A Warlord's Heart Read online

  Blood stained the bandage on Balal’s head and smudges marred his chest from smoke. Assa stood beside him as he leaned his face against her middle. She had her arms wrapped around him, running her fingers through his hair. Occasionally, her friend would bend and whisper in his ear. The sight caused Vesa a pang of longing.

  “Are you well, Vesa?”

  Vesa jumped, then glanced over her shoulder to see the Warlord she craved. Ramar looked beaten. He’d pinned his hair back up after their time together but, like Balal, had not taken the time to wash away the grime of the fire. Ashes covered his chest in streaks and black stained his fingers. “I’m well. Worried though.”

  Ramar shifted his gaze past Vesa to see Balal and Assa. “He blames himself and Amrod is not well enough to get out of bed, though he argues adamantly. Amrod sustained the most injuries taking on the warriors, while Balal sought to hide Arane and Erana.”

  Vesa had heard the tale and admired the Warlords’ actions even more. Ramar may not have been in the stables during the attack but Vesa sensed he blamed himself as well. All of the Warlords did for that matter.

  The front doors opened and everyone tensed. Balal jerked his head up, eyes hopeful. It was only Raasa and Warlords completing their shifts and patrols. Ramar had increased the number walking the perimeter and acting as lookout. One or two Warlords made eye contact with Balal and nodded while a couple others started a game of dilek. It was odd to only have a handful of the burly warriors around when their presence always seemed larger than life.

  Her gaze shifted to her fellow Raasa. They gathered in small huddles throughout the room. Surprisingly they didn’t appear as upset as the Kabanians. Vesa stared a moment longer in confusion until it hit her. They trusted the Overlord. Not Miki’s mate but the Overlord because that’s who’d ridden out from the Raasa compound, eyes lit with an inner fire that almost turned the black orbs red. Every Raasa in the room had complete faith that the Overlord would bring back the youngling who enchanted all with their bright smiles and laughter

  Their deep faith overwhelmed Vesa because she too believed in him. Vesa turned to face Ramar and hugged him. He didn’t hesitate and enfolded her in an embrace that offered comfort and a sense of safety.

  “Are you sure you are well, Vesa?” he repeated his earlier question.

  She nodded then froze when Ramar shuddered, squeezing her tighter. Vesa didn’t complain. Though he hid it well, her fierce Warlord worried as did all of them. She tipped her head up. “Were you able to reach Argan?”

  “Yes. He will bring Mikayla and the others back.”

  Vesa didn’t understand the magic Argan’s woman wielded but if it brought home friend here sooner she would be ever grateful. Taking a deep breath and unable to handle the tension growing in the hall, she eased from Ramar’s confining hold. “You should rest.”

  Lines of strain bracketed his mouth and he’d been giving orders since Vaan’s departure.

  “I need to keep watch,” he protested and glanced around.

  Vesa followed his gaze but there was nothing that wouldn’t keep. “At least bathe and I shall have cook prepare meat pies.”

  Vesa managed to swallow her distaste at the mention of the warriors’ favorite meal. The dish consisted of savory meat cooked in gravy made from more meat and baked in a flaky crust. Nothing the vegetable and fruit loving Raasa would touch but it was worth it to see Ramar’s brown eyes lighten.

  He struggled with the decision to leave and Vesa clasped their hands together. “We won’t be gone long.”

  With a heavy sigh that spoke to the weight on his shoulders and tugged at her heart strings, Ramar finally allowed Vesa to lead him upstairs and to his room. She’d never been in here before this moment. His bed was neatly made, navy blue sheets folded in smooth edges at the corners. The stark room held nothing more than scattered clothing, weapons cluttered on every available space and a plethora of hair ties. She’d ordered a tub filled with hot water sent ahead. He paused when he caught sight of the bath at the center of his space.

  “Vesa,” he breathed, closing his eyes on an exhale before opening them. Her heart clutched at the way he looked at her. “You honor me.”

  It wasn’t much but she’d do anything to ease him. Bustling around the room to pick up his discarded leathers and not letting him see how his words affected her, Vesa snapped out orders. “Take off your sword. Remove everything, Warlord.”

  He smirked before complying as she gathered the folded towels and cloths. Vesa held up three peach colored balls that she’d requested from another Raasa female. “These have oils that will help you relax.”

  Ramar almost hid his flinch. Vesa’s mouth curved up. The warriors became youngling about anything not familiar to their home of Kaban but the scented soaps would make him feel better and that was her goal.

  When he stood completely bare, Vesa paused to appreciate his physique as he crossed the room. Corded muscles flexed with each step Ramar took, his shaft nestled among dark curls. He stretched his broad back, cracking bones with an ear wincing pop before he climbed into the tub with a deep groan. Vesa wet her lips and tried to slow her racing heart. Ramar for his part leaned back until his neck rested on the wide lip of the tub and closed his eyes, arms braced on the sides.

  Vesa hurried over and went to her knees by him, pushing her skirt up to keep it away. She dropped two of the balls into the tub and used the third to scrub on the cloth. Its light fragrance rose immediately between them enhanced by the heat of the water. Initially, Vesa kept her desire under control as she stroked the wet cloth over his dirt covered chest. She washed away what the smoke left behind, stopping to admire the red marks from their passion. Scratches and love bruises marred his neck and shoulders.

  Damp tendrils clung to Vesa’s temple as she focused on her effort to care for him, using the cloth to glide down his legs and the light dusting of slickened hair, even his toes provided a moment of fascination. When it came time to clean between his legs, Vesa couldn’t help her hum of appreciation. The thick length twitched beneath the soapy water, drawing her attention to Ramar’s face. His lids lifted to half-mast and though drowsy there was no missing the heat of his gaze. She cupped his sex and continued cleaning, all the while staring into his eyes.

  “You tempt this Warlord, Raasa.”

  Vesa grinned and dropped the cloth with a plop as she moved to crouch behind him. “We will do your hair next.”

  With nary a fuss, Ramar bent his knees and slid down further in the tub until he submerged his head. When he sat up, his hand swiped through the wet length, smoothing it back in a sleek sheet of black. Vesa stared in awe, which is how Ramar caught her when he turned behind him.

  Her neck burned in embarrassment and heat filled her face when he gave her a sly smile. Vesa leaned forward and made quick work of washing his hair, though the very softness tempted her to stray longer. When no scent of smoke lingered, she rose to her feet and reached for a towel.

  Vesa held the length open. “Stand and I will dry you.”

  Ramar huffed out a laugh but stood. Both their gazes dropped to the hardened evidence of his arousal. “Your soap did not relax me.” He arched a brow as he lifted his legs over the tub. “Or mayhap your stroking negated the impact.”

  Vesa hid another smile, drying him with efficient, brisk motions. Satisfied at last, she scooped up the wet linen and piled it to the side to remove later. With her back turned, she missed Ramar moving toward her but there was no missing the arms that came around her middle and pulled her back against a very aroused Warlord.

  He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, Vesa tipping her head to give him free access. When his tongue licked her sensitive skin, she moaned weak from the pleasure and would have fallen to the floor if not for his firm grasp. His forearms went taut, easily catching her slight weight as he muffled a chuckle. “It would seem the soap did not relax you either, Vesa.”

  Vesa spun around, loving this playful side of him. “Perhaps we can both relax
by other means.”

  Heat surged between them as he took her meaning.

  ***

  Ramar

  Ramar thought he’d prepared himself for what to expect with the female he’d wanted for so long. Instead, he found himself out of his element despite their earlier bed play. Fortunate for him, Vesa had no such doubt and tugged on his wrist to lead him to the bed. Hands caressing his shoulders once there, she pushed slightly and Ramar promptly sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “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 wh
o 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.