“You know what to do,” de Baard said, her voice husky with a desire that surprised her. “Do it fast and rough.”
Raga did not need any more instructions and rushed forward and lifted the Tarina from her feet once again. His hands were large and calloused and moved from her legs and buttocks to her breasts with surprising speed and then he slammed her on to the dirt floor of the barn. de Baard fought him, but not hard, and her token attempts at freedom only seemed to drive him into a frenzy. He raised his body up slightly and struck her roughly across the face, a blow the Tarina could have blocked, but elected not to. The power of it disorientated her momentarily, and by the time her head cleared his pants were down. He dropped on her with enough force to drive the air from her lungs. de Baard was aware of the taste of blood in her mouth, then he entered her without warning and she gasped. Her body was ready for him, but even so he was large and drove in deep with only his own pleasure in mind. Raga grunted, and then set to pounding as if he was trying to drive himself clean through her. His scratchy, bearded mouth tried to find hers but she moved her head from side to side to avoid it. He was heavier than she expected and each thrust was coming much faster and harder than she had anticipated. Despite the pain, de Baard could tell her body somehow needed the Sergeant and wanted what he was giving her. She could feel the knife, tucked in her skirts and hidden at the small of her back as it dug into her flesh, and tried to reach for it only to find that her right arm was trapped beneath the grunting Sergeant. Her attention shifted to her left hand, which could wield the weapon just as well as the right, but their combined weight made it nearly impossible to pull the weapon from its hiding place. She did not panic, but knew that the timing of the kill was paramount. She glanced over the Sergeant’s powerful shoulder toward the light at the barn door but saw only Lacombe.
“My breasts,” she whispered, needing somehow to release his weight from her body but she could hear the passion in her own voice nevertheless. “Put your mouth on my breasts.”
Raga continued to thrust a few more times and de Baard was afraid he might not do as she requested, but then his weight lifted and his mouth moved its scratchy way from her neck to her nipple. Once his weight lifted she moved her left hand to the small of her back and pulled the knife from its sheath. She smiled as she freed it from beneath her body then cried out as Raga bit down hard on her sensitive flesh. He laughed and moved his full weight back on top of her and then his mouth was once again searching for hers. de Baard took the pain, took the pounding, and took all of him, still moving her mouth away from his as she waited. As the violence increased so did her pleasure and she nearly lost herself to it.
“Cyndar!” she heard and as if by reflex her left arm shot upward and the knife plunged into Raga’s lower back penetrating his right kidney. The Sergeant screamed but somehow continued to thrust deeply inside her several more times. She pulled the knife free and plunged higher into his back. This time she found a lung. Raga lifted up, and momentarily stared with shock into her eyes…then he coughed blood all over her face. de Baard grunted as she forced his weight off of her. Raga was still coughing and moaning when de Baard looked up and spotted Huntley and Emm standing in the door to the barn. Lacombe stood farther in, looking startled. The Tarina shot a quick look at her Captain, but he was staring at her exposed legs and crotch and she knew he would not act quickly enough. She sat up and with a fluid movement threw the knife at Lacombe. It struck cleanly, but low and buried itself in his side just below the rib cage. The man’s cries brought Huntley out of his trance and he ran forward and buried his own knife into the wounded man’s neck. Lacombe gurgled, eyes wide and then collapsed.
“…w….why…” Raga hissed.
de Baard spun and rolled on top of him exposing her dirt and straw covered behind to Huntley and Emm, and without hesitation she drove her fist into Raga’s Adam’s apple with all her might. The blow was clean. A sickening noise, like chicken bones being slowly pulled a part, emanated from the man’s throat until after a few long moments, and with a great release of pent up air, he died.
de Baard immediately put her hands to her face and began to cry. Emm stood frozen in shock, trying to comprehend the deaths of the two Deutzani soldiers and the sight of her naked, disheveled friend, but then she rushed forward and took the hurt woman into her arms.
“You’re alright. You’re alright,” she whispered, cradling Cyndar’s head in her arms. The woman was sobbing uncontrollably as Emm hugged her tight. A thick smell of hay, dirt and animals hung in the barn, and there was a pervasive odor of sex and blood surrounding the grieving woman, but through it all Emm could still make out the faint smell of cherry blossoms and wondered at it.
“Everything will be alright,” she repeated softly, and she tried hard to believe it.
ǂ
The celebration continued well into the night and a little after midnight even Gwaynn and Samantha were growing tired of dancing. Neither was willing to quit however, for it was a good reason to be close, to touch. So they danced and danced, each wanting to call a close to the evening and head back to their room, but neither bold enough to do so. The square was nearly empty. Jess na Gall left over an hour ago and hauled Laynee away with her, much to Samantha’s relief. Master Sath retired early, just after the food was served. Little by little they all headed to their own private places to sleep until there were only a few townsfolk plus Lonogan Bock, a local woman on his arm, and Krys keeping Gwaynn and Samantha company. After one very long dance, Gwaynn sat down at a table next to his Weapons Master and friend. Samantha took her usual place close to Gwaynn but not directly next to him.
Krys looked up at them as they approached. He was thinking of Emm, the young girl from Manse. He thought of her often, many things calling up the memory of her; thoughts of beauty and softness, even certain sounds and smells.
He glanced at Gwaynn and yawned. “I’m turning in,” he said standing and stretching lazily.
Samantha caught his yawn and then Gwaynn.
“I’m pretty tired myself,” Gwaynn added hopefully, glancing at Sam. She nodded…suddenly very awake.
“Me too,” she agreed.
Krys smiled at them, but didn’t wait. He’d be staying in the house of a local merchant, which was in the opposite direction of the magistrate’s house.
Gwaynn watched him go and a ripple of fear went through him. He almost laughed aloud, but managed to control himself, then mustering his courage he looked at Samantha, who was watching him with eyes as big as the moon.
“Do you want to go?” he asked softly, and was relieved when she nodded her head.
Gwaynn began to walk away from the square and toward the house they were to sleep in and Samantha immediately took her place at his side. She wished for something to say, anything, but her mind didn’t seem to be working properly, and Gwaynn remained mute. So they moved on in silence, walking very close, and occasionally, accidentally, they brushed against each other as they moved. They were both very conscious of every little touch, but tried to ignore the special moments of contact. However, neither made any effort to move farther away and put a stop to such…accidents.
To Gwaynn, when they started out, the magistrate’s house seemed to be at the very ends of the earth, but now it was rushing up to them at an alarming rate. He thought of Tar Nev and smiled, perhaps space was also relative. His mind jerked away from these thoughts as Samantha’s hand grazed his once, and then twice, then, as if by chance their fingers locked. Her hand was small and soft and though her fingers were cool, her touch created a burning sensation that traveled up his arm to his heart, causing it to thump uncontrollably. The pounding increased as they began to climb the stairs and move toward the front door. Gwaynn tried to calm himself, steady his breathing, but his meditation techniques were completely unsuccessful. He was positive she could hear, and probably feel, the blood roaring through his veins.
Their hands broke apart as they moved through the threshold, and each felt a moment
ary sense of loss. Inside all was quiet and dark, save a lone lantern on a hook above the kitchen fireplace.
They moved quietly inside and up the stairs toward the door to their room. Gwaynn had to fight the impulse to turn and bolt for safety. Similar panic was building within Samantha’s breast, but she followed the broad, strong shoulders of the Prince as if chained to them.
Gwaynn opened the door, took a deep breath and stepped inside. The room was dim but not completely dark. A bed of bright coals glowed red in the recesses of the fireplace. Without thinking Gwaynn walked over and took a poker to them, a single yellow flame sprang to life. He added a few small logs before standing up and finally facing Samantha. She was looking at him shyly, but then spoke with soft determination.
“I will share your room and bed,” she repeated her intentions, her voice so low Gwaynn was forced to hold his breath so that he wouldn’t miss a word, “but you will not have me…not yet.” She was blushing furiously as only those with red hair and fair skin could do, but in the dim reddish light of the fire, her pink skin went unnoticed.
Gwaynn gazed at her for a moment and she met it without falter, and then he nodded. He wondered how long it would be before she would ‘know him better.’ He was about to ask, when she suddenly removed her jacket. She dropped it at the foot of the bed then raised her hands and began to fumble with the buttons on her shirt. She undid several with him watching before her fingers would no longer do her bidding.
“Could you please turn around?” she asked, and he was about to comply, then he shook his head.
“No, I don’t believe I will,” he answered, also in a low voice and removed his own jacket. He moved closer to Samantha, who was still standing frozen, watching him. He placed his jacket over hers, tried to smile, then began to unbutton his own shirt. Unlike her, his fingers did not pause and soon he was pulling it off, baring his chest and back.
Samantha stared at him. His chest, like a young boy’s was nearly hairless. He was thin, but his shoulders and arms were well defined. She glanced up at his face, and saw that he was watching her. She took a deep, shuddering breath and managed to unfasten two more buttons before she came to a stop once again.
“Won’t you turn around?” she pleaded.
Gwaynn shook his head negatively and squatted to remove his boots and socks. “Will you not share yourself with my eyes at least?” He asked in reply.
She blushed again, and fumbled with one more button. Her shirt was open far enough to reveal the soft rounded sides of her breasts and a line of pale skin down the center of her stomach.
After his boots and socks were off Gwaynn stood and without thinking unfastened his pants and removed them quickly. He dropped them on his boots then walked unhurriedly to the bed where he pulled back the blankets and slipped his lower half beneath them. He sat up tall in the bed, watching Samantha. Her back was now to him but her head had turned for she’d not taken her eyes from him the entire way. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she wondered at his courage to be able to do such a thing, then she turned her face away from him and with slow, deliberate movements unfastened the remaining two buttons. She held her breath and removed her shirt, exposing her bare back to him. She dropped her shirt on the floor, very mindful not to turn too much. For some reason she was hesitant to expose her breasts to him. She bent and removed her own boots and stockings then worked on the fastenings of her skirt, very aware of Gwaynn, though she refused to look at him. Her breath was coming in short, little gasps as she let the skirt drop and pool at her ankles. She stepped out of it and quickly moved to the other side of the bed and climbed beneath the blankets. She pulled them up to her chin for good measure.
Gwaynn looked down into her eyes, which seemed to be impossibly large in the semi-darkness and was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to kiss her. He moved his face slowly down toward her while she lay frozen. She didn’t move to meet him, but didn’t turn away either. She knew what she wanted and to her it didn’t seem contradictory. She wanted his kiss, his warmth, but she was certain she did not want to give herself to him. That must wait. She felt from somewhere deep inside her that she was not ready for such a step. If such intimacy came too soon she was afraid she might be repulsed by Gwaynn and that was not what she wanted. All of these thoughts flashed through her mind as he moved down closer to her.
“Please,” she whispered. His face was bare inches from hers and he could feel her breath on his cheek. Gwaynn paused where he was and they stared into each other’s eyes, then their bare legs touched briefly beneath the covers and Samantha moved her leg quickly away and sucked in a quick breath. Then he pressed his lips to hers. Samantha was surprised by the softness of his lips and her heart pounded harder than ever. She moved her leg slightly and then once again, until it brushed against his leg once more. Gwaynn returned the pressure with his own leg just as her mouth, seemingly on its own accord, began to respond to his kiss.
Time stretched out as they kissed, though it was not yet of Gwaynn’s doing and their kisses grew more impassioned with every second. Samantha was quickly losing herself in the soft touch of his mouth, at least until his hand landed lightly on flat softness of her belly. She flinched and her mouth broke away from his. He lifted his head slightly to stare down once again into her eyes; his hand, completely still, rested where it lay. He could feel the rising and falling of her breathing beneath her silken skin. He waited for her to protest, but she just stared back at him, then her head moved slightly in his direction and suddenly he was kissing her hard. His hand found its way to her breast, and she was lost. Without even realizing it her hands were on him, exploring, feeling the young, firm muscles so close beneath his skin. She found his body fascinating and wondered how he could be so hard and soft at the very same time. She moved on her side and they faced each other, never breaking their kiss, and while he gloried in the feel of her firm young breasts against his chest, her attention was completely on the feel of his sex pressed against her lower belly.
How and when he entered her she could not have said. Lost was her determination; lost was her resolve; lost in the sensations now sweeping over her body down to the very depths of her being. She was lost, but not in revulsion as she so feared, but instead in her own mounting desire.
Gwaynn was also lost and though he’d never known a woman before, his body acted on its own, through instinct passed down through the ages. Unconsciously, as his body moved in and out of hers, he tried to enter into her very being. He wanted to merge with her in every way…to become one. It was what they were supposed to do, and as he moved, his mind reached out to her; it did so easily, with no effort at all which would have surprised and amazed him had he taken the time to consider the fact. But instead he concentrated on her every breath, her every move, her every pleasure. He learned quickly and could feel her body driving slowly, inexorably toward climax and without thought he pushed and coaxed her toward the desired end. And just as she broke he reached out, not stopping time but slowing it down to such a degree that she languished in what seemed like ecstasy unending. On and on the rhythmic pulse of pleasure coursed through her every nerve. Her body clutching so tightly to his in its delightful spasms that he soon lost control and joined her in release. And though the entire episode lasted only the briefest of moments, to them, caught as they were, time had little meaning, and their shared joy seemed to last for hours.
When Gwaynn could hold it no longer, time surged forward once more to engulf them and he collapsed down upon her, each gasping for breath, each shocked and surprised by the power of their shared experience. Gwaynn somehow found the strength to roll off of her, feeling infinitely saddened as he felt his member leave the warmth of her body. He did not want to move but he had to breathe, had to allow her to breathe or they both might just die here in this bed. His face and body was slick with sweat, though the room was far from hot, and after several minutes he turned to her and rose up on one very shaky elbow and looked at her.
Samantha was still b
reathing very hard, and for a moment her eyes were closed, but then she opened them and turned her head toward him. For a brief moment her face was full of happiness, fear and awe all rolled into one expression, but then she relaxed and smiled at him, and happiness was all that remained.
“I’ll share your room and bed,” she whispered, her mood light. “But you will not have me…not yet.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back. “What a tramp I am,” she added and moved closer to him.
“Tramp or no, I love you Samantha,” Gwaynn whispered back, and her heart swelled. She moved closer, pressing her body against his.
“I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight,” she said softly, and they didn’t.
ǂ
Taylor led Emm, Huntley and Cyndar into the well lit depths of the Lonogan lumberyard with hurried steps. He was worried and needed to be rid of this troublesome brother and sister. He never liked the sister in any case, despite her beauty. There was something about her which left him uneasy. It didn’t help her case that there were now two dead Deutzani soldiers in her wake.
“What cha want Taylor?” asked a man as he guided a large spinning blade rapidly through the trunk of a tree. He shifted a smooth wooden handle and disconnected the blade from a gear, which in turn was connected to another gear being powered by a large water wheel just outside the main building. The power of the Scar River did most of the heavy cutting in the lumberyard.
“Mic,” Taylor said moving over to the man. “I need to see Brandt.”
Mic gave Emm a little smile. She returned it shyly, uncomfortably with the knowledge that she’d spent several evenings with the man when she was a whore. She forced herself to lift her head. ‘Those days are over for good,’ she thought and tried to ignore the lust she saw in Mic’s eyes.
Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series Page 22