Devoured Innocence

by Michelle Marquis

  “Desmond. As a boy he was never arrogant or demanding so I was never concerned he would try and destroy me. He only wanted to pursue what made him happy and for almost two centuries I punished him for it because it didn’t meet with my expectations.”

  Gavin roughly rubbed his face in his hands. "If you don’t mind, I’d rather not continue this conversation. I have told you all I can bear for now. Your match is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. There will be no further training sessions. Tomorrow is your day to rest, sleep, fuck...whatever,” Gavin said, standing to leave.

  “Dad?” The words formulating in her brain were very foreign. She almost never called him dad. Heat crept into her face but she pressed on. “Thanks for sparring with me.”

  Gavin smiled with the cigar clenched tightly in his teeth. “I am very proud to say, you were ready. You’ll do well.” Arching his back, he strolled out the heavy metal doors leaving a fading trail of smoke behind him.

  When Gavin had gone, Kharon came over to sit on the bench next to her. Only instead of talking he just stared at the arena floor, looking haunted. Gypsy forced herself to her feet and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up too.

  There wasn’t near enough strength left in her. “I don’t think I have the energy to climb onto my hyperia. Move, so I can lie down. I’ll just sleep here for a few hours.”

  Kharon stood, then slid his arm around her waist grinning. “Well, if you aren’t afraid that it will diminish your status as a warrior, I am willing to carry you and put you up on your gallant steed.”

  Gypsy laughed out loud. “Truly sir, I am flattered by the romantic gesture, but aren’t you worried about your own status by being subservient to your wife?”

  “You know I don’t care. If another male wants to challenge me for you based on any perceived weakness, then he is welcome. And if he wins the match and manages to survive a week living with you, then he is, in reality, the better man.”

  Kharon lifted her into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

  The deep baritone rumble of his voice aroused her. “You’ve had an extremely long, difficult day and if anyone deserves to be carried out of here it’s you. Why not let me baby you for once?”

  “You don’t mind? Even though I’m half asleep with absolutely no desire for sex,” she lied.

  Only if you don’t mind my attempts to coax desire out of you," he replied giving her a soft, sensual kiss on the lips.

  “Go ahead; do your best. But I’m afraid you’d be wasting your time. All I want to do is go home and sleep.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Kharon then tossed Gypsy over his shoulder and carried her out, giving her a few hard slaps on the butt.

  * * * *

  Gypsy fell asleep on the way home. She woke to find Kharon carrying her through the villa to the living room. The villa smelled of burnt fireplace stone, armor polish and fresh laundry; it smelled like home. It felt so good to be carried, to be cared for in this tender, intimate way. But then Kharon was usually like that; a warm and generous male who’d given up his ambitions to help and support her. She was suddenly overcome with a deep and consuming love. She was very aware of how lucky she was. He looked into her eyes and Gypsy could read the calm, loving quiet in his soul.

  Kharon laid her down on a few pillows scattered on the floor and sat down next to her. She placed her hands on the straps of her armor to remove it but he gently bushed them away. Slowly, he removed her armor, peeling away the pieces one at a time, taking special care in the places where her armor had worn the skin down to bloody wounds. Without saying a word, he retrieved some salve from their medical kit and began to clean and treat her injuries. Gypsy tried a few times to help, but he always pushed her hands away so she gave up.

  “Let me do this my way,” he scolded.

  “Fine.” It was hard at first for Gypsy to let him have all the control. But she was so tired, and he was very gentle so eventually she just surrendered. He stripped her naked and oiled her skin, massaging every inch of her flesh. His large hands were calloused and strong but worked wonders on her aching muscles. As he rubbed, Gypsy’s body came alive in an erotic wonderment. Her nipples grew hard and tender as he smoothed his hands over them on his way down the length of her torso.

  Her sex tensed, hopeful his touch might wander down and explore the throbbing center of her need. But Kharon ignored her building tension and massaged her thighs instead. He worked all the way down to her feet without once touching her pussy.

  Gypsy opened her legs and watched his nostrils flair as he caught the scent of her growing desire. Kharon leaned down between her legs and kissed her labia once, then rolled her over to massage her back. Gypsy rested on her stomach but opened her legs wider. Then she slipped into his mind and reveled in his excitement. When she mentally let herself go, she could actually feel the lusty pulse of his cock and the thunder of his heartbeat. But being inside his head dulled the carnival of pleasure he was doing to her body so she withdrew.

  “You’re so beautiful, Gypsy,” he rumbled close to her ear as he placed small kisses along the back of her neck.

  Gypsy moaned softly. “Lick me.”

  His rough forked tongue glided down her back and through her slit. The sensation was so delightful she shuddered and lifted her hips. Another stroke, and another, brought her to edge of total bliss. She squirmed. “That’s too slow. Faster please.” But that request was met with several hard smacks across her ass. “Hey!”

  Kharon chuckled wickedly. Gypsy tried to turn around but he firmly pushed her back onto her belly. “Open your pussy for me,” he commanded.

  Gypsy wanted to make this harder for him but she was way too tired and this felt way too good. She reached in between her legs and parted her plump labia. Almost immediately she was rewarded with a series of long, probing licks. She gasped.

  Kharon pushed his thick tongue deep inside her wet pussy. It wriggled and lapped at her moisture, bringing her to a new level of delight. He teased and tortured her, waiting until she was close to climax a few times, then mercilessly pulling back. Gypsy swore and threatened, but he ignored her curses.

  Finally he let her roll over and face him. His mismatched eyes, one very light blue and the other muted brown, were full of evil laughter. Now it was her turn. Gypsy dragged soft, tender kisses down his thick neck and broad chest. Her hands thrilled at the size of him and the feel of his heavily muscled body. Her mouth roamed the landscape of his washboard stomach and the veined intercostal muscles that defined his ribs. When she encountered scars, she would stop and trace them with her index finger. He grunted for her to continue on with her journey.

  Gypsy smiled. Finally she reached the source of his agony still encased in the protective cocoon of his codpiece. She removed it and freed his enormous cock. Kissing the tip, she ran her lips and tongue down the muscled shaft, gently cupping his heavy balls as she worked. She nuzzled under his cock and tenderly licked his testicles which swelled under her attention. Taking them into her mouth, she sucked and stroked his manhood until he rocked his hips back and forth to match the rhythm of her hand. She used the Primal Fever to gauge his climax and when he was close to release, she buried the shaft in her mouth and swallowed his abundant seed.

  Kharon laid her back on the pillows and eased his magnificent body over hers. His face had taken on a hard ferocious edge that excited her even more. Few things were more thrilling than a big, bull male jacked up and ready to mate. He lifted her legs up high resting her ankles on his shoulders and pushed the engorged head of his cock into her slick pussy. She was open and exposed and Kharon pushed deep. His cock hurt a little at first but soon she relaxed enough for him to get his full length in. Once Kharon had her impaled, he stopped and let her adjust to him.

  He pumped a few times, causing Gypsy to moan and gasp. A deep, primitive growl rumbled from his chest. Her womb trembled and thrilled, and his climax deep inside her triggered an odd response. Her pussy t
ightened around the shaft as though it would never let him leave. An orgasm started deep inside her and rippled down the channel of her sex. Kharon lowered her legs and Gypsy felt her tender clit massaged and tickled by the ridges on her husband’s cock. The orgasm, which she thought was over, suddenly intensified. Gypsy couldn’t stop herself and screamed. She locked her legs around Kharon’s hips and bucked wildly as her pussy worked to milk more from his thrusting shaft. Her body became a mindless instrument of total pleasure. It was bliss.

  Their lovemaking went on for a few hours like that. It was fantastic but exhausting.

  When they finally took a break, it was three in the morning. Gypsy was re-energized, but poor Kharon was spent. He dozed lightly next to her as she traced circles around his nipples. He weakly swatted away her hand.

  “I love you, Kharon,” she said wishing he’d stay awake longer to have at her again.

  Kharon just grunted something that sounded like love, then rolled away from her and went to sleep.

  Chapter 26

  The ready room in the royal arena was hot and stuffy, making it feel more like a closet than a large stony chamber. Gypsy stood quietly sorting through her thoughts as Kharon adjusted her armor. She was glad they were alone. Never before had she felt so confused about a match. A surge of guilt-laced anger filled her when she realized it was probably exactly what Falken had hoped for when he seduced her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t cook up any hatred to fuel her in this fight. All she could manage was a heaping bowl of frustration with a side of self-loathing. It was her short-sightedness that had allowed her emotions to complicate the uncomplicated. Worse than that, Falken had betrayed her. As lame as it sounded, even in her own head, she thought they were friends.

  Falken is going to laugh all the way to his new rank as captain. Why can’t I stop making stupid decisions?

  “How does that feel?” Kharon asked her as he knelt tightening her shin plate.

  “Fine,” she replied, lifting and flexing her leg for show.

  He got up as she fell back into silence. While he ran his hands over her armor, tugging here, pulling there, double checking every strap and buckle, he wore the blank expression of a traitor. Gypsy wondered if he would have still matched her with Falken if he’d known they were going to end up sleeping together.

  “Can you stop for a minute?”

  Kharon frowned impatiently. It made him look rugged, severe and very sexy. Looking her in the eye with concerned curiosity he said. “Is something wrong?”

  Gypsy went up on her toes and pressed her lips against his sucking out his lower one. Biting it playfully she pulled back until it slipped from between her teeth.

  “No. Sometimes I forget to tell you how much I love you.”

  “I love you too. Stay focused and be careful. Remember that Falken was trained by Gavin as well. He is just as good as you are.”

  They came out to the edge of the arena together. The early morning suns were rising and their brilliant light illuminated the transparent dome. Gypsy preferred evening matches, but when you were fighting for rank you didn’t get to choose. The vast arena floor stretched out before her. Its hard packed black sand was smooth and clean. Someone had told her the black sand was chosen over a thousand years ago by a rather squeamish king to mute the vibrant red of the blood.

  Looking into the bleachers she spotted Desmond, her mother, Gavin, and a sprinkling of curious nobles. Most of the spectators were military personnel. As she scanned, her gaze fell on the very center which boasted a walled off section with a throne and some elaborate chairs behind it. Sitting in the throne was the Grand Duke Augustus von Goth. It was a big surprise since this was just a rank match. Most nobles could care less, unless a relative was fighting.

  Though these fights were open to the public they never drew much of a crowd because they didn’t tend to be the violent blood fest the senior matches were. Who wanted to watch two officers battling over who would get promoted first? Unless there was a personal grudge, these fights rarely ended in death or maiming. The loser would just have to wait another year to make rank. Not worth dying over.

  At the center of the arena was Rakon who stood as referee. He beckoned to her first and she walked up to join him.

  “You ready for this, girlie?” he asked in that congenial tone of his.

  Rakon always made everyone feel like he was barely tolerating them. Still it was good to see him.

  “I’m ready.”

  At least she was until Falken came out. His black and gold armor was polished to a mirror shine except in the damaged spots where only raw metal showed. His long dark hair was pulled back except for the braids at his temples. The smooth, graceful gait of his youth showcased strength and power. Instead of the smug expression of confidence she expected, his handsome face displayed a mixture of emotions she couldn’t define. The anger she felt at him earlier drained and was refilled by anxiety.

  She prowled up to Rakon, but he didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes solely on the Master Sergeant. Her body immediately betrayed her. Vivid memories of their lovemaking polluted her thoughts and softened her resolve. She wanted to hold him, not attack him. I hate him for blurring these lines between us. But in the same thought she cursed herself. This is my fault.

  Rakon directed them to their positions then barked the command to start. He withdrew to the sidelines to watch.

  Gypsy tried to ignite her temper but it was a wasted effort. If Falken had been self-satisfied or condescending she would have found her rage and ensured his suffering. But he hadn’t. He seemed just as confused as she was by his lack of bloodlust.

  They circled each other, striking aggressive blows here and there but neither one committed to a yield. The show was played well enough that most in the audience didn’t notice. She and Falken were fighting like graduates fresh from the academy. Finally he came at her with enough voracity to make her mad.

  Slicing and cutting, she drove him back. Instead of going on the offensive, he gave ground and they paused. Falken crossed his blade with hers and let the sharp edge slide along the length. The metals hissed in a caress of steel. Damn it, Falken! Surely you want this rank more than me.

  For a fleeting moment she was distracted. Falken pulled back his blade, coming dangerously close to her cheek, but he didn’t cut it. Furious more at herself than him, she launched an attack with every ounce of energy she had. She struck at him with a flurry of frenzied chops but couldn’t get past his defense to land a blow.

  They hacked and chopped at each other until Falken fumbled his guard and Gypsy struck two hard blows, marking his chest armor. There was a second in time that she could have brought her blade up and scored his face or sliced his neck. But she let the opportunity slip by. Something in her wouldn’t let her to do it. A seed of shame nested in her heart. What was her father going to think? Would he see it as a youthful blunder? Or would he recognize it for what it was? The latter would be so much worse.

  Gypsy realized her next mistake too late to correct it. Falken had recovered quicker than she had anticipated and she failed to guard against his attack. His body crashed full force into her with a loud clang of armor against armor. Having been slightly off balance anyway, his weight brought them both down on the sand. The impact knocked her sword from her hand. It slid half a foot from her grip. As she scrambled to grab it, Falken quickly wrestled on top of her, slamming her back down. They were face-to-face and time evaporated. Falken could have injured her, killed her or commanded her to yield. Gypsy had been pinned under enough enemy males to know what a compromising position this was. But she also knew the advantage was his to lose.

  I can get to my knife, but then I’d have to use it or...I can yield.

  Before she could do either, Falken got up off her. An audible gasp sang in the audience. Gypsy jumped to her feet. He tossed his head toward her weapon. That was a mistake and it was going to cost both of them. Picking up her sword, she sheathed it, staring at him in disbelief.<
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  Throwing her hands up angrily, she mouthed, Why?

  Behind Falken she watched The Grand Duke stand and turned his back to them. Everyone in the arena stood as Augustus quietly walked out. Rakon called a halt to the fight, declaring it a draw, which was a nice way of calling the combatants inept. When he left the arena floor, everyone began leaving the stands murmuring among themselves.

  This was bad. Both of them were in so much fucking trouble. Gavin and Kharon descended the bleacher steps in a fast trot. Their movements were jerky and pissed off. When he stepped onto the hot, black sand Gavin glared at them with such menace he didn’t even speak. He pointed to the ready rooms in an angry stab at the air, then turned his back and headed toward the stairs.

  Gypsy and Falken followed Gavin into a small side room that served as an office for the day’s match marshal. Kharon came in behind them and closed the door. He stood in front of it with his arms crossed. Falken got to his knees, bowing his head and Gypsy followed his lead. It was much easier to look at the gray stone floor than at her father.

  Gavin immediately erupted into a tempest of violence. Grabbing a large solid wood chair he threw it across the room where it struck a bookcase and then the wall. It splintered into a hundred pieces that rained down on them. Curses spat from his mouth that Gypsy had never heard before. He paced back and forth, savagely kicking pieces of the broken furniture out of his way. It took a long time for him to calm enough to address them in language they understood.

  Going for Falken first, he glared down at the young warrior with his one good eye. The venom dripping from that look was murderous. “What the fuck was that?” he shouted so loud the room shook.

  “I’m sorry, Excellency,” Falken replied. His tone was calm but she was close enough to see him tremble.

  “That’s it? I’m sorry, Excellency? And that’s supposed to make up for that pathetic fuckery that went on out there?”

  Gavin moved in fast and leaned down into Gypsy’s face. She hadn’t seen him this angry since she’d accepted help from Titan and didn’t tell him for several months. Her father’s fury was positively scary, and she really wondered if they were going to end up getting whipped for this.