“No lies. Why?” She moved her palm to lay it against his jaw.
He licked at his lips. “I’m a warrior. A battle strategist. I don’t know how to woo a woman. And human women are so…fragile.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
A light flashed in his eyes and a tingle of awareness hummed in the air between them. “Both.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not human or fragile.”
“But you are. You’ll deny it with your last breath, but I’ve hurt you when all I want to do is care for you.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
He lifted his hand and barely grazed his finger along her jaw before dropping it at his side and making a fist.
“Touch me, Lucian.”
“I can’t. I shouldn’t.”
But he wanted to. Gods did he want to. Never before had she felt such a sense of want than she did looking up into his tortured eyes. His craving was bittersweet, like a fine Belgian chocolate sitting on the flat of your tongue. The flavor melting ever-so-slowly as you were forced to hold still when all you wanted was to chomp the decadent treat to bits and gobble it whole.
The promise of experiencing the full force of Lucian’s passion made her stomach clench and her pussy gush. She leaned forward and scraped her teeth over his puckered nipple then used the tip of her tongue to follow a rivulet of water down his torso.
“I know you, Lucian. I know who you are. You don’t need to hide from me. Never from me.” Under her lips, his stomach quivered as tiny goose bumps erupted against her tongue.
“We shouldn’t.”
“No.” She nipped at the taut skin around his navel and sank to her knees. “No.”
A gentle tug of her fingers brought the towel to floor, freeing his engorged cock. She eagerly wrapped both hands around the shaft and licked the purple head. Now was not the time to think. If she allowed a moment of hesitation, he would run from her and the heat generating between them. A tragedy she’d never allow.
As she took the throbbing length into her mouth, a fiery bolt of desire raced from Lucian to explode across her senses as if she swallowed a mouthful of Pop Rocks.
Now this trait of the Skandavian male she missed dearly. The men of her homeland were all blessed with impressive cocks. A feature she had been fascinated by when she watched the troops during their wrestling drills. The heat of battle created a rush of adrenaline that resulted in erections that tented their thin fatigues and made her mouth water at the thought of slipping into their baths and tasting each one.
Lucian’s cock was simply beautiful. Thick and long, he stretched her lips and pulsed against her tongue with a beat that grew more frenzied with every suckle of her throat. He smelled like a mountain breeze and tasted of feral need. He was wildness and restrained hunger, and she was eager to set it free.
A primal growl ripped past his lips as her cheeks hollowed and she stroked his tightening sac. His hands dove into her hair to hold her still for the frantic thrust of his hips. Through the veil of her lashes she watched the battle for dominance play across his features as his teeth clenched and his eyes threatened to close with the bliss that wrapped her in silken wings.
“Enough.” He fisted the strands of hair and pulled, dragging her to a stand and claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. She shared his taste, tangling her tongue with his and daring him to lose control.
She allowed her hunger free rein to snake around them, driving the need higher. Lucian responded by meeting that desire with a force of his own that stripped her of all civility. The fabric of her skirt bit into her skin and seams popped as she crawled up his body and wrapped her legs around his lean waist. The ridge of his cock pushed the saturated silk of her panties against her clit, teasing her with the gentle rasp as he bucked against her.
He walked them to the corner of the room and fell to his knees, dropping her onto the seat of a wide armchair. Buttons flew and her blouse was turned to rags as Lucian ripped it free. Her bra and panties suffered a similar fate, but her skirt he left rucked up around her hips.
His hand was so tan against her pale breast. The contrast of dark and light and the roughness of his palm on her soft skin made her sheath clench in anticipation of exploring their other differences.
Lucian palmed her generous mounds and pressed them together. He buried his face into her cleavage and drew a deep breath before taking both nipples into his mouth. The sounds of his sucking mouth and the little growls rumbling from his throat made her smile. Who knew the general was a breast man?
She cradled his head, gasping at the tug of his teeth on the turgid tips. Her hands moved to his shoulders where her fingertips found the raised flesh that spanned the broad width of his back. These scars he bore when he stood by his brother. These were scars of honor and courage. The matching slash across the tattoo on his biceps only began to speak of the suffering he endured at the hands of her father. Tears pricked her eyes that a thoughtless act of one man made Lucian doubt his purpose.
Cool air chilled her skin as he pulled away. Concern deepened the line between his eyebrows and dimmed the glow in his emerald eyes.
Amaryllis clutched at his arms. “Don’t stop. I need you, Lucian. I need you inside me.”
She spread her legs, hooking a knee over each of the chair’s arms. The length of his cock rested on her belly, reaching almost to her navel. She reached down and maneuvered the flared crest to the entrance of her pussy and rolled her hips. “Take me, Lucian. Watch as your cock splits me in two.”
His gaze fell to the wet folds that bathed the head of his cock, and they both watched as he fed the crimson stalk into her sheath. The burn was incredible and made her pussy flood with more liquid heat to assist in the invasion. Deeper and deeper he pushed until he was buried to the hilt. His lips curled with a snarl as he withdrew all the way then slammed back inside her. The pounding rhythm made her back arch and her channel clench tight around the shuttling cock.
With a long, deep sigh, Amaryllis gave her entire body over to Lucian’s desire. Her head rested against the back of the chair and her legs fell wider apart. Through half-lidded, sex-drugged eyes she admired the spectacular man before her. Sweat glistened and highlighted the dips and angles of his body. The muscles of his stomach flexed with each hard thrust of his hips. A tic in his jaw beat as he watched her revel in his possession. She drew her hands up her torso and cupped her breasts. Massaging the mounds, she flicked at the tight nipples with her fingernails.
The flaring of Lucian’s nostrils was her only warning before he increased the force of his thrusts, making her cry out. The chair scraped along the floor with each of his lunges until stopped by the wall. He knocked her hands away from her breasts and claimed the mounds as his own. His rough palms kneaded the heavy weight as his nimble fingers twisted the tips, making her eyes roll back with the exquisite pleasure.
With each plunge, the chair butted against the wall, making the entire house shudder. The delicious curve of his cock struck along every nerve ending and pressed the head against a secret spot she didn’t know she possessed. The rolling wave of lust she rode tossed her into rougher waters and sucked her into an abyss of sex and need that had her screaming. Her hands landed on his chest, her fingernails curling into his skin for purchase. Under her palms his two hearts beat frantically, and beneath her own chest it was like a bonfire had been lit and set her skin ablaze.
Broken grunts and stammered words like “tight” and “wet” and “fuck” fell from his lips in both English and Skandavian. Blood rushed through her ears, deafening her to his praises and hers. She could feel her lips moving, but whether to beg for more or cry out in surrender, she hadn’t a clue.
Lucian’s eyes widened in shock. His head tipped back and his mouth fell open to release a groan she felt ripped from her own gut. His fingers dug into her breast and his cock twitched in her pussy as he released his hot fluid with a series of furious thrusts. Seeing her straitlaced general at
his feral-base nature made her channel clamp down as the first strikes of electricity radiated from her core.
“Lucian,” she screamed through tight vocal cords and she swore a physical manifestation of her orgasm appeared as a white and blue light swirled around her and Lucian before exploding in a burst of sparks.
She closed her eyes tight against the brilliance and the deep-seated knowledge that being with Lucian had somehow changed her forever.
Chapter Six
Something was wrong, very wrong, and her discomfort wasn’t due to the tenderness between her thighs or the raw ache of her nipples.
She knew once the civilized veneer of Lucianllanos was removed, he’d become the rutting beast of her wildest fantasies. Since his return into her life, she thought of nothing but what it would be like to experience the taste of his kiss and the touch of his big hands. Now that she had, the new consuming question was when could she experience it again. He ruined her for any other man, human and non. Who would have thought it possible?
Yes, life as she knew it had changed, yet that wasn’t what sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine.
She opened her eyes to see the bundle of wood and stuffing that remained of the chair he had claimed her on. Was it possible to have the piece repaired so that they could destroy it the same way again?
The bedside clock glowed six a.m. Ack jus, when was the last time she slept for so long? With the warm, comforting arms of Lucian holding her tight, a nice evening of cuddling after a round of incredible sex was something she could get used to.
Speaking of Lucian, where was her fierce warrior? The last image she remembered before falling into an orgasm-induced coma was the green blaze of his eyes as he lifted her onto his bed and pulled the sheet up to her chin. That same sheet was now cold with the absence of his heat.
The rise to consciousness was slow, but that nagging unease of a thousand pins pricking her belly prodded her the rest of the way to full wakefulness.
From the shadows, the sound of rhythmic slapping reached her ears. The longer she listened, the faster her breaths came until her lungs hurt. The sharp sound she recognized of leather hitting flesh. It was a noise she heard at least ten times a night in her club, but why was she hearing it now in Lucian’s home?
She gathered the sheet around her naked body and slipped from the high bed. Using her ears like sonar, she crept one small step at a time in the direction of the noise.
A thin strip of light glowed under the closed bathroom door. As she approached, her pulse pounded hard and fast and her mouth went dry. Chills shook her even as sweat gathered above her lip.
A thick shell of determination dampened the agony of whoever was behind that door. Had Bale found them and was exacting his revenge on Lucian? Between Lucian’s honor and the stories of Bale’s ruthlessness, it wouldn’t surprise her if Lucian offered himself in exchange for her life, while Bale left her broken with the knowledge she allowed Lucian to die while she slept in languid peace in the next room.
Well, she may have been born to a life where she wasn’t expected to lift a finger, but she possessed the ability to kick ass when required. Despite the tremble in her hand, she reached for the doorknob and pushed.
Dear Gods.
Blood and mayhem she expected, but this…what twisted hell was this?
Lucian knelt on the floor, stripped of clothes and dignity. The blue tile floor was spotted with the blood that dripped from hundreds of lacerations on his back. In his hands he gripped the handle of a cat o’ nine tails that scored the meat of his back with the flick of his wrist.
A sharp cry escaped from her tight throat, drawing his gaze to meet hers in the mirror. Self-recrimination shadowed his eyes that lacked the fire they had when he was buried inside her and immersed in the heat of their joining.
Never before had she been struck dumb. Not even when she was told she had to leave her homeland or when she heard of her mother’s death had every molecule in her body turned to stone. Even her brain ceased to function.
Lucian turned on his knees and bent to kiss her feet. Blood and sweat marred the white sheet. “My princess. I beg your forgiveness. While I cannot change what has happened, know I am deeply sorry for my actions. I am not worthy to be in your presence. Please, I gladly take your punishment.”
In his open palms, he offered the cat o’ nine tails and bowed his head in supplication.
To see a man who commanded thousands, who leveled a platoon of revolutionaries with only a blaster and a sword, brought to his knees because he gave in to a need they both shared, pierced her hearts like a serrated blade. His shame was a blistering slap in the face that stunned as much as it ignited her fury.
How dare he. How dare he! A volcano of rage and hurt erupted from her chest and stung her eyes before she wrestled the pain back into its padlocked box and turned the key. He took her pleasure. He would not have her pain.
She reached for the whip, the handle stained dark with the blood that now coated her hand. Lucian may be contrite now, but she knew the truth he refused to acknowledge. He wanted her last night and reveled in every moment of their joining. This newfound remorse was an insult and he was a fool to think she’d tolerate one second of it.
“You are right. You are not worthy to touch me.” Her grip tightened on the pommel. She raised her hand and threw the whip against the wall, smashing several tiles and punching a hole in the dry wall. “How could I have ever lowered myself to be with someone as cowardly as you? You are a disgrace to the Llanos name.”
He lifted his head, grief tightened his features as he implored, “My princess.”
“No. I am not your anything. Do not come near me again. As of now, you no longer exist.”
She ran from the room, racing straight down the stairs and out the door wearing nothing but the bedsheet. The lack of clothing didn’t bother her, and to stop and grab clothes would only drag out her embarrassment. She had been stripped bare. No amount of clothing would change that.
* * * * *
“Holy shit,” Brett greeted when she opened the door. “Looks like you had quite the night.”
Lucian knew what she saw on her doorstep. A sad man, unshaven, rumpled and in so much physical and mental pain he couldn’t stand straight.
Amaryllis’ barriers were good, but not even the strongest steel could stop him from feeling the burning pain he unintentionally caused.
It was his job to protect the princess so she could shine as the Gods intended. That was the job of Llanos. Not to sample her bounty. Not to lose his focus and leave them exposed. His honor fell to his libido, but his disgust lay solely with himself, never on Amaryllis.
The princess didn’t hide or make apologies for who she was, which was a sexy, smart and vibrant woman who consumed life like a decadent buffet. Those very qualities made her the spectacular woman she was. He failed her as guard by crossing that line. An act punishable by death, and she had every right to demand his blood.
But Amaryllis never did anything as expected. With his misguided sense of righteousness, he hurt her more deeply than taking a molten blade to her flesh. An outcome he regretted more deeply than making love to her. While she refused to inflict punishment, he most solidly deserved it. His back looked like ground chuck but he would heal. The wound he inflicted upon her, he feared might never.
“Tell me she’s here.” Not only had he cut her to the quick, he also left her vulnerable to Bale. Another failure.
“Yes, she’s here, or at least the blur of sheet that raced through here earlier makes me think it was her. And now that scene makes so much more sense.” She stepped back and waved her hand. “Come on in. Kristos is making breakfast and Amaryllis is in the shower.”
The thought of Amaryllis in the shower, washing off his touch, his possession, was another stab of agony. What he wanted and what was right tore him into so many pieces, who knew if he could be put back together into a semblance of the man he once was. Instinct made him want to interrupt her shower
and re-mark her with his essence. Temperance demand he allow her time to dress and see him when she wasn’t at her most vulnerable. The little honor he clung to won out and let her be.
“Would you like some coffee?” Brett asked as she led him into the kitchen.
“No, thank you.”
“Hey, brother.” Kristos looked up from the skillet of eggs he was supervising. “Mother of all! You’ve—”
“Kristos,” Brett slapped his arm. “Lucian’s had a hard night. Let’s not make his morning difficult.”
Lucian winced at the phrase “hard night”. He fell onto a seat at the table and dropped his head in his hands.
“I can’t believe you had sex with the princess.” Kristos sat on the chair across from him.
“Is it that obvious?”
He shot his wife an incredulous look over his shoulder. She scowled and shook her head, which led to an unspoken argument between the pair consisting of head shakes, pinched foreheads and shrugged shoulders.
Kristos slashed at the air with a definitive hand and turned to him to ask, “Was it that bad?”
Lucian snorted mirthlessly. “Quite the opposite.”
“Let me take a wild guess.” Brett placed a glass of orange juice and a plate of toast on the table before him and took her own seat. “After a mutually enjoyable evening, you said something only a Llanos would say.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. She is my princess and I her guard. She knows we can never be.”
“Why not?” She placed her hand over his. “Lucian, have you realized that the only person who insists on drawing that line is you? If you like her, do something about it.”
“Are you the same woman who had to face death in order to realize her feelings for my brother?”
The tilt of her head dared him to speak further. “Learn from my experience.”
“Kristos, you understand. Talk to your woman.”
Kristos swallowed a short laugh and reached for Brett’s hand. “Alskata, there are rules in the Skandavian court that you do not break. As you know, punishment sometimes meant death. Our ways are very traditional and may appear antiquated, but the princess’s consort may one day rule the kingdom, and as such, her contact with men is highly scrutinized. However, as it’s been pointed out many times, this is not Skandavia. So what’s really holding you back, Luc?”
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