A moan fought to break free, like air held too long underwater, and my heart picked up speed. "Please, no more. My barbarian... Sir... I need you so badly right now."
"Oh?"
He hesitated. The surprise in his voice only made me more anxious. I writhed against my ropes.
"It's been so long," I nearly whimpered. "Please, take me, Sir... please let me feel—"
Let me feel your lust and love again.
He kept silent for a beat. I almost worried he'd change his mind, or he'd be unable to do it. Maybe he'd lost his passion for me after all. Maybe, faced with Alaric Khan's inherited memories, standing before Alaric's prize whore, Bannon could no longer—
No longer love me after all.
The threat of tears overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes tight and swallowed, ready to apologize, and ready for him to withdraw from the play altogether. Just as I opened my mouth, though, Bannon lay the leather strop down on the anvil beside me. I thrilled at the sound of his belt buckle being undone.
A second later, he slid one hand possessively over my hip, and the rigid, rock-hard cock pressed up to my sore cheeks.
"Ah, yes..." I breathed. "Barbarian... how I have longed for you."
He bent over me, teasing me with the tip of his cock along my wet, hot entrance. His free hand slid along my body, looping under my left arm, as he crooned in my ear.
"As I have for you, sweet kitten. I can't tell you how deeply."
His hand closed around my throat.
I can't tell you, kitten...
I choked.
How infuriating it's been to have to crawl my way back to power.
My heart gave a panicked leap. My bound hands jerked against the ropes hard enough to hurt, desperate to claw at his grip. I smelled it—cinnamon and bergamot—and my whole body grew cold.
You have no power! I've always been stronger than you.
I was in the serpent's shrine again. With Alaric. Alaric glaring at me through Bannon's eyes. Taking over my barbarian, holding me down, strangling me to cut off my breath.
Nowhere left to go, pet...
"Atala!" I screamed. Bucking under Bannon's body, I pulled and twisted against my ropes, all my sweet pleasure burned away in a flash of horrible fear. "Atala! Atala!"
Bannon jerked away as though my skin had turned to fire. His sudden withdrawal stabbed at my heart, still so unused to denying my Master anything, but a second later he'd moved around the anvil to crouch in front of me, cupping my face in his hands very gingerly to make me look him in the eye. His eyes, amber and warm, wide with concern.
"What's wrong, Sadira? Did I hurt you?"
Footsteps came toward us from the passageway, and Bannon lunged to one side to snatch up a length of burlap lying over a workbench and used it to cover my naked body. A trio of crew members, none of whom I recognized, appeared in the entryway, but Bannon raised a hand to stop them coming closer.
"I'll handle this. Go back to what you were doing."
The three crewmates exchanged glances, befuddled. I couldn't keep looking at them, so I closed my eyes in shame. My chest ached with every breath and my shoulders shook. No titillating thrill of exhibitionism now. Mortified, I tried to shrink under the burlap.
As they left, Bannon returned his attention to me, touching my face again with careful fingers.
"Are you hurt?" he asked again.
"No."
My voice came out small and tight. I couldn't even look at him. I couldn't admit how it relieved me to see his own eyes looking back at me, not red with tears of blood, and not green, like Alaric's.
I told him I trusted him. How disappointed he must be now.
He began untying the ropes at my wrists. "Tell me what happened."
My skin stung with rope burn. I'd jerked too hard against the restraints in my panic, and as Bannon freed me, I rubbed tenderly at the reddened impressions, flinching. He moved around me to untie the other twists and knots.
"Your hand at my throat," I managed to say, weak and miserable. "It took me by surprise, and... and I thought of what happened in the shrine. The way Alaric tried to—"
"Strangle you." Bannon unlooped the last of the ropes and uttered a soft growl. "Of course. I'm sorry, Sadi. I should have realized."
How could he have, though? I'd never balked at that primal, possessive gesture before. I'd embraced it. I'd enjoyed it!
He touched me carefully, going slow as he helped me to my feet. Afraid of frightening me, I thought. Delicate, as though I were some fragile little girl.
But I feel like a fragile little girl. My chest... oh, and my stomach...
How I wanted to cry. This time, I'd ruined our play. I'd wanted so much to be with him again, and then I'd broken down like a feeble idiot.
"Come here." Bannon enveloped me in his arms, stroking my hair. "Let's get you dressed and back to our cabin, where you can relax. I have something for you, anyway. A gift."
I don't deserve a gift. I wrapped my arms around myself as he scooped up my clothing and handed it to me. I dressed in silence, avoiding his eyes, replaying my outburst over and over in my mind.
Bannon rested his hand on my upper arm and gave me a soft kiss on the brow.
"It's all right," he soothed me. "You're safe. I promise."
As soon as we returned to our shared cabin, the caracal kitten—Schala—bounded down from the bed and wound herself around my ankles. I scooped her up and crossed the room to the porthole, sitting on an old wooden bench before it to look out at the sea. The caracal rubbed her face against my chin, purring, and despite myself, I relaxed.
Bannon bent to return the scarf and paddle to the trunk. Then he joined me by the porthole, taking a seat beside me. I noticed he kept a respectful distance, and gently rested one palm on my knee, offering me a reassuring squeeze.
His tenderness eased my worry. We sat for some time watching the sea, with Schala purring in my arms, until at last I found myself able to scoot closer to Bannon, resting my head on my shoulder.
He looped an arm around me. "Do you feel better?"
"Well enough," I murmured back. "I'm sorry."
"It's not for you to apologize, my treasure."
He kissed my head again. I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath. A deep weariness dragged on me.
Funny, though... no headache. I'd have expected a real monster of a migraine, after such an attack.
"Would you like your gift now, my kitten? A reward for your strength and bravery this morning on the dock."
I blinked and straightened in my seat. "What do you mean? I did nothing on the dock beside get hit by a few rocks and rotten eggs."
Schala gave a soft rumble of a mew and dropped from my lap to the floor, sauntering toward the bed. Bannon gave me another kiss and rose from the bench.
"You composed yourself admirably, and thanks to your caution, neither any of my people nor the locals came to any harm. Well..."
He shot a smirk at Schala. "No great harm, in any case. A few bites from a feral kitten should heal without any trouble."
He returned to the trunk and withdrew another length of cloth from within. The sunset-colored sari I'd examined in the marketplace earlier. I came to my feet, biting my lip.
"I saw you admiring it." Bannon beamed as he handed the sarong to me. "Put it on, love. I can't wait to see how it looks on you."
I stared at the cloth in my hands. The sharp tension in my chest worsened. All at once, the air in the cabin seemed thin, hard to breathe.
"I... Bannon, I..."
Too many hard, cutting emotions jabbed at me at once. My fingers turned numb; the sarong slid to the floor, and seconds later, I followed it, crumpling to my knees.
Bannon's expression turned anxious. "Sadira?"
A storm of tears overcame me. I folded my arms around my stomach, nauseous and dizzy, and started to sob.
Chapter Seven
Again, I found myself cradled in his arms, like a child. Again, he rocked me and soothed me, saying
my name over and over, and I couldn't find my voice to tell him to stop. His attention made me feel so stupid. So senseless and infantile. At the same time, his warmth grounded me, and I clung to him, grateful for his solid presence.
"What did I do this time?" he asked with a small, apologetic smile. "I honestly thought you liked it, Sadi."
"I do." I ground the tears from my eyes and reached for the sari, gathering it to my chest. "Truly, I do, Bannon. I'm only overcome. I... I've never had such clothing before."
"Come now, I've seen what you had in your trunks at the castle."
I shook my head. "No. Those... all those costumes and garb, Alaric chose. He delegated my daily appearance, left the matter of selecting garments to his pages and seamstresses. And those outfits? None of them belonged to me. Should he have wished it, at any time he could give them away."
"Ah." He ran a hand through my hair. "No wonder you didn't choose any to bring with you, then. I thought it somewhat strange."
"They weren't mine." I shuddered. "It was like wearing another woman's clothes. And always so much green."
He touched the sari, smoothing his knuckles over its bright, cool folds. "I think these colors will suit you. If you do like them, of course. Will you put it on for me?"
Steadier now, I nodded. I held the sari up to my body, examining the glittering gold embroidery worked into the design. Despite the clash of emotions overwhelming me, my heart gave an excited flutter. Could this lovely possession really be mine? All mine?
I lay it upon the bed and began to undress. When I'd shucked my simple soldier's garb, though, Bannon touched my shoulder, making me pause.
"Wait just a moment."
He took me by the arm and guided me to stand in front of the room's long, rectangular mirror, anchored to the wall beside the bunk.
"Look at yourself." Standing behind me, he gathered back my hair. "Sadira, my beautiful, beautiful love."
Am I?
I knew men desired me, at least. The men of Alaric's retinue, the Order of Akolet and the noble Vash lords he did business with. Men like them were aroused by anything, though. Any person or object that made them feel powerful. Had they ever found me beautiful? Or had they simply nursed a constant erection of the ego because I was a low, helpless slave in their kingdom?
Bannon slid his hands down my sides in slow caress. "You are like a fierce desert lioness. Golden and strong, magnificent under the sun."
He'd called me lioness before, but I knew he had it wrong. I was a serpent. Alaric's monstrous beast, full of poison.
"Hear me now." Bannon took my chin in one hand and tilted my head up, making me look in the glass. "Look at your grim face. I can tell you're not listening to me. Full of dark thoughts and sorrow. That isn't what I want for you, Sadira. Leave those old ghosts and torment in the past, back in the dark magician's crumbling castle. The lioness does not listen to the laughter of craven hyenas."
He ran the backs of his knuckles over my cheek—the cheek marked by the intricate tattoo that surrounded one eye and wound down my jawline.
"Do you know how many women I've met with such a daring design upon their faces?" he whispered. "Not a one. It sets you apart and draws me to your eyes. Such beautiful gray eyes... like a waiting storm."
He followed the tattoo down to my shoulder, kissing my skin.
"Your neck... so smooth and slender. Your arms... so strong. Look at your breasts: perfect and rosy, and your nipples decorated like pretty pink jewels in a gold setting."
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he hugged me close to him, kissing my hair. I closed my eyes and inhaled a long, deep, cleansing breath, relaxing in his embrace.
He continued, his voice warm, enumerating the ways in which he admired my body. Even without looking at my reflection, I could picture myself, letting him describe his vision of me. The tight knot in my chest—which had sharpened and waned since my moment of panic before—finally released its grip altogether.
"All right," I whispered to him once he'd started his exploration of my legs. "I understand what you mean to show me. Thank you, Sir."
"I want to hear you say it yourself, Sadira. Tell me."
"I am beautiful." I turned in his arms, laying both my hands on his chest. "Like a lioness, not a snake."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why ever would you think you were a snake?"
I stepped away from him, taking the sari again, running one finger down an elegant swoop of embroidery. "Because I grew up among snakes, my barbarian. Because I was raised and trained by one. These vicious, venomous desires in me—the need to indulge such deep and deviant poison."
Holding the sari to myself, I spun back toward him.
"I did tell you I was a monster." A weak smile came to my face. "What sort of woman—what sort of lioness—lusts for subjugation and pain?"
"You also told me your true desires were for a lover who would master you and still the chaos within," he pointed out. "You are full of energy and pride and power, kitten. You teem with it. And it fulfills you, to have a mate who can cool your fire. Hold you steady. Help you burn away the hardest and wildest of that energy."
For I fear I will shatter to pieces without it.
Somehow, despite my senseless breakdown and the humiliation of it, and despite the dark, angry doubts swirling in my head, Bannon soothed my heart.
Not a snake, but a lioness. Not poison, but full of power.
Well, maybe I wasn't quite as magnificent as he painted me... but I managed a real smile, and the last of my shame slipped away.
"Now," he said, coming to me to also put his hands on the smooth, cool fabric of the dress. "Please put it on."
I did as he asked, wrapping the sari around my hips as I'd seen Vash noblewomen do for sacred gatherings and celebrations. I'd worn a few in the past, when I accompanied the king to certain feasts attended by the highest nobility. None of those had been so beautiful, though.
I wrapped the sari around my waist to form the skirt, tucking and folding it neatly, altering the length on the subsequent round to allow two embroidered borders to show. I gathered several pleats at one hip, wrapped it once more, and finally draped it over one shoulder, securing it with a styled gold pin.
In Vashtaren, it wasn't out of place to wear the garment with one or both breasts bared, but I'd learned the Sanraethi had a different sense of modesty when it came to that particular part of the body. I plucked and fidgeted with the fabric to cover myself, but Bannon's hand came down on mine.
"I like it like that." He lovingly touched the side of my naked right breast. "I knew you would look radiant in it, Sadira. You chose the perfect one."
A spark of joy filled my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. All at once, I believed him, feeling more beautiful—really, uniquely beautiful—than I ever had before.
The Drekakona set sail at the height of the afternoon, her sails full of sun and her rowers raising a lively chant that could be heard even on the deck. Bannon took me to the prow of the ship—Schala following at my heels—and we stood with the salt breeze welcoming us and the seabirds calling overhead. Though the Sanraethi soldiers shot a few startled glances at me in my sari, still wrapped in the Vashtaren style, the sailors looked upon me with smiling appreciation.
A fierce note of pride returned, nourishing me like something savory and sweet, as I allowed myself to bask in the pleasure of being someone of importance, a princess or a noblewoman, instead of the slave who'd slept on a dog pillow at the foot of Master's bed all her life.
Bannon and Torv both cautioned me that the first few days aboard a ship could stir up bouts of seasickness and foul temper. Ailsa had stocked up on ginger root in port, and her foresight paid off when many of the soldiers, including Bannon himself, required ginger tea or light broth spiced with ginger to settle their stomachs in the first few days.
I did not take ill, to the surprise of many. The rocking of the ship only made me sleepy, and if I wasn't helping break out the tools and supp
lies we'd brought aboard and stocking them in their places, I found myself drifting off, and yearned to return to our cabin for a long, deep nap.
Rayyan, meanwhile, needed no time to adjust. Brimming with excitement, he reported for duty every morning before the two roosters in our livestock pens had crowed. The fishing boats he'd worked on intermittently as a child had been much different than this Sanraethi warship, but when it came to tasks like hauling nets and preparing supplies, he knew his work.
Several days into the voyage, once he'd adjusted to what Torv called 'his sea legs', Bannon called the horde to him and declared all the soldiers now able crewmen under the assignment of the Drekakona's captain, Arne.
"It's routine," Ailsa told me as we all stood before Bannon on the mid-deck and he made his announcement. "Not all Sanraethi warlords ask their hordes to work alongside the sailors transporting them, but my father expects it. It keeps the fighters in shape and eases the workload on everyone."
Bannon assigned me to join Rayyan and the other Vash refugees, to receive instruction from one of the crewmates named Ashe. I received the orders with a flutter of keen anticipation and made quickly for the huddle of people gathered before the main mast.
"The cat's still following you, is it?" Rayyan glanced down at my side, where indeed, Schala sat, looking back up at him with wide, watchful green eyes.
"I don't know why," I replied. Crouching to scratch the caracal's tufted ears, I added, "I'm coming to like it though. I just hope she doesn't cause any trouble."
"Good morning!" a bright-faced young woman greeted me from the center of the group. Her russet hair had been twisted into tight, long spirals and pulled back with a leather tie, and her smooth copper skin was dappled with freckles. "You're Sadira, then?"
I folded my hands behind my back in neutral pose and nodded, deciding this must be Ashe.
"Right, then." She planted her hands on her hips. "First thing's first! I'll be showing the lot of you how to move about the ratlines and secure the sails. I hope you're good at tying knots."
Beauty's Secret (Beast and Beauty Book 2) Page 6
