A few of the women, maids and
household
servants,
nodded
and
immediately scurried about doing just
that.
Jaisyn turned and pulled her helmet
from her head. She was about to rush
to the armory when Malcolm stepped
onto her path.
“Your Highness,” he bowed. For
the first time, Jaisyn got a really good
look at him. Malcolm was drenched
with blood. It was on his shield, his
armor, everywhere but his face. That
held the grime of sweat and dirt. She
was barely covered in anything
because of the consistent ring that
remained around her during the fight.
At some point during the battle, she’d
spotted the Wolf, bloodied and still
seated above that grey beast, and
she’d prepared herself to attack him
once and for all, and have this over
with. Her eyes had barely been on
him for a few minutes before one of
her soldiers charged him. With a skill
born of many years of fighting and an
aching familiarity with his weapon,
Vulcan had easily cut through the
solider, making her flinch and even
curse when he was through with the
man.
“Please listen to a humble follower,
liege,” Malcolm was saying from his
position next to her. “The Morden
soldiers have the castle surrounded.
I’ve already sent warriors to escort
your sisters to the keep. Join your
sisters,
liege
, until we are certain that
the Morden army cannot penetrate
our barriers.”
Jaisyn shook her head. What he was
suggesting was preposterous. She was
Jaisyn St. Ives, the leader of the
Lytherians, the people Vulcan of
Morden now prepared to destroy. She
would not cower in the castle keep
while her men suffered through
dangers on her behalf. Malcolm’s jaw
clenched and unclenched, his lips
drew tight across his face. A strange
look entered his normally bright blue
eyes, making the pupil seem to glow
yellow for an instant.
“Jaisyn, I am not asking you.” His
voice was curt and his eyes dared her
to challenge him.
His tone was so shocking that at first
Jaisyn
did
not
recognize
he’d
addressed her in the familiar. When
she did, she drew herself up to her full
height atop the horse and hissed, her
face an impassive mask, “Malcolm, I
will excuse your tone because you
fear for my life. I will not make
another
exception.
Is
that
understood?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he
glared at her but after moments,
Malcolm bowed his head, and spun on
his heel. Jaisyn, still riled that he’d
addressed her as such, but knowing
that it was only because he cared,
nudged the horse to the stables and
called for a squire. She had more
important things to think about than
Malcolm’s antics. Now that her main
defense was completely breached, she
had to think of other ways of keeping
Vulcan of Morden from taking her
home, marrying her sister, and
bending her country to his brutal will.
***
Four days passed and the Morden
army was still camped about the
grassy hills and plains of St. Ives
Castle, far enough from the reach of
arrows but close enough to be ready if
the
Lytherians
lowered
their
drawbridge.
Vulcan’s
men
had
scouted the area and found that most
of the city inhabitants were either
inside of the castle or had fled to other
parts of Lytheria, not that he intended
to hurt them in any way unless they
threatened his men. They
were
going
to be his people soon. His men had
also found that there were numerous
lakes and streams, coupled with
different wildlife around the area,
making it one of the most comfortable
sieges that Vulcan had ever carried
out. Varian, meticulous thinker that he
was, had also predicted that any
amount of food supplies that the castle
contained would run low shortly. He
gave them no more than six days,
especially
as
the
siege
was
unexpected.
Night had come and Vulcan was
asleep in his tent. A few of his
warriors kept watch, but as the
drawbridge hadn’t been lowered in
four days, the threat level was much
lower. A sound, barely a whisper,
roused him from sleep. Years of
fighting wars had long taught him that
a deep sleeper was a dead man.
Someone entered his tent, careful
not to make a sound. Torches were lit
all over the camp, and he made out a
slight silhouette. A woman? Why was
a woman creeping about his tent? Did
the Lytherians use female assassins?
His entire body tensed as he waited to
see what she would do. With great
stealth and agility, she approached
him, staring in the direction of his face
as
she
contemplated
something.
Vulcan could not see her face but he
was certain that she was female.
He heard a slight scrape and knew
that it was the unsheathing of a dagger
even before he saw the deadly glint of
the curved blade.
An assassin, he thought with disgust,
waiting for her to make the move that
would seal her fate.
She raised the blade above his chest,
both hands clasped at the handle, and
as Vulcan was preparing to throw his
hand out and knock her backwards,
she placed the knife in her lap before
picking it up again. This time, instead
of holding it above his chest, she
moved to place it next to his throat.
Vulcan reached out and grasped her
hand, twisting it violently until she
shrieked and released the knife.
In the next instant, he was upon her,
his large body crushing hers into the
hard pallet upon which he slept. From
this position, he could make out some
of her features. She was obviously
Lytherian. Her darker coloring gave
her away and when he pulled at the
veil on her head, he recognized the
telltale golden hair of her people as
well.
“I did not know the Lytherians were
so cowardly as to use women in
battle,” he snarled in her ear. “How
many more of you are in my camp?”
When she didn’t respond, he picked
up the knife that she’d dropped and
pressed it against her throat.
“Open your mouth and speak or I
will slit your throat!”
Vulcan was murderous.
Women
!
Women were not meant to fight wars.
Women
were
child
bearers.
Nurturers
. They were not warriors
and they certainly were no match for
them. His people understood that
perfectly. He’d never imagined that
the Lytherians used women in wars.
“No—more—just—me.” Her words
were choppy and rushed, as if she
couldn’t breathe properly. Vulcan
adjusted his body slightly, enough so
that he wasn’t crushing her lungs.
She tried to scramble from beneath
him. Vulcan threw the knife down and
closed his large hand around her
throat, cutting off her air in a different
way. Her hands clawed at his even as
eyes, almost yellow in the soft light
cast by the moon, flashed angrily.
“Do. Not. Move. Understood?” he
asked and she nodded, still clawing at
his hand. He released her throat and
she drew in deep and long breaths of
air.
“They sent you here to kill me,” he
stated matter-of-factly. “How did you
get past the guards?” A new thought
entered his mind. Did she use her
wiles on his warriors and slit their
throats. “You Lytherian bitch! Did
you kill my men?”
She shook her head frantically and
said, “No. No. I swear it. They live.”
Vulcan scowled down at her. “If I
find my men dead, I will cut you into
pieces and send you back to the
castle.”
She began to struggle under him
once more and in the process, tilted
her hips up to his. Vulcan hadn’t had
a woman in weeks and the body
beneath him was very feminine. He
felt himself grow hard immediately.
Small but soft breasts pressed
against his naked chest, and narrow
hips cradled his. She was probably a
whore for the Lytherian soldiers
anyway. What difference would it
make if he took her, especially as
she’d almost killed him?
He leaned down to her neck and
inhaled. She smelled clean and that
was good enough for a sex-starved
king in the midst of a siege.
Vulcan placed his rough hands
against her breast and felt her jump
beneath him. He used his thumb to
caress her nipple through the material
of her gown.
“Wait, stop that—
stop
! What are
you doing?” she demanded furiously,
trying to remove his hand with her
smaller ones.
“I’m sure you know,” Vulcan
replied, moving his hand to the top of
her dress and giving it a massive yank.
The sound of tearing cloth could be
heard in the tent right before she
began to struggle. Although stronger
than he’d anticipated, Vulcan easily
restrained her. One large hand pulled
both of her hands above her head as
his other hand cupped a bare, soft
breast and his thumb circled her
nipple.
“You—you barbarian! Stop that! I
am not what you think! Stop it!” she
squealed under him, her voice
gradually growing louder.
“Continue screaming, sweetheart.
My men will want you after I’m
finished.” That threat did not go
unnoticed and she lowered her voice.
She continued to buck against him,
pushing her soft parts against the male
part of him that was currently doing
the thinking.
After a few seconds more of
fighting, the woman suddenly went
still. Vulcan decided the whore had
submitted to her fate and lowered his
head to a soft breast.
***
Jaisyn froze when her privates
bumped against something hard and
impossibly long. She wasn’t as naïve
as her younger sisters. She’d had
governesses and fine tutors who had
explained to her the different parts of
the human anatomy. What she had
not been told was that the male organ
turned that stiff or grew that long.
Was that even a part of his body?
As those thoughts ran through her
mind, Vulcan, her sworn enemy, the
man who she blamed for the death of
her brother, lowered his mouth to her
breast and began to suck. She’d only
seen babies suckle at their mother’s
breasts and a shocked gasp escaped
her. Jaisyn fought his hold on her
hands, straining to break loose.
Vulcan had to be some type of fiend
to think that—to think that…
Whatever she’d been thinking left
her. She was growing warm and
although not quite sure, she believed
that it had something to do with
Vulcan’s mouth against her.
Fearing her reaction more than
anything, Jaisyn began to struggle
once more, trying in vain to pull her
hands away from his large one.
Vulcan lifted his head from her breast
and tightened his hold on her hands.
Instead of returning to his head back
to her breasts, as she feared, Vulcan
did something that shocked her once
more into absolutely stillness. He
lowered his lips to hers, which she’d
opened to bargain her release, and
thrust his tongue into her mouth.
Horrified, Jaisyn did the first thing that
came to her mind: she bit down.
He immediately released her hands
and wrapped his fingers around her