Queen of the Stars

by Lorelei Orion

The winds came, the dank, restless air rolling through the treetops. She could feel the warning in the coolness, smell it in the hot scent of brewing lightning bolts. Thunder rumbled low and long, like an entity defending its territory within the massing clouds, preparing for battle ...

  The woodsy road ended in a meadow. She walked through the rushing grass to the plateau, where she was struck with awe.

  The tufted cliff dropped off sharply and then gradually sloped down into a huge valley, the groves of trees and sprinkling of ponds tiny and hazy in the distance. Miles away, a crystal-rock mountain range jutted against the sky, her eye nearly level with the dully-reflective peaks. Everything was awash in a white mist, the sun shrouded but casting out a few bright rays into the dim shadows. Scattered about the horizon, rain fell heavily in blue, angled lines, breaking free from the thunderheads. A flock of large birds defied the turbulent gusts, struggling to outrun the weather, their dark wings moving against the gray glow. She knew that she should fear the charcoal-black mass coming from the north, but the rapid flashes of lightning simply made her feel adventurous.

  A few wet drops fell from the churning mesh above and splashed her, enticing her nose with the fresh scents. She glanced behind her to see Raine’s green eyes watching her, but she was too preoccupied to worry.

  Raine was fascinated. The duskiness framed her—she was like a fragile flower caught in the wrath of nature, her pink dress billowing and brushing upon her shapely hips and thighs. She didn’t seem to care about the approaching danger.

  This would be a tremendous test of his endurance. “Come!” he called. “We must get back!”

  Sarra was reluctant to leave the panorama, but she followed him to the path ...

  A blowing branch struck her. The basket flew from her hand and she let out a squeal as something sharp pierced her nape.

  Raine rushed to her.

  “Please!” she pleaded tearfully.

  He urgently searched her and saw the brown thorn that had lodged into her tender skin. His fingers shook while he took its small rigid head and pulled it out. He tossed it away and inspected the damage, holding her arm to keep her still.

  Sarra sighed, relieved when the stinging sensation left. In an impulse to thank him, she attempted to turn. He wouldn’t release her. She stiffened. A shiver ran through her, and then her belly began to spark with heat ...

  Raine smelled her scent, the intoxicating blue rose fragrance that was hers alone—the mystery penetrating his senses. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. If he could have her just once, his lust would leave him. Just once ...

  Sarra trembled, her anxiety becoming excruciating. As his hands glided down to her waist, she struggled in reaction.

  He whisked her around to face him.

  “Oh!” she breathed.

  Sarra knew if she but resisted, he would let her go. She had no will to fight.

  He pushed her down and moved atop her, pinning her to the ground. His breathing came fast and jagged while he yanked his leggings off his narrow hips.

  “Dammit!” he cried hoarsely. “Dammit!”

  He snatched her décolleté and tore the dress in two down the center, ripping it away from her. Ruthlessly he made shreds of her undergarments and soon she was bare beneath him. Her fearful whimpers became lost in his lips as he forced her into a brutal kiss. He drew away, sliding his lips down her, and his tongue and palms greedily competed to ravage her breasts. As if possessed, he tore open his shirt, needing to feel her against him. He grabbed her by the waist, and then parted her thighs ...

  He thrust himself within her and she cried out in her pain, certain that she would be torn asunder with the next fierce stab, and the next ... He cradled her head in his arms to comfort her, but his hurtful passion didn’t lessen. He was a starved animal, raw and devouring, vicious, savage ... She grew faint, her spirit slipping toward a bright light beyond her eyelids ... and then the violence quit ...

  He became motionless above her. The pain ebbed away, replaced by an empty, sore ache. His breathing came slower on her ear, mingling with the cool wind. Her tears started to slip down her cheeks.

  He groaned as he rolled off her, and rose. She heard him adjust the buckle on his leggings, and then he was silent. She sensed his stare on her nakedness, but she stayed as he had left her. When she realized that he was no longer near, she looked.

  He was at the cliff’s edge, his back toward her, staring off into the near and ominous tumult. He seemed to be searching the sky for something ... and as a blinding white line flashed and a peal of thunder cracked, he found an answer ...

  “No!” she choked, recovering from her shock and scrambling to get away. His hands clamped down on her and she went limp as he lifted her up into the cradle of his arms.

  Sarra gasped as the torrent hit, the icy-cold gales pelting her, and she clung to him for protection against the merciless onslaught. The fluid motion of his strides grazed her breasts, his hot skin making warmth spread throughout her loins. He made it to the cabin’s safety and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced up on her elbows to see him kicking the door shut, to stop the flooding invasion.

  He swiped at the drops in his hair, but as he turned, he froze. His green eyes became even brighter, traveling slowly from her toes up to her curves. Sarra snatched the edge of the gray blanket and burrowed into it. Her nakedness concealed, she became still like death.

  Raine sighed, bewitched. Truly, he had suspected that she wasn’t a virgin, but chaste she had been. He knew the very first instant, but it was too late. His pride had lost the battle—his lust had won. He felt as though a great burden had been taken from him, but he understood the dire consequences of what he had done.

  The Princess Royal of Adriel had despaired in the aftermath of his destruction, listless about her tears and the blood of her innocence. For a moment he had forgotten who she was ... and he had felt a passion he’d never known before—even now, merely recalling the incredible phenomenon, his desire stirred again.

  The damage was already done. There was no turning back now ...

  As the cloth slid away, Sarra curled up into a ball. A thousand thoughts fleeted through her head, but the one that screamed at her asked her where her sense had gone. Her heart drummed like she had run for miles and her limbs were tight as coils, ready to spring. And then he touched her—

  She bolted away but he caught her around the waist. He fell on his side and pulled her down with him, with her back against his breast. He worked his arm beneath her nape and kept her near with his other. She shut her eyes tightly, shivering as he began caressing her brow, her cheek, like she was very dear to him.

  “It won’t hurt like that again, love,” he whispered huskily. “Don’t be frightened.”

  Gently he held her, his heat taking away her chill. She calmed down, listening to the storm raging on the roof, to the unfurling of the thunder. The cozy sounds soothed her, easing away her rigidness even when his hand moved cunningly beneath her chin, cuddling the swell of her breasts. She let out a shaky sigh of surrender and he became braver, passing his palm artfully over the stiff, rosy peaks. The stunning sensations he made there mounted exquisitely even after he paused to take the pins from her coiffure. He urged the damp golden tresses down around her, seducing himself with their fragrance. He slanted above her and she fell on her back, and he kissed her, his firm, sensuous tongue probing hers, his ardor drawing her into an enigmatic dizziness she began to welcome and then demand. All at once he became savage—aiming to consume all of her regal will to make her his own ... leaving her languid beneath him. Masterfully, he explored her sensitive breasts, his hot tongue leaving paths of fire, prompting the relentless aching within her to surge with each calculated stroke. As he twisted the hard, swollen tips gently between his fingertips, a wanton sound escaped her, one that was new and exciting to them both.

  She rolled her head fitfully upon the pillow, lost in the swelter. She didn’t care who he was, or that she was conquered by a spell. His
hands glided down the contours of her curves, and when they reached her waist, she hesitantly opened her thighs, wanting to be vulnerable to him. He groaned brokenly, but with great discipline he didn’t touch her there and concentrated on pleasuring her breasts. She whimpered, fascinated by the mystery but needing for it to end.

  “Don’t!” she begged, halfheartedly.

  He tortured her with more fervor.

  “Please! Make it ... stop ...”

  He ignored her pleas until she fought against him, her attempt weak and powerless. He rose and hurried out of his leggings, his eagerness harsh on his face as he came down to her again ... but he took care as he met her, making her cry out softly in startled wonder. Her soreness soon waned, and he began to move within her, slowly at first, savoring every thrust. She wrapped her arms around him and his ardor intensified, their passion mounting, becoming a molten heat. Caught within the tempest, her spirit as tumultuous as the thunderous gales beyond, emotion such as she had never known rushed through her, streaming in her veins, washing away her fears and filling her with inner light ... Her soul opened, meshing with the brilliance of his, sealing them with a rapturous pact that made them one ...

  Sarra floated down to reality slowly, gently, awed by her monumental discovery. He was unwilling to leave her and she didn’t want him to, basking within their intimacy, the perfect peace.

  ***

  The afternoon sky was nearly as dark as the night, the rain pounding furiously against the windowpanes. Sarra dropped her pleasantly heavy eyelids, her senses swimming. She was too light-headed for questions when Raine returned from the bath and carried her there, and set her down. Candles shone richly all about the room, illuminating the mirrors and the white metallic tub that was brimming with foamy water. She turned to see his hot eyes, and his naked masculinity.

  “Get in,” he commanded quietly.

  She obeyed, blushing as she absently gathered up her hair to pin it.

  “Leave it free.”

  The golden mass tumbled down and she lowered herself into the steamy warmth. Her eyes widened when he moved into the cramped space behind her. He sat, pulling her to his breast, making her sit with her arms on his knees and her bottom very near his loins, his lean thighs boldly against hers. She trembled while he filled his palms with the lustrous foam and pressed it to the swell of her breasts.

  “Lie back,” he muttered.

  She did as she was told and rested her head on his wide shoulder. Leisurely he lathered her arms, her hips ... her thighs, rousing her again. Her lashes met while he ran his lips across the slim column of her throat, savoring her. His hand crept lightly over her budding nipples, spreading potent desire within her. She grew shakier from the tingles that burst in her belly. She knew what she wanted and shyly curled her feet and raised her calves. He still wouldn’t touch her there. She forcefully pushed her legs against his.

  He chuckled, wickedly. “You’ll learn to love lust ... need it."

  Sarra moaned softly, sure about what he planned. It had been such contentment that she had known, and now he would make her suffer, setting her afire once more ...

  The candle flames burned lower while he teased her, working the frothy bubbles into the round, raw and tender tips, being deliberately cautious, mercilessly lazy. Her long tresses adhered to her pink, steaming skin and billowed in the perfumed water while he eventually enveloped her in the wetness. Her heart raced wildly as he slid one hand down her flat waist ... across her inner thighs ... and back up. He taunted her over and over with this circular motion while his other thumb and forefinger stayed up to flick the distended peaks of her breasts. Frustrated, captivated by the pain but needing it to quit, she stiffened ... and when he lustily squeezed her womanly fullness, she snatched his right hand and yanked it down—

  His breathing came sharp on her ear and she sighed in her relief as he began to move, trying the place he hadn’t before, testing the satin ...

  “I watched you bathe in the whorehouse,” he whispered hoarsely. “Wanted to do this to you.”

  Sarra winced. Nothing could have brought her back to reality faster than if she actually saw her father standing there. He was her abductor—was she insane?

  “This is wrong!” she managed to protest.

  “No, sweetheart,” he wooed. “This is very right.”

  She was unable to deny it, for it was true—she did love this. She loved how he held her, and with his manhood so rigid at the small of her back, it seemed like he felt what she did, as if in pleasuring her he gratified himself. Her instincts were quiet, knowing that this was a natural place to be. Her alarm left her and she succumbed to the fire, unable to think, free only to feel.

  “So hot ... beautiful ...”

  His rich, sensual voice sent yet another tremor through her, and she moved slightly with his rhythm as he twisted and rolled on her, bringing lightning into her. The bolts consumed her while she envisioned the thunderheads beyond the cabin, the windy clouds ripping across the land. The waves flowed around her, rocking her ... With his free hand he pressed her breasts firmly together and held them tightly, and she reached back and laid her arms out languorously upon his shoulders. She slipped lower on his chest while he drove his palm steadily back and forth over the rock-hard points ... The scattered rushes within her came together and struck her with the brutality of one— Her breath caught again and again and her hips bucked gently in the ecstasy that burst through her, flooding her eyelids with blinding candescence.

  He embraced her comfortingly when she relaxed, spent and amazed. It wasn’t long before he carried her, unmindful of the strewn puddles, to the bed. He laid her down and came down beside her, and brushed a sodden curl away from her face. She wondered what he saw, for his eyes glowed with astonishment.

  He kissed her, knowing how to fan her mellow mood into a flaming tempest. He couldn’t decide where he wanted his hands, so they ravished all of her. An ardent connoisseur of passion, he savored the taste of her skin, bathing her with his hungry tongue. She tensed when his tongue came between her legs ... but then yielded, digging her long nails into the sheets and arching her back wantonly as his blazing licks scorched her. When she feared that she couldn’t survive anymore, she tugged on his silken hair and guided him up to her ... and he impatiently ground himself into her, his husky cries mingling with hers as he again took them to the heavens.

  When the rain fell meeker on the windowpanes and the thunder sounded less, they rested with limbs intertwined, like devoted lovers listening to the patting on the roof. As the tempest howled again, they were swept off into their passion, writhing about in rapture until their exhaustion took them away, into the mists.

  ***

  Sarra stirred, sensing that the evening’s calm was but another lull in the storm. She rose quietly and moved through the darkness over to the window, to watch the lightning silently splitting the black. Her rational worries began to come, invading her head. She glanced at the shadows behind her, where he slept. She dismissed her foreboding, accepting her serenity ...

  Raine had one eye warily on her while she approached him. A white flash briefly lit her—her lovely face, her tantalizing, full breasts and sensational hair tangled softly about her trim waist. She took up the blanket that was rolled up at the foot of the bed, and he closed his eye, bracing himself to ward off her assault. He was surprised when she simply laid the blanket out over him. She slid beneath it and settled in quite near him. She sighed deeply, and soon drifted into sleep.

  He drew her close, contemplating his unsettling emotions until he also faded into the night.

  Chapter 12

  Sarra floated out of the sea of sleep, restless from the heat that washed over her like the rays from a scorching sun. She lifted her lashes and saw Raine’s handsome face above her, his green eyes watching intensely while he caressed her breasts. A pleasured groan caught in her throat.

  “Mornin’, Princess,” he greeted.

  No words came to her as he drew bac
k the blanket invitingly and moved into the middle of the bed. He took her arm, drawing her near, and she found herself straddling his lean thighs with her knees near his narrow hips. He smiled roguishly, pressing his large hand on her bottom and thrusting her upon him, instantly filling her with desire. She whimpered, helpless on his hard length, and he positioned one hand on the bed behind him and helped her awkward movements with his other, pushing tightly against her.

  A thought of who she was taking, came; she didn’t care ... She folded her arms around him, surrounding him with the golden cloud of her hair. His breathing was as fast and rough as hers while she struck down on him, the force of her hips making him fall on his back. She put her trembling hands on the bed, and it took only moments to find what she searched for ... and her head dipped back in her abandon, consumed by the easy, torrid waves.

  She collapsed on his breast and he nudged her backward and rolled atop her, and he jammed himself into her, maddened to free his passion. Fiercely she clung, feeling his fire coursing within her ...

  A while later Sarra’s blue eyes were wide, following him while he sauntered off to the bath, running his fingers through his mussed hair and shaking his head as if to clear his senses. Dazed, she stared out the window, the glass awash in rain, until she felt his presence again. She didn’t look at him while she rose, wrapping the blanket around her.

  She returned from the bath to see him standing near the open doorway, the torrent beyond rushing down in foggy sheets and spraying him with a fine mist. Her vision appreciatively traveled his nakedness, on his lean, extraordinary backside when he turned, catching her ogling.

  “A downpour,” he muttered, motioning at the sky with a discerning smile tugging at his lips.

  “Yes!” she breathed, her cheeks reddening in her chagrin.

  He frowned, closing the door. He moved to the table and searched through the bowl there, and came near to put an ambrosia fruit in her hand. She sat down in her chair, her gaze trailing his bare feet that paced the planks while he ate. He was comfortable in his natural state—but she wasn’t. She held the blanket tighter in her fist.