The Ippos King: Wraith Kings Book Three

by Draven, Grace

  He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Rarely, though some might consider courting you one and the same.”

  “You aren't courting me,” she snapped, the blush riding her cheekbones now spreading across her face. He'd flustered her.

  “So sayeth you,” he replied. “And only you.”

  “You assume a great deal just because I kissed you on that hillside.”

  “No, I simply hope for a great deal more.” That kiss had sustained him through the pain and given him the impetus to fight past it, fight hard, and do whatever it took to stay alive just for the opportunity of experiencing all of Anhuset's consuming affections.

  A knock at the door interrupted them before they could argue further. At Serovek's bid to enter, a monk slipped inside and offered the Beladine military salute to Serovek and a bow to Anhuset. “I'm here to collect your supper plates and tell you if you feel well enough, you're welcome to bathe in the springs below ground. They have healing properties that work alongside our magic.” He glanced at Anhuset, gaze touching on her own contusions, cuts, and bruised skin. “You're welcome to do the same, sha-Anhuset.”

  “A most excellent invitation,” Serovek said. “And one I accept.” He set his emptied tankard on the tray just as the monk swept it from his lap. Anhuset rose nimbly to her feet, more watchful than annoyed now. She looked for any weakness in his demeanor that might belie his assurances of strength.

  “Join me,” he said. “I'll prove to you I'm more than capable of taking a walk to a pool.” When she hesitated, he slyly suggested, “It will be your chance to drown me with no one the wiser.” A rattle of dishes sounded at the table as the monk cleared them away.”

  Anhuset's lips twitched. “Well, when you put it like that, I'd be a fool to refuse.”

  Soon, they followed a novice monk through quiet corridors, descending empty stairwells until they were indeed below ground where the monastery kept its root cellars and buttery. Bundled in borrowed woolens and heavy cloaks, they passed another group of chambers, their doors shut, before entering a short hall surrounded entirely by mortared stone with an archway at the end. On the other side, the space opened up to a cavern carved out by nature and time instead of the hand of man. Two small, interlocking pools bubbled quietly, a light veil of steam floating over both.

  “It isn't drinkable,” their guide said. He set down the drying cloths he carried on a flat expanse of rock far enough from the pool to keep dry in case of splashing. “The minerals give the water a strange taste, but it's good for healing shallow wounds and easing the ache of bruises.”

  “And it's warm,” Anhuset said in an almost reverent voice.

  The novice nodded. “Stay as long as you wish. I believe your comrade Erostis will be here later to soak his own injuries, so you'll have company.”

  As much as Serovek liked and admired Erostis, he didn't greet that news with any enthusiasm.

  Once the novice left, Anhuset wasted no time in shedding her borrowed garb and treating Serovek to a breathtaking view of her body before stepping into the first pool and submerging up to her neck. Her white hair floated around her like spider silk and she gestured to him with a wave of her hand. “Are you coming in or do you need help?”

  Had he any plans to hide his desire from her, his aroused state would give him away the moment he pulled off his clothes. Luckily, he had no interest in hiding how much he lusted for her and hoped such obvious proof might convince her he was sincere in his passion.

  He didn't miss the admiring glint lightening her eyes when he waded into the water. She didn't look away or keep distance between them as he swam toward her, the water sliding around him like warm silk.

  “How many bruises did you count as I walked into the water?” he asked.

  To his delight, she floated toward him, only halting when her body bumped against his and her arms slid around his waist. “What bruises?” she said, a hint of her teeth flashing white behind her partial smile. Her laughter, low and sultry, seduced him almost as much as the feel of her pressed against him. He returned her embrace, drawing her close so that no empty space existed between them.

  Sleek and muscled, she was the epitome of the Kai warrior humans feared and respected, physically powerful, very aware of her many strengths and how to use them. Serovek savored those aspects of her, indulged in the way his blood pumped hot through his veins at the way she fit to his body, how her buttocks curved taut in his hands and the muscles in her long back flexed under his caress. She was slim hipped with legs that went for leagues and could break him in half if she wrapped them around his middle and squeezed. The forbidden and the dangerous had always been the lodestones of humanity, and he was no exception. And while Anhuset was still dangerous, the language of her silent affection told him that she was no longer forbidden to him.

  They held each other in the water, doing nothing more for the moment than learning each other's shape and texture in the quiet of the pool, without the threat of death hanging over them or the sense that one kiss might be a first and also a last exchanged. It was a moment to prolong.

  “Are you going to kiss me again, margrave?” she said. “Or have you lost your courage and fear for your tongue?” She didn't challenge him by baring her teeth, but he sensed a subtle shift in her body, a fine tensing of muscle as if she expected him to refuse her invitation.

  He cupped her face, beautiful even with its purplish marks, and tilted her chin up with his thumb. “I finally have a naked sha-Anhuset in my arms. I fear nothing.”

  Her sigh became a moan when he captured her lips with his and explored their contours anew, relearning the giving terrain, the way she tasted, how she slanted her mouth under his and caught his lower lip between both of hers to suck and nibble. Her memory of that first exploration while they stood beaten and bloodied on the island hillside was as clear as his, for she slowed the kiss and opened her mouth wider to invite him inside. He didn't hesitate, swooping in to caress her mouth with his tongue and expertly avoid the sharp points of her teeth. She returned the caress with the same fervor and less caution, her tongue tangling with his before swiping along the top and sides of his mouth.

  They broke apart to breathe. Serovek pressed his forehead to Anhuset's only to retreat when she jerked away with an “ouch!” She touched her brow and he remembered the contusion she'd gained, courtesy of a nasty head-butting that left her with a painful lump and her adversary with a shattered nose and missing teeth.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I'd forgotten about that spot.”

  She waved away his apology. “You can make it up to me,” she said with a sly grin, no longer worried that her toothy amusement might scare him off.

  Those flashes of vulnerability reminded him that for all her physical prowess and ferocity, there were still aspects of Anhuset that were unsure, self-doubting, even fearful. They were as much a part of her character as all the rest, just buried deeper and only revealed to those she trusted most. She trusted him.

  The realization of such a gift bestowed upon him spiked his passion for her even higher though he hadn't thought such a thing possible. He cradled her hips, lifting her a tiny bit. The water's buoyancy made it effortless, and she wrapped her legs around him, anchoring herself in place, thighs wide. Inviting. Tempting. Teasing. Her eyelids dropped to half mast, lending a sleepy come-hither expression to her features. Her back arched, legs tightening on his torso.

  He bent his head to nuzzle her throat, then nibble the elegant cords of her neck, and move on to her shoulder where he bit down gently and was rewarded with a gasp and the sting of her claws raking lightly across his shoulder blades.

  He lifted her higher, arched her back a little more and took one firm breast in his mouth. Her nipple, a lavender-gray, surrounded by an areola of similar shade, hardened in his mouth, and he suckled it to an even stiffer peak. Anhuset's panting moans echoed in the chamber and likely down the narrow corridors where others could hear. Serovek didn't care and doubted she did e
ither.

  His plan to lavish the same attention her other breast was curtailed when Anhuset's legs flexed so tight around him, it was his turn to gasp. “Anhuset,” he rasped. Her eyes, a burnished gold glittering with sparks, stared at him for moment before widening when he gasped again. “Release.” She loosened her grip, and he inhaled a grateful breath.

  While she might have relaxed her hold, she didn't let go entirely. Thigh muscles contracted as did her calves, forcing him forward with a hard push. Her pelvis tilted and in one quick motion he slid partially inside her. “Gods,” he groaned as she squeezed his shaft, her inner muscles flexing to grip the head of his cock and tug.

  “Enough teasing, margrave,” she said in a guttural voice. “Show me what it is to be pleasured by the Beladine Stallion.”

  Her words set him afire. If he were younger and less experienced, he would have come inside her right then, still only halfway embedded in her. He remedied that with a full thrust forward, burying his entire length in her, shuddering at the shockwave of sensation that followed.

  Her eyes rounded for a moment, and her mouth opened but no sound escaped. Afraid he'd hurt her, he tried to withdraw only to have her increase the vise-like grip of her legs on him to hold him in place. “Gods be damned,” she blasphemed in a thin voice. “The rumors are true. You're a fucking horse.”

  “Am I hurting you?” he said, ready to withdraw if needed, though he was nearly delirious from the pleasure of being inside her.

  She shook her head. “No.” She lunged forward to steal a hard kiss. The tip of one tooth raked his bottom lip. He felt the sting and tasted the tang of copper. “Again,” she said, her own lip dotted with his blood.

  He obliged, pumping hard into her as the water in the pool purled back and forth in waves. It was a mating, fierce and hungry, with the rake of claws, the thrust of hips, the bite on a shoulder or neck, a sweet nipple in his mouth, his cock deep inside her body. His name on her lips in a chant that was part command, part begging, part gasping, and all praise as she fucked him into oblivion and drained his bollocks dry.

  He suckled one breast, teasing the other with his fingers as he continued thrusting into her. Anhuset's claw tips pressed into his back, almost breaking skin as she climaxed in his arms and nearly cracked his newly healed ribs under the grip of her legs. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and pounded against his breastbone. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face, beading on his skin along with the water

  Anhuset inhaled great gulps of air and slowly peeled her fingers off his back. Serovek was certain if he were to look in a mirror now, he'd see divots in his skin. She stared at him, her features slack with a wonder that made him want to preen and also sent a rush of relief through him. He hadn't disappointed her.

  “You are one amazing ride, Stallion,” she said, and this time it was she who teased him.

  Serovek's laughter echoed in the cavern. He hugged her to him. This magnificent woman, who wouldn't know coyness if it kicked her in the gut, never ceased to charm him with her unadorned honesty. It was a charm unique to her. He suspected it wouldn't appeal to most, but he'd fallen for it willingly and hard.

  He scraped her damp hair back from her face, smiling as she blew an annoying strand out of the way. “You were wrong,” he said. “I survived you.”

  She answered his smile with a provocative one of her own. “So you did. This time, but can you do it a second time or a third?”

  “The only way to find out is to make several attempts.”

  “That is a very good plan,” she said, reaching into the water to cup his softened cock and stroke his balls. For an instant his legs instinctively tensed at the proximity of her claws, but she was careful, only her palm and fingers caressing him. She raised an eyebrow. “You don't trust me?”

  He snorted. “Of course I trust you, but there isn't a man breathing who wouldn't be wary when daggers surround his bits.”

  She chuckled. “That's true. Even a Kai man would be alarmed.” She lolled in his arms. “Kiss me again and then I'll wash the blood from your hair.

  Serovek didn't need to be told twice and spent the next several minutes availing himself of Anhuset's taste, not only of her mouth but her neck and earlobes, the crooks of her elbows, her nape and her temples. She did the same to him, her tongue a wet caress on his skin that pumped the blood hot and fast into his loins again. His cock swelled, eager to experience the delight of her body.

  She slipped out of his arms, motioning for him to follow her as she waded to the pool's edge where their clothes lay in a heap. The monk who'd led them to the pool had left not only towels but a small jar of boiled soap weed and a comb.

  Good as her word, Anhuset soaped and rinsed his hair while he partially reclined in front of her, in a near torpor as she patiently combed the bloody mats out of his hair. Even with the occasionally painful tug of the comb, he relaxed so much under her grooming he nearly fell asleep.

  When she was finished, she handed him the comb. “My turn,” she said.

  Eager to touch her in the same way she'd touched him, he happily traded places with her. Combing her hair was an easier task than combing his. She wore it a similar length but the texture was different, thick as his but straight as a spear haft and coarse enough to discourage tangles. The comb glided easily through her locks until hitting an unexpected knot.

  It caught the comb hard enough to jerk her head back. “Ow!” she yelped, staring up at him as if he'd lost his senses. Her eyes widened, and she jerked forward only to fall back with another yelp, the comb still entangled in her hair.

  “Hold still,” he ordered, letting go of the comb. “You have a bad tangle back here.” She ignored his command, trying to wiggle away, only stopping when he said, “A ribbon?” Anhuset made an odd noise, something between a growl and a mortified squeak, and went still.

  Serovek pried the comb loose from the knot that was actually a frayed white ribbon twined around some of her hair. He slowly uncoiled it, surprised by its presence. She wore a few tiny braids at her temples to keep recalcitrant strands out of her face, but he'd never seen her adorn her locks with beads or other ornaments, and especially not ribbons.

  This one had seen better days. Ragged at the edges and more gray than white now. He ran this thumb down its length, teased by a memory that skated along his consciousness. Anhuset sat in front of him stiff and silent as a marble pillar.

  “Feel free to cut it out if necessary,” she said. “I tried to tie it the right way but had to knot it to make it stay.”

  “I wouldn't know what to do with a hair ribbon.”

  His heart paused its beating for a moment as the memory finally revealed itself. A conversation at High Salure less than a month earlier but seemed a lifetime ago. “Where did you find the ribbon?”

  She waited so long to answer, he almost gave up on getting one. “When you brought back staples from that market to replenish our supplies. There was a ribbon tied to a bunch of herbs. It fell to the ground. I took it.”

  I wouldn't know what to do with a hair ribbon.

  She'd asked why he never married, and he'd told her of his wife, describing her beauty and love of hair ribbons. He barely recalled the face of the flirtatious woman in the market who'd given him the flowers, but staring at the ribbon still tangled in Anhuset's hair, he remembered tossing the bouquet in the wagon, eager to get back to the camp and the Kai woman waiting for his return. “I can comb around it.”

  “No. Take it out. No one can see it anyway, and it's just a nuisance.”

  He didn't cut the ribbon out but spent extra time unraveling strands of hair until it came loose. As much as he wanted to keep it, he offered the ribbon to her when he was done. She held it for a moment before tossing it to the side. “Remind me to grab it before we leave,” she told him. “I'm sure the monks have a midden I can toss it into on the way back to our rooms.”

  There was no way that treasure was going into a midden if he had anything to say about it. He kept th
e words behind his teeth, finished combing her hair, and scooted around her to slide back in the water. She stayed on the pool's edge, her expression a study in stoic reserve, her yellow eyes unblinking as she watched him. She held an invisible shield in front of her, a defense against embarrassment at him finding the ribbon and the belief that surely, surely he understood why she'd tried wearing it properly, and worst of all, why she had failed.

  He did understand and fell even deeper in love with her. It wasn't the right time to tell her either of those things or even dwell on the symbolism of her wearing the ribbon at all. She would only lash out and close off even more. Instead, he steered the conversation in a different direction.

  “You,” he told her in a teasing voice, “have the most delicious breasts.”

  As he hoped, the outlandish remark worked its magic. The shield went down and her eyebrows went up before she laughed her raspy laugh. “Is that so?” She stared down at her chest before turning to one side and then the other, displaying the objects of his admiration like fine wares. “What makes them so delicious? And which one do you prefer?”

  He rose half out of the water, and she leaned forward so he might sample. She slid her fingers into his hair, claws massaging his scalp while he tasted each breast and she moaned her approval.

  “It's impossible to choose,” he said after moving from her breasts to her mouth. The small interlude served to heighten his need to taste all of her. He coaxed her to stretch out on her back, her legs splayed so that he wedged between them, his head resting on her knee. He kissed the sensitive skin behind that knee, smiling when her toes on both feet curled. He continued up her body, bypassing her thighs despite the protesting throb of his cock, to kiss her belly, placing a ring of kisses around her navel.

  Anhuset's breasts rose and fell with her ever quickening breaths as Serovek retraced his path to the place he'd purposely bypassed, settling between her thighs, nudging them farther apart.

  The taste of a Kai woman, he soon discovered, was similar to that of a human woman, but that's where the similarity ended. This was Anhuset whom he made love to with his mouth and tortured with his tongue, and there was no other like her in all the world.