The Gypsy Queen (18 page)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pook and Gumi stared out at the fields and the main road into
Jedikai
, at their normal post. There was nothing normal about it, though, in recent days. Coming up the road were the three gypsy wagons they had seen depart from the city.

  “Is the Prince returning from his... uh... gypsy parade?” Gumi asked.

  “I can’t see!”
Pook grumbled. “You need to get us a new telescope.”

  “Me? You ask Otta for it yourself. You are the one that lost it!”

  “I don’t see the Prince,” he said, turning his attention back to the fields.

  “Looks like a lot more people than what they started with,” Gumi said. “But no Prince... and no
Yana
.” Pook certainly had not forgotten the gypsy wench.

  “Why don’t you go find them,” Gumi joked. “Maybe they got lost.”

  “I wish
you
would get lost,” said Pook, “then maybe you’d find the telescope.” They watched as the three wagons veered off the main road to
Jedikai
, and headed for the west meadows.

The gypsy wagons wheeled into the camp set up by
Yana
’s caravan. Two other caravans had joined them in the west meadows, and the community was flourishing. Most of them had figured the three wagons to just be unknown gypsies, but great celebration broke out when Emilee, Luba, and Dimmie emerged with the gypsy captives they recovered.

  Luba was sure to relay their story to Lyubov, who had been awaiting news. Dimmie set up Jaelle next to
Yana
’s vacant wagon.
Yana
had recognized Jaelle because they had danced together a few seasons back near Sardica. They were only an acquaintance, but Jaelle was eager to thank
Yana
properly when she got the chance. She made up her mind to care for Kuta,
Yana
’s horse, until her return.

  The two black riders escorted three people past the liaison guards from the city minding the gypsies in the west meadows. Two of the rescued captives were citizens of
Jedikai
, and one was a villager from a little farm within the
kingdom
. They were eager to be restored to their homes and families. One of the west meadow guards spat in disgust as they saw the three wagons arrive, and the people spill out.

  “Just what we need,” he growled, “more damned gypsies.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bastion braved the storm for hours, finding a way through it. He worked through the worst of it, until Nico relieved him
once more
at the helm. The sky was still stormy and the waves still choppy, but nothing that would further threaten to capsize the boat. Bastion took his leave, and entered the Captain’s quarters.

 
Yana
sat up. She had been sitting in the dark, not bothering to light a candle in the sway of the ship. She watched Bastion awkwardly try to peel all his wet clothes off of him. Her eyes grew wide. Was he going to strip naked right in front of her? The thought of it made her blood run hot.

  She got up wrapped in a blanket, as he was almost finished, down to his drawers. She saw the huge bruise on his face where he had been injured trying to save her.
Yana
had some bruises too, but it was only his that she was concerned about. She touched his face. He looked stern, in the poor light. He peeled off the last of his clothing, and
Yana
draped a blanket over him from behind, sneaking a look at his backside.

  She came and stood before him, both of them wearing only blankets.

  “You almost ended up at the bottom of the sea,” Bastion said, “and so did I.”

 
Yana
looked down. She couldn’t look him in the ey
e
. An apology was not enough to express how she felt. Carefully, she lowered herself to her knees before him. “Please forgive me, Captain,” she said. She would have felt bett
er if he would strike her, than
to be in his disfavor.

  Bastion had no intention of striking her. He looked at her, this brave little gypsy girl, who had saved his life more than once, now setting herself at his feet. He had no idea how she managed to be so infuriating and so endearing all at once.

  “Stand up,” he said.
Yana
stood to face him, still looking down.

  “I know why you did not want to go below,” Bastion said. “It was a harsh order. No one would want to be below deck, unable to see. Still, it would have been safe, and your disobedience jeopardized the mission, the entire crew, and caused injury.”

  “Please, Bastion,”
Yana
said. “How can I make it right?”

  “I will decide soon
,” he replied.

  “May I at least tend your injury?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

 
Yana
dabbed at his face with a cloth, where traces of blood were evident, as was the torn skin that caused it. Bastion stood still.
Yana
did what little she could for his face. It wasn’t enough, for how she felt.

  She leaned in and kissed his face, right at the bruise. He allowed it. She kissed his mouth, just the edge of his lip. Bastion allowed her that, too. She kissed him once more, this time full on, and Bastion kissed her back.
Yana
was tentative, but certain. She was finished arguing with herself over what she wanted. She wanted him.

  She kissed him with indulgence, long and hard, as they stood in the Captain’s quart
ers.
Yana
finally stepped back with the boldness she felt from him
. She dropped her blanket to the floor. She was grateful for the poor light, to help her boldness.

 
Yana
stood naked before Bastion, for the first time.

  Bastion’s heartbeat went wild, and desire spiked his senses. Bastion loved this young gypsy, and while he knew it for some time now... his feeling for her was crying out to be heard. Bastion dropped his blanket and stood before
Yana
, naked
as well. The right and wrong of it did not exist, only the energy, the love, the vibration that was almost audibly humming between them as they came together to kiss again, skin to skin.

 
Yana
felt as though they had illuminated the room, even though it was still dark.

  “Please Bastion,”
Yana
said, “please take me.”

  Bastion lingered, seeking to savor her skin, her scent, her anticipation. He stroked his hands down her torso, as she moaned at the sensation.

  Bastion burned hot at the sound. His desire to hear her, her lovely voice, in agony and ecstasy overw
helmed him. He wanted to summon
her sweetest sounds, as a master musician might draw from a
n instrument
.

  “Please,”
Yana
begged again, “I need you, Bastion.”

  Bastion scooped her up into his arms, and set her on the bed, setting his weight, and his nakedness, atop her.

 
Yana
opened herself to him, determined to give all of herself to him, for his pleasure; whatever he wanted. She had held herself back in the few encounters she had in gypsy life, but Bastion deserved all of her.

  Bastion took it. He set himself and pushed within her, causing her to gasp with pleasure and pain. She was not well-versed in what to do, but she did not have to be. She struggled to take him, and it hurt, but felt so good she would not even think to ask him to stop.

  She kissed the scar on his chest, the one he had received the night they met. He felt so hot, she thought she would burn up, as he pushed her masterfully. He took her into a climax that she flexed and twisted for, seeming as though it were easy, and he could do whatever he pleased to her, at will. Part of her begged to twist away and pull away at the sheer i
ntensity of feeling that coursed
between the two of them like lightning, but more than anything, she wanted every bit of him she could get, and she took it. Bastion consumed her like fire consumes a prairie, sweeping hot pain across her body. It took her to a place in her mind she had never been,  blurring her senses
. She loved it, and she took it-
everything he had, everything she could.

  Bastion roared to a climax like a lion, growling, sinking his teeth into her skin as he released all his aggression and desire for her. When he could push no harder, they collapsed
,
spent. He remained inside her, kissing her breasts affectionately a while, unwilling to let the moment go, just yet.

  “Ya tebya lublu,”
Yana
said to him, again.

  Bastion smiled, reveling in the feeling of
Yana
so close to him.

  “What does that even mean?”

 
Yana
looke
d in his eyes, hoping
to reveal as much of herself as she could, to him.

  “It means, ‘I love you’, Bastion.”

_____________________________

The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 11- “Kaffa”

 
Volga
took a big swig of his ale, relaxing at the Tarsus Cantina. It was near dark, and the owner was setting oil lamps around the restaurant, and candles on the tables, anticipating a busy night.
Volga
was looking forward to a night of celebration. They had managed to stay one step ahead of the storm on the way to Kaffa, and they had a fine haul of cargo from the Lower Reach, and when all the slaves were sold at auction, he’d have enough to set up an outpost in
Trebizond
. Then he could use the locals and gypsies to keep the slave market rolling, and retire in the Lower Reach, keeping all the slave girls he wanted.

  The Panzar would likely be running well behind, he figured, knowing that the storm would keep them in port in the Lower Reach. Two more days until the Kaffa auction, and
Volga
would return home. The outpost in
Trebizond
, he figured, would be a good way to avoid resistance. He wanted no part of organized villagers, angry armies, or assassins like the feared black riders.
Volga
had never been accused of being a courageous man, but he was at least smart enough to stay ahead of his enemies, and brutal enough to inspire sufficient fear in his underlings.

  The cantina began filling up, as
Volga
continued drinking. Some of his men made their way in, shouting a hearty greeting to him and to each other. They laughed and gambled, and soon the crowded bar was in full swing.
Volga
was looking forward to visiting their encampment later, to look over the slaves and choose one, if he wasn’t too drunk. It didn’t matter to him, either way.

  A man came in and ordered a drink at the bar. He was a tall
,
young fellow, whom Volga barely noticed as they trotted the dancing girls out onto the stage
-
Volga
’s favorite part of the evenings in Kaffa. The girls would dance to the music, wearing very little, and they could be had for a price, if the patrons wanted one. A slave-trading port with various forms of debauchery was
Volga
’s kind of town. Maybe I’ll retire here, he thought, sipping his ale through his thick moustache.

  “These girls are a hell of
a sight, aren’t they?” the
young man spoke to him.
Volga
turned his attention to the stranger, annoyed at being distracted from the girls on stage.

  “Hell of a sight,” he agreed.

  “My name is Jidet,” the man said, extending his hand.
Volga
shook it.

  “
Volga
,” he replied. “What’s that ya got there?”

  “New girl,” he said. “Just bought her last week.” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her over. “What do you think?”

 
Volga
looked her up and down. “She looks expensive,” he replied.

  The man nodded. “The good ones always cost you,” he agreed.

 
Volga
liked the sound of that. “I appreciate a man who values quality over coins. Maybe you’d like to look over some of my stock tomorrow. I have a fresh group just getting in. You could beat the auction.”

  Bastion laughed, and yanked
Yana
closer to him. “Where’s your manners?” he asked. “Say hello to
Volga
!”
Yana
hung her head down low, and bowed slightly. “Hello, sir,” she said meekly.