She nodded, splaying her fingers against his shirt. There was a steady, strong beat beneath the cambric.
“I am alive, Jameela, and that is all we ever need remember about the days passed.”
Jameela frowned and when he asked what concerned her, she told him she feared the woman he had brought back with him.
“There is no need to let her cross your mind. She has what she came for even if it was something she did not know existed until a short while ago,” he said.
“She won’t try to come between us?” Jameela asked, her worry turning her green eyes dark.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She will have someone else to occupy her time and something tells me he will give her a run for her money.” He looked out across the heaving waters of the ocean he would never again be able to sail upon. “But at least he will be able to run now.”
Jameela frowned. “You speak of your brother? How can he run, milord?”
“I have spoken enough of everything save us,” Dagan said and flexed his knees. He lifted Jameela in his arms, swung her around, and turned toward a stand of pines under which a soft, thick bed of fragrant pine needles lay.
Eager to have his hand upon her again, his lips drawing upon her lips and suckling her nether lips, Jameela hugged his neck, giggling like a schoolgirl when he dropped her lightly on the bed of pine needles and flopped down beside her.
“I think I can do more than suckle your sweet juices,” he said, flinging a long leg over hers.
“You can…” she began but his mouth descended upon hers and she lost herself to the dueling of their tongues and the firm pressure of his hands upon her breast. When he withdrew his lips, she let out a shaky breath.
“Have you missed me, wench?” Dagan purred, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck and flick the tip of his tongue into the spiral of her ear.
“By the Prophetess, I did,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through his hair.
“That’s good to know.”
Jameela’s head fell to one side as he tugged at the bodice of her gown, exposing her breast. Chill air blew over her flesh but the hot moistness drawing at her nipple as he anchored his mouth to her breast brought a feverish blush to her upper chest. She tightened the hold she had on his dark curls and pressed his face more firmly against her. His low chuckle made her smile.
Dagan ran his hand down his lady’s side and slowly began gathering the folds of her skirt upward. Beneath his rough, calloused palm, he could feel the nubs of her goose bumps spreading across her thigh. Slipping his fingers into the sweetness at the juncture of her thighs, he gave silent thanks to the Conclave for outlawing underwear on females who resided at the Keep.
“Did you miss me?” Jameela whispered.
“Not one moment passed that I did not think of you,” he vowed.
“Even while you were in the arms of that witch?”
Dagan raised his head and looked up at her. “She took what should by rights have gone to you but because of her, I am a true man. She means nothing to me nor will she ever.”
“She made you service her,” Jameela accused.
“She made me take my vengeance out on her,” he corrected. “There is a difference.”
“I don’t…” she began but stopped as his fingers slipped deftly inside the oozing pocket of her womanhood. She moaned, arching her hips toward his questing hand.
“I will say one thing more about Neith and we will never discuss my time with her ever again,” he said as he began stroking her clitoris. “Hers was a gift for which I will be eternally grateful but it is you who will reap the rewards of it, not her.”
Jameela opened her mouth to ask him to explain his enigmatic words but never got the chance for he withdrew his hand, fumbled at her thigh—his hard hand pressed against her thigh. He rose up, sweeping aside her knees as he positioned himself between her legs. She sighed when she felt what she thought was his thumb poking at her exposed opening but when his hard cock thrust inside her, her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropped open and she stared down into his laughing eyes.
“Surprise,” Dagan said in a singsong.
Before Jameela could begin asking the questions crowding her mind, her lover began driving inside her with such delightful force, such wondrous pressure and throbbing heat, she drew her legs up and wrapped them around his hips, gathering him to her in an effort to meld their bodies into one glorious entity.
His deep, erotic stabs into her welcoming cunt was an exquisite plundering that had her panting as overwhelming lust invaded her lower body. She arched up to meet his every thrust, needing him as deep inside her as his shaft could forge. Honey dripped from her nether lips, oiling his forceful passage. Her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt; her heels dug into his lower back.
Dagan’s hips moved like pistons as he drove into his lady. His hands clutched her buttocks, lifting her, gaining the access they both craved. He could feel the building pressure inside his cock and knew he was but a stroke or two away from gaining the greatest pleasure he had ever known. He was gasping for breath, his heart thundering in his chest, the blood pounding in his ears but his only thought was pleasuring Jameela. He did not want to spray his life-juices inside her until he knew she was about to experience the same lustful release he felt striving to be unleashed.
“Harder!” Jameela hissed. “Ram me harder, Dagan!” Her own climax was rapidly approaching. She could feel the itch that flooded her lower belly and made her squirm all the harder against her lover.
His lady could not have said anything more erotic and Dagan could no longer hold at bay the rushing torrent that spilled into the hot, velvety vessel beyond. The force of his ejaculation elicited a yell of possessiveness and release.
Jameela screamed as she climaxed. So forceful was the penetration of that welcoming shaft, so potent the shot of Dagan’s sperm, she knew beyond all doubt her womb would welcome those hot life-juices and cultivate within a child of their union.
With his newfound powers that the parasite inside him granted, Dagan knew it, as well.
Collapsing atop his woman, the Master Trainer—who from that day forward would train no more women—closed his eyes and surrendered to the fate he had first cursed. Without the Transference of the being nestled within him, he would never have been able to sire a child by this woman he loved more than life itself.
Lying quietly, their bodies still trembling from the strength of their lovemaking, the couple strove to quiet their heaving breaths and still the rapid thunder of their hearts. Threading his fingers with hers, Dagan lifted Jameela’s hand to his lips then placed it on his chest as he rolled to his side, content for the first time in his thirty-five years.
“Did what was done to you cause this?” Jameela asked quietly.
“Aye,” he replied and turned his head to gaze into her eyes. He was hurt to see worry on her lovely face. “I will never harm you, milady.”
“There will be changes,” she whispered. Tears formed in her eyes. “To you.”
Dagan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “At first, I thought this was a hideous thing that had been done to me but now…”
“Now?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled.
He bent over her to kiss away the frown. “Now, I can see at least one advantage to having a parasite inside me which can heal my every wound.” He shrugged. “Even as old a wound as the one I suffered as a boy.”
At the mention of the word, Jameela’s fear overtook her worry. “There is a disease inside you?”
The beastess curled around his kidney shifted, bringing a moment’s passing pain. It was a warning to him that the parasite had not appreciated being called such.
Dagan moved uneasily for the pain was more annoyance than misery. He explained to his lady what the thing inside him was and that it would be with him for the remainder of his life. He told her that should the revenant worm—as Neith had called it—die, he would follow quickly.
“But you h
ave nothing to fear, milady,” he said. “I intend to live a long, sensuous life with you at my side.”
Jameela wiped away her tears and forced a tremulous smile to her lips. “I like the sound of that, Dagan.”
Dagan sighed contentedly then lay down again, bringing Jameela into the circle of his arms. He nestled her head against his shoulder and stroked her long hair. “Hagan is about to lie with her,” he said.
Jameela experienced a moment of intense jealousy and stiffened.
“She will take his blood.”
“He is still my husband,” Jameela said with clenched teeth.
Dagan blinked. “You would rather have him?”
“No!” Jameela was quick to say, arching her neck so she could look at him. “But I don’t like it that she will have had the both of you.”
“As the both of us have had you,” he said quietly.
Jameela’s anger evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced. Her eyes softened. “Women are ever jealous of one another, milord. Forget I mentioned it.” She lay down, cuddling closer to him but as realization set in, she sat bolt upright in the bed.
“What?” he asked, his brows clashing.
“She will heal him!”
Dagan smiled. “Aye, she will.”
“He will walk again?” At her lover’s slow nod, Jameela began to cry again.
“Now what ails you, wench?” Dagan demanded. “Are you sorry my brother will no longer be a cripple?”
She shook her head. “I cry because I am happy for him, you fool!” she snapped. “He was good to me and he deserves happiness of his own.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
At a loss as to what to do, Dagan patted her clumsily, unnerved and unmanned by her weeping. Upset with himself for not knowing how to handle her tears, he simply pulled her down beside him and held her, crooning words she had no way of understanding but feeling better for doing it.
Jameela’s ear was pressed closely to her lover’s chest and she could hear the steady, comforting beat of his stalwart heart. This man was hers and would be hers for as long as she lived. That knowledge brought a peace she had never hoped to feel.
“There will be times when I will need to go to that special place that is to be built,” he reminded her.
“And I will go there with you.”
Dagan shook his head. “Nay, you will not!” he said firmly.
She considered his answer for a moment then relaxed against him. “Then I will be waiting outside the door when you come out again.”
“For that,” he said, loosening his hold, “I will be thankful, wench.”
A long silence passed between them then Jameela asked if he thought she should make the acquaintance of the woman who had brought the three of them to a better life.
“Stay clear of her, ‘Meela,” he said, using a nickname he had often wanted to call her. “She is what she is and I have no more trust of her than I do any other Ordonese.”
“And you stay clear of her, as well,” Jameela ordered.
“With the greatest pleasure,” Dagan swore.
“Then seal the bargain, warrior,” she demanded and reached down for the shaft that had given her such extreme delight. Discovering it thickening in her grip, she used her free hand to rip open his shirt. She lowered her head and kissed his chest then ran her tongue down to one exposed pap. The instant her tongue touched that pebble of flesh, it hardened. Gripping it with her teeth, she lightly worried that manly nugget, grinning to herself, as the rod in her hand became heated iron.
As his lover’s mouth moved to his side and the cock she had pulled from his breeches began to throb, he flung his hands out to his sides and let her have her way with him. As her sweet, velvety soft lips closed around the head of his cock, he sighed with anticipation.
“Give me what I desire as I have given you what you desired,” the beastess within him whispered.
Along with the craving for the body of the woman he loved came a great thirst for rich, red blood.
“Not this lady’s!”Dagan sent.
“You will live a hundred years,”the beastess proclaimed. “Longer still if you stay out of the clutches of your enemies.”
Understanding shot through Dagan in an instant. Even as his manhood oozed life-juices into the suckling mouth of his lady, his blood began to turn cold.
“Make her one of us and you will be together for as long as you both wish to live,” the parasite cooed.
As though she had heard the evil thing speaking, Jameela released his shaft and looked up at him. Their eyes met and held. In hers was a silent question. In his, terror combined with despair.
“Dagan?” she finally questioned.
“I change, Jameela,” he said, flinching at the thought. “To something so vile, so…”
“If I were to change, as well,” she said. “Could we then be together in that special place being built?”
He thought a moment then nodded slowly.
Sliding her body up his, she pulled her hair to one side and offered him her neck. “Then do it,” she said.
Every instinct within him screamed denial. He could see the lightly pulsing vein in the slender column of her neck; actually hear the rush and flow of her blood running. His mouth watered and he licked his lips, the craving to taste her a physical pain that grew with every beat of her heart.
“Jameela,” he whimpered.
“Do it,” she repeated. “I would be one with you, my beloved.”
The addiction was too strong. The need was too great. The proposition of the beastess inside him was too demanding. He knew himself to be weak where this woman was concerned and the thought of her lying lifeless, death corrupting her lovely flesh was more painful than he could bear.
“Do it,” Jameela whispered.
He pushed himself up, moved over her and lowered his mouth to the pulse at the side of her throat. Spurred on as much as his great love for his lady as with the hunger invading his soul, he could feel his fangs extending.
Jameela winced as the sharpness entered her flesh. She drew in a deep breath and held it as numbness spread over the punctures. He was drawing on her flesh but she felt no pain. His tongue was lathing the wound and she was sinking into a gentle lassitude that made her eyelids flutter before she closed them.
“Do not take too much,”the creature warned. “There is venom in your bite but it will prepare the way for the Transference when it is time.”
Inside his body there were fledglings growing to maturity. One would be drawn out of his flesh and placed inside Jameela’s. She would, then, be like him and there would be no returning to the way either of them were.
Gently, he eased his fangs from her throat, licked away the tiny beads of blood that remained, and then folded her in his arms once more. For the moment, the craving inside him had been satiated. As he laid there with her, his cock still throbbing, he willed the rock-hard erection to go away.
“Oh, no,” Jameela murmured and her hand slid down his chest and to the jutting column of his cock. “I want it harder, milord, not limp.”
Dagan sucked in his breath as she bent over him and drew his shaft into her mouth. As she milked him of his life juices he tried not to think of Hagan.
“She tells me I will walk again when that evil thing is put in me,” his twin’s voice slithered through his head. “She says the sex will be better than ever!”
“She’s taken his blood,” Dagan muttered.
Jameela lifted her head. “Shut up, warrior. Concentrate on what I’m doing, not what your brother is up to.”
“I was only…” Dagan began but she slid her hand around his shaft and twisted lightly but firmly from side to side, moving her fingers up and down, dragging him deeper into her mouth—just as he had taught her to do.
Giving himself up to her soft ministrations, Dagan Kiel closed his eyes and forced all thoughts from his mind.
Save the erotic one that made his blood boil and his cock as rigid as stone.
<
br /> * * * * *
Hagan tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His hands were on the arms of his rolling chair, clutching the wood as though the two projections were a lifeline. “Will it hurt?” he asked. He stared up at Neith. “I have feeling in my back and hips if not these useless legs.”
Neith hunkered down in front of him and placed her hands on his thighs. “They will not be useless once the Transference takes place, Beloved One.”
“But will it hurt?” the Grand Master repeated, worry clouding his amber eyes.
“Aye,” she replied honestly. “It will but isn’t that a small price to pay to walk again? To ride?”
A dreamy look crossed over Hagan’s handsome face. “To swim again,” he sighed, then opened his eyes wide. “That I won’t be able to do, will I?”
She shook her head. “No, but you can fuck me until your cock falls off. Won’t that be better than swimming?”
“Swimming in your cunt honey?” he retorted, his lips twitching.
Neith lifted her head. “I’ve had more than my share of lovers, warrior, but my cunt is as tight as a virgin’s! The parasite makes it so!”
Hagan looked at his twin who was standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. “How bad was the pain?” he asked.
“Bad enough,” Dagan replied without expression.
“Will I…” Hagan swallowed. “Will I scream with that pain, Dagan?”
“Like a steer at pulling time.”
Flinching, the Grand Master squeezed his eyes shut.
“It is too late for second thoughts, Beloved,” Neith said with a touch of anger. “The venom is in you and the thirst will grow. When it becomes a hunger, you will wish yourself capable of slacking it.”
Hagan did not open his eyes and his words were directed at his brother. “Can’t I just have a gob…a goblet of the stuff?” he asked, swallowing at the nausea that leapt up his throat at the thought.
Neith rolled her eyes. Dagan snorted. “You haven’t given him a taste yet?” he asked.
“Not of Sustenance, I haven’t,” she said with a wink.
Dagan unfolded his arms and came to stand beside his brother. “You don’t have a choice, Hagan,” he said, hands on hips. “You want to walk, to run, to dance with this woman?”
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