The Golden Dynasty

Chapter Twenty-Three The Contest

Seven days later…

I dipped my fingers into the pot of black paint and saw they were trembling.

I had to get a hold of myself.

But soon, very soon, in fact, I was all dressed and ready to go in my golden finery and as soon as I painted my husband, we would be out of our cham and on our way to Lahn facing Dortak in the challenge.

I knew one thing, Lahn would beat him.

I knew something else, as much as I hated Dortak and as little as it said about me, I cared nothing about the fact his life would soon end but I still didn’t look forward to watching my husband cut his head off.

And I knew one last thing, Dortak would not hesitate to cheat and I didn’t want Lahn to get hurt when he did.

And I so didn’t want that that I knew I didn’t want it not because I simply didn’t want another man, an abuser and a cheater, to harm a man who would fight with honor. And I knew I didn’t want it not because Lahn had kept me fed and sheltered and showered in jewels and kickass clothes.

I didn’t want it because I cared about my husband and this feeling ran deep.

And because of this I was terrified out of my mind.

* * * * *

The last seven days had been good, very good, too good.

I had kept up my wanderings with Bain and Zahnin but now Zahnin was chatting. We didn’t have deep conversations where he bared his soul but he talked. He didn’t ask for advice or share how things were going in his cham but he did more than grunt unintelligibly at observations I made, he corrected my Korwahk and he often waded in to try to explain when I was speaking with my people on the (rarer and rarer occasion) I was messing it up.

Daily, however, I went to his cham to attend Sabine. At my request, Diandra and Claudine had sought and found the other girl not of Korwahk who was hunted with us. She was Fleuridian too, her name was Anastasie and although her warrior had been gentler with her, without the assistance I had or Sabine was getting, she was still lost in a culture she didn’t understand and more than a little alarmed by it (she had not, for instance, been sheltered from the selection or the celebration after). With Narinda, Diandra and Claudine gave all of us lessons in Korwahk and often Nahka would come by, sometimes bringing her friends, and lessons would descend into girlie time with Diandra and Claudine translating. With this, it didn’t take long for laughter to ring from Sabine’s tent.

And this laughter was ringing once when the flaps slapped back and Zahnin entered.

Sabine did not scurry away but her eyes did snap to him. She held her body tense but not tight nor terrified, just guarded.

I counted this as progress.

He took in the scene then his eyes went to his bride and he asked, “All is well, wife?”

Claudine interpreted and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

Then Zahnin tipped his chin up to her, walked forward and executed a smooth move right in front of all her new girlfriends.

He ran the backs of his fingers gently across her cheek even as she visibly failed to fight back a slight wince.

He wisely ignored this and whispered, “This pleases me.”

Then, without another word or glance at anyone, he turned and walked out.

Nice. Very nice.

Sabine stared at the tent flaps in open-mouthed shock.

Diandra, Claudine, Nahka and even Narinda and I shared knowing and amused glances.

In our time with her, Sabine did not share how things were going and we didn’t ask. But Zahnin’s move made me hold hope that even if he wasn’t raised with kindness, he was the kind of man who was born with it.

I had heard and processed Lahn’s warnings but still, I couldn’t help it.

I was hopeful.

* * * * *

It became clear to me the night of the day of the rainbow that Lahn had settled his horde and therefore he came home much earlier. This meant more lovemaking. It also meant more chats, some of them heartfelt (for instance, when I told him stories of my father, his men, horseback riding lessons and the like), some of them informative (Lahn explaining things about Korwahk, how he spent his days, how I spent mine, me telling him how I learned how to play guitar (though, mention of another man in my life was not looked on favorably so I made a mental note not to do that again)), some of the chats were amusing and I realized my husband had a dry wit.

I also realized that he found me hilarious in a resigned way that, even if resigned, he felt it was appealing. He thought I was quite mad, I knew, with half the shit I did and said, the way my heart guided me, the easy way my temper flared, but he found it attractive and he didn’t hide it.

I liked that.

He even once came home in time to take dinner with me in the cham and as he did, I realized I’d never seen him eat. I also realized he ate a lot. He was a big guy and he had a big appetite. With the way he ate, how he kept that six pack was anyone’s guess. But I liked that he enjoyed his food and he did not hide it.

He was also gentle with me in many ways and took time and patiently began to assist Diandra in her teachings about the Korwahk and The Horde. He was king, he could do as he pleased and expect to do it without being questioned and his people had lived their way of life for eons but I liked that he took the time to explain things to me.

Truth be told, I was beginning to like everything about Lahn.

And, stupid me, I did absolutely nothing to stop it.

* * * * *

I often spent time with Diandra, Nahka and Narinda but I did not broach the subject of my magic and my possible goddess status with any of them and they didn’t with me either.

I didn’t know why they didn’t but I didn’t because I was stupid.

And I didn’t because I wanted Zahnin to win his wife and Sabine, who was very sweet, to settle and find contentment and even happiness after what she’d endured. I wanted her to have what Mahyah never found. I wanted that a lot. And I wanted to do what I couldn’t do for Mahyah, and that was to help her have it.

And I also didn’t because I liked wandering the Daxshee, talking to my people, gabbing with Bain, exchanging comments with Zahnin, learning Korwahk, getting to recognize faces and beginning to share in the lives of my people, knowing who was sick, who was pregnant, whose son was to go before my husband in the next selection and the like.

And I also didn’t because I liked my nights with Lahn, our chats, our lovemaking. And I liked our mornings, his baths, sometimes my baths with him, the soft talks we’d have as he sat cross legged in front of me while I sat on the pile of hides and braided or bunched his hair and… um, our lovemaking (that was good enough to repeat).

Diandra was right and so was I. After Lahn hit me, he listened to what I said to him and inadvertently I had taught him a lesson at the same time he realized he had a battle on his hands and set about winning it. He had changed, sharing with me his time, his wit, his sweetness and his patience as well as his body and in so doing, he succeeded.

And he was enjoying his spoils for he knew from one look at me in the parade that I was what he’d been waiting for for years (he told me this during one of his heartfelt chats). And he now had it and he was not only content, he was openly happy.

And I liked that he was but further, that it was me that was giving it to him.

Therefore, I wasn’t broaching the topic of magic because I was actually enjoying being with the Korwahk, with my husband, with my friends.

This didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill for a burrito or a cell phone where I could call Diandra or Narinda rather than traipsing all the way to their chams with one of my guards in hopes they were home when I wanted company, but as the days went on, these longings faded, my memories of home faded and Korwahk became my reality.

When I allowed myself to think of it, I told myself I would, and soon, find out what was happening and then make a decision about what I would do next.

But, for now, I would give myself this.

Because I liked it.

See? Stupid.

I totally should have sorted that all out before Lahn faced Dortak in the contest for the Dax and maybe got himself injured, something I would have to watch or, God forbid, the gods of this world wept because the earth was falling from the sky and Dortak took my husband’s beautiful head, then he turned to me.

See?

Totally.

Stupid.

* * * * *

I set the pot on the table and turned to Lahn. Not looking in his eyes, I started at the indentation of his collarbone and drew a heavy line down his chest, starting to paint the design I hadn’t realized until then I had memorized.

“Uh…” I mumbled in order to take my mind off the day’s events and take Lahn’s off the fact that I hadn’t quite controlled the trembling of my hand, “you only wear black. What do the other colors warriors bear signify?”

I didn’t look at him when I asked my question but I knew he’d tilted his head down to look at me as he answered.

“White is an unseasoned warrior, new to the kill. Red indicates those who go on campaign. Blue, those who go to war or patrol Korwahk. All colors, those who are seasoned, who have gone on raids and handled themselves well in war and therefore have proven themselves. They can choose to raid or war or both. Green, a color you may not have seen, are warriors who now spend their time training. Those wearing only black are my lieutenants, warriors who have my ear, who lead troops on assignment or who belong to The Horde that travels with the Daxshee, in other words, they have also proven themselves in battle; they are our finest warriors and therefore hold a high rank.”

“Mm hmm,” I mumbled, listening but not listening then, twisting, I grabbed the pot, gouged out more paint and turned back to him, lifting my hand to start on the arcs.

I didn’t touch his skin. This was because his fingers wrapped around wrist.

Then he said softly in English, “Give me your golden eyes, Circe.”

I bit my lip then lifted my eyes to his. I knew I was not hiding anything when his went soft and his hand tightened around my wrist.

“He will not best me,” he whispered, again in English.

“Right,” I whispered back but that one word trembled.

His brows rose slightly. “You do not have faith in your king?”

I shook my head once. “No, I do.” Then I was still whispering, my voice continuing to tremble, when I said, “He cheats.”

“I know this,” Lahn replied and when I made no response, his other hand came up and curled around the back of my neck, holding me warmly there. “Because I know this, do you not think I have planned for it?”

Um… actually, no. That thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“Uh,” I started then admitted, “No. I didn’t. I’ve been too busy freaking out.”

Whereas when amongst the Korwahk, I almost always spoke Korwahk, when Lahn was in our tent, he demanded we converse in English. He caught on quickly proving maybe, he actually was a god or at least he was super clever. Further, this aided in softening my heart because I liked that he wanted to learn my language and share that with me.

So now he asked, “Freaking out? You use this expression in many different ways.”

“Well, this time, I mean worried, upset and a lot of both,” I explained and his eyes roamed my face.

Then his hand at my neck pulled me in and up as he bent so his lips could touch mine.

He moved away an inch before he whispered, “He will not best me, Circe.”

I pressed my lips together, his eyes flared, I quickly released them and whispered back, “Okay, Lahn.”

His hand gave me a squeeze and he repeated, “He will not best me.” Then he went on with another squeeze but this time, his hand held tight. “This is my vow to you. I face this contest to defend my title as the Dax but I also face this challenge knowing that if he were to take my head, I would die and spend my time in the other realm knowing he would handle you and he would do it worse than he did his bride. I would not allow that to happen and I am not about to fall and let it happen. I am your husband, I will keep you safe and I will do it by keeping my feet on this earth, breathing the air and being there to make you safe. Do you understand this?”

Okay. Okay.

Shit. Okay.

There it was. I really liked my husband.

And after his declaration, the only thing I could do was whisper, “Yes.”

“Okay?” he asked on another squeeze of my neck.

“Yes, Lahn, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he returned then let my neck go and moved slightly back, ordering, “Make it heavy, my queen. In less than two hours, I want there to be enough on me to cover your naked body in my black.”

That got an all over skin tingle.

“Uh… okay,” I breathed, that word not trembling at all and he grinned.

“Okay,” he replied and he let my wrist go.

I dipped my head and commenced painting my husband’s fantastic chest, arms, back and face in killer, kickass streaks of black.

* * * * *

Lahn and I walked together through the Daxshee to the clearing with the platform where Mahyah had (essentially) taken her own life.

Lahn did not touch me but he walked at my side through the parting sea of people who had come to watch. He wore his belt with knives and his sword strapped to his back, the only weapons he was allowed during a challenge, though, I was told by Lahn, this was done on an honor system. Like the fights at the games, there was no referee. During a challenge, anything goes and no one checked to make certain that someone was not intending to fight fair.

When we made it to the clearing, I saw Dortak was already there, painted in black and red, his wounds exposed and healing but not healed. He was grinning and God, I would be happy when that grin was frozen on his face in death.

I tore my eyes from his as I walked with Lahn to the platform. When we both lifted a leg to step up, the drums started. Hearing them, it took superhuman effort not to start trembling again. This was not because I didn’t believe in Lahn, it was just because I hated those fucking drums. It was an automatic reaction and one I managed (quite proudly, might I add) to beat back.

Lahn guided me to my throne, a throne that, again, Bain and Zahnin stood behind.

I was looking at them so I didn’t see what Lahn did to make them both jerk their chins up at him but I didn’t like that. That said Lahn was planning for an eventuality that was different than the one he’d vowed he’d make for me. It was nice and all that, he was covering his bases and doing it to ascertain that I would be safe, for I knew from those chin lifts that Bain and Zahnin had both vowed they would stand against Dortak should he best Lahn and turn to me.

But still.

I beat back the fear that too sent surging through my system, sedately turned and sat on my throne.

Diandra didn’t attend me because she no longer had to. My Korwahk was still not fluent but I’d been exposed to it long enough that I more than knew my way around.

I was going to miss her.

I looked up at Lahn to see him standing at the edge of the platform, his painted back to me, hands on his hips, eyes on Dortak.

The drumming stopped.

Thank God.

Lahn didn’t move and the crowd stayed silent.

Then Dortak shouted, “When I take your head, your body will not be thrown on the pyre,” he lifted a hand to point at a pyre already set up some distance away on top of the rise we went over to get to Mahyah’s, “I will toss it in the river. Then I will mount your head outside my cham and keep it there so every time your yellow one enters and leaves my cham, she will see it as the flesh rots to skull.”

I clenched my teeth together and forced my hands to stay loose in my lap.

Lahn didn’t move or speak.

Dortak didn’t like that and, being Dortak, pushed it even further. “Before that, I will strip your yellow one naked and ride with her through the Daxshee while I force her to hold your head. Then I will rip off her yellow crown of feathers, shove them up her cunt and take her through her ass. In the months to come, while I use her until she is no longer of use to me, the sounds coming from her in my cham will be much different from those she cried in yours.”

Yep. One could say it was official. I wasn’t going to lose a lot of sleep when Lahn took his head.

At this, Lahn moved and what he moved to do made me suck in breath and hold it.

He removed his belt, turned to me and handed me his knives. My eyes darting up to him, my hands automatically lifted to accept them. Then he unbuckled the strap on his chest and slipped off his sword. After he had done this, he laid it across my throne so it was resting on the arms.

Then, still bent so his face was level to mine, his painted eyes came to me and I saw it… I saw it… his golden, bright, brutal spirit was shining close to the surface and let’s just say it… was… pissed.

Uh-oh. Dortak was in trouble.

The breath flooded my lungs, the tension evaporated from my body and I grinned at him.

“Give him hell, tiger,” I whispered.

He held my eyes a second before he blinked and his spirit was hidden, his fury gone.

Then, swear to God, he winked at me.

No joke! Winked!

I stifled a giggle.

Then my husband turned and moved off the platform.

Dortak guffawed as he lifted his arm and unsheathed his blade.

Then his eyes narrowed and he spat at the advancing Lahn, “Fool.”

“I take your head with your own steel,” Lahn told him casually.

“Ha!” Dortak cried. “I’ve never been disarmed.”

“Then today will be your first and your last,” Lahn returned, still moving to him, closer and closer, his arms relaxed and dangling at his sides, his stride steady and Dortak finally got smart (ish) and realized that even unarmed, a threat was closing in.

And that was when he took his stance and without hesitation and with a mighty roar he charged Lahn.

And Dortak didn’t wait to be just what Dortak was.

An asshole, a jerk, the king of all dicks and, lastly, a fucking, dirty, little cheat.

For during his charge, his left hand came up and swung out, leaving a trail of yellow dust. He whirled himself to avoid it getting in his face, advancing through it with his back and my guess was that whatever it was would blind his opponent.

A hush of shock settled instantly over the already quiet crowd.

I held my breath again but as Lahn promised, I needn’t have worried. He was prepared. I knew this when he instantly dropped, tucking in his body, he landed on a shoulder, rolling, legs over head, he then twisted and rolled again sideways several times, landing on his back well clear of the dust. Then, without delay, he did one of those awesome knee lifts where he kicked out and, using the power of his legs and strength of his abs, he regained his feet without using his hands.

Oh yeah, my husband was a badass.

It was then I held my breath yet again but not from fear.

From awe.

I had heard a lot about what a fierce warrior my king was, how strong, how swift, how smart. I knew his strength personally.

But I had no idea.

No freaking clue.

Dortak charged again in full on attack. And then again. And again. And repeat. And each time he did, Lahn’s body moved or swayed gracefully, every swing or thrust Dortak threw, Lahn avoided it and not just by a whisper but by a mile. It was like Lahn was in his mind and knew exactly what move he would make. He did ducking twirls, the plait I’d braided in his hair flying as Dortak’s blade whistled through the air six inches above him. He jerked his torso back and Dortak’s steel whizzed by him. Dortak would thrust and Lahn would turn full circle and Dortak wouldn’t catch nothing but air.

After this went on a long time, suddenly, Lahn closed in on him, avoided his sword, took his arm and with apparent ease, he flipped warrior and sword, Dortak landing on his back on stone. Without hesitation, Lahn kicked him in the mouth and blood spewed as his head jerked fully around.

Lahn took a step back, declaring, “First blood.”

This must have meant something for the crowd, watching in silence until that moment, went berserk as a cheer rent the air.

And they continued to cheer as Dortak jumped to his feet and, infuriated, yet again attacked, his swings and thrusts no longer calculated in any way but clearly, even to someone like me who knew nothing of this kind of stuff, no longer strategic but angry.

Lahn, too, changed his tactic. He no longer swayed, turned and ducked. With every swing or thrust he avoided, he finished his movement by landing blow after blow on Dortak, a powerful jab to the ribs that made Dortak grunt; a strike to the jaw that made more blood spew from his mouth; a heel to the back of his knee that made Dortak fall hard to that knee and so on.

Again, this went on a long time, so long, Lahn had opened an oozing cut on Dortak’s cheekbone, blood was pouring from his mouth from lost teeth and two cuts on his lips, there were fierce, angry red welts all over Dortak’s torso and back where Lahn’s fists had connected and Lahn reopened the wound Mahyah had delivered to his shoulder. Blood was leaking and Dortak’s anger had turned to wrath, his grunts of pain and effort filled the air, his sweat mingled with his blood and his movements became jerky and uncoordinated with the beating he was taking, the effort he was expending and the emotion he should have kept in check.

Then, so fast it was hard to believe I’d seen it, Lahn’s hand snaked out, he stole Dortak’s knife at his belt and planted it in his shoulder. Then without hesitation as Dortak shouted with surprise, pain and frustration, Lahn’s hand darted in again, stole Dortak’s other blade and planted it in the old, now bleeding again wound Mahyah had given him.

Dortak retreated five steps all the while bellowing in rage.

The crowd, however, went wild with sheer glee.

Someone close to the front shouted, “Puntay zan, kah Dax!” End him, my king!

And this shout struck up a chant, Puntay zan! Puntay zan! Puntay zan!

But Lahn wasn’t done playing and when Dortak yanked the blades out of his flesh one by one, tossed them aside and rushed Lahn with his sword raised high, Lahn ducked to avoid his steel but lifted an arm. Grabbing Dortak’s sword hand and keeping it held high, Lahn punched him in the stomach on Dortak’s advance, then delivered a blow to the kidneys at the back, then he whirled, lifted a leg and planted a boot in Dortak’s back at the same time he yanked down on Dortak’s arm so viciously, I could hear the bone break even though I was at least twenty feet away.

The crowd roared at the sound as did Dortak but his cry was of pain. He fell flat on his face and dropped his sword, no longer able to carry the heavy weapon in hand on an arm attached to a fractured shoulder.

Lahn stepped several feet away as Dortak struggled to his healthy (ish) hand then got his knees under him.

“Again, my brother, I’d like to hear it. What did you intend to do with my tigress?” Lahn called and Dortak, on one hand and both knees, turned his head to look over his shoulder and up at Lahn. His face was red, sweating, bloody and twisted not just with hate but with not a small amount of pain. “My golden goddess opened the heavens and commanded their tears when your bride left this earth. She drew a rainbow in the sky to guide her ashes to the next realm. When you fall, the heavens won’t weep and she won’t waste her magic on a rainbow. When your lifeblood hits stone that is the closest you’ll get to the heavens. My golden bride will need to waste no energy in guiding your spirit to eternal agony. Your spirit will know exactly where it’s meant to go.”

With visible effort, Dortak pushed himself to his feet, grunted with pain when he bent to retrieve his sword in his left, non-dominant hand and he lifted it clumsily toward Lahn.

Lahn stared at him. Then he turned only his head to me.

“Are you bored yet?” he enquired.

I kind of wasn’t. It was gruesome but it was also, I had to admit, kind of cool.

But I had the feeling my husband was done so I called out, “Meena, kah Dax. Na weykun kay nahna quaxi. Ta jahnay boonahn keeta jahko. Kay zookay juno.” Yes, my king. You promised me your paint. We have better things to do. I want to play.

At my words the crowd, again, went wild.

Lahn grinned.

I grinned back.

Then with a mighty roar that probably took all the energy he had left, Dortak charged, Lahn’s head turned back then I stopped thinking this was in any way cool and stared in a horror I hoped I hid as my king ended the contest.

With ease, he dodged the charge and disarmed Dortak as he did so. Dortak ran passed Lahn but Lahn didn’t delay. After Dortak came to an awkward stop and whirled lumberingly to face his challenger, Lahn had already swung Dortak’s steel wide and instantly executed a low, powerful, smooth sweep, cutting Dortak off at the knees.

Literally.

With a bellow of agony that hurt to hear even coming from a monster, the legless Dortak again fell to his face.

The crowd, clearly delighted beyond reason with grisly dismemberment, became crazed, their cries, chants and cheers clogging the air.

But Lahn wasn’t done. He bent and used Dortak’s hair to drag the still living but definitely fallen warrior within five feet of my throne, leaving his legs behind. Then Lahn lifted Dortak’s legless body clean in the air, hefting it up with an almighty heave. I forced my eyes to stay open as I stared into the hated, bloody, now pale and agonized face of a man who it could be said was getting his just desserts… in a serious way… before Lahn let his hair go and as his body started its plummet to the ground, fast as lightning, Lahn quickly two-handed Dortak’s sword and swung it in a downward arc, slicing him clean through the neck, Dortak’s body dropping straight to the ground, his head flying off in a sickening gush of blood.

I couldn’t help it, it was so freaking gross, I winced.

Luckily, I didn’t think anyone noticed, not even Lahn. He was staring down at the headless, legless, very, very, very dead body of Dortak and the crowd was going insane.

As was, I was getting, their way, the Korwahk did not delay with completing the festivities. Men ran forward, one grabbed both severed legs, two grabbed an arm each on Dortak’s body and they dragged and carried the carcass pieces out of the clearing, moving toward the pyre. Another man rushed forward with Lahkan, Lahn’s horse and Lahn himself had moved to the head which he snatched up by the tail.

While striding back to his mount, he tossed Dortak’s bloody sword on the platform, it clattered across the wood and his eyes went beyond me to Bain and/or Zahnin.

“Unahyoo see,” he grunted, Melt that. Then his eyes came to me and he reverted to English. “You’ve had enough and will not ride with me. Drink and be cheerful with your people, I will return and we will celebrate.”

I nodded.

He jerked his chin up, attached Dortak’s head by his tail to a stirrup on Lahkan (something which I saw the start of then averted my eyes because, seriously, gross) then without delay, he swung up into the saddle, jerked his reins, Lahkan veered around and Lahn sent his heels into his steed. Immediately, Lahkan burst forward in a full gallop. The crowd had moved in and the clearing was not a clearing anymore but they’d been around these contests enough, they swiftly got out of Lahn’s way but they did it shouting, clapping, punching their fists in the air, pounding them against their chests and generally being boisterous and exceedingly rowdy. A stream of men, women and even children raced after Lahn on Lahkan, likely in hopes to be close when Lahn severed Dortak’s tail so they could claim his head.

Lahn disappeared from sight, casks were produced, jugs came out and leather covered cups were passed around.

It was time to party.

Bain and Zahnin moved to flank my chair at the sides rather than the back.

A woman came forward and handed me a leather covered, resin lined cup which a sniff told me held zakah.

If I had a choice, I would have preferred wine. Korwahk wine was excellent.

But zakah was offered so zakah it was.

I looked up at Bain, lifted my cup when he dropped his eyes to me and then turned my head to Zahnin who was already looking down at me.

“Suh Dax!” I cried, The Dax!, and then I belted back a slug.

Before I righted my head I heard both warriors chuckle.

Yes, even Zahnin.

* * * * *

Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

“Harder, baby,” I begged, so close, this close and damn, it was going to be huge.

I had paint on me, I even had another man’s blood on me and I also had on my hands a savage warrior who bested a challenge for his throne and took the life of a man not fit to walk this earth and he was in the mood to celebrate.

I was on my hands and knees in front of him, Lahn was thrusting inside, deep and hard. He’d already gone down on me, not letting me come; let me ride him while he rolled my clit with his finger, not letting me come; let me take him in my mouth while touching myself, again not letting me come; and now he was fucking me hard. I was primed. So primed, I’d never been this primed.

When it came, it was going to shatter me.

Lahn was leaned over me, one arm wrapped around me, fingers tugging not very gently but ever so effectively on my nipple, his other hand was wrapped around my jaw, holding my head back much like the first time he fucked me in a way I liked… but better.

So much fucking better.

His hands released me and one went into my back, shoving me down.

“Atoo luh nahna Dax, kah Dahksahna, uvoo zan nahna xaxsah,” he grunted through his thrusts, Bow to your king, my queen, give him your cunt.

I did as ordered, arching my chest into the bed, pressing my cheek to the mattress, my arms straight in front of me, I reared my ass back to meet his drives.

His big hands spanned my ribs and he yanked me back hard even with my violent jerks.

“See lapay tee, kah rahna Dahksahna,” he growled, “uvoo kay nahna rahna xaxsah.” That’s it, my golden queen, give me your golden cunt.

“Yes, my king,” I breathed, coming closer, “kah rahna xaxsah lapay nahna.” My golden cunt is yours.

“Kahna,” he growled, mine.

“Nahna,” I gasped, yours.

“Jak kahna,” he grunted, pounding deep, all mine, and I lost it, my head shooting back, my hair flying, my hands clenching the hides and my hips slamming back into his, it overwhelmed me, making me cry out in ecstasy, no joke, ecstasy as I went into a mini-orgasm trance as the sheer force of it swept through me. But I still didn’t miss my king’s powerful shout of release as he buried his cock deep, yanking me to him one last time, his hands tightening fierce on my ribs.

I was nowhere near recovery when he jerked my body up roughly like he had what I liked to consider our (real) first time so I was virtually suspended, impaled on his cock. His hands moved from my ribs to cover my breasts and his breathing in my ear was still labored when he spoke, his voice thick and hoarse.

“Kahna,” he grunted, squeezing my breasts.

“Nahna,” I agreed, turning my head and pressing my forehead in his neck.

One of his arms circled to hold me around my midriff as his hand cupped our connected sexes.

“Kahna,” he grunted again, tweaking my clit, my hips jerked and I whimpered before whispering, “Nahna.”

Then his hand slid up my body, up my throat and he forced his thumb between my lips. I accepted it readily and instantly sucked it deeper. This time his hips jerked and I heard his growl emanating low from his throat.

“Kahna,” he grunted yet again, my tongue swirled his thumb, he slid it out and it glided along my lower lip as I whispered, “Nahna.”

“Uvoo nahna lisa luh kay,” Give your mouth to me.

I tipped my head back and he took my mouth until I moaned down his throat.

He broke his mouth from mine but I opened my eyes and his captured them as his hand went to my belly and he reverted to English.

“Tonight, I planted my seed in your womb, my Circe. Tonight, we made a warrior. Tonight, your gold and my paint mixed and we created the greatest warrior this world will ever see.”

Okay, um… that scared the freaking shit out of me. I was steadfastly ignoring the fact that I was having unprotected sex, repeatedly, with a very virile man whose “seed” was probably as virile as he was. I was handling it in an, “I’ll deal with it if it happens” kind of way (the “if” in that sentence as the days went by truthfully being more like a “when”). In other words, I was ignoring it and stupidly hoping that what would be was meant to be.

But, honestly, even if threatened with death, I couldn’t kill the mood.

“That’s impossible, my Lahn,” I whispered, lifting a hand to curl it around his neck, “the greatest warrior this world will ever see already walks this earth and right now he’s inside me.”

I watched his eyes blaze, exposing the golden spirit within before he growled and took my mouth again, plundering it until I was whimpering then he broke free.

When he did, my hand not at his neck slid between my legs, going deep until I was cupping him.

“Kahna,” I whispered and watched his golden spirit glow brighter.

“Nahna,” he whispered back.

Yes, mine.

My fingers at his neck squeezed and I repeated, “Kahna.”

Without hesitation, he agreed, “Nahna.”

I stared into his heated, gleaming eyes and said softly, “Kah Dax, kah tunakan, kah Lahn.” My king, my warrior, my Lahn.

His lips came to mine and he whispered, “Meena, my Circe, jak nahna.” Yes, my Circe, all yours.

My lips curved into a smile seconds before his tongue slid between them, the tip of mine met his for a sweet touch before he broke that connection, pulled me off of his cock, turned me and planted me on my back in the bed. He pulled my legs apart, came down on top of me then yanked them around him as I circled his broad shoulders with my arms. Then his hand roamed my body, all the skin he could touch that wasn’t being touched by his body as his other arm rested in the bed taking on the bulk of his weight.

All the time he did this, his beautiful, dark, painted-black eyes stayed locked to mine.

Eventually, my limbs gave him a squeeze and I whispered, “I like our paint, honey, but I don’t like Dortak on me. Can we take a bath?”

He dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine as his hand came up and curled at the side of my neck.

Then he spoke softly and I knew he meant what he had to say because he didn’t bother with English, he used Korwahk, “I understand this is not of your world, my Circe, but he shares our bed tonight.”

Oh no, I didn’t like the sound of that, like, at all.

Lahn kept talking. “His body has been burned on the pyre, his head has become a toy or trophy, the Korwahk celebrated his death with cheers and chants, drink and dancing. And he knew humiliation, beaten, disarmed and immobilized before his defeat, cut down by his own steel. But I am not done with him. His blood shares our bed as I take you with my mouth, with my cock, with my fingers, your mouth sucks me deep and I make you beg and gasp and cry out. And he shares it as you sleep underneath me, my seed leaking from between your legs. Tomorrow, I will bathe him away from you, tonight, if there is any part of his spirit left in this realm, he will know the beauty we share in our cham and, since he threatened to defile my queen, this is my way to shove it up his ass.”

All right, I could get where he was coming from, I knew my man was pissed after what Dortak said. But now that the passion was spent and the cuddling had begun, I wasn’t all fired up to sleep with some guy’s blood on me.

And I started to tell Lahn this. “Lahn –”

He shook his head and his thumb moved to my lips. “No, Circe. This will be. Your king commands it.”

When he slid his thumb from my lips, I whispered, “But, baby, it’s gross.”

He blinked. “Gross?”

I nodded. “Gross. Icky. Yuck. Blech. Nasty. Gross.”

He grinned. Then he reminded me, “You didn’t think it was… gross… when you gave me nahna xaxsah while carrying his blood and my paint.”

“But –”

“Or when you begged for my cock harder.”

“But, La –”

“Or when you pushed your hips into my cock so violent –”

My arm moved from around his shoulders and my fingers covered his mouth. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re right. And this means something to you so all right…” I moved my hand from his mouth, sighed and gave in. “I’ll sleep with icky blood on me.”

I caught his grin before his face disappeared in my neck where he murmured. “Shahsha, kah rahna Dahksahna.”

“Nahrahka,” I muttered, sliding my hand down his neck to the back and then down between his shoulder blades, thinking, jeez, the things I do for my king.

“Kah teenkah tunakanahsa was very brave today,” he said in my ear and lifted his head, his thumb moving to sweep my cheekbone. “I know that took effort, Circe, to watch that. I was very proud of you.”

I felt my pique fade away as his sweetness invaded.

“Thanks, honey,” I whispered.

His eyes moved over my face and he whispered back, “I could not dream a better you.”

Oh my God.

Oh… my… God.

Did he just say that?

I stared into his warm eyes.

He just said that.

And that was so sweet, so unexpected but so welcome, my breath arrested and all I could do was continue staring at him.

He wasn’t done. “A better wife, a better queen. Not even in a dream could I create better than you.”

“Stop it,” I whispered because I couldn’t take anymore and I couldn’t take anymore because the happiness blooming inside me threatened to overwhelm me.

He lips tipped up slightly but his eyes warmed even more. “Okay, kah Lahnahsahna, I will stop it.”

I sucked in breath through my nose to control the tingling there and then I lifted my head and shoved my face in his neck, holding on tight with all my limbs.

Lahn spoke in my ear. “My queen, do not get drowsy. I am not done fucking you.”

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have taught him the f-word. Sure, when I explained it to him, he laughed loud then he picked me up, threw me on the bed and acted out its meaning.

But his saying it was hot, too hot.

My head dropped back on the bed and I stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re not?”

“No. Not close.”

I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “Not close?”

“No.”

“Wow,” I whispered. “Maybe you are a god.”

He burst out laughing and he did this a long time, his massive body shaking with it, moving mine as it did in a way that I didn’t like, I loved.

Then, still chuckling, he dropped his forehead to mine and whispered, “Kay lapay el Pahnsahnak, kah Pahnsahnalla.” I am a god, my goddess. “And I will prove it to you.”

Then his mouth took mine and he proved it to me.

Boy, did he ever prove it to me.

I thought my man kicked ass on a field of battle, and he did, I was in awe.

But I was more in awe at what he could do in our cham.

Much, much more.