Return to Shanhasson (23 page)

He sprawled on his back, his eyes heavy,
sultry, his lips curled in the satisfied smile of a cat which had just enjoyed
an entire bowl of cream. “
Na’lanna Qwen
,
may we ask for things when you choose to love us?”

She propped herself up, her elbow on
Dharman’s chest. “Of course.”

Dharman arched a brow at her as though
she might have lost her mind. Who knew what Sal would request? Boneless and
well-pleased with two incredible warriors determined to give her any and
everything she wanted, it was a very good time for them to ask.

“Good.” Sal sighed, closing his eyes
with a smile. “Then I want to lick you while Dharman takes you from behind.”

Lady above, Rhaekhar had once threatened
to invite Gregar to that very same thing but they’d never gotten around to it.
She loved the Shadowed Blood without question, but Sal’s wicked mouth and
tongue…

She had to clear her throat. “I think we
could arrange that.”

“
Na’lanna
,”
Dharman whispered, drawing her gaze to him. His eyes were dark with need, his
nostrils flaring, his lips curled with the same smug arrogance that Rhaekhar
had often worn when he’d known he had loved her well and thoroughly indeed,
with the challenge that he had only just begun. “Then I have a request.”

Silently, she nodded.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, down her
neck, to the base of her shoulder. That old mark pulsed faintly at the memory
of his teeth. “I want to give you a mark of my own.”

Sitting up, she unconsciously curled her
hand over the scarred bite. It suddenly dawned on her that another warrior had
touched and given her pleasure through that mark. Rhaekhar would never touch it
again, unless she was finally able to enter the Tenth Camp. Gregar had
certainly never been able to give her a mark, for the lure of her blood drew
him to Shadow and murder.

No wonder Dharman had been so hesitant
to touch it, and why he would make such a request. He wanted to put his own
mark of possession on her body, a mark that had never been touched by another.

Her reaction wounded him—some of the
light died in his eyes.

She dropped her gaze but kept her hand
cradled against her neck. “Where?”

She felt his chest stop, his breath
lodged in his throat. Deliberately, she thought about the pleasure he and Sal
had given her; the way it’d felt when Rhaekhar had bitten her so deep, so hard,
tasting her blood and leaving his mark in her body; how she felt like her bones
melted away when one of the warriors she loved touched it.

Dharman sucked in his breath so hard he
coughed, cleared his throat, and roughly said, “Anywhere.”

“Let’s see…” She stared off to the side,
pretending to be lost in thought. His hands closed over her thighs, his fingers
slowly tightening until she looked back into his face. She couldn’t help but
smile. “How about one over my heart to match yours?”

“Are you sure?” His voice so solemn and
careful broke her heart all over again, that he might feel she valued him less,
or that she’d deny him something she’d never even think to have refused from
Rhaekhar. “If you don’t want any other mark, I understand.”

“I always regretted that Gregar couldn’t
mark me as I’d marked him.” Just the memory of his rounded ass in her mouth
sent a rush of heat through her. Dharman rumbled with appreciation. “It’s only
appropriate that you mark me, and you too, Sal if you want. I’m certainly going
to mark you both again if you’ll let me.”

Sal’s eyes glowed. He crawled closer and
plopped on his stomach, staring up at her through his hair. “Anywhere I want?”

She rolled her eyes but she knew he felt
the unfurling desire spreading through her body at the thought. “Anywhere that
won’t…er…maim you.”

He pouted, which startled her enough she
let out a strangled laugh.

Dharman sat up, scooting her over to the
side of the bed. He stood with her in his arms and headed for the bath. “Walk
in front of us, Sal. I think she’ll figure out where she wants to mark you.”

Sal sauntered past, shaking his head
slightly so his hair swished down his back. He paused, looking back over his
shoulder with a decidedly lecherous grin on his young face reminiscent of the
laughing Shadowed Blood. “Alea always did say I could give Gregar a hard gallop
for his
rahke
.”

Holding her breath, Shannari let the
waterfall of his hair draw her eyes down his sculpted shoulders and back to his
bare ass. He didn’t have dimples on each cheek like the Shadowed Blood—his were
higher near the base of his spine, two dished indentations begging for her
tongue—nor the same heavily muscled thighs, but Sal definitely possessed a
tempting ass of rounded, firm muscle, framed by all that glorious heavy hair.

She dragged her gaze up back to his and
hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open. She suspected that she needed to wipe her
chin.

He winked. “You haven’t gotten a good look
at my front, either, although Dharman takes that
rahke
.”

“
Na’lanna
.”
Dharman laughed softly. “Breathe.”

CHAPTER

TWELVE

WHAT
HAD STARTED AS A DISCREET GATHERING OF TENTS HAD BECOME A TEEMING KELDARI CITY.
Since the tribes despised each other only slightly less than the
munakuri
beyond the desert, too many had
died Dancing the Blades to count. At this rate, Agni wouldn’t have to
exterminate the tribes to purge them of their
devalki
. Only a remnant would survive their daily squabbles.

Each night in the ruins of Nurzhan, the
tals
met by the fire to conspire how to
eliminate each other, while Mykal dreamed of rose-flavored blood. As news
spread across the sands, two new
tals
had joined them: Sabri
tal
’Asp and
Husam
tal
’Viper. With Cobra putting
forward Razul’s
rav
, Tariq, to lead
them to the Green Lands, all the great tribes of the Keldari were represented.

Such a feat had never been achieved
since Agni first blasted the land with Fire and Somma dried the Wells and
wadis
as punishment.

As
tal
of the tribe named for their neverending hope for forgiveness, Gana
tal’Tellan
thought he, of course, should
command the envoy to capture the White Queen. For now, Mykal was willing to let
him think so. He even let Gana believe his intention was to drag her screaming
and kicking all the way to Agni’s Rock and toss her within.

Although Gana and Nijar were his more
closely than the others, he trusted them as much as a feral dragon in rut. They
had seen him accomplish the impossible. Legends were always told of how love’s
sacrifice had been able to save a
dra’gwar
once the dragon was loosed, but those tales were few and far between.
Certainly, no one could whisper of a warrior, alone, who had transformed back
successfully once the beast had torn him apart.

They whispered this tale with awe and
hope, watching him secretly as he walked by, always with a speculative gleam in
their eyes. Keldar was a hard land, a hard life, and hope was not something
they understood after centuries of punishment. Until they saw his dragon recede
with their own eyes, they would not believe, not fully.

So they pushed him. They argued,
insulted, and challenged him at every opportunity. Fortunately, Mykal
tal
’Mamba was not a man easily stirred
to great passion, whether anger or other, without a complex plan of his
choosing driving his actions.

Smiling, he tucked each insult away to
be paid in full later, at a time of his choosing.

What they didn’t know was how very
terrified he was of that slumbering dragon inside him. How much he loathed it.
The thought of those slithering scales and scrambling claws made a cold sweat
trickle down his spine at highest, scorching noon.

He didn’t fear the killing; killing had
been a way of life for him longer than he could remember, more natural than
breathing. No, it was the hunger. The dragon wanted to kill, kill, kill, and
eat, eat, eat its way to Shanhasson, all the way to the High Queen of the Green
Lands.

However, he didn’t think the dragon
wanted to
eat
her, not at all. But it
wanted her, and only she would do. On that much, he and the beast were in full
agreement.

The
tals
’
right and left hand warriors waited just beyond the firelight, hoping to be
called for some important task or overhear details of their mission. A scuffle
among them drew Mykal’s attention.

Asad, his own
rav
, brought a very familiar
munakur
through the ranks of frustrated, bored warriors. Curses and insults muttered in
Keldari followed his passage toward the
tals
.
The trader held a scroll in his hand. If Mykal’s eyes didn’t betray him, the
scroll bore the Great Seal of rampant lions wreathed in roses.

Roses.
He sucked in a deep breath. Even from a dozen paces away, he swore he could
smell
her
on that parchment.

Gana jerked his chin at his
rav
, and a warrior stood and moved to
intercept the trader. Hissing, Mykal flung back his
taamid
to make his weapons easily assessable, silently flowed
behind the unsuspecting warrior, and swung his right arm in an arc.

He was as stunned as everyone else when
the
rav’s
head rolled across the
sand. Staring down at the vicious claws, he rotated his hand, watching the
moonlight flicker across the silver razors. Shaken, he tried to remember what
he’d done to make the claws come out. How had only part of the dragon
manifested? How did he control it?

Raising his hand high above his head, he
turned in a circle, letting the warriors see the evidence of his
transformation. He might as well use the opportunity to bring them farther
under his control, as long as he could successfully mask his own unease. By the
awe on his own
rav’s
face, no one
suspected his stomach boiled with fluid as noxious as the Venom Lake.

Asad’s voice shook as badly as his hand
offering the scroll. “
Tal.
”

As though dragon claws on his human hand
were perfectly normal, he used his index blade to crack the wax seal. Carefully
he unfurled the parchment, his heart pounding. The dragon crouched, wings
cocked, ready to burst free and fly hard and fast toward Shanhasson.

He held the precious scroll to his face
and breathed deeply.

Iyeh,
her hands had touched here and here, and…there,
he touched his tongue to the parchment,
a
hint of salt.
The ink had blurred, smearing her name slightly. A tear, how
appropriate, how fitting. The dragon within shuddered, curled up its wings, and
slept to dream of a sweet, clear lake the likes of which this blasted land had
never known, sprinkled with drops of blood.

He knew she was the Rose of Shanhasson,
Last Daughter, High Queen of the Green Lands, but more importantly, she was the
White Dragon to break Agni’s fiery punishment.

Or loose Yama’s Shadow on all the world.

Closing his eyes, Mykal thrust his
taloned hand into the air and clutched the parchment to his heart. He swore he
could feel the dance of moonlight on his flesh, cool rainbows and pearly light,
soft and gentle in a way the sun’s fire failed.

Please
,
he prayed, although he knew not who might listen, let alone answer.

His fingers burned, skin splitting and
seared by dragon fire. He fisted his hand and raised his voice. “Agni burns the
world by sending us to the
munakuri
lands. On the morrow, we ride to Shanhasson!”

Asad stared at him, eyes dark and
shining while he tugged on his coiled hair. “
Iyeh
, let us ride!”

“We’ll destroy them!” Gana shouted,
trying to draw some of the
tals
back
to his side. “We’ll burn the world! Nothing will keep us from taking what we
want!”

Mykal threw his head back and let his
dragon rage through his throat on a roar that made the horses scream in terror
and the warriors before him fall to their knees. “The only thing we take from
Shanhasson is their Rose.”

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

SHE
WAS SURPRISED TO FIND DHARMAN BESIDE HER IN THE DREAM, AND EVEN MORE SHOCKED
THAT HE WAS ASLEEP. Curled against his chest, his heart strong and steady
against her ear, she was tempted to wake him up. Yet her Blood had worked
extremely hard. Even here, her muscles ached, reminding her of the incredible
long hours she’d spent with two Blood dedicated to exploring every inch of her
body.

She’d never actually seen a Blood sleep
before. Pressing a kiss on his cheek, she carefully dislodged his limbs from
hers and slipped to the edge of the bed. She’d come here for a reason; best she
find out why instead of snuggling with him.

As soon as she stood, the bed melted
away to sparkling sands gleaming beneath the waning moon. The large lake she’d
swum in last time was merely a crater in the earth, baked and cracked in the
heat.
He
was here, somewhere. Could
he be with the
tals
who were coming
to Shanhasson? Perhaps she could find him and spy on him like Dharman had done.