She gazed up at him, as silent as he. Her lips trembled. Her eyes misted.
“Don’t.” Zander shook his head. “Don’t think about any of our problems right now. There’ll be more than enough time to dwell upon them later.” He stroked her cheek. He kissed her forehead gently. “Let me love you. Love me back.”
Lifting her into his arms, Zander laid Kitrina upon the bed and quickly divested them both of their clothing. His muscles ached and burned from the beating Talon had given him the day before, but he didn’t care. The sight of Kitrina opening her arms and spreading her legs in invitation made him forget about all his other aches except one.
His cock throbbed with expectation, heavy and pulsing, stretching, taut. He needed to feel himself sheathed deep inside her sweet pussy more than he required his next breath, and he had to be inside her now. Hoping she was as ready as he, Zander slid between her thighs and, with one powerful thrust, entered her.
Oh, my God Draka, he had surely died and was now receiving his eternal reward. Hot and slick and tight, the walls of Kitrina’s pussy were. They hugged him close, they massaged, they stroked, they caressed and cocooned his cock. Over and over, he violently slammed into her body as he tugged on the short spikes of her hair and kissed and bit her lips, her neck, and the hard little nipples of her breasts.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zander knew he was close to losing his grip on reality. He needed to slow this down. He needed to back off. He couldn’t allow himself to do this. Not this way. He couldn’t hurt Kitrina. He wouldn’t.
Never before with anyone else had he come so close to what his ancestors had described as the lust fog. A barbarian need so deeply seated it possessed the soul and did away with self-control. Gulping in deep breaths, he forced his strokes to slow, to gentle.
“No.” She clawed at his back. “I’m not some frigging flower, damn you.” She rammed her pelvis up against his. “You won’t break me, Zander. I’m sturdier than I look. Fuck me, barbarian. Fuck me hard. Fuck me like you mean it.” She growled and bit him on the chest, her teeth sinking deep. He felt blood trickle down between them.
He did lose control then, but he did it with the full knowledge that she was right there with him. For every powerful thrust he plunged into her, she answered with a forceful momentum of her own. He drove forward and she pushed back. He plundered her pussy, and she pillaged his cock. He lunged and captured her lips, and she parried his kiss into more, so much more.
Their sweat mingled and their bodies slid in a furious rhythm as the panting of their breaths and the slapping of his balls against her ass rang in their ears. She bit down on his shoulder hard as her inner walls suddenly clenched tight around his cock, and the rippling spasms of her pleasure convulsed their way up his length.
That’s when he truly lost his mind. That’s when everything went black and the head of his cock exploded. With a shout and a grunt, he once more lunged deep, and his hot seed coated her still quivering sheath.
Chapter Six
Kitrina glanced around the arena at her fellow hand-to-hand combat classmates, wishing she were anywhere but where she was. Her very first real class of her very first day of her very first semester at the Academy of Magical Arts, and just who did she have the odious privilege of sharing her class with? None other than the contemptible Lady Asla Fistslammer, Zander’s ex-betrothed.
The snooty barbarian female sat directly across the bleachers from her and had been staring daggers in Kitrina’s direction while whispering behind her hand to the girl setting next to her since the moment class began. Why hadn’t she realized Asla would still be a student here at the Academy and they would undoubtedly come face to face sooner or later? After all, there wasn’t that much difference in their ages, only a year or two at the most. But in a hand-to-hand combat class? Who would’ve guessed?
The beautiful barbarian, with her long golden hair braided down her back and her startling blue eyes glaring, whispered something once more to the student sitting beside her. The troll female glanced up quickly and bestowed a look of pity on Kitrina before quickly turning her gaze away. Asla giggled.
Kitrina cringed as heat surged up her neck and flowed across her cheeks. God Draka, how she hated being so fair complexioned and so frigging female. She wanted to walk across the room, grab Asla up by the collar of her tunic, and shake her. She wanted to yank every strand of her blonde hair from her head and poke her eyes out with a sharp stick. She wanted to punch her in the face and kick her in the shins. She wanted to—
“Miss Dragonheart? Kitrina?” A voice from the front of the room bellowed.
She took a deep breath and glanced at her instructor. Wally didn’t look happy. “Yes, umm, Mr. Titwilder?”
It was hard to remember to call him that.
“Do stop glaring at the other students and attempt to at least pretend yout want to be in my class. Anyone who knows yout knows yout skill level is above most of what I’ll be teaching this semester. But if yout just attempt to even act like yout are paying attention, yout might surprise youtself and learn something.”
Kitrina grimaced and nodded, feeling guiltier for being caught not being attentive than for not clinging onto every word Wally had to say. She glued her gaze upon his face and tried her best to listen.
“Now class, let’s discuss the various blocks yout will be…”
Walaford Thaddeus Titwilder, Wally to his friends and family, had been another one of those numerous cousins who hadn’t really been a blood relative to Kitrina at all. The son of Aunt Laycee’s brother, the great gnome diplomat Thaddeus Titwilder and the illustrious leader of the troll nation, Karla, Wally had been a welcome guest at Castle Kuropkat many summers when they had all been young.
With Wally being basically the same age as Zander and she and Zander’s sister Mia being almost inseparable, they had all four spent more holidays together than Kitrina could count. They rode dragons, vanquished foes, and fulfilled many a quest while their parents did whatever it was that grown-ups do while their children weren’t under their feet driving them mad.
Kitrina knew Wally had always enjoyed himself during his time at Castle Kuropkat. While there, he could be himself. Not just the shorter than average half-troll, half-gnome kid who others of his clan teased and laughingly called a trome. He didn’t have to be the boy who was forced daily to prove his worth and prowess to a tribe full of big, strong bullies. And he was free to run to his heart’s content and dream and explore just like any other child.
But with childhood now a long ago thing of the past and having no choice but to be a grown-up for the rest of his present and future, Walaford Titwilder had buried any time or patience he’d ever had for childish pursuits. He no longer laughed freely or smiled often. It saddened Kitrina to realize her once joyful friend was much too serious for his age.
Not that he seemed to be lacking because of his too-serious nature. Wally was a well-regarded troll warrior and a future leader. A man who had earned the right to one day take his mother’s place and rule over most of the troll tribes throughout the vast Karzan desert. He was the youngest troll to have ever graduated a four-year course in less than two years and the youngest man ever of any race to have been given the position and distinction of Professor of Defense at The Academy of Magical Arts. He took his position and his responsibilities seriously, very seriously.
Still, Kitrina missed the old Wally.
“Okay, class. Let’s see what yout got.” Walaford Titwilder stated.
Students slowly made their way toward the mats scattered about the floor of the arena. Levin tugged on the sleeve of Kitrina’s tunic and shook it playfully. “Come on, baby girl. Didn’t you hear Wally?” He winked. “You’re on mine and Ten’s team.”
Ten and Levin. Kitrina sighed. They were her sworn bodyguards for this class. Though she loved them dearly, this was a waste of their time. When it came to hand-to-hand combat, she could take care of herself.
Ten suddenly stopped, turned, and made a
production of pumping up his biceps and then kissing each of his bulging arm muscles before beckoning her to follow. Kitrina rolled her eyes.
Zander, the stubborn barbarian, had adamantly refused to believe that she could not only take care of herself but could probably take both Ten and Levin down with one hand tied behind her back. Even when she offered to show him her skill, he’d just stood there grinning at her as if she were a simple child and said, “Now Kitrina, we both know they’d let you do whatever you wanted to them. Honey, real men don’t hit girls. Not if they can help it, anyway.”
She’d wanted to hit him. She’d wanted to smack that condescending look right off his face. She hadn’t though. She knew that deep down Zander had her best interest at heart, and she had given her parents her promise that she would cooperate. But that didn’t make playing the weak little helpless female any easier to swallow.
For every single class, every single meal, every single trip through every single hallway and even every single moment she slept until the commanders had all been dealt with, no exceptions, she would be followed and watched over. Zander, Talon, Graydon, Gareth, Ten, Levin, Leeky, Pierced, and now even Wally had taken a blood oath to lay down their very lives if necessary to see her protected.
At the rate things were progressing, she’d be lucky to get to take a shower in peace or even go pee without someone being at least within hearing distance. God Draka help her if she developed a bad case of farts.
Kitrina took a deep breath, trying to alleviate the suffocating feeling of her situation and rose. Quickly, she joined Ten and Levin on their mat and faced the opposing team standing before them.
She felt the tug of her first genuine smile of the day as the corners of her lips lifted. Their opponents were none other than Lady Asla, the troll female who had been sitting beside her, and some random male dwarf with a red beard that reached the floor. Perhaps this class wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Kitrina positioned herself directly in front of Asla while Levin stood before the female troll, and Ten across from the dwarf.
Kitrina grinned. “Shall we?”
Asla snarled. “Bring it, bitch.”
Levin poked Kitrina in the side. “Isn’t that the barbarian lass Zan almost married?”
Kitrina nodded without taking her eyes off her opponent. “Yeah, that’s her all right.”
“Wow.” Levin sighed. “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. What’s wrong with Zander’s brain? I’d have married her in a heartbeat.”
Kitrina wasn’t sure which of them she wanted to hit first, Levin or Asla.
Ten made the decision for her a moment later when he socked his brother. “Keep your mind on what we’re doing here. Don’t be letting your cock do your thinking. You know good and well why Zan didn’t marry her. The chit’s a known troublemaker.”
Levin chuckled. “Maybe he just wasn’t using the right, umm, incentives to keep her in line. Bet we could make her so tired she wouldn’t have the energy left to cause any mischief.”
Asla exploded with rage. “Don’t flatter yourselves, freaks. I’d never. Not ever. Not for anything. I’m a purebred lady.”
Asla swung a fist at Levin, but Kitrina stepped between them and intercepted it. “No one hits my cousins without going through me first.” She doubled up her own fist and punched Asla right in the nose. Blood spurted and the beautiful barbarian screamed. She rushed headlong into the much smaller human female.
The fight was on. Fists flew and punches landed, legs tripped, and bodies rolled. The troll female who had been standing back watching jumped on Levin and bit his ear while the dwarf launched himself at Ten.
Levin yelled and yanked the female troll away until she dangled about a foot off the floor in front of him and at arm’s length. She kicked him in the balls, and the big half halfling, half barbarian dropped her on her ass as he doubled over in pain.
“That wasn’t very sporting of you, troll.” Levin groaned.
Kitrina, Asla, Ten, and the dwarf all stopped fighting midswing and stared.
“The name’s May…cee. Not troll.” She glared. “I wasn’t trying to be sportsmanlike. I detest being…restrained. I meant to make yout release me. And I did.”
Levin chuckled even as he clutched his crotch with both hands. “That you did, lass. That you did.”
Asla whipped her head around, and the end of her braid slashed viciously across Kitrina’s right cheek. Pain sliced through Kitrina’s face as she quickly jumped out of the way of Asla’s next spin. Though she covered her cheek with her hand, blood flowed through her fingers and down her chin to drip onto her tunic.
Wally grabbed Zander’s ex-fiancée by the arm and pulled her even further away. “That’s enough, class dismissed.”
Grabbing the end of the braid and examining it, he sighed. At the very end of her hair, tied tightly within the ribbon holding her braid together, was a short, thin, curved razor. “What’s this,” he demanded.
Asla laughed. “You call yourself a professor of defense? It’s a barbarian ula shank, of course, you idiot.” She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “All the women in my city wear them and know how to use them. It’s…tradition.”
Walaford Titwilder unsheathed his dagger and with one quick, clean stroke whacked off her braid, the entire braid. “Hand-to-hand combat means just that, Lady Asla. And as one of my students, yout hands are the only weapons allowed in this class.”
Asla turned a strange shade of green and promptly fainted.
****
If Kitrina had thought she wished to be anywhere but hand-to-hand combat class, that anywhere did not include where she was right now.
Leeky Shortz paced back and forth within the small confines of his rogue instructor’s office while she and all the men who had taken a vow to protect her stood waiting to hear what the gnome had to say about what had just happened. He yanked off the dark gray gloves he’d just donned to teach his advanced rogue class, stuffed them into his pocket, and fisted his hands at his side. His entire head blanched white before turning a bright red.
“What the red, splotchy grunge growing betwixt the chubby arse cheeks of a buck-nakey ogre temptress on the third day of a five-day ménage with a duo of unsuspecting dwarf dandies were ya thinking, lass?”
Kitrina took a seat on the edge of his desk and grimaced as she held a cloth laced with her own mother’s healing herbs to her cheek. “Sorry, Uncle Leeky.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I let my guard down for a moment. It won’t happen again.”
He shook his finger at her and sputtered. “I should hope not. I taught ya better.” He held up his hands. “Isn’t it bad enough that ya’ve got assassins on ya arse and ya ain’t even taking that seriously enough? But, but, but…ya let a lass cut ya. A lass with no real warrior training ta boot, for God Draka’s sake. And…and…she still breathes. Have ya no shame, no honor?” He hung his head.
Kitrina lifted her chin and glared. “I told you it won’t happen again.”
He turned on Ten and Levin. “And ya two. Ya better find a really good place ta hide ya worthless carcasses if Kitrina gets so much as a hang nail on your watch again. What the slimy slop set before the wedding feast of a troll trollop and a backwards-walking ogre opera singer was ya thinking?” He turned toward Wally. “No offense ta trolls meant, nephew.”
Wally didn’t say a word. He merely nodded.
Though Leeky was obviously mad as a hornet and poor Ten and Levin were shaking in their boots, she wasn’t really concerned with any of them. She chanced a quick glance up at Zander who stood silently by her side and wished she hadn’t. If Leeky Shortz could be considered angry, then Zander could only be described as livid. His thick barbarian arms intersected across his chest. His once luscious full lips were a hard straight line. And his silver-gray eyes were the color of overly full rain clouds.
With that thought in mind, Kitrina jumped as thunder rumbled and crashed somewhere in the distance.
“Why the VoT did
n’t you have your protection spell up?” Zander demanded.
She met his angry gaze. “It was hand-to-hand combat class, Zander. That means you use your hands to best your opponent. Just your hands. Nothing else. No one has need of a personal protection spell in hand-to-hand combat class. It isn’t done. It would be considered an insult.”
He glared right back. “Well, there was more used today than just hands, wasn’t there? From now on, you will have your protection spell up at all times, no exceptions.” He paused for a moment and tapped his chin. “I wonder how long it would take my mother to make you a talisman of protection. Perhaps I’ll look into that. Until them, I’ll keep you at my side…safe.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that in order to draw out those three commanders coming after me so we can eliminate the threat I’m going to have to take risks. I’m a rogue, a good one, Zander. I know what I’m doing.”
She looked pleadingly toward Leeky. “Tell him. Tell him how skilled I am, and that he really has nothing to worry about.”
Leeky shuffled back and forth and scratched his jaw. “What the stinky pits of a big-nosed ogress braiding her underarm hair in the shade of a palm tree do ya want from me, lass? I’ll admit ya’re good, even really good, ’cause I taught ya myself. But in this instance, I gotta agree with Zander. It’s protection spell up and ya attached ta the hip of the big lad here. We men’ll take care of this, lass. Just behave and leave the rest ta us.”
She opened her mouth to reply but didn’t get the chance to be heard as everyone else in the room talked over her.
“Perhaps we should increase the number of her guards,” Graydon said.
Gareth shouted. “I’d do double duty. I don’t mind.”
Talon growled. “I’ll rip the head off any person who dares touch her again. Be it female or not. Even if it’s another barbarian like that witch, Asla.”
Pierced, in true Pierced fashion, presented a completely different solution. “Maybe she should just drop the classes she could get hurt in and take non-violent ones. You know, like flower arranging and singing. Oh, and dance. Dance is good. Though, I do suppose she could fall.” He frowned.
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