by Suz deMello
He tugged off the glove, turned my hand over and boldly kissed my palm. I felt the softness of his lips, the barest scratch of stubble, for he was clean-shaven, and then the slightest flicker of a tongue.
Desire flared through me. Memories flooded my mind… My Exhibition Day, so exultant and perfect. Stolen kisses trailed along my body by a horseman I’d met while riding, kisses that had ended when he’d reached my quim and took me. Nibbles on my breasts…one of my cousins, a nobleman from a rival house, had a fetish for my nipples that had lasted three pleasurable weeks, weeks that ended with the death of my family.
I gasped and jerked away from Storne.
He laughed. There was a lascivious knowledge in that laughter and an edge of meanness. I immediately decided that I’d go barren rather than marry this pig.
I inhaled deeply, remembering who I was. My feelings were of no moment. I had obligations. The Lord of Night was no fool to be fobbed off lightly. But before the heavens, he had a crude lovemaking style. I was used to better.
He eyed me again and I trow that I saw the moment he ceased viewing me as a prize to be won and began to desire me for myself. His gaze traveled to my lips, down to my breasts, barely concealed by the low-cut gown, then up to my mouth again. True want heated his cold gray eyes, and his grip clenched my hand in a jerky manner I would swear was not voluntary, not intended or planned.
He wanted me, and I needed that. For in a sudden rush of feeling, I realized that I wanted him, wanted to share his wildness, seize what fierce pleasure I could from this warrior. I prayed he was my match, that we would reign together all our days as equals on the Golden Throne. But ’twouldn’t be easy.
I cautioned myself against haste. I could be wrong, and being queen, my mistakes were consequently greater than the errors of others, further-reaching and longer-lasting.
He dropped to his knees with a crunch of metal on slate. “Darkness offers fealty to the Queen of Shadow.”
“Shadow acknowledges Darkness’…gift,” I said hesitantly, mistrusting his quick change in attitude. “Rise.”
He did, and I was astonished by his grace and strength, for his armor, dented and dark with use, must have weighed many pounds.
“Maia.” I gestured and my handmaiden advanced. I smiled at Storne. “Maia will see to your comfort and that of your entourage. I must complete the afternoon’s tasks.” I cocked my head toward my silent, waiting subjects. When I glanced at them, I saw that they were as attentive as I, as though they sensed this meeting’s significance.
* * * * *
I do not recall the rest of the day. While I listened, advised and judged, a part of my mind was separate, remembering Storne. How he’d looked. What he’d said. How he’d sounded and smelled… He’d had a male tang that was part the wind and dust of his journey, part the earthy odor of his steed, part the metallic scent of armor… Sweet heavens, had that been blood darkening the metal joints?
I sent a message to Storne requesting that he attend me toward the end of my toilette, and told Maia to prepare me with especial care for that evening’s dinner. I sent out all other servants so I could speak with her privately about him.
As I reclined on a golden velvet settee, she shaved me, a bolster beneath my hips and my legs wide so my pussy was accessible. With quick, deft strokes of the razor, she cleared the curls from both sides of my delta, leaving the mound furred, then from my labia, so the area round my clitoris was smooth. She then cleansed me with a damp cloth before massaging my sex flesh with lotion scented with soothing lavender and chamomile.
I raised my arms above my head, lifting my breasts so they crinkled in the cool air. Storne, I thought, tingling from head to toe. “What did you think of him?”
She did not ask me the subject of my question but said, “I like him. He is direct and honest in his ways, and has the respect of his men.” She fluffed a powder puff between my thighs.
I sighed, my pussy throbbing. “How large is his…entourage?”
“Large enough, I trow. The DarkDwellers make dwarves of us all.”
“I have a task for you.”
Maia set the shaving implements on the sideboard, then turned to regard me with her fullest attention. I sat up and took a hairbrush, handing it to her. As she brushed, I talked.
“I do not wish the leaders of Darkness and Light ever to be alone together.”
She paused and the brush stilled. “I see your concern. If they join against Shadow, we would have no chance against their combined forces.”
“Yes. We would be squeezed like an orange in a press, the life-giving juices extracted and the dry husk left to rot.” Fear twisted deep in my belly.
The brushing resumed. “Kaldir strikes me as ignorant of statecraft.”
“I agree. He may not have thought of such a strategy, but Storne…” I pressed my lips together.
“Yes. I also believe it must have occurred to the Prince of Darkness. He is far too canny a warrior to allow this opportunity to pass unheeded.”
“Or at least considered the possibilities. He has a reputation as a fine soldier.”
The brushing concluded, she tugged at a bellpull. “I will make certain that Darkness and Light do not merge. But you must also do your part.”
I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”
Several of my ladies entered, opening wardrobes and bringing out gowns for my inspection. Others braided my hair and pinned it to the top of my head like a crown while others rimmed my eyes with charcoal and pinkened my lips with a rose-colored tint. With unaccustomed nerves, I dithered over my choices, wondering which dress or what color would most entice Storne. I finally said, “The rose-pink, the one trimmed with gold lace.” I felt overheated, and the gown was of thin, slick satin. Cooling, as in cooling my lust. I did not want to indulge in hasty actions with the Prince of Darkness.
I continued, “And high shoes. I do not wish to look like a dwarf.”
Maia emitted a sharp bark of laughter as she found pink stockings, which were fastened above my knees with ruffled garters of golden lace. She draped a pink chemise over my head, which was followed by a matching corset, laced tightly to show my narrow waist and lift my breasts. I slid my feet into heeled slippers, and as the satin gown was tossed over my head I heard a door open, followed by the clatter of boots.
“Lord Storne.” Maia’s tone was respectful.
I shook my head free of the enveloping folds of lace and satin as she tugged the gown into place. “Good evening,” I said.
“Queen Audryn.” Without being bidden, he approached. He reached for me, then stopped. “May I?”
“Y-yes.” I did not know what he intended, but…
His smile transformed his angular face. He wrapped a big hand behind my neck. His grasp was firm, warm, the skin of his palm a little rough, from swordplay or riding, I imagined. I tried to breathe through a tight, nervous throat.
He kissed me full on the lips, rather than a chaste buss on my cheek, which would have been proper. Though he did not intrude his tongue, the contact was warm, vital and vigorous, hinting at the pleasure we could share.
As he withdrew, his gaze met mine, the gray eyes demanding, gentle and amused. How he packed so many emotions into one glance was a mystery to me. I told myself I was imagining more in his look than actually was there.
I had become infatuated by the Prince of Darkness swiftly—far too swiftly. That was bad. I could not make decisions affecting the history and welfare of my realm based on a passing fancy.
Maia bustled around me, fastening golden earbobs onto my lobes, bracelets on my wrists. Another lady laced my gown up the back. I was grateful for their presence and the respite that the mundane tasks afforded. I could collect myself, regain my lost poise.
When I was dressed, Storne said, “Let’s walk before dinner.”
“Certainly.” I donned long pink satin gloves. Fingerless, they wouldn’t impede me when eating or touching. Again anxiety cramped me to the guts, but I laid a hand
on his elbow.
He had bathed from top to toe. Most of his dark mane hung loose, but the thick locks at each side of his face were braided, leaving his features, angular but pleasing, exposed. Amber and musk from the EastMarch scented his hair. He wore fine garments subdued in color—deep-blue shot and trimmed with silver. The hue complemented his coloring. Hose of the same rich tone limned brawny legs. He was aware of Shadowland fashion, for his codpiece was large and embroidered with thick silver thread. His velvet doublet bore a design with the sacred oak and fiery mountain, traditional symbols of Darkside nobility, nature-worshippers all.
His gray eyes continued expressive, holding intelligence and humor, and his mouth was unexpectedly sensual. A fantasy image of his lips caressing my pussy drifted across my mind.
He led me through the palace with a sure step, showing no uncertainty. Our respective retinues followed. Behind me, the train of my gown swept the slates, but as it didn’t have panniers or hoops, our bodies occasionally bumped as we walked. Each contact shot a scintillating trail of desire along my skin.
“Where are we going? Do you know your way?” I asked.
He cast me an amused glance. “I had a free hour to explore your castle. It is an admirable stronghold.”
He took me to the same terrace where I’d so joyously given my virginity on my Exhibition Day. When our servants attempted to follow, I said, “It’s all right. There are plenty of people below.”
True enough. Down on the lawns, tearing apart the sod, a herd of magnificent taqqa milled and stamped, huge animals with shaggy ochre-colored pelts, massive humped shoulders and curved horns, themselves long, sharp weapons. Some of the beasts were mounted by armored warriors almost as big as Storne, while the rest were laden. Servants, both Shadowlanders and Darksiders, busily unloaded and stacked boxes, baskets, trunks, rugs and portmanteaux. That our people worked together amicably was not lost on me.
“For you,” Storne said.
I stared at him.
“Tribute.”
My eyes widened. “You owe me no tribute, and you cannot buy me.”
“No, but I see that I must woo you.” That smile again, so unexpected from such a solemn mien. “I am but a rough warrior, but I wish to be your rough warrior.”
Pleasure robbed me of speech. I was touched by his courtliness, so at odds with his earlier arrogance. And he was an astute judge of character. He had taken my measure immediately and adjusted his approach. He had also come prepared for any eventuality.
He took out a small pouch from a hidden pocket in his doublet. “My first gift to you.”
My face felt too small for my smile. “Thank you.” Excited, I reached for the red satin bag, hoping it contained jewelry. Darkside boasts a wealth of minerals and gems and its artisans excel in the craft of jewelry design.
He pulled it out of my reach. “Let me show you. Rumor tells me that women of the Shadowlands enjoy this kind of gift, and I will enjoy knowing that you wear it.” He tugged apart the drawstring at the pouch’s top and upended it above his cupped palm. A stream of molten gold spilled forth, resolving into a fine chain, nearly three feet long.
Puzzled, I took it out of his hand and held it up to examine it by the light of the torches lining the marble terrace. The chain had little scissorlike appendages at each end, each maybe the size of my thumbnail. The scissors had curved blades that weren’t sharp but were lined with tiny seed pearls, leaving a circular gap in the center perhaps the size of a baby pea. The ends were curlicued to wrap around each other.
I raised my brows at Storne.
“Allow me.” But he didn’t take the chain, instead reaching for my bodice.
I gasped and jerked away. “Sir, you presume too much.”
“Do I?” He paced the length of the terrace, then returned. “Audryn, there is only one sure test of our ability to rule together, and this mating is a radical step neither of us can take without some…experimentation. I know you approach your seventeenth starturn, and you have sworn to crown your king on that day.”
My jaw tightened. “Your spies are most effective.”
“Thus time grows short. Please.” He reached for me again and this time I did not resist. He was right. Besides, I wanted him to touch me intimately. Though his hands were rough, he handled my breasts with tenderness, lifting them above the gown and away from the corset’s confinement, resting them atop my lace-trimmed neckline. Cool air washed my breasts, a delightful sensation. My nipples wrinkled. He passed a hand over the mounded flesh, traced one curved pink areola’s edge. Need flared through me and my pussy dampened anew.
He smiled. “I suppose that I will have to learn to enjoy the public sex that your customs demand. And I may as well begin…now.” He slid an arm around me and bent his head to kiss first one nipple and then the other, licking around the areola, sucking to lengthen the tips until they were hard and distended.
He gripped my left one between his teeth and gave it a sharp little nip. I gasped, “Storne!”
“Did that hurt?”
“A little.”
He rubbed his lips over the tiny pain he’d caused, and the sting dissolved into a haze of pleasure. He took one of the scissorlike appendages and opened the clasp, then closed it around my swollen nipple.
The tiny pearls gripped the very tip of my breast, lighting a spark of need that zipped to my pussy. I rested my face against his chest, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control my reaction. I felt heat in my cheeks and the softness of his velvet doublet, my pulsing clit…an array of dizzying sensations.
He dropped the chain and the slight weight tugging on my nipple built my pussy’s spark into a fire. He lifted my right breast higher and pinched my nipple, kissed and licked the tip. When it also swelled, he fastened the other clip to it. The fire roared into a blaze and I grabbed his shoulders, flinging back my head. He laid a trail of kisses across my bare chest, up to my throat, along my jawline before he reached my lips.
This time he took my mouth with a commanding kiss, holding me so tightly that I could feel the embroidery on his doublet abrading my naked breasts. My captured nipples rubbed across velvet, scraped across silver thread. I tore my lips away from his and I cried out, heedless of the warriors and servants below. I cared for nothing but the man who held me in his arms, who had claimed me when he chained my breasts, took my mouth.
He released me and looked down. My chest rose and fell with my heavy breaths, my breasts swaying with each pant. My imprisoned nipples, wet and puckered, gleamed in the torchlight. The gold and pearl clamps glowed. He tugged on the chain. Passion and need tore through my body. A shaky moan slipped from my throat.
Behind us, the doors opened. “Your Majesty?” Rall’s voice.
“Yes, Rall. We’re coming.” I managed another, deeper breath. My breasts thrust forward and a new wave of intense pleasure radiated from my nipples.
Storne smiled at me and, reaching for my bodice, pulled my clothes away from my chest. My breasts dropped into their accustomed places. Still smiling, still contained and composed, he slid a hand inside and rearranged chemise, corset, gown and breasts, then lifted the chain over my head and crossed it. When he set the far loop around my neck, it looked like a necklace with the pendant hidden beneath the folds of my gown.
We kissed again, a tender meeting of lips, a gentle exploration. I sank into his arms, allowing myself to relax into his embrace. He was much taller than any of my previous lovers, and the difference was stark. When Storne held me, I felt truly enclosed and enveloped. Not imprisoned or trapped, but surrounded by his masculine power in a very pleasurable way.
I held his elbow as we walked to the Great Banqueting Hall, meeting Kaldir and his retainers outside. Smiling at Kaldir, I took his hand, and the three of us paraded onto the dais at the head of the room.
Dinner passed in a delirium of desire so intense it bordered on pain. I was surrounded by two seductive, attentive swains, for Storne sat next to me with Kaldir on my other side, and occa
sionally one or the other would brush against me. Each time, my body reacted. When I moved, my clothes shifted and the clamps stirred also. The multitude of tiny tugs on my increasingly sensitive nipples slowly drove me insane with lust.
Our conversation was dominated by a discussion of the Royal Progress. Both Storne and Kaldir professed eagerness, but I was sure that Kaldir was disappointed that Storne had arrived soon enough to join the expedition. And I guessed that Storne would have preferred that Kaldir simply leave so he, Storne, could continue seducing me without interference. I was delighted that they saw each other as rivals, for an alliance between them would doom the Shadowlands.
Though I had not been trained to occupy the throne, I blessed my education as a royal, for maintaining my part in the conversation took every shred of discipline I had acquired. I agreed that we should leave in about two weeks, which would allow enough time to arrange all our delegations. I also stated that Storne’s warriors might appreciate a rest between journeys, an idea he found quite humorous.
Finally the last sweetmeat had been nibbled and the last goblet of wine drained. We accompanied Kaldir and his entourage to their suite. Then I headed toward the wing in which I’d ordered the DarkDwellers housed, with Storne, his retainers and warriors following him, and my guards, ladies and Maia following me.
Storne opened the double doors to his wing and gestured his warriors in. Two assumed positions outside his quarters. He said to me, “I’ll walk you to your rooms.”
One of his guards stepped forward as if to follow, and with an impatient wave of his hand, Storne ordered the guard back to his place. “I trow that the castle is safe,” he said, smiling.
“From some kinds of attack, but not others,” I murmured as we walked toward my chambers, my hand on his elbow.
“Will you wear my gift through the night?” His voice was conversational but low enough that the servants couldn’t hear our flirtation.
“No, for I wish to sleep. I find it most…distracting.”
His eyes gleamed in the light of the flambeaux lining the corridor. “Good. May I take it off you tonight?”