Emily's happy shriek echoed in the cavernous room as she headed off towards the stacks of books she'd already compiled.
But she didn't make it very far before she was stopped by a large but relatively gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll get them. I don't want you lifting anything that heavy."
Embarrassed by what his care for her implied, Emmy hung back with Hinda.
"He thinks you might be with child?" she sensed accurately.
Her response was wry in the extreme, "If I'm not, it won't be for lack of him trying."
Hinda smiled softly. "You are bonded, then?"
Emily tensed, not really knowing what to say. She knew the correct answer was "yes," but that hardly portrayed the situation with any amount of accuracy.
The older woman put her hand on Emily's arm. "Vaudt has told me the story you told him of how you came to be here, and I can understand how this situation might not have been exactly what you'd hoped for." Her voice was quiet as she confessed, "I was an Omega, too, you see, and I had little more choice than you did about my bonding, although I had grown up to expect that was my fate."
"It wasn't – and isn't – at all what I want," she confessed quietly.
Hinda took a deep breath. "I know that my son can be hard to deal with. He's very much like his father, whereas his little brother – who is his greatest rival – is more like me."
"Wait a minute," Emmy interrupted. "How can you be a librarian when your son doesn't know how to read?"
"Vaudt was the eldest male child. My husband was a great warlord in his own right, and he took Vaudt from me when he was three years old to raise him to be just like himself. So he was taught to hunt, raid, fight, ride, and not much else. It's given him a lot of success – he's been able to, not only hold the lands his father acquired, but to expand them, too. He has never lost in a conflict with another county. But at a steep price." She sighed. "I had despaired of him ever finding someone he wanted to bond with, especially considering the scarcity of Omegas." She hugged Emmy again. "I am so glad he has found you. And I was not kidding when I said that you have changed him – for the good. He is more...settled and much less volatile."
Emily was thinking that she wouldn't want to know what he was like before if this was less volatile.
"It suits him to have someone like you to take care of. It humanizes him a bit."
"Have you never...tried to teach him to read?"
The other woman snorted. "As if he would sit still long enough for me to do that! But you should try. It could only make him even better to be able to read books on governing and law and justice." Then she said something that surprised Emmy. "How much I envy what your life must've been like before you ended up here. What a different world it was at one time."
"It had its problems," Emmy admitted. "Obviously, or this – whatever caused this – would never have happened."
"You're right. But the freedoms, the ease of life in general...medicine. Careers for women other than motherhood..."
"I think that's all of them," Vaudt proclaimed, hefting the last stack onto a pile he'd created behind the desk. Then he looked at Emmy. "Pick three, and we'll take them back with us."
She hated to be ungracious or impolite, but she spent the rest of the time they were there rifling through them all, trying to decide which ones she wanted to take.
Finally, Vaudt practically dragged her out of there, proclaiming that she had to take the books that were in her hands at that exact moment.
She got another one of those marvelous hugs from Hinda before she left, and she watched her do the same to her enormous son, who seemed to be barely able to tolerate such blatant affection from his mother, not encouraging or really returning it much, except for a few extremely awkward pats on her back.
Huh. He did better in that area with her than with his Mom.
Although she had a little more stimulation in her life now than she had at first with him, it hadn't worked one bit to dim the lust she felt for him every time he was within her proximity. And when he left, it was just as bad as it had always been, the craving setting in and robbing her of the ability to enjoy the new treasures she had gotten from Hinda.
She had hoped that the birth control pills she had found and immediately begun taking might have helped in that area, but they hadn't, at least not so far. Honestly, her greatest hope was that they did what they were supposed to do, although she was a bit concerned that Vaudt's sperm might take after him and be some sort of super sperm that would somehow impregnate her regardless of her attempts at preventing it.
Or that she was already pregnant, although she hadn't really seen any signs of that.
He seemed to be gone more often of late, and she understood from Anja that the battle in which he and his brother had both been injured had been a revival of an old feud with a nomadic hoard of vandals that liked to call themselves the Skorge. The leader was the infamous Garron he'd been interrogating her about – and who was active in the area at the moment, which was what he was spending his time away from her doing.
At one point, he was gone for so long that she had actually become worried, and when he finally came through the door, covered in dirt and blood, she actually greeted him with open arms, stepping up on tiptoes before him to hug him as best she could reach.
If she hadn't been so concerned about him, she might have laughed at the startled look on his face at her actions. "Are you feeling well?" he asked, lifting her up gently so that they were eye to eye. Being held like that, she could feel that he was ready for her, as she was more than ready for him.
"I –" She bit her lip and then whispered the truth, as if it was shameful, "I've missed you."
He began to walk with her towards the bed.
"Not just for that," she whimpered, although she couldn't manage not to rub herself lewdly against him, while she was protesting, either. "I missed talking to you and hearing about what's going on. When you're not here…" she complained breathily as he reached down and moved the bedcovers out of the way in order to lay her on the mattress in front of him. "I don't get out much."
"I know," he said smugly, dragging his disreputable, rough fingers over the delicate tips of her nipples possessively. "I don't want you getting out if I can't be there to ensure your safety."
Before she knew it, he had an ankle in each hand, spreading her wide for him as he teased her slit with his cock. "I will never grow bored with this sight – this right here. You spread before me, your body making you welcome for me. I swear I could smell your sweet essence from the moment we got in the gates."
Then he made that now familiar, practiced move that began to lodge him inside of her, but stopped short suddenly, although she could tell how hard he was finding it to do so, he did it, actually sliding himself out of her.
"What's wrong?" she asked, hating how desperate and needy she sounded, having to grasp handfuls of the sheet beneath her in order to keep herself from reaching up to pull him back down and into her.
"You haven't bled in a while. You are probably pregnant, and I'm not sure if I should be doing this to you. I will do nothing that might endanger the health of our child."
If their situation had been different – if she'd met him in her time, somehow, or been better adapted to this one, perhaps – she might have found that touching.
But she just couldn't let herself feel that about him, no matter how hard it was sometimes.
Emmy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know that?"
He ignored her question. "I think I should wait until I can talk to the doctor about whether or not that's a good idea."
Emily wanted to scream at that pronouncement, but she knew better than to waste her energy trying to change his mind once he made it up.
With a loud groan that was combination of thwarted desire and anger at him for spying on her, as he had so obviously been doing – via Anja, she would bet – she rolled away from him and he consciously stepped away from her. Standing there looking down at
her, fists clenching and unclenching as he fought against his own instincts, and finally, he simply turned and walked out the door, leaving her sobbing behind him to put his fist through the nearest wall in frustration about three feet from their door.
Chapter 8
He'd stormed out, but he hadn't done it just for show. No, he'd hunted down the doctor and probably turned his interrogation techniques on that poor soul.
When he'd felt reassured enough that nothing he could do to her – short of things he would never do anyway – would have any kind of effect on the fetus that no one was really sure yet she was carrying, he had come back to her – so quickly that he was already out of breath even before he got to her.
But Emmy was not in the mood.
Or rather, she was trying desperately not to be.
He had been spying on her, and she found that very hard to forgive. In fact, she found herself remembering that the entire business was hard to forgive. She didn't want to want him, and he should be respectful of that. Why she thought that spying on her was beyond him, considering the other things he did to her on a daily basis, she would never know.
So, although she had greeted him effusively the first time he'd come through the door that day, his reception the second time he entered the room was just the opposite. She didn't so much as move on the bed.
She heard his heavy sigh and knew she was pushing her luck with him, but she also knew that he would be extra careful of her because he thought she was pregnant.
He knew that she was aware of his presence – there was no way she couldn't be. They had been so long apart and were so sensitive to each other because of it that, even if she had been unconscious, her body probably would have awakened her because he was so near.
He knew, too, that she hadn't been happy to hear that he kept track of her cycle, and that when he wasn't able to be around, he had the only other person who was close to her – Anja – do it for him.
But – as much as he wanted to sweep her feelings aside and simply have her, he grabbed his rampant libido with both hands and forced himself not to. Instead, he took a long, hot shower, washing off all of the crap. She had surprised him and ignored him, in favor of hugging him.
What a difference an hour could make.
He left little more than stubble from what had been a pretty good beard because he knew that was what she preferred. Despite the fact that it earned him a bit of teasing from his men to be quite so carefully trimmed, he brushed his teeth and even gargled with mouthwash, which was a luxury that wasn't available to most people any more. Too many folks thought it contained at least some alcohol – and some types did – and it had become quite a popular commodity for those seeking to find a cheap drunk.
Naked, he reentered the room, noting that she hadn't changed positions in the least.
She wasn't going to make this easy, apparently, although he could still smell her essence, which was always just as potent whether she wanted him to breed her or not.
And he had no doubt that he could make her just as ecstatic, to bring her to those towering heights as he always did, regardless of her preference, too.
It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before.
Only it had been a little while since she'd actually resisted him with any fervor, and he wasn't looking forward to reverting to that again. He preferred to feel those small hands of hers on him, flicking his nipples, which he hadn't even known he liked, rather than futilely trying to push him away, sometimes even raking her nails down his back, staking her own feminine claim on him while he drove her wild beneath him rather than pleading with him to stop.
She'd taught him a thing or two that was new – taken him into her mouth and nearly stopped his heart – and definitely stopped his mind – almost unmanning him completely between her greedy lips instead of between her legs, where his seed belonged.
She'd shown him a position she called 'reverse cowgirl'. The name didn't mean much to him, but it had rapidly become one of his favorites.
He snorted softly to himself. Everything was his favorite with her.
Vaudt unwrapped her slowly, and she didn't put up any kind of a protest. Although he was doing his best to try to take it slow, he nibbled her neck then teased her nipples with his teeth and tongue. All the while, his fingers used her cream against her as he tweaked a clit that was very interested in what he was doing, even if the rest of her didn't show any evidence that she even knew he was there.
Her eyes were tightly closed, as was her mouth, but he could see how rapidly she was breathing. He knew that, as much as she might want it to seem that way, she was not as unaffected by what he was doing to her as she would like to be – or as she would like him to think she was.
And, suddenly, with that familiar surge of passion, he signaled that he was ready to mount her, his patience largely evaporated, and he wasn't willing to pander to her any longer. He was going to get a response from her, one way or the other.
There was no further preamble before he drove himself into her with merciless speed, viciously hooking and knotting her at the same time.
That got her attention.
So shocked by his brutal invasion, she arched up, towards him, in order to try to cope with the pain of it, her eyes flying open and finding his in the midst of her distress.
And then he began to move, slowly, deliberately, coaxing a response from her – amidst her pain – that she did not want to give him.
But, even as she lay back down again, a mindless moan bubbled up from her chest and past lips that were wide open, just trying to suck in enough oxygen to deal with what he was doing to her.
He varied his rhythm, grinding slowly against her one moment, then delivering short, sharp, snapping strokes the next, keeping her deliberately off balance.
Keeping her on the precipice, but preventing her from coming at the same time...
He didn't mind if it delayed his own culmination. He knew he'd get there eventually.
But he wanted to make sure she felt everything he could do to her before he allowed her to have her pleasure, waiting so long that the swollen tissue at the base of his penis was the biggest it had ever been in his life.
And he forced her to stretch around it, even more so when he pounded himself into her. Every stroke – soft or hard – forced an animalistic sound out of her that he had no doubt was a combination of both true pain and true pleasure.
He kept her right there, right at the edge – writhing, wailing – desperate for a release that she knew depended entirely on him. There was nothing in her world any longer but the big man hovering over her. Nothing else mattered but that she convince him to grant her release.
Until, at last, he pushed her past the force of her own will, and she began to beg him feverishly, wantonly.
Humiliatingly.
But, even then, before he would grant her that blessed relief, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her ear to command huskily, "Tell me you're mine, Emily."
Her eyes – unfocused and wide – flew to his. He watched the tears seep sluggishly out of the corners of her eyes as she drew a breath that somehow managed to steady her, to bolster her, such that, when she responded to him, he heard her whisper brokenly, flatly, completely without emotion, lust, or even resentment or anger, "I am yours, Vaudt."
Then – and only then –he began to fuck her strong and steadily. Powerfully enough that she practically burst beneath and around him, milking him so firmly that he thought he was going to pass out from it as her body continued to contract with just as much vigor as it had when it started, sating and exhausting her at the same time. Carrying on relentlessly, sending shards of pleasure throughout her body like electric shocks, keeping her that fantastically high until even after he had run dry and begun to shrink within her.
Even when he had disengaged from her and was holding her now stiff, unyielding body against his, he could occasionally feel her shake with another jolt of pure ecstasy. He tried to comfort her – tried to help her c
ome down from what had to be such terrifying heights, but she never said a word to him, her eyes remaining open, tears never letting up the entire time.
She was different after that. She never refused him, never gave him cause to punish her or be angry with her in the least. She ate what he told her to eat and was quiet even when he didn't really want her to be. She went where he wanted her to go and did what he wanted her to do without comment or protest.
The books he had done his best to remember to get for her from his mother on a regular basis – when he was there – piled up – unread and untouched, as far as he could tell – beside the bed. She spent her time sleeping, or simply lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.
And nothing he did, nothing he tried, seemed to have any effect on her demeanor. It was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced in his life. When another man frustrated him, he knew how to handle it. It usually ended in a fight, but that cleared the air between them, and then they could go on like normal.
But he couldn't do that with Emily.
He didn't feel he could spank her – she hadn't done anything wrong.
The longer it lasted – especially the sleeping – the more he decided to chalk it up to her being pregnant. Although it was an unfortunate rarity nowadays, he knew that pregnant women were apt to be moody in the extreme – ecstatically happy one minute and dissolving in tears the next.
And he tried to be happy about it, but with her in the mood she was in, even that amazing development wasn't quite what it should be.
And then came the morning she bled, and he knew he could no longer blame it on pregnancy hormones.
For her part, Emmy had reached the limits of her tolerance for him and for what he was doing to her. She didn't even really want to escape any more. She didn't know what she wanted, beyond not to be where she was, she supposed, but not enough even to do anything about it.
All she wanted was for him to leave her alone to sleep.
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