Pure Surrender Page 9

  His upper lip curled in a subtle snarl.

  “Pot calling kettle black?”

  Her sapphire eyes lost their hardness the longer she looked at him.

  “I take as much as I give, Ramses. I liked the people I shared my body with. That is the difference.”

  He regarded her coolly, his expression impassive. He might be fond of her, but he would be damned if he let her condescend to him.

  “The night grows long,” he stated. “Say your piece.”

  She sighed as if disappointed in him.

  Well, tough.

  He was no longer her Chosen. Only briefly her Consort, though she never intended to keep him beyond the few minutes it took to abdicate her throne to him. She’d lost all ability to influence him when she chose another male as her Mate.

  “I have just returned from the Great Lakes Hive,” she said, finally getting to the point of her visit. “They are not punishing the Rogues that engage in Pure Blood slave trade.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her eloquently, clearly conveying that he didn’t give a shit.

  “You have a strong alliance with them,” she reminded him. “The Queen holds you in high regard.”

  “She holds my cock in high regard,” he retorted. “And so does her second-in-command, whom you just saw exiting this chamber.”

  Jade raised both brows in a look of surprise.

  “I see.”

  Yes, she’d gotten quite an eye-full.

  “You were saying?” he reminded her.

  “You must convince the Queen to uphold the alliance among the races,” Jade insisted.

  “Must I?”

  “Don’t you recall what happened the last time Dark Ones subjugated Pure Ones?”

  “Are you saying I should recall from personal memory?” he retorted. “That happened a very, very long time ago.”

  “The Great War can happen again if we are not careful,” she said with a frown at his lack of concern.

  “War is not always a bad thing.”

  She was silent at that for a long time, simply watching him with solemn eyes.

  “Have I misjudged you, Ramses?” she murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper, as if she was talking to herself.

  He quirked his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “You don’t know me well enough to judge me, Jade. Now, if you don’t mind, I am late for my next appointment.”

  Jade heard the throne doors open again, followed by the sharp clicking of stiletto heels on marble floors.

  She turned to see another female awaiting an audience with the Dark King. This one looked suspiciously Pure, neither human nor Dark, but Jade did not recognize her.

  Jade looked back at Ramses.

  “What are you up to?” she asked, though she didn’t really expect a reply.

  “Keeping up the alliance with Pure Ones by your decree, my queen,” he answered, though she was no longer his queen.

  Or his anything for that matter.

  “Don’t let me keep you from returning to your possessive Mate,” he reminded her and gestured rather rudely to the open doors.

  Jade rose from her seat and walked regally to the exit, giving the other female a hard look as she passed.

  The Pure One didn’t appear to be there unwillingly. In fact, she practically vibrated with sexual desire and anticipation.

  The heavy doors shut as soon as Jade crossed over the threshold, practically slapping her on the way out.

  Well.

  Looked like she had her work cut out for her if she wanted to keep Ramses on the Pure Ones’ side.

  But she was beginning to doubt that he ever was.

  *** *** *** ***

  Two days later, Aella’s party was nearing the mid-point toward their destination. At least according to Cloud.

  Why the Parau Cavern should be their destination was another question, one of the many (or was it all?) questions that Cloud wouldn’t answer. He simply explained that the cavern was approximately where the path on his map ended. Since none of them could read the two scrolls with writing on them, they couldn’t be sure what they would find once they got there.

  It was now Aella’s turn to be a very unhappy camper.

  Despite her logical and convincing argument, Cloud started their journey the day after the assassins’ attack with Eveline riding in front of him on White Dragon, leaving Aella to ride the mare. He even slowed down their pace to make the travel somewhat more manageable for the small Seer.

  Aella had never envied another female before for anything. But she might have shot Eveline a few dozen daggers while the woman was comfortably ensconced in Cloud’s arms.

  It wasn’t personal against Eveline. It was simply absolute torture to see another female in Cloud’s embrace.

  Mine. Her primal femaleness growled.

  Without having marked every inch of him inside and out as hers, she couldn’t stand that another woman was touching him. And even if she had claimed him and tattooed her ownership on his forehead, she might still bare her teeth at other females if they got close enough to sniff his scent.

  That’s how irrationally possessive of Cloud she was.

  Therefore: unhappy camper.

  At night they rested in make-shift camps or convenient caves and nooks. Cloud always kept a respectable distance from the two females, while being near enough to lend his protection. Even though Aella used every opportunity to get closer, but to no avail.

  The man was a genius at avoiding her.

  Presently, Aella sat back and gnawed on a piece of lamb jerky, sipping the last of her Sekanjabin, while she watched Eveline converse easily with Cloud across a small fire. They were discussing some of Eveline’s theories related to the Zodiac Prophesies, and the similarities she found in the Zodiac Scrolls.

  Aella caught snippets like “nexus of elements,” “ruler of earthly realms” and “King of all Kinds.” She could guess what Eveline was talking about. Normally, she’d be deep in debate with the Seer herself, but she was having a case of sour grapes, so she decided to leave her jealous self out of the powwow.

  Besides, Aella liked to strategize about present dangers—how to prevent attacks, launch counter attacks, root out their enemies. She preferred action and planning to contemplation and theorizing.

  She leaned back against the trunk of a small tree, made herself as comfortable as she could in a half-alert, half-repose position and closed her eyes.

  Traveling through the Zagros reminded her of the long ago days with her tribe in the Altai Mountains of Eurasia, where modern Russia, China, Mongolia, and Kazakhstan came together.

  She missed her family, her sisters in arms. The comradery amongst women warriors was unique and special, she knew, having now had far more experience working with men. She was the only female Elite member on the team.

  Dark Ones had more female warriors than Pure Ones. Perhaps the animalistic nature of Dark Ones in general made their sexes more equal. Most Pure Ones of Aella’s acquaintance took non-aggressive roles like healing, diplomacy, book keeping.

  Nurturing, caretaking roles.

  Roles that would drive Aella out of her ever-loving mind.

  Ah…those were the days…

  Aella slid further down against the tree and began to doze, dreaming of bygone times.

  When she was the First General of her tribe.

  And before that when she was just a girl learning to become a woman.

  Wrangling her first horse.

  Riding her first man.

  But it wasn’t the first man she rode, or even the many in between, that she recalled after almost two thousand years. It was one man in particular.

  It had always been him…

  190 A.D. Altai Mountains, Scythian border.

  “Let’s stop by the metal works. I’m in need of another dagger.”

  “You must have twenty already! Still not enough?”

  “Come now, you know she likes to collect blades from the four corners a
nd the seven seas. It’s her thing.”

  Murmurs of agreement could be heard.

  “You three go on without me. I have plans with a Mid-lander.”

  A concerted waggle of bows ensued.

  “Plans that involve his key in your lock?”

  “His stirrer in your pot?”

  “His sword in your sheath?”

  Aella rolled her eyes at her fellow warriors, but couldn’t resist adding to the taunts, “His arrow in your notch?”

  She smirked at the second best warrior in her tribe, herself being the best, of course.

  “Does he have an arrow or a dagger, Deianeira? Or a spear perhaps? A club? Long and thin or thick and crude?”

  Deianeira frankly replied, “Neither. He is in possession of a curved short sword—”

  Disappointed groans erupted from her companions.

  “—Not so fast,” Deianeira continued. “Don’t judge before I’m finished.”

  “Do go on,” Atalanta snickered, “sing this impressive Mid-lander’s praises.”

  “He knows how to use what he’s got,” Deianeira said with a self-satisfied smile. “Agile and flexible, with the endurance of a marathoner. I’ll take the multiple orgasms over several hours any day to a two minute buck-and-snore.”

  The young women guffawed loudly at that, but Deianeira raised her voice to be heard over the din.

  “And, he has the most wicked tongue. He’s a bonified pleaser in this particular trade post. I made arrangements in advance.”

  “He keeps a busy calendar, does he?” Aella inserted.

  “Does he have brothers or similarly talented comrades, Deianeira? Such a rare find must be shared,” Dali said.

  “Alas, no. He is unique. But I am up for sharing if one of you want to join for a threesome,” Deianeira invited generously.

  The other women chuckled and shook their heads.

  Atalanta said, “I believe I caught a glimpse of this sex god yesterday when we arrived. I will reserve judgement on his bedroom skills, taking your word for it, Dei, but the man’s looks certainly doesn’t proclaim him a stud.”

  “Pfft,” Deianeira scoffed. “Looks aren’t everything, little sister. There’s nothing more disappointing than a delectable package with performance issues. This you will learn with experience, word from the wise.”

  Atalanta rolled her eyes. Dei was only two years older at twenty-one summers.

  “All right, scoot along,” Aella said, sending Deianeira on her way. “Stop rubbing our faces in your pleasure find. We need to get busy hunting down our own magic cock for the night.”

  When Deianeira ambled off with a sassy grin, Dali turned to Aella.

  “Now I have a hankering to go hunting rather than procuring another dagger. Where’s the meat market in this village?”

  “You’re looking at it,” Atalanta beat Aella to the answer, gesturing to the packed marketplace around them, buzzing with activity and entertainment.

  “Flirt with a few strong-looking ones and pick the best of the crop,” she told Dali. “And if he doesn’t please, you can come back for more.”

  It was true that the night market wasn’t going to end any time soon. A large bustling trade post such as this, where people from far and wide gathered to buy and sell exotic wares, animals and slaves, would stay busy well into dawn. And after that, the day market began all over again.

  Dali grimaced. “I don’t do flirting, you know that. Can’t I just challenge a man to a sparring match, and the winner gets to fuck the loser? Win-win all around.”

  Aella and Atalanta laughed uproariously at their disgruntled comrade, making Dali’s cheeks turn an unflattering red.

  Dali was all woman, but not exactly…feminine.

  She was every inch a warrior and horse master, and she absolutely loved cock, but her physicality was more than a little intimidating to most men. At over six feet, all brawny muscle, square-jawed and trunk-torsoed, with bright red hair and the unfortunate tendency to grow a patch just above her upper lip, she was often mistaken for a man.

  Several women in their tribe as well as other nomadic Scythian groups had found Dali’s particular brand of “manly” woman appealing. But alas, Dali only liked men.

  Aella and their sisters had done a lot of bribing and planning and finagling to arrange for Dali’s deflowering two years ago, many years after an average Amazon warrior took her first man.

  Aella herself had caught and tamed her own stallion at age twelve and caught and tamed the two-legged variety at age thirteen. And she’d ridden plenty of stallions since then. She was very selective these days, a connoisseur of men.

  It was anyone’s guess whether Dali had managed to get more cock since the first turn of a key in her lock. Aella suspected that it only happened when they traveled to a place with a meat market that had male slaves for rent.

  “No meat market here, I’m afraid,” Aella said. “At least, not today. We might have missed the new shipment. And we can’t afford to stay another day. We must return to the steppes tomorrow. Queen Hippolyte commands our attendance.”

  Dali grunted in resignation.

  “What about you, First General,” Atalanta asked, winking at Aella, “what are your plans for the night?”

  Aella flashed her teeth in a brilliant grin.

  “Hunting, fighting and fucking. It’s what we do to live and live to do, Amazons. So let’s woman up and get it done.”

  *** *** *** ***

  Cloud walked through the night market with a few other retainers from the House of Zan.

  Their contingent was on their way north to the Xiongnu stronghold to resolve border disputes and trade treaties. This Scythian trading post was somewhat of a detour, but Master Zan wanted to load up on some rare jewels and treasures to help with the negotiations, as well as to add to his own stocks.

  They arrived this morning, and Cloud’s team had spent the entire day escorting Master Zan and his servants from vendor to vendor. With the Master, his advisors and personal guards back at camp a mile away, the younger soldiers were released for an evening of gaiety.

  Cloud would have preferred to stay at camp protecting the Master.

  Even though he was the youngest soldier on retainer, he was their best warrior by far. Given his youth of nineteen summers, his position was several rungs below the Master’s Lead Guard. But everyone knew that the Master and his entire noble house were safest when Cloud was near. No other soldiers required.

  Nevertheless, the Lead Guard dispatched Cloud with the others to relax for the rest of the night. They’d scouted the trading post and surrounding areas earlier during the day, and no threats had been detected.

  Large markets such as these were managed by extremely enterprising and shrewd trade masters, who knew that business was only good when everyone involved felt safe doing it. This trading post came with its own heavily armed and competent militia. Master Zan and his goods would remain quite safe.

  Cloud knew this, but he still wished he could have stayed at camp.

  Martial arts and military strategy were all he wanted to do. When he had the luxury of time, he preferred to meditate, read and practice his calligraphy.

  Alone.

  In peace and quiet.

  A bustling bazaar teeming with people was not his idea of a good time.

  But he recalled his spiritual Master’s teachings from the Celestial Palace—he needed to experience human life fully. Which meant that, when given the opportunity to do so, he couldn’t in good conscience refuse spending time with his fellow man.

  He’d learned to hold his liquor reasonably well, but he didn’t enjoy it. He especially didn’t enjoy the fact that his pale skin flushed bright pink whenever he imbibed.

  He’d tried smoking pipe but couldn’t stand the smoke. Nasty drug that made him cough until his eyes watered and his lungs burned. Why would humans want to inhale anything but fresh air?

  He didn’t like to gamble because what was the point? It was a simple matter o
f calculating the odds, and only betting when there was a high probability of success. He never lost. And as a result, he was never invited to play after the first few times when his opponents realized that he never bluffed.

  He knew that a few of the men went to whore houses for sexual intercourse. Married men got it at home with their wives. And in his province, intercourse outside of marriage was highly frowned upon (unless it was with “professionals” who were paid for their services).

  He never saw the need—he wasn’t here in the mortal realm to procreate, and he never felt the urge, not with paid whores anyway. He also didn’t want to be stuck with a wife just for that small physical relief, which he dealt with satisfactorily and expediently with his own fists.

  The human body was so strange. So many feelings, sensations, and urges that he never had before in the spiritual realm.

  Even the urge to procreate was unique. He and his brothers were created, not born, and imbued with magic. Humans came into being by far more convoluted and painful means.

  After the nasty business of conception was done, he’d heard of babies being “lost” before birth, as well as dying shortly after birth due to many reasons. And even if a human lived a full life, they still grew old and died after just a handful of years in the grand scheme of things.

  So much struggle for so little reward.

  What was the reward anyway? Most human souls were not eternal, so after death…nothing.

  Was the reward supposed to be during a human’s life then?

  Cloud knew he was here to learn so that he could better understand humanity, the mortal race he was tasked to protect. But thus far, after ten years with his birth family Zhao and then the next nine years with Master Zan’s household, he still didn’t understand or empathize.

  “Will you look at that!” one of the guards in his group called out in an excited voice.

  “Is that a woman? I can’t tell. Must be a man with that mustache, right?”

  “Nah… she’s got melons. They’re covered by that chest-plate, but she’s got them.”