The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind)
Read The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) Online
Authors: Bonnie Vanak
THE COBRA AND THE CONCUBINE
Book 3 in the Khamsin Warriors of the Wind series
by
Bonnie Vanak
The Cobra and the Concubine
Copyright 2004 by Bonnie Vanak
All rights reserved
Published 2013 by Bonnie Vanak
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www.BonnieVanak.com
Table of Contents
Eastern desert of Egypt, 1889
Someone, please help me.
The silent plea ran through Badra’s mind in a frantic chant. She quivered behind the large limestone boulder just outside the peppering of black goat-hair tents. Sounds of war raged: the screams of men dying, the triumphant war whoops of their enemies gaining a stronghold. The two fiercest desert tribes in Egypt—the Al-Hajid and the Khamsin, warriors of the wind—fought each other in a bloody clash.
Peeking around the stone, Badra’s friend Farah watched. The sun burned down mercilessly upon both of them. Wind drifted across the dusky sand, ruffling Farah’s long black hair. At twenty, she was five years older than Badra in both experience and wisdom. She was the one who had urged this escape.
Farah turned, her face flushed with urgency. "The Khamsin are departing our camp! Now is the time."
Badra’s feet remained frozen to the sand. They had fled the harem tent in the confusion and made it outside the camp. Yet if they ran, Sheikh Fareeq would find them. "You are my slave, Badra," he had snarled. "Escape to the Sinai and I will find you. I do not let slaves go free. Ever."
Farah’s voice returned Badra to the present. "Please, let us flee," she pleaded.
Somewhere deep inside her, Badra found a tiny core of strength and drew on it. She and Farah ran out from behind the sheltering rocks.
Chaos erupted—a blur of movement on fast, sleek Arabian horses. The Khamsin had recovered their prized breeding stallion and were leaving the Al-Hajid behind. The beautiful white horse was tethered to the saddle of the Khamsin sheikh who now rode off toward his home.
Farah did not hesitate. She immediately darted after him, clutching Badra’s hand and screaming for him to stop.
The Khamsin sheikh pulled up his mount in an expert move, the mare’s nostrils flaring. He was a magnificent figure. An indigo veil draped across his lower face, shielding his features. He leaned forward, and his dark eyes flashed with fury until Farah laid a hand upon his trouser-clad thigh.
"Please," she begged, her voice frantic, "we belong to Sheikh Fareeq. Please, I beg you, sire, take us with you as your concubines. I know you are Jabari bin Tarik Hassid, sheikh of the Khamsin. I have heard you are a just and righteous leader."
Badra raised her eyes hopefully, silently imploring the man. Words fled. She could not speak. The leader’s eyes crinkled in a frown, and two more warriors—one short, but with a powerful build, the other taller and leaner—pulled up, effectively trapping her between the sheikh and their horses. Three veiled faces stared down with hidden menace. Badra began to shake violently, wondering if she fled a familiar horror for one yet unknown.
"Sire, what is the delay?" the more muscular warrior asked.
"These women, Nazim. They ask sanctuary as my concubines."
Nazim leaned over his mare and gave the women a cursory glance. "Then offer it," he hissed. "But let us hurry!"
Jabari looked down at Badra, then at Farah, then questioningly at the third warrior. "Khepri, my brother, what is your opinion? Is this a trap, or should I take them into my care?"
"You could do with a few concubines," the tall and lean warrior replied with amusement. "Perhaps if they keep you busy enough in bed, you will be less inclined to ride into trouble."
"Watch your tongue, lest I cut it out for you," Jabari growled, but it seemed to Badra there was a smile in his voice. "Very well," he said to the women. "I will offer you refuge in my household."
The Khamsin sheikh stared down at Farah, nodding. He reached down and scooped her into the saddle. "Khepri, take the little one," he instructed. "I am entrusting you to keep her safe for me."
"Come, little one," the warrior named Khepri called.
Badra could not move; she was too terrified. Leaving would constitute the bravest act she’d undertaken since being sold to Fareeq four years ago when she was eleven.
Dust rose in a thick cloud as the others rode off. Khepri motioned to her, his blue veil hiding all but his eyes.
At her continued hesitation, the warrior looked over his shoulder. Distant, angry shouts filled the air—sounds of men gathering. The Al-Hajid had recovered and would soon ride in pursuit. He slid off his mare in a graceful move and came for her, holding out his hand. Badra dragged her frightened gaze up to meet his, then recoiled. He had the same bronze coloring as those men familiar to her, but his eyes burned a fierce blue, like the Egyptian sky.
The man tore off his veil, revealing features that tore the breath from her lungs. Badra stared, awestruck. Lean, sculpted cheeks, a strong jaw and a dark-bearded chin made him appear fierce, but he offered a gentle smile and his tone was soothing and low.
"I am Khepri bin Tarik Hassid, brother to the sheikh. Have no fear, little one. You are safe with me." Those incredible blue eyes suddenly blazed with mischief. "And I promise you, Jabari is a considerate man. If you have any trouble, I will punish him most severely." He winked.
Whether it was his teasing or his gentle manner, something about this man pulled at her. Badra nodded. He hoisted her easily onto his saddle and then pulled up behind her, cradling her with his firm, warm body. Another shiver went through Badra—this time not of fear but a deeper intensity.
They rode fast through hard canyons and deep desert, finally meeting up with the others; then they rode almost ceaselessly, taking only the short breaks required by the horses. Badra did not speak. During the rest periods, some of the Khamsin warriors cast her searching glances. Sly remarks followed.
"Fareeq took our breeding stallion, so our sheikh will bed Fareeq’s concubines as revenge. Jabari will prove he is the virile leader that Fareeq is not," one man commented.
Handing Badra a goatskin of water, Khepri frowned. "Must you talk around these women as if they do not exist? You have as many words as a storm has sand, Hassan, but a sandstorm is far more pleasant to the ears."
Sharp panic pinched Badra as all the men laughed. The Khamsin sheikh would bed her immediately, to prove himself to his warriors. Would he also brutalize her? She found herself terrified as she rode.
When they reached the Khamsin camp, Badra gazed around with wide-eyed curiosity. Blue-scarved women looked curiously at her. Farah came over, offering an encouraging smile. Khepri escorted them to a many-poled tent. A middle-aged woman introducing herself as Asriyah, the sheikh’s aunt, welcomed them. Badra was given water for washing, a change of clothing and shown to a soft bed. She fell asleep as soon as her body touched the mattress.
The next day, Badra woke up confused and afraid. She glanced around at the low sandalwood table near her bed, the rich, thick carpets, the elegant carvings set upon a handsome wood chest. Then it all came back. The Khamsin camp. She had a new master. She touched the cotton sheets with a trembling hand. Despite the reassurances Khepri had given her last night, Badra could not believe she was safe.
Even if Jabari was kind, Fareeq would come for her. She was one of his favorites. The only time she had escaped his attention was while she was pregnant. The childless Fareeq was desperate for a son, so she’d broken the secret pact among his concubines to ensure he’d remain childless; she’d stopped taking the herbs preventing conception. Remembering her difficult pregnancy and her labor that started two weeks early, Badra swallowed a lump in her throat. Her little girl. She had held the child in her arms and marveled at the tiny, precious life. Then they had taken her away when Badra fell into an exhausted slumber. When she awoke, she’d learned Jasmine had been too little and died. Barely had she recovered when Fareeq began raping and flogging her once more ...
Badra clutched the sheet as the woven door to her chamber lifted. Farah entered, smiling blissfully.
"The sheikh has taken me to his bed! He is a wonderful lover and brought me to a pleasure I never imagined. He is unmarried. Perhaps he will wed me," Farah told her.
Her friend possessed a sinuous grace. Like Fareeq’s other women, she had evaded the whip, using her wiles, which she’d eventually taught Badra, to lessen Fareeq’s abuse. A sage look came into her dark eyes.
"He has called for you next. He is quite virile, this one."
Badra flinched, remembering Fareeq’s nightly visits, the rough way he had shoved himself into her until she cried. Men did not deliver pleasure. Only pain.
Farah’s expression softened. "You must go, Badra, lest you anger him. Do you want to return to Fareeq?"
Fear twisted like a loathsome snake about Badra’s spine. How could she endure sharing her new master’s bed? Yet she had no choice. Her mouth went dry.
Farah drifted outside, a dreamy expression on her face. Asriyah entered. "I am told you are called Badra," the sheikh’s aunt said. "I have been instructed to bring you to Jabari’s tent as soon as you are prepared for him. Hurry," the woman said.