Several times, Kerrick had lamented that it was too late to turn back now, yet here was Chur, offering him the chance to depart relatively unscathed. There would be no revenge on his father, but he wouldn’t have to live under the austere restrictions of his title, either. If he left now, Kerrick wouldn’t have to fight to the death in the challenge. He wouldn’t have to train into exhaustion. He wouldn’t have to suffer the trauma of withholding his climax for only once a cycle. Given his history of taking the easy path, Kerrick should leap at Chur’s offer, especially when he’d always acted without thinking.
What messed everything up was Ariss.
If he walked away, Kerrick could never touch her again. Worse, some other man, the one who became the next Harvester, would get to touch her, whether Ariss wanted him to or not. Kerrick didn’t want to leave her to another, or to Ambo, either. He wanted her for himself. If he left, he would never again know the feel of her welcoming body wrapped around his, or her cool gray eyes turning hot with desire. If he stayed, he had to accept the depth of responsibility. If he impregnated her, he must bond to her. In this instance, he couldn’t take pleasure without giving something of himself in return.
Gulping hard, struggling for each tiny sip of air, Kerrick realized he would have to make a commitment, something he had never done. His grandmother would be proud that finally he was truly considering the consequences of his actions.
“Are you going to answer me, or should I let the recruits in?” Chur’s tone held a hint of mockery, as if he already knew the decision Kerrick had arrived at.
“I can’t walk away.” Kerrick’s voice was harsh, almost strangled as he found it difficult to talk now. He would stay and finish what he started. If Ariss became pregnant, he would be the best bondmate to her that he could be. If she didn’t, he would … and that’s when his heart stopped. He thought he was staying to protect her, but to his shock, he discovered he didn’t want to leave her, regardless of the outcome. “What happens if I don’t get her pregnant?”
“You will face the challenge,” Chur said. “If you survive that, you can choose a mate from among the sacrifices, or remain the Harvester for as long as you wish.”
From bad to worse. If he didn’t get her pregnant, he couldn’t have her. “What if she chooses me?”
“She can’t,” Sterlave said. “As the Harvester, Ariss can only pick a free man within the palace walls. You are not free. Your position binds you to the ritual.”
Kerrick would have laughed if he had the breath. Finally, he found a woman he wanted, but he couldn’t have her unless he fulfilled some convoluted ancient prophecy. His grandmother must be laughing herself simple in Jarasine. Every woman he’d ever loved and left must be gleeful that he’d finally gotten his comeuppance.
Still, he had time to walk away. Kerrick stood at the crossroads of a momentous decision. Ariss stood at the head of one path and freedom stood at the other.
Pounding footsteps filled the room. When Chur and Sterlave didn’t instantly dismiss them, Kerrick knew the person who entered wasn’t a recruit.
“Release the Harvester.”
Kerrick held his breath, wondering what was happening now. He’d never officially answered Chur, but this, whatever it was, might give him another option he hadn’t yet considered.
“Under whose authority?” Sterlave asked, stepping toward the messenger, his feet crunching in the scattered seeds.
“By the gods, the Harvester has fulfilled her duty.”
Kerrick’s eyebrows rose. A smile tugged the edges of his lips wide. Ariss was pregnant with his child! He could not have been more pleased. In a way, he found the turn of events a relief, because now he had no choice. So what if technically they were forcing him to be her bondmate? He wanted her and she wanted him. The mechanics of the affair didn’t matter to him in the slightest. Ariss was his for a lifetime.
Kneeling near to release him from the gannett, Chur whispered, “It seems the choice has been made for you.”
For once, the thought that he couldn’t turn back now satisfied Kerrick deeply.
Cleaned, anointed, his body nude under a heavy brown robe, Kerrick stood at the entrance to the temple. Before him two acolytes, one male, one female, both dressed in white, parted the thick fabric drapes, ushering him inside.
Vibrating with fury, Kerrick entered. Blue light and clouds of smoke greeted him, making him cough and cover his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. Rushing to his side, a female acolyte pulled his hand away, lowering his arm as she smiled up at him. Her teeth glowed weirdly blue-white, causing him to tug his hand from hers. Oblivious to his distaste, she lifted her hand, showing him the path he should take. On the floor were scatterings of what he could only assume were white flower petals as they, too, glowed in the dark.
Stepping carefully around them, convinced that they were as drugged as the air, Kerrick followed the path until he came to a raised dais of white stone. Upon an elaborate throne carved of the same white stone sat Ariss. Golden light tumbled around her hair and danced across small gemstones along her cheeks. She wore a black robe with gold trim. One hand covered her belly, the other lay limply along the armrest. Kerrick wasn’t sure if it was the drugged air, but she appeared almost ethereal, her serene face calm and beatific. Her robe parted around her neck, exposing the stone necklace. No longer black, the para-stone was now clear, confirming her pregnancy.
The details of this he’d been told as he was prepared by his paratanist. Fana had been almost breathless as she rushed around him, making him dizzy with her frantic hurry to ready him for the bonding ceremony.
Bonding ceremony. Kerrick gritted his teeth. This would not be a typical bonding. Every time he wrapped his head around one duty, they switched paths and he had to take another. He most certainly didn’t want to go down this particular road.
Ariss’ eyes met his, her lids blinking with graceful slowness, as if she literally blessed him by giving him her attention. Sympathy lay within the cool gray depths, but such did little to chill his resentment. How ironic that he thought he was teaching her, when she taught him the biggest lesson of all, one he thought he already knew: Always look out for number one. He’d stuck around because he felt sorry for her, or that’s what he told himself now, anyway. The temptation to slap himself repeatedly was difficult to restrain, but he did, because breaking protocol in the temple would have him placed under the stone. In all honesty, he’d rather be alive than crushed to death.
Kerrick knew what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to, but Fana said that if he didn’t, they would kill him, and another would take his place. That seemed to be their answer to everything: Do as we say or we will kill you. Unwilling to die just to escape the shame of his position, Kerrick dropped to his knees before Ariss.
Clenching his teeth to hold back an angry tirade, Kerrick unclasped his robe and slid the heavy weight off his shoulders. Cool air caressed him, peaking his nipples. Normally such a chill would shrivel his cock, but his paratanist had taken care of that, too.
Kneeling before Ariss nude, his cock hard and painfully sensitive because of some dreadful potion Fana had slathered all over it, Kerrick lowered his face, and snarled, “I have come to offer you tribute.” They told him what to say, but they couldn’t control the tone of his voice.
“What will you give me in tribute?” Ariss asked, her voice ringing through the temple in clear dulcet tones.
How about my cock in your mouth? That’s what he wanted to give her, but he didn’t say it, no matter how deeply his pride wanted him to say it. Damn it all to the nothingness, but he couldn’t even bear to look at her as he said, “I will give you my body, my soul, my life.” He drew a deep breath to bolster himself for the rest. No matter how shameful, he had to finish, because he’d cared too much about her to walk away. Worse, it truly was too late to turn back now. “I offer myself as your protector.” He lifted his chin, letting the light illuminate his face, but he looked at a spot just over her shoulder rather th
an into her eyes. “I will protect you through this life unto the next in Jarasine.”
With those words, Kerrick offered himself as her willing slave. They were not bonding as mates. This ceremony bonded him to her for eternity as her servant. Not her partner, her mate, or her lover, but as her lowly, worthless slave. He could never leave her, not even in death, for he would have to protect her in the great beyond as well. He could never know the touch of another woman, but she could have all the lovers she desired. Should he displease her, she could have him executed and replaced with another. In her slender hands, Ariss now held his very life. To call him resentful was to call the twin suns bright.
The acolytes called Ariss the chosen mate of Tavarus, the god of the Harvesters. The child she carried was considered Tavarus’. Kerrick knew in his heart that he was the child’s father. However, again, because of some convoluted ancient prophecy, he couldn’t do anything. Kerrick became Tavarus’ chosen lackey to watch over Ariss until she died and joined Tavarus in Jarasine.
All this Fana told him with exuberant excitement. As a slave herself, Fana thought becoming one to the carrier of a god’s child was just about the highest honor possible. Kerrick didn’t share her enthusiasm, especially not when he discovered what he was expected to do.
“Are you willing?” Ariss asked, her voice pulling him back to the present.
Looking directly into her eyes, Kerrick frowned, and opened his mouth to berate her a fool, but he pressed his lips carefully together. One did not mock the gods, not even the chosen vessel of the gods, not if one expected to continue breathing.
“I am willing.” He impressed himself with the fact that his words sounded utterly believable even though he was lying right to her face. All he had to do was bide his time. Somehow, someday, there would come an opportunity for him to escape, and he would seize it without a second thought. Never again would he let concern for her sway his decision to look out for himself first. Just as the thought of fleeing from her gripped him, he knew he wouldn’t, not when she carried his child. He might resent her, but he knew deep down to the sticking place in his heart that he could never walk away from his own child. No matter what, he would endure anything to protect him or her.
Ariss stood.
White light blazed around her head as she stepped toward him, forcing him to tilt his face back because he refused to look away in shame. In her hand, she held what he dreaded most, but he didn’t move from his kneeling position. Leaning forward, Ariss kissed his forehead, her lips surprisingly cool against his flesh. With swift movements, she slipped the slender metal collar around his neck, locking it into place. It would be with him until the day he died.
She stepped back to admire him.
Kerrick gritted his teeth so hard he thought he heard them crack. At first, the collar felt cool around his neck, but the metal quickly heated to match his body’s temperature. It felt unbearably heavy. In reality, the thing probably weighed little, but the burden it placed on him felt inordinately cumbersome. His shoulders slumped. All his life he’d lived for excitement and danger, but because he wanted revenge on his father for no very good reason, he’d become the possession of a demigod-dess.
Ariss returned to her throne. “You may offer me your tribute.”
He’d already heard details of how guard after guard had paraded before her, displaying himself, stroking himself. Now she expected him to do the same. Kerrick thought the entire process was degrading and designed to put him in his place. He was her pet. He was supposed to leap at the snap of her fingers to do her bidding. This did not hold the sensual promise for him as her request had in the mating room. There, he’d wanted to perform for her, to show her the power in his body as he worked his cock with his own hand. Here, he felt lower than low, a trifle, a plaything.
Wincing, Kerrick tried to will his erection away, but whatever Fana had put on him caused his cock and balls to throb in such agony the only way he would have relief was if he climaxed. How bitter that the seed he’d so eagerly wanted to pump into Ariss during their stolen tryst would now be splattered at her feet in a show of his submission to her.
Against his will, Kerrick wrapped one fist around his shaft. He recoiled in pain. He was so sensitive that even the softest brush caused untold agony. If he didn’t give tribute, he would be executed, but he simply hurt so much he was afraid to touch himself. What the hell had Fana done to him in her blithering excitement? Whatever she’d put on him, she had obviously used too much. Even now, his cock glistened and the oil continued to run down to his balls.
Perhaps this was her revenge for catching him with Ariss. He’d been so enraptured that he hadn’t even heard Fana enter his room. But she had. Shocked, Fana left and ran to the guards. She stood before them silently until one of them asked what her problem was. As soon as she had the right to speak, she’d spilled everything. As Kerrick knelt before Ariss, he wondered what would have happened if Fana had not returned to his rooms. Idly, he wondered what Fana had returned for. Not that it mattered. Not that he would ever get the chance to ask. Fana was at this very moment being given to the next Harvester.
Subtly, he knelt back on his heels, as if readying himself, but he actually used the movement to wipe the oil off his hands and onto his robe. He tried to touch himself again, but the contact was still too much.
Panic drew his body tight, causing his chest to constrict as he held his breath to do as she had bid. He tried again to grasp his cock, but just the heat of his hand caused him to yank his hand back. Desperate to show he was at least trying, he cupped his balls, hoping to remove some of the potent oil. Under the guise of teasing himself, he drew the slickness away, leaning back to wipe it on his robe.
“Stop.”
His heart literally halted mid-beat. When he looked up, Ariss was standing. For the longest time she simply considered him, her head tilted fractionally to the side as if she were debating what to do with him. He swallowed hard. She moved toward him with dreamy slowness. As she drew near, she cupped her hand to his chin, lifting his face, then without words, she commanded him to his feet.
He took a deep breath, tasting the absolute ambrosia of her scent. Maybe she really had transformed, because she certainly smelled glorious. That sweet valasta was there but more powerful. Just her scent seemed to calm his frazzled nerves and reduced the sensitivity of his body.
“I’m trying,” he whispered, in the hopes she wouldn’t grow weary of him and call the acolytes to haul him away.
“Silence,” she said, her voice seeming to drift right to his ear.
Looming over her, he peered down, causing her to lean far back to meet his gaze. She did so without any indication of anger. And why should she be upset? With a snap of her fingers, she could order a contingent of guards to crush him under the stone.
“I want your tribute within me.” Ariss parted her robe, exposing her nude body, then stepped forward. She plastered herself against him. Deftly, she slipped his cock between her legs, wiping the oil away with her inner thighs.
Crying out, stunned by the combination of pleasure and pain, Kerrick grasped her hips. Expecting a horde of acolytes to rush in and yank him away, he held very still.
“They would not dare correct me,” Ariss whispered, placing her hands on either side of his head to angle him for her kiss.
He thought of resisting, of turning his head away, but she’d taken pity on his pathetic state, perhaps she even understood what Fana had done to him. He saw a knowing in her eyes, an absolute certainty in her gaze. When he looked deeper, he saw her genuine hunger. Not for just any man, but for him. Apparently, her encounter with her lofty god left her unsatisfied.
Pulling her hips tight, feeling the welcoming softness of her thighs sliding along his shaft, he forcefully claimed her mouth. He might be a slave, but she would know that he was not a tender servant. To own him would be like owning a wild animal; at any moment, he could turn on her.
Matching his ferocity, Ariss kissed him back, her ha
nds against his head, tugging at his hair. From a distance, it would appear she was the aggressor, but Kerrick didn’t mind. Let her put on a show for the trembling acolytes. He didn’t care what they thought. He tried to withhold his pleasure along with his climax, but his sensitized body wouldn’t allow him even that satisfaction. She truly owned him in this moment. If she pushed him away, a part of his pride would die, and he feared he would never be the same.
Thankfully, Ariss gave no indication that she would do something so cruel. Each small movement she made drove him mad with passion. Breathless, desperate, he pulled back, angled his cock to the sweet, hot entrance of her cunt, and then shoved forward.
Ariss gasped, pulling her mouth from his, twisting her hands against his head. Her head fell back, exposing her throat. Ker-rick lowered his lips and bit her neck, drawing the tender flesh inside his mouth, marking her as he was now marked with her collar. In his own way, he laid his claim to her, and not as some pathetic servant. He would find a way to be her master, even if he was only so in private. Ariss would beg for him, writhe for him, spreading her legs eagerly to feel his strength and power.
Each thrust of his hips pulled another groan from her and sent another almost unbearable surge of pleasure through him. He thought at any instant he would erupt, but something held him back, something that waited for the right moment. Inside, he felt a power swirling from nothingness to grow larger, filling up every cell in his body until it oozed from his pores. When he looked down, he swore his body was glowing.
[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest Page 17