by M. L. Guida
He caressed her face. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
Except for selling my soul to the devil. Cassandra’s mouth ran dry.
His slid his fingers from her chin and glided them behind her neck and. his perfect mouth lingered a mere inch above hers. She burned for him. He kissed her deeply, making her forget any doubts. Exploring every inch of her mouth, sweet strokes of his tongue possessed her, dominated her and caressed her.
He pulled away, unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the ground.
She admired each bulging muscle and his flattened abdomen that flexed as he bent and shed his pants.
His powerful arms were oaken, tawny and the sinews sculpting his thick thighs showed this was a man who despite being a prince embraced hard labor.
Her fingers ached to touch his smooth, sleek skin.
His flesh between his massive thighs was full and erect. She clenched her thighs tight, afraid he’d rip her apart.
“I will not hurt you, I promise. Mating is never violent, little one. Only pleasurable.”
He gave her a slow smile. His eyes turned somber and he clasped both her hands, gently pulling her to her feet. He leaned his dark head and captured her lips. He was tender at first and then his kiss grew more demanding. She pressed his sleek chest and rubbed his hard muscles.
He sucked in his breath and his erection pressed against her thigh. He slipped his hands under her sweater and she quivered.
“Take everything off,” he whispered, his voice husky and strained. “I want to see all of you.” He slid her sweater over her head and unclasped her bra with a calloused hand. Eric growled.
She was afraid he had turned into something evil and kicked off her suede boots, removed her socks and peeled off her pants. She covered her breasts with her hands. She was a harlot at a slave auction.
Eric put his hands on her shoulders.
She jumped.
“Cassandra, look at me,” he whispered.
No monster gazed at her, but a dark-haired angel, filled with hunger for her. “You’re beautiful, more beautiful than I imagined.”
Heat filled Cassandra’s cheeks. His words stirred a pool of desire in her womb.
A bit of uncertainty crossed his face. At the glimpse of vulnerability, Cassandra’s feelings for him deepened. He was as nervous as she was. She stepped forward, pressing herself against Eric’s lean body while reaching around his neck. He captured her mouth again. When he gently lowered her onto the bed, she tensed waiting for him to rip her apart. He stroked her skin and his kiss inflamed her, her fear lessened.
His mouth left hers, ravaging her throat from her ear to her shoulder, discovering every sensitive nerve. He cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing her budding nipple. And when he lowered his mouth, she arched up, eager to feel his lips on her flesh. He didn’t disappoint her. She whimpered and she clawed into his thick hair, pinning him to her breast. With his teeth, he tugged the sensitive peak of her nipple, his rough tongue licking and caressing it. Hungry for more, she marveled at his prowess.
He licked and worshipped her. Rough stubble on his jaw scraped her tender skin and his strong fingers probed and kneaded her breast. Flares of passion ignited and overwhelmed her as his hand slid down her side.
She tried to clamp her legs together, but he gently spread them apart. He pushed his finger in a smooth movement to explore her blonde curls. She jerked. “Cassandra, relax.” He licked her nipple again and she shivered. “Let yourself go.”
Cassandra struggled to obey, but tiny tingles pulses pumped through her, making it difficult to do anything but feel. She shuddered with involuntary spasms, and a surge of unexpected pleasure, more enjoyable than any dream, caught her unaware.
She clenched the soft comforter trying to hang on, frightened by her own inadequacy to manage the sweet, quaking spasms, rippling through her body, so much more intense than the dream. Another wave of liquid heat shivered through her. He inserted a second finger inside her, thrusting and she rocked her hips to his steady rhythm. Devilish strokes built a budding pressure, bursting forth and shaking her.
“This is only the beginning,” Eric said.
She tried to comprehend what he meant, helpless to stop him, but she didn’t want him to stop as long as his hot mouth sucked and kissed her body, his fingers filling her core, stretching her. Sweet pleasure swirled over her as he slipped his fingers out of her. His hot mouth left her breast and he edged down her torso, his hair brushing against her hot skin. He knelt in front of her, his possessive gaze flickering over her, igniting her passion. Strong hands parted her thighs wider as he lifted her hips off the bed and slid her thighs over his shoulders. He kissed her feminine mound and she dug her nails into the quilt, hanging on for the next onslaught of pleasure.
He gripped her hips, his fingers imprinting on her delicate flesh. She could not have pulled away if she wanted to, aching for him to linger.
Heat and pleasure plowed through her. She was an out of control snowball, gaining speed and intensity as orgasms shook her over and over again.
“You taste like cream,” Eric murmured. He lowered her quivering body and climbed up the bed. Anticipation consumed her. She wanted so much more.
A laugh escaped her.
He placed both hands on either side of her face. “What’s so funny?”
“Your hair. It tickles.”
“I’ll make you tickle,” he promised. “Spread your legs for me, Cassandra.”
Fear gripped her as he wedged his hips between her thighs, his hard flesh poking into her tender folds. His kiss deepened.
She dug her nails into his arms ready for pain.
“I promise it will only hurt a moment, love. Trust me.”
She nodded, too scared to speak and waited.
He laughed. “Love, relax.” He nestled in the crook of her neck, kissing her and nibbling her ear. He rubbed her clit. He inched his cock forward, throbbing and hard and spread her feminine folds. In one thrust, he pierced her and a sharp pain filled her, stealing her breath. She tensed, clutching his arms tighter, but he lay still. She was afraid he’d split her in two, but his kiss deepened and he moved. He rocked his hips, releasing a floodgate of passion and her womb welcomed him with warm spasms of heat.
Clinging to him, she trusted him to lead her. He moved within her, thrusting and withdrawing, in long, hard strokes. He kissed her vigorously, stealing her breath, as he moved inside her, flesh against flesh, heat into heat, sliding and probing, making her writhe in disbelief. She begged without shame for him to plunge deeper, harder as she met these thrusts with equal force. Waves of pleasure took her soaring into blissful ecstasy better than she’d ever experienced in the dream. This was real. Intense. Scorching.
Brilliant, storming torrents of raining pleasure lavished her body as her senses dissolved into a pool of orgasms. Her body shook from one orgasm to another. She barely registered Eric arching his back and crying in the grips of sweet torment.
He threw his head back and roared. Fire burst from his mouth, surrounding them in a burning aura, energizing their passion into another frenzy and sweeping them into a sizzling sensation more intense than she thought possible. Fury rumbled inside her, threatening to ignite, taking her higher than any of her previous orgasms. Fervor seized her and she took Eric deeper inside her. A burst of white filled the room and faded. She clung to him, afraid she’d die. Nothing had prepared her for the feelings pulsing through her veins, her heart propelling them to every sensitive core until her orgasm shook her, releasing waves and waves of pleasure.
Silver eyes replaced his dark ones, the exact color of Toby’s. She parted her mouth and he seized hers, his tongue delving deep inside her taking from her all she had to give. She caressed his back, his strained muscles rippling beneath her touch.
Eric slowed his pulsing, collapsed on top of her. The fire disappeared. Warmth spread over Cassandra’s sweltering skin.
“It’s done,” he whispered into her ear and kissed her
neck. His heart beat savagely, mirroring hers. She stroked his thick hair, running her fingers through silky strands and rubbed his trembling back.
He stared at her with shimmering silver eyes. “You belong to me.”
She cupped his face. “Your eyes? What happened?”
“Your Light, Cassandra. It saved me.”
“You’re not growing dark?”
“No.”
She crossed her legs over his buttocks, holding him to her and he rocked inside her. “Umm, that was nice. Better than any dream.”
Lifting his head, he arched an eyebrow. “You doubted it would be?”
Heat flamed her cheeks. “Well, no.”
She quivered as he pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I can get used to making you blush.” He ran his hand down her side, all her curves, leaving goose bumps. “All over,” he whispered.
She indulged in his kiss, relishing his manliness, his prowess. She clutched his shoulders tight, afraid to let him go. “You’re like Toby. Your father, his men, they won’t hurt you will they? I mean you're a prince.”
A shadow fell over his face. Sighing, he pulled out of her and rolled to the side. “Unfortunately they will.”
She grabbed his arm. “No.”
“Sweet Cassandra.” He brushed his fingers down her cheek and wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her to his lips, kissing her.
Someone pounded on the door. “Prince Eric, open up,” a male demanded. “The King demands to see you at once.” The door banged open.
Five sneering guards, swords drawn, glared at them. “You’re both coming with us,” one of them commanded.
Cassandra froze.
Eric rubbed her arm and her heart pounding, she glanced back at him.
“I promised to keep you safe.” He snapped his fingers and she passed out cold.
10
Eric leaned against the cold wall deep in the bowels of Castle Basilisk’s dungeons. Shrieks bounced off the stone walls, driven by pain so immense pitch reached a crescendo of ear splitting agony before it withered and died in the futility of escape. Pitiful pleas emanated from a dozen barred cells containing demons who remained normal, including his nephew Toby, but Cassandra was safe. Eric was glad he’d had enough magic to send her back to the Galena Mountain Street Inn. Although his magic was drained, his soul mate was alive and hidden.
Keys jangled and a lock clicked. A door opened and slammed shut at the end of the corridor. Someone stomped down the long, stone corridor to the cells of the damned. Eric rolled off his freezing bench and stood with his arms across his naked chest. He shivered and his teeth chattered. He refused to show any kind of weakness.
Torchlight revealed a long, slight shadow. A cloaked figure stopped in front of his cell. The hood slid away. Gryffin Drake the Torturer. His pointed face, hawkish nose and tall lean build, reminded Eric of a ferret. Drake gazed at Eric, as he removed his gloves. “Comfy, my prince?”
“Go to hell, Drake,” he grumbled.
Drake shed his cloak and tossed it over the narrow shoulders. “Watch your mouth, prince. There are worse things than losing your clothes.”
“What do you want?”
“Not you. Not yet anyway.”
He meandered toward Toby’s cell. Toby stood at the door, but as Drake approached, he darted deeper into the cell. Drake unlocked the door and slammed it shut. Eric’s stomach clenched.
Eric rushed to the cell door, but the flickering torches only cast long shadows on the floor in Toby’s cell.
“Uncle Eric,” Toby half sobbed. “Don’t let him…”
A slap silenced his cries. “Shut up, boy, and do as you are told,” Drake snarled.
Eric gripped the slimy bars and yanked. “Drake, you filthy bastard, leave the boy alone.” He kicked the bars, but the gate only rattled.
Grunts and a muffled sob echoed from the cell. Eric shuddered. Damn, he’d used the last of his magic to send Cassandra back home. Once Cassandra changed him, he could not wield the black magic permeating from the world.
“Toby,” Eric yelled.
“Please no,” Toby begged.
“Don’t tell me no,” Drake warned.
Another slap turned Eric’s stomach. His powerlessness ripped his honor as a prince and a warrior. Eric slammed his shoulders into the bars. “Leave him alone, you sadistic fuck.”
Drake emerged from Toby’s cell and meandered to Eric’s cell. Blood splatters marked his shirt.
Toby’s quiet sobs tore his gut. “What did you do?” Eric demanded.
“It's none of your concern. He’s…”
Eric spit in Drake’s smug face.
Drake ran his hand down his face. “You’ll pay for that prince. Guards,” Drake called over his shoulder.
Two burly guards hurried into the corridor.
Drake waved. “Take the prince to the Chamber. He needs to learn some manners.”
The guards opened his cell and Eric lunged, his fists flying. He hit one guard in the mouth, knocking him backward. The other guard swung and hit Eric in the gut, doubling him over. One twisted his arm behind his back and they dragged to the Chamber.
“Ready for some fun, Your Highness?”
Heart pounding, Eric struggled to breathe and refused to answer. The guards shoved him toward two pillars of stones. They manacled his wrists and ankles. Eric yanked on his chains, but the manacles refused to budge. The stench in the Chamber churned Eric’s stomach. Green, foul smelling sludge leached from the ceiling and formed slimy dark pools in the hollows of the lopsided cobblestone floor. How many victims had lost their lives in this chamber?
Well-fed rats scuffled across the floor. One sat on its haunches and twitched its nose. Yellow eyes stared at him and the vermin licked its lips. The rodent sniffed and waddled toward him. Eric struggled to move his legs, but only managed to move his ankle a few inches. His stomach tightened, and he braced himself for sharp pain.
A door creaked and slammed shut. The rat hissed and ran into a black hole with his comrades. Heavy footsteps thumped down the steps. Every nerve and muscle in Eric’s body tensed and pushing back his fear, he stood tall and proud. He was his father’s son, Prince of the Dragon Demons, and would take the punishment.
Two pairs of red eyes glared at him. Out of the gloom, Harrison Wyvern, king of the dragon demons, stepped into the chamber. Muscular and solid, his father’s stance showed no sign of his age—other than the slips of gray woven into his thick head of black hair.
Slighter than his father, Drake followed. He rubbed his hands and cracked his neck. The man had designed the chamber to the last detail, mimicking the torture horrors of the human Spanish Inquisition. Drake walked to a cart against the wall and pushed it toward Eric.
Eric glanced at the array of devices on the cart and gritted his teeth, determined not to scream.
Drake caressed the spiked claw with chunks of gore sticking to the sharp edges. “Do you know what this is, prince?”
Eric refused to answer. He tried to stand still, not let the bastard know the fear burning in his gut.
Drake scraped the wall and the tickler left long scratches. “This is the Spanish tickler, designed to rip the skin and muscle off victims, an effective device in gaining a confession.”
Bile burned in Eric’s gut and he swallowed hard, pushing it back.
Drake kissed the Spanish tickler before putting it down. He picked up a metal collar with a crank. “This is one of my new favorites—a garrote. I can clamp this little beauty on your neck, turn the crank, prince, and you’ll die of asphyxia.”
Not wanting to give Drake the satisfaction of his growing fear, Eric kept his face stoic and met Drake’s leering gaze.
Eric’s father marched to him. Although he was a few inches shorter than Eric, he possessed a powerful presence. “Where is the girl, boy?”
“Fuck you,” Eric said.
His father slapped him across the face and Eric tasted blood in his mouth. Eric spat blood on the floor, missing
his father’s boots but got Gryffin’s.
“She will not destroy my plans.”
Without Cassandra, his father would win, but how could he put her in danger? He couldn’t bear her being chained in this god-awful place.
A rat ran out of its hiding place in the wall and ran over his father’s boot. His father kicked it and the rodent squealed. “Damn filthy things! You still refuse to reveal her whereabouts? You leave me little choice boy.”
“I can make him change his smug disposition,” Drake said.
“You can both go to hell,” Eric said.
“Your Highness, I believe Eric needs to learn a lesson. The heretic's fork is a good teacher.”
He picked up a two-pronged fork, twirled it and grabbed Eric’s hair. Sharp prongs forced Eric’s chin up and pressed into his neck. One false move and the prongs would tear out his flesh. Eric couldn’t swallow. He clamped his jaw tight, regretting his curse.
“You fool.” His father elbowed Eric’s ribs.
Eric flinched. The prong dug deeper and he released a hated groan.
His father gave him a triumphant smile. “Did you think you could stop the invasion by mating with a puny human?”
Pain edged into Eric’s throat, chin and now his side. Wetness spilled down his neck.
“Answer me!”
Was he kidding? Eric gave his father a steely glare, waiting for more punishment. He could withstand the punishment. His mate’s life depended on it.
“Teach him a lesson”
“My pleasure, my Lord,” Drake said.
“I’ll be in my study. Can’t stand the stench down here.”
He turned and left, leaving Eric alone with Gryffin Drake the Torturer.
Drake strolled around Eric. “The king has given me carte le blanche to do what I want with my prisoners. I prefer to hear my victim’s screams.” He ran a boney finger down the side of Eric’s face. “I think you’re neck has been properly stretched.” Eric shuddered.
Drake removed the heretic’s fork and Eric gasped for breath. He stepped closer to Eric until he was nose to nose. His breath smelled sickly sweet. “I want to hear you beg for mercy, prince.” He grabbed Eric’s crotch, squeezing his balls like a meat grinder.