A Warlord's Heart (11 page)

“Lay back,” she whispered, the promise in her
eyes encouraging him to go along.

Ramar lay back and Vesa parted his legs,
fingers lightly wrapping around his toqa. He couldn’t help jerking
but her soothing murmur had him relaxing as she seated herself on
his lap, knees gripping his hips and dress pushed to her waist. She
entwined her fingers through a section of his damp hair.

Ramar reached up and smoothed his hands along
her thighs. “I would see you without this.”

Gaze full of teasing humor, Vesa grasped the
bottom of the dress and removed it. “Now what?”

Ramar floundered. Torn between staring at her
golden breasts and answering her question, he chose the former. She
must have sensed his dilemma because Vesa leaned forward and kissed
him. Ramar groaned at the unexpected pleasure of having her mouth
against his. He’d endure teasing from his warrior brethren if they
knew how much he liked the Raasa way of showing affection for one
another.

His hands tightened around her as he bit off
a groan. When she pulled away, he brushed at her hair falling about
his face. “I love you, Vesa.”

Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “I won’t
ever tire of hearing you say that, Warlord.”

“Ramar.” He needed her to say it. The sound
of his name on her lips had the oddest effect on him.

“Ramar,” she repeated as she eased up to
balance and lowered herself onto his toqa.

Wet, tight and cool to the touch, she took
him deep into her center. Ramar threw his head back on the bed and
drove upward with a hard thrust. His hands slid up her thighs and
over the rounded curve of her butt, fingers squeezing the plump
flesh. Vesa placed her hands on his shoulders and rocked against
him. Each glide up, then down had her lower muscles clenching. The
feeling destroyed any attempt at concentration and Ramar used his
hands to slam her on him faster. Harder and harder, he pounded into
her, seeking his release. Only the sounds of her broken cries held
him back.

Above him, Vesa tossed her head. Black hair
tumbled about her shoulders. Ramar loved the sight of her in the
throes of passion. Golden globes bounced before him and Ramar
instantly closed his eyes to block out the sight less he finish
before her.

“So good, Ramar,” she moaned, nails digging
into his arms. “You feel so good.”

Pride at her words had him surging beneath
her. Up and down he moved with no thought except to help her reach
the blinding pleasure that chased up his spine.

“Soon, Vesa. Please,” he begged, foregoing
any male posturing.

She screamed and bathed his toqa in the
wetness of her toque. Ramar let himself go and shouted as he
released into her, every breath ripped from him.

Vesa collapsed on his chest, panting. Ramar
eased her weight higher, ignoring the wet glide of his toqa as it
released from her toque. Nestling her close, he kissed her temple
and buried his face in her shoulders as he inhaled the scent of
whatever she’d added to his bath water. No other woman had ever
offered him such care as Vesa displayed this eventide. Washing his
body, cleansing his hair and promising his favorite foods were the
actions of a bride.

At the thought, Ramar stiffened. He hadn’t
much considered joining or taking a bride. Now the very idea filled
him with a sense of awe and wonder. Vesa squirmed in his arms and
Ramar adjusted, wanting her as close as possible.

Her mouth rested next to his ear. Each puff
of soft air sent shivers down his neck. Did she realize the effect
she had on him? Ramar tightened his hold and carefully twisted them
to the side on the bed. Her squeak of annoyance had his lips
curving up. He’d promised to sleep with her, given his vow as a
warrior. His eyes drifted closed and Ramar allowed himself this
brief moment of rest.

Chapter 11

They arrived at a deserted encampment. This
was not what Vaan expected. The last embers of a fire in the middle
of the camp flickered before sputtering out. He dismounted with his
Warlords and searched the area for any signs of his youngling. Vaan
kicked aside rolled blankets, noticing dark stains. He knelt beside
one and fingered the rough weave. Blood. Vaan’s anger shifted into
fear as he and his Warlords found no other evidence of the
invaders.

Janak voiced the question on his mind. “What
is the meaning of this?”

And where were Arane and Erana?

Vaan needed answers. As Overlord his people
looked to him for guidance but staring at a campsite with no one
left behind provided nothing for him to use. Despair crashed into
him. He wanted. Needed his youngling back and wouldn’t stop until
he found them.

Kiel crouched and sifted through the
belongings. Several brown, long sacks, empty water containers and
wrapped packets of preserved meat and grain. Nothing of help to
Vaan. “Provisions. It is all.”

Vaan reached for the knife strapped to his
thigh to hide the tremble of his fingers as he rose to his feet.
Pain squeezed his chest so tight he struggled to take his next
breath. It took him two starts before he could manage to ask, “My
youngling?”

Kiel stood and dusted his hands together. His
mouth dipped. “Forgive me. They are not here, Sire.”

Janak and Sulon continued to scour the
encampment but eventually gave up when they could find no more.
Nothing made sense. They’d tracked the Kabanians here. The
blankets, fire and food all served as proof the warriors had
stopped and settled for the evening. Vaan stared above as the sun
lowered in its last crest and night began to fall. “We ride. Kiel,
you will find me something. Anything to direct me to my youngling.
Now.”

The Warlord returned to searching. Vaan had
no intentions of going home to his mate without their young. It
wasn’t an option. The hapfe, sensing his mood, sidestepped
nervously but Vaan jumped into the saddle with little effort as his
anger fanned out of control.

“Sire!”

Using his knees, Vaan turned his hapfe about.
Kiel came running toward him and held up a small black object. Vaan
leaned over and swallowed at what he saw. Forcing his fingers to
unclench on the leads, he accepted the tiny shoe. His throat
constricted. He couldn’t draw air and a red haze filled his
vision.

“Overlord? Vaan?”

Breath wheezed in and out of him. Vaan locked
his legs to keep from falling from the hapfe. He refused to believe
the Blessed One would give him such joy only to take it away. “We
will find who did this.”

He threw back his head to roar out his battle
cry then clicked his teeth to spur his mount on. Thunderous hooves
sounded behind him but Vaan didn’t slow his pace.

***

They found the answer sooner than Vaan
expected. Smoke from a burning fire and the smell of roasted meat
gave them away. The camp was well placed, close to a water source
and the thickness of bushes to partially conceal on one side. A
small number to contend with from the sound of laughter and
whispered talk, which reached him easily. Vaan could almost imagine
the richness of their blood flowing.

He signaled his Warlords and they separated
until they had the group surrounded. Not Kabanians as he’d thought
but warriors he recognized none the less. Their blue skin and
braided hair identified them. Aerilians. And they trespassed in his
territory. Vaan’s jaw flexed as he reached for his blade. Kiel,
Sulon and Janak did the same.

The camp exploded with activity as they
rushed forward. Cries and shouts followed. Sword swinging, Vaan
aimed for the nearest Aerilian. The warrior leaped backward
avoiding Vaan’s weapon as he unsheathed his own blade from his back
harness.

“Wait,” a deep voice ordered from the
darkness.

Vaan’s Warlords continued their attack,
engaging the enemy of the Olak’din. These were the people who had
attacked Argan and his Queen, Shaina. Unable to contain his anger
after his inability to find his youngling, Vaan kicked the Aerilian
in front of him. The blue skinned man crashed onto his back in the
dirt. Vaan balanced his sword tip on the warrior’s vulnerable
neck.

“Overlord! You must cease your attack or the
children will see.”

They were fools for bringing their own young
along but it was enough for to Vaan hesitate as a tall warrior
separated himself from the others. Blue eyes to match his pale blue
skin met Vaan’s gaze. Shoulder-length, brown hair hung in braids
about his face. The dark pants and shirt he wore were good for
blending in the waning light. Tense yet waiting direction from
their leader, the five Aerilians paused with their weapons
drawn.

“Have your men stand back, Galip.”

Vaan snorted. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tylis.”

The name meant nothing to Vaan.

“Look what I found trying to run, Overlord.”
Kiel walked forward with a slender blue warrior in his grip, knife
at the Aerilian’s throat and his blue arm twisted behind his back.
He made no attempt to resist what had to be a painful hold from the
way Kiel twisted the limb. One wrong move and the bone would
snap.

Satisfaction coursed through Vaan. He’d said
no mercy and meant it. If the Aerilians learned nothing else this
evening, they’d know never to trespass again.

“No, please. He’s my son. Still a youth in
need of passing his warrior trials,” the man on the ground pleaded.
Fear kept the man immobile.

Vaan glanced down and stared at blue eyes a
match for the youth in Kiel’s hands. The four ridges at the center
of his brow quivered. Vaan inched his blade back. The warrior,
Tylis, cursed under his breath and the emotion among the Aerilians
ratcheted up when they noted who Kiel held. Someone they all cared
about as evident by their sharp glances and narrowed stares.

“You do not belong on Raasa land.” Vaan’s
tone cut through the confusion.

Tylis came forward, hands out to his side.
“When we speak you’ll be glad I was in the right place.”

Not likely.

“At least allow Zunan to rise,” Tylis
continued.

Vaan stepped back, sword ready. “Get up.”

The man scrambled to his feet and rushed
toward his son. With a sharp thrust of his sword, Janak barred the
way.

Tylis lifted his brow. “Overlord?”

No one moved. Vaan had given all the
concessions he planned to make.

Tylis sighed. “You’re as difficult and hard
as rumors claim.”

“Best you explain quickly or the blood of you
and your warriors will cover the ground this night as you join the
Blessed One.”

Tylis flinched and massaged the ridges on his
forehead. “I bring gifts for the Overlord. Kalida, come out.”

Vaan’s Warlords stiffened.

The warrior with blue skin and braids of
midnight stepped aside and a dark-haired woman with matching skin
of blue walked toward Vaan. The light from the fire illuminated a
youngling in each of her arms. Shock rocked him back on his boot
heels. For the first time in all his years of fighting, Vaan
dropped his sword to the ground.

Ignoring the weapons aimed in his direction,
Vaan crossed to the woman quickly and snatched up his youngling.
They didn’t wake during the switch and snuggled into his arms.
Zanni berries. The scent, mixed with a hint of smoke, lingered on
their skin. Vaan almost fell to his knees, so great was his relief
to hold them once more. But they did not stir.

“What is wrong with them?” Vaan snarled.

“Merely drugged. Not from us,” Tylis added
quickly when his Warlords shifted their stance.

“What of the warriors who took them?” Vaan
needed to seek them out.

“Dead, Overlord. All but one. My men were
forced to kill them to keep your children safe.”

“What do you want, Aerilian?” he asked in a
voice gone raspy. This was not done in kindness.

“Bjorn was a fool,” Tylis stated, naming the
now deceased Aerilian Prince. “I only seek to put things to right
with the Olak’din but they’ll have nothing to do with me. Shaina
C’Err has killed or injured any Aerilian who ventured close without
hearing them out. I know you have a connection to them through your
own Warlord.”

There was no price, no price Vaan wouldn’t
pay for Erana and Arane’s life. “What would you have of me?”

Stern features shifted to pleasure. “Speak
with the Shadow Queen and her King. Convince her to open talks with
me.”

“Done.” Vaan turned away. He’d beat Argan
bloody if he didn’t get his bride to agree.

“I have another gift, Overlord Galip,” Tylis
added.

Every instinct screamed at Vaan to continue.
He had his youngling and nothing was of greater import, except
getting back to Mikayla.

“I thought you’d like to make the one we
saved pay,” the Aerilian stated.

Vaan turned slowly. Sulon was already at his
side, reaching for Arane and Erana. Though he hated the thought of
releasing them, Vaan handed his young to the Warlord. Arane
stirred, her eyes blinking sleepily. The corners of her mouth
curved up as she stared at Vaan and the tips of her fangs were
visible before her lids drifted closed once more. The sight
re-ignited his need to kill. Maim.

“Where?”

Tylis pointed in the direction of overgrown
shrubs and vines. Vaan smiled grimly and caught the sword Janak
tossed his way then headed for the one who’d pay the price in
blood. As soon as Vaan moved behind the bushes calmness settled
over him. His boots crunched dried leaves and twigs as he crossed
the space separating him from the bare-chested man in leather
pants.

Tylis had done him a favor by only tying the
warrior’s hands in front of him. The dark head lifted. Recognition
flared. When the man blanched, Vaan smiled.

“Rolon, I did not expect you to commit such
betrayal.”

The sitting warrior shifted to his knees,
eyes wide. “Please, Overlord. I beg of you. Things have been
different. Warlord Saran is not as tolerant as you.”