Rown nodded. Silently, he gathered the leather straps together and the wand. He departed after a wistful sigh and a final glance at Sterlave.
“I have never seen him so enamored of anyone.” In all honesty, she didn’t think any man had ever looked at her with that level of longing.
Sterlave rubbed his wrists and ankles. “How many other men have been in your rooms?”
“None.” She found his jealous tone pleasing. “Believe me, those guards are there for a reason.”
He pointed to the area behind the curtains. “There is a back door.”
“That only servants can use. Beyond their rooms is an access hallway with even more guards.” Kasmiri sighed. “My mother isn’t a fool. I’ve been carefully supervised my entire life.” Under her breath, she mumbled, “If she could have glued my legs together, she would have.”
“That didn’t stop you from a private chat with Chur at the Festival of Temptation.”
Jealousy turned bitter was not pleasant at all. Even though she didn’t feel she had to explain, she did. “Nothing happened.” In fact, Chur had rejected her so thoroughly her heart ached for endless nights. “I came to the Harvest a virgin just as my duty demanded.” Her mother used the word duty so often that Kasmiri had nightmares where an amorphous blob called duty consumed her, bones and all.
Sterlave changed the subject when he asked, “Where did the restraints come from?”
“A gift from one of the guests at the bonding ceremony.” Rown had giggled when he listed all the presents, most of which were designed for sexual play. Kasmiri hadn’t been surprised, not after the intensity of their bonding.
“Weren’t the gifts for us? Don’t I get to see them?”
“Later, perhaps. We don’t have time now. We must make ourselves ready.”
Sterlave left the bed to clean up. When he returned, he was scratching at his chest.
“Here.” She retrieved the lotion Rown had used to soothe the itch of regrowing hair.
When she handed it to him, he cocked one eye, and asked, “No tricks?”
“No.” She watched him slather the lotion across his muscular chest and turned away because watching him caused her sex to wet. “The last thing I need is you scratching or incapacitated for Mother’s celebration.”
“What celebration?”
Kasmiri released an annoyed breath. “We are supposedly celebrating my bonding.” Of course, what her mother said and what was really going on were often two different things. “Rown should have your clothing ready.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay here since you are clearly in no mood to celebrate getting stuck with me.”
When she turned around, Sterlave stood with his hands clenched at his sides. Why was he so touchy? She hadn’t meant that at all; she simply didn’t care for her mother’s manipulations. It seemed each time they drew together, something she said pushed him away. The sad thing was she wasn’t trying to alienate him, but she refused to continue soothing his pride.
“You will attend. Remember that you chose this life by forcing me to be your bondmate.” She summoned her servants and settled at her mirror.
Sterlave relaxed on the bed, watching Kasmiri’s transformation. Three servants flittered around her while she sat perfectly still. They teased and smoothed her hair into an elaborate cone similar to the style she’d worn at the Festival of Temptation. He didn’t care for the hairdo at all since he thought she looked stunning with her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck.
Next, they applied color to her face, enhancing her lips with glossy crimson and enlarging her eyes with dark liner. Carefully, a servant added extra eyelashes, then placed tiny red gems at the sweeping ends.
Kasmiri faced her mirror with blank eyes. As they slaved to perfect everything about her physical form, her mind was clearly elsewhere.
His anger at her harsh attitude, that he must attend since it was his fault for forcing her to bond to him, dissolved when he wondered how many times she had sat motionless while her servants poked, prodded, and perfumed her person.
Like a doll with glassy eyes, Kasmiri sat in the chair with no animation at all. Sterlave found it unsettling. Would he too become bored with all the finery forced on him for the sake of appearances?
Rown entered with garments slung over his arm and motioned to Sterlave. Sliding off the bed, he moved nearer to Rown and considered the unfamiliar clothing. He had no idea where to start.
“I am here to help you,” Rown said with a soothing smile. “First we start with the echalle.”
Rown helped Sterlave slip on a scrap of silky black fabric with a complicated set of straps that nestled his cock and balls into a prominent bulge.
“If I get an erection while wearing this, it will look like I have an oversized gara fruit in my pants.”
Rown chuckled and adjusted the echalle. “Yes, which is rather the point. But it won’t constrict.” He slipped a finger inside and pulled forward, showing that the fabric would expand if he did.
Rown then handed him a pair of black pants that seemed three sizes too small. As Sterlave slipped them on, they stretched around him, caressing him, molding to every muscle on his legs. Once he got them up to his waist, Rown fastened them together, stood back, and sighed.
Sterlave did not feel the same. How could he be clothed but feel more than naked? He was so displayed he had an overwhelming urge to cover his genitals with his hands.
He slipped on a red shirt that didn’t help at all since it too clung to him like a second skin. When he moved, the fabric stroked his nipples, hardening them, which caused his cock to twitch with awareness. The entire outfit was like having a lover strapped to his body.
Rown’s eyes glittered appreciatively.
“Did you select this clothing?” Sterlave asked with a bit too much force.
“I assure you, this mode of dress is customary for a consort.” Rown pouted, not with as much charm as Kasmiri, but still with a practiced precision. “Are you displeased with me?”
Sterlave shrugged and instantly regretted it when the fabric shimmed all along his frame. “I am not upset with you, but this is…exploitive.”
Rown frowned, clearly perplexed. “You are Kasmiri’s consort. You will always be displayed accordingly.”
“Displayed is right.” Sterlave sighed and again regretted his decision to select her as his bondmate. Lead by his cock, he now had to let all in the land get a good look at it whenever he went out. Too bad he wasn’t into exhibitionism because being a consort would be the perfect position if he were.
Kneeling, Rown slipped on a pair of black animal-hide boots that went about halfway up his calves. After a lingering look at his prominent bulge, Rown stood, then fastened a short black cape to several buttons on the shoulders of the shirt. Sterlave wanted to turn the cape the other way around to cover his crotch.
After stroking a pungent scent along his neck, Rown considered him prepared and left the room.
Sterlave checked on Kasmiri and discovered she was almost ready. Servants had wrapped her in crimson fabric that covered her from neck to ankles but left her arms and back exposed. Similar to his outfit, hers also clung to every curve she possessed. He tried to keep his tongue from hanging out and just barely managed. She was a goddess. Turning her gaze to him, her eyes widened as she examined his clothing. His distaste for the outfit changed considerably because of the glow in her eyes.
“You are most handsome.” She seemed genuinely surprised by his transformation.
Sterlave bowed. “You are stunning.” He was less surprised because he knew how incredible Kasmiri looked without any enhancements at all.
Kasmiri tilted her face, preening under his gaze. She twirled leisurely, so that he could examine her clinging dress from all angles. Ever so slowly, his swelling erection pushed against the echalle, displaying his genitals in excruciating detail.
She sauntered toward him and cupped her hand against his bulge. “Obviously you like my dress.”
&nbs
p; He stroked his finger along her turgid nipple. “Just as much as you like my pants.” So far, the only time they got along perfectly was in physical matters.
Her gaze oozed sex as she gave him a gentle squeeze. “I am far more interested in what lies under your pants.”
Sterlave wanted to rip all their clothing off and send his regards to her mother. They would have a much better time here alone than in a room full of the elite.
They parted when Rown entered carrying something swaddled in fabric.
“What’s this?” Kasmiri asked, watching as Rown placed the object on the table.
“A gift from your mother.” Rown flipped open the material.
Kasmiri leapt back so quickly she almost stumbled.
Sterlave grasped her waist to steady her, but she moved away from him as if burned by his touch. Confused, he approached the table. Within the fabric he discovered a belt and a gleaming sword with gems embedded into the handle and along the blade. Why would something so beautiful frighten Kasmiri?
“What is this all about?” Sterlave directed the question to Rown.
“It’s a curse,” Kasmiri spat.
Rown struggled to maintain his servant aplomb since he clearly thought the gift was magnificent. “Your mother meant no harm—”
“I know what she means!” Kasmiri cut him off, then launched into a tirade about Rown being a traitor. Her voice rose in pitch and volume until Rown practically cowered into his robe.
“Stop!” Sterlave put himself between them. This was the second time he’d witnessed her verbally abusing Rown for something that wasn’t his fault—first the restraints and now this. Kasmiri turned her flashing eyes on him, ready to flay him with her wrathful tongue. That’s when he realized tears shimmered, threatening to fall and ruin her elaborate makeup. Whatever the meaning of this sword, it terrified her beyond comprehension. Without a word and despite her protests, he wrapped her up in his arms, murmuring soothing sounds. She struggled against him, her breath hot against his chest until she finally collapsed into his embrace. He maneuvered her into a chair and had Rown fetch her a drink.
Grateful, Rown complied, darting out the back, then returning with a bubbly liquid in a clear cup.
Kasmiri tossed it back in one mighty gulp, grimaced, and belched delicately behind her hand, which he found funny and endearing all at once. After a moment, her face softened and the fire in her eyes mellowed to embers. He would have to ask Rown to keep a supply of the drink in the room for future rages.
Sterlave removed the empty cup from her hand. “Now, can one of you calmly tell me what that sword means?”
Kasmiri dismissively waved her hand at Rown, giving him permission to speak.
Rown placed the belt aside, then used the fabric to polish the already gleaming blade. “This is the Sword of the Empress.” His voice was soft with reverence. “The empress bestows it upon her consort, for he must defend the Onic Empire.”
Kasmiri uttered a bitter laugh. “It also means my mother will not select a new consort. This is her way of reminding me of my duty.”
Sterlave pondered for a moment because it seemed the duty fell to him. If war came, he must lead the guards into battle, not Kasmiri.
Defeated eyes met his. “I have a duty to provide the next heir. If I do not have a girl child within two seasons, our ruling line will be vulnerable to a challenge from one of the other houses.”
His brows lifted. He had no idea Kasmiri had such pressure on her shoulders. His image of her as a pampered and protected woman-child vanished. Just as he had to fight to obtain his position as the Harvester, she had to fight to retain the power of the empress. Her fight was different from his, but still, it was his fight as well, for he must father a child. If he failed, Kasmiri would turn to another, for she would have no choice.
With a nod of his chin to the back door, Sterlave dismissed Rown. Once he left, he knelt beside Kasmiri’s chair and took her limp hand into his.
“This is not your duty alone, Kasmiri. I will do anything to help you achieve this obligation.”
Her laugh was so cold it stiffened his spine. Rudely, she said, “As if you’d object to fucking me until I’m pregnant.”
No one he’d ever met could blow hot and cold as quickly as she could. “That’s not what I meant.” He sought to ease her mind, but somehow he only irritated her more.
“No?” She yanked her hand from his, stood, and glided to the mirror to check her face. “What if I don’t want to have a child? I don’t have that luxury. Reproduce or face extinction. When another house issues a challenge, and if they succeed, they will kill all in my house, including you.”
“Then we won’t let that happen.” He moved behind her and caught her gaze in the glass. “You are not alone anymore, Kasmiri. Whatever duty obligates you now compels me.”
Dubious, she considered his reflection. “Do you want to have a child?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, I do.” Having a child with Kasmiri caused his chin to lift with determination; he would be the father his father never was.
“Then you’re a fool.” She spun away from the mirror and retrieved the sword. Hefting it up, she brandished it twice, then motioned him closer.
Sterlave warily approached.
“By might of the blade you claimed me as your bondmate. By might of this blade, I make you my protector, my defender, and the father of all my children.” Kasmiri bowed deeply. She tossed him the belt, which he slung across his hips; then she affixed the blade.
A rush of obligation surged through him once the cold metal touched his left thigh. This wasn’t just a sword but a tremendous responsibility. By accepting this gift, he swore himself not only to Kasmiri, but also to the entire Onic Empire. Despite the weight on his shoulders, he stood tall and faced her with pride.
Blinking rapidly, Kasmiri considered him, then turned away to hide her watering eyes.
She might think him a fool, she might still resent his claim, but something in his stance touched her heart. Turning her by gripping her shoulders, Sterlave forced her to face him, then claimed her mouth.
Crimson paint smoothed against his lips, but he didn’t care. He plunged his tongue to her mouth, tilting her head back to work his way deeper. Claiming her with his kiss, he pressed her against him until she felt the threat of his engorged cock nudging her belly. She didn’t struggle but opened herself to him, angling her hips to snuggle him fully.
“Tell me one truth, Kasmiri,” he breathed against her lips. “Tell me if you want me to stand beside you and fight your battles with you.”
Without a moment of hesitation, she whispered, “I want you. I keep trying not to, but I do.” She said it as if she confessed to the most perverse need. He worried that she wanted him in a different way than what he asked.
“Will you work with me to face all the challenges?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded more assured.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
Rather than answer, she pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t the answer he needed, but for now, it was enough.
7
Kasmiri entered the Room of Ceremonies with Sterlave at her side. Every gaze swung their way and she stiffened her spine, plastering a serene smile to her face as she nodded to several people. At first, she worried over her makeup, but Sterlave had insisted on fixing her lip color before leaving her rooms. She had removed the smear from his lips, then marveled in the way he stroked crimson paint to her mouth. His focus made her think of the same attention to her sex. Everything that man did made her slick with desire.
Clasping Sterlave’s massive hand gave her strength. Moving through the throng of people, she sought out the safety of the high table and took her seat. Her mother had not yet made her entrance, so the rest of the table was empty. Kasmiri settled into her padded chair with a sigh of relief.
Sterlave sat next to her and whispered, “Should we not mingle with the g
uests?”
Kasmiri considered the protection offered by her current situation, then realized if she did not circulate among the elite, gossipmongers would wag vicious tongues. A brief but genuine smile crossed her face when she thought of how she and Sterlave had clashed tongues. That man could kiss the robe off an acolyte. The more she fought to resist him, the more he battered down her defenses until she finally confessed that she did, indeed, want him. But more than that, she needed him. For the first time, she thought she could face her duty with him by her side. She did not love him. In fact, she feared that if she allowed him any closer to her heart, she would. That she couldn’t allow. Love had ruined her mother and she would not follow in those tormented footsteps.
Drawing strength from him, she nodded, and they rose as one. Despite her reservations about his fitness as her mate, she was proud to have Sterlave as her consort. Dressed in his clinging clothing, he clearly rivaled any man in the room. Thick muscles and a prominent bulge shamed every man. Very few could wear the required consort clothing with the proud carriage of Sterlave.
As they moved to the center of the room, Chur Zenge entered with the most beautiful woman clinging to his arm. Kasmiri stopped midstride, halting Sterlave, who glanced in the same direction. His body went ridged when he too saw Chur. She felt him move his mouth close to her ear, then pull back when he considered the woman at Chur’s side.
“Who is that?”
“I do not know,” Kasmiri said, but she looked like a younger version of Arianda Rostvaika. Kasmiri knew Chur had selected a bondmate, but she had no idea he’d selected a woman who so resembled the woman she’d debased herself with. Was it a coincidence? Kasmiri thought Arianda didn’t have any children, but this woman was clearly her child. Then again, this creature was no child but a grown woman, and far too beautiful to be ignored. Jealousy surged that she had stolen her dream. How Kasmiri had wanted Chur to select an ugly woman who would be no competition. But this woman, oh, this woman was beyond stunning. She was slender, delicate, and almost as fragile as a water nymph.
Dark Harvest Page 7
