by Ruby Dixon
Aron grunts.
I pat his chest again and glance over at the lord. “Eat and celebrate,” I tell him with an encouraging smile, trying to smooth things over.
Lady Gerline lifts her head, her body trembling. She looks at the pillow at Aron’s feet, then at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. No wonder she’s been giggling like a schoolgirl and so nervous about the feast. If sharing is the big custom here, she probably thought I’d be boinking her husband and all his buddies, and she’d get to fuck Aron.
For some reason, that makes me feel incredibly possessive. I tighten my hand on his shirt and slide a little closer to him, as if I can lay claim on the man. Her gaze meets mine and she watches me for a moment, then composes herself and sits down on the pillow at her husband’s feet. Her expression is tight, as if she’s miserable and doing her best not to show it. I feel a little guilty knowing that her evening was ruined and she’s probably been shamed in front of her people…but only a little.
Fuck all this sharing crap.
“Do you need a chair?” Aron asks, his hand sliding to my bare hip. My legs are tossed over his thighs, and I realize belatedly that my skirt has fallen open, exposing most of my calves and thighs to everyone in the room. “Say the word and I will have them get you one.”
I think for a moment and then pretend to adjust Aron’s collar. He’s wearing a new tunic, this one of a pale, cream-colored weave with deep red knotwork on the edges. “Can I stay here? With you?”
He nods and then glares at the lord of Novoro over my shoulder as the man takes his seat.
“I am sorry, my Lord of Storms,” Secuban stammers, because the man clearly does not know when to shut up. “It is just…you are the god of battle. I thought blood would be the only thing you thirst for—”
Before he can finish, Aron puts a hand on the nape of my neck and pulls me in. His mouth crashes against mine and the spark slams between us, sending a shockwave through my body.
I’m stunned. This is the first time Aron’s kissed me, really kissed me. At first I think it’s just more pretending, him trying to convince the others that I’m really his concubine. But then his tongue slides between my parted lips, teasing me, and hot need such as I’ve never felt before comes crashing through me. Aron is…a really good kisser. I mean, he’s a god, so of course he should be, but I’m still taken by surprise. His arrogance bleeds through the caress of his mouth on mine, and what starts out as simply a press of lips becomes a conquest. Within moments, he’s slicking his mouth over mine, as if he’s hungry and I’m the only thing he wants. Over and over, he kisses me so deeply until I’m lost to everything around us. My body is humming with need and when he pulls his mouth from mine, not only do I lose the taste of him but I lose that delicious electric tingle between us.
I whimper a protest.
“Faith,” Aron murmurs, cupping my jaw. He studies me, my swollen lips and heaving chest, and plants a hand firmly over one of my breasts, cupping it and teasing the hard nipple with his thumb. As he does, he casts a defiant look over at Lord Secuban. “Do not tell me what a god hungers for, mortal. You know nothing at all.”
I cling to Aron, doing my best not to squirm on his lap. It seems that Lord Secuban isn’t the only one that knows nothing at all, because I’m totally stunned at the kiss, and at the possessive hand that still teases my nipple, driving me mad with aching hunger. If he just wanted to show them I was his slave girl, his concubine, all he had to do was smack my ass and tell me to sit on the floor, and I’d have done it.
That was not a pretend kiss.
That was not a pretend anything.
50
Breathless, I do my best not to stare at him as people settle into their seats and music begins. The feast starts around us, women carrying dishes to the table and pouring wine. Someone discreetly sets a small table next to Aron’s throne and sets two cups of wine out. Minutes pass, and Aron simply watches the crowd, not saying a thing. I have no idea what’s going through the god’s head, but there’s very little going through mine. I’m too stuck on the memory of his mouth on mine, the feel of his tongue as he conquered my mouth.
The hand on my breast that still teases my nipple through my clothing, as if I’m just his plaything.
“A plate, my lord? My lady?” a girl asks, stepping forward, her eyes shining and eager to please.
My stomach growls, and I look at the feast table. It’s practically dripping with delicious things and the people here seem to have forgotten all about Aron and their leader and are settling in to feast. I’m hungry, and I nod at her.
“I should eat,” I murmur to Aron, and try to stand up.
He immediately pulls me back down into his lap, my butt pressing back against him. His hand slips into the deep vee of my dress and then he’s teasing my nipple with callused fingers against my bare skin, and I nearly orgasm. “You’re staying here,” he murmurs, and nips at my ear.
Oh fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if it’s rude to climax in front of strangers. A chilling thought hits me, and I lean back against him, resting my head on his shoulder so I can lean in and whisper. “Aron, is there another Aspect nearby? Hedonism?”
That would explain all of this.
He gives my nipple a light, teasing pinch, and I bite back another whimper. “No,” he murmurs, low enough for just me to hear, and he says nothing more.
But he doesn’t take his hands off me either.
Oh god, I don’t know what to think. I’m practically writhing in his lap by the time the girl returns with food, so aroused I can hardly stand it. In Tadekha’s citadel, he touched me because I was affected by her nearness, and he was, too. If there’s no Hedonism Aspect nearby, what’s behind this? A sudden image of Bad Aron fucking Yulenna against the tree flashes through my mind.
Gods have needs just like anyone else. And as I shift my weight on his lap, I can feel the hard, erect length of him pressing against my backside.
He’s not immune to all of this. Not by a long shot. I want to turn around and look at him, to ask him what he’s feeling, but the music swells and then the serving girl sets a plate of food down, and my mouth floods with saliva.
I’m starving.
I reach up and touch Aron’s jaw. “I’m going to eat now,” I murmur to him. “And unless you find it sexy for me to get distracted and dribble food all over myself because you keep playing with my nipples, you’ll let go of me.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and the music players miss a note. The conversation swells after a moment, and Aron gives my breast one last proprietary squeeze before releasing it. “You stay here,” he tells me, keeping an arm locked around my waist. As if he’s just now remembering where we’re at, he glances over at Lord Secuban as I pick up my wine goblet. “How big is Novoro’s army?” he asks, tone mild.
The lord of the keep wastes no time in announcing numbers. I don’t pay any attention to what he’s saying, because it’s already clear to me that Aron has no interest in having these people be his army. He’s just toying with the guy while I’m occupied. I take a couple of bites of food…and moan. Holy fuck, these people can make some amazing dishes. Everything has a wealth of delicate spices that make even the most basic vegetables incredible. I take a bite out of everything and nibble on some buttery, fresh-baked bread. It’s all delicious, and I lick my fingers as I eat while Aron talks to Lord Secuban. Lady Gerline sits on the pillow at her husband’s feet, but she’s not eating. She looks rather defeated, her shoulders slumped. And when she looks over at me, I can see the jealousy in her eyes.
Tough titty.
I feel another possessive stab at the thought of another woman touching Aron. I don’t like the idea at all. She can sit on her pillow and pout, I decide as I eat another mouthful of bread. I watch the rest of the room as I pack away the food, ignoring the astonished looks that the serving girls give me as I clear my plate and another is put before me. They’ll figure out soon enough that my appetite
isn’t human. Until then, they can just keep bringing the food. I chew on a bit of chicken—at least, it tastes like chicken—and glance down the hall. The enormous tables are full of people sitting shoulder to shoulder on the long benches, and the conversation’s turned boisterous now that Aron’s relaxed. Serving girls flit between men, all wearing the practically open dress like the one I’ve borrowed. They seem to enjoy the clothing, though. As I watch, one brunette deliberately leans over far to fill someone’s wine, and as she does, her breasts are exposed by the deep vee of the gown. One of the men reaches forward and fondles her breast as if it’s part of the meal, and I stiffen.
The girl just laughs, grabs him by his hair and gives him a fierce kiss, and then moves down the row to fill someone else’s cup.
Well, they did say these people were weird.
Music starts, and a new course of delicious things is brought out. I try a few of the sweets and then give up, holding my overflowing belly.
“Sated?” Aron asks, his arm moving around my waist and pulling me back when a servant clears my plate.
I shiver, because he didn’t ask if I was full. He asked if I was sated and that feels like it has a billion different meanings, all of them filthy. “I’m good for now.” I put my hand over his and lean back against him, relaxing and listening to the music as Lord Secuban discusses defenses of his keep and how much more defensible it is than the Citadel, which rumor has told him has fallen to Aventine’s army. I notice Aron doesn’t confirm anything, so I don’t speak up, either. Let him wonder.
Plates are cleared away and I watch the servants work. No one’s getting up from the tables, and as I scan the room, I see the men are getting handsier and handsier with the girls, tugging on their clothing as they pass by and grabbing at boobs and butts. One girl mock-spills into someone’s lap and then she’s all flustered giggles as the man buries his face in her practically exposed breasts. I’m a little scandalized when their seat neighbor joins in, kissing the girl and slipping a hand under her skirt.
It occurs to me that no one’s looking at this as unnatural. It also occurs to me that there aren’t any children at this party.
Sure enough, the man stands up, pushing the girl forward on the now-cleared table. He leans over her and starts pumping while everyone else around cheers and calls out encouragement. The girl just laughs and reaches for the man sitting across the table, as if one guy isn’t enough. I watch in horrified fascination as the man blasts into her quickly and shudders a scant minute later. His buddy taps him on the shoulder and then the guy offers her to his friend, and number two takes his turn on the girl.
I really hope that’s not rape.
I don’t think it is, though. The women spill back into the room, full of smiles and head for the men. The tables turn into a sea of arms and entwined limbs, and more than one person is piled on in each group.
“Enjoying the view?” Aron asks, stroking my side. His fingers brush against my breast and I feel that hot shudder of need rip through me.
I just shake my head. “Goddamn it, Aron, does every party have to be a fucking orgy?”
Laughter rumbles through him. “I take it mortals in your world celebrate differently?”
“Uh, yeah, we usually just like beer.” I shake my head. “This is just fucked up.”
“Why?” he asks, and tips a finger under my chin to make me meet his gaze. “They are happy. They celebrate my arrival and hope for a blessing.”
“Oh, so you’re cool with this as long as they don’t touch your toys?” I retort. “Is that how we play?”
He arches an eyebrow at me in the same annoying way I normally do to him. “If they wish to fuck Markos or Yulenna, I do not care. They can fuck all of my soldiers at once for all I care. They are just not allowed to touch you.”
And just like that, my irritation vanishes, quickly replaced by hot lust. I remember his hand on my breast from earlier, the way he held on as if I belonged to him.
As if I were his personal property.
“But you’re allowed to touch me?” I ask, my voice a mere whispered tease.
He just gives me that lazy, confident smile that tells me everything I need to know. One hand strokes over my belly, and for a moment, I don’t care that we’re in a room full of people. I want him to push his hand under the opening in my skirt and touch me until I come.
Aron doesn’t, though. He just slides his hand to my breast, holding me and branding me as his possession, and turns to Lord Secuban. “You have won my approval for now. My party will be here for a few days before moving on. I expect supplies and for my servants to be treated with the utmost respect.”
“Of course!” Lord Secuban’s practically gushing with delight.
“My men will need new armor and weapons, and my women will need clothing.”
“You shall be given everything and anything you need, my great Lord of Storms,” Secuban declares, and there’s such shining excitement on his face that I can’t hate the guy or his weird people. He snaps his fingers and one of his chained slaves—the naked ones—comes forward and he pulls her into his lap, as if he can truly party now that Aron’s pleased.
I just shake my head and drink more wine. I think if there’s another party like this one, I might pull a Yulenna and stay upstairs, too. Then I frown, remembering how they were going to give Aron some lap candy.
Nah, maybe not. I need to come down and stake my claim, much as I’m not a fan of public orgies. I glance around. Yup, they’re all still fucking. At least the women look like they’re having a great time and don’t mind being railed by several guys at once. I guess if it’s normal for you to expect that, it doesn’t seem so weird.
Still weird to me, though.
I look for Markos, Solat and Vitar—they’re at the table closest to the door, and the expression on Markos’s face looks like he’s sucking on a lemon as a female gyrates in the lap of a man nearby. Solat has a girl in his arms, his face buried in her cleavage. Guess he’s right at home. Vitar’s tossing back wine and trying not to look as uncomfortable as he clearly feels.
I wonder if this world has such a thing as hazard pay, because these guys clearly deserve it. Well, not Solat. He’s having too good a time.
But then Aron absently moves his hand over my breast in a casual caress and I’m lit up with need all over again. I squirm in his lap, the hot bar of his erection pressing against my backside. “You’re doing that on purpose,” I tell him, accusing.
I just get another lazy, heated smile, as if he loves torturing me like this.
I kind of love it, too. I know I shouldn’t, but…when in Rome and all that.
51
By the time the party winds down, I’ve drunk several jugs of wine, probably eaten an entire cake all on my own, and I’m so aroused and horny that I can barely walk back to the quarters I’m supposed to share with Yulenna. Aron keeps an arm firmly around my shoulders as we head up the stairs, flanked by Markos and the others. Lady Gerline cast a few longing looks in Aron’s direction, but I’m pleased that he completely and utterly ignored her. As far as he’s concerned, she doesn’t exist.
We head up to Yulenna’s chamber, the one the anchor’s supposed to be sharing with Aron. There are a few guards in the hall, but Aron glares at all of them until they make a hasty exit, and then it’s only Kerren at the door.
Aron glances at the four men, his arm still locked possessively around my shoulders. “This chamber is going to be mine and Faith’s alone. No one is to enter without my express permission. You can wake us at dawn. No earlier.”
Markos’s face turns bright red again and he gives Aron a crisp salute. “Of course, my lord. No one will disturb you or your anch…ah, female.”
Solat and Vitar try to hide their grins, while Kerren manages to keep a straight face. It’s obvious what’s going through their heads, though. They saw Aron groping me all night. Now they’re all going to think we’re fucking.
Wait, are we fucking? I’m flustered at the
thought, but even so, my nipples are hard and my body pulses with awareness of Aron’s big frame and the crackling energy that surges through his body to mine. His casually possessive touches all night have me totally primed and ready, and I admit that if I had panties, they would have slid off my legs hours ago, too soaked to stay on.
Aron nods at them, and then heads down the hall with me. Before we can even get to the door, Yulenna is there, covered in my cloak, her satchel in her arms. She gives us a little bow and then scurries down the hall to where Kerren and the others are waiting. She must have heard…or she guessed. Either way, some of my guilt disappears at the thought of kicking her out of her room. Clearly she’s been expecting it all along.
That means it’s just me and Aron and a great big bed.
We enter Lady Gerline’s private chambers—now our chambers for as long as we’re visiting. There’s a warm fire in the hearth, and a covered dish on a table next to a ewer of wine. I ignore all of it, though, flustered and heated with need. Is Aron going to touch me? Kiss me again? Or is he waiting for me to make the first move? I look over at him, but he heads toward the bed, undoing his sword belt and pulling off his new clothing.
I lick my dry lips, my pulse pounding. “Do you want me to get naked, too?” My voice is breathless with arousal.
“No.” The bastard gives me an inscrutable look.
That…isn’t what I expected to hear. “No?”
He shakes his head. “I will not be touching you again this night. It would be a mistake.”
I stiffen in outrage. “So what was that out there? Just a show? Was your dick hard just for show, too?”
Aron just glares at me, as if I'm bringing up stuff he'd rather not talk about right now. Well, I don't give a fuck what he wants. I'm hurt that he's all over me all night—I can still feel the heat of his hand under my dress—and then the moment the door closes, he goes cold again. For a moment, I think about all the people downstairs, still fucking and swapping partners like it's no big deal. They're having a grand time. I consider telling Aron I'm going to go down there and join them, but it's the last thing I want.
