Riding Lessons

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I liiiiive! One more chapter after this one. This chapter is dedicated to Minda, who all but threatened me with bodily harm if I did not update.



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Zarang had watched with something like pride as Jaera swung herself up on the raptor’s back, riding the green female bareback as they pursued the stormcaster that ran to warn a warparty. She was at ease with the raptor instantly, her thighs flexing to guide the mount around obstacles. Zarang watched them close the distance easily; he knew his wager was lost.



He watched Jaera stroll calmly up with the green raptor at her side, the animal’s callused feet smeared with dust and blood. Jaera carried a sanguine-slicked dagger in her hand, the dark centaur blood beginning to dry on the blade; it would need to be cleaned soon before the metal was ruined.



“Are you alright?” Jaera’s voice was only mildly concerned; she could see with her own eyes that he wasn’t dismembered or bleeding.



“I’m fine,” Zarang answered in his deep voice, and Jaera felt her insides twinge. Who knows what would have happened if the Kolkar had not happened upon them? How far would they have gone with nothing to stop them? She shivered inwardly, half of her recognizing that trolls and elves could never mix, and the other half of her desperately wanting to see where they might have ended that kiss had they remained undisturbed. In frustration and anger at the situation, she spit on the Kolkar corpse, cursing the fact that they had been interrupted.



The gesture did not go unnoticed by Zarang, who was himself regretting that a moment like that had been broken by anything so much as a screeching bird, much less a centaur attack. “We should be getting back,” he said slowly, “De village Shaman needs to know about dis.”



Jaera nodded in agreement and walked with the raptor to Zarang’s side. The raptor stepped away, nosing the centaur’s corpse and giving it a tentative bite before turning to finish stripping meat from her boar kill. Jaera’s panther seemed to have eaten its fill already, and was lazily drowsing in the sun, slapping its tail. They watched the raptor for a moment and then set about getting the meat ready for hauling back to the village.



They beheaded the two remaining boar carcasses and drained and gutted them, leaving the wet entrails on the cracked ground. They loaded them on the green raptor’s back, careful to limit the meat’s contact with her skin. The raptor shifted and snapped at the meals that were strapped to her sides. The two kills that the panther and raptor had made were left to scavengers, and the carrion birds were already hopping sideways on eager, clawed feet toward the bodies.



Jaera walked back with her panther at her side, and Zarang took the raptor’s head, the lead coiled up unused in his hand. Jaera looked over at him, his silence beginning to make her feel unwelcome. The feeling only intensified as they stoically unloaded the meat, feeding one entire boar to the rest of the pack, leaving the other hoisted in a dead tree until the next day.



“Stay ‘ere,” Zarang said flatly. “I’ll tell de shaman.” Jaera nodded, grateful to be free of that oppressive silence. She used a bucket and sponge to wash the blood from the green’s hide and feet. As the sun continued to beat down on them, she began to move the raptors down to the shaded shore to doze as they had done the day before, leading the smaller ones in packs. Zarang returned as she came back up and nodded his thanks.



“What did the shaman say?”



“ ‘E said dat ‘e would take care of it,” Zarang said, sounding not a little discontented with the outcome of his errand. They walked the big green raptor down to the shore, Zarang holding her lead loosely in his hand. The raptor nudged him with her snout as they came to a halt; he chuckled a little and took off her lead. “Go on, den,” he said to her, shooing her off into the shallows.



It was only now that it dawned on Jaera that she’d actually ridden the raptor. Bareback even! Surely this meant that she had won the bet. She eagerly turned to look at Zarang, who was stretched out on the red sand under the tree, one arm tucked behind his head for a pillow, the other draped over his eyes. His chest rose and fell evenly.



“Are you asleep?” Jaera asked in a tiny voice, acutely aware that she might be the reason he was tired this morning.


“Nah,” came the reply. “Jus’ t’inkin’ ‘bout her.”


Jaera looked out at the big green raptor, who was standing in shallows, snapping at crabs and snorting salt water out of her nostrils as the crabs made good their escape.

“You did good,” Zarang said shortly. “If dat bitch had got back to her warriors,” he moved his head from side to side weakly in the sand, “dere would be no tellin’ what dey’d do t’us.” He took his arm off his eyes and squinted at the brightness. Jaera watched the shadowy sunlight flicker across his face and hair, burnishing his emerald crest to a grassy green. He sat up, resting his forearms on bent knees.

“But ye’ll have ta pay fer her saddle,” he said stubbornly. “Dat wasn’t in de bet.”



Jaera chuckled softly. “Deal,” she said, and offered a slim hand to him for a handshake. He took it and shook firmly, all business, but then didn’t withdraw his hand, letting it linger overlong in hers. “About earlier,” he started.


“Earlier?” Jaera felt a lump form in her throat and her heart rate quickened. “What about earlier?”


“Wha’ ‘bout it?” Zarang shook his head, smiling slyly. “Don’ be coy wit’ me, elf.”



Oh Gods, he’s going to ask about the kiss, Jaera thought. Or maybe he’ll ask about last night, if I enjoyed it. I can’t believe I put myself in a situation like this!

“I saw you bring down dat centaur wit’ not’tin more den your bare hands.”


Jaera stared at him and then laughed nervously. “Oh, that!” She waved it away. “I fed on her magical power. For a spellcaster, it’s devastating,” she said matter-of-factly.


“Fed?” he said, with a small note of alarm. “Like some kinda vampire?”


“No, it’s a magical addiction,” she said quietly, more than a little disappointed by his mistrust. “All blood elves need to feed their addiction to magical energy or master their desire for it before it masters them.”


“An’ you haven’t?”


“Of course I have!” she snapped. “Doesn’t mean that it’s not an effective weapon at times,” she finished.


“An effective weapon,” Zarang said thoughtfully, before reclining on the sand again. “I bet dat come in real handy ‘gainst dose Alliance.”


“At times.”


Zarang grunted an assent, and covered his eyes again. Jaera looked down at her hands and then smiled faintly. “I thought you were going to ask about the kiss,” she said, so quietly it was nearly lost in the splashing of the playing raptor.



Zarang sat up slowly, leaning toward her. “Ah, de kiss,” he murmured. “I wondered about dat, but not too much.”


“What do you mean, not too much?”


“You simply let de heat get t’you, right?” His voice was clipped, curt, and more than a little bitter.


“I didn’t,” she admitted.


“So it wasn’t de heat dat had you wri’din in pleasure in mah bed last night?”


Jaera stared at Zarang, feeling pink flood her cheeks. She was unable to summon up a snappy retort or lie, and could only suffer in embarrassed silence.



“I nevah woulda guessed, elf,” Zarang said smugly, “dat you had a taste for troll meat.”


“I don’t!” she cried angrily, standing up abruptly and pointing an accusing finger at him. “It wasn’t until I met you that I ever even considered the idea!”


Zarang looked stunned. “What?”


“It’s your damned voice, your face isn’t even as ugly as it should be, and I can’t believe…” She paused. What’s with that shocked look on his face? He looked like he hadn’t known at all. Oh NO, she thought as he got to his feet and stepped toward her. Don’t tell me he was just trying to goad me. Don’t tell me that I just blurted that out and all he was doing was joking with me.



“Jaera,” he said softly. “I di’nt realize you were being serious,” he murmured. His face was a parade of emotions, the foremost among them being shock and desire.


Jaera, determined to hold on to some shred of her dignity, sniffed delicately and said, “What makes you think I was being serious?”


“De way yer skin flushed when I tol’ you dat I heard you last night.” He reached up to her shoulder, running his thick finger over it. The thin fabric of her shirt only made her more sensitive to the warmth and pressure of his touch and her lashes fluttered briefly before she regained control. “Evah since you walked up, I wanted to touch you like dat,” he growled, closing the distance between them and gathering her up against him with his superior strength. “I wanted to climb in dat bed last night an’ make good on dose t’oughts, make you mine beyond any doubt.”



“Zarang,” she started, and he smiled.


“Yes,” he purred, “Say mah name like dat again.”


“Zarang,” she said again, smiling flirtatiously at him, and he chuckled before leaning down to cover her mouth with his. She yielded to him almost instantly, her head falling back as he pressed her against him. Her hands sought the waistband of his pants, slipping in around his lean hips and grazing the sensitive skin of his thigh. He snarled with satisfaction, breaking their kiss, before looking for a place he might be able to stretch her out and give her the fucking she so richly deserved. His search was cut short by the slim elf’s hand on his chest, pushing him down to the sand.



I can’t believe I’m doing this, Jaera thought, but I’d be a fool to refuse a kiss like that. She thought briefly of what her straight-laced elven friends would think, and then cast aside any doubt. This was far and away more aroused than she had ever been by just a kiss, and she was bound and determined to make Zarang feel the same way.



She started at his jawline, careful to avoid his tusks. She laid eager kisses against his warmed skin, relishing his sudden, deep intake of breath. She smiled, finding herself incredibly turned on by the heat of his breath in her hair. It fell unbidden from its usual place behind her ear, trailing behind her mouth as she nibbled and licked her way from his ear to his neck, stopping to gently smooth her lips over his pulse as it flashed in his throat. It was beating faster than she expected, though she need not have looked for it; the occasional shallow gasp and the urgent press of his heated erection against her proved his arousal far more than any isolated reading of his pulse.



Zarang was in a lust-reddened daze as she straddled him, rocking herself in the cradle of his lap, nothing like the prissy blood elf that had walked into his life a few days ago. He thought about all the different ways he’d wanted to be inside her, and his cock hardened further, teased incessantly by the grind of her hips against him. She was doing fabulous things to his neck; his eyes rolled back in his head a little at the sharp nips of her small white teeth as they bit at a heated nerve in his neck. He moaned, the cords in his neck going taut. He slid his hand up her side, seeking any opening in her clothing to touch and stroke her skin. Frustrated, he yanked her shirt out of her breeches, pleased with her approving giggle and then sudden gasp as his hand slid into the curve of her waist and then over her ribcage.



She arched her back, presenting her breasts, and Zarang slid his right hand over one, stroking her soft skin and then thumbing over her nipple, grinning as she covered his hand with hers, pressing his palm into her breast. He leaned forward, sliding the point of his tusk over her left nipple, admiring the way it tented under her shirt. He pressed his hips up into her, his left hand clamping down on her shoulder and holding her close as his right left her breast and fumbled with the laces of her breeches, pulling them open and then sliding his hand in to cup her mons.



She was already wet, and he slid one thick finger against her cleft, his lips curling into a self-satisfied grin as she shuddered. It was her sudden collapse against him, writhing against his chest and lifting her hips to give him more access, that made him suck in his breath quickly, a tense chuckle of pleasure at her willingness escaping him. It was rather more pleasant than the loud, polite cough that came from a few yards away.



Iquira was standing with her arms folded across her chest, glaring hard at the pair of them, who jerked apart like scalded cats. “Nice ta see you makin’ yerself at home,” she sneered.


“Get outta here, Iquira,” Zarang threatened, but Jaera had already climbed off of him and was tucking her shirt in and relacing her breeches.


“Jaera,” he started, but was cut off by a screech from Iquira.


“Jaera, he say! Why you on a first-name basis wit’ dis elf? She just payin’ for her raptor, in’t she?”


“Iquira!” Zarang roared. “Get outta here, now, or I’ll put de raptors on yah and dat’s no lie!”


Iquira blanched and turned on her heel. “Don’ be late to dinner, or de shaman’ll start talkin’,” she warned and then began stalking back up over the shoreline ridge. Zarang hissed at her back, calling her every epithet he could think of. He turned to face Jaera, who was watching him with a mixed expression of annoyance and amusement.



Zarang still had a raging erection, and looking at Jaera’s passion-plumped lips made him imagine them around him, her hot mouth and tongue sliding over the head of his-

“I imagine we should get going or the shaman will start talking?” Jaera was straightening the front of her shirt.


“Yah,” Zarang reluctantly agreed. “Jaera, if you don’ mind,” he began.


“Yes?” Her eyes were still heavy-lidded, and she stepped forward to fondle the bulge in his pants.


“Well, dat answers part of mah question right dere,” Zarang groaned softly.


“I don’t want to keep the shaman waiting,” Jaera said quietly while she continued to stroke him, the lust not wholly faded from her voice.


“Tonight,” Zarang said, his voice still thick with desire. “Tonight, I’ll give you a more propa’ ridin’ lesson.”


Jaera’s lips spread in a wide grin. “Deal,” she replied.



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