Dropping the blanket on a rock beside the pool, she waded out into the water with care until it was lapping at her knees and finally crouched to bathe herself. Her inner thighs, she saw with some alarm and also a hint of justification, were smeared with blood. It was no wonder she hurt, she told herself. She looked as if she had been battered half to death! The water soothed her throbbing genitals but the moment she touched herself, it complained more loudly. Releasing little grunts of pain, she persevered, using her hands and the water to rub at the stickiness of both blood and their seed until she decided that she was as clean as she could manage without a cloth or soap.
She had no idea what had become of the bar of soap. She hadn’t felt up to looking for it, hadn’t thought about it until she’d gotten into the water, but she saw no sign of it now and assumed Faine had collected it.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t certain she could’ve endured the sting of the soap when she already hurt.
It buoyed her spirits a little when it dawned on her that she had weathered coupling with all three—even dragon’s massive staff—and had lived through it. There had been a good deal of blood. She felt battered enough to think she might be at death’s door, but she had not been torn badly enough to bleed to death!
She was certain at least some of it was her maiden’s blood, in any case, and she would’ve bled from the loss of her maidenhead regardless of size of the staff used to puncture it.
The momentary lift in her spirits plummeted again as it dawned on her that she had not really changed anything beyond ridding herself of that bit of skin. If Drake was right and they had managed to fill her belly with their seed and it had taken root as he believed it would—well she was in doubt that their seed had borne fruit—she might be no better off at all.
She had thought it might, somehow, make a difference. She wasn’t so certain anymore and realized that she’d merely jumped at the slim possibility when she knew she had no hope at all otherwise.
Not that she could have stopped them if they were determined!
She was actually surprised, now that she’d gotten over being so terrified at the thought of being impaled on three such ungodly enormous man-roots—especially Drake’s when she had been certain she would was unlikely to survive Caelin or Faine. In truth, they had been far more gentle about it than anyone ever had before. It was a rare thing indeed that she survived coupling with a single man and did not have many bruises to show for it beyond the coupling itself.
It occurred to her to wonder why she had wanted Drake to do that to her. He’d seemed to have lost interest. Why hadn’t she left it at that? Why had she felt compelled to draw his interest and why had she begun to feel that she needed him to fill her?
She hadn’t expected to feel pleasure. She could’ve understood it better if she’d ever had reason to believe she might possibly enjoy it, but she hadn’t. She’d never even come close to enjoying it before. It had always been painful and disgusting and that was why she’d done her best to elude the men at the castle.
Maybe it was because she had listened to Alyce and made certain that each time she was caught and found it unavoidable, that they used that hole that had felt so wrong? Maybe, but she had never felt a want to be filled like she had with Drake and even to a smaller degree with Caelin and Faine. She thought if either of them had kissed her and caressed her as Drake had, she would’ve wanted them to push their cocks inside of her, too—because she hadn’t found it the least bit repulsive when they had once the pain had passed. She had found it … pleasant.
She dismissed the thoughts with an effort. She was glad that it hadn’t been the ordeal she’d feared it would be, that it hadn’t left her feeling so disgusted that she could hardly bear her own skin, but she couldn’t see that it helped her in any other way. It certainly wouldn’t if their seed had taken root in her belly and Drake was right. She would still be facing death and she had only a few weeks before that.
Was there any chance that she might escape them and thereby escape the fate planned for her, she wondered?
But escape to where? Before she had helped Caelin, she might have had the option of staying at the castle and enduring the life she had there. She was afraid, though, that even if it was true that Gerald had been holding her to use her against the wizard Artimus, he would be so furious now that he would have her slain on sight.
She discovered when she finally waded out and picked up the blanket that there were two horses coming toward her, or more specifically the water, to drink.
Not two horses. Darkness and a unicorn—an ebony winged unicorn. Her breath caught her in her throat in wonder as she stared at the unicorn. He was the most beautiful thing that she’d ever seen. While she stood frozen, gaping at him in awe, he walked almost right up to her.
Like a sleepwalker, she lifted a hand to touch him to assure herself that he was actually real. He shied away from her touch abruptly.
Her heart hammering in her chest, she stared at him in dismay as he moved away. Realization sank into her slowly.
Only a pure maiden might touch one.
And she was so despoiled that she was amazed he had touched her himself, even in man form.
It was Faine, she realized, though she’d been too awed to see him in his natural form to realize it at first. It was hard to grasp, in any case, that this creature was the same—just as it was still hard to grasp that the golden dragon she found so terrifying was the same as the man whose kisses she had welcomed, had enjoyed so thoroughly the night before.
She shouldn’t have tried to touch him, tainted as she was, she thought, feeling her throat close and then anger that it was through no fault of her own that she’d been sullied. She had not sought it. She had done her best to preserve her honor, such as it was. It wasn’t fair that it could be ripped from her and the shame was still hers!
He was so beautiful that it hurt her to look at him. No wonder he was such a handsome man, she thought, that it made her breathless to look at him—which was why she had not. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to more than glance at him.
Not that she had done much more with Drake or Caelin or that it would’ve done her much good to try to study them when darkness had shrouded them from the moment they had met.
She’d seen Caelin well enough to lust over him, she reminded herself. It was true that it had hurt her to think of what King Gerald had in mind for him. It was true that she couldn’t bear the thought of him coming to such a horrible end, and she would’ve pitied anyone who faced that—did pity them—for it wasn’t a rare punishment by any means. She had never felt compelled to throw her own life away to try to save anyone before, though.
She still didn’t entirely understand what had drawn her to try for his sake, but she supposed it was as she’d thought before—she’d been as seduced by the possibility of escaping herself as she had been by her attraction to him.
Turning away finally, she headed back to the campsite and checked the clothing she’d washed the night before. It was still damp, but she had nothing else to put on and she thought they must leave soon. She felt better in any case once she’d pulled her undress on to cover her nakedness. Caelin had ignored her, whether it was pointed or not, but her nakedness around him made her feel vulnerable.
At least she understood now why he seemed to despise her. It wasn’t her imagination. He did despise her … because of her sire. It was unfair to her mind, but life was never fair, and as resentful as it made her, she understood. She thought she might have been inclined to feel the same if she’d been in his position. Artimus had done something terrible to him, just as he had to Drake and Faine. Given what she knew about Drake, she also knew it had to be very terrible even though she had no idea what it was he’d done.
She couldn’t help but admire Drake for his dedication to his mate and his child, regardless of what that dedication meant to her. He must have loved his mate very much, she thought sadly, to feel such a need for revenge that he would allow Artimus
to manipulate him. He was too proud to bend to the will of another otherwise, especially a human, she thought.
Very likely, it was the same with the others.
She was doomed by their honor, she thought in sudden fear. She had no hope of fighting them, little hope of escaping them.
She didn’t think that she could compose herself to accept the fate it seemed impossible to avoid, though. She didn’t have the nobility of spirit. She was weak. She felt more like weeping and begging for her life, as miserable as it was. She thought she would have wept except that it was useless.
Quite often worse than useless, for the men of the castle were inclined to be more angered by a wailing woman. She didn’t know if they would be that way. She didn’t think they would, but it seemed unlikely that it would sway them.
Drake returned before the sun had risen very far from the horizon. Dropping the carcass of a cow near the pool, he shifted and set about cleaning the beast of its entrails. Caelin got up as soon as Drake appeared and joined him.
Gwyneth watched them, feeling her stomach rumble with hunger. The two of them set up a spit made of limbs above the fire Caelin had built, carefully balanced the carcass on it to cook and then returned to the pool to clean up.
Her head ached, Gwyneth realized as she stared at the cooking meat. She thought it was from emptiness and quite possibly from the little sleep she’d had. She knew she couldn’t have slept more than a few hours despite the fact that it had been well past dawn when she’d awakened, for they’d been up most of the night fleeing and coupling. Since there didn’t seem to be anything expected of her at the moment, she decided to lie down and rest a bit more.
* * * *
“I had brought supplies with me for the journey,” Caelin said as he and Drake bathed. “As things transpired, I had to abandon them at my encampment, but I think it would be worthwhile to retrieve them if we can spare the time.”
Drake nodded, frowning. “They are busy cleaning up and counting the dead this morning, but I am as certain as I can be that they will not linger long over it. There was a sense of great urgency about the place. I think King Gerald is far more rattled about ‘misplacing’ his pawn than the escape of an assassin.”
Caelin frowned at that. “Mayhap it would be better to move on, then.”
“The woman needs more than a thin blanket and her rags to keep body and soul together,” Drake growled. “It is a long journey for one like her.” He lifted his head to study the sun. “Faine will be willing to take you, but you should be quick about it.”
“I hadn’t intended to linger,” Caelin said dryly.
“If you cannot return before dusk, I will have to fetch you both,” Drake said. “Faine is bespelled. He has no control of his change. At dusk, he will become a man again and neither of you would fare well from that, I’m thinking.”
Startled, Caelin glanced toward the field where Faine was grazing. “In that case, we should go now if he’s willing.”
“I will guard our prize,” Drake said, turning to study her.
Caelin hesitated. “You will be far better off to set your mind on the prize you stand to win from delivering her. She is not a prize, Drake.”
Drake smiled thinly. “There are prizes and then are … benefits. The lovely little hole between her legs is prize enough at the moment.”
Caelin felt heat wash through him. He tamped it with an effort. “I thought the objective was merely to sew our seed?”
Drake shrugged. “It may take more dedication that one night of plowing that field.”
Caelin had mixed feelings about that. His cock did not, he thought wryly, but he did. “I don’t suppose, once the deed is done, that it will matter how many times it is plowed so long as you keep in mind that she is Artimus’ prize, not ours,” he said grimly.
“You will not avail yourself when she has such a sweet little cunt?” Drake drawled causally. “It’s easy enough to close your mind to the rest once your cock is nestled so snugly inside her.”
For him—maybe—but Caelin wasn’t convinced and he was even less convinced that he could close his mind to the rest. On the other hand, he discovered he was deeply reluctant to give Drake free reign with her. “My cock has a mind of its own. I suppose I will see whether I rule it or it rules me,” he said dryly, rising and striding toward Faine purposefully.
Drake watched him broodingly. He did not particularly care for the notion of sharing his sweet pot with the other two, but he supposed it would not make that much difference. So long as he could dip into the pot whenever he was hungry, that would be enough.
He pulled his attention from Caelin and Faine when the unicorn allowed Caelin to climb onto his back and galloped toward the precipice on the other side of the field to attain the lift he needed to take flight. After studying Gwyneth a little hungrily for some time, he finally decided he should wait a bit. He had hours before the others returned. No doubt she was sore from their play the night before. He could afford to wait a few hours, give her a little time to get over some of the soreness. He would still have plenty of time to play with the pretty little female before the others returned.
He was pleased with the shy admiration he noted in her. It had made him uneasy, at first, when she would not meet his gaze, but when he noticed that a faint blush colored her cheeks when she did look at him and that her gaze often went to his mouth, he decided he was very pleased.
Faine and Caelin were fools to his mind. Certainly, they were not dragons and, mayhap, they knew their own limitations, but for so small a gift as a little gentleness and a few kisses, he thought he had reaped a very generous reward. He had enjoyed it himself besides, and now he had the additional satisfaction of knowing that he had tamed the little dove. She would be more eager for the pleasure he had shown her before and he would not have to work nearly as hard to summon the heat he wanted!
Mayhap he would not summon it for them again. Why should he, after all? He had only done it the first time because he agreed to wait for them to go first and he had been impatient with the wait.
No doubt it was not even necessary to the plan in any case. They were all magical folk, after all, and he, at least, was magnificent! If their seed had failed to find the mark, he knew his had not!
Mayhap they would not even want to enjoy what they could while they could, but he saw no reason why he shouldn’t. She was mortal, after all. If he allowed it to bother him that they would die, he would never have mounted the first and discovered that it was almost as satisfying to ride them as a Gretchen. It was true that he knew the hour and day of her death and even the means, when that was not usually the case, but it meant the same regardless as far as he was concerned. He fucked them and moved on, knowing that the female was not long for the world, that they would pass in what was little more than a blink for him. If he had ever regretted anything at all, it was that it was always difficult to convince the creatures to unlock their legs! With some it was harder than others, but it always required patience, and he did not have a great deal of that!
He rather thought it was damned convenient that he was to be stuck with this one long enough to make thorough use of her. It was more of a waste to coax a female to hand for only one spot of pleasure than to coax one that he could expend himself on until he was thoroughly sated before he had to look for another.
He was beginning to think, in point of fact, in terms of finding one to keep for a pet. That would be very convenient! Of course, he would have to put up with the creature all of the time, not just when he wanted to make use of her honey pot, but such was life! For every silver-lining, there was shit on the other side.
* * * *
Drake ran out of patience for waiting when he saw that the sun had nearly reached the halfway point between its zenith and sunset. He had fed her and watched while she slept. She should be recovered enough.
As he rose to approach her and shake her awake, however, it occurred to him that the hard ground hadn’t offered much comfort the nig
ht before. It had seemed to him that he had managed to find every tiny, pointy rock anywhere in her vicinity with his knees and elbows. The skin he was wearing, his human skin, simply wasn’t nearly as impervious to pain as his true skin.
There was no point in being uncomfortable while he was fucking her, he decided, not when it could not take more than a few moments to look around for a spot that might offer more in the way of comfort. He did not actually have to go far. He found the perfect place at the far end of the pool. A stunted tree grew there that was surprisingly brushy at the top for all that it was not tall at all. It created a nice little shade beneath that would prevent the human skin, his and hers, from burning in the sun and moss grew over the ground beneath it. He lay down on the ground, testing it, and decided it couldn’t hurt to add a little more brush for cushioning. When he’d gathered an armload and piled it beneath the tree, fluffing it, he stood back, admiring his handiwork for a moment and finally returned to the campsite.
Shaking his head when he discovered that she was still sleeping, he shook her awake and caught her hand, pulling her to her feet.
“It is time to go?” she asked a little drunkenly, clearly confused.
For that matter, he discovered she was stumbling a little drunkenly.
He scooped her up into her arms, eager to get on with it. “Yes. It is time.”
She looked more confused when he set her on her feet beneath the tree.
“There you go. A nice soft spot to plant your rump, my dove! Remove your clothes and lie down, there’s a good girl!”
She blinked at him, looked down at the mound of brush he’d gathered, looked at him again and finally seemed to get the idea. “You want me to remove them—all?” she said a little doubtfully.
“Yes! Yes all of it,” he said a little impatiently. “You’ll want kisses, yes?”
She blushed, but she untied the corset around her waist and loosened it.
A Lamentation of Swans Page 8