by Ava Walsh
“Your father what?” Alastair asked. He did not want her to stop speaking. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know that she didn't hate him for killing her father.
She shook her head and took a deep shaky breath, “We were pooling our money together to pay them. Everyone was putting in an equal share. But my father didn’t want to, he resented it. He...he offered them me instead.”
Anger rose in his chest. It was a furious, righteous anger. If only he had known, he would have made the man suffer more. He hadn’t deserved such a quick end. He deserved pain and then even more pain until he finally broke.
“Thank the Gods the men had a harem at their camp,” she said, her voice catching in her throat as she struggled to keep from crying. “They weren’t interested in me. I paid my father’s share instead and we were allowed to pass.”
“I’m sorry,” Alastair said. He tightened his grip on her and slowly pulled her towards him until she was facing him. A tear slipped down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. “You needn’t fear him anymore. He’s dead and you are safe with me.”
“Am I?” she asked, her grey eyes staring into his. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want you here,” he said.
She looked at him in confusion. Was it possible she had no idea how sublime she was? Did she not understand what she did to him? He wanted her at every moment of every day. The thought of living without her was impossible. He had only tasted her, but it hadn’t been enough.
He wanted to lie with her. He wanted to spoil her. His little nomad, he wanted to worship her body.
She looked at him and then understanding came to her face. Her grey eyes shone in the firelight. It was night. Outside the ocean was crashing against the shore. It all merged together into one glorious sensation.
Her eyes never left his. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders and his heart skipped a beat as he looked at her. Her hair was wrapped up in a bun and she released it, letting the soft dark curls fall around her shoulders. She was wearing a simple dress and he knew there was a thin shift underneath.
She licked her lips and then it was too much. He reached towards her wrapping her in his arms and pulling her in for a deep long kiss.
Chapter Seven
His arms were strong and when they wrapped around Avery she melted into him. He held her tightly as his lips crashed against hers. His kiss was strong and fearsome, as if he worried she might disappear and he needed to make every moment count.
Avery closed her eyes as the world fell from beneath her feet. She didn’t know which way was up or down. All she knew were Alastair’s strong hands on her back. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him even closer. She wanted him and he needed to know it.
Her tongue danced with his, occasionally grazing over his sharp fangs. They were like razors and at first she shied away from them, but then a wicked thought came to her. She kissed him deeply and then swiped her tongue across his fang. She stopped short when she felt the pain from the cut as her mouth filled with the tangy metallic taste of her own blood.
He grabbed her tightly by her shoulders, enraptured by the taste. Letting out a low growl he broke the kiss, but held her close looking deeply into her eyes.
He pulled her against his hips and she could feel his erection through his pants. He leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue grazing over hers tasting her blood. He clutched at her thin dress, taking handfuls of it and pulling at it, quickly lifting it over her head and dropping it to the floor.
“God, you're so beautiful,” he said, looking at her through her thin shift. Avery couldn’t look him in the eye. She felt her face go red and she stared at the floor, suddenly self-conscious.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked moving closer. He pressed a cold finger to her cheek. “When you flush like this, I lose myself. I would give up my entire Kingdom for you.”
He reached around and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer, pushing her against his erection and letting out a low moan.
Avery traced a line along his jaw and down his neck, touching his smooth chest where his jacket opened. “You’re wearing far too much clothing,” she said looking up into his eyes. She grabbed at the jacket, but her hands were clumsy and slow, so he took it and ripped it from his body.
Avery took a moment to look at him. He had a strong chest, with well-defined muscles scattered with scars. She frowned as she looked at them, touching a long painful looking mark that went diagonally down his body.
“Who gave you this?” she asked.
“A Mage from The Sands, he just missed my heart,” as he said the words he took her hand and held it over his chest. She could feel the steady drumbeat beneath his skin.
“I’ll kill him for it,” she said as she leaned down and kissed the old wound, stroking his skin with her tongue.
He held her head and gave out a shuddered sigh. “You need not worry. He did not survive the battle.”
“Good,” she said as she stood straight to face him. Her hands found his belt and she unbuckled it and let his pants fall to the floor. He stood up straight and she took him in her hand. Letting his head fall back he let out a low groan as she lightly grazed her hand over his length.
He broke away from her and with a tearing sound, he ripped her slip apart. He shredded it in his hands as Avery stood naked in front of him. Alastair gazed at her skin and then moved closer. He touched every part of her, her breasts, her hips, her thighs. He moved from place to place clutching and grabbing at her as he kissed her fiercely.
Their naked bodies were pressed together, rubbing up against each other. Avery gasped as he kissed her and grabbed her ass and massaged her breast. There was so much happening all at once. She was lost in a sea of touch and caresses. She moaned out the word yes.
Holding onto her, Alastair took a few steps back and then the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat down on the edge.
Avery stood in front of him. He growled as he caressed her hips and the back of her thighs and then he pulled her in close and took her breast in his mouth. She threw back her head. He was consuming her and she let him. He bit gently on her nipple, flicking the sensitive skin with his tongue. She gasped and grabbed his head, running her hands through his hair.
She felt his cool hand slip between her thighs. She was already wet and he licked between her breasts as his fingers stroked long and slow inside of her. She strained for his touch, pushing herself towards him. He found the most sensitive place inside of her and when he touched it, it was like stroking a fire.
His touch was relentless. He was slowly grazing over her most sensitive areas, building up an uncontrollable ecstasy inside of her. Clinging to his shoulders her body writhed and twisted as he continued to kiss and bite her chest.
“Yes, Alastair, yes!” she cried out. Her thighs were quivering and a bolt of sudden pleasure rocked through her.
Then she was airborne, Alastair picked her up and threw her back on the bed. She landed on her back and bounced once. She missed his hand and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her throat. He had left her on the edge pulling his hand out just before she was engulfed with pleasure.
He moved between her legs, opening her up before him. Avery lay on her back, naked and exposed, but not afraid. She looked into his eyes as he traced a finger down her collarbone then down to her breast where he encircled her nipple. He gripped her thighs tightly. HIs engorged cock hovered in the air between them.
“I want you,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “I want you inside of me.”
Her words pushed him over the edge and in a moment he was on her. He kissed and licked at her neck and Avery’s fingers grabbed the sheets as he entered her. It took her body a moment to adjust to his size. She let out a loud moan as he began to thrust in and out of her.
He pinned her arms to either side of her head with his strong hands holding her down. Avery moved her hips beneath him. Matching him thrust for thrust
. He leaned down to kiss her and she eagerly devoured him. She wanted to touch every part of him, feel every inch.
“Yes, keep going,” she whispered.
But to her surprise, he slowed down.
“I want to drink from you,” he whispered in her ear. Avery shuddered. The need in his voice was palpable. It was a need for her and her alone. She was the only person that could give him what he wanted. “I want to bite into your neck as you come,” he hissed.
She writhed underneath him, he was moving so slowly, but he was stroking her at just the right angle. His every movement was tantalizing, building up the pressure until she was sure it was going to consume her.
“Yes, please. Yes,” Avery whispered. She wanted to be as close to him as possible. She wanted him inside of her and draining her all at the same time. It was an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain, safety and danger.
He released her wrist and she froze for a moment, unsure of what she should do next. But his hand merely moved down between them. He began to stroke her again, moving his fingers over her as his hips continued to thrust.
“Yes,” she moaned again. Her arms were around him, digging into his back, urging him on.
“Tell me when you’re close,” he said.
“I’m close,” she cried out. He had been keeping her just on the edge and now it seemed like he was going to finally push her over. She rocked against him, a fantastic pleasure taking over her body. It coursed through her veins, his every stroke building more and more pleasure with her.
“Now,” she cried out. “Bite me now.”
It happened in an instant. His teeth grazed her neck as his fingers spun and then his teeth pierced her skin at the same moment her orgasm overtook her. She screamed out the word yes as her body writhed beneath his. He held her tightly and drank eagerly. Her pounding heart sent blood gushing into his mouth and she could feel it trickling down her neck.
With a final thrust and groan, he finished, as both of their hearts slowed. He detached from her neck and lay gasping on top of her for a moment before rolling over and lying next to her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, licking the last of the blood from her neck.
“Are you kidding me?” she giggled. She was on her back, staring at the ceiling. “That was amazing.”
Chapter Eight
Alastair had been married for ten years, but he had never loved his wife and she had never loved him. He assumed that was the way relationships worked. Two people were ordered to marry by their parents and they did so. It was a duty, a job they had to do. Love had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Alastair had never loved anyone before. He had his wife, of course, and various flings throughout his youth, including the stable master’s daughter, a stunning prostitute who lived in the finest brothel in the city of Varlyn and a giggling lady in waiting. He had played with them, had his way with them, grew bored with them and then tossed them aside.
There had always been an air of “why not” with these women. They were all beautiful, willing and easy. He never had to try with them. He never had to work at pleasing them or give a second thought to treating them well. They were enchanted with his position in their society. They weren’t with Alastair Thorne—they were with the Crown Prince.
Avery was different. It wasn’t just that he wanted her in his bed, though he certainly did. He wanted all of her. Wherever he was, he wanted her there with him. He wanted to be able to open his eyes and see her before him. He never wanted to be separated from her.
She slept in his bed at night. Once, Sir Reese asked about rooms for Ms. Avery as he referred to her, but Alastair brushed him aside. She did not need her own rooms. She lived with him in his room. At night, he would crawl into bed with her, she would turn to her side and he would put his arm around her. The heat from her body and the fire would warm his cold skin until they were the same temperature.
She never denied him. If he woke in the middle of the night and kissed her, she would open her eyes and kiss him back. Morning, noon, night, she was always eager and ready for him. He put his hands all over her body and not only did she let him—but she liked it. She leaned into his touch, clinging to him.
He had a dressmaker come and lay out fine fabrics all over the room. He watched as she moved from one to the other, her mouth hanging open in amazement. There were fabrics of bright yellow, pale green, fabrics with small birds and delicate flowers stitched perfectly into them.
“Pick out any that you like,” Alastair said.
“I like them all,” she said, turning around to face him with a smile. She picked up a bolt of deep blue fabric and held it against her body.
“Then I shall buy them all,” he answered.
“You cannot,” she said. “It’s too expensive, too fine.”
He came to her, putting his arms around her and pulling her back to him. He loved nothing more than reducing the distance between them. He could feel her blood, he could smell it. He nuzzled her neck, careful to not bother the two pinprick bite marks there. He was getting better at feeding from her. He no longer lost control. Now that he knew he could have her whenever he wanted, it was easier for him to stop.
“Do you not know who I am?” he demanded in mock outrage. “I am Alastair Thorne, Crown Prince of Varlyn. These garments are nothing to me.” He commanded the dressmaker to make Avery an entire wardrobe of new clothes. Her old caravan rags were burned.
“Never again,” he whispered to her. She stood naked in front of him, her clothes a pile on the ground. “You will always wear fine clothes, I promise you,” he said.
They fell into bed together, making love on the fine bolts of fabric. Wrapping their naked bodies in the finest cloth the Kingdom had.
Avery’s nomadic life had put her in contact with many different cultures. She spoke five languages and could read three. She knew the lay of the land, the merchants and the rulers. He talked to her about everything—his worry over the Fire Islands, his plan to destroy the Mages living in The Sands and the weight of the expectations of his father and his people.
Avery did not judge him. She listened and held his head in her lap. She told him that he was a great Lord and he would go on to do great things. He could be himself around her. He didn’t need to preen or pretend. He never had to put on airs. He had never felt so relaxed and free in his entire life.
He had almost forgotten the date. It was the seventeenth of the month, the one night that he and Myrcel must spend together. In the last few weeks, he had almost forgotten he had a wife. He had been free of her annoyed expression and her disgust with him. There had been no functions where they were forced to pretend to be a happy couple. It had, in fact, been over nine days since he had last seen her.
“I will be...away tonight,” he said to Avery. She was lying naked in bed, a blanket wrapped up around her. He traced a hand down her shoulder and her chest. “But you must know how hard it is for me to leave you.”
“Then why must you?” she asked. Her grey eyes shined up at him and he could not stop himself from sitting down on the bed and pulling her close. She raked her hand across his chest and he moaned quietly.
“I love it when you do that,” he whispered, his mouth pressed against her forehead.
“If you did not have to leave I could do it all night,” Avery teased.
“Do not tempt me. I must go and do my duty,” he said.
“What duty?” she asked, pulling away from him and looking up into his face. Her eyes were wide and her expression so innocent. He didn’t want to tell her where he was going or what he had to do. She would be threatened by Myrcel and she had no need to be. Myrcel was nothing to him, she was nothing compared to Avery.
He opened his mouth and closed it and then took a deep breath before speaking slowly. “She is my wife and I must go to her as a husband goes to his wife.”
Avery’s face went pale, she pulled away. He missed her touch the moment it was gone. She looked down at the floor. It felt like his h
eart was being torn from his chest. This was what made Avery different. He never wanted to see her in pain. The sight of tears brimming in Avery’s eyes made him question this one thing he knew he had to do to maintain his position.
“Avery, it is a job, nothing more,” he said. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she did not lean into him as she normally would have. Her body remained stiff under his touch, like a statue.
“I understand. I should never have expected anything different,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her tears. “I know I’m not your wife. I’m...nothing-”
“Don’t say that,” Alastair said, his voice stern. He took her chin in his hand and turned her until she looked into his eyes. “You are not nothing. You are everything to me. You are the only woman I want in my bed, but I am not a normal man. I am the Crown Prince and I have obligations that cannot be ignored.”
She nodded. He wished she would have yelled and screamed at him. He wished she would have stormed off and slammed the door behind her. But instead, she looked up at him sadly and nodded as a tear tracked down her cheek.
He left her in his bed. His steps were heavy as he walked the distance to Myrcel’s rooms. Every footstep was torture, his legs felt like they were tied to rocks. It seemed to take forever for him to traverse the long hallway.
He had never taken any joy in this. Now he hated it. He hated being pulled away from Avery, he hated that he could not spend the night with her. He hated Myrcel. At the door to her chamber, he placed his hand on the painted wood and waited for one moment. It was not too late. He could still turn around and go back to the beautiful woman who wanted him.
But he knew he could never do such a thing. He was the Crown Prince and Myrcel was his wife. If she felt she was being mistreated, she would call her father and the chaos and danger of the Fire Islands would only grow. He did not like it, but he knew he must do it.