Desire's Sirocco (25 page)

Manu stepped in front of his master as the Ordonese warrioress drew nigh. He put a hand to the sword at his side.

“Tell your man to step aside, Your Grace,” Neith said in an authoritative voice. She stopped her mount five feet away and bowed her head in greeting. “I am no menace to you.”

“Every Ordonese taller than a grasshopper is a menace,” Hagan quipped.

“Only to our enemies,” Neith responded and vaulted expertly from the saddle. She tossed her reins toward a man she reasoned to be a servant and strode forward, drawing off her black leather riding gloves as she walked.

“Am I not your enemy?” the Grand Master inquired, looking up at the gorgeous woman.

“Perhaps,” Neith replied. “And perhaps not.” She pulled aside the long leather duster she wore and drew out the Book. “This will let me know.”

Glancing at the aged leather, Hagan felt nauseous for he suspected what bound the tome. “What is that?” he asked.

Neith squatted down in front of him. “Your salvation, Beloved,” she said, putting out a hand.

Hagan took the woman’s hand and felt a tremor of sexual excitement rippled through him. Even though Jameela was an expert at the craft Dagan had taught her, her touch did not do to Hagan what this woman’s did.

“I don’t understand,” the Grand Master said, bringing Neith’s hand to his lips.

Neith smiled for her body was trembling at this man’s touch. Lord Dagan—as handsome a man as she had ever seen—could not hold a candle to the warrior who held her hand. His fingers burned her flesh with a delightful fire that set her loins ablaze. The Book clutched in her free hand undulated much as her womb had quickened at the Grand Master’s touch. She knew this man was the one intended for her.

“The woman with whom Lord Dagan rode away,” Neith said. “She is your Lady-wife?”

Hagan nodded, wincing at the thought. The woman who squatted before him would make a much better helpmate than Jameela.

“And he cares for her?”

“Dagan?” the Grand Master inquired. “Aye, he loves her deeply.”

Neith’s pride prickled her but she shrugged away the annoyance. “And she him?”

“With all her heart,” Dagan’s twin acknowledged. “She is ready to share a cell with him.”

Rolling her eyes, Neith got to her feet. “She has yet to see him Transition,” she snorted.

Hagan didn’t like the sound of that, but so lovely was the woman staring down at him he pushed the unease aside. “You will also need a cell, milady?”

“Aye, but not for another fortnight,” Neith responded. She cocked a brow. “That will give us plenty of time to…” Her red lips stretched into a taunting smile. “Get to know one another,” she finished.

A prickling shudder traveled through the Grand Master’s body and his staff stiffened. Quickly covering that offending member, he looked up at the woman and shrugged. “He has a mind of his own, I fear.”

Neith threw her head back and laughed then shouldered Manu out of the way. She gripped the handles of the rolling chair and began pushing it toward the coach that waited nearby.

“It took all Manu’s strength to get me over here,” Hagan said, looking behind him.

“Well, my strength is that of ten of your warriors,” Neith said. She stopped pushing the chair and bent down so her lips were against the Grand Master’s ear. “Especially in bed,” she whispered for him alone.

* * * * *

Dagan maneuvered his mount into the thickest portion of the forest beyond Lalssu Keep. He had to push away a few low-hanging bushes to protect he and his lady but the view that greeted them was worth every minor scrap of branch.

“By the Prophet!” Jameela gasped as he halted the horse, swung a long leg over the mount’s head and slid to the ground. She barely noticed her lover holding his arms out to her.

The forest had ended in a line of windswept pines, gnarled and twisted from the sea gusts that had pressed against them for centuries. Framing a spectacular view of the ocean, the pines gave off a pleasing scent and their warped branches rubbed together in a soothing sound.

“I come here a lot,” Dagan said as Jameela put her hands on his shoulders and he swung her down from the stallion’s back.

“I can see why,” she whispered.

“I was afraid Hagan would not allow you to leave the keep,” he said, crooking his index finger under her chin to lift her face. “It took all my persuasion to make him listen to you.”

Surprise elevating her brows, Jameela asked if he could commune with his twin as he communed with her. “If you can, he did not tell me.”

“I have always been able to influence him when it mattered,” Dagan replied. “Sometimes, my anger gets the better of me and the persuasion doesn’t work.” He shrugged. “Most times, he listens though he is unaware that he does.”

She put a hand up to his face and pushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

“You had reason,” he said, then took her hand in his and brought it to his chest. “Feel my heart?”

She nodded, splaying her fingers against his shirt. There was a steady, strong beat beneath the cambric.

“I am alive, Jameela, and that is all we ever need remember about the days passed.”

Jameela frowned and when he asked what concerned her, she told him she feared the woman he had brought back with him.

“There is no need to let her cross your mind. She has what she came for even if it was something she did not know existed until a short while ago,” he said.

“She won’t try to come between us?” Jameela asked, her worry turning her green eyes dark.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She will have someone else to occupy her time and something tells me he will give her a run for her money.” He looked out across the heaving waters of the ocean he would never again be able to sail upon. “But at least he will be able to run now.”

Jameela frowned. “You speak of your brother? How can he run, milord?”

“I have spoken enough of everything save us,” Dagan said and flexed his knees. He lifted Jameela in his arms, swung her around, and turned toward a stand of pines under which a soft, thick bed of fragrant pine needles lay.

Eager to have his hand upon her again, his lips drawing upon her lips and suckling her nether lips, Jameela hugged his neck, giggling like a schoolgirl when he dropped her lightly on the bed of pine needles and flopped down beside her.

“I think I can do more than suckle your sweet juices,” he said, flinging a long leg over hers.

“You can…” she began but his mouth descended upon hers and she lost herself to the dueling of their tongues and the firm pressure of his hands upon her breast. When he withdrew his lips, she let out a shaky breath.

“Have you missed me, wench?” Dagan purred, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck and flick the tip of his tongue into the spiral of her ear.

“By the Prophetess, I did,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“That’s good to know.”

Jameela’s head fell to one side as he tugged at the bodice of her gown, exposing her breast. Chill air blew over her flesh but the hot moistness drawing at her nipple as he anchored his mouth to her breast brought a feverish blush to her upper chest. She tightened the hold she had on his dark curls and pressed his face more firmly against her. His low chuckle made her smile.

Dagan ran his hand down his lady’s side and slowly began gathering the folds of her skirt upward. Beneath his rough, calloused palm, he could feel the nubs of her goose bumps spreading across her thigh. Slipping his fingers into the sweetness at the juncture of her thighs, he gave silent thanks to the Conclave for outlawing underwear on females who resided at the Keep.

“Did you miss me?” Jameela whispered.

“Not one moment passed that I did not think of you,” he vowed.

“Even while you were in the arms of that witch?”

Dagan raised his head and looked up at her. “She took what should by rights have gone to you but because of her, I am a true man. She means nothing to me nor will she ever.”

“She made you service her,” Jameela accused.

“She made me take my vengeance out on her,” he corrected. “There is a difference.”

“I don’t…” she began but stopped as his fingers slipped deftly inside the oozing pocket of her womanhood. She moaned, arching her hips toward his questing hand.

“I will say one thing more about Neith and we will never discuss my time with her ever again,” he said as he began stroking her clitoris. “Hers was a gift for which I will be eternally grateful but it is you who will reap the rewards of it, not her.”

Jameela opened her mouth to ask him to explain his enigmatic words but never got the chance for he withdrew his hand, fumbled at her thigh—his hard hand pressed against her thigh. He rose up, sweeping aside her knees as he positioned himself between her legs. She sighed when she felt what she thought was his thumb poking at her exposed opening but when his hard cock thrust inside her, her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropped open and she stared down into his laughing eyes.

“Surprise,” Dagan said in a singsong.

Before Jameela could begin asking the questions crowding her mind, her lover began driving inside her with such delightful force, such wondrous pressure and throbbing heat, she drew her legs up and wrapped them around his hips, gathering him to her in an effort to meld their bodies into one glorious entity.

His deep, erotic stabs into her welcoming cunt was an exquisite plundering that had her panting as overwhelming lust invaded her lower body. She arched up to meet his every thrust, needing him as deep inside her as his shaft could forge. Honey dripped from her nether lips, oiling his forceful passage. Her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt; her heels dug into his lower back.

Dagan’s hips moved like pistons as he drove into his lady. His hands clutched her buttocks, lifting her, gaining the access they both craved. He could feel the building pressure inside his cock and knew he was but a stroke or two away from gaining the greatest pleasure he had ever known. He was gasping for breath, his heart thundering in his chest, the blood pounding in his ears but his only thought was pleasuring Jameela. He did not want to spray his life-juices inside her until he knew she was about to experience the same lustful release he felt striving to be unleashed.

“Harder!” Jameela hissed. “Ram me harder, Dagan!” Her own climax was rapidly approaching. She could feel the itch that flooded her lower belly and made her squirm all the harder against her lover.

His lady could not have said anything more erotic and Dagan could no longer hold at bay the rushing torrent that spilled into the hot, velvety vessel beyond. The force of his ejaculation elicited a yell of possessiveness and release.

Jameela screamed as she climaxed. So forceful was the penetration of that welcoming shaft, so potent the shot of Dagan’s sperm, she knew beyond all doubt her womb would welcome those hot life-juices and cultivate within a child of their union.

With his newfound powers that the parasite inside him granted, Dagan knew it, as well.

Collapsing atop his woman, the Master Trainer—who from that day forward would train no more women—closed his eyes and surrendered to the fate he had first cursed. Without the Transference of the being nestled within him, he would never have been able to sire a child by this woman he loved more than life itself.

Lying quietly, their bodies still trembling from the strength of their lovemaking, the couple strove to quiet their heaving breaths and still the rapid thunder of their hearts. Threading his fingers with hers, Dagan lifted Jameela’s hand to his lips then placed it on his chest as he rolled to his side, content for the first time in his thirty-five years.

“Did what was done to you cause this?” Jameela asked quietly.

“Aye,” he replied and turned his head to gaze into her eyes. He was hurt to see worry on her lovely face. “I will never harm you, milady.”

“There will be changes,” she whispered. Tears formed in her eyes. “To you.”

Dagan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “At first, I thought this was a hideous thing that had been done to me but now…”

“Now?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled.

He bent over her to kiss away the frown. “Now, I can see at least one advantage to having a parasite inside me which can heal my every wound.” He shrugged. “Even as old a wound as the one I suffered as a boy.”

At the mention of the word, Jameela’s fear overtook her worry. “There is a disease inside you?”

The beastess curled around his kidney shifted, bringing a moment’s passing pain. It was a warning to him that the parasite had not appreciated being called such.

Dagan moved uneasily for the pain was more annoyance than misery. He explained to his lady what the thing inside him was and that it would be with him for the remainder of his life. He told her that should the revenant worm—as Neith had called it—die, he would follow quickly.

“But you have nothing to fear, milady,” he said. “I intend to live a long, sensuous life with you at my side.”

Jameela wiped away her tears and forced a tremulous smile to her lips. “I like the sound of that, Dagan.”

Dagan sighed contentedly then lay down again, bringing Jameela into the circle of his arms. He nestled her head against his shoulder and stroked her long hair. “Hagan is about to lie with her,” he said.