WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(91)

His breath caught at the sight.

Her grey eyes were steady, and cool, but she showed her uncertainty when she lifted her chin before she spoke. “I thought we might combine our tents,” she said.

“Yes,” Simus said, suddenly tongue-tied.

Elois appeared then, with a pitcher of kavage, gurt, and dried meat. “We can see to the tents,” she said to Snowfall. “Go and wash.”

Snowfall nodded, and stepped past Simus to head down the path. He caught a whiff of her scent as she brushed against him, and watched as the curls of her black hair gleamed in the light.

“A hand, Warlord?” Elois was kneeling beside his tent, a slight smile on her face.

“Of course,” Simus said, setting his armor and weapons to one side.

A matter of moments, and the tents were combined. Small enough to sit in, but not so high as to draw attention.

Elois stood, brushing off her knees. “I’ll bed down now,” she said. “Hanstau is insisting that everyone sleep. Tsor is posting watches for both land and sky.” She gave him a side glance. “Try to get some rest, Warlord.”

She disappeared just as Snowfall emerged from the bushes, carrying her armor and weapons. Simus watched as she approached, naked, water glistening on her shoulder tattoos.

“Kavage?” he managed to say with a mouth dry with desire.

“No,” Snowfall said. “You.”





Chapter Thirty-Seven


Simus resisted the urge to reach for her. He just held open the tent, and let her slide in first, handing her their sleeping pallets and climbing in behind. They worked together to pile up the gurtle pads, and spread out the bedding. It was a bit awkward physically, and they bumped elbows more than once moving around each other. But having her close, working together—that was comfortable, and easy, and arousing all at the same time.

And when her elbow ended up in his eye for the third time, Simus felt his heart ease, and even sing a bit at the look of amusement in her eyes. Such a small thing. Such a great comfort.

They left the tent flap open, for light and air. Simus might have preferred to sleep under the open skies, but the idea of a tent over his head this night was a good one.

He let Snowfall have the pick of which side, and once she had her weapons arranged to her satisfaction, he set out his armor, sword and dagger within easy reach. Snowfall gathered up the kavage and food bowls, and urged him to take a mug. All in a silence that he felt no need to fill.

She drank as well, studying him over the rim of her mug.

“Gurt?” she asked as they both finished the kavage.

“Later,” he said.

She set aside the bowls, and when she turned backed, he reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, stroking it with his thumb. Her skin was warm and silky against his skin.

She closed her eyes, and tilted her head into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For earlier. For yelling. You are a warrior, entitled to make your own decisions. I was angry because I was frightened for—”

She leaned forward and kissed him.




He tasted of kavage, sword oil, and strength.

Snowfall moved closer, pushing him down, demanding more. Simus obliged, opening his mouth, falling back to let her press him to the blankets and deepen the kiss. She took every advantage, straddling him so that her hips rode his, anticipating what was to come. But for now all that mattered was their lips locked together.

And when she finally needed to breathe, she pressed soft kisses to his face, his nose, his closed eyes as he panted beneath her.

Simus arched his neck as he ran his hands over her back, cradling her buttocks and then moving up again, long sweet strokes across her skin.

Snowfall nuzzled his neck, her teeth biting playfully before her lips sought the skin beneath his ears. She cradled his skull in both hands, using her short nails to scratch at his scalp. She shifted back as she did so, pressing down, feeling his hardness against her stomach.

Simus moaned and arched, then grasped her hips and lifted her up slightly before rolling her to the side. She chortled softly into his neck as he tried to calm his ragged breathing. She’d done this to him, had him quivering under her hands. She took a deep breath of the scent of their bodies together. There was so much more to come, and she ached in anticipation.

She let go, and allowed her tattoos to dance.

Simus caught his breath, watching as the vines swirled and moved, as the flowers bloomed along their lengths. They moved over her shoulders, and down her arms. Snowfall closed her eyes in the pure pleasure of it as Simus stroked her skin and pressed his mouth to the blooms.

“These,” he said. “They weren’t there before.”

“I flower for you,” she whispered, and kissed him again, hard and fierce, claiming his mouth.

Simus closed his eyes and kissed her back. “You taste of a sweetness all your own,” he murmured against her mouth. He didn’t deepen the kiss, letting her control their soft and slow touching of lips and sharing of breath at an awkward angle.

Snowfall stroked her hand down his side, over his hip, and then reached between his legs. Simus caught her hand. “Slow,” he whispered. “Slow is good.”

Snowfall leaned in, her forehead against his. “It’s been some time since I’ve shared,” she admitted to his ear.