Warlord (13 page)

She rotated her hips, revolving her pussy around his cock and he groaned again at the sensation, tightening his grip on her hips, as she controlled and changed the angle of his penetration, her buttocks slapping and falling hotly against his loins.

Although he enjoyed Sara fucking him, he felt the urge to take back control and pulled her down onto the bed, still taking her from behind as he spooned against her. He wrapped his arms around her body tightly, holding her arms helpless as he laid it to her, keeping her immobile as her body jolted and shook under him, Sara giving weak cries and gasps as he savagely dove into her. He took her like that for several minutes before he rolled her onto her stomach again, pouring on the power, heading for the final stretch, believing he must have nearly drained the woman, but shaking his head in amazement as he found her still receptive and wanting.

Arystan grunted as he felt the familiar sensation of tightening, the pressure building on itself, every cord in his neck standing out, his face turning almost purple, the strain evident as he moved closer to climax, pleasure thrumming through his spine, through his cock, and finally curling up inside his balls, the dam breaking as he cried out, burying himself deeply into Sara, straining to get even deeper, his hot, white seed coursing repeatedly into her, emptying himself as wave after wave of aftershocks coursed through him, pulling her, grasping her to him, reveling in the last throes of pleasure until he finally collapsed over her wet, glistening body onto the soft pile of furs, completely and utterly spent.

They lay together like that for several minutes until Sara shifted slightly and Arystan realized his weight was probably substantial, strong though the woman might seem. He always withdrew as soon as he finished his climax, feeling no need to lazily fall over a woman as he just had. And so he had given no thought to the pressure his body placed on Sara as he lay on her enjoying the feel of her body beneath him. He pulled out and Sara gave a little gasp. Arystan rolled onto his back next to her and she sleepily crawled over his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, instinctively comfortable with curling up with after sex.

When Arystan realized what Sara had done, he started, almost throwing her from him.

What did she think was she doing? He never allowed a woman to remain with him after he fucked her, much less drawing her body close to his. Sara’s breath was become more rhythmic. Shit, she was falling asleep. He couldn’t decide whether to throw her out of the bed or simply roll her from his arm. She was originally brought to his tent tonight for one purpose, just like all of the other women who were treated as sexual slaves in the camp. After he was done, he always sent the women back to the enclosure.

He could see the top of Sara’s head, her chestnut hair damp and soft against his shoulder.

She shifted slightly and the soft warmth of her skin seemed to caress the entire length of his body. He sighed. She did feel very good against him. And he was exhausted, not only experiencing a staggering climax but also fighting Bayuan’s forces in an ambush, all in one night. Against his judgment, he slowly brought his arm up and around Sara’s shoulder. She turned into him, bringing her own arm across his chest and bent her leg over his thigh in her sleep. His cock began to subtly throb again. It was like sleeping with an angel. What the hell. It couldn’t be worse than sleeping alone and it was already promising to be better. He lifted himself up slightly and drew a light deerskin cover over their legs, enough for the warm summer night and relaxed, closing his eyes, sated, letting the last of the torches sputter out on its own.

CHAPTER 14 Plotting

“What is she doing?” asked Tebur, leaning back on his black horse, his eyes fixed on the woman running through the archa trees, her hair gathered in a leather band high on the back of her head.

“She is ‘working out,’” replied Arystan.

“Working out what?” asked Tebur curiously, looking over at his leader.

Arystan shook his head. “I don’t know. ‘Working out’ is what she calls it. I don’t think there is anything more to it.”

“But she is running around in circles.”

Arystan shrugged. “She says it makes her feel better. It is perhaps like the training we do to stay in shape for battle.”

Tebur frowned. Sara had stopped jogging and was now stretching, her leg reaching high above her on the trunk of a tree. “I have never seen another woman do this. Is she a female warrior?”

“I do not believe so, although I think her brave and believe she would fight if necessary.

It is simply something she prefers to do. I require her to stay within the forest so that she cannot be seen from the plains. She does. Come, brother, let us see how the construction of the new crossbows is coming.” Arystan turned his horse and headed back to camp.

“Are you coming?” Arystan called over his shoulder to Tebur, still watching Sara who was now doing a few sit-ups.

Tebur nudged his horse after Arystan. The leader certainly gave this strange woman much leeway. He had never seen Arystan take to a woman before, but he seemed to be stuck to this one like a bee on nectar. Still, Tebur had nothing to complain about. If anything, Sara’s presence seemed to energize Arystan. The warlord seemed stronger, more certain, more openly eager to find and engage General Bayuan’s troops each day. It was now mid-summer and Arystan, Tebur and Sabalak had every hope that they would locate and defeat Bayuan before the snow fell.

* * * * *

“It’s late, Arystan. Put the maps away,” Sara said softly.

The warlord ran his fingers through his thick hair. “The end of summer approaches, Sara.

I must find Bayuan by then.” He pressed his palm irritably into the wood of the table.

Sara sat down across from him. When he spoke her name, it still sounded like Sareta.

She thought it beautiful. It had been six weeks since Arystan selected her from the bonfire. After that first night, neither she nor Arystan knew what to do with their mutual attraction, so they simply continued, in a way. She had her own small tent, but spent most of her nights here with him. No one touched or bothered her in the camp and she was free to move about. Sara now knew everything necessary to plan an escape away from the camp, away from Arystan, but the idea sat heavy and black in her heart when she thought of it. Eventually, she stopped thinking of it.

She drew the maps toward her. There were many nights when she listened to Arystan speak of Bayuan’s army, about the geography of the surrounding area, of battle plans and strategic opportunities. She still felt the same intellectual pull as she had when she learned of the ambush of Bayuan’s cavalry reinforcements. She studied the parchment, tracing the path of a long, winding river that flowed through mountain ranges, across plains, skirting forests . . . .

“Arystan?” she said, thoughtfully.

He looked at her, heat in his black eyes. He could never get enough of her. But she was bent excitedly over the map. He smirked. He had no idea where she picked up an aptitude for military strategy, but the truth was, he had found their discussions of warfare over the past few weeks stimulating. She had a number of original ideas he had never considered.

“Yes?” he growled softly.

She looked up. She knew the suggestion in his voice. But her eyes returned to the map.

“What is the name of this river?” she asked, pointing to the thin, snaking line.

“It is the red river, the Kanin Nehir. The River of Blood.”

A small chill passed over her. Nice name. “Well, the river flows from the mountains here, which means there is likely a drop in elevation. It would flow faster just before it empties onto the plain, here. At that point it would be wide, possibly shallow enough to ford. But it narrows here and would likely run deep. On the other side of the river, this looks to be a plateau of sorts before it rises into mountains again. There are trees on a rise here, and here.”

“Yes,” he said, interested, coming around to sit next to her on the other side of the table.

He nuzzled her hair. “Tell me more.”

She smiled at him, her eyes bright. “What if you could lure General Bayuan’s army to camp at this spot?” She pointed to a location next to the river.

“Lure them?”

“Encourage them. Convince them. Make them think it is their own idea. Perhaps let them capture a ‘messenger’ whose information makes the site seem attractive.”

 

“And then what?” Arystan asked, nibbling now at Sara’s throat. Her eyes went half-lidded.

“And then, nothing if you don’t allow me to concentrate,” she said, her voice hoarse.

He bit her and then pulled back.

She looked only half-convinced at his capitulation, but explained what she had in mind.

When she finished, Arystan leaned back and folded his arms, one eyebrow arched at her.

“Well? What do you think?” asked Sara.

“I think, woman, that you are talented in many, many ways.” His black eyes glittered hotly. “But there is still the matter of finding General Bayuan’s army.”

“Yes, there is that,” said Sara softly.

Arystan was certain they would locate Bayuan’s troops by the end of summer. He had good intelligence that told him Bayuan was actually in the vicinity of the River of Blood.

Perhaps the plan could be accomplished. It was a good idea. A very good one indeed.

But there were other times for plans. It was late. He reached for Sara, pulling her to him, covering her mouth with his own, turning her protests into cries of passion.

* * * * *

Rainura watched hatefully as Sara walked through the camp. Sara gave the woman a small smile as she passed. They had held a festival last night and Arystan refused to participate. That, of course, meant an extra woman for his chieftains which only enhanced Arystan’s esteem and popularity. Arystan’s relationship, if you could call it that, with the foreigner was commonly known and readily accepted. Anything Arystan did was accepted. He was not a leader who commanded by fear or punishment, although he wielded those traits easily when necessary; instead, he inspired loyalty, selflessness, and devotion through genuine charisma and example. His men would die for him as willingly as he would for them.

Arystan had not called Rainura to him once since the festival at which he chose Sara.

And no wonder, thought Rainura. He wouldn’t even choose a new girl from the bonfire.

How could one woman do so much for him? It was impossible. What kind of power could Sara have over him? Rainura had done everything sexually she could possibly think of for Arystan and she was, by all rights, experienced in all things sexual. She dressed sensuously, stroked his ego and still, still she meant nothing to him? She was beautiful, desirable. Every man told her so. Every man that is, except Arystan. And he was the one she wanted to recognize her worth more than any other.

Rainura fumed. Perhaps if she could remove the attraction Arystan felt for Sara, he would call her back to his bed again. Well, not actually his bed – Arystan had never fucked her there. He had told her no woman belonged in his bed. Not that she had minded being fucked on the skins, the table, the benches, up against that pole. Her eyes narrowed. Did he fuck Sara on the bed? She knew the woman stayed in his quarters most nights. He must. Damn him.

Her eyes darkened with malice and then cleared somewhat. She had thought of the beginnings of a plan. First, she needed to venture out a bit on the steppes. She was accorded freedom and would be allowed to travel outside the encampment. She simply needed to gather a few botanical items.

CHAPTER 15 Something Wicked

The next morning, the slave women sat on the ground around Rainura in their drug-induced stupor, not bothering her as she finished mixing and distributing their daily dose.

This time, however, Rainura retained the thickest part of the white mixture and poured it into a bronze flask. This was the same drug she used to daze the girls, but much more concentrated. It should send anyone, even Arystan, into a deep sleep.

Rainura rose from the table, stepped disdainfully around the women sprawled at her feet, and walked to the gate. It was time to set the plan in motion.

She had returned to the camp late last night after collecting the plants she needed. If there was one thing at which she was skilled, besides sex, it was preparing herbal mixtures, concoctions, drugs and all manner of poisons. Today, she had something very specific in mind.

Rainura had spent long evenings in her grandmother’s hut, learning of brews and infusions, incantations and summonsing, all things terrifying and fascinating to a young girl. Her mother had scorned her grandmother’s teachings, calling it the work of evil sprits, but Rainura had been fascinated. Unfortunately, her grandmother died when Rainura was only nine and had not recorded any of her knowledge or passed it to anyone else. Rainura continually repeated the things she had learned to herself, trying to commit them to memory so that they would not be forever lost. There was so much, though, she had not been taught, so much knowledge that died with her grandmother. She had been very sad.

She had considered poisoning Sara, but that might cause Arystan to retreat into his natural, affectionless state. In fact, he might withdraw deeply and never form an attachment to another woman. Rainura had heard of this happening. No, poisoning wasn’t her first choice, but if her alternate plan didn’t work, she would have to resort to murder. The thought was not entirely unappealing.

Rainura would have preferred a concoction that forced Arystan to love her. She was sure that such a thing existed, but regrettably, she had not learned of it before her grandmother died. She did, however, have a mixture that if prepared correctly, would transfer whatever feelings Arystan had for another to Rainura. It was actually much better than simply killing Sara, because Arystan would actually have real feelings for Rainura. She had never considered preparing such a concoction before now because she believed Arystan had a heart of stone. She thought him incapable of attachment or love . . . until she had seen him with Sara.