by Jaide Fox
His gut clenched with sudden, fierce desire, awakening the beast betwixt his legs with painful intensity. How long had it been since he’d lain with a woman, supped on the honey between her thighs, felt the heat of her body wrapped around him? Ages of abstinence had honed his need until it felt like the thrust of a blade in his belly with each beat of his heart.
He groaned under his breath, gritting his teeth against the pain, against the savage desire to take her and ravish her where she lay. She would not welcome his touch right now, however, and he had no interest in forcing himelf upon an unwilling woman.
Balian welcomed the agony of lust as an old friend, knew its nature and how to control it. He slid his fingers through the ends of her hair, and up, across supple, pouting lips that begged a taste. How easy it would be to steal such treasures, but conquering her mind and body until she succumbed willingly? ‘Twas a test he was willing to engage.
She sighed and stirred in her bed, the sheets slipping down her body, revealing the shadow of dark nipples and warm brown skin, constricting his strength of will. One taste would suffice, would tame the wild beast.
Inside, he warred with himself torn between desire and sensibility.
No, it wouldn’t be enough. He closed his hands into fists and thrust away from her, moving across the room before he could make a grievous mistake. His chest heaved, his nostrils flared as he breathed the cool air flowing through the window. Blood rushed to his clenched fingers, pulsing like heartbeats, prickling with awareness. The memory of silken skin against his fingers seduced his mind.
He knew he couldn’t leave without a sample of her delights.
* * * *
A cold sigh of air caressed Kisah’s skin, nipping her with cool teeth. The breathy coolness moved through the room, fluttering the netting about her bed until it crawled across her skin in slinky movements. Fingers seemed to glide through her hair, making her scalp prickle, drawing her up from the depths of sleep.
Kisah awoke with a start, gasping, certain she’d been touched, certain she’d heard something move about in her room.
Darkness blinded her. The room was black as pitch without any relief. Not even her window revealed a speck of light. She knew the moons must have set hours ago for it to be so dark inside.
As if to give the lie to the reassurance that leapt so readily to her mind, light winked palely as something moved in front of the window, revealing the source of the darkness.
Kisah startled, nearly jumping out of her skin, sure her eyes were playing tricks on her. Perhaps she still slept....
“You’re awake,” a man spoke, the timbre of his voice deep and tinged with an accent from an unfamiliar land.
Kisah sucked in a breath to scream, but his next words choked the air from her lungs.
“No one can hear you beyond these walls. I have laid a muting spell on the room.”
That explained the tingling feeling when she awoke, the feel of lightning dancing across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms and legs. “What do you want of me?” she asked, feeling beneath her pillow for the sheathed dagger she always kept there. Her fingers found nothing.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, and she breathed deeply, willing the frantic thoughts in her head to quiet down so she could think.
“I’ve taken care of your blade as well, princess.” His tone was almost apologetic.
More startling than the knowledge that he’d done away with her blade was the fact that he could apparently see her in the dark as well as if it had been light. She wondered briefly what else he’d done while she slept.
Kisah stayed her hand, searching her mind for any other weapons she had nearby. She could think of none save throwing huge pieces of furniture, and that was not feasible.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she gritted out in helpless frustration, clutching her blankets in a tight-fisted grip. “What do you want?”
“You,” he said, amusement tingeing his voice.
Kisah stiffened, glaring into the shadows. “I am not for the taking.”
“If I choose it, I could take you now,” he said, so quietly she barely heard the whisper of sound.
Nevertheless, the threat in his statement set her nerves on edge. Her heart pounded in her chest, making the blood roar in her ears. She couldn’t remember a time when her safety had been violated, and certainly her room had never been invaded by a stranger. “You will draw back but a nub if you come near me.” She gathered herself on her knees, preparing to make a run for the door and escape.
He seemed to sense her intent, though her movements were subtle, for he moved deeper into the room. His footsteps were soft as he progressed. She lost track of him, couldn’t place where he’d moved. Her hackles jumped with warning, her skin interpreting every breath of wind as his touch.
“I think Syrian to be right,” he said, suddenly, his voice a few feet to her right--and blocking escape through the door. “You are worthy of me. You have spirit that is hard to come by.”
His audacity stunned her to silence for several moments. “I’m gratified to know that,” she said tartly. “It changes nothing. Touch me and you will regret it.”
He laughed, so deep and husky, it touched something inside her, warming her, as the affectionate laughter of a dear friend. What strangeness this was? She wondered, for it was not a laugh of cruelty, but true amusement. Never had she heard a more pleasant sound. That in itself stoked the warning fire inside her, warned her that more magic surrounded her than merely a muting spell. Kisah shook the strange kindling off, curling her hands into talons to defend herself. She would not be charmed by a stranger intent on harming her.
“Easy, princess. I came only to look upon my future bride, to see for myself if you are the one.”
Knowledge dawned with that bold statement. He had to be one of the contenders for her hand, come to participate in the games that would decide her fate. Boastful bastard. She could not fathom how he’d managed to reach her room, but she would discover it on the morrow if she survived tonight. By his words, he intended to collect the bounty of her dowry, which meant he would not harm her--not yet.
The thought gave her little comfort.
“Until next time,” he whispered.
The bed dipped abruptly. Kisah shrieked and scrambled away. He was faster. He caught her legs just as she freed herself from her heavy covers and dragged her to him, underneath him. Suddenly she was trapped beneath a wall of hard male flesh.
Kisah slapped at him, squirming, kicking her legs. He pinned her with his body, locked her hips down as he straddled her. Two massive hands closed around her arms and brought them above her head, pinning her wrists to the bed.
Kisah growled in fury, biting at him. She tasted hair. It tangled all around her, choked her. She blew it out of her mouth just as he bent his head close.
His lips touched hers, and a wave of enraged heat enveloped her. The kiss was brief, more a flutter of air than a merging of souls. He pulled back before she could bite him.
He paused above her, silent as she fought the anger threatening to overwhelm her thoughts. He transferred her wrists to one huge hand and trailed his free one down her face, cupping her jaw, skillfully avoiding her teeth.
Kisah stilled, waiting to see what he would do, if he would finish what he had started. The men of this land were violent, and not above rape. She would endure it if she had to, and when he was done, she would try her utmost to kill him and cut off his balls as a trophy.
He progressed no further than the column of her throat, explored the fine tendons, up and down, the curve of her jaw. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he didn’t press his advantage, for she was powerless to stop him.
Surely he couldn’t have an ounce of honor within him or he would not have violated her room to begin with.
Her stomach fluttered as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip. She sucked in a sharp breath, ignoring the sudden, tingling throb of her lips. She wanted to bite him, but she c
ouldn’t. He threatened no violence now, only explored with feathery strokes.
She wondered for one insane moment what it would be like to allow him to steal a kiss....
“Another time,” he said, as if in answer to her thoughts.
Kisah stiffened at the promise and growled angrily at him, surging with furious heat.
He stood abruptly, releasing her. Before she could sit up, he ran toward the open window. Kisah caught a glimpse of silvery limned, muscular shoulders and long dark hair, and then he leapt out the window and off the balcony.
She gasped, hopped out of bed and ran through the portal, peering down over the balcony, expecting to see a broken body on the parapets. There was nothing but the patrol guard manning the walls, the fires of torches flickering in the windy night. She continued looking down in stunned amazement but could find no evidence of his broken and mangled body upon the ground. It was as if he’d never existed, and yet her heart still pounded in her chest, her lips still tingled.
He was a sorcerer of some type, of that she was certain. Magic sparked in the air, tasting like flame on her tongue.
Kisah stepped back and closed the window, shivering from the cold. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, fighting off the chill that assailed her. Her stomach clenched in a knot and her blood still pounded, giving her no reason to doubt everything that had just happened had been real and true. There was no possibility that she’d imagined or dreamt the entire discourse.
Tomorrow, she would have the window bricked up, or new locks placed on the latches. Security needed to be increased if she was to remain in the castle unharmed. She crawled back in bed, but she knew sleep would not come, not this night. At the least, not easily.
Kisah felt her world had been violated. How was she to trust that he would not come back? Some misguided sense of honor? Men did not possess true honor, not in this world, not any longer, and certainly not when faced with the riches of her father’s kingdom.
The games would begin with sunrise. She would somehow find this man in the contests, and she would have him put to death for daring to touch her and come into her room.