by Alexia Praks
“How will I make your pearl?” she asked absentmindedly. “If there is only one Pearl of Life?”
“There will be another,” he said quietly.
She glanced up at him then, wondering how there could be another Pearl of Life when only two already existed in the realm of the nine kingdoms. There was the white one, which belonged to Drake himself, the one she’d stolen and now lost. There was the blue one, which belonged to Marcus Arthur, the exiled demon prince who desired to claim the throne.
A gust of cold breeze blew across and Cecelia shivered. Drake noticed and drew her closer to him, leaving one arm over her. With her face snuggled against the base of his neck, she suddenly wondered why he should act so chivalrous by protecting her against the cold.
As though he understood her thoughts, Drake said, “I will not allow you to be sick and unable to sire me another pearl.”
Cecelia bit her lip and wondered yet again how she was to sire, as he so called it, him another jewel. But she didn’t argue with him and, instead, rested her head against his shoulder, her face snuggled against his chest, and closed her eyes as she was suddenly very exhausted and felt very dizzy. Before long, the world around her slipped away into a fatigued darkness.
When she came to, she was in a large, luxurious bed. She had difficulty breathing and her head was aching. She groaned and sat up, wondering where she was. She noted the chamber was enormous, beautifully designed with dark blue and gold. The bed was as soft as a goose feather beneath her and she knew she must be in one of the guest rooms or—
She turned to her right and saw Drake by the window, watching her.
His. But how? Why? Shouldn’t she be in a dungeon? Then her stomach knotted as he paced toward her.
He seized her wrist and pulled her to him. She fought to free herself, but it was to no avail as he was so much stronger than her with that momentous, powerful demon strength of his and she was but a mere human girl.
“Stop fighting me, sweetheart. You will only tire yourself,” he said coolly, his warm breath caressing her skin. He carried her in his arms and paced to the door leading to the adjoined room.
Cecelia found it was a bathroom, beautifully designed and decorated. There was a big built-in bath made of white marble. In it, fresh water flowed in from the mouths of cupids and fairies.
He put her down and began to undress her.
She twisted around so fast her head spun from the speed of it. “What are you doing?” she asked, unable to hide the fear within her voice.
“A bath,” he said simply and thus began to undress her again.
She protested with all her might but couldn’t budge his intent, and in the end, she was in naught but her shift, standing there before him, hugging herself to hide her nakedness.
“Human is no different from demon nor angel for that matter,” he said, noting her blush.
“We are different.” She protested, her eyes on him now. “You were supposed to be ugly,” she said, and wanted to add not so pleasing to the eye that even the most handsome human male could not compare.
He raised a brow at her.
“You were supposed to have horns on your head and your skin is supposed to be gray like soot and blistered everywhere, like it has been boiled. Your eyes are supposed to red,” she added quietly. And not such a beautiful silvery gray that every time he looked at her, she became breathless.
He regarded her with that cool, composing stare, which she began to get used to, that stare that sent a liquid pleasantness down her spine.
“Pray tell, when and where have you seen such a creature? I would like to see one for myself.”
She noted the challenge in his stance and his eyes was growing darker. She swallowed and backed away from him.
He cocked his head to one side. “Where are you going, Celia? Come here and let me take that shift off you. You will not bathe with it on.”
Cecelia moved farther away and then rushed to the other side of the bathing pool.
“Sire, please. I can bathe myself. Must you be here to witness?” she queried in dread.
“Aye,” he replied. “Now come here and let me take that off you.”
Cecelia shook her head, and as he paced to her impatiently, she rushed away. So frightened she was that he might see her naked, she slipped by the edge of the pool and nearly toppled over. In a flash, he caught her by the small of her waist before she had the chance to go flying into the pool.
He brought her in this strong embrace and scolded her. “Can you not walk properly?” he muttered. “You will break your neck if you keep this up.”
She bit her lip and flushed intensely. Then she realized she was in his arms, too warm and comfortable for her liking, and quickly struggled to get free.
He wouldn’t let her go, instead grabbing the hem of her skirt and tossing her shift up and off her body.
Naked, Cecelia shrieked in dismay. The cool night breeze caressed her skin and she shivered in response. Realizing she couldn’t hide herself from him, she resigned her fight and bowed her head in shame.
Drake noticed her suddenly easing in her struggle and that she was now hugging herself as if she were wounded in the stomach. When he grabbed her wrist to ease her, she struggled again.
That was when he realized she was embarrassed of her scar. He wrapped his warm hand over her stiffened wrist. He was gentle but persistent as he moved it away from her belly.
The scar, thick and ugly against the softness of her flesh, indicated a cutting wound intended for death. Tonight was the first time he’d seen the scar in reality. The first time he’d known of its existence was when he’d felt it during their loving in the woods. The second time was in the dimness of the darkened room when he’d been in his apparition form, making love to her. Now he felt anger rising within his being knowing this mark was evidence of an intended murder.
Drake had to grit his teeth to control himself. “How did you come by this?”
Cecelia did not dare look up at him. “’Twas long ago when I was but a child.”
By instinct, Drake moved her around so he could examine her body. When he lifted her long hair away from her back, his scowl was dark and smoldering hot. Her slender back was crisscrossed with scars from a whip.
“You are a lady, yet you have these marks of torture?” he asked coldly. “Is this the way of the human?” he said with disgust.
Cecelia couldn’t reply. What could she tell him? That these scars where from the whipping she’d received from Queen Eliza herself because she’d defended her brother by teaching those older boys a lesson with her smallsword? Though this was true, it was ridiculous to say the least.
“You have no answer to that?” he asked, twisting her around. He nudged her face up with his finger and thumb. He smiled then, though it did not reach his eyes. And finally, he brushed her long hair back to look at her properly.
By heaven, but she was a beautiful creature. She had an exquisite body. He noted her round breasts that perked at just the right angle. He felt his blood sing in response, and it took sheer willpower to prevent himself from tossing her on her back and taking her there and then.
Cecelia’s blush intensified under his scrutinizing gaze. When he finally led her by the hand toward the pool, she sighed with relief.
He didn’t find her that repulsive. And why was he staring at her so long? She knew she was ugly, as she had been reminded too many times by Rosanna and Juliet, not to mention Queen Eliza herself. She knew no man wanted her, especially with all the scars on her back and stomach.
He made her step down into the pool, and she was surprised the water wasn’t cold, but warm. She glanced up at him, wondering why he made her bathe here and now and in his presence too.
“Go in,” he said.
She obeyed his gentle command, for the faster she got this done, the faster he’d leave her be.
At least she hoped so.
He was watching her every move; Cecelia could sense it. She got to the middle and w
as pleased the water hid her body from his eyes.
“All the way in,” he said.
Cecelia glanced up at him. “I am in and I am having a bath,” she snapped back. “Now please leave. Or do you want to watch me clean myself too?”
He ignored her. “Dip your head,” he commanded. When she glared at him, he told her to do it, this time with a threat. “Would you have me coming down there to aid you?”
Cecelia gritted her teeth but did as she was told. She dipped her head under the water a moment and then popped it out again. Then she watched in horror as Drake took out his dagger.
Is he going to kill me now? In the pool? She had thought she’d been ready for death but now realized she wasn’t and backed away in fright.
“I told you I will not kill you, my dear,” he said as he crouched near the pool. “Ease your retrieving.”
Cecelia stopped and held her head a notch higher. Then she watched as Drake cut his palm and then squeezed his blood into the pool. She blinked, wondering what he was doing.
The moment the drop of blood hit the water, it disappeared and dispersed, forming a golden halo. The spectrum spread everywhere within the pool, bright colors of the rainbow bursting forward all around Cecelia until she too glowed with a golden halo.
Cecelia looked around her in confusion and fascination. She twisted around in her spot, taking in the beautiful aura from the pool.
Drake had his answer. So Julius was right that the Mother Pearl had blessed this human girl and she was to bear his son, the next demon king. At that moment, with the theory proved correct with his bloodline mixed with the sacred water that flew from the mountain into his private bathing pool, Drake didn’t know what to think. For centuries, the female who was blessed by the Mother Pearl to bear a demon king’s son was of demon’s blood. Now she was a human, and how was he to explain that to his comrades? How ironic it was about this damned situation.
He stood and left, his face a dark scowl.
Cecelia watched him go and sighed. Some moments later, the pool returned to its normal pristine clearness, and she continued bathing, cleaning herself with the beautifully scented soap. Once she was done, she got out and picked up her clothing, wondering if there was a towel to dry her body. When she couldn’t find any, she put on her shift again and poked her head out the door to see if Drake had left the bedchamber as well.
No such luck. The demon was still there, now standing by the glowing hearth with his back to it. He was watching her, though his face was expressionless.
“Will you be taking me to the dungeon now?” she asked, dreading his answer. But she really couldn’t help herself.
He cocked his head to one side, again examining her person. With the thin material of the shift clinging to her, she was too enticing by half, and again, Drake felt his blood running hot wanting her.
“There is no dungeon here.”
She blinked. But how could there be no dungeon? Surely, McNamara Castle was enormous, and to not have a dungeon to hold a prisoner…
“This is not McNamara Castle,” he said. “This is Oakley House, my private retreat. This bedchamber is your prison. This house is your prison. You are my prisoner, my servant. I will do with you as I please.”
Cecelia felt her throat tighten. So this house was to be her prison, then. And what will he do to me? she wondered contritely.
As if to answer her silent question, he cupped her chin and moved his face so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “You will sire me a pearl, my dear, not unlike the one you have stolen from me.”
“But I do not know how,” she protested, thinking the demon was truly mad. “I will find your pearl for you, I swear.”
He laughed—that low intoxicating sound that warmed Cecelia to her core. “I will worry about that later. For now…” He moved his face closer to hers and nestled his nose against her rose and lavender-scented hair. “For now, let’s concentrate on creating me a new pearl.”
Cecelia swallowed hard as she watched him move his lips to hers, and before she could draw away from him, he kissed her.
He was firm and warm, and Cecelia responded by closing her eyes, losing herself within the heat of his touches. Drake urged her lips to part for him, and like an obedient child, she did, allowing him to plunge in his tongue.
She groaned softly as he played with her, stroking and caressing the groove of her mouth with his expert tongue. When he released her, he moved down her throat, licking and kissing her sensitive skin, and then once he got her to her breasts, he took one into his hot mouth and suckled and grazed and nipped.
Cecelia cried out in pure agony of pleasure as he continued to pluck her nipple until the little bud turned as hard as marble and glistening pink like a rosebud. Once he was done with that one, he turned his attention to the other and did the same—grazing, nipping, and teasing her until she cried out some more. By the time he was finished, Cecelia was breathless and her body ached to be filled with hardened sex. Drake, however, wasn’t done with her yet. He trailed little kisses between her engorged breasts, lower to her soft belly and then lower to her hot scented heat between her legs.
Cecelia blinked and whispered, “Sire, what are you doing?”
Drake flicked his dark eyes to her and gave her a devilish smile. Cecelia knew he was about to do something that’d shock her to her core. She could see it in his eyes. Fear enveloped her, and with shaky legs, she pulled herself away from him and rushed off the bed.
Drake laughed, amused. “Where do think you’re going?”
Cecelia didn’t reply. She grabbed hold of the thin sheet, wrapped it around herself, and took off, her heart beating outrageously fast and loud and her body trembling with the lovemaking experience.
Drake rushed off the bed after her, and in a flick of an instant, he caught her arm and pulled her to him. He scooped her up and carried her back to bed.
“Playing hard to get, are we?” he teased. “Well, I like games, Celia. Let’s play one.”
Cecelia looked up at the huge demon and shuddered in both fear and pleasure. What was wrong with her? She felt her own body trembling with need, yet she wanted to run away from him.
Drake laid her down on the bed, and before she could run off again, he took out a black thin silk material and tied it around one of her wrists to the side of the four-poster bed.
“I don’t like games, sire,” she said. “And why are you tying me like this?”
“So you won’t run off,” he said, a grin on his face.
Cecelia decided then that he was too handsome by far for her peace of mind. She struggled once again to release her wrist. Drake noticed and said, “It’s futile, sweetheart.”
He cupped her chin and drew her face to his. Before she could protest, he kissed her hard. When he released her again, he moved his hand and palmed the valley between her legs. He felt the warm heat within her yearning for his touch and her sweet nectar flowing across his fingers, readying her for his entry.
Before Cecelia could stop him, Drake moved his head between her legs and licked her lips. She sucked in her breath and groaned loudly, her voice trembling.
“Sire!” she screamed when Drake parted her lips and nibbled her hidden pearl. Cecelia clutched onto the pillow beside her and her body tensed with an indescribable, exquisite sensation as he continued to feast away. When he was done, she was spent and exhausted.
Drake, however, wasn’t done yet. He pulled her to him and sat her on top of him. Cecelia gave out a loud pleasured cry when she came down on him, his thick hardness penetrating deep into her sleek tunnel. With one hand, she automatically wrapped around his muscular neck as he guided her to move in a rhythm, making her dance with him as his shaft drove deeper into her.
Cecelia buried her face against his broad chest, her eyes closed as the thrill and ache and warmth and exquisite pleasure inside her built higher so she couldn’t control herself and whimpered. It was too much. She felt too wonderful yet too painful.
D
rake moved his face down to her, gathered her long hair to one side, and buried his own face at the nape of her neck. Slowly, he began to kiss her, licking her warm flesh as he thrust deep into her. When he looked up, he saw tears in her eyes and frowned darkly. He stopped his thrusting, which surprised Cecelia. She blinked and gave him a questioning look.
Drake freed her wrist from the tie, moved her position so she lay on her back and he on top of her. He gently wiped her tears with the back of his fingers and said, “Did I hurt you?”
Cecelia felt her throat tighten with emotion. She wanted to laugh. A demon king had just asked her if he’d hurt her. How should she tell him? That his lovemaking to her was sheer barbaric yet sheer beautiful at the same time? That it made her feel so intoxicated she wanted to run away yet wanted him to do so much more to her at the same time? She wanted him to thrust so hard and so fast that it’d drive her mad.
She shook her head at his question, which made Drake smile.
“Well, little thief, in that case, let’s continue this creation of my new pearl.”
Cecelia gazed up at him, confused. Drake saw the look on her face. He knew she didn’t understand the meaning in his words. She’d understand in time, of course.
Without further ado, he dipped his head and kissed her as he continued to thrust inside her.
Cecelia cried into his mouth as he continued the rhythm. When finally she reached the tipping point, she came, long and hard, and her body shuddered with the sheer delight of it all.
Drake came after her, ejecting his seed into her womb as he arched his back. When he was done, he rested on one elbow beside her, staring at her flushed face.
Cecelia avoided his gaze, embarrassed all of a sudden at the way he was looking at her. Drake nudged her face to his with his fingers and thumb, and when she did turned her gaze, he said, “You’ll do, thief, you’ll do.”
Cecelia blinked and Drake came down and kissed her softly on the lips. Then he chanted something to her, soft words floating across her face, luring her to close her eyes, making her drift off. A moment later, she was fast asleep. Drake moved his hand to touch her belly. He felt it, the warm heat and the glow inside her. He smiled.