He sighed and closed his eyes. He had long since given up the dreams of leading a happy life he'd had when he was a boy. As it was with all his kind, his fate had rested in the gentle hands of his mother who had struck the marriage deal in his name. The sweet woman who was so greatly loved by her husband and who in turn loved that man to distraction had unknowingly condemned her son to a loveless marriage with a woman who was as mean as a ghoret serpent and twice as sneaky. Only once had he lain with Rolanda and only then to consummate the Joining. After that she had denied him her bed though--if truth were told--he wouldn't have returned to her silken sheets if his life had depended upon it. Her unnatural urges had sickened him and her demand that he take her blood that night had made him clear to him she wanted only the power his Faolchúnna heritage could give and that he would not allow.
"Imagine a witch like her with the Power?" he had asked his twin, Slade. "By the gods, I would spend an eternity in the fires of the Abyss were I to give it to her!"
Slade had agreed and for the next seven years, Glade had lived a hellish existence that had grown worse every year.
But now he had a slim chance for happiness in the arms of a beautiful woman he knew wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He turned to his side with a heavy frown.
"Aye, but you made her want you," he said aloud, the guilt weighing heavily on his heart. "You didn't give her a choice in the matter. That was wrong, Aeolian. That was very wrong."
Yet even as guilty as he felt, he could not dredge up any remorse for having taken her blood. They were now connected for as long as they both lived and--if legend was true--even after death. She belonged to him; he belonged to her. There would never be a severing of that connection. He had needed someone for a very long time and now that he had found that person, he had no intention of losing her. The problem was in finding a way to be together as fate had decreed.
That fate had interceded on his behalf he had no doubt but fate was a separate issue from the gods who governed his existence and what one faction allowed, the other had forbidden.
"I'm screwed," he said, "and not in any way I can enjoy it and did she have to be a Hell Hag?"
He could just hear his mother wailing with despair over this turn of events. Though she was from a warrioress heritage of her own, the women of her tribe were not men-haters like the Amazeen and not as bloodthirsty as the Hell Hags. They were Daughters, too, but of the Multitude--that mysterious sect of women dedicated to the eradication of evil among mankind. For the most part they were peaceable women and looked upon the Hell Hags as mischief-making witches--which Hell Hags tended to be.
"I'm screwed," he said again and wondered why his brothers had hired such a warrioress to come after him.
He turned over on his back again and stared at the door. Lauryl was taking her time luxuriating in her bath, he thought with a snort of irritation unless…
He sat up.
What if there had been more bounty hunters lurking about? Would Rolanda and her nit-twit lover have hired only two to come after him? Would they not have hedged their bets and hired more?
He swung his legs off the bed and bent down to retrieve his boot. Yanking it on, then the other, he stomped over to the door and was about to pull it open when he realized he was weaponless. The blade he'd been given to him by his grandfather on the occasion of his thirtieth birthday had been taken from him at Blaithmoor, likewise the set of black obsidian daggers that had been his pride and joy. His gaze fell on Lauryl's blade and he plucked it from its scabbard.
Sword held tightly in his grip, he opened the door and stared down the corridor.
Lauryl lifted one shapely leg from the water and ran the sponge down it with delight. The water was still warm enough so the suds from the bubble bath she'd added to the tub lay like lace upon the undulating surface. An enticing scent of gardenia rose up from the suds.
She sighed and lowered her leg, laid her head on the tall back of the copper vessel and closed her eyes. She was content until the door to the bathing chamber was jerked open and she gasped, turning to see the Faolchúnna standing in the entrance clutching her sword.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, twisting around so that a bit of water sloshed over the rolled edge of the tub.
"You were taking too gods-be-damned long," he growled, lowering the weapon. "I feared there might be other bounty hunters about."
That he had come to protect her sent warm shivers of delight through Lauryl. No man had ever come to her aid before and she was touched. She smiled at him. "You were worried about me?"
He nodded and shut the door for a cold draft was whirling around his legs. "Are you finished?"
Some wayward spirit within her wanted him to see her rising from her bath and she propelled herself up, the spiky suds clinging to her in places that only accentuated the firm roundness of her curvaceous body.
"Would you towel me, please?" she asked, surprising herself. She'd never given any man such a liberty with her body and had never thought to do so.
Glade's throat was a dry parchment sheet upon which not one trace of moisture could settle. He stared at her with rapt attention--his gaze wandering from her swanlike neck to the sleekness of her long legs and felt the blood rushing through his body. He wanted her so badly, so desperately, his cock was burning stiff and as hard as steel poking at the fly of his pants. His hands itched to touch her. His body ached to mount her. His thoughts were a whirling mass of recklessness that would have shocked his brothers to their cores.
"Glade?" she questioned in a husky voice and he came forward to lay her sword on the small table beside the tub so he could take up the fleecy towel warming by the fire.
"I shouldn't," he said even as he brought the towel over to her and flung it around her shoulders, bringing her body close to his with only the rim of the tub between them. "It isn't right."
She put her arms up to encircle his neck and he swept her into his arms, lifting her from the water to the soft mat upon which he stood her.
"I ought not to be doing this," he said but he was briskly rubbing the towel over her back and down her arms, blotting her slim waist and hips, striving not to settle his gaze on the rounded globes that he longed to hold, to suckle.
She met his fevered gaze and he stilled like a deer caught in the glow of a bright lantern light.
"I want you," she said, her arms still around his strong neck.
Glade whimpered. "Lass, don't," he pleaded. "I can't. It is forbidden and…"
She lowered one hand to lay the tips of her fingers across his lips. "I know and I am being a bad woman. I shouldn't tempt you this way."
He shook his head. "No," he said through the press of her fingers. "You shouldn't."
"But I'm going to," she said and before he could deny her, she slid her hand behind his head and drew his mouth to hers, covering his lips in a scorching kiss.
Glade's arms crushed her to him and he ground his lower body against hers, mindless of the water that soaked his pants and shirt. He thrust his tongue past her lips and devoured her mouth until the heady sensation had so weakened him he barely had enough strength and presence of mind to release her and stumble back.
"Nay, Lass. I can't!" he insisted. He was breathing hard--as though having finished a long race run full-out.
"You can not put your cock in me for that would be wrong," she said. "It would be a violation of your Joining vows."
"Aye," he said and put up a trembling hand to rake it through his hair.
"But could you not put your fingers within me and accomplish the same purpose without breaking your oath to a woman you don't want nor who wants you?"
Her words were like a fiery brand laid across his body and he flinched. Not from her reminding him his Lady-wife did not want him for that was of no import to him. What had started him to trembling was the thought of taking this lovely woman in a way that would satisfy her.
Lauryl could tell he was debating whether or not such
a thing was possible without him having to atone for it. She could see the gears turning in his mind as his eyes swept back and forth across the floor as though looking for the trap that might spring open to engulf him.
"I could relieve you yet you would not have to be inside me for that to happen," she said softly.
He whined like a little lost boy. He wanted her so badly. He needed her so urgently. What harm would it do to relieve the tension that rode him like an unmerciful rider with sharpened rowels on his spurs?
"Let me pleasure you, Glade," she said.
And with those five words he was lost.
He tore the towel from her, spread it on the floor and lowered her to it. Her naked body was like a feast set before him and he snatched at his own clothing, wanting to feel their bodies sliding against one another even if he could not plunge inside her.
A portion of his brain screamed at him that what he was doing was wrong and that he would pay--in some manner--for doing what he was about to do but it didn't matter. As long as he remained strong, in charge of his libido and refrained from thrusting between her luscious thighs, the penalty couldn't be all that bad--could it?
Not that it mattered to him as he stripped his shirt off, pushed to his knees to unbutton his pants, sat down to kick them off, struggling to get his boots off at the same time. He growled like an enraged bull as his boots entangled with his pants until Lauryl sat up and pushed his hands aside, batting them away and hissing at him as she took over the tugging and relieved him of the hindrance.
"Patience, Wolfboy," she said. "Patience."
"Patience, hell!" he snarled and fell on her, covering her body with his, longing to thrust inside her but contenting himself with ravishing her perfect mouth instead. His tongue dueled with hers, flicked across her teeth and down her chin, dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat them licked its way to one straining peak.
"Umm," she sighed as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth to make a meal of it. With her hands threaded through his dark hair, she gave herself over to the bliss he was extending to her.
Glade slid his right hand down her side and across her hip until he could finger the soft triangle at the apex of her thighs. He teased the wiry hair there--plucking at it, grazing the strands between his short fingernails, and smoothing her mons with his palm. All the while he drew upon her nipple and laved it over and over again, flicking his tongue over the hard little peak.
Lauryl gloried in having his hands and mouth upon her. He was all man and when she looked down into the pale green eyes with which he watched her, her skin tingled and her belly clenched. The moment he touched her clit with the tip of one calloused finger, she nearly melted into the floor.
He released her nipple. "Feel good?" he asked, rotating his finger around and around that sensitive nub.
"Feels great," she said and swiped her tongue along her upper lip. She could taste a slight film of saltiness gathering there for the bathing chamber was overly warm now and getting warmer.
"I'll probably pay dearly for this but ...." he said and slipped one finger into the warm musk of her sex.
She groaned low in her throat at the firm invasion and when another soldier entered the fray--and still another--she began to pant as those gallant warriors slid out of her velvety stronghold, advanced again and explored the moist corridors well and thoroughly. All the while, the base of his palm was pressed firmly upon her soft triangle of hair.
"You're not breaking any vows," she said, holding his hot gaze. There was luminescence in those striking celadon green orbs that held her transfixed. The color complimented his face, added mystery and allure to the strong masculine features. She could feel herself being pulled down into the vortex of his stare.
"Not entirely but what I'm doing is wrong," he said and eased his fingers from her to bring them to his mouth. The finely-sculpted lips parted and he thrust the wetness of her between them, drew on her taste and smiled as he savored the flavor of her.
"That is just too gods-be-damned sensual, Wolfboy," she said in a husky whisper.
"You taste good," he pronounced and slid his fingers inside her once more. This time he drove deep--stretching her--and began a sure, unyielding rhythm she knew held serious intent.
"I want to suck you," she told him and felt his erection leap beside her leg.
"And I want you to suck me," he returned. "But I want to see you, feel you come first."
His words sent shivers down her taut spine, and she writhed on the floor, arching her hips up as he pushed into her dampness then withdrew, drove hard, then lightly, fast for a few thrusts, then slow until she was nothing more than one lumpy mass of panting, quivering need.
"Glade, please!" she said and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from crying out as his rhythm deepened and quickened and he seemed to be striving to touch her very womb.
He lowered his head to her breasts and licked each of her nipples then settled on one whose peak he ground lightly between his teeth as the speed of his impalement grew faster still.
Lauryl arched her hips higher and in perfect sync with the movement of his fingers. When he drove, she tightened the inner muscles of her cunt as hard as she could and held it as he slid his fingers out, tugging against her hold. She heard him growl and would have sworn on her life she felt the vibrations of it all the way through her vagina.
Glade shifted so his cock was pressed between her and the floor. He was striving not to release the wild climax that was burning him like a scalding fire. He was sweating as he tamped down on the urge to cover her and drive himself deep--to the hilt--for to have done so would have brought a swift retribution he wasn't prepared to undertake. He had to release her nipple and clamp his jaws shut to hold onto what little restraint he still had and when he felt the first pulse of her orgasm he increased his thrusting until she was screaming her release, her fingers digging into his scalp as he lay beside her with his forehead on her belly.
The release that rocked through Lauryl left her shuddering, her limbs liquid, and her heart slamming brutally against her ribcage. Every inch of her flesh was ultra-sensitive to even Glade's breath as it washed over her stomach as he lay rigidly at her side. She quivered one last time then moved so quickly she surprised a yelp from him as she pushed him to his back and slid down him like a serpent.
Her mouth was on him, engulfing him before Glade could make another sound. The breath stilled in his throat and his blood rushed into his cock as she suckled him hard, laving the oozing head of his rod with her sweet tongue, nibbling, grazing her teeth along the underside of his straining shaft. She lapped at him. She flicked him the entire length. She pulled him as deeply into her mouth as he would go, relaxing her throat to take in nearly all of him. She licked his balls and suckled them. She ran the tip of her finger around the puckered expanse of his anus then probed him quickly, deeply, before swirling her finger inside his rectum.
"Oh, god!" he groaned and grabbed handfuls of the towel beneath his hips and jerked at the material.
It had been years since he's had any fulfillment except at his own hand and even that had been unsatisfactory--a physical release and nothing more, a means to an end, a discharge of tension. No one had touched him intimately in all the years he'd been married to Rolanda and just the pure, simple act of having Lauryl's hands on him was a pleasure, a delight that brought tears to his eyes.
Her mouth was doing things to him no woman ever had and though he'd been a knowledgeable man before he made the Joining vows to Rolanda, he had not be an inexperienced, callow youth. But he had never experienced this sublime enjoyment and he knew the satisfaction it was about to bring him would be worth any punishments his tribe decreed he suffer.
When he came, he came so hard he thought the top of his head would explode. He arched his hips up with a grunt, a long, inhuman growl, and offered himself as he never had. His cum spurted long and hot into her waiting mouth and he felt her draining him, sucking, licking every ounce of it
as it poured from him. And when she swallowed, he howled with the absolute contentment.
Lauryl smiled as he dropped his ass to the floor again and lay there like a limp noodle--his legs splayed, his head to one side and eyes closed tightly as the last tremors shook his body and his cock leapt one final time before going pliable. He was breathing hard and she could see the vein in his neck throbbing dangerously. She cupped his soft flesh firmly in her hand and lay down beside him with her head on his broad shoulder.
"Felt good?" she asked.
He couldn't speak. He was drained, exhausted, bone-tired and unable to flex even one muscle. He was so weak, he couldn't even pry an eyelid open as she snuggled against him.
"I'll take that as an aye," she said and yawned.
He tried to lift his arms and couldn't. The floor was uncomfortable and he was so hot he was drenched in sweat. He wanted to stand beneath a cold waterfall and let the tiredness and the lethargy leech away then roll into bed and stay there for the remainder of his life.
"We need to go to our room, Wolfboy," she reminded him.
He sighed heavily and managed to force his eyes open. His eyes were very sensitive to the light. His nostrils quivered with the smell of the spent juices that clung to their thighs. His ears were finely attuned to the ragged heartbeat that raced within his chest and yet he could not make himself get up.
"Glade?" she questioned and sat up, twisting around to look down at him. "I want to go to bed."
"Umm," he managed to respond.
"I want to lie in our bed with your strong arms around me and your warm body close to mine," she stated.
He shifted his gaze wearily to hers and for what he saw there, he gladly would have stripped to the waist and offered his back to the Tribunal's whip if it meant she'd always look at him in that way. Nothing his tribe could do to him for the sins he had committed with her would lessen the pleasure he felt at that moment.
"Don't ever leave me, Lauryl," he asked.
WindBorn Page 10