[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  All his life it seemed everything physical came easily to him. Everything, that is, except handling weapons. Bare-handed, Kerrick was amazingly skilled, but put something in his hand, and suddenly, he would do more damage to himself than to an opponent. His father called him tandulfi, or two left hands. Just thinking of the jib caused Kerrick to grit his teeth. He’d intimidated the recruits with his impressive size and unbelievable arrogance when he’d taken the post from Sterlave. That trick would only work once. Now that they knew the truth, he wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone. Every recruit in the cells was probably salivating at the thought of taking him on.

  Sterlave canted his head to the side. “If you cower in your room, you most certainly are, as you say, a dead man walking. If you stop acting like a child and train, you most definitely will have a chance. A very good chance, if you faithfully follow my advice.” Sterlave clasped his hand to Kerrick’s shoulder. “I’m your handler, and I intend to see you succeed. However, the choice is entirely up to you.”

  With that, Sterlave strode to the main door.

  “Wait,” Kerrick called.

  Sterlave turned and without prompting, said, “Kasmiri relinquished her throne because her father was not an official empress consort, which made her illegitimate.”

  Kerrick’s eyebrows climbed. “Clathia was unfaithful to her consort? I always thought it was the other way around.” Clathia’s consort was notorious for bedding damn near every woman in the palace. His exploits were so legendary that Kerrick had heard about them all the way in Cheon.

  “Apparently, it was mutual.” Sterlave sighed. “Now that you know, does knowing change anything?”

  “Not really.” Kerrick shrugged.

  “Then why did you need to know so badly?”

  “Because I’m curious.” Knowing the history of those in power was an important tool in rising through their ranks.

  “And knowledge is power.” With a small chuckle, Sterlave shook his head. “Seems to me you are just interested in gossip, much like women and servants.”

  Kerrick would have bristled at the insult, but there was no way he was taking Sterlave on in a fight, verbal or otherwise. If anyone could help him get through the challenge, Sterlave was that man. Calmly, Kerrick returned, “What you call gossip, I call information.”

  Sterlave narrowed his eyes. “And what could you possibly do with this information?”

  “Who knows?” Kerrick shrugged.

  Both men turned when the door creaked slowly open. Ker-rick’s paratanist entered, bowed to them both, and then entered the kitchen to prepare his midday meal.

  “Will I see you tomorrow for training?” Sterlave placed his hand on the doorknob. Tension only heightened the sheer power of his body. Kerrick could look down his nose at the training all he wanted, but Sterlave proved whatever the instruction method was, it clearly gave results.

  “Considering my choices, I’ll be there early and stay late.” Kerrick would rather suffer the laughs of a thousand men than certain death by one. He might be lazy, but he wasn’t a fool.

  Sterlave smiled. “Half the battle is just showing up.”

  “Right.” Kerrick turned his attention out the window to watch snow drift lazily from the clouds. “Because if I don’t show up, there can be no battle.”

  “Which would make you a coward.” Sterlave’s voice cut deeper than any snide aside Kerrick’s father had ever made.

  At that, Kerrick turned, fire in his gaze. “I may be many things—lazy, unskilled, foolhardy—but nobody, and I mean nobody, calls me a coward.” In the last ten seasons, he’d faced challenges most men wouldn’t dream of taking. They didn’t call them death-defying sports for nothing. How ironic that his exploits had cumulated in the most deadly sport of all.

  Sterlave flashed him a contemplative smile. “Show up and prove me wrong.”

  Determined, Kerrick lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and said, “I’ll be there.” As soon as the door closed, Kerrick hustled into the kitchen, and asked, “Where did you say those practice weapons were?”

  Silently, his servant left off her food prep and glided across the main floor to a small closet off his bedroom. When she opened the door, crystals bloomed to full brightness, revealing various clutter and several weapons stacked neatly on the floor or leaning against the wall. He hadn’t even touched them, yet already he felt them slipping from his grip.

  “You will not have time to practice this night.”

  Kerrick let out a long-suffering sigh. “And why not?”

  “This is the eve of a new cycle.” She said it as if it should have some meaning to him, which it didn’t.

  “And?” he prompted, not really sure he wanted to hear more. Gods, he probably had to perform some disturbing ritual with bloodletting and the consumption of raw animal parts and, gods forbid, naked dancing. He shuddered. He was a horrible dancer, and gyrating naked probably wouldn’t help matters one bit.

  “Tonight you will mate with the Harvester.”

  “Really?” Kerrick breathed a sigh of relief as a smile wiped away what had almost become a perpetual frown. “Maybe things are looking up.” His smile faded and his face fell when Fana remained very still.

  “What?” he asked, trying to keep frustration from possessing his tone. Couldn’t he have just one nice thing happen to him? Honestly, he wanted to know what he’d done to anger the gods so much that they now gloated in punishing him at every turn.

  Hesitantly, Fana asked, “You want to mate?” Her question was a cross between repulsion and shock.

  “Of course I do!” So far, he’d only been celibate one cycle of thirty-six days, but still, he hadn’t gone this long without sex since he was young. Just the thought of being with Ariss rather than his own hand caused his penis to twitch in anticipation. “Don’t you?”

  He couldn’t see her face, hidden as it was by her enormous cowl hood, but he felt her utter horror at his question.

  “I am forbidden!”

  With that, she retreated to the kitchen, leaving him to stand and wonder. Fana touched him intimately, prepared him to take the virginity of hundreds of women, and yet they forbid her to have sex? Kerrick shook his head. The more he learned about the Harvest prophecy, the less he liked it.

  6

  Ariss took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Kerrick sat on the edge of the round bed. When he saw her, he trailed his gaze from her feet to her face, but showed no outward reaction. Neither delight nor disgust crossed his features.

  Had she known she would have to mate with him every cycle until the next Harvest, she might not have behaved so wantonly the last time. Just thinking about what she’d done caused her to blush. She had hoped to assess his feeling toward her by his expression, but he remained remarkably expressionless, which only prompted her to put on her mask of indifference. Two could play this game. However, she had a feeling he was far more adept at the masquerade than she was.

  Ariss made a great show of closing the door behind her, which gave her another moment to consider him from under the sweep of her lashes. The first thing she noticed was his hair had begun to grow back. Golden ceiling crystals caused his head to positively glow. She felt an overwhelming desire to run her fingers through the short, spiky strands. Too, the bright blond made his eyes even more impossibly green. Hunter eyes. Eyes that even in his relaxed state seemed to delve right into her very soul. His body was not as oiled and bulging as it had been last time, but still, he was impressively large. Strong, sleek, seductive. Short, shiny blond hairs now covered his arms, his chest, and his legs. She didn’t dare try to look between his legs, but she imagined hair was returning there as well.

  “Ariss,” he said, nodding, his voice somewhere between commanding and condemning.

  “Kerrick,” she returned, inclining her head slightly. Did he know the truth? Nervously, she fingered the black stone about her neck. If he didn’t know, she wasn’t sure how she would tell him, or even if she should. Perhaps what
he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Not until it was too late, anyway.

  Smirking, he patted the space next to him on the bed.

  Head held high, Ariss approached. “Didn’t they give you a robe to wear this time?” She clutched the tie of hers as if the flimsy fabric could protect her from him and the needs simmering inside her own flesh. If she thought she hungered for him before, that craving was nothing like the ache she felt now that she had seen him again.

  He flicked his head toward the floor. “With what we’re going to be doing, I didn’t think I’d need it.”

  Ariss gulped at the fire in his eyes. How could green seem so menacing? “Did you see all the people in the hallway?” To her, it seemed every inhabitant in the palace filled the space just to see her stride toward the mating room.

  Her heart pounded when Kerrick stood. All male and sexy and smiling, with his penis hard and heavy and within arm’s reach. Gods help her, all she had to do was lift her hand and she could cup that silken shaft in her palm. Night after night, she’d dreamt of doing just that, and now to have him so close she could almost taste him … To stop herself from touching him, she clasped her hands together.

  Kerrick considered her joined hands for a moment, then leaned over, placing his mouth right next to her ear, and whispered, “Holding on for dear life or holding on to your dignity while you can?”

  Confused by the insult, Ariss took a step back. Kerrick caught her about her waist and spun her so that she faced toward the exit. Again, he put his mouth tantalizingly close to her ear. “There’s the door. Are you going to run like you did last time?”

  Ariss drew a deep breath to retort, but his scent filled her lungs. He smelled of the forest. Of living green things and dangerous animals. She wanted to do just as he said: run. But her legs were too weak and there was nowhere to run to. No matter her own fears, she had to perform her duty. Deep in her secret heart, she admitted that she wanted to complete her obligations.

  During a dream, when the image of the tormented man in her flashbacks overlaid the image of Kerrick, she realized what the memory was her parents paid such a high price to remove.

  “I ran not because of you, but because of my parents.”

  Kerrick held very still, listening intently.

  Desperate to explain, Ariss haltingly said, “When I was younger, I caught one of our servants masturbating.” She knew she blushed when she said the word, but thankfully, Kerrick wasn’t looking at her. “He was older than I was by at least ten seasons. He had dark hair, dark eyes.” She pictured him so clearly in her mind despite the fact she couldn’t remember his name. “He was mysterious and rough-hewn. Watching him aroused me, even though I was a bit too young to fully understand what I was seeing.”

  Kerrick said nothing. He held her to his chest, listening, as if understanding her would open up entire new worlds for him. She’d only been with him twice, but already she’d told Kerrick more about herself than everyone else in her life combined. He knew secrets of her heart that she swore she would never tell anyone. Somehow, in some way, she felt secure with him.

  “My mother caught me just as he climaxed.” Ariss remembered his head tossed back. What she thought was a look of agony on his face was actually ecstasy. “When I witnessed his release, the most exquisite joy filled me.” After a breath, she added, “My mother slapped me so hard she bruised my face for a quarter cycle. Mother, in turn, told Father. He immediately fired the servant.” What she didn’t tell Kerrick was that her parents had filled her with body-numbing chemicals to suppress her natural lust. “Then, just to be sure, my father paid handsomely to strip the memory from my mind.” She took a deep breath. “Last time, when you masturbated for me, the feelings I felt brought back fringes of that memory they paid to have stripped.” Softly, she added, “That’s why I ran away.”

  After a very long time, Kerrick asked, “Are you ashamed of what you felt watching him or watching me?”

  “No.” That was the simple truth. “I enjoyed every moment.”

  “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

  Her desperate need made the answer ready to burst forth, but she maintained a modicum of modesty. Softly, she whispered, “No.” She turned her head slightly, wanting to kiss him, but unable to do so. “I don’t want you to ever stop touching me.”

  He gave an almost imperceptible sigh of approval.

  When Kerrick slid his hands across her waist, then down to cup her hips, she whimpered. When he yanked her back, pressing her against his erection, she gasped and clenched her eyes tightly closed. In a way, she’d felt she’d now given him permission to do whatever he wanted to her. Her heart raced wondering what that would be.

  “Once I healed from the Harvest, all I thought of was you.Did you know that, Ariss?” His voice was sultry thick with erotic accusation.

  She shook her head, causing some of her upswept hair to tumble down and tickle along her back.

  “Endless dreams of my cock plunging into your heat.” He pressed her against him, so she had no choice but to acknowledge his straining need sliding against the fragile fabric of her robe. “I’d wake so hard I’d hurt, and all I had was my own hand to relieve me.” Once he’d settled his shaft between the cleft of her bottom, he let out a short growl of satisfaction. “My hand that you watched stroke my cock.” He nipped her earlobe as he slid his shaft along the astle wedged into the cleft of her bottom. “So I slipped my hand under the covers and imagined your cool gray eyes watching me, noting each and every caress I made to try to give myself relief. Relief from the torment you inflicted.”

  Behind her closed eyes, she saw him stroking himself for her, then the way he’d forced his shaft into his unyielding fist. Her shiver caused him to chuckle and blow hot, moist breath across her neck.

  “Did you dream of me?” he asked, nuzzling his lips to the most sensitive spot on her shoulder.

  She didn’t answer, but her soft sob gave the truth away. How could she not have dreamt of him? He was stunningly handsome, and he did things that evoked feelings she’d never allowed herself to even think of.

  “Why do you deny yourself?” Deftly, he untied her robe, teasing his fingers along the parted fabric, widening it slowly until the edges hung from her now-thrusting breasts. Each time he moved his hand along her flesh, he came tantalizingly close to touching her nipples but never quite managed. The wait, the breathless anticipation of his touch, had her alternately gasping, then holding her breath until she was dizzy.

  “I’m not supposed to want this, to want you. I can’t—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He lifted his hand to her chin, turning her head just enough so that he could kiss her lips. His move was aggressive. His palm against her face was utterly possessive, but his kiss was softer than feather down.

  “I don’t want to hear excuses,” he growled against her mouth. “And I won’t wait for you to make up your mind. We are here to mate, and that’s exactly what we are going to do.”

  Kerrick pulled the robe off her shoulders and slid it down her arms. She thought he intended to strip her last shred of protection away, but he gathered the fabric around her wrists, wrapping the garment so that he bound her arms behind her.

  Ariss couldn’t find the breath to ask what his intentions were, and a part of her was secretly thrilled, because now, he had taken the choice away from her. Let him do as he wished. There was nothing she could say or do to stop him. Whatever the consequences of this encounter, they were now beyond her.

  “I know you’ve never been bound,” he stated, his words blowing warm against her neck. “Are you afraid?”

  More strands of black hair fell along her back when she shook her head.

  “Not brave enough to admit what you want, but you’ll submit yourself to my control. You are a perplexing woman, Ariss. One I will know in every way by the end of this season.” He moved back, taking his body heat with him, leaving her to shiver in the chill air. His words confirmed that he knew they would mate seve
n more times, on the eve of each cycle, until the next Harvest.

  Her nipples, already straining for his touch, were now even more painfully hard. If he didn’t caress her soon, she thought she’d go mad from longing, which undoubtedly was his intention. The walls of her sex wept for him, clenching so tight she feared she’d die if he didn’t fill her soon. Such emptiness inside caused her to hang her head and bite her lips to hold back desperate pleas.

  Clearly accustomed to control, Kerrick took his time perusing her bound form. Ariss kept her head down and only watched him through lowered lashes. Carefully, he removed the clip that kept her hair artfully piled on top of her head. Still damp from her bath, the moist strands caused tiny bumps to wash across the surface of her flesh when they tumbled down her back.

  Even though she and Kerrick were separated for a cycle, and she’d had time to become re-accustomed to the world of physical sensations, she still found herself ensnared by him, as if he made her feel everything for the first time. The texture of fine fabrics, expensive cosmetics, rich unguents and potions—none of it was as powerful as his touch. However, what struck terror into her fragile heart was how his gaze alone caressed her most strongly of all.

  “Such skin you possess. Smooth, soft, and surprisingly sensitive to the smallest stroke.” Kerrick traced the tip of his finger from her earlobe to her neck, pressing against the fluttering of her pulse before trailing his devastating finger down the length of her arm. “Oh, Ariss,” he whispered, “I don’t believe I even have to touch you.”

  She held her breath, stunned that he realized what she’d thought only moments ago. She wondered if he could read her mind, but she held perfectly still, waiting. Kerrick leaned close. And then, in the most incredible display of mastery, he used only the subtle feel of his breath to touch her. He murmured words in some language she didn’t comprehend, but she didn’t need to. They were shameful words. Sinful words. Rough and seductive words. Again and again, he muttered wicked terms that described what he would do to her in the most vulgar way. She didn’t have to understand the language to find his naughty speech passionate and undeniably arousing as the words flowed over her skin, more powerful than any touch.