Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan (3 page)

As the long-range cruiser glided down
behind Mount Korak, the Reaper stood there for a moment longer. His heart was
thudding painfully in his chest. He knew whoever was on that ship had come to
Theristes for him. His fate awaited there. For good or bad, his knew his life
was about to be disrupted still again.

* * * * *

Shanee was stunned at the beauty of the
people gathering on the grassy veldt to welcome them to Theristes. Not a stitch
of clothing in sight, these gorgeous humanoids seemed unconcerned with their
nakedness and genuinely pleased they had visitors. They were smiling,
waving—long limbs gleaming in the sun, lush breasts jiggling, heavy genitals
bobbing…

“Stop!” Shanee ordered her imagination as
she stared in openmouthed wonder at the tall man who had stepped forward to
greet them.

“That is Tariq,” the captain of the LRC
Midian
told her. “He is the Prime Reaper, the leader of his people.” He lowered
his voice. “And a captive on R-9 for…”

“Over fifty years,” Shanee said. She’d done
her homework and she knew all about the man the Alliance scientists had called
the djinn. She also knew the statuesque white-haired beauty at his side was his
lady-wife Bahiya.

It was Bahiya who held Shanee’s attention.
Though she’d seen other women with white hair like her own, those women had
been well past their prime, into their golden years. Never had she seen another
of her thirty-odd years with such hair. And the Reaper’s woman was tall and
lithe and perfectly proportioned. Standing beside her husband, they were the
most beautiful people Shanee had ever seen. Not even Rory Quinn could hold a
candle to Tariq. The Reaper was prime indeed.

Shanee saw the Prime Reaper grin and his
gaze met hers. She blushed—knowing he had intercepted her wayward thought. Her
face felt as though she had opened the door to a fiery furnace and stuck her
head inside.

“Welcome, Captain Bartlett,” Tariq said,
coming toward them with his hand out. As he grasped the captain’s forearm in a
strong grip, his eyes slid playfully to Shanee. “And a most gracious welcome to
you, Lieutenant Colonel Iphito.”

As soon as his hand gripped her arm, Shanee
could feel the strength of power that ran through this man. He was intensely
sensual with his handsome features and all-seeing eyes, but it was the
undercurrent of authority that passed from his body to hers. She knew this man
would make a formidable opponent.

“There is no conflict here, Colonel,” Tariq
said. “You and I will become good friends.”

Shanee blinked. “You believe so?” she
asked, casting a quick look to the stunning woman at the Prime Reaper’s side.

“I know so,” he said. “Your fate lies here
on Theristes.” He looked down at his wife. “Doesn’t it, beloved?”

Bahiya nodded. “It does.” She stepped
forward and stunned Shanee by embracing her as a sister or mother would.
“Welcome, sister.”

Shanee had never been hugged by anyone
except in a moment of careless passion. Her own ken did not behave in such a
fashion and it embarrassed her for a moment before she realized that the
friendship offered by Bahiya and her mate was genuine and extended without
expectation of anything but its return in kind.

“You have come to speak to Ailyn,” Tariq
said.

Once more Shanee was taken aback. She
hadn’t known word had been sent to Theristes in preparation for her arrival.

“Reapers know these things, Shanee,” Tariq
declared then lifted an eyebrow. “May I call you by your given name?”

“Aye,” Shanee said, lost in the golden
sparkles flashing in his kind eyes.

“I am Tariq and this is Bahiya, as you
know, and these are our people.”

Shanee nodded to the beautiful crowd who
was gathered around them.

“So he
is
here?” she asked to hide
her embarrassment for her recalcitrant glance had dipped to Tariq’s very
well-endowed package.

“He is and he knows you have come to see
him. His abode is beyond Mount Korak and the way is perilous after nightfall. I
suggest you stay here for the remainder of the day, meet our people and eat
with us. Tomorrow I will have someone lead you to Ailyn.”

She turned to the yeoman who had
accompanied her from the ship. “Tell the captain to let General Strom know
Lieutenant Harmattan is here and that I will be speaking to him tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am,” the yeoman said. He
turned to head back to the ship.

“You will be spending time with us,
Shanee?” Tariq asked. “A month of rest?”

“Aye,” she said, staring into his eyes.

“You will call to that man and tell him to
bid the captain return in one month’s time. Tell him you will send a report on
Ailyn then.”

Shanee found herself nodding, agreeing with
Tariq, intrigued by the golden glints in his amber eyes, and did as he said.
His voice was soothing, mellow, sensual, and what he said made perfect sense.
There was no disagreeing with his words. It would only be later as she lay upon
the soft mattress in his and Bahiya’s hut that she would realize he had been
using subliminals on her as easily as taking a breath. By then it was too late
for the LRC had left and she realized with shock that she was stranded on
Theristes without a vid-com link.

“How did you do that?” she snapped at
Tariq. “You made me forget about all contact with my superiors and…”

“All Reapers know how to do these things,
Shanee,” he told her that next morning.

Be careful when you meet Ailyn Harmattan
then
, she warned herself as she trekked through the
jungle behind her guide, a very shy and gangly youth named Barat. Out of
consideration for her, Tariq had bid the young man to clothe himself and it was
evident with every step he took that Barat was chafing under the fabric he was
unaccustomed to wearing. He was carrying her compact travel bag and for that
she was very grateful.

The jungle was lush and green and
smelled—not of fecund earth—but of exotic flowers and fresh spring waters.
Extraordinary birds of every hue under the rainbow flitted through the
overhanging branches of the tallest trees Shanee had ever seen. Unusual animals
swung from vine to vine or leapt from branch to branch, keeping pace with the
two humans walking through this striking domain. Strange sounds wafted through
the air—some comical, some unsettling.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“Less than one hour,” Barat replied.

They were skirting a meandering stream into
which a fan-shaped waterfall cascaded. Large white flowers grew in lush
abundance on the banks of the stream and lent a heavenly scent to the already
sweet, intoxicating air. Thick grass covered the banks and with the rippling of
the stream over sparkling boulders in the water, it was a serene place, an
astonishing little piece of heaven set down in the midst of the jungle.

Shanee was not used to the intense heat and
humidity. No wonder the people of Theristes preferred to go “sky clad” as
Bahiya called it. Already perspiring heavily in this tropical climate, she
armed the sweat from her forehead and stopped long enough to take out her
bottle of water. Tipping it up, she drank deeply.

“I will take it from here, Barat.”

It was not the softness of the voice
speaking but the sultry quality of it that washed through Shanee as though the
water she was consuming were iced and not tepid. She slowly lowered the bottle
and turned her head to take in the speaker.

Rory Quinn had not been Shanee’s first man
nor had he been her last when their brief interlude ended. She had lain with
enough males, enjoyed her romps with them, but not even Quinn had ever made her
womb clench and her juices flow as did the man who had suddenly appeared there
in the jungle.

Handsome did not adequately describe the
tall, muscular male who wore only an abbreviated breechclout over his hips. His
long legs—like the rest of his spectacular body—were deeply tanned and so
perfectly formed his creation had to be at the hands of the goddess Herself.
Gleaming black hair in the form of a thick braid lay over his shoulder but
tendrils had escaped the careless plaiting to curl gently around his face. Eyes
the color of topaz gems were framed behind long, sooty eyelashes and sexily
arched thick brows. His lips were full, perfectly shaped, and his nose was in
perfect proportion and size for his face. With high cheekbones, a deep cleft in
his chin and—by the goddess!—dimples when he smiled, he was a living, breathing
god himself come to earth.

Shanee became aware of Barat hurrying back
the way they’d come, stripping off his offending clothing as he walked.
“T-thank you, Barat,” she managed to say, her gaze never leaving the man in
front of her.

Reluctantly her attention went from his
faultless form to the tall spear he carried as though it were a natural
extension of his powerful physique. She was reminded of tales of ancient
legendary warriors from such places as
an Éigipt
and
an Ghréig

“Ailyn Harmattan?” she asked, picking up
her travel bag.

“Aye. Come, little Amazeen,” he said, and
held out his hand.

Almost as though in a trance, she dropped
the water bottle and moved toward him. “You know who I am?” she asked as she
slipped her hand in his. The moment her flesh touched his, she knew she was
lost.

“I have been reading your thoughts since
you crossed the stream near the Rain Tree,” he replied. “Is your bag too heavy
for you to carry? If so, I will carry it for you.”

“No,” she mumbled. “I’m good.”

He glanced down at her. “Not always I would
imagine.”

Shanee blushed beneath that penetrating
amber gaze and could have kicked herself for showing such a feminine weakness.
With his firm grip surrounding her fingers, he led her down the path and away
from the beautiful stream. She looked back longingly at its inviting waters and
sighed.

“You are hot and the water beckons,” he
said in his mesmerizing voice.

“I would love to take a swim,” she said,
and was stunned that her voice had taken on a low, very feminine quality.

“When we reach my home, you can do that,”
he said.

She was keenly aware of his physicality as
they walked. He was barefoot and looking down at his feet, she realized that
everything she could see of his was absolute perfection—even down to his toes.

His hand tightening around hers and her
face flamed. She knew he had intercepted that silly thought.

“Have you news of the Burgon?” he asked as
he used his tall spear to push aside broad leaves for her to pass under their
emerald umbrella.

Shanee had to swallow before she answered
for her mouth had gone dry as dust. “The last we heard he was in the Aneas
Quadrant.”

“He’ll catch his quarry,” he said evenly.
“Reapers always do.”

“I would not like to be O’Shay,” she said.

“Nor would I,” he replied.

It was to a cave that he led her. Outside
the sweeping archway luxuriant foliage grew up to the dark gray stone and vines
curled downward to hang like swags over the entrance.

“You live in a cave?” she asked, and when
he laughed, she felt that laugh to the very pit of her womb.

“Don’t judge yet,
mo
ionúin
,”
he chastised her.

A ripple of pure pleasure went through
Shanee at his use of the Gaelachuan form of endearment. His calling her his
beloved did strange things inside her, setting her heart to fluttering.

They walked under the hanging vines and
into darkness. He halted her, bidding her to give her eyes time to adjust to
the change. As they stood there so quietly, so still, his fingers caressing
hers in that powerful grip, she became aware of his heady male scent and it
began to play havoc with her senses.

“Can you see the light there?” he asked
softly.

Shanee could make out a faint glow to the
rear of the cave entrance. “Aye.”

He tugged lightly on her hand and they
began moving down a long stone corridor toward the source of that flicker of
illumination. With every step she took, she knew she was going deeper below
ground. Normally that would have concerned her, made her uneasy, but with her
hand tucked safely in Aliyn’s, she felt no claustrophobic anxiety.

Within the stillness of the cave, she could
hear the whistle of wind and feel it plying gently over her face. It was warm
but wasn’t unpleasantly so. The closer they came to the light, the louder the
sound of the wind and along with it the unmistakable resonance of falling
water.

“Is there a waterfall within the cave?” she
asked, hearing the eagerness in her voice.

“You’ll see.”

It was growing brighter and by the time
they came to a turn in the corridor partitioned off by a massive jutting stone,
she could smell the wild exotic flower scents that had so intrigued her in the
jungle as well as the faint tang of saltwater.

He guided her around the stone and into a
fairyland of such raw natural beauty and overpowering sensual delight, she
gasped, her eyes going wide.