Rise of the Shadow Warriors (7 page)

Chapter 11

Argan lifted his face from the bowl of now dirty water and used the cloth from the side table to dry his face. He’d washed his hair after falling and landing in the mud from Vaan’s sword during a training exercise. Now the length was braided and lay damp against his chest. Everyone present for the fight had a good laugh and Vaan’s smirk spoke volumes when he reached down to pull a mud covered Argan to his feet.

After graciously taking the ribbing, Argan had returned to his room to clean up. He crossed to his bed and slid on a pair of fresh, black leathers followed by boots. His chest harness came next then a knife he tucked in his boot.

“Warlord Argan.”

He pivoted on his heel, sword in one hand and a soft neck in the other. The edge of his blade pressed to the throat of the female who stood before him. “Foolish woman,” he declared, shoving her from him and sheathing the weapon. Argan’s heart thundered in his ears and he had to clench his hands to keep from throttling her.

If his recognition of her delicate scent had been any slower he could have severed her head from her shoulders. “You must stop sneaking up on me.”

Her smile held a tinge of sadness unlike the last night she’d come to visit. Stilling the odd urge to go to her, Argan stiffened and asked, “What has happened, woman?”

“I’m sorry to approach you unannounced again but we must speak of the debt.”

Not wanting to appear unnerved by her presence, Argan took a seat on the side of his bed. “Speak freely. What is the debt you would claim?”

She walked around the room bare of much furnishings save the bed and a tall drawer he used for his clothing. The lone wooden shelf on the wall drew her gaze and her steps led her across the room toward the displayed objects. “I would ask for your help against an enemy of the Olak’din.”

Her request was distracted as she picked up a small figurine, head lowered to see the detail.

“Done.” Argan got to his feet. Once again, she wore fitted, leather pants that cupped her round buttocks and soft clothed boots. Another leather vest in matching black covered her torso.

With her back facing him, Argan had a clear view of her nipped in waist. The bottom of the vest rose as she replaced the figurine only to reach for another. Argan didn’t allow others to touch his hand carvings. The hobby was one he had developed in his youth and kept to himself. Only recently had he given any away and that was at the birth of Vaan’s youngling. Each girl now owned several wooden carved images of various animals. The palm-sized statues bore nicks and scratches from Erana and Arane gnawing on them.

“These are amazing. Did you carve them?”

Shaina lifted the one in her hand, peering over her shoulder at him. Argan’s strides brought him to her side. He took the wooden tarka wolf and slammed it sharply on the shelf with the other dozen or so. Her presence aroused him too much.

“Yes. Now that I have agreed to your debt, you may take your leave.”

She laughed. Whatever sadness may have been there earlier was no longer present in the silver eyes gazing up at him. Only a few inches separated their height. She was a tall woman yet the top of her head only reached his chin. Red waves spilled over her shoulders as she propped her hands on her hips and faced him.

The sleeveless vest revealed toned arms familiar with wielding the two swords belted at her waist. “You agreed easily, Warlord. Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” Argan had confidence in his abilities. If she needed him to fight for her, he suffered no worry from the task. In truth, paying his life debt to her was easier than he’d expected when she last came and spoke of needing him.

Of course, he’d attributed another meaning to her statement and replayed her words several times during the nights while he stroked his toqa to hardness and spilled on the bed linen.

“There are two parts to my claim. You will not just help the Olak’din but me specifically.”

“I have already agreed. You have my vow to help.”

Shaina shook her head and dropped her arms to her side. “I’m unsure if you understand my request so I will speak clearly. I need a warrior to take me as wife to prevent one of my men from forcing my hand.”

Forcing? Argan controlled the urge to demand who would seek to force her. He stepped back, putting space between them. Argan absorbed the rest of her words and when their meaning sunk in, he took another lurching step back. “Take you to wife?”

Silver eyes pleaded as she continued. “The marriage can be in deed only. A means of proving to Ivak that I don’t belittle the old ways.”

“Ivak is the one who would force you?” And the one Argan would see to first.

She shrugged. “He’s the most vocal, though I’m sure there are others who believe as he. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

She was wrong. It would mean everything to him. “Are there no other men among your people that you could ask?” She was a beautiful woman. Surely there were warriors vying for her favor.

Her eyes shifted away from him. “No. There are no others.”

A lie. But why? “You ask a lot in exchange for a debt of honor.”

Shaina’s gaze lifted back toward him and her eyes sparked sending heat racing toward his toqa. “What value do you hold for your life? You live because I saved you.”

“And I would repay the debt for the rest of that saved life if I wed you,” Argan snapped and paced away from her. His reluctance stemmed from the fact that he very much wanted what she offered. “You said you needed my help to fight for you.”

Her heavy sigh tugged at emotions he didn’t think he had. The desire to agree to her wishes heedless of the results was unlike him and Argan wavered in his commitment. Unsettled feelings tangled in him again as he thought of his future. Yearning for companionship and a family of his own rose deep within him.

“The Gornan seek to take over the lands where the Olak’din make our home.”

“Gornan? Those were the creatures that attacked the day of my illness.” He had been out of his head and had a vague image of hulking creatures with green skin and razor sharp teeth.

“Yes. They are the natural enemy to Shadow Warriors. We are one of three races to inhabit the mountains to the east of here. The caverns have been home to the Olak’din for centuries while the Gornan have made their home in the woods beneath and the Aerilians live in the valley.”

When she nibbled her bottom lip and glanced away, Argan had to resist the urge to reach for her. And do what? Comfort her as he’d seen Vaan do with Mikayla when she was distraught?

Suddenly she laughed and shook her head. “I made a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. Justan was right. It was a foolish plan.”

She blinked, red lashes wet with unshed tears and gave him a crooked smile. “I thank you all the same Warlord Argan.”

Hettel. He didn’t like seeing her saddened. Already he was used to her mirth filled smiles. Why did she cause this reaction in him? “I will do it.”

“What?!”

Perhaps the Blessed One guided his actions. Argan wasn’t sure but he could not let her leave with the downward cast to her shoulders. “I agree to your claim. I will wed you and I will fight your enemy…these Gornan.”

If he were a less confident warrior, Argan would have been offended by her blank stare and open mouth.

“You’re serious?”

Now she angered him. “Do you question my honor?”

Her head shook back and forth but her chin tipped up and silver pools of metal studied him. “You
are
serious.”

Argan had never been more serious. “When do you need me in this fight?”

The smile she graced him with pleased Argan far more than it should have.

***

Argan stepped closer. When he ran a finger over her furrowed brow, Shaina’s chest heaved. The tenderness of his touch devastated but she managed to hold back her sharp gasp. After his hand dropped to his side, she wanted to pull it back to her face to continue the gentle stroking.

Instead, she cleared her throat to answer his question. “I’m unsure. Since we chased them down the mountain that day, they have been quiet.”

Argan’s dark head nodded. “Then we will see to your other matter.”

Could he sense the rapid thumping of her heart? He’d agreed. Shaina could hardly believe her fortune. She would claim Argan Kril, the Overlord’s Death Dealer, as her husband.

Clearing her throat, she focused her attention on the matter at hand. “The other is easy. Olak’din commit to one another in private and later there is a ritual to secure the claim publicly.”

A ritual she would try to complete without his knowledge. Something warned her that this warrior would not take kindly to the Olak’din way of showing their bonded status.

“Then we will commit now for you to go back and warn this
Ivak
that you are not alone.” His sneer when he spoke Ivak’s name chilled Shaina.

Closing her eyes briefly, she prayed Helsa would look out for her.

When Shaina opened her eyes, she took in the form of the man she prepared to have as her own. With his dark hair pulled back in a single braid, the stark features of his face stood in sharp relief. Because the number of Olak’din were small and they kept to themselves, Shaina wasn’t often presented with the opportunity to see other men.

Argan was beautiful. Dark eyes peered closely at her from curled lashes. She’d thought his eyes black but they were a shade of brown so dark they veered toward midnight hues. Narrow lips pressed tight together. As before when she’d last visited, his naked chest sent her pulse soaring. Leather pants barely contained thighs that bunched when he walked.

“Woman, how do we commit?”

Shaina jumped, then flushed. He folded his arms over his thick chest and eyed her steadily. “Right. For Shadow Warriors a blood oath is all that is needed and a kiss.”

For some reason her answer caused the tall Warlord to bark out a laugh. “I am to stand still while you blood me with a blade
and
kiss you?”

Shaina swallowed. She could not afford to lose his support so easily. “It’s our way. A small cut and you will do the same to me.”

“I do not harm women.” His voice grated with menace.

Shaina unsheathed her knife and his eyes darkened further. His low growl sent a shiver down her spine but Shaina called on the strength of her ancestors. “You gave your word, Warlord. Do you call off?”

He marched toward her, eyes blazing. Grasping her wrist, he aimed the weapon she held at his chest. Their gazes met and locked. The tip of her blade pressed against firm, gold skin. Shaina refused to break his stare to view the damage she caused.

When he added additional pressure, Shaina cried out, forgetting her vow and looked down. At the first drop of crimson, she tried to pull away but his hold on her wrist was unbreakable. Several rivulets dripped down his chest, across his tight stomach muscles to pool at the waist of his leathers.

She glanced up, prepared to blast him for his foolishness but the smoldering heat in his eyes stopped her. Shaina’s
breath hitched and the corner of his mouth curled.

“There is your blood, woman.”

The husky murmur raised the hair on the back of her neck. Angry at his high-handed method, she jerked on her wrist. When he loosened his hold, Shaina flipped the knife and handed it hilt first to him. “Do it, Warlord Argan.”

He hesitated and there was no masking the distaste on his face. When he made no effort to take it, Shaina ran the blade over the fatty part of her left forearm and swiped quickly, drawing blood.

Argan growled and made to snatch the blade from her. Dots of their mingled blood stained the edge. She sheathed it quickly at her lower back, no longer needing it.

With pinched brows, he asked, “What next?”

The innocent question heated her loins and Shaina licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement. Hettel, she mentally cursed. The attraction between them was good. Shaina had every intention of enjoying her husband in the bedroom but she hadn’t expected the Kabanian to feel the heat as intensely.

It gave her hope that theirs would not be a bond for convenience only. The bulge below his waist made his arousal clear. The Warlord wanted her. Wanted the kiss to seal their bargain.

“The kiss,” she reminded, unashamed of her breathless tone. “We must kiss.”

Stepping forward until their chests brushed together, Shaina reached up and entwined her arms about his neck. Dark brown eyes narrowed. If this was to be the kiss that sealed her bond with the warrior, Shaina planned to make it count.

Leaning forward and rising onto her toes, she brushed her lips against his, expecting him to take over. While soft his mouth remained unmoving. She pressed harder and parted her own.

Nothing.

Shaina opened her eyes and came face to face with his dark gaze. Did he not want to kiss her? “Warlord Argan?”

“Again, woman.” His voice rasped. “Do it again.”

Needing no further encouragement, Shaina slanted her head to the side and locked her mouth to his. When his lips opened, her tongue slipped through to stroke.