Ghulamen 03

Author's Note:

This is part three in a continued series, so if you don't want to be a little confused and trying to figure things out I suggest going back and reading the first two parts. That being said, this chapter contains the lemons, so I won't fault you if you don't.

Enjoy!

—

Artem's legs burned. His breathing was heavy. He had been launching himself from trunk to trunk for the last ten minutes, periodically checking behind him for any sign of the two masked women. When he felt he had put enough distance between them, he slowed, kicking off the next tree trunk to land on one of the branches, mimicking the leopard.

The branch was roughly two men in width, and he kneeled down on it.

Wide enough,

he thought.

He gently shrugged Bianca off his shoulders, laying her down.

She'd passed out.

Beautiful,

he found himself thinking yet again, in spite of the drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth.

The fierceness had bled out of her body, and she slumped in an oddly innocent way that betrayed none of her earlier severity. Artem found himself overcome with an unexpected protective urge.

...The hell is wrong with me...

He shook himself.

She destroyed my village,

he thought, scowling.

I saved her. I have no more obligation to her.

I should just leave.

And yet, his eyes softened unwillingly as he continued to watch her sleep, her chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. She wiggled slightly, wincing slightly with a groan, and clutched her side. Artem frowned again.

Serves her right,

he tried to think, but for some reason, the feel of her hands on his neck and thigh, filling him with the Verve, echoed through him.

He sat back in the corner made by the attachment of the branch to the trunk, sighing. His thighs complained, and his body ached, but he kept hold of the Verve, remaining alert. He forced his mind to other things, recalling his escape.

Definitely more taxing than branch-running,

Artem mused, thinking of how much more quickly he'd gotten tired leaping from tree-trunk to tree-trunk. Not just physically, but mentally as well. He had to calculate how much force he could exert vertically to keep himself from descending, but without losing purchase on the bark.

Trunk-running?

he tried, thinking of a way to term what he had invented.

No...that sounds weird,

he decided, sounding it out in his head. His stomach growled.

I suppose I should find food.

He laughed softly.

He stood, but then looked back at Bianca. She shifted on the branch, turning over.

She's got plenty of space, but...

Artem saw her accidentally rolling off the branch and plummeting the eighteen meters to the ground in his mind's eye. He grimaced, shaking his head before grabbing hold of a vine hanging next to him.

***

Bianca smacked her lips, moving to stretch. She had been dreaming that she was flying through the air on the back of a snow leopard, skipping through the forest. But it kept calling her princess...

Bianca's eyes shot open, her movement cut short by bindings holding her down against the limb of a tree. Her head was slightly propped by something soft, and a small fire burned atop an equally small, jagged stone platform.

Across the fire sat the leopard from her dream. It grinned at her, taking a bite of something steaming that smelled delicious.

Bianca's stomach growled. She wanted to ask for some.

"Why am I tied down?" she asked instead, affecting a petulant tone before she could stop herself. Her hunger was undoubtedly an influence, and that arrogant grin...

The leopard finished chewing before it replied.

"You're not exactly the most passive sleeper, princess."

Bianca fixed him with a baleful glare. Tiri chuckled.

"I got hungry," he said simply. "Couldn't have you falling and hurting yourself while I was gone."

She scowled at his tone, opening her mouth to scold her

Ghulam,

but was suddenly reminded of the contents of her dream. She'd been carried on his back like a sack of potatoes.

I was rescued,

she thought in horror,

by a

man.

A subdued, no less. Nobody can ever know of this.

Her cheeks colored slightly, and she reached for the Verve reflexively only to find it still out of reach.

I still can't surge...

Panic surged through her instead, but quickly she stemmed it, taking a breath. She flexed her toes, coming to terms with the fact that she was, to an extent, at the mercy of a man.

What if he tries to do something untoward...?

She found the idea less upsetting than she would have liked, a small thrill jittering up her body at the thought. Tiri grinned through a mouth full of food as if knowing exactly what she was thinking about.

"You're not afraid that I'll surge, subdue you again? I could, you know." Bianca lied, slightly irritated at herself, and at that he hadn't yet offered her any food. She wanted some respect, damn him.

"No, you couldn't," he replied matter of factly, and another thrill of fear shot through Bianca.

How does he know...?

"I think I can start what you call

surging

much faster than you can. And I have this." Tiri continued, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew the

Cin'sinno

talisman on the rope. "You don't think I could fit this around your neck in an instant?"

What

we

call surging? What else would you call it?

Bianca eyed the talisman.

Well, as long as he waits long enough to try...

"Oh, and I can sense when you're trying to surge," he added, watching her carefully, monitoring her expression.

Bianca's eyes widened before she quickly narrowed them again.

It's a bluff.

Yet he had that distinctly careless, masculine confidence that indicated he truly believed what he was saying.

Besides, even if it is a bluff, it's not like I can call it,

she thought despairingly.

"And even if you could...you wouldn't," Tiri continued, taking another bite. Bianca panicked for a second, thinking he was reading her thoughts, then realized he was just continuing his earlier thought. "I just saved your hide back there. You wouldn't want to enslave your savior, now would you?" he queried a touch too innocently.

"I saved you first," she retorted. Immediately she felt tension shift in the air. Tiri's gray gaze darkened. He stared at her wordlessly, his jaw working.

"After you killed my only family and took me as a slave?" Tiri finally said. "Yeah."

Bianca didn't have a response for that.

It's the life his ancestors agreed to,

Bianca wanted to protest, but it sounded weak even in her head.

He wouldn't understand.

He's young yet. He might not even know.

She understood the resentment he clearly harbored, she even sympathized, but ultimately the strong must bend the weak.

It was their duty, to ensure survival. This he must learn, after all, if he was to truly become her

Ghulam

, mate to the

Ma'thala.

Though she doubted now was the time or place to teach him.

An uncomfortable silence descended between the two. Tiri hadn't moved since he spoke, holding himself motionless to the point of petrification. His figure seemed to draw in all the light. Bianca felt the silence grow into a deafening stillness, creating the sense that if it broke,

something

— Bianca didn't know what — would be shattered into countless pieces. Artem gazed into the fire, oblivious. It reflected in his eyes like twin suns setting on oceans of gray, his countenance a paradox of serene tranquility at odds with the grinding silence.

Bianca found she couldn't stand it any more.

"What was that you did, that skipping through the trees?" she finally asked, changing the subject. She had remembered enough to know that they had been moving through the forest at a ridiculous pace.

Tiri's head snapped up, breaking the illusion of slow-contracting serenity.

"What did you say?"

Uh oh.

"About how we were going so fast?" she tried cautiously.

"No, you said..." he stood, pointing. "That's it!" he exclaimed.

"What

it?

" Bianca asked, confused.

"Tree-skipping!" Tiri said, "That's the perfect name for it."

"You mean..." It dawned on Bianca what Tiri was implying. "You came up with this...tree-skipping?" she asked, hesitantly.

"When I was carrying you," he finished for her.

Bianca's eyes widened. Then she bit her lip, trying to hide a sudden smile. Tiri's brow furrowed. "What? What's so funny?"

Bianca shook with mirth, the motion hurting her ribs, but she didn't care.

He invented it in the heat of the moment...

she thought in wonder. She waved him off, knowing she couldn't explain this one.

He's a prodigy,

she thought, and he took another bite.

A monster.

Her stomach growled loudly. Tiri heard it and gave a grin.

"By the way..." He held up the meat in mock remembrance, "almost forgot. You hungry?"

She felt she should be angry, but instead, a smile pulled at Bianca's lips.

He may have much to learn. He may not yet know the natural order of life. However...

Her Tiri stood, making his way over to her, food in hand.

He'll do, I think.

—

Another shiver seized Bianca's body as a gust of wind shook the tree. Tiri slept quietly against the trunk, oblivious to the falling leaves and sticks around him. She could barely see him in the fragile rays of moonlight that managed to pierce the tree tops and the faint glow of the moss around them.

Bianca touched her forehead, her hand coming away hot.

Mau ni siri!

she cursed.

I'm coming down with a fever.

Another wind whipped through the trees, stealing her warmth, and the moonlight faded considerably.

Again, a violent shiver wracked her body, and she curled around herself. She thought of how the night had gone.

Tiri had untied her and they ate together before Bianca ordered him to sleep. She had had a tough time of it, forced to resort to reason after her Tiri stubbornly refused to obey her purely on principle.

He will not be forced, this one,

she thought, frowning.

She had explained that she'd slept the better part of the day away already, that now it was his turn. Still, he gave in only after a promise to wake him in the event that she noticed anything awry. He seemed to trust her word, now.

Good. A mate should trust their

Fauji, she thought.

Just then, a fat drop of water landed on the bark in front of her. It was immediately absorbed into the cracks, flaring out into a multitude of tiny wet tendrils that sunk into the glowing moss. She looked up, spotting heavy, gray clouds illuminated by the full moon. She grimaced as further drops followed the first, each falling successively faster.

She looked back at Tiri only to find his eyes open, dark, watching her through the ensuing downpour. Sheltered slightly by an overhanging branch, he remained completely dry. She was quickly drenched.

She tried to suppress another shiver but found she couldn't. He said nothing but she was held captive by his gaze, unable to look away. She couldn't move. The leaves channeled the raindrops into a growing torrent of water that fell between them, distorting Tiri into a vague impression. It bisected into two separate streams on the branch they both sat on, falling to the jungle floor.

Tiri's outline stood up. He walked toward Bianca, passing through the cascading boundary of water. He allowed it to engulf his bare torso without care, the flood running in rivulets along the lines of separation in his arms and chest, down the creases of muscle in his torso. He passed through it to stand, dripping, in front of Bianca, skin reflected ghostly pale in what little light there was.

Bianca felt an indistinct fear. She was not afraid of her Tiri. No.

Tiri picked her up and immediately Bianca felt a warmth permeate through their contact, through even the water that now coated them both. Tension dissipated from her body. She relaxed against his chest automatically.

Bianca realized she was afraid of how Tiri was beginning to make her feel.

Ridiculous,

she thought absently,

how can he be generating this much body heat?

He turned back toward the tree and Bianca cringed and closed her eyes. She waited for the impending torrent to envelop them both.

It never came.

Instead, she raised her head, and realized steam was rising from his figure. He'd walked through it somehow, shielding her. His breathing came steady. Deep. Almost like he was still asleep.

He's channeling.

***

Artem set himself down against the trunk once more, Bianca curled up in his arms.

He was acting on instinct alone.

He was channeling, deep in the Verve, pulling heat through it along his limbs. It vibrated throughout him, spreading into Bianca. At first, she had felt so cold to him. But now...

Even with the slowly-evaporating water that still covered them both, they were warm.

Artem shifted his weight, making himself comfortable, and Bianca groaned softly. He looked at her curiously.

Her body was flushed, her eyes shut. Breathing still shallow, but regular. He breathed in her scent and it calmed him.

Artem took a hand and threaded it through her hair, slowly stroking her head. She muttered something incomprehensible, then nuzzled closer to him.

The contrast of now versus before...she had seemed so much larger, imposing. Yet now, curled up in Artem's arms like this, she was a house cat.

Although I wouldn't say that to her face,

he thought, grinning. He wondered why she still hadn't channeled. At the very least, she could have warmed herself.

Maybe it would be too taxing?

It occurred to him that perhaps something was preventing her from channeling. His finger traced the wound on her neck.

If there's a collar to stop channeling, then there's likely a poison that does the same, he reasoned.

There are too many things I don't know,

Artem thought with a twinge of frustration. Then Bianca muttered again, and he looked down at her. Her wet hair was beginning to dry.

She's like a little loaf of bread,

He thought, grinning again.

Probably best not to mention that either.

—

Morning found Bianca with her head against a warm, smooth surface that moved in slow rhythm with her own breathing. She yawned, nestling herself deeper into the warmth. It resisted her. She placed a hand on it, feeling an incredible density that confused her. How could something be so soft, yet so dense? She blinked groggily, then looked up.

Her Tiri's gray eyes stared back.

She shot up, jumping back several feet in an instant. Bianca quickly remembered the last night's events.

Tiri quirked an eyebrow.

"Feeling better?"

"I—" she said, "I—

ahem

—yes."

She did feel better. She reached for the Verve...and found it within her grasp. Relief flooded her. It was time to return. She had responsibilities, and it was likely the camp was in an uproar trying to find her.

Besides, this sort of behavior? Lying on a man for warmth,

relying

on him? Unsightly was what it was. Unsightly for any Am'thon, let alone a

Ma'Thala

.

"We should go back," she said, but she found her tone not quite as firm as she wanted. It came out disturbingly similar to a question. "We're returning now," she tried again, fixing him with the most commanding look she could muster.

"Go ahead." He didn't move. He sat relaxed at the conjoining of the trunk and branch, his eyes hard-set light-blue chips of glass under his thick brow.

"You need to come back with me. You're my..." she trailed off, cheeks coloring. Tiri raised his eyebrows. "You're my

Ghulam

, my mate," she finished finally. "Your place is by my side."

"Yeah, I don't think so," he replied dryly, but his face colored as well.

"You have to understand our ways, Tiri," Bianca began, beginning to feel irritated — both at herself and at his ever-stubborn disposition, "the strong bend the weak for their own good. That is the duty of the strong," she tried to explain, "so that the weak can live safely. I

saved

you from death and claimed you — because I am the stronger. Therefore, you belong to me."

"Oh?" He flew toward her, faster than she could blink. "But are you?" He stood mere inches away, forcing her to look up at him, his entire body radiating intensity. She made herself hold his gaze. The angular lines of his face joined together in hard, stony planes, grey eyes darkening to storm clouds.

All Bianca could think about was how good he smelled.

"Yes," she said, unafraid. He wouldn't hurt her. "I surge more strongly than even you." She resisted the temptation to breathe in more of his beautiful scent.

"Not right now," Tiri replied simply. He stepped back. "I belong to no one."

Bianca caught his arm. "You would deny me?" she asked, already tearing apart the buffer between herself and the Verve in preparation. The rejection hurt more than she cared to admit, but she needed to stall. If he began tree-skipping...she wasn't sure she could keep up.

Tiri's eyes narrowed, hardening to steel. He felt like it too, under her hand. His forearm worked under her grip, and his jaw flexed.

"You know I can feel you. I can see you opening up to it."

Bianca gasped.

Impossible,

she thought. He tore himself from her grip, turning his back on her. He began walking away.

Bianca scowled, refusing to be distracted by the broad, hard lines of muscle that tapered from his shoulders to his waist.

Turn your back on me, will you...

She followed him, seething, then—

There.

She finally managed to wrap herself in the humming flows of the Verve, surging for the first time in two days.

The thrum filled her body and all of her senses exploded threefold, disorienting her slightly. His scent...it hit her like a brick. It was almost irresistible now, Bianca didn't think she could go back to camp by herself even if she wanted to.

She reached out to pull him back, and suddenly his back muscles rippled—

—and he was gone.

She glanced up, catching him sailing through the air at another tree.

So fast...

she was held in awe even as she chased after him.

How...?

She leaped to the ground, following him along the jungle floor.

He's faster,

she admitted.

She pulled deep, pooling the verve into her legs, her thighs, her calves, her quads.

But I'm stronger.

She lengthened her stride, able to cover more ground with each leap, gradually making ground. Still, she was hard-pressed to keep up the pace. She followed in his wake, tracking him as he shot from tree to tree.

I don't know how much longer I can surge at this rate...

Her eyes narrowed, following as he flitted between the trunks.

Was he

speeding up?

***

Artem was tree-skipping, seeking solace from the situation by embedding himself as deeply in the Verve as he could. How could she just expect him to just surrender to her? He buried himself further still, testing his limits. He found none.

The greenery tore past and would have been merely a blur to him if not for his enhanced vision. He could see every individual vein on each leaf if he so chose, even at the pace by which he now ripped by them.

Instead, his focus was concentrated on Bianca's signature. He could feel her catching up behind him.

She's stupidly fast,

he thought.

He caught a tree with his hands, whipping around it to continue along a new tangent. Almost immediately Bianca turned to follow, still gradually catching up.

Artem grunted in frustration.

Fuck this.