Sedition

by Raven Dark

  Suddenly the tattoo that covered my back held a whole new meaning. It was a reminder of where I belonged and to whom. It bound me to Sheriff, to the Four as clearly as any bloodline.

  My blood might turn blue, but I was one of them.

  A small laugh bubbled up in me as my heart lifted with the awareness of how close to him I felt just then.

  “What? He raised a brow.

  “I’ve never heard you talk this much before.”

  He smiled lazily. Then he pushed his hand through my hair and cradled my nape in his palm. “Come here.”

  Sheriff lowered his head until his mouth mashed against mine. While he held himself up on his hands to keep his chest from pressing against mine, his lips bruised, hot and hard, prying mine open before his tongue swept inside.

  Oh, Maker help me. Every brush of his lips, every hot, wet stroke of this man’s tongue awakened my body with fire. My sex was already aching.

  I panted into his mouth, parting my lips and letting his tongue flick and taste in mimicry of slow, hot sex. The feel of his kiss had my center throbbing to the point of pain until I ground against him. I imagined it was his cock taking my mouth, using it instead of his tongue, and I groaned, squirming harder into him.

  “Maybe…maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Master,” I mumbled against his mouth.

  “Are you saying no to me?”

  “Of course not, Master. I would never. But Doc said…he said I’m not supposed to exert myself.”

  “Lucky for you, hmm?” He growled. His lips worked their way along my neck to my jaw, then back to my ear. “You think because you saved me, because you got stabbed, you get out of me fucking you?” His lips smiled against my ear, taking the bite out of the words.

  I grinned, running my hands through his hair, amused by the implication that I’d gotten myself stabbed to escape his desires.

  “Are you wet for me, Setora?”

  Oh, Light, the way he said my name, filled with desire, his voice gruff with need. I nodded, unable to hide anything from him.

  He moaned hungrily and opened the top of my pants, then slid them and my panties slowly down to my hips, giving him access to my sex. I tensed.

  “Master…”

  At the opening of my pants, his fingers stilled. “I’m not going to fuck you, sweetheart, so relax.”

  “You’re not?” I hated the disappointment in my voice.

  He smirked. “That comes later. I don’t do gentle fucking. When I pound into you again, I want you well enough to take it good and hard.”

  I bit my lip to keep from moaning and nearly came right then. Sheriff slid two fingers between my legs, through my soaked folds. A rumble of approval left him.

  “Fucking woman, you’re so damn wet for me. Makes me so hard.”

  Without thinking, I reached between us toward the front of his leather pants but stopped. What was I doing, taking such liberties?

  But Sheriff grabbed my hand and placed it over his cock, rubbing my palm over the hard bulge there. Already like steel, it grew harder, jerking against his zipper in response.

  “You see what you do to me, Little Spy?”

  I’d never wanted to be filled so badly. The need for release was unbearable, especially with his fingers teasing, stroking me slowly.

  “Do you want me to take care of you, Master?” I rubbed the length of his cock through the leather, experimenting, loving the way he ground lightly against my hand.

  “No. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait.”

  I furrowed my brow. Why would he not expect more from me? Why would put his own release off?

  His eyes danced at my confused look. He slid his fingers into me, and I whimpered, almost coming. He gave a few strokes, just enough to bring my desire to its peak and then withdrew.

  Oh Maker, take me. What was he up to?

  “See, I want to spend the next few days while you heal up remembering this. Thinking about how good it will feel to fuck you every which way and then come all over that fucking tattoo.”

  His words made me look up at him, confused.

  “I’m going to make you come like a woman possessed,” he said, pulling my pants down a little more and then kneeling between my legs. “I want you to never forget that you are mine. And later, when you’re all better, I’m gonna take you out here, and give you what you deserve for driving me so crazy.”

  I thought he’d changed his mind and he was going to take me after all, but in the next instant, he pulled my cadris bottoms and panties off, shoved my legs open, and dove his head between them.

  The first hot lick of his tongue nearly sent me over the edge. I tossed my head, instinctively trying to close my legs, unaccustomed to this man tasting me so intimately, but he only held my legs firmly open, wide and welcoming for his pleasure.

  “Don’t. You need this.”

  I hated it a little, that he knew what I wanted and didn’t care if it was too intimate, if I was embarrassed to have his mouth on me for the first time. But I also loved that he pushed past my resistance and gave me what I needed.

  His tongue lashed quickly at first, bringing me almost to a peak so high, any misgivings melted away. Then as soon as I started rutting against his face, he slowed, taking his time, stroking over every inch of my core, my clit. He licked so slowly, my orgasm couldn’t gain momentum, leaving me tossed under wave after wave of need.

  “I…I’m not supposed to move around a lot, Master,” I panted, gripping the tufts of grass to either side of me.

  “Then don’t move.”

  His tongue was merciless again, without pity. He slid it inside me, then sucked my clit into his mouth. His command locked my body in place as easily as if he’d tied me down, and I tossed my head and cried out.

  Sheriff moaned against my mound and brought me over the precipice again and again, alternating his pace and the pressure of his tongue just right. The wild flicks of his tongue soothed the deepest ache yet intensified my need to be filled all at the same time. He pushed my knees up and apart so that I couldn’t take control, his hands pinning them open, bending me almost in half so that I couldn’t fuck his face. He owned every inch of me.

  “Master, oh, Master, yes!” I gripped the tufts of grass behind my head, crying out and coming hard.

  He chuckled, a low, triumphant sound, and drew out the last tremors of my orgasm, then wiped his face on the insides of my thighs. When he straightened, I stared. He was rock hard, his cock poking at the front of his pants as if it would punch a hole through the leather. The sight of it had me aching all over again, my mouth watering with the need to be used.

  His smile was evil. “You see something you like, sweetheart?”

  “Let me ease that for you, Master. Please. You must be so frustrated.”

  The sound he made was carnal. “That’s all right, I like it.” He squeezed himself through his pants, maintaining the hard on. “Every time I think about how hard I am, I’ll be imagining what I get to do to you when you’re well. It’s going to feel so damn good.”

  Oh, he was going to drive me mad. Already I was aching with new lust. By tonight, I’d be climbing the walls.

  “Let’s get you dressed, and then I’ll take you to see Doc.” He helped me slip on my panties, then my pants and gently helped me to my feet.

  The mention of Doc put my mind back on that glowing blue blood in his cut pocket. I banished the thought and combed my hair out with my fingers.

  “Come here and turn around, sweetheart.” Sheriff made a circling motion with his finger.

  “Pardon, Master?”

  He seated himself on the boulder. “Get over here and turn around. I want to see that tat.”

  Smiling, I walked over and turned my back to the General, and as he slowly undid the back of my top, I glanced over my shoulder at him, wishing I could see what he saw, what I’d already spent long hours admiring since he’d tattooed it on me over a week ago now. The luscious reaper skull and cross bones design covered my entire back
like a painting on a canvas, the Dark Legion’s symbol, modified with four blades and purple violets, all with the words Property of the Four below it.

  Sheriff made an approving sound in his throat. “Perfection. Can’t get enough of looking at our mark on you.”

  He ran his fingers over the lines of the tattoo, then carefully did the top back up. I knew it only covered the middle of the tattoo, leaving the rest bare for all to see.

  “Who drew that tattoo anyway, Master?”

  “I did. Why?”

  My brows went up. “You designed that, Master? Really?”

  “Yeah. Why so surprised?”

  “Did you do your tattoos, too?” I faced him and nodded to the thick black tribal lines that enhanced the ripples of his powerful arms and shoulders where the leather of his cut didn’t cover them. Maker, the man was sex on legs.

  “I designed some, yeah. Doc put a few on, but most I got done in different zones. Why do you sound so shocked?”

  “You just don’t seem like the artistic type.”

  He stood, stalked over to me, and slid those ring-covered hands over my waist. I loved how his wide, heated palms took up my whole waist, making me feel so fragile.

  “And just what is that supposed to mean, Little Spy? Hmm?” Eyes blazing with hunger, he pressed himself to me slowly and licked his way along my neck.

  “Nothing, Master.” I grinned, shivering with delight at the way his teeth scraped my neck. “I just meant…um.” His effect on me made it impossible to form words. “It’s nice to know you’re not all orders and toughness all the time.”

  “I can be if you want.” His eyes teased.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me, Master.” I looked around at the well, the meadow. “It means a lot.”

  His face became serious while he brushed my bangs lightly off my forehead with his fingertips. “Look. About these things you can do. The mind-reading, what your blood does. I meant what I said. We’ll find answers, but nothing’s going to change. Okay?”

  “Yes, Master.” Happiness made my heart feel light.

  He pulled me close to him and buried his face in the top of my hair. “Mmm.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Now. Let’s go see Doc before I decide to take you right here, and to hell with his orders.”

  Chapter 5

  Stronger Than Blood

  We arrived at Doc’s infirmary a half hour later.

  Judging by the dimmed torches in his front room, it was nearly midnight. Doc apparently had a network of caves to himself, the front cavern of which he used as his infirmary. Another cavern beside it he used as a tattoo studio where Sheriff had done the tattoo on my back. According to Sheriff, a corridor behind his infirmary led to the caverns that served as his personal living quarters.

  When we walked in, Doc was just closing up, putting away medical equipment. He turned to Sheriff and me as he locked up a medicine cabinet.

  “Oh, General. Setora. I thought I was going to have to wait until tomorrow to see you.” He waved us in.

  “Looks like we caught you just in time, then.” Sheriff set his hand on my lower back and led me down the aisle between the room’s two hospital cots.

  I glanced around, nervousness eating at me, and not just because of what we’d come to talk to Doc about. Medical facilities always made me uneasy. Doctors tended to be fascinated by Violets, asking too many questions I often didn’t have answers to, leaving me feeling like they were on the verge of experimenting on me. Thankfully, Doc had never made me feel that way.

  An assistant dressed in a medical smock tended to the only patient, bringing him a bowl of soup.

  “I was going to have a drink and turn in,” Doc said, taking off his long smock and hanging it on a hook near the back entrance that led to his quarters. “Join me.”

  “Won’t say no to a drink,” Sheriff said, following him into a short tunnel with his hand still on my lower back, a warm, reassuring touch.

  I couldn’t help a smile, seeing Doc without his smock. Anytime I’d seen the Dark Legion’s doctor, he’d always been dressed as such, in a white buttoned-up coat that covered him from his neck to his knees. Tattoos covered the backs of his hands, disappearing under the sleeves of the coat, and his pants were always the leather of a road warrior, but I’d never seen what they looked like above the knee. Without his medical coat, I saw now that his surprisingly muscled arms were sleeved in tats, roses that dripped blood, and a fully rendered human heart on his shoulder. His cut, left open to expose a tanned, bared chest with one nipple pierced, bore a grey patch that read Doc in stitched black letters.

  I hadn’t expected him to look so…biker-like. That he didn’t look at all like a medical professional now helped calm the nervousness eating at my insides.

  In his large living room, decorated with dark leather couches and a thick black rug covering the cavern floor, he gestured for us to take seats and poured himself a drink from a fully-stocked bar across the room. A complete human skeleton—made out of clay, I hoped—stood near the bar with a medical chart on the wall behind it.

  “What does Setora drink, General?”

  “Give her what I’m having, Doc.” Sheriff seated himself and pulled me down beside him. “You’ll like it, sweetheart. It’ll help you find your chill.” Looking at me, he laid his arm on the back of the couch. “Relax. We got this.”

  Doc poured the drinks and brought them over on a tray, setting them on an oak coffee table between us. Then he sat on the couch opposite and pushed a long ponytail of thick black hair over his shoulder. Flecks of silver ran through the sides of his hair. With a dark mustache that only had a dusting of grey, I guessed he was about forty.

  “Do you have the vial?” Doc asked.

  Sheriff handed him the silver cylinder, then picked up two of the drinks, each in stubby glasses filled with dark liquid. He handed me one glass and kept the other for himself, sitting back comfortably on the couch.

  Doc opened the cylinder and tipped the vial of blood into his hand. He shook it lightly, grey eyes intense. “It’s still glowing. Fascinating.”

  It took everything not to squirm nervously at the look of wonder on his face. His gaze settled on me. Sheriff picked up on my unease, because he tapped my knee with his fingers, and when I looked at him, his eyes were reassuring.

  I hid my emotions by lifting my glass, sniffing the dark drink. It had a strong smell, like rye. I liked the bite to it, but I didn’t know if I wanted to drink something this strong right now. I didn’t want to miss anything the Doc said with my brain fogged with drink.

  “Sorry, Setora,” Doc said. “I don’t mean to make you feel nervous. It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  My heart sank. “So you don’t know why my blood looks like that, sir?”

  “I have some theories, but nothing definitive.”

  Panic was starting to tighten my chest. “Has this never happened with another Violet you’ve had in your care?”

  Doc took a drink of the pale amber liquid that filled his glass and set it down slowly. “In my travels, I’ve only ever treated two others like you, Setora. Both with a checkup their masters insisted on. There were no injuries, and I didn’t draw their blood. Now, in hindsight, I wished I had, but I don’t know that it would have helped me now, with you.”

  “Why’s that, Doc?” Sheriff swirled the liquid in his glass.

  “Because I did that autopsy you wanted on Madi’san’s body before she was incinerated. Her blood didn’t turn blue. It didn’t change at all.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense, sir.” I put my drink down without having tried it, my cheeks burning for my speaking out of turn. “Forgive me, Master.”

  Desperation clawed at me, and I looked at both men.

  “Doc, I’ve seen my blood before. It doesn’t look like that. It’s red, just like anyone else’s.”

  “When it comes out of your veins, it is, yes.”

  When I shook my head in confusion, Doc opened a sma
ll medical kit sitting on the coffee table, then took out scalpel. He held his palm out gently. “Give me your hand.”

  I glanced at Sheriff nervously, but he just gave a reassuring nod.

  Heart speeding up, I put out a trembling hand. Doc held my palm and made one swift, shallow cut across my palm. I hissed between my teeth. He kept my palm in place, and we watched the blood seep from the cut before Doc grabbed a vial like the one we’d brought, pulled out the top, and carefully tipped my palm so that blood dripped inside. He let the blood fill the bottom of the vial, corked it, and then grabbed a gauze pad and pressed it quickly to the wound.

  “See? It’s red,” I said. “Normal.”

  “Setora, calm down, give the man a chance.”

  But I couldn’t help the defensiveness.

  “It’s red now.” Doc had me press the gauze to my palm to stop the bleeding, then set the vial down between us, alongside the other. “Just wait fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  “Ow.” I looked at my hand. “Why didn’t you just prick my finger, sir?”

  “Because. If my guess is right, a wound that minor would vanish before we had a chance to see the blood change, and I want us to really see it, which means we need a good amount. But also, I think that it’s a timing thing. Something in the blood’s plasma alters over time. It settles, which means it’s best if it’s in a vial like this.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He stroked his mustache, thinking how best to explain, I thought. “See, when I operated on you, the blood I took in the vial didn’t change right away. It took about twenty minutes, and when it lit up, it did it slowly. And the blood you lost during surgery didn’t change at all. Only what I put in the vial.”

  He lifted the gauze off, then reapplied it when he saw the blood hadn’t stopped.

  “But what about the wound she had from that fire?” Sheriff sat forward in his seat. “When she saved Cherry?”