The lioness was very obviously reluctant to see Voldemaras depart. She had asked him already to stay with her, and to remain with her as her mate. The young Reaver of the Stormborn pride had not even been faintly tempted by her request and refused her out of hand. Vol was young and he had his whole life before him. There was no way, by the Stormlords' balls, he was going to give up all of that just because some female asked him to. She was not even one of the Myrsky Syntynyt.
After his initial refusal the lioness, whose name was some ridiculous sounding combination of syllables that Vol could not even begin to pronounce and so he just called her Ratha, had switched from asking to begging. He had been less impressed by her begging than by her asking. She had even offered to go back with him and serve him as a Thrall. What sort of lioness with any self-respect begged someone else to take them back to their pride?
No, Ratha's pleas had not been able to sway him. When he continued to refuse her the lioness with the fiery markings had grown angry. She threatened to find him and do him harm if he left her, or to do herself harm. That had gotten a little bit more of a reaction from Vol, but it probably had not been the reaction she expected him to have. He had not acted with any sort of concern for her health and safety or his. He had instead told her that she was more than welcome to attempt to challenge him.
"If you can best me in battle, I will take you back to the Myrsky Syntynyt," he had told her while he laughed at the preposterous idea of a lioness besting him in a fight. "You will be a Freeborn after that, and allowed to do as you wish within the pride."
"And if I wish to be with you?" she had asked him, her voice painful to hear with its raw and earnest hopefulness. "Will I be allowed to do that?"
Vol had laughed harder when she asked him that. He was a callous and callow youth in many ways, and the way she wore her heart in the open, the way she had fallen in love with him so easily and so quickly, it was all a great source of amusement to him more than anything else. He had not thought to take a mate any time soon, but perhaps she would do as a saltwife, if she could beat him. She might be able to bear him strong sons, though he was now beginning to doubt that based on her clinging behavior.
"We might enjoy each other's company more," he allowed when his laughter subsided at last. "But I will take no one to mate as yet. I am young still, and I do not wish to enter into an arrangement I will later come to regret."
"You would never regret it. I know you would not," Ratha had insisted, looking up at him with a flirtatious gleam in her eye.
He preferred her that way, and could not help but grin. One thing was definitely true, and that was that this lioness, while inferior to a Stormborn in most other ways, was the best lay he had ever known, bar none. As a saltwife, she would probably be very pleasant, but he still didn't want any kind of a mate. Perhaps she could see that in his expression, or else she heard it in the tone he used when addressing her, but either way she did not press the matter of him staying or her joining him any further that day.
Instead Ratha had given him that arch look of hers which Vol thought made her look like she thought herself his superior. Whenever she wore that look Vol felt an irresistible, irrepressible urge to remind her that he was inherently her superior. He was male, after all, bigger and stronger, and furthermore he was a Stormborn Reaver. He may have been injured and helpless when they met, but that was no longer the case, and he delighted in proving it to her by an amorous show of force.
And maybe Ratha knew that, and had some hope that she could make him love her just by allowing him to assert his dominance over her in this way, but Vol would have none of that. He would have what he wanted from her as hard and as often as he wanted, but she would only have from him what he chose to give her. He chose to give her his affection and attention for the time being, and she should take it and be grateful.
Vol lunged forward, easily bringing the lioness to the ground for despite her size she was no warrior. In a few short minutes the pair of them were tussling in the grass and dirt, with Vol playing at allowing Ratha to escape, only to take her down once more so that he could pin her beneath him and take her in other, extremely satisfying ways. Afterward she lay still and sated while he paced in agitation.
It was not as if they did not enjoy each other. Vol had no doubts that he was capable of pleasing the flame-colored lioness when they were together carnally, and she most definitely pleased him. He really could not make himself understand why Ratha had to complicate everything by trying to bring emotions like love into the affair. If he was asked, he would admit that he felt gratitude toward her for aiding him in his recovery when his fellow Reavers had left him behind, thinking he had been killed. Gratitude and fondness were the only things he felt for her though.
He did not love her, and did not think he ever could love her, or anyone. He loved battle, the fury and the danger and the blood and the glory. Nothing, not even sex, could really compare to that great pleasure as far as Vol was concerned. He needed a lioness who could offer him both, really, and Ratha, while pleasant enough, was not that lioness. He would just have to tell her that, too.
Tomorrow.
