Lilith Enraptured (Divinity Warriors 1)

by Pillow Michelle M.

  He stood, slithering along her flesh. The soap glided between them, an erotic caress, and she couldn’t resist running lathered fingers over his arms and chest, washing him as he had her. They slid together, each caress a heady sensation. She liked the feel of him, the strength. He closed his eyes, moaning softly.

  Sorin kissed her, working his mouth gently to hers. His hard cock pressed to her stomach. Fire shot through her senses, centering over her breasts and pussy. He tightened his hold and they sank into the bathwater. Sorin sat on the underwater stone ledge and tugged her onto his lap. Lilith straddled his thighs.

  He looked deep into her eyes, forcing her to hold his gaze as he lifted her by her hips. The hard tip of his arousal, unyielding in its size, brushed her sex. She lowered herself onto him, impaling her pussy on the thick shaft. Sorin groaned, burying his face against her chest.

  Lilith set the pace, tentatively at first, as she lifted up and down, up and down. He leaned back, giving her control. She grabbed his neck, holding onto his hair. The glow of firelight caressed every nuance of his bronzed flesh, giving texture to the many scars. Lilith didn’t mind them, except for the hard life they represented. She felt bad for him and a little proud.

  The slow, deep rhythm felt so good and weak noises of pleasure escaped her throat. Her breasts bobbed before his face, drawing his avid interest. Lilith tried to make the feelings last, not wanting the terrific build of sexual tension to find release quite yet. But the more she rode him, the faster desire made her go until she found herself bucking wildly on his lap. Water splashed out of the tub, sloshing over the sides and onto the floor.

  Lilith gasped, crying out as her climax hit her. She tensed, unable to continue moving as she stayed impaled on his cock. Sorin grabbed her hips, forcing her in shallow thrusts as he worked for his own release. He came soon after, joining her cry with an open-mouth yell of his own. For a long moment, she stayed on his lap with her head resting on his shoulder, breathing hard and willing her heartbeat to slow.

  When finally she pulled back, insecurity filled her. Not because of what they did or how he was looking at her with a self-satisfied gleam to his gaze, but because as she looked at him her heart actually, physically ached. For the first time since waking up in Staria, she allowed herself to truly consider what it would be like to stay here, as his wife, for better or for worse, forever. The better would be these moments together. The worse would be the day the news of his death in battle would be delivered, and she would be expected to go to another husband.

  Sorin moved beneath her and she slipped off his lap. Lilith dipped under the surface, rinsing off all remnants of soap. Sorin did the same before going to push at the wall.

  “Wait,” Lilith stopped him, brushing the wet locks from her face. “Are they still here?”

  He glanced out into her room and shook his head in denial. “They are done.”

  Lilith stepped from the tub and reached to grab a folded linen. Their loveplay had wet the drying cloths. Before she could wrap the damp material around her body, Sorin lifted her into his arms. One hand wound around her thighs and the other behind her back. His fingers grazed the sides of her breast, skimming close to the nipple. The cloth dropped forgotten to the floor. He kissed her jaw as he walked her toward her bed. The maids had put everything he’d bought her at market away.

  “Why the stone wall? Why not build a door?” Lilith asked.

  “The builder claimed that in the winter it would provide better insulation in such a high tower.” Sorin gave a small chuckle. “We all think he made a mistake of judgment, but couldn’t admit to it because it is not the Starian way to rethink decisions.”

  Lilith had seen that Starian trait first hand. They definitely were a decisive people.

  “That, or he wanted a place to please his wife and hoped the others wouldn’t find out about it and think him weak. We were not always such a gentle people. Men did not always lavish their wives with gifts so openly, until someone discovered there were rewards to be had from a pleased mate.”

  Gentle? Lilith tried not to giggle at the concept. Lord Sorin might touch her gently, but she’d be hard pressed to call a warrior like him gentle.

  He laid her on the warm, dry coverlet and stood by the bed. His eyes devoured her hungrily. “I should like to have you again, if you will allow me.”

  Lilith didn’t know what to say, so she nodded in approval.

  Sorin grinned, crawling next to her on the bed. Lying on his side, he cupped a breast, massaging leisurely before making a trail down her stomach. “So soft.”

  Lilith traced a long scar along his stomach. “So hurt.”

  Sorin glanced down the length of his body to what held her attention. “It healed fast. I was only off a horse for two months.”

  Lilith found another scar and began tracing an oblong path around it. “I’ve been to these dimensions that are so medically advanced they can treat wounds like these in about two weeks, maybe even faster. They have lasers that do everything.”

  “Lasers?” He watched her finger find its next scar.

  “Machines run with electricity.” She frowned. How to explain?

  “Ah, electricity.” He nodded. “Divinity offered it to us when they saw our fires, but we have such knowledge. We find the torches better suited. Torchlight cannot be cut off by enemy spies.”

  That surprised her. She’d just assumed since they lived in the “Middle Ages”, they were the Middle Ages. “But there is so much more than lights.”

  “What else do we need?”

  “Medical lasers.” She tapped his scarred chest.

  “And who will make these lasers?” He leaned over kissing her neck. “You?”

  “I don’t know how.” She shivered under his touch.

  Sorin laughed. His fingers lightly brushed over the soft curls guarding the slick folds of her pussy. The touch stayed light and teasing. “Nor do we.”

  She closed her eyes enjoying his exploring hands. Lilith tried to anticipate his movements, but it became impossible. His fingertips skated over her stomach, creating haphazard designs along her pelvic bone and up her chest. Tweaking a nipple, he made it erect.

  Warm lips found her shoulder as he breathed against her. He encircled her clit, wetting himself in her cream. Lilith ran the back of her hand against his chest as she adjusted her hips on the bed to give him better access. The thick probe of his finger ran along her slit before thrusting inside.

  “Oh,” Lilith breathed, turning her face toward him. Her lips met with his forehead. The damp locks of his hair tickled her cheek.

  One finger became two. Sorin moved within her, working in and out, faster and faster with each pass. Tension built. Lilith clutched at his hand, wiggling her hips as he brought her to climax.

  Breathing heavily, she squirmed restlessly as he climbed on top of her. Sorin’s body joined with hers. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his as he rocked inside her. Lilith moaned in encouragement. As his cock conquered her sex, his finger rubbed the hard bud of her clit. Wondrous sensations washed through her, and she couldn’t believe she was coming again so soon.

  Sorin’s primeval grunt reverberated around her. His mouth opened wide and they both tensed in perfect unison. For a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes.

  Lilith yawned, every part of her relaxed. “I think I could sleep forever.”

  Sorin gave a small smile and nodded. He brushed his nose against hers. “Rest you well, my lady.”

  His weight left her. Lilith reached for him. But instead of lying down next to her, he stood beside the bed. Her hand fell short, hitting the air. Sorin strode from the bedchamber, going to his own bed. As he reached the door, he glanced back the second before disappearing.

  Lilith sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t stay. Was this what it was going to be like, a half marriage with a man who connected physically, but in no other way?

  “Goodnight, my lord,” she whispered, moving to hug her blankets.


  Chapter Eleven

  Lilith strung Lady Alana and her bunch of elitist snobs along for exactly eight days before finally allowing them to plan the festival. She still had no idea of what happened during the fire ceremony beyond the fact that there was fire, but Sorin insisted it would be good for her position as his wife to host it.

  Now that people wanted to talk to her, she learned quite a bit about their lives at the castle—from how it ran so smoothly to the social hierarchy of the Staria system. Underneath the tough, war-focused exterior, it really was an impressive set up. They had a very “this is the way it is” attitude. Everyone had a job to do and they did it with little complaint.

  Somehow, over the course of four weeks following her trip to the market, more and more duties were given her. First, it was the audience—normally women seeking favors of some sort or wanting scarf-wearing fashion advice. Once, it was a knight trying to convince her to stop wearing the scarves so his wife would quit covering up her bosom. The old man’s plea was so genuine that Lilith almost gave in to the request. Half the time Lilith got the impression they just wanted to talk to her so they made up excuses.

  Next, they came to her with disputes—petty stuff that only required a mediator to announce the logical conclusion. Then they came to her for household decisions—what color to dye the next batch of bed linens, the upcoming week’s menu approval—none of which she was properly trained to do. When she mentioned this, they brought her inventory of the larder and cold storage to help her decide. By the time Lilith realized she’d been systematically assimilated into the position of power she “married” into, it was too late to stop it. According to Sera, until a higher-ranking noblewoman came to the king’s castle, Lady Lilith was in charge of all feminine concerns.

  But then, there was her time with Sorin. Just looking at him made her forget whatever annoyances she had with her day. In the mornings, he’d take her out to the practice field to throw the knife he bought her. He wanted her to have a means to protect herself. Lilith was the first to admit knives were not her biggest talent.

  After—and occasionally during—the lessons, he’d sneak her away to some private spot in the inner bailey and they’d make love. Sometimes he was hard and desperate, other times sweet and slow. Their evenings were spent in her bedchamber and her nights were spent alone. Sorin never once fell asleep by her side.

  “Tell me about your home.” Lilith glanced at Sorin next to her at the head table. He’d been quiet for days, even during sex, not that he was ever very talkative.

  She still didn’t like the watchful eyes of the others, but she’d gotten used to it. Poking at a strange brown and orange leafy salad, she pushed it aside. She wasn’t the only one not eating it.

  “Firewall?” He stiffened. She’d avoided talking about anything that hinted at Bianka, but it had been a month and her patience wore thin when it came to waiting for Sorin to volunteer information. “It is ash and rubble. Many of the villagers have moved away.”

  “Tell me about it before,” she insisted. Lilith was relatively sure he wouldn’t yell at her in front of everyone.

  “It was a fortress halfway between here and the borderland marshes, a last defense before Caniba armies storm Battlewar.” Sorin dipped a piece of his bread and chewed.

  “Was it a castle?” Did she have to stick a knife to his throat to get him to talk?

  “Yea.”

  “Was it like Battlewar?”

  “Smaller.”

  “Will you rebuild it?”

  “Perhaps. Ronen wishes me to.”

  “Do you want me to finish you tonight?” Lilith put her hand on his thigh. Sorin tensed, his eyes rounding as he nodded once. It was the first time she’d ever taken such a bold initiative. “Then get used to having a conversation, my lord, or I’ll lock my bedchamber door tonight. If you don’t wish to talk about Firewall, then talk about something else. Just talk.”

  “The king sends for me to join the battlefront,” he answered. “Sorceress Magda plans to lead her minions against Spearhead, a fortress near the marshland. Sir Vidar discovered her plot, and the king has sent for my army to reinforce Spearhead’s knights.”

  “Is she really a sorceress?” Lilith trembled, seeing the serious line of his face.

  “Yea. It is said she studies the black arts. Her followers dance with the serpent and are made to endure its poison before joining her army. Only those who live, the toughest of the Caniba, are allowed into her ranks, and those men live only to serve her with blind, obsessive loyalty.” Sorin pushed his trencher of food away and grabbed a goblet of ale. “It’s impossible to tell her numbers. Her armies live in the ground, hibernating like snakes. Most of our men who try to infiltrate her camp never come back. The others are never the same.”

  Lilith glanced out into the hall, noticing that several of the knights were just as stoic. It wasn’t the ugly salad that put them off their appetites. They all knew what was happening. “I apologize for threatening you. I didn’t realize you had so much on your mind. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You do not like hearing of war, and I do not like the disapproval on your face when I mention it. You always ask me about castles and people and food, but you never wish to hear about the realities of my life.” Stormy eyes met hers.

  “When do you have to go?” Lilith knew this day would come, but she’d always found ways to distract herself from thinking about the reality of it.

  “We march in the morning.”

  “The morning?” she gasped. “When were you going to tell me you were going?”

  “Tonight.” He set his goblet down and slipped his hand on her knee. “Or perhaps in the morning.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “The king sent a missive.”

  Lilith jerked her leg away. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “For some time.” He didn’t try touching her again.

  “And you weren’t going to tell me until you were practically riding out the castle gate?” She leaned into him, keeping her words low. “How long will you be gone? What if you don’t come back? What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to sit here and run a castle with nothing better to do than pine away for a man who may never return.”

  “What would you have me do, my lady?” His voice was calm, but the underlying current of anger was unmistakable. “Hide beneath your skirts like a coward? Send a missive to the king declaring I cannot fight because my woman disapproves and I shall forevermore be a farmer?”

  “Excuse me, my lord.” She stood from the table, trying to remain calm. “Please don’t follow me. If you do, you’ll not like the scene.”

  She strode from the room, fighting the nausea rising in her throat. Tomorrow? Not even twelve hours from now? What if he didn’t come back? What if this was their last night together? Why in all the bloody Starian mace weapon things didn’t he tell her this sooner? Because she made some kind of strange expression when she thought about him marching off to battle?

  Lilith pulled at the red scarf around her neck, gasping for air. Her lungs constricted, as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She’d seen the change in him, but only now did it make sense. He’d known he was leaving for days, possibly longer. The fantasy was coming to a swift end. She’d allowed herself to be swept into his gaze, telling herself that she still looked for a way home, but she hadn’t really been looking. Not really. Not fully. Not like a woman who wanted her freedom.

  She did want to leave, right?

  Lilith took another deep breath. It didn’t help. Did she go back to Sorin? Did she run? How long would he be gone? How dare he not tell her he was leaving her behind, in charge of a castle. Alone.

  The sound of footsteps echoed on the Black Tower steps and voices carried from within the kitchen. Not wishing to see anyone, she ignored the stairwell and turned away from the kitchen. By now she knew her way around Battlewar Castle. Everyone would be at the eve meal leaving the sewing and laundry rooms abandoned. No one w
ould think to look for her there.

  Hurrying past the dungeon steps, she glanced down. Lilith stopped, taking a step back so she could get a better look. The door at the bottom had been left open a crack. Aside from each individual home above the hall, it was the only part of the castle she hadn’t explored. She’d even been back to her old holding cell, though now it was empty.

  Lilith ran her hand along the wall. The cold hard texture scratched her fingertips as she went to the thick door at the bottom. Expecting to see the surly Brock, she peeked through the barred window. The long, shadowed hall was empty.

  Lilith glanced up the stairwell before hooking her finger around the edge of the door. She opened it slowly, trying to make sure it didn’t squeak on its hinges. Rows of doors lined the long corridor. The first six on either side had bars, but the ones beyond that looked older with thick metal strips riveted across the front.

  Her heartbeat quickened, so loud it echoed in the caverns of her ears, and she wondered what or who they had locked inside. Surely the Caniba people wouldn’t be here, not the creatures whose name the Starians whispered like curses. Snake people who lived in the ground. Eaters of men. Monsters. Her natural curiosity forced her to move. Lilith took a deep breath, holding it as she crept up to the first door. There was only one way to find out.

  * * * * *

  Sorin nodded once as Brock appeared in the doorway to the main hall. The man’s grim face told him everything he needed to know. Taking up his goblet, he couldn’t bring himself to take a drink. A hard knot tightened inside his throat and his guts twisted, the sensation not unlike the moments before an unfavorable battle.

  He’d agonized over his decision for days, but Lilith had to be tested. In the end, getting her to the dungeon door had been easy. Sorin was a master at strategy. Lilith wouldn’t be able to resist exploring the unseen parts of the castle and an opened door to a sealed area would be all the invitation she needed.