by Jo Carlisle
Taryn’s swordsmanship had come a long way. For a brief time, he had her on the run and knew it. He moved in for the kill, increasing the frequency of his strikes, his arm a flurry of movement, his expression more feral than she’d ever seen, filled with battle lust.
To her astonishment, she tripped and almost fell. She fumbled her sword but managed to recover just in time to lunge, sweeping Taryn’s legs from underneath him. He planted on his ass in the dirt, and she held him at sword point, the tip about an inch from his throat.
“Do you yield?”
“Yes.” Taryn laughed and took the hand up that she offered. “But you almost dropped your weapon! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so distracted. Does your vampire have anything to do with it?”
“None of your business.” She gave him the evil eye as he brushed the sand off his rear, but he wasn’t deterred.
“His feeding went well, did it?” he teased.
Standing, she pushed his hand away and brushed off her rear. “You have to ask? You’re the one who picked out the most tempting servants the palace had to offer.”
“At your request.”
“Maybe next time you shouldn’t do your job so well!”
“Wow, he did get to you.” Stepping close, he lowered his voice seductively but didn’t touch her. “Do you need me, mistress? You have only to ask.”
“Must I? As long as you’ve known me and have become accustomed to my moods?”
“Of course not. Forgive me,” he murmured, reaching out to smooth her hair from her face. “Where?”
“Right here.”
“Exhibitionist.” His affectionate tone said how much he loved that about her.
“As if you can cast stones.”
“I’ve never been innocent, nor would I want to be.” His lips curved. “As someone once said, sinners have more fun.”
“That was Adam, I think.”
“Hmm,” he said, pulling her close. “No, I’m sure it was Eve.”
“Actually, it was the devil’s idea.”
“Always a man’s fault.” He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.
“Who else? When the first evil male tempted the innocent female, how was she to know better?”
“Which explains why innocence was lost long before you and I were born.”
She smirked. “Lucky for us.”
Done talking, Taryn brought his mouth to the curve of her shoulder and proceeded to nibble the delicate skin. He bit gently, causing a minishock of pain, then soothed the tiny hurt with lips and tongue. The need that had been simmering since she watched Luc with the faery ignited, stoking a fire in her sex. She wanted, now.
Her hands skimmed down his bare torso, feeling the cut ridges of his abdomen. Her fingers worked at the button on his pants, popped it free, and then attacked his zipper, freeing his erection. He was already hard for her, his shaft reddened and leaking. Closing her hand around him, she pumped, knowing he was ready to pounce.
Then Taryn made a move he rarely dared, in spite of her earlier words about his taking the initiative—he pushed Kass to her knees.
She would have admonished him, but an image of Luc came to her—of him standing over her just this way, strong and self-assured. But the scene with Luc would be different somehow, and she didn’t want to think of that.
Pushing the picture away, she focused on enjoying her slave and licked the crown of Taryn’s cock. She swirled around it and trailed down the underside, along the heavy vein all the way to his balls. She laved and nuzzled them, then took as much of each one in her mouth as possible, getting them nice and wet. Her goal was to drive him wild, and by the time she moved back and gave one simple swipe along the ridge of sensitive flesh behind his balls, she’d succeeded.
“Gods!” Pulling Kass to her feet, he led her to a bench on the outer edge of the courtyard and gestured to it. “Undress and kneel.”
She smiled, pleased, and set about removing her clothing. Any of her sisters would have punished him for issuing such a terse order, but not Kass. She considered it a testament to her oral talents that her well-behaved boy would lose his cool so completely and become an animal that must rut.
Once naked, she knelt before the bench and bent, bracing her arms on top of it, her ass poking out. At once Taryn was behind her, using his fingers to stroke inside her channel, spreading her moisture to make sure she was prepared. This done, he didn’t linger.
The slave grasped her hips, pushing inside. His filling her felt so good. Always did. Once his rod was seated fully, he wasted no time establishing a rhythm of hard and deep strokes. Flesh slapping flesh, he owned her body, taking them higher—and higher still…
Until his entire frame tensed and he shouted, plunging deep and holding there. He shouted and his cock began to jerk, and his release triggered her own. Hot spurts of cum jetted in her womb, and she rode their orgasm. So good.
At last he stilled, breathing hard. Smoothing a hand over her hip, he rasped, “Are you well, mistress?”
“Better than,” she assured him. “That was fantastic.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
Taryn withdrew, then helped her to stand and brushed the dirt and grass off her knees. Always, he took care of her. Especially after one of their sessions in which he took charge. She secretly liked when he fussed over her, and he seemed to need to do so.
“Let’s put ourselves back together, and then you can help me with my sword skills. Obviously, I’m rusty.”
“As you wish.”
A quick peck on her lips, then he turned to dress and fetch his sword. Kass watched him, but as she did, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting to Luc and how, upon taking control, he might have been even more forceful still than Taryn had been.
And how deliciously decadent it would feel when the vampire—her mate—finally sank his fangs deep while owning her.
Body and soul.
5
Odin strode through his palace, long legs carrying him quickly toward the training yard. Damn those fools on Olympus!
He’d been gone far too long, mired in their petty squabbles when he’d rather be here, whipping his soldiers into shape in preparation for the next battle. He never knew when the other gods would call upon his immortal army, and they’d expect immediate action—and to Hades with the fact that the gods themselves were probably at fault for any delay.
At the edge of the yard, he stood under the awning next to one of the massive support columns, studying the activity, fists on his hips. Scores of soldiers practiced both with weapons and in hand-to-hand combat. As usual the conflict was bloody, intense. These men had literally given their mortal lives to be in Odin’s service, whether they’d wanted to or not. Be that as it may, they were here and there was little else to do but fight.
For these soldiers, pleasures of the flesh were rare. Only the very best and most dedicated were rewarded with willing bed partners, and it was a hard-won honor. Odin believed in keeping the men on their toes, and giving them a goal to work toward. And the possibility of sex was a big motivator.
Of course, Odin had to suffer no such restriction. One of the perks of being the boss.
Scanning the groups and pairs of combatants for the five newest recruits, he mentally checked their names off his list as he spotted them. Holmes, Stevens, Wright, Baker…Fontaine?
His gaze roamed the men again. His scowl deepened when he didn’t find the man he was searching for. “Benji!” he bellowed.
Across the yard, his assistant’s eyes widened. The auburn-haired young man hurried toward him, sudden panic on his face. “Y-yes, my lord?”
“Where the fuck is the vampire, Luc Fontaine? He should have arrived days ago!”
The redhead’s complexion paled, if possible. “W-well, to my understanding, he was, um, delayed. Slightly.”
“Delayed?” he repeated incredulously. The concept was foreign to him, and ridiculous. “The three Fates choose a worthy soldier, and I add him to my list. The
n when the soldier is killed, one of the Valkyries brings him here to serve me. It’s not a difficult fucking process to understand or follow.” He leaned down, his voice low and ominous. “So, tell me how in blazing hell he gets delayed, as though he had a flat tire on the way to work?”
Benji cleared his throat and not so bravely stood his ground. “Yes, that’s usually how the delivery g-goes, unless the Valkyrie in question…r-rescues the soldier instead.” He met Odin’s furious glare and flinched as though he expected to be hit.
Odin kept a leash on his anger. Barely. He’d never hit the boy and wouldn’t start now, over something that wasn’t his fault. “Which sister, pray tell, was tasked with bringing Fontaine to me?”
“Kassandra, my lord.”
If gods could get headaches, he’d be developing a large one right about now. That particular female was a headstrong, stubborn pain in his ass. Even so, no matter how much she might strain against doing her job of late, she’d always performed it. Until now.
“Unbelievable. Has she or any of her sisters given an explanation for her blatant disregard for the Fates’ decree, or for pissing me off?”
“No, my lord, I’m afraid not. I sent an inquiry on the matter in hopes that I’d have the situation resolved before you returned, but there’s been no reply at all from the Valkyries.”
For a long moment, Odin watched his soldiers without really seeing them, contemplating the dilemma Kassandra had put him in with her impetuousness. What in the gods’ names had possessed her to save this particular man over countless other souls she’d escorted to Valhalla? And a vampire, no less. Though he wasn’t sure her reasons mattered.
Personally, he knew his army wouldn’t suffer from the loss of a single recruit. But she’d put him in a difficult position with the gods. As much as he hated political posturing, all of the whipping out of dicks to compare sizes, it was part of his existence. And losing face with the others was not just humiliating—it could be hazardous to his health.
Unless he received infallible counsel.
Swearing, he shoved a long strand of silver hair from his eyes. “Benji, I have to leave again for a few days. Keep an eye on the soldiers in my absence and call out if you need me.”
If his assistant was distressed by this news, he didn’t show it. “As always, my lord.”
Clasping the boy’s shoulder briefly in reassurance, Odin steeled his resolve and vanished from the yard.
He had an appointment to beg with the three cold bitches who literally held the fate of the universe in their delicate hands.
So far, the slave gig was pretty easy, Luc thought. He had a fancy roof over his head, food and sex at his leisure. So what if he had to follow a few orders from the hard-ass female warrior? This could be a pretty cushy life for however long he was here.
Feeling smug and relaxed, he stretched out his legs and folded his arms over his stomach, watching some sort of waterfowl paddle about in the garden pond.
“What in Hades do you think you’re doing?”
Kass’s sharp, irritated voice jolted him upright, breaking his reverie. Shifting on the bench, he observed her approach and decided to disarm her with his best smile.
“Waiting for you, sweetcakes. What does it look like?”
“That’s mistress to you,” she said in a steely tone. Her expression was not one of amusement.
Uncertainty crept in, strange and uncomfortable. He’d never been in a situation with a female he couldn’t charm his way out of. But this one was admittedly a bit more prickly than most. This might not be as easy as he’d thought.
“Sorry, mistress. I got carried away watching the birds. You have a beautiful garden.”
She wasn’t swayed by the attempt at small talk. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and that’s not acceptable. You’re to let me know where you will be at all times. Do you understand?”
“Sure, but it’s not like I left the grounds or anything. I was just—”
“Loafing. Obviously you don’t take your role here seriously. I think a lesson in humility is in order, don’t you?”
“I don’t—I mean, whatever you think is best,” he replied, then added, “Mistress.”
“Follow me.”
Damn, the woman was wound tight. If he could get her into bed and sink his cock into her sweet pussy again, he could relax her soon enough. But apparently she had something a bit different in mind.
She led him to her chambers, where she flicked a hand at him. “Off with your clothes.”
That was a simple-enough order, and one he didn’t mind complying with. Trying to keep the eagerness off his face, he stripped off his shirt and jeans. Once he was naked, he stood waiting for her to order him to her bed. Or perhaps bend her over the dresser or something.
His dick liked that scenario and came awake, ready to play. His mistress, however, didn’t react exactly as he thought she would.
“I see you’re eager to learn what this evening has in store.” She smirked. “I hope you’ve recovered your stamina.”
“What’s going on tonight?”
“A dinner party.”
“Oh. Well, I’ve been to plenty of those,” he said, a bit disappointed.
“I doubt you’ve been to any like this one.” With that, she walked into the bathroom. Before he could decide whether to follow, she was back carrying a large towel, a bowl, and a razor. It was the old-fashioned sort of razor that could behead a gorilla. “Lie on the bed, on your back.”
“Wait a second,” he said with a laugh of disbelief. “You’re not planning what I think you are—are you? No way.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Come on. Why the fuck do I have to get manscaped for a dinner party?”
“Your job is to do as I say, which I shouldn’t have to remind you. Get on the bed.”
The determination on her lovely face spoke volumes. He wasn’t going to win a battle of wills, and she wasn’t going to tell him why he was doing this before she was good and ready. “Fine. But if my hair grows back weird, I’m blaming you.”
“Who says I’ll allow it to grow back?”
There was a strange thought. A bit nervous, he crawled onto the bed and sprawled on the towel, watching her every move. Placing the bowl and razor on the nightstand, she took a piece of soap from the bowl, which turned out to have some water in it, too. Next, she scooped some of the water, dribbled it over his groin, and lathered her hands.
And then she took the soap in her hands, and lathered him up as well. His manhood rather liked this attention, getting all warm, slippery, and sudsy. It began to plump, and his balls tightened as she slicked every crevice.
But when she rinsed her hands in the bowl and picked up the razor, the poor fellow deflated somewhat. He eyed the blade, sucking in a breath as she lowered it to his groin.
“Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know,” he replied with a weak smile. “I saw you lop off a werewolf’s head. Wielding a razor will be no challenge for you at all.”
“I killed the beast to save you,” she reminded him. “If I wanted to harm you, I had the perfect opportunity.”
“True.” He let out a deep breath. “I trust you.”
“No, I think you’ve decided to take a chance, and that’s not the same. But you will trust me, in time.”
Sitting up on his elbows, he glued his eyes to her movements as she lowered the blade and began to swipe it with sure, even strokes. Slowly, his man-fuzz, which had never been that thick to begin with, disappeared, revealing smooth skin.
He had to admit, the sight of it and the feel of the scrape of the dangerous blade at the root of his cock and around his balls were very erotic. His dick recovered and returned to full readiness, rising from his now-naked groin.
Straightening, she surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. “You look fantastic. Rinse off in the shower, and don’t take long. And one other thing—keep your erection nice and firm but do not come. Is that clear?”
“Yes, mistress,” he managed. Gods, the woman knew how to get his libido going! What was she up to? He’d play along, see where this went.
His shower was quick, but he made certain to play with himself a bit, just enough to obey her order without going over the edge. There was something titillating about her exerting this sort of control over his body—or more accurately, about his willingly submitting to it. He liked it, more than he should.
After he’d toweled off, he padded into her bedroom to see her in the doorway, retrieving a small box from a servant. He wondered what had been delivered and figured he’d find out soon enough.
She walked to the dresser and set the box on it. “Come here.”
He complied, waiting impatiently. She removed the lid and lifted out a black, strappy leather thing with a long, slender chain attached. “Is that a harness of some sort?”
“And a leash, yes.”
“You have a dog?” He glanced around, thinking he hadn’t seen one.
“No. But I have a slave.” Her lips turned up, and her gaze raked him from head to toe.
He snorted. “You don’t really mean for me to wear that thing.”
“On your cock, yes.”
He chuckled, but his humor died fast when he saw she was dead serious. “Okay. That’ll be a first.”
Why the hell was his cock harder than ever, starting to ache? The damned thing was pointed straight at her, as if begging to be leashed already. A glance down at himself confirmed that a pearly drop had formed at the tip.
“Spread your feet apart and hold still.”
He did, watching as she laid the harness and leash aside and grabbed something else from the box. This item was a small strap, and he knew it was a cock ring. That explained why she wanted him to keep up his erection.
As he thought she would, she bent and fixed the strap around his balls and the base of his cock. He couldn’t help the groan that slipped from his lips as he grabbed the edge of the dresser. He’d worn one of these before, and it was exquisite torture. The ring would help him remain erect but wouldn’t allow him to come.
