Surprises in Winter

[Alesia Skye]

The paste felt good against her wound. She closed her eyes for a moment ad strained her neck upward, willing this male to go away. Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes, he was still there. Smirking. He was such a dick. She wanted to punch him in the balls, but she might throw up again if she did. Instead, she stayed put, his legs sprawled around her and her skin tingling with his presence. This had turned into a disaster of a day, with Mother Night herself mocking her with a male. If her mother found out, she would not hear the end of it and they would be moving across the mountain by tomorrow night.

“Don’t lie to me. Not now. Not ever.” She stared at him, her wild hair blowing in her face and her icy blue eyes glued to him. She could feel the remnants of the blood in the air from another man that had been here and was now scattered amongst the trees. “I can feel the male that was here before…in the air. And an imbecile would only miss the screams from the village.”

Huffing, the small puff of air blew a stray strand of hair out of her face as she focused on tending to the infuriating Warlord Prince. She took her paste and spread it on his arm. The small cloth that she had torn from her shirt slid over the cut and she tied it tight—perhaps a little too tight. If he winced, she would not hate it.

This close to him, she could smell his scent. Not his psychic one, but his natural one. Oak and leather. Sweat. Sia allowed the dark jeweled man’s hand to roam her ribs before she leaned into him. Her shoulder brushed his chest and her hair pressed against his chin. She looked up into his face, rolled her eyes upward, and smirked as she squeezed the cut on his arm, hard.

“I’m glad it hurts.” She purred. “Now are you going to kill me or kidnap me?”

[Roan Bélanger]

It was an uncomfortable feeling, having someone angry with him for so long. This was another reason Roan avoided dragging women home from the mainland. They were always so bitter. He much preferred the women at home, who forgave readily his naughtiness. They understood better his nature, were more capable of handling its whims.

Much preferable to this. Angry eyes and steely demands. Roan blinked at her like a drowsing cat. He gave no indication that he smelled any such man. Or heard any such noise. "Ever, ever?" He questioned instead, lips curling at one corner. Not now, not ever, sounded like a very long time indeed.

Which had to mean she liked him.

Sniffing at her, Roan watched her fingers spread paste on his skin, blotting his wound from sight. It didn't feel like anything. Cool, a little damp, but there was no tricky pain or numbness. The bandaging was another matter. "I might need that arm later." Roan laughed, muscles flexing against the tightness of the wrapping. It bit into his skin when he did so.

She gave in nicely, however. No slapping away of his hands, she let him touch. Even settling into him. Shoulder to chest, head to chin. Roan propped it there, in the tangle of her braids, arm slithering around her to drag her just a little bit closer. Just a little bit. His hand squeezed her hip as she gripped his arm. "That's not nice." He warned.

Sliding his chin free, Roan pressed his cheek to her hair, tucking his nose to her ear and breathing her in. Then licking her. Just a little. The flat of his tongue swiping across all the curling ridges of her ear. She tasted like dirt, and possession. "I haven't decided yet." He was full of conflict. Roan couldn't decide if he wanted to punish her or fuck her. He could do both, even at the same time, but he wasn't sure which would give him the most pleasure. Or the proper release.

"I think your hiding something." He decided out loud. Pushing her away, Roan settled her by his crossed ankles and looked her over, his expression disgruntled. "You don't smell right, and I can't decide if its because you're dirty or up to some mischief." He brushed her hair back behind her shoulders and thumbed her temple. "What's your name? Do you have a man?" If she did, she probably didn't anymore.

Or wouldn't for long.

[Alesia Skye]

Sia rolled her eyes. He must be touched in the head, because he sounded like her eight-year old child and the Queen could hardly stand when her own blood acted in such ways. It was strange to see the Warlord Prince act so…simple…when he had been such a dark presence in her forest such a short time ago. Was it the Bond that was making him this way or were the Raiders not like the rumors she had heard? If anyone knew about rumors, it was Alesia. The ones that wound their way up the treetops about her were ghastly and she had hardly lifted a finger to cultivate such an image.

Sia let him touch her and even run his tongue over her ear. She endured it because she knew, unlike him, that he must be craving her touch. In fact, when she thought about it, he was doing a fairly admirable job of not just outright fucking her. Not that she would let without a fight, because she felt like doing almost anything else than screwing with her head hurting this bad. So, yes, she could endure a little petting to giver the male what he needed.

Which was her.

Fuck. He was never going to go away. The realization seeped in slowly, like water dripping through a crack. This was not just some random bloke that she could slip away from. He would sense her out. He would look. Search. Feel compelled to push himself to the limit until he held her. The Queen blew out a loud puff of air and contemplated her options. Nothing like this had ever happened before, so her mother had not prepared her for what to do.

Did she poison him? She surely could with a plant in her kit, but the thought of it sickened her far more than the blow to her head had. Damn Mother Night all to hell. For as long as she had isolated herself, as long as she had trained, she could not even steel herself to get rid of the one thing that could jeopardize her entire life.

“You can call me Sia.” She did not give her full name or her last name. She would never do that. “Go ahead and give me your name. And no, I don’t have a man. I don’t need one. Almost got the best of you and it certainly doesn’t look like most men do.” Her white teeth flashed for a second, Alesia amused at the jab. If he was her Warlord Prince than she wished to promptly get under his skin. Just like she had done with Cyrus.

She did not like all of this talk of “smelling” right though. It veered towards dangerous territory, territory that she did not want to explore with the Warlord Prince. So, instead, Alesia followed the wisp of an idea in her head. Perhaps she could salvage this situation, find a way for them to coexist without ruining each of their lives.

“Well. Let me make it easy for you. Kidnap me? Not a good idea. I will make your life a living hell until you kill me. But, you see, if you kill me, we won’t get to see each other ever…ever… again.” With each last word, the Queen drug herself forward and settled back in the Warlord Prince’s lap. She ran a finger down his cheek and pressed her forehead against his, their lips close. He might not know she was his Queen, but the idea of losing her must hurt on some instinctual level to him. “Instead, you could visit me. A compromise. You won’t be happy and I sure won’t be happy, but we both win.”

[Roan Bélanger]

She was placid, for a time. It pleased Roan, but he wasn't sure he trusted in. There was almost always one last, nasty bite in animals slake in the snare. It was a trick, surely. A gathering of strength before the final punishment. Or idiocy, on her account. She couldn't hurt him. Roan was bigger, faster, and stronger.

The tree had been luck. And luck wouldn't come twice to her bidding.

She certainly didn't like it. Huffing as he sniffed her, but being still beneath his questing tongue. She didn't even wiggle. Maybe she did like it. Roan wanted to imagine she did. He was handsome, and the ladies always cooed over his Jewels and Caste back home.

Sia, Sia, Sia he sang to himself. Roan looked her over. Sia. It didn't fit at all. Maybe it would once she was clean, a state he planned on seeing her get to. The image of stripping her down and scrubbing her clean was an enticing one, to be sure. It made his hands a little more greedy as he chuckled at her demands.

"No men." He corrected, finger tapping the tip of her impertinent nose. His name he kept to himself, refusing to give in to her every demand. But he did so want to hear her say it. His hands helped her closer when she came, wandering as she settled against his chest, meek as a kitten.

She had to be up to something. "And that was pure luck, my little dove. The tree got me, not you." Roan nuzzled her, arms and legs securing her nearness. He spread a hand over her ribs, fitting the underside of her breast in the gap between his thumb and forefinger. Oh she very much had to be up to something.

Roan ate it up anyway. Leaning into her so that their breath mingled. The tingle her finger left in its wake spread quickly across his whole body. It was not at all like anything he'd experienced before. He wanted to give in. To heed the reason of her foolishness. But it was foolishness. Roan licked at her.

"Visit you? Where? Certainly not here. As soon as my back is turned you'll be gone never to return." He wasn't stupid. She'd have to hit him in the head with a dozen more trees for him to fall for such a thing. Roan kissed her cheek, lips parting, his open mouth crept across her skin to her ear, where he practically purred. "And what makes you think I won't kill you anyway? And enjoy it when I do?"

[Alesia Skye]

Sia rolled her eyes and fidgeted under his hovering. She did not know how woman had entire courts of these males. All of there touching. Preening. Arrogance. Their piercing eyes and smug smiles. Or perhaps that was just this male. This annoyingly handsome male. His face made it harder for her to glare at him. It made it harder for her to push him away. Why had Mother night done this to her?

Alesia curled up within the male’s arms, annoyed that he had not shared his name when she asked, but letting it go. If he wouldn’t tell her his name than she would name him herself. Something small. Something amusing. Alesia smiled and looked into his eyes, scoffing at his assessment of the tree. “You keep telling yourself that, peanut. It got you because you weren’t aware of your surroundings. I’d think a raider was better trained.” She smirked at him and then winced, her head pounding from the expression.

She would have to show him how to pay attention to the land, the way it changed and influenced a fight. It was like breathing to Alesia and it helped her in her spars weekly. Perhaps it could help him. Keep him safe. The Queen sighed at the thought, annoyed. He was a raider. A killer. It wasn’t her job to worry about him, but she couldn’t stop, especially at the idea of leaving him to go off to Mother Night knows where.

“I’m hurt.” She whispered as she leaned forward, running her lips against his. Not a kiss, not quiet, but intimate. “Doubting my word.” Normally, he would probably be right though. She would slip away into the woods, her form blurring with the trees, until he never saw her again. With him though, with the pull that the Bond shot through her….well. She didn’t know if she would be able to stay away. If only to make sure that he hadn’t done anything stupid to her forest.

Purring softly at his kiss, Sia closed her eyes and chuckled, the sound like velvet across the skin. He wouldn’t kill her. Not when the Bond had already worked its way through his body, inched under his skin. He just didn’t know it yet. “A hunch. But if I’m wrong than do it.” She pulled away from him and her large blue eyes stared into his. “Kill me.” She drew his hand up to her slim neck, so he could grasp it and snap it. “Right now.”

If he did it, well, at least he would feel the agony of destroying his Bond to the end of his days. If he didn’t, it was time to move on.

“If not, then we can agree to meet or let me go. I have to see a healer and I don’t have all day.”

[Roan Bélanger]

Their lips mingled, seizing his breath. Not a kiss, not really, but close enough to please him mightily. So much so he almost missed the meaning behind her words. The worm of them wiggled its way through the haze of pleasure and drew his mouth along her skin. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Ooooh.

And then she ruined it. Roan chuckled, the urge to defend falling away as swiftly as it had rose, like the hackles on a dog. "Doubt you I do, my dove." He couldn't let himself be tricked by her nearness. She was soft in his arms. So different than other women. Not at all like his Zephyrine. Roan's heart panged at the thought of his wife, but on the mainland he could not be a husband first.

Here he was raider. A wild warlord prince. Or he was supposed to be anyway. And wasn't it all right she turn to his arms for comfort? He was the only one who could protect her. From others and himself. Especially himself as she laughed at him, the wicked little forest nymph.

Roan frowned as her laughter turned to something darker. A strange sort of seriousness settling over as she pulled away. His body tensed as she did, ready to snatch her back. "Oh?" His eyebrows rose with the question. Crept higher as she lifted his hand to her throat and dared him.

Roan obliged. Long fingers, thick with callouses, wrapping around her slender throat. Pale flesh glimpsed between the tan of his skin, and the dirt that smudged her own. She felt fragile there. Pulse beneath his grip. Some muscle and cartilage. The bones of her spine beneath his finger tips. His grip tightened.

Slowly. Carefully. He waited to see the fear in her eyes. Curious about this strange game of hers. Did she want to die? Did she think he could not do it? Roan had killed plenty, and rarely felt the sorrier for it. Even when it was an accident. Wasn't it his right? He wore the Red. Was a warlord prince of Paon. It should be expected to die at his hand.

"You are a grubby little forest gremlin." He told her, using his hold on her throat to pull her to him and force a kiss on her. Lips hard and unforgiving before he let her go. Mouth and neck all at once. "Another gift for this healer you need so desperately." He told her, standing suddenly.

Roan held his hands out to her to help her up. Glowering in displeasure at the outcome of her challenge. Because he hadn't been able to kill her. Hadn't even felt the slightest interest in doing so. "Come. I'll escort you."

[Alesia Skye]

Calloused hands. Rough with work. From his sword? From a farm? What did these raiders do besides rape and kill? She thought of this question as she stared at him in the eyes, one eyebrow raised. If he could kill his Queen than he was far more ruthless than her gut told her and her gut was seldom wrong.

A shard of a smile pulled at her lips as he pulled her close, parting her lips with a rough kiss. She returned it, even nipping at his lip as he thrust her away. “Better a forest gremlin than a dead villager.” A hand went to her head, touching the now dried paste as she spoke. “Speaking of, how am I going to see a healer? Didn’t your men kill them all in the village?”

Sighing, Sia took the man’s hand and realized that she would not be able to walk by herself. She huffed, embarrassed at her weakness. Clutching Roan’s forearm tightly—and ignoring how muscular it was—she gingerly stepped forward and closed her eyes as the world spun. A concussion lasted weeks if untreated and she didn’t even know if she could make it down to the village at this rate.

“Walking is…unpleasant.” Alesia glanced at the Paon. They could take a short-cut through the tunnels. They were only a half mile away. She tugged him in that direction. “Don’t you know any kind of healing spells? What’s the use of that Red Jewel if you can’t heal?”

[Roan Bélanger]

She was like a rocking boat. Pulling away. Leaning in. She did not fight against the pressure at her throat. Or the press of his kiss. Roan was almost certain she leaned into it, lips parting in desire so that he could slip his tongue in. He did not, thrusting her away instead. Just in time to avoid her snapping teeth, which tugged at his lip before they parted.

"Are gremlins somehow harder to kill?" Roan challenged, though he already knew the answer. Her neck hadn't snapped beneath his fingers. His shoulders twitched backward, watching as she fondled the concoction she'd spread on her head. She shouldn't have run from him. Snorting, Roan shook his head at her.

"I don't have any men in the village." He denied again. What they did there he couldn't say. Wanton murder wasn't always the case, though it happened. And plenty of rape and kidnapping, depending on who was running. Michael seemed less inclined to destruction and spearing than proper raiding, anyway.

Roan blamed the wife he was not allowed to meet. But just then he did not wish to think of wives, especially his own sweet Zephyrine. Not with this filthy woman clinging desperately to his arm. Roan cupped her elbow in his palm to help her steady herself, body curving her direction, as if he would coil around her like a snake.

Instead he swooped upon her like a bird. Ignoring her tugging, as if he could be lead like a dog on a leash. Roan lifted her into his arms, fingers spread to support, and touch, as much of her as possible. "For killing, gremlin. Its for killing." And shielding, but Roan left that part out, just as he'd avoided commenting on her ability to find a healer.

Sticking his nose in her hair, he wandered off the direction she'd been trying to force him, squeezing her tight to his body so he could feel it mold against his. The point of her hip, hard a biting. And the soft give of her breast.