“Are you serious? Have you forgotten there is an assassin after us? After her? How can I protect her if all I am thinking about is…” A vision of her full breasts bouncing with his every thrust into her rippling sheath flashed before him. He blinked hard to clear the image from his overworked mind and saw his family staring at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement on their faces. “I will not let my affection for her place her in danger.”
“And you won’t,” Brett argued. “Because you love her. Don’t deny it. We can all see that you do, Lucian. That’s why you’re so upset. Love her, protect her, but Jesus, don’t smother her.”
“Plus, you have us,” Kristos added. “I remember a somewhat smart man once asked me if it was more important to be right or to have Brett.”
“Do not throw my words back at me.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Afraid? Him? Inconceivable.
Or was it?
Amaryllis reminded him that to live was more than his hearts beating and meaningless conversations. Life was a series of experiences that made your blood fire and stirred your passion. She reminded him what it was to feel. To love. To obtain that joy, to share in a love so powerful was a precious gift. And to have that love taken away would leave him shattered. He had his entire existence stripped away before and no amount of dermabrasion could smooth away the scar of that loss. Perhaps he was afraid to feel, truly feel, for fear of losing it all again.
Tragic events happened to people all the time. The brave ones rose above the chaos and not only kept going but found the strength to laugh, to love, to do more than merely exist from day to day. He had once thought of himself as courageous. Could he draw on that courage now to claim what he wanted for his very own?
As if Amaryllis would even give him the chance, he thought bitterly.
“What I want no longer matters. She won’t acknowledge I exist.”
“That’s because you hurt her feelings. She cares for you, Lucian,” Brett said. “I know I’ve only just met her, but Amaryllis strikes me as a woman who not only hurts deeply but loves deeply too. Talk to her. Tell her what’s in your heart and ask for her forgiveness.”
“It’s not that simple.” He shook his head. Brett hadn’t felt the burning stab of betrayal he had when he offered his whip.
A knowing smirk created a dimple in her cheek as she pulled the cellphone from her pocket. “Hold still.” She snapped a picture of him and turned the screen in his direction.
All he could do was stare in profound shock at the photo that captured his eyes. Not possible. Not now. Irises that were usually a deep green of cut emeralds were now milky white.
“Congratulations, brother!” Kristos slapped him on the back, yet Lucian didn’t even flinch at the sting, he was so stupefied. “You’ve bonded. Or at least have begun the process. Now you just have to get the girl. Piece of cake.”
Lucian arched an incredulous brow. How was this possible? “I didn’t speak the words.”
“Well, one of you did and the other was somewhat agreeable or else your eyes wouldn’t have changed.”
True. Lucian looked in the direction of the guest bath where his woman’s anger pulsed, despite the barriers she used to temper it.
Convince her that she had joined herself to him in an emotional bond so strong, it carried on beyond death?
Right. Piece of cake.
* * * * *
Jesu, did her eyes burn. Amaryllis pressed the cotton bath towel to the throbbing orbs and pushed until they felt ready to burst from their sockets.
She never cried over a man before and she’d be damned if she shed one more tear for that unfeeling asshole. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had felt something. Guilt and regret.
“Bastard,” she muttered and mustered all of her strength into shutting her hurt and all thoughts about Lucian into a lead box, never to be opened again.
Men had always held a specific purpose in her life. Pleasure and protection. Lucian was the only man to effectively blur the line and cross into the unchartered territory of companion. For the first time she wanted to give her heart to a man and share more than her body with another. She wanted to find out his dreams and do all in her power to make them come true. Make him smile with joy and not just leer with lust. Although the lust was a delicious bonus.
No, no, no! She squeezed her thighs against the electric sizzle of need that took residence in her empty sheath. Best sex of her life? Yes. But if she had to sleep with every man on this planet, and the next, to replace the experience, she would.
Good plan, but you know that won’t work. He’s ruined you.
Never. Not acceptable. There had to be a way to erase the memory of that damn Llanos.
Speaking of which. The sour taste of his guilt slipped down her throat. He was here, in the house.
Why? Did he think she hadn’t received the message that she wasn’t wanted loud and clear? Fuck him if he thought she would listen to another feeble excuse that he wasn’t worthy of her touch.
Well, he could sit there until she was good and ready to face him, which may not be ever, and definitely not until she was primped and polished to an immaculate shine.
She tossed the towels into the hamper then attacked her hair with a brush and dryer. A wild tangle of silken locks blew in all directions, highlighting the sight that made her hand freeze mid-stroke. Blood rushed in her ears and her lungs struggled to function as she leaned close to the mirror and fingered the two-inch-wide lock of black hair that grew from her nape under her left ear. From root to tip, the once-blonde strands were a pitch black that shimmered with a blue halo. Lucian black.
Bastard. Self-righteous prick, son-of-puntahi shittehoar. That pundavii had the nerve to speak the Sacred Vows then deny her with the next breath? The gall! The cajones!
How utterly, utterly hurtful.
Disappointment broke through her shock and brought forth a fresh set of tears. She had thought when a man spoke the Sacred Vows, she would at least remember it.
In her youth the moment had been dreamt about with candlelight and romantic music. Her fantasy had her resplendent in silk and primped to perfection as the man she loved settled between thighs she held spread wide in welcome. As he thrust into her body, he’d cup her breasts while looking deep into her eyes and speak the words that would bind their emotions together forever.
Never had she imagined that such a momentous event would take place with her sprawled in an armchair, half clothed and panting like a bitch in heat, or that she wouldn’t hear the words at all. Then as an added insult have her mate reject her the next morning. That’s probably why the bond was only partially complete.
Fool! Of course a life-altering occasion in her life would be thus. That was her curse.
If he had come to beg her forgiveness in this, he was fucking insane. And in front of his family? The humiliation would be too much to bear. The seven levels of hell would turn into a five-star beach resort before she faced him again.
She brushed the worst of the tangles free and tied her hair into a low ponytail, disguising as much of the black strands as possible.
Rushing to her suitcase, she threw on the first items she touched then snatched up her purse and went to the window. She could send for the rest of her things later.
The possibility that she could be heading right into Bale’s wicked clutches didn’t stop her flight. Let him take her. Then perhaps the excruciating pain in her chest would finally ease.
Not a twig snapped nor pine needle stirred as she raced through the forest. She ran so fast, she didn’t even disturb the dew on the grass.
A quick glance at the store front of the Cedar Sports and Marine confirmed Harlan was busy with the morning rush of fishermen. She traced to the main house and pounded on the front door.
Dhavin answered. His smile faded as he took stock of her from head to toe. “What happened?”
She breezed past him. “Good morning to you too.”
“Am
aryllis. What happened?”
“I need to go home. My home. Now.”
“Where’s Lucian or Kristos?”
She stopped his entreaty with a firm shake of her head. “Please, Dhavin. If you’ve loved me at all, even if all you felt was the compassion reserved for a mere acquaintance, I beg of you, take me home. No questions.”
Dhavin took one of her hands in both of his and stared into her eyes. All she wanted was to look away in disgrace but she mustered the courage to hold his gaze and silently implored him to comply with her wishes. She knew she was asking him to not only defy his commander but his family as well. A request she had no right making, and she would not blame him if he refused, but he was all she had to rely on.
After several long seconds he offered her half a smile and nodded. “I won’t take you home, but I’ll take you someplace else. You will tell me everything once we are there. Promise me.”
“Of course.” A small request in return for his loyalty.
“Give me three minutes to pack some essentials. Do you have an alternative location in mind?”
“Yes.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Dhavin.”
He kissed her cheek then fell to one knee with head bowed. “You are my friend as well as my princess. You will always be able to call upon me.”
Unable to speak lest she fall completely apart, she bent and kissed his forehead, lamenting that her bonded mate was not the brave man kneeling before her now but the coward who had knelt at her feet and stabbed her in the hearts. The very hearts she feared belonged to him forever.
Chapter Seven
Bale halted inside the threshold of The Cavern. A blast of emotions slammed into his chest with the force of a battering ram, knocking him back a step. Humans, even the most reserved of the species, projected their every feeling as if they were standing with a microphone on a parade float loaded with speakers turned to eleven. The cacophony of mental noise rocketing through his brain was an unexpected obstacle he hadn’t prepared to face. It was a transparent weapon with the potential of bringing him to his knees if he wasn’t careful.
“Having second thoughts, my man?” the man monitoring the door asked. “I don’t care where you go, but you gotta clear the way.”
He nodded and slid into a corner to strengthen his mental barricade. The pulsating beat coming from the sound system was just as overwhelming as the barrage of emotions. Drawing in a deep breath, then another, he concentrated on slowing down his heartbeats and focusing on where the flat, dead places in the atmosphere lay. Even though the princess had been well known for her inability to lock down her emotions, she would have had to gain some control in order to survive in such chaos. Those breaks would be where she resided.
Under his leather jacket and hooded sweatshirt, sweat trickled down his back, and the scent of sex and alcohol added to the claustrophobia. Bodies gyrated everywhere he looked. On the dance floor, at the bar, in the dark corners and on tabletops. This place was a den of vice and, frankly, he was quite surprised that a royal, even Princess Amaryllis, would consort with such heathens.
He wove through the crowd, trying his best not to come into contact with anyone. The restaurant his interrogations had led him to earlier was more in style of an exiled royal, while this place reminded him of the underground lairs his fellow guardsmen frequented when horny and without a wife to sate their baser needs, not that he visited such locations himself. At least not after he had wed Natalia. Sexually she was more delicate in her desires than he had been used to and the Gods knew she deserved better than the likes of him. But Natalia was perfect in her fragility and provided all he had needed. Even the simple act of stepping across the threshold to such a salacious establishment sent a rotten-egg taste shooting down his throat with the thought he was offending her spirit.
A wee girl jumped before him, startling him with her boldness. She was rail-thin with hair so black it absorbed all light. The makeup around her eyes was just as dark and her lips were stained with a layer of red. Leather straps criss-crossed her body, barely covering her intimate areas.
“Are you in need of a slave?” she asked, running her palms over her breasts and down her sides.
“No.” He moved to step around her.
She stepped with him, matching him zig for zag. “I offer myself willingly. I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Obviously. “No.”
“Please, Master.”
“Stop.” He held his hand an inch from her nose. “You want to please me?”
“Yes,” she panted.
“Tell me where to find the—Amaryllis.”
“The chick who owns the joint?”
Owner? How absolutely depraved. “Is there more than one by that name?”
“Well, no.”
“Where is she?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her. But when she’s not on the dance floor she’s usually up in her private room.” She pointed up to an empty balcony.
A grand staircase swept up to a catwalk that led to the princess’ sanctum. One guard, if you could call him that, stood at the bottom, Bale’s only obstacle to the top.
“Stay,” he said to the pixie. When she opened her mouth, he silenced her with a sharp, “Stay.”
She nodded, her eyes wide and dreamy. Without a second thought he left the pest and used his newfound powers to race from shadow to shadow. He easily slipped past the guard and stalked down the hallway, pausing at each door to look for his prey.
More debauchery infiltrated the corners of the club. Women were bound in all manners of restraint while men fondled and subjugated them to their whims.
Bale peered into the third room and came to a halt, instantly captivated by the scene taking place. One step, then another. His feet moved of their own accord, drawing him closer to the display.
On a small platform stood a man stripped bare and illuminated by several floor lamps. His hands were strapped to a bar high above his head, stretching out his torso like a canvas ready to be painted upon. The stark light washed out his skin tone to a bluish-white, yet his cock throbbed a deep red where it jutted out at full-staff from his groin.
A woman circled her captive. A vision of hedonistic delight herself, she was a walking wet dream. Long, thick chestnut hair waved down her back. Her makeup was applied with a more sophisticated hand than the pixie he ran into earlier, and her leather corset cupped her curves like a jealous lover. The short-shorts encasing her hips exposed the bottom of her fleshy ass cheeks, which jiggled with her every step as she padded barefoot across the stage. She made her slave widen his stance so she could better test the weight of his hard cock and heavy sac.
“Who do you belong to?” she asked in a low voice as smoky as the finest tobacco.
“You, Sir.”
That the male addressed her with such a title shocked Bale more than anything he had seen on this planet thus far. Surely a woman would be insulted to be addressed as a man, but the satisfaction in this female’s smile belied his assumption.
The heavy allure of anticipation tightened his throat and raised his body temperature another twenty degrees until he was forced to loosen the zipper of his sweatshirt, desperate he was for some modicum of breath. Bale’s mental barriers trembled. His powers absorbed the slave’s excitement until the man’s desire became his own.
“Will you take your punishment?” the woman asked with a scrape of her nails down the inside of his thigh.
He swallowed hard. “Yes Sir.”
Bale watched, entranced that such a small woman could command a male so much larger than she. When she picked up a whip, he gasped. His lungs billowed hard until his harsh breath matched in rhythm while the slave’s eyes glittered with desperate hunger.
Crack! The whip flew, striking bare flesh. Bale felt the hot lick of leather across his own back and clenched his teeth against a moan. He curled his hands into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.
Another lash fell, then another. Wit
h each strike the slave’s pleasure grew, reaching across the room to squeeze Bale around the chest. The pure joy of giving yourself over to another washed over him, hardening his cock to the point that the bite of his zipper digging into his erection brought its own twisted sense of pleasure, and with it the envy that he was not the one on the receiving end of the whip.
“Good boy,” the Master cooed. “You’ve earned your reward.”
A woman from the crowd stepped up onto the stage. She knelt at the slave’s feet and released her breasts from her corset. At the Master’s command, the newcomer wrapped her hands around the slave’s cock and stroked him from base to tip with firm strokes.
“Come on her tits,” the Master commanded.
The slave tossed his head back and screamed as white jets of cum squirted on the full globes of his target.
Bale grabbed his own cock and squeezed so hard his eyes watered and his vision went dim. He stumbled from the room, blind to all but the shock wave of euphoria that rippled from the trio. Falling against the wall, he bent in two and fought to regain his composure.
This wasn’t happening. He didn’t feel emotions of his own. The experience was too raw, left him too vulnerable. This demand to be dominated burning through his veins was absolutely deplorable and had to end. Now.
“Hey, man. Are you okay?” a male voice asked.
Bale waited for the footsteps to grow closer before he whirled around and pinned the man to the wall with his forearm across the fragile windpipe. He pulled out a thin blade from his back pocket and dug the tip into the man’s side.
“Where is Amaryllis?” he growled, ready for this shit mission to be over.
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t know.”
“Where. Is. She?”
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