Warlord

over the moist area. I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes and lost my self in the sensation.
    Keir didn't stop, exploring my breasts with his mouth, ignoring the tips to concentrate on the flesh around them. I'd never felt that my breasts were attractive, being on the small side. Keir seemed content.
    He slipped his free hand under my back, forcing me to arch up into his mouth. Lips, tongue, even the barest scrape of his teeth, all combined to make me shiver.
    "Keir," I begged.
    "Lara," he murmured.
    The cold air only accented the heat between our bodies. His legs moved over mine, keeping them pressed to the bed. I moaned, trying to shift him, trying to give him access, but he ignored me, and continued to worship my breasts.
    Finally, he moved his hand to cover my lower belly, letting his warm fingers splay out. I moved my hips, but he wouldn't let his fingers move any lower.
    "You are so beautiful," he whispered.
    My eyes opened wide to stare into his. "I'm not. . . not really. I'm—"
    "Perfect." His lips hovered over mine. "Everything you are is beautiful, flame of my heart." I sobbed.
    He moved then, his fingers seeking out my depths and stroking gently. He released my wrists and I clung to him, crying out my joy and pleasure all at the same time. But it wasn't enough. I wanted more, wanted him, and with a swift move he entered me, and I had what I wanted, and more, so much more. We both lay gasping, our over-heated bodies cooling in the night air. Reaching for the blankets and furs almost seemed like too much effort, but I stirred, knowing that we'd need their warmth. I pulled them up and over us. They still held our heat, and I settled back with a sigh, making sure we were both well covered.
    Keir opened his eyes and gave me a sated smile as I settled in next to him. We held each other close, and were just starting to drift off to sleep when he spoke. "You were hurt." His hand was on my upper arm. I nodded. "Just a bruise. I didn't block the blow."
    "Marcus said you want to learn to fight." He rubbed my arm gently. "To protect me."
    "It scared me, when Iften . . ." My voice trailed off as I remembered finding Iften standing over Keir, as he lay in the grips of the plague.
    Keir wrapped his arms around me, and I lay my head on his chest. "It warms me that you want to do this, Lara." His voice was soft in the darkness. "And to some extent, Marcus is wrong. With enough practice, you could become a fighter, if you choose. Maybe not as fast as those of the Plains, but with training you could do it. You could do anything, if you minded to." I smiled against his chest.
    "But your time is better spent at what you do best, Master Healer," Keir suggested. "Learn how to react, and to work with your guards, to be sure. But think on the abilities that you have now, and not the ones you don't have."
    I lifted my head. "Just as well. All that armor is hot and uncomfortable. It makes me sweat." His eyes took on a gleam, and he rolled me to my back. "Is there something wrong with sweaty?"
    "Nothing at all." I laughed as I hooked my arm over his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine. "Let me prove it to you again."
    And again . . .
    The next morning I woke, with a smile on my face, to an empty bed. Keir had probably left me before dawn, his usual practice.
    I stretched under the warm covers and relaxed. That was when I noticed the silence. Where were the normal sounds of the morning, the sound of moving warriors?
    How late had I slept?
    I reached out for the pile of clothing I'd left close to the bed. I eased them into the warmth, and lay there for a moment, letting them lose some of their chill before dressing quickly. I slung my satchel over my head and settled it on my hip before emerging from the tent.
    Marcus was sitting there, with my guards. When I came out, they sprang up, and started moving toward the tent. Marcus spoke, his voice cutting through my morning fog. "Finally."
    "Marcus?" I stepped out, pulling my cloak on behind me. As I left the tent, I heard it collapse behind me, and saw that Rafe, Prest and Ander were disassembling it even as I drank.
    "Hisself said to let you sleep, and so I did," Marcus explained, as he thrust out a piece of bread with cold meat wrapped in it, and a cup of kavage. "We must ride to catch him." I stuffed the food in my mouth, nodding even as I chewed. Marcus kicked the fire out and poured the last of the kavage into my cup, before packing the rest of his gear. I drank the bitter