“I’m not hurt, Pratan—at least not badly…” Cecily began.
“But you killed Bhuni,” Sarita continued. “That’s her blood, on your body and on Cecily’s.”
“Oh, no—no!”
“I think she tried to stop you. You were headed to Cecily’s room…”
“What? Why? Why is this all happening? Why did I change? This is the third night in a row…” The prince paced and tugged at his hair as though he’d pull it out by the roots. “I can’t stand any more of this! I’ll kill myself!”
Cecily levered herself out of bed, trying to ignore the complaints of her over-taxed joints and muscles. Grabbing him as he passed, she pulled him around to face her. She stifled the urge to kiss him, settling for a sisterly pat on the shoulder. “Hush, Pratan. Don’t say that. You couldn’t help yourself. Calm down and let’s think this through.”
“Stay away from me, Cecily. I might turn again.” His voice was laced with panic.
“Sarita has her blade. I’m not worried.”
He raked his gaze over her blood-spattered body. She recalled the fiery void of the beast’s eyes and shuddered. “You’re really not injured?”
“You—you mounted me.” Cecily discovered she was blushing. “The wolf is enormous, much bigger than you… I mean, you have a fine cock, but… Anyway, it was rather rough. But I seemed to have survived.”
He sank into a chair, his legs sprawled in front of him. Cecily noticed that the organ in question was half-erect, perhaps as a result of their discussion topic.
“But I didn’t try to murder you, to rip your throat open?”
“That’s what you did to Bhuni,” Sarita interjected.
“But not me. You seem more interested in sex than in anything else…”
Pratan’s cock had swelled further. Gingerly, Cecily seated herself on the edge of the bed. She forced herself to focus on Pratan’s face. He looked serious, thoughtful, disturbed. Wounded. Beautiful.
“Perhaps, Cecily,” he said finally, “you are my mate.”
“What?” Sarita and Cecily cried in unison.
“What kind of nonsense are you talking?” Cecily fidgeted on the mattress, trying to find a more comfortable position for her aching limbs. She did not at all like the turn the conversation had taken.
“I’ve studied the legends and shifter lore, seeking a solution to my own dilemma, as well as the ways of natural wolves. All sources agree that the pair bond is of paramount importance to the wolf pack. Barring death or accidents that affect one member of a pair, wolves mate for life. The arcana dealing with wolf-shifters claim we have the same behaviour.”
“But I’m not a shifter.”
“You might become one. Some people say that a werewolf’s bite will have that effect.”
“But…you didn’t try to bite me. Apparently, you just wanted to fuck me…”
Pratan sighed and rubbed his temples. “I don’t know. Perhaps it is all nonsense, as you say. But you can’t deny, since I’ve met you, my—problem—has become much more severe.”
“I’m sorry, Pratan…”
“It’s not your fault. I mean, perhaps you are the causal agent, but I understand that it’s not intentional.”
“Certainly not.” Cecily sniffed, oddly relieved.
“Forget I even mentioned this stuff about mating. It’s merely a theory.” With another heart-rending sigh, he struggled to his feet, awkward and stiff. He seemed to have aged by decades. “In any case, I must leave as soon as possible. Get back to the mountains where I can’t do so much damage…”
A heaviness settled in Cecily’s chest. I don’t want him to go, she realised. Regardless of how dangerous he might be. I need to tell him…
“Brother! I just heard—”Amir swept into the room, and gathered Pratan to his chest, heedless of the blood smearing his white silk robe.
Pratan slipped out of the embrace to kneel at the Rajah’s feet. “I have taken the life of one of your citizens—one of your guards. I await your justice, Your Highness.”
“Don’t be an ass. I know you’re not responsible.”
“I am the one who spilled Bhuni’s blood…”
“Not you, brother. The beast did it. The beast my mother made of you. If anyone bears responsibility, it is she.” Amir dragged Pratan back to a standing position. “You deserve no punishment. The cross you bear is more than punishment enough.”
“You may absolve me, Amir—but my conscience will not. From today I choose exile. I will return to the wild reaches, where only the birds and the animals need fear me.” Squaring his shoulders, the naked prince headed for the door. Amir and Sarita clearly believed that interference was futile. Neither tried to stop him.
Desperation seized Cecily by the throat. If he left, she might never see him again.
“Wait! Wait, Pratan!” As the other occupants of the room turned their attention to her, Cecily suddenly recalled that she was nude. Never mind. She had more important things to worry about. “There’s something you should know.”
“Yes, Miss Harrowsmith?” The Rajah’s eyes glittered like a snake.
“I found—I think I might have found—some information on reversing the curse.”
The Rajah seized her wrist in an iron grip. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“I’m—I’m not sure—I was doing further research…”
Pratan grabbed her shoulder on the other side, shaking her till her teeth rattled. “Tell me, Cecily! What did you find?”
“Some verses stuck into an old magic book that belonged to the queen—they are rather cryptic, but they could be understood as instructions for a ritual—”
She recited the stanzas from memory. “I left the parchment in the book,” she added. “I can show it to you, if you don’t believe me.”
Amir, Pratan and Sarita all began speaking at once, ignoring her offer.
“‘Abu’s heights’ obviously means Mount Abu,” said Amir. “A sacred mountain about two hundred and fifty miles from here,” he added for Cecily’s benefit.
“Full moon—of course that makes sense, since that’s when you change…” Sarita sounded as excited as her master.
“Except for recently,” Pratan’s sour voice joined the chorus. “But ‘wild and bloody nights’—that sounds right.”
“It’s not so obscure,” the Rajah insisted. “We simply need a virgin to sacrifice herself to Pratan’s beast, and he’ll be cured.”
“You mean to be fucked by him? That’s asking quite a lot,” Cecily interjected. “Believe me.”
“And where,” Pratan asked, his expression sombre, “are you going to find a virgin in Rajasthan—willing or not? Your subjects tend to follow your lead, Rajah. Chastity is not highly valued in this kingdom.”
A dejected quiet settled on the group. Pratan stared out of the window. Sarita moulded her body to the Rajah’s, her head against his breast, as though trying to comfort him. Cecily took the opportunity to grab her discarded choli from the night before. The crumpled skirt and bodice made her feel somewhat less vulnerable.
Pratan wheeled back towards his brother. “I’ll need a horse, Amir-ji. Can you supply one—in half an hour or thereabouts?”
“Don’t go, brother. The ritual—we have the knowledge that we need now. The only problems revolve around the implementation.”
“Insurmountable problems, as far as I can see. The ritual requires a virgin, one who agrees to be impaled by a cock the size of a normal man’s arm. The experience will probably kill her. Where will you find a woman willing to make such a sacrifice?”
“We can advertise. I’ll offer a fortune to her family in return…a noble title…a plaque extolling her courage set into the walls of the palace…”
“It’s no use. Your people respect your brilliance and fear your power, Amir, but few of them love you enough to send a child to near-certain death, for any price. And as for me—I’m the scion of a harlot, cursed by a witch. No one cares what happens to me.”
&nb
sp; I care. Cecily bit her lip to keep herself from speaking aloud.
“Your mother was no harlot, but a royal consort.”
“Semantics. In any case, it doesn’t matter. Your mother taunts us from her grave with her counter-spell, brother. She would have known the prescribed ceremony would be impossible to complete.” Pratan shook his black locks and headed for the door. “Ready the horse. I shall disappear into the wilderness, and your problem, at least, will be solved.”
“I’ll do it.” Cecily’s voice sounded strained and foreign to her own ears. What was she saying? But the words were out—she could not call them back.
The Rajah exploded in bitter laughter. “You, Miss Harrowsmith? A virgin? I think we all know the falseness of that claim—from personal experience!”
Cecily glared at the dapper ruler. “The verse does not specify a particular orifice. If one defines virginity in terms of penetration by a male organ, then there is a part of me that is indeed still virgin.”
“Really?” Amir raised an eyebrow. “I never would have guessed, from your reactions to my toys…”
“Cecily—you cannot be serious!” Pratan searched her face. For the moment, at least, she had been successful in halting his flight. “You’ve already suffered the beast’s incursion. You know how difficult it was to accommodate his bulk. Consider the terrible effects on the more delicate tissues to which you refer.”
“We could train her,” the Rajah mused. “Stretch her rear hole with progressively larger plugs. We have more than a week until the next full moon.”
“I’d still rip her to shreds,” Pratan retorted. “No, this is crazy. Thank you for your brave offer, but I can’t accept it.”
“Please—think it over.” Cecily ran her hand up his arm, delighting in the play of muscles under his smooth skin. “This may be your only hope for freedom.”
Sorrow furrowed his brow as he gazed down at her. His lush lips pressed into a hard line. “Freedom bought at too high a price. If you were to die, as seems likely, I’d be living in a new kind of hell.”
“You have a rather finely-tuned conscience for a bandit, Pratan.” Cecily smiled up into the liquid depths of his lovely eyes. She yearned to pull his mouth to hers. “I’m tough. You of all people should know that. And I’ll be ready for you. I swear, I’ll survive the beast.”
“And why, may I ask, will you risk your body and your life for my brother, Miss Harrowsmith? What do you want, if our experiment is successful and the curse is lifted? Assuming that, as you promise, you survive?”
Cecily didn’t bother to look in the Rajah’s direction. Her gaze locked with Pratan’s. A torrent of need swept through her, not physical arousal, but something more poignant and more powerful. More than anything, she wanted to erase the sorrow and guilt from that handsome face. She craved his crooked, mocking smile. She’d do anything to lift his terrible burden—whatever was necessary.
She wouldn’t tell them the truth, though. That was far too great a risk for her to consider.
“I want my freedom, too,” she answered, turning to the Rajah, her fists resting on her broad hips. “After the ritual—whatever the outcome—you will release me and allow me to return to England.” Resolutely, she banished the image of London’s chill, murky streets that flitted through her mind. Once she was free, she could decide where to journey next.
“That seems fair. Agreed.”
“Furthermore, I want to know about your secret energy source. I want to understand how you’ve been able to flourish despite the Empire’s viridium embargo.”
“Oh, Miss Harrowsmith! That’s asking a lot. If your Queen should learn our secret, she might well use that knowledge to destroy Rajasthan—or at least bring us once again under her heel.”
“I’m offering a lot—possibly my life, to restore your brother’s. In any case, I swear I shan’t convey the details to Her Majesty—only the fact that you are clearly self-sufficient in energy. Indeed, I shall advocate for a more equal relationship between her Empire and your kingdom. I’ll argue that the Empire should treat Rajasthan as a valued ally as opposed to a vassal state.”
“Why should I trust the word of a spy?”
“Why should I risk disability or even death for a scoundrel like Pratan? We must trust one another, Rajah, or neither of us will achieve what we desire.”
“I trust her.” Pratan stood behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Delicious heat travelled from his palm, coursing through her to settle between her thighs. “She saved Sarita from my attack, when she could have used the opportunity to flee. She shared her find from the library, when she had no incentive to do so. She could have allowed me to leave. At that point, she would have had a single adversary—you—rather than the two of us.”
Drawing her hair away from her neck, he traced a fingertip from her earlobe to her collarbone. Pleasure shivered through her. She fought to remain focused.
“Cecily undoubtedly has her own deeper motives, her schemes and her secrets. However, I believe she means us no harm, despite the fact that we’ve used her rather harshly.”
“She loved every minute…” Amir muttered, shaking his head. He clutched Sarita’s shoulders—the courtesan still clung to him like a limpet—and gave her a squeeze. “Very well. I accept your terms, Cecily.” He peered out of the window, where dawn was painting the sky a pearly pink. “Why don’t we discuss our detailed plans over some breakfast? I have an idea that may help make the next ten days more pleasant for us all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Amir’s notion involved moving the court to the summer palace at Nakki Lake, at the foot of Mount Abu. “My playroom there has a lake view,” he boasted. “That should make your—exercises—somewhat more enjoyable.”
Most of the following day was consumed by preparations. Cecily scarcely had time to consider the implications of her precipitous offer. Sarita enlisted her help in sorting and packing the necessary items to support a lavish entourage like Amir’s, everything from clothing and jewels to cooking pots and spices. The environs of the sacred mountain were somewhat isolated, so practically everything would need to be carried from Jaipur, including herds of cows and goats, cages of fowl, and enormous baskets of fresh and dried vegetables. Servants did the heavy work, but Sarita and Cecily organised the effort. The Rajah’s favourite, Cecily discovered, possessed impressive managerial skills. When she was out of Amir’s presence, she showed none of the deference or submissiveness that characterised her manner in his bedroom or his dungeon.
She and Sarita dined together. The Rajah was busy making arrangements for the smooth running of the fortress and the kingdom while they were gone. “He’s ordered me to his room tonight, though,” Sarita confided, her excitement evident. “He told me he plans to reward me for saving you from the beast.”
“You deserve a reward. But knowing your Lord,” Cecily observed drily, “I suspect your evening won’t be one hundred per cent pleasure.”
Pratan made no appearance, either.
“He’s caged until first light, down in the dungeon. At his own request.”
“Can I visit him?”
“My Lord said his brother had expressly forbidden you to do so. Pratan thinks your nearness exacerbates his problem.”
So Cecily had to resign herself to a night alone. She was not restrained in any way. Furthermore, the Rajah had apparently turned off his fiendish amplification device. No sounds of ecstatic congress reached her ears. She tossed on the feather-stuffed mattress, lonely and horny, perversely wishing someone—Pratan, Sarita, even Amir—were there to torment her. Twice, she used her fingers to bring herself to orgasm, but the climaxes felt hollow and unsatisfying.
When she finally slumbered, she dreamt of the wolf-man, slashing her breasts with his claws, probing her depths with his enormous cock. In the dream she felt no fear, only lust. And the wolf had Pratan’s eyes.
The caravan assembled before dawn, in the courtyard where Cecily had first entered Mehrangarh Fort.
The Rajah and his brother had decided to travel in the amphibious coach that had brought her to Jaipur. As she peered in the narrow door, she saw that the interior had been restyled in opulent Oriental mode, with the seats removed, the floor carpeted and piles of bright cushions strewn about.
“Can I assist you, madam?” Pratan appeared at her side, a half-grin spread beneath his unruly moustache. He appeared far more cheerful than he had the previous day. Perhaps the night had passed without his shifting to his beast form. If that were true, she was glad she’d stayed away.
“Thank you, sir.” It was indeed far easier for her to clamber through the entrance using his proffered hand to stabilise herself. She settled herself among the pillows as he crawled in to join her, taking a position on the opposite side of the vehicle.
They sat for a moment in oddly companionable silence. Pratan was first to speak.
“You needn’t do this, Cecily. I’ll convince Amir to release you in any case.”
“And let you continue to suffer from this foul curse? No—I can’t allow that, not if it’s in my power to help.”
He reached for her hand. As usual, his touch aroused her, far out of proportion to what was rational. His strength was evident in the brief squeeze he gave her fingers. She dampened as though he’d pressed upon her clit instead.
“Please reconsider. You may be condemning me to a life of terrible guilt.”
“And would that be worse than the beast’s life you endure now?” Cecily warred against her rising lust. The moon had set and the eastern horizon was luminous with the coming morning, but her presence and scent might still trigger his change. “I’ve made up my mind, Pratan. Nothing you can say will sway me.”
“You’re a damned stubborn woman, Cecily Harrowsmith.” He released her hand, leaving her skin tingling in the wake of his fingers. His smile belied the irritation in his voice. “I just hope you won’t regret this foolishness.”
Rajasthani Moon Page 12