by Keziah Hill
All those years ago she’d picked him as her slave, as the man she would use as practice for some great lord her father wanted her to marry. He’d been full of disgust for himself and contempt for her.
Through the long years away from her, he couldn’t forget her wild carnality, her acquiescence then, finally, her sympathy. That he’d hated above all else. Her sympathy had made him hope, made him think of her as something other than what she was, the privileged daughter of a king. There were nights when she’d cradled him, caressed him, and let him see the playful child she was. Fool that he was, he’d believed her declarations of love, believed they had a future together. Cold, harsh reality hit him the morning he was dragged off to endure months of hell in her father’s army. She did nothing to save him.
In this terrible place, this hall that was once the slave quarters, Death stared at her, consumed with desperate, dark yearning for the woman who’d made him dream.
No, not yearning. He would never yearn for her again. It was rage. He was the Warlord of Death and rage clawed at his gut.
He took a deep breath. This was not the time to lose control, not after his great victory. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he dampened down his fury and studied Princess Lissa. No longer a girl determined to become a woman, she stood before him as if carved from stone, still and silent. Her wild blonde hair was tamed in a tight braid and she was dressed in a gown that had once been beautiful but was now faded and frayed. She looked liked she worked in the wheat fields.
He didn’t want to meet her this way. She was supposed to be a young, vibrant, selfish fool with a lush body, dressed in garments that made her a whore.
But above all else, she should be frightened. He wanted her to crawl toward him with fear in her eyes and beg him for mercy, not stand there cold, distant and disdainful.
He stalked toward her and saw a flicker of something in her eyes. Sadness? Regret? That made him even more furious. He stopped a few feet from her and took his time examining her.
‘You’ve aged,’ he barked out. She smiled and his heartbeat jumped. It was like looking at a summer day, full of life and joy.
‘As have you,’ she murmured. ‘I see a few more scars.’ She reached up and gently ran her finger down the scar splitting his cheek. He jumped at her touch. Heat radiated from his face, suffusing his body, making his muscles ache with desire. He slapped her hand away.
‘Gained as a slave with your father’s troops. It’s not the only one.’
‘No, I’m sure it isn’t,’ she said with sadness in her voice that made him want to shake her. Or hold her. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with her now.
‘Your father is dead. I killed him.’
She nodded.
‘You don’t seem too upset.’
‘He died the way he wanted, on the battlefield. That was his life. You have defeated us, and death of the commander is the price to pay. That is war. Stupid and wasteful. I assume there will be more deaths and the destruction of our farms and fields. That is your right.’
He studied her as she stood proud and defiant. There was a calmness within her that surprised him.
‘Did you love your father?’
A look of uncertainty flickered in her eyes then was gone. ‘I respected him. He was the protector of Horvald.’
‘But you didn’t love him like a dutiful daughter should.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘I … I didn’t really know him. He was away at war most of the time.’ Her face softened into that of a small child not sure of her place in the world. ‘Why are you asking me these questions? What does it matter?’
‘I want to see if you have any feelings. The only feelings you had years ago were for my cock and how I could use it.’
She flinched as if he’d hit her. ‘That’s not true and you know it. I used you as the women of Horvald used slaves then. That was wrong. But it was not the total truth between us, was it?’
Hot rage coursed through his blood. ‘There was nothing between us,’ he roared, ‘except betrayal and contempt. Anything you felt for me was only the fondness an owner has for a pet. I still went off with your father’s army and lived a life in hell. You did nothing to stop that.’
‘I couldn’t stop that,’ she said, the anguish in her voice breaking through her stillness. ‘I tried, but he wouldn’t allow it. And, and …’ She closed her eyes as Death watched her fight to control herself. ‘He told me he’d killed you when you tried to escape. I believed you dead these ten years gone.’
Her words hit him like a sledgehammer, making him even angrier. For what, he wasn’t sure. Every thought of her through the long years had been contaminated with betrayal. He knew she thought more of him than just a slave, but in the dark nights when his body burned with pain from healing wounds or fever from sickness, he cursed her for wanting him. For giving him ideas about what could have been.
And the nights when he was free from sickness and pain he still burned for her.
She would pay. He hadn’t endured those endless years of fighting and exile from his own land only to walk away from his revenge on Princess Lissa just because she was no longer the woman she had been.
And what was she now? Even more beautiful in her quiet dignity than the sexual wildcat she had been in her youth. Her beauty and stillness set his blood boiling. He wanted to punish her by unleashing that wildcat again. Have her on her knees begging for him, opening herself wide for his use. He stared at her, lost in bitter memories.
‘You didn’t try hard enough to save me. And for that, My Lady, you will pay.’
The anguish disappeared from her face to be replaced by fear. But she drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders and regarded him gravely.
‘As you wish, My Lord. I ask only one thing before my death.’
He raised his eyebrows in enquiry.
‘That you consider not destroying Horvald. We have rich wheat fields and a settled town. The people work hard and have good lives. Don’t destroy that,’ she said, her voice breaking. She sank to her knees in front of him. ‘I’m begging you. Don’t destroy everything they’ve worked so hard for over the years. You could be their new king. Kill me but don’t kill them.’
Gone was her calm stillness as she stared up at him with fierce passion and yearning in her face.
This was his fantasy come true. Princess Lissa on her knees begging him. This was the moment he’d waited for through all the long years. So why did he want to howl with rage and frustration, weep with tears of grief and snatch her up to his chest where he could hold and comfort her?
She was clever, this princess, much more clever than he’d realised. In one fell swoop she’d thought to undercut the pleasure of his revenge. She wouldn’t get away with it.
‘What makes you think I want to kill you? Oh, no, My Princess, your punishment will not be so easy.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘Get up. Your tears of concern for the people of Horvald are wasted on me. But I have another use for you, one you once enjoyed. Maybe you won’t enjoy it so much now.’
He pulled out a pouch of fine, smooth, red leather and held it up in front of her.
‘This is my present to you, My Lady. You will wear it as a reminder of who you are.’
‘And who is that, Lord Death? Who do you want me to be?’
‘My slave,’ he said as he opened the pouch and tipped its contents into his hand.
Chapter Five
Lissa gasped and stepped back. Gold links flowed over his hand and dangled down, shimmering in the light. It was a finely wrought chain, many lengths long.
‘Remove your clothes,’ he ordered.
She pressed her hands to her mouth and shook her head. Her heart pounded in terror. This was the moment. He would rape and kill her.
He narrowed his eyes and considered her.
‘I’ll make a bargain with you. You become my slave and I’ll save your people.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘If you do as I say, make yourself av
ailable to me at all times and without question, I’ll spare you and your people. After all, I am the representative of the Janiver, High King in Tisvo.’
Her heart sank. Not because Horvald was now part of the Empire of Tisvo, but because of her father’s foolish determination to hold out against the inevitability of annexation. She’d tried to convince him to welcome becoming part of the Empire, knowing such a move would result not only in greater trading and prosperity for Horvald but in peace as well. He hadn’t listened to her, couldn’t listen to her. His life was war.
The Warlord Death laughed, a sound bleak and terrifying. ‘The High King thought I’d have to burn you to the ground. But if you swear fealty to him I’ll let you all live. I’ve never thought of myself as a king. Maybe that’s what I’ll become. Instead of destroying this place, I’ll rule it instead of your father. You’ll become my Slave Queen, my Consort in Chains.’ He held up the gold chains. ‘You’ll look beautiful in my creation, Lissa. I had it made by the goldsmiths of Arvo just for you.’
Turmoil and fear twisted in Lissa’s belly. He hated her. The fury in his eyes seared her soul. Bad enough that he’d conquered Horvald, but to realise the man she’d yearned for over the last ten years felt such hatred and contempt for her sent a shaft of agonising pain into her heart.
There was something else in his eyes as well as hatred, making her want to weep. Despair. The same despair he’d fallen into when she’d tried to show him her love all those years ago.
He held out the chains.
‘Do you submit? Will you wear my chains?’
She licked her dry lips and met his consuming gaze.
‘If you want to become King of Horvald, you’ll need to keep the fields and the farms safe and productive. I can help you with that, but I need to be out among the people. We don’t have the luxury of sitting around being waited on. Everyone is needed.’
His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. ‘No luxury? No slaves to do all the work?’
She shook her head. ‘There was a Great Storm not long after you left. Horvald was almost destroyed. We freed all the slaves and bargained with them. They could stay as citizens and help rebuild or they had to go. We couldn’t feed them if they didn’t work. Most stayed.’ She frowned with impatience. ‘I can’t be available to you all the time. I have to work.’
‘You’ll be available when I say you are.’ He paused and softened his tone. ‘But I’m a reasonable man. And I’m curious to see how you cope without slaves cleaning up after you. Or whether they are, as you claim, willing to throw in their lot with the people who once owned them. I doubt I would’ve done the same.’ He played with the chain, letting the links flow through his hands.
Lissa looked at them and shuddered, not only from fear. The chains were beautiful and smooth and she knew the gold would be warm against her skin. Gold was a luxury Horvald had long since dispensed with. Most of her jewels had been sold in neighbouring lands to buy everything needed to repair Horvald after the storm. She wasn’t even sure where all her fine clothes were. Used and reused to patch others’ clothes most likely.
But however much she feared becoming the Warlord Death’s plaything, she knew herself well enough to recognise the wisp of excitement curling in her belly. He had, after all, been her first and only lover, the man who’d introduced her to sex and passion. In his arms she came to realise she liked hard, vigorous sex, where each partner could take what they wanted, however they wanted. She’d loved fucking her slave in chains but she’d liked even more the way he’d demanded his own rights and used her body for his own gratification.
‘So what is it, My Lady? Do you agree to be my Slave Consort?’
‘It would seem I have no choice,’ she said, not sure she wanted one.
‘Then, I repeat, take off your clothes.’
Her heart pounded furiously as she pulled at her gown. He watched, unblinking, as she lifted it over her head and dropped it on the ground.
His gaze raked her from head to foot, searing her skin. When he stepped forward, she closed her eyes and prayed for control, prayed to the gods to help her. But she couldn’t shut out the feel of his hands on her breasts, holding them, kneading them, flicking his thumbs against her nipples. She wanted to scream, to beg him to do anything he wanted to her. When his hands moved down the length of her body, tracing her belly and hips, sliding around to cup her buttocks, she gasped for breath.
‘You’ve lost some curves,’ he said in a voice of ice.
She pulled away from him, wanting to grab the dress and cover herself. She knew she was no longer the buxom young princess of ten years ago. Work honed her body to lean muscle. But she liked her body. It was strong and healthy and did what she demanded of it. Anger bloomed inside her and she felt herself blush.
‘If you don’t like it, perhaps this slave arrangement could be dispensed with.’
‘I didn’t say I don’t like it,’ he said, leering at her. He held up the chains. ‘Come, I’ll put them on.’
She stepped toward him and cursed her peaking nipples. He smiled as he gazed at her breasts, making her struggle for breath.
The chains were made in the shape of a harness. A circle of links sat around her neck and a central chain rested between her breasts. Linked to that were chains running under her breasts and up her back to link to the circle around her neck. But what made her blood sizzle and her pussy throb were the gold links that connected the chain under her breasts to the chain around her neck. The fine gold fitted to the curve of her breasts, pulling them up.
Devadas fitted the harness, purposely brushing her breasts with his rough hands. Her nipples were painful now, aching to be sucked. He tied the chain together at her neck with a piece of leather. She realised he intended her to wear her golden harness permanently.
‘I can’t wear this all the time,’ she said, with panic in her voice. ‘Other people will see it.’
‘That’s the whole idea,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘I want everyone to see I own you. When they look at you in your rough woollen dress, they’ll see the glint of gold at your neck and know you wear the chains of your master. That’s what I want.’ He still held a length of gold chain in his hands.
Lissa watched in horror as he fastened it to the circle around her neck.
‘And this is your lead. When you’re with me, you’ll wear it all the time. I want my slave at arm’s reach.’
She closed her eyes, filled with anguish. He would ensure her total humiliation. She stood swaying, the gold warming against her skin and sliding against the side of her breasts. It was not uncomfortable, but she knew she’d always be aware of the smooth metal. She hated the lead.
Even through her shame and fury, desire pounded, building like a volcano in her belly, slow and insistent in her cunt. He wanted to punish her and all she could think of was how much she’d enjoy it. Hadn’t he held her over his knee ten years ago and paddled her bottom while she’d writhed and moaned, not from pain so much as the desperate need for him to fill her? When he’d pulled her up and impaled her on his cock, her stinging buttocks had inflamed the raw need in her cunt. She’d met his every thrust until the blinding rapture of release claimed her. The Warlord Death knew all too well what she liked.
Her eyes flew open when something scraped against her tight, aching nipples. Devadas brushed the gold lead back and forth over her, first one breast then the other. She fought back a moan, fought back the scream in her throat to beg him to touch them with his fingers, to pull on them then bend his head and suck.
‘You like that don’t you?’ he whispered, pinning her with his gaze like a spider gloating over a butterfly caught in his web. She shook her head but couldn’t hold back a moan when he slid a broad finger into the moist crevasse of her pussy lips.
‘Your body betrays you,’ he said, still whispering. ‘You’re wet. Sopping wet.’ He pushed two fingers into her while she stood on wobbling legs. Back and forth the chain scrapped against her nipples in time to the in-out thrust
of his fingers. When he found her clit and rubbed, she couldn’t help throwing up her arms to balance herself against him as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her. He thrust his fingers back into her.
‘Your cunt remembers me. It clutches at me as it used to.’
She fell against him with a sob in her voice. ‘Don’t make me do this,’ she begged. ‘Please. I’ll do what you want but don’t make me wear this in front of my people.’
His arms surrounded her, holding her while he nuzzled the side of her head. Lissa smelled the long forgotten scent of him, masculine and sweaty with physical exertion. In the past his scent inflamed her with desire. Now desire battled with fear. Her blood surged through her veins, a pounding pulse of war in her brain as she wanted to both hold him and push him away. His muscles were rock hard. In another world or another time, she would have craved the safety of his arms. But now dread filled her and she knew safety was nowhere to be found.
‘I’m sorry, Lissa, but you have no choice. Come,’ he said. ‘Put on your dress and let’s face our people.’ There was an edge of steel in his voice. ‘Or would you like to go naked?’
She pulled away from him in a fury. ‘I hope your hatred eats you up at night. I hope you have nightmares full of all your twisted fantasies. You deserve no peace.’
His smile was more a rictus of pain. ‘Your hopes are already fulfilled, My Lady. More than fulfilled.’ He bent to pick up her dress. ‘Come. Let’s survey our domain.’
Chapter Six
Devadas stepped out of the Great Hall with Lissa a few steps behind. He held the chain loosely, not wanting to hurt her. Not yet. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden light. Flanking the doors to the Great Hall were two of his guards. He glanced at them. They were more than guards, Luc and Alain; more like brothers. They were always there, always ready to back him up, sharing the good times and the bad. Truth be told, over the years they’d had quite a bit of fun. Both men were convinced the best way to heal the horrors of war was to bed as many women as possible. With their contrasting good looks, Luc dark and mysterious, and Alain a blond free spirit, they’d never been short of willing candidates for their beds. They’d shared everything, especially their women. At the sight of Lissa, they raised their eyes in enquiry but, as Devadas walked out to the town square with her, they fell in behind. More of his men lined the edges of the square.
