Azurene: Divine Seduction

by Adrianna Dane

  The ceremony was set for five days hence. As each day passed, drawing her closer, her uncertainties grew. As she walked the palace hallways, attended the various social functions that introduced her to the residents of this kingdom, she had searched for Teacher. But it seemed he had disappeared completely from her life.

  Who was his next student? Was he even now at the pavilion retreat introducing a new pupil to the lessons of Amak. Was he touching her in the same way he had touched Elita?

  Agvosian stars, how could she be so naïve as to think he might have a particular interest in her? She belonged to the Lord Guardian, and Teacher served Duarte. He had been her teacher and guide to understanding the passion of her body, taught her to exercise her self-control. He had made her a different person than when she had left the desert. Stronger. Helping to mold her into a woman worthy of the title Consort to the Lord Guardian of the Northern Shore. First Wife to Lord Raoul Duarte. These were weighty titles to bear and she must stop yearning for something that was not hers to have.

  She could only hope that one day, as Otrielle had suggested, she might come to care for her chosen match. On some level it frightened her to think that if she couldn't learn to care for him, her future lay barren before her, because she could not turn away from her destiny. She would not embarrass her family. And, besides, there was no place to go. What could be a worse fate than to be captured again by Kadin's hoard and made a slave to the underlord? That would be her fate if she tried to escape her future with Duarte. She would die before that would happen.

  She whirled away from the vista of the swirling ocean. Peeling off the formal gown, she let it fall to the floor. Stepping over it, she headed toward a black lacquer chest on the other side of the room. Opening the bottom drawer, she pulled out the slender box. It had been included in a small satchel of personal things that arrived with her. Someone had remembered to include the passion wand among her personal possessions.

  Elita lifted it from the dark blue velvet interior of the rosewood case. She set the case on top of the dresser. Her fingers sifted across the nubbed length of the glass shaft, remembering the first time it had been introduced to her. She gripped it in one hand as she slid the other over her naked breast, swirling the pad of a fingertip over her areola, feeling the nipple quickly tighten with arousal.

  She remembered Teacher's hands on her body, holding her open as Olan sifted the tip of the phallus over her wet opening before slipping the tip inside her, gently opening her tight channel.

  Trembling with remembered arousal, she walked to the bed and lay upon the plush cover, spreading her thighs wide. The fingers of one hand moved through the damp curls covering her mound, sliding down to her wet opening. Just the memories had a way of preparing her quickly to be penetrated.

  Preparation for Duarte's penetration at the ceremony of intercourse. But it was Teacher she visualized in front of her. Teacher whose cock prepared to fill her.

  Slowly, she pressed the phallus inside her, inch by inch. Retreating and penetrating. She pressed a finger to the base and the undulating vibrations coursed through her.

  Yes, oh, yes.

  Again and again. Why was life so complicated? So many responsibilities that must be adhered to? She remembered the stories her mothers told her as a young girl of princesses who were whisked away in secret by lovers to live happily forever.

  But that wasn't real life. One couldn't always have what they wanted. She pressed the shaft deeper and a small ache shot up through her vagina and into her heart. The sheath of her virginity which must not be breached.

  What if she did? Would Duarte send her away? Would he assume she was a whore and a trick had been played on him?

  She nudged the phallus tighter, the pain increased. Just a bit more.

  No. She could not dishonor her people or herself in this way. Honor and duty must come before personal gratification. She was not a coward. She eased the shaft from inside her and the ache lessened.

  She must yield. And in accepting that her body softened. To submit in this manner was an act of bravery she would not turn her back on. Duarte would have his virgin, her father would have his treaty that would provide him with enough natural salt water to keep the underlord in line and the desert kingdom safe from his invasion.

  She swirled a fingertip over her engorged clit. And tonight she remembered two pairs of erotic hands pressing against her body, driving her desire higher and higher. A passion learned, an appetite unquenchable. Her fingers plucked at her clit as she carefully sank the wand into her vagina. The orgasm rocked through her, a gentle quake. Enough. Yet not. Would it ever be enough?

  She thought not. Once learned, a thing could not be untaught. A body once awakened to touch, to desire, could not be returned to hibernation.

  Teacher...

  Chapter 14

  * * *

  Elita awoke with a tightness in her chest. This was her last day of freedom. Within hours the ceremony of intercourse would take place and she would be bound to Raoul Duarte forever. He was a stranger she had never even met except through the stories told to her by his mother.

  Yet didn't mothers always make their sons seem like young gods? But then she couldn't base it just on that because the servants, the guests, the soldiers--no one had anything bad to say about Raoul Duarte. And their loyalty was admirable.

  Elita threw back the covers and slid from the bed, padding over to where her ceremonial gown hung. It had been finished two days ago. It was a simple dress of pale pink material shot through with threads of silver. There was a veil to match. There were no undergarments to be worn today. The bonding and Raoul Duarte's piercing of her virginal barrier and accepting her as his consort would be publicly witnessed by the members of his court.

  How anyone expected her not to be nervous she couldn't imagine. It wasn't meant to be a session of lovemaking, but a ritual that must be adhered to in order for the match to be legal in the eyes of the law. Elita had always thought the public display should be outlawed, but to date it was still a barbaric requirement of the ceremony.

  As she fingered the dress, she thought of her mothers and how she wished they were with her. But this was part of her journey into womanhood and she must complete it alone. Her mothers had prepared her as best they could, and Otrielle had tried to help as well.

  And, of course, there were the lessons with...Teacher.

  She tried not to think about him and about the time she had spent at the pavilion. A month in privacy with a man who had taught her everything she knew about passion. And yet now another man would reap the benefits of those lessons.

  She had accepted the path she must travel. She shouldn't be thinking of him now at the imminence of her match. She had told herself she would forget him. He had done his duty and now it was time for her to do hers.

  With determination she pulled the dress down and, walking back to the bed, she laid it down and dropped her robe to the floor.

  A knock sounded at the door and Ameel, her maid, entered. Ameel had been assigned to her upon her arrival at the palace. She seemed like a nice girl and loved to chatter about the latest gossip. She was carrying a tray with Elita's breakfast on it.

  "Oh, my lady, it is so exciting. The whole palace is busy with preparations. Are you nervous? Well, of course, you are. But don't worry, everything will be wonderful." She set down the tray and seemed so giddy she appeared to be dancing in place.

  "I'm too nervous to eat. Will you just help me to get dressed?" She wanted this ceremony over. She wasn't good at this sort of thing and didn't like public displays, let alone knowing the intimacy that would be witnessed. She'd much rather be riding free out in the desert. Unfortunately, those days were now over.

  An hour later, dressed and her hair brushed to a fine sheen, there was another knock at the door. This time it was Otrielle.

  "My dear, you look lovely. I'm here to escort you to the ballroom and to your intended match. Raoul is most eager."

  "I don't know why he
couldn't take time to meet me before this," Elita mumbled.

  Otrielle patted her hand. "I'm sure there were reasons. But the day has finally arrived." She stepped in front of her and placed her hands on Elita's shoulder, a hint of concern in her expression. "You'll let him explain, won't you, my dear? Promise me that you will. Men can be so...difficult sometimes. They can get these odd notions in their head, and Raoul is just as stubborn as his father was. I used to get so angry with him." Then she smiled. "But I'm afraid I could never stay angry for long. Will you promise me that you'll let him explain?"

  Elita stared at her for long moments. "There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

  The other woman shook her head. "It is not for me to say. I wish it were. I know you'll be a bit upset with him, but..."

  Elita smiled. "It's all right. For you, I will promise. You have been so kind to me and made me feel welcome, how can I not promise."

  "Good. Then let us go. They are waiting. You truly are absolutely beautiful. He will be unable to resist you."

  Elita had no idea how she felt about that. In one sense it would be a good thing that her future mate found her appealing. But in another... Well, she just wasn't sure.

  Ameel followed them as they exited the room, lifting the train of the dress. As they walked toward the stairs, Elita looked down and saw what looked like hundreds of people waiting for her to descend. Instinctively, her grip tightened on Otrielle's hand.

  "It's all right. All of these people will not be at the intercourse ceremony. There will only be a chosen few. But everyone wanted to see you. They have waited a long time for Raoul to choose his mate.

  Elita nodded and they descended the spiral staircase. She tried to control the trembling, but found it difficult. Each step brought her closer to her destiny.

  When they finally reached the bottom of the staircase, Ameel released the train of her gown and stepped back. Elita took a deep breath as the crowd parted to allow them to pass. She wanted to run, to escape all this attention. But she could no longer linger in childhood. She had far passed that stage and she allowed Otrielle to lead her toward the double doors of the main ballroom where the ceremony would take place.

  Two guards opened the doors wide, allowing Elita and her escort to pass through. As Otrielle said, there were actually only a handful of people in attendance. The ballroom was a circular room with mirrored walls and ceiling. The floor was marble with gold veins shot through it. It made the room look far magnified in size, doubling and tripling the number of people in attendance.

  A small orchestra made up of flutes, violins, and drums announced their arrival and the room hushed. Otrielle led her forward. She saw two men on a raised dais at the end of the room. She was surprised that one of them wore the ceremonial robe of a soultender from her own province. She hadn't expected that. It was kind of them to consider her own beliefs in arranging the ceremony.

  More steps brought her closer and then she saw the man awaiting her arrival. He was dressed in the formal blue uniform of the palace guards, except this uniform was accessorized with gold braiding and medals indicating a higher status. His caramel-colored hair was neatly braided. And then he turned toward her and she stumbled and almost fell.

  "It can't be," she whispered beneath her breath. Only Otrielle's steadying hand kept her upright, kept her from turning and racing out of the room. Shock, anger, betrayal all warred inside her.

  "You promised," his mother whispered.

  Oh, if only she hadn't made that promise. How could he do this to her? He had lied, pretended. She felt so foolish.

  Otrielle forced her forward. Haltingly, she kept moving, wishing she had a dagger at her side. She had the worst need to eviscerate him.

  Yet too much depended on her. Even through the haze of anger she realized no matter what she wanted to do to him on a personal level, she could not avoid the mating.

  Otrielle placed her hand into his. She was afraid to look up to meet his gaze, but he forced her to face him. Slowly she raised her head and gazed into the eyes of Raoul Duarte, formerly known as Teacher.

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  Raoul Duarte leaned forward to chastely kiss her cheek. "Forgive me for the deception, Elita. I will explain later."

  She just stared at him, refusing to acknowledge his whispered words. She burned to scratch his eyes out, but some level of learned self-control stopped her. And there was the promise to his mother. Elita had never broken a promise. They then turned toward the soultenders waiting to perform the introductory part of the ceremony. Raoul led her forward.

  Emotions warred inside her. Anger at his deception, joy at the knowledge she was about to be matched with the man...she loved. How dare he not be honest with her. Not trust her with the truth.

  For the moment there was nothing she could do. But she would have answers when this was over. How could she possibly love a man who would do this to her?

  She tried to calm herself, tried to focus on the words of the soultenders, but it was so difficult as emotions warred inside her. Raoul held out their clasped hands and the Azurene soultender bound their wrists with silver engraved bracelets that were chained together. The desert soultender led them forward toward the half-wall of privacy that had been erected in front of a table. Each soulkeeper then stepped back and took their places to either side of the low wall, ready to bear witness to the coupling.

  Raoul carefully lifted Elita onto the white cloth-draped table. The cloth would provide physical evidence of her virginity. He cupped her face with one hand, stroking a long finger along her tight jaw. His eyes mesmerized her as he stroked the hand along the column of her neck. Her mind fogged, her body and her heart responded to the touch.

  "I know you are angry, Eli-ah," he said softly. "I had my reasons. But know this," he murmured as his hand moved beneath her dress to slip between the folds of her pussy, "I have loved you for longer than you can know. I have waited for you, only you, to be my consort. You and I are the only ones who matter right now." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, feathered along her cheekbone. "This is the truth. I will try to make this as easy, as painless as possible. But in order to do that, you must believe me."

  His hands and his lips were arousing her as they always did. His fingertip at her slit reminded her of their time at the pavilion when she was naïve to the ways of men. She felt her juices stirring, drenching his digit as he played across her lips, circling her clit.

  "Have you used the wand since your arrival? I personally packed it with your belongings. I've thought of you using it. Later, maybe you will show me. Let me watch you as you pleasure yourself."

  She closed her eyes, and dropped her head back. Her manacled arm was dragged forward as he undid the front of his pants as he prepared to penetrate her.

  "Raoul Duarte," she uttered in a hoarse voice.

  "Yes," he said as he twisted his wrist and her fingers encountered the hot flesh of his knobbed cock. "Elita Duarte, my Eli-ah, my beloved.

  Her eyes snapped open and she look at him. "That's what it means?"

  He smiled slowly and nodded as his finger dipped into her vagina. She gasped at the penetration. "Do you really think I would have let anyone introduce you to the lessons of Amak but me?"

  Unconsciously, she widened her legs, beckoning him to enter, needing him, finally to fill her with his thickening shaft.

  "I'm ready for you," she whispered. "Raoul or Teacher, or whatever you want to call yourself. I do expect answers, but right now, I just want you." Nothing mattered but having him inside her, not the witnesses, not the past, not her anger at his subterfuge.

  He had said he loved her, he had called her beloved--right from the start, and she loved him. For now that would have to be enough. Her body and her heart demanded he be inside her, claim her as his.

  "Please, Raoul," she begged.

  And then his cock was at her slit, swirling and begging for entrance, her dress pushed up around her hips, her thighs sp
layed.

  "Look at me," he demanded as he slid the flared head inside her and stopped. "Don't close your eyes. I want to see your surrender in your eyes as I claim you for my own. I want to see that you want this as well, for more than the treaty between our people. Because you want me as your mate. More than you simply wish to please your father."

  "I do, Raoul. Oh, Agvosian stars, I do. I don't know why you did as you did, but I love you, Raoul." She stared into his eyes, saw the pale pupils widen, almost demolishing the black rings as he pushed deeper.

  His steely length expanded her sheath as he drove deeper. She felt every nub as he moved in and out, her juices lubricating him, making it easier for him to fuck her. Again and again. She felt him at the shield of her virginity, yet she was so aroused, too needy, that when he plunged and broke through there was little pain as she accepted and welcomed his length, melding them together, sealing the mating of their two bodies.

  His eyes locked her to him as he pressed her close. How she wished in that moment that they were truly alone, that they could stay locked together like this forever.

  Love was not part of this ceremony of intercourse. The ceremony was political, it was visible, it was necessary. Raoul slid from inside her and carefully lowered the hem of her gown. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes still dilated. He was as needy as she was, but they had held to the letter of the laws of the match. The ceremony of intercourse was complete and they were now bound together forever.

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  Raoul opened the door to his suite and Elita strode in before him. She heard the door close behind her, but she refused to turn around. The heat of passion had cooled and now she wanted answers. Twinges of discomfort lingered from the ceremony, but all of the witnesses were satisfied with the proof of her virginity. The soultenders had removed the bracelets that bound them together and Duarte had led her from the ballroom. The doors would be opened and all would enjoy a banquet in their honor, celebrating the union. A private meal would be sent up to them when they requested it.