by Jane Henry
The woman’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open.
I clear my throat, getting the attention of both the vendor and Aldric. I look at the woman. “I… wouldn’t recommend it,” I say quietly.
The woman’s eyes soften and she smiles at me, nodding as she takes the coins. She inclines her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
He merely nods at her, as his gaze is focused on me. For the second time this morning, Aldric’s eyes are twinkling.
He reaches for my elbow and leads me to a quiet area, but then we walk on. We reach an empty little area where the tables are bare, and we are alone save the servants ready to defend, an arm’s reach away. The king takes the pouch and unfastens the drawstring, pouring the lovely necklace into his hand.
“When I place this upon your neck, you will not be able to remove it,” he says. “I have had it fashioned in such a way so that it serves as a reminder to you, and anyone that meets you, that you belong to the king.”
I look at it. The silver gleams like liquid moonlight, and in the very center is an oval-shaped blue gem… the king’s blue.
“This is sapphire,” he says. The necklace is sturdy yet edged with a decorative pattern. It is simply breathtaking. “If we had but time, I’d have brought you with me to our chambers and done this properly. But we do not,” he explains, gesturing for me to come closer to him.
I obey. His large arms encircle me as his hands clasp the necklace at the back of my neck. Though it is warm out, the metal is cool when it touches the tender area of my neck. I am not sure how I feel about this. I cannot take this off? Does it follow that I am then… special to him?
I don’t realize until I feel his breath on my neck that I am holding my own breath. I gasp when his lips come to the side of my neck, grazing the tender skin there. “So lovely,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.” His voice lowers. “All of you, mine. Tonight, when we are alone, I will show you the ways I treat that which belongs to me.” His fingers on the back of my neck tighten to near painful, possessive.
He pulls back and his eyes are flaming. His jaw is clenched as if chiseled in stone, his lips pursed, and I feel his entire body tense.
My voice is a mere whisper as I reach my hand out to him. “What is it, my lord?”
He responds in a low growl that only I can hear. “You must now leave with one of my men,” he says, eyes narrowed and furious. “I cannot here explain to you why this must be, but it is so. I expect your obedience, Carina. When we leave here, you will be escorted upon the arm of another man.” His eyes close for a moment before he continues, and when he opens his eyes again, they are fiery, angry. “You will do as he says in my absence. He will not cross the line of his station and touch you in any way except to demonstrate publicly that he is me.” His voice drops lower, and the words tumble from him as if forced. “If he does, I will slay him with my bare hands.”
I have no doubt whatsoever that he speaks the truth. I hate the idea of going with another man. “Must I?” I whisper.
His fingers grasp my neck even tighter. “You must.”
His eyes probe mine, and I know what it is he seeks. I swallow, already feeling bereft of him, before I reply. “I will do as you say,” I whisper.
He gives one quick nod, then he places my hand on his elbow, removes his from my neck, and marches me toward another alcove where there are several waiting for us. A hush of voices, and many hands are upon me.
“My lord!” I cry out, suddenly fearful as if we’ve been ambushed.
It is another voice that comes to my ear as strong arms embrace me. “I am here,” he says, but it is a different voice. It is not the voice of my king. Before I can respond, I am being marched out of the tent into broad daylight. I look in astonishment at the man next to me, recognizing him as Arman. I do not know what they have done, but Arman now bears a remarkable semblance to Aldric. His hair is drawn back the same way as Aldric’s, his eyes are dark, and the markings about his arms are the same black tribal slashes. He wears the same breeches and the belt about his waist is similar. But he is slighter in frame. Though this man stands erect and moves purposefully, his arm upon mine firm and unwavering, he does not have the same presence, the same authority as my lord.
To my right, tucked away in the corner of the tent, something catches my eyes. I freeze. It is him. His eyes are upon me. With as much courage as I can muster, I give a barely perceptible nod and continue walking in as stately a manner as I can. I want to shove the man holding me and run to my king. I want to feel his hands upon my arm, not the touch of the imposter that is with me, but I must be courageous and do as he’s asked me. For some reason that confuses me, we walk in a sort of semi-circle before we end up at the pavilion. It is as if he is trying to parade me around, to show me off, and I wonder at his methods. How very odd. Still, I hold onto him, and we walk in silence for some time. He takes me to the very edge of the pavilion, and at this point, he does something strange. He pulls me to him, so that I am facing him, and as I watch him with wide eyes he leans in. I realize a second too late that he is going to kiss me. I panic. This was not part of the plan. I was told to obey, but I was also told he would not put hands on me.
Before I can decide how to react, his lips are upon mine, and he is kissing me. It is a rather detached kiss. I feel the difference instinctively, as if this kiss is for mere show. Still, I cringe inwardly. I can almost hear the fury from my king. Did he know this was to transpire? As he pulls away, Arman whispers in my ear, “Very good. You’ve done very well, little one.”
My stomach twists in apprehension. I am little one to one man only.
“Enough.” I hear the hissed word, and I turn but it is not the one man I wish to see, but rather Idan.
He addresses Arman. “You have taken this far enough,” he says. “You are not to take further liberties.” I am confused, looking from one to the other. Idan is marching next to the other man, and he addresses me as his eyes are straight forward. “Carina, you followed your role well.” I hope so. I am not so sure myself.
I wonder where I am being taken to, and realize that we are going back to the room where Aldric and his men convened.
“It is clear,” Idan says to Arman. I look at them both, but Idan merely shakes his head, and we all enter the building. I realize a second before we enter, that suddenly the man escorting me is reluctant to enter. I look curiously at him, and his face has blanched.
“Go,” Idan says. “Now. He awaits.”
* * *
We enter the massive structure stabilized by columns, one large entryway room followed by what looks like a small, makeshift dining hall, and several bunkers. It appears this is a place to convene without interruption, and perhaps for extended lengths of time if necessary. When we enter the large hall, to my surprise Idan takes me by the arm and forcefully moves me away from the man escorting me. My escort blinks after us, his hands suddenly bereft, when I see a blurry form out of the corner of my eye. It is my king, dressed as he was before we left, but now looking more furious than I have ever seen him. With a roar, he leaps from his feet and tackles Arman, leveling him to the floor as he raises his fist and delivers a vicious punch that snaps the other man’s head back.
“My lord!” I shout, my hand raised up in horror, trying to get his attention, but he does not respond, and Idan’s strong arms come around me.
“Stay away, Carina,” Idan orders. “The king is within his rights to execute Arman for what he’s done. Perhaps he will spare him his life and merely administer a beating fitting his infraction.”
I am so confused, and turn to Idan for more explanation, but there is no time to discuss anything. My attention is once again riveted to my king. His muscles bunch at his neck and shoulders as he lets loose another punch to the man’s gut. Arman tries to defend himself, but is no match for the king, who lands one vicious blow after another.
When Aldric has bested Arman, he reaches for his waist and removes his sword from its sheath with the sickening sound of cl
inking metal. I know instinctively he is going to kill this man, slice his head from his neck, in front of everyone. Not a sound is made by the men looking on. They stand as if they are prepared to defend their king, poised like guards by the door. Someone must stop this!
“My lord!” I scream, attempting to pull myself away from Idan, but I cannot, as his grip is far too tight. Aldric pauses as he did before, sword at the ready, prepared to strike. I shake my head. “No, my lord. He did nothing deserving of this.”
“You are wrong to interfere, Carina,” Idan hisses as I struggle. “Do not speak to the king of this.”
But I am riveted as the king’s eyes are fixed on me, his chest heaving, the blood of the man he’s beaten smeared upon his knuckles, his body covered in a glistening sheen. “Release her,” he orders Idan.
Idan’s grip immediately loosens as he obeys his king. I blink, looking around me as now the king’s men’s eyes are upon me.
“It would be merciful of me to cut his head from his neck,” Aldric hisses. “Rather than look upon me with shame all the days of his life. He put his lips on my woman!” His voice raises at the end, a shout, as he gets to his feet. Arman does not move. The king takes a step toward me. “As for you,” he says in a low growl, pointing at me with the tip of his sword. “When I am finished punishing the traitor who took liberties with my woman, I ought to bend you over my throne and punish you with the flat of my sword.” He is prowling toward me, his heat a pulsating wall of fury. I wish to step back from him as he advances, but my ire is raised.
“You were the one who made me walk about on the arm of another man!” I shout, taking a step toward him as he stalks toward me. “You were the one who told me to obey him. You were the one who made me go with him!” I do not know how it is possible that the hush in the room grows even quieter as the king looks at me, his eyes widening in shock that I have the nerve to contradict him while his men look on. Though I have much to learn about obeying my king, I know I have crossed a line, broken a rule that was understood between us. This is a man to whom others revere on bended knee, and I’ve contradicted him and raised my voice to him.
“I did not wish to kiss him!” I continue, defending myself. It seems that now I’ve begun my tirade I cannot stop. “I hated being upon his arm and separated from you. You were the one who made me.” My fury carries my words away from me as I continue. “By the gods, I want no other man’s lips upon mine as long as I live!” I step closer to him and gesture furiously to his sword. “Beat me with the flat?” I ask incredulously. “For obeying you? You, my fierce warrior lord, are incorrigible!” I am now in front of him, pointing an irate finger at his chest. I jab his hardened, muscled chest as I glare at him. My pulse races in the silence. His hand wraps around my finger, freezing me mid-poke, and with one hard tug, he pulls me into him so my entire body is flush against his.
“You hush, woman,” he says. “You have said enough. One more word, and I will bare you and punish you in front of them all.”
I blink, suddenly coming to my senses. What have I done? But before I can speak another word, his mouth is crushing mine, so hard I feel my lips bruise, but it is what I need, as nothing but his fierce touch will soothe my raging temper and pounding heart. I am dimly aware of him re-sheathing his weapon before he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his torso. I hear somewhere in the distance the whistles and murmurs around us as we kiss passionately, his embrace around me exactly what I need, the perfect response to my wild torrent of emotions.
He pulls away for a minute, one corner of his lips quirking up. “Incorrigible, is it?” he growls in my ear. “Let me be clear, my Carina,” he says. “I have only desisted in punishing you because you stopped when I told you. You will answer for shouting at me in front of my men.” His eyes are heated, fixed on mine.
“Will I?” I whisper. My heart is pounding, my thighs dampened, flush up against his enormous, heaving torso, and I can feel my arousal beginning to pool at the apex of my thighs.
“Leave us!” the king shouts. “All of you.” He does not turn, though he addresses his men. “Find another decoy. Arman is hereby banished from our territory for one month’s time, and will serve as worker in the mines of Kleedan.”
He catches my eye and shakes his head. “Do not contradict me again, Carina,” he orders.
I nod. His fingers grip my backside as he walks with me wrapped around his torso.
“Put me down, my lord,” I urge, “so that I can walk.”
His only answer is a good, hard swat to my backside. I do not speak again.
He walks while holding me, whispering in my ear. “It is our plan to invade Freanoss,” he says, “where my sister is being held hostage. I’ve been advised to have a decoy go ahead of me because my advisers believe that the warriors of Freanoss intend on ending me when I arrive. I was willing to allow this to happen but now see that I cannot do so.” We are now past the marketplace and nearing the entrance to the palace. “In one week’s time, my sister will arrive on Freanoss. I will go myself to meet those who hold her captive.”
“Let me go to Freanoss with you, my lord,” I urge.
He shakes his head emphatically. “Certainly not,” he says.
I say not another word. I do not wish to return to Freanoss. I have been betrayed by my people. But I will be useful to my lord if I am with him to aid him when he goes to fight for his sister. I will find a way to go with him. He will be angry with me, but it will be worth it. I need to go with him. I will find a way.
Chapter Seventeen
Aldric
I am dimly aware of the people around us as I take her back to my palace, my purpose clear: to claim the little vixen who disrespected me. To erase the memory of Arman’s lips on hers from her memory by searing a new memory in its place. To bring her back into submission to me. My servants fall away as I take her with me, the buzz of the town at my heels and the whispers around fades into the background. I have not had my fill of her and by the gods she has not had her fill of me.
I remember the way her eyes flashed at me as my men looked on, defying me, meeting my gaze with hers, as her little hand poked at my chest in fury.
I want no other man’s lips upon mine as long as I live.
By the gods I will see to it that she has her wish.
The rage that pulsed through my veins upon seeing him kiss her surges me forward to my chambers. I need issue no warning to my servants. They well know what my purpose is. She is lucky I do not rend the garment from her and take her here, in front of everyone, staking my claim once and for all as her lord and master. Her lips are upon mine as I kick the door open.
I slam the door to my chambers behind me so hard I hear it rattle on its hinges.
“You’ll break it,” she hisses, pulling away from our kiss just long enough to warn me.
I narrow my eyes at her. “It is not the door you should fear will break, Carina,” I warn.
Her eyes widen, then flare. In two strides, I am at the bed, tossing her down. Her head falls back and her hair flails about her as she bounces a bit, then pushes herself up on the palms of her hands as I stalk back to the door and throw the deadbolt in place. As I turn back to her I remove my sword, the broad flat of it gleaming in the light through the window. Her eyes widen, and she scrambles back upon the bed.
“Freeze,” I hiss, at the same time I reach the bed, grasp her ankle and pull. She squeals as I issue my command. “On your knees, chest down.” My power surges through me, heat in my veins and in my cock springing to life as she obeys me, splayed out on the bed, submitted to me. Without another word, I bring back my sword and swing it, the flat hitting her squarely across her backside. It will not harm her, but is thin and supple, and suitable for chastising her without injury. She screams, but I know it’s from something deeper, and primal, perhaps fear at the unknown implement. I have not struck her hard enough to warrant such a scream. The flat of my sword and my tempered swat brings about a good sting, but is hardly severe, noth
ing like the snap of a birch or even my supple leather belt. The beveled edge prevents me from harming her, as she will only feel the flat. As I lift my sword for a second stroke, her back arches, asking for me, begging me wordlessly for the measured pain.
Thwack! The metal connects with her skin. She moans as I deliver a third smack. Honey glistens between her thighs. Just between her legs, I flick the finger of my left hand, delving into the dampened folds.
“So wet,” I growl. “Already, she is aroused.”
She squeals as I flick my finger through her. “That’s right, lovely,” I whisper. “I’ve punished you for your disrespect, have I not?”
Again, her back arches, and I know what she needs. I drop my sword and raise my hand, bringing my palm flat against the curve of her ass with a resounding smack. She moans, as I let loose a second smack, her backside red now from the spanking I’ve given her earlier and the one I give now.
I reach down and fist her hair, lifting her head off the bed. She gasps as I bring my mouth to her ear and hiss, “Who do you belong to?”
“You, my lord!” she says with a strangled cry, but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes half-lidded so that I know she needs this from me.
“To whom do you submit?” I ask.
“You, my lord,” she moans, writhing beneath me, tugging her head but helpless to my firm grasp. I release her hair and point to the bed, silently commanding her to stay in position as my fingers deftly unfasten my sword belt. I double it over, pressing one hand on the small of her back as I rear the belt back with my right hand.
“Will you ever,” I hiss, spanking her with a hard cut of the belt, so that she jerks beneath me but then writhes, “ever,” another hard smack that she welcomes with an arch of her back, pushing her backside against me as if saying more, “disrespect me in front of my men?”
“No, my lord!” she screams.
The red marks of my belt on her skin have me so hard it is painful. I drop my belt. I quickly strip off my trousers and join her on the bed, behind her, my cock ready for her already. With no preamble, I press my cock into her, a hard thrust that takes her breath away. I grab a fistful of her hair as I plunge into her.
