Sahar reeled back at Aleksi’s stingingaccusation as if he had struck her, but what he had said was true.She’d almost gotten him killed, again, and herself.Not that that’dbeen her intention.He knew she needed to save Lasair and to keepanyone else from being killed, especially the thousands who coulddie if a war broke out between the tribes.It wasn’t her fault theconniving vipers had been lying in wait and put up such a fight.Aleksi could’ve quickly dispatched them both had he not been tryingto wear them down and capture them.
True, he’d agreed to her plan when he couldhave refused.She’d given him fair warning the night after Munir’sinjury to stay away from her, far away from her.She’d told Aleksithen that she was bad luck, but he hadn’t heeded her.
Shooting him an angry glare, she gave him herback and strode over to the pile of gear in which the Wolf had beenhiding.Her saddle was on top of the pile and she took quick stockof her bags, pulling out her waist blade wrapped up in her belt andstrapping it on above the belt and blade Aleksi had lent her.Shetook out a tub of healing balm and set it aside.She went throughYago’s and Taweel’s bags and pulled out several days’ worth ofdried meat and cheese and dates as well as a wineskin and extratunics.She took her blade to a clean tunic and started cutting itinto strips as Aleksi dragged the Tall’s lifeless body across thecamp to the river, where he dumped it into the water and watched itfloat away.He returned to the camp and pulled his flint out,trying to ignite it, but couldn’t with only one good arm.
“Here.”Sahar stomped over and tossed awineskin at him.He caught it with his good hand, and almosttoppled from his crouch.She knelt down beside him and held out herhand for the flint.“Let me.”She snatched the flint from him.“Stubborn ass,” she muttered, getting a spark on her thirdstrike.
“Royal pain,” he grumbled, uncorking thewineskin with his teeth and taking a long, slow pull, eyeing her asshe fed the growing fire.
He offered her the skin, and she took a good,hearty swallow, then untied his belt from her waist, pulled hisknife, and shoved the blade into the fire.She stood and motionedfor him to lift his good arm and then pulled his tunic over hishead and down over his injured shoulder.
Aleksi took another long drink, capped theskin and set it aside.He watched as she pulled his knife from thefire, the blade glowing red hot.“Don’t slip and geld me.”
“If I geld you, you strutting stallion,” shesnapped, holding the fired tip over his wound, “it won’t be becausemy hand slipped.”
Aleksi blew out his breath.Sahar pushed thetip of the blade half a finger deep into his wound.His chest andarm muscles bunched and twitched, and he clenched his jaw as sweatbeaded on his nose and forehead.
She swiped the sweat from her nose and cheeksas she eyed him.She scooped three fingers full of the healing balmand gently smeared it over and around the cauterized wound, hernose wrinkling at the stench.One by one, she laid out the stripsof shredded tunic and began to wrap them snuggly around hisshoulder, tying them off with shaky fingers.
“It is not an easy thing to kill a man,” hetold her, his voice steadier than her hands as she wrapped the laststrip around his solid shoulder.
“No,” she agreed, her whole body starting toshake now.“It’s not.”She tied off the strip and lifted her gazeto his.“You’ve killed a man before?”
“I have,” he said.“In battle beside myfather.”He rolled his shoulder, testing the bandage, and grinned.“You have skills.”
“You seem surprised.”
“Nobody has ever surprised me more.”
She sat back and licked her lips with thesame wet, hot little tongue she had trailed along his inner thighsand cock this morning.A groan of pure need and pain escaped hisclenched jaw.He was injured, angry, and exhausted, but he wantedher, here, now, even though the both of them were beaten, bloody,and bruised.
He’d once thought if and when they had sex,he’d be able to go his way and she’d be nothing more than a memory,an exciting, maddening, once-in-a-lifetime memory.But the more hediscovered about her, the more she gave herself to him, the more hewanted.More than wanted—he craved her fire, her passion.Which wasa problem.
Their time together had been limited sincethe moment she refused his proposal of marriage, sooner actually.Any chance of them being together for more than a passing affairhad been decided the days of their births.Their short, sexualidyll was about to end.They’d be returning to her father’s palacesoon, and then Aleksi would return to his with enough gold piecesand broodmares to start his life as his own man and find a wife heno longer wanted.Not unless she had a thick, curly mane as blackas night that shone russet in the sunlight, eyes of green fire, andpurred like a cat at his touch.
He reached out his good hand and gentlyprodded the growing knot on her forehead, willfully ignoring thehardening in his breeches.
“I figure we’ll meet up with your rescueparty in two to three days if we start back tomorrow,” he said,reminding them that their time alone together was coming to anend.
She said nothing.
“I hope your father won’t think I’mresponsible for your injuries and kill me on sight.”
“My father would wait for an explanationfirst,” she said.Then she grinned, slow and teasing.“It isBrawn’s quick temper and even quicker blade that you should worryabout.”
Aleksi chuckled, glad to see her fiery spiritreturning.“Thank you for the warning.”He dipped his head, andthen he too grew serious.“What will you tell your father aboutus?”
“The truth.”
“All of it?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and asurge of pride welled up in him.“He’ll understand.”
“Will he?”In Aleksi’s experience, fathers,and especially kings, were not as understanding of such thingswhere their daughters were concerned.
“You’ve heard the tale of the Lion and theSwan.”She quirked her brow.“My father and my mother are known farand wide for their story of forbidden passion.”
“Which ended in a respectable marriage.”
