He fastened her left wrist in the padded cuff beside her head. He leaned across her, deliberately brushing his chest against her breasts as he fastened her right wrist in a similar position.
He placed her feet in the stirrups and fastened the padded cuffs around her ankles, ignoring the faint tremor of desire in his hands. He paused before fastening slender cuffs up high around her thighs. He didn’t want Riana to lift up more than a few centimeters from the stone while he was punishing her.
Darias stepped back from his handiwork. She was spread out before him, her knees raised and splayed wide.
She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, her eyes gleaming with a brazen dare.
He relished that look, knowing before the night was over she would be screaming for satisfaction. A satisfaction that only he could grant her.
One that he would not.
By morning, Riana would have learned her lesson.
Darias leaned over her, touching her navel with the tip of his tongue.
A soft shudder ran through her.
Gods. She was so damn responsive. And it wasn’t completely due to punishment. He’d barely touched her. The soft, feminine fragrance of her arousal teased his senses. What would it be like to have her respond willingly? A tingle of warning lifted the hair on the back of his neck. He squelched it, licking a line up her rib cage to just below her right breast. He sucked the skin where her breast joined her torso between his lips, worried it gently with his teeth. He could control this.
Her heartbeat sped up.
He smiled then moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same treatment.
He lifted his head slightly and blew on her wet skin, tracing the outline of each breast with gentle puffs of air.
Her nipples tightened and she arched her back, offering them to him.
He moved away.
Her eyes shot open, her pupils large and unfocused.
“I can smell how much you want me,” he crooned. “Call out for me to suck your breasts. For me to put my mouth on your nipples and pull them inside to my heat. Yell for me, my little slave.”
Her gaze sharpened abruptly. “No,” she said with a betraying quiver in her voice.
He touched one finger in the wetness between her legs, a fleeting, almost-there touch and smiled. “You will.”
He licked and placed small, stinging kisses starting at her wrists, trailing to the soft inner skin of each elbow, and then to the vulnerable flesh where arm met shoulder. He followed the line of her neck and circled her ear with the tip of his tongue before darting inside for a fleeting taste. He felt more than heard the moan that vibrated in her throat.
The light flowery scent of her wove into his very being, calling to him, teasing him. Darias shook his head to clear it. He had to keep his attention on the point he was making. He was her master. She must obey him in all things.
He skimmed his hand down her side, his work- and war-roughened fingertips barely grazing her skin, then back up, circling her darkened areolas.
Chill bumps followed the faint trail his fingers had left on her skin. She tried to lift, again, tried to coax him into taking her into his mouth.
He moved away and looked down at her, waiting for her to open her eyes.
She turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.
He gripped her chin and brought her face back to his. “Ask me.”
“No.”
Zedpher’s balls. The woman had more will than most of his warriors.
“I won’t take your breasts into my mouth until you scream to the stars for me to taste you.”
“I’ll survive.”
But will I? Darias slammed his mind shut on the insidious question. Perhaps his warriors were right. Perhaps she held too much sway over him. His jaw tightened. He would crush this weakness. Riana would learn her place.
Once more he moved to stand between her legs.
She was wet. Feminine juices flowed out of her, seeping into the crack that separated the plump globes of her ass, and glistening on the illuminated rock.
Satisfaction speared through him, he would prove who was master here tonight. He spread the lips of her labia wide, running one finger from one end of her weeping opening to her clit. His wet finger circled her clit, the roughened skin of his finger teasing it. He dipped his finger inside her body.
The hot, wet tissues of her inner muscles clamped down on him, trying to pull him farther inside.
What would it feel like if she closed around his cock like that?
The unthinkable nature of the question shocked him to his senses. Detachment settled over him like a mantle and, instead of working his finger in and out as he’d hungered to do mere moments before, he held it perfectly still against the pull.
“Nooo,” she moaned before she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
Light glistened on the flushed and swollen petals of her labia, on the engorged clit fully out of its hood.
That fast, a tangle of lust and need stormed through the aloofness that finally, thankfully coated his reactions. A part of him stood aside, infuriated at his lack of control, knowing exactly where the blame was to be placed. The other part cared naught. It craved nothing more than he bury his face between her legs, taste the salty sweetness of the flood of wetness from her opening. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and toss her onto his mattress, bury his cock to the hilt so that his balls slapped her ass with each hard thrust.
If she learned of his weakness, she’d rule him.
As much as that thought bothered him, it was another that let him overrule his lust, coat it in a layer of ice that gave him a semblance of his normal control.
Nexar, the one thing he lived for, and would die for, would tumble into chaos if he were to give in.
And if that control was shaky? No one must ever know.
No one.
He leaned down and nipped the inside of her thigh.
Her inner muscles began to quiver around his finger. The line of her slender body stretched taut, and she shook.
He withdrew from her.
“Zethra, no!” Her shout echoed into the night. “Darias, don’t stop now,” she panted. “I’m so close to coming!”
He placed his hand over her stomach. “You will not come because I forbid it.” Beneath his palm he felt tiny shudders and waited until they subsided.
Not giving her time to catch her breath, Darias lowered his face between her legs, nipping the curve of her ass before lapping at her juices. With the methodical thoroughness that was an intrinsically part of his nature, he tasted every part of her sex. He took the swollen fullness of one fold of her labia between his teeth and tugged with the utmost gentleness.
Her hips jerked. She tugged at her restraints. “Damn you, Darias, don’t do this to me. Don’t make me burn like this without giving me some relief.”
Her labia still between his teeth, he flicked his tongue back and forth against her captured flesh. He plunged two fingers deep inside, not pausing in his sensual torture, curving them and raking them gently against the walls of her vagina.
Shivers ran continuously through her, getting stronger and stronger with each stroke of his fingers.
Only when he felt her orgasm inexorably building toward culmination, did he stop.
Darias lost count of the number of times he had her on the edge of an orgasm, only to halt before she flew over. Lost in her taste, in the power he had over her, he exulted in the way her hips would strain toward his mouth, the way her thighs quivered and tensed, the way she tossed her head back and forth.
But even as caught up in her taste, the scent of her, as he was, he never let the reins of self-control fully slip. Secure in the knowledge he could touch her as much as he wanted, in any way he wanted, and no one would be the wiser as long as he stayed the one in command, he covered her clit with his mouth, worrying it with his teeth then soothing it with his tongue. He plucked at her nipples, taking the hard nubs between the tips of his fingers an
d rolling and pinching them.
Her body arched as much as her restraints would allow her. Incoherent pleas and threats for him to let her come poured forth from lips swollen and red from her own teeth.
The sun was partway above the horizon when it slowly penetrated the fog in Darias’ head that the time for punishment was already past. Straightening, he looked down at Riana. Sometime during the night, he had stretched her arms above her head and maneuvered the stirrups so that her legs were up in the air, her feet behind his head.
Her labia was flushed darkly red with arousal. Her scent was on his hands and on his face. In the cool, fresh air of the new day, all he could smell was the extremely female smell of Riana.
She stirred. Her lashes lifted to reveal passion-dilated eyes. She wet her lips. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “One day you will regret taking me as your slave.”
He stood there another moment, looking at her, then he touched the tips of his fingers to that mass of flaming hair. Before he left, he loosened her bindings.
It wasn’t until he reached the door to their quarters that he realized she had never asked him to suckle her breasts.
* * * * *
Darias tightened the girth on Shagra with a savage tug. The chelan snorted his displeasure over the inconsiderate treatment. A pang of guilt smote Darias and he patted the heavily muscled neck of his mount. “Sorry,” he muttered. The surprisingly delicate head nudged him in acceptance of his apology.
It wasn’t his old friend’s fault that he was in such a foul mood. No, that fault lay directly on the slender, seductive shoulders of his slave. Less than an hour ago he had left her too exhausted and too sensitized to even close her widely splayed legs.
Darias shifted uneasily. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was the one who had lost that battle, even though Riana’s pleas had echoed throughout the center courtyard of the keep. Several of his warriors had given him approving smiles as he made his way to the stables, despite the fact he did not have Riana on display in the Great Hall as was custom. Darias had ignored them all, intent upon escape.
He grimaced. Like a defeated warrior, he was slinking away from the scene of battle, escaping to lick his wounds and regroup.
He needed time to think, time away from Riana before he gave in to the overpowering urge to fuck her until they were both too tired to continue their private war.
He needed time away from her to regain full control.
Not even to Gaith could he admit just how wrong punishment had gone last night. A warrior was supposed to remain aloof while punishing his woman, distant from the very arousal he was forcing on his woman. Several times he had almost brought Riana to culmination. Even now he was not certain how he had had the presence of mind to refrain.
It had been too damn close.
He bent and scooped up the saddlebag, slinging it over Shagra’s broad back. The aircycle was faster, but this morning for some reason the rhythmic gait of his chelan appealed. He secured the saddlebag. Several days in the mountains ought to clear his mind and allow him the distance necessary to understand just what Riana did to him. Understand and control his mad impulse to lose himself in her heat and her scent.
Gathering the reins, he swiftly mounted and turned the animal’s head toward the huge gate. The sun had not even cleared the walls of the compound. The day was still cool, with the moistness of night lingering. Darias knew that within a couple of hours, every sign of coolness would be burned away, leaving the scorching heat of the drought, and he didn’t want to be caught in its furnace blast.
They had gone no more than three steps when he heard Gaith shouting. He sighed, reining in Shagra and waited for his first-in-command to catch up with him.
“Darias.” Gaith ran down the steps of the keep. “My lord. Hold.” The warrior caught up with Darias and slid to a halt, putting one hand on the chelan’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Hard impatience laced his voice. He didn’t care. He wanted to be gone before Riana had chance to recover enough to taunt him with her body.
“Trade strike,” Gaith answered succinctly.
“Shit.”
Gaith turned and started toward the stable without looking to see if Darias followed. “The builders’ guild refuses to start any new work or complete any work in progress. The shopkeepers’ guild says that the agriculture guild has been taking advantage of the drought and eating into their profit. The artisans’ guild is vowing they will—”
“Do they understand the magnitude of a strike during a drought?” Darias interrupted. The long legs of the chelan outpaced Gaith, and Darias reached the stables several strides ahead of his warrior. “The economic repercussions for everyone?” He swung down from his mount, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“They understand that without their cooperation, the economy will fail. They understand that gives them power.” Gaith began unsaddling Darias’ mount.
“Have you discovered which of the guilds is behind this strike?” Darias was already striding back toward the keep even as Gaith slipped the bridle off the chelan and turned the stallion into a stall.
“Not yet.” Gaith hurried and fell into step alongside Darias, his usually cheerful face grim. “They could hold you hostage to their demands.”
The smile Darias gave his first-in-command made the other man fall back a pace. “Only if they have a taste for blood.”
Darias pulled open the massive wooden door to the keep. “I want you to call together the leaders of all the guilds.” He stifled a sigh and turned back to his friend. “And bring Riana to me in the Great Hall.”
Chapter Six
Riana kept her eyes defiantly high, fighting a rising tide of uneasiness as she worked her way through the throng of people in the Great Hall. It had been three days since her punishment in the garden, and Darias was still in the keep. Why didn’t he leave?
Not that Riana saw much of him. Other than ordering her to attend him in the Great Hall the morning after her punishment, he’d kept conspicuously busy. Coward. She was still riled over the mortification he’d put her through that day.
Darias had put her on display beside him on the dais like a prime riding chelan on a Gregorian auction block. She’d been forced to display the lingering agony of unfulfilled desire while the warriors in the wall watched, not even trying hide their satisfaction.
That ridiculous excuse for an outfit she was required to wear had served a dual purpose—to reveal her continued arousal and to prolong it. The soft silk rubbed against her distended nipples, had kept them in a state of arousal while the open girdle that rode low on her hips and trailed intimately between her legs, not only accentuated each rounded curve of her buttocks but stimulated the tab of hidden flesh.
Darias had given her no place to hide.
Worse than facing the warriors and servants, however, was facing the women. Despite her vow to remain silent, her screams and pleas had echoed from the battlements. She hadn’t been able to help herself she’d been so frantic with the need for release. Each and every one of them understood intimately what she was experiencing.
Their pity was unbearable.
Riana’s hands clenched at her sides and her throat ached anew with the urge to rage at Darias. He’d wanted to make it clear to warriors and women alike, the price she’d paid for not conforming to Nexarian ways.
What he hadn’t counted on was setting fire to her desire for revenge. Now, more than escape, she craved vengeance.
Ripples of excitement fanned out from the knot of men in the center of the Hall. The ripple became a wave and, amidst the cacophony of male voices, Riana heard just one word clearly, “Challenge.” She turned to the nearest woman.
“What’s going on? What is this about a challenge? Who is being challenged?” she whispered. A week ago she wouldn’t have even thought about lowering her voice, but that last punishment had managed to teach her a measure of caution if not resignation.
“A Battle of Honor is going to ta
ke place.” The woman bowed her head, using her hair as a shield.
Riana realized she was afraid to be seen talking to her. “A what?”
“A Battle of Honor. A warrior has taken exception to the Supreme Chief’s order. A warrior has foolishly allowed his anger to better his judgment.”
“You mean that because some warrior has spoken his mind, Darias is going to fight him?” Riana asked, incredulous.
“It is a matter of honor. A challenge has been issued and must be answered.”
Riana was still busy trying to take in what she’d just learned. “So, what you are telling me is Darias, the Supreme Chief,” she corrected, “would lose face if he allowed a challenge to go unanswered?”
“The Supreme Chief’s word is law but, unlike his father, he allows the ancient rite of Challenge. He maintains his authority while showing he respects disagreement.”
“I see.” Riana tapped her bottom lip with the tip of one slender finger. “Tell me. Are women allowed to watch?”
“Yes. It is encouraged as a Battle of Honor is meant to be observed by all.”
“Come on. Let’s go.” Riana slipped between two hulking warriors, intent on finding a more advantageous site from which to view the match. “This is something I wouldn’t miss for all the profit in a hold.”
As luck would have it, she found a spot right up front. Riana claimed it despite several disapproving looks from nearby warriors.
A circle roughly ten meters in diameter was quickly cleared. Darias and his opponent stripped to the waist. Gaith attached a small, circular device to each man’s back.
“What are those?” Riana asked, as the other woman came up beside her.
“When a man’s shoulders are pinned to the floor, they signal the end of the match.”
“Hush, women.” A warrior standing next to Riana barked out the order. She shot him a resentful glance from under lowered lids but continued watching in silence.
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