“Isabel,” he groaned.
Bracing herself on his chest, she sat up until she could see the white plain flying past them and feel the wind plucking at her aching nipples. She felt as if she was flying free, grounded only by Baralt’s love. He seemed even larger in this position, but she didn’t want to lose this feeling.
“Your turn,” she whispered, and he took over, his big hands seizing her hips as he thrust up into her with desperate urgency. The icy coldness of the wind made an erotic contrast to the heat of his body beneath her, and her spirit soared. She lifted her arms into the air with a triumphant cry as she felt him shudder and come, felt him expand to lock them together, felt her climax sweep over her in a rush of pleasure.
Afterward, she collapsed down on his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “Your skin is very cold, my aria.”
“I don’t care. It was worth it. I felt like I was flying.”
“You looked like a goddess.”
“Mmm.” She shivered and nestled closer, and he pulled her cloak over her. “We should do this again.”
“I will keep the hantsu ready and waiting,” he promised.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As Baralt drove the hantsu up to their house, he recognized the white-furred figure sitting outside the gates.
“It looks like we have a visitor,” he sighed.
“Who is it?” Isabel asked sleepily. At least she was dressed again, although it had been a lengthy process that had involved a number of kisses.
“The young warrior who was so eager to help you clean the paxha.” His arm tightened instinctively around his mate. He hadn’t liked other males so close to her, even though he had known they were well-intentioned and harmless.
“In exchange for stories about you,” she said. “But why is Petralt here? Aren’t the younger males still forbidden from coming to Port Eyeja?”
“It’s never been forbidden, just discouraged. I suspect that wasn’t enough to stop Petralt, especially now that we are here.”
He brought the hantsu to a halt as they reached the house, and Petralt jumped up to open the gate. Baralt didn’t object when the young male then followed them inside the wall.
“Baralt, I wished to speak to you about—”
“Take care of the sarlag first,” he interrupted, tossing Petralt the reins. “There is a shelter at the back of the grounds.”
Without waiting for a response, he lifted Isabel out of the hantsu and carried her into their house. She shook her head.
“Poor boy. He comes to talk and you put him to work.”
“It is the way of the tribe. Besides, there is no hurry. I doubt he’s going away anytime soon. Do you mind if he stays with us?” he asked as he put her down. “He would only get into trouble alone in town.”
“No, of course not. We have plenty of room. I’ll just go make some tea. I think we still have some of the sweet cakes that Zemma made as well.”
“I didn’t mean that you had to feed him,” he huffed.
“He’s a young male. He’ll be hungry,” she said over her shoulder as she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
He sighed again, but he couldn’t argue. Instead, he deliberately chose to wait for Petralt in his office, a more formal setting than the cozy living space at the back of the house. At Isabel’s suggestion, he had mounted the finished image of the paxha on the wall behind his desk. It dominated the room and provided an intimidating reminder of his abilities.
Petralt’s gaze traveled to it as soon as he entered the office, and it seemed to temper his breathless excitement. His shoulders stiffened as he came to a halt in front of the desk.
“Greetings, Baralt,” he said stiffly.
“Greetings, Petralt.”
He didn’t say anything else, and Petralt shifted uncomfortably before rushing into speech.
“I wish to find an occupation here in the port.”
“Why?”
Petralt looked shocked. “You left—you must know how limiting life in the caves can be.”
“I did not want to leave.”
“But you did. And you have seen so much, done so much.”
Petralt sounded so eager and Baralt could hear the echo of his own younger voice in his words. It had been a long time but he remembered what it was like to think that life was passing you by. He only hoped he could protect the eager youngster from the same pain he had found.
“Much of it was unpleasant,” he said discouragingly.
“But not all. And…and you found your mate.”
“Is that what this is about?” he asked.
The young male hesitated, then nodded. “At least in part. There are so few females, and my lineage is nothing special. I have no cave with which to impress a female. I thought that if I found work here, I could earn enough to support a mate.”
Baralt appreciated the fact that Petralt had been honest with him. “There is no guarantee that you will find a mate.”
“I know. But at least I will have tried.”
“Very well. You may stay with us while you look for employment.”
Petralt’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Thank you. This will be a great start to my new life.”
A week later, Baralt was beginning to regret his offer. Petralt had yet to find a job—or a mate—and grew increasingly despondent. It didn’t help that Isabel worried about the young warrior. She had finally persuaded Baralt to take the male out for a drink to “cheer him up.”
Baralt didn’t want to go drinking—he wanted to stay home with his mate—but she had finally convinced him. And now Petralt had disappeared from the tavern.
Damn it. Where had the young fool gone? He tossed a coin at the bartender, then headed out the back door.
