The words came low and raw. When he was not snapping commands and making callous comments, his voice was remarkably rich and melodious. It caressed Adrienna, and when she shivered, she knew not if it was from the cold or from the softness of his voice.
“My mother grew more ill with each year that passed. I was still a child when I realised I would never have brothers and sisters — and that I would need to wear my father’s crown one day. But I never wanted it. Any of it.”
Adrienna listened to the quiet melody of his voice. He sounded thoughtful, melancholy almost.
“I would die for Karscha — but I have no desire to give it my life.”
Before she could think better of it, Adrienna lifted her hand and rested it lightly over Sergevni’s arm. Smiling tentatively, she said, “Well, now you do not need to.”
He turned to face her, a strange look in his eyes. Stepping close to her, he lifted the feathery tip of a loose strand of her hair, holding it delicately in his gloved fingers.
“If you had not been born the daughter of a king, what would you have been?” he asked.
Adrienna’s gaze severed from his, and she looked into the sky, chasing her thoughts there. It was a difficult question, for she had never given it much thought.
If she had not been a princess, what would she have been? The thought of Aster traversed her mind like an arrow. Aster had not been born a princess, she had not been born a lady. She had not been born anything. A bastard child, raised in the servants’ quarters, with no kin or inheritance. Adrienna remembered first meeting her: a gangly teenager, long limbs, dark hair cropped short, elbows and knees covered with bruises. When Aster was younger, she was forever training, sparring and getting into scraps. And yet no matter how many times she was pushed to the ground, beaten down, told she would never amount to anything, Aster had always held fast to her dream of being a knight.
What dream did Adrienna hold fast? What hope or aspiration?
“I have never thought on it,” she said truthfully. “It never occurred to me that there might be something else in the world for me. I have always known I would someday be given to some ruler, sent away from my home to secure some precious alliance.”
She smiled, taking his wrist and pulling his hand from her hair.
“Do not concern yourself with this, Sergevni. You do not steal my dreams from me by letting me take your throne. In fact, you are helping me retrieve the one thing I want. And for that, I owe you my gratitude.”
He nodded thoughtfully. Without a word, he led her back to the carriage, and they climbed in. The memory and heat of their earlier embrace had dissipated, their thoughts scattering the tension that had lain between them. The door of the carriage was closed and Adrienna sat back, sighing, against her cushions, watching the flickering lamps of the bridge float past the windows.
Soon, the lights faded, and the darkening pallor of the tundra slid past the window like misty clouds. The gentle tremor of the carriage wheels lulled Adrienna into a dreamy haze. She started when Sergevni spoke.
“When we first met, I failed to understand the depth of your attachment to your captain. For that, I wish to ask for your forgiveness.”
Night had fallen now, and no light shone in the tundra. The inside of the carriage was cast in swathes of shadows. Adrienna could see no more of Sergevni than the outline of his tall body.
“You have my forgiveness,” she murmured. “I thought you soulless then, but I was mistaken.”
There was a pause. Adrienna, lulled and lured by the silence, continued, “Now I think I see you for what you are, Sergevni.” The darkness was drawing from her a heady truth, pulling words from her lips like a silk ribbon. “You are a metal bent into shape by a hammer held by another’s hand. You were made into a trinket when you would have been a sword.”
If Sergevni was offended, he did not show it. Instead, he made a quiet reply.
“If I am misshapen metal then you are a gemstone chipped and polished to perfection. Every facet of you catches the light, Adrienna, and the colour within remains ever elusive.”
She was surprised to find her throat suddenly tight, her breathing shallow.
“What gemstone am I, Sergevni?” she asked, forcing her tone to remain light and affable.
“A blood-red ruby,” he answered without hesitation.
She laughed softly.
“The most flawed of the gemstones.”
“The rarest and strongest of the gemstones,” he corrected. “It is the jewel of kings and lovers.”
She was silent; her heart beating too hard. Somehow, the sweetness in his words was more sensual than the kisses he had lavished her with earlier. Silence lingered in the velvet darkness between them.[4]
“Come to my bedchamber tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough. “After you have spoken with your guard, come to me.”
Her breath caught. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. The pooling heat between her legs throbbed, the embers of the earlier flames rekindled. For a moment, she dared not speak.
“I have not trained you today,” he continued, sending disappointment spiralling through her. “Do not come in your fine dress — it will make it difficult to spar. I want to teach you how to correctly wield a sword.”
“Very well,” Adrienna sighed.
If she ever learned how to correctly wield a sword, Sergevni would be the first person she would cut through.
10. Honey
Sergevni paced up and down the length of his bedchamber, his mind a whirling chaos of conflicting thoughts. Hours had passed since they had returned from Sant Azhatta; Adrienna would still be meeting with her guard. Doubtless she would not even be thinking of Sergevni at all. But Sergevni could think of nothing else but Adrienna.
It had been a mistake inviting her to his bedchamber. The darkness of the carriage had lulled him into speaking fanciful truths, and she had spoken so softly and sweetly that he had blurted his request without a second of thought to the consequences. Her silence had been damning, and he had been quick to make an excuse. But dread filled him still, casting every thought into a mire of shadows.
Sergevni strove to calm his spirits. He threw open the windows to his private courtyard, letting in the icy breeze. He washed himself with cold water, drenching his face, hair and neck. He drank harsh mouthfuls of vodka, hoping it might quell his ravaging thoughts.
It was all in vain, for in Sergevni’s head writhed the memories of Adrienna on his lap, her head thrown back, her pretty throat exposed to him. He had ached for her then and he ached for her now.
No — he was a soldier. He had control over very little in his own life, but he had control of his own self at least. His urges were like beasts needing taming. Sergevni had never lacked self-discipline before; it was the very thing that had made him an excellent soldier and a faultless leader. He could not allow himself to be thus tormented by his bride, no matter how blue her eyes were, how exquisitely silken her skin felt, or how lush and alluring her lips seemed.
If Sergevni could not withstand temptation, then he would need to avoid it. It had been a mistake to invite her to his bedchamber. He would amend his error and send word that it was too late to train. On the morrow, he would train her properly, in the barracks, with other soldiers present. Then the temptation would be removed from him, and the desire that tormented him would dissipate like snow in sunlight.
Filled with fresh resolution, Sergevni strode to his door, flinging it open to call for a page. It swung to the sound of a stifled gasp, revealing Adrienna standing there, her hand raised as though she had been about to knock.
She wore dark leggings, the fabric hugging her legs, the waistline laced tightly. Though she wore a loose tunic, the flowing fabric could still not hide the femininity of her figure, her full breasts and lithe waist. Simple boots were buckled below her knees, and she had used a leather string to bind back her short hair.
Stripped of her gowns and jewels, she seemed almost like a soldier. The sight of her w
as unbearable. Before he could think better of it, before he could even question himself or his actions, Sergevni was wrapping one arm around Adrienna’s waist and dragging her through the doorway, pulling her against him.
She followed him without protest, and he slammed the door shut, pinning her to it. His mouth found hers and he captured it with an ardent kiss. He kissed her with breathless abandon, biting on her bottom lip and sucking on it. She gasped and he pressed his advantage against her open mouth, his tongue sliding hungrily against hers. She tasted of wine and honey — she tasted delectable.
His hands scrambled to pull the tails of her shirt free from her waistband. To his surprise, she pulled away from him, dragging up the shirt and throwing it aside. A groan of desire escaped him at her boldness, and he picked her up, carrying her to his bed, kissing her all the while.
When they fell down upon the mattress, she parted her legs, allowing his hips to settle against hers. Her hands reached for his own shirt, pulling it up with frustrated tugs. He smirked at her impatience and assisted her as she had assisted him, pulling off the offending garment and tossing it over his shoulder.
He slid his body against hers, his hands finding her open palms, his fingers interlacing with hers as he held her arms pinned. The stiff points of her nipples brushed against his bare chest, making his cock harden in response.
There was no control to his actions now. Lust obliterated every thought, every inhibition. His mouth scattered hot, wet kisses over her neck, her collarbone, her palpitating throat. Finally, he was kissing her perfect breasts. They were soft as satin yet firm and round, the nipples pink as rosebuds. Fastening his mouth over one dusky point, he flicked it with his tongue. Her moan of pleasure made him ache with desire, and he moved his mouth to her other nipple, sucking it into his mouth, flattening his tongue over it, teasing it until her moans turned to supplications.
“Saints, Sergevni, please…”
He looked up. She was gazing at him beseechingly, her blue eyes feverish with lust, her mouth moist and crimson from his kisses. A damask blush smeared her cheeks, like clouds over a red sunset. He still held her hands pinned, but her back was arched like a bow, her breasts thrust lasciviously towards his face.
“What is it you desire, Adrienna?” he breathed, placing an ephemeral kiss over one nipple, then another on the exposed underside of her breast.
“Please, I… I can’t bear it, I need—” she was babbling, her words slurred as though she were intoxicated, her breath cut from her chest.
He slid up against her, his chest pressed to hers. Capturing her lips in a ravenous kiss, he ground his rigid cock between her legs, letting her feel how hard she was making him.
“What is it you desire, Adrienna?” he asked again, his lips against hers. “Entreat me.”
She writhed beneath him, her hips undulating against his.
“Debauch me,” she whispered, her voice quavering. “I demand it. I need it.”
Sergevni’s heart quickened and iron spikes seemed to pierce his skin. The excitement of battle sped his blood, and he felt himself grow harder. Releasing her wrists, he sat back, picking up her legs one at a time to remove her boots. Each one, he threw aside with impatience. Then he reached for the laces at her waist, wrenching them loose. He dragged the leggings down, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the fabric off her with ease. The gesture was enough to make him throb with want, and he all but tore the garment off her.
Once she lay naked beneath him he paused, struck with awe. He had seen her naked before; it was no surprise to him how beautiful she was. But this was different. Her nipples were gleaming, wet from his tongue. Her back was arched, her hips undulating. The dark hair between her legs was like the wing of a raven, gleaming darkly, and her creamy thighs parted from him in wordless entreaty.
She sat up, startling him. Her eyes glittered with hunger, her eyebrows knitted into a ferocious frown. She reached for his belt, pulling him closer.
“Take it off,” she commanded breathlessly. “Take it off now, Sergevni. Please. Don’t make me beg.”
He bit his lip. Her impatience was the most delicious thing he had ever known. He could no longer contain himself. He obeyed her, loosening his belt, pushing open his own training leggings.
She slid back down over the bed, grabbing him by the neck to pull him down over her. Her hand reached between them and a husky growl rasped from his throat when he felt her fingers wrap around his cock. He was already desperately hard, but her hand was so firm and so soft, her excitement so tantalising, that he could no longer hold back.
Parting her thighs, he slid a hand between her legs. She was as warm and wet as molten honey. At his touch, her hand tightened around his throbbing length and he groaned. She was sorely testing his endurance. Brushing her hand aside, he pushed the head of his cock against her entrance. Her wet heat was torture, and he buried his face in her neck as he pushed himself inside her.
She was tight, but so wet that his cock slipped deep inside her with ease. Once his hips met hers he paused, allowing her a moment to adjust to the length of him. Her whimpers had broken into whining pants, the noise making him harden inside her.
Once her breathing calmed, he began moving. At first, gently sliding out of her and then back in. But soon, her breaths grew keening, her nails dug into his shoulders. Her thighs clamped against his hips every time he buried himself inside her, forcing him closer. He should have expected that she would be a demanding lover — she was never afraid to be bold.
“Please,” she breathed. “Saints, Sergevni. More.”
Pulling out of her, he placed himself as her entrance and paused.
“Do you really want me to debauch you, Adrienna?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to take you hard? Do you want me to make you scream?”
“Saints — yes!” her gasp was strangled, but the yearning in her eyes was clear enough.
Her feral desperation was like a sweet wine, intoxicating Sergevni. Gripping her hips firmly, he thrust himself inside her, spearing her with his cock. She cried out at the shock of it, her head thrown back. The sight of her pleasure was enough to make Sergevni’s self-control come undone. Soon, Sergevni was fucking her with wild abandon, her hips pinned firmly beneath his, his sweat-slicked chest sliding against her breasts.
Her breath grew ragged as screams tore from her lips at each thrust. He felt her inner walls clamp down upon him, pulsing around him even as he pinioned her. Then, he could no longer contain himself.
“Adrienna,” he hissed. “I—”
Love you.[5] He bit down on the words before he could utter them, and in the shock of the realisation that he loved her, his climax shattered through him. He came so hard his pleasure was almost a pain, his cock buried deep inside her as he spilled his seed. He collapsed against her, gathering her close to him, kissing her temple, her cheek, her lips.
“I should have known you would be this exquisite,” he mumbled against her hair. “I should have done this earlier.”
She laughed, a rich, indulgent sound.
“You were too busy assuring me that being betrothed did not mean we must be friends or lovers.”
He winced.
“I thought you a foe in disguise,” he admitted haltingly. “I was mistaken.”
“It is certainly much better being your ally than your bride, Sergevni,” she said, somewhat mockingly.
“I think you are much more than an ally now, Adrienna,” he murmured against her lips.
He kissed her, taking his time, allowing his mouth to linger over hers. How every part of her could be this soft and yielding and sweet, he could not fathom. But she filled him with an aching desire, even when he had just spilled himself deep inside her. Already, he was anticipating the next moment when he would take her and draw gasps of pleasure from her delicious throat.
But it was late, and Adrienna would no doubt be tired, and sore from their coupling. So he slid aw
ay from her and fetched the basin of water by the fire. Drenching a washcloth, he gently ran it over the milky planes of Adrienna’s body, washing each pretty limb then, carefully, the tender flesh between her legs. She sighed as he did so, blinking blearily up at him, a smile flickering upon her red lips like the flame of a dying candle.
Once she lay, clean and sweet-smelling upon the bed, he washed himself quickly, eager to join her. Pulling aside the blankets from his bed, he climbed in, drawing Adrienna’s pliant body alongside his and wrapping the blankets over them. She let out a long moan of contentment as he nestled her body against his, every hard part of him moulded against every soft part of her. Her face was buried in his pillow, and his face was pressed against her hair, smelling her perfume and the flower oils she combed through it.
He had forgotten to extinguish the candles and lamps around his bedchamber, but it was of no consequence. Soon, he was falling into the soothing darkness of a profound sleep.
The following days were an exercise in discipline and self-control. The wedding preparations were underway, and Sergevni had a feeling that his father would announce his abdication soon afterwards. He needed to train Adrienna well and fast, for he intended to go on a military tour soon after his coronation.
It rankled him to have to leave her alone, no matter what she felt she gained in return. If she thought being left alone to rule Karscha was worth the fleet he was giving her in exchange, it did not assuage his own guilt. The price he was making her pay was greater far than anything he could ever give her.
Taking her to his bed had been another ignoble act.
He knew it as soon as they awoke the morning after. She had been yielding and pliant against him, and he had emerged from sleep already painfully hard. He had slipped between her legs and taken her once more, fucking her with long, slow strokes, drawing sleepy moans and tiny gasps from her lips. His pleasure had almost taken him by surprise, and he had spent himself inside her with a broken cry. But bedding Adrienna to satisfy his lust was like drinking wine to satisfy thirst: the relief of it was exhilarating, but it only made the thirst more acute.
Rubies and Roses Page 10
