Love Storm (31 page)

band of a woman? Iskender-Khan raised his eyebrows to Nikki at the superfluous query. After Alex's response of "yes," one of the old women murmured an incantation against evil spirits. This was directed against the man's enemies, because it was thought that if in the instant in which the man says "yes" somebody draws his dagger halfway from the sheath and whispers, "It is a lie, he cannot," then the bridegroom will be impotent for one year. Injury to virility was a popular form of revenge in the mountains.

Immediately after the abbreviated ceremony Zena and Alex were parted. The women took Zena away to the room next to Alex's apartment. Now custom required that Alex encounter difficulty reaching his wife and, so at every door a veiled figure awaited him and blocked his way. He was to press gold into their hands in order to continue. Having been supplied with a bag of gold by his father, Alex impatiently passed through the gauntlet. Upon reaching his bedroom, more quaint surprises greeted him; a dozen chickens and an old crone graced his rooms. He paid off the old lady, as was required, and churlishly threw the chickens out the window. After all these disturbers of the peace had been ejected, the bride entered the chamber.

"Watch your step, my dear wife," Alex growled, "I can't vouch for the cleanliness of my quarters. Evidently some misguided tradition of these savages requires a dozen chickens share my bedchambers briefly."

"What did you do with them?"

"I tossed them out the window."

The image of Alex chasing chickens around the room forced a giggle of laughter to surface.

Alex glared at Zena for the space of one cold second and then began to chuckle himself. He winced in pain; laughing was definitely
de trop
with broken ribs.

Zena noted the sharp grimaces and experienced a quiver of remorse that Alex had been beaten because of her. "I'm really sorry, Sasha, about . . . about my grandfathers cruelty
to you,." she said, and her voice trembled. "I'm sorry . . . about . . . ," her hands fluttered awkwardly, "well, about all this."

"You're
sorry, oh Lord." Alex's powerful frame sagged momentarily in weary dejection, as he gloomily reflected that he had come to a fine pass indeed, and all for a taste of one virginal cunt. What a damn fool, he thought. He gazed at his new wife stonily. "Not as sorry as I am, child, let me assure you," he replied gruffly.

Zena hung back near the door, uncertain of her coerced bridegroom, for his whole aspect was forbidding. Alex saw quite plainly the fear in her eyes as he stood considering her. Good God, his wife! She was now his wife! Finally, he smiled a hard, tight smile and growled softly, "Don't stand there like a wounded dog. I won't savage you. Come here." He held out his hand.

Zena walked over and took his hand. A strange smile came over his dark features. "I go to the devil in my own way. Stay with me, and I dare say you may be damned in the bargain. Are you sure you want this?" he said.

"I'm sure." She looked at Alex in adoration.

"Has it never occurred to you that you've attached yourself to a thoroughgoing scoundrel?" pursued Alex.

'"No, Sasha," she said, "but then I didn't have much choice."

Nor I; thought Alex. The strange smile still hovered about Alex's mouth. He paused, looking at her oddly, then laughed a brief, mocking laugh.

"In that case, my dear, for better, for worse." He lifted Zena's hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss on her fingertips.

"Well," he sighed, "since this is my wedding night, broken ribs or no broken ribs, I intend to make the most of it. Take your clothes off, Princess Zena Kuzan. Let me see once again what I've purchased with both considerable gold and the bruised flesh of my body."

Sasha's tone was sardonic, but he was smiling with a dancing gleam in his eye. Was he angry? His unpredictable moods were difficult to read.

Alex stood and looked at her for a few seconds. "Afraid?" he asked, speaking softly.

"No, Sasha," said Zena, standing very straight.

Alex was watching his proud, beautiful wife with a faint smile both derisive and tender. "Then, sweet pet, do remove those native clothes."

Zena began undoing the buttons. Alex lounged against the wall to watch with intent interest. After divesting herself of the silk trousers and long tunic, she stood before him in a corset of thin morocco leather. The corset was held together by strings knotted in front. The knots were of a complicated sort that required endless care.

"Take off that corset, too, dear. I'd like to see a bit more flesh."

"It's . . . that is . . . well," she stammered, "the custom of the mountains requires the bridegroom to untie the corset on his wedding night."

Alex strolled over and drew a small gold knife from his pocket.

"Custom also prohibits cutting them, Sasha," Zena explained. "It's considered a shameful thing if the groom has that little control on his wedding night. In the morning the garment is checked to see how the knots have been undone."

Alex stood there quietly during the explanation, the small gold blade open and poised for the end of Zena's narrative. Narrowing his eyes consideringly, he viewed the formidable barrier. "Among the numerous faux pas I seem to have committed against mountain ethics and custom," he sardonically drawled, "surely one more can scarcely signify."

The blade slashed up, expeditiously severing every knot of the corset. The offending garment fell to the floor. With
the usual Kuzan disregard for convention Alex had cut through society's shibboleths once again.

"There now," he exhaled softly, "quite as lovely as I remembered."

His new and very pretty wife stood in the center of the room, her bare feet pressed into the luxurious kelim carpet, her exquisitely formed legs rising to the undulations of hip and waist. A womanly softness was becoming apparent on previously boyish hips. Luscious, full breasts trembled provocatively as she shivered once in the coolness of the room.

The gleam in his eyes had turned to a leaping, fitful, passionate flame. "You're cold, dear," he said huskily. "Help me undress and then into that silken cocoon of cushions. I'd disrobe myself, but these damnable ribs are touchy. I can't manage the shirt sleeves very well."

Zena aided her bruised and battered bridegroom. She gasped at the sight of the large and vivid welts and bruises on Alex's shoulders and back, visible outside the bandages that taped his ribs firmly in place.

"Oh, darling," she cried softly, "it's awful. Is there anything I can do to help? I feel terrible."

Leading her over to the cushions, Alex said lightly, "I have an idea." Lying down gingerly on his back, he held out his arms. Almost immediately he cursed and shut his eyes against the sharp pain. "Ride me tonight, wife of mine. I'm not up to my usual activity." He pulled her over his slim hips onto his eager, pulsing erection, which stood proudly stiff displaying its broad vermillion head. Within a few brief moments it was all over.

"Sorry
dushka,
it's been a while." He slowly drew her down to kiss; her soft, warm lips burned into his, her sweet tongue darted into his mouth, and he stiffened inside her. Alex murmured against Zena's passionate lips, "Greedy little wife, don't you know, now that we're mar-

Tied
I can be quite indifferent to your charms. It isn't respectable for a husband to desire his wife."

Zena stirred deliciously on his engorged masculinity and he groaned.

"And yet respectability has never been my forte."

Bouncing delicately on the rigid shaft, Zena smiled complacently. She caressed the taut muscles of his shoulders lightly, skipping over the bandages to slide down his belly.

Alex lifted one corner of his mouth in a fleeting smile. "I perceive you feel it's your turn now."

Zena nodded languorously as she arched her back in enjoyment. Her plump, white breasts were thrust out as she sank into the bliss of pleasure. Alex gently massaged the hard nipples poised above him. Zena moaned sensuously as tremors of blazing desire tore through her body. She pressed down, grinding the shaft of love into the depths of her warmth; ripples began to move outward, the intensity of her ecstasy mounted slowly, and wave after wave of glowing, intolerable heat grew within her until the sweet urgency broke with a flowing rush. She cried out in rapture as each new flood of joy swam over her. Sinking down on Alex's chest, she lay replete, palpitating, a gentle throbbing slowly diminishing.

Alex caressed her soft, warm back, stroked the long, flowing auburn tresses, and kissed her flushed cheeks as she lay in his embrace.

After a few moments Zena lifted to rise from him, but he stayed her movement. His hands clasped her firmly at the waist and compelled her to stay. He wasn't through with her yet.

"My wedding night, sweet, and I intend to observe it fully."

He drove into her gently while she sat, confined by his firm grasp. With a mixture of passion, selfishness, and mild resentment he kept her there.

Her opulent charms were his now. Zena's exquisite body had always kindled his passion, and Kuzan selfishness was notorious, while a latent resentment incited a mild sadism. He was, after all, married now—married against his will. The hot little cunt could pay for that coercion a bit and for the bruised, aching muscles and fractured ribs. He made her stay as he came again and again, caressing her luscious body slowly to bring himself up each time. Zena was bewildered by his silent assault. Finally she could endure no more.

"Sasha, please," she pleaded, "my legs are hurting." Her thigh muscles were painfully cramped. "Please, Sasha, let me go." Silent tears flowed down her cheeks. Alex then heard the quiet cry and noticed the tears streaming from her eyes. As swiftly as the cruel assault began, it ended.

Christ, what had come over him? He never abused women—and his own wife. Perhaps that was the problem, though.
Wife,
the word, the responsibility, the permanence, an irrefutable fetter around his life from now on. No excuse for abusing the poor thing, though.

He folded Zena into his arms, gritting his teeth against the pain of the embrace. "I'm sorry, child," he whispered tenderly. "I was a beast, forgive me. It won't happen again, I promise."

If I become that vengeful again, he thought, I'd better find some gypsy whore to abuse. Or there was always Amalie; she enjoyed little perversions.

"Go to sleep, child, I promise to never be a brute like that again."

Alex fell asleep immediately and slept like a crusader on a marble tomb. As the product of a pampered and indulged existence, Alex saw no reason to question his perversions.

Zena lay awake unable to ignore all the extraordinary ramifications of their relationship and marriage. She had vaguely understood that by his cruelty Alex was making
her pay for the unaccustomed bonds that had been snapped onto his freedom. But the accomplishment of this union had been totally outside her control. No one had asked for her opinion in the arrangement of her marriage.

But amid all the bewildering tumult Zena knew she loved Alex with all her heart; knew that his body next to hers warmed her both physically and emotionally; knew she cherished the unborn child as a pledge of her love for this reckless, irresponsible, unutterably charming man. She hoped with a passionate optimism that they could build a life of joy and contentment together. She would let the future clarify and reconcile all the perplexing uncertainties.

Alex's ribs wouldn't permit an exhausting ride through the mountains yet, and so the newly married couple tarried in Iskender-Khan's village for three more days. But no one saw the honeymooning pair. They never left their apartment.

On the morning of the fourth day as they prepared to depart for Podolsk, Alex and Zena joined the family at breakfast. In addition to Iskender-Khan, Nikki and Bobby (who sported a small tcherkness in imitation of his grandfather) and a tall, dark, sun-bronzed warrior with slanted, incredibly wolfish, yellow eyes had joined the company. One glance sufficed to ascertain that Kuzan blood flowed through his veins. He was remarkably like his father.

Alex nodded to everyone at the table and seated Zena. He held out his hand to the mountain knight and said, "A half brother, I presume. Welcome to the family, although God knows if you want to admit to the relationship," he grinned.

The stern-faced warrior shook his head gravely, then returned the smile. "I'm quite content with my patrimony, little brother."

Their eyes met evenly, their broad-shouldered torsos carried analogously on slim-hipped, long-legged frames.

"You leave today?" the knight inquired.

"Yes," Alex replied.

"We'll travel together, then."