With her cheeks still smarting, a part of Anara wanted to recoil from Dante’s touch, to snarl and gnash her teeth as she cursed him. But she would not.

He had asserted his dominance—put his foot down so to speak. The duke had drawn the line and decided how much he would take from her.

Anara wanted him now more than ever.

Having still not looked at him, she nuzzled her face into Dante’s neck as he caressed her arm. She pulled away slowly, looked into his eyes. He brought his hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears.

“You gave me no choice.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. Tightening her arms, she pulled him into a kiss. His warm lips between hers made her heart race.

“If you take my maidenhead I may become worthless to you. Your oath could be void. Are you willing to risk that?”

“Yes,” he said, his answer straightforward and simple.

She sniffed in bemusement. “Are you that weak?”

“I’ve resisted the calls of women for over five years. What do you think, Wind Steppe Princess? Am I weak?”

“Yes, you’re weak,” she said through a smile.

“Perhaps,” he said.

Their parted lips came together, tongues meeting in the middle. She caressed the back of his neck. His lips were slightly salty, but full and warm on her own. They parted with a soft squelch, the sort of sound Anara had imagined a thousand times.

“I may be a maiden,” she said, “but I have no maidenhead to break.” She looked into his eyes. Nothing on his face betrayed any disappointment at her revelation.

“Heavy riding has been known to break some maidenheads,” he offered in the way of explanation. She could hardly believe it. “I have no doubt that you’ve flown many a time atop your pegasus.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

He pulled away slightly, though their eyes were still locked, their lips and faces just barely apart from one another.

“I used my fingers.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fingers?”

“I pleasure myself often,” she said, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She knew why she wanted to tell him this. “The Thithian statues in the temple of Lolitila are quite erotic.”

Dante leaned in and kissed her again, then chuckled. “Why do you wish to tell me this, Anara?”

“Why?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I want you to know that I’m no tender girl,” she said, her tone becoming somewhat serious to the point of startling herself. “I want you as a woman wants a man. I want you to fuck me, Dante.”

“Do you, Princess?”

“Oh, yes!” She searched his eyes. “I wanted you the moment I saw you.”

“You were my prisoner.”

The smiled saucily. “I still wanted you.”

The mild amusement dropped from his face like a stone in water as he stared at her. Did he not wish to hear that? But it was what she wanted—what she needed from him. Did he not want her as well?

Finally he pulled away. Arms tightening around her, he placed her atop the silken sky mammoth pelt. On his knees he went to the pile of driftwood and tossed a few large pieces on the embers within the hearth.

Dante came back, took her in his arms, his skin warm on her naked body. She looked into his violet eyes as he carried her to the center of the pelt where the hearth crackled, spreading its blissful heat. Some of the chill of the cave was still upon her, but she didn’t care in the slightest.

Gently, Dante lowered her onto her back. Anara grabbed the thick silky wads of fur. She was completely dry of the bath water now, the tufts of mammoth fur tickling her back.

“I found this while you were asleep,” he said.

She looked at him with a smile. “It’s a good thing you did.”

“There could be nothing better to make love on, Princess.”

She nodded in agreement as he lay next to her, his arm coming behind her neck as she sat back on her elbows. The fire behind her supplied them with a soft glow of light and good warmth. Between the heat of the hearth and the chill of the cave, her body would remain in a state of constant shivering, the kind that felt good as the body prickled with warmth.

Moving her back against the fur and reveling in the ticklish sensations, she put a hand over Dante’s cheek and kissed him, their tongues in physical communication.

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His lips were wonderful.

Dante caressed her shoulder, her hip and her thigh. She loved his large, warm hands on her, exploring her. She wanted him to explore her in other ways, and as if in response, his rough sword-callused hand came to her breast, his eyes following.

He touched her, licked her.

After bringing his eyes back to hers, he leaned up and kissed her deeply and she spread her legs.

* * *

Anara couldn’t help giggling like a girl. “Gods!”

She watched him, he looking back as they heaved breathily together. He smiled at her then. They both needed air and rest after…

It had been a needful wanting on both of their parts. But they had also made love, a slow, sensual joy of one another.

“Wow,” she gaspeded again and glanced down at her glistening stomach and breasts, then breathed in deeply, taking in his pungent scent.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.

“I want more.”

Dante chuckled as he leaned in for a kiss. He looked at her as she caught the light of the crackling hearth. His eyes travelled her body, down, then up, then back down.

She laughed.

Dante raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’re a wanton woman,” he said through a smirk.

The Wind Steppe Princess kissed him. “I know that.” She kissed him again. And then again once more, sucking on his bottom lip as she pulled away. “Can you do it again?”

“Of course,” he said.

She shivered as Dante moved up against her and pulled on the sky mammoth pelt until it covered them both. Anara felt giddy as he reached to cup her breast under the furs.

She leaned back into him, closing her eyes, shivering again with the warmth of his bare skin against hers.

“Did something strange happen while we were…?”

“Fucking?”

“You are quite loose with your tongue, aren’t you?”

“No,” she said. “I just like to call things as they are. I am your ‘pomegranate’ after all. Was it not you who went on at length about massaging the flesh and drinking—“

He laughed, covering her mouth with his hand. She gasped from behind his fingers before dragging his hand away.

“Am I embarrassing you, Dante?”

“Of course not.”

“Yes I am!”

“You are not, I say.”

She giggled. “As you say.”

“It is as I say.”

“I know it is.”

“It is.”

“Mmhm,” she noised, nodding assuredly. “I know.”

He sighed. “It seems I’ve awakened something in you, my Wind Steppe Princess.”

“Perhaps. Now what were you trying to ask me?”

“Yes,” he said, remembering. “Something happened. Wind. Cold air—I’m not certain what it was.”

Anara knew exactly what had happened, but she didn’t want to think of that right now. “It was probably just a gust of wind down one of the wind flutes,” she suggested.

He nodded.

She said nothing. Together they watched the fire crackle, its heat spreading over them in the chill draft. Thunder rumbled across the sky amidst the distant crashing of waves on the beach.

She didn’t want to ask. Anara wanted to stay here, under the pelt in Dante’s arms forever. Why was she feeling this way? So…

She shook those thoughts away. Her curiosity was peaking, and she wanted to know. “Why did your crew maroon you here? And why did they maroon me with you?”

She wasn’t expecting Dante to push the pelt off of them and then get up suddenly. Had she offended him?

She watched him walk into the darkness, worrying that he had simply left her alone in the cave. But then he came back. In his left hand was a large pewter goblet, a bottle of wine inside, and in his other hand two smaller goblets hung from his fingers.

Anara smiled. She was quite thirsty after their love making, and if they were to have each other again, they would need to take sustenance.

Dante sat beside her, his legs crossed. He removed the wine with a small tool. It made a popping sound as he did so. He poured the red liquid and it made a bubbly sound much like the sound of sea foam. She had experienced that for the first time not days ago while being at sea on his ship.

“I felt that we would need something to drink as we talked.”

She smiled. “I am thirsty.”

“Are you certain, my Pomegranate?”

Her jaw dropped, and she made to hit him in a playful manner. “You’re as wanton as I am, Dante Campione!”

He blocked her slap with his forearm as he smirked at his whit. Then he took a glass and gave it to Anara. She took it, smelling the alcohol and the fruit it had been made from.

She waited until he sipped his first, out of politeness. Then she took a sip of hers. The taste was good, and she wondered if they would drink the whole bottle. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea. She didn’t want to add “drunken” to the “wanton,” even if it was only a jest.

“We raided a rich Atalayan treasure fleet,” he began. “Amidst the three ships and dozens of hostages, our greatest prize was a chest of jewels.”

“Jewels?”

He nodded. “Cut gemstones the size of your fist. Not mine. Yours.”

“Oh.”

“I had most of the loot sent back to Amalfi. But a king’s ransom I kept.”

Her eyes widened. “You kept some of it?”

“I’ve wanted to expand my operations for years now, make a real difference and then return to Amalfi a hero.” He seemed thoughtful to Anara for a few moments. Then he added, “It requires the expenditure of great wealth.”

“I think I understand. So the crew wants to return home with the jewels?”

“Not home,” he said, shaking his head. “Some have deserted, gone to Cordone or other places. I believe a few have even retired in Atalaya if it can be believed.”

She frowned. Something didn’t make sense to her. “Why leave me here with you? They could ransom me and become wealthy.”

“It’s true. They probably could. But not to offend you, Wind Steppe Princess, but what I speak of is a king’s ransom, worth much, much more.”

Giving him a sassy grin with narrowed eyes, she nodded. Dante chuckled.

“I understand she said and where are these jewels?”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, then looked at the pewter goblet. He picked it up, held it in both hands. Anara leaned over to look inside, but of course it was empty. The bottle of wine they were drinking had just been housed inside of it.

“Watch.”

She nodded as he concentrated on the worthless metal. It seemed to Anara to lose some of its shape. She watched intently as Dante molded the metallic material in his hand. Then, seeming very magician-like, he passed his other hand over his closed fist, and suddenly gemstones began to pour out, the goblet completely gone.

The gemstones clattered together in a small pile between them. As he said, they were the size of her fist, cut and priceless.

Her eyes widened as she picked one up, a ruby caught the light of the fire. It almost seemed to glow. She looked at Dante, her wonder gone. She felt afraid. For him.

“They’re going to kill you if you don’t give them what they want.”

“Perhaps.”

“They know you have the gemstones, do they not?”

He breathed in deeply, glanced at the fire behind her. “There’s some doubt, but Cordilio, my mate, is fairly certain I have the gems hidden somewhere. We’ve known one another a long time. He knows me well enough to know something isn’t right with my story.”

Anara nodded amidst a shiver from the draft. Dante moved beside her, took her in his arms. “Do not worry about me, my Pomegranate.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m never going to get used to that foolish pet name.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, smiling back as he leaned in and kissed her.

Their mouths parted and their tongues met. Anara let out a noise as Dante reached between her legs. She also felt him and giggled, feeling almost as aroused as she had before.

“Take me again.”

“I intend to, Princess.”

This time, he was much gentler with her.