Dark Passion

DARK PASSION

“Lady of Water and Earth,” Rahim said in a tone of barely leashed hunger, “I bring you the kiss of intent.” Bending forward, he pressed his lips to Alyssa’s forehead, his careful restraint fueling her need for more contact. With their hands still pressed together, the heat of his body mingled with hers, swirling around them as they slowly synchronized their breathing. Each time she inhaled, his breath became a part of her. Each time she exhaled, she shared a portion of herself with him. At each in-and-out of air, the spell of earth and wind power gathered and grew, filling all the spaces between and around them. Slowly, Rahim’s lips grew closer to hers, and she raised her open mouth, lifting it to meet his. The kiss came with a rush of heat and energy, as if all the buds of spring exploded into the joy of summer. His lips were fiery and demanding. She matched that fierce intensity with a kiss full of the rich potency of earth and water. Together, they drank the power from each other’s mouth—giving, receiving, and blending the elements of earth, air, fire, and water. Rahim’s warm hands touched her body, slipped the camisole away and bared her breasts to the moonlight. “Beautiful,” he groaned. Their eyes met. The sincerity in his gaze fired her sensual hunger to greater heights, burning away any lingering inhibitions…

ALSO BY APRIL REID Desert Passion

DARK PASSION BY APRIL REID

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

DARK PASSION AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Barbara Clark ISBN 1-59279-309-6 Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Thank You to Caitlyn Willows for her friendship and support

DARK PASSION

PROLOGUE

The slavers struck without warning. Some rose out of the sparkling waters of Conch Bay. Others, with a pack of rapto-dragosaurs at their sides, raced from where they’d hidden in the orangefruit grove. Women clutched their babies or little ones, frantic to protect them from the cruel men and slashing fangs of the leaping raptos. Young boys and girls, who’d been digging in the sun-warmed, pink sand for oysterclams, froze or ran screaming toward their mothers. Small water-dragosaurs, known as dabblers, snapped at the slavers, biting and clawing the men and raptos who threatened their humans. Dropping the basketful of orangefruit she’d collected for the evening feast, Alyssa Palanui, daughter of King Tristan, intercepted her preteen niece and the two boys nearest her. Quickly she drew them behind a roseberry bush. “Lani, Damon, Alan, run to Fernhaven. Warn them, and then stay there.” While precious moments ticked away, measured by shrieks of 1

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terror, Alyssa removed her lineage medallion and passed it to Lani. “Give this to their Keeper of the Flame. Now, go.” As the trio raced away, she picked up a long branch and ran toward the nearest woman fighting off an attacker. Alyssa’s heart fluttered in her throat with fear. All the men of Tamary and their neighboring village had left earlier to fish in the deep waters far to the south. No one would come to their rescue.

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CHAPTER 1

Many days later, Alyssa stood defiantly on the auction platform. The coarse slave robe they’d forced her to wear, instead of her softer garments, gave some protection from the fierce rays of the sun. Nothing could stop the dry heat that sucked the moisture out of everything. As if to mock her, cold, pure water flowed in hidden channels miles below her feet—life-giving liquid her special gift detected. Heavy chains fastened to her iron handcuffs were attached to the long fetters linking all the slaves on the platform. The skin on her wrists had been rubbed raw from the friction of metal. Her shoulders and arms ached with the weight of the bonds. At least they’d removed her leg irons before herding her onto the platform. Two brilliant red and brown rapto-dragosaurs, each with its handler, crouched at both ends, ready to prevent escape. Alyssa’s upper leg throbbed from two rows of puncture wounds where, three nights earlier, a sentry’s rapto had pulled her to the ground when she’d stumbled while carrying water from a stream near the camp. 3

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Men crowded close to the rough stage, reaching toward her and the other women captives on display. As Princess of Oceanus, she’d been protected by her people’s respect for her father, King Tristan. In this place, she was a lowly slave subject to the cruel whims of anyone with the dirhems for her purchase. Alyssa heard the guarding raptos whip their scaly tails across the wood while they hissed and growled in warning. The chief slaver, Scarface, beat back the men, roaring, “Get yer nose-pickin’ hands off the merchandise. You want to touch? Pay, first.” Some shuffled back with a curse. Others shouted insults, but kept a wary eye on the slaver’s club. Alyssa stared over their heads, ignoring their crude comments. After days of being slapped, shoved, lashed, and forced to march in the heat of the desert, this auction was just one more horror to survive. And survive, she would—her sole purpose was to escape—to return to her land and her people. At the recollection of the attack on Tamary and its women and children, despair welled up choking her. Had Lani and the boys reached Fernhaven safely? Had any others slipped away from the slavers? Her heart squeezed at the memory of those last chaotic moments as she’d fought with the branch until it broke. Then she’d continued to attack with her fingernails, feet, and teeth until someone had clubbed her into unconsciousness. She shook off the memories before they could weaken her resolve. Beside her, Carmen, barely into womanhood, was pulled out of the line and shoved to the front of the platform. Alyssa, helpless to do anything for the young high-plains woman, looked out across the people—farmers in homespun clothes, fierce looking jungle tribesmen wearing animal skins and feathers, and other slave traders, each with his trademark whip. While Scarface extolled the advantages and delights of possessing a female slave, Alyssa yearned for the freedom to go anywhere she 4

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chose, like the band of wandering traders across the square. There, men, women, and children wearing clothing woven and dyed in bright colors and ornamented with rich embroidery, had tethered their horse-drawn house wagons in a section away from the slave market. After sweeping the paving blocks around their space, they’d spread bright rugs and heaped them with merchandise. The industrious group had made their part of the ancient square clean and inviting to potential customers. Closer to where she stood, horse and cattle dung baked in the sun. The odors of rotten food and the sharp sweat of unbathed men, with its undertone of sexual arousal, battered at her senses. She’d grown up at the edge of the Great Ocean, had played on its surface, dove into its cool, welcoming depths, and had tasted the sweet winds born in distant places on the planet, Traber. Places she’d yearned to see—but not in chains. My dream has become a waking nightmare, she thought bleakly. Like Carmen, she was a prisoner of ruthless men and soon to be sold into slavery. To distract herself from the helpless anger she felt as the bids for Carmen rose, Alyssa once more looked out across the crowd to the eastern gate. Its massive, brassbound, wooden plank doors stood open, a silent promise of freedom. At that moment, a desert rider, all in black, his face, except for his eyes, hidden by a lisam rode past those doors and across the square. His mount’s coat, black as precious mother-of-the-deep shell, shimmered in the sun. Halting near one of the traders, he dismounted with fluid ease and gestured to an older boy to hold the reins, passing a coin to him that brought a wide smile. He strolled past the displays, quickly choosing dried fruits, spices, and tea. His every movement showed a quiet confidence. After securing his purchases in woven saddle bags draped on both 5

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sides of the unusual padded flat saddle, he looked in the direction of the slave market. Alyssa’s heart skipped. She heard the bidding on Carmen continue, but her attention was on the fascinating man. Would he come to Carmen’s rescue—or hers? Leaving his stallion, the dark rider crossed the short distance, his black cloak swirling around his boots. “Oh, please…” she breathed, almost afraid to express her wish for fear the gods would snatch it away at the last moment. As he drew closer to the people clustered in front of the platform, those nearest to him moved aside. Alyssa watched his progress, confused by a sense of recognition. She had never seen the man in black clothing, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she knew him in some elemental way. Reaching the foot of the slavers’ block, he appeared to study each woman on display. As his gaze lingered on her, an odd heat raced through her blood. Her nipples tingled. She wanted to both turn away and move toward him. This close, she could see his eyes were silver, as rich as the precious artifacts left by colonists from Earth three hundred years earlier. The black lisam concealed his mouth and lower face, but nothing could hide his physical strength and air of command—a dangerous combination. Would he use that strength to subdue a woman? The bidding for Carmen had started out slowly, now it went quickly. The maiden’s body trembled. She looked in blank despair from one man to another as the amount climbed to ten thousand dirhems and stayed. When no more bids were made, Scarface slapped one grimy fist into his palm. “Sold to Gorco, owner of the Dirty Angel.” As the winner came to hand a bag of coins to the slaver and claim his newest property, Scarface winked. “I’ll be by later to test the sweet bitch’s wares.” 6

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“You want to taste? Pay first. I don’t run the best damned pussy palace in town by givin’ away free samples.” Scarface guffawed. “The best, my ass. Try the most fuckin’ crib house.” While he traded good-natured insults with Gorco, the slaver unlocked Carmen’s handcuffs, tied her wrists together with coarse rope, and thrust her toward her new owner. Gorco gripped her upper arm, his fingers digging into her tanned flesh, and she whimpered. “Shut up, bitch.” He staggered her with a backhand to the cheek. “You’re mine. You’ll do anything I say.” Ripping open the front of her ragged garment, he pinched one nipple then gave it a vicious twist. She went white with pain while some onlookers laughed and made crude suggestions. Gorco laughed. “First lesson. Your body is mine to do whatever I want to it.” He passed her to one of his men. “Take her to the Dirty Angel. Tonight she’ll learn her new place on her knees or back, one customer at a time—if she’s lucky.” Dismayed by Carmen’s fate, Alyssa watched the high-plains maiden stumble off to a sickening future. Then Scarface unfastened her from the long chain linking all the slaves together, gripped her upper arm, and placed her closer to the front where potential owners could more easily look her over. The bidding began, and her speculations about the dark rider fled. One squinty eyed man drew his ragged cloak around his body, huddling into it in spite of the heat. He shouted, “Fifty dirhems.” Scarface laughed. “Johnny Twobones, the day you get a prize bitch like this for your insulting bid is the day I drown in my own shit.” Another man—this one tall and skinny—said, “Prove she’s worth more than fifty dirhems. Show us the merchandise.” 7

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“You wanna look—you pay,” Scarface said dismissively. Gorco had been staring at her through narrow eyes. Waves of sick lust rolled toward her. He made a lazy gesture indicating her shapeless garment. “How do we know she’s not deformed or scarred? Did you beat her? Brand her with your private mark, and then change your mind?” “Buy her and find out for yourself.” Scarface spat on the ground to one side of the platform. “She’s healthy and fights like a demon. John Threetoes has the scars on his face to prove it.” Gorco caressed the whip hooked to his belt, fingering the cluster of metal-studded cords. “A fighter? Excellent. I have a special room for bitches like her, and customers hungry to tame her… many times a night.” *

*

*

Disgusted by the lecherous men around him, Rahim Yasir Al Sayyed, Sultan of Aradi, studied the defiant woman being offered for sale. She was a stranger to him, but for three nights, her image had haunted his dreams. Her hair, the red gold of the sky at sunset, rippled down her back. The sapphire blue of her eyes reminded him of the deep, clear pool in his valley. And her mouth, now set in lines of distress, held the promise of sizzling, sensual kisses. For a moment, a hot swirl of wind plastered her coarse slave robe to her supple, feminine shape, revealing the lush curves of high, firm breasts. Would her areolas be a warm apricot or the tender pink of roseberries? At the thought of feasting on them, his qadib lahm, his rod of flesh, swelled. By the Great Vatsaya, god of pleasure, he wanted her. Rahim heard the one named Gorco bid twelve thousand dirhems. Another voice called, “Fourteen thousand.” Coolly, Rahim said, “Fifty thousand dirhems.” 8

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Scarface’s eyes grew wide. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged. “Take my offer before I withdraw it,” Rahim said, jingling a bag of coins. Gorco gripped the handle of his dagger. “She’s mine. We had an agree—” Furiously, the slaver turned on him. “You suggested. I did not strike the deal. The warrior has offered four times over what you would give.” Hastily, he unlocked the woman’s shackles. “Sir, may I have your name for the bill of sale?” “Write Rahim Yasir,” he said, prompted by an inner caution to omit his title and the rest of his name. He’d watched the whorehouse owner shoot one furious look at him then march away angrily. That one is like a desert jackal. He’ll send men to attack when he thinks it’s safe, Rahim thought. While the slaver laboriously penned a name on the fresh parchment, Rahim whistled for Black Thunder. Obeying his master, the great stallion jerked the reins from the boy holding them and held his head high so he wouldn’t step on them. The horse made his way through the crowd, shoving them aside like a wolf scattering a flock of woolies. Collecting the reins, Rahim vaulted onto Thunder’s back and settled on the thick pad. Scarface passed the scroll to him and began to bind the woman’s wrists. “Do not tie her.” Rahim quickly scanned the document then counted coins into a separate pouch. “Such bonds are not necessary.” From his position of dominance, he sent his gaze across the men once more crowding close to the platform, lingering on the ones he judged to be a potential threat. Deliberately, he pushed back the folds of his burnoose to show his sword in its well-used sheath. “According 9

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to your laws, I have purchased this woman, Alyssa Maylea Palanui, of the village, Tamary.” He displayed the bill of sale. “I keep what is mine.” After tucking the parchment safely under his sash, Rahim leaned from the saddle, wrapped one arm around the woman and swept her up onto the saddle in front of him. He’d seen the calculating expression in the eyes of Gorco, the man bidding against him. Every instinct had gone on higher alert. He directed Thunder toward the nearest gateway. Once out of town, he could lose anyone following him and his new acquisition. A slave, he mused, aware of the sensual curves of the woman seated in front of him. Seeing her from a distance had sent the blood rushing to his groin. Now, with his arm circling her slender body just under her small, firm breasts, his sex throbbed. By the thirteen devils of Ubar, this was the wrong time and place to be distracted. Slavery went against his people’s values. Once he had the woman out of danger, he should release her in spite of the fire she unknowingly aroused in his body. Where would she go? She had the appearance of people from the nation of a thousand islands, five days of hard travel from here, or two days from his home in Aradi. When the time came, he’d escort her to her home. One pace beyond an arrow’s flight from the walls, he turned Thunder into a small grove of purple-leafed, blossoming shagar trees. He reached a clearing where water bubbled up from a rocky spring, splashed into a natural pool, spilled across a stone lip into a drinking basin for livestock, then trickled away to be swallowed by the thirsty land. His prize mare, Golden Star, raised a dripping muzzle from the basin to greet him with a nicker. Two of his palace guards, Numair and Yahiya, groomed their horses as they waited for him. Their swords lay close at hand and each man’s dagger was tucked under his belt. 10

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To an idle observer, they looked like travelers refreshing their horses and themselves before entering town. He knew their sturdy, somewhat worn desert clothes disguised skilled, deadly warriors who’d stood with him in battle. Men with absolute loyalty to him and their country, Aradi. At his approach, they straightened to attention. Each bowed his head respectfully to him then studied the slave woman with obvious interest. Numair, chief commander of his personal guards, said, “Sidi, did you learn of your cousin’s location or have you changed plans?” Dismounting from Thunder, Rahim said, “Chief Krisova of the traders gave me a lead to Jahar’s destination. That information will have to wait. Ready yourselves for a rescue mission.” While his men quickly tightened saddle straps in preparation to leave, he gripped the woman, Alyssa, by the waist and lifted her down. The warmth of her skin under the coarse fabric stirred his blood. She braced her hands on his shoulders, their touch eroding his control. For a few heated moments, her small, firm breasts pressed against his chest and the blood of warrior ancestors urged him to take her there, on the grass strewn with golden blooms, in the shade of the sacred shagar trees. His breath caught in his throat. Silently he battled for control. They were face to face. Something intense flared between them. Her blue eyes darkened with hungry shadows, and her tight, beaded nipples gave evidence of her own arousal. Numair cleared his throat. “Pardon, Sidi, my master. We are ready.” Ready? So am I. He couldn’t stop the thought. Silently cursing his own foolishness, Rahim set the woman on her feet and took a short step away—anything to snap that cord of attraction before he was sucked in too far. “The water is pure to drink at the source,” he said briskly. “Quench your thirst. I must instruct my men on Carmen’s rescue.” 11

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“Her rescue?” A smile lit the woman’s face and she touched his hand. “That’s wonderful. She’s so innocent and vulnerable. All she wanted was for her betrothed to return from a trip with her father and brother selling horses, so they could marry.” Once again, one touch from her and hot blood surged through his body to his qadib where it throbbed with need. This Alyssa Palanui was driving him mad. Hastily he turned to his men. “The slave you will rescue was bought by Gorco, owner of the Dirty Angel.” “I have heard of that whorehouse,” Yahiya said with a grimace. “It is known for every depravity a man can buy.” Numair, known as the Panther for his speed and strength, fingered his deadly sword. “We shall go quickly and deprive this whoremaster of his newest prize.” Rahim drew a bag of coins from his saddle pouch and gave it to Numair. “Buy a few supplies and two mounts from Chief Krisova.” He looked at Alyssa, gracefully dipping water out of the spring using a leafy cup from a green-chalice bush growing nearby. He said to her, “Carmen appeared to come from the high plains. Am I correct?” She looked up at him. Her eyes took on a haunted look. “Yes, her family’s tribe raises horses.” After gently placing the leaf cup under its mother bush, she rose to her feet and stood with her hands at her side. “How will your friends recognize her?” Alyssa’s lips tightened into a determined line, but the fine tremble in her fingers betrayed her fear. “I’ll return with your friends, so I can point her out to them.” Rahim was stunned by Alyssa’s bravery to make such an offer. He’d seen her barely suppressed horror when Gorco had tried to purchase her for a life of brutality. Now, to help a friend, she was offering to put herself back within his reach. 12

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CHAPTER 2

By the blessed Mother of the Sea, what have I said? she wondered. Alyssa’s skin crawled. Every waking moment as Scarface’s captive had been burned into her memory. She had regained consciousness with a painful headache to find herself naked and helplessly bound to a blister tree. Her arms had been drawn over her head, her wrists fastened to a branch, and her ankles tied to stakes hammered into the palm forest floor. A cold knot had formed in her stomach. Not only was she helpless to protect herself from the men, but the sap from the blister tree could inflict deep burns in her flesh and cripple her ability to use her special gifts. Already, contact with the rough bark stung her back. Behind her, a cold blade brushed her skin. The quick scrape of a knife against wood warned her that worse was to come. Then the sharp scent of blister sap filled the air. The next moment, the first trickle of liquid burned down her spine, spreading agony through her nerves. She struggled to arch her back away from the fiery sap. 13

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Scarface loomed up in front of her, a mocking smile on his scarred features. “Not so ready to fight now, my little she-rapto?” He had fondled her breasts with his bloodstained fingers, while she struggled, uselessly, to avoid the dripping agony behind her and his disgusting touch. He laughed. “Too bad some fucker picked your cherry. I can get top dollar for a virgin.” His eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve foolishly given away your most valuable attraction, you are worth far less.” Fighting to hide her reactions to the pain from the blister sap, and her response to his touch, Alyssa gave him a cool stare. At least he didn’t know her identity. The slaver thrust his hands between her legs and raked his dirty fingernails across her sensitive labia. “You’ll obey my orders or I’ll give you to my men like I did that other foolish bitch.” A woman’s scream had risen to a shriek. Alyssa looked toward the sound and froze. A hulking group of men had surrounded a patch of ground. She saw the woman’s naked body pinned to the ground by men holding her feet and arms. One man rutted on her. More waited, pants open, fondling already swollen penises. Once again, Scarface had laughed, thrust a finger inside her then withdrawn it to taste the tip. “By the Three-Horned god, you’re a dry bitch.” He’d gestured toward the cluster of men. “They won’t give a shit. If you service them, their qadibs will be ready and well slicked.” Alyssa didn’t know how long she’d been lost in painful memories. When she finally realized those recollections were behind her, she found herself seated on a blanket roll in the dappled shade of a fragrant shagar tree. Nearby, the black horse drank from the watering basin, while Alyssa’s new owner, Rahim Yasir, placed a saddle blanket on the gold colored mare. “She’s beautiful,” Alyssa exclaimed. “Her color is that of liquid sunshine and her blonde mane and tail move like silk.” Glancing over his shoulder, Rahim said, “This is Thunder’s favorite 14

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mate, Golden Star.” He smoothed the thick fabric then set a flat, padded saddle on top. “Do you know how to ride?” “My brother has horses. He taught me.” “Good. You’ll ride Star.” “I’d love to.” Then her heart sank at the thought of taking the beautiful mare back into Zoltar. Rahim must have read the anxiety in her expression, but not the reason. He said, “Even though Star has been trained for battle, she’ll carry you gently.” “I’m not worried about riding Star. You wouldn’t offer her to me if you didn’t trust her.” Alyssa gripped the coarse fabric of her slave garment to keep her hands from trembling. “I don’t want her captured by those beasts in town.” “You’re not going into Zoltar.” He draped saddlebags across Star’s back and fastened them. “You’ll head east with me while Numair and Yahiya return to Zoltar for the high-plains woman.” Alyssa was ashamed by her sense of relief at the reprieve. Honesty made her say, “If I’m not with them, how will these men recognize Carmen?” “I’ll show them her image.” At his gesture, the two men, obviously trusted followers, left the horses they’d saddled and approached through a swirl of fallen blossoms on the late spring grass. As they faced him, straight and proud, Rahim pressed his hands together, palm to palm, and bowed his head as if in meditation or prayer. Alyssa felt a stirring in the air she’d only sensed in the presence of the powerfully gifted Keeper of the Flame. When Rahim raised his head, his eyes had turned dark silver. Sparks of light, like stars, glittered in their depths. He placed a palm on the forehead of each man. At his touch, they stood as rigid as if turned to stone, eyes closed. 15

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The stirring in the air grew stronger. Alyssa’s scalp prickled. The powerful presence demanded entrance to her thoughts. I should be frightened, Alyssa mused. But she wasn’t. No evil tinged the psychic command. Following the example of the men, she closed her eyes. Gradually, a picture of the auction block formed in her mind. She saw the line of chained slaves, including herself, waiting in the oppressive heat and guarded by hissing rapto-dragosaurs. Alyssa watched a desperately afraid Carmen flinch and recoil as her wrists were bound. Then the young woman, her shoulders slumped and head bowed in defeat, was led away. Rahim’s voice, giving instructions to his men, drew Alyssa from images of the living nightmare. Numair and Yahiya saluted Rahim with a clenched fist over the heart. Then each swung into his saddle and turned toward the trail leading back to the road. As they disappeared from view, Rahim shrugged out of his black burnoose and stood for a moment, as if listening for the sounds of any unseen observers. The restless wind rippled his black desert clothes, pressing them against his muscled chest, his rider’s supple waist, his powerful thighs, and the long, strong line of his legs. The ornate handle of his sword gleamed from the top of its wellused, curved scabbard. Alyssa’s knees trembled. This was the man who had purchased her. The one who, by law, had absolute command over her body. Would he exercise that authority; demand her to couple with him? Fear, fascination, and a helpless sense of yearning filled her mind and body. She had lain in Vortigern’s arms, pressed against his nude warrior’s body once—on the night of their betrothal as tradition demanded—but she had never experienced the intense sexual heat raised by the sight of the fully clothed Rahim. 16

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Rahim’s hair and lower face were still hidden behind the folds of his head cloth and lisam. She couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the black cloth concealed. Her speculation ended when he strode toward her carrying the hooded outer garment over his arm and a lisam and sash in one hand. His seductively masculine scent filling the air around her may have been a trick of the wind. That did nothing to change the way her pulse grew faster, the sense of rightness that came over her, when he stopped close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his fit body. Opening the garment, he said, “You’ll need this for protection from the sun and desert winds, and later the mountain cold.” “Mountains?” She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. “You’re taking me across them to my home?” “Not until I locate Jahar.” Holding the burnoose for her to slip her arms into the full sleeves, he said, “After I give him a message, I’ll decide what to do with you.” “Do with me?” A cold chill crept through her blood. “What does that mean?” Instead of answering, he gave her the lisam then a sash embroidered in silver and black. “Wear this. It bears my colors.” She held it limply in one hand, studying the flowing pattern. “I assume this marks me as yours.” He touched the scroll from Scarface tucked under his own sash. “It is written that we all serve a master.” With that inscrutable comment, he carefully closed his fingers around her upper arm and led her to Golden Star. *

*

*

Rahim glanced at Alyssa riding so easily beside him. From time to time, the fitful breeze brought her scent to him—a warm fragrance, layered with a woman’s perspiration that somehow stirred his blood at a primitive level. 17

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She’d stated the truth when she said she could ride horseback. Not even the loose folds of the all-enveloping hooded cloak could hide her supple grace in adjusting to Star’s gaits. When he’d led Alyssa to the mare to introduce them so Star would accept the stranger, Star had snuffled at her outstretched palm, lipped a strand of loose hair, and surprisingly, bent her head to be petted. With a delighted laugh, the woman had stroked Star, scratched between upright ears, and hugged her golden neck. Rahim had never seen the mare accept another person, except him, as completely as she had this woman from Oceanus. Once again, he wondered about her. He was certain there was more to her identity than a captive forced into slavery. The bill of sale had indicated she wasn’t a virgin, but her actions were that of a woman not experienced in sexual games. Had the slavers raped her? A sudden burst of anger came out of nowhere. If they had, he’d hunt down the men who’d violated her, cut off their balls, and…what else? Death was too merciful. Involuntarily he gripped Thunder’s reins. The great stallion’s muscles rippled and bunched in preparation for battle. “Easy, Thunder,” he muttered, loosening his grip. Uneasily, he pondered Alyssa’s effect on him. Since the moment he’d seen her defying the slavers and the crowd of bastards, he’d wanted to take her, to hold her as a man holds a special woman—to explore her body, and slide his qadib into her hot, wet folds. Wrong place, wrong time, he reminded himself. Carefully he shifted position. It was hell to ride with a hard-on.

Just before sunset, when shadows stretched in long, purple fingers across shattered red and gray boulders, they reached a trail at the foot of the Kaf Mountains. 18

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He signaled Thunder to stop, and waited for Alyssa to draw up beside him. Earlier, the wind had risen, pelting them with sand. She’d draped the lisam around her lower face for protection. Now, in the shadow of the hood, her blue eyes looked as dark and mysterious as the depths of the Great Ocean. “Are we stopping nearby to camp for the night?” Her voice held a tired note. He fought the urge to draw her out of the saddle and into his embrace. She’d had a long, hard day beginning with the horror of the slave auction. “It’s too exposed here. Higher up, we can find water and shelter, and…” “A safer place,” she added. Straightening her spine, she continued, “You lead. I’ll follow as long and as high as we need to go.” Damn, he’d never met another woman who appealed to him the way she did—an appeal he would have to ignore. “Both moons will rise tonight. That will give us light to set up camp.” Alyssa nodded in agreement as she gave Star an affectionate pat. “We’ll make it if I have to walk.” Rahim directed Thunder to move closer to Star until his soft, tyranno-hide boots touched Alyssa’s flimsy slave sandals. Detaching his long knife and its scabbard, he gave them to her. “Fasten this close to hand under your sash.” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “The master gives a weapon to his slave?” He felt a jolt of annoyance. “Do you plan to attack me?” “Of course not.” She bristled like a tiny bird confronting an eagle. “Before we go farther, you should know I’ve sensed danger following us since we left Zoltar.” “I’ve had an uneasy feeling, too,” she said quietly. “I can taste the menace in the air the same way I detected the approach of predators on the hunt in the waters of Conch Bay.” 19

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“If Scarface sent anyone to stop us, they could have slipped ahead while my companions and I planned Carmen’s rescue,” Rahim said. “Stay close and keep alert.” “I will,” Alyssa answered fervently. Pressing one hand on the back of her hood to keep it in place, she studied the visible portions of a pathway up the snowcapped mountain looming high above them. The plume of white streaming from the summit promised a freezing trip at higher altitudes. Already her feet felt the chill in the air. Minutes later, they reached the beginning of an especially steep section. Following Rahim’s example, Alyssa slipped off Star and led her up the barely visible path. Her woven grass sandals slipped on the pitted rocks and loose dirt. Pebbles lodged under her toes and the arch of her foot. She kicked those loose as much as possible without stopping her slow forward progress. Ahead, Rahim’s head moved back and forth, obviously on the lookout for trouble. A sense of urgency churned her stomach. She and Rahim had to put as many miles as possible between them and the slavers in Zoltar. They were halfway through a narrow section of trail between broken cliffs, when a sudden shower of rocks clattered down the sides onto the trail. Jeering and brandishing curved swords, bandits rose from behind boulders flanking the trail. Two scrabbled toward her and Rahim down a long break in the cliff. Rahim shouted a warning to her then said, “Thunder, guard.” In response to his master’s command, the great stallion rose on hind legs and flailed his hooves at the bandits. Turning on one heel, Rahim closed the short distance to where she’d gathered Star’s reins, ready to mount. Gripping her waist, he tossed her up into the saddle, and called, “Hold tight.” Before she had a chance to answer, he drew his sword and said, 20

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“Star, guard!” Turning, he cut down an attacker who blocked his way back to Thunder. Golden Star’s muscles bunched and shifted against Alyssa’s legs. The mare shied away from one bandit, then plunged forward striking another. Once more seated on Thunder, Rahim maneuvered the stallion between her and four attackers, beating them back with his curved sword that seemed to be everywhere at the same time. An attacker came up behind her, caught the flowing burnoose and tried to drag her from the saddle. With a tight grip on the reins, she slashed at him with Rahim’s long dagger. Bright Lady, protect us, she prayed, worried not only about herself, but also Rahim and Thunder, and the beautiful mare she rode. The cloth covering the bandit’s lower face slipped. Her stomach clenched in panic as she recognized John Threetoes. “Bitch,” he snarled. “I’ll teach you to—” Dodging the knife, he lunged for Star’s bridle. Alyssa swiped the blade across the back of the slaver’s hand. He dropped the long strap while blood welled up and dripped from the deep slash. Another bandit came up from behind and pulled her off the saddle. She fell on her side—hard—and rolled onto her stomach. Her breath swooshed out. Bright dots danced in front of her eyes. Sprawled in the dirt, she couldn’t catch her breath. Her body ached for air. Above her, the mare squealed a challenge and planted four hooves around her, caging her rider in protection. As Alyssa’s lungs filled with air again, she became aware of the sounds of fighting—men’s groans and curses, metal clashing on metal, and the challenging screams of Thunder and Star. She heard Rahim call, “Alyssa, get ready.” Thunder’s black legs and powerful hooves appeared at her side. Star carefully stepped away. 21

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He leaned down, held out his left hand to her. “Swing up behind me.” Alyssa gripped his hand and used his booted foot like a stirrup. He swung her easily into place behind him. Thunder pranced a little at the new weight, then danced to the side and held steady as Rahim warded off the sword attack of John Threetoes. Alyssa flung her arms around Rahim’s waist. After one look behind—at wounded men struggling to rise and motionless bodies, she pressed her face against his back. Beating back the slaver, Rahim shouted to her, “Hang on.” He urged Thunder up the narrow trail. Just as it seemed clear, two men leaped in front of them, swords raised. Rahim kicked the one to his left, slashed the face of the one on the right, and parried the first man’s weapon. With a stallion’s chilling scream, Thunder ran down the last attacker. Then they were past his body to the empty trail ahead. Star followed a short distance behind while their mount steadily climbed the rock-strewn path, his powerful haunches bunching under Alyssa’s bare legs. She thought back to the terror of the attack, to Rahim’s courage and sword skill, to the stallion and mare’s battle training. Each had made a difference in the outcome. Now that the immediate danger had passed, cold fingers of delayed fear ran up and down her spine. What if Rahim had been injured or killed? Just the thought made her heart ache. Shuddering, she tightened her grip on his supple waist. He sucked in his breath. Feeling something wet on her left hand, she pulled it back and gazed in stunned disbelief at the dark stain on her fingers… blood. Rahim’s blood. 22

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CHAPTER 3

Rahim shifted his position on the saddle to ease his left side where one bandit had made a bloody gash. Not fatal, Rahim thought grimly, but enough to ache like Shaytan’s hell. Earlier, he and Alyssa had stopped to rest Thunder and to bind the sword slash across Rahim’s left side before he became weakened by loss of blood. Alyssa, white-lipped, had carefully cleaned the wound, sprinkled on the healing gray powder Rahim carried in his essentials roll, and bound a pad over the long cut. Then she’d mounted Golden Star and they’d continued their flight from the slaver’s men. During the climb, twilight had given way to night. The two moons, each close to full, had risen, bathing the rocks, trees, shrubs, and trail in a pale illumination and casting long, double shadows across the land. Now Rahim turned Thunder from the faint track into a shallow watercourse. He crossed upstream to the opposite bank, and paused while Star, carrying Alyssa, stepped down into the fetlock high water 23

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following the same liquid path. As mare and rider joined him on the mossy bank, he studied Alyssa. In spite of the long, difficult ride that would test the hardiest horseman, she still rode with grace and ease. The sensuous attraction that had begun at the slave market, and grown through the day, roared into greater force. Blood beat thickly through his veins. Not even the ache in his side could cool his growing arousal. But there was nothing he could do about it now, and maybe never. Aware of how voices carried over great distances in the mountain air, he waited until Alyssa came up beside Thunder and said in a low voice, “As soon as I find a sheltered place to camp, we’ll stop for the night.” “Couldn’t be too soon for me.” She peered at his face. “How does your side feel?” Like crap. “I’ll survive. How about your feet?” She grinned at him. “I’ll survive.” “Throwing my own words back at me?” “You said it best.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, and, for a moment, her shoulders slumped tiredly. Then she straightened. “I’ve learned a lot about surviving since the slavers captured me at Tamary.” Her voice vibrated with memories of unspeakable cruelty no woman should ever know. An image came to mind of the first time he’d seen her on the auction platform—bound by chains and forced to endure leers and coarse comments about her body. That ordeal would have been only one of many horrors for her. He’d seen the results of camps and villages laid waste by raiders—women raped, children murdered or dragged away to slavery, men tortured, maimed, and killed. A surge of protectiveness filled his heart. Reining Thunder closer to Star, he reached out and stroked the side of Alyssa’s face from her temple to her smooth cheek. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe.” 24

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She said, “Rahim,” in a broken tone. It was the catch in her voice that cracked his resolve to ignore his attraction to her. Signaling Thunder to stand firm, he crossed the reins in front of the saddle. Murmuring her name, he removed his lisam, leaned toward Alyssa, cupped the back of her head in one hand, and brushed his lips across her mouth. Again her warm, womanly scent roused his male instincts. He fought the urge to take her to the ground and penetrate her fast, hard, and deep. Instead, he gently caught her lower lip between his teeth. She made a low sound and he felt her shiver. Had he frightened her? Reluctantly, he released her mouth. Instead of pulling away, she gripped his shirt to hold him close, and tilted her mouth toward him. Pale moonshine made her eyes into deep pools of mystery. The breathless hush of night was broken only by the whisper of a mountain breeze. A tendril of her hair lifted in the shifting air and curled around his neck as if binding two lovers. Slowly, giving her time to change her mind, and fighting to stay in control of his hungers, he cradled the back of her head and neck in one hand, lowered his lips, and pressed them to her forehead, her jaw, the tender spot beneath one ear, then back to her temple where blood beat against the tip of his tongue in a quickening pulse. As he tasted her on his lips, the image of a man exploded in his mind, an image he recognized as himself as seen from Alyssa’s viewpoint—dark silver eyes, Arabian nose, sensual mouth surrounded by a mist of curiosity and underlaced with uneasiness and sexual attraction. At that moment, the door into her mind closed, and he felt a hollowness left by her mental retreat. While both their battle trained mounts held rock-steady, his frustration flared. By the gods, I won’t allow her to shut me out. With that thought, he covered her mouth hungrily, searching the crease of her 25

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closed lips with his tongue. She opened to him, her own tongue shyly touching his. He took her invitation, diving in deeper to savor the varied textures—the tiny serrations at the tips of her teeth, the warm, smooth inside of her cheeks—while the blood pumped hot and hard in his qadib with every beat of his heart. More, his body demanded. He slipped one hand inside the folds of the burnoose and slid his fingers down to cup her firm breast. At the first brush of his thumb across her nipple, he discovered it was already erect and hard. Her instant response went to his head like the strong essence of honeyed wine. Deepening the kiss, he gave her breast a gentle squeeze then fanned his thumb over her sensitive tip. Her sexy groan sent a new rush of heat to his groin and he automatically shifted in the saddle to ease his toofull qadib. Thunder’s muscles trembled with the effort to remain unmoving. Frustrated, Rahim broke the kiss, withdrew his hand from the warm seduction of Alyssa’s body and said, “Sweet lady, you are too much temptation.” *

*

*

“I’m too much temptation?” Alyssa muttered an hour later as she stroked Golden Star’s coat with a handful of dry, fresh-scented grass. “Vortigan never thought so and he was my fiancé—until I learned the truth about his motives.” Star tossed her head and snorted. Alyssa chuckled. “You’re right, I should forget the jerk.” By the light of the small, folding travel lamp, she grasped the hoof pick left by Rahim, and tapped the mare’s front left fetlock. Obligingly, Star shifted her weight then presented her front left hoof to be cleaned. “That’s my sweet lady,” Alyssa crooned, then paused, caught up in the memory of Rahim’s sensual exploration of her mouth and breast. 26

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He’d told her she was “too much temptation.” But he was the real temptation—and dangerous to her in ways she didn’t understand. She felt Star’s warm breath flow across her hair, caressing the nape of her neck. Rahim had been that close and closer, she thought, recalling the moments when his strong fingers had cupped the back of her head, then the delight of his lips caressing hers. The mare’s soft snort reminded her of the task at hand. Gently, Alyssa cleaned that hoof and the others. As she worked, soothed by the routine she’d learned from her brother years earlier, she recalled the simmering silence between her and Rahim as he’d groomed Thunder. The moment he’d finished, he’d left the stable section of the cave to build a small fire in the cave room at the other end. “Rahim,” she mused, tingling with the memory of those explosive kisses and his hand weighing her swollen breast before he’d turned Thunder away from her and toward the higher reaches of the mountain. She’d lost track of how long they’d ridden through the darkness. One thing was clear. Rahim had the night vision of a mountain panther. He’d led them through dark stands of trees where only dappled patches of moonlight touched the ground, and along the sides of ridges— always careful to keep them from being silhouetted against the sky. He’d spoken to her only once—a reminder to let Star choose the way. Now they had found this place to camp where a cliff of solid rock had been hollowed into a long cave deep enough to shelter them and their mounts. A narrow rivulet, just a short walk from the entrance, provided fresh water for them and the horses. While she’d ministered to Star, Alyssa had felt the constricted flow of water from a different source beneath the cave’s floor. Leaving the stallion and mare munching on a small pile each of grains, she picked up the lantern and followed the murmuring path of the water as it rose closer to the surface. Finally she discovered a 27

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hollowed out basin, now filled with only dry rubble, in an alcove halfway between the stable section and the camping room. She ran a finger along the glassy top and around the too-perfect sides recalling the same hard, glassy surface found in ruins left by colonists from Earth. Sometime, in the distant past, the stranded settlers from the great ships had stopped here. With a sense of awe, she cleaned away the debris, and knelt on the floor where the black basalt and pale pink feldspar met in unity—fused at their moment of creation—like a man and woman joined as one. Centering her body, mind, and spirit, she drew a veil of blue light around her—blue for the clear depths of a pure lake. She closed her eyes and opened her senses to the thunder of water pulsing miles below. She searched for the pure liquid’s original channel to the natural spring, tracing it from the depths where one silent strand pressed toward the surface, propelled by the mighty forces that had originally carved the caves. There, a mile below, she found where the earth had shifted and impeded the water’s path. Gathering her mental forces, she twisted the water, pressing it against the heavy, black, fine-grained basalt until the blockage cleared. The water raced higher, hurling itself against each new obstruction, until it broke free in a narrow column that reached the top of the alcove before settling down to a gentle flow. Cupping her hands, Alyssa filled them with the cold water and tasted the liquid. It reminded her of the small, pulsing spring in her mother’s private garden. Mother. A surge of homesickness welled up in Alyssa’s soul. By now she must be frantic with worry, Alyssa thought. Tears blurred her eyes. Had Lani reached safety? For that matter, had any of her people in Tamary survived the attack? Lost in the terror-filled memories, Alyssa folded her arms against her stomach and bent over in anguish as the images after the attack unfolded again, as clearly as if they were happening in the present. 28

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She could feel the high desert night, broken only by pale light from the campfires that had been filled with the groans of other captives. Nearby, Carmen comforted a young mother whose child had been ripped from her arms and sold at the last village. Alyssa knelt beside Tanika, a preteen girl who’d been brutally raped when she was captured a handful of days earlier. Tanika lay limp and gasping, burning with fever brought on by infection. As Alyssa sponged the half-conscious girl’s face and wrists with precious water, she’d listened for the approach of any of the guards. Already, she’d seen other slaves abandoned to die when they couldn’t get up and travel. She had to find a way to lower the fever before the girl was discarded like a used up rag. But, how? From out of the night, a cold voice said, “Leave the bitch. She’s finished.” “Nooo.” Helpless fear and anger had twisted her stomach. For a moment, the image wavered, replaced by the sight of a folded burnoose set on a smoothed off stalagmite. Then a pale image of Tanika lay in front of her once more, twisting in fevered pain. Alyssa, clenched her fists, wracked by guilt. She’d failed to protect her people in Tamary. She must not fail the girl. Blindly, she’d scraped the hard, arid ground, scrabbling for a weapon, anything to protect Tanika. Her fingers brushed an apricot-size rock. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the Bright Lady, she concealed it in her hand. Strong fingers gripped her shoulders. Another male commanded, “Alyssa, stop, before you injure yourself.” Oh, Lady of the Light, now there were two…and other slavers ready to come at a shout. Her heart raced. Her mouth went dry. She had to deflect their attention from the injured girl. 29

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Bracing herself against the pain of retaliation to come, she twisted to the side with her weapon ready, and struck at the slaver’s face. But his face wasn’t there. Instead, the rock bounced off his dark clad shoulder. Hot rage scorched through her body. Furious, she flung herself at the bastard—kicking, clawing, wild to do as much damage as possible before the slavers overpowered her and once again chained her into helpless submission. The attacker took her down onto the hard ground, pinning her legs and hips with his body while his hard fingers manacled her wrists together. She whipped her head back and forth, found an opening, and sank her teeth through the black cloth into his arm. He roared, “You little fiend, stop it. I’m trying not to hurt you.” The voice and scent were familiar. Rahim? By the pale lamplight, she saw his face hovering over her, and released her hold. Her body went limp with relief, but not Rahim’s. His soft kut’n desert pants did nothing to hide his long, hard shaft pressing into the tender delta between her thighs. In the struggle, the coarse fabric of her slave garb had hitched up leaving her bare buttocks on the cold, rocky floor of the cave. But she wasn’t chilled, not with the heat and musk radiating from his body. The contrast of cold and sensual fire raised her skin’s sensitivity. Her nipples tightened into aching buds, lightly abraded by the coarse fabric of her dress. She muffled a groan and felt her breath hitch. With a low chuckle, he lowered his head and, still holding her arms above her head, licked the sensitive tip. “Rahim,” she said on a sigh. “Alyssa.” He moved his lips to the other nipple, dampening the fabric with a swirl of his tongue, then drawing it between his lips—oh, gods—and into his hot, talented mouth. 30

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She writhed under the sweet torment; wanting, not wanting, afraid to let go of her internal defenses so carefully raised in self protection after…no, she wouldn’t think about it. Rahim moved up her body, nibbled gently at the base of her throat, then moved his lips to her other nipple—and tested his teeth against her pleading tip. Straining against his hold, caught in a sensual storm, she bowed her back, offering her swollen breasts. His penis grew harder, thicker against her swollen petals. Only one layer of cloth prevented him from sliding into her sensitive sheath—a sheath rapidly becoming slick with her own juices. “I have to see you,” he said in a husky tone. Releasing her wrists, he moved off her lower body, stripped the slave garb up and over her head, spread it on the cave floor and placed her on the fabric. Cool air touched her dampened nipples increasing their sensitivity. Kneeling beside her, Rahim brushed his fingers across the swollen peaks. His silver eyes gleamed in the clear light from the carbide lantern. Lowering his head, he murmured, “These buds are ripe. I know how to make them blossom.” On his last word, his hot tongue stroked first one nipple then the next, alternating back and forth. With each sweep, double shafts of lightning streaked to the growing tightness between her legs. Lost in exquisite pleasure, she clutched twin handfuls of the coarse fabric protecting her from the cold surface. But she wasn’t cold. Not with the sensual brush of his long, elegant fingers now circling her breasts, gently kneading and squeezing in counterpoint to his tongue. Sensation after erotic sensation cascaded through her nerves to her most private area. To ease the heavy need, she drew up her legs and pressed her knees tightly together. Raising his head, he studied her through eyes heavy-lidded with passion. “When I first saw you in Zoltar, I wondered, would your areolas”—he outlined the tender flesh with the tip of his tongue—“be 31

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the color of lush apricots warmed by the sun, or the pink of sweet roseberries.” While her taut nipples, caressed by his breath, throbbed at the edge of pleasure/pain, she waited for his answer. Was he pleased by her body? She wanted to ask, but the words refused to form. All she could whisper was, “Rahim?” He gave a low laugh. “The Great Vatsaya, god of pleasure, fashioned you with high, firm breasts to tempt a man, and crowned them with honeyed pink berries surrounded by silken flesh the color of fully ripe apricots.” Stretching out beside her, half-propped up on his elbow and forearm, he murmured, “You’re like your middle name, Maylea, a wildflower—growing where danger prowls, filling a man’s soul with your beauty, and the air with your honest essence.” “Honest essence?” She lifted her hand to trace the line of his jaw. “Is that a romantic way to say I stink?” His low chuckle spread over her like warm honey. “Wildflower, you excite me with the taste of your skin, your genuine response to my kisses…your enticing scent.” He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, then raised his head and gazed into her eyes. “To me, you smell of woman—my woman.” His woman. The words echoed in her mind. Hungering for skin to skin contact, she plucked at the sash around his waist, searching for the place it was fastened so she could release it and peel off his shirt. Something rustled under her fingers. Her slave document. At her realization it was the scroll showing he was her owner, she went cold. The world around her seemed to crumble. Of course she was his woman, at least according to the bill of sale. She, Alyssa Maylea Palanui, Princess of Oceanus, daughter of Queen Damiana and King Tristan, had been purchased by Rahim as a slave. Nothing more. 32

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CHAPTER 4

Rahim felt Alyssa’s busy fingers stop plucking at his sash. The little wildflower has turned shy, he thought. To help her, he loosened his sash, pulled off his shirt, and threw it aside. Smiling indulgently, he stroked the curve of her left hip. “A centimen for your thoughts.” “The scroll shows I’m your slave.” Her voice sounded tense. “Of course. Scarface is in the business of selling slaves. He accepted my money and wrote the bill of sale.” Lowering his head, Rahim swirled his tongue into the nerve-rich hollow of Alyssa’s belly button. She sucked in her breath then continued, “You bought me for fiftythousand dirhems.” “Best deal I ever made.” He tangled his fingers in the damp, tight, red curls protecting her feminine secrets. The spicy scent of her arousal made his head spin. “I plan to get full use out of my bargain.” Her body went rigid. “Bargain. Purchase. Slave—your slave.” On 33

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the last word, her voice cracked. She batted at him with surprising strength, and bucked her hips. “Get off of me,” she demanded. “I’m not some love slave, trained to service your lust. I’m…I’m… “ “You’re mine.” Capturing her wrists, he carefully pinned them to the rock floor at her sides, and stopped her protests with his mouth. After a short, halfhearted struggle, her lips softened under his and opened. Eagerly, he plundered her warm mouth, exploring the tiny serrations of her teeth, the warm, soft insides of her cheeks, and the rough textures of her tongue tangling with his. With each thrust, each touch and retreat, his qadib grew harder, primed to explore her feminine sheath, to feel its velvet tightness close around his thrust, retreat, and thrust until he was deep and hard inside her heat. Still keeping her wrists restrained, excited by her moans of passion, he shifted his body enough to place one knee between her legs and press upward against her slick vagina in rhythm with his tongue. Crying his name, she twisted her perspiration-slicked body against his. Her full breasts rubbed across his aroused nipples. Fire streaked to his qadib. Only the fabric of his pants prevented him from seating his rod deep inside her ready body. They were hidden from the world in this dark cave, but the lamp nearby gave them a steady, clear light. Here he could forget he was the Sultan of Aradi, and take pleasure with a woman who knew him as Rahim, not a wealthy, powerful ruler. Her breath came in short, quick gasps. The heady musk of her desire wrapped around them. By the gods of pleasure, he had to have her fully—now. Releasing one wrist, he reached between them and disposed of the fabric barrier. Then, testing her complete readiness, he slipped a finger into her yoni and simultaneously found her swollen button of pleasure. Her back arched off the floor. She screamed, “I can’t hold—” 34

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Suddenly a shower of cold water poured down on his head. It gurgled and splashed across Alyssa’s body and began covering the floor of the passage. Cursing, he jumped to his feet and snatched her up, protecting her face and head with his back and shoulders. Icy water flowed around his feet, slowly climbing higher. More liquid ripped away stalactites and sent them flying through the air. One bounced off his shoulder, another struck Alyssa’s bare leg, leaving a line of blood. “Where in the thirteen hells did that water come from?” he asked, seeking shelter for both of them. “From me.” Raising one hand, she spoke words in an unfamiliar language. As abruptly as it had begun, the water stopped. She made another gesture and said a few words. The icy liquid gathered into a twisting column, built higher and higher, then, with a last growl evaporated, leaving discarded rubble in a neat pile and the scent of damp earth. Slowly, in heavy silence, he placed Alyssa on her feet and backed up one pace. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, hunched her shoulders, and half turned away. He picked up the folded burnoose from the shelf where it had been above the water level, and gave it to her. While she drew it around her pale body, he crossed his arms and studied her coldly. The moment she finished, he demanded, “Explain what just happened.”

A short time later, Alyssa huddled into the blanket wrapped around the clean, dry pants and shirt Rahim had given her. Here, in the shelter of the hidden cave, they’d set up a comfortable camp, all lit by the 35

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flames of a small cooking fire and the steady glow of the carbide lamp. At least he’d waited for the explanation until she was warm, dressed, and the long scrape on her leg cleaned. She watched Rahim pour bubbling water from a small, metal teapot into two cups, his movements as fluid and precise as the way he used a sword. While he performed this small task, his expression had remained inscrutable, but the atmosphere was thick with suspicion and anger. Alyssa squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in silent defiance. Mister High-and-Mighty Rahim had paid a kingly sum for her without knowing she was a princess. Someday, she’d pay him back the money. It was the honorable thing to do. However, while he thought he’d bought a young woman snatched from her small village home, she carried the blood of kings, queens, and warriors. That certainty gave her the strength to… Alyssa sighed. No use trying to fool herself. Rahim was like the power of a mighty river—a relentless force. Rahim set the cup of hot beverage on the small rectangle of canvas spread between them. Steam rose, spiced with the fragrance of cinnamon and tea. Beside it, he placed an open packet of dried fruit and others of cheese and journey bread. Her mouth watered at the sight and scents of food. At his silent gesture, she broke off a section of bread, added cheese, and bit into the combination. “Heavenly,” she murmured around the mingling of flavors. Settling, cross-legged, on the rocky floor, he helped himself to bread, cheese, and fruit. While he ate, he gazed at her. She knew he had questions. At least he was waiting for her to eat first. Light from the fire illuminated the elegant ridges of his cheeks, his nose, and his hard, sensual lips. His lips. A wild surge of pleasure shot through her body. His mouth—tugging at her sensitive nipples, circling her breasts with 36

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flames, burning her in the fires of his heat. She dove into the hot memories of dark pleasure in his sensual touch, his erotic words, his passionate lips and tongue. With an effort, she forced herself back to the present and finished her food. But her breasts throbbed with desire and unrelieved pressure built between her legs. Across from her, Rahim ate the last dried fig in his portion and said, “Start talking. What do you know about that sudden shower in the passage?” She took a sip of tea and studied him, pensively. “I’m a water sensitive.” “A water caller?” She took another swallow of tea, grateful for the soothing flavor and heat. “Some people use that term. Others whisper, ‘Witch,’ and make the sign of personal protection as if I’m going to raise water blisters on their feet or cause their well to go dry.” “They’re fools,” he stated flatly. “I’ve never met anyone with the ability to call water, but the gift has been recorded in the volumes of Planet Traber’s history.” He raised his cup to his lips and drank. Just when Alyssa thought she wouldn’t have to explain the reason she’d lost control of her ability—reasons she still didn’t fully understand herself—he set the cup aside and fixed his gaze on her. “Now tell me why we were drenched.” What could she say—that one moment she’d been caught in a storm of pleasure and helpless passion beyond anything she’d ever known, and the next moment she’d nearly drowned? Thinking fast, she said, “A lady is allowed her secrets, even if she is only a slave.” His face hardened. “The only slave in this cave is the one passion toys with.” *

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She dropped off to sleep like a small child who knows she’s safe, Rahim mused. Deciding he could use some sleep, too, he stretched out an arm’s length away from her. Sharing the same sleeping space seemed right, normal, as if she were the woman he’d waited for all his adult life. How could that be since they’d only met for the first time earlier in the day—that is if you didn’t count the three nights he’d seen her in his dreams? Hidden away in this cave, it was secure enough to leave one carbide lamp burning without giving away their position to possible searchers. And he didn’t want Alyssa to wake in the dark thinking she was alone. He’d settled between her and the cave entrance—ready, if necessary, to guard her with his body. He wanted to tuck her close in his warm protection, to curl around her, and band her to his body. Only the knowledge of the horrors she’d suffered with the slavers, and her wild, but innocent, response to him earlier kept him from waking her for a night of lovemaking. As he lay on his side, his gaze drifted across her face and down her body. He still wanted to touch her, to cup her lovely breasts in his hands—feel the tips bead under his questing fingers. He knew the sight, the scent and smoothness of her creamy skin, the lush apricot color of her areolas; her ripe-berry nipples perfect for his hungry mouth. Sexual heat gripped him and sent sweat sliding down his spine. By the Great Vatsaya, he wanted her to welcome him with open arms and legs. He ached to hold her and to feel her slender fingers cup his qadib, to experience the glide of her hands up and down his rigid shaft, and to press the broad head of his hard, full qadib into her slick yoni. He was fully aroused, caught in the heat of desire pulsing through his rigid shaft. Grimacing, he turned onto his back and adjusted his swollen flesh to lessen the throbbing, but the relief was minimal. The only way he 38

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could find release would be in the hot, sweet clasp of her body. And he’d already decided against that for this night. In the meantime, he needed to get some sleep. Their trip tomorrow would cross rugged and dangerous land. He had to be sharp. There was one way to give himself some relief. Carefully easing away from their sleeping pad, he moved across the cave to another wall. He slipped out of his pants and briefs, and half reclined with his back to the water-smoothed rock. The cold floor felt good to his heated butt, but it only made him more aware of the hot throb in his penis. Now he could concentrate on finding relief. Alyssa came awake with the uneasy feeling that something was different. Cautiously, she opened her eyes halfway and gazed through the screen of lashes. Rahim was missing. Fear chilled her body. Had someone come to attack and he’d gone out into the night to confront them? Without moving her head, she opened her eyes a little more, hoping the shadows would conceal the evidence she was awake. Then she saw him leaning back on the opposite rocky wall. Although he sat in darker shadows, the reflection of light from the clear carbide flame penetrated the gloom enough for her to see the gleam of his bare legs and butt. His hands were between his bent knees, moving up, one after the other, in a rhythmic pattern. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, and jaw muscles tense. What was he doing? Suddenly she recalled conversations she’d overheard years earlier between her brother and his friends. The first time she’d heard Brendon and his friends talk about the pain of a hot, aroused qadib, she’d been ten years old and playing with some tame dabblers in her family’s walled garden. Brendon, a lordly fourteen, had ignored her presence and led his comrades to the outdoor chairs and tables on the other side of a thick stand of rose bushes interplanted with flowers and golden 39

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leaf shrubs. Her brother’s friend, Ali, had bragged about Solome, the fifteenyear-old daughter of his father’s kadin. One evening, Salome had met Ali secretly in Ali’s suite. They’d kissed and explored each other’s body with hands and mouth. Ali had touched her ripe breasts, suckled at her nipples, and had gone so far as to plunge his fingers in and out of her slick yoni. But when he was ready to fill her sheath with his eager, hard qadib, she’d rolled out of his clasp, scooped up her clothes, and disappeared through the door into the Golden Road, the hidden corridor to the harem. Ali had been left angry and hurting, with no relief for his swollen erection except to use his own hands. Alyssa closed her eyes in silent anguish. She hadn’t intended to tease Rahim. The sensual hunger and fire between them had been unexpected. The hot, vibrating lust he’d generated with his scent, words, and touches had excluded everything else from her mind and body. She gazed at Rahim again. Now that she knew the signs, it was obvious he hadn’t found sexual release. She ached for him. Why hadn’t he turned to her for relief? Because he might think she’d respond to him out of gratitude for her rescue? The very fact he’d put some distance between them indicated that was what he’d thought. She didn’t want to violate his code of honor, but she couldn’t leave him in pain. How could she help? The answer surfaced from her subconscious—liquid healing. Centering herself where she lay, she opened her special senses to the ebb and flow of waters deep in the earth. Expanding her sensitivity, she felt, first the passage of her blood through her body, then the stronger, more rapid pulse of Rahim’s. His breathing rate increased. Her scalp prickled. Her heart beat faster then she was swept into Rahim’s dark fantasy where she lay willing and pleading for him to 40

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open her with his qadib—to fill her with his hot stream of life. Next, she found herself both inside his fantasy and looking from the outside. Calling on the goddess for help, she matched the rhythm of Traber’s vast oceans of water with Rahim’s throbbing need. Her own breasts swelled and grew tender in sympathy to Rahim’s male nipples. Desire coiled and twisted in her lower belly even as Rahim sought to find relief from his own torment. Moments later, liquid bathed her yoni as he increased the pressure on his penis. Alyssa sent the mental call, Goddess of Fire and Passion, touch Rahim’s qadib and release his hot seed as an offering to you. For one dizzying moment, she was once more in the center of his fantasy. Then he gave a low groan of completion and rolled onto his side in time to send a jet of semen across the cave floor. *

*

*

All the next day, as they traveled across the high, snowy spine of the mountain range and started down the other side, Rahim’s thoughts returned to the previous evening when he’d held Alyssa in the cave— had tasted the lush sweetness of her breasts and the exotic flavors of her kiss. His attempt to relieve his engorged qadib had ended with a stunning climax and release. Twined with the ministrations of his fingers and hands had been the most erotic fantasy he’d ever experienced. A fantasy featuring the flame-haired woman who now rode at his side. He most certainly desired to make that dream a reality…and soon. Thunder snorted and tossed his head. Rahim eased his tense grip on the reins. “Thanks for bringing me back to the present,” Rahim murmured, patting the stallion’s neck. He couldn’t help wondering what Alyssa thought about their interrupted lovemaking. Was she frustrated or relieved? A certain bright speculation in her gaze made him think she was willing to try again. 41

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The next time they made love it would be in a proper bed with the door locked and no interruptions. With that decision, Rahim focused on their progress and made plans for the future. Although he glanced at Alyssa from time to time, Rahim didn’t need the visual assurance to know she was holding up better than he would have expected of a woman from the warm lands of Oceanus. The sense of urgency to locate Jahar grew with every passing hour, every lengthening of the shadows. The future of his cousin’s heritage and the dream of a peaceful Aradi were both balanced on a fragile thread—the life of Sheik Najjar, his cousin’s wounded father. They reached a section of decomposing granite, pale orange and as slippery as mud to walk or ride over. As he turned to caution Alyssa, Rahim heard the clatter of rocks and the scramble of hooves behind him. Cursing, he watched Golden Star fight to keep her footing in a sudden flow of dirt and stones down the high slope on one side. By some miracle, Alyssa kept her balance and gave Star free rein to help the mare stay on the narrow trail. As the loose debris plunged over the brink and fell hundreds of feet into a deep valley, Rahim was helpless to do more than observe. One wrong move and he’d set the rest of the trail sliding into the depths carrying them all to death. Rahim eased Thunder forward onto a more stable section of the trail. Where it widened, he dismounted and gave the command, “Thunder, stay.” Now he could give his full attention to Alyssa and Star. The rock slide had stopped, but the slippery section of trail remained. While Alyssa studied the patch of dangerous granite ahead of her, she rubbed Star’s warm neck, soothing the mare. Rahim also scrutinized the slippery section. What if he crossed on foot and led the mare and Alyssa to safety? 42

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Cautiously, he took one step onto the burnt-orange colored section. It held. He eased his other foot onto the sandy layer, and felt it skid under his soft boot. Alyssa called, “Don’t come any closer or you’ll kill yourself.” Her words were punctuated by the degraded rock shifting even more. Some sifted over the ragged lip in a sandy waterfall. At that point, a larger section of the trail began the deadly slide toward the edge. He knew further progress could make the rest of the trail unstable. With extreme care, he backed away until he reached more secure ground. A cold wind rushed up from the canyon’s depths. It set Alyssa’s burnoose fluttering wildly, and snatched up the falling dirt and sand, pelting them with a fine dust. While Alyssa lowered her head to protect her face from the screaming wind, she captured the loose folds of cloth, working one handed and gripping the reins with the other. Swearing helplessly, Rahim watched Alyssa’s fight to keep her and her mount on the narrow trail. From his vantage point, he saw Star’s muscles twitch nervously under the stinging assault of sand, but the mount stayed steady. Rahim blessed the gods that the mare’s battle training held. Slowly, each step measured in the beat of his heart, he watched Alyssa guide the sweating mare across the dangerous section. Each new ground gained left a section of trail tumbling over the edge. He knew she must have heard the whoosh and clatter behind her, but she moved in composed grace, quietly urging Star forward, soothing the mare with gentle words. Rahim knew he’d never forget the sight of this slender woman, exhausted by hours in harsh cold, crossing terrain that would challenge the best and strongest horsemen, and now traversing a high, windswept trail that continued to crumble behind her and her tired mount. Pace by agonizing pace, Alyssa and Golden Star drew closer to 43

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Rahim. Finally, horse and rider reached the stable section of the trail. Another handful of steps brought them to the wider section where he and Thunder waited. Silently, he raised his hands to Alyssa. Gripping his shoulders, she eased out of the saddle and into his arms. He’d intended to keep an emotional distance. The moment he felt her trembling body in his arms, he gave in to the need to hold her, to reassure himself she had come across safely. Even knowing he would regret it, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and took a deep, shuddering breath. At first she’d been tense then, with a low sob, she melted against him. With her words muffled by his chest, she said in a trembling voice, “I…I was so afraid Star would lose her footing. The…trail shifted and crumbled.” She took a ragged breath. “But you were there—waiting. That gave me courage.” “Courage? You already have that in full measure.” Rahim drew Alyssa closer to the sheltering hillside in front of Thunder and Star— turning so his larger body protected hers from the wind. Tipping her head back, she touched his cheek with icy fingers. “You tried to come after me. We both could’ve died.” “But it didn’t happen.” In a quick flash he saw the image of her crossing the perilous trail, as composed as if she rode on a broad, solid road. He went cold inside. One misstep, one hesitation and all her courage and warmth would have been gone, buried beneath unfeeling rock. His mind screaming, No, at the image, he possessed her mouth, nipping, teasing, tasting with endless hunger, the heat and salt of her lips her tongue. Sliding one hand down to her firm butt, he pressed his qadib into the place between her legs where life and paradise waited. Her fingers gripped his shoulder muscles at the base of his neck, 44

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until he felt the muted edge of fingernails through layers of cloth. Shifting to brace his legs, he let her know the full strength of his engorged penis. He wanted to slide inside her velvet sheath, to lay her on the ground or have her up against the solid, rock wall behind them. By the Great god of pleasure, he needed her—now. Then Thunder stamped his hooves, nervously, and Rahim came to his senses. They were on a rough trail, buffeted by icy winds, and with a sun that would soon set—leaving them in darkness and danger. *

*

*

Another half hour of travel brought them below the timberline and off the trail to a pocket meadow surrounded by a primeval forest of mixed kaf cedars, blue-tip pines and fire oaks. An exposed ridge of basalt and the spreading branches of an oak tree offered partial shelter. A clear stream crossed one side of the grass and wildflower field. In the waning light, Rahim unloaded his packs from Thunder, set them aside, and turned to do the same for Star. Alyssa was just completing the task. By silent agreement, they went to work rubbing down the tired horses with handfuls of dry grass collected the last time they’d stopped to rest. “I’ll lead them to the stream, and bring back water while you start a fire,” Alyssa offered. “Good idea.” Rahim opened his pack. “Wait. I’ll set up the lantern for you to carry.” She gave him a searching look. “I won’t need it. I can form my own light.” She held out her right hand, palm up. As Rahim sensed a shimmer in the psychic plain, a bright globe of illumination bloomed between Alyssa’s cupped fingers. Rahim took an involuntary step backwards. “You continue to amaze me,” he said chagrined by his lack of self-control in showing surprise. She gave him a shy smile. “It’s a family gift. My mother and brother both have the ability.” 45

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“We could have used the light last night. Why—?” “Why didn’t I call one into being in the cave?” She fixed her gaze on him as if assessing his response. “I usually conceal the ability around strangers.” “Strangers? After our time together in the cave and on the trail, we’re no longer strangers.” For a space, she continued scrutinizing him. A myriad of expressions flitted across her face, lit by the magical light. They gazed at each other. The haunting call of a high mountain owl drifted on the sighing wind. Another one, farther away, returned the cry. The answer and response seemed to awaken the two people to the reality of completing the camp. “I’ll leave this for you.” Reaching high to one of the red oak tree branches, she somehow fastened the ball where its rays lit a wide space fanning out from the cool flame. While Rahim stared in wonder, she collected the lead ropes on Thunder and Star, and started off toward the stream with a fresh globe of illumination dancing ahead. By the time, she’d returned with a full water skin, Rahim had made a fire ring, kindled flames in a handful of dry splinters, and was slowly adding twigs and small branches. The magical light continued to shed its cool illumination. As Alyssa spread her hands to catch warmth from the flames, Rahim studied her. Her movements were stiff and uncoordinated, showing the depth of her exhaustion. “Sit down. Rest a few minutes,” he said. “Don’t dare.” She pulled the small pot closer and filled it with water. “Once I stop, I may not be able to start again.” Together, they went about the task of setting up an overhead shelter. While he anchored the ropes on one side to the black stone of the ridge, Alyssa stretched out the second set of ropes and, using a rock, pounded the wooden stakes into the grassy ground. They raised the heavy 46

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waterproof fabric he’d brought, and then finished by opening the bedrolls inside the shelter. With each stretch and twist of his body, the wound on his left side throbbed. He hid any signs of pain from Alyssa and kept working. Apparently, he hadn’t fooled her. While she laid out the clean rectangle of fabric to hold their food, she said, “After we eat, I want to check your injury and put on a new bandage.” *

*

*

Almost too tired to eat, Alyssa forced herself to chew and swallow the last small section of cheese and handful of dates left on the broad leaf she’d used for a plate. Rahim sat close to her sharing saffron rice from their communal pot, where each dipped in two fingers to scoop up a portion. The globe continued lighting their camp area. Its reflection bounced back from the small pan of water Alyssa had set on a flat rock just inside the fire ring so the flames could heat it to boiling. Some legend about psychic light and water tickled the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t bring it into focus. While she washed the food down with a sip of hot, strong tea, she settled into the security and tranquility permeating the camp. The night held a breath of spring even at this altitude. Light from the two moons, Qamar and Zurir, silvered the trees and shrubs at the edge of the meadow. Thunder and Star had drifted closer to the camp. Now they stood side by side, nose to tail, dozing. Gazing at the peaceful horses, she said to Rahim, “Your stallion and mare have been wonderful on the trip—sure-footed, strong, and quick to respond to trouble. Star saved my life on the trail today.” “You saved each other. If you had shifted in the saddle or panicked, you and Star would have gone over the edge to—” “To certain death.” Chilled by the thought, she folded her arms across her stomach. 47

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Silently he moved closer and wrapped her in his warm embrace. “Don’t think about what might have been. It didn’t happen,” he murmured. “You’re here and safe.” “Safe,” she repeated nestling into his arms and against his gently moving chest. He chuckled, the warm tone rumbling in her ears. “Maybe not as safe as you think. Holding you is giving my body ideas.” “Ideas?” She looked up into his face and saw the desire in his eyes. That look and the gentleness were far different from Vortigan, her former fiancé. A scene came unbidden to her of the night her betrothed had taken her to bed as a part of the engagement ceremony. She’d always thought The Bedding would be a time of tenderness and commitment between herself and a man who loved her. Prince Vortigan Trugar de Rogand, prince of Fuzar had proved her wrong. He’d taken her, quick and hard, stabbing his engorged penis into her unprepared vagina. She’d whimpered in pain and he’d casually backhanded her saying, “Shut up and take it, bitch. The betrothal documents have been signed and I’ve received the first portion of your dowry. On our wedding day, I’ll receive the rest. Your father wants an alliance with mine.” He’d entered her once more—hard and deep—pumping into her helpless body until she thought he would split her in two. When he finally rolled off her and stood, she curled into a ball of pain, blood running from between her legs. He’d given a harsh laugh as he’d gazed at her arrogantly. “Better get used to me fucking you. Once I have you at Wyvern Castle, you’ll perform your spousal duties and learn to do all that gives me pleasure.” With that warning, Vortigan had dressed and left the castle and Oceanus. When her father had learned what had happened—from a Keeper of the Flame, standing in the shadows as a witness—he’d declared the 48

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betrothal void, and notified the king of Fuzar. However, King Rogand had sent back word that the betrothal stood or he’d send his ruthless Blood Warriors to attack Oceanus. Alyssa surfaced from the dark memories and found herself still in Rahim’s embrace. Carefully, she pulled away and rubbed her face with both hands. “Tired?” The tender concern in his voice nearly brought her to tears. Pretending interest in her empty cup, she turned her face away until she regained control of her expression. His hand came into view holding the small teakettle. Without a word, he poured more of the fragrant brew into her cup. Pasting a smile on her lips, she faced him. “Did you save some for yourself?” He lifted his cup. “Right here.” Light from the fire and lantern ball illuminated his rugged face and set blue shadows dancing in his black hair. A soft night breeze wrapped her in his intriguing scent, and she breathed in his essence as if partaking of some forbidden pleasure. She watched with a mouth gone dry as the muscles in his shoulders and arms moved fluidly under his soft shirt when he bent forward to set more short lengths of branch in the fire. No other man moved with such masculine grace and power. No other man made her blood sing. His eyes sought hers. For moments, measured in the thunder of her pulse, he gazed at her. Something in her lower body clenched. Her skin felt hot and tight. More minutes passed while Alyssa struggled to ignore the flare of attraction to him. Finally she said, “I’ve never met a man like you.” He went very still. “What do you mean?” She had the impression he was bracing himself for something unpleasant. Alyssa found herself choosing her words with care. “You’re 49

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obviously a person accustomed to giving orders. Certainly your companions, who went to rescue Carmen, did what you said without debate.” “They work in my father’s business.” “It’s more than that. Their respect was for you personally.” He lounged back on his right elbow and forearm, his left knee bent, still facing her. “They respect my ability to ride and use a sword.” He gave her a faint smile. “And match them drink for drink of honeyed wine.” His answer was so unexpected, it made her chuckle. Rahim grinned. “You should laugh more often. The sound warms my heart.” “I used to smile and laugh a lot more, before…” Straightening, he leaned forward and cradled her hand in his strong fingers. “Before the slavers changed your life.” The roof of her mouth itched with the threat of tears. “Yes, before the attack on Tamary.” To distract herself from the tightly held emotions, she eased farther away from Rahim, and using a folded piece of old saddle blanket, moved the pan of boiling water away from the fire to another flat rock to cool. “Alyssa, how did you learn to be so expert around a camp?” “My brother and I used to go for long distance rides. Before sunset, we’d set up a camp, sleep there for the night, and return the next day.” Rahim emptied his cup in one long swallow and set it aside. “You and your brother are close.” She smiled, thinking of Brendon. “He’s four years older than me. There were times when I resented his ability to run, climb, and ride better than I could, so I set out to match him in every way possible.” Alyssa made a wry face. “He’s still better than me in everything but training my water-dragosaurs and dancing.” “You train dabblers? I thought they were too distractible to learn 50

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anything and respond to signals.” “That’s what Brendon thought, until I taught one to make its way into his room and bring out his favorite pair of worn out desert boots. Unfortunately, he was busy trying to impress a new lady friend.” “She was offended?” “You have to know Elliana the perfect to understand her reaction. It didn’t help that she was wearing a long white dress with white-andgold embroidery. When she sat down, she’d spread the flowing skirt around her feet. My dabbler dropped the dusty boot on the edge of her hem, and waited for praise.” Crossing his arms casually, Rahim raised one eyebrow. “And?” “Elliana lost her composure. She jumped up, demanding the creature be destroyed for the insult. Brendon told her no insult was intended and asked me to take the little dabbler outside.” Alyssa sighed. “As I was leading Bitsy away, Elliana was still complaining.” Was your brother angry with you?” “Once we were alone, he thanked me for revealing her true character.” “A wise man,” Rahim said, his deep voice soft in the night. “From what you’ve said, he sounds like my cousin, Jahar. We were born in the same year, but different months. We grew up together, had our lessons together, and later fought side by side in service to our country, Aradi.” “Is that the man you’re trying to locate?” “Yes. Jahar’s father was seriously wounded in a battle with the followers of the rogue prince of Fuzar. His troops continually raid across the border between our two countries, attempting to invade that sheikdom of Shemali and add that section of Aradi to Fuzar. “After dark he sends his great wyvern, a night-flying dragon, to swoop down on Aradian soldiers, catch a victim up in its teeth or claws, and drop him to a screaming death.” “How horrible.” In her imagination, she saw a broken, bloody 51

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corpse—someone’s father or brother or son. “In the last daylight battle, a coward struck down Jahar’s father from the back when the sheik had dismounted to give aid to one of the Fuzarans who had surrendered.” She saw Rahim’s hand curl into a fist as he continued. “The healers have done all they can, but hold little hope. My uncle is lingering. He hopes to see his eldest son in time to pass on the leadership of the tribe.” Alyssa heard the pain and regret in Rahim’s voice. “Did you see when it happened?” He nodded. “I was too far away to prevent the attack. Now my uncle is dying. I must find Jahar and give him the chance to return to his father before it’s too late.” “Do you know the name of your uncle’s attacker?” Rahim’s mouth thinned. Anger blazed in his eyes. “The bastard who crept up behind my uncle and rammed a sword into his back is the same oath-breaker who killed my father under a flag of truce two years ago. “The rogue prince, Vortigan Trugar de Rogan.”

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CHAPTER 5

Vortigan. Flowerflitters danced in Alyssa’s stomach. Thank the goddess she hadn’t told Rahim about her short betrothal to the Prince of Fuzar. As the time drew closer to climb into her bedroll, Alyssa grew uneasy at the reality of sleeping so close to him. Rahim rose in one fluid motion and stretched. She tensed, uncertain what to do—give in to her attraction to him or— He said, “I’ll scout around before we turn in for the night.” “Be careful.” The words popped out before she considered he was probably the last person she needed to warn. He gave her a teasing grin. “Yes, dear.” She smiled at his lighthearted answer and playfully thumped his shoulder with her fist. Quicker than thought, he gripped her wrist and held it behind her back, trapping her against his chest. “You dare hit me? I demand 53

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satisfaction,” he said in a low, menacing tone. As she gazed up into his eyes, she saw an intimate look that had nothing to do with anger. Instead, he exuded a male hunger that stirred up her own lust. A wave of excitement rippled through her body, touching parts deep inside. She licked her lips and saw his gaze follow that small motion. “What is your demand, master?” Bending his head, he murmured, “You. Naked and willing.” Abruptly, he released her wrist and set her away from him, clasping her shoulders until she was steady on her feet. “Thunder and Star are close enough to protect you while I’m gone.” Before she had time to react, he turned and strode across the moonlit meadow toward the small stream. While Alyssa watched him cross the slender ribbon of water with one long step and disappear into the trees, she struggled with a stunning new awareness—she was ready, eager to do what he’d asked. At the thought, her breasts swelled and her tender nipples hardened into aching life. The soft kut’n desert pants and shirt felt too heavy, too confining. One thing was clear—Rahim wanted her, sexually. On the other hand, his self control was iron hard. What would happen if she broke through his control to the passion she’d experienced the night in the cave? If her emotions hadn’t loosened her hold on the water surging up through miles of rock, she’d already know the hot thrust of his penis into her body. With Vortigan, it had been hell. Somehow she knew with Rahim it would be raw, sweet heaven. For now, she could only wonder and wait. She cleaned the few utensils they had used and stored them away, ready for the next time. She added more energy to the light globe. The greater illumination would give her a better look at the grounds around the camp and act as a beacon for Rahim. 54

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“Rahim,” she murmured. Oh, goddess, please grant he returns safely, she prayed in silence. At the thought of losing him, her throat tightened. It wasn’t logical to feel this sense of loss. After all, he’s the one who had purchased her then, instead of forcing her to walk behind him or ride a donkey as a slave would, he’d given her a battle-trained mare for her mount. That first day he’d hinted the time would come when they’d part. Then, she’d been eager to go back to Tamary to see if any had survived. Now, she was torn between staying with Rahim and returning to her royal duties—duties that would forever tear Rahim away from her once he learned of her one-time betrothal to his bitter enemy, Vortigan. With the camp in order, she stirred up the fire, adding more wood, and settled cross-legged facing the section of trees where Rahim had entered. The water to bathe his wound was still cooling. She covered it with her folded headscarf, and set about taming her hair with a comb. The night closed in around her, heavy with the rich herbal scent of meadow grass and pine and fir trees. The tiny tree peepers rustled and flitted across the meadow, feasting on nocturnal insects. An owl hooted in the distance. Somewhere wolves howled—first one called, and then several answered, their cries shivering through the distant forests and valleys. Which way were they traveling? The harsh growl of a tyrano-dragosaur froze her into rigid listening. In instant silence, feathered peepers disappeared into the tree branches. Slowly, she reached for a longer branch with one end in the flames. It would be her weapon if necessary. Although she listened for long minutes, swallowing to relieve her dry mouth, the growl of the ferocious predator wasn’t repeated. A cool wind rippled through the grass. A flight of pink and gold moths whirled out of the night to circle and dance around the globe of light. From the stream came the more familiar sounds of nocturnal water 55

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dabblers as they chirred and splashed in the fast-running liquid. But the one sound she wanted to hear was Rahim’s voice. *

*

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Standing just inside the trees edging the meadow, Rahim watched Alyssa, seated near the fire, braiding her hair. Light from the magical globe illuminated her hair as it fell in one long shining rope over her left shoulder. The graceful line of her body and her slender fingers as they twined the long strands together reminded him of the feel of her under him—his chest against her firm breasts, his stomach and hips pressed against her curves, and his swollen qadib cushioned between her thighs—all before runaway water from the spring put an end to things. Watching the gentle motion of her breasts brought his sex to full attention. He saw her gazing at him as he crossed the fragrant meadow grass. She smiled and his qadib went straight to lust—hot and ready. By all the devils of Ubar, he didn’t want to need her this fast, this hard, this blindingly deep. Hadn’t he learned by bitter experience to keep his lust under control, keep his qadib in his pants, and ignore the women who waved their lush asses at him when he was prince, and even more so when he became sultan? The closer he drew to Alyssa, the more difficult the struggle became to hide her effect on him. Only the fullness of his kut’n pants and the night shadows protected his secret. She stood and came toward him saying, “You were gone so long I was worried.” “Why? Did you think I’d abandoned you? Thunder is here.” She stopped a pace away and folded her hands in front of her stomach like a maiden preparing to recite the Ten Laws of Womanly Conduct. “I heard wolves, but didn’t know which way they traveled. Worse, a 56

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tyrano-dragosaur sounded nearby.” “It’s gone.” He moved closer, marveling at her courage. “You didn’t scream or panic and try to hide.” She fingered the end of the braid. “What good would that do? Every child, who swims in the lakes and seas of Oceanus, knows the surest way to get the attention of a predator is to thrash the water.” “So you stayed quiet and still, waiting for the tyrano-dragosaur to go away? What if it was hungry and came looking for an easy meal?” Rahim’s skin crawled at the thought of her facing the vicious beast alone and unarmed. As if she read his thoughts, she gestured toward a branch with only one end in the low fire. “I had a torch ready to chase it off.” “Chase it away, just like that?” Apparently unaware of his tightly held fury, she said, “Yes. Just like that.” Then, by the illumination from the globe, he saw the nerves quivering under her skin. She had been frightened. Her calm façade had fooled him. He wanted to pull her into his arms and promise to keep her safe forever. But he couldn’t offer a future with him. He had to put his obligations to his country and people ahead of personal desire. Abruptly, he stepped away from Alyssa. “Want to bathe in warm water?” “Not the stream?” “Warmer, deeper, better than that.” She sighed. “What do I have to do? Fly to one of the moons?” “Follow me.” He secured a small fist of soap from his essentials roll, stripped the top blanket from his bedroll, and added a change of clothes. Following his example, Alyssa bundled up her blanket and clean slave garment. He knew she despised the dress for what it symbolized as well as its rough fabric. Without touching her, he said, “We’ll go this way.” His arousal was 57

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slowly subsiding. He didn’t need the brush of her hand, or the silk of her hair against his face to bring him back to eager, aching attention. “I’ll bring the light.” “Maybe later. We won’t need it where we’re going.” He led her through the grass and flower-spangled meadow. Moonlight from Qamar and Zurir shed enough light to guide their way. However, when they entered the woods, he heard a muffled sound. “Alyssa?” Even as he swiftly turned toward her, his gut clenched. “Problem?” “The dark.” She gave a short laugh. “You may have eyes like a night dweller, but I don’t. I bumped into a low-hanging branch.” Against his better judgment, he closed the two paces between them and clasped her fingers. “Will you trust me to get us through safely?” Her fingers flexed in his hand. “Always,” she said in a throaty tone that evoked thoughts of bodies mating on silken sheets in the warm darkness. Once more his erection rose, hot and hard, until he could count the heartbeats in his unruly qadib. With the determination that had carried him through the death of his father and his own rise to sultan—through the tangle of promises and lies in the politics of The Council of The Divan—Rahim led Alyssa to their destination, touching only her hand and wrist. Soon, they stood on the lip of a shallow, circular valley carved during the retreat of a long-ago glacier. The hanging valley was filled with a fantasy of pools set like steps and connected by narrow waterfalls. Wisps of steam hung over the topmost pool. The next level down held water that churned and foamed, lit from within by a pale green hue. On the third step down, a placid pool reflected back both moons. “It’s beautiful,” Alyssa said, her voice filled with awe. “Thank you for bringing me here.” Releasing her hand from his fingers, she took one more step 58

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forward and stopped. A fitful breeze played with her hair and pressed the kut’n clothes against her slender curves. With no warning, untamed water dabblers crept out of the darkness and gathered around her feet, softly chirring to each other. Rahim drew his sword, ready to slay any that raised a claw to threaten her. Then he saw younglings clinging to the back of their mothers and paused. Among the water-dragosaurs, children and their mothers were protected from violence unless they were attacked. Tonight, all the adults, male and female, kept their claws retracted in a sign of peace. Alyssa smiled down at her admirers. In a gentle tone, she said, “Welcome, protectors of the waters. Will you help me call a blessing this night?” There was a stirring among the animals. A male with silvery-blue scales and gold markings around its muzzle pressed through the crowd to face her. Beside him walked a silvery-green female with two babies on her back. Standing on his long hind legs, the alpha male and his mate gazed at Alyssa. He plucked one baby from the female and stroked its head and back tenderly. The youngling yawned and flicked its small tongue in and out between two rows of tiny teeth. Bending his face closer to his son, the father flicked his tongue in and out between two rows of much larger, dagger-like teeth. With a deep chirring sound, he lifted the baby up toward Alyssa. Smiling, she accepted the infant dabbler, its blue and silvery-green body no longer than her hand. It wrapped its slender prehensile tail around her wrist, the same way it had held onto its mother’s tail. As she stroked its supple, long neck, she said to the alpha couple, “Your children are beautiful.” The chief male and female each dipped its head as if acknowledging the compliment. The youngling rested its green muzzle on Alyssa’s cupped fingers. 59

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His mouth opened and the little silver tongue flicked out, tasting the air, tasting her skin. Alyssa raised her hand until she and the youngling were nose to nose. With one finger, she stroked the soft, shimmering scales on its head and back. Again, the youngling’s tongue flicked out. This time it licked her finger. Imitating the adult dabbler, Alyssa flicked her tongue in and out close to the baby’s face. It made a soft, contented sound, and nestled in her hand, its eyes slowly closing. Kneeling in front of the alpha male and his mate, Alyssa tenderly transferred the baby to the mother’s back. As she remained on her knees, surrounded by the water-dragosaurs, she held out her right hand, palm upward, to the alpha female. Rahim’s fingers closed on his belt dagger—just in case. The female peered into Alyssa’s face as if searching for some sign. Slowly the dabbler laid one paw in the outstretched hand, and grew motionless. The other dabblers ceased their low chirring. Instead, all attention focused on the female and Alyssa. Rahim sensed a stirring in the psychic plane. A presence, far different than any he’d ever felt, brushed his mind. Alyssa gave a low cry. Tears gathered on her cheeks, but her face glowed with an inner light and her aura pulsed in the clear gold of wisdom and the emerald green of empathy. The water-dragosaurs bobbed their heads and murmured among themselves in subdued tones of respect. Who is she? Rahim wondered. How does a woman from a small village in Oceanus, forced into slavery, call water from the depths of the planet and now command the respect of wild water-dragosaurs? She was a mystery—one he intended to solve. 60

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At that moment, Alyssa rose to her feet and moved closer to the brink of the valley of pools. The water-dragosaurs seemed to flow around her feet in a moving wave of greens, blues, silver, gold, and jewel-tone reds. She raised both hands shoulder high, her fingers cupped as if to catch the moonlight. Rahim’s heart swelled with awe. His scalp prickled and his breath came out in a rush at the renewed flow of psychic winds. Alyssa tipped her head back and closed her eyes, as if listening to the land. “I can feel the power here…and the peace,” she murmured. “The goddess has made this a place of healing and renewal—and new beginnings.” A low chirr rippled through the dabblers. Quietly, they turned and slipped away into the sheltering brush and trees. The psychic winds receded. Once more, the land pulsed with the splash and flow of the small waterfalls dropping into the string of pools. Tree peepers sang as they flitted through the night. In the distance, wolves yipped and howled, moving farther away. Worried now by how the rush of psychic energies might have caused Alyssa harm, Rahim took a silent step forward to where she continued to stand in worship. Quietly, he said, “Alyssa?” She lowered her hands and turned to face him, a smile playing on her lips. “Let’s honor this gift of the goddess and go play in the water.” The light of playful intelligence in her eyes proved she had come through unscathed and whole. With his relief came a surge of desire so strong, he could only stand rigidly as he struggled against the blinding need to tear off her clothes, to inspect every inch of her body, to take her hard and deep, to mark her as his mate, and… That’s enough, he ordered himself. Rahim took a deep breath, so damned horny he could barely think of anything but Alyssa’s sweet breasts waiting for his mouth, her yoni waiting for his 61

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tongue, her clit—damp and flowing with feminine juices, waiting, waiting. Tightening his self control, Rahim gripped Alyssa’s fingers as they threaded their way down the rocky trail to the top pool. “The water’s hot on the far side, but okay here.” Releasing her hand, he hunkered down and dipped his hand in the pool at his feet. “See? Perfect.” “The air temperature is perfect, too. It’s warmer here than at the top of the trail.” “Just right to bathe.” Rahim spread the blanket on a level patch of grass. Opening his essentials roll, he took out the irregular ball of soap, set it aside and shrugged out of his shirt. Alyssa had moved a short distance away to where a sweetbush grew close to the edge of the water. She plucked leaves from the branches and set them on a smooth, flat slab of black rock. He started toward her to offer the soap when she stepped into the shadow of the bush. He barely made out her movements as she pulled the borrowed shirt up and over her head, carefully keeping her back where it was hidden by the dark. By the sweet goddess of womanhood, Alyssa is modest. “How could that be?” he muttered to himself. She’d been in the slavers’ camp on the trip from Oceanus. Certainly they had stripped her to examine her. Closing the distance between them, he stopped just to one side and said in a low voice, “Alyssa, why hide yourself? I saw your lovely body in the cave last night.” At the sound of his voice, she had turned halfway toward him with the discarded shirt held up to her breasts as a shield. Her eyes were like great pools of deep water in the moon-drenched night. Raising one hand as if to hold him off, she said, “I didn’t want you to see the scars on my back. The last thing I need is your revulsion or pity.” “Revulsion? Pity? What in all the devils of Ubar did the slavers do 62

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to you?” He started to clasp her shoulders and turn her to face him. Then stopped. His touch might repel her while her mind whirled with frightening images from the past. At the idea of the rough treatment she’d suffered at the hands of Scarface and his men, Rahim’s blood grow hot with thoughts of vengeance. He wanted to soothe her, tell her to forget the past, but he knew she didn’t want pity, so he gave her arrogance. In a stern tone, he said, “Alyssa Maylea Palanui, I did not realize I had purchased a coward.” “Coward?” she spat. “I’ll show you coward.” Dropping the shirt, she grasped his arm with both hands and pulled him off balance into the water. Closing his eyes to protect them from the heat and minerals in the water, he found the smooth bottom and pushed to the top. Along the way, he realized the liquid was warm and mild in this part, and peered into the dark water. He came up spluttering, shook the wet hair from his eyes, and searched for her, but she wasn’t there. Instead, she’d taken up a position on the bank, out of his reach, where she could watch him, but escape before he could get out of the pool. How could he get her to come to him? Easing deeper into the water, he let himself slowly turn over and float, face down, arms and legs trailing beside his limp body. “Rahim?” she called. “Are you injured?” He continued floating, holding his breath, rocking in the current set up by the waterfall at one end and the overflow to one side. She said his name again, this time more urgently. A mimic-bird echoed back, “Rahim, Rahim.” By all the demons, he needed to breathe or he really would become a drowning victim. Carefully, he turned his head away from her and took a breath, disguising the motion with a weak movement of his arm. “I’m coming,” she called. He heard the splash as she jumped or dove in. The wave of ripples 63

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rocked him. He ventured another breath, then lay as motionless as possible, listening to her swim toward him. Her hand slipped under his chin raising his head out of the liquid. Gasping for air, he looked at her. “You…saved me.” “Not until we reach the bank.” With a deft motion, she turned him onto his back and swam with him to the place where they’d entered. Secure in her expert hold, Rahim stared at the night sky overhead. This time in spring, stars sketching the outline of the Great Basket hovered just above the spray of stars that formed the lemon grass constellation. The night Qamar and Zurir both moved into the curve of the basket was a time for rejoicing—a time for passion to explode across Traber. Eight months later, many infants would be born; the newest crop of grass babies. They and their parents would be honored as the living promise of another fruitful year. With the suddenness of a great earth shake, Rahim fell into a vision. The murmur of the warm water surrounding him became the mutter of guards exchanging sign and countersign outside the rocky cell where he and Alyssa were imprisoned. They lay together—caught in the passion of the grass moons, his body entwined with Alyssa’s—locked in the desperation of making love one last time. A cool, harsh voice called for the door to be opened. Chains rattled. A key scraped in the metal lock. The door swung open and his executioners marched in. Alyssa cried, “Rahim!” Hands threw him to the ground and he felt the rough surface under his face.

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CHAPTER 6

The rough surface under his face, in the vision, had become the packed dirt at the edge of the thermal pool. His trick had cost him more than trying to hold his breath until he damned near drowned. Somehow it had triggered a vision—one that would haunt him for eternity unless he changed the lines of fate—to prevent Alyssa and himself from execution. He felt Alyssa’s fingers on the place under his ear where his heartbeat pulsed. “He’s alive,” she said, in a tear-filled voice. Alyssa crying? Had he caused those tears with his not-so-innocent subterfuge to draw her closer to him in the water? Damn. He felt lower than a drago-snake’s belly. But when he tried to get up on his hands and knees, the best he could do was to raise one hand from the ground before a fit of coughing flattened him. “Help me turn him over.” The low chirr of water dabblers responded to her words. Alyssa’s hands and other, smaller, finger-like claws, rolled him up onto his side. 65

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Gradually, his breath came more easily. Turning over, he made another attempt to sit. Instead, Alyssa slipped a folded blanket under his head. He looked up into her face, shadowed, but with her hair, lit by moonlight into a silken fire around her head. Raising one hand, he stroked a finger across her lips. “You saved me. I tried to trick you, but—” “Don’t talk,” she urged, pressing her hand against his cheek. But he persisted. “I was wrong to—” “To pretend you were drowning?” She brushed her lips across his. “Then we’re even. I shouldn’t have pushed you into the pool.” “But you knew?” “I suspected a trick. Remember, I have a brother. He loved to tease.” She stood and stretched, then offered her hand. “Time to bathe. I have sweetbush leaves to cleanse our bodies.” “As I said, I’ll share my soap.” He accepted her help and asked, “Can we repair the trust between us?” “I’ll think about it.” Her lips curved up in a mischievous smile. “But I reserve the right to splash you.” She surprised a chuckle out of him. “Done.” Once more the alpha male dabbler and his mate slipped away into the shadows. Rahim drew off his wet clothes, draped them over another sweetbush to dry, retrieved the soap, and joined Alyssa where she stood hip-deep in the pool. As she unraveled her braid, moonshine caressed her body, pouring liquid light across the tops of her shoulders and the firm curve of her breasts. Farther down, the illumination lovingly traced her graceful waistline and gentle flare of her hips to where water veiled the feminine curls at the top of her thighs. He’d felt the heat hidden there, and the hot woman’s honey of arousal. At the sight and the memory of that night in the cave, pressure built 66

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in his groin with new urgency. Tonight he wanted to touch and explore the warm satin of her body, to measure the depth of her velvet sheath with his sex, to taste the varying textures and flavors of her body with his lips and tongue, but if he came at her like a rutting tyrannodragosaur, she’d think he was no better than the slavers. First, he had to get control over his obvious physical response. Hunkering down in the warm pool until only his head was above water, he lathered and rinsed his hair, then worked down from his shoulders to his feet. In the meantime, he watched Alyssa crumple sweetbush leaves in her hands and rub the juice through her long hair. When she looked up and saw him gazing at her, she said, “Sweetbush juice is good for my hair and you don’t know when you’ll replenish your supplies.” Holding out the fist of soap he said, “Use this. It has sweetbush elixir in the mixture.” Smiling as if he’d offered her a precious gift, she asked, “How can I ever thank you?” “I have an idea or two.” Stepping closer, he said, “You can begin by letting me wash your hair.” Her eyes widened. “My…my hair?” “Hair, face, arms, shoulders, every part of you.” Slipping around behind her, he worked up a lather between his hands and massaged it into the long, satin strands. Her firm, round bottom bumped against his upper legs, and his sex thickened. Not yet, he ordered his unruly shaft and changed his stance to add some space between them. Slowly, he worked the suds into the crown of her head, massaging her scalp while she made little sounds of pleasure. Her obvious sensual delight went through him like a flare of lightning. “Lean back,” he murmured. “Float in the water while I rinse away the soap.” 67

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“And show my trust?” “Yes. Trust me.” Without another word, she eased backward into the warm liquid, her hands gently moving to keep her position against the current in the pool. “Alyssa, your confidence humbles me.” He ruffled his fingers through her long strands, washed by a mixture of desire and awe, and an overwhelming sense of rightness. “Rahim, give me your hand.” Languidly, she raised her fingers to him. Still bemused by her easy trust in him, he cradled the nape of her neck in one hand and eased his fingers into her cupped hand. Clasping his larger hand, she drew it to the valley between her breasts. “Rahim, tonight you have shown me your tender and caring side.” “Alyssa,” he breathed. “I want to kiss you…and taste you all over.” She tightened her hold on his fingers then lifted them close to her lips. “I want that too.” Her warm mouth closed around his index finger, drawing it into the warm depths in imitation of her taking his sex into her slick feminine folds. His breath stopped in his throat. A need beyond anything he’d ever felt, hammered through his blood. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on regaining control over his unruly needs. Alyssa must have sensed his struggle. She eased away from him and stood while liquid sheeted off her and into the pool. She touched his arm. “Rahim, you don’t have to finish washing every part of my body.” “I made a promise—” “And you keep your word.” “Always.” “Then let’s hurry.” 68

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*

*

*

Following Rahim’s terse instructions, Alyssa stretched out, face up, on the blanket. Kneeling beside her, wearing the black pants he’d hastily donned, he used his wadded up kut’n shirt to dry her. Muttering about temptation, he’d draped her slave garment over her tummy down to her knees. His strokes were even and sure, but the bright moonlight revealed a fine tremble in his muscles when he ran the cloth over her breasts and down her stomach. His breathing thickened, grew harsh. Knowing that her body excited him made her own desire grow. Her breasts swelled to greater sensitivity. At the top of her thighs, he hesitated, then handed her the cloth and sat back on his heels. “You finish, then call the light and turn over so I can see the scars on your back.” Her stomach flipped. The scars were a reminder she had not protected the people of Tamary—a reminder of her shame. Sitting up, cross-legged, she quickly dried off. Still upright, she reluctantly held up one hand and called energy into a pulsing globe. He moved around to her back. She crossed her arms over her breasts and fought the impulse to turn away from his inspection—to hide the visible marks left by the slavers. Rahim’s hand brushed the damp skin at the base of her neck as he swept her hair to one side. She gazed straight ahead at the ripples in the warm pool where the glow of her nimbus light and images of the two moons danced and fractured into shimmering images. The night wind sighed. Hidden in the brush and shadows, a water dabbler chirred its all-is-safe cry. Rahim rested one hand at the top of where her scars began. “Alyssa, gentle warrior, these lines of pain do you honor.” His deep voice set her pulse leaping. She took a breath. “A 69

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whipping is degrading.” “Don’t tell that to a soldier. Only a few have escaped the lash of discipline.” He gave a short laugh. “I didn’t.” In her surprise, she forgot her embarrassment. “You?” “Three to remind me of regulations—administered by my sergeant.” Before she could ask anything else, his warm breath stirred the hair on the back of her neck and his lips pressed against the tender skin. She murmured his name, already caught up in the sensual spell of his touch. He pressed another kiss to her skin lower down and said, “I’m here, wildflower. Let me replace what those bastards did with a good memory.” At his understanding tone, her anxiety eased. “They tied me to a blister tree,” she began, “and slashed the bark against my back until the liquid burned—” “Here?” His warm lips and tongue swept down her back, soothing the tender scars. “Like this?” he murmured, stroking her arms, her wrists, the ultra-sensitive dip at the base of her spine, cleansing away the hurt and humiliation while a different, exciting heat raced through her nerves. “Yes, and yes.” She shivered under the waves of erotic forces. “Then he shifted to my nipples…and down to between my… “ At the memory of that greater violation, nausea rose in her throat. She closed her eyes, fighting to contain the dark images. Rahim’s fingers brushed her shoulder. A bare pause, and his warm breath swept across the tender skin at the base of her throat. She had barely registered the change of his position when the male heat of his great body warmed her front. He cupped her breasts gently and kissed the top curve of each one. “Look at me,” he said in a tone rich with longing. He sat back on his heels, hands gripping his thighs. “See how much I treasure your body, how I desire to claim every inch tonight, to totally eradicate the 70

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painful memories—but only with your permission.” With my permission, echoed in her mind. Alyssa’s heart filled to bursting. Somehow this warrior, who could take what he wanted by force, understood her need to be the one in control of when, or even if, he was allowed to touch her at this time and place. The thought brought her up to her knees. For the first time, she became aware that the wound on his left side, inflicted in the battle with the slavers, had closed over with new, healthy skin. She bent forward and hesitantly tested the edge of the fresh healing. His flesh rippled under her hand. Rahim’s breath expelled in a rush. The fingers on his thighs tensed. “Alyssa, don’t touch me if I can’t touch back,” he said in a tight voice. Her gaze drifted to his crotch. In spite of the loose black pants, the soft light of the nimbus globe showed his shaft pressing against the kut’n. A hot rush of desire raced through her body and pulsed below her belly. Her hands trembled. In an effort to control her own reactions, she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Rahim, I want your hands, your mouth, and all of you to touch me—here—now.” His scrutiny came up to meet hers with a rush as if he were a primal creature scenting his mate. An uneasy frisson of excitement speared through her. He slipped out of his pants and knelt with her on the blanket, face to face. Lacing his fingers with hers, he held her arms away from her body, and gazed at her as if feasting his eyes on a treasure or a banquet. “Wildflower, you excite me.” His voice rumbled low and vibrant. “No other woman has captured my interest the way you have. No other woman has so tested my self control.” Tugging her toward him, he kept his hold on her, pressing her arms to her sides so they met mouth to mouth, breast to hard chest, heat to heat. His lips nipped at her top lip, gently nibbled on her lower lip, as if feasting. Then holding her wrists behind her, he captured her mouth in 71

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a kiss that rippled and flamed through her blood. She tugged at his hold, consumed with the desire to wrap her arms around him, but he was relentless with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, sucking, and stroking until she melted against him. “You liked that?” he muttered, releasing her wrists and slowly easing her onto her back. Her mind whirled. It took three tries for her to say. “More…” He chuckled in a low, dark tone. “Yes, my sweet temptress. There’s more.” Settling with one knee between her legs and the other on the outside, he once again cupped her breasts in his long, strong fingers, and kneaded the globes into aching fullness. He brushed a thumb across each taut nipple, paused to kiss each one in turn, then gently squeezed and released—squeezed and released, as his thick arousal stroked the inside of her thigh. The moisture of his kiss, cooling on her sensitive tips, sent cold fire to her innermost depths. The pressure between her legs begged for his male shaft to enter her—fill her until there was no room. She tried to tell him, but her mind wouldn’t form the words. All she could do was make sounds of hunger, moans of wanting. Shifting lower, he gripped her hips in his warrior hands, and swirled the tip of his tongue into her sensitive navel. “Oh, my goddess,” she gasped. “Rahim, do it again.” He obliged once more, then spread her legs farther apart and set searing kisses on her inner thigh, first one side, then the other, back and forth, working closer to the most tender part of her femininity. Any shyness she’d felt at the first press of his lips to such an intimate part gave way to rippling, surging pleasure. The warmth of her arousal dampened her labia while new pressure and tension coiled in her womb. She wanted…craved…hungered for what seemed unattainable relief. And yet she feared that same release the way a hatchling must both 72

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yearn for and fear the final crack in the shell that dropped it into a new world. Raising her head, she looked down her body at Rahim’s tanned forehead and black hair nestled between her legs where his talented mouth stroked and teased her into a new world of sensuality. At that moment, his busy tongue found a button of acute sensitivity. Her fingers scrabbled at the blanket blindly searching for one secure hold in a spinning world. Tipping back her head, she moaned while her spine arched in helpless pleasure. “Now, sweet wildflower, now,” he muttered sliding up her slick skin until his blunt shaft probed her feminine slit. “Yes. Now,” she demanded raising her knees, spreading wider to give him greater access. He pressed into her, and paused, his breath short and choppy. Vaguely, she understood he was giving her body time to adjust. “More, I can take more,” she said on a gasp. With a low growl of arousal, he thrust in deeper, his thick shaft filling her, caressing sensual places she never knew she had. Just when she thought he could go no deeper, he withdrew part way out. Before she could protest, he thrust in again, deeper, faster. All her hunger focused on that hot slide of male flesh where he stroked her— carried her to new erotic levels. Rahim’s face rose above her. She couldn’t see anything, but his tight jaw muscles, the straining chords in his neck, and his eyes heavy with passion. The world fell away until there was only Rahim and her fused together in a wanting, a pleasure so desperate, so deep, she could only beg, “Oh, goddess, oh goddess, don’t let it end.”

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CHAPTER 7

Three more days of traveling brought them to the outskirts of a large town sprawled across a long spur on the southern slope of the Kaf Mountains, overlooking the high plains of Saladin. In the daytime, they’d pressed hard to cover as much ground as possible, always with the goal of locating Jahar. But the nights were sweet times of mutual exploration, each one learning the shape and sensitivity of the other one’s body, the resilient textures of skin and hair, and unique scent. On the second day, they had reached a village where Rahim purchased a set of women’s riding clothes for Alyssa, and found a boot maker who modified soft desert boots to fit her slender feet while they shopped for items to supplement their store of foods. On the third day, just past high noon, Rahim and Alyssa rode into Crosswinds, a large trade town. Roads and trails converged here from all directions. Following the local custom, Alyssa had pulled up the hood of the 74

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burnoose to hide her hair, and had concealed her face behind a thick veil. Even though her eyes were hidden in the shadow of the covering, he saw the lively interest in them. Reining closer, she asked, “Is this where you expect to find your cousin?” As Rahim scanned the crowds, searching for Jahar, he said, “There’s a good chance he’ll be here. In Zoltar, the chief of the Traders told me Jahar was traveling with a tribe of horse traders to the regional trade fair in this town.” “Where should we start looking?” “If the scout we saw near the trail this morning was from the tribe he’s traveling with, Jahar will find us.” As if summoned by his words, Jahar emerged from the crowd, deftly guiding his magnificent horse around a cart filled with hay and another packed with people dressed in bright holiday clothing. Behind him rode Numair and Yahiya, the men sent to rescue the high plains woman. Following the unspoken rules of road courtesy, Rahim led Alyssa to one side, out of the direct path of the travelers. The moment the road cleared in front of Jahar, he increased his mount’s speed, racing toward Rahim even as he raised his sword in salute. Moments later, he reined his stallion to a stop and shouted, “The gods be praised. You arrived in time for the wedding.” “What wedding?” Quickly dismounting, Rahim gave Thunder the signal to stay, then caught up his cousin in a manly, comrade-tocomrade embrace. From the corner of his eye, he saw his two men ride by and place their mounts just past Alyssa, to further divert the flow of people, carts, and horses and riders around them. With one last comradely thump to Rahim’s shoulder, Jahar stepped back a half a pace. “I sent a message to you by winged carrier seven days ago.” 75

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“I’ve been traveling for eight.” “Then why are you here?” Jahar’s grin faded. “Is something wrong at home? My mother, or sister, or father—are they well?” He gestured toward Numair and Yahiya. “They only said you were coming and for me to wait, but be ready to travel when you arrived. “My men guard my secrets well.” “No truer words have been spoken. They didn’t even tell me about the flame-haired slave you bought in Zoltar. I had to learn it from a swift riding crier who races from town to town with the latest gossip, depending on the few dirhems thrown to him by grateful listeners hungry for news.” Rahim made an impatient gesture. “Don’t trust unverified gossip.” Jahar glanced at Alyssa where she had dismounted far enough away to give the men their privacy. Turning his attention back to Rahim, he said, “This recent gossip was verified by my scout from the Kaf Mountains trail. He saw your flame-haired beauty before she pulled up the hood.” “My unwelcome ownership will cease as soon as we find the local Temple of the Fire Goddess. A Keeper of the Flame can bear witness to my granting the woman her freedom.” “That will be easily done. My betrothed and her family have set up camp a short distance outside the temple walls.” Jahar grinned. “If you’re in a hurry to release her and throw away the fifty thousand dirhems.” Rahim stiffened. “We do not keep slaves in Aradi.” Jahar’s smile faded. He said softly, “You really care for this woman more than as a simple obligation?” By the gods, yes. Rahim quickly suppressed the thought. “A sultan must put the best interests of his country above his own desires.” He gripped his cousin’s shoulder. “As you will learn when you inherit the Shemali sheikdom from your father.” “Consort grant my father a long life.” 76

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“That is the reason I have traveled incognito to find you.” *

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While Rahim and his cousin talked, Alyssa had dismounted and loosened Star’s cinch. Stroking the mare’s neck, she studied the two men behind her. Yes, they were the ones Rahim had sent to rescue Carmen. Did she dare ask about the high plains woman? Numair, the one who Rahim had entrusted with the money was closest to her. Bracing herself for bad news, she looked up at him. “Please, can you tell me about Carmen? Is she all right?” His fierce expression softened. “The young lady is safely with her parents.” “Thank the goddess, and thanks to you and your companion.” Both men gravely nodded. Alyssa felt a great weight lift off her shoulders. Until she’d heard the good news, she hadn’t realized how much she’d blamed herself for not being able to help the young woman who’d become her friend. Since he’d answered one question, she ventured to ask, “How did you know Rahim would be here?” “He was looking for Jahar, so we followed the son of Sheik Najjar knowing our sidi would come.” He gestured toward Rahim. “Our sidi has finished his conversation, and now beckons for you.” Silently Numair swung out of the saddle and tightened Star’s cinch. Alyssa turned to face Rahim as he strode toward her, impatience in every line of his strong, black-clad body. Stopping two steps away, he said, “Mount up. We go to meet Jahar’s betrothed and her family.” “How soon will Jahar leave to see his father?” “Tomorrow morning.” With one easy movement, Rahim lifted her up into the saddle. “Plans for the wedding are in progress. It is important for my cousin to secure the lineage of the Najjar line in 77

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Shemali. His marriage is the first step.” “A wedding. How sweet.” “Right now, it’s a damned nuisance. I planned to find a Keeper of the Flame immediately to have your freedom properly witnessed and recorded. Now my family duty is to be introduced to Jahar’s future bride and her parents. Once that obligation is complete, we will go to the Temple of the Fire Goddess. You’ll have your freedom.” As the the small group rode through the narrow streets, they traveled with Jahar leading the way. Rahim took the place on her right and Numair to the left with Yahiya behind. Throngs of people pressed in around them. The horses’ hooves rang on the fitted rock, and the way was often shaded by ancient houses built with the second and third stories projecting over the street. Rahim, Jahar, and the other men with them rode in a relaxed manner, but she noticed each kept a hand near his scimitar. Suddenly, the town didn’t seem so friendly and Alyssa was grateful for the protection offered by Rahim and the men. They passed through the souk , the market with its open-air displays of copper vessels, rugs, clothing, bright necklaces and bracelets. The air was a heady mixture of scents—unguents and perfumes, washed wool, camels and horses, and the sweet ripeness of fruit arranged in baskets. Best of all, she saw no sign of slaves being sold. When they reached some high walls decorated with mosaics, Rahim said, “Behind there stands the Temple of the Fire Goddess and your freedom.” “My freedom,” she murmured pensively. Did she really want to be free of Rahim? Not really, her heart cried. The small group followed along one side to the white walls with their story of creation told in panels of red, yellow, gold and a ribbon of many shaded blues for water that nurtured life. Passing through an open, massive, wood-plank gate bound with 78

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strips of hammered bronze, they came out into a wide meadow where tents of tanned and ornamented hides were clustered in groups, each clan group displaying a flag bearing the sign of that tribe. Alyssa noticed three riders poised beside a rope corral of magnificent mares and geldings. One of them, a woman, waved, then galloped toward them. Jahar let out a shout and raced to meet her. Rahim turned to Alyssa with a grin. “Must be true love.” True love. She nodded to him, her heart so filled with trembling emotions, she was afraid he’d hear them in her voice. If only… Forget it, she told herself. He’d made it clear he was eager to get rid of her as soon as they could visit the Keeper of the Flame. Enviously, she watched the lovers race toward each other. As the woman grew closer, something about her tugged at Alyssa’s memory. Then the two met. Without stopping to dismount, Jahar wrapped one arm around the slender, dark haired woman and lifted her from her mount to his, catching her lips in a kiss that could have started a wildfire. Rahim reined Thunder close enough to Alyssa for their legs to brush. Wryly, he said, “Let’s go meet the bride-to-be-before she and Jahar go up in flames.” Caught by surprise at how similar his thoughts were to hers, she laughed. “Got your water skin ready?” Rahim lifted his and shook it. “Right here.” Numair and Yahiya, added their own chuckling observations, but Alyssa wasn’t paying attention. Her curiosity about Jahar’s betrothed grew. As she and Rahim approached the sweethearts, the woman raised her head and stared straight at Alyssa. It looked like… Yes! Tumbling off Star, Alyssa unfastened her veil to reveal her identity, and ran to meet the woman who quickly dismounted. 79

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“Carmen! How did you get here?” Bubbling with delight, Alyssa hugged the high plains woman. “I have the same question.” Carmen returned her embrace while Alyssa’s whole being rejoiced. She heard Rahim joke, “I’d say they’re happy to see each other.” Looking over her shoulder, Alyssa grinned at him. “Happy doesn’t begin to express how I feel.” She grasped Carmen’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length. The days and nights of suffering and horror she and Carmen had experienced flashed through her mind. Today, the high plains woman stood proud and unafraid, wearing comfortable kut’n pants, tyrano hide boots, and a fawn-colored over-tunic trimmed in embroidered yellow, red, and green flowers and leaves. “Carmen, you look wonderful,” Alyssa said to the healthy, glowing woman. “Thanks to Numair and Yahiya for taking me away from Gorco and the Dirty Angel.” She looked at Jahar with love shining in her eyes. “And the goddess be blessed that my betrothed didn’t blame me for being captured and forced into slavery.” “Why blame you?” “I had ridden away from my family’s temporary camp without leaving word of my destination. That delayed them searching for me.” Alyssa had more questions, but Jahar had dismounted. Now he and the two men who’d been with Carmen stepped closer. Jahar wrapped an arm around Carmen’s waist. “I’ve given thanks to my cousin for sending his men with the dirhems to rescue my beloved.” Pausing, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss in her palm, folding her fingers over the spot. Alyssa’s heart warmed at the obvious love between Carmen and Jahar. She glanced at Rahim nearby. If he grew to love her the way Jahar loved Carmen, could she convince Rahim to return with her to Oceanus and settle there as husband and wife? 80

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Continuing the introductions, Jahar said, “Cousin, it is my pleasure to present Chief Matoskah White Bear, father of my betrothed, his eldest son, Kwahu Eagle Hunter, and my betrothed, Carmen Sweet Willow.” The two high plains men stood tall and proud, their fringed and beaded, soft deerskin shirts and pants, and low tyrano-hide boots proclaimed their wealth and importance in the tribe. Then Jahar swept out a hand in presentation. “Chief White Bear, this is my cousin, Rahim Yasir Al Sayyed, Sultan of Aradi.”

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CHAPTER 8

Sultan Al Sayyed, the Warrior Sultan. Alyssa stared at Rahim. How could she not have suspected his identity? Of course she’d heard about him. But those reports had told of his strength as a warrior and head of his country, not the man who brought a smile to the face of a child. Not the man who spent a small fortune rescuing her from life as a slave, and even arranged for the freedom of Carmen, another woman he hadn’t known. She’d dreamed of him returning with her to Oceanus and the capitol city, Tambua. Heaviness grew in her heart. Knowing his identity shattered that dream. A hand touched her wrist. Startled, she looked at Carmen’s concerned expression. “Friend, Alyssa, what makes you so unhappy?” With a sad laugh, she said, “Watching a dream die.” Gathering her composure, Alyssa added, “There’s nothing I can do to change the circumstances.” Briefly she wondered what Rahim would say—or do if 82

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he learned she was a princess in her own right. Then she recalled that Rahim and Vortigan were bitter enemies. The crowds of people, horses and wagons continued to pass by the small party. Rahim’s men remained on horseback, acting as double shields. She watched Rahim collect Thunder’s reins and gesture toward an area under twin shagar trees a short distance away from the busy road. Following Rahim’s lead, Alyssa gripped Star’s reins and said, “Sultan Al Sayyed brings important news for Jahar. It looks like he plans to tell your betrothed now instead of waiting until we reach the tribal campsite.” Without waiting for Carmen’s response, Alyssa fell in behind Rahim, Jahar, and the high plains men moving through the knee-high green and gold grass. As they walked, she heard Rahim and Jahar’s voices in a low-toned conversation. By the time everyone met in the shade of the purple trees, Jahar’s grim expression showed he now knew about his father’s critical condition. Jahar laced his fingers with Carmen and faced her father. “Chief White Bear, I have just learned my father was wounded eight days ago and in critical condition. I must go to him now. I am the only surviving son and next in line to the sheikdom of Shemali.” The chief nodded solemnly. “Jahar, son of Sheik Najjar, you have a true man’s sense of duty. Will you leave immediately? What are your plans for my daughter?” The young couple stared at each other. Carmen nodded. Jahar kissed her cheek then stepped away as his face settled into dark, bleak lines. “Shemali has warring factions within its tribes. Some would even turn traitorous, join with King Rogan, and allow Shemali to become a part of his kingdom, Fuzar. They need a ruling sheik to unite them and stand against the army of Fuzar’s warrior prince, Vortigan.” 83

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He gripped the hilt of his scimitar. “If my father still lives, I must stand at his side. If he dies, then it is my duty to protect the people of Shemali from the kingdom of Fuzar.” Rahim pressed his fingers over Jahar’s hand. “As Sultan, I honor your pledge, but there is another duty for you to fulfill—to marry and sire heirs so the Najjar line can continue.” Reaching out to Carmen, Jahar drew her close. “Then we’ll wed tonight and begin the journey to my father’s side tomorrow.” *

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Alyssa had watched Jahar, Carmen, and the two high plains men mount their horses and soon disappear into the crowd making its way through the open gateway into town. Now she stood beside Rahim…Sultan Al Sayyed at the high altar of the Fire Goddess, waiting for a Keeper of the Flame to come and witness the sultan’s signature on the order of manumission. Alyssa was glad she had refastened the veil. It hid her sad thoughts from everyone, including the man who would soon release her from his service—and from his presence. Oh, Bright Goddess, I don’t want to leave him, she thought in despair. Her chest felt heavy. Her throat tightened as she recalled the hardships and the joys during the day—the sensual lovemaking and precious intimacy of the nights. The soft chiming of silver bells announced the entrance of a Keeper accompanied by acolytes. “About time,” Rahim murmured low enough so only Alyssa heard him. Was he so eager to be rid of her? Earlier, he’d promised to arrange an escort for her back to Tamary or wherever she wanted to go in her country. From the moment of her capture, Alyssa’s goal had been to return to Oceanus, and to her parents. Had Lani returned safely to her family? 84

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Had any women or children survived the slavers’ attack? Now she was torn between her first goals and the desire to stay with Rahim. As the Keeper, in white robes trimmed with a band of red-and-gold at hem and sleeves, approached, she was followed by four acolytes garbed in plain white. Rahim gave a deep salaam, hand over heart, then lips, then his forehead and bowed. “High Priestess, you do us honor.” She inclined her head graciously. “Sultan Al Sayyed and Alyssa of Oceanus, welcome. I will sign and witness the manumission.” A faint smile warmed her composed features. “Word of the mysterious dark rider paying a fortune for a lowly slave has traveled throughout the land.” Then Alyssa felt the impact of the regal woman’s gaze and experienced the soft brush of a psychic probe. The priestess continued, “Sultan Al Sayyed, you have shown wisdom in choosing this path. Slavery is against the precepts taught by our order as well as in your land.” “That is true.” Rahim extended the parchment bill of sale, then offered his back as a steady surface. Using a fresh quill dipped in ink the Keeper-priestess signed the document and passed it to one of her acolytes. “The manumission shall be kept in our archives, registered in the records at all Temples of the Fire Goddess, and live in the memory of every Keeper of the Flame.” At a gesture, the acolytes bowed and filed out between the temple columns. Once again, Alyssa felt the warmth of the Keeper’s gaze, then the sacred woman said, “Sultan Rahim and freewoman Alyssa, the Fire Goddess has given me a vision—one I must impart to each of you.” “A vision?” Alyssa murmured, kneeling. “What would the Fire Goddess want of me?” Beside her, Rahim bowed his head. “I wait to hear the wishes of the 85

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great Goddess.” “Then kneel, Sultan of Aradi, cousin to Jahar, son of Sheik Najjar. Your ties of blood and honor make you a worthy vessel for the goddess’s gift to the princeling of Shemali.” As Rahim went down on his knees, the priestess said to Alyssa, “Water Caller, daughter of ocean and earth, your courage and ties of great friendship to Carmen of the high plains make you a worthy vessel for the goddess’s fertility gift to the bride.” Laying hands on Rahim and Alyssa’s heads, the High Priestess continued, “Rahim, within you dwells the energy of wind and fire. Together, you and Alyssa represent the Akasha, the four creative forces of the universe. Receive, now, instructions for the gift you will pass on to the honored couple.” *

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Hours later, still shaken by the force of the vision in the temple, Rahim celebrated his cousin’s wedding. The rug he shared with Alyssa had been unrolled in the place of honor on the right of where Jahar and Carmen sat. The solemn wedding ceremony had been performed as Qamar and Zurir had risen in full splendor. This camp had been established near a deep lake fed by streams tumbling down the south slope of the Kaf Mountains. A mixture of palms, silver tips, and shagar trees stood guard around the edge. The golden shagar blossoms perfumed the night air. On the far side of the lake, natural thermal pools emptied into the lake. Earlier, when Alyssa, Carmen, and the other women had gone there to bathe, he, Jahar, and Carmen’s brother, Eagle Hunter, had stood guard duty outside the privacy walls of tanned deer hide. Rahim’s scrutiny swept the open ring of people seated on rugs in front of their tents. Moonlight and the blazing fire illuminated their happy faces. Alyssa’s shoulder brushed his and every sense went on the 86

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alert. His qadib throbbed. Soon he would make love to Alyssa and create the living energy that would bring life to a new generation for Jahar and Carmen.

As it had during the beautiful ceremony, Alyssa’s gaze was once more drawn to Rahim. He gave her a slow smile filled with sensual promise. Her nipples tightened, pressing against the heavy silk of her pale blue embroidered tunic. His gaze dropped to the evidence of her response. He murmured, “Soon,” and her heart leaped. A slow throbbing built between her thighs. She tried to focus her attention on the guests as they stood, one by one, to proclaim their praise and support for the newly married couple. But her thoughts whirled like a waterspout racing across a storm-tossed Conch Bay. Not much longer, she reminded herself, already anticipating the slow glide of Rahim’s hands across her skin, the hot tension of his mouth sucking on her nipples. A cool wind whispered through the trees, tugging at her clothes and rippling the water of the lake. She tucked her heavy silk skirt closer to her legs, and pulled the shawl Carmen had presented to her around her throat. At least the wool rug she shared with Rahim insulated her from the cold ground. “You getting chilly?” Rahim murmured. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he nuzzled her neck. “I have the solution for that.” Under cover of darkness, he drew her hand to his crotch and whispered, “Soon, wildflower, soon.” Her breath caught in her throat at the soft flow of his warm breath on her sensitive skin and the hard promise of his thick shaft filling her moist sheath. Burying her face against his shoulder, she said in a husky voice, “I can’t wait.” 87

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Rising from the richly patterned rug with all the exotic menace and sensual promise of a dark warrior, he swept her into his arms. To Jahar and Carmen, he said, “The time has come to fulfill our promise to the Fire Goddess and you.” Alyssa heard a low ripple of comments from around the circle, but her attention was centered on him as he carried her toward their tent and the open air shelter set beside it a distance from the camp. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she looked up into his tense expression. Even in the pale light of the moons, she saw the rush of color staining his high cheeks. “Rahim—” “Later,” he commanded in a husky voice. Chief White Bear’s second son, newly come into warrior status, strode ahead of them to assure no one interfered. Rahim’s warriors, Numair and Yahiya, had stood guard there from the time the tent and walled shelter had been established. The shaman stood to one side, chanting a song of protection. Jahar and Carmen’s tent had been erected just steps away, and was guarded by seasoned fighters from White Bear’s clan. A few strides before reaching the entrance to their tent, Alyssa felt the charged power of psychic wards set up by the tribal shaman to protect both tents and the shelter. As Rahim crossed the invisible barrier, he said, “Singing Wind has made a strong shield. Will it interfere with your connection to the earth as well as water?” “No.” She pressed her lips against the hollow at the base of his strong throat, absorbing the power pulsing through his blood. “The barrier will give us freedom to fully connect with the earth’s forces.” As she spoke, the shaman threw open the tent flap, stepped inside, and fastened a glowing lantern to the long chain suspended from the center ridge pole. Moments later, he was gone, sealing the wards behind him. 88

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The tent provided another layer of privacy from the outside world, and was the great Portal that enhanced their connection to the psychic realm. Rahim didn’t stop until he reached the opening into the roofless shelter. He eased her to her feet then knelt beside her. To keep her balance, she braced one hand on his shoulder and looked down at his dark hair as he slipped the soft boots from her feet. Although rugs covered the floor of the tent, the earth on the threshold into the place of power had been left bare. Her toes dug into the cool grass and dirt while Rahim’s warm breath raised ripples across the tops of her feet and ankles. Rising to his feet, Rahim drew away the shawl and dropped it on the covered floor of the tent behind her. “Alyssa Maylea Palanui, sweet-scented wildflower,” he murmured, tenderly cupping her face between his warm palms. “This night the goddess and consort will bless our lovemaking.” His words flowed over her like precious roseberry honey. She gazed up at his compelling gray eyes and his tanned skin—a darker bronze in the moonlight—pulled taut over high, elegant cheekbones. Recalling his intense concentration on her the night they’d made love in the cave, his masculine grace and authority as he’d strode through the crowd in Zoltar to rescue her, his fighting power as he’d beaten back the bandits in the mountains, a hot wave swept over her. Now she’d be the focus of all that intensity—all that power. Other nights, he’d given her a glimpse of sensual paradise, but she yearned for more—an urgent need she feared would never happen if he learned about her connection to Prince Vortigan. At the brush of Rahim’s fingers on her neck as he untied the laces of her tunic, her fears were swept away in a tide of desire. With that rush, the goddess’s instructions filled her mind, and she gripped Rahim’s wrist. “First I must go ahead and prepare for our ritual joining.” 89

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He nodded. “So the goddess said.” As he stepped aside, Alyssa moved out of the tent and into the center of the walled shelter. Moonlight and the stars shimmered through an invisible barrier reaching high into the night air. Faint light danced along the top edge of the pelt covered wood. shagar and silvertip trees rustled in the breeze, perfuming the night air. Grass, sprinkled with tiny wildflowers, cushioned the ground beneath her bare feet. With each step, the goddess power grew inside her body and sharpened her senses. When she came to the large kut’n blanket laid in the middle of the clearing, Alyssa drew off her clothing until she wore only a silky camisole top and panties. Earlier, the chief had offered luxurious pelts or the finest of wool blankets, but she and Rahim had asked for the kut’n spread—thick enough to cover the grass and ground, but thin enough they could feel the earth under their bodies. She lay on the blanket, facedown, as if preparing to moonbathe. The kut’n smelled of soap, sunshine, and the subtle overtone of the sage smudge used to cleanse the sacred area. Spreading her arms and legs wide, she pressed into the weave of the blanket, allowing herself to sink into the nap of the kut’n, down through the grass to the moist layer of soil. Her other senses journeyed farther—sinking into and through the layers of rock until she found a secret river flowing miles below where she lay. From out of the moon-drenched night came the chiming of bells and Alyssa’s scalp tingled. A gentle, invisible hand touched the crown of her head. Then a woman’s voice spoke in her mind. Welcome, Water Caller, Blessed of the earth, soon you will taste the energy of a new life. Goddess, is that you? Yes, daughter. Do not fear. Turn and behold. He who shall 90

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complete you comes. Dreamily, Alyssa rolled onto her side and gazed toward the trees hiding the tent. A rush of warm wind danced across the cool grass, tugged at her clothes, and caressed her skin with the beguiling scents of sandalwood-rose and jasmine. She felt rather than heard Rahim say her name. A lighter form stirred against the trees, and he was there, stepping out of the shadows into the pale moonlight. When she saw he wore nothing, the breath caught in her throat. Oh, goddess, he was magnificent. Without realizing she’d moved, Alyssa found herself on her knees. As he strode toward her, sinewy muscles sliding under well toned skin, she called first one nimbus light and then a second, and sent the globes floating toward him. His wide shoulders and muscular chest narrowed down to a rider’s lean waist and hips. Below the dark patch of hair he was big, thick, and growing even as he strode toward her. He’d pleasured her before, but tonight the air was filled with more than the hot, hungry vibrations of a man for his woman. Tonight, their bodies and spirits would join to create the gift of fertility—a gift they would pass along to Jahar and Carmen. But not for us, she thought. Shaking off the moment of sadness, Alyssa smiled up at Rahim where he stood at the edge of the blanket. Obeying her command, the nimbus globes floated overhead. Slowly he held out a hand until their fingers met. That one small touch sent an explosion of desire through her blood. Lacing her fingers with his—palm to palm—he dropped to his knees on the blanket facing her. They stared at each, as spice-scented wind flirted around them, carrying his masculine scent of soap and arousal. Her heart skipped a beat at the hot fires of lust burning in his eyes. 91

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She pressed her other palm to his, her fingers slipping between his. “Lord of Fire and Wind,” she murmured, setting the fertility ritual into motion, “welcome.” “Lady of Water and Earth,” he said in a tone of barely leashed hunger, “I bring you the kiss of intent.” Bending forward, he pressed his lips to her forehead, his careful restraint fueling her need for more contact. With their hands still pressed together, the heat of his body mingled with hers, swirling around them as they slowly synchronized their breathing. Each time she inhaled, his breath became a part of her. Each time she exhaled, she shared a portion of herself with him. At each in-and-out of air, the spell of earth and wind power gathered and grew, filling all the spaces between and around them. Slowly, Rahim’s lips grew closer to hers, and she raised her open mouth, lifting it to meet his. The kiss came with a rush of heat and energy, as if all the buds of spring exploded into the joy of summer. His lips were fiery and demanding. She matched that fierce intensity with a kiss full of the rich potency of earth and water. Together, they drank the power from each other’s mouth—giving, receiving, and blending the elements of earth, air, fire, and water. Rahim’s warm hands touched her body, slipped the camisole away and bared her breasts to the moonlight. “Beautiful,” he groaned. Their eyes met. The sincerity in his gaze fired her sensual hunger to greater heights, burning away any lingering inhibitions. His lips left hers, gliding down her tingling skin to her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, tonguing and rolling it in the moist heat. Pleasure sizzled through her nerves. Abandoning the taut, sensitized tip to the night air, he cupped that breast, squeezing and releasing in sensual rhythm. He shifted to the other breast—touching, tasting, feasting on her engorged nipple, and sending double shafts of pleasurepain-pleasure raging on fiery strands to her womb until she gave a 92

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helpless cry of joy and frustration. His hands slid down her back, carrying her panties down her thighs to her knees. The night wind whispered over her quivering skin. Only Rahim’s touch had ever brought her such pleasure. Rahim eased her down onto her back and stripped away the last scrap of clothing. She lay before him, bathed by the light of the two moons, aching for completion. He stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow. Slowly, sensually, he trailed the back of his fingers from her throat, down between her breasts, paused to dip one finger into her navel, then slid lower to the curls protecting her feminine slit. Everything in her lower body tightened, waiting…waiting. He cupped her damp yoni, then brought his fingertips to his lips. “You taste of passion and woman.” “Passion only for you.” She brushed one hand against the hard planes of his chest and watched his dark male nipples spring to attention at her touch. She ran her hand down his chest, his waist, his stomach, to the heat of his male shaft and cradled his erection, holding him thick and warm. He shuddered and tipped back his head, eyes closed. Gently, she squeezed and released, squeezed and released in a pulsing rhythm—loving his deep groans—loving the taut muscles in his neck and his helpless reaction as she fondled him. His lips parted. His breath came in deep gasps. He gazed at her through eyes heavy with dark need, and muttered, “I can’t last much longer.” “Good.” Sitting up, she pressed him onto his back. This warrior who could take on a band of warriors and defeat them, surrendered to her slender hands and stretched out on the kut’n blanket as the night winds flipped the edges of the fabric and danced across his naked body. Alyssa settled on his hipbones and leaned forward to lick one dark, masculine nipple. She left it to taste the salt and musk of arousal on his 93

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other tight nub. Rahim’s body trembled under her and she lay on him, her cheek nestled under his chin, her soft breasts crushed against his muscular chest, stomach to stomach, and his hot, eager shaft pressing hungrily against her crotch. He stroked his hands up and down her spine—from the nape of her neck to the dimple at the top of her buttocks—touching off little explosions in her nerve endings. But it was the hungry press of his sex and her wild need to take him inside that propelled her to sit up, clasp his hot, rigid shaft, and draw him into her body, inch by slow inch. Her inner walls stretched to take him as full and as deep as he could go. Sheer pleasure pulsed through her. Her breath came harder. Her face grew hot. Rahim reached up and fondled her swollen breasts, stroking her engorged nipples with his thumbs until the erotic fires centered in those sensitive tips became so acute she cried out. His hands clasped around her waist. “Ride me, Alyssa,” he demanded. “Ride me to oblivion.” “To oblivion and beyond.” Blindly, she rose on his shaft until they were barely connected, then sank down—gliding on the warm liquid of desire. She repeated the updown again, going deeper each time. His hot, rigid penis was a sword of ecstasy. Her sheath was the willing path to her womb. Her inner muscles tensed and rippled, building toward the climax she sought— and feared. She smelled her own perspiration and arousal—and the mingled primitive odors of male and female. With a husky sound of pleasure, Rahim rotated his hips. Suddenly her whole world exploded into light in the endless ecstasy of that connection. And she tipped her head back and screamed. Rahim’s shout followed. With her other senses, she saw their auras melt together until they 94

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were inseparable just as their bodies were joined into one. Rahim whispered her name. She bent to kiss his lips, her body still filled with his, their mouths giving and receiving pleasure, bound together in the most intimate of embraces. Oh, goddess, she wanted to stay in Rahim’s embrace and locked in his body—locked in the waves of sensual delight rippling through her blood, nerves, bones, and skin. The night wind called through the shagar trees. Sacred, golden petals fell around them, shimmering in the combined light of the moons and nimbus globes. Reluctantly, they parted. Rahim held her close, her cheek on his chest, and stroked her hair. She floated in the quiet joy of their being together, knowing this closeness would end once Rahim sent her back to Oceanus. He had his obligation to his people, as she did to hers. The high, sweet mating call of two water dabblers danced on the wind. Rahim traced her lips with one finger. “I’d say we completed the spell.” She pressed her abdomen where a tiny ball of heat waited. “The only thing left is to pass the gift to Jahar and Carmen with the kiss of giving. I’ll rest my hands on Carmen’s head and touch my lips to her forehead. You’ll do the same for Jahar. Just as we began with the kiss of intent, so we’ll finish with the second kiss.” Rahim played with one lock of her hair, coiling it around his finger, then stared at her intently. “What would happen if we didn’t pass along the gift?” Alyssa laughed, hiding her hunger for her own child…fathered by Rahim. “Two new lives—twins.”

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CHAPTER 9

In the cool light of early dawn, Rahim and Chief White Bear watched as Jahar tightened the last cinch on his packhorse. A few steps away, Alyssa and Carmen stood beside the new bride’s saddled mare, talking. Scenes of the fertility rite filled Rahim’s mind, tightened his groin, and caused his qadib to throb and rise; her slender form bathed in light from the greater and lesser moons, kisses that carried a primal rush of heat and energy—and the heart-stopping beauty of her body open to him. His attention snapped back to the present when Chief White Bear chuckled and said, “Your woman is a worthy mate for you.” “My thanks for your insight. She would be a worthy mate to any man she chose.” Gravely, White Bear nodded then stared intently into Rahim’s eyes. “Singing Wind has sent you and the blessed woman a message.” A cold chill oozed down Rahim’s spine. He knew the tribal shaman 96

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had powerful, mystical gifts. Bracing himself, he said, “I await the holy one’s message.” In a solemn tone, the chief said, “Beware the shadow of the wyvern and trust the Bringer of Light.” Shadow of the wyvern? Bringer of Light? Rahim stored the warning in his memory to solve later. “Please thank Singing Wind for the words of wisdom.” “It shall be done.” While he and the chief had been talking, Jahar had finished his preparations for the journey and was now striding toward him. Numair and Yahiya were already mounted and on guard. They’d protect Carmen and Jahar as they rushed to the wounded sheik’s bedside. As Jahar reached Rahim, the chief went toward where Carmen waited beside her mare. Rahim was conscious of a new layer of authority in his cousin. They talked for a few minutes, exchanging cautions and final instructions. Then, with a final wave, Jahar hurried to his bride, gave her heartfelt kiss, and lifted her into the saddle. While Alyssa stood where she’d said her good byes to Carmen, the chief returned to the vantage point beside Rahim. From behind the two leaders came laughter and conversation, the scrape of tanned hide tents being rolled and secured to travoises, and the excited barking of the great wolf-dogs. All these were sounds of the tribe members dismantling their camp. Their departure for their high plains home—after Jahar and Carmen, then he and Alyssa left—would obscure the tracks of five horses for the first hours of travel. White Bear said, “Your cousin is a powerful and wise warrior. He will be a good husband to my daughter and a great leader of his people.” Rahim nodded, gravely. “That is true, just as your daughter’s courage, faithfulness, and beauty will give her an honored place in his 97

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heart and in the sheikdom of Shemali, and in all Aradi. Together they will raise strong, intelligent children.” A brief smile gleamed in the chief’s tanned face. “The High Priestess has confirmed the presence of two new lives in my daughter’s womb. The boy and girl will be my first grandchildren, and a permanent bond between our people.” “As Sultan of Aradi, I welcome the bond.” Rahim gripped the chief’s upper arm as a symbol of promise and acceptance. “Our borders will always be open to you and your tribe.” *

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Hours later, Rahim and Alyssa rode single file across the southern edge of the great plains of Saladin. Except for an occasional stand of fire oaks or shagar trees, lush grass, sprinkled with wildflowers, rolled in a rippling ocean of green to the far horizon under a dazzling blue sky. The fresh-scented vegetation brushed their knees as they followed the barely visible track left by other travelers. Twisting partway around in his saddle, he called to Alyssa, “We’ll reach Shaytan Escarpment before nightfall and camp there. We’ll have all day tomorrow to make our way down the treacherous trail to the lowlands.” She’d thrown back the hood of her cloak. Her wavy hair glowed with myriad shades of red in the strong light. She smiled and his soul filled with a sense of loss. Too soon, they’d reach Tamary and her home. Too soon, she’d be back on the lush shores of the rivers, lakes, and seas of Oceanus, while he’d return to the arid deserts and mountains of Aradi. His body, mind, and—yes—his heart yearned for her to stay with him forever. But his honor demanded he give her that choice. Rahim brought Thunder to a halt and waited for Alyssa to pull even with him. She faced him with a steady gaze, but fear lurked in her eyes. Brushing back a stray lock of hair, she frowned. “The border of Fuzar 98

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is less than a day’s ride north.” He stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Worrying about King Rogan’s Blood Warriors?” “Yes. You know where they earned the name Blood.” She bent her head and seemed to take great interest in the scabbard of the long knife fastened to her sash. “I know,” Rahim said grimly. “From their old custom of dipping their sash and the hem of their cloak in the blood of those they’ve killed.” A visible shudder passed through her body. “They still do, and brag about each victim.” It didn’t take the wisdom of Suliamon to see she was frightened. Lifting her chin on the edge of his forefinger, he said, “Thunder will warn us of any strangers. With me on Thunder and you on Star, we’ll outrun any other horses.” She rubbed the side of her mare’s golden neck. “Star is a wonderful animal. The Blood Warriors are persistent, ruthless, and will ride their own mounts to death in pursuit of their goal. I don’t want them to get her—ever.” As if to emphasize her words, a chill wind swept across the grassy plains. Determined to drive away the shadows in her eyes, he said, “You’re the same person who survived the slavers then offered to return to Zoltar to help Carmen.” “Yes, but—” “When the bandits attacked us, you defended yourself with that knife, survived a fall from Star’s back, and kept your wits enough to follow my instructions and ride double on Thunder.” A faint smile curved her lips. “All true. If you ever want to give up the position of Sultan, the Traders would give you a place in their ranks and greet you with cries of joy.” Relieved to see the fear gone from her eyes, he grinned. “If I 99

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remember my Old Earth history, my family traveled across the great Sahara Desert on the African continent. They probably did some trading.” “About the same time, some of my Earth ancestors were settling in the old Celtic lands while others traveled from island to island in the warm tropic ocean fishing and trading.” “Celtic? You first came from the Forbidden Lands?” “Don’t look so shocked,” she said tartly. “I was born in Oceanus. My parents and brother live in Oceanus.” Once more, the wind ruffled her clothes and lifted her hair like flames of cool fire. By the great god Vatsaya, she was magnificent. His qadib lah’m began to swell. He wanted to draw her down onto the lush grass and make love with her, to pleasure her, to keep her with him forever. Instead, he gently brought her right hand to his lips and slowly licked the sensitive flesh between her fingers until she trembled and breathed his name over and over. When he raised his eyes to hers, the irises had expanded in sensual arousal. In a low tone, he said, “Alyssa, I want you always. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my word and return you to your country, but I wanted you to know.” “Oh, Rahim,” she murmured in a choked voice. “There’s something I have to tell you.” At that moment, Thunder shifted uneasily and pawed the ground. Rahim went on high alert just as three brown-clad Fuzaran soldiers, brandishing swords, rode out of a thick stand of trees ahead and toward him and Alyssa. “Run, Alyssa,” Rahim shouted as he drew his scimitar. With his legs, he signaled battle to Thunder and drew his long knife. Meeting the first attacker head-on, Rahim deflected the downward slash of the glittering blade—a blow that would have split his head. Countering with his knife, he delivered a fatal wound across the man’s 100

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face and neck. Obeying his master’s silent signal, Thunder slammed a shoulder into the second attacker’s horse. Rahim caught the Fuzaran’s sword on a ringing upstroke then smashed the hilt down on his head. The soldier toppled out of the saddle and dropped limply to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alyssa still on Star’s back as the mare sidestepped one horse and rider, and kicked out with deadly hooves at another. With her dagger unsheathed, she looked every inch a warrior queen as she drove back a soldier attempting to drag her from the saddle. Anger and fear gripped his stomach. By all the gods, why hadn’t she escaped? Then he lost track of her in a short, hot exchange of thrust, slash, counter thrust, before he beat back the third warrior. As he turned Thunder toward Alyssa, four soldiers suddenly blocked his passage. At the same time, he saw Alyssa pulled from Star’s back to the ground. Swearing viciously, he cut his way through two attackers, frantic to reach Alyssa where she lay motionless. Thunder lurched under him and went down with a shrill cry. Rahim barely had time to tumble from the saddle and roll to his feet, scimitar and dagger ready, when more soldiers rode out of the trees to completely surround him. A quick glance showed Thunder struggling to rise. But he couldn’t. The great horse’s back legs had been tangled in a bola—a rope weighted by two round stones, each the size of a hard peach. A woman screamed. Alyssa? Rahim’s blood went cold. A male voice shouted, “Yield or the woman dies.”

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CHAPTER 10

Alyssa stood helpless in the iron grip of a blood warrior—one of Vortigan’s elite fighters. Her left arm and shoulder throbbed with excruciating pain. She hadn’t wanted to scream and distract Rahim, but she had when the captor had twisted her arm behind her and up. While Rahim had fought like all the demons in hell, she’d been pulled from Golden Star’s back and landed hard in the trampled grass. The next few moments had passed in a fog while she’d struggled to stay conscious and drag air into her paralyzed lungs. She’d still been gasping when the fighter, dressed in the black uniform of a Blood Warrior, had stripped the water skin from her, yanked her to her feet, and locked her arm and hand high up on her back. Next, she’d seen a knife flash past her vision, felt the cold, sharp blade touch her vulnerable throat, and heard the fighter shout, “Yield or the woman dies.” 102

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Now she stood rigid, afraid to take more than shallow breaths. Her heart squeezed at the scene where men warily surrounded Rahim, held back by fear of the sharp sword and knife he’d used with deadly accuracy on the men—dead or groaning—on the ground surrounding him. A short distance across the trampled grass, Thunder lay with his back legs tangled in a rope. The powerful animal thrashed frantically trying to get to his feet. As they stood in the heat, she was sickeningly conscious of the unwashed male odors exuding from her captor. Over that came the thick, carrion smell of old blood in the very fabric of his sash and the hem of his cloak. The blade at her throat scraped her skin. Saliva flooded her mouth. Nausea churned her stomach. I will not give up, she swore to herself. She struggled to hide her fear. Goddess, give me strength. Her captor spoke again. “You will yield immediately, Rahim Yasir Al Sayyed, Sultan of Aradi, or I’ll cut your slave’s throat.” Rahim gazed at Alyssa, then dropped the scimitar and knife, and raised his hands. “The woman is under the protection of the Fire Goddess.” One older, hard-bitten soldier—with the three lances of command sewn in one claw of the winged dragon on his uniform—spat on the ground. “There’s my offering to the goddess.” Alyssa saw the uneasiness of several soldiers at this blasphemy in the quick ward-off-evil sign made by three of them before two forced Rahim to his knees and the third bound his hands behind him. The others had made the protective sign as they held swords at the ready. Rahim said, conversationally, “Do you men want the wrath of the goddess to fall on you?” Growling, “Silence,” the higher ranked soldier punched Rahim in the side of the face. Instead of falling, he swayed with the blow, and stared at the soldier with an expression that made the man take a step 103

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backwards. Ignoring the other men, Rahim gazed at the Blood Warrior. “I recognize you, Sarsour Ali Cherif,” Rahim said in a voice as cold as death. “You were part of the Fuzaran delegation that visited Aradi under the flag of diplomacy and helped your prince assassinate my father.” Cherif gave a quick, sneering laugh. “You should thank me for the rulership.” “Bastard.” The one word sliced through the air. Cherif increased the pressure on Alyssa’s wrist, and still held the knife blade against her skin. She tightened her lips against the throbbing agony in her shoulder and felt the blood drain from her face. Rahim strained against his bonds and looked at her captor with hell in his eyes. “You or your men harm her in any way, bastard, and I’ll hunt you down, rip out your guts, and leave you to the demon jackals.” “Damage the bitch like this?” Cherif drew the blade in a shallow, burning line across her skin. In spite of the ropes binding him, Rahim flung his body against the nearest guard, rolled to his feet and staggered toward her. The other guards raised their razor-sharp swords. “Hold,” the Blood Warrior commanded. “I want him alive for the wyvern.” Alyssa watched in horror as one soldier drew a short, thick truncheon from his sash and clubbed Rahim from behind. He fell at her feet and lay motionless in the heat. Was he dead? Alyssa’s heart turned over. While her captor bound her wrists behind her, she frantically looked for signs of life in Rahim. Oh, Goddess, she thought in agony, is this where it ends? She felt the warm trickle of blood from the stinging cut on her throat. What did it matter? Why had she insisted on returning to Oceanus when her heart was with Rahim? 104

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She knew why. Duty to her people and the need to know if her niece, Lani, and any other people from Tamary had survived. If she and Rahim had waited for guards from his country to accompany them, they wouldn’t have made this trip alone and they wouldn’t now be at the mercy of Vortigan’s men. However, the longer they waited, the more chance there would have been for someone to recognize her as the Princess of Oceanus. Once Rahim learned her identity, would he think she’d betrayed his trust by concealing her identity? She hadn’t wanted to take that chance. Too late, she regretted her decision. Cherif prodded Rahim in the side with a booted foot. Rahim groaned and she held back a cry of relief at this evidence he was alive. The Blood Warrior shifted his attention back to Alyssa. Her skin crawled as he circled her like a tyrano-dragosaur studying its prey before ripping open its belly for the first, hot mouthful of meat. Finally he stopped in front of her. His stony expression gave no clue to his thoughts. “Who are you?” “Alyssa Palanui. I’m returning to my home in Oceanus.” His lips flattened in anger. “Why did the sultan say the Fire Goddess chose you?” Raising her chin in defiance, she said, “Who can know the ways of the gods and goddesses?” He drew one rough finger across the cut on her throat and held it up to display the blood. “Do you call this protection?” “I’m still alive.” She damned the words the moment they popped out of her mouth. He bared his teeth, sharpened into points. “My men could chain you in the cave of the wyvern. You’d live there, too—until the beast grew hungry.” She stared at the emblem of the wyvern—the dragon that flew in the dark—worked in red and gold on the front of his black tunic. The bloody sash circling his waist made the horror even more real. 105

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When she didn’t respond, he stepped closer, once more enveloping her in nauseating odors. He fingered the laces at the neck of her tunic, and then cupped one breast with bloodstained fingers. “Shall I persuade King Rogan to give you to me instead of the wyvern?” Alyssa froze. Her stomach clenched. Because her wrists were tied behind her back, her breasts were thrust forward making her feel more vulnerable. With a lustful grin, Cherif fondled her breasts, plucking at her nipples through the kut’n fabric. “You have whored for Sultan Al Sayyed. I’ll show you the way a real man prepares to fuck his bitch.” Bending his head, he bit one nipple—hard—through the light material. She swallowed the scream and kneed him in his groin. He fell to his knees in the churned-up grass and dirt, hands clutching at his wounded crotch and gasping curses. “That’s my answer,” she said scornfully. “Touch me once more and you’ll become la alidi, the male who does not beget.” She heard some low-voiced comments and chuckles—quickly muffled—but her concern was for Rahim. She located him seated where he’d fallen. Two armed soldiers continued to stand guard while the others treated their companions’ wounds or checked their horses’ legs for signs of injury. Each man was careful to keep his attention anywhere but the patch of grass where their commander was struggling to stand. Her gaze went back to Rahim. He glanced toward Cherif and mouthed, “Good work. Be careful.” She’d just responded with a silent, “Yes,” when the Blood Warrior limped to where she was standing. He gripped her by the front of her tunic, shouted, “Bitch,” and punched her in the face. Her head snapped back. Light exploded behind her eyes. Then she felt herself falling into a lightless void.

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“Alyssa, open your eyes.” Rahim’s coaxing tone penetrated the dark. Why did her cheek throb? And why did she ache all over? Gradually she realized she was on her side on the ground. “Open your beautiful eyes.” Rahim sounded more urgent. Another male voice said, “If she isn’t conscious by the time we’re ready to leave, my men will tie her facedown over a packhorse.” The threat made her heart beat faster. Slowly she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Rahim’s eyes shadowed with concern. With his arms still bound behind his back, he was bending forward as close as he could get to her. He gave her faint smile. “Good. You’re conscious. You’ll be better off sitting on a saddle than draped over it like a rolled up rug.” “Like Cleopatra in the Old Earth tales?” She gave him a shaky smile. “Better and sexier than Cleopatra.” His answering smile would have fooled most people, but she saw the anger and desperate concern for her in his eyes. The brown desert pants and tyrano-hide boots of a Fuzaran soldier stopped in front of her. He sat on his heels with the ease of someone who lived out of doors. Bracing her back with one hand, he raised her to a sitting position. In a low voice he said, “If you wish to live, do nothing more to anger Commander Cherif.” He uncapped a water skin and held it to her lips. Speaking louder, he said, “Drink while you can, prisoner. It will be your last chance for hours.” “What about Sultan Al Sayyed?” “Do not question the commander’s orders.” Rahim said, “Drink to keep up your strength.” The first sip of liquid surprised her. It held the herbal flavor she recognized as being a restorative. She flicked a glance at the soldier, 107

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then drank more deeply and felt the return of energy. When she indicated she’d had her fill, the soldier shook the skin flask as if assessing its contents. “You’ve left two swallows. That’ll be enough for the other prisoner. He only has to live until we reach the palace and the cave of the wyvern.” Casually changing his position to screen Rahim from the view of Cherif, the soldier held the water skin while Rahim drank deeply. As the soldier finished and rose to his feet, Alyssa sent a prayer of thanks to the goddess for the man who dared to go against the Blood Warrior’s evil plans enough to give Rahim and her help and hope. She heard the stir among the men and watched them snap to attention as Cherif approached, once more walking straight and arrogant. “Bring the horses,” he ordered. “We have a long ride ahead to Wyvern Castle.” In the time since she and Rahim had been taken captive, someone had released Black Thunder from the ropes and tied him between two packhorses with his front legs hobbled by a length of rope. He stood sweaty and trembling, his great power confined. Alyssa located Golden Star tied in a similar manner. As she watched, the packhorses used to subdue the two battle mounts, were released from their duties and led to one side. However, a handler stood beside each captive horse with a firm grip on the halter and the hobbles remained. She had hoped escape was possible once she and Rahim were seated on the battle-trained mounts. But that opportunity was gone. They’d ridden through the rest of the day and into the night before Wyvern Castle came into view crouched at the top of a long, steep valley. Overhead, Qamar floated into the stars forming the curve of the Great Basket—the symbol of passion and new beginnings. Below that promise of life, the brooding castle represented oppression and death. 108

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From time to time, Rahim had caught glimpses of Thunder and Star near the end of the group, still enduring the indignity of hobbles. Flaring torches lit the way up the twisting, narrow trail that skirted the edge of sheer cliffs. Here, where the trail was still wide enough for more than one horse, Cherif pulled up beside Rahim. “Welcome to Wadi ’Idahm, the Valley of Bones.” His smile promised a painful future. “I trust your little ride has been pleasant.” “Your hospitality is everything I’d expect from a cowardly assassin.” “Dog!” The Blood Warrior spat in Rahim’s face, turned, and rode to the head of the line once more. Mentally, Rahim shrugged. Nothing he could do or say would improve his chances of surviving whatever awaited him in the castle. It was Alyssa’s fate that haunted him. Why had he decided to travel with her to Oceanus without guards? He damned himself for the selfish decision. Selfish because he’d wanted more time alone with her before she walked out of his life. He looked ahead at her, tied to the high-backed saddle favored by the Fuzarans. The long, slow trip since their capture had been a living nightmare of thirst and pain. How much worse had it been for Alyssa? He could tell by the low-voiced comments from the soldiers nearby and their attitude toward her that her bravery and quietly defiant air had impressed them. At first, he’d lost all feeling in his hands still tied behind his back. It would’ve been easy to accept the inevitable. Instead, he’d squeezed and released his fists, and worked the muscles in his arms and legs, while hiding the agony of slowly returning circulation. They’d begun the ride with her hands bound behind her and wedged tight against the unforgiving wooden back. At their first pause for water, the same soldier who’d earlier shared the restorative water between the captives had quietly rearranged Alyssa’s bonds with her 109

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hands tied in front. At a harsh question from Cherif’s second-incommand, the soldier had said the change was for the efficient progress of her mount. With their journey slowed by leading the hobbled Thunder and Star, even the well-disciplined soldiers were obviously restless. Rahim knew from a commander’s point of view that the soldier’s explanation about loosening Alyssa’s bonds had eliminated one possible source of complaint. Finally the hobbles had been removed and the two mounts kept on tight reins to restrict their movements. After that, the party had moved more quickly. Under cover of the dark, Rahim squeezed and released his fists still bound behind him. As they drew closer to Wyvern Castle, he needed to be as ready as possible for any chance of escape by Alyssa and him. The chestnut mare he was bound to was sturdy, sure-footed, and apparently mountain bred. Alyssa rode a similar mare, this one’s forehead marked with a white crescent shape. The higher the trail climbed up the steep, narrow track, the greater became his appreciation for the mounts. Since the soldier who gave them water had not selected the mares, Rahim wondered if he and Alyssa had more than one sympathizer among the Blood Warrior’s party. A fast-moving torrent of water rushed and tumbled down the gorge to the right. Moonlight picked out the current and the foam swirling along the sides. From time to time he heard the muted cries of water dabblers hidden in the rock slabs and boulders where streams slipped down the mountainside. During his travels with Alyssa, he’d seen little dabblers whenever they were near any source of water. This time, the wild dabblers remained hidden. As they had moved up the canyon, the men had talked among themselves, their conversation centering around their plans after the 110

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trip. Suddenly, they grew quiet. One man muttered, “Wyvern’s cave.” The horse Rahim rode trembled and sidestepped, but the soldier holding the lead stopped the mount at the edge of the drop off. The soldier in charge of Alyssa’s mare kept the animal in the middle of the narrow trail. Rahim heard Alyssa saying to her mount, “Good girl, Bright Moon. You’re safe. There’s a whole canyon between you and the old beast.” She continued in a soothing ripple of words, coaxing her mount into an easy, untroubled walk along the section where other horses trembled. Finally they reached a broad area, hewn out of rock, in front of the massive wooden gates guarding the castle. The commander snapped an order and all the men straightened. Here, the number of torches had been doubled as if to keep away any threats hidden by the dark. One of the palace guardsmen on the wall, sheltered behind a shoulder-high stone barrier, challenged them. The commander gave the password and the iron-bound gates slowly swung open. As they entered the fitted-stone courtyard, Alyssa’s mount was led up beside Rahim. Torch light revealed she still wore an expression of calm dignity in spite of the trip’s ordeals. Armed guards, wearing Imperial red and black, marched out of the inner court and surrounded them, shields, swords and lances at the ready. Cherif, riding at the front of his small troop, came to a halt, left fist arrogantly on one hip, and his cloak tossed back to display his insignia. “Inform King Rogan of the arrival of Commander Sarsour Ali Cherif with prisoners for questioning.” The leader of the guards saluted with a fist over his heart. “Our great King Rogan, may he live ten thousand years, has retired to his chambers for the night. I shall report the capture of your prisoners in 111

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the morning.” Smoothly, Cherif said, “A thousand victories to our beloved king. For the sake of all Fuzarans, he must rest and preserve his strength for greater events than questioning an Aradi dog and a bitch from Oceanus.” Rahim’s political instincts detected the subtle undercurrents—the possibility of trouble for the aging king. What ruler wanted his people to think he needed to preserve his strength as if he had become feeble? He filed away the information for future reference—if he had a future. The leading guardsman continued, “Great Warrior, as friend and confidante of His Highness, Prince Vortigan, your regard for our king is well known.” Cherif waved a negligent hand. “That is true, and this may be a better task for Prince Vortigan Trugar Ibn Rogan, heir to the throne. Send word to him of my return with the Sultan of Aradi as my prisoner.” By the light of the torches, Rahim saw the guardsman’s fingers tighten on his sword hilt. This time he bowed deeply. “Mighty Warrior of the Blood, victor in many battles, Prince Vortigan has gone to his wing with three new concubines who require training to his ways. He has left word to not interrupt him tonight on pain of torture.” From behind him, Rahim’s acute hearing picked up the muttered, “Figures,” from a familiar voice—the soldier who’d given them water. Returning to his tired party, Cherif drew his mount close to Alyssa. With a salacious smile, he said, “Last chance to escape the dungeon and becoming a sacrificial gift for the wyvern. Promise to obey me. I’ll take you to my quarters—and my bed immediately.” She stared at him as if he’d just oozed out from under a rock. The revulsion on her face was clear in the flaring torch lights. “I prefer the dungeon.” With a furious movement, he jerked his mount’s reins to the left, putting a wide distance between himself and Alyssa. “Lock her and Al 112

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Sayyed in the deepest cell,” he snapped. “Tomorrow they’ll be brought before Prince Vortigan for questioning, and King Rogan for judgment. After that, the wyvern.”

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CHAPTER 11

Prince Vortigan. Alyssa swallowed the icy panic choking her. Once Vortigan saw her, all hope for escape would disappear. He’d made his desire to have her quite clear. The very thought of him touching her breasts, of his lips slobbering over hers, and his cruel invasion of her body made her ill. What would happen to Rahim if the Fuzaran prince learned she and Rahim had been lovers? Worse, what would happen if or when Rahim learned that she and Vortigan had been betrothed and legally sealed that commitment in one night of pain and terror? Her father had announced the engagement was dissolved, but the Fuzaran king had refused to honor the dissolution. Would Rahim think she’d betrayed him by her silence? Her unhappy thoughts were interrupted when a deep, unemotional voice said, “Come, woman of Oceanus. It is time to go to your cell.” Callused hands brushed her arms, loosening and releasing the ropes. The soldier who’d earlier given her water untied her wrists. She bit her 114

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lips to keep from crying out with the pain of returning circulation, and turned her face away from the torch light to conceal her expression. He lifted her from the saddle and set on her feet, then steadied her when her legs threatened to give way. In a voice so low only she could hear, he said, “You do well to hide your distress from those who would torment you. My name is Faruq Bahar. I will try to ease your time here.” “Why?” she murmured. Wordlessly, he released her and slipped away into the shadows. Had it been a trick? A ploy to break down her resolve by giving her sympathy then withdrawing it later to make her more vulnerable? She heard a flurry of commands and watched Rahim pulled roughly from his own mount, arms and wrists still bound behind his back, then left to sway on his feet until he regained his balance. Three palace guardsmen surrounded him with sword points at the ready. Ignoring them, Rahim gazed at her. By the way his eyes narrowed, she knew the exact moment he saw the bruise on her cheek. Silently she mouthed, “I’m okay.” The captain of the guardsmen said, “Take the prisoners to the dungeon. The woman first.” The guards formed around them, each man carrying a lance and an unsheathed sword. The message was clear. Any attempt to escape would be met with death. Maybe a quick death would be better than lingering under the teeth of the wyvern or torture by Vortigan. Something in her body language must’ve communicated her dark thoughts to Rahim. He said, “Alyssa, don’t.” One guard ordered, “Silence,” followed by a thud and a low grunt. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, saw Rahim stagger and catch his balance, and then felt the sharp prod from a lance handle in her back. The same guard said, “Keep moving, woman, or I’ll give you to the 115

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men for this night.” Praying for courage, Alyssa marched behind the torch-bearing guide through an arched doorway and into a long tunnel of fitted rock. While she couldn’t read the vibrations held in those ancient walls, she could sense the desperation and terror of those who had entered here and never walked out alive. As they wound deeper into the tunnels, lit by flickering torches, they passed narrow cells, some empty, some with men hunched or sprawled listlessly on mildewed straw or dirt floors. Finally, they reached the end of the last tunnel, far below the castle underground judging by the walls damp from moisture oozing out of a crack in the rock. Black lichen spread down to the floor and across the passage in a slippery line. Fitted into the alcove was a metal door with a narrow space—no wider than her hand—at the bottom. Was that the only source of air and light for the prisoner? Unlike the other cell doors she’d seen, this one had not only a lock, but also iron rods attached to the door and wall with a length of chain to fasten between. Her heart sank. After she entered the small, dark cell, with its thin pallet at one end, she turned and waited to see if Rahim would be with her, or would they be parted…perhaps forever? “Stand back, woman,” the leader commanded. Hoping against hope, she took the few quick steps that brought her to the wall opposite the door, and watched. Rahim appeared at the opening. Her heart leaped. She stood immobile, hands clasped at her waist, to hide her joy. If their captors knew how much she wanted to be with Rahim, they might separate them. There was a pause, as if the leader considered changing his mind. Silently Alyssa pled, Please…oh, please… 116

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The leader said, “You have one night, Al Sayyed, to regret your foolish decision that brought you to Fuzar.” A guard slashed the ropes binding Rahim and shoved him into the cell. The door closed, shutting out all but a thin line of light. A key scraped in the lock, then the chain rattled. “Rahim?” she whispered. He muttered, “Wait.” With every nerve on edge, she listened to the sound of retreating steps. The narrow beam of light under the door grew dimmer and finally blinked out altogether. “Alyssa,” Rahim said quietly. “Can you make a nimbus globe for us?” She called the light and left it floating as she rushed into his embrace.

Thanking all the gods, Rahim closed his arms around Alyssa. He wanted her the way she was now, warm, supple, eager, and so close there would be nothing between them. “I was afraid they’d separate us,” she said, feverishly stroking her hands up and down his back. His breathing thickened with the urgent demands of his body. He captured her mouth, sliding his tongue past her willing lips to taste her hot, moist essence. She made a low sound of pleasure, gripped the fabric of his shirt and pulled it out of the sash and waistband of his pants. Lifting his mouth from hers, he said, “Easy, wildflower. I’ll help.” “Then hurry,” she demanded. “I have to feel you, skin to skin.” While he unbuttoned his shirt, she attacked his sash, dropped it, slipped one hand inside his waistband and cupped his aroused qadib. “Alyssa,” he groaned, afraid he’d go off in her fingers instead of 117

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inside her. She froze. “Am I hurting you?” “Gods, no. You’re turning me on faster than shaytan on fire.” Carefully, he drew her fingers to his lips, tasted the salt of his precum on their tips, and battled to keep from spilling his seed on the stone floor. Breathing hard, he dropped the rest of his clothes and tugged her long desert pants down to her feet. She helped by stepping out of them, then wiggled out of her kut’n panties and toed off her soft boots. The musk of her arousal flowed around them. She gasped when he slipped his hand between her legs. He discovered her yoni was damp and ready, and heat flared through his body. “Rahim, that feels so good.” She sucked in her breath and writhed against his fingers. “Wait.” For a moment, he rested his forehead against her shoulder, fighting for time to take her to bed. Even the few steps across the floor to the pallet seemed too far. In a frenzy of hunger, he caught one of her smooth rounded thighs and folded it around his waist. She was open and ready. He teased her flowering bud. She shivered and clasped her hands behind his neck. Her uninhibited response made him wild. He folded her other leg around his waist, took the one step to brace her against the wall and thrust into her hot, welcoming body. “Rahim…” Her fingers slid from his nape to clutch his shoulders while her cry resonated both in his ears and on the psychic plain. He drove into her in the magical, three shallow, five deep, repeating the rhythmic thrusts as she met each one with exciting little groans and cries. He forgot about the rhythm, forgot about the fact they were making love against the wall of a cell. The only thing in his world was being 118

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joined to Alyssa—mind, body, heart—and gods help him—soul, for she was his soul mate. There would never be another woman for him. *

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Alyssa awoke in the darkness, snuggled in Rahim’s arms—spooned together on the thin bed of straw stuffed into a dusty kut’n sack. One of his hands cradled her breast; the other was spread at her waist. After the fast and furious lovemaking against the wall, he’d carried her to the thin bed where they’d continued to touch and caress each other, knowing their time together was shortened by each beat of their hearts. Before settling down, they’d drunk from the covered water jar, nibbled on cheese and dried peaches, and relieved themselves in the crude waste hole drilled in the floor at the opposite corner. Then Rahim had led her to their bed, slid in beside her, and covered the two of them with the blanket left folded beside the pallet. Finally, exhausted by the long day of travel, and their capture and imprisonment, Alyssa had dissolved the globe of light and skin to skin, they’d drifted into sleep. Now the sound of voices in the distance brought her fully awake. Were the guards coming for them? Rahim’s hold on her waist and breast tightened. “Our time is nearly up,” he murmured. “Here’s something for you to remember.” He set his teeth at the nape of her neck and sent shivers of desire down her spine. Carefully, he bit the sensitive skin and tweaked her nipple. Fire and passion shot through her body. He turned her toward him. She sprawled across his body, her legs on both sides of his body, his arousal growing thick and long against her stomach, and her mouth frantically searching for his. The voices came closer. Fear and passion drove her to sit up and take Rahim’s qadib into her body—one more time. 119

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As she lowered herself down his shaft, he thrust up to meet her— filling her full and thick and deep. Swiftly, he rolled her onto her back—thrust in and out, as wave after wave of hot, heady sensation flowed and built and raced through every nerve. Bending her knees, she drew up her feet and set her heels against the cold stone, opening herself to him as widely as possible. Still he pumped in and out. Oh, goddess, she didn’t want this closeness, this exquisite pleasure to end. Now torchlight spilled under the metal door, signaling their time was at the end. “Kiss me, wildflower,” Rahim said in a thick voice. “This is the time of the Grass Moon—the time of promise and new life.” He plunged in one more time and she felt the hot eruption of his seed spurting against her womb in a living flood. Her eyes filled with tears. Her heart ached for what would never be. In the passageway outside, a cool, harsh voice called for the door to be opened. Rahim kissed her. “Remember me.” Then he pulled out of her, swept up her clothes, and tossed them to her. Frantically, she donned her long pants while the chains securing the door rattled. A key scraped in the metal lock just as she pulled on her tunic. A quick look at Rahim showed he wore his pants and was wrapping the sash around his waist. The swath of torchlight washed across his bare chest. His teeth gleamed in a smile. “Gods and goddesses protect you,” he said, then turned to face the door and calmly folded his arms. Hurriedly she said, “I have to tell you—” The door swung open and their executioners marched in.

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CHAPTER 12

The guardsmen marched him into the great Hall of Judgment where a motley crowd stood behind a barrier of palace guards. Rogan’s making a spectacle of this trial. Why? Rahim wondered. A short, heavy chain attached to iron handcuffs bound his arms behind his back. They’d done the same to Alyssa while making crude jokes about her breasts and disheveled appearance, and speculating on who might win her services for the night. At the thought of Alyssa’s pending fate, a slow rage gathered in Rahim. After she’d had to endure the verbal abuse, the leader of the guardsmen had forced her to leave her boots behind and walk the rough passageways in bare feet. With her head held high, she had marched wordlessly across dirt and rock floors, fitted stones, up roughhewn steps and now the polished mosaic tiles in the great hall of Wyvern Castle. As they’d crossed the courtyard, morning sunlight had revealed more details of the Fuzaran’s fortress. Not only were the broad walls of 121

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quarried granite well-patrolled by soldiers, but the troops also had a pack of rapto-dragosaurs, each with an armed handler. A dragon’s head fountain spewed water into a low-walled pool. A handful of water dabblers climbed to the top of the basin, clinging to the roughly dressed blocks with their sharp claws, lapped up water, then skittered down and out of sight. Two handlers with their raptos had taken up positions flanking the prisoners. One great red-and-brown beast growled at them. Rahim heard Alyssa’s quick intake of breath. Recalling the two rows of puncture wounds on her leg, he’d seethed with anger and helplessness. How could he protect Alyssa? The same question haunted him now as he and Alyssa stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to the royal platform. King Rogan, clothed in richly decorated full pants, tunic, and heavy robe, sat straight and regal on his throne. His turban of gold cloth, set with one black pearl the size of an infant’s fist, proclaimed his wealth in a country where the majority of his subjects faced poverty and starvation due to the taxes he imposed. His throne of black marble with carved red-and-gold serpents twining up the armrests had originally symbolized the wisdom of a ruler whose decisions were made with the goal of health and prosperity for his subjects. During King Rogan’s reign, a new symbol had been added. A great wyvern of gold and onyx perched on the high backrest, its deadly claws digging into the marble. Its outspread wings and long mouth full of razor-edged teeth showed it was always ready to bring swift punishment to those who incurred the king’s wrath. I’ve seen that bringer of death and destruction in action among Aradi troops, Rahim thought grimly. Braced for any chance to gain Alyssa’s freedom, he waited for the king to speak, but it was Vortigan who rose from his throne set one step down and to the right of Rogan. “My father has designated me as his 122

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spokesman in this matter.” “The matter of our illegal capture far from the border of Fuzar?” Vortigan’s eyes narrowed, then he gave Rahim a smooth smile. “Commander Cherif’s patrol merely arrested two spies and brought them in for questioning.” At the mention of his name, the Blood Warrior stepped forward two paces and bowed to the prince. “Great Prince, may I speak?” “Granted.” Vortigan gazed at Alyssa before he fixed his attention on Rahim. Cherif drew himself up into an arrogant pose. “When my soldiers ordered this Aradi dog to stop, he drew his weapon on them, killing the first man without challenge or warning.” Someone in the crowd shouted, “Death to the Aradi coward.” A few male voices repeated the cry, but there was a lack of anger in their tones, as if they were proclaiming something against their true thoughts. Vortigan raised his hands, palms open, as if placating the crowd. “Do not worry, great people of Fuzar. King Rogan has granted me permission to offer the traitorous sultan a choice in the matter of his execution.” Rahim heard Alyssa whisper, “No. Not death.” Her chains rattled as if she were struggling. He turned his face toward her and shook his head. Instead of cowering fearfully as most people in her place would do, her face was pale, but her eyes flashed with hot anger. His soul filled with pride at her bravery. My woman, his heart proclaimed in joy. The prince strolled down the steps and stopped in front of Rahim. “Al Sayyed, you have done me a service by bringing this female to Wyvern Castle.” “Your men forced her to come.” “Quite true, but you purchased her from the slaver, Scarface, and 123

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brought her to a place more convenient for my men to retrieve her.” “How did you know who led the slavers?” Vortigan gave Alyssa a sly smile. “From her father.” “That’s a lie.” Alyssa gasped. “My father would never associate with slavers. He certainly wouldn’t send them to attack anyone.” Aware of how much he really didn’t know about her background, Rahim asked, “How could Alyssa’s parent influence slavers?” The prince chuckled. “So the little bitch deceived you, too?” Seething with anger, Rahim took a menacing step toward Vortigan. “You son of a mangy camel. I call challenge on you.” The Fuzaran took a hasty step backwards. A stunning blow to Rahim’s head drove him to his knees on the cool, hard tiles. He swayed dizzily, fighting to keep his balance. The short chain between his handcuffs clinked. Suddenly Alyssa fell to her knees beside him trying to brace him upright with her shoulder. “Rahim,” she whispered urgently. “Don’t anger Vortigan. He’s vicious when crossed.” Leaning heavily on her as if still unsteady, he muttered, “How do you know?” “He raped—” The odor of old blood warned him moments before a vicious kick to the ribs sent him to the floor, facedown. Alyssa, abruptly deprived of leaning against his body, fell on top of him. Through the blinding pain, he heard her low moan of distress, and raged against his helplessness. Moments later, her weight was lifted from his injured side. Overhead, a male voice said coldly, “Blood Warrior, you dishonor yourself and the king you serve by attacking a helpless man for the sole purpose of inflicting pain.” Vortigan replied in an arrogant tone, “Be careful, Faruq Bahar Ibn Rogan. You are my half-brother and the son of our father’s second wife. That does not give you authority over Commander Cherif.” 124

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Cautiously, Rahim turned his head and saw Alyssa once more on her feet. Beside her stood the soldier who had given them both water. So he’s another son of King Rogan. That explains why he dared to go against Cherif’s orders, but why help Alyssa and me now? he wondered. Faruq gave a shallow bow to Vortigan and a much deeper bow to the king. “As always, I bow to true authority.” When Vortigan turned away from the younger prince, Rahim saw the flash of disgust cross Faruq’s expression before the son of King Rogan’s second wife composed his features into a smooth, unemotional façade. Cherif prodded Rahim with one foot. “Help our Aradi dog stand so he may learn his fate.” The soldiers on each side of Rahim hauled him to his feet, arms still bound behind his back. Prince Vortigan circled Rahim, like a rapto assessing its prey, finally coming to a stop face to face. “I have promised you the choice between two methods of punishment—immediate death by the sword or a few more hours of life as living food for the wyvern.” Rahim gave the bastard a cocky grin, knowing it would annoy him. “I’ll take the wyvern. I’m sure the old beast is a lot more efficient.” Alyssa spoke up. “Prince Vortigan, for the sake of peace between Fuzar and Aradi, release Sultan Al Sayyed. Allow him to return to his land.” What’s she trying to do, Rahim wondered? How could her plea have any effect on the notorious prince? Vortigan chuckled. “Sultan Al Sayyad, I almost pity your misguided attempts to protect Alyssa. You still don’t understand the depths of her deception.” “Enlighten me,” Rahim said grimly. The heir-apparent moved closer to Alyssa and caressed the side of her face. She stared at him with defiance vibrating in every line of her 125

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body. “So much fire. I have the sultan to thank for that.” Vortigan gripped a handful of her hair, pulled her head back, gave her a savage kiss, and then shoved her to the floor. “This woman’s full name is Alyssa Maylea Binte Damiana Palanui, Princess of Oceanus—and betrothed to be my wife.” The sharp agony of betrayal sliced through Rahim. The woman he’d come to trust was betrothed to Vortigan—the deceiver who’d stabbed his uncle and killed his father. He stared at Alyssa where she lay on the floor, arms still chained behind her. Ruthlessly, he locked away compassion for the woman who’d ridden with him, laughed with him, and made deep, passionate love without ever revealing her full name and, worst of all, her intimate connection to his greatest enemy. Vortigan smiled. “I see you understand the depth of the princess’s treacherous nature. However, she is no longer your concern. Once she’s installed in my well-guarded private quarters, there’ll be no escape.” He gestured to two guards. “Take her to the hall of discipline and confine her in a cell. I will begin her training tonight.” Hall of discipline. Rahim’s gut clenched. He didn’t like the sound of that. Why, in the names of all the devils in Ubar, should he care? But he did. He watched two guardsmen drag Alyssa to her feet. For a long moment, her eyes searched his. The sorrow he saw in their depths shook him. Had he misjudged her? Then she sighed and looked away. Gripping her shoulder, one of the guardsmen turned her around. Together with the second guard, they marched her toward a door opening into an inner hallway. Then they were gone. *

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Alyssa curled her finger around the cold iron bars of the small 126

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window in her cell. Across the gorge, the opening to the cave of the wyvern yawned like the great mouth of the beast it held. Hours earlier, after her chains had been removed and she’d been shoved into this small space, she’d watched heavily armed soldiers escort Rahim along the narrow trail carved out of the mountainside at the very edge of the gorge. Once they reached the entrance, an eerie silence had enveloped them. Legends said the wyvern was a creature of the dark. The beast slept during the day and only came out to hunt, attack, and feed at night. If that were true, then Rahim could still be alive. There was still time to rescue him. She laughed bitterly. How could she get out of her cell, reach the trail, travel it without being caught by guards, enter the cave, release Rahim, and, with him, escape the wyvern? It’s hopeless,” she cried, leaning her forehead against the rough stone. A young pink-and-silver dabbler scrambled up the wall and perched on her shoulder, crooning mournfully. “Hopeless,” Alyssa murmured, sliding down to sit on the cold rock floor with her back propped on the roughly quarried surface. The youngling kept its position by clinging to the fabric of her tunic. Two other dabblers darted over to her and chirred anxiously, staring up into her face. The green-and-gold female sat back on its tail and placed one paw, claws carefully retracted, on Alyssa’s leg. Slowly, so she wouldn’t startle the wild creature, she stroked the top of its head with one finger. “You remind me of Bitsy,” she said, recalling her tame dabbler she’d trained to retrieve her brother’s boots. If Bitsy were here, could she be trained to skitter down the passageway to where the key to the cell hung and bring it back? A picture of the heavy key formed in Alyssa’s mind. She added the image of Bitsy holding the cold iron ring in her mouth, dragging its 127

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cumbersome weight along the rough, granite surface back to the cell. She shook her head in denial at her own foolishness. Once more, the trio of water dabblers crooned their unusual tune. At the sound of male voices and the tramp of booted feet, the dabblers dashed away, slipped under the evenly-spaced bars of the cell door, and fled into the shadows. Alyssa watched them go, hoping they’d reach their nest in safety. Soon after the little water lovers had left, two guardsmen and a servant came to her cell. While the warriors watched, the servant put down the covered containers he carried, retrieved two garments that had been folded over one arm, and pushed them to her between the cell bars. Nervously he said, “Prince Faruq Bahar has commanded you to wear these slave garments as a symbol of your new status.” Outwardly resigned to her fate, she accepted them, feeling the familiar coarse weave of the fabric. Next, the servant shoved the covered metal dish and cup under the door. He added a chunk of flatbread on top of the dish lid, and they all left. Curious, she removed the first lid and found the large metal container filled with some kind of stew. Food. Her stomach gurgled at the savory scents rising from the plate. How can you be hungry, she chided herself, when Rahim could be fighting for his life? Was he injured? Dead? She had to know. Closing her eyes, she mentally reached out in desperation to touch Rahim. Twice before, they’d connected. The first time, he had been close to her, touching the foreheads of his men to give them a mental image of Carmen. The second time, she and Rahim had been kissing and had shared her view of him. Now a chasm yawned between them—not only 128

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the water-carved gorge, but a wider separation made by Vortigan’s lies. Shivering, she bent her knees and hugged them to keep warm. Resting her cheek on her legs, she recalled that mountain night with the clean-scented wind curling around them and her legs gripping Golden Star’s warm sides. Rahim had reined Black Thunder close to her, their knees brushing. She’d gripped his shirt to keep him close, offering her mouth to him. Slowly, he’d cradled the back of her head and neck in his strong hand, lowered his lips, and pressed them to her forehead, her jaw, the tender spot beneath one ear, then back to her temple where the tip of his tongue had sent hot, throbbing waves of desire through her blood. As before, she’d felt a stirring in the air she’d only sensed in the presence of the powerfully gifted Keeper of the Flame. The hair on the back of her neck had prickled, and suddenly her mind had experienced the touch of another human—the same as she’d felt the first time she’d read Rahim’s thoughts. That night, instead of welcoming the intimate connection, she’d been afraid he’d learn about her true identity and the shame of rape on her betrothal night. Somehow, she’d closed the mental connection. Now she threw her mind wide open—looking, seeking, demanding contact with Rahim. There came an odd moment of dizziness; the sense of suddenly stepping into a windless void. The mist cleared from her eyes and she saw the inside walls of a cave. Pale light filled the irregular opening and illuminated the mix of boulders, rocks and discarded bones heaped together at one side. The ceiling was lost in shadows. Two spears-lengths away granite and basaltic rock gave way to fine-grained sand as black as the wyvern—the winged dragon of the night that could carry a full-grown horse—or man—in its jaws. Like the one watching her through half open eyes. Her arms ached like all the devils of Ubar. Her wrists had gone 129

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beyond pain into bright agony as he/she… He? I’m seeing the same thing as Rahim, she realized. It was then she realized her thoughts had joined with Rahim’s. She felt his jolt of surprise. He must have figured that out at the same time. Alyssa? How? His mental voice was as powerful and rich as his physical one. I’m not sure, but I had to tell you I didn’t betray you. You withheld your identity. So did you. I had to learn your identity from Jahar. She felt his startled chagrin. Then his thoughts turned grim. You never talked about your connection with that snake, Vortigan. She blurted, Was I supposed to tell you how he raped me on our betrothal bed? How the royal physician was bloody up to his wrists trying to stop the bleeding? Rahim tugged at the chains binding his arms and legs. His anger sizzled across the connection. I’ll kill that bastard for what he did to you. Alyssa’s view of the drowsing wyvern grew foggy. She sensed her mental connection with Rahim was fading. Quickly, while she had the chance, she said, I love you, Rahim. Somehow I’ll get free and come to you. Alyssa, don’t do anything foolish— His mental voice stopped abruptly. As before, dizziness overwhelmed her, she crossed the airless void, and found herself in the cell. While the mist cleared from her vision, a lightweight figure scrambled up her arm and perched on one shoulder. Two other dabblers came into focus. Between them lay a large key on a metal ring—the key to her cell door. Breathing thanks to the goddess, she quickly divided the flat bread 130

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among the three dabblers while she planned how to reach Rahim and free him. Her gaze lit on the covered food containers and the slave clothes. Once out of the cell, she could pretend to be delivering food to another part of the castle. Most people ignored slaves if they seemed to have a destination. While the dabblers nibbled on their treats, Alyssa quickly drew off her soiled clothes and slipped into the dress. The other garment was a hooded cloak in a style worn by both men and women. When she shook it out, her boots fell to the floor. Breathing a whispered thanks to the goddess again, she put them on. After donning the cloak, she listened for any sound of activity in the passage. All was quiet. Reaching between the bars, she inserted the key, unlocked the door, and gazed back at the sleeping pallet where she’d arranged the thin pad with the discarded garments to look like someone sleeping. Daylight coming through the narrow, barred window had begun to fade. Soon the small room would be dark. That would delay discovery of her escape. She scooped up the dish and cup, stepped out into the passage, and relocked the door. Her heart pounded in her chest. Too late to slip into the cell now if someone came along. As she turned to go, she saw handcuffs and chains hung from a peg on the wall opposite the cell, ready for use. Praying to the goddess for another miracle, she took a closer look and discovered the key had been left in one of the metal cuffs. Maybe it would open Rahim’s. When she’d changed clothes, she’d kept the long, thin tie from her tunic neckline. Threading that through the small ring on the key, she tied it to the shoulder strap of her kut’n camisole. Then, with the hood of the cloak pulled forward to hide her face, 131

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she picked up the dish and cup, and started her journey through the castle, down the gorge trail, and into the cave to free Rahim. Would she get there before the wyvern was fully awake?

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CHAPTER 13

Keeping a careful watch on the drowsing wyvern, Rahim continued to slam a rock against one link in the chain fastened between the metal cuff on one ankle and a plate bolted to the rocky wall of the cave. At the sound of the first few blows, the great beast had snorted and shifted in its sleep. When it remained peaceful during the next two strikes, Rahim decided the wyvern was no more bothered by that sound than the constant roar of the water tumbling into the gorge farther up the Valley of Bones. Since Alyssa had connected with him mentally, he’d redoubled his efforts to get free. The gods only knew what danger she could get into if she managed to escape from her cell and come for him. With his hands still fastened behind his back, he lay, half on his side and half on his back, working by feel. His fingers steadying the iron link had taken more than one blow, but now he hit the target most of the time. If he could weaken that one part of the chain, he could snap it loose from the rest. Without being fastened to the wall, he had a better 133

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chance of eluding the wyvern, maybe even getting past it and out of the cave. Once free, he’d work on getting rid of the handcuffs. By all the demons in Ubar, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. A sound outside the cave entrance brought him to higher alert. A hooded figure appeared against the gathering gloom. Rahim rose to his feet, braced for action. The person hesitated, as if adjusting his eyes to the darker interior. Three dabblers skittered in around the stranger. Two, ignoring the dozing wyvern, jumped onto the black sand, crooning in pleasure as each rubbed its iridescent scaled stomach on the fine grains. The third, a silver-and-pink juvenile, continued toward Rahim until it reached a place just beyond his reach. It sat back on its tail, with one paw raised, and chittered at him. At that moment, the hooded figure started in his direction, threading a path around the debris on the rocky floor, and carefully carrying two metal containers. Rahim frowned. There was something about the way the stranger moved—a graceful, flowing motion that reminded him of— “Alyssa,” he exclaimed in a tone pitched low so it wouldn’t disturb the huge creature. “Get the hell out of here before you become the beast’s dessert.” She pushed back her hood and shot a nervous glance at the wyvern. “I’ll get out of here after releasing you.” “Release with what? Your teeth?” He tugged on the chain fastened to the wall. “For your sake, go. Now.” Ignoring his orders, she quickly set aside the containers and reached inside the neckline of her slave garment. After a few seconds, that seemed like hours as he strained to put himself between her and the black menace, she drew out a key. “A handcuff key?” Hope exploded in his heart. “Get my wrists first.” He turned so she could reach the metal bands. “Then give me the 134

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key. I’ll take care of my ankle. You get the hell out—fast.” As her fingers brushed against his hand, her feminine scent wrapped around him. “Hurry, Alyssa. I can’t wait to hold you after we escape.” “I’m hurrying,” she said in a breathy voice. He heard the snick of the key and felt one wrist released. Thank the gods. The key grated in the second lock. Rumbling in a low tone, the night beast opened its eyes. Lifting its head on its long neck, the night dragon stared down at Rahim and Alyssa. Barely enough light entered the cave for Rahim to see the creature clearly, but the wyvern’s eyes, larger than any day dweller’s, were adapted to see in the deepest dark. Rahim’s heart beat faster as he heard Alyssa behind him still fighting to turn the key in the second lock. Ponderously, the dragon rose to his feet, unfurling his great wings, while his attention remained fixed on the humans. The two dabblers tumbled backwards, yeeping in surprise. The juvenile at Rahim’s feet jumped into the air, fluttering its small wings, and landed facing the creature hundreds of times its size. Fumbling on the ground with his free hand, Rahim located the fistsized rock he’d been using, and gripped it—ready to hurl it into one of the wyvern’s eyes. “Got it,” Alyssa panted. Rahim felt the tug and release, then heard the clatter of chains and handcuffs. “Hand me the key and hide,” he ordered. “The beast looks hungry.” “We’re in this together.” She went to work on the metal cuffing his ankle. The other dabblers joined the youngling and faced the menace. The three began chittering angrily. Were they berating the great dragon? Suddenly, light flared behind Rahim. He watched two nimbus globes float up to the ceiling chasing away dark shadows. 135

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Whipping his head away from the brightness, the wyvern opened his mouth, filled with impressively sharp teeth, and gave a deep, rumbling roar that rattled Rahim’s own teeth and started small rockslides. “Cuff’s open,” Alyssa shouted. He tugged loose from the metal band while making and discarding plans on how to get Alyssa and himself away safely. “This, way,” he said, spying a split between two boulders large enough for him and Alyssa to slip through and make their way to the entrance. His bare foot bumped against the large metal dish. Just then, the wyvern’s head snaked toward them again. To distract the animal, Rahim scooped up the pan and threw it at the open mouth. His aim was perfect. The dish hit the top row of jagged teeth. The lid flew off and the contents splashed onto the dragon’s tongue. It crouched down abruptly, curled its tail around great clawed feet, and made an odd humming sound. The three dabblers skittered to the lip of the sandy area and chittered excitedly. Taking advantage of the distraction, Rahim clasped Alyssa’s hand and led her at a crouching run toward the cave opening. He paused before dashing out into the night, to make sure the wyvern’s attention was still away from the entrance. They’d have a better chance to reach safety if the beast didn’t realize, immediately, that they had escaped. “He’s not watching,” Rahim muttered to Alyssa. “Check the trail.” She slipped past him. In the meantime, he observed the night dragon nosing the empty food dish while the three dabblers chittered, apparently unafraid of the great creature. While he’d observed activities inside the cave, Rahim had kept part of his attention on Alyssa’s movements at the entrance. Moments earlier, she’d said softly, “Clear here. I’ll look farther up.” 136

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Suddenly, he heard feet slide on the rocks. Had she lost her balance and was rolling toward the edge of the void? Even as he turned to go to her, icy fear sliced through him. “Rahim, it’s Vortigan,” she screamed. At the same moment, he saw her struggling to free herself from the prince’s grip on her upper arm. She raked her fingers across Vortigan’s face, and he retaliated with a fist to her cheek. With a vicious curse, Rahim launched himself at the bastard, carrying them both into the night away from Alyssa. Behind them, the wyvern let out a roar. Alyssa stumbled two steps away from Rahim and Vortigan, worried about the dragon attacking Rahim while he faced off with the ruthless prince who’d assassinated his father. Quickly, she called the light for three more nimbus globes, increased their brightness as high as possible, and set them as a barrier between the inner lair and the cave entrance. The brighter illumination revealed a deadly dance of unarmed Rahim against Vortigan’s battle-hardened skill with a scimitar. Only a few steps behind them the trail edge ended in a long drop to death. Somehow Rahim had unwound his sash and knotted one end. He used that to distract his opponent—lashing at Vortigan’s head, leaping to one side to avoid the deadly blade then going on the attack with the makeshift weapon. Blood oozed from cuts on Rahim’s arm and shoulder. As Alyssa looked for a sharp rock, a chunk of wood from the debris pile—anything she could toss to Rahim—something made her look up just as a second dark form appeared at the cave entrance. The nimbus illumination revealed the Blood Warrior circling the combatants in a crouch, long knife in hand. As Rahim leaped backwards away from Vortigan’s thrust—Cherif, knife raised—rushed toward the sultan’s unprotected shoulder blades. “No, you don’t.” With a running leap, Alyssa jumped onto Cherif’s 137

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back, locked one arm around his neck, and pounded at his shoulder and face with her fist. “I’ll kill you, bitch,” he roared. Struggling to dislodge her, he staggered into the cave, turned and slammed her body against the cave wall. Pain…oh, Goddess…the pain. Hold on, I have to keep my grip, she thought. She’d expected to hurt, but not this much. He howled curses and rammed her into the rock again. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t think coherently. Only one goal was clear—keep this bloodthirsty being away from the man she loved. She felt the warrior’s powerful fingers pry at her hands. Pain made her stomach flip with nausea. Then he threw her off and she crumpled to the ground. Gasping for breath, Alyssa looked up at Cherif poised over her with the long blade raised. She made a weak effort to roll away. He dropped to his knees and straddled the top of her thighs. His thick qadib pressed against the tender vee at the juncture of her thighs. Horror squeezed her heart. Her struggles had aroused the blood warrior’s lust. Only his kut’n pants and the thick fabric of her slave garment made a flimsy barrier to rape. The wash of illumination from the nimbus globe revealed the demonic light in Cherif’s eyes. With an unholy smile, he promised, “I’m going to slice you into bloody pieces and feed them to the wyvern.” “If the night dragon doesn’t eat you first,” she taunted. Momentarily distracted, he glanced over his shoulder. She heard the dabblers chittering to the dragon and felt an odd trembling on the psychic plane. This presence was richer, darker than that of the small water lovers. A wisp of impression came—followed by splinters of its pain; a creature whose eyes watered and ached in the light. The wyvern. 138

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A voice took form in her mind. Please, Lady of the small water lovers. The light hurts. “It’s to protect my mate from you,” she muttered too low for Cherif to hear. What reward do you wish for dimming the lights? Don’t kill Sultan Rahim. He’s a good man. Agreed, the wyvern, Kunagnos, said instantly. Knowing this was her final gift to Rahim, she watched Cherif raise the knife two-handed as she extinguished the bright lights guarding the cave entrance. Then, as the knife descended toward her chest, the wyvern’s long muzzle opened behind Cherif and snatched him up. Relentlessly, the black neck rose, swinging the thrashing body high. Pale light washed across the wyvern’s scales, revealing the pattern of dark gold spread across its chest. The Blood Warrior’s shrill screams were cut short. His knife fell from one hand and was lost in the shadows. Once more the massive head rose toward the cave’s ceiling. Blood flowed from the unmoving body clamped between its teeth. Suddenly Rahim was there, kneeling beside her. Touching her face with trembling fingers, he breathed, “Do nothing to call attention to yourself.” “‘S okay…wyvern won’t hurt us.” As if it heard her, the beast gave a low rumble and ponderously swung around facing the entrance defined by a wash of light from the stars and both moons. Slowly, it moved toward the opening, its clawed feet and long tail avoiding Alyssa and Rahim. Turning her face to the left, she watched the night dragon stop at the lip of the gorge and toss Cherif’s body into the air. For a brief moment it seemed suspended there, then it plunged into the Wadi’ Idahm, the Valley of Bones. Moving her head carefully, because every motion hurt and jagged 139

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shadows lurked at the edge of her vision, she once more gazed up into Rahim’s face. From the corner of her eyes, she saw he held a scimitar. “Vortigan? Dead?” “Gone to Shaytan’s deepest pit.” Rahim slipped one arm under her shoulders. She tried to muffle a low groan, but he heard it and went rigid. In a flat, toneless voice, he said, “Where do you hurt?” “Better to ask where I don’t hurt,” she joked. When she saw his lips flatten, she added, “Give me a few minutes to rest and I’ll be all right—except for my left hand. I sprained two fingers.” “How—?” Rahim’s question was interrupted by the dragon’s mental voice as it paced toward them and settled its great body in the sand. The lady attacked the Blood Warrior. He damaged her in his efforts to get free. From the way Rahim’s head swung toward the beast, he’d also heard the wyvern. He muttered, “A talking dragon. Tell me I’m dreaming.” Alyssa smiled and touched his lips with with a finger. “Sultan Rahim Yasir Al Sayyed, meet Kunagnos the Wise. He saved me from Commander Cherif.” The wyvern dipped its head. My pleasure, even though that spawn of Shaytan left a nasty taste on my tongue. Rahim brushed a kiss across Alyssa’s fingers, then looked up at the wyvern. Solemnly he saluted Kunagnos with a fist over his heart. “Wise One, I am in your debt.” In that case, I ask for your help to free my mate, Cinnia, from the cave where the Fuzarans hold her captive. “Why is she a prisoner?” Rahim asked. That is how they forced me to bring terror and death to those who opposed King Rogan and Prince Vortigan. If I disobeyed, they starved 140

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Cinnia. Outraged on the wyvern couple’s behalf, Alyssa said, “Why didn’t other wyverns come to your aid? They’d certainly have the strength and power to make the Fuzarans release you and your mate.” Kunagnos lowered his head until his chin touched the rim of rock surrounding the sand. His large, liquid eyes glimmered in the soft light from the remaining nimbus globes suspended from the high cave ceiling. Cinnia and I are the last of our kind. When we die, the race dies with us. The three dabblers set up a low mournful sound. In spite of her injuries, Alyysa had a strong urge to go to Kunagnos. “Help me up,” she said to Rahim. “You’re not—” “Please.” Fighting through the dizziness and pain, she struggled to rise. Silently, he drew her to her feet and steadied her as she crossed the short space to where she could touch the great muzzle. Kunagos gazed at her. Are you not afraid? “Not of you.” She pressed one hand on the smooth scales over the wyvern’s snout. “You have allowed me to share your thoughts. I found no evil there.” The night dragon shifted his gaze to Rahim. Truly your woman is compassionate and brave. “My woman should have her injuries treated.” Suiting actions to his words, he cut a strip of fabric from his sash and bound her two fingers for support. When he was apparently satisfied he’d done all he could, Rahim sat on his heels and said to the wyvern, “Where do they have your mate? You and I will figure a way to gain her freedom.” “I’m going with you,” Alyssa blurted out. Rahim stared at her as if weighing reasons for her to stay, while she prepared a list of reasons to accompany them. 141

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Finally, he said, “You’ll be safer to go with us.” Alyssa thought of the old warning to be careful of what you ask.

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CHAPTER 14

By the time they climbed higher up the mountain and reached the cave where Cinnia was imprisoned, Zurir had set and Qamar was slipping below the horizon. First, they’d had to make their way around the castle and across the bridge spanning the torrent and waterfall that continued to shape the Valley of Bones. From here, only the fortress’ topmost turret was visible. The swell of the mountain hid the rest. Kunagnos appeared as a blacker shadow against the night sky and came in for a landing at the edge of the massive boulders sealing the cave entrance. A small opening, the size of a slim man or boy, had been left at the top of the wall. A high, sweet trill came from inside, so filled with longing it brought tears to Alyssa’s eyes. Kunagnos answered with a low, tender call. To Alyssa and Rahim, he said, We must release my mate quickly. 143

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We want to leave before daylight, and need to find shelter from the sunshine. He clawed at the boulders, but only succeeded in loosening one. Rahim scrambled to the top of the pile, near the narrow opening, and braced his shoulder against a loose slab. “Kunagnos, when Cinnia gets clear of the cave, you and your mate would be most welcome in Aradi. Go to Wadi’ Janni, the Valley of Paradise. There you will find fresh water, plenty of game for food, and many caves. Choose one as your new home.” That we shall, and gladly. In return, Cinnia and I will protect your country. “Then it’s agreed.” Rahim extended his hand and the wyvern clasped it carefully in one claw. “Give me some light, Alyssa,” Rahim said as he threw his weight against a huge black slab. “Then move to one side in case this starts a landslide.” She formed a nimbus globe, setting it to a pale glow in deference to both wyverns’ sensitivity to light, and suspended it from a projecting shelf of rock. The soft beams washed across the black and gray rocks blocking the cave. An inquiring trill came from inside the cavern. Kunagnos answered, The humans are helping us, but they need light to see. Climbing up to the other side of the opening, Alyssa cautiously peered into the cave. In the gloom, she saw the pale form of a wyvern curled on the rocky floor. Suddenly she felt the brush of a gentle presence across her mind. Welcome, lady of the water lovers. My name is Cinnia. My deepest thanks to you and your man for releasing my mate from that evil Blood Warrior and corrupt prince. Kunagnos saved me from Commander Cherif. Quickly, Alyssa gave 144

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the captive wyvern a mental picture of the death of Cherif. Unfastening her cloak, she rolled it in a ball and threw it to Cinnia saying, “Use this to protect your eyes if dirt and chips of rock start to fly.” In the meantime, the two powerful males struggled to shift more boulders. She scanned the small number of rocks removed and the heartbreaking number still to be taken away before the opening was wide enough for Cinnia to fit through. They’d never finish before sunrise. Once the Fuzarans discovered she was no longer in her cell, or that Rahim had escaped, they’d search the countryside until she and Rahim were found. Even the pale nimbus light put them in danger of discovery. Alyssa spotted a thick branch at the edge of the rock fall, pulled it loose from the pile, and wedged it under a smaller boulder at the entrance. Using the weight of her body, she tipped up the heavy rock. Just when she thought it would tumble over, the boulder settled back into its original position. Once more, she flung her weight onto the branch, fighting to lever the stubborn boulder out of its bed and down the mountainside. Her heartbeat throbbed in her temples. In spite of the cool mountain breeze, she broke out in a damp sweat. Her mouth was dry and she thought, wistfully, of icy fresh water. With that image came the memory of the spring she’d reopened in the cave where they’d camped the first night after her rescue. She’d been appalled when she’d lost control of the water and its power had ripped stones from the cave then carried them along in a rising flood. In spite of the potential danger, should she try to locate a source of water underground here to use in freeing Cinnia? Not yet. Rahim had found a second branch to use as a lever. She watched him loosen another rock and send it tumbling away. In spite of all his and Kunagnos’ efforts, the rocky barrier looked unchanged. 145

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She had to try. Using the branch to dig into the soil, Alyssa climbed up a short slope to a level section at one side of the original opening—far enough away so the cave wouldn’t flood. Probing with her extra senses, she located a great river deep below where she stood. Unlike the cave where she’d cleared the dormant well, there was no original path to the outside—no natural spring now stopped by shifting forces. Delicately, she traced the line of liquid and found it fed springs and wells of farms and villages on the plains north of the mountain. If she diverted the river to clear the opening to this cave, those water sources would go dry and cause havoc for the people. “Unthinkable,” she murmured. Once the cave was unblocked, she had to find a way to restore the river to its original bed. But could she? A cold fist closed around her throat. The first time she’d tested her water calling abilities, she’d been nine. Filled with a heady sense of power, she’d ignored the laws of nature and had tapped into an underground pool, forcing it to the surface where it had never been. When she’d tried to return the water to its original place, her energy had collapsed and the rebellious liquid had carved a new bed for itself, finally tumbling over the cliff, near her father’s palace, in a waterfall that still flowed. In that land of springs, streams, waterfalls and the ocean, her foolish tampering hadn’t caused any permanent damage. However, in the plains and deserts, a well or spring could make the difference between life and death. The second time she’d lost control had happened as she and Rahim had made love in the cave near the spring she’d restored. That time, she’d been able to force the water back to its natural path. This circumstance was different. Kunagnos loosened another boulder. It rattled down the slope, 146

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carrying smaller stones. Perhaps if she worked harder at moving rocks… Her hopeful thought was destroyed by the sound of a bell reverberating in the night. “We’re running out of time,” Rahim said, heaving at another rock blocking Cinnia’s prison. “They’ve discovered Alyssa’s gone from the cell. It won’t take them long to start searching outside the castle.” Choking back her fears, Alyssa said, “Get away from the cave entrance and climb higher. I’ll use water to clear away the stones blocking Cinnia’s way.” “Like you did in the camping cave?” Rahim asked. “Yes, with more volume.” As he climbed across the chunks and slabs to her, carrying the scimitar he’d won from Vortigan in combat, her memory flashed back to the time they’d performed the fertility ceremony. That night, the goddess has said, “Turn and behold. He who shall complete you comes.” Alyssa knew now Rahim had been the one to complete her in all ways but one—her wish for a husband and children of her own. In her education about other countries on Traber, she’d learned the people of Aradi were very traditional. They’d never accept a Sultana who had lost her virginity before mating with the Sultan. Could she accept a lesser role in his life? She was jolted out of her dark thoughts by the sight of men carrying torches, searching the countryside across the valley. The swell of the mountain hid the trails up this side, but she realized the searchers would soon be here. She knew light from the nimbus globe had marked hers and Rahim’s position. Even if she dissolved the globe, the searches knew where to look. “Rahim, you should escape while you can. Aradi needs you.” Laying aside the scimitar, he cradled her face and touched her lips with his. After one long, hard kiss—filled with longing and 147

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frustration—he said, “Aradi will survive. You need me here, now, to stand protection.” He stepped back and picked up the hilt of the deadly blade. Reassured he would protect her from interruption, Alyssa knelt on the rocky ground, pressed her hands, palm to palm, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. Once more she hurled her special senses deep into the miles of bedrock that had stood in this place since the formation of the planet. These were primal rocks, created out of the fires of a newly born planet then cooled into great mountains and plains. Fear clogged her throat as she measured the force of the flood locked in those depths. Not even these mountains had been immune to the power of water as it carved valleys and plains, gathered into oceans, or drilled hidden riverbeds in the endless dark. From the moment she’d become aware of her ability to call water, Alyssa had never doubted her own safety, even the few hours, years earlier, when she’d lost control of the gift. This time she knew she might not survive. Goddess, how could she harness and master the relentless torrent? With the soft chime of bells, the answer came. Water Caller, Blessed of the earth, seek the power of Qamar before it is lost behind the mountain. “The greater moon,” she murmured, lifting her hands, palms upward, to catch the pale light. The moist night wind wrapped around her carrying the welcome scent of Rahim nearby. His presence kept her grounded to the surface. One part of her mind registered the distant shout of searchers and knew they were drawing closer. A rock cracked against another under the click of claws—Kunagnos still worked to free Cinnia. And then the first strands of moon power collected in her palms, spilling in silver ribbons to the ground. With this new source of energy, 148

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she once more sent her spirit through the layers of rock down to the hidden river. As relentless minutes ticked by, she searched blindly for a weakness in the tunnel of rock that restrained the torrent. Finally she found a hairline crack where heavy, fine-grained basalt had joined to coarse granite. Gathering her mental forces, she slammed a fist of water time and time again, beating against the break. The rock groaned, but didn’t move. She heard Rahim say mentally, Alyssa, the soldiers are closer. We have to leave. You go. Not without you. Moments later, Alyssa thought she heard the clash of metal on metal, but pounded harder at the juncture deep in the earth, drawing on more of her own energy. With a cracking roar, the break widened. Liquid raced through the new pathway, cleared away all obstructions, and leaped high into the night sky. It fell in a fountain around Alyssa, puddled at her feet, rushed downslope, and swirled around the massive rock pile blocking the cave entrance. Undermined by the water, great slabs and boulders shifted then slid down the slope and over the edge. Kunagnos leaped into the air and warned, Soldiers come with swords, torches and arrows. Alyssa looked up in time to see the wyvern dodge to one side ahead of a barbed shaft. From inside the cave, Cinnia whistled her distress. The Fuzarans appeared on the lower trail, sending flights of arrows ahead. Rahim pulled Alyssa into the stygian shadows behind a black slab. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Let the water finish clearing the cave entrance.” From her temporary safety, she peered around the edge of the rock, 149

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where a bush screened her action, and watched the warriors come closer. The torrent she’d started ate away at Cinnia’s prison, but not enough yet for the female wyvern to squeeze through the opening. Already, an elite group of warriors avoided the main rush of water and climbed toward the blocked prisoner. Drawing more power from the moon, Alyssa directed water higher on the barricade. It swept up the Blood Warriors and torchbearers, and hurled them into the dark. Even though their bloodstained sashes proclaimed the fate of their numerous victims, the men’s death screams sickened Alyssa. Nausea rose in her throat. She took a step back and bumped against Rahim who was busy fighting off a Fuzaran soldier. Another fighter appeared out of the dark. Shouting, “Death to all enemies,” he swung his sharp blade at her. Instinctively she ducked away, then caught up the branch she’d used to pry rocks, and brought it down across his head and shoulder. He staggered back, lost his footing, was caught up in the flood, and tumbled down the mountain. Quickly she changed the direction of the water pummeling the barricade, and watched the last major obstacle rumble down the slope into the Valley of Bones. Then she realized there were no Fuzarans in sight. In spite of the damage done by water and rocks tearing at the cave, the nimbus globe still shed a soft light on the scene. Exhausted, she watched Kunagnos land at the large entrance just as Cinnia appeared. The female dragon spread her pale blue wings and rushed to the male wyvern with a soft cry of wonder. Kunagnos rumbled a tender answer and gently rubbed his muzzle across the silver-and-blue scales of his mate’s shoulders and back. As they twined and untwined their long necks, each wyvern flushed 150

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a deeper color and crooned in harmony. Rahim circled Alyssa’s waist from behind, drawing her against his warm body. “I’d say they’re happy to be together.” She heard the smile in his voice. Resting in the comfort of his presence, she said, “I’m glad we helped them.” “There’s one more way to help them before dawn,” Rahim said. He raised his voice over the thunder of the new waterfall cascading into the gorge. “Kunagnos and Cinnia, are you ready to fly to sanctuary in Aradi before sunrise?” Kunagnos answered, Sultan Al Sayyed, we are eager to go to your Valley of Paradise. I have your directions, so we shall leave. As both wyverns spread their wings, Cinnia’s sweet mental voice called, My thanks, lady of the water lovers, for rescuing me. May the goddess bless you and your man. Then each dragon leaped into the air and, with sweeping downstrokes lifted high into the sky, their scales—black-and-gold for Kunagnos and blue-and-silver for Cinnia—shimmering in the light of the setting moon. “They’re beautiful,” Alyssa murmured. “And wise.” Rahim turned her in his arms to face him. “Aradi will be richer and safer under their protection.” “Was that your dream—for a prosperous and safe country?” She gazed up into his face, loving the strength and commitment she saw in his dark silver eyes. “Always. Even before reaching manhood, I saw the death and destruction bandits and foreign invaders caused the people of Aradi.” His voice took on a grim note. “When Vortigan assassinated my father, I had to put aside my plans to go after the murderer in favor of saving Aradi from opportunists waiting to tear it apart.” Her fingers trembled as she touched his cheek. “That was difficult, but necessary.” 151

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Rahim nodded. “It took months to establish order. Then, as I once told you, Jahar’s father was wounded in a battle with Vortigan’s followers. If my uncle died, it would leave the Sheikdom of Shemali vulnerable to takeover by people ready to make a deal with Fuzar.” “I pray Jahar arrived in time to see his father recover.” Alyssa raised her mouth to Rahim’s until her lips brushed his as she spoke. “Either way, you’re free to return to Aradi.” To her surprise, he carefully curled his fingers over her shoulders and eased her away. And yet, she knew he wanted her. She’d felt the hard ridge of his qadib pressing her belly. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Rahim, why?” His jaw was tight. In the waning moonlight she saw the blush of arousal staining his cheeks and throat. He retreated another step. “By the Great Vatsaya, god of pleasure, I want you in my arms with my qadib buried deep in your warm yoni, but not here in the mud on the crumbling side of a mountain.” At that moment, another slab of rock and dirt tore away from the base of the cave and disappeared in the new waterfall. Filled with frustration and regret at the lost opportunity to make love with Rahim, Alyssa knew she had to stop the land’s destruction now and force the water to sink back into its original rocky bed. The pale light silvering the mountain flank reminded her that the task had to be done before Qamar sank below the horizon. Gazing at Rahim, she said, “The longer this water flows up here, the more springs and wells on the Fuzaran plains will go dry.” “Why should you care…?” He shook his head. “You’re right. We’re talking about innocent women and children dying of thirst and starvation.” He moved closer. “But how?” “I’ll use moon power as long as it’s available.” “And then?” He sounded grim. Before she lost her nerve, Alyssa climbed to a spot just above the surging river. Kneeling there in grit and mud formed in the first 152

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fountain of water, she bowed her head as before and centered herself murmuring, “Goddess, give me the strength and wisdom I need to complete this deed.” This time no bells chimed; no voice spoke in her mind. A scene flashed across her eyes of the fertility rite when power had simmered through her body. She recalled the goddess-given words of Rahim’s greeting—he’d called her Lady of Water and Earth. With that recollection came a sense of sureness. Alyssa raised her hands to collect the last rays of the moon. Quickly, she fashioned a shimmering net of power, tightening it into a denser cap with each flick and press of her mind and hands. The ground rumbled below her body as if the unbound water refused to return to confinement in its dark channel underground. Carefully, she set the magical construct beside her within easy reach. First, she had to find the best place to set that plug of energy. Even as she watched, mud and boulders around the river’s yawning exit crumbled and were blasted away by the jetting water. Maybe she’d have more success sealing the entrance. Once again, she plunged her special senses miles deep in the rocks to where she’d hammered apart the weakened seam. Her mind reeled in shock when she found the breach had widened to a gap greater than the height of two tall men. It had to be stopped and now. Fighting the power of the surging waters, she called the net of energy—shocked when it didn’t respond. In the physical realm, she stood in the mud and raised her hands in both prayer and command to the silent stars crossing the night sky. In the east, the Great Basket with its glowing bounty of light from Qamar, lingered above the horizon. She faced in that direction first and called, “Goddess, let knowledge and wisdom come.” Suddenly, she was caught up in the image of making love with Rahim under the power of the Grass Moons. They were wrapped together in the throbbing darkness where he drove his hot, slick qadib 153

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into her in the magical, three shallow, five deep, thrusts over and over until they were truly one. With that image of stunning delight filling her body, she called to the north for strength from the earth. This time came the sensual memory making love with Rahim that first night in the camping cave when he’d introduced her to passion and had called her, “My woman.” Next, Alyssa called on the south for courage from fire, recalling the night in the temple when the Fire Goddess had bestowed blessings on her, greeting her as the daughter of ocean and earth. Rahim had been hailed as one having the energy of wind and fire. Then the goddess had added, “Together, you and Alyssa represent the Akasha, the four creative forces of the universe.” Finally, Alyssa turned to the west for the serenity and cleansing she needed to clear her thoughts and focus on healing the underground river. Breathing a plea to the goddess, Alyssa seized the silver net and sent her spirit down through the miles of water to the opening. Kneeling in the gritty mud, she worked to fasten the shimmering energy around the sides of the breach. The night wind and cold air drew heat from her body and sapped energy she needed to tame the liquid power. Oh, goddess, she was choking, drowning, losing her identity—her heart and soul—in the waters that had no end. She was tired…so tired…so weary… Rahim wrapped his arms around her and demanded, Alyssa, snap out of it. Come back to me—now. Not until I finish. Reaching deep into waning store of energy, she fused the net along one side of the break. The river fought her—slapped at her with awesome force. She felt a tug on her body, then Rahim’s energy was beside her, pouring fresh strength into her as they joined in closing the break. 154

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With the last section of net in place, Alyssa declared, By the power of earth and water, I seal this breach. Rahim added, By the power of wind and fire, I fuse this seal for eternity. As they watched on the psychic plain, dark fire flashed across the net. Rocks met, bubbled, and flowed into one solid whole. Together, Rahim and Alyssa flew up the water-filled tube, trailed by steam and a grinding roar as the sides slammed shut forever. Moments later, they lay on the ground, exhausted, wrapped in each other’s embrace, Alyssa’s cheek snuggled on Rahim’s chest. The earth gave one last shudder then the night grew quiet. Rahim murmured, “You do good work, wildflower.” “We do good work.” Her eyelids closed and she drifted into a doze, soothed by the steady beat of his heart. In that quiet place between waking and sleeping, she heard the soft chirrs of many water dabblers. The calls started some distance away and gradually came closer, but they sounded busy, not alarmed so she didn’t bother to open her eyes. Moments later, cloth settled on her shoulders and body. As she snuggled into its warmth and the reassurance of Rahim’s arms, he chuckled. “The dabblers have brought your cloak from the cave.” “Clever.” At the pressure of a paw on her leg, she opened her eyes and saw the three dabblers from Kunagnos’ cave with a crowd of dabblers spread out around her and Rahim. The pink-and-silver juvenile was the one bold enough to prop its paw on her. She had just sat up to thank the small water lovers when Rahim pressed her shoulder and said, “Quiet, someone comes,” in a low, urgent voice. He rose to his feet, scimitar in hand, and stepped between her and the washed-out trail. She heard the thud of horses’ hooves. The next moment, Prince 155

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Faruq Bahar Ibn Rogan appeared on horseback leading Thunder, Star, and a bay gelding packhorse. He reined in at the far side of the clearing made by the rushing water and spread his arms away from his body. “I mean you no harm,” he called. “The palace guardsmen and Blood Warriors are in disarray without my brother or Commander Cherif to give orders.” “Has King Rogan given up all his powers to command?” The prince’s expression settled into an impassive mask. “My father had allowed authority to slip through his fingers. Now his mind has become confused.” Softly, Rahim said, “Alyssa, turn up the light and be ready to dive for cover.” She increased the glow from the nimbus globe, then fashioned another bright one and sent it to shine over the prince. Faruq looked up, obviously startled, but didn’t back away. Rahim prowled closer to the prince. Thunder gave a welcoming whinny. Star added her greeting. One hand gesture from Rahim quieted the stallion and mare, but their ears stayed on alert, facing his voice. “Prince Ibn Rogan, release our mounts and allow them to come to us. After that, you and I will talk.” Wordlessly, Faruq dropped the reins. Another gesture from Rahim brought Thunder and Star picking their way across the mud and debris. The packhorse followed. Alyssa caught their reins and soothed the lovely Arabians with her hands and voice. When Star lipped her hair, Alyssa threw her arms around the mare’s neck and whispered, “I’m going to miss you when I leave Rahim and return to Oceanus.” *

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What is going through Alyssa’s mind? he wondered. Rahim glanced 156

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at her riding beside him on Star. Since they’d left Faruq and Wyvern Castle behind and had started down this track to the crossroads, he could feel her putting up barriers between them. In the east, the pearly gray sky of false dawn announced a new day. Although Prince Faruq had assured him the Fuzaran troops had been pulled back from this part of the mountains, Rahim had stayed alert as they rode through the last hours of night. Several times, he’d called a halt to rest the mounts and give Alyssa and him a chance to drink water and eat from the supplies provided by the Fuzaran prince. Faruq had been a surprise, Rahim mused. The two had come to an agreement to bring peace to the Aradi lands along the Fuzaran border when Faruq assumed the throne. Once again, commerce would flow between the two countries after fifty years of unrest and war. Until that time, the prince had vowed to do all he could to stop any plans his father made to send raiders against Aradi. With peace, the people of both countries would be happier and more prosperous. That left the problem of Alyssa. Why did he sense she was saying farewell to him with every mile closer to the crossroads? Every time he’d tried to start up a conversation about their future, she’d met his questions with a shrug or silence. Where was the woman who’d laughed and joked with him? What had happened to the outgoing, witty person who’d regaled him with stories of her family and friends, and had coaxed him to talk about his parents, his cousin, and Aradi? The dawn breeze shifted direction, flowing from the plains to the mountains and carrying Alyssa’s sweet scent to him. Clearing his throat he said to her, “You smell good this morning.” The moment the words left his mouth he wanted to call them back. Her brow wrinkled. “How do you mean that? I know I need to bathe.” Kicking himself for being three kinds of fool, he said, “I’m trying to 157

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say I’d like to hold you and inhale your womanly scent.” To his horror, he saw her eyes grow teary. “Wait. Wait. Don’t cry. That wasn’t an insult.” “I know.” She made a visible effort to control her emotions. “Guess I’m tired.” She rubbed her forehead and avoided looking directly at him. Hell, he could tell she was lying. Should he confront her? No. She looked as if she carried the weight of all Traber on her slim shoulders. The sky was growing lighter. They’d reached the end of the long spur of mountain the track had been following. Just ahead, a tall cairn of carefully fitted rocks marked where the trail split into two paths. One went north to Aradi and one turned south to Oceanus. Alyssa brought Star to a halt and sat gazing out at the Plain of Fuzar. Rahim joined her. In the clear air, the small settlements with neat rows of crops, made a peaceful scene. Closer, he watched two figures, a man and a boy, step out of their modest mud-and-straw home, and walk to a covered well beside the field nearest their home. For a short time, the man worked the handle of a pump, and then water splashed out and fell into the first irrigation ditch in a glittering stream. The young boy caught up a large water skin and filled it with the clear liquid flowing from the pump spout. “They still have water,” Alyssa murmured as if assuring herself. Rahim touched her arm. “Thanks to you.” She faced him, her expression carefully composed. “That was my obligation. I diverted their water. I had to restore the flow.” Anger flared in his blood. “Obligation? You damn near died in the underground river. Don’t you know I felt your struggle to heal the breach and knew your life was slipping away in the current?” Alyssa pulled at the neck of her cloak as if it strangled her. “I know what happened. Without you, I wouldn’t have survived.” In a choked 158

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voice, she added, “Maybe it would have been better.” She swung off Star, dropped the reins to ground hitch the mare, and walked away from Rahim to the edge of the overlook. He followed, trusting Thunder to stay. “Alyssa, I don’t dare touch you or I might paddle your stubborn butt until you see reason.” Instead of answering, she folded her arms and hunched her shoulders. They stood like that as the first rays of the sun painted pink and gold across clouds building up in the distance. Finally, she straightened and turned to face him. “Sultan Al Shayyed, may I borrow the use of the gelding? I’ll transfer the packs to Star.” “Why? I thought you enjoyed riding her.” “She’s wonderful, but I can’t take her with me to Oceanus.” Alyssa’s tone wavered. “Thunder would miss her too much.” “Oceanus?” Ice spread through his stomach. “Is that what you want?” He took a step closer, not sure if he wanted to shake some sense into her, or fall on his knees and plead with her to go with him to Aradi. She stared at him. Her lower lip trembled then firmed. “You and I have obligations to our own countries.” “Obligations,” he said in a flat voice. “I hope to Shaytan’s pit your obligations in Oceanus don’t get you killed.” He sensed her sliding farther away and fought a bitter battle not to sweep her up and carry her away to his palace. “Because, Princess Alyssa, daughter of King Tristan and Queen Damiana, I won’t be there to help.” “Of course you won’t. Your people need you.” She stood rigid, as if carved of the hardest cream and gold marble. Her hair blazed in the early morning sun, but the laughter and even the delightful anger was gone from eyes. Lifting her chin, she said, “That’s settled. May I borrow the 159

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gelding? I’ll send him back with someone it as quickly as possible.” “That won’t be necessary. I’ll escort you to your home safely and return to Aradi with the horses.” “Just to the border will be far enough.” She averted her face, but not before he saw the gleam of tears on her cheeks. His anger collapsed. Tenderly he turned her and drew her into his arms. “Little wildflower, what’s the real reason you’re trying to chase me away?” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re the Sultan of Aradi.” “Is that a crime?” He brushed his chin across her hair. “You have obligations to your people. They expect you to rule them wisely and to—” He stroked one hand down her back. “There’s that word, obligation, again. Whatever I do for Aradi would be easier if I had you at my side—as my wife.” She looked up at him and tried to pull away, but he held her there, sensing he was about to learn the real problem. “Rahim…” Her voice trembled. She licked her lips and tried again. “I didn’t come to you a virgin. Your people will never accept me as your mate and their Sultana.” “You weren’t a virgin only because you gave your maidenhead to your fiancé in the ritual confirmation of betrothal. That betrothal was canceled by your father.” Tenderly, Rahim brushed her hair away from her face. “Moreover, the Fire Goddess has set her stamp of approval on you. How can my people not accept you after that?” He watched hope chase away the shadows in her eyes. “There’s more.” Gently, he brushed his lips across her forehead, determined to control his hunger for her until she agreed to marry him. “I dreamed of you for three nights before I saw you in Zoltar. And I finally admitted to myself, the night we were in Vortigan’s cell, that you are my true soul mate—the only woman for me in the world.” 160

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She cupped his face between her palms and gazed up into his eyes. “The first time I saw you stroll across the market place in Zoltar, I was drawn to you.” She drew his head down and gave him a simple kiss—a kiss of promise. “From that time, my love for you has grown, and I know you are my true soul mate.” Tracing his lips with fingers that trembled, she murmured, “Read my mind. Examine my heart and you’ll know I’ll love you as your wife, lover, and mother of your children forever.”

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EPILOGUE

Three Years Later The wyverns rose out of the warm, nighttime waters of Conch Bay. Kunagnos and Cinnia soared high against the stars and bright moons. Fluttering around them, the six younglings from the first litter in Aradi skimmed the tops of the low waves then swept up in a joyous dance. Their high, fluting calls echoed across the bay. Alyssa grinned at the nearby dabblers. “The wyvern little ones like our bay.” The alpha male chirred his agreement then joined the other dabblers digging in the sand for oysterclams. Idly, Alyssa wiggled her bare toes in the soft sand and smiled at the tiny red-and-silver dabbler who stalked them they way he was learning to hunt firan-mice. Enjoying the way the bright moonlight coaxed colors from the wyverns’ scales, Alyssa drank in the beauty and wonder of this ancient 162

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race turning swoops and spirals about the peaceful bay. Seated on the blanket she’d spread above the high tide line, Alyssa watched them as she communicated with Cinnia. Your children have grown much larger and stronger in the last four months. Cinnia dipped lower, hovered, and said in gentle tones, This visit they were able to fly the whole distance without stopping. She paused to call back a black-and-gold male who was venturing too far from the group. Although Kunagnos and I had mated many times before the Fuzarans imprisoned me, we didn’t breed. I sadly thought we’d never have children. Abruptly, the mother wyvern folded her wings and dropped toward the water, halting her descent with a flare of wings at the last moment. She plucked a waterlogged youngling from the waves and carried the adventurous female to the sand above the tide line. The youngling shook out her pale green-and-gold wings, saying, I’m sorry I dove too deep, Mother. I’ll be more careful. May I play a while longer? Chuckling, Cinnia gave her daughter permission. As soon as the youngling took flight, she was greeted by two siblings and they raced away together. Cinnia settled in the soft sand where the wavelets surged in and swirled around her great blue-and-silver body. The tiny dabbler, who’d been stalking Alyssa’s toes, gave a squeak of surprise. “Sorry, little one,” she murmured, glancing down where he’d retreated to his mother’s side. The mother crooned to Alyssa, then scampered away with her baby and joined other dabblers playing in the temperate water. Cinnia gave a snort of amusement. Children will be children, no matter their kind or size. This close, Alyssa could smell the wyvern’s light nutmeg scent 163

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mixed with the salt tang of ocean winds. Cinnia stretched out her long neck and cradled her jaw in the sand near Alyssa. We love visiting Oceanus. Her eyes closed halfway in contentment. But my mate and I agree that living in Aradi is the best. We have a delightful cave with plenty of warm sand, fresh water, a lake in the valley for swimming, and we’re safe. Opening her eyes all the way, she gazed at Alyssa. We never felt protected or content in Fuzar. Now I realize that was why I couldn’t become pregnant. Since settling in Aradi, we had our first children— and we’re breeding again. In two months, a new litter will join our family.” Alyssa went up on her knees and hugged Cinnia’s neck. That’s wonderful news. Gently, Cinnia touched her muzzle to Alyssa’s side. Kunagnos and I owe our happiness to you and Sultan Rahim. I don’t know how we can ever repay you. Stroking the sensitive spot directly above Cinnia’s eyes, Alyssa said, You already have, by bringing safety to the night skies of Aradi.

After a few more dips in the cove, the wyvern family turned inland and began the long flight home. Alyssa gazed at the spray of stars sprinkled across the sky and thought of the delightful surprise she had for Rahim. Night peepers sang in the flamewood and shagar trees on the rise of land marking one arm of the cove. Later, she and Rahim would follow the path to the wood-and-palm thatch house up there built by the villagers of Tamary as a gift for her and her husband. As if summoned by her thoughts, Rahim joined her, settling at her side, and slipped an arm around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Did you finish sending our message of condolence to Prince Faruq?” 164

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“I also accepted his invitation to attend his coronation the week after the thirty days of mourning have been observed.” Rahim tenderly clasped her left hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the intricately carved wedding band he’d placed there three years earlier. “Of course, the invitation includes my beautiful wife and a company of armed guards.” As always, her flesh warmed at his touch. With an effort, she brought her thoughts back to the invitation. “Are the guards necessary? You’ve said you trust Faruq.” “I do. He’s the one who suggested the protection to ensure your safety from curious crowds.” “Why would they be curious? Some saw me when I was brought there as a captive.” He chuckled. “A prisoner who tamed wyverns and flooded half the mountainside is worth a look or two.” His low, warm voice stirred memories of hot lovemaking in the dark cell and cold terror in the cave. “This time will be different. We’ll be there as guests.” He must have sensed her concern. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be safe. Jahar and Carmen will be there with the twins as representatives from Sheik El Najjar. The sheik is preparing to step down and pass the sheikdom to his eldest son with the blessings of the council.” “Jahar will be a good ruler.” Rahim released her fingers and toyed with her hair. “Yes. He and Faruq have already met several times to plan ways that will benefit both Aradi and Fuzar. She turned her face toward Rahim. “Is Faruq still not engaged or married?” Rahim eyed her with a quizzical expression. “Are you thinking of acting as matchmaker?” “Do I have someone in mind for him? Maybe. Everything I’ve learned about him since he helped us escape from Fuzar shows he 165

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deserves happiness like we’ve found.” “A wise man doesn’t disagree with his wife when she’s right.” Rahim stroked her bare shoulders, then leaned over and kissed the curve just above the halter covering her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. Stretching her legs and feet, she shifted half on her side to press closer to his warm body. Drawing her into his embrace, Rahim murmured, “After three years together, I can’t get enough of holding you—loving you.” “Beloved,” she said in a low voice—so full of tender longing she could barely speak. “I have news for you. I’m pregnant with our child. In seven months, you’ll be able to hold him in your arms.” With a shout of joy, Rahim took her mouth in a kiss that jangled her to her toes. Suddenly, he stopped and spread one hand protectively over her abdomen. “Are you and the baby well?” She pressed his hand to her body, feeling the warmth through her clothes. “The Priestess Healer says everything is perfect.” Rising, he scooped her up into his strong arms. “Did she say anything about making love?” Alyssa gazed up into his gray eyes now smoky with emotion. “She said, ‘Yes.’” “Good.” He carried her up the trail, into the house and laid her on the bed with a gentleness at odds with the smoldering desire in his expression. And there, with moonlight caressing their nude bodies, Rahim and Alyssa once more plumbed the depths of their sweet, dark and loving passion.

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APRIL REID April Reid is the pseudonym for award-winning author Barbara Clark, who wanted to stretch her writing skills into the erotica genre. Readers will find the same quality in stories by “April,” as they have come to expect in stories by “Barbara.” The only difference is the stories will be more steamy and over-the-top. Always, they will be action-filled…in more ways than one. You can visit her website at http://www.april-reid.com.

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