her head to him. “As you have expressed your interest in my hand, it would not be proper or honorable for me to be alone with you like this.” She touched her fingers to the mattress beside his hand.
“I will not take you until we are wed,” he said quietly as his fingers reached out to grasp hers. “You have my word.”
Heat and need surged through her body. Whoever Santiago was, her body seemed to recognize him as mine.
“You sound awfully sure that it will happen.”
“I would not be here for anything else, Queen Katarine.”
Her fingers squeezed his back. “Then get well. The contest begins on the new moon, with the wedding ceremony scheduled for the breaking dawn after the full moon. If you are among the finalists, I will choose you.”