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Cianan gritted his teeth, staring coldly at the untouched dinner before him. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there waiting for Sascha to arrive, but it had been long enough for him to go from concerned to enraged. He’d even sent Anya to look for her. She’d obviously begun to mistake his affection for lenience. She’d been here long enough to know that her presence was required for dinner. And he didn’t like to be kept waiting. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, staring at the warm glow of the firelight. He had to keep his anger at bay, otherwise he would find himself changing unexpectedly. He kept reminding himself that his anger was because of his love for her. He was upset at not being able to see her when he wanted.
“Sire.”
When Anya spoke, it startled him and he nearly took a tumble from his chair. He played it off coolly and turned to look at her. “Yes?”
“Sascha is here.” The old woman gestured toward the girl then threw a warning glare at him. “As you wished, my lord.”
“Leave us,” Cianan replied shortly, his own tone warning Anya that she’d best comply quickly. After a few moments of awkward silence between them, Anya curtseyed and was gone.
Sascha stood still as a stone against the wall, trying not to sniffle in front of him. She looked frightful with her hair festooned with leaves and blades of grass and smudges of dirt on her gown. She self-consciously tried to smooth her skirt and hair, but it was of little use. She was a wreck, but his anger at worrying had made him devoid of reasonable thought. “I apologize for being late, my lord,” she began. “I lost track of the time.”
A deep breath calmed him before he spoke. “Where were you?”
“In the courtyard. Where you left me.”
“No, you weren’t. Anya looked there,” he replied, cutting her off. “There was no trace.”
“Well...I...” she stammered as he moved closer.
“So where did you go?” he asked again. His jaw was set in a hard line of contained anger. Bella had wandered off where no one could find her save for the one person who shouldn’t have. “Wandering in the forest? Lost in the library?” His voice rose in volume with every step as he paced around her. When she’d been a few minutes late, he’d been patient. A few more, he’d grown annoyed. After an hour, he’d begun to fear that something horrible had happened. The thought that she may not come back had crossed his mind, and that terrified him. That kind of fear always made him feel weak, and that weakness would manifest itself as anger. And that had started well before he was cursed. “Poring for hours over some stupid book?” he roared finally, watching her cower against the wall. “Perhaps it’s you that should be chained up in the cellar!”
“My father is dying!” she blurted. “All of your huffing and puffing is of little consequence!” She fell down on her knees before him and began to sob openly.
At first, he could not react and simply stood there gawking. Feminine emotion was not something he was accustomed to dealing with. Yet seeing her there, obviously grief-stricken and hurting, his heart went out to her. All the anger he’d felt at her disobedience melted away, replaced by compassion. He knelt down before her, pushing her hair away from her face. “Sascha...I’m sorry. I didn’t know...”
“Well you wouldn’t, would you?” she sniffled, putting her head down and avoiding his gaze. Heavy sobs made her breath heave in her chest and her shoulders shake.
He wanted to comfort her, but was unsure of how to do it. “Sascha, don’t cry.” He reached out to pull her into his arms, but she shrugged away.
“Then what shall I do, my lord? You’re so good at telling me,” she said, her voice full of bitterness. “What shall I do?”
“I couldn’t presume to tell…”
“Couldn’t you?” she snapped, glaring daggers from beneath the tangle of hair almost obscuring her eyes. “It seems that you’ve been running my life since I was born. Why should this be different?”
“How so?” he asked, keeping his voice at an even tone. He knew that shouting back would only escalate this sudden, irrational fury.
“You knew who my mother was! You’d been trying to get me here since her death! To satisfy some crazy fantasy that I’m Bella reborn.”
“Be careful, Sascha…”
“No, you be careful, Lord Marek!” she shouted, rising to her feet so suddenly that she nearly knocked him over. “You forced my father off his land! You forced him to sell me as a slave, only you didn’t count on him being clever enough to find Mr. Longwillow!”
He stared at her with wide eyes, unable to believe she would speak to him in such a way. “I never…”
“Yes, you did,” she sobbed, pushing past him with her shoulder. “You took away his child just when his whole world seemed to be falling apart. His heart was already broken, and you wrenched the pieces from his chest with your power. You keep going on about me being your mate, but what you really want is to satisfy your own obsession. To assuage your own guilt…” She didn’t finish and sank into her empty place at the table, weeping into her hands.
Cianan started to speak then realized there was nothing to say. She was right. It was just as she’d said. When Bella died, he’d become obsessed with getting her back. His mind seemed to play back her last words over and over, driving him mad. He’d known about Bella’s twin, but had never laid eyes on her child until years later in the marketplace. Toddling happily at her mother’s side, she’d already been the spitting image of her aunt, who’d long been dead. He’d spoken to them briefly and given Sascha the first of many red roses. All the years of her life he’d haunted her steps, desperately wanting to make contact, but afraid of frightening her. He supposed he had become obsessed with the idea of Bella’s rebirth and had gone to great lengths to ensure Sascha’s destiny. The realization of his own injustice took him aback.
“Sascha,” he began, his voice barely a whisper as he went to her. She didn’t sit up or look in his direction until he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please, look at me.”
“I can’t,” she sniffled, almost flinching. “You mustn’t look at me.”
“You can and will,” he replied. Taking her arm, he pulled her around to face him as he knelt at her feet. “Please.” He took her hand, warmed with her tears, and kissed it. “I am sorry for any pain I have caused you. You’re right. I’ve known who you were since the first time I saw you. Perhaps I was a little obsessive, but everything I’ve ever done was for you, Sascha. I’ve always loved you. And you have to believe that I love you for who you are. In this life. Not who you might have been in past ones.” He kissed her hands again, rubbing his cheek against her wrists, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Please forgive me.”
She was silent, but nodded weakly and accepted his embrace. He relaxed, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “I never meant to cause you pain, Sascha. I only wish that your father could have seen the honor in my intentions. Perhaps I could have saved you from such a life of despair.”
“To possess me,” she answered darkly. “I am still your slave.”
He looked up at her green eyes, still glistening with tears. “Yes. I do wish to possess you, Sascha. To cherish you with everything that I have.” He pulled her down from her chair until she was settled on his lap. “But I think I’m more a slave to you.” He wore a teasing expression and kissed her forehead until she smiled back. Then her eyes and each cheek until finally, he made his way to her mouth and kissed her slowly. Her lips were warm against his, and he groaned with the satisfaction of having her in his arms again. He teased her lips gently with his teeth until she opened to him, letting his tongue inside. The taste of her mouth ignited his passion, and he pulled her against him roughly. “Don’t ever leave me, Sascha.” He growled. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
He embraced her tightly, squeezing her as if to steal her breath. He held her that way, both of them silent, for what seemed an eternity. As if both of them were afraid to let go of the ot
her. His words echoed in her ears. “Don’t ever leave me.” How could he know that leaving was exactly what she needed to do? But he would never allow it. His fear would win out over reason.
His fingertips wound into the waves at the back of her head and stroked gently. She sighed with the relief of his protection. It was unfamiliar and strange that she should trust this man so completely. This man that she knew could turn into a vicious beast at any moment. Though she wanted to see her father badly, staying in the safety of his arms was all too inviting.
He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and kissed at the pale skin lightly. She let her head fall to the side, allowing him to expose more of her flesh. She wanted more. She wanted to feel something other than this hollow sadness and guilt. Only he could soothe her anxiety, and suddenly, all she wanted was to lose herself in him.
“Cianan,” she whispered, nuzzling into his neck.
He responded with a low grunt, rubbing the prickly skin along his cheek against hers. His free hand rested on her bosom, and she leaned into it with a soft whimper.
“Cianan, I need you.” Her words were lost in his mouth as he kissed her again with a vigor that bordered on violence. When he released her, she was gasping for breath. “Make love to me now, master.” Her voice sounded almost foreign to her ears. She couldn’t believe she was saying these things. She’d always found it difficult to ask for anything. Much less something so intimate. “I need to feel you inside of me, my love. Take away my pain.”
He was all too eager to oblige, staring at her with a wolfish expression as he rose from the floor, pulling her up with him. She moaned breathlessly when he hooked his arm under her ass, picking her up off of the floor and depositing her unceremoniously across the end of the dining table. Grabbing his hands, she pressed them to her chest, putting them where she wanted to feel them. He pawed at her breasts with eager abandon before leaning over her to bite at the crest of each one just over the line of her bodice. He tried to pull on the fabric, wanting to taste the salty skin and take the hardened caps into his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. Anya had cinched the corset so tight, assuring her mistress’s modesty, an honorable goal, but inconvenient. Working a hand under her hip, he rolled her gently over to lie against the darkened wood on her stomach.
She could feel the heat of his body behind her as his fingers fumbled with the tight bodice strings. The movement was involuntary as she pushed back against him, guiding her hips to grind at his cock, already rock hard and straining against the thick fabric of his leggings. She moaned again, impatient with his clumsiness.
“Hurry, Cianan,” she gasped. With an animalistic growl and ripping of fabric, she was laid bare before him. The chill air of the dining room rushed over her, the skin along her spine prickling. But in another moment, it would be replaced by the warmth of his body. With a husky groan, he pushed his cock into her with enough impetus to drive her halfway across the wide, oaken table. Sascha gasped with surprise at being so full so fast. The feeling was pleasant, yet crude. She could feel the walls of her sex burning with the friction as he fucked her with a violence she had not yet experienced. This time, he was not Cianan, but the wolf in human form. He fucked her like an animal, for right now, he was an animal. There was no tenderness or compassion, only lust and hunger. He gripped her hips tightly, his thumbs surely leaving bruises at her hipbones as he pulled her against him over and over at an ever-quickening pace. The rough wood of the table scraped her nipples until she was whimpering with pain.
“Cianan,” she cried again, but he was obviously lost in the matter at hand. The edge of the table bit into the mound of flesh covering her sex and though it pinched and rubbed uncomfortably, she didn’t want him to stop. In fact, she was almost afraid he would. She could feel her clit was swollen to bursting, and she knew that at any second she was going to explode in a screaming climax.
His hands were in her hair, pushing it aside as he leaned over her to kiss, lick, and bite at the nape of her neck. She groaned and leaned back, rubbing her cheek against his. He whispered something in a language she didn’t understand. Though her mind couldn’t process, her body obeyed the command, and she pushed back against him. The hand in her hair became a tight fist and he pulled her against him roughly. The strange words he murmured into her ear were ominous, but dripping with a sensuality that she craved. She could only nod weakly, letting him use her. Another deep thrust and his body tensed as he jerked her backward into his arms and spilled his seed into her. The waves of tremors that shook his body seemed to radiate through her as well. She moaned, riding his passion to the crest of her own orgasm until, inevitably, she tumbled over the precipice, screaming his name.
They lay there panting over the table for some time, waiting for the tremors to pass. Cianan laid his forehead, warm and sweaty, between her shoulder blades. She could feel him breathing heavily against her skin, making gooseflesh raise along her arms. After a few moments, she stirred, squirming out from under him and straightening her gown.
He stood up, helping her to her feet slowly. “We should get you into bed. You’ll catch a chill.”
She nodded and leaned against him as he led her to his chambers. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Though her and Cianan’s tryst had been deeply satisfying, now that it was over, she still felt the emptiness that came with knowing her father would probably die and she would never see him again. She’d never thought that she could care so much for someone who she’d believed abandoned her for most of her life. She knew if she didn’t try, she would regret it, but what else could she do? Though Cianan loved her dearly, she was, despite everything, still his slave. And slaves were not permitted to travel without their masters. It was too much to ask that he trust her so implicitly. As she took her clothes off and slipped into her dressing gown, she kept silent, questions burning on her tongue as she avoided meeting his eyes, knowing that he could see her uncertainty within them.
Crawling into his bed, she pulled the covers around her frame tightly and rolled over on her side. She could hear him moving around the room behind her and she wanted to look, but thought perhaps it would be better for her to pretend to sleep. A brisk draft blew gently over her shoulder, sending a chill down her spine, and she pulled the blankets tighter around her. After a few moments, the bed shook as he got under the covers, and she tensed, trying to appear unconscious. He rolled over on his side and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. She was immediately enveloped in his warmth and sighed softly despite herself.
“It’s no use to pretend to sleep, little one. I can hear your eyelids fluttering against your cheek.”
Sascha’s eyes grew wide. “How is that possible?”
“Wolves have excellent hearing.”
“Oh.”
“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her ear and kissing the cuff lightly. “I won’t proposition you again tonight,” he added teasingly.
“That’s not it,” she whispered, feeling fresh tears burning in the corners of her eyes.
“Then what is it? I can feel your unease. The tension in your shoulders.” His breath fluttered over the tiny hairs at the base of her head as he nuzzled into her hair. “You know you can tell me anything.”
She closed her eyes, considering his words before rolling over to look up into his face. “It’s not telling you, my lord. It’s more asking.”
“Well ask, Sascha. I can tell its weighing heavily on your mind. And if the request is reasonable, you know I could never deny you.”
Her heart melted at his words. Never before had anyone spoken so gently to her, seemed so genuinely interested in her needs. As she looked into his eyes, something passed between them, something that washed away any lingering fears of him that she may have had. For the first time, she felt his mate. His equal.
“My father…”
“I know you’re upset about him, Sascha. Though you haven’t seen him, he is still your parent and y
ou feel connected to him. I only wish I had felt so deeply for my own father.” His fingertips traced her cheekbone and along her jawline. “I’m afraid we didn’t have the best of relationships.”
“Did he die when you were young?” Sascha asked.
“He died while I was away at war. I didn’t get to see him before. I didn’t even know he was ill until my mother got word to me through one of King Sebastian’s messengers. By then he was already dead.”
Sascha, upon hearing his story, began to weep quietly. “Cianan...don’t you regret not seeing him? Not telling him that you loved him?”
“Every day.” Leaning over, he kissed the tears from her cheeks and pulled her into a tender embrace. “You shouldn’t cry so, little one. There are those who would believe that I was the cause of your pain. Now, what is it that you would ask of me?”
She sniffled, sitting up on the pillows to face him. “Well...if you could do it over...wouldn’t you want to see your father?”
“Of course I would.”
“Oh please, my lord. Please let me travel to Falkin to see my father.” She’d blurted out the question before she could stop, and for a moment, she thought he hadn’t understood her. His expression was unreadable as he seemed to decode what she had said. “I promise that I will return to you. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
“Many slaves have escaped using stories similar.”
“You said yourself that you would never treat me as a slave. You said that I was your mate. Doesn’t that afford me some level of trust?”
“I never said I didn’t trust you, Sascha. And slaves traveling on their own are often abducted. There are opportunistic hunters everywhere.”
“Then let me take Anya with me.”
“And let two lone women take off through the forest alone? So a highwayman can come and pick you off at the Crossroads to Falkin? I hardly think…”
“Mr. Kincade then!” Sascha spat, grasping at straws to make her case. “Tristan! Anybody!”
“And who would do their work? It’s not as if you’d only be gone a day.” He sat up straighter, leaning back against the headboard. He sighed with a wrinkled brow, staring her up and down as if trying to ascertain her determination. There was fear in his expression, fear of losing her. If only he could understand that she never wanted to leave him. His fear of having her meet the same fate as Bella seemed to blind him to all other things.
Beast of Burden Page 17
