Sheala (5 page)

Sheala chuckled to herself as she looked back to the fighting men. She’d heard the story of how Brianna had sewn up a cut on Ban’s shoulder after he’d rescued her from her kidnappers. Brianna had
stabbed
the needle through his skin twelve times. Ban was probably in less danger from Marljas’ claws than he would be from Brianna’s needle.

Marljas dropped and rolled as Ban leaped and kicked. In turn, he twisted left and jumped when Marljas stabbed at him with his lethal claws. Attack, feint. Feint, attack.

Leaping high in the air, Ban kicked at Marljas’ head. The Gattan countered by sliding to the left and swiping at Ban’s groin with his claws. Ban jackknifed in midair, hit the ground rolling, and spun to counter Marljas’ backhand when he reached his feet. Marljas spun away from Ban’s punch. Back and forth, parry left and bluff right. Neither man could gain an advantage.

After thirty minutes, even though both men were in superb condition, it was obvious to Sheala that both were tiring. Perhaps it was this growing fatigue that caused Ban to misjudge Marljas’ reach or perhaps he slipped. With one quick slash, Marljas opened a deep cut on Ban’s shoulder.

Gasping, Brianna stepped forward.

Sheala grabbed her arm. “Wait. Watch Ban. He hasn’t been fighting as well as he could. That cut will wake him up.”

Sheala was right. After a series of swift feints that had the Gattan spinning in circles, Ban found an opening and planted a solid kick onto Marljas’ rib cage.

Snarling, the Gattan lowered his arm to protect his chest and stepped back.

Sheala tsked. “He left his right side wide open. I bet Ban cracked a rib or two with that kick.”

At her side, Brianna crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Kahn. “That’s enough. Their honor must be satisfied by now. If Marljas has a broken rib, I don’t want it piercing his lung.”

Kahn grunted, but Sheala chuckled and leaped into action. “I’ll stop them for you, Bri. They’re both exhausted.”

Sprinting across the floor, her specially designed swords whirling in her hands, Sheala flipped then rolled.

Rising quickly, she stood between the two combatants with the tip of a very sharp sword pointed at each man’s throat. “Where would you like them, Bri?”

Ban had seen Sheala practicing with her swords on more than one occasion and stood perfectly still.

Marljas, on the other hand, attempted to avoid her.

Misjudging his quick reflexes, she nicked his throat.

As soon as Marljas felt the blood on his throat, he froze. For a few brief seconds, his surprised glance locked with hers.

When Marljas’ intense gaze met Sheala’s, everything and everyone else around her faded into a gray background. Shivers of desire danced up and down her backbone, sending darts of warmth to her groin and nipples. In what seemed like slow motion, she watched him touch the cut she’d given him, wipe some blood on his fingers, then lift them to his lips.

Her breath caught in her throat when he slowly licked the blood away. A picture of him standing behind her, his lips and tongue on the side of her neck flashed into her mind.

“I hope you’re both satisfied with yourselves.” Brianna’s voice penetrated her reverie, yanking her back from her fantasy.

Wrenching her gaze away from his, Sheala gathered her scattered wits, concentrating on her misjudgment of his speed. Marljas was faster than she’d thought. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

With Kahn at her side, Brianna stepped between the two men and began lecturing them.

Shaking her head slightly, Sheala lowered her swords and stepped back.

Amusement now coloring her thoughts, Sheala chuckled. Brianna could lecture better than anyone she knew—all those Earth phrases that no one had ever heard before. Sheala cocked her head to the side.

“Pigheaded jackasses” sounded interesting. She’d have to remember that one.

She glanced at Ban. Blood flowed freely from his shoulder. That cut would have to be stitched.

Then she looked at Marljas again.

He held himself rigidly upright, his arm tucked against his ribs, obviously in pain. Ban’s kick definitely cracked some ribs.

Her stare drifted from his side to his muscular torso. She remembered the afternoon she’d stroked his warm chest. Those golden hairs were as soft as they looked. What would he do if she threaded her fingers through them right now and caressed the muscles of his chest? Traced the line of that white scar that trailed down over his flat abdomen to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants?

Or, if she caressed his dragon?

Sheala stared at his tattoo. She’d caught glimpses, but everyone had decided it best that a Gattan wearing an Alalakan clan totem wasn’t a widely known fact at this time. Now, however, Marljas had his shirt off, and she was able to see it clearly for the first time.

Seemingly flying straight towards her off Marljas’ right shoulder was a fully rampant, red-gold dragon with wings outstretched and flames shooting from its mouth. Beneath it leaped the animal Brianna called a lion, mouth gaping wide, a snarl on its face. The resemblance between it and Marljas was uncanny.

Beneath the tattoo was a very muscular pectoral muscle with the three parallel cuts he’d put there when Brianna had become his bloodsister. Already, they were healing, the redness faded to a pale pink, the edges white.

Instead of being appalled or disgusted by them, those cuts excited her.

Swallowing, Sheala shifted and squeezed her legs together. Damn, but she was getting wet just thinking about touching him.

Silence pulled her attention back to Brianna.

The glare her sister-in-law had leveled at Ban was scathing. “Well?”

He acknowledged it with one of his swift grins. “As long as the Gattan is satisfied.”

Brianna turned to Marljas, her voice still rippling with anger. “Is your Gattan honor satisfied?”

Marljas glared first at Ban then turned that intense, golden gaze on Brianna.

To Sheala, he didn’t look in the least bit contrite or satisfied.

Brianna didn’t look the least bit intimidated.

Sheala sucked in a breath. Just how stubborn was this Gattan? Shivers raced up her spine. If only Marljas stared at her with the same intensity! She felt her nipples pucker even more tightly.

She sucked in a breath and gripped her swords as Brianna stepped closer to Marljas and poked her finger against his chest. Her voice was very low.

“Are—” poke “—you—” poke “—satisfied?”

Marljas glowered a bit more and muttered something under his breath. Closing his eyes, he dropped his chin to his chest, obviously struggling with himself mentally. Finally, he opened his eyes, looked at Brianna, and nodded his head. “So be it. The fates have spoken. Honor has been satisfied, bloodsister. I will seek blooddebt against Bandalardrac no longer.”

Turning to Ban, his expression underwent an amazing transformation. Smiling, he unsheathed a claw on his left hand and drew it quickly across his right shoulder. Smearing blood on his palm, he stepped forward and extended his bloodstained hand. “There’s more to you than is apparent, Half-blood. You’re a worthy opponent.”

At first, Ban just stared at Marljas’ outstretched hand. After a moment, his usual lopsided grin appeared on his face. Smearing his hand with blood from his own shoulder, he clasped Marljas’. “Welcome to the family.”

The intense look returned to Marljas’ eyes as he stared into Ban’s face. “To the family. Yes. I’m now an Alalakan by blood rites.” An enigmatic smile appeared on his face as he fingered the cut on his neck.

“More than you realize, Alalakan don al’ Bandalardrac, Prince Hardan.”

Sheala frowned. Blood rites? Wasn’t Brianna becoming his sister the only blood rite that had been performed? Or did Ban and Marljas smearing their blood on each other’s hands count? She was going to have to talk to Deni.

Marljas turned to her. “You fight well, Sheala. Few Gattan women would have dared attempt what you did today.”

Sheala stared into his golden eyes. What did that mean? Again, shivers danced up and down her spine.

She swallowed and inhaled.

His scent was hot, spicy, male. She almost stepped forward.

Ban coughed.

She glanced at her cousin. He was staring at her with a knowing look in his eye.

She jerked her gaze from his, conscious of the others standing around them. She gathered her composure, looked back at Marljas, and shrugged. “Beti taught me how to meld Aradab weaponless fighting with Drakian fencing techniques. It’s nothing.”

With those words, she flashed Brianna a warm smile and walked away with Beti who immediately began to critique her performance.

Marljas’ hand strayed to the cut at his neck as Sheala sauntered away from him. Since he’d been here, she’d placed herself in his arms, displayed her almost nude body to him. Now, she’d blooded him—on his neck. She’d made her intentions clear.

Saying something about willing nurses, Ban clapped him on the shoulder. Brianna ordered him to the estate infirmary to have his ribs bound.

Marljas looked one last time to where Sheala had resumed her practice with Beti.

Her movements were fluid as water as she parried a blow from the Aradab and then attacked.

Smiling, Marljas turned and followed Ban. Sheala had blooded him. She was his. And he was going to take her.

Grimacing at the sharp twinge in his tightly bound ribs, Marljas shifted his weight and touched the scab that had already formed over the small cut Sheala had given him.

A Gattan woman didn’t cut a man’s neck unless she was insulting him—or interested in him as a mate.

Sheala had already shown her interest in him, stroking him that day in the hallway, displaying her almost nude body to him. This cut was no insult. She was his to take—when he caught her. So what if she wasn’t Gattan. He was.

He smiled. How hard would she make him chase her?

The sound of a soft step caught his attention. She was coming.

He remained quiet, almost invisible amongst the bushes he’d chosen for his cover until she was before him. He reached out, grasped her arm, pulled her into the bushes—and found a very sharp sword at his throat for the second time that day.

He released her immediately and stepped back, holding his palms up. “I mean you no harm.”

The sword disappeared from his throat. “Oh, it’s you.” She sheathed her sword. “Do you want something?”

Nostrils flaring, Marljas crossed his arms over his chest.

She stood before him, dark hair mussed, perspiration glowing on her face and on the bare skin he could see in the vee of her shirt. That day in the hallway, she’d smelled sweet and flowery, fresh from her bath.

At the pool, her scent had been fresh and clean. Today, she smelled of hard work and woman’s sweat—a heady, tantalizing mixture.

“You blooded me.”

Finger-combing some stray tendrils of hair back off her forehead, she shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. You moved faster than I expected. I’m sorry.”

Again, he inhaled deeply. Her scent was hot, intoxicating. He smiled down into her face and shook his head. “You aren’t sorry. I saw it in your eyes. Satisfaction appeared when you nicked me. You wanted to blood me.”

Obviously nonplused, she stepped back and shook her head. “No! I didn’t mean to cut you. You’re a guest. I’d never intentionally hurt a guest.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. His voice deepened as his desire for her rose. “You didn’t hurt me, Sheala. You excited me. But then, I think you know that.”

Surprise flashed in her eyes. “Excited you? Arrogant Gattan! Who do you think you are?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at her. “Your betrothed.”

When her mouth dropped open, Marljas grinned. Now there was shock in her eyes—and anticipation, anticipation she quickly masked.

Stepping forward, she glared up into his face and snapped. “Are you crazy?”

His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. Another scent was drifting from her—desire. He shifted, spreading his legs as his cock rose. “On Gattan, a woman bloods a man’s neck when she wishes to mate him.”

She jerked her gaze from his and stared at his chest.

Marljas smiled down at the top of her head.

She didn’t turn away.

Unclasping his hands, he reached forward and trailed his thumb down her bare arm.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Mate?”

He slipped his knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his. “You want me as much as I want you.

I’ve seen the way you watch me. And today, at the pool, when you rose from the water and displayed your body. It was for me.”

Again, she sucked in a quick breath. “I…”

He lowered his head until their breaths mixed. “Don’t talk.” Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her, his lips moving slowly over hers.

When she flattened her palms against him, he lifted his head. “I want you, Alalakan dem al’ Sheala.”

Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb against the stud at the side of her nose. “But you are the daughter of my hostess. And even though you blooded me, to court you without her permission is grounds for a declaration of bloodfeud, on Gattan.”

A slow smile slid onto her lips—a slow, seductive smile. Mischief danced with the desire in her dark eyes.

Marljas’ cock hardened even more.

Her chuckle was low. “We’re not on Gattan, and I’ve had one of the best sexual instructors on Drakan.”

Marljas didn’t try to hide the shock he felt. “Sexual instructor?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she cupped her hand between his legs, then danced her fingers up his erection. “No wonder you Gattan wear these tunics. They hide—a lot.” Tugging open the seam in the front of his pants, she freed his aching cock and wrapped her fingers around it.

A long shudder raced up his body. “What are you…”

“Shhhhh. Let me show you what I desire.” Bending, she slipped her head under the bottom of his tunic and sucked him into her mouth.

Desire such as he’d never felt before slammed its fist into the pit of his stomach as she sucked his cock into her warm, moist mouth. Her supple tongue slid around him. “Sheala. Stop. You…”