The Midwinter Mail-Order Bride

by Kati Wilde

  His amusement joined hers, and he shook against her. “I promise you I will do that.”

  “Oh, yes. Please,” she sighed. “Please.”

  His smiling lips returned to hers again. “And the witch was right,” he murmured. “I cannot kiss every inch tonight. With our hands tied together, we cannot even remove our tunics.”

  Anja stilled beneath him. It was true. They could remove their shirts partially, but not the sleeves on their bound arms. “I would suggest we tear it. But I have no other warm tunics. So what will we do?”

  “We will do nothing.” With sharp teeth, he nipped her bottom lip. “There is a reason why brides wear gowns.”

  Because it didn’t matter if the gown could be removed, as long as it could be lifted. Now Anja shook as she felt the fingers of Kael’s free hand journey up the length of her leggings from knee to upper thigh, then gently tug at the strap.

  Eyes burning into hers, he rasped, “These have driven me mad, wife. Every day within the saddle. Knowing you were so bare. Your warm cunt so near to my cock. Every step the horse took, I dreamed of taking you.”

  Something inside her clenched tight. “I dreamed it, too,” she whispered.

  Her confession seemed to rip through him. He didn’t move, but suddenly his muscles seemed coiled tighter, his face dark with hunger.

  “Tell me what else you dreamed.”

  So much. But the one she could not stop imagining— “When you tended to my leg, I thought I might, I thought…” This needed courage, too, but she found it. “I thought I might grab your hair and force your mouth against my…virgin cunt.”

  She barely breathed the last. And she recognized the man before her now, had seen him splattered with blood and wielding an axe. No longer prowling.

  His strong hand gripped her thigh and shoved it wide. Abruptly he moved down, pushing her tunic above her hips, baring her most intimate flesh. His eyes feasted hungrily upon the sight, and he drew in a deep breath. Ecstasy shined from his face when he filled himself with her scent. But he didn’t kiss her there.

  Instead he growled softly, “You are drenched in your sweet honey.”

  She knew it. Could feel it. So hot and wet and aching.

  His beribboned fingers tightened on hers. He looked up at her face from his vantage between her spread and trembling thighs. Voice hoarse with need, he commanded, “Do not make me wait any longer, Anja.”

  She did not realize what he meant at first—then suddenly did, and was unsure until the moment she pushed her fingers into his thick hair. Everything within her shook with unbearable tension as she forced his head down to her mound.

  Softly he kissed the white curls. Then his fingers exposed her sultry flesh and his broad tongue licked upward from her entrance, before circling the throbbing spot at the apex of her slit. Sheer ecstasy ripped across her nerves. She cried out, her fingers losing their grip in his hair, but he clearly needed no guidance or encouragement anyway.

  His ravenous groan filled the chamber. “You taste even sweeter than I dreamed, Anja.”

  Hungrily he buried his face between her thighs and feasted, his tongue an unbearable torment and the most pleasurable heaven. But there was something more coming, she could feel it approaching, terrifying and exhilarating, but too much to bear, far too much. Yet when she tried to writhe away, Kael pinned her hips and sucked on that spot, the spot that would kill her, because she couldn’t survive this. She begged, but he was relentless, and she screamed as it descended upon her and ripped her apart.

  Then she was brought back to glorious, incredible life, where all the world was sharper and brighter and sweeter, with Kael kneeling between her thighs and softly kissing her mouth.

  His head lifted, his gaze searching her flushed features. “You are well?”

  Dazedly, she nodded.

  “Then wrap your legs around me, Anja.” His voice roughened. “You will feel pain this one time. Bite me if you must to stop your screams. Or if you wish to hurt me in return.”

  She didn’t ever want to. No matter how much pain there was. And all of the torment and pleasure he’d given with his tongue had made her wetter, so much wetter, so the blunt pressure seemed not like pain when Kael’s swollen manhood breached her entrance, but an almost unbearable stretching as he made a place for himself inside her.

  Then a deeper place when he gritted out against her lips, “Your cunt is flooded with your hot welcome, yet it still fights me for every inch,” before withdrawing and leaving behind a burning sting. Only a moment passed before he gripped her bottom in his big hand and pushed into her again, tilting her higher as he did, and instead of one long stroke he filled her in short, hard thrusts. Her fingers squeezed his ever tighter as she bore the endless intrusion. Tears leaked from her eyes though his invasion didn’t hurt, it was just too full and too tight—and the pleasure she had hoped for was only found in his nearness and his warmth and the weight of him above her, in the soft press of his lips to the corner of her mouth, and in the blessed relief that he had apparently finished so quickly. Though his manhood was still swollen and enormous inside her, he didn’t move now, but brushed her hair back from her face and wiped away her tears.

  Shakily, she smiled at him. “It only hurts this one time?”

  Expression taut, he gave a short nod.

  She raised trembling fingers to his mouth. “Is this what you would have had me forgive? The thing you hadn’t yet done?”

  “No.” His voice was gruff. “I intended to steal you from Ivermere tomorrow and take you back to my stronghold—whether you wished to or not.”

  “I would have wished to.” Trying to ease the depth of the thickness still lodged within her, she unwound a leg from around his back and braced her foot upon the mattress. A tremor moved through Kael’s big body, held straining and motionless above her. Did it take so long to finish? Or had he forgotten he was there? She could not forget. All she could feel was him, and the tight stretch of her sheath.

  “You are still inside me,” she reminded him gently.

  He laughed and groaned at once, his head hanging down like a man at the end of his strength. “Are you still hurting?”

  “No.” But not enjoying it, either. “You are just…so deep.”

  Immediately Kael eased back, but not to withdraw. Instead his arm tightened around her and he drew her up with him, until he was sitting on the bed and she straddled his hips, face to face. They were both still fully dressed, though her tunic was pushed up to her waist and he had unlaced his breeches. Her leather-covered knees sank into the mattress. Her inner walls still felt so tight and full, but the deep discomfort was gone, because now she could rise higher on his manhood.

  Curious, she glanced down and stilled, mouth parting as she saw his erection, only partially inside her now. He was fully swollen, the thick shaft glistening with her wetness and streaked with her virgin’s blood—but no seed. There ought to be seed.

  Her gaze flew to his. “You have not spent?”

  His answer was a kiss, hot and deep and slow. Another followed, then another, and those were pure pleasure, as were the kisses he bestowed to her cheeks, her jaw, her throat.

  He unlaced her heavy tunic and exposed more skin. Supporting her with his forearm, he eased her back slightly. The movement forced him deeper inside again, but even that was not so uncomfortable now—and obviously pleasurable for him. With a deep groan, he used his teeth to tug the open neck of her tunic down, revealing the pouting tip of her breast. He latched on, drawing hard upon her nipple. Gasping, Anja arched her back, the motion pushing him even deeper. But there was no discomfort. Only the sudden, taut clench of her inner muscles.

  “Kael,” she breathed, clutching at his shoulder. “Kael.”

  But he only continued sucking on the turgid peak of her breast, and she could not bear it, because he was so deep inside her yet she needed more. So much more.

  Tentatively, she lifted her hips, was rewarded with the delicious slide of his erection with
in the tight clasp of her inner walls. Her breath shuddered at the unexpected pleasure, and she raised her hips again, a sharper movement that took him deeper.

  “Oh,” she whispered and saw Kael gazing at her with heavy-lidded hunger.

  Using their bound hands, Kael slowly drew her upright over his lap again. In a voice taut with strain, he asked, “Are you ready for the rest?”

  —to fuck your virgin cunt and fill you with my seed—

  In answer, she fisted her hand in his hair and kissed him. For he had not only made a place for himself by pressing inside her—she had made a place for him, and she saw his pleasure and his torment while he was within her, and these gifts weren’t just his to give to her, but hers to give to him. So she did, rising up and loving his deep groan. Sinking down and feeling him shake in ecstasy. Then shaking, too, when he pushed their bound hands between them, and began stroking his fingers over that terrible, wonderful spot. Slick with her arousal, their fingers teased together, until she couldn’t bear it anymore, couldn’t stop riding him, or kissing him, and she cried out against his mouth when she shattered apart again.

  With a savage growl, he shoved her over onto her back, his cock deep inside her, fucking her with fast, brutal strokes. She urged him on with her mouth, with her hips, with her fingers tightening on his—until he abruptly stilled, his eyes locked on hers.

  And as she felt the deep, hot pulse of his release inside her, Kael the Conqueror didn’t bellow or roar. Instead he breathed her name reverently, as if it were a prayer…or as if she was an answer to one.

  9

  Kael the Thorough

  Dryloch

  On Midwinter morning, Kael’s bride awakened him with a kiss. Then she whispered into his ear, “You were sleeping so soundly, I could have put a dagger to your throat.”

  Without opening his eyes, he grinned and reached for her—not catching her bare limbs, but the sleeve of her tunic. Already dressed again?

  Neither he nor his wife had slept that night, and the moment that dawn had arrived, he’d unbound the red ribbon, stripped Anja naked, and truly kissed every inch. Only afterward had they finally found their rest, though it could not be a long one. If they didn’t leave by midmorning, then they couldn’t reach Ivermere and return to the village without being caught in Scalewood when night fell—which meant delaying for another day. The wards kept the forest safe after dark, but it was harrowing enough when the sun was high, and Anja had already told him she preferred not to stay overnight in Ivermere.

  Kael would have gladly stayed in bed here for another day. But he was even more eager to finish their journey to Ivermere and kill the cursed spider, so his bride would have no worries preying upon her mind. Then he would take her to bed for a week. Before they left, Kael would tell the innkeeper to keep the chamber ready for their return and a longer stay. They had no reason to rush the journey home. They could wait for the caravan with her trunks to arrive, and make use of the benches in the carriage all the way back to the stronghold.

  It was a fine and wonderful thing, being king.

  Easing open one eye, he judged the light in the room. Too bright for early winter morning. “Did we sleep too late?”

  “Almost. But there is time enough for you to break your fast before we go.” With her white hair braided into a pretty crown, she smiled down at him—and Kael had never seen such a beautiful sight in all his life. “Tarry in bed another moment, though, or else you will give the villagers an eyeful. They have asked to bring us a small Midwinter feast, since we will miss the midday feast in Ivermere.”

  “I would rather feast upon my wife.”

  A blush stained her cheeks, but there was promise and heat in her dark eyes when he brought her down for a lingering kiss…then reluctantly let her go.

  The innkeeper had made up the adjoining chamber to be a parlor for them, and by the time Kael had relieved himself and dragged his breeches on, the villagers had come and gone. Their small feast had a trestle table groaning beneath its weight, and no doubt included the roasts and pies that the villagers had intended for their own Midwinter celebrations. Which meant that he would need to sample a small amount of everything on that table, so that no one was slighted by the king—or left with nothing.

  Fortunately he had a strong appetite, and a wife with an appetite of her own. With a laughing smile, she gestured to one end of the table.

  “I can manage these dishes,” she said, tossing to him a pewter spoon. “But you will have to see to the remainder.”

  It would be no challenge at all. A flavorful roast was first, then a bite of pork pie, then a sausage with crackling. He glanced up at Anja when she made a soft exclamation, her mouth stuffed with a pear tart. Her widened eyes met his, but as he could see the laughter in them, so he continued on to a slice of venison until she could speak.

  “I have just remembered that my mother asked me to bring winter pears back from one of my rides,” she said while dipping her spoon into a cherry pudding. She had taken the end of the table that held the sweets, he suddenly realized, and felt a swell of pride at his wife’s cunning. “She doesn’t like pears for herself, but they are common Midwinter gifts and we were nearing that season, so I thought nothing of it since. But it was later the same day when she and my father told me that your letter had arrived. So they had already intended to send me to you as a bride, because she planned to give me the kissing potion even then—so that I could be sent away without any resistance. They must have been astonished that I agreed so easily, instead!”

  She was laughing but Kael couldn’t join in. Just mention of that potion darkened his mood—and he didn’t follow the rest. “What do pears have to do with it?”

  “Winter pear seeds are part of the potion, and it’s more effective if they are gathered by the person whom the potion is intended for. Otherwise the potion will only last a few days. But if tailored to one person…weeks. Months, if the body is cared for properly. They can only be awakened with another sip of the potion.” Suddenly her amusement faded. Her face clouded, and she pressed her bottom lip between her teeth before turning to cut free a piece of cake. “But they didn’t need to use it after I agreed to go. Not until I saw the spider a day or two later. Then they believed I’d changed my mind, yet sent me anyway.”

  Into the arms of a man that everyone believed would be cruel to her. “Did they know you intended to kill me and take my throne?”

  Silently she shook her head.

  He contained the rage boiling through his veins. “You never need to see them again. I will continue to Ivermere today and kill the spider. Or not, if you wish us to be done with them completely.”

  “I am already here,” she said in a quiet voice, and resolutely dipped her spoon into another pudding. “I will see it finished.”

  He could not bear her hurt. Swiftly he strode around the table and caught her chin, tilting her face up to claim a kiss. Warm honey and tart cherry flavored her lips, and she softly sighed and melted against him.

  When he lifted his head, there was still a touch of melancholy and pain in her smile, but also steely resolution. “After today, I will not think of them again,” she said.

  She would not be able to help it, but Kael would do his best to keep her distracted, so she would not think of them too often. He swiftly kissed her again, then looked over the sweet dishes, looking for apple pastries to take back to his end of the table.

  Her spoon digging into a nearby bowl, Anja made a small sound of surprise. He glanced at her and found her tilting her head, to better see the faintly glowing rune etched into his side. With her fingers she traced the shape that curved along his ribs, her brow furrowing.

  Her puzzled gaze lifted to his. “Why is a ward marked into your skin?”

  “To protect me from sorcerers’ spells.” He could not have defeated any of Geofry’s warlords without it. They’d have burst his eyes or broken his neck with a few words. But the ward made him impervious to their magic.

  Not imp
ervious to other things affected by their magic, though. If they had cast a spell to fill a room with water and locked the doors, Kael might have drowned. But in all cases, Kael had destroyed them before they’d figured out that they needed to kill him with indirect spells.

  “Yes, but…in your skin? And it’s active and glowing,” she said in wonder. “Does your Minister of Wards do this for you? Where did he hear of such a thing? Not in Ivermere. And how did he maintain its power in the two weeks since you left the stronghold? It should have faded within days.”

  Should have. Except it was nothing like she assumed. And suddenly Kael realized that, of all people, Anja might be most hurt by the truth of this. Because he had never lied to her. But she had believed he would be angry when he discovered the truth about her magic. She’d thought such omissions of truth were something to be angry about. Now it was the same situation…but reversed.

  With tension gripping his throat, Kael shook his head. “I made it.”

  She fell silent. For the longest moments of his life, she simply regarded him with solemn, dark eyes.

  When she spoke, her tone was flat. “You are a spellcaster?”

  “No.” He knew no spells, and wouldn’t have used them if he did. “But I was born in the Dead Lands—and the Reckoning did not destroy the ability to use corrupt magic, only everything that had been changed by it before. So my people are still born with the ability, just as everyone in Ivermere is. But aside from the witches and a few healers, none use corrupted magics. And there is this.”

  He showed her the small mark at the inside of his elbow. As if he’d shown her a crawler, Anja gasped in horror and fell back a step. Her hand flew to her lips and her eyes shot to his, outrage and astonishment combining into— “Who did that to you?”

  She looked as if she might strike down the culprit with her sword. She would not have to go far.

  “I did.” Because it bound his magic to his skin. He could not even inadvertently cast a spell, because he couldn’t draw on anything from outside himself, stealing it from elsewhere. His natural ability could power the ward embedded in his skin, but that was only a shield that prevented corrupted magics from touching him, not a spell that stole safety from one place and gave it to another.