A Warlord's Heart by Michelle Howard Page A

8
     
    Ramar
     
    Ramar considered his options as Vesa took
flight. The sight of her tears had an unusual affect. Knowing she
cried because of him sent a sharp pain through his belly. Ramar
pressed a hand to his middle, hoping to ease the ache as his steps
took him to the dining hall. A few Warlords lingered around the
tables but Ramar ignored them when they called out to him. He
searched around, realizing Vesa must have gone to the upper levels
to her bedroom.
    Ramar approached the stairs with a determined
stride only to have the one Raasa he least expected cross his path
and hinder his pursuit of the female taking up his thoughts.
    Maen met his gaze evenly. “Leave her be,
Kabanian. Haven’t you done enough?”
    Ramar jerked back. He’d done nothing to harm
Vesa. Would never. “Best you move aside, Raasa.”
    Maen hissed, green eyes flashing as he leaned
forward. Ramar gripped his knife but kept it sheathed. Raasa venom
burned flesh to the bone. He’d be severely injured if Maen
attacked.
    “If you don’t want her, let another win her
heart.”
    Ramar began citing his warrior cadence to
keep from flinching. The thought of Vesa caring, no loving another
struck him like a dagger blow. “There will be no other.”
    Maen snorted. “There have been others.”
    Ramar’s hand snapped out and gripped the male
about the throat as he increased the steady pressure. Maen stepped
to the side despite the hold and kicked out, striking Ramar below
the knee. His leg gave and bent, causing Ramar’s fingers to loosen
as he stumbled.
    Maen jerked away and raised his puny fists.
Ramar would have laughed if he didn’t respect the Raasa’s efforts
to defend Vesa. Especially in the face of a Kabanian Warlord he had
no hope of defeating. Ramar took a deep breath and relaxed his
stance as he forced himself to ask the question he dreaded the
answer to. “Are you her mate?”
    Raasa True Unions were to the death and if
Vesa pledged herself to this male, Ramar would never have a chance
to hold her in his arms again. Never have the chance to feel her
body beneath his in bed play once more. Never experience the
pleasure his friends spoke of when they discussed kissing.
    Maen smirked. “You’ve no idea.”
    Then the male stepped aside, clearing the way
for Ramar with nothing more than a taunting grin, his fangs fully
displayed. Ramar calmly walked around him not showing his relief at
the answer but picked up his pace as soon as he reached the stairs.
He took them two at a time worried that he had truly lost the only
woman he’d ever dreamed about.
    At the top of the stairs, Ramar turned left
heading in the opposite direction of the rooms for the youngling
and his Overlord. He traversed the narrow corridor that was
impractical for defense as he neared the space he hadn’t visited in
well over a year. The door was wide open and Ramar had to tamp down
his anger at the lax attitude the Raasa had toward their safety. He
entered the room quietly.
    Tapestries hung on the wall in vibrant shades
of yellow and purple, forming abstract shapes, a basket rested on
the floor with bits of cloth and thread spilling over the wicker
edges. Two chairs bracketed a small wooden, scarred table where
Ramar remembered sharing cider with Vesa as they spoke of many
things the night she’d invited him to her bed. It was the first and
last time he’d ever spoken with a woman before bed play.
    Vesa stood by the bed, her back to him. The
purple and black striped sheets were neatly folded with a jumble of
pillows tossed on top. Pillows Ramar had once thrown to the floor
in his haste to have her.
    “Vesa?”
    Her back stiffened and Ramar was at a loss.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against the stone barrier
for support. Balal had the right of it. If he did not speak, he ran
the risk of another claiming that which he wanted. “Vesa, I would
apologize for my earlier actions.”
    She reached for a round pillow and clutched
it to her chest. Ramar swallowed