It’ll take more than one man’s love to tame her wild heart.
The Onic Empire, Book 4
Bithia, newly crowned empress of Diola, indulges herself with as many men as it takes to satisfy her voracious passion. Now that it’s time to continue the family line, though, her advisors expect the unthinkable: for her to submit to one man from a sexually primitive planet.
Drahka disobeyed his tribe’s strict sexual rules once. The shame still haunts him. He longs for a fresh start, but breaking one cardinal rule—a man gives, a woman takes—is not an option. His struggle to learn local customs is complicated by a mentor whose eyes hunger for the empress…and for him.
Viltori is exhausted. He’s tried to teach Drakha that there are many ways to find pleasure, only to be met with anger, even violence. Touching the handsome primitive only sharpens his unbearable lust for Bithia, making him wonder if execution for failure wouldn’t be a blessing.
When Bithia witnesses the results of Viltori’s training, she realizes only these two men can fill her empty heart, inspiring her to take command of the throne at last. Except those who’ve held the reins thus far have a sinister reason for keeping Bithia—and her new consorts—in their place.
Warning: This erotic romance contains a lusty empress, a primitive alpha male, a dedicated acolyte with domineering tendencies, copious amounts of hot m/m and m/f/m sex, secret torments, burning desires clashing with duty, and a little bit of meddling by future gods.
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Wicked Empress
Copyright © 2011 by Anitra Lynn McLeod
ISBN: 978-1-60928-298-1
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2011
www.samhainpublishing.com
Wicked Empress
Anitra Lynn McLeod
Dedication
To all my Facebook buddies, but especially Joanne, my number one fan. Also, a big shout out to John Choby for being a good sport when me and Christina Crooks play on your wall.
Chapter One
Bithia always knew she would lose her freedom. She just didn’t think it would happen so soon.
She’d been the empress for only three short cycles, but they’d already selected her first consort. As she understood the customs of Diola, she could have as many consorts as she wanted, but this first one would be her only bondmate. When she pressed her advisors for the reason behind this, they answered as they always did: by the prophecy, such had always been so. It seemed to her that was their answer for anything they did without knowing why. As a Diolan reared on another planet, she really couldn’t argue with them.
At least she wouldn’t have to stay true to this consort for long. Again, according to the prophecy, she must bring forth a girl child with him to carry on her family line. After that, she could take as many consorts as she could handle. She quivered in anticipation. Her goal was to have more consorts than any other empress in history. Bithia intended to keep them all personally satisfied. Already she’d found the men of Diola a lusty bunch who suffered no self-recriminations for their wanton behavior. Such was a welcome change from the self-flagellating men on Beserrah.
As the newly crowned empress, she’d had her pick of any man she desired. To her surprise, some women even went so far as to practically throw their bondmates at her in the hopes of currying favor. Bithia didn’t care about that at all. Her only concern was with finding pleasure. So far, there had been only a few men she wanted but couldn’t have. One of them, Kerrick, was a slave bound by temple rites to protect the consort of a god. He was gone now, but Bithia still thought of him. He became like the other untouchable men on Diola—fantasy fodder. In her mind, she could do with them as she pleased, and she did. Often she covered the face of her current lover to help her envision one of them, especially Kerrick.
With a sigh, she stood on her raised dais, waiting for the bonding ceremony to begin. She was naked, encircled by a ring of silken fabric that hid her from view. An audience of the highest-ranking families, dignitaries and those in authority awaited the revelation of her and her bondmate. So keen was their anticipation that they didn’t even shuffle about in their padded seats. All she could hear was their quiet breathing.
Upon a deep breath, she smelled the oil her servants had covered her with after the ritualistic bath. The scent was soft and mildly arousing, but what excited her was the expectation of this man they’d chosen. At first, she’d been furious that she wasn’t allowed to select her own eternal bondmate. She didn’t actually believe in an ever-after, but if she had to spend eternity with one man, shouldn’t she get to pick that man? It seemed to her that as the empress, she should have the power of that choice. However, they insisted no man here on Diola would ever be enough to satisfy her. When she’d rolled her eyes at that excuse, they admitted the empire needed new blood, strong blood, which would strengthen her line for generations to come. Bithia couldn’t wait to see this paragon of manliness.
Frustrated by further delay, she sat down cross-legged amidst the crimson fabric. Crimson, for that was the color of her House. Bithia still didn’t understand all the details of how the elite structured themselves, but color was extremely important. The darker the shade, the more powerful the family. Her color was a deep, rich red that dazzled the eye. All her clothing was red with occasional touches of white, black and silver. Of course, for this ceremony she was nude. Sitting on the floor with her legs parted wide cooled the heat that had gathered between her thighs. Feverish dreams had tormented her from the moment she’d been told she would bond. Just what would this creature from another planet look like?
She reached up to scratch her head, but reminded herself not to muss her hair. Her short-shorn locks had shocked all on Diola, but Beserrah was an excruciatingly hot and humid world. The only way to survive the heat was by wearing as little as possible, and that included hair. With Diola’s more moderate climate, she’d allowed her black hair to grow. After three cycles, it was about the length of her fingers. She preferred to wear it fluffed out around her face or gelled straight up from her skull. Her servants were forever trying to slap wigs on her head, but she tore them right off. Today, her servants had carefully crafted her hair so that it appeared pulled back. Would her chosen be upset by shorter hair? She didn’t give it much more than a passing thought. Some of the men had been put off by her appearance, for she was not the most beautiful woman, but what always got them was that she knew things. Bithia knew exactly where and when to touch a man to make him writhe in ecstasy. This man would be no different.
Or would he?
She’d been assuming he was basically human like her. What if he was so alien his entire physiology worked differently? What if he fornicated in some fashion she could not envision, a way she found repulsive?
Panic rushed through her, shooting her to her feet. She should have asked more questions before agreeing
to this. Just as she fumbled her hand in the fabric, seeking the split that would free her, the fabric fell in a great whoosh. Her heart stopped, then hammered against her chest as she beheld her bondmate.
He was magnificent.
Bithia had never seen a more perfectly formed male. Everything about him was rough-hewn, primitive and primal right down to his hairy chest. It was as if the word “man” had been created exclusively for him. His eyes were black with white shards spiraling out from the pupil. Hypnotizing eyes that held her so riveted she almost forgot to check out the rest of him. And there was a lot of him to look at. He was the tallest and widest man she’d ever seen. Muscles covered his entire form. Not small, sleek muscles such as the Diolan men gained by their body sculpting enhancements, but big muscles from physical work.
His face was a series of harsh angles. A black mark shaped like a half circle rode on his right cheek. His lips were not too thin, not too full. They softened the severity of his face and looked utterly perfect below his long, straight nose. Heavy brows rose over his riveting eyes and drew her gaze to his deep black hair. His was like hers, slicked back so she could not tell the length from where she stood. Somehow, though, she knew it would be long.
Considering him, she decided he looked like a warrior. Given the way he was looking at her, he was certainly a man skilled at controlling himself. No emotions flickered across his face. She had no idea what he was thinking as he swept his gaze from her face to her feet and up again to settle on her eyes. For all she could tell, he was simply acknowledging her presence. He seemed neither pleased nor disappointed by her physical appearance.
She darted her gaze down to his cock. Hard and heavy, it leaned to the side as if it were so massive it could not stand at full attention. Or maybe the sight of her was not sufficiently arousing. She smiled inwardly. Soon enough she’d have him on his knees begging for her. Again, her gaze drifted to the mark on his face. What was that shape and what did it mean?
He ignored everyone around them to focus exclusively on her. Almost as if by staring at her, he could ferret out all her secrets and make her bow to him. The hairs at her nape bristled. That would never happen. Bithia was too smart to fall fully for any man, even one she would mate with. They said the bond of a child was the deepest connection a man and woman could share, but she simply didn’t believe it. She would give him and the people of Diola a daughter and then she would return to her endless pursuit of pleasure. Still, she wasn’t going to mind having this man in her bed. Watching his stoic features give over to passion would be a heady victory indeed.
The rotund magistrate, Ambo Votny, entered the room wearing a white robe and an enormous white fur hat. Bithia wasn’t sure what the ridiculous outfit was supposed to symbolize, but he looked a bit chagrined at having to wear it. Supposedly, her and her intended’s nudity symbolized a new beginning, a rebirth of their bodies and spirits uniting as one. Frankly, Bithia thought it was just so everyone could see them naked. Silly, really, since she’d been intimate with about half the men in the small audience.
Ambo stood beside the dais and recited a lengthy invocation she didn’t get a word of since he spoke in the language of the ancients. A glance to her bondmate revealed nothing. She had no idea if he understood, but she rather doubted it unless they’d somehow crammed the language into his skull. They’d tried to teach her, but they’d given up when she seduced every teacher they sent. Finally, they sent a woman, who taught her everything phonetically. Bithia had briefly considered seducing the woman, just to fill the mouths of the elite with new salacious tales, but she just couldn’t summon any arousal. Women did not interest her. Men riveted her attention. Always had. From the moment she’d been able to walk, the difference between her body and a man’s body enchanted her.
As she listened to Ambo drone on and considered the man she would shortly be bound to, she found his stoicism disconcerting. He was so emotionless she wondered if he’d been drugged. However, his eyes didn’t seem glassy and his stance was solid. Where had they gotten him from and what exactly had they done to get him to come here? A part of her heart softened because she knew what it was like to be ripped away from the only home she’d ever known and forced into a whole new world.
She’d been on Beserrah, living in the high court, blissfully unaware of Diola and her link to a long line of empresses. If she knew then what she knew now, she never would have gone with the handsome stranger. But again, she’d followed her cunt and not her brain. She sighed. Her hot-and-bothered nature always got her into trouble. But what could she do? Keeping her legs primly closed wasn’t any fun at all. The one time when she’d sworn off men, her vow had lasted for only a few nights. She’d masturbated constantly to try to stick to her declaration, but that didn’t work. Distancing herself from sex only made her cravings worse. She’d decided to indulge herself to the fullest and damn the peckards who bandied rude comments about her to each other. She decided they were just jealous since nobody would ever want to be with them.
After the longest time, Ambo finally shut up. He pointed to a spot before Bithia’s feet. Knowing what was coming caused her to grin widely. This she understood the symbolism to—her consort would bow to her authority.
Without comment, her intended stepped forward, dropped to his knees and placed a kiss upon her mound. Black curls glistened with oil and increased the heat of his lips, but the touch was far too fleeting for her to fully indulge her senses. What stunned her was that, even on his knees, he had to lean over to press his mouth against her. He stood with more grace than a man his size should possess, then stepped back without a flicker of sentiment crossing his features.
Her body oil coated his perfect lips, making them shimmer in the light. Too, as he knelt so briefly before her, she’d gotten a taste of his scent—masculine, spicy and something different but intriguing. She couldn’t wait to get him all hot and sweaty and then take a deep breath of his essence. She had a feeling he smelled as good as he looked.
Ambo issued another ploddingly long speech, then handed her a green vial covered with gems. She pulled out the small stopper, handed it to Ambo, poured the glittering liquid into her palm and then passed the bottle to him as well. While she rubbed her hands together, warming the liquid and making it sparkle, she gave a short speech. This was what her last teacher had worked so diligently to help her memorize. Bithia had no idea what she said. Something about binding him to her for all eternity or some other such nonsense. All that really mattered to her was what she got to do after her little speech. When she finished, she took a step toward her intended and cupped her hands around his cock. Never had a man felt so hard and hot in her grip. Was it the jaras gel? Ambo insisted the liquid had magical properties as it was named after Jarasine, the land of the gods, but whatever the cause, she literally felt the life in his flesh. Each and every texture that made up the whole of his cock felt unique in her hands.
Stoic still, he simply stood there while she rubbed the glistening liquid from the tip of his cock to the cradle of skin that held his balls. Finally, a reaction: his nostrils flared wide and he rocked back just a bit on his heels. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. From what she’d heard, this gel drove a man right to the brink of orgasm. It compelled him to mate no matter what might be in his mind.
Turning her back on him, she bent over from the waist and lifted her bottom, presenting herself to him. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, grasped her hips and speared her. His cock invaded her so hard and fast her breath whooshed out in one great blast. He felt even bigger than he looked, forcing her body to stretch to accommodate him. Rock-hard thighs pressed against the back of her legs, telling her without words he would not stop until he’d found his satisfaction.
He was everything and more than she ever could have asked for. Literally, he took her breath away. Locked into a firm pace, he thrust into her with great pounding waves that lifted her off her feet. To keep her steady for him, he pressed her against his chest, forcing h
er to hold still for each wicked, wonderful thrust. Lowering his head to her ear, he said something she didn’t understand, but what did it matter? She didn’t care if she never understood a word he said. They didn’t need to talk when they could do this.
Each rock of his hips smeared the jaras gel across the lips of her sex and then finally up to her clit. “Grandathall!” She uttered the Beserrah swear without thinking. Now she knew exactly what the magical liquid did. It set her body on fire, clamoring a need for climax across every nerve she possessed. No wonder his nostrils had flared and he’d rocked back! It amazed her he’d been able to maintain that much control. Just as she stood on the verge of possibly the most intense climax in her life, he withdrew.
Alarmed, she looked back over her shoulder only to be spun directly into his arms. Her gaze darted across the startled faces of the audience, then settled on her intended’s face. His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils wide, his lips parted over teeth bared in a half snarl. Sweet, merciful Datanna! He looked like he was going to attack her! Before she could run or call for her guards, he grasped her waist, lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing, and slammed her down onto his cock. Her whimper of surrender caused him to grunt with satisfaction. When she realized he only wanted to be face-to-face with her, she relaxed in his grip. Without a word, he carried her, still impaled upon him, off the dais and out of the room.
“Way?”
He’d spoken only one word, but his voice was so deep and rich it vibrated his chest and consequently her. Oh, to have him hum while wrapping his lips around her clit would be nothing short of divine! Eagerly, she pointed toward the exit.
“Want alone with you.”
He wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, but he didn’t need to be. She felt exactly the same way. They’d given the audience enough of a vicarious thrill.
Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4 Page 1
