Free The Warlord's Concubine by J.E. Keep, M. Keep Page A

moisture remained in her eyes
even as she tried to blink it back, “What should I do? How will
she judge me?”
    He saw her weakness, those dark eyes of his broke through her
barriers and saw the softness within her despite her attempts to hide
it.
    “I don’t know,” his lack of knowledge obviously
bothering him. “As I have said, these are matters of the
Ka’reem women.” He reached up, brushing some of her sleek
black hair from her face, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I
understand them better than any man alive, yet I do not have the
answer to either question. You shall just have to show you are better
than your birth.”
    She nodded, but there was something stuck in her throat that she
struggled to swallow down, her lips pressing against his so flushly.
“I will do it for you,” she murmured against his mouth,
her nose pressing against his as she shifted, her swollen breasts
flattened against his muscular chest. “How long do I have? And
how shall I dress?”
    “Days,” he responded to the first, but had a slight
smirk for the latter. “It does not matter. The seer does not
see what is. Only what will be. Or was.” He kissed her lips
then, the sound of their moist mouths smacking resonating in the
massive, empty hall.
    He throbbed beneath her needfully, and he finished, “Now do
your duty for your king. I must think.” His hand moved through
her hair, taking hold of her head and pushing it down in so blatantly
suggestive a manner she could hardly miss it.
    As always, she was only too willing. She shifted into position
before her teeth tugged at the binds that held him. Her hands and
mouth sought him out as he sat atop that throne, stewing about the
future. She, too, had matters on her mind, but the moment that
throbbing shaft pulsed against her wet mouth, they all slipped away
in favour of better things.

Chapter 8

    The Seer’s arrival took longer than anticipated. It was a
week of anxious waiting, though during it Mirella had managed to grow
closer with one of the guard-concubines. Svella, as she came to learn
her name, was a tall, voluptuous woman that looked fearsome at most
times. Even with her bare belly swollen, pregnancy having sunk its
teeth into her rather fully, she looked like nobody to trifle with.
    In some ways she was similar to Mirella herself; her devotion was
no less true to the God-King, though it was not like hers. Nobodies
could be, she determined.
    Sat with her legs crossed, the pale Svella, with her dark hair
braided down around her shoulder, dressed only in boots and
loincloth, told her tales of the north. “Our people once rode
the fields of the south, many long ages ago. We were strong and rich.
Now,” she shrugged her strong shoulders, “it is that
which taunts us. Boils in the veins of so many Ka’reem. That we
sat in weak hovels in the north, cold and hungry, while the little
straw-necks lived large.”
    Mirella was dressed in a casual strip of material that just barely
hid her engorged breasts and showed off her large ass as it pressed
against one of the pillows. “No one could blame that,”
she agreed, her forced casualness obvious, even to a less observant
woman than Svella. She braided her hair against her shoulder, undoing
the twists and redoing them, just to keep from fidgeting more
obviously. “Once your numbers grow, you’ll be a force to
reckon with once more.”
    With a haughty laugh the large woman gave her a look over that
Mirella could’ve taken as open hostility if she hadn’t
gotten to know the woman over the past months. “We already are.
The God-King has taught us we are greater than any other force,”
she stated with full certainty. “He brought to our fighters the
cunning we lacked. Now we are unstoppable,” she stated with a
broad smile that showed her conviction.
    Therein lay the difference between the two women. Svella was
absolutely dedicated to her lord, but only because she saw him as the
saviour of her people. The embodiment of