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After the long trek home, D’Jwan washed up, crawled into bed and slept through the night and part of the next day, not waking until well past the rooster’s crow the following morning. Even when he awoke, he had no desire to rise. Only the growling in his belly could coax him out from under his blanket. Xia and her handmaidens stayed on his mind even as he attempted to forget them. The day became night, and then dawn came again many times over and those women would not let go of his mind. He’d grown listless as he holed up in his room most days, re-evaluating the trajectory of his life.
Groggily, he stood, throwing on his garments before walking barefooted toward the kitchen to see what his mother and grandmother had served for the morning meal and if they had saved a portion for him.
Household servants greeted him fondly as he made his way. He nodded and offered them salutations. He yawned as he entered the courtyard before crossing over to the other side of the villa.
“Look who yet lives.” D’Jwan’s mother eyed him as he breached the doorway to the kitchen where she and his grandmother were seated at a small table, helping the kitchen girl grind barley into flour.
His mother stood and walked over to the small, portable, clay oven in the corner where she was keeping some bread for him. She motioned to the serving girl, who gathered wine and a plate of figs, before carrying the meal through a small doorway to the dining room. He sighed, following behind her with his mother and grandmother, bringing up the rear. He saw no earthly reason why he could not sit down to eat at the same table where they were working, but his mother insisted the master of the house must never eat in the kitchen where the servants ate.
He never understood why his mother had such a problem with him breaking break with the girls who baked the loaves for him when she never saw any issue with him bending the same girls over the table for a fuck. His mother never said a peep about him enjoying the pleasure they offered to him. After the last few days, his previous dalliances seemed so childish, but without them, he never would have developed the skills necessary to pull off his evening with Xia and the other horsewomen.
Those beauties had haunted his dreams every night since they parted nearly a week ago and even now, he could not push them from his thoughts. D’Jwan’s chest ached when he considered the possibility, he’d never see them again, and his stomach churned when he imagined they might have no interest in meeting him again. As his mother, grandmother and serving girl set his food and drink out on the table, he pulled out his chair and sat down. He dipped his bread in the wine before taking a bite. His thoughts returned to the strong-taste of the fermented mare’s milk he’d partaken of the night he’d spent with the horsewomen as he chewed thoroughly before swallowing. The first taste of the heavy grain dulled the ache in his stomach but did nothing to quench the longing burning in his chest.
“What worries you so, son?”
He looked up at his mother and shrugged. He was unsure he could put his thoughts into words even if he so desired.
“Perhaps the spirit walk did not go as well as you had hoped?” His grandmother tilted her head, looking at him expectantly. She’d been pumping him for answers at every opportunity since his return. “Did my goddess tell you something you did not want to hear?”
D’Jwan simply shook his head as he took another bite. His mother took a seat next to him, patted his shoulder and encouraged him to eat more.
“You were gone so long. You were sorely missed here.” His mother’s smile brought out the few lines on her face. She’d been considerably younger than his father when he’d passed away but chose not to remarry.
“Not so long...two days there...one night at the temple and two days back. I doubt many even noticed I was gone. The farm runs well without me. Since my twentieth birth year, I neither sow nor reap on my own land.”
His mother’s blue eyes widened as she shook her head, her brown curls bobbing. “You are the master of a large farm and vineyard. Upon coming of age, performing such low work would be unbefitting of your station.”
“Nonsense...my own uncle and cousins do such low work in my place every day. I feel a fool, lounging out in the courtyard, pouring over ledgers, and that is when you will let me rather than grumbling about your record-keeping system.”
“You were a child. I had to learn to work in your place the best I could. And yes, my brother and his sons. This land is your birthright through your father. If it was not for your precious birth a mere three years before his death, I would have had no claim over the villa. Your father’s cousin would have inherited everything, and your grandmother and I would have been at his mercy. Without this farm, your uncle would have lacked the resources to take care of us.”
“He has my gratitude,” D’Jwan mumbled as he chewed.
“That is hardly the point!” His grandmother smacked her palm down on the table, nearly toppling his goblet. “You need to understand your worth.”
“I understand I inherited a life I am unsuited for.”
“What could you possibly mean?” His mother’s deep frown sent a pang of guilt to his belly.
“Until two years ago, I worked this land right next to my uncle and cousins as well as the servants. We were equals.”
“You were the only one who saw things that way,” his grandmother counseled.
He swallowed and set his mouth in a grim line. “Such revelations do little to lift my spirits.” D’Jwan raised his cup toward the kitchen girl, indicating he wanted more wine.
His mother wagged her head, sighing with exasperation. “Why this nostalgia? You enjoyed the time with your uncle and cousins but hated farm work! Now you take your father’s place dealing with merchants, wine tasting, and enjoying your villa.”
“With respect, I am not like my father. I have no wish to die at thirty with a big belly and the smell of honey wine on my breath.”
His mother gasped, jumping to her feet. She raised her hand. D’Jwan turned his head to greet the expected slap but she slammed her hand down against the table again. Regretfully, he looked up at his mother’s angry and hurt expression. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the words before she stormed out. He stood to follow but his grandmother blocked his path.
“Grandmother, I must go after her.”
She waved him back to his seat, shaking her head. “Your mother needs a moment to cool her head. Nothing you say will help until she is ready.”
Hearing the truth in her words, he nodded.
“Now take your seat. We must discuss your spirit walk.”
D’Jwan rolled his eyes before placing his elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands. “Please do not increase the humiliation of the experience.”
“Humiliation?” A hint of disbelief colored her voice. “From what I understand, your journey to the spirit realm was well met.”
Lifting his head, he grimaced in horror as he stared at his grandmother’s face. “Whatever could you mean?”
“You mixed the potion and took your journey. No?”
“I mixed the potion. I took no journey. From what I can gather, I flailed like a braying donkey. Four traveling warriors took pity on a drunken jackass and kept me safe for the evening.”
“You remember nothing of your evening in the celestial realm?”
“I remember much but I fail to see how anything that happened that night was part of a divine plan.”
“The Goddess uses mortals to depart her wisdom. Whatever happened was destiny and if you ponder on the experience, you will understand the message she sent you.”
“If you say so.”
His grandmother cleared his empty plate but poured him more wine before leaving the room.
He shook his head, mumbling to himself. “Spiritual message...I think not.”
He picked up his goblet and drank as he walked through the courtyard and up some stairs to a high balcony. From there, he could survey all that was his. His father had left him an impressive home, a decent title and the means for an easy life. Was it evil to want more? From his perch, he spotted his uncle, who waved to him from the field. He was more of a supervisor than a worker but still far more hands-on than D’Jwan had been over the past two years.
“Welcome home, my boy!” his uncle said jovially but soon corrected himself. “I mean to say, my young master.”
“Do shut your mouth over such ridiculous words, Uncle.” He shook his head at the man who had served as the closest thing he had known to a father. “Wait there so we might have private words between us.”
His uncle lifted his hands. “Stay where you are. I will come to you.”
D’Jwan’s nostrils flared but he would not argue the point. Apparently, the act of trekking through the fields and vines he had worked since he was old enough to walk now shamed him.
Upon climbing the stairs, his uncle greeted him well, shaking his hand. “It is good to see you home, my boy.”
“It pleases me to see you too, Uncle.”
“Word of your spiritual journey has been making the rounds among the field workers. Perhaps you will tell me if the tales are truth or exaggeration?” He lifted and dropped his eyebrows.
He sighed. “Malka...the man’s mouth is like a drain.”
His uncle laughed, nodding. “It would seem it is so. Tell me of these Amazons you encountered? Were they as insatiable as Malka would have us believe?”
Nodding, he answered, “Likely that and more. They were like no women I have ever met. They dance in my dreams and weigh heavily on my thoughts during waking hours. I cannot chase them from my head but they were not goddesses, only four alluring...bewitching women. There was no spiritual journey, only a drunk and drugged man fornicating with willing women.”
His uncle’s wrinkled face lit up as he belly-laughed. “Sounds like something from the heavens to me! Forget not luck! Drunk, drugged, and blessed with more good fortune than any man should hope to claim!”
The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Right.”
His uncle folded his strong arms, made muscular by years of hard work, over his chest as he sat under the balcony’s awning in the chair next to D’Jwan’s. Your grandmother has always said the spirit world invades dreams. Perhaps there is a message from her goddess in the dancing of those Amazons.”
He shook his head. “Why do you keep calling them that?”
“That’s not what I’m calling them. It is what everyone is calling them from here to the other side of the Black Sea... Women marauders, raiding settlements, gathering up wealth...they are quickly becoming a legend.”
“Legend...there are only four of them... How can this be?” D’Jwan placed his palm on the back of his neck as he looked off to the side.
“They are expert archers, sit astride horses, and ride better than anyone else. Even men who can mount couldn’t catch up to these women. They get in, take what they want and get out. Most villagers are so shocked to see Amazons they don’t even put up a fight.”
He frowned as a pit sat heavily in his gut like a sinking stone. “Such brazenness will only be tolerated for so long. Are these women in danger of retaliation?”
His uncle tilted his head, running a hand over his graying beard. “There are certainly enough tales of them to get the wrong kind of attention. I heard a settlement of Scythian nobles attempted to lure them to join their village but the Amazons have wild hearts and will never settle down in one place.”
“No, I imagine they will not.” D’Jwan pushed his lips together, the bottom one sticking out in a mild pout.
The sound of Malka’s screaming cut short their conversation. “Young master! Young master!” The old man called out as he ran toward the villa.
D’Jwan stood, waving his arms. “Here!”
His uncle rose to his feet as well. “What could have him so spooked?”
“We need to lock up our stores and see everyone to safety!” Malka jumped as if he were a scared cat while pointing out into the distance. “I saw them! The Amazons were scouting around the farm yet again. They will attack tonight!”
A sick feeling churned in his stomach. Had he led danger to his family’s door? The horsewomen had sent him home with his boots and tattered clothing and had given him food and water for the journey but had taken everything else. He had not carried anything of real value with him and they had certainly shown him generous hospitality in return so the loss of a few insignificant belongs and an old mule had not vexed him, considering what he had received in return. He glanced at his uncle, taking note of the older man’s worried expression.
“I do not doubt those women are capable of violence but I would be shocked if they sacked us. Still, I will not risk the well-being of our people. Instead of hiding everything, we will gather a tribute. Lock up everything else. Put the women and children on the highest, most-protected level of the main house and have our hoplites stand guard. I alone will greet the horsewomen, offer them food, drink, and hospitality. I am confident they will accept the tribute and move on without harming anyone.”
“The idea of you meeting them alone does not sit well with me, my boy,” his uncle began, shaking his head as he frowned. “But the decision is yours. Your words, my will.”
“You have my gratitude.” He waved his uncle toward his task to relocate the others.
* * * * *
AS THE WARMTH OF THE morning sun heated the back of his neck, D’Jwan blinked his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light. His first attempt to lift his head from the table in front of where he sat resulted in a splitting headache.
“Ugh,” he groaned, grabbing his temple and closing his eyes as he managed to sit upright in his chair. He smacked his lips, attempting to moisten the cracking dryness brought on by drinking enough wine for two people by himself. Frowning, he turned his head, glancing at the small cart loaded with fine fabrics, honeyed wine, olives and a few bright and gleaming bronze figurines created by local artisans. Why hadn’t they showed? He shook his head, grimacing at his own foolishness. And why am I acting as if they refused an invitation? I should be happy they declined to raid my villa.
“It would seem our worries were misguided.” His mother’s voice brought his attention to the middle-aged brunette now casting a shadow over him.
D’Jwan scowled. “Apparently so.”
His mother’s forehead creased as she raised her eyebrows. “If I did not know better, I would think you wanted them to raid us...”
He pushed his hair back from his forehead and groaned. “My skull feels as if it might crack open like an egg.”
“Our wine is the best but too much drink saps a man’s strength.”
He stretched his arms, pushing back his broad shoulders and sticking out his chest in an attempt to reconcile with the body he had so mistreated the previous evening. Passing out hunched over a table had left him stiff and sore from neck to ankle. Worst of all, he felt a fool and probably looked like one in front of his servants and field hands. No...the worst of the situation was the absence of Xia and the other three warrior women and his pathetic pining for them. He had only spent one night with them. They had deceived him, used him, stolen from him, and discarded him; yet his heart leaped at the thought of them.
He had ceased to be a naïve boy years ago, and as a wealthy landowner, he’d had a brush with many young women, but nothing like he had experienced with Xia and her crew. Their exuberant passion would remain etched in his memory for the rest of his days.
“Come now; up with you.” His mother urged him to his feet. “You need to take to your bed and sleep off the wine.”
His head swam but he managed to stand, leaning on the woman who brought him into the world. “Gratitude, Mother.”
* * * * *
A WARM HAND ON HIS bare chest and a sweet, womanly scent roused D’Jwan from a light slumber. His sight blurry, he blinked in an attempt to adjust to the bright sunlight pouring into the room through a nearby window.
“My lord, I brought you some refreshment.” The familiar voice belonged to Kes, a lovely chamber wench.
“I prefer you use my name.” He croaked out his words hoarsely.
She giggled, running her hand down across his stomach. “Your mother said you were suffering melancholy brought on by too much drink and...” Her fingers scurried down to the thin, summer linen covering his nakedness. “I would be most pleased to help lighten your mood.”
D’Jwan took her hand, holding her fingers his palm to stop her from exposing his sleepy manhood.
“My appreciation for the offer but my current disposition will not allow for strenuous activity.”
“No need for any.” Her brown eyes flashed with mischief as she lowered her head. “I yearn to serve my master.” She licked her full red lips, leaving no doubt of her meaning.
He considered taking her up on the offer but was well aware of how the experience would suffer in comparison to his evening with Xia, Kepes, Micah, and Scyleia. He shifted his hips to move his flaccid cock away from her face. “Leave me, please.”
Her freckled face colored with a look of disappointment as she flipped her tight brown braid over her shoulder. “By your command, master.” She stood and straightened her dress. She started to leave but stopped short. “I almost forgot.” She placed a small vial in his hand. “A potion from the apothecary to alleviate the pain born from too much wine.”
D’Jwan wrapped his fingers around the vial and nodded, and in return, she offered a slight curtsy before walking out of the room.
He rested his head on his pillow, holding the green-tinted glass container up in front of his face. He sighed, uncorking the vial before sniffing the contents. The potion bore a mild medicinal scent. He placed the container to his lips but pulled it away before partaking, considering perhaps he deserved the chisel-to-skull pain he was feeling for being a damn fool. The night he had spent with those four women would live forever in his memory but the beauties had likely already put the evening out of their minds.
Sitting upright, he drank the potion, gulping the fluid down quickly. He turned up his nose at the bitter aftertaste before standing and stretching. Finding a proper chiton, exquisitely dyed with bright colors and fit for any wealthy landowner, he dressed before crossing the room and stopping at the window to look out over the fields and vineyard. Why do I even bother to get out of bed and dress? This day will greet me with the same monotony as all those before. Aside from being born male so my mother could hold her station after the death of my father, what have I ever accomplished?
After nearly half an hour of wallowing in melancholy thoughts, D’Jwan made his way down to the veranda, passing by the square, rainwater-filled pool with its costly and decorative mosaic floor. He opened a curtain and stepped into an open-air parlor, where his grandmother sat enjoying the midmorning sun while sipping wine from a bronze goblet.
“Grandmother.” He greeted her fondly while taking a seat next to her chair. “How does the morning find you?”
“Better than it bids you, I imagine. Your mother spoke of how you looked at the crack of dawn.” The gray-haired woman cackled.
The warmth of embarrassment heated D’Jwan’s cheeks as her words rang their undeniable truth. “It would seem I am an unsophisticated and foolish young master.”
“Young, yes...foolish...that remains to be seen.” She laughed again while reaching over to pat his knee. “I take it Kes gave you what you needed?”
His eyes widened and he tilted his head. “Grandmother, please tell me you did not order that young woman to my room to service me like a common whore.”
She placed her hand on her chest and shook her head. “I merely had her bring you a medicinal remedy from the apothecary.”
“My apologies for my accusatory words.” He stared off into the distance.
“What troubles you, dear grandson?”
“I fear that my attempt to convene with your goddess to discover my true path was a failure. I have no more direction now than I had before I made the journey. I managed only to spend an evening consumed by debauchery, the memory of which shall never allow me any true peace.”
“Now, now, the Goddess works in ways you and I may not immediately understand. Think about all you learned that evening. I’m sure she left a message for you.”
D’Jwan threw back his head and laughed bitterly, his hair tumbling over his shoulders. “I learned I am bored and dissatisfied with my useless existence. I do nothing all day but selfishly allow others to serve me. Though she swears otherwise, Mother handles nearly all the management and seems insulted when I ask her about anything, leaving me to float in my cups or wade through the wet pleasures constantly offered to me by every milkmaid or serving wench in my charge. The only time she has use for me is when dealing with a merchant who believes doing business with a woman is beneath him.”
His grandmother laughed. “How horrible for you!”
Ashamed, he hung his head. “My apologies...I should not complain about having been born so blessed.”
“I understand. You feel stifled here. You have a wandering soul just as your father before you.”
“In truth? I never heard of my father leaving the villa for any length of time.”
“You were so young when he passed. Your father owned this land but he never worked the fields or the vines. He was a merchant, traveling from settlement to settlement to sell and deliver our wine and grain.”
Motioning to a servant waiting nearby holding a two-handled urn filled with more wine, he lifted his cup. “Arganus, I will have some drink.”
His grandmother held up her cup, gesturing for more after the young serving boy filled D’Jwan’s goblet. He took a sip, savoring the rich flavor before he spoke.
“Why do we no longer leave the villa to trade our goods?”
His grandmother twisted in her seat, smoothing out her chiton before answering. “Like you, your father was well educated and had mastered many tongues. He was able to negotiate with merchants at the docks in Greek or Latin, selling them our goods and purchasing wares from their homelands that he could then sell to the Scythians and Assyrians. When he passed, no one left here was well suited for the task, but our products’ reputation brought regular customers to our gates.”
He considered her words. “My appreciation for the information, Grandmother, but I must take my leave now.” He stood and offered a modest bow.
“Perhaps you part from me after reconsidering the acceptance of the sweet comfort offered to you by someone warm and soft earlier in the day?”
“Would that I could, but if your advice regarding my commune with your goddess holds true, I have much to ponder.”
* * * * *
THE WARM, MIDDAY SUN shone brightly as Xia and her warriors rode their horses back toward the villa where they had spied D’Jwan.
“Are you certain we will be well received?” Kepes’s steed kept time with Xia’s.
“I am sure of nothing except our need to get far away from those Tauri pricks.”
Micah groaned in annoyance, adding, “They proved a much more difficult target than expected.”
Scyleia agreed, offering, “I prefer not to have my head smashed as an offering to some virgin goddess.” Xia laughed, drawing Scyleia’s ire. “You think this is funny? The raid won us little more than an ass-kicking and we lost two horses!”
Xia lifted her leg, extending her foot to give Scyleia a playful kick. “I was laughing at the stupidity of their goddess. If I was a deity, I would fuck well and often.”
Laughter filled the air as the four horsewomen galloped along. They rode for a while longer until Xia noticed something of interest. “Warriors, does anyone else see what I am seeing?”
“I see a much softer target,” Micah purred with a smile.
Nodding in Micah’s direction, Xia signaled her agreement as she ordered, “Take Kepes and flank the cart. Scyleia and I will head in the other direction and pin them down. Rain some arrows overhead and see how easily the traveler scares.”
Micah tapped her horse with her heels, spurring the beast of burden on, and Kepes followed Micah’s lead. Scyleia smiled, pulling her bow while her horse took off.
* * * * *
THE HEAT OF THE DAY and the dust of the journey left D’Jwan’s throat so parched he had taken his eyes off the road to refresh himself with a swig from his wineskin and was distracted long enough for his horse to spook. Tightening his grip on the reins, he endeavored to calm the animal but the barrage of arrows flying over her head negated his efforts.
His heart pounded and his sweat dampened his clothes as his life flashed before his eyes. Just then, a horse and rider crossed his path and an arrow nearly parted his hair.
“Shit!” He pulled harder on the reins, gulping down the lump in his throat when he saw another rider headed his way.
A familiar voice called out a name he recognized and the puzzle pieces fell into place. Calling out as loud as his voice would allow, he yelled, “Xia?”
The sound of her yelling in her native tongue assaulted D’Jwan’s ears. Everything happened lightning fast, and he could not make out what was being said. Pulling the reins as hard as he could, he commanded his horse to slow to a stop but before the mare could obey, one of the riders had mounted her, pulling on her mane. He marveled over what he had witnessed for mere seconds before his horse-drawn cart was boarded, a knife to his neck. He closed his eyes, preparing to take his last breath when somehow the women managed to slow his horse to a trot.
“Why are you trying to kill me?” He asked in her language.
Yanking back the hood concealing his sandy locks and obscuring his face, Xia gasped, her gorgeous, dark eyes widening. She began calling off her hounds of war, yet forgot to remove the blade pushed up against his throat.
The air around them seemed to change as all the turmoil dwindled to a halt. Seeming to finally realize her error, Xia pursed her lips as she sheathed her knife.
“I offer gratitude for my life.” His nostrils flared as he huffed.
The other three women swarmed around, yelling questions to ascertain the reason their raid had been cut short.
“We thought you were some fat Scythian merchant.” Kepes offered as an explanation when she saw him but it would seem no apology was forthcoming.
“No, I’m a fit mixed breed—Greek and Roman.”
“A foolish one,” Xia added. “You ride out here with all this wealth, unencumbered by guards or escort of any kind?” She nodded toward the cart filled with barrels of wine as well as the six goats trailing behind the wagon and the two dogs herding them. “For what purpose...?”
Before she could finish her question, he pressed his lips against hers. She responded willingly, slipping her tongue inside his mouth as they kissed. Her palms scooted over his chest along the outside of his clothing, his nipples tightening beneath her touch.
Pulling away, D’Jwan puffed his chest with pride as he noticed her breathlessness. “Behold my dowry.”
“Dowry?” Xia scoffed, hitching an eyebrow.
“Six goats, a profitable trade route and regular hospitality at my villa—I’m a catch!” He caressed her knee.
“You speak nonsense.” Kepes’s gaze settled on his thighs before her cheeks reddened and her pupils dilated.
“How much longer do you think you can keep raiding this area before one of the magistrates or village elders sends soldiers after you? You women are fierce but you are only four.”
Scyleia shook her fist. “The four of us are worth twenty foot soldiers!”
“And what happens when they send twice that number?” D’Jwan shrugged.
Xia’s forehead creased as she eyed him with disbelief. “I told you. We will not give up our freedom and be bound to dirt. We would rather die fighting those soldiers to our last breath.”
“I would never dream of asking such. I plan to revitalize my father’s trade route but much has changed since he drew the map I carry, and the area has recently become quite dangerous. It would seem a horde of Amazons has been terrorizing all of Crimea.”
“What’s an Amazon?” Kepes asked, leaving her horse grazing to move closer to D’Jwan.
“That would be what the people in the settlements you have been raiding are calling you, spurred on by tales of fierce and beautiful but man-hating virgins.”
“Virgins.” Kepes snickered.
Scyleia’s head jerked back and she frowned. “Should we be insulted?”
Micah spoke up. “I like the sound of fierce and beautiful, but virgins is a ridiculous characterization.”
Xia sighed. “I still do not understand what any of your plans have to do with us.”
“I will need guards to see my investments are protected. I can think of no one better than the four of you. You challenged me to leave my home, sleep under the stars and make love in the great outdoors. I accept.”
“And what do we get out of this arrangement?” Xia folded her arms over her chest.
“A fair percentage of the profits.” He stroked the side of her face. Her confidence aroused him, making him longed to lay her down and push his cock into her.
“And what of this?” Kepes placed her hand over D’Jwan’s shaft and rubbed the length over the fabric of his himation. “I was not fortunate enough to ride you during our last encounter.”
He grabbed her nape, pulling her into a kiss as he bucked his hips, pressing his stiffening cock into her hand. Their tongues battled for dominance before they broke for air. “I would see you well satisfied.”
Xia chortled, shaking her head. “You would be the one to base your decision on the warmth between your legs, Kepes.”
“I will feel him between my thighs, as well,” Micah’s voice rang out plain and clear.
“My villa is not far. Let us return to finalize our plans.” He made a point to turn his head and take a few seconds to meet each woman’s gaze. “The four of you look as if you could use refreshment and rest.”
“We were in fact on our way to partake of your hospitality.” Xia licked her bottom lip as she watched the sway of his hips as he pressed his shaft against Kepes’s hand.
Taken aback, he jerked his head in her direction. “You were going to raid my villa?”
“No, we only intended to raid your body...and perhaps your wine stores.” Scyleia’s voice sounded seductive as her gaze groped his lower region.
“No marauding required. My heart would swell with joy at the opportunity to pay tribute to the goddess and her handmaidens.”
Kepes, Scyleia, and Micah looked to Xia, waiting for her reply. Tilting her head, she eyed D’Jwan like a hawk regards prey. She looked away as if contemplating the offer.
“We will have you mounting a steed and riding like a proper warrior in no time.” A smile curved her lips.
Kepes nodded excitedly. “And I will have you learning to keep riding even after I have mounted you!”
Xia wagged her head. “With that one, it always comes down to the ride!”
D’Jwan shared a laugh and a knowing look with her before he and the four beauties set out to return to his villa.
The End
About Sierra Brave
Sierra Brave is a southern girl with a love of fantasy fiction and well-written yarns spun from everyday situations. Her love for erotic literature started when, as a senior in high school, she managed to snag a copy of the old classic, Fanny Hill. Sierra still remembers how deliciously naughty she felt carrying her copy in her book bag and hopes all her readers will feel just as daring and liberated while reading her books.
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Sierra’s Book Series
Triple Passion Play – MFM & MMF Ménage
Horse Mountain Shifters – BBW + Cowboy Romance
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Fevered Dream
Copyright © 2017 Sierra Brave/Passion’s Paramour Press
Cover design by Sierra Brave
Stock Image from https://pixabay.com/illustrations/woman-warrior-elegant-beauty-546175/ and https://pixabay.com/photos/san-galgano-abbey-ruins-tuscany-1610962/.
Electronic book publication June 2017
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author/publisher, Sierra Brave.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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