In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

  “They really outdid themselves this year,” Mivian sighed happily.

  “Definitely,” Dorian agreed, placing a quick peck on her forehead. “Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I could do with another drink! Haros?”

  “Count me in,” he replied, holding out a hand to help Sivelle to her feet.

  True to her word, she stumbled a little and cast him a playful scowl. He grinned and held her close whilst shaking the snow off his cloak and draping it back over his arm.

  “And then can we go play some carnival games? There’s usually all sorts of wonderful prizes!” Mivian clapped her hands together.

  They carefully made their way through the darkness towards the fayre. The bright lights strained Haros’s sensitive eyes and he winced as he reacclimatised to the hustle and bustle of the festivities.

  Dorian and Haros joined a short queue for a stall that was serving drinks. A small, heart-shaped chocolate sculpture caught the demon’s eye and he picked one up for Sivelle. As he handed her the mug of hot, fruity mulled wine, he placed the chocolate in her hand and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  “Have you forgiven me yet?” he murmured.

  Sivelle didn’t reply, but her scowl was steadily morphing into a reluctant smirk. Mivian hit her hand into Dorian’s chest.

  “Where’s my chocolate, hm?” she teased.

  Dorian leant in to mutter something in her ear. Haros didn’t hear the entire sentiment, but he believed the handmaiden was going to be given something much better than chocolate upon their return to the castle. He cleared his throat and took a sip from his mug, this time having opted for the same mulled wine as Sivelle.

  A king’s guard patrol appeared at the far end of the narrow street, and Haros hurriedly spun Sivelle around by her shoulders. The group walked swiftly in the opposite direction, blending in with the crowds.

  “That was close,” Sivelle breathed.

  “We’re all good, sweetheart,” Haros replied, glancing over his shoulder. He moved her towards some of the brightly coloured tents ahead, keen to ensure the guards hadn’t marred her enjoyment too much.

  They came to a halt beside a row of fairground stalls. Mivian rushed forwards and handed one of the attendants a coin before picking up what appeared to be a dish containing five blood fruits.

  Before them stood three decorated dragon’s egg shells. The carnival attendant lifted each of them off their stand to indicate they weren’t fixed down or weighted and invited Mivian to throw her fruit at them, the aim being to knock all three down for a prize.

  Mivian’s attempts were laughable – worse than Haros had expected – helped in part by her inebriated state. She turned with her bottom lip pouted playfully after she failed to knock off a single egg.

  They wandered on, stopping to play various games and puzzles, none of which yielded the group any prizes. Some boasted extravagant bounties, others offered a simple child’s toy in reward for beating their game.

  As they passed by another stall, Sivelle halted and Haros glanced over his shoulder at her. She was watching a game keenly.

  There were five cork boards, each with a faded and mottled target painted on them. The surface around the outsides of the circles was torn to shreds, but the inner bullseye had a few scant marks on it.

  Haros watched as a group of young faerie boys paid the attendant a coin and were provided with three iron throwing daggers. Two of the three knives thrown didn’t even make it into the boards, just clattered nosily to the floor. The third hit a board with a satisfying thunk, but was only placed in the outer circle.

  Curious as to what had drawn the princess’s attention, Haros followed her eyeline. The reward for first prize was a small, stuffed dragonette toy. It was crudely put together and a little moth-eaten – clearly the unclaimed top prize for many years.

  “It looks a bit like Nyre,” Sivelle laughed, pointing up at it.

  “Want me to win it for you?” he asked.

  “Good luck!” Dorian scoffed from beside him. “That game is rigged, everyone knows that. The knives are all crooked and warped and there are hard patches in the board that stop the knife landing right.”

  Haros grinned. It sounded just like the small throwing knives his mentor, Ox, used to make him practise with as a lad whilst he was training.

  He approached the wooden bar and the carnival attendant cast his eyes curiously over him.

  “Care to give it a shot?” the faerie asked, pushing three knives towards the demon.

  Dorian leant over and handed the man a coin whilst Haros picked up the blades.

  He immediately understood why this game was so difficult to win. The blades were deliberately malformed and their balance was completely wrong. He weighed the first in his hand, determining that the blade’s weight lay in the blade itself, rather than in the handle as was customary.

  Haros judged the short distance between himself and the cork targets before throwing the knife forwards. He threw it underarm, rather than over, to compensate for the terrible weight distribution.

  The knife landed squarely in the centre of the bullseye.

  “Fuck me, how did you do that?!” Dorian gaped.

  Mivian clapped her hands excitedly beside him as Haros reached for the second knife. This one was dulled and not nearly sharp enough to embed itself in the thick cork material. Haros threw it forwards with force, driving the blunt object into the centre of another target.

  They all waited with bated breath as Haros picked up the third and final knife. Even the attendant appeared to be interested in how this last attempt was going to play out. The knife was warped, just as Dorian had warned, and jutted off to the left. It was only slight, but it would be enough to hinder the blade’s trajectory through the air.

  As such, Haros compensated by throwing the knife to the right. It spun forwards and landed just a little further left than he had intended, but still comfortably within the bullseye.

  Mivian squealed with excitement and Dorian patted his shoulder roughly.

  The carnival attendant nodded, casting an appreciative eye over Haros as he grabbed the stuffed dragonette toy from the top shelf. “Very impressive. I take it you’ve had some practice at that?”

  “A little here and there,” Haros lied and took the toy from the man’s outstretched hand before immediately passing it to Sivelle.

  The princess smiled at the toy and then at Haros. He watched on enviously as the stuffed dragonette was squeezed to her chest with delight.

  The night drew on and the crowds thinned as families headed home, leaving the fayre to the drunken revellers. Sivelle yawned behind her fist and leant against Haros as they walked.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  “A little. Maybe we should, um, go home soon?” she shot him a small, secret smile that just served to get Haros’s blood pumping once more.

  “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Hey, Dorian – time to head back?” he called to the faerie in front.

  Dorian had long since been taking care of a very drunk Mivian, helping her walk by supporting most of her body weight with her arm across his shoulder. He shot Haros a pleading look that suggested he was more than ready to head back to the castle.

  The group turned off the main street. As they got further from the fayre, the streets grew still and silent once more. They stopped briefly to pull their cloaks and gloves back on. Without the roaring fires, the bitter night-time chill seemed to seep right into their bones. Sivelle began to shiver and Haros wrapped an arm around her.

  They passed beneath the portcullis with no issue; the guards had left their post. The torch was burnt out, allowing them to slip undetected into the dark castle gardens. Deep snow creaked and crunched underfoot.

  Mivian mumbled something incoherently.

  “Ssh, my love, we’re almost home,” Dorian replied.

  Soon, the dark entrance to the cellar loomed before them. Dorian heaved Mivian over his shoulder with a grunt of effort and cautiously stepped down into the
gloom. Haros held Sivelle’s hand, steadying her as she made her way down the stone steps, before following her and closing the cellar doors behind him.

  “We’ve had a wonderful evening,” Dorian gasped breathlessly, leaning to place a hand against the wall as his legs shook beneath the weight of Mivian still on his shoulder.

  The handmaiden giggled and muttered something – Haros presumed a farewell. Dorian bowed before Sivelle and shook Haros’s hand before staggering off down a separate hallway towards the servants’ quarters.

  Haros and Sivelle continued on, hand in hand, through the kitchen and back into familiar territory. Sivelle trotted on ahead up the stairs towards her chamber, and Haros followed obediently with his heart in his mouth.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sivelle stumbled through the open bedroom door, mouth to mouth with the demon already. He wrapped his strong arms around her tightly, lifted her up off the floor and kicked the door closed behind him.

  The stuffed dragonette toy fell from her hands and she opened her mouth, surrendering to Haros’s kiss. The room spun and her heart pounded, making her feel light-headed. Sivelle clung to the demon in her arms.

  Her bedroom was dark with the fireplace extinguished. Sivelle felt Haros’s legs collide with her bed and he released her from his embrace, laying her on her back on the mattress. He maintained his crushing kiss throughout.

  They didn’t talk. Haros dipped his mouth to her neck as she gasped for breath and spread her legs to accommodate his hips against hers. Uncaring when her dress rode up, exposing her undergarments, Sivelle brought her legs up and clumsily began unlacing her boots.

  Haros continued to suck gently at her throat. One of his hands had a firm, almost painful, grasp on the underside of her bared thigh and the other was hastily ridding himself of his cloak. He threw the material into the room and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Despite the heady cocktail of alcohol and arousal dulling her nervousness, Sivelle’s fingers trembled as she pulled the first of her boots free. She dropped it, uncaring as to where it landed.

  The demon’s mouth was on hers again, though he eased himself off her to shrug out of his shirt. She hurriedly tugged her second boot from her foot, eager to get her hands on him.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked her between frantic kisses. He took her face in his hands and delved his tongue into her mouth. Sivelle moaned into him and smoothed her hands down his hard chest.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m sure,” she said and Haros smothered her with another crushing kiss.

  She felt the demon’s fingers stroke her through the thin lace material of her knickers and she lifted her hips eagerly. He smoothed his thumb over her for a few teasing strokes before sliding his hand beneath the material to touch her, skin on skin. Sivelle shivered forcibly.

  In the darkness, it felt like Haros was everywhere. He was all she could feel, all she could hear, all she could taste… He probed at her entrance and Sivelle spread herself in a silent invitation. Her toes curled as he gently circled her delicate flesh, lubricating his movements with her own arousal.

  Sivelle was a little apprehensive, it couldn’t be denied, but her brain found it more and more difficult to remember why as Haros rubbed her. The demon was a good man, he was kind to her and made her laugh. His presence had changed her life irrevocably. She trusted him and wanted him to be her first, before she was forced to attend her father’s ball and things would never be the same again.

  She fought the sadness welling up in her chest and refocussed her thoughts on the demon’s fingers as he played with her.

  “Oh Haros,” she hissed, arching her back. Her thighs trembled and she squeezed him between them.

  “Shit, say my name again. Please,” he grated, pausing to suck her bottom lip between his teeth and swapped the finger stroking her to his thumb.

  “Haros,” she moaned, her voice breaking as he slid two fingers inside her. Her body squeezed around him hungrily.

  Her hands wormed between their bodies, scrabbling to unbutton his fly. He sat up slightly to give her better access. She slipped her hand down the front of his trousers, palming his hard flesh through his underwear.

  Sivelle felt the vibrations of his deep groan against her lips as he kissed her. After a few firm strokes, Haros sat up on his knees and pulled his digits free from her. Sivelle huffed impatiently.

  “Two seconds, sweetheart. Why don’t you start getting out of that dress,” he said and she felt him move away across the bed. The mattress jostled beneath her. “Is that vial of oil still in here?” he asked as he began digging through her bedside drawer.

  “I think so,” she replied, pulling Mivian’s dress up over her head. It was much easier to remove than the dresses she was used to wearing. She could get used to boneless gowns.

  “Ah, got it,” Haros said with a triumphant tone in his voice.

  She jolted with surprise as he reached for her again through the darkness and tugged her underwear down. Sivelle lay back and lifted her hips for him to pull them off her completely. She spread her thighs to him.

  “Fuck me,” he breathed.

  As Sivelle’s eyes began acclimatising to the darkness, she could just about make out Haros’s figure knelt above her on the bed. He was gazing at her, splayed out beneath him, with reverence. Sivelle swore to herself that she would forever remember this moment.

  She reached out for one of his hands and raised it to her chest. She laid it flat against her breastbone and held it in place. Her heart hammered beneath his palm.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked gently.

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “Don’t be. I’ll look after you, I promise.”

  Sivelle sighed, pressing her lips together and loosened her hold on his palm. She shifted her body beneath him, encouraging his hand to her breast. He squeezed her appreciatively before kneeling between her spread thighs.

  He leant in over her once more to kiss her. Sivelle eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck.

  They kissed passionately for long moments and the electricity of arousal began to build up between them once again. When she didn’t think she could bear to wait any longer, she broke their kiss and brought her lips to the demon’s ear.

  “Please. I’m ready.”

  Haros didn’t require any further encouragement. He sat up from her once more, this time tugging his trousers off over his hips. She watched him take the cork of the bottle between his teeth and he pulled it free with a delicate pop.

  He poured a generous amount of oil out onto his palm before pushing the cork back into the neck. Sivelle felt the cold bottle roll across the surface of the bed to rest against her warm skin.

  She worried her lip with her teeth as her heartrate skyrocketed. The demon smothered a generous layer of oil onto his hard shaft before transferring the rest onto Sivelle’s feminine flesh.

  She shivered as he smoothed the cold liquid against her hot centre. His fingers slid over her and began teasing her once again. Sivelle gasped at the increased intensity the lubrication brought. It was frictionless, eye-rolling perfection.

  She shuddered as her arousal began to build and her body clenched and twitched in response. When she pulled her legs back further still to rest against her chest, Haros lost the tentative grip he had on his self-control.

  He leant in and his chest pressed tightly against hers. Sivelle was surprised at how hot his skin was against hers.

  She felt the head of his cock brush against her and she kissed the demon feverishly in a bid to still her nerves. Haros held her firmly in place as he rolled his hips forward.

  “Breathe, Sivelle,” he muttered with a soft laugh against her.

  The princess released a shaky sigh obediently and clutched him tighter. Her nails dug into the muscles of his back.

  She felt him breach her with greater ease than she had been expecting and her body stretched around the intrusion. It was an uncomfortable and foreign sensation, but the pain she had been so af
raid of was absent.

  Her mind recalled the horror stories Lori had told her and, for the first time, Sivelle pitied her sister for not having been lucky enough to have taken these first steps with someone like Haros.

  Finally fully seated inside her, Haros sat still and patient. He stroked the hair from her face and kissed her gently. Sivelle fought valiantly against the tsunami of emotion that felt like it would burst from her at any second.

  She silently scolded herself as she felt her eyes stinging with tears and sought distraction by tentatively squeezing her internal muscles around Haros’s shaft.

  “Alright?” he asked her. His voice had become coarse and deep, as it often did when he was in the throes of passion. Sivelle had begun to recognise the signs of arousal in her demon and she cautiously rolled her hips against him.

  Reading her acceptance, Haros sat up a little to rest his weight in his elbows either side of her. He captured her mouth beneath another passionate kiss and gave her a testing thrust.

  Though it had only been minutes of discomfort, the desire that had been building within her had waned. She lay patiently beneath the demon as he carefully thrust against her, waiting for her body to acclimatise.

  What she hadn’t been expecting, however, was Haros’s keenness to continue what he had started. He rested all his weight on one strong arm and began circling her apex with his thumb once more.

  Sivelle gasped as her channel pulsed, this time meeting with the demon’s hard resistance inside her. Her toes curled with ecstasy and she released another shaky breath.

  “That’s it, good girl. Just relax,” Haros instructed with a groan as he increased the tempo of his movements steadily.

  Sivelle broke their kiss and closed her eyes, her jaw falling slack and her brows knitting.

  “Is it feeling okay?”

  “Incredible,” Sivelle hissed as her body clenched around him again, this time with a force that made her want to roll her eyes to the back of her head.

  Clearly satisfied with her response, Haros turned his attention back to driving his cock inside her with slow, deep, maddening thrusts, all the while teasing the swollen bundle of nerves beneath his thumb.