The Warrior's Heart Page 6
“How could you stay so strong through that kind of cruelty?” Jolan whispered.
“I had something to live for, something that I would not give up even in the face of death.”
“Your family,” she nodded.
“My freedom,” he corrected. “You can be shackled and beaten, locked in a room and abused by someone. But freedom cannot truly be taken. Ilona, the woman I told you of, became Dieter’s slave only by choice, so that she could be with him. But Dieter never took her freedom. And neither could the man who meant to take her.”
Jolan settled back into the water and stared at the surface. “You wish me to fight against those that mean to rule me.”
“I mean for you to know that no one can take something from you unless you give it to them.” He leant forward. “They may not be the ones you want, but you always have choices.”
Jolan stared up at him, her heart filling with warmth. She knew he meant to help her, to give her hope about her future. She kissed him before she even realised she was going to. It was a kiss of gratitude for his kindness, for his encouragement, and for the heat he filled her with.
For a moment he didn’t move, then his hands found her waist, slid around her back. His tongue met hers and a moment later, the water sloshed onto the floor as he climbed over the edge of the basin and atop her.
Laughter bubbled up when his mouth moved to her throat. “There is no room for both of us. You are too big.” She laughed again when he growled against her skin. “Get out before you bust open the whole thing!” He stood bringing her with him, then lifted her easily in his arms and stepped out of the basin. His mouth found hers again and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her deeply and carried her to the bed.
“No,” she said breathlessly when he rose above her.
He stilled, staring down at her. “No?” Jolan nearly laughed again. He looked at her as if she were mad. Again, she had the feeling that he was not used to serving others but of being served himself, of commanding others and being unaccustomed to the word no.
“You are my slave, remember. I do as I wish with you.” She did grin when she saw the relief in his eyes. In a flurry of movement, he rolled to his back and brought her atop him.
“As you wish, Prinţesă, but I warn you that my appetite is ravenous.” He reached up and touched her breasts but she slapped his hands away.
“You may only do as I command when I command it. Perhaps, I should bind you so that you remember you place,” she teased and saw the glitter in his eyes. Leaning forward, she placed her palms on his shoulders as if she were pinning him down. It was absurd, she knew, he was too strong to be overpowered by her. But it filled her with a thrill when he lifted his arms and grasped the wooden frame of the bed behind him. He submitted to her without argument.
Sliding down between his thighs, she slowly worked the ties of his leggings until she freed his cock. Turning atop him, aware that he had full view of her ass and sex, she unwound the straps and pushed down his leggings. Scooting forward, she removed his boots, then pulled off the leggings and tossed them over the edge of the bed. Circling back around, she grasped his erection in her palm and watched his nose flare and his jaw tighten. She wanted to give him pleasure, wanted him to know her appreciation for his kindness to her.
“Ishild told me once of bringing a man pleasure with her mouth.” Jolan licked her lips as heat touched her cheeks. She’d never said anything so bold in her life. The sound that came from his throat chased away her shame, so she settled between his legs.
Slowly, she lowered her gaze to the hard flesh she held. Lowering, she licked at the tip and heard the intake of breath above her. She licked again, this time moving her palm down its length. She was thankful for Ishild’s gossiping nature, for she would have never known of anything like this was it not for her friend’s education.
Licking her lips, she slipped the crown into her mouth then withdrew. His gaze was locked on her, nose flaring with every deep breath. A thrill raced through her as she lowered again, taking more of him into her mouth. This time she sucked as she drew him back out through her lips and was rewarded with another guttural noise from his throat. His thick legs rose around her as he bent his knees, so she turned and nipped at the inside of his thigh.
It was a growl, low and vibrating from his chest, sounding more like animal than man. That sound sent hot shivers up her spine and caused her sex to burn. She returned her attention to his cock, slipping it once again between her lips. When she sucked, his hips rose slightly. This time she didn’t remove him but slipped back down his length. Up and down, she moved slowly over him until she felt him shaking beneath her. When she rose to look at him, she saw his knuckles had whitened from his grip on the bed structure.
She felt heady and wanton as she realised he struggled to allow her the control of their joining. She wanted to push him, to draw out his wait for release. She leant forward and licked at the spot right below his navel, her breasts encasing his cock as she did. His hips surged upward against her in response and she felt the muscles of his stomach contract. Encouraged, she flattened herself against him and slid farther up his stomach licking again at the line of hair. Again his muscles contracted. She parted her lips and grazed her teeth across his hot skin, savouring the sounds that choked from his throat.
Higher, she used her teeth against his chest before running her tongue to make a path to his thick shoulder. This time when she bit, she did so hard. His body surged upwards against hers and he grunted as his cock ground into her sex.
“You are a good slave,” she purred. “I should reward you for your patience. What prize would you like for your obedience?”
“By the Gods, woman, I feel you are wet for me and I want in.” His voice was deep, husky, the words spoken between ragged breaths. She smiled, gaze washing over the flushed planes of his face. She rubbed her cunt against him and his lips parted for his breath and groan.
“Beg me,” she whispered.
His gaze met hers as she rubbed herself against him again, stimulating her clit. “Please.” It wasn’t a plea, not really. It sounded more like command. Warmth spread over her, through her. Her hips moved against him in small circles back and forth.
“Again,” she said between pants.
“Please.” This time he commanded in a stronger voice but he moved his hips with her now, encouraging her to find pleasure. Her body trembled atop him and she rested her hands on his chest, allowing him to feel her weight as she continued moving herself atop him. She slid easily over him, wet now with her own arousal. She wasn’t sure if it was just her physical reaction to him or a combination of that and the control she had over his need.
Shaking, she moved her cunt higher to his stomach, pressing flat against him. She leant forward so that her breasts fell above him. Her hands slid to his shoulders, then his arms, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles as she brought her right breast closer to his mouth.
“Show me how much you want me to grant your prize,” she rasped down at him. He opened his mouth wide and took her sensitive flesh between his lips. He sucked loudly, groaning against her. He released her with a loud sucking noise then turned his head for the other. Jolan closed her eyes as he sucked fiercely, veining fire from the tips throughout her whole body.
When he released her, she slid back down and hovered over his cock. As slowly as she was able, she took him into her, enjoying every inch that slipped in to fill her body. She settled down, sheathing his entirety.
“This is what you want?” Her voice shook with her own need.
“Yes.”
She rose slightly and pushed him to the core. “More?”
It was half growl, half laugh. “Please, woman!”
She leant forward and bit him hard on the chest. His hips surged up and his will broke. The entire bed shook when he released its structure and grabbed her hips. His fingers kneaded into her as he held her off of him and withdrew. He thrust upward sharply and her breath caught m
omentarily in her throat. In an instant, he’d rolled her to her back and settled between her legs, his large body covering hers.
“Yes, please,” she whispered but despite the wildness in his eyes, he stilled.
“Do not plead for me, Prinţesă. Command me.”
She panted, her whole body on fire, wanting more. “You must move,” she rasped.
She could feel him shaking, knew his body yearned as much as hers for release. Yet, he remained still inside of her.
“Must I?”
“Fuck me.” She gripped his shoulder and used him to bring herself forward; biting down on his thick muscle, hoping it would drive him to move. His reaction was violent, hips jerking against her. His mouth caught hers when she released him and he kissed her roughly while his body slapped hungrily into hers. Rapture found them at the same time, sending her bucking wildly against him as she clung to his shoulders. He shouted into her mouth, his hot seed filling her as his hips jerked against hers. Even after he’d spilled, his hips moved as if unable to stop, riding out her orgasm until she collapsed back onto the bedding.
His hot breath was heavy on her face as he hovered above her. His arms shook on either side of her as he held his weight off of her and she swallowed several times between breaths. She was no more in control as she fought to catch her breath. She only realised she was crying when she felt the drops slide over her jaw and reached up to wipe them away.
Ishild had told her most men cared nothing of a woman’s pleasure, that only a few would know how to make a woman shake from rapture. This guard was indeed one of those few. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed up at his broad features and she wished it was he that she was being sent to wed rather than Count Dragomir. She should not mind being bound in marriage to a man as passionate as this guard, one who would set her body afire then melt it into a thousand tingling flames.
“If you mean to make an escape, Prinţesă, now is the time to do so. I don’t think my legs would allow me chase for at least ten minutes.” He spoke through a rough chuckle. She stretched beneath him, enjoying the warm liquid feeling in her limbs.
“I am no longer sore from my training yesterday, you shouldn’t tempt me so. I know exactly where you left your sword.”
He laughed at that and she liked the deep sound. “You needn’t strike me with it. I’m as weak as a babe.” He pulled from within her and collapsed beside her heavily. She rolled onto her side and placed her hand on his chest.
“When we arrive at Drago, you could remain with me as my guard. I might convince the count you are stupid and easily ruled by coin. I imagine he wouldn’t mind someone he thought he could buy, then I would have some pleasure I could look forward to.”
He laughed again as he tucked one hand behind his head and tilted his head to look at her. “Somehow I don’t think the count would believe you. Men can look in one another’s eyes and tell their true nature.”
“That is not true. My father could not see Dragomir’s.”
“He is blinded by a need for safety of his home and the people here,” he said softly. “If it were not for that, I believe he would see.”
“You believe me when I speak of the count and what I saw.” Jolan sat up, staring at him. “You aren’t just being kind to me, you believe me when I say he is a monster.”
“I have no reason to doubt you. You neither gain nor lose anything by lying to me.” He shrugged, but his gaze slid away from hers.
Jolan studied him for several long moments. “You’ve met Count Dragomir before. You know him.”
His head snapped around and he stared at her, then he shook his head. “I have never been introduced but I know enough of him that what you say sounds truthful to me.”
A fear suddenly gripped Jolan. “Were you approached by the count or one of his men to come here and win my trust?”
“No.” He met her gaze and she breathed out. “What man would send another to bed the woman to be his wife?”
She shrugged, allowing her fear to leave her. “I think the count capable of most anything. His eyes were yellow.”
She watched the guard lift up on an elbow. “You know, there are many men who carry beasts inside of them, and not all of them are cruel.” His voice was softer than before.
“You mean what they call Halflings.” Jolan smiled when she saw the surprise on his face. “You think because I am kept inside these walls I do not learn of things like that? Cloelia knows dark things. She told me of Halflings once when I was a child to scare me. It worked. But Ishild said that she’d met a Halfling once when she was much younger and had become lost in the woods. She said a stag approached her and transformed into a man. He led her back to the road before turning back to animal. She never told anyone of it but me.”
Jolan shook her head. “That is not what I saw in Count Dragomir’s eyes however. It was something evil, something cruel. I doubt there is much man at all inside of him. And I believe his men are the same as he, for I have never known any man who could lick at the blood of their victims and mount them during death.”
“Moroi,” Raban murmured.
Jolan’s eyes widened. “They are real? I thought it just another story Cloelia told me to make me frightened of the night. She said they sent their souls out at night and devoured livestock. She told me I must always keep my windows and doors closed during storms lest I wish my body claimed and made unclean by the Moroi. She said they cannot die.”
He frowned. “I know nothing of sending out their souls and that does sound more like the spells she claims to know, just made up. The Moroi drink the blood of their victims and I have heard tales of their mounting their dead, but I can tell you that there is nothing which walks that cannot be killed.”
Jolan bit her lip, studying him. “You do not fear the Moroi?”
“I do not.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“You said that all men fear something. What do you fear?” She watched him reach down for his clothes and began dressing. He shot a grin over his shoulder as he pulled on his leggings.
“I fear my neck wrapped in a rope if we are discovered.”
She giggled and nodded, scrambling across the bed. “Yes, we should be more careful. I am surprised Cloelia did not return with my father after you defied her. It is not a good sign that she did not. Be cautious of her.”
“She would be wise to be cautious of me.”
Chapter Six
“Only five?” Alger asked when Mircea Dragomir’s men presented themselves to Adalbern. “The count could spare no more for the safety of his bride?”
The one who led the five turned slowly, looking Alger up and down. “Who are you?”
Raban stepped forward and instantly the man’s gaze darted to him. “He is one of mine, and I am to lead this party to Drago. And on behalf of her family, I would like to know who you are and why the count feels Jolan Lovasz is worthy of only five of his men when stories told indicate he has an army at his avail?”
Jolan glanced at her father but he did not silence the guard. She recognised the one who led the men. He was the very one who had held the knife which brought her friend to death. She wanted to call out to the guard, to warn him, but was too afraid to do so.
“I am Geld, the captain of the Count’s army, and these are four of my best trained men. I was informed that I would be the one leading the party to Drago.”
“You were misinformed and were I inclined to allow you to lead, that changed the moment I counted your numbers.” Raban glanced at Jolan’s father and received a slight nod of agreement. Raban took another step forward and tilted his nose to breath in deeply, a scowl pulling his lips. Geld’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You have an odd scent on you, Geld,” Raban’s voice curled around the man’s name in a tone of clear distaste. “It is a smell that any who has seen battle does not forget. Should I guess that there were more of you dispatched but only five managed to survive the journey to Maethi?”
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��There was trouble but we all survived, though outnumbered considerably,” Geld answered coolly, his gaze sweeping the men that stood behind Raban. “This is your band of mongrels then?” Jolan’s gaze widened when those who followed Raban stepped forward, every one of their hands dropping to their weapons. Raban held up his hand, stopping them from advancing further, a slow smile curled in the corner of his lips.
The tension in the room was so thick that Jolan found it difficult to breathe. For several uncomfortable moments, no one said anything or moved. Even Cloelia, who always seemed to have words to spit, kept silent.
“Your count shall be grateful for my mongrels if we are attacked during the trek to Drago. No matter how well trained or hungry for blood your four might be, there is no better protection against a horde of soulless Mongols than beasts trained to kill them.”
Jolan held her breath then released it abruptly when Geld suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “You are as fearless as you are big. What are you called?”
“I am called Raban.”
Geld stepped forward and clapped his hand on the guard’s shoulder, obviously impressed with him. “Very well, Raban, you lead us and I shall tell Count Dragomir of your service. He may wish to commission you himself to our army.” Raban’s jaw clenched but he lowered his hand. His men fell back into their places against the wall and it seemed that everyone else in the room breathed out.
“We leave at dawn.” Raban told him.
“Come. We must pack your belongings…” Cloelia began but Raban faced her.
“Her belongings were readied yesterday when I was told of the count’s men’s approach. She has had her bath. She also spent most of the night completing the candles and baskets you mean to take with us.” His gaze never wavered from Cloelia. “With no more tasks, her last day of training will be completed.” He turned his head only slightly and Alger stepped forward, beckoning for Jolan to step to his side which she did gratefully.