by Alexa Silver
“Relax,” he said again and eased the tip inside her.
His shaft was large, hot, and as she stared up at him hovering above her, he looked intimidating, predatory, and for a moment she was afraid. No doubt sensing that was the case, he smiled gently.
“Do you trust me, milady?” he asked.
She couldn’t seem to find her voice so she nodded slowly.
“Then relax. Take a deep breath then release it slowly.”
She did as he ordered.
“Now another.”
She inhaled, exhaled.
“And another.”
On the inhale he pressed forward until he was inside her. The pain was nothing more than a slight sting but the pressure of him filling her was sublime. The weight of him bearing her down was unbelievably exhilarating.
Impaled, she thought. I am impaled upon him. He has claimed me. For all time he will be the one who put his brand on me first.
“And the only man who will ever put his flesh to yours,” he said, shocking her.
That he could read—or intuit—her thoughts concerned her. As her Sentinel, she had yet to confer any powers upon him. Though those powers were limited to giving him the gift of misdirection so he could slip silently and unnoticed by those who did not possess that ability and the ability to hear her speaking to him in his mind, she had a niggling feeling Senti held powers in his own right. That made her uneasy. But so long as he protected her from her enemies and did her bidding, he would be an asset to her.
“Can you read my mind, Senti?” she asked because she had to know.
“Not now,” he said as he began to ease his shaft from her.
“No!” she denied, grabbing at his shoulders.
“Then pay attention,” he chastised. “There are times for talking, milady, and times for making love. This is not a time for talking.”
Slowly he pushed a bit deeper into her—stretching her, making her slick. With each inch she tensed and he stopped to allow her to accustom her body to his penetration. Gazing up at him, she could see sweat glistening on his forehead and he had his jaw clamped tightly together.
“Are you in pain, milord?” she asked.
He groaned then laid his chest to hers, pushed his hands under her rump and lifted her. His shaft went deeper still inside her and she sucked in her breath. It wasn’t painful but neither was it comfortable. He filled her so fully she did not think she could take another inch of his flesh inside her.
Another inch and he grunted, his eyelids squeezed together.
“Milord?”
“For the love of the gods, woman, will you be quiet?” he snarled between clenched teeth.
His body was shaking and he was breathing heavily.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
That seemed to be the last straw for him. He pulled almost out of her but before she could protest, he thrust himself in.
Deep.
“Oooh!” she hissed and before she knew what she was doing she brought her legs up and locked them around his hips, arched hers from the bed as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.
“All right then,” she heard him growl.
*****
Rhyman was struggling not to pump furiously into her as he so desperately wanted to do. His body was one massive tensed spring ready to snap. He was sweating bullets as he slid as gently in and out of her hot, wet channel as he could. The pounding in his head, in his heart was pushing him to speed up his thrusts but his brain was yelling at him that though he had breached her, she was as yet untried.
But those damned fingernails clawed at him. Those silken thighs gripped around him so tightly he could barely breathe, and those delectable hips straining to his were his undoing. The itch, the burn, the throbbing in his cock were so strong he could hold it back no longer.
Gripping her sweet little ass tightly in his hands, he jerked her to him and began to lunge into her honeyed folds. She was wet—slick from his juices, her own and no doubt the virginal blood he had spilled—and she was primed for him. Pistoning his lower body, slapping his balls against her caused him to completely lose all thought save obtaining the release he needed to badly.
“Senti,” she panted.
Some hazy part of his fevered mind protested that name. He wanted his name on her lips at a time like this. He wanted his name to be the one she shouted when he brought her to climax. His name when he truly claimed her for his own.
It was coming. He could feel the intense pleasure welling up in his balls. His thighs were on fire as he strained against her, his spine tingling as he snapped his lower body back and forth between her soft thighs. A moment before he could no longer hold back his ejaculation, he felt the tight gripping of her vaginal walls around him.
“Senti!” she shrieked.
Never had he felt such a sensation. She was tightening and tightening around him over and over and over in a series of hard little squeezes that tugged at his cock. The feeling was so powerful, so forceful that when he came, he threw back his head and howled like the wolf he became during Transition.
Again and again he poured himself into her as her legs increased the pressure on his waist until he began to see stars in the periphery of his vision. She was clawing at his shoulders as the last of her own undulating clenches ceased. He heard her whimpering—no, it was purring—as she wrapped her arms so tightly around his shoulders. She trembled then lifted her head to put a kiss on his chest. He wasn’t expecting her to sink her teeth into his flesh hard enough to draw blood.
“Damn, woman!” he yelped and tried to draw back but her grip on him was fierce. He had to jerk his hands from under her ass and put them to her head to push her away. When he did, he stared down into her passion-glazed eyes and saw something he had never thought to see.
“Mine,” she said, putting out her tongue to sweep away his blood from her lips. “I have marked you as mine and that mark will never go away. You will be mine until the day I die, Sentinel.”
Slowly he lowered his head so he could see the bite mark. It was a perfect oval that welled with blood. He lifted his eyes to hers.
“Mine,” she repeated.
“As you are mine,” he said. “I will be at your side for eternity.”
As clearly as though she had spoken he heard the thought that flitted through her mind.
But can you protect me from my enemy, the Gravelord?
“I will protect you from all who would try to harm you,” he answered.
She blinked. “Can you read my thoughts, Senti?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said.
“Easily?” she pressed, releasing her tight hold on his waist.
“Are not Sentinels chosen for a Daughter for the abilities he possesses, milady?” he asked. “Would you have me immune to the dangers that might surround you? If you sense fear, I will sense fear.”
“Stay out of my thoughts, Sentinel,” she said in a stern voice. “My thoughts are my own.”
“Understood,” he said.
The shrill blast of a klaxon sounded from the direction of the main buildings.
She turned her head toward the sound. “They’ve discovered I’m gone,” she said. Her forehead creased with worry. “They will have paraded the others before him and he knows the one he seeks is missing. They will come looking for me.”
He rolled off her and watched as she scrambled from the cot. Propping his head on his fist, he watched her donning her robe.
“It is best you not show yourself until I have dealt with him,” she said as she cinched the cord around her waist.
“And how precisely will you deal with him?” he asked.
“I will tell him I am damaged goods and he will seek his mate elsewhere,” she stated.
He made no comment about her plan. He lay there staring at her until she put her hand on the door latch.
“Milady?”
She turned.
“No man will ever take you from me,” he said. “Gravelord
, Reaper or any other warrior.”
A flicker of a smile twitched at her lips and then she was gone.
Chapter 5
All the way back to the Temple, she practiced what she would say to the High Priestess, for it would be she to whom Jordan would be sent. It was the responsibility of the High Priestess to see to the Daughters whose Life-Mates came to claim them. That she had gone missing when she should have lined up for the inspection of the Gravelord was a punishable offense.
“You are in trouble, Jordan,” she said aloud then raised her chin. “But you’ll not be forced to go with him now.”
He would choose another from the cadre of virgins—one who would be honored to have him for mate. One whose family had not been slaughtered by one of his kind.
Crossing the footbridge, she saw the Protectress coming toward her with two Temple Guards. All three women were glaring daggers at her.
Forcing a meekness to her demeanor that she did not feel, she bowed respectfully to the Protectress.
“Where have you been, Daughter?” the Protectress demanded.
She decided it was best not to lie. Instead, she stalled for time. “Did I miss the Choosing?” she asked.
“The Choosing has not as yet been done,” the Protectress snapped. “We were waiting for all the Daughters to be in the Temple. That we were forced to look for you will not sit well with the Great Oracle!” She narrowed her eyes. “That he was forced to go looking for you is worse yet!”
Jordan flinched. The thought of him finding her with Senti put a trickle of fear down her spine. What might the evil bastard have done to her handsome warrior?
“Come along, now,” the Protectress said. “You have caused us to waste enough time as it is! The Great Oracle wants to speak with you before the ceremony.”
“S-speak to m-me?” Jordan stammered.
The Protectress shot her an irritated look. “I believe you know why!” she stated.
“D-do you know why?” Jordan queried, feeling her heartbeat accelerate.
“I do,” the Protectress mumbled.
“I will not go with him!” Jordan said.
The Protectress’ lips thinned into a flat, unforgiving line. “You, Daughter, have no say in the matter.”
“He’s a Reaper!” Jordan protested.
“Part Reaper, yes,” the Protectress replied. When Jordan would have continued, the older woman held up her hand. “Enough. We will not discuss this matter further. It is not the place to do so.”
“But—”
“Enough, I said!”
Hanging her head while digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, Jordan followed in the wake of the Protectress with the two Temple Guards flanking her lest she try to run again.
They took her to the Temple and to a doorway through which very few Daughters were allowed. The Protectress stopped, took a deep breath as though to fortify herself, then lifted a hand to rap sharply upon the thick oak portal.
“Come,” the command was issued.
Steeling herself to face the wrath of the Great Oracle, Jordan squared her shoulders. Whatever punishment the Great Oracle decreed, she would gladly accept.
The Protectress opened the door, then moved back to allow her to enter. A faint scent of sandalwood wafted from the cavernous room as Jordan stepped inside and the door was closed quietly behind her. Around her, the office of the Great Oracle was lit dimly with only a few candles to break the shadowy confines.
“Welcome, my child,” the Great Oracle said.
Jordan turned her head in search of the speaker and found the old woman sitting in a chair at the far end of the room. She curtseyed. “Reverend Mother,” Jordan greeted her.
“Come, Daughter. Sit with me,” the Great Oracle commanded.
Keeping her eyes down out of respect, Jordan did as she was ordered, taking a chair in front of the Great Oracle. She sat with her hands folded demurely in her lap and knew—she knew—the elderly lady was aware of what she had done in the stonemason’s hut.
“Tell me, child,” the Great Oracle said. “Do you regret your actions?”
Jordan flinched but shook her head. “Nay, Reverend Mother.”
“So you would do it again given the chance?”
Blood pounding in her ears, Jordan had to swallow past the lump in her throat before answering.
“If it would save me from the Gravelord, yes, Reverend Mother.”
“And if I tell you that it did not, what then, child?”
Jordan stopped breathing. She lifted her head to look into the unsmiling face of her inquisitor. “It d-did not?” she whispered.
“No, child,” the Great Oracle said. “You are his Life-Mate and he is here to retrieve you.”
“Reverend Mother, please! You cannot expect me to go with him!” Jordan protested.
“You will do as is required of you, Daughter,” the Great Oracle said sternly. “You were trained to obey, were you not?”
“Yes, Reverend Mother, but—”
“There will be no denial of your duty, child,” the old woman stated. “Would you shame the Daughters of the Multitude in denying him?”
“He is evil!” Jordan said. “Reapers are vile creatures with no moral compass. They are the scourge of the Megaverse!”
The Great Oracle waved her hand in dismissal. “They are no such thing. They are the champions of mankind.”
“But not womankind!” Jordan stated. “They slaughtered my mother, my sister, hundreds of Daughters on Rysalia Prime. How can you—”
“Stop right there!” the Great Oracle said and got to her feet.
Jordan stood quickly for it was against the laws of the Multitude for her to remain seated in the presence of the higher ranked Daughters and especially so the Great Oracle.
“Did you not take Megaversal history under Sister Philomena?” the Great Oracle asked.
“I took her class,” Jordan said, confused by the question.
“Mayhap you did but did you pay attention during those classes?”
“I…”
“She would have set the record straight about the massacre on Rysalia Prime. Were you not listening or did you skip class—as I am told you were wont to do—the day that was covered?”
“I did not need to hear what happened,” Jordan said. “I lived through it. I know what the Reapers did.”
The old woman came to stand directly in front of her. “Do you now? How old were you when the killings happened? Five? Six?”
“I was four,” Jordan said. “I remember well the screaming as I was taken to safety. I remember the stench of burning flesh, the pleas for mercy that fell on deaf ears. I—”
“Do you remember what happened on Rysalia Prime when the men of that planet were exterminated by the plague released from the Obelisk by the Daughters?” the Great Oracle asked.
“It was in retaliation for the women the Rysalians killed many years earlier.”
“No, it was because a group of Daughters—who hated all men—set that vile plan into motion. That was after they had burned alive a cadre of Reapers who were innocent of any crime save of being born as they were!”
“And that is why the Reapers came back to massacre the Daughters,” Jordan stated.
“That evil was not carried out by the Reapers,” the Great Oracle snapped. “The deaths of your mother and sister and hundreds more came at the hands of the Ceannus and their balgairs, rogue Reapers created by those alien monsters. Created to discredit and damage the reputation of the Reapers throughout the Megaverse. Reapers who had nothing whatsoever to do with what happened on Rysalia Prime.” She reached out to grip Jordan’s arm. “Had you been in class that day, you would have learned the truth of that evil undertaking.”
Jordan stared at her. “Not the Reapers?”
“No, child,” the Great Oracle replied. “There is nothing evil about Reapers. They are honorable warriors pledged to protect, to defend, to champion mankind. The Ceannus wish to enslave mankind. They do everythi
ng in their power to rid the Megaverse of Reapers and Shadowlords. They tried to wipe out the Daughters for the same reason. Who do you think transported the Daughters here to Sanctuary if not the Reaper cadre? You have those gallant warriors to thank for every breath you have taken since they snatched you up and brought you here.”
Jordan tried to go back to that day in her mind but it had been over twenty years earlier and the details were hazy at best. She remembered the screaming, the smells, the loud noises, the fear on the faces of the women around her. She had a nebulous impression of a man—dressed in black—scooping her up, placing her behind a grouping of crates, putting a finger to his lips to warn her to silence. She’d stayed huddled behind the crate until an older Daughter came to rescue her. Then there had been a mad dash for the ship with her in the arms of the Daughter. Amid the crying and the moaning of the wounded Daughters, she vaguely remembered the same tall man in black and yet another flying the ship.
“They were Reapers, child,” the Great Oracle said. “True Reapers and not the balgairs who murdered your family. If they had not been our friends, our protectors, we would never have allowed them to land on Sanctuary.”
“I remember now. I forced the memories away,” Jordan said. “I didn’t want to think about them so I just didn’t.”
“It is best not to dwell on bad memories.”
“The man in black,” she said, and suddenly his face seemed to loom out of the shadows. “He was kind to us.”
“As well he would have been, child,” the Great Oracle told her. “Though they are mighty warriors, dangerous men, they are e’er gentle with the females of all species. N’er would one hurt you.”
She swallowed. “And the hybrid?” she asked. “The Gravelord that I am told is greatly feared.”
“Decide when you are presented to him at the ceremony, Daughter. Make your judgment of him then.”
Jordan clenched her hands tightly together. “You know, don’t you, Reverend Mother?”
“That you are his Chosen?” the old woman asked. “Yes, I suspected as much, else you would not have run away.”
“Does everyone know?” she asked.
