Wicked Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  As Enovese watched, she saw a brief flicker of joy cross Clathia’s face and realized the lady watched her daughter, also dressed all in crimson, dance with Chur. Sudden tears blurred her gaze, and Enovese understood Clathia’s reaction for they were beautiful together. Chur rested his hand delicately against Kasmiri’s lower back, guiding her in the dance. He took care to move lightly so he did not disturb her sophisticated coiffure that spiraled her black hair into a cone on the top of her head. Kasmiri’s skin glowed tawny gold and her strong, angular face tilted slightly as she gazed at Chur with nothing short of enchantment.

  When the dance ended, Chur bowed politely, but when he attempted to turn away, Kasmiri placed her hand against his forearm, effectively stopping him. He turned to her. Kasmiri said something that Chur couldn’t hear for he leaned close. Standing on tiptoe, Kasmiri spoke close to his ear. Luscious lips of crimson rolled the words from her mouth. Concern and then shock washed over his features. When he pulled back, Kasmiri nodded, then walked away.

  Enovese couldn’t help but notice that Chur watched Kasmiri until she exited the great hall. Chur shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. He stood alone on the dance floor until the music started again and another sacrifice was ushered into his arms. As Chur danced with this new young lady, his gaze kept darting to the hallway Kasmiri had exited.

  Enovese frowned. Did he wish to follow her? Why? What had she said to him before she floated away, her hips rolling seductively in shimmering blood red astle? Enovese had inadvertently discovered this hideaway when she stole the green fabric for her dress—someone had left it as an offering, and judging by the intensity of the green, it was a member of the elite—but not once had she seen Chur cast even a lightly interested gaze upon one of the virgins. His reaction to the daughter of the empress was unique and startling. Enovese knew she should return to his rooms to ready for the finale of the ritual of control, but the drama unfolding below riveted her.

  Her earlier words to Chur, that a powerful woman would serve him well as a bondmate, replayed in her mind. Was Kasmiri the answer to their problems? Could Enovese release him from his claim and push him into the arms of another woman? If Chur chose Kasmiri during the Harvest, his claim could not be denied, and the empress would throw a decadent bonding ceremony. In that moment, with the ears and eyes of all the most powerful in the Onic Empire in attendance…Enovese couldn’t imagine a more perfect opportunity.

  Enovese believed the empress would not allow any harm to befall her daughter’s consort, and if Clathia knew the horrid truth, she would not let the practice continue. Enovese knew the way to appeal to Clathia was to appeal to her as a mother. If Chur compelled her to think of her daughter, she would understand.

  Envisioning the moment with ideal clarity, Enovese did not see herself present. What would happen to her? Even if Chur called her forth as proof, along with her mother, what would they do with her afterward? A shiver of revulsion clutched her heart when she imagined herself becoming a servant to Chur and his chosen. She shook the vision away. Chur would not allow that. But how much power would he wield as consort to the future empress? Would he command enough influence to protect her? At best, she would have a life in the tanist house, teaching those who would come after her. Heaven alone would have to forfend her from ending up a tanist swelled with viables.

  Rather than dwelling on a future she had little control over, Enovese turned her attention back to the great hall, seeking out the woman she had seen in Chur’s mind. It took a long time to locate her for her dress was black, blending into the darkness of the Onic tiled floor. Enovese knew the woman was her mother, for her hair was the same color and her skin was just as pale. Her mother sat on a high-backed chair so alone in the swirling sea of people. She lifted a crystal goblet to her lips and drank deeply of whatever liquid it held. When a beige-clad servant offered to refill her cup, Enovese noticed her mother’s hand trembled when she held out her goblet.

  Concern for a woman she honestly didn’t know caused Enovese’s blood to pulse hard in her ears. Clearly, she was drinking and quite heavily, too, because no sooner had the servant filled her cup when she drained it again. What tormented her mother so?

  “She knows.”

  Enovese clapped a hand to her mouth when she realized she spoke aloud. Was that what crushed her mother’s spirit? She knew the horrible truth and felt powerless to act? If such were true, she might choose to stand with her and Chur in an effort to change the ritual.

  When Enovese searched the room for Chur, she couldn’t find him. She wondered if he had followed Kasmiri and jealousy surged, but she pushed the feeling away. She trusted Chur. No man on the planet had as much self-control as he did. His absence caused panic, for if he returned to his rooms and didn’t find her waiting he would be livid. He was expecting the conclusion of the ritual of control and she wanted that release as much, if not more, than he did.

  Wriggling backward, Enovese struggled to keep her robe from bunching up around her hips. It took far longer to extricate herself from the narrow stone tunnel than it did to enter. She scraped her knee when she dropped down along the shelves and wall but barely noticed as she shook the dust off her robe. At the door, she again covered her hand with her sleeve and listened intently before leaving the anteroom.

  Striding quickly along the hallways without going so fast as to draw attention to herself, Enovese returned to Chur’s rooms and tentatively pushed open the door. A sigh escaped her when she discovered he hadn’t arrived. She pushed her hood back and released the clasps of her robe. Sliding the rough fabric off her shoulders, she yanked off her shift and unbound her hair.

  She placed a mirror before the chair they used for the ritual and then carefully shaved her sex. Since she was pressed for time, she used the modern tool that tingled vibrations along her too-sensitive flesh as it removed her hair. She stroked the tool along her legs, then brushed up the mess and moved to the bathing unit.

  To dampen her ardor, she deliberately turned the jet to a much cooler temperature and plunged under the spray. Her nipples peaked and she gasped at the shock of cold water against her hot skin. Efficiently she washed her hair and body, then dried off and soothed oil over her shaved sex. When she caught herself lingering between her legs, she uttered a sharp groan and stopped.

  Rushing, she towel-dried her hair as best she could, then retrieved the green dress from the sacred chest and pulled it on. She grabbed the oil and the blue lotion, and placed them by the chair. Once she had everything set, she stood gasping in the center of the room. She laughed. Here she was rushing about when she probably had hours before he arrived. Relieved, she grabbed the tome and settled into the couch to wait for Chur’s return.

  A warm press of lips to her ankle woke her. When she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she discovered Chur, on his knees, kissing his way up her leg.

  “Did I wake you?” His voice rumbled low yet playful.

  “In a most pleasant way.”

  He had turned the crystals low. A golden glow barely made him visible. A clash of different perfumes wafted from his uniform, but below she found his spicy masculine essence. She set the tome aside and reached for him, but he motioned her back.

  “I am performing an inspection. A most thorough inspection.” He continued to press soft kisses along her leg, nipping his teeth to sensitive places, caressing her tingling skin with his calloused hands. “You have beautiful skin, Enovese. So pale and fragile, reminding me of winter’s crystal covering, where if one dares to touch, the crystals melt away.”

  She dissolved under his poetic words and sensual strokes. Chur didn’t rush. He lingered and loved every part of her limbs from ankle to knee, then performed the same teasing inspection of her other leg. When he came to the scrape, she tensed, but he only kissed lightly. He pushed the skirt of her dress up, but not too far, when she wanted to yank the entire costume off. Truly, he had far more patience than she did.

  Holding her gaze, he pressed a kiss to ea
ch knee and then cupped the tender skin behind. Confident and controlled, he parted her legs, letting the green astle slick between her spread thighs. Breathlessly, she waited for him to work his way up, but he only flashed her a wicked smile and lifted her leg again.

  “Do you have any idea what part of your body intrigues me most?”

  She shook her head, for she doubted he would name the part pulsing and quivering below her skirt.

  Sliding his hand down, he cupped her ankle. “Slender ankles that seem too slim to support such a strong woman.” Teasing his teeth and tongue around each ankle sent her into a spiral of anticipation. “When we danced I lost my steps because flashes of your ankles distracted me. I wanted to grasp them, like this.” He wrapped one massive hand around each of her ankles. “Then part them wide, like this.” He spread her legs as wide as the span of his arms.

  He held her open and exposed, but his gaze never wavered from hers. Soft summer-sky blue turned smoky and penetrating. She realized even if he looked between her thighs all he would see was the fabric of her dress. Heat from her sex, trapped by the tight weave of pooled astle, built the temperature until she was convinced the fabric would ignite.

  Drawing her legs together, he balanced her ankles on his shoulders, then slid her down the couch. Her skirt bunched around her hips but still didn’t draw high enough to expose her to his gaze. He moved forward so her calves dangled over his back. His uniform felt rough in comparison to her dress, adding a new layer of sensation as he nuzzled her inner thigh.

  With a wicked smile, he rubbed his face along her thigh and stopped at the juncture of her legs. “I have heard the term pleading eyes, but yours, Enovese, your eyes are beseeching.” His voice puffed a moist breath against the fabric, increasing the temperature of her slick sex.

  She could imagine how she looked to him then, with her legs trembling, her breath catching with anticipation, her eyes begging him to please, please, please release the heat from her sex.

  “If my eyes don’t compel you, could I entreat you with my voice?”

  A sinful chuckle moved more warmth against her, causing her to clench her legs, dragging him a bit closer, but not close enough.

  “It is your greedy groans and plaintive whimpers that inveigle me most.”

  He lifted her legs from his shoulders, parting them so he could ease between. He lowered his head and nuzzled his nose into the folds of fabric, seeking out her twitching nub. He knew when he located her clit, for she released a gasp and wriggled closer. His hands to her hips stilled her while he persisted in moving the fabric aside until only one layer barred him from direct contact.

  Darting her a glance, he nipped her clit with his teeth, but before she could react, he sucked the pulsing flesh into his mouth. Hot, wet, his seductive mouth pushed her right to the edge, but astle blocked the full sensation. Release hovered just beyond her grasp.

  She bit back a scream when he stopped. She had thought he would be so aroused that he would not linger, but again, he exercised legendary control. Enovese realized she wanted more than just a shattering release. She wanted to taste him and feel his body atop hers. She wanted to merge with him, clasp him fully, intimately. Terrifying emotions simmered within her heart, and she shut her eyes to block him from discovering the truth: Enovese loved Chur so much she decided that she had to let him go. It was the only way to protect him and give him the power to find his children.

  “Thank you, Enovese.”

  Startled that he had connected to her thoughts, her eyes went wide, and she fumbled for an explanation.

  “For wearing the dress, letting your hair fall free, and shaving your luscious sex.” He drew the fabric away and placed the sweetest, softest kiss to her mound. “So wanton and wet, so slick and sweet, ah, Enovese, I could happily drown.”

  Reverently, he closed his eyes and his velvet tongue worked between her swollen lips, then around and around the hood of flesh that cradled her clit.

  She grasped his head, twining her fingers in his shadow black hair, tracing her fingertips to his powerful jaw. Hours since her careful shave, his emerging beard rasped and tingled her flesh. Gently, he sucked her clit between his lips, forcing the hood back, exposing her utterly to the ministrations of his probing tongue. Ecstasy consumed her in flames of hunger.

  “I wanted to tease you, then have you climax as I plunged within your silken heat; but now, I want to taste your pleasure.” With a nipping flick, he drew her to the edge of the plunging precipice. “I want to savor your orgasm. I want to drink every drop of your delight.” He met her gaze with concentrated lust filling his eyes. “And then, I will do it all over again when I plunge my cock into you.”

  His tone and the thrust of his words allowed her to actually feel that moment when his shaft penetrated, possessing her utterly. Her passage contracted around the idea of his penis. With words alone, he ruled her body in ways she barely understood.

  “After so many nights of denial, I will work my shaft so deeply into you that you will not know where I end and you begin.”

  Words escaped her as her breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t think straight with her body twitching and straining. His words and the cast of his gaze enthralled her, for she knew he would delay his orgasm until he’d reduced her to a mass of lustful flesh. She would suffer delicious torture at his expert touch.

  Masterful and secure, Chur slid his hand up her leg and teased his massive finger against her. “Greedy and grasping,” he said, tracing his fingertip around the muscles of her quivering passage. “Would you enjoy my finger plunging into you?” Holding his finger ready, he waited for her reply.

  Unable to speak, she nodded.

  With inexorable intent, Chur slid his finger into her. His gaze never wavered from her face. Her muscles contracted around his digit, then clutched with dire need. He twisted his hand, twirling his finger deep inside, causing her to gush to the point she knew she would leave a stain against her dress. She didn’t care. Lifting her hips, she met his thrusting finger with wild abandon. As she neared the edge of climax, he slowed his pace and lowered his lips to her clit.

  Sucking, biting, rasping his tongue along her sensitized flesh as he fingered deep into her, Enovese thrashed in an effort to push over the barrier. Chur forced a second finger inside her, curling them, pressing up against her passage, teasing a secret spot that caused her to go rigid when she hit the edge.

  Freefall.

  Plunging over the precipice, her physical form reduced to sensation, she dove into light that blinded her to blackness. Consumed with fire, heat that burned yet soothed, Enovese lost consciousness. All she knew in that blissful moment was pure, unadulterated paradise.

  Reluctantly, she blinked her way back to reality.

  Chur waited, between her legs, rapt with attention.

  When she looked at him, he smiled the most satisfied, prideful smile she had ever seen. His smirk lifted the edge of his scar, sculpting his face to dangerously handsome. Confidence that bordered on arrogance exuded from him as he stood, and the twinkle in his gaze said he wasn’t finished with her yet. Her heart pounded with raw excitement. Recently released from eight nights of torment, his possessive manner still compelled her nipples to harden and her clit to twitch anew.

  He stood over her for a moment, enjoying her disheveled state. He offered his hand and she clasped it. Chur pulled her to her feet, spilling the emerald astle down from her hips. Her legs wobbled. He wrapped his massive arms around her, pulling her against his solid form. Clutching his shoulders, she pressed her face against his jacket, feeling delicate, fragile, and gloriously feminine. She reveled in this side of him, this triumphant side where he found the most intense satisfaction in her pleasure.

  “You are stunning when orgasm possesses you, Enovese.” He trailed his fingers through her hair. “Such rapture causes you to glow.”

  Such an image caused her to laugh. “At one point I thought I would burst into flames.”

  He chuckled and nest
led her close, pressing his erection into her belly.

  Irritation caused her to pull back a bit. “How can you stand any more denial? Why are you not crazed with need?” She worried that she wasn’t as desirable as she thought, certainly not enough to inspire the same insatiable lust he created in her.

  Tilting his face as he considered her, he traced her lips with his fingertip, speculative and sensual. “I just took your words to heart, that you crave that stunning moment of ecstasy as much as I do. I thought I was being quite the diligent lover to allow you to go first.”

  A sudden understanding flashed. “How kind of you, mighty Harvester.” She batted her lashes, then whispered, “A dose of umer also helps.”

  He chuckled as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I can never fool you for long.”

  With his face so close, she tried to smell the umer on his breath but caught only her scent on him when he kissed her.

  Dueling tongues plunged together and rapture held her captive again. Tightening her grip, she realized she didn’t want to let him go, not now, not ever. Everything she dreamed of was within her grasp. Chur wanted to bond to her and not because she’d tricked him or he felt obligated. He wanted her because he loved her. He hadn’t spoken the words, but she felt the shift in his emotions. Now, she was thinking of sacrificing everything to protect him. To help him help his children. To give him the path to change thousands of years of indoctrination. She had started this process with selfish intent, caring only about herself, but now all she could think of was Chur.

  He fumbled with the fasteners on her dress. He broke the kiss in order to mumble, “I can wield a mighty sword, yet I’m undone by simple clasps.”

  With a step back, she deftly removed the dress. Emerald astle pooled around her. Teasingly, she lifted her legs, then stopped, flashing him her ankles.

  “Wicked yondie,” he murmured, trading his gaze from her feet to her face. “I never should have told you my weakness.”