by Chris Lange
Still the witch and the wizard fought, probably too intent on slaughtering each other to notice their devastated surroundings. They hurtled balls of energy, ducked and attacked, neither of them gaining advantage. From the castle, they resembled distant shadows trapped in sizzling brightness.
She grabbed hold of her mother's arm when the ground started shaking and pressed her cheeks against her bosom, eyes wide open As the world around them finally quieted, she witnessed the ruined tower and the magical deadlock that had to come to an end.
Although she wasn’t a target, she cringed from the raw power of the magicians’ fireballs, as well as from the faint sight of Kylor crouched against the last standing wall.
The sorceress hit Xandor forcefully when she released another of her lethal shooting orb, sending him sprawling inches from the gaping void. The top half of his body hanging out, his fingers gripping the edge of the floor, Xandor tried to get back inside the crumbling keep.
Her mother gasped beside her as they both realized in a flash that he wouldn’t have time. The witch wouldn’t give him time. Melisande must have sensed victory because she advanced on her enemy and lifted her arms in a flourishing gesture to summon her magic.
Still crouched behind them, her guardian suddenly stood up and leapt. The vengeful sorceress sensed his movement for she whirled around, but not fast enough. As the witch confronted him, Kylor thrust his sword forward with all his might. He impaled her.
Melisande hollered, her high-pitched yell of pain annihilating all other sound. She screamed again when Kylor wrenched his blade out of her guts, twisting the lethal weapon in the process. Then he brandished the sword with both hands, and beheaded her in a clean sweep.
Down in the courtyard, everybody seemed to be in rapture, staring at the deadly fight in what had once been the top of the tower. Guards and peers alike gasped when the witch's head detached from her body and fell down. A stunned silence followed Melisande’s death, though quickly broken by loud cheers and wild cries of triumph.
Her terror receding, she let go of the nasty tension holding her body prisoner and let the panic withdraw. Shivers coursed down her spine. Still hugging her mother, she glimpsed Kylor help his father to rise.
Both of them headed for the stairs with careful steps, the wizard leaning on his son's arm. The battle was over, and she longed for her protector’s embrace. She needed his tender cuddles, his warmth and strength. Most of all, she wanted to cry out in Kylor's arms.
She dashed outside, but was promptly halted by her father as soon as she reached the courtyard. Standing amongst his peers, the king had already sent some of his men to assist the wizard in his descent from the keep, as well as to retrieve the witch’s remains.
He span round before she had time to circle past his courtiers, and seized her arm with a warning grip.
"A princess does not scamper. It's improper. Whatever the circumstance, it is a sign of weakness."
Why did he have to choose this precise moment to start giving her lessons in ruling? Or did he imagine she wouldn't run to her guardian so that he, Harfayn, King of Palance, might hang him until his tongue lolled out of his mouth?
"Kylor rid the land of the witch. He did you the greatest of favors, Father, so don’t tell me you aren’t relieved."
The monarch's haughty expression didn't sit well her. Irritated by her father’s coldness towards the savior of the day, she stood on tiptoes and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"Or will you bear a grudge against him forever? I do believe he deserves your forgiveness and your respect."
Brow furrowed, the king looked at her without answering. If he didn't yield now, Kylor would never be a free man.
Chapter Twenty
She had to contain an exasperated sigh while her father made up his mind. As fast as he had grabbed her arm to stop her flight toward the tower, he abruptly nodded and released her.
"He shall have my respect."
She felt like hoping up and down with joy at the sound of his words. He'd let her be betrothed to Kylor now, and she couldn't be happier. As for forgiveness, time might take care of the sovereign's stubborn attitude.
King Harfayn let go of her arm just as her guardian emerged from the keep. She bolted at the sight of him, sprinting to her beloved warrior. Mindless of anything but her, he spotted her instantly and ran toward her. She didn't slow down until she almost collided with him.
He hugged her tightly, crushed her against his muscular chest, and she sighed as moistness invaded the special place he called pussy. He whirled her around in front of the whole court, his eyes shining with love. Before she could catch her breath, she was back on her feet.
Kylor lifted her chin and his mouth claimed hers. He parted her lips, he filled her with a passionate kiss. She clung to his neck, oblivious of the crowd, drilling her tongue into his mouth. Bodies locked, she felt his cock hardening, felt life coursing through him. He was alive. They breathed the same air and, if she had her say, they'd soon fall onto her bed.
After that intense kiss, she had trouble keeping track of time and events. The nobles opened a path toward the castle for them, clapping Kylor on the shoulder with large smiles.
Once inside the walls of the grand palace, they all gathered in Xandor’s apartments. A healer was fetched to tend his flesh wounds, and her mother sat beside the wizard while he was being taken care of.
As King Harfayn launched into a boring lecture about ensuring the safety of his people and his territories, she thought it was a perfect time to enquire about her commitment to her protector.
"Father, what's a betrothal?"
He drew up his eyebrows as she cut short his tirade. She believed her question fountain clear, yet she had to insist when he didn't reply but glanced back to catch her mother's attention.
"Does it mean Kylor and I can fornicate anytime we want?"
Indeed, she cut him short. The king's face reddened while his gaze glinted with outrage. The healer gasped and paused in midair, the wizard raised big, round eyes to her, the queen placed a soothing hand around her husband’s wrist, and Kylor grinned at her.
Her father's skin shade dangerously darkened towards purple while he appeared to struggle to find his voice. Pointing a finger at her, he articulated for the benefit of all.
"I shall not tolerate that language in my castle. Daughter, you will go to your rooms and not come out until I say so."
"She's ignorant of the rules of etiquette."
The queen stroked her husband's wrist while her appeasing tone contrasted with his yelling.
"Don't be harsh on her, Harfayn. She has much to learn."
She silently thanked her mother while she respectfully bowed to her father before he could say anything else. He'd just given her the opportunity to do what she had been planning since the kiss, and she'd seize it.
"Your wish is my command, Father."
With a last glance at the company, she retreated to the door with what she hoped resembled a dutiful attitude.
"I'll go to my rooms now."
Grabbing Kylor's fingers, she jerked him out of the room and closed the door without waiting for the king's next order.
They ran to her apartments, hand in hand, a mischievous grin on their faces, and raising curious looks as they crossed path with peers and servants in the vast hallways. Breathless from their escape, she faced Kylor after they entered her chambers and scurried to the room at the back.
His eyes on her were hungry, mirroring the desire gripping her belly. They took off their clothes without a word, both staring at the other’s bare flesh and craving to be touched.
"I was terrified when the witch threw you out of the tower. I thought you were dead."
She shuddered at the horrendous recollection. Furiously glad he now stood in front of her, she pleaded.
"Put your cock into me, Kylor. I need it in me."
Epilogue
The object of her lust hadn't waited for her desire to stiffen, its glossy he
ad already pointing at her navel. She put her arms around her protector’s neck. Sliding his hands under her buttocks, Kylor lifted her with disconcerting ease, his shaft brushing her open folds.
"Talk to me, my lady."
His arousing touch made her tremble. His request quickened her blood as he held her against him.
"Tell me you long for my affection as much as I long for yours."
"I do, my lord, please stab me with your big cock."
She slid down on him, taking her time to place her pussy over his tip and feel every inch of his hard rod. She went all the way down, fully enjoying the sensation of their flesh melting in warmth and wetness. He simply held her.
Her motion was unhurried, allowing him to penetrate her without pressure, to stuff her gaping hole to the brim. The very slowness of their movement ignited a staggering feeling, so intense it brought tears to her eyes.
She used his shoulders for support, keen sobs escaping her lips as she rose up and down his shaft. Yet she couldn’t muffle the depth of her emotion, for she had never known anything like it. Even if her father barged into the room this instant, she wouldn’t stop.
His dick buried inside her, his eyes unfocused, Kylor began to utter harsh moans as she perceived a new urgency in him. He tightened his grip on her buttocks, breathing as if he had been running all the way from the farm, biting his lower lip yet restraining his rush.
"I wish to lay eyes on your ass, my lady."
His thrilled gaze showed his ardor. Shivers streaked the inside of her thighs while she listened to him.
"Would you like to be ridden like a bitch? Would you display your beautiful rump for me?"
His demand sent her excitement straight to the ethers. Letting go of his square shoulders, she crossed the short distance to the bed, jumped on it, and obediently adopted the requested position.
"Is this what my lord desires?"
The idea of laying herself bare to his view heated her pussy as he hissed through clenched teeth.
"By the Mighty Gods, Anya.
She buried her face in the pillow and willingly shut out all sight of the outside world. This time, she craved being blind. She raised her bottom high, legs wide open, nipples grazing against the sheet.
Her mind keeled over at the sound of his sharp intake of breath when she revealed herself to him. She gripped the fresh linen with trembling hands, eyes squeezed tight.
She felt his finger touching her moistness, probing, closing on her special place and rubbing it. Mouth in the pillow, she moaned, the astounding sensation she'd experienced before stirring within her loins.
A soft whimper escaped her throat when the tip of his dick found her wet folds. With a harsh grunt, he rammed into her in a single push. She cried out, pleasure raking her body, ravaging her mind.
Hands firm on her hips, he shoved his rigid shaft into her, again and again. His powerful thrusts inflamed her senses, propelled her toward the brink of explosion. She forgot everything. She forgot her doubts and fears, even her lingering bitterness at the evil sorceress.
All she knew was the devastating satisfaction of his iron cock pounding her, smashing her, driving them both to an ecstasy so violent that they shouted in unison, their bodies squirting, their souls mating.
Blind to men she was no more. As she opened her eyes to the world again and Kylor collapsed on her back, she briefly wondered if she had grasped the full meaning of betrothal.
Don't leave the Four Kingdoms just yet, but enjoy an excerpt from BLADE HEART. This story also takes place in the Four Kingdoms 150 years after BLIND TO MEN.
BLADE HEART by Chris Lange
Chapter One
“Keep on doing this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”
The masculine voice penetrated her beautiful dream—invaded it. Still, she felt so at peace in her fantasy that she tried to hang on to the vivid images. Eyes closed, she lay on her side at the foot of a maple tree in the heart of a bright meadow. Her head rested on the blanket she held in one of her hands. Birds chirped above, their song carried by the amorous whispers of a spring breeze.
Far away a cow mooed, and the bellowing sound seemed to float in the air. Golden rays gleamed through her eyelids, stroked her arms, and enveloped her body in a warm embrace. The smell of fresh grass caressed her nose and she inhaled slowly to capture the verdant fragrance. Her heart filled with an inner peace she didn’t want to let go of, she kept her eyes shut and curled her hand tighter around the blanket.
“I said keep on doing this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”
That voice again. The rough undertone jostled through her wonderful fantasy, weaved its way into it to dispel the peaceful vision beyond the wavering meadow. God, but she wished so much to stay there. Lips parted, she exhaled a long sigh before opening her eyelids.
She didn’t see a green, grassy field but some kind of brownish cloth very much resembling suede. Actually what she had taken for a blanket seemed to be the front of a pair of pants. As if she was an outside observer she studied her hand pressed against the tight fabric, her fingers splayed over a lump. Funny enough, the hard lump felt alive.
Her gaze travelled up, taking in the curious belt around his waist, the light brown shirt opened at the neck, the square jaw covered with the stubble of several nights, the full lips, the piercing green eyes regarding her with… What? Certainly not hesitancy.
She looked down again, her mind seemingly still caught in the dream and not yet ready to function. As she tensed her fingers to apprehend reality, the mass hardened under her palm. Eyes widening, she stared at her hand as if the limb had become an independent part of her body. Oh, God, she was holding the private parts of a total stranger.
The shocking realisation had her rolling over in a heartbeat, landing on her back with a dizzy feeling. But in doing so, she had pushed against the tight lump to gather momentum.
“Ouch! That’s not the way to treat a man.”
Although she wanted nothing more than to let her mind wander in the blue depths of the cloudless sky above or maybe dive back into her oblivious dream, she cast him a quick glance.
He winced, his back straight against the sturdy maple tree of her dream, his legs spread out. Notwithstanding the fact that her head had been resting on his hard thigh for God knew how long, she had fondled his… No, she didn’t want to think about this now.
A perfect stranger he was and ‘perfect’ appeared like the precise term to describe him. As he stood up to do some pulling around his crotch she felt her breath surging out of her lungs. So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.
Her heart hopped. Her stomach swivelled. She sat up in an attempt to brush aside her body’s impulsive reactions, but the bright rays of the sun cascading down on him and enhancing his maleness didn’t help. Who was he? Why had she been napping with his thigh as a pillow? And beautiful as the meadow was, how had she ended up here?
While trying to control her erratic pulse, she noticed her own clothes. Leather boots laced around her ankles and calves, black suede pants and open-necked shirt loose enough to allow freedom of movement, her outfit appeared similar to his but with a feminine cut. Hung around her neck, a piece of something shiny rested between her breasts.
“Time to go.
His sharp tone interrupted her new discovery. She looked up to find him straightening the belt around his waist while checking the position of two daggers on his hips. Now who walked around with that kind of weapon? If he did feel threatened in a quiet meadow, why not use guns?
When he bent down to the foot of the tree to pick up the long dark cloak he had been sitting on, she realised he hadn’t been talking to himself, but he expected her to follow him.
“I don’t know you and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Good thing I wasn’t asking for your opinion then.”
She jumped to her feet as he flung the cloak over his right shoulder then extracted a piece of l
eather string from the pouch at his belt. But she didn’t leap fast enough to avoid his dangerous nearness. Although he scanned their deserted surroundings, he seemed focused solely on her.
“Give me your hands.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
She took a step back, her attention fixed on the leather string he fiddled with. Did he really mean to tie her up? Insane as the idea sounded, the stranger’s resolute stance showed his sudden impatience to be on the move. To go where? And why would he want her to accompany him? Whatever his destination, she wouldn’t be a part of it.
“Look, this is some kind of mistake. I’ve never seen you in my life and I have no intention of going with you.”
A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, but his gaze remained frozen while he reached out to her.
“Didn’t I mention I’m not interested in your opinion?”
She took three steps back this time, a small knot moving up and down her dry throat. A cow bellowed again in the distance, probably the same one. A light breeze ruffled her hair and the man in front of her waited. Without daring to shift her attention she cocked her head.
“God, who are you?”
“No time for niceties. I’m dead and we need to find a shelter for the night. It’s getting late.”
In spite of his rigid attitude and icy glare he looked so damn alive that she almost laughed in his face. Yet she had been distracted. A single stride and he grabbed her wrists to twirl the string around them so fast she could only gasp. When he let go, her hands were fastened up, though not so much as to induce pain. Shifting her eyes from her fingers to his face, she stammered before swallowing the knot in her throat.
“What do you want with me?”
“Let’s go.”
He turned round and started walking down the gentle slope, crushing grass under his boots. She stared at his straight back, feeling like he was trampling her beautiful fantasy. Although she didn’t want to follow him, the thought of spending the whole night alone by the maple tree with her hands tied didn’t appeal to her. No, it didn’t.