Ashes of Dearen: Book 1
Page 32
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Fayr could not find the will to return to the feast. She knew Leonard Khan would be angry. She didn’t care. She didn’t plan to renew his pass tomorrow, anyway. She hoped to never see him again.
Nothing mattered anymore but the kiss she shared with Darius.
She retreated to her bedchamber and closed the door behind her. She no longer needed a band tonight to hear music; she no longer needed Friva’s Hall to feel like dancing; she no longer needed a dress of pearls to feel beautiful. She closed her eyes, humming softly to herself, and twirled over the floor of her own room.
She imagined dancing with Darius in front of everyone. She imagined announcing to the world that she wished to marry him. She wondered how that grubby fellow, Picard, would react to such news. She laughed at the thought.
She sprawled across the sheets of her bed, laughing and running her hands over her body, pulling up the fabric of her dress and slipping her fingers across her bare thighs. All of those fools would be gone soon. All that mattered now was that she evict them before the Haze ran out. And she would evict them tomorrow.
She thought of Darius’s hands gripping her, his mouth crushing hers, and her hands moved further up her thighs. Her body already ached from the touch of him. She felt as if a hole had opened inside her, a hole that only he could fill. Moisture rushed into her loins and she brushed it with her finger. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything. She wanted him to embrace her completely, to envelop her body with his own, to slide through this sticky wetness, and to strike the source of her desire, over and over again.
Until that could happen her finger must suffice, so she slid it up, further and further ...
Night had long since fallen. Darkness filled her chamber, stayed only by a few fluttering candles and the silver glow of a full moon. A rumble shook the room, and she realized this was the sound of thunder, its growl resounding through the earth. A strong wind howled against the palace, fluttering the curtains and thrashing the flames of her candles. Then the soft purr of rainfall echoed from the outdoors.
A knock shook the stones of her chamber.
She stiffened, her fantasy paused, her finger wavering. The knock brought her back to reality in a way that the storm did not. The knock reminded her of the feast she had fled, the people she had abandoned, and the Haze that kept thinning. She listened to the roar of the storm beyond her window and her pulse quickened, for reasons less pleasant than before.
“The Haze ...” she whispered. It had been thin enough to begin with. How might a storm affect it? If she had made no more Haze since her father’s death, and all that remained was washed away ...
The knock returned, even louder than before. “Princess? PRINCESS!”
Fayr struggled to compose herself, pulling her dress back down her legs, arranging her hair back over her shoulders. She still wondered if she must answer the door at all. If she pretended not to be here, perhaps this rude visitor would give up and go away. But what if it was important? One way another he kept pounding against the door, causing a boom that filled her with dread.
“Open the fucking door!”
At last she complied, opening the door and then staring into the face of none other than Leonard Khan of Vikand.
She had forgotten him completely. Now she remembered his fingers bruising her arms, his beady eyes glaring down at her. Perhaps she should have known her disappearance would anger him. Then again, his food had also been overladen with safra. Surely he would have indulged himself on some palace maid before wandering all this way?
“Leonard Khan,” she murmured at last. “What can I do for you?”
“You know what you can do for me.” He stepped forward, pushing her back with the girth of his chest, gripping the door and then slamming it behind him. The wood cracked as it bounced against the door frame. “You promised me a fucking dance!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not feel well. I decided to come in here and ...”
“I don’t care, you cock-tease.” He grabbed her wrist and twisted it upward. “You owe me.”
Outside, a flash of thunder lit the room. The rumble of thunder followed after. “I’ll dance with you, if you insist.” She made a meager attempt to free herself, to no avail. He kept pushing her towards the bed. “Shall I call for some music? We can still—”
“It’s too late for that, Princess.” He pushed her down onto the bed. His hands moved from her shoulders, to her breasts, and then squeezed. She gasped aloud from the shock of it. Her body was already sensitive from the other events of the evening. Now, a man far removed from her fantasies pulled and pinched at her nipples. He leered down at her, his eyes glistening with glee. “And we both know that’s not what I came for.”
“Please ...” Her thighs writhed against his. He stepped forward and pushed her knees apart with his own. He used one hand to yank down the top of her dress. Pearls scattered to the floor as his hand found her bare breast and gripped it. Meanwhile, his other hand moved towards his trousers, grabbing at the knot that held them in place. “Please, you don’t have to do this ...”
He was too far-gone to hear her. He leaned down and pressed his hips to hers while he wrapped his mouth around her nipple. She gasped from the sensation, her back arching up of its own will. It was her own damn fault, but she ached for someone to fill her. Her body betrayed her mind as it reacted to the khan’s cruel touch. He licked her breast as he stroked his own desire. He readied himself against her and chuckled against her flesh.
“Get ready,” he said. “Here I come.”
Not sure what else to do, the princess screamed.
10
Desire