by Danube Adele
“You still think you’ll forget me?” He’d pulled the dress up so his hand was riding the outside of my thigh.
“I will!” But then his mouth was on me, swirling his tongue with mine, rubbing and sucking until I felt his fingers slide beneath the seam of my thong, stroking me. I was panting into a kiss more carnal than I’d ever experienced in my life. I was going up in flames.
“Open your legs,” he growled against my mouth. “Do it now.”
“No,” I whispered. God, I was so wet. “I don’t need you! I can give myself an orgasm.”
“Every time you come, you’re going to think of me and me alone.” Then his fingers slid between the moist folds, and he gave a groan that was guttural with appreciation. His fingers moved over my swollen clit, and my hips bucked against him involuntarily. “So fucking wet. Do you know how hard I am? I just want to fuck you right now.”
“No.” But the word was too quiet amidst the overwhelming lust that was carrying me away beyond rational thought. How hard was he? I wanted to touch it, grasp it.
He suddenly switched positions, putting himself against the wall, and then I was leaning into him, moving with his fingers that were rubbing and pinching and driving me crazy. I was gasping with every breath. “Do you want to come?”
I couldn’t deny it. “I do.”
“Open your legs.”
I did. Then his fingers used the moisture dripping from me to rub my clit harder, faster. I moved against his hand, curling my hips into him, desperate for the ride.
“Oh, Tabron.” I writhed against him, grinding against his big hand. “I’m going to come!”
“Come now.” And as though his permission was the key, my body jerked with the sudden wave of overwhelming heat that had me moving convulsively against his hand. I cried into his mouth as he fed me a searing kiss that kept the orgasm going longer. And when I couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed away, and his hand fell.
With a look of satisfaction, he lifted his hand and sucked his fingers. “You chose me, and now you’re mine. There will be no one else.”
My sex pulsed at the sight, but the horror of what I’d let happen came upon me. I had given up this last measure of control. He’d brought me here against my will and I was going to have to serve his odious leader, but at least I could have maintained some measure of dignity. I took a shaky breath. I could have gotten out of that hold. It was that I hadn’t wanted to. I had submitted to him and enjoyed it.
My eyes burned. “I still don’t want you. Keep your woman-hating self away from me.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I forcibly brought Carlos to mind. He was love. He was care. He was my best friend and my shield. Why was I letting the Viking manipulate me?
“What is this?” His voice turned harsh. Fury suddenly lit his eyes. “Is there someone else who was your partner?”
“You didn’t think of that, did you? That I might have a husband, kids, a family.”
He stared into my eyes, searchingly.
“You told me at your family’s party that you were alone. You aren’t the kind of woman who would make a fool of your partner.”
While he was right about that, I wasn’t going to give in. “You might be able to make me want you, but you’ll never be able to touch my heart. My heart belongs to someone else and his belongs to me, but you wouldn’t know anything about that because you’re a cold, heartless bastard. You belong to no one.”
His anger was swift. It clouded his face and clenched his jaw, making a muscle tick. I could see the inner fight. The struggle to breathe away my words.
He shoved away from the wall, and I moved out of the way quickly, but he only walked past me, pausing at the door to look back at me. “Maybe I’ll be content with your body. Think on that while I’m gone.”
He was leaving? Where to? Was it like Morten had said? Did he have something to do with it? But I wasn’t going to ask. At least, I wasn’t going to ask him.
Chapter Nine
The late morning sun beamed rays of light across the bed when Tayla opened the curtains, one of which highlighted my eyelids straight on. A groaning protest vibrated through my chest wall. I hadn’t slept well or long. Anxious thoughts had chased through my mind for several hours, keeping me from being able to relax.
Would Morten sneak into my room while I was asleep? Draxton? Their henchmen? Every sound I heard somehow became amplified in my mind. Either was entirely capable of attacking someone’s back when they weren’t looking. The palace had a lot of settling, creaky, creepy sounds that had my eyes popping open and seeking the door to my bedroom. Was the knob turning? Was there a shadow falling under the door? Was it about to open?
In the end, I blamed Tabron. It was his fault that I found myself afraid for my safety. Was it possible to get a lock installed?
“The king is waiting for you, Dr. Cecilia.” Tayla ran a gentle hand over my exposed lower arm.
“Thank you,” I managed in a raspy voice. After a moment, I worked myself to a sitting position, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and let my head drop forward, trying to regain my equilibrium. My hair curtained my face against the sun.
“I brought you some bread and fruit if you’d like to take a few minutes to eat. Maybe get a quick bath?”
“If you have coffee or an energy drink, I’ll love you forever.” I looked up, squinting at her, appreciating her kind smile.
“We have coffee. I’m not sure what an energy drink is.”
“Bless you. Coffee is good.” My system needed a kick start.
“And, your clothes have been cleaned. What you arrived in, that is. I also spoke to one of the servants, and she would be pleased to modify a few of Tarra’s dresses for you.”
“That would be great, as long as Tarra doesn’t mind.” My eyes were gradually adjusting, and I rubbed the sleep out of them the best I could.
“What you have here is just a small bit of what she owns.” She motioned to the dresses I’d swept onto the chair before dropping into bed the previous night. “Why don’t I leave you to yourself? In a short while, I’ll return to take you to the king. By then, he’ll be finished with his meal.”
“Okay.” I managed a smile of thanks. At least someone here was taking my side, even if there wasn’t much she could do.
A small loaf of bread sat on a tray with butter and chunks of what looked like an apple. My mouth watered at the sight. That was what my body needed. Something light and healthy.
It was while I was getting clean that I remembered his big, rough hand sliding through my sex. I couldn’t lie. It had been my most explosive orgasm to date. Just remembering it was making my blood warm. How was I going to keep myself from jumping him? I didn’t have an answer, and instead, finished my bath before throwing my jeans and T-shirt on and eating some of the food. With Raseen and little Cyral in mind, I left behind about half of what I was given, planning on sneaking it to them at some point in the day. There was no way I would ever be convinced that giving children food was a bad thing. Wrapping the extra food in another cloth napkin, I hid it under my pillow, just as Tayla knocked.
She entered when I called, “Come in.”
“Are you ready to see the king?”
“I am.” I was as ready as I was going to be with no actual equipment to take with me.
“The king’s quarters are in a different wing of the house. I’ll show you.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes down a long hallway that led to a part of the palace I’d yet to tour. The floors were the same polished stones, and there was art on the walls, but it looked dark, like it needed a cleaning from some kind of an art restoration professional. An archway to a small sitting room of some kind, another archway that opened to a sunroom, more closed doors. I wondered where they led. Bedrooms? Were any of the other warriors housed in t
he hall?
At this point, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed to ask about Tabron.
“Where did Tabron have to go?”
“Our borders to the south have experienced some issues. I’m not quite sure what they are.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Nothing Tabron and his men couldn’t handle.”
I nodded, remembering the previous night and how I’d come apart in his arms, the pain in his eyes when I’d rejected him. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care, but he did. In small ways, he’d shown it. Not that I was at all saying what happened last night was right or that I wasn’t hell bent on returning home, but after hearing the short form of his childhood, I could see why he’d be put off by the idea of a wife.
“You care for him, don’t you?” Tayla was obviously talking about Tabron.
I shrugged, sort of shook my head.
“Well, I’ll just tell you that underneath it all, he’s a good man. I’ve known him since he was a child, and he might seem uncaring, but if you look more closely, you’ll draw a different conclusion. He expected nothing when he arrived here, and was always appreciative of what he was given, whether it be food or clothing. Now he seems to feel indebted to the king for bringing him up.”
I nodded. To say anything would either confirm or deny, and I didn’t know what to think about Tabron at this point. We were nearing a door at the far end of a hallway when Tayla stopped. “His quarters are through there. Just knock. He’s expecting you.”
“All right.”
Facing the door of the king’s rooms, I squared my shoulders and proceeded to walk the remainder of the hall to the large, ornately decorated double doors that opened to the king’s quarters. Here was yet another example of the beautiful craftsmanship the people were known for. Studying the wood carvings that were embedded with different colored metals and stones, I realized the image was of the tree outside, but a wholly different image than I would have expected. The tree had a dark, foreboding quality when you looked at it out in the courtyard, yet it was presented as a thriving, sort of life-giving image on the door.
The symbol of the old kingdom vs. the reality of the new kingdom.
I raised my hand to knock when I heard voices inside. Should I wait?
“He’s disappeared, father. Taken up with rebels, enemies of the Brausa.” It sounded like Morten’s tones, insistent, rising. “To wait any further leaves us vulnerable. We need to send him a message, and at the same time, others like him.”
“What would that message be?” The king sounded anxious. It was a new tone, one I hadn’t heard from the king, who was usually loud, domineering and bombastic.
“That any resistance will not be tolerated.”
“Not tolerated.” Ral’e seemed to be thinking it over. “Yes. Not tolerated. Not tolerated.”
Repetition? Confused tones? Did he have a personality disorder?
“They make a mockery of your throne and the power behind it.” Morten said imperiously.
“And your suggestion?”
“We kill Wellan’s family. I warned him this would happen if he went against us. In the square, we hang them all, including his brats, and be sure to leave them there for the crows.”
“How do we know this won’t inspire further rebellion? Seeing children strung up may not strengthen the loyalty of a nation.” Was the king actually considering hanging children? A mother? I found myself shaking my head desperately, silently coaching him to say no.
“Neither will appearing weak strengthen our cause.”
“You were the one who made the threat. The weakness is yours, not mine.” A spark of anger returned to the king’s voice. The relief was immediate. I wasn’t going to have to see children from the village, frightened out of their minds, being noosed and dragged along to the tree that had once likely been so beautiful.
“I made it in your name!”
“That’s your problem.”
“At the very least consider what I’m saying...”
“I’ll consider it. Now leave me.” It was more to placate. The king sounded as though he was done talking. Morten would be coming this way now wouldn’t he? Not wanting to be caught listening, I raised my hand to knock. The door opened abruptly, showing that Morten had been about to exit.
“What are you doing here?” There was swelling around his nose and a light bruise near his temple. Man, I was truly becoming a strong member of the girls-kick-ass club.
“The king sent for me.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Leave her,” the king called with exasperation. “Come, Dr. Cecilia. Let’s talk. Shut the door behind you, won’t you, Morten?”
I bit back a smile, but I’m sure I couldn’t completely wipe out the triumph from my expression. It probably shined through. Frustration was in his eyes, jaw tight as he opened the door wide. There was nothing he could do with the king present. He would have to wait to harass me again at another time. I almost asked him how his face was feeling, but figured it wasn’t smart to taunt a bully.
I swept past him into the room. I couldn’t resist saying, “Shut the door, would you? Doctor-patient confidentiality is very important.”
The door closed with more force than needed, and I allowed myself a pleasant smile as I approached the king.
“How are you this morning?”
He was sitting at another ornately carved table near a large window, his body clothed in silky-looking robes, far different from the material the villagers had access to. So many discrepancies existed. It was something to ask Tayla about. I still wasn’t sure Tabron would appreciate hearing my criticisms since he had such a strong sense of duty or something like that.
“Trouble sleeping.” He peered at me with a hint of vulnerability. “Why are they all out to get me?”
“Who’s out to get you?”
He motioned with a blanket gesture that encompassed the whole and no one in particular. A wild gesture that was accompanied by a look of confusion. “Everyone? Why does my tongue feel so strange? Dead. Am I dying?”
“King Ral’e, I don’t think you’re dying at all. You say you’re not sleeping? Why is that? Not tired?” Hints of paranoia that weren’t present yesterday. Were they present the night I’d arrived? It was hard to remember. I’d been so overwhelmed with my own issues.
“A need to go to the toilet through the night.” He motioned to some papers in the middle of the table, like a file. There was even a pencil there. “This information was collected by the last doctor if you’d like a moment to see what he wrote. I imagine you’d have the same questions for me that he had.”
Taking a seat opposite Ral’e, I pulled the papers closer to me. They were neatly ordered from first visit to last, which weren’t very many visits.
“Can you tell me what they say? I tried to read, but I couldn’t remember...” He trailed off with a frown down at his empty plate. It looked like he’d just finished eating breakfast. There was still half a cup of orange juice sitting in front of him. It wasn’t the best thing for him to drink. Better to just eat the orange and get the benefit of the pulp.
“Well, let’s see.” I took a moment to skim the few pages of white paper, maybe butcher paper that had been cut down to size, and pencil, which had smeared some. “It says that you talked about having to get up frequently in the night to urinate. You talked about being tired a lot. Thirsty. Hungry. Is this all still accurate?” There were notes about his irascible manner as well, but I didn’t think anything needed to be said about that.
“Yes.”
“Is there any other symptom you’ve encountered?” Continuing the organizational method the other doctor began, I started a new section with my name at the top, calling it the first visit. I quickly noted that all previous symptoms were still present in the patient
.
“I’m starting to have some trouble seeing things.” Fresh anxiety blossomed in the creases between his brows, around his lips and under his eyes. It looked like he was frowning fiercely, but I could feel his worry.
“Blurred vision?” I gave his eyes a quick glance. How old a guy? Maybe he was developing cataracts. “Do you mind if I approach? Can I look into your eyes?”
“Of course.”
I moved around the table. “This isn’t ideal. I don’t have any of my usual doctor tools, but if you could look toward the window, some of the ambient light will let me see better.”
“Of course.” He moved with some difficulty, scooting the chair, and grimacing as he did it, to better fit the angle of the light coming through the window. I could see he was experiencing pain. “I’m feeling a bit strange in the head. I can’t seem to keep a thought for long.”
So many symptoms. I took up the chair next to him and moved aside his plate and cup. Something white was floating near the top. It looked like a small, crunched up part of a pill that didn’t get completely melted in the juice. Morten’s work?
“Are you on any medication?”
“No,” he shook his head. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’d just gotten backwash from his breakfast in his drink. Eew.
“Is something else hurting you?” I asked curiously
He paused for a moment, looked down briefly, and shook his head, which made me feel like he wasn’t telling the truth.
“I can only help you if you are completely truthful with me,” I warned him. “Leaving out any information is going to mean not being able to serve you.”
“I understand.” His voice sounded a bit gruff.
“Follow my pencil with your eyes. Do not move your head.” He was able to follow my directions, but there was no film that I could detect. “Was it a sudden or gradual onset?”
“Gradual.” He watched me take some notes. “I’m afraid of dying as my father did. One day he went to sleep and never woke up.”
“Really?” I stopped writing. “There was no warning? Did your mother have an idea of what was happening?”