by Lila Dubois
Rohaj looked at them, and shook his head. “You are cut from the same hide.” Rohaj tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Moregon felt a tingle though his mind, an echo through a doorway that had been forced closed when they stopped being Zinahs. But the connection was not gone.
Moregon copied Rohaj’s posture and sent up a prayer of his own. Goddess grant us rain. We are in dire need. We have done all we can, all we know, to stop this force. If it is your will that the land burns then let it be, but for our sake we ask that you grant us rain.
There was a tingle of feeling, an acknowledgement of his words. It was not the touch of the Goddess, Moregon was not so vain to think that. She was not so close to his thoughts, but her mouthpiece, the once Priestess, now Queen, acknowledged his prayers.
The first drop hit his cheek and Moregon opened his eyes. Rohaj grinned at him. He looked to Aketa, who stood with her face tilted to the sky, brow furrowed. She lifted her hands, palms up.
The scattering of drops became a shower, then a downpour, the rain falling through the sunshine. Around him men stopped shoveling and whooped with joy. Moregon did not take his eyes from Aketa. She whipped her head around to look at the fire, which sizzled and died beneath the downpour.
Without thought, she pulled the scarf down so it hung around her neck. Her lips stretched into a lopsided smile as water poured down her face. She laughed in mingled delight and relief, turning to Moregon.
He had a moment to take in the thick white scar that marred her face, stretching from her neck below her ear up to the right side of her bottom lip, pulling her smile lopsided. He had only a breath to notice and dismiss the deforming scar before she was in his arms. Moregon pressed her flush to him with an arm across her shoulder, his hand cradling the back of her head, and kissed her.
The kiss was long and wet and perfect. Their lips met, skin to skin for the first time. Her taste was rich and dark, like the earth, promising things she seemed too sweetly naive to deliver.
Aketa lifted onto her toes, her breasts rubbing against his chest, and threw herself into the moment.
Chapter 16
A thousand candles bathed the chamber in warm light that flickered and withered as though alive. Her breath came in gasping pants, so deep was her fear … and arousal. There was a hush, a weight in the air, as if the very world waited for the culmination of this moment.
Aketa took another step into the candle-lit room, her bare legs brushing together. Her dress was gone, taken to be cleaned after their battle with the fire. She’d been given a robe to cover herself, a short garment falling to only mid-thigh, made of a glossy fabric. Her fingers clenched, wrinkling the fabric where she held it closed.
She’d been placed in a room to wait, and the wait had turned into an hour. When something finally occurred it was not what she expected, but it was what she wanted.
The door to the corridor remained closed, but a second door, one she had hardly noticed, opened, revealing the candle-lit room.
Aketa took another step in, looking around. Moregon was not here, her first cursory look had shown her that, but she was sure, for no reason she could explain, that he was near.
A door opposite the one she’d walked through opened. Moregon stepped into the room. He was clad in a pair of tight breeches, made of soft hide. The rest of his skin was bare and glistening with oil. A pair of manacles, a small flogger, and a horse crop dangled from his belt.
Aketa caught her breath, and raised her gaze to Moregon’s.
“If you do not want this…” he whispered.
“I do.”
“You remember what it was, when the man topped the woman, bowed her to his will?”
“I do.”
“You enjoyed watching it.”
“That’s why I was in the woods.”
Moregon smiled. His teeth looked very white. “I remember.”
“Is that what you are going to do to me? Have sex with me, with those things?” She motioned to the items dangling from his belt.
“Tonight there will be no sex.”
“Why not?”
“Tonight we test to see if you would truly enjoy what you saw. Seeing is different than living.”
“But no sex?”
“No, but you will have an orgasm, if it comes to that.”
“You won’t?”
“No.”
“That does not seem fair to me.”
“To me either, but I do not make the rules.”
“Oh.” Aketa stepped forward again. The door at her back closed, as did the one behind Moregon, sealing them in.
“Why did you come to fight the fires?” Moregon asked, stepping forward further.
“I knew how to help. We’ve often faced fires on my father’s lands. I knew I could help, and I am strong as any man.”
“Your strength is beyond any that I’ve known.”
Aketa blushed. “Thank you.” She fidgeted with the robe. Take off the robe, throw it to the floor, offer yourself to him. Look at him. Imagine how his hard chest will feel against your bare breasts.
Calm. Not yet.
You’ve waited long enough, you deserve to be touched by the man you lo—
Aketa forcibly shut down the internal struggle. Thoughts like that would not help her tonight.
“Did you enjoy our kiss in the rain?”
“Oh yes, it was very romantic,” she sighed. Moregon smiled, chuckling a little.
“I thought so too.”
“You saw, didn’t you?” Aketa asked, the dreamy romanticism evaporating.
“Saw?”
“My face. You saw my … my deformity.”
Moregon shook his head. “I saw a beautiful woman, one whom I very much wanted to kiss, and who tasted like growing things.”
Aketa looked at him, searching his face for the sign of a lie. She was aware that her face was exposed in the candlelight, for they’d taken her scarf along with her dress. She watched him watch her, and caught the moment when his eyes flicked to her scar. A little piece of her vulnerable heart died.
“I was never beautiful.”
“To me you are very beautiful.”
Aketa could not, would not, believe him. Her scar was disgusting, a thick, bumpy white line that pulled down on her lip. Unless she made an effort to close her lips together there was always a gapping little space.
And he had yet to see her other scars.
“Are you still desirous?” Moregon asked softly, sensing her dark mood.
“I am,” Aketa said, without hesitation, and it was truth.
“I am very glad,” Moregon touched her shoulder. “I am very glad.”
“What do we do?” she asked, twisting her face to kiss his hand where it rested on her shoulder.
“I am going to dominate you, bend you to my will.”
“Er … but I am willing,” Aketa said. Moregon’s brows knitted.
“Well, I’m still going to dominate you.”
“Oh, I understand. Um, actually I do not understand.” Why did he need to bend her to his will if she was willing? She wanted him to command her, as Anleeh had his wife, but she did not need to be forced. Then again the force is what had made the situation so terribly arousing. Very puzzling.
“I am glad you are willing,” Moregon said, brow still beetled. Perhaps he was as confused as she.
“I am very willing. I wanted to come to you last night.”
“I saw Rohaj standing guard.”
“I was worried you would think I did not want you,” Aketa admitted.
“It was for the best. We should not have been meeting like that.”
“Oh.” Aketa sucked her lower lip into her mouth and worried at her scar. “You plan to touch the others in this manner?”
“I do.”
“Oh.”
Silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, between them.
Aketa wanted to … to forbid him to touch anyone but her. She wanted him to feel as she did, that the touch of the other was
the most perfect, magical thing in the world. She did not want to share him, and wanted him to renounce the desire to touch another.
You foolish girl. To do that would mean he’d chosen you as his wife and he can do much better than a scarred farm girl. You are just someone to play with, to pass the time with, while he evaluates the others. You will never be more to a man than a brief distraction.
Aketa turned her back to him, overwhelmed by her thoughts.
“Aketa…”
“I am still willing, I just need a moment.”
“Perhaps it is better this way.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Moregon grabbed her and hauled her back against his chest.
Chapter 17
“Moregon, what are—”
Her sentence sputtered and died as Moregon twinned one hand in her hair. His other hand jerked her robe from her shoulders, pushing it down so that it pooled around her ribs, held up by her hands, which were still clenched in the fabric.
Moregon tipped his head over her shoulder, looking down at her breasts. “They are magnificent.”
His voice was low and rich, thick with his desire. Her arousal, which had fled, overwhelmed by her thoughts , came rushing back.
He felt so big. Aketa was not used to feeling physically intimidated, but pressed to Moregon there was no doubt who was the stronger. He was her physical master, and always would be. There was nothing she could do to deny that. Nothing she wanted to do.
“You,” Moregon pressed his lips to her shoulder, “are mine.” He bit the left side of her neck, using his hold on her hair to force her head to the side. Aketa cried out at the sudden bolt of pain, which mutated immediately to pleasure.
She wanted to bite him, to return the sensation, to feel his flesh and muscle beneath her fingers, lips and teeth. She jerked forward, wanting some control.
He denied her that control. When she jerked forward Moregon tightened his hold on her. A bolt of lust, mingled with a new awareness of him, had Aketa moaning.
“Moregon.”
“You are mine,” he purred against her neck. “Mine.”
“Yes, yes, yours. Touch me.”
“Where?”
“My … my breasts.” Aketa whispered the last word, feeling scandalous.
“I will touch you,” Moreong licked her shoulder, “every inch of you. As soon as you submit.”
“I submit,” Aketa panted, wanting to get to the good stuff. “I submit. Touch me now.”
“Er, you submit?” Moregon asked.
“Yes, yes, yes. That is what I said at the beginning. I submit. Do with me what you will.”
“This contingency is not one I’d planned for,” Moregon muttered to himself, though the proximity of his lips to her ear meant Aketa heard his words.
“What had you been expecting?” Aketa asked curiously.
“Shy reluctance, the necessity of coaxing and comfort when confronted with the more frightening aspects of bondage. Perhaps denial and fight, which would require gentle force.”
Aketa nodded frantically, “I can do those. Which one?” Anything to get him to touch her.
“Um, I’m better at denial and fight.”
“Okay, I can, I can do that. Once I do, you’ll touch me, yes?”
“I’m touching you now.”
“Not where it matters.”
“We can’t have sex,” he reminded her.
“I do not like all these rules,” Aketa growled. “I am going to fight now, yes?”
“I really think we are doing this wrong,” he muttered, releasing her.
Aketa didn’t wait for him to finish. She spun and threw a punch straight at his nose. Moregon caught her fist in his hand, eyes wide. He stared at her hand, which was less than an inch from his face, and then followed the line of her arm back to her face. Aketa watched him worriedly, wondering if this was okay. They looked at one another for the moment, and the moment was caught in the amber of time. Moregon nodded to her, transferred his hold to her wrist and dragged her forward. Aketa had no fighting skills and stumbled into his chest, but what she did posses was a level of strength Moregon was unused to in women, and when she planted the heels of her hands on his chest and shoved, Moregon stumbled back a pace.
With a triumphant shout, Aketa jumped back. A second later her robe fell off.
“Whoops.” She bent to retrieve it, but then she saw Moregon, who’d frozen at the sight of her nakedness. His eyes lingered on her breasts, her sex, the length of her legs, the scars on her neck and shoulder.
The front of his breeches were visibly distended. She wanted to strip them from him, expose his cock, slip it into her mouth, into her sex. She stepped forward, intent on her prize.
Moregon grabbed her, spinning her and slamming her back into his chest for the second time. She hissed in frustration but the noise soon faded to a moan as he laid his hands over her breasts, lifting and cupping the heavy globes.
She panted in pleasure, wanting, needing, more of his exquisite touch. His hand slid from her breast over her belly, to her sex. He petted her sex, his fingers tangling with the soft springy hair. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands, trying to force his hand between her legs.
There was a series of faint clinks, and the next she knew Moregon had locked the manacles around her wrists. With a grunt of satisfaction he hooked his fingers through the chain connecting the manacles and brought her hands over her head and then behind her neck.
“Keep your hands there,” he commanded, stepping away from her. Moregon came to her front, examining her at his leisure. He stroked the skin over her collarbones, her armpits, along her ribs.
Aketa trust her chest forward, her nipples beaded up tight, begging for his touch.
“Touch me, touch me,” she begged.
“I will touch you when it pleases me,” Moregon said in a dark tone.
“You don’t want to touch me?” Aketa asked, her arousal fading as her insecurities took the reins.
“Oh no, I do I do,” he assured her worriedly.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Ah, because … I want to make you wait.”
“Why?”
“Those are the rules,” Moregon said a bit desperately. “You said you would resist.”
“Oh, I forgot.” Aketa lifted her arms from behind her head and reached for Moregon, who grabbed her, forcing her hands back into place.
“You are very, very naughty,” he purred.
“Ohhh.” Aketa licked her lips, legs shifting restlessly. Moregon cupped her face, tilted her head and kissed her. Like the kiss in the rain, it was long and slow, full of something beautiful. Moregon’s tongue parted her lips, the tip pressing into her mouth to flick along the edges of her teeth. He stroked her tongue with his, coaxing her to taste him.
His hands found her breasts, cupping the heavy globes, then rolling her nipples against the flat of his palms before taking each nipple between finger and thumb, pinching and lifting them. Aketa whimpered and stretched onto her toes to ease the pull on her nipples, but Moregon just pulled harder. Aketa moaned in pleasure.
He was in control. He was commanding her. He would do with her as he pleased.
In that moment the atmosphere snapped into place, matching the tingling dark-pleasure that had permeated the room where Lord Anleeh had dominated his wife. Moregon broke the kiss, looking down at her, and there was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.
The kindness was not gone, but rather suppressed by a darkness that said the man who held her would do things to her that existed only in darkest fantasies. He would do whatever he wanted with her, and, more frightening than that, he would ensure that she enjoyed it.
No more play, no more confusion.
He released her nipples, letting her breasts drop only to grab them again and repeat the process.
“Spread your legs,” Moregon demanded. Aketa spread her legs gingerly. Moregon released her nipples for the second time, fisted a hand in her hair, pl
aced his forearm against her lower back, and bent her backwards. Afraid she was about to fall Aketa tried to move her hands, to even out her own weight, but Moregon had caught the chain between the manacles in the same fist that held her hair. She was trapped.
“Such beautiful breasts,” he said a moment before he bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
The first touch of his hot, wet mouth to her sensitive nipple was a brand to her skin. She screamed and jerked in his hands, and pleasure so acute it was nearly pain rushed through her.
And that was just from a single touch to her nipple.
Moregon nibbled and sucked. He held her nipple between his teeth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Leaving that nipple throbbing with pleasure and wet from his mouth, he gave the same attention to the other, which had her gasping and moaning.
Moregon lifted her upright, and Aketa blinked eyes foggy with arousal until she could focus on him.
“I’m going to punish you now,” Moregon said, his voice like rumbled of thunder, his face a cold mask.
“What have I done?” Aketa asked, voice trembling.
“You tempt me. You make me break the rules. You need to be punished.”
Moregon reached up and drew down a chain with a hook on the end. Aketa watched it descend, watched Moregon draw her hands from behind her head, up to meet the hook, looping the chain over it.
He walked away, to a dark corner of the room, where he knelt beside a large drum with a crank. He turned it twice, and Aketa’s arms stretched above her head.
Aketa lifted on to tiptoe, balancing, and flicked her wrists, sure she could get the chain lose from the hook, but it did not come free. She dropped down as real fear filled her. She was trapped. She could not get away.
Moregon took the flogger from his belt.
“You have been very naughty.”
Aketa nodded.
“You need to be punished. You need to be taught a lesson.”
“What lesson?” she whispered.
“That you belong to me. Everything you are, was, and will be, is mine.”
With those enigmatic and cryptic words he raised the flogger, lashing the tails over her breasts.
