DarykCraving

by Denise A. Agnew

  Marc closed the doors behind them. She drifted to the two small windows. Lightning flickered above the jungle. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm lashed the compound.

  “Scouts tell me the creeks are rising and the river is too high. We could have flooding soon.” Marc’s voice broke her from musing. He stood close behind her.

  She turned and met his gaze. His gaze slid up and down her body and took in her dress.

  She smiled softly in reaction to his heated stare. “We will be fine. How long has this place been here?”

  “In my family since my grandfather’s time.”

  “And it weathered storms as fierce as this?”

  He shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “You know how long memories are. People conveniently forget the bad times until they come around again. They claim that life now is bad because it’s easier than admitting that it was just as bad in the past.”

  His smile filled with admiration. “Have I ever told you what an intelligent woman you are?”

  She ducked her head and warmth stole into her face. “I’m not used to praise.”

  “If you were my wife, you’d have my praise every single day.”

  The hushed tone in his voice coupled with the hunger in his took her off guard. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “This?”

  She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Marry you.”

  “Take your time to think on it. As much as I would like to marry you today, I won’t pressure you.”

  Slowly, as if he feared frightening her, he stepped closer. A quiver passed through her and she turned away from him. She gazed at her surroundings. The large bed at the north side of the room was richly appointed in vivid colors of red and green and blue. Soft pillows lay in a scatter over the bed. She had closed the windows against the rain but left the shutters open to allow sun inside. Paintings and tapestries hung along the walls, warming the harsh gray stone. A large armoire on the right side of the room held her clothes, all of them new and all bought by Marc. A desk in another corner held books and pen and paper. Candlesticks and oil lamps covered one table near the bed. The room was staid but feminine. She couldn’t complain about the accommodations.

  “Aknada.” His voice rumbled close behind, and she whirled toward him. “Why did you ask me to your room?”

  Could she speak honestly? She didn’t know. After all, if she blurted out everything she thought and wanted, mortification would surely be the result.

  “To talk.” True in part. Not so true in others.

  Too close. He was too close. She stepped back until her knees hit the bed and she sat down abruptly.

  He stared at her, uncertainty clear in his eyes. “May I sit next to you?”

  She nodded, hardly daring to look him in the eyes. She hated her timidity. Why couldn’t she look at him?

  He settled to her right but kept significant space between them. “Whatever you want to say… Whatever you want to do… I’m yours.”

  I’m yours.

  His declaration burst through her with tremendous power. She shook with it, but at the same time she did not know if she could handle what he offered.

  “I just want to touch you. Every day I want to touch you. You cannot touch me,” she said in a jumble of words.

  He smiled, and the masculine lines of his face looked carved in stone. “Believe me—having you touch me every day will please me. Would you like to talk first?”

  “What about?”

  “Anything. About how I’ve grieved for you for three years.”

  His eyes provided the truth—no one could deny the sincerity in his eyes.

  “I missed you.” The words came from her on a sigh. “I missed how you tease me. I missed your odd sense of humor and the way you treated me as an equal when few else would.”

  The curiosity in his eyes heated up. “How could I treat you as anything but who you are? Wonderful. Beautiful. The woman who haunts me.”

  His words sent desire spiraling in her stomach. “Haunts you? That doesn’t sound like you, Marc. You were always so…stoic around me.”

  He nodded, a sheepish expression touching his face. “I was. But only because I wanted you so much.” He scrubbed one hand over his face. “I was a damn fool for waiting. I should have asked for your hand before Braxis did.”

  Amusement managed to wedge its way past her surprise. “Please don’t. Do you know how flattering it is to hear? Never in a million years would I expect to hear such words from you. It humbles me.”

  Before he could respond, she did something she couldn’t have yesterday. She’d touched him when she’d half carried him off the slave ship, but she hadn’t thought of him as a man bent on harm, only as her friend.

  She slid closer to him on the bed and touched his shoulder. “Let me just touch you.”

  “Yes,” he said softly, his voice deep and sensual.

  She pressed the muscles in his shoulder. Smoothed her fingers over the cloth of his tunic. “Take off your tunic.”

  It had taken everything she had to say that.

  Slowly he stood and pulled the tunic over his head, baring that magnificent chest. Sinew moved in his biceps, a dusting of dark hair on his forearms.

  She followed by standing as well. She smoothed her palm between his pectorals, feeling the crisp hair and solid muscle. He sucked in a breath. Following every curve, she tested softness over hardness. Her fingers slipped over one nipple.

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Draconus. What are you doing to me?”

  A small smile found her lips. “Does that feel good?”

  She dared look up from the tantalizing view. His gaze was heavy-lidded and hot. Oh, he liked what she did all right.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his already deep voice heavy with sensual promise.

  She returned her attention to his chest. His nipples were tight points, and as he let out a soft groan, her body reacted. Her breasts felt larger, her nipples hard points.

  Marc’s unmistakable arousal showed in the bold press of his cock against his trousers. He was full, thick and—by the god—he looked huge. Granted, she hadn’t spent time studying men’s cocks up close.

  A flush burned her cheeks. Her heartbeat quickened but didn’t pound. Fear didn’t factor into it. Only curiosity and growing excitement. Excitement because she didn’t feel scared. Apprehensive perhaps. A little tentative.

  “Aknada.”

  She glanced up and his gaze tangled with hers. He was closer. How had he gotten so close? Her hands slipped upward over his shoulders, testing the tensile strength, the heat burning under his skin. She leaned in, mesmerized by his eyes. His lips parted.

  “Your eyes are flaming,” he said.

  As a Daryk One, her eyes would flame red during battle, anger or sexual arousal. She couldn’t hide her feelings from him, even if she wanted.

  His fingers traced the side of her neck with the most tender of touches. She flinched, drew back with a gasp.

  “No.” Her throat was tight as she stood. “You promised.”

  His hands came up in surrender. His chest heaved, a flush covered his cheeks and his cock still pressed against his trousers. Eager to take her. Hungry.

  For a few seconds, he represented everything she hated.

  Men who wanted to hurt her. To subjugate her to their will for their own needs and pleasure.

  “Aknada, I’m sorry.” He rushed the words. “I didn’t realize I was touching you until it was too late. I—” He cut himself off, lowering his hands. Dejection and self-recrimination filled his expression.

  Fine trembles skipped over her skin. She shivered and rubbed her arms. But it wasn’t cold from fear but awareness of him as a man.

  “Please.” He held one hand out. “Forgive me.”

  “It is all right. I know you didn’t mean harm. When Aramus took his clothes off, I knew it was all over. His cock was small. But big enough to…” She closed her eyes as tears started to rise
. God Draconus, she had cried too much lately, had felt too much shame. She wanted to be rid of it. She sensed telling him would destroy the terrible tale lodged inside her for so long. “He crawled on top of me. They’d pinned me to the cabin floor. It was so hard and cold. He cupped my neck, but he wasn’t gentle like you. He started to choke me. I thought he intended to kill me. I fought. I fought hard, but there were too many men. I was passing out, the edges of my vision going black. Then I felt his… He shoved inside me and it hurt—”

  “No.” Marc stepped forward, pain clearly etched on his face. “My sweet, please. You don’t have to tell me. You do not have to relive this.”

  She shook her head and the tears fell anyway. “I do. I have to tell someone. I’ve never told anyone exactly what happened to me.”

  He stopped in his tracks, so close to her but still at least three feet away. She saw a horrible answering pain in his eyes, as if it hurt him to hear what happened to her. “Then tell me everything.”

  She turned toward a window and watched the storm. Lightning flashed so close, thunder crashed almost immediately. Rain lashed at the building, angry and unrelenting. The atmosphere lent itself to dark memories or powerful lovemaking.

  “Aramus hurt me, but he came with two thrusts. So it was over quickly.” Her tongue felt thick, a bad taste forming in her mouth as she recalled the horrible moment. “That was bad enough, but then each man had a turn. There were six men holding me down. That’s what it took to keep me from ripping them to shreds. The only reason why I wasn’t horribly injured was that each one of them came fast. But every thrust hurt.” She shuddered. “They let me go and left Aramus’ quarters.” She sighed, trying to relate her emotions as tears rolled down her face. “I lay on the cold floor for a while. I couldn’t believe that could happen to me. I was angry at them but angry with myself for not being able to fight them off.”

  “There were too many. It wasn’t your fault.”

  She nodded. “Intellectually I know that. Emotionally it’s hard to remember.”

  “Of course.”

  “I vowed that day I would never allow a man to have sex with me ever again.” She closed her eyes to the storm.

  “That wasn’t sex.” His voice rasped, angry for her. “That was brutality and punishment. They wanted power over you. A disgusting attempt to destroy you. But you aren’t destroyed. You’re a whole, beautiful woman. They couldn’t take your soul from you and your life.”

  His words soothed the ache inside her. “I know.”

  “I would give everything for you, Aknada. My heart. My life.”

  She heard a break in his voice and it made her turn. Shock kept her silent for a moment.

  Tears glittered in his eyes. And as odd as it seemed, she felt like comforting him. Touching him so that she’d know his warmth. She walked toward him, and when she reached Marc, she slipped her arms around his neck to hug him. Slowly, ever so tenderly, his arms circled her back and waist. As if he feared she’d balk or break, he tucked her close. She rested there and moment to moment became acutely aware. His naked chest felt hot against her breasts, the press of his still hard cock against her belly. She quivered and he smoothed his hands over her back in a caress. Happiness replaced uncertainty.

  His embrace was gentle and comforting and his arms a haven. His breath brushed her neck, his lips close to her skin. Heat came off him, warding away the chill taking possession of her body. Every inch of his muscle screamed of power. Though she was a Daryk One and stronger than most men, she would have to fight hard to win against Marc. Yet she knew in her heart she would never have to. She trusted him with her life.

  Her heart… Well, that was another thing.

  After what seemed a long time, she drew back.

  Deep within she craved deeper association with him, wanted their emotions to flow back and forth with ease. Determination filled her. She didn’t want a hollow life filled with regrets.

  “If all I had was this with you, I would still be a lucky woman indeed,” she said. “But I know there is more I could have with you.” She smiled, the gesture fragile. “I will come to you again and again until you can touch me and I feel nothing but pleasure.”

  Unmistakable relief cleared his eyes. “Whatever you wish.” She nodded and he returned to the bed to retrieve his tunic. He pulled it over his head. He strode to the door and stopped with his hand on the door handle. Caution flickered in those blue eyes. “Did you wear that dress to drive me mad?”

  A laugh flowed easily from her. “Yes. Am I wicked?”

  He rolled his gaze to the ceiling for a moment. “Extremely. I bid you good night.”

  After he’d left, she went to the door and locked it. Her heartbeat thumped hard, but this time with a growing recognition that she’d turned a corner.

  Marc had always dared her. A small portion of her wanted to torture him, the way a little girl teases a boy she likes. Oh yes. If he liked her dress, she knew what she wore the next night would drive him mad. Dressing in an alluring fashion would make her feel more sexual.

  Any doubts she’d harbored that he didn’t care for her and didn’t want her had slid away since she’d left the desert caravan. She wouldn’t make Marc prove himself over and over. Any problems she had with intimacy rested on her, and she’d learned that with time. She would banish her fears somehow. She’d learned that touching Marc brought pleasure, and his embrace could soothe her pain and fear. By the god, it had felt so wonderful in his arms.

  Perhaps, just perhaps she could ease her own mind about a more intimate touch.

  She slipped off her shoes and lay down on the bed for a few moments. Although the storm outside gave no quarter, Aknada lay quiet and still as she reflected. She hadn’t pleasured herself since long before the rapes. She’d forgotten how to find sensual pleasure. If she learned pleasure within her own body, in the privacy of her room, she had nothing to fear.

  Xandra left the bed long enough to shed her clothes. Without guilt or worry, she began. At first exploration meant smoothing her hands over skin. She definitely had curves. She wasn’t as slight as Xandra. She’d never been considered over her weight, and most of her size amounted to muscle, bone and height. Her fingers slid over her shoulders, her collarbone and tentatively to her neck.

  Yes, she liked the sensation, the shivery delight that came with a touch to her neck. She would learn not to react negatively to Marc’s touch in this area.

  Soft and slow she drifted down each arm, touching and teasing her own fingers and hands. She ignored her breasts—touching there was far too intimate right this moment. No, she would work up to that. Inch by inch she toured her flesh. With both palms she slid down her belly, circled her navel with her palm until the repetitive motion created a new delight in her belly. Oh yes, she liked that. The sensation was hot, swirling, demanding. She drew up one leg and toured them with her fingers, removing the twitchy, startled response that would normally commence if someone touched her legs. She lowered that leg and then explored the other, up the calf, over the knee. The thigh.

  When she reached her thighs, she quivered. She brought both legs up, bent at the knees. Touching the inside of her thighs again, she worked her way to the sensitive, most intimate area. She kept her eyes closed and dared to hope.

  She placed a palm over her mons.

  No shock. No fear.

  She moved her palm so that it pressed on her clit.

  Ah, that felt nice.

  Better yet, she was moist between the legs. Either her encounter with Marc or this personal session had done this to her. She smiled with delight and continued to travel. She slowly teased the swollen lips, spreading her own moisture around and around her opening, and the tingling it created gave her incentive to do more. Using her middle finger, she teased her clit. A sweet sting of heated pleasure caused her to gasp.

  Yes.

  She dared to imagine Marc touching her, and when fear didn’t stop her, she smiled again. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  She circled
her clit again. More.

  Using her other hand, she slipped one finger inside her channel. She gasped in delight and buried the finger deeper.

  Marc was there in her mind, urging her on with words she somehow knew he’d say. Come, Aknada, come.

  Gasping, she reveled in the quick accent. She swirled her finger over her clit faster. Faster until she panted and moved on the bed with frustration. She wanted it. Wanted it. She pumped her finger in and out, played with her clit, built the ecstasy until she panted and moaned softly. She didn’t imagine Marc fucking her but fell into the pleasure. This was for her. This was about pure need.

  Oh by the god, yes.

  Climax hit.

  Trembling, sweet and filled with relief.

  As she came down from the orgasm, she sighed and a great weight left her forever.

  * * * * *

  Marc didn’t head to his room right away after he left Aknada.

  He prowled like a beast.

  He had to burn off this need for her before he punched a wall or otherwise acted like a dragon on the hunt.

  Frustration grinded inside him, but he didn’t blame Aknada. No, he would never blame her for his own shortcomings. He’d scared the hells out of her back there, touching her when he’d promised never to do it.

  He was dragon dung.

  Returning downstairs, he checked every corner of the compound, making certain all stayed secure. The guards that always kept watch on the four upper battlements and at the front entrance to the compound had hunkered down under waterproof tenting. Marc told them to retreat inside. No sense in them staying up there when it wasn’t likely the encampment would receive a threat in this mess. Besides, Arcos would keep a watch from his building.

  He even visited Arcos, tromping through the heaviest rain he’d encountered in his life to make certain the animal fared well. Arcos, though happy to see his master, didn’t seem distressed by the violent weather. Realizing Arcos was perfectly fine, Marc returned inside.

  Finally, after supervising, surveying and generally wandering the property with no more purpose, he retreated to his room a dripping mess. The waterproof cloaking and hood hadn’t worked well.