Dance With the Enemy (4 page)

Chapter 5

Her chest heaved with every breath, straining against the bodice of the silk gown. Silk - supposedly spun by the gods, meant to entice as it fell in revealing layers over the satiny skin of young ladies waiting for the men for whom they were chosen. To Elenya it only impeded her escape through the thick brush. She pushed the hood of the cloak-like dress from her head, releasing a magnificent mass of red tresses that matted against the trickle of sweat running down her back, now bare from the unusual cut of the dress.

What a waste. She thought of her trip to the courts as well as the expensive fabric and the excitement that had surrounded picking it out, fashioning it into a body-covering masterpiece that represented her future, her dreams. Her family shouldn’t have bothered, her destiny decided many years ago by higher authorities anyway. The only thing she’d needed to entice her warrior was her scent. Or was it his scent? She wasn’t sure, knowing only that she’d been marked, ceremonially injected with his blood.

Even aware that her future was assured, Elenya was no different from the other girls who dreamed of a lifetime dance with one of the elite warriors of the court. It meant a lifetime in the luxury of the circle of the highest
chosen
once she came of age.

Only the moment Elenya realized the Masters had matched her with Tahruk, she knew that would not be the case. Tahruk! Why? Their families had been enemies for generations. There had to be some mistake. She knew she had to find a way, to find someone who could make it right. Her only chance was to get to the house of the Masters.

Ignoring the aching in her legs and lungs, she refused to pay heed to the burning of the cuts and scratches inflicted on her limbs by the cruel sticks and whipping grasses. She would not
cry over the sounds of her beautiful black dress ripping as she ran. She glanced down at what now looked like shredded rags. Careful! Taking her eyes off the terrain could make her lose her footing and then it would all be over. She could hear him not far behind. Only her slight size and the intensity of her need to fulfill her fool’s mission aided her ability to outmaneuver him through the dense brush.

Elenya longed for the smooth sandy beaches of home. Life had seemed so promising as she’d played beside her sisters, making sure they stayed within earshot of the voices of the elders whose sole purpose was to protect their prophetic fulfillment: her.

There it was! She could see the house of the Masters. Elated that her uncanny sense of direction had led her right to it after seeing it only once, she grew concerned about the clearing that lay before her. Her pursuer would be unhindered.

A man opened the house door causing hope to surge, hurrying Elenya forward. He had to be one of the Masters.

“My lord! My lord!” she screamed, garnering the attention of men she hadn’t realized were there. Panic rose as they converged on her, though she dodged them, stopping only when she had thrown herself at the feet of Daruh, the head Master. Only when her arms wrapped around his legs did she dare glance back at the warrior who crossed the clearing at a more casual pace. Anger burned behind his eyes, their dark depths glowing within his sun-bronzed face. Even as she shivered, she was unable to break away from his gaze. She felt the pull of the marking as she watched him run a hand through his night-black hair. She fought against it.

“Tahruk? What is the meaning of this?” asked the voice above Elenya’s head.

“I wish to know that as well, Lord Daruh.” As the warrior spoke, his chin tilted upward and he sniffed the air.

Daruh looked at his brethren before addressing the other man. “She … the woman is yours then?”

Tahruk nodded. He glared down at the beauty who attempted to scoot around the strong legs of her refuge, seeing her clearly for the first time. His anger spiked as he took in the honeyed cinnamon hair, sun-kissed ivory skin, and soft pink lips, full and enticing. He watched as Daruh’s hands locked on her arms and lifted her to stand before him. She tried to look over her shoulder. Again, the unmistakable pull warred against her fear.

“Look at me.” The firm voice denoted care. He smiled as he wiped some of the grime from her face. “Why would you do this?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “What is your name, maiden?”

Her voice trembled as did her body. Gone was the brave woman who had fled her warrior. “I am Elenya Avenille of the Aleone Drille,” she answered quietly, listening for certain response from behind.

Having recognized her by her appearance as the Aleone woman, hearing her speak it pushed the warrior beyond reason. “Aleone!” he roared. Elenya pressed herself against Daruh. His strong arms encircled her small frame.

Daruh silenced the younger man with a raised hand, though the outburst was understandable. The disdain felt by the two Drilles, one for the other, had been passed down from generation to generation.

“There must be a mistake…”

“No.” Daruh stopped Elenya’s verbalization of the thought that echoed through many heads. “The Masters do not make mistakes. You must go with this man and fulfill the obligations imposed by the marking.”

“I… I am afraid…” Elenya whispered before looking over her shoulder at the stiff form of the warrior for whom she was chosen. “My lord, please. You see how he looks at me.”

“He will not harm you, child. He is honor bound, like you.” Daruh made certain the young warrior heard as well.

After a moment, Elenya nodded. She looked up at the stars, breathing in a shaky breath before turning toward Tahruk. Head bowed, she followed, not bothering to fight her tears. Her dreams were shattered, the broken pieces washing away with each teardrop that fell onto the hand that held hers. Honor would have her pay for the sins of her ancestors.

She had been chosen to dance for a lifetime in the arms of her enemy.

Chapter 6

Daruh woke with a stiff neck and sluggish limbs. Sleep had not come easy for the old Master with thoughts of the young maiden troubling him throughout the night. He was not so old to have been unaffected by the plight of the youthful beauty. He only hoped the night was kind to her. He prayed the rumors he’d heard of the young warrior, her warrior’s ways with a woman, were true. She was the kind of woman who needed to be coaxed in loving, not forced into submission in a man’s bed. Surely her womanly instincts had taken over allowing her to subdue the hatred and anger all had seen burning in the depths of the younger man’s eyes. Cursed be it that these inexperienced young ladies were simply handed over to barbaric men! Daruh fought down his anger. Why would the Masters before him have made such a match?

Masters
! Were they really any different than other men, or simply elders presumed wizened by expanded age? Where was the infinite master plan?

He pushed his self-deprecating thoughts away in the wake of another thought, a stirring he had not felt in many years. The maiden… her green eyes turned up to him pleading for his help, her half-clothed body pressed first against his legs and then against his chest in refuge. Soft, red curls had flowed down her back and over his upper arm when she’d turned toward her warrior... He had forgotten how a woman felt.

He turned his thoughts back to Tahruk.
Her
warrior. If he dared hurt her Daruh swore he would…

He’d what? The maiden belonged to the warrior, not him. And, although Tahruk was honor bound not to harm his chosen, there was little anyone could or would do if he ended up walking a less than honorable path.

Chastising himself, Daruh knew he’d better put down such thoughts. Worlds were not governed by men whose emotions ran unchecked, though hearts
had
been tamed by the face of a gentle beauty time and again throughout history. Perhaps the Masters before him had not been wrong. Perhaps…

Daruh smiled as he slipped out of bed. Perhaps it was already time to pay a visit to the home of the newly united couple. No doubt the girl would be meeting the elder Sharanis soon. A supportive figure might temper the moment for all involved.

Chapter 7

The morning greeted more than one restless sleeper. Tahruk stretched before rolling over to prop himself for a better view of his sleeping bed partner. He didn’t bother to cover his own nakedness, concentrating instead on the thoughts running through his head as he looked down at the tousled beauty. Her shape beneath the covering stirred him as it had the night before.

He revisited the way she’d looked beneath her torn garments. Her lack of resistance when he’d removed them had surprised him, especially after the chase. She had stunned him. Not so much that she ran – though he’d certainly been taken aback by her action. What surprised him more was the intensity to which it had excited and enticed him, adding to the animalistic needs heightened by the marking. He’d been near crazed when he’d caught up with her. Only the presence of the Masters had saved her from an unpleasant first coupling.

The long walk home from the Masters’ house had calmed the raging fire and anger within him. That, and the tears that dissolved her defiance. He could still feel the droplets that had fallen while he led her into the dark night. Never before had patience been his when a woman’s tears were present, though each droplet had eroded his anger like an elixir, softening his warrior shell. When she’d stumbled, exhausted by her fruitless attempt to escape and the emotional battle within, he’d swept her up, cradling her limp body in his arms instead of forcing her to trek the remainder of the way to Zanak under her own power.

It must have been the effect of the marking. There was no other explanation for the behavior of a warrior not easily molded or swayed. Marking be damned! Her people had still wronged his, their punishment a mere slap on the wrist compared to what they deserved. He fought his desire to let his lust and her beauty cloud that reality.

When her green eyes opened to find the angry warrior staring down at her, a noise somewhere between a squeal and a yelp squeezed past her tightly drawn lips. He laughed when she started to bolt away only to realize to do so would expose her nakedness shielded by nothing beyond the thick coverlet. She reversed her actions and attempted to burrow deeper into the bedding.

His full lips twitching, Tahruk hooked his finger in the top of the covering only to find her small, soft hand quickly clamped around his. He arched a dark brow. “You would deny me that which is rightfully mine?”

She shook her head. “No, my lord. I would never dream of such, though one might think the cover of night would provide better preservation of dignity.”

“And
you
would know all about doing what one must to preserve the dignity of another,
my lady
.” His snort caused her to attempt to flatten herself away, his face remaining mere inches above hers. “What do you plan to do with the cover of the coming night? Use it to run from me once again?”

He watched a spark of anger light up her green eyes, was enticed by the pursing of her full lips. Desire swelled through him, though her next words were a vocal slap momentarily pushing down his building need.

“Your people have a way of making others behave as they should not, resulting in sacrifice by the innocent.”

“You know nothing of my people. Besides, the blame falls with the man. Our woman made a dreadful mistake,” he ground out between clinched teeth.

“She seduced him, and you know it, forcing my people to pay for the actions initiated by
your
woman.” She glared at him. “I ran because I was certain a mistake had been made this time as well. I feared your treatment of me.”

“And did you believe Master Daruh’s words? Did you hear him when he spoke of
my
honor?” With a calculating glower, he watched her facial expressions, knowing he was chipping away at her false bravery. It was a tactic he often used on his opponents on the fields of battle.

The movement of the covers as her other hand snaked from beneath to push the red curls back from her forehead caused Tahruk’s nostrils to flare. Again she attempted to press away.

“The Dremis night can be a fearful place to the inexperienced…”

“You seemed to have plenty of experience in what you did last night.”

The derision in his voice made her flinch, though anger quickly replaced the sting. She lashed out at him, assailing his chest with her fists, her strength no match for his.

“How dare you accuse me of such,” she growled as he settled atop her, straddling her still covered torso. Her wrists caught above her head with a single hand, he pinned her beneath him.

“Settle, hellion!” Never before had he had a woman fight him so. And this one was
his
woman! The irony of the situation caught him, causing him to laugh. She attempted again to buck him off, her efforts only increasing his excitement. “There is no doubt you have a warrior’s blood running through your veins, Little One.”

“It
would
have to be
yours
.” The words came from between clenched teeth.

“You could have done much worse. You will at least enjoy the status of the Sharanis name. Our families united properly after all these years.” He moved to lie beside her again, a firm hand on the coverlet above her belly kept her in place. “And you will enjoy being in my bed.”

She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Knowing what happens to a marked woman who does not preserve her innocence, how dare you take mine and then claim I had prior knowledge. If you think I will now willingly submit…”

“Your innocence has not been compromised! There would have been little enjoyment gained from taking advantage of the sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” Understanding began to take shape, she groaned and closed her eyes. “I cannot remember…”

“You remember nothing, because there was nothing. Your Dremis night ended when you mocked me once again by falling asleep while I tended the scrapes you received by your ill thought out run.”

They lay silent, the same thought ran through each of their minds. They had not fulfilled their commitment to the marking which could hinder the procurement of an heir. If she didn’t conceive, and quickly, he could be forced to take a second. Elenya thought of the bottle she’d tossed over the side of the ship that brought her to him, a bottle filled with foolish dreams.

Tahruk stared down at her, his eyes tracing the lines of her face, her beauty drawing him in. He would enjoy her. He’d have his fun, and if she didn’t produce an heir for him, he’d be released from his obligations to her. He’d not be saddled by the Masters’ crazy choices nor would he be moved by the concern reflected back from the depths of her green eyes that gnawed at his insides. Damn her! She was his enemy. Not only that, she had mocked him. He would not allow himself to care about her.

Only he did. Even beyond the physical desire, something pulled at him making him want to take care of her. Yes, he would make her his own, teach her and show her the wonders that awaited her. That they would both enjoy.

His concerns for her care took a back seat as his thoughts flooded with how her body would react to his, setting off its own reaction. With startling swiftness, his lips locked over hers in a less than gentle kiss, one she could scarce refuse, even if she’d wanted to.

Elenya was unprepared for her reaction to the feel of his lips on hers. She wasn’t sure what made her body arch toward his or how her hand found its way into the thick crop of his night-black hair. She’d never felt so filled with need.

That wasn’t true.

A vision of Shemek flitted through her mind, quickly replaced with thoughts of the warmth that had spread through her as Tahruk had gazed down at her at the Master’s feet. He’d been angry and she’d still had to fight the desire to rise and go to him.

The pull of the marking. That was all it was.

He released her as abruptly as he’d pressed himself upon her, flooding her with a pool of emotion, including a certain self-loathing at the strength of her desire for her enemy. She looked up into his face washed with triumph.

“I am not your servant,” she muttered as she tried to roll away.

“No, but you
are
mine and I am not finished.”

Elenya checked her movement. Even her breath stilled when his finger began to trace the bones of her neck, sliding up to follow the path of her jaw line, running across her bruised lips.

His smile was knowing, arrogant. “You enjoy my caress.”

Elenya could master no words. Her attempt to shake her head only enticed him to further action. Soft caresses danced down the back of her arm leaving his mouth free to explore and her breathless, ready to cry out when he stopped a mere feather width from the top of the sheet.

He laughed. “You feel how the madness drives and frustrates…” His tongue darted out to sear her flesh just where the roundness of her still-covered breasts began, and her held breath whooshed out. His lips pressed harder, her heart beating against them.

Cursed man! Resisting the pleasures of the flesh was going to prove to be such bitter-sweet torment. Even the savagery resonating from the man who controlled her did little to assuage her desires. If anything, it added, intensified, causing her to strain against the bedding in an attempt to push herself toward him, her own unfamiliar need propelling her.

It was at that moment, the moment the warrior’s descent commenced, that the door to his bedchamber opened. Elenya screamed. Tahruk roared. An older woman swooshed in, seemingly oblivious to the scenario playing out between the couple.

“Mother!”

“
Mother
?” Elenya quietly echoed Tahruk’s growled word while fighting against him to properly cover herself as
Mother
deposited a load of clothing on a nearby chair before turning to face the bed.

Tahruk released his hold on Elenya’s back. He pulled his hand from beneath the sheets and reached behind him to draw the coverlet over his own nakedness.
Mother
seemed unaffected.

“I informed you last night that I would stop by this morning with something suitable for your chosen…” She shifted her gaze, looking directly at Elenya who was sure she failed miserably in her attempt to return the smile that encompassed the other woman’s kind face. “For you to wear, my dear. None of it will fit properly but will suffice until your belongings are brought over.”

Her belongings. Here. More finality to her plight.

“Thank you.” The words eeked from Elenya’s tight lips.

Mother
frowned, looking at her son.

Elenya cut her eyes to see Tahruk’s face, surprised at the ferocity of his glare set on his own mother.

“You’re scaring the dear girl, Tahruk. Settle!” she scolded, ignoring the warrior’s ire. Her smile returned when she looked back at Elenya. “Introductions to the household in one hour, dear. A bath waits in the outer chamber.”

Skirts rustling, the older woman moved to the door, stopping just shy of her exit. She didn’t turn around as she spoke. “Fear and conquest have no place in the bedchamber, my son. Leave it for your enemies on the battlefield. Take heed, for she will either loathe you or adore you by how you make her feel … in here.” She tapped the side of her head.

The door closed quickly behind her, leaving a silent room. Again lifting her eyes to her warrior, Elenya noted the flared nostrils, this time for a different reason.