Hoshor Plains [m] owner of a lonely heart

He stood over her, and Tomahawk had flashbacks to her interlude with Lavakho. Her heart beat faster, a mixture of fear and yearning flushing through her blood. She wanted to protest further, to say that it was he who had approached her, but she knew nothing would appease him. Now she wondered how he would react to the children given to her by the coyote. Tomahawk pushed the thought far from her mind, melting beneath the Khal.

"Lavakho," she blurted, knowing that no matter what the Khal asked of her, she must obey. He reigned supreme, and she was to follow his orders above all others. "I'm sorry, master. I'm so sorry I did not know. Lavakho, he wanted this from me, and so I obeyed." It would be a lie to say she had not liked it. Tomahawk had reveled in his touch, her own whimpers of pleasure had been so loud Lavakho had feared she would wake the Khal. "What must I do? Can you ever forgive me?" she whimpered, still trembling beneath him. Had she known that bed slaves were frowned upon, she would have taken herself elsewhere. Lavakho had led her to believe that he wanted this. Her plan had been to escape them before they had found her scent, but they had been too quick, and she had been too late.