Dherran gripped the woman’s hips hard, driving himself up into her deep as she straddled him. Vicious. Rageful. But this buxom brunette was a professional, and she knew how to take a man. She ground down upon him, green eyes flashing by the fire’s light in the inn’s small room, dominant. She gripped him with her thighs as Dherran gave her everything, holding her steady, punishing her. Leaning in, she absorbed it, arching. She raked her nails down his chest, and Dherran hissed through gritted teeth.
So very close.
But this woman was a professional. Reading his body like Dherran read others in the ring, she reached out, slapping him hard across the face. Dherran gasped at the sting of it, at the power in her, unleashed just for him. He came with a roar, spasming hard beneath her, reaching up to seize her by the neck and haul her down, crushing her into his kiss as he shuddered on and on.
And then it was over.
He released her, still breathing hard, the hot forge of rage inside cooled at last, empty once more. She ran a thumb over his lips, but Dherran was finished now, and he turned his head away. “Your coins are on the bureau.”
She arched one eyebrow as she rose, wiping between her legs with a washcloth from the porcelain basin by the bed. “You’re not one for lingering, are you?”
“Take your pay and go. We’re finished here.”
Her chuckle was scathing as she bent, lifting her gown from where it had puddled upon the plain floorboards, hooking the bodice closed. “You’re beautiful to look at Kingsman, and a pleasure to fuck. But you’re a bastard, aren’t you?”
Dherran rose from the bed, going to the basin to splash water on his face, curry it through his blonde hair. “You’re not my lover. You’re not my friend. So get lost.”
“Prizefighters. Figures.” She raked her coins from the bureau, primed her tousled mane a moment, then opened the door to Dherran’s room. Then looked back. “My name’s Cecilia. If you want me again during your stay, just talk to the landlady downstairs. She knows where to find me.”
Dherran met her gaze. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to tell her he didn’t love her and that he never would, that his heart had been destroyed long ago. But those words didn’t come. He knew the truth about himself by now. He would need her again, tomorrow, and the next day. And she had been good enough, letting him rage deep inside her the way he needed to.
“Tomorrow.” Dherran murmured. “This time again.”
A small smirk lifted her lips, victory. She nodded and stepped out.
Dherran settled back to the bed, not bothering to draw the covers up. Summertime in Vennet was balmy, and the past two nights they’d been here proved stifling at this poorly-drafted inn. Their trio had money now, but it wouldn’t do to waste it, so their lodgings in the valley were modest. It was clean, and that’s what mattered. Dherran rolled to his back on the rumpled bed, turning his head to stare into the fireplace. The flames licked low. The room’s only window was open to let in the night breeze, full of ribbing frogs. Soothed at last, Dherran’s eyelids began to drop, fluttering closed.
Memories rose, of a fine-boned woman in his hands. Small, delicate, her skin supple and her muscles hard, riding him arched and beatifically silent, a smile of bliss upon her haunting face. Calm brown eyes half-closed, enjoying everything of their joining. Sighs licked at Dherran’s ears, the only sound Suchinne had ever made as he’d fucked her, as she’d quickened, climaxed for him.
As he came, roaring, for her.
Dherran drifted, feeling her, hearing the croaking of frogs outside and the snap of the fire. Time stretched, endless in this soothed space. But suddenly, he snapped awake, roused by the touch of steel at his throat.
“Got you.”
Dherran’s breath hissed, in relief and exasperation. “It’s the middle of the fucking night, Khenria. We’re not bouting. Go back to bed.”
The fire had dwindled to coals, and gave little illumination to her movements. But suddenly, Dherran felt her slide onto his bed atop him, her knife blade moving not a whit from his throat as she settled upon his naked body. Dherran's breath caught to feel her lithe frame so close, so hot pressed up against him with only her thin cotton undergarments between. Khenria's lips were close, her breath warm upon his face.
“I don’t want to go back to bed.” She murmured, husky, her voice low at his ear.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dherran growled. “I’m not playing. Take your knife from my throat and get off me or get your wrist broken.”
“I’m not playing either.”
“Go back to bed.” Dherran insisted, betrayed by his rising intrigue, trapped right against her belly, where he knew she could feel it.
“Do you know where I go when we’re in the cities? Do you know where I was most of last night?” Khenria continued, brushing her lips across his. “To whorehouses. So I can learn. I’m not innocent, Dherran. I know you and Grump like to think I’m a girl, but I’m not.” Khenria had always been her own creature. Dherran knew she slipped away when they were in the cities, but hadn’t questioned her business. But now that he knew the truth of her errands, need boiled in his veins, the same surging tirade he had always felt with Suchinne.
But Khenria wasn’t Suchinne, and she never would be.
“Maybe you want to fuck, Khenria, but not with me.”
“But I do.” Khenria's dark gaze gleamed in the fire's low light. “When I watch you fight, I feel this vast animal inside you. I feel your rage, Dherran…and I want it.”
“My rage is only unleashed in the ring, Khenria. You can see it two days from now.”
Her answering smile was sly. “I see it all the time. I’ve watched through cracks in the door. I watched you tonight. You let it out with the whores, that magnificent rage, just at the very end. I want to feel it. I want to make you lose that perfect control… unleash that animal brutality upon me...”
The knife slipped away. Dherran felt it plunk to the covers beside his head. Khenria was close, her lithe body unfurled atop him, fingertips stroking his neck. “I want to fight like you do. I want to fuck like you do…”
Her lips brushed his, bold with desire.
“I can’t do this, Khenria.” Dherran pulled back, though his loins screamed at him for a fool. “I’m old enough to be your uncle.”
“But you’re not. Not my uncle, but one of my own. Alrashemni. A Kingsman, like I should have been.” Khenria’s slender fingers danced over Dherran’s bare chest, tracing his Inkings. “These. You came for me, didn’t you? I knew it, when I saw you that day in the river. You came to make it right.”
“I’m still trying to make it right.” Dherran murmured, lips starting to seek hers though his mind screamed, ever more feebly. “Your First Seal should have been at thirteen. I’m sorry, that I couldn’t give that to you. But I will. I promise. And I can’t if we do this. You’ll get hurt.”
“Maybe I won’t be the one who gets hurt.” She had begun to slide her hips over his groin, and Dherran’s body betrayed him. His lust was nearly as strong as his rage, and always had been.
“Grump trusts us. I can’t…” He breathed.
“Touch me, Dherran…” Khenria’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips. “Taste me. Train me, right now. Don’t say no. Not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine, not some whore’s, either with my knife buried in your throat or your cock buried between my legs.”
“Khenria...” But Dherran’s resolve was now as feeble as his excuses. He slid his hands around her slender waist, feeling her warm flesh beneath the thin undershirt, so good in his arms, so much like Suchinne. Dark-eyed, bird-boned Suchinne, whom he could wrap entire in his arms, who always came up fighting when she fucked him. Suchinne, who could still his rage with a touch, who could control this beast inside him with a glance.
Who would ask him to do better to control himself.
Dherran pulled back with a grieving growl. In one quick motion, he rolled Khenria to the bed, pinning her with his bulk. She hissed and trie
d to hit him, but Dherran pinned her wrists. This wasn't the way, not with Khenria. She was his student and he her teacher, and this would only make things maddening.
“I'm not taking you, Khenria. You're my student, not my lover. My lover is dead. Get out of my bedroll.” Dherran rolled off her to standing.
Khenria scuttled to her feet with a hiss. “Fine! If that’s the way you want it… fine! Fuck you!” With a scathing backward glance, she stalked to the door, opening it and slamming it hard behind her. Dherran tried not to give a damn about her feelings. She could hiss and splutter all she wanted. He'd refused her, and there was going to be hell to pay, but there was worse within Dherran's own soul.
His heart twisted as he lay back down, remembering his own beautiful little hawk. Remembering her dark eyes and gentle touch, that had always soothed this awful need inside him.
Blackmark (The Kingsmen Chronicles #1): An Epic Fantasy Adventure Sword and Highland Magic Page 21