He said nothing
as she turned from the enclosure of his embrace onto her side, facing away. He
pulled her tightly against him, smoothing her hair from her shoulder and neck.
Cradling her, his arm draped around her waist, he seemed at ease, but she
couldn’t ignore his subtle reaction to her rejection. Had she, a mortal woman,
hurt the mighty lord of the hunters?
She should have
felt pleased that he understood her, but it left a hollow feeling in her chest.
Behind her, he
continued to hold her, and when she shifted on her hip, it brought him into
full contact with her naked bottom. Immediately, she felt his reaction to
their skin melding together as if one.
Heat blossomed in
her center, igniting her nerves to sensitive heights.
She might not
want the intimacy of his kiss, but she could not deny that she enjoyed the
loving of his body. What if it was the last time she could be with him? What
if he never returned? Would she want his last memory of her to be of utter
rejection?
Still, she could
not bring herself to give in to his kiss. She had to keep one part of herself
aloof from his spell.
Lazily, he
smoothed a hand down her flat stomach to her nether region, toying with the hair
that covered her pussy. Already she was wet and ready for him.
The tension of
his body increased, his warm, rough fingers seeking the cleft hidden by her
dark folds.
His mouth sought
and found the back of her ear, nipping the tender lobe as he circled her clit,
rousing her body to arch against him.
The dig of his
cock into her softness made her melt. Fire ignited in her veins.
She breathed
heavily, moaning when he spread her buttocks and nudged her opening from
behind. He lifted her knee, opening her thighs wide as he pushed a leg between
them and forced his cock within her wet slit. His shaft burrowed slowly inside
her tight muscles, caressing hidden nerve endings that lit a fever in her
blood.
Perspiration
dampened her flesh as lust fueled her passion.
“Raphael,” she
murmured, angling her head so he could kiss and nibble her jaw.
She propped her
foot on his hip as he worked deep inside her and pumped his hips, leisurely
working his cock in and out of her.
Swan hadn’t
experienced his slow loving or expected it. She thought it easier to adjust to
rough and fast and hard—this felt too much like love-making, gentle wooing.
The urge to pull away was great, but then so too was the desire to reach
culmination with him.
She panted and
whimpered, fighting for breath as he sank full length inside her. The grip he
held on her hips was powerful. She bucked against him, shuddering.
He sucked her
jaw, nibbling and tasting her with his tongue. His fingers skated her hip,
roaming around to rub her exposed, swollen clit in time with his strokes.
Her mouth opened
on a passionate cry. Overriding pleasure so great came upon her that she could
do nothing but give in to it, allowing his passion to consume her.
Her inner muscles
contracted around him as he increased his speed and depth in her slick
channel. Her body struggled, eager to reach the orgasm she knew would come,
the ecstasy that could destroy the tenuous hold she had over her emotions.
Each encounter weakened her to him, desire warring with sense.
He pushed her higher,
hotter, and harder. Dimly, she recognized her own desperate, agonized moans
filling the room. His thrusts pushed searing pleasure through her nerves.
Every muscle in her body tightened and clenched. Ripples spread through her cunt,
her belly, and legs, igniting through her body with such force she thought she
would explode.
Ecstasy so
explosive crowded out everything else, all other sensation. Distantly, she
heard his own hoarse shout as he reached release with her. His semen erupting
inside her quivering pussy pounded inside her, leaving her aching and trembling
from overpowering pleasure.
Raphael held her
tightly as their bodies returned to normal, not allowing her to escape the feel
of his pounding heart against her back, the crush of his muscles and the
tightness and strength of his arms. The warmth of his body against her felt
too right, too good.
She did not want
to admit that she would miss him when he was gone. Unfortunately, she thought
there was a great chance that she would.
* * * *
Swan awoke to the
scent of freshly cooked bread and fowl wafting in a delightful haze round her
nose. She slowly opened her eyes to see a steaming plate of food sitting on
the table near the bed, and Ashanti preparing to leave.
“Wait. Ashanti,
please, stay with me. I miss the company of women.”
Ashanti turned
from the door and smiled, returning to the hearth. “As you wish. I admit I
feel the loneliness at times.” She sat heavily in a chair, propping her hands
on either side of her swollen belly.
Swan returned her
smile and sat up in bed, silken covers tucked around her chest, her hair a mass
of tangles.
Ashanti talked of
her child and Blasien’s excitement over the babe, his plans for expanding his
holdings. She couldn’t help noticing Ashanti was younger than she, and soon to
be a mother. Like as not, Swan would have no such similar fate. The thought
should not disturb her as it did, but she couldn’t help being reminded of
Raphael’s seed washing her womb. But then, shifters could not mate with
humans--everyone knew that.
Swan turned her
mind from the disturbing thoughts, concentrating on eating. She nibbled at the
food on her plate, grateful for Ashanti’s consideration in bringing food to
her. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten so well as she had
these past days. Knowing it was the next night, however, she wondered if her
plans had gone awry before they even had a chance to be implemented. If
Raphael was gone....
“Has Lord Raphael
left?” she asked, casually taking a sip of wine.
“Syrian has not
yet arisen. I know they plan to leave you.” Her fine, arched brows drew down
in displeasure.
“I see you feel
much the same as I.” Swan hesitated a moment, wondering the wisdom of pursuing
her plans. She felt instinctively that Ashanti could be trusted. Finally,
believing it could do no more harm, she said, “I know it is forward of me, but
can I ask a favor of you?”
“An inkling
germinates.” She grinned. “Ask.”
Swan set the
plate aside, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Could you help
me outside ... to leave I mean? I do not intend to be abandoned.”
“Shhh.” Ashanti
held a finger to her lips. “Do not think loudly.”
Swan affected a
blank stare, wondering if Ashanti had gone suddenly daft. How could she think
loudly?
“I warned you
before they could know your mind. With distance, it lessens, but we can take
no chances he will hear your thoughts.”
Again with old
fables, but Ashanti had reacted so strangely she couldn’t help but wonder if it
held some merit. “How can I tell if he ... well....”
“Reads your
thoughts? If you concentrate, you feel a tickle, a buzzing, like an insect.
Long was my time here before I realized Blasien had this gift and would
routinely use it against me, or to his benefit. All beastmen can, though some
are stronger than others. It is how they communicate when they shift.” She
hesitated. “I should not say this, for I don’t want to frighten you, but
Raphael’s powers are ... different ... vampiric. He can control the weak
willed with his mind. I know not the extent of his gift.”
Suspicion dawned
at Ashanti’s description. That nagging sensation when she’d slept.... Swan
frowned. The fantasy she’d had before, of Raphael coaxing her desire in what
seemed an eternity ago. Had he, in fact, invaded her dreams? Ashanti’s
serious expression lent credibility to her charge. Raphael had pressed
advantage while she’d changed, with no reason but to see if she would relent.
How dare he?
If she’d had any
doubt of proceeding, it disappeared with that revelation.
“I think we will
be safe if we hurry. It is past time these men learn a lesson in respect.”
Swan agreed
whole-heartedly. Ashanti struggled to her feet, going to the door. “I will be
back in a moment.”
Swan hurriedly
finished her meal, and afterwards, brushed the tangles from her hair as she
awaited Ashanti’s return. Knowing the long tresses would hinder her, she
braided her hair in a coronet about the crown of her head.
As she finished,
Ashanti returned, grinning wickedly, her arms loaded. “Get dressed. It’s
designed for travel and protection. Blasien had it made for me. You and I are
of a size, or would be were I not with child. They should fit.”
Swan picked at
the mass of metal and furs warily, unsure. She’d never worn armor of any
description before. What she had seen was very complex, near impossible to put
on by oneself.
“I’m not certain
I can handle this alone.”
Ashanti waved her
concern away. “It slips on. There are no buckles save at the neckline to
worry over.”
She looked up
from the pile, seized by a thought. “Can you get me a blade?” Raphael would
soon know her skill. She’d trained with one from the time she was old enough
to wield one.
“I believe I can
find one. It’s rare to use blades in Shadowmere, but there were some from the
war stored in an old weapons room. I’ll not return until I’ve found
something.”
After Ashanti had
gone once more, Swan stood and examined the pile she’d been given. She’d
likely not be able to move once dressed. Trust a man to give a woman such
unwieldy garments.
She picked up a
mail skirt, lined with heavy flesh colored fabric, and slipped it over her
head. The skirt dropped down to rest on her hips. It was lighter than she’d
first supposed, easy to move in with the short length that barely covered her
thighs. Next, she tied a wide scarf around her breasts, similar in color to
the skirt’s lining, and pulled the chain top on, buckling the neck piece in the
back. She was taller than Ashanti, and the mail left a thin band of her waist
exposed when she stretched, but otherwise, the mail fit as though made for
her. She had some doubt, given its light weight, that it would protect her
from a heavy blow, but it allowed some protection regardless.
Looking down at
herself, she couldn’t help but notice it looked as though she wore nothing
beneath the mail but her own skin. The chinks were wide enough to show
glimpses of flesh and lining. She wondered if perhaps the outfit were more for
titillation than protection, but shrugged it off.
As Swan finished
slipping her boots on, Ashanti returned and presented her a sword. She took
it, examining its workmanship in the light. It was short and light for easy
carry. Running a thumb down the silvered edges, she also discovered the curved
blade was sharp enough to slice through silk ... or flesh with equal ease.
Ashanti helped
her buckled it around her waist. She was as ready as she would ever be. She
only hoped when Raphael discovered she was following, he wouldn’t offer
unpleasant repercussions.
Ashanti held a
finger to her lips for silence, then bade her follow. After a quick glance
down the hall, assuring no one was there, they left, each taking a torch for
light. The night was young, but it would be dark as pitch outside until the
moons rose.
Moving with quiet
stealth, they crossed intersections of large corridors until a downward channel
emerged from the labyrinthine passages. The faint jingle of her mail made her
grit her teeth with fear of discovery, but Ashanti led her down a seldom used
corridor where none dwelt. Dust stirred at their passing, a testament to its
lack of usage.
Swan realized as
they continued that Ashanti was leading her to the belly of the castle. The
air grew steadily cooler at their descent until she was certain they walked
below the earth. The torches illuminated but a small circle, and she was
dependent entirely on Ashanti’s guidance.
A grate came into
view as the passage narrowed to a dead end. Cut into the wall, she could see
nothing past the metal slats but wet darkness beyond.
“This is as far
as I dare take you,” Ashanti said, whispering as though someone would overhear
them. Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the heavy bolt and pulled it
open with Swan’s help. “The path is straight and true. Follow and it shall
lead you up past Ravenel, a league’s distance.”