Ares, but they were a wild, heathenish people—enough to strike fear into his own heart. If, that is, he would allow himself to feel such an emotion. But he wouldn’t. Especially not now. Defeating them was a matter of course, a thing that simply had to be done—no other outcome was possible. And if he’d begun to allow himself to feel a hint of fear earlier in this day, a sense of worry, a modicum of doubt—it was wiped away now by his unflinching determination to return to his wife and make things right with her.
He watched as the ferocious Virgs grew closer to an enemy they couldn’t see, now slowed by the numerous dead in their path, their war cries lightening slightly at the sobering sight of their fallen comrades.
Dane watched their approach, studied their eyes—some of which were beginning to cloud with worry—until they came closer, closer, and he suddenly knew the right moment was upon them.
“Commence!” he yelled, and Caralon’s northern army of Rawley leapt up and charged from their cover, ready to attack their enemies, ready to take back their land.
* * * * *
Days had passed and the only news Maven had heard was that battle after battle was taking place some miles to the east of Dane’s fortress. As for losses, there were many on both sides, although reportedly more Virgs lay dead than Caralonians. Of the Caralon army, though, no one knew who had fallen, nor even if their leader still stood.
Walking to the second-story window in the chamber where they’d spent their wedding night, she looked out on the vast hills and fields. All lay quiet but for the songs of birds, the occasional cry of a hawk or the voice of a gardener—it was hard to believe war was being waged not far from here. Only since Dane had gone had she taken the time to notice what lovely lands he lived upon.
She’d moved into Dane’s parents’ bedroom just after his departure, thinking it was right that she slept there, and right that she prayed there, willing Ares to protect him and bring him back to her.
At first, she’d been stunned by her own worry for his safety. But now she’d given up the shock, concentrating only on her fear. She couldn’t help thinking that if he died, she would die, too, on the inside. Such intense emotions sounded insane even as she experienced them, but Ares help her, she feared she’d grown to…well, to love the big brute.
Was she betraying herself?
Maybe.
But she no longer cared.
A light knock on the door came behind her and Kaelen entered, ready to dress her and arrange her hair.
“Is there any news of Dane?” she asked, drawing her gaze from window to maid.
Kaelen gave her head a sympathetic tilt. “Not today, I’m afraid.”
With a nod and a sigh, Maven sat down on the padded bench at her dressing table before the viewing glass. She silently watched Kaelen brushing her hair, concentrating on the long, smooth strokes, trying not to think of Dane.
But it was impossible. She found herself imagining him at fifteen, losing his parents so harshly, and fighting back without any thought for his own safety. What a brave, virile man he’d become because of it.
A moment later, her thoughts shifted to more recent times—to thrilling memories of his body and hers, melded together. She bit her lip, imagining him kneeling between her thighs this very moment, pushing up her skirt and sinking his skilled tongue into her warm, damp and oh-so-hungry-for-him cunt.
But no, even that vision wasn’t enough—she needed more. She needed his incredible cock pounding into her, making her forget everything but how it felt to be fucked by the great and fearsome Dane of Rawley—her husband.
Still peering into the jagged, veined glass, she spied the black leather choker still secured around her neck. It was hard to believe she’d so recently wanted to take it off. Since he’d been gone, having his gift—which had begun to feel almost like a part of her body—to look upon in the viewing glass or to reach up and fondle, had given her a small bit of solace.
“If he comes back,” she admitted to Kaelen, “I won’t waste our time together—I won’t behave like a silly child.”
Behind her, Kaelen spoke in a soft, soothing tone as she placed a gentle hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezed. “Your feelings for Dane have changed then, deepened.”
“Yes. Very much so. I’ve been a fool with him, Kaelen.”
The maid shook her head lightly in the viewing glass, lightly caressing Maven’s upper arm. “Not a fool, Maven. You’ve gone through a tremendous change in your life these past days. And sometimes…well, sadly, sometimes it takes a tragedy to help put things into perspective.”
“If he returns to me,” Maven said, her heart contracting in her chest even as her cunt swelled with desire, “I will fuck him until we’re both limp with exhaustion.”
Kaelen smiled at her in the mirror. “I wish Dane could hear you say that now. It would surely inspire him.”
Maven managed a small smile at the thought, wondering if that were true. And hoping fervently that he would forgive her for her stubbornness and let them start anew.
Finishing with her hair, Kaelen silently removed Maven’s sleeping gown and helped her into an indigo-dyed leather dress that fastened down the front. After placing a soft, comforting kiss to Maven’s forehead, she departed the room, leaving Maven to herself.
Maven let out a sigh, her thoughts shifting lovingly to Lavonia and her Orientation. Lavonia had taught her well, and now she wanted nothing more than to keep practicing her sexual skills with her Dane. Beneath her dress, her pussy had grown damp with such thoughts.
She still missed her dear, feisty maid and her family, but in a different way now. She no longer wanted to return to them, for she knew her place was here, in Rawley, with Dane.
Taking a deep breath, she padded to the window and stared out again, as far in the distance as her eyes could see, and she sent a silent message of passion to Dane, just praying that he could somehow feel it, somehow absorb her desire.
Come back to me. Be inside me. Fuck me deeply.
And I shall be yours forever.
Chapter Sixteen
Maven knelt before her husband, her hand wrapped around his wonderfully large cock, her tongue licking and playing around the head.
Above her, he groaned his pleasure and the sound oozed through her, spreading like slow syrup to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
Take him inside her, she had to take him inside her. Now.
Parting her lips, she sank her mouth over his hard shaft, listening to his deep moan. His hands pushed through her hair until he kneaded her scalp as she took him deep, then eased back, took him deeper, then eased back again.
“I want to please you always, master,” she told him, peering up into his powerful eyes.
The form of address turned his gaze more possessive, filling her with a joy she could hardly comprehend. “I am yours,” she whispered up to him. “I am yours.”
It was then that she noticed the other men in the room and turned her head to look. Havlin, Galt, Kells—all the men who had performed the Rituals of Passion on her. And then she spotted the three boys from her Orientation, her gaze narrowing on Donnell, his young, bright eyes shining hungrily on her.
They were waiting. In a line. Waiting for what she gave to Dane.
Dread and trepidation shot through her and she splayed the fingers of both hands over Dane’s sturdy thighs, whispering up to him. “Only you.”
He looked surprised. “But they all want you, Maven. You could have any of them you desire, in any way you wish. You are free to go with any and all of them.”
From the look in his eyes, she understood—it was a kindness. He was being generous, letting her go, letting her have whatever he thought she might want, any pleasure he thought she might wish to take elsewhere.
“I won’t hold you here if you wish to go,” he added.
But she simply shook her head. “Only you now, husband. I belong to you.”
As if by magic, the other men vanished, leaving them alone, and she and
Dane suddenly lay in a bed, his parents’ bed, their marriage bed, and he said, “Ride me, bride. Ride me hard. Ride me until you come for me.”
She sank onto him and he filled her. She moved and rode and bucked, just as he’d instructed, all the while looking into his hot, hungry eyes. They pinned her in place, pushed her deeper into pleasure, silently demanded her climax.
When it happened, he thrust harder up into her, harder, harder, lifting her higher and higher, nearly to the ceiling it seemed, and when she finally came down, she landed upon him with a jolt—
And opened her eyes. Her hand rested between her thighs, her sleeping gown lay bunched at her hips. Oh Ares. It was only a dream. Only a horrible, wonderful dream of wanting to belong to a man who was no longer here for her to belong to.
* * * * *
Two weeks had passed with no sign of her husband.
Scouts from the fort who rode to the site of the battles brought word that Dane was said to be alive, but no one knew for sure, for the scouts hadn’t seen him.
Maven’s heart felt near to breaking. She couldn’t help being filled with dread.
This was Ares’ way of punishing her, she decided, for being so cold to Dane, for not accepting the happiness he’d wanted to give her. Ares was going to take him away from her now, now that she’d finally realized how lucky she’d been to have him and how empty her life was suddenly going to seem without him—even after the very short time they’d been together. Even if he wanted to own her.
His stubbornness on that subject had ceased to matter. She would never give in to it, never let herself believe in such ownership—but faced with losing him, she was willing to accept it as a flaw within him, a flaw she could survive if only he were back in her arms.
Three times they had fucked—only three times. Three times that had changed her, turned her into someone new. Three times was not even close to enough. She couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of his majestic cock, his muscular embrace, his possessive eyes. For yes, on some level, she did want him to own her—she could no longer deny that to herself. She didn’t understand it, but she wouldn’t deny it. Why couldn’t she have figured all this out before he’d gone? How had she let him go into battle thinking she still hated him and didn’t want to be his wife?
“Why don’t we go outside for a walk?” Kaelen suggested upon finding Maven where she seemed always to dwell these days—next to the window in the bedchamber she so desperately wanted to share with her husband again.
Maven looked up briefly and only shook her head.
“You’re growing so pale. You need some sun. You don’t want Dane to return to find you looking like a ghost about to wither away to nothing.” She’d not been eating much, either—she simply hadn’t possessed much of an appetite since Dane had left for battle.
“I appreciate your concern, Kaelen, but I don’t wish to walk right now. Maybe later.” She’d made the same remark to her maid every day for the past four, and she always said the words with good intentions, but when “later” came she still didn’t have the energy to venture out.
Kaelen approached, reaching a hand to stroke her hair. “I’m sorry you’re so very sad.” Then she squeezed Maven’s hand. “Perhaps I could make you feel better.”
Maven sighed. “I don’t see how.”
Kaelen gave her lower lip a sensual bite as she looked intently into Maven’s eyes. “I could touch you. Kiss you,” she whispered. “Dane would wish it, I’m sure. Despite the problems between you, he wouldn’t want you to suffer. He would wish me to find a way to take your mind from your worries, even if only for a short while. You could close your eyes and forget your fears and let me make you come.”
Before her wedding to Dane, Maven had felt an undeniable attraction to Kaelen. Even now, it was easy to remember the feel of Kaelen’s soft breasts pressing into her arms in the bathing tub, the alluring sight of them through the white silk frock she’d worn. And the notion that Dane might wish her to be with Kaelen almost lent some credence to the idea.
But Dane wasn’t here to wish anything. If he was, and if he wanted her to be with Kaelen, she’d agree in a heartbeat. Thrilling him was thrilling for her, and she’d do anything for him now. Because she wanted only him, wanted only to please him and be the wife he wanted her to be.
“Thank you, Kaelen. You’re sweet to offer. But without Dane, nothing appeals, nothing is right.”
Kaelen attempted a smile, although she looked irrefutably sad—whether about Dane or the refusal of her offer, Maven didn’t know. “I bet Dane will walk through that door before you know it,” Kaelen said, then kissed her forehead and turned to go, leaving Maven alone again to stare out her window and wish.
* * * * *
Late that afternoon, Maven lay napping when a dream of Dane filled her senses.
In it, he was lying next to her, gazing down at her, pushing her hair from her face with rough but gentle fingertips. His eyes were as intense and captivating as ever, but she no longer minded the power those eyes seemed to have over her.
“Dane, you’re back,” she whispered.
“Did you miss me, bride?”
“Insanely. I worried until I was sick. I was so afraid you’d die.”
It was only when he lowered his mouth to hers in the most tender kiss he’d ever given her, hot tingling sensations running all through her, that it occurred to her—What if this isn’t a dream? What if he’s really here?
“Are you real?” she asked, confused, peering up at him. She reached to touch his face, amazed to feel the coarse stubble of unshaven hair beneath her fingertips.
He gave a soft laugh. “Of course, my wife.”
Coming more fully awake, she reached up once more to touch his cheek, his hair. “You’re really here? You’ve really come back?”
He smiled and took her hand, placing it on his cock, which was fully erect beneath the leather of his pants. “Does this convince you?”
She shot upright in bed, blinked, and looked deep into his eyes as pure joy assailed her. “Oh Ares! It’s true! You’re really home! You’ve returned to me!”
His smile was wary, even if playful, his eyebrows knitting slightly. “Yes, it’s true, but…who are you and where’s the angry Maven I left behind?”
“Oh Dane,” she said, lifting her hand back to his cheek, “if I must belong to you, then I will, so long as you’re with me, so long as you’re safe.”
He tilted his head and spoke deeply. “Oh love.” Had he just called her “love”? It couldn’t be. Yet despite her shock, her doubt, she could have sworn she saw that very emotion glimmering in his eyes. “You need not say such things.”
She blinked, stunned, still confused. “I don’t?”
He pulled her into a great embrace, crushing her against his hard muscles, wrapping her in strong, sturdy arms. He whispered in her ear, “I love you, Maven, and I want you to be happy. I will willingly treat you as my equal.”
Maven pulled back to look him in the eye once more. Had he really just said that? It was amazing, a dream literally coming true, but… “Dane, I…I…” She was too overcome with emotion to get anything out.
“You what, love?”
She twined her arms sensually around his neck and decided not to argue with him, to just accept what he was saying and express what was in her own heart as well—as simply as she could. “I want you inside me so badly! My pussy has missed your wonderful cock, husband. Please don’t make me wait.”
Maven had never seen a more thrilling sight than the fresh fire that ignited in his blue gaze. “And I’ve missed your sweet, tight little cunt, my love. At night I dreamed about fucking you, and during the day I fantasized about it.”
The thought alarmed her, even as she succumbed to kisses on her lips, cheek, throat. “Dane, you should have been concentrating on your safety.”
“Wanting to come back here and sink my shaft deep into your warmth is what kept me going, kept me fighting, my hot bride.” He took the opportunity
to slide his hand up her inner thigh until his fingers sank into her wet, hungry pussy.
She moaned with delight, lifting herself to him automatically, her mound instantly begging for more of him. “Oh, Dane, please fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me feel you. Make me know how real you are. Now!”
In one swift movement, Dane ripped open the bodice of her dress and sank his mouth to her needy breasts. Pushing up her skirt, he began thrusting at her cunt even before his pants were undone.
“Your cock,” she purred. “I need your cock.”
He appeared as impatient as she felt, pulling back and fighting to unlace the front of his pants until finally his huge shaft was freed, and Ares—even bigger than she remembered. She at once wanted both to lick it and to have it inside her. The second desire won out as she begged him again, “Put it in me, Dane! Fuck me now with that big, beautiful cock!”
“Oh, my lovely, hungry little bride,” he said with a wicked grin, “get ready, because I’m going to fuck you harder and deeper than I ever have before.”
She spread her legs, releasing a thready sigh, and he thrust inside her with a mighty lunge that took her breath away. At once punishing even as it delivered the ultimate thrill, she marveled at the very size of him and groaned her pleasure. “So big, lover,” she whispered. “You fill me.”
“And your sweet pussy wraps around me so slick and snug.”
She leaned her head back with utter happiness, laughing.
But when he began to fuck—pounding his rod so incredibly hard into her—there was no room for amusement. The pleasure was too profound, rocking her entire being with each powerful thrust he delivered.
She cried out at every stroke, each seeming to plunge deeper and deeper into her cunt, so that it drove away all thought or emotion until all she could do was bask in the wonder of being well and truly fucked by her husband.
So it was a shock when he suddenly extracted his cock, leaving her cunt abandoned and empty—but only for a moment, until he sank his mouth there.
Rituals of Passion (Brides of Caralon, Book One) Page 18