So she did. Many more eyeteeth studded her belt. But she only said, “One is my father’s.”
His eyes met hers again. “They were the Destroyer’s men?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head back, looked up at the moon. Her mother had told her it had been full that night. Vela had seen it all, but there had been no help for Krimathe. “I’m fortunate that most of my traits resemble my mother’s, because they must have been the stupidest of soldiers. They turned their backs on her when they’d finished.”
Kavik didn’t respond. But this time, only because there was no response to make. Mala passed him the wineskin, then untied the jawbone hanging from the middle of her belt.
“I think my father must have been this one,” she said and held the bone up to her own jaw. “It’s the same shape, don’t you think?”
And in this short time with him, love must have been coming upon her. Because when Kavik choked and spit ale into the fire, she didn’t think about what a waste it was. Instead she watched him laugh, and the deep sound of it made her heart seem stuffed full. Then he looked at her, and his laughter quieted, and she hoped he felt the same.
If he didn’t, she would see that he did. “I hope you still intend to lie with me on my moon night.”
Fire filled his eyes even before he looked away from her and into the flames. “If you are so willing to take my cock, then I am still willing to fuck you.”
“I’m not only willing, warrior. I am eager. But I should warn you that once I have you, I will not share you.”
His hands clenched. He stared into the fire, his broad chest rising on a series of deep breaths. Finally he looked to her again. Hard determination had covered the heat.
Slowly he stood. “Come here, then.”
Her heart pounded as she rose. With each step, her breasts seemed to grow heavier, her nipples teased by soft linen behind stiff armor. Her gaze locked on his, she moved close enough to touch. His face a mask of tension, Kavik reached for her, his big hand cupping her jaw before sliding back to fist her braids.
“Down.” His voice was harsh. “Take my cock now.”
And taste him. Finally taste him. Anticipation sliced through her, hot and sharp. She sank to the ground, her knees cushioned by the folds of her cloak bunched beneath them. Her hands gripped his thighs, her palms sliding over the threadbare brocs and thick, steely muscle.
Oh, sweet gods. So strong.
“Now.” His fingers tangled deeper into her hair. “If you are so eager for it, take it all now. Tug as hard as you can.”
Her gaze shot to his face. A grimace had pulled his mouth taut, as if he lifted a weight beyond his might. Strain made sharp lines of the sinewy strength in his arms as he reached beneath his furs and shoved down the front of his brocs. His stance widened, powerful legs braced apart.
Because she was about to yank his leash, and he was apparently determined not to be moved by it.
Mala didn’t care if he moved. This wasn’t about taming him. She just wanted her tongue on his skin, and to give him pleasure. So if Kavik wanted the satisfaction of resisting what he felt for her, and if he needed it hard, and now, that was how she would give it.
Wetting her lips, she pushed aside the furs hanging from his belt. Oh, generous goddess of creation. There was so much for her to taste. Already his cock stood so tall for her, thick and heavy, with ruddy shaft and substantial crown.
“Thank you, Mother Temra,” she breathed against the broad tip, and after a swift lick to catch his flavor—like precious salt—she swallowed him down.
With a grunt, his body stiffened as if he’d been kicked in the gut. His hand tightened in her hair. She heard his sharp inhalation, followed by a long, slow release that was cut short when she drew back and took him as deep as she could.
It wasn’t deep enough. Surrounded by his scent, like rain, like leather and a long hard ride, she sucked hard upon him and worked his thick length to the back of her throat—then was forced to release him, coughing and afire with frustration.
Temra had been too generous, perhaps. “I can’t take all of you, warrior.”
“You will,” he said hoarsely, then guided her lips back to his shaft, the head still glistening from the wet heat of her mouth. “Your moon night and every night after.”
All of this inside her. She groaned and swallowed his cock to her limit again, and every hard draw upon his length stoked her hunger. His left hand joined his right, his fingers clenching and unclenching in her braids, the rest of his body like stone.
“Your hands.” The ragged words seemed ripped from him. “Stroke what you can’t suck.”
Her fingers were already slick from tending to her own need. She gripped his shaft tight and looked up to see his gritted teeth and his nostrils flaring, his eyes as fierce as when he’d first seen her and his gaze had been filled with the madness of battle.
I waited for you, little dragon.
Her warrior did not have to wait much longer. Her eyes locked on his face, she pulled him to the back of her throat and pushed her hand between her legs, gathering the wetness there. His shaft throbbed against her tongue. His breath shuddered with each stroke of her fingers down his length, but the rest of him didn’t move at all, except for his grip growing tighter and tighter in her hair.
Abruptly he stopped the movement of her head and pulled her from his cock. Mala glanced up. Oh, how he fought. His eyes were closed, his face contorted as if in agony. But there was never any stopping this.
Huskily she said, “Give to me your seed, warrior,” and with a savage thrust he filled her mouth, first with his heavy cock and then his salty release, and she took all of that though she still couldn’t take the rest of him.
Not yet.
Softly she licked away the remaining seed and thought she knew why he’d placed such reverent kisses upon her thigh. It was so easy to give pain and to become hardened to it. To give pleasure instead—and to know it was accepted—was a real gift. Mala had never felt so gently toward anyone as she did at that moment.
“No more.” Fingers rough in her hair, Kavik pushed her away from his cock and held her there. “I’ve finished.”
With his iron determination in place again, along with satisfaction—as if he’d passed a test of his own making.
So he would not show her any tenderness, as if tenderness meant he was tamed. Very well. In all her life, Mala hadn’t known much softness. She didn’t need any now.
And the dull ache in her stomach was just hunger.
With a nod, she licked her fingers and turned to the fire. The juices in the clay pot steamed and bubbled around the edge of the lid. “The supper is ready, warrior, and at just the right moment. Your cock isn’t as filling as it appears.”
A sudden tug at the base of her throat pulled her back—Kavik had grabbed the hood of her cloak. Mala suppressed her instinct to fight and let him take her. Dragging her against his hard chest, he wrapped his fingers around her neck.
“Make your bed with mine this night.” The soft gravel of his voice rasped against her ear. “You won’t go to sleep hungry.”
She nodded and shivered as his callused thumb scraped over her racing pulse. “I’ll lie with you.”
Kavik let her go, and with shadowed eyes he watched her prepare the rest of their meal. But this one did not pass in silence, for she asked him about his travels as a sword for hire, and he told her of a mad king who’d paid a thousand soldiers to escort him to the southern jungles, only to sacrifice himself to the jaws of a great thunder lizard. He spoke of creeping vines that would wrap around a sleeping man like a constrictor, and continue holding on until the rotting body had been drained of its fertilizing juices. He’d seen the Salt Sea’s beaches stacked high with giant bones, and he’d hunted wraiths at the feet of the monoliths of Par, said to have been built by the gods themselves.