Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (22 page)

BOOK: Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION)
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“No, Bashea. Stay here with Bagrat.”

She stuck out her chin, her eyes firing. “I’m going with you,” she demanded, her words spoken with icy clarity.

Tahj knew precious moments were ticking away. He also knew with Bashea at the well he would have two people there he’d have to protect. Having little choice, he offered Bashea his arm and pulled her up. “Hyah!” The horse tore through the dusty spaces between tents, weaving through tent tethers and combatants alike. It was as if their ride knew where she was going.

When they had skirted all the fighting and came around the last tent, they saw Boltar’s robes, black and red, blown back by the breeze as he marched across the fire circle, their child in
his arms. When he heard their horse, Boltar ran the last several lengths to the well. He took the baby, and, holding her by the neck with one hand, extended her over the well. Keiara flailed her tiny fists and kicked her legs, crying the bleating cry of a newborn whose lungs aren’t big enough for a full cry. The blanket fell from her, fluttered briefly, and was swallowed up by the black of the well.

Tahj jumped from the horse. “Stop!” His eyes connected with his daughter’s, wet and wild from crying, and his heart was seized. He had never beheld anything more beautiful in his life.

“And why would I want to do that?”

Tahj found he was speechless. At the time when he needed his words the most, they failed him. Bashea slid off of the other side of the horse and took a few teetering steps forward, holding one hand out in front of her.

“Please,” she begged, her voice ringing with emotion. “I will do anything,
anything
you want.”

Boltar paused, studying her for several seconds.
As their eyes locked, Tahj looked from one to the other. Bashea was desperate, quivering; Boltar was…tempted.

“But you already have, my dear, remember?” His voice was a sinister whisper. He started to turn back toward the baby, but Bashea screamed, throwing herself on the ground.


Please, don’t hurt her!

Bashea hoped it would provide the distraction Bagrat needed.

Bagrat had ridden his horse through a little copse of trees that extended into the desert to the right of the well and then approached, crawling, for the last part, on his stomach, so as not to be seen by Boltar. Bashea saw Bagrat as he slinked across the sand, a great love filling her heart. Bagrat, her big brother, he would save her baby.

Bashea was sure her heart had stopped beating.
She watched helplessly from afar as Bagrat made his move, screaming just as Bagrat started to rise, and Boltar was about to spin in his direction. For those few seconds, it was as if the world stopped turning…and then Bagrat had her; Boltar turned back to Bashea, and Bagrat snatched the baby from the overlord. Bagrat’s hands, strong from the field and sure, pried Boltar’s from Keiara’s tiny neck and he scooped her up, bringing the baby to his chest triumphantly.

Tahj rushed forward, his sword drawn, and Bagrat ran toward Bashea, to get his niece to safety.
Boltar pulled a dagger from somewhere inside his sleeves and swung with all his might, driving it into Bagrat’s back. The big man let out a heartrending cry of both confusion and pain and fell to his knees, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Bashea’s mouth fell open, the tears that had threatened before spilling onto her cheeks. Not Bagrat! “No,” she cried softly, her voice shaking
.

B
agrat pitched forward, but caught himself, one hand in the sand, one wrapped protectively around Keiara, who had stopped crying. Bashea pushed up on one arm, mirroring his position. Bagrat, breathing heavily, stretched out his hand, holding the baby out to her. Bashea shifted, takingKeiara from him, drawing the child to her bosom. She gazed at Keiara, amazed to find her unharmed.

Bashea looked up
. Maybe a foot in front of her, her big brother’s hand had cradled her sweet baby. Now, her eyes followed her brother’s to the ground, as she repeated quietly, “No, no, no…” She crawled to his side, shaking her head slightly as if to will it all away.

“See, Bashea,” Bagrat said, his voice weak, “I saved her.” He held on for a few more seconds, and then shut his eyes.

* * *

As Tahj rushed forward, he saw the flash of the blade in Boltar’s right hand. He screamed, but it was too late. Boltar plunged it into Bagrat’s unprotected back. The only thing he could think was,
I should have moved faster! It should have been me. I started this.

Wasting no time, Boltar pushed Bagrat away and drew his sword in order to meet Tahj. With all his strength, Tahj swung his sword over his head and brought it crashing down. Boltar met it, but the force of the blow drove him to his knees. With a yell, Tahj kicked him in the midsection and Boltar flew back, smashing into the well. Tahj heard the sound of bones breaking. He had never wanted to kill a man before, but he wanted to see Boltar die, wanted to hear him take his last breath, wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes.

Bracing himself with the well at his back, Boltar was able to rise unsteadily to his feet, but his breathing was raspy. He took a weak swing at Tahj, who parried it easily, his face cold. Boltar showed no fear, although it was clear now the fight was over. His face only showed his endless contempt for Tahj. He stumbled, feeling along the stone of the well to right himself.

“I am the king!” Boltar raged. “You will never be king.”

“I have no desire to be king,” Tahj said simply.

This seemed to confuse Boltar for a second, but then he again thrust his sword at Tahj. This time Tahj only batted it away, sending it flying through the air. Boltar eyed him, then rose to his full height, letting go of the side of the well. The only sounds that could be heard were Bashea’s low, mournful cries and Boltar’s harsh breathing. Tahj tossed his sword into the sand near Boltar’s and raised his hands in invitation.

Boltar
gathered himself and charged, his eyes sparking. Tahj reached out and grabbed the man’s head, thinking about the good people he had killed—Kadeesh, his mother, his father, Hurmoz, and now, possibly Bagrat—and brought his knee up into the man’s face. Boltar stood, bent over and wobbling. Tahj kicked him, using his whole body, throwing his hands backwards as he did, and Boltar’s body flew through the air and crashed against the well. He landed in a seated position, his head cocked to one side, blood dripping from one corner of his mouth, his eyes open but lifeless.

Tahj turned away in disgust.

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

Bashea bounced the baby on her shoulder, hoping to get him to stop fussing. He was teething, she’d put money on it, as he babbled, drooled, and complained in equal measure. She was standing talking to Bibi and Dara, having just finished breakfast, when Keiara tugged at her skirt.

“What is it, baby?”

The little girl turned and pointed to the west, her black curls bobbing. “Baba!”

Bashea raised her eyes and saw Tahj approaching, walking his horse through camp alongside his brothers-in-law. The group had been in to Avistad to counsel the good King Radeem and had been gone nearly a week.

Spotting them, Tahj quickly handed the cloth camel he had brought for his daughter to someone behind him and squatted, holding his arms open wide. With a squeal, Keiara took off running in his direction. Without even looking, Bashea dreamily handed off her son, Shahzad, to her sister, and followed in her daughter’s wake.

Bashea noted that, unbeknownst to Tahj, the someone he had given the camel to squatted down behind him and off to the side a little, holding out the camel and pretending to make it walk through midair. Enamored by the camel, Keiara sped past Tahj and into the waiting arms of her Uncle Bagrat, who stood with the girl in his arms and tickled her with the camel, laughing at Tahj’s expression.

“Well,” Tahj snorted with his hands on his hips, “a man leaves for nearly a week and this is all the love he gets?”

Bashea walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, whispering suggestively in his ear, loud enough for Bagrat to hear, “I’ve got some love for you….”

Tahj smiled at Bagrat. “I’ll take it!” He turned and gave Bashea a loud, smacking kiss on the lips as she swayed and giggled in his arms. Then the kiss turned more serious as Bashea took the sides of her husband’s face into her hands, and then more passionate. Suddenly, Tahj bent and swept Bashea off her feet. Bashea squealed in surprise, hugging herself closer to him. “Take care of the kids for awhile, Bagrat,” Tahj called boisterously over his shoulder.

“Oh, ho!” Bagrat chuckled. “What do we think of that, Miss Keiara?” He nuzzled his niece’s neck and she giggled, squirming and scrunching up her noise happily.

Bashea looked back over Tahj’s shoulder as he marched off with her toward their tent. Her heart warmed to see her daughter in Bagrat’s arms. It wasn’t long ago they were worrying about whether or not Bagrat was going to make it through the night. She thought of that time with an inward shudder, and she felt a pang of love for him. He looked up and caught her eye, and it seemed as if he was thinking the same thing, his look fleetingly serious. Maybe Bagrat’s being gone with Tahj had stirred up those old emotions and worries about him. She smiled, and then blew him a kiss. He winked at her, and then raised Keiara over his head, where her camel came to make a nest in his hair, its legs swinging in front of his eyes, blocking his view.

“Be careful with her,” Bashea warned as Tahj ducked with his burden into the tent.

Once inside the tent, Tahj put his wife down gently on her feet. “I
really
missed you!” he said, grabbing Bashea by the hips and walking her back to the bed as he kissed her.

“I missed you, too!” The kiss she gave him was meant to entice him further, and entice it did.

He started peeling off his clothes. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”

She was thrilled. “Mmmm…me, too.”

He began to kiss her again, running his hands over her skin feverishly, his movements becoming rough and reckless. He laid her back across the bed, joining her as he tore at her clothes in an effort to assist her in getting them off. He felt the cloth give and the sound of fabric ripping. Instantly he pulled back, “I’m sorry.”

She heard the guilt in his voice, and it infuriated her. “Why, Tahj?” she snapped, sitting up suddenly.

Confused, he sat up, too. “Because. I vowed to always respect you, Bashea.”

She got up, crossing arms over her chest and walking away from him. “It’s been four years, Tahj, nearly five, and in all this time you’ve always been so…controlled. Horribly, awfully, controlled.” She turned, and, seeing the look of hurt in his eyes, she came back quickly, taking his face in her hands as she stood between his legs. “Not that it hasn’t been wonderful. And being together like this…has been beyond my wildest imagination. But, I feel you pull back, hold back sometimes instead of…I don’t know, being too wildly in love with me that you can’t hold back. You can’t refrain. You’ve just got to have me.”

“Bashea, I feel that way all the time. But I just can’t go…ripping your clothes off.”

“I know.”

“Then what is it that you want?”

She took in a deep breath, and then blurted out, “I want you to take me, take me hard and fast without thinking about respecting me. Just stop thinking at all! Go with your feelings—”

He grabbed her roughly by the hips and swung her around onto the bed. “Be still, woman!” he demanded, and then he did as he was bade. Taking her as he had always longed to, with abandon, with wanton recklessness, without any other consideration other than satisfying himself, and in so doing he drove them both wild, to a place they’d never been before, a new, electrifying, and exhilarating place.

And when at last they took that sweet, final plunge, they lay together in the golden afterglow, both thinking about their relationship without speaking. They were happy. They had their children, who gave them great delight. They had their family, Bagrat, Jahmeel, and all the rest, Radeem and their friends in Avistad, and even Faraz and his daughters, who had come to visit a time or two. And they had their home in Tamook. Boltar had tried to take it all from them, but they had prevailed together, better, stronger for having done it with each other. They appreciated each other more, and everything they had, because they had been forced to fight for it.

Their relationship had been tempestuous from the start, a whirlwind of strong emotions, much like the storms that gathered over the desert, shifting huge sand dunes, reshaping the terrain. But they had made it through the winds to the stillness, the quiet, refreshing stillness after the storms, where things began anew, and love grew stronger each day. And they thanked the gods for it.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Lunch lady by day, romance writer by night, M.J. Schiller fills up the rest of her spare time with family, karaoke, and P90X, (not necessarily in that order)
. She is a mother to three fifteen-year-olds, Mitch, Ryan, and Hannah. Yes, they are triplets! And her eldest daughter, Maggie, who is seventeen and a phenomenal writer also. She has been married for over twenty years to her fabulous husband, Don, and all the above reside in Bloomington, IL with their cat, Serena. To find out more about her and be notified of new releases, sign up for M.J. Schiller’s newsletter at
www.mjschiller.com
. She can also be found on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, and Goodreads, as well as a number of other places.

BOOK: Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION)
2.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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