Chapter One Samara

The ice and snow stretched as far as she could see. She hated it. With a passion that bordered on obsessive, Samara had come to hate the snow. She wished that the leader of the Amazon-like group of women hadn't chosen to travel away from their lovely tropical coast. But she had. Their army was larger than it had been when they'd started out over a year ago. That much of the journey had been worth it. However, they were now stuck in the mountain, having had to carve out a home in it till things thawed and they could move on.

What's worse is that now they had to face down another army that was ready to meet them on the field at any time. An army of men who refused to understand the matriarchal ways of their tribe. They weren't true Amazons. There were men in their employ and in their army. Men who'd chosen to serve loyally and take orders from women. Other men served in other ways. It's just the way things were with them.

Samara stood on the ledge of the mountain and stared down at the vast field of white. Just below the ridge in the distance, she knew that the enemy army gathered, burrowing down into the ground to seek its warmth. They carved into the Mother's belly to make a temporary home the same way the women had created their home in the mountain. She was, for lack of a better term, the general of this army, their leader trusting no one else to strategize and organize the group of them. Another woman, taller with light golden brown hair came to stand by her; she seemed much more comfortable in the cold than Samara was. Samara, who was wrapped in furs and had had to commission fur-lined boots. She hated the cold. She hated the confinement of the clothes she'd been forced to wear. Fur was nice enough for a time, but the day in and day out routine of donning all of this covering was beginning to wear on her patience.

"What will we do?" the other woman asked, her green eyes wearing a look of concern. She valued her independence the same as the rest of the women and she hated the idea of losing it to the savage bastards that waited to chain them below.

"We will wait them out and see what needs to be done. If we have to, we will leave at night when they will all be too drunk and full from their celebrations. They think they've bested us...they haven't. If we have to, we will fight. Hopefully it won't come to that." Samara crossed her arms over her small chest hidden by the fur. Another woman joined them long enough to say that her scouts had reported that the men that opposed them were getting lazy and unwatchful. This boded well for them...but there was always a vigilant one amongst the apathetic. "Go and see to your scouts. Make sure they're fed and rested. Send more scouts out in their stead. Rotate them. We can't let our guard down." When the smaller, darker haired and skinned woman nodded and walked away, Samara let out a sigh that showed a tiny veneer of exhaustion.

"You should rest yourself. You will make yourself sick," the woman told her leader. Before Samara could say anything in protest, she spoke again. "You've scarcely eaten anything, you've not slept more than an hour at a time. You are tense. And you are spending more time in this weather that you despise without taking warmth with you. You will break before we return home, I fear."

Just as the commander was about to speak, a new voice from behind addressed her. It was a male voice.

"The Queen wishes to know what our status is."

There was respect and reverence to the young man's voice and when Samara turned, she saw indeed a young man, no more than 18 years of age, dressed in similar furs to what everyone else had had to don. He stood a good four inches above Samara, his hair a soft sandy brown and blue eyes like the clear sky. She noticed the tension between the woman next to her and the boy, but she ignored it. She had no time for ex-lovers' spats.

"Tell her...," she paused and sighed again. Then she turned to the other woman. "Asiza, will you keep watch here until someone else comes out? It won't be for long, I promise you. I will need to see to this matter personally." The taller woman nodded and found a comfortable place to sit down, taking her duty seriously. Samara turned and walked back into the mountain pass that led to the deeper part of the mountain where they'd made their home. The boy followed her. When they were inside the mountain, it was apparent that their force was much larger than the other army realized. There were at least 400 with them, some ready and armed to fight as soon as they were commanded. Samara found one person that seemed responsible enough and gave a verbal message to be delivered to the Queen.

"Tell her I can be reached in my quarters but that I need a break before I fall down. I'll be useless to her if that happens."

The servant nodded and hurried off in the direction of the safer area where the woman who ultimately led them resided. Samara watched him go and then turned toward her own area. Without looking back at him, she motioned to the boy to follow her. She didn't need to look behind her to know that he obeyed.

Royo had never been invited into the commander's private "chamber," if this alcove of the mountain could be called a chamber. There were curtains that gave it an enclosed feeling and there were guards outside it to keep unwanted visitors away. He'd brought messages to her here, but until this moment, his dealings with her had been strictly business-like or banter around the feast table. He expected that Samara's room would be cold and severe because that is how she appeared to be. The men in the regiment referred to her in hushed voices as frigid. The label Ice Queen had passed a few of the women's lips as well. When he'd questioned Asiza about it once when they were closer, she just cut her eyes to him, annoyed that his attention was elsewhere and said, "She's more than people know...she's more than they give her credit for being." And that was that. She would say no more but instead had had her own uses for their time together.

Here he was. The room was nothing like anyone could expect. A few knew what she was like, but since coming on this journey, she'd enjoyed no one's company except at a distance. She kept to herself or sequestered herself with the Queen for late night planning sessions. It was said that sometimes Samara and the Queen shared intimacies. However, that was only when the Queen's mate was away on his own assignments. Lately, Samara had seemed colder than the winter outside, her orders the very howl of cutting wind. He wondered what she wanted with him.

To the servants inside, she asked for a robe to be readied for her near her bed. Then the servants were ordered to leave. Royo watched as she undressed in the room, kicking her fur boots to the side and dropping the pelt garments onto a chair. He pretended not to look, keeping his eyes at a respectful level as he'd been taught to do. Nudity was a common occurrence among the tribe when they were in their native region. There wasn't much need for an overabundance of clothing with all the warmth and sun they were used to. But here, clothes were a necessity. When Samara wasn't looking, Royo stole glances at her body and appraised her. She was indeed female though not near as buxom as Asiza or the Queen. She was pleasant to look at though and he hoped that he wouldn't be punished for his staring.

She turned and caught his eyes on her. From across the room, she blushed. Samara had forgotten what it was like to be gazed at with interest. Her attention was too busy on this trek and campaign to worry about company. She'd had no one to her bed in...she didn't even know how long. She couldn't recall the last time that hands had touched her flesh. So she blushed. Then she cleared her throat, regaining her control.

"Come in here while I bathe," she ordered, motioning to the adjacent room. One of the interesting things they'd found in the mountains, which was affording them a much more comfortable stay while residing here, were several natural hot springs. It was clean water and they were striving, as all good children of the Mother should to keep the water clean. It was Samara's one consolation to this frigid wasteland, the heat of her own personal spring. To that she now retreated. Royo was just about to join her, stepping just inside the archway, as she was lowering herself into the water, finding a seat on one of the natural ledges. "Bring my brush," Samara told him, pointing to a makeshift vanity.

She was leaning back against the rock, the water bringing her body slowly back to life from some dormant state, her eyes closed. She heard the padded footsteps of Royo as he returned to her and reached up to take the brush from him to untangle her mess of dark mahogany hair.

"May I?" he asked softly and with respect. Samara turned to look and realized that he was offering to take care of her hair for her.

"You may...but be careful. If you hurt me, I will hurt you and in ways that you won't enjoy." Her tone was severe and it was after she turned back around, offering her mane to him that she realized how harsh she was becoming. She

was

the Ice Queen she was being made out to be. She'd effectively shut out almost all contact except what she deemed necessary on a strategy basis, and it was beginning to show in how the others treated her. She was in desperate need of a thaw.

"Yes," he replied. First, he shrugged out of the outer layer of fur and then knelt behind her. When he searched for a more comfortable way to sit, he realized that there was no way around it and kicked off his own boots so that he could put his feet into the water on either side of her body. If she was startled by this, she didn't show it, but instead sat so that her head was near his lap. He started to brush her hair, finding out that it was going to be more difficult than it seemed. Reaching into the small belt pouch at his waist, he pulled out a small vial of oil. After dunking the brush into the hot water first, he then coated the brush with the oil. Setting the vial to the side, Royo then commenced with brushing her hair, finding it much more manageable now. Soon enough, it was tangle-free and flowing down her shoulders between them in smooth silky strands. After a bit, he dropped the brush and just ran his fingers through her dark mane, reveling privately in the feel against his skin. He kept himself from sighing or moaning or doing anything that might give away his pleasure and in turn incur her anger at the liberties he was taking without her permission.

However, Samara said nothing. She could feel his fingers in her hair, against her scalp, lightly over the nape of her neck and she subconsciously wished for more. Craving touch more than she realized, she shifted in the water, her knees parting instinctively and her arms sliding into the water. One hand stroked her own thigh while the other slid further down, touching herself in a way that she hadn't been in a very long time. Somewhere in there, a soft moan escaped her lips and Royo heard it. Acting more impulsively than he was trained to, he moved his fingers to her shoulders, rubbing gently. After a few minutes, he felt the muscles relax. He slid closer behind her, the hem of his kilt getting wet at it brushed the top of the water. He realized then how close he was to her, knowing that it could mean punishment if she got angry with him now. There was no permission granted, no orders given. But he had to trust his instincts, so he lowered his hands a little lower until they were in the water, rubbing over her collarbone and even lower until they were caressing her breasts lightly, tentatively. Samara arched into his seeking hands before her mind grasped what was going on. It was then that she broke the spell and sat forward, pulling away from his hands. She turned then, her eyes flashing with annoyance, and Royo thought that he was in trouble now.

Samara was more annoyed with herself. She felt she had to maintain a certain level of propriety with people here. At least, at this time. Until they returned home, she thought she should remain untouched. It was fraying her nerves to do so. Even though the massage felt good and was relaxing her in a way that she probably should surrender to. If nothing else, she could employ the boy to do that before she sent him on his way and retired to her cold and lonely bed. She stepped up on the ledge and then waited for Royo to offer a hand up, which he did as soon as he got to his feet. He found a towel and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and dried herself off, wrapping it around her body. Walking into the other room, Samara listened as the boy gathered his belongings and followed her.

"Do you want me to leave you?" he asked, his eyes avoiding looking directly into hers, his boots and outer furs tucked under his right arm.

"No. Not yet. Some of what you were doing...I...I am full of aches and pains. I think I would be more clear-headed if you helped me with that," she told him. At this point, he did look into her eyes and saw a need there that he wanted to fill. He set his furs and boots on another chair and watched as she moved over to her fur-covered bed. Samara dropped the towel onto the floor and climbed onto the feather mattress, her body sinking into it. "There is some oil on the vanity...get it and use it on me. It was sent over by one of the healers...she said it would make my muscles feel better."

He did as he was told, moving quickly over to the vanity. It took a minute, but he found the brown glass bottle, grabbed it and moved back toward the bed. Not wanting to spill anything on his tunic, he stripped it off his torso, revealing a body that was in need of the sun's kisses again. Looking down at Samara, he saw that she lacked the same warm affection, her normally browned skin pale from the lengthy winter trek. Royo opened the bottle and could smell peppermint and lavender right away. He poured some of the oil into his hands and then set the bottle on a table for later use. Rubbing his hands together to warm the oil, he then climbed into the bed, straddling the beautiful prone body that awaited his touch.

Even though her skin had been fighting to weather the dry cold, Samara still felt supple. Not that he knew how she was supposed to feel, having only now been given the opportunity to touch. But from stories he'd heard from others, she was a pleasure to touch, and he was finding those rumors to be true. He pressed his fingers and palms into her flesh, kneading her tight muscles until they surrendered and relaxed. Royo faithfully worked the warmed oil over her entire body, from shoulders and neck to the soles of her feet. His senses were inundated with the smell of her and he felt himself stir underneath his kilt. He couldn't react to that though until he was given the go-ahead and as of the moment that his hands were currently pressing into the muscles of her well-formed ass, he had not been cleared to do more than serve her as a masseuse.

It wasn't until her legs shifted slightly, her thighs parting so that he could see more of her than he'd ever been granted before, that he knew she might be offering him the chance to do more in his service of her. Royo took care to notice the wetness forming between her legs as she opened herself to him. This could merely be a natural reaction to being allowed to relax more than she had. He would wait. His hands massaged into either thigh, pushing them a little farther apart to give himself room to caress them and he heard her moan at his touch. The sound sent shivers up his spine and hardened his cock even more beneath his clothes. Daring more, he trailed his fingers closer and closer to her until they brushed her cunt and he saw her tremble and glisten even more with heat. The boy tempted himself even further, sliding his oil-slick fingers closer to the prize, one fingertip dipping into her briefly and then pulling out. When he did this, he saw her swivel her hips, pressing toward his probing finger. So he dared again, sliding his finger in deeper this time, leaving it longer, pressing in and out a couple of times before moving back out. Once more, she thrust herself toward him.

Now he smiled to himself, listening to her breathing grow heavy, soft growls rumbling in her throat that was pressed against her wrists because her head rested on her arms. Her thighs parted farther apart, knees bracing themselves on the mattress. Samara raised herself a little off the bed, her hips positioned just under his, offering herself in a way that he couldn't mistake at this point. Still...with how he'd been trained, he refused to take a liberty without a command. So Royo teased once more, one hand grasping her hip gently, the other hand sliding over her lips and forward, pressing against her clit until it throbbed against him.

Just when he was about to ask what she wanted him to do, Samara told him in a voice that had become guttural, primal, "If you don't fuck me now, boy, you will lose those bits of yours that makes you male."

There was definitely no mistaking now what she wanted from him. And Royo was all too happy to comply with his commander. He moved off the mattress briefly, long enough to unwrap the kilt from around his waist. He could have taken her with it on, but he wanted nothing in the way, no chance of clothing coming between them. He wanted to feel all of her. Not even mere seconds later, he was climbing back onto the mattress, his knees cushioned in deep soft fur, his hands reaching out to clutch at her hips. Fingers dug into her flesh, possibly bruising her, but he didn't care and if she did, she could beat him for it. He would stand gladly for her lashes. Right now, he wanted her. He wanted her more than he ever thought he'd want any one person. There was a mutual grunt from both of them as he pressed himself closer to her, guiding himself into her now-dripping cunt. He thought to take it slowly and at the first stroke, he did, easing himself inside her at a torturous rate that made her cry out and thrust herself back against him. Royo's head fell back, his eyes closed, his teeth clenched and he pulled back out slowly to the very tip of himself and then just when Samara thought he wasn't going to move, he thrust back into her ferociously, causing her thighs to tremble.

Not realizing how much she'd needed this, Samara clawed at the furs on her bed, grasping handfuls as she pushed herself against the hips that crushed themselves at her. The hardness that filled her was more than she thought she could handle at certain moments, believing that she'd kept this from herself for too long to be able to enjoy it anymore. However, Royo kept at a rhythmic pace, shoving himself into her cunt with a roughness that she hadn't known in a long time. One of his hands slid down the front of her hips, rubbing her clit until it electrified her entire being and she cried and screamed out time and time again. He kept at her, thrusting into her faster and faster, growing harder with his thrusts until he finally let out a howl, spilling himself inside her, his hands once more holding onto her hips. He held her to him forcefully as he continued to come, his own hips still thrusting until there was nothing left inside him at that moment.

Waiting to see how she reacted, he stayed his place, moving only to pull out of her and sit back on his knees. Both were breathing heavy, hearts pounding in their chests. It was then that Samara turned around, sitting with her legs curled gracefully underneath her. She stared at him, a fire renewed in her dark eyes. She licked her tongue across her lips and stared appraisingly at the boy.

"Are you expected elsewhere, Royo?" she asked him, reaching out to caress one of his trembling thighs.