“It means ‘my soul,’” Tor’en barked from the far side of the wagon, jerking the reins of the squat mule they’d acquired from the villagers. “Andkou’varoughly translates to ‘my desire,’ or ‘my need.’ Both are the sincerest of endearments.”
“Silence your tongue, old man, before I do it for you,” Er’it said, snarling as he climbed to his feet to stand over Aida.
“Why must you lie to her? Pah! Afraid for her to know what it is you say even though you shall carve her heart from her chest?”
“Enough,” Aida screamed, grabbing onto Er’it’s waist, trying to drag him back down into her nest with her slight weight… or at least give him pause before he ripped Tor’en’s throat out. “Please, do not do this!”
“He’ll need you after, mage,” Ath’asho said through a low growl, driving his mare between Tor’en and Er’it despite the risk. “Do not add to his burdens.”
“Burdens! He piles them upon his own back. Let him tear me apart limb by limb, but I will not let him lie to her in addition to everything else.” Tor’en spat to the side, his lip curled as though tasting something foul and rotten. He muttered something, both too low and in their native tongue so that Aida could not understand.
Er’it shouted curses, dragging Aida with him as he started over the side of the cart to get to Tor’en.
“Er’it,” Aida yelled as her grip upon him faltered, nails scraping over the smooth wool of his heavy cloak without finding purchase. “Er’it, please, I need my mate here with me!”
That brought him up cold. Wide topaz eyes shimmering with something far more primal than anger, he rounded on Aida. Forgetting Tor’en and his infuriating chatter, Er’it launched himself back into the cart. Landing hard on Aida’s legs, he gathered her against his chest, squeezing her so tight she felt her spine crack as all the air left her lungs in a painful rush.
“I am here,kou’vera. I will not leave you,” he rumbled against her ear, a soothing murmur tinged with a pleased growl.
“Yes,” Aida whispered against his neck, arms winding around him beneath his cloak only to tug at the layers of his tunics to find precious flesh. “Yes, stay with me, my mate. Hold me, Er’it.”
He did, and without question or concern for the narrowed eyes pointed their way. Sliding in beside Aida in her plush bed, he smiled and pet at her hair, nuzzling her cheek and neck as Aida hummed and arranged the blankets more to her liking.
They rode like that until nightfall when Ath’asho brought them to a brief halt. Er’it left her just long enough to gather more food and water from the other cart before he took her deep into the woods for her to relieve herself, ever watchful as he stood at an embarrassingly close distance.
From there, he carried her back to the wagon, burrowing deep into the furs beneath a canvas tarp stretched taut over the rough wooden slats. Hidden away from the outside world, he tugged open their clothing until Aida lay sprawled half naked over him, her breasts crushed against him as he stroked her back and purred. It was a sound of utter contentment as his fingers found the edge of the bandage to tease the tight strip. He did that often, as if he wanted nothing more than to see and feel the raw and mangled wound he’d left her with. It was a tender, softer version of what she’d felt in the caves, the warm flicker of a candle left in the window instead of the devouring flames of an inferno, but it was the same. She felt whole, like she was a part of him and he a part of her. Their hearts beat as one, their breaths flowing in a hushed tide within their quiet space.
“Er’it, how… how much farther is it?” Aida asked in a faint whisper, most of her not wanting to break the dreamy spell but unable to hold back the question.
“You should rest, Aida.” He pushed her head back down, scrubbing at her scalp with the pads of his fingers to keep her calm and quiet.
“Please, tell me.”
“A day, perhaps two if the road does not hold,” he said, arms winding tighter around her as if afraid she would attempt to flee. His purr grew ever louder, drowning out the soft sounds of the soldiers and mages milling about their small camp.
Aida basked in the complacency he pummeled her with for a brief moment before she steeled her will against it. Squirming in his constricting embrace, she worked her way up his body until their faces were even. Their lips a finger span apart, she gazed deep into the warm amber of his eyes that seemed to glow with a light all their own.
“I’ve never known love,” she began, pausing to gnaw at her lower lip before placing her hand over the impression of her teeth at his shoulder. Aida gave another wriggle to bring the space within her chest that fluttered and swirled against the location she guessed his would be. She gasped when their bodies aligned, a cascade of scalding embers prickling through her senses.
“Be still,kou’vera,” he said through a warning growl, his hands traveling down her back in a rough caress to guide her legs to either side of his hips.
“I’ve never known love,” Aida repeated, taking a deep breath to firm her resolve, “but I would think it feels like this. To want and be wanted, protect and be protected. It feels like a warm fire on a cold eve—”
Er’it shushed her, claiming Aida’s lips in a ravenous kiss to further silence her. Groaning against her, he gripped her hips to grind her against his thickening length, his subtle thrusts becoming more urgent as the kiss continued.
Aida broke away with a gasp, grabbing hold of a fistful of Er’it’s braids to keep him still. Dragging in a shaky breath, she continued to voice her swirling thoughts. “A warm fire on a cold eve, the sun on my face, the thrill of sparks drifting into the night. It is all of these things, held tight within my heart. I feel you there. Your heart, your breath, your very soul. They’re tangled with my own, and they will not be pulled apart so easily.”
“Stop this, Aida. You do not wish this.”
“I do! I want you to know what it is pounding away within my chest. That it is your name my heart sounds out, and though I do not know how or why, I love—”
“Enough!”
“No,” Aida shouted, daring to grab hold of his lower lip with her teeth in a sharp nip. “You will allow me to say this before you put me on a thrice-cursed altar and kill me, Er’it.”
“What do you hope to accomplish with this, hm? To change my mind, force me to take another path? It does not matter how you or I feel. It is the way it shall be and the path preordained by the Hat’or—”
“What do your goddesses know about anything?”
