DARK HARVEST
Books by Anitra Lynn McLeod
WICKED HARVEST
DARK HARVEST
SEXY BEAST VII
(with Kate Douglas and Shelli Stevens)
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
DARK HARVEST
ANITRA LYNN MCLEOD
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
This one is for Patricia
and the Princess.
Nothing says I love you
like a book dedication.
Well, perhaps a Ferrari
but I couldn’t afford that.
This should square us for several birthdays
and at least two holiday seasons.
Just kidding!
I wouldn’t be here today
without each of you!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
1
How long did it take to be harvested?
Kasmiri glared at the fresco-laden ceiling. At least there was something for her to look at while she lay flat on her back. Unfortunately, the artist’s technique was abysmal. Religious artwork tended to the wispy, but this rendered everyone insubstantial, as if in dire need of a good meal. The painted Harvester didn’t come close to the magnificence of Chur Zenge. If any man embodied masculinity, the current Harvester was it. And soon, very soon, he would select her as his bondmate.
If Kasmiri worried over ethical dilemmas, she might feel a twinge of shame at how she had manipulated Chur in order to force him to choose her. However, Kasmiri was of the mind that she deserved to get what she wanted. There were those who called her ruthless, but only behind her back. Kasmiri considered herself ambitious. Chur would be the perfect consort, and nothing would change her mind. Morals and ethics were best left to the acolytes.
As the daughter of the empress, Kasmiri didn’t think it was proper for her to wait with all of these nobodies, but the Harvest wasn’t about social status. Every woman of age must undergo the ritual. Kasmiri wasn’t supposed to be any different from the hundreds of women waiting, but that was preposterous. She was different because she was royalty.
Kasmiri wriggled against the padded surface of the table in an effort to scratch her back. All this while keeping her head still on the pillow so as not to muss her elaborately styled hair. Three servants had spent hours meticulously arranging her rich black tresses in a cascade over the gem-encrusted pillow. They then studded strands with glimmering diamonds and touches of red paint.
Her diamond-studded crimson astle robe clung to her body, showing off her full, ebony curves. When the Harvester parted her thighs, the fabric would slide open perfectly, exposing her decorated sex. Kasmiri had ordered a servant to fetch a mirror so that she could inspect her pubic hair. Tiny diamonds studded the tight curls, but she had refused any paint.
“Red paint there? The thought alone is nauseating.”
She had worried the tiny gems might irritate Chur when he penetrated her, but the servant assured her the estal oil deadened all sensations.
“You are anointed and so is the Harvester.”
She should have known that from the preparations, but she hadn’t been listening to Undanna. As her teacher and protocol liaison, Undanna had a tendency to pontificate at length about everything. Kasmiri wished the rasping old woman would learn the art of brevity. As disappointed as she was to realize she would not feel Chur’s possession, Kasmiri decided it didn’t matter. Forever afterward, she’d be able to feel him whenever she wished.
A delicious erotic shiver surged from her sex to her nipples. During the Festival of Temptation and again at her own pre-Harvest celebration, Kasmiri had felt Chur’s erection nudging her belly while they danced. Large and hot, she couldn’t wait to see him unveiled today.
Frowning, she remembered something Undanna had said, that his arousal had nothing to do with Kasmiri’s allure but a drink. By ritual, a paratanist aroused the Harvester; then he consumed umer, a drink that kept him hard but unable to achieve orgasm. He would be under the influence of umer for the Harvest today as well.
While she waited for the ritual to begin, she wondered what it would be like to be stimulated, then denied satisfaction. Torturous. Perhaps his amazing self-denial was what made the Harvester so appealing. All his lust contained. Another shiver puckered her flesh when she thought of unleashing his pent-up desire in a cataclysm of passion. Kasmiri vowed that Chur would not suffer one more day of torment, not as her consort.
Of all Undanna’s lessons, those on sex were the only ones Kasmiri paid attention to. The instructions became more clear when Kasmiri had witnessed the elite in moments of passion. She found it odd they spoke of virtue and fidelity, then scampered off to the first empty room to fondle another’s bondmate.
Kasmiri swore she would not be of that ilk. She would be faithful to Chur and he to her, for she would tolerate no less than utter devotion. Moreover, they would not need others when they found one another so endlessly fascinating.
Booming steps alerted her that Chur had finally entered the Harvest room. With a sigh, she settled back, but the smell of too many women in the overheated room spun her head. Dozens of perfumes, some laced with pheromones, tormented her body. If this was even a modicum of what Chur suffered, he had her undying sympathy.
“Paratanist!” Chur bellowed.
His voice broke the silence and Kasmiri wasn’t the only sacrifice to flinch. His paratanist was his servant, the one who ministered to all his needs during the ritual. Kasmiri hoped there wouldn’t be a further delay as her body felt in knots from lying still for so long.
A commotion at the north end of the table caused her to twist her head as far as she could without disturbing her hair. She couldn’t see beyond the woman next to her.
“What’s happening?” Kasmiri asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know.” The woman tried to look but met with the same problem. All of them waited on their backs, side by side, down the length of the massive sacrifice table. No one but the woman closest to the Harvester would know what was going on, unless one of the virgins dared to lift her head. As the daughter of the empress, Kasmiri thought she could probably get away with such a breach in protocol, but with the gods glaring down and watching her every move, she didn’t dare deviate from the rigid code of the ritual.
A chain of whispers moved toward the north, then an excited rumble of murmurs rolled back to Kasmiri’s ears.
“The Harvester has chosen his bondmate!”
Her heart skipped a beat, then pounded a flush across her skin. Chur had chosen another over her? There must be some mistake. Wasn’t her mother’s threat clear enough? Either he picked Kasmiri or Clathia would destroy his chosen. There wasn’t another person on planet Diola who wielded greater power than Empress Clathia. Going against her mother’s wishes would only lead to sorrow. For Chur to defy Clathia could only mean that his chosen was worth his very life.
Hot, angry tears streamed down Kasmiri’s face, ruining her makeup, bu
t she didn’t care. Everything she had done from stealing his ceremonial sword to engaging in a mock relationship with Arianda Rostvaika was for naught. Kasmiri had debased herself with another woman to prompt concern on her mother’s part, and that scheme had worked beautifully. Her mother had demanded Chur select her, but something had gone wrong. The mighty, magnificent Harvester preferred another woman to her.
Once a Harvester picked his bondmate, the decision could not be undone. Whoever she was, she could not refuse him, nor could Clathia order him to Kasmiri’s side. All of her dreams with Chur as her one and only consort dissolved into bitter betrayal.
As she lay there waiting for the next Harvester, she vowed she would find the responsible person and destroy him or her. One way or another, she would have Chur Zenge for her lover. Even if she had to kill his bondmate with her bare hands, Kasmiri would know the taste of his stern mouth, the feel of his scar-riddled chest, and the thrust of his heavy penis. As the future empress, Kasmiri would one day wield the power of her mother, but until then, she would be ruthless in her pursuit.
She swore to refuse any suitors her mother brought forth. Kasmiri would wait for her chance with Chur. Perhaps she would not have to wait long and might not have to dirty her hands herself. When her mother found out Chur defied her order, she might kill the woman, thus making Chur free to bond to Kasmiri. A Harvester’s choice of bondmate was eternal, but if the woman were dead…
Kasmiri settled back and fixed her makeup with rock-steady hands. Having a plan strengthened her. All she had to do was make it through the Harvest ritual. She wasn’t a full-fledged citizen until the Harvester received the gift of her virginity. Afterward, she could bond with a mate, have children, and enter into contracts. One thrust of his penis elevated her from child to woman. Then she could focus all her ambitions on obtaining Chur Zenge.
Kasmiri woke to calloused hands on her knees. She startled, then glanced up into brown eyes flecked with golden shards. His eyelashes were impossibly long, giving his glance shocking erotic power. It was as if he could see right into her soul. His shaved head was perfectly sculpted, as if he were born to be bald. Only two small scars marred his chest. This Harvester wasn’t as stunning as Chur, but he wasn’t hideous either.
When he smiled, white teeth flashed in a sensuous smirk that tingled her toes. He seemed terribly self-assured, as if he had known she would be here waiting for him. The thought gave her pause. She waited for Chur, not this stand-in, but she did remember him from the Festival of Temptation. Many of the recruits had attended in order to see if they might find a woman worth issuing a challenge to the current Harvester.
Her eyes popped wide and her mouth made an O as she remembered this man boldly asking her for a dance. She’d promptly turned him down with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her head. The daughter of the empress didn’t dance with a lowly recruit; she danced only with the current Harvester. Of course, now he was the Harvester, and apparently, he remembered her snub.
As he continued to part her knees, the robe slid against her thighs with a teasing stroke that warmed her sex right before cool air rushed in. She shivered with the contrast of sensations. And, too, something about the power in his hands sizzled her nerves. She could not refuse him. Kasmiri found the sensation of force exhilarating. Never had any man been in such a position of power over her. As strong as she considered herself, being vulnerable was strangely appealing. Not being able to say no caused her body to blush with excitement. Defiantly, she blamed the pheromone-laced air. About the only thing she knew for sure was that this man was not responsible for her response.
His gaze darted down to her sex and one eyebrow drew up. He caught her gaze and smirked. His face was playfully surprised, as if he couldn’t believe she’d gone to all this trouble for him.
She wanted to upbraid him and tell him she had suffered hours of preparation for his predecessor, but she could only speak her sacred words after he spoke his. All her tingling pleasure at being vulnerable vanished. It infuriated her to be at his mercy, especially when he seemed to enjoy his power so thoroughly. He should be on his knees begging her to accommodate him!
For the thousandth time, Kasmiri cursed the rituals. Her entire life had been one obligation after another. When she was empress, she swore she would never again have to suffer through any ritual not of her choosing. So what if the magistrate predicted doom and social upheaval? She failed to see how any of the rituals did any good. If she couldn’t see a benefit, a real true benefit, and not some silly mystical benefit, then she would refuse. None would be powerful enough to force her compliance. If they tried, she’d have them executed. That would keep her advisors in line. She smiled at the power she would one day wield.
When she looked up, the Harvester smiled too, as if he’d read her mind. A frown instantly darkened her face. I wasn’t smiling at you, she wanted to say but determinedly held her tongue. Soon this ritual would be over and she could move on to her plans for capturing the delicious Chur Zenge.
Once the Harvester parted her thighs, he placed her left foot on the hilt of his sword and the right he lifted toward his shoulder until her leg was almost straight against his chest. Hot, oiled flesh pressed against her smooth calf, causing another surge of pleasure. The drug-laced air must be responsible for all her sensations because this man was nothing compared to Chur. He wasn’t as tall, as broad, as battle-scarred, but there was something engaging about him. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly.
As he slid her forward, her head slipped off the pillow, causing her to have to hold her head up to meet his gaze. Why did he seem pleased to cause her discomfort? When this was over, she would hunt this man down and find some way to pay him back. She wasn’t sure what she could do to a Harvester, but she would certainly find out.
Now that she was in position, he spoke in the ancient tongue, “By might of the blade I claim that which belongs to me.” Before she could get her words out and get this over with, he finished, “I claim you as my bondmate.”
Her shock must have shown in every line of her body. This was not supposed to happen. Chur was supposed to speak those beautiful words to her, not this second-rate stand-in! She and Undanna had spent hours practicing the exact inflection and tone of the ancient words. Kasmiri had spent her nights visualizing the moment when Chur forever bonded himself to her. It was romantic, sensual, powerful—and apparently just a fantasy.
Trapped by the ritual, Kasmiri had no choice but to respond, “I freely give myself to you as my bondmate.” Her gaze held steady with his, but where his glowed with satisfaction, hers blazed with a thousand future punishments. She would make this nothing of a man regret his reckless claim.
He slid his elaborate codpiece aside and plunged into her so forcefully she lost her breath. She felt no pain; just a curious fullness that stripped her of her innocence, yet clothed her with tremendous power: She was now a full-fledged citizen, a woman, and not a child.
His eyes lowered as he thrust. He grunted satisfaction, then opened his eyes wide, capturing her gaze with feral intensity. She thought he couldn’t feel anything either, but by the rapture on his face and the sparkle in his gaze, he certainly felt something.
According to the ritual, he should have plunged once fully, then withdrawn, but he didn’t. He held close, pressing himself firmly against her, parting her thighs wider to gain greater depth.
When he leaned over her to kiss her, she let him get very close, and then whispered, “Enjoy this now, for it will be the one and only time.”
He pouted mockingly, then whispered, “You say that with such conviction I almost believe you.”
He bit off her retort by taking possession of her mouth. His kiss was not tender and sweet, but brutal and demanding. She had no choice but to suffer it for she couldn’t push him off. The ritual was not yet complete. Knowing this, he continued his invasion by plunging his tongue to her mouth, forcing her tongue to duel with his. Again, she experienced a quivering thrill at
being forced, then berated herself for allowing him to persist.
When she tried to bite him, he pulled back and whispered to her lips, “I knew you would be a biter, but that’s not where I want you to bite me.”
“How dare you speak to me this way?! Do you even know who I am?”
A broad smile caused a dimple to appear on the right side of his mouth. “I know precisely who you are. You are the wickedly beautiful and dangerously headstrong daughter of the empress.” He paused for a moment, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “I think your name is something like Kasmi.”
Before she could blast him with fury, he laughed and teased his fingertips to her lips.
“I was only teasing, Kasmiri. Stop scowling like that or you’ll etch deep lines into your face.”
Her mother often admonished her the same way, which didn’t endear him to her at all. “You are my consort, not I yours. You belong to me, not the other way around. Not in a thousand seasons would I have chosen you, but since I had no alternative, the deal is done. However, you will take your orders from me, not the other way around. Do you understand?”
He waited patiently during her entire speech, then said, “I am now and forever your faithful servant.”
“That would be more believable if you weren’t grinning.” If she could have put her hands on her hips, she would have.
He strove to put on a sober face, but the effort fell flat. He had a face made for laughter, lips made for smiling, and eyes that sparkled with mirth.
She despised him.
She was stuck with him.
Dark Harvest Page 1