Lilith Enraptured (Divinity Warriors 1)

by Pillow Michelle M.

  Sorin glanced around his castle chambers, the place he always stayed when he came to Battlewar. Ever since his own castle, Firewall, burned to the ground, this was as close to a stationary home as he had. Like all male rooms, the decorations were sparse—a large bed with a mammoth-wolf fur coverlet, a large wall filled with every weapon he’d ever owned in chronological order, a fireplace, comfortable chair, a trunk for his personal belongings and two doors.

  The black stone walls pressed in on him. He shouldn’t be here. He should be at the encampment with the other men. What did he care if tradition dictated he at least attempt to take a breeding partner, a mate, a bride, a whatever the women liked to call the joining nowadays. He had a bride once and it did him little good. Bianka, the accursed wench, was dead and it suited him just fine not to replace her.

  Still moist from his recent bath, he adjusted his hips on the chair and wrapped his callused fingers around the semi-erect member between his thighs. Granted, self-satisfaction wasn’t as gratifying as the real thing, but it would keep his head level during the ceremony. He would never forgive himself if he did something stupid. The longer his kind went without the exhausting pleasure of the bed, the more their moods were said to be altered. Sorin grunted. He thought he did just fine without a woman.

  He gripped his cock hard, squeezing in irritation as he tried not to think of how he wanted to be far away from there. It didn’t take long for his erection to reach full capacity and begin to ache. Veins strained along the firm flesh, leading a familiar trail over his shaft from thick base to smooth tip. The water dried and the rough texture of his war-hardened hand caused an insistent friction along his shaft. Nothing about the grip reminded him of the soft folds of a woman and that’s the way he liked it—hard and empty.

  He stroked fast and tight. The muscles in his stomach tightened. His body knew its part and didn’t need to be romanced into climaxing. Closing his eyes, he let the end come. Physical release sated one hunger, the feast being prepared below stairs would take care of the other. By morn, he’d ride out with his brother to join the battlefront.

  Sorin stood and stretched his hands over his head. The low fire had dried the water from his naked flesh. All this sitting around and reflecting didn’t sit well on his mind. Completely comfortable in his nakedness, he strode to the trunk and flung it open. Tradition demanded he dress nicely this evening, even though he much preferred armor to silken threads.

  But hate all this nonsense as he may, it was his turn to sit before the stage and watch the newest batch of women being paraded before them. And, like the several times before, he’d do nothing but sit and wait and curse the hours of his life that were being wasted.

  Chapter Two

  “I say we make a fight of it,” Jayne put forth, twisting her arms in an effort to be free of the ropes around her wrists. She’d already put up a good fight as the men came to restrain them in the prison cell. Karre had been no less defiant, though her moves seemed more calculated and her eyes ever watchful. Paige simply held out her hands and let them bind her, as if whatever fight she’d once had disappeared completely.

  Lilith clearly wasn’t the fighter Jayne was, nor was she the beaten pushover Paige had obviously become. If anything, she was like Karre, watching and waiting, analyzing as she always did on assignment. Only this time there were no safety protocols if she got into trouble. The fact terrified her. She knew self-defense and had been trained in basic survival, but in truth, she was just an analyst. She spent most of her field hours in libraries and tech labs, learning about the different dimensions’ individual histories and political systems. Occasionally she’d attend banquets and celebrations, always observing, rarely participating. She collected intelligence, sometimes known by that particular plane’s authorities, sometimes not. Her job was to observe and under no circumstances was she to interfere.

  So what did all those years of training mean now? Did she fight? Every instinct told her to stay calm and observe, to wait and learn. But was fear making her cling to the familiar? She had to remind herself that this wasn’t a mission. This was her life, potentially the rest of her life if she didn’t find a way out. There was no safety button hidden in a necklace that would alert the company to come and get her. She was on her own.

  No, that wasn’t true. She had four potential allies standing right next to her in the same sacrificial white gowns and rope chain accessories.

  “Paige already tried fighting and running,” Lilith whispered, automatically testing the tight ropes around her wrists. They bit into her flesh, seeming to get tighter the more she pulled at them. A guard stood at the end of a long hall, which passed rows of cells much like the one they’d been kept in. The women made no move to follow the man out of the prison area. “The way I see it, we don’t have any choice but to join forces and pool our knowledge. I think we should gather intelligence. None of us seem to be from this world, so that means they had to get us all here somehow. If we keep our ears open, we’ll find out how. There might be a way out of here yet.”

  “I’ve already looked for fairy rings when I was in the forest,” Paige said. “I didn’t even find evidence of fairies. Though, I’m not surprised. Fairies don’t like wars and this place is nothing but one giant battlefield. I think my journey here was a one-way trip.”

  “Fairy rings?” Karre snorted with soft laughter.

  “What?” Paige asked, looking around at the others. “Isn’t that how you all got here?”

  “No more talking. They’re ready for you,” the guard announced, motioning his fist forward. “Let’s go. March.”

  Lilith didn’t readily move. The prisons felt oddly safe. Once she stepped out into this world who knew what she’d encounter.

  “March!” the guard yelled in irritation.

  Lilith jolted, shivering.

  “Let me help.” Paige tugged on her arm, dragging Lilith forward a few steps before letting go. “Brock’s ill-tempered and in the end you’ll still be marching out there. Just be glad he’s letting you keep the clothes. This is one group you don’t want to greet naked.”

  The women filed out of the prison corridor into a blue-grey stone passageway. This time one of the guards did walk behind them as they followed Brock. Wooden doors with thick metal handles spread out on either side, lit by torches placed on the walls. Material whispered with each step and the sound of their bare feet padding across the cold floor created a steady beat to the harder clomping of the guards’ boots. Otherwise, the castle was silent.

  The long passageway turned into another, then into another, becoming an endless maze of twists and turns. As the sound of voices penetrated their march, Lilith stared past Karre’s shoulder. A new light shone from ahead, brighter than the torches but still flickering like firelight. The nearer they walked toward the light, the louder the sounds became. Rowdy, gruff and very male, the voices caused Lilith to falter in her steps. Paige bumped into her back, only to forcefully push her forward.

  Her breathing deepened and her heart raced. Each heavy thump brought her closer to passing out. The firelight began to dance in her vision.

  No!

  Lilith jerked her senses back from the threat of oblivion and steeled her nerves. She might be just an analyst, but she had been trained for tactical situations. She needed to focus. This was a mission. She wasn’t being paid for it, but it was perhaps the most important mission she had ever been on.

  Holding her head up high, she walked under the narrow archway into a crowded hall. First, she needed to survey her surroundings. Battlewar Castle appeared to be a beefy evolution of the medieval period, honed to perfection by centuries of care, and decorated by men. Lilith had seen castles before and, though they had distinctly different styles, the layouts were generally the same. If it stayed true to common form, there would be a town beyond the inner gate, spread out over the distance and leading to an outer gate.

  Warriors watched the four women with interest from the long rows of tables in the main hall
. Though gruff in appearance, most of them looked recently bathed. Some wore lightweight tunics, others leather jerkins like the guards, others light chainmail and pieces of armor, and still others wore no shirt at all. Big metal goblets had been set before them, next to matching pitchers. She’d thought the guards were scary, but some of these men were practically gigantic. Muscles bulged, littered with puckered scars and tattooed designs. Despite her best efforts, her heart hammered wildly and her throat became dry. She was expected to sexually satisfy one of these warrior knights? If their cocks were anything like the rest of them, they’d tear her apart.

  The light came from a large fireplace along a far side of the room. Like most things in this place, it was immense and towering. Woven tapestries lined the walls in strips of material, showcasing coats-of-arms and various symbols she didn’t yet recognize.

  “Come on,” the guard muttered, his voice not booming like before as he led them through a path made between the tables.

  Lilith noticed women mixed in with some of the men. Though not so tight as Sera, they had corset tops clearly designed to entice and enflame their male leaders, and skirts for easy access. A bearded knight licked his lips as she passed, his eyes raking over her as if she were already naked and strapped to the table. She swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t the only one looking at her like that. Lilith wondered if the firelight revealed more of her naked body beneath the white gown than she would have liked. She pulled her arms close.

  Sera’s words echoed in her head, “The faster you make them come, the less time you must spend in their presence. That is all they want—a vessel to find release in.”

  Did they expect the women to please all these men? The hungry glances and deepened breathing didn’t deny the idea. Tension filled the air and the talking had quieted by small degrees. The prisoners turned and were led forward to the front of the hall. A raised table, set high upon a platform of honor, awaited empty.

  “Stand here,” Brock ordered, pointing before the tables. Then yelling, he announced, “Bring in the firsts so they may make their choice.”

  Firsts? Did that mean her worst fear was correct? They would have to pleasure more than one of these giant, warrior men? However would she survive it?

  The hall erupted into a crescendo of good-natured laughter and cheering. Six men walked into the main hall, fierce and proud. Their clothes gleamed in a way not seen in the others’ clothing. A small detail, to be sure, but it did set these men apart from the others. Each wore a different colored long tunic, reaching to the knees, over tight brown breeches. Woven belts wound their waists, the end straps hanging along the right thighs.

  A wave of foreboding washed over her. Lilith took in each man in turn. The first walked with a slight limp, though it didn’t detract from the power of his stance. Next a dark-haired knight with softer set features and an easier gait followed. His gaze moved over each of the women in interest.

  Suddenly, Lilith’s eyes stopped and her body froze. The third man in line towered the others in breadth and height. A raw, potent energy radiated from him, hitting her in the chest. Every nerve tingled with awareness and warmth, creating a curious reaction between her legs.

  Lilith didn’t know what to make of him. His size frightened her even as it intrigued her—so large and thick, yet so purposeful in his movements. He walked with a stalking grace that came only from years of exercise and training. Dark hair framed his face in thick waves, not so long as to touch his shoulders, but long enough to make her want to sink her hands into its depths and pull. Silken blue clung to the sculpted valleys of his chest and arms.

  Then he looked at her, intense dark brown eyes piercing hers, and she couldn’t breathe. He didn’t smile, didn’t show any pleasure in what he saw. The hard line of his mouth tightened, as if he wanted nothing more than to jump over the table and strangle her. Fists clenched alongside his thighs, tight, hard balls of steel that could easily take her head off with one blow.

  Terror filled her. What had she done to draw his notice or his anger? Had she stared too long? Did he simply hate blondes? She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging tight. The man wouldn’t stop staring at her, as if he knew he dominated her with just that one look. Was he going to be her “first”?

  “We have to get out of here,” she whispered, filled with the urge to run.

  “There is nowhere to go,” Paige said, just as quietly. “I already tried. Resign yourself for we will never escape this place. Survive or die, those are your options.”

  * * * * *

  Sorin took several deep breaths, feeling as he did when about to go into battle. Heat filled him as tension worked its way into his limbs. With a single thought, he could will his body to spring into action. He could erase her from the world and end this before it started.

  But it was too late. He was lost the moment he’d looked at her, had seen her big blue eyes staring at him in trepidation. No, he was lost before that, when he felt her looking at him, beckoning him with her unwavering gaze to find her in the crowd.

  Temptress. Witch.

  He willed the desire inside him to go away. It shouldn’t have been so strong. He’d relieved himself like he always did, had spilled his seed to ease the lonely ache.

  Light from the fireplace shone through the white of her gown, silhouetting the long length of her legs and arms. The linen clung to her shoulders, swooping gently along the curves of her breasts—breasts that would be bare beneath. The tied hands were a new addition to the ceremony, thanks to Sir Aidan’s wayward woman, Lady Paige. Sorin’s barbaric side found he liked the addition.

  Hunger rushed into every limb, lifting his cock beneath the long tunic. He didn’t think to hide the reaction. No one would care. It had been so long, so very long, since he’d had a woman in his bed. He suppressed a groan. Soft flesh. Round breasts. Taut nipples. Slick, warm vessel to catch his passion. That certain female smell when he pressed his nose to her sex.

  A thought whispered in the back of his mind. Maybe she’s different. Maybe she’ll be better. Maybe this one will stay.

  He cursed the thought. No. She wasn’t different. She wasn’t better. Sorin had made up his mind long ago. He’d come, he’d look, but he never, ever wanted to find someone. He wasn’t meant to have this, or her, or any kind of peace. Sorin was born into a land of war. He was made for it, every piece of him. One of the bloodiest battles in their history happened the very hour his mother gave birth to him.

  Some were lucky to find peace in marriage, but not him. Tradition and necessity dictated he come to these ceremonies and try to find someone. He came from a noble line, a position of power, one that demanded he have sons to carry on his family’s name. But society could not make him choose. It could not make him step forward and lay claim.

  “Mine.”

  Where did that word come from? It sounded like his voice, booming over the hall to quiet all who watched into stunned silence. It felt like his body refusing to go to his place at the table, instead moving forward with arm uplifted to point at the blonde-haired beauty. But it couldn’t be his body or his voice. That would mean he’d just announced his claim. Everyone would have heard it. He couldn’t back out once the word was said.

  “Sorin?” his younger brother, Ronen, hissed. Like Sorin, Ronen led one of the more renowned armies in all of Staria. Very few would dare to challenge their word or honor and the fact made it even more impossible for Sorin to take back what he’d done.

  “Mine,” Sorin found himself repeating. Was he possessed? What madness was this? He kept walking toward her. She merely stared at him, those wide, gorgeous eyes capturing his. Straight blonde hair hung long down her back, just as a woman’s should.

  “Brother?” Ronen questioned. The shock was evident in his voice. Sorin couldn’t blame him for the surprise because that very day he’d been instructing Ronen to stay strong and not fall for a woman’s pretty face. And what did Sorin do? He claimed a woman with a pretty face.

  The hall r
emained quiet. Sorin stopped before the woman, noting with pleasure that she didn’t cringe and fall away from his looming presence. Her strength would serve her well. Years of frustrated desires surged inside him. He couldn’t put them off any longer. Deny it as he might, he needed a woman. He would never admit the words out loud. The need was not just for physical release, but for the softness of her, the sweet smell and the temporary relief from the endless fighting that such a creature could bring.

  You tried this before, Sorin. Such things are not for you.

  Fool.

  Idiot.

  Weak.

  His accusing thoughts infuriated. Reaching for her bound arms, he took hold of the ropes. Not even his condescending inner voice could stop his actions. Sorin held her gaze steady, stating so she couldn’t mistake his claim, “You are mine.”

  * * * * *

  Did he say “mine”?

  If she could have forced her limbs to move, Lilith would have blazed a trail out of there so fast the castle would’ve exploded. She’d heard about people being petrified with fear, but she never realized it felt like this. Not even her heart seemed to beat in her chest. She opened her mouth only to close it. Her eyes stared at his, unable to blink. Sound wouldn’t leave her throat. She tried again, working her lips several times before managing a very inaudible, “No.”

  Dark eyes narrowed. This wasn’t a man used to being refused. All around her, the hall had silenced. She heard the gasps as he’d first spoken, followed by rushed whispers. But none of the others could have been as stunned as she.

  This man wants me? This impossibly strong, muscular man? This deadly warrior with the imposing features and angry eyes?

  “Ah.” The man standing near the head table cleared his throat. “Rejoice, Lord Sorin has chosen!”