Chapter Fifteen
Blane’s finger absently caressed Ciara’s smooth flesh, tracing the naked globe of her breasts and collarbone. A soft moan escaped from her lips, and his cock jerked, ready to sample more of her unbridled passion. He’d felt like the monster he’d accused her of being when his cock had taken her innocence. But fuck, she’d come undone several times afterwards, matching his own passion without slowing or begging off as many women before she had done, unable to take what he offered.
Ciara was an enigma. A paradox of everything he’d thought she would be. He’d heard rumors, listened to the creatures who spoke of her sexual prowess and murderous seduction, and yet he’d taken her maidenhead. He’d taught her what sex was, and she held an innocence that had driven him to teach her several times throughout the night. The last time though, they’d returned to enemies, and he’d fucked her hard, and fuck if she hadn’t met him thrust for earth-shattering thrust each time.
Her violet eyes had lit up as she rode his cock, uncaring that her body would be sore today. He’d warned her, and she’d laughed, climbing on his body and demanding he give her more. Her tight pussy had made him weak, even to the point of losing control as her body grasped tightly against his cock as orgasm after orgasm had ripped through her beautiful curves.
What the fuck was he thinking? She was his prisoner, and yet last night she’d been his captor. Steam had filled the tent; her body had exuded it as she’d taken more of him than any other lover had managed to do before her.
His eyes slowly trailed down her nakedness, stopping at the thin dark patch of hair that was slick with arousal. She was built for savage, created to be fucked hard and often. She had decent-sized breasts, made to be held and caressed. Her hips flared, not too thin, but enough that he could grip them and use as leverage as he drove her to the brink of passion, and beyond it. And her fucking noises. The way her moans had filled the tent, driving him wild as she’d taken everything he could give and then asked him for more.
He moved his hand, pushing his fingers through her slick heat enjoying the groan that exploded from her lips. Her flesh was petal-soft, as if she’d been created from the most delicate flowers in Faery. She rolled over, letting her knees fall apart as his gaze slowly slid to hers. Violet eyes watched him, willing him to continue his slow discovery.
“Morning,” he whispered huskily, hating that he couldn’t prevent the thick lust from entering his voice. His head bent down, worrying her hard peak with his teeth as her fingers came up and threaded through his hair, holding him against her breast.
“Blane,” she murmured thickly, sleep creating a deeper, raspy tone that rumbled from her lips. Heavy eyes, hooded with lust and sleep, watched him as he lifted his gaze to hold hers. His teeth rolled her nipple as his tongue flicked against it.
His body moved over hers, spreading her legs further as he settled between them and pushed against her silken folds. One push and he was buried deep within her welcoming heat. She cried out, arching her back as her legs wrapped around his waist, adjusting to his thick cock, which throbbed at how tight her sheath was. Fucking hell, she was utterly perfect, fitting him like a glove as her body started to rock.
He didn’t move. Instead, he watched where they were joined as her red, sore pussy took him. She was swollen from his cock, and yet she had yet to complain to him about it or mention it. And he’d abused it; he’d taken her hard and dominated her for what seemed like endless hours. Time held no meaning as he’d given in to the pleasure her body gave him.
“Move,” she growled as her fingers slid between their bodies and she worked her clitoris in a circle. He grinned roguishly, pushing her hand away, only to watch it come back to work the same pattern against her swollen flesh. He pulled back, withdrawing from her pussy as he turned her over, spreading her legs wide as he pushed her head against the pillows.
His cock nudged against her sex, and she turned, looking back at him as if trying to guess his next move. He pushed into her body; deep, hard, and she screamed as he went deeper into her core than anyone else ever had. His hands bit against her soft flesh, holding her hips as he slowly withdrew, only to push in again. Her body grasped his hungrily, as if it thought to never let go. He groaned as her body grew slick from his cock, his hand slowly sliding up her spine, touching every raised point until his fingers threaded through her silky black hair, and pulled her head back.
The sound she made was ecstasy. The way her eyes dilated as she gave into passion drove him bug-fuck crazy to the point that he wasn’t sure he wanted to give her back. Her hips rocked, taking more as he let the dragon out to taste her unbridled passion. She whimpered and bucked for more, pulling a hiss from his expanding lungs.
The entire tent reeked of sex and her exotic island flowered scent that seemed to exude and grow when he fucked her. As if her body sensed a weakness and used it to hold him to her. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed as her cries and mewling noises brought him to the edge and left him hanging there. He never finished before the female; it was an unspoken agreement he’d made long ago. Yet here he was, ready to drain his arousal deep in her pussy.
Ciara threw back her head and howled as the orgasm ripped through her tight body without warning. She trembled and clenched around his cock, and he growled from deep in his chest as he found release in her tight wetness as it milked his cock as her orgasm lessened.
She collapsed against the bed and laughed, and his eyes narrowed at her. She turned on her side, glaring at him as a soft smile played across her lips. She looked like a seductress with her thick, silken hair spread out beneath her; sleep made her eyes seem darker, more alluring. Ciara was created to draw you in, and Blane knew how dangerous that was.
“Thank you,” he growled as he withdrew from her body and slid from the bed, walking to his chest to grab a change of clothes. “Always wanted to know what fucking something like you would feel like.” He mentally flinched as she stiffened at his words. She was his enemy, no matter how welcoming her body was. He needed to make her hate him, to keep her at arm’s length. When he was finished with this, she’d hate him anyway. She’d never forgive him for killing her brothers.
No, Ciara was his sworn enemy, and while he had no plans to stop fucking her, he would make her hate him. Her smile vanished as she pulled the furs around her and closed down. He had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“Stand up.”
“Go to hell,” she smarted off, her eyes dancing with anger.
“Get up, Ciara,” he demanded and watched as she stood, pulling the furs with her. Heat flushed her cheeks as she searched for the dress she’d worn, only to find it gone. “You’ll not find it here,” he admitted. “You won’t try to run from me naked. Not with the men outside this tent wanting to show you the same kindness your family showed to theirs.”
“Do what you will, dragon whelp,” she taunted as she dropped the furs onto the tarp covering the floor and moved to the post. She held them with her hands, spreading her legs wide as she lifted those violet zeniths to his with a coldness that made his stomach tighten.
He ignored her taunt, slowly moving to where she stood as he secured her arms and feet into the ropes. She refused to meet his gaze as he watched her. The subtle frown that filled her full mouth didn’t sit well with him. He stood back once he’d finished and stared at her body, red from her first night of passion. His chest puffed out a bit; the idea that he’d brought her into womanhood was exhilarating. Blane reached to touch her cheek, and she moved away from his hand, lowering her eyes as if she wished the floor would open and swallow him whole.
“It’s not personal.”
She didn’t speak, didn’t snap off with some witty comeback. Instead, her tear-filled eyes lifted and held his with an anger that bespoke what she felt. Whatever they’d shared last night was gone, ruined. The fire in her
eyes still burned, but it wasn’t with lust or need, it was hatred of how he’d twisted it into something ugly.
Not that he blamed her. He’d pushed her away just as he’d set out to do. He’d made her gift seem like less than it was. Cheapened what had transpired between them, and made it seem as if he’d just been having fun. Instead of what it had been; everything to her, it had been everything and more than he deserved.
No tears fell, as if she’d willed them to remain where they were. He turned away from her, unable to take any more of the disappointment he could see growing in her eyes.
“I’ll be back,” he announced as he slipped into his pants and pulled a shirt on over his head. Blane marched out of the tent as his own anger grew. He issued orders and stood there, bathing in the sun’s heated rays as he waited.
Mason brought the bucket of water and cloth he’d asked for; once he had them, he entered the tent. Ciara turned her eyes from him, shielding the fact that those tears had finally fallen to roll down her cheeks.
He set the bucket at her feet and withdrew the sudsy cloth to slowly wring it out as he stared at her. The water was cold, pulled from the manmade well they’d dug when they’d settled here. He didn’t allow her to prepare for the ice-cold water. Instead, he pushed the cloth against her swollen sex and stared at her as a soft cry left her lips. Her body jerked, pulling away from it. A violent tremble moved through her as her skin puckered from the chilled water.
He missed the hot springs they’d been camped beside last year. The dragon temple was his favorite place in this world, but her brother had ruined it when he’d proposed to his Goddess there. He’d watched from the shadows, intending to end this then and there, and yet he couldn’t. Instead, he’d watched them together, the way they moved, loved, and fuck if he hadn’t wanted to take it from that monster. To have someone look at him the way she had, or to scream his name as they had spent hours fucking, oblivious to his presence.
Blane had never watched anything like it, never cared to and yet whatever they had, he wanted it for himself. Absolute trust, the idea of controlling passion and feeding a woman that drove her to the edge of insanity and held her as she’d shattered and broken into a million pieces. He wanted that with another person, to share that type of bond with a woman.
It was one thing Blane had never been able to get out of his head. That fucking urge to find that one woman who could drive you insane, and yet you’d give anything for her. He stared between her legs, slowly washing them as he ignored her angry glare. Once he’d cleaned her sex and the sweat from her body, he stood up, staring down at her.
“Last night,” he started out, but her cold laughter stalled his apology.
“I’m Horde, Blane. It meant absolutely nothing,” she whispered in a cold, lifeless tone that made him flinch. “So now you know what it is like to fuck something like me, so at least we won’t have to deal with that again, right?” she continued as her eyes finally rose to hold his. Anger burned in the beautiful violet depths that held him prisoner, unable to look away from them. “Anything else?”
“No, I’ll be back later tonight,” he snapped harshly. “See that you don’t draw notice while I am out.”
“Why? Because your men might come in and find me naked? Or because once again I’ll be the perfect target for their assault? And if they rape me, I guess they too will know what it is like to be with something like me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ciara ignored the pounding pain in her head, the ache in her heart, and focused on the anger that kept her alert. She’d given herself to him, and while she wasn’t naïve enough to think it had meant something to him, he could have pretended otherwise.
A noise sounded from outside the tent, and she did her best to ignore it. The sound of horse hooves rumbled like thunder as if an army was returning. After hours of standing in place, tied to the post that was attached to the tent, she ached. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known was possible. Her insides ached from his cock. The muscles continued clenching, burning in a painful ache that she couldn’t ignore.
Blane had been gentle with her at first, and with every time they started up again, he’d grown rougher until the only thing she could do was moan and take what he gave. It had been more than she’d hoped for, more than she’d ever imagined was possible. And that stupid dragon had gone and made it into something dirty, something vile. He’d slapped her in the face with his words. Her gift felt wasted, soiled and unwanted.
With something like her? Asshole much? Maybe she should have let Synthia take her home. Perhaps she was wrong, and she couldn’t stop this before it happened. She was inexperienced, uncertain what he wanted, or how she could change his mind to change his course.
She had hundreds of brothers, and this one male seemed to push every damn button no matter how much she tried to ignore it. She’d been herself with him, and for what? She’d told him things about her and her family which would probably be considered treason. She’d done it to save him, to save his people. Had he cared? No.
Could he harm Ryder? If he was a demi-God as he said, it was possible. That meant she had to escape, she had to warn them of what he was, and what his plans were. Was she ready to admit defeat? No, but sometimes you couldn’t fix broken things. Blane was broken, but he also had vengeance in his heart, hatred for her people.
The flap to the tent opened, and Blane walked in, covered in blood. Her eyes swept over him for wounds, and her teeth worried her lip as she tried to figure out what happened to him without speaking to him. Her heart thudded, and he turned and let his eyes drift over her nakedness. Not one single soul had entered the tent while he had been gone, an order he had given, she was sure.
“You were left alone?” he asked as he lifted his stare to meet hers.
She refused to entertain his question, or even speak to him. She didn’t flinch from the heat in his oceanic eyes, or the blood spatter on his face. She’d seen her brothers return bloodied, or covered in blood a billion times.
“Cat got your tongue, princess?” he asked as he stepped closer and let his finger trail over her belly. She did her best to shrink from his touch, uncaring of the butterflies that erupted at his touch, or the heat that flared to life inside of her.
Her body arched, even though she’d tried to force it to go the other way. Her heart raced, driven by a need to find more of what he had given her. She jerked away, uncaring that the ropes chaffed her skin, and would leave angry red welts. His finger looped through the golden chain at her waist, pulling her back to him.
His throaty laughter forced her eyes to his, and whatever he saw, he didn’t like. He stepped back, licked his lips, and paused as if he would say something else then thought better of it. He stepped away from her, grabbing a sheet from the bed and draping it around her. He secured it tightly and then moved to the front of the tent, opening the flap to speak to the men stationed there.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized they’d have heard every single noise coming from the tent last night. Neither looked at her or said anything as they nodded to Blane before moving to follow his orders. She watched as a giant tub was carried in, and then bucket after bucket of water was emptied into it.
Unlike the castle where they could shower in the falls, or the rooms with modern plumbing, adopted from the human world, they lived as if the world had never evolved. Once the tub was filled with steaming water, the room emptied, and they were left alone again.
“You want to join me?” he asked, baiting her.
She eyed him, and then gave him a bored stare as she made herself busy looking anywhere but at him. He shook his head, slowly moving towards her as he held out his hands and untied the ropes. Ciara rubbed her wrist the moment she was freed, wincing at the raw flesh that ached and burned. Blane swallowed hard as he reached for her.
Ciara pulled away from him, ignoring his sig
h as she did. She clasped the sheet around her as she sat on his clothes chest, steering clear of the bed. She heard his clothing hitting the floor, and then the splashing of water as his big frame lowered into the tub.
Her wrists burned, not because of how tight he had bound her to the pole, but because she’d spent hours trying to escape from it. Just to be able to sit for a few moments. Her legs burned from countless hours spent on them. It shouldn’t burn, not after the endless hours she’d spent training, and yet the idle days were worse than anything she’d ever endured with Zahruk.
She missed them, more than she had imagined she could and only a few days had gone by. Ciara had grown used to their endless conversations, the times they spent together, doing nothing more than being together. Things she’d never been able to enjoy while she’d been sheltered in the pavilion, like family. Synthia had changed their world, made it a better place where she could move freely without feeling like her life was being controlled every second of every day.
She’d started sneaking out to see what Synthia’s world was like, to know where she’d come from and to understand it better. Of course, Ristan had always returned from it with wild stories, endless slang, and chatter about what was happening. She’d adored him for sneaking into the pavilion way before they’d left to find the one destined to save Faery as well. He was her brother, her teacher, teaching her words and how to pretend to be whole since he wasn’t even much better off than she was. Best of all, he’d brought television—or his version of it. They’d spent countless hours watching it, learning it, picking up words from it. Out of everything that came from there, it was her favorite.
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