Guardian of the Storm by Kaitlyn O'Connor Page A

her book.
    “They are mounted on aquestans . If they were on foot, as we are, we might have a chance of evading them.”
    He might have a chance. He didn’t need to say it for her to figure out that having her along was enough to doom both of them. “You go then. I’ll …uh … hide here. I’m not Zoean, not an enemy. Maybe they’ll just ignore me.”
    “You are female.”
    “You think they could tell that from that distance?”
    “I could.”
    “That’s because you know,” Tempest pointed out testily. “You didn’t know at first.”
    “Because I could not see you well.”
    “Arguing isn’t going to get us any where.”
    He smiled faintly at that, studying her sharply for several moments. Abruptly, he grasped her, pulling her tightly against his length. Before Tempest could even wonder what he was doing, he dipped his head and pressed his lips firmly to hers. A combination of surprise and pleasure jolted through her, making her toes curl in the sand. She gasped, grasping his shoulders. He touched his tongue to her lips, testing the sensitive flesh where her lips met, tasting her, and then plunging past that barrier to taste and explore the exquisitely sensitive inner surfaces of her mouth.
    Tempest was both shocked and enthralled at the intimacy of his touch, captivated by the rough rake of his tongue along hers. His taste, his scent, filled her with a delightful sense of floating, a dizzying rush of heat. The muscles low in her belly clenched, a warm wetness flooding her sex.
    When he released her almost as abruptly, Tempest swayed dizzily, opening her eyes with an effort.
    “I will not allow harm to come to you, little grat. I swear it. Stay close.”
    Tempest smiled at him a little vaguely, still too caught up in the sensations he’d created inside of her to spare much thought for danger, real or imagined. “I’m not a grat,” she said teasingly. “I’m a storm. Remember?”
    Kiran frowned, studied her searchingly for several moments and finally thrust her away from him. Turning, he pulled his weapons and planted his feet wide, waiting.
    Thrust abruptly back into reality, Tempest realized belatedly that it wasn’t merely her heart she heard thundering in her ears. It was the approach of riders, many riders.
    Almost as if her mind had conjured them, they crested the rise at that moment. Shrieking like demons, waving their own weapons threateningly, they plunged down the dune to where Kiran stood waiting—one man against nearly a dozen. Tempest’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins, her muscles seized, leaving her little more than a breathing statue as the horde thundered down upon them. Her mind screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t command her feet to move.
    The first clash of metal against metal shook her from her stupor, but by then it was far too late. The Mordune surrounded them, jockeying for a position to trade blows with Kiran. Seeing that she was unarmed, one man shot past Kiran’s determined blows, grasping a handful of her hair. She screamed, grabbing his hand. Almost in slow motion she saw Kiran glance toward her, saw Kirry race toward her from out of nowhere and launch herself at the man who’d grabbed her.
    “No!” Tempest screamed, reaching toward Kiran as if she could stop the vicious blow of the man who’d taken advantage of Kiran’s distraction.
    Kiran ducked, swinging at the same moment and, to Tempest’s relief, managed to block the blow. She was released abruptly, and landed in a heap on the sand. Looking up, she saw that Kirry was moving over her assailant so fast she was little more than a blur of motion as she shredded the man’s flesh from his back, arms, and head. She was tempted to urge the little beast on, but as another Mordune surged forward, his arm raised as if to cleave the little grat in two, she jumped to her feet and reached toward the grat. “No! Kirry!”
    Startled, the grat’s head jerked toward the sound of her voice. In the next instant, it