Taric turned to Draevan. “Shall we accept? I hate to say it, but it would be politic to go, and they want us there enough that they’re willing to at least pretend to get over their prejudice toward our elfling.”
Draevan tilted up his chin, seeming to be sizing the servant up, possibly because the longer the servant stood there, the more uncomfortable the servant became. Draevan took his time to answer. “We should,” Draevan replied. “I’m sure the king isn’t used to dining in the presence of higher life. Our wife will give birth to a great hero; what has their king done lately?” With that, he walked off down the hallway, his large body dwarfing all elves in his path.
Taric gave a scathing sort of laugh at their host’s expense. Draevan was finding a more and more pompous way to view their bride every moment, it seemed. “We will attend,” he told the waif-like man who wavered on his legs. “Send up some clothing for our wife.”
“But—” the servant began to complain.
Taric walked back into the room and shut the door, drowning out whatever protest he would just ignore anyway. The elves, although they seemed to revere death, lacked any skill to bring it about. They weren’t strong, and their bodies were very like children’s, even the males. Their bones were more akin to a bird’s than like their own. They were easily intimidated and easily passed over.
When he walked into the room, he didn’t see Kyra right away. She wasn’t sitting at the table. For a moment, he thought she had gone invisible again and swore, turning to look for her in the adjoining room.
It wasn’t until then that he noticed a girl sitting on a sculptured bust near the doorway, where a torch would have been lit if it was nighttime. She didn’t look like a person; she looked more like a cat or a hawk.
It wasn’t Kyra; it couldn’t be. The girl looked so different. Her hair was just as long, perhaps, but it was coal black and her eyes were a light sky blue. Her nails weren’t glassy and pink like Kyra’s were; they were hardly nails at all. They were ivory claws, hooked as if to climb a nearby tree. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but she seemed to be listening more than seeing. “Where’s Draevan?” she hissed in a whisper, her voice fearful, her glance skidding to the door into the hall.
Taric stood still and stunned for a long moment, hearing the girl-creature use Kyra’s voice, but not believing it for the longest time. “Kyra?” he finally found the voice to say. “What’s happened to you?”
“Shh!” She pressed her ear to the wall. “I can’t hear anything!”
“We’re not under attack! Draevan went to pack, that’s all! We were invited to supper!” he exclaimed, his heart thudding from her reaction. “What’s happened to you?” he demanded once again.
She turned her head and blinked at him. “I smelled fear,” she explained.
Kyra smelled fear? She could smell fear? Taric was absolutely astounded, and at the same time, he found that he was slightly embarrassed that anything could have put her on high alert when he or Draevan was around. “That’s the king’s servant! All the servants practically piss themselves when we’re nearby!” he explained. He walked up to the bust and stretched out his arms. “Come down now and relax yourself. Neither Draevan nor I would ever let anything happen to you.”
She swallowed and began to slowly climb down.
He finally understood why she looked so different… Because she was performing magic. “This is what you look like when you’re invisible, isn’t it?” he asked her as she slid into his arms. He floated her easily back to the ground and wrapped his fingers around her palm. As he was looking at her hand, her nails returned to normal. By the time he looked at her face, gold eyes were already looking back at him.
She nodded. “It’s been awhile since anybody’s been able to see me like that,” she admitted, a slight pink hue spreading across her cheeks. “I’m sorry… I overreacted. I don’t feel comfortable surrounded by all this. Everything’s off—sights, smells, sounds…” She gestured to the walls with her free hand, an unsettled look on her face.
Suddenly she froze, looking highly disturbed. Her eyebrows twisted upwards. “Did you say that we were invited to supper by the king’s servant?”
He nodded.
“So… We’ll be eating with the king?” she clarified.
“Yes,” he admitted. “But don’t—” she was already weaving on her feet, her face blanching of all color. “Kyra, breathe,” he demanded, taking her shoulders in both of his hands and giving her a shake. “Just breathe; you’re okay. Here,” he pulled the chair at the dinner table back out and pushed her into the seat, then crouched down in front of her. “This is no problem; we’ll go there, politely talk about the weather, and leave this place forever,” he soothed, petting his thumb across her knuckles.
Finally, she took a deep breath. “I can’t go. I can’t! You don’t understand! I am too far beneath the king’s notice, except to execute at his pleasure! I am not fit to handle the man’s chamber pot!”
Taric didn’t waste any time wondering if he had ever heard something more ridiculous. “Stop talking that way, Kyra. The king is a silly, ridiculous man, and I don’t want you to pay him any heed. It’s him that’s not worthy of your company. Not the other way ‘round.” He patted her knee through the robe’s thin fabric and gave her a squeeze there.
Her eyes narrowed, as if hurt. She turned away. “Not even you think that.”
He was surprised that she was able to make an accusation out of this! “What do you mean?” he demanded. “You’re the most important woman in the universe to me; if you don’t learn anything else in life, learn that.”
“You call me a whore every chance you get,” she reminded peevishly, standing up.
He pulled her back to her seat. “When?” he demanded.
“You called me one last night,” she replied, thrusting her chin up like she wasn’t hurt.
He squinted. “You mean when we were making love?” He shook his head. “You liked us calling you names,” he assured her, his voice firm, his gaze on her dark as he remembered how wet she was then, how being rough-handled was making her practically shudder with desire.
“I did not!” she denied, her lips puckering. Still, a blush was returning to her cheeks, and her breath was picking up. She had to have been remembering it too, and even the thought was arousing to her. She might never admit it, and she didn’t have to.
“You do. And believe me; we’re willing to do anything to spread those thighs open for us. You will be treated like a queen by everyone else, I promise you that, but we own you.” Without realizing it, he had splayed his fingers on her thighs and was pushing them apart as he was speaking to her. She was even trying to clamp them closed, though she wasn’t strong enough for him to take any notice at all of her small struggle.
“Stop,” she growled at him, just as he was realizing that he was growing with need for her.
There was something about her that made her different than other women he’d had. None of the other women had made him this greedy with lust. Furthermore, he had never fantasized about putting a babe on a woman before he’d met Kyra.
Maybe it was the way her long, silky white hair draped over her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts. Maybe it was the wideness of her sexy, round hips. Maybe it was because of the exoticness of her features, the innocence of her expression, or the aggression that was always hanging in her tone. He wasn’t sure what did it, but there was definitely something that brought out the animal hidden deep within him—the one that wanted to put her on all fours and take her from behind so that before long her flat tummy would be round with his child, her skin glowing, her breasts swollen with milk…
“Taric, stop it.” He felt himself shoved back by her bare foot on his chest. It wasn’t a kick, but it thrust him backwards.
He grabbed the place in his chest where her foot made contact, shocked. “Don’t shove me back,” he said, incredulous that she would even try. Did she realize that she was his wife? She hadn’t pushe
d back Draevan that morning when he was fucking her raw in the bed next to him.
“Then don’t look at me like that!” she demanded, pressing her thighs tightly back together now that he was no longer edging between them.
“Like what?”
“Like that!” she gestured to the look on his face. “I’m not in the mood to do… that… with you.”
“If you’re not already, then I can get you into the mood to do that with me,” he told her, but she was already twisting her face with disdain at the idea. “So you’ll open your legs for Draevan but not for me,” he concluded aloud. He didn’t hide the disappointment on his face.
“I don’t have a favorite,” she replied quickly. “You’re both foolish brutes with egos the size of mammoths and manners like monkeys. If you think the king won’t throw me out of the dining hall tonight as soon as I step foot in there, you’re insane. You’re setting me up for an evening of embarrassment.”
He felt like he was heading into an argument, which simply made no sense. He’d done nothing wrong! “It’s not optional. We’re going to go, because not going would be an insult to this kingdom, which has been our host since we’ve killed the giant. We’re not going without you, because we’re not ashamed of you, and we want to display that openly. So, if we go, which we are, you’re going… which you will.” He pronounced his statement by grabbing her knees and pulling them back open. This time, it took more force.
“I said no,” she reminded crisply.
His fingers dug into her thigh. “And I said yes!” he snapped, and got a slap in the face for his trouble. He growled, stinging not from just the pain of it, but from the humiliation. He never thought he’d have a wife who would dare to strike him, and he had thought that if she had, he would simply strike her back.
Still, even as angry as he was, he couldn’t imagine ‘striking her back’. Kyra was too delicate, too beautiful, her face too angelic for that sort of treatment. Not to mention the fact that if Draevan returned to a bruise on Kyra’s face, Draevan would surely disembowel him. That didn’t mean she obviously didn’t think he would; she flinched and put her hands over her face to protect herself.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them down. Looking at her firmly in the eyes, he growled, “Don’t ever strike me again, do you understand me?”
She looked like she couldn’t decide if she should stand her ground or quake in fear.
He didn’t wait for her to make her choice. He stood up and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her to the bed. “Taric!” she cried, her legs flailing as her arms tried to pry him off. “No!”
He practically tossed her up on the bed. She turned to run away, but he pushed her shoulders down until she was flat on her back. He reached down and grabbed the silk tie at her robe and pulled it away from the other garment. He grabbed her hands, dragged her to the headboard, and tied her wrists to it. She immediately tested it, trying to pull herself out to no avail. “What are you going to do?” she fretted. A second later, when she realized how exposed she was to him, she added, “Please don’t spank me again!”
Her bottom was still pink from the night before except for some redder welts that stripped across her lower bottom and thighs. “I have more things in my arsenal than just spanking, elfling,” he assured her, tying off the knot at her wrists. “I’m going to make you beg for me to spend myself inside of you, and you are going to beg me to punish you… Because if you don’t, I won’t let you come.”
She bit her lip and tried to escape again. The headboard was high enough that it forced her to kneel rather than lie flat on her stomach. He pulled off his boots and trousers before he knelt behind her. She dropped her bottom to rest on the heels of her feet, but he reached under her and cupped her sex. Even without having to delve into her folds, he could feel the heat of her need.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’ve only been without a cock for three hours, pet, and now look at you.” He nipped his teeth on her shoulder, feeling his excitement growing as well. She shuddered when he flicked his clit with his fingers. Her body was so unbelievably responsive to his touch. He could see her body flush already from his attention.
“Stop,” she whined, her voice breathy.
He used his knees to shove her thighs further apart. “I haven’t even started yet.” He kissed down her spine as she continued to whine. He nipped the clef of her ass when he came to it, nuzzling her soft flesh, using his hands to thrust her bottom up. Slowly, he crawled down between her legs, set on tasting her.
“What are you—?” she asked, looking down at him as flipped onto his back and grabbed her thighs. He sucked her bare, pink clit into his mouth, and she cried, “No!” trying to squirm her thighs and get away from him. “No, stop! It’s disgusting.”
“You taste like honey, Kyra. It’s far from disgusting,” he argued lowly before he licked her again, humming happily to himself. He delved his tongue into her moist entrance, loving the taste, loving the sound of the whining and the moaning she was making. “Stop,” she said, sounding weaker every time she said it.
He moved his hands from her thighs and gripped her ass with his hands, thrusting his tongue deeper into her.
She gasped. “T-T-Taric!”
She had no idea that in another moment he would start playing with her bottom hole. This time wasn’t like last night. He was using his fingers now, and teasing the small, puckered entrance as he continued to lap at her. Using her own juices, he lubricated the entrance and teased a finger into her. She tried to buck away, but his free hand firmly grasped her hip in place. He felt her toes curl against his thigh as he slowly moved the finger into her. “Please, stop!” she begged him. “It hurts.”
“Relax, then,” was his unsympathetic response. He delved his finger into her until he was knuckle-deep. “Get used to it, sweetheart. This tight little bottom of yours will be pleasuring my cock before you know it.”
“No!” she snapped stubbornly, once again trying to jerk her hands free of the bedpost.
He gave her a firm spank. “How much do you want to bet, slut? You’re mine.” His own eyes widened at that—he had never been this aggressive in bed… ever. Quite the opposite—he had let women tie him to the bedpost before and take control of his body. With Kyra, however, he felt the need to fully possess her, to dominate her, and to have her admit that she loved it.
And she did; she might be whining and mewing angrily at him, but her desire was dripping down her thighs, and as he moved his finger in and out of her bottom, she began to move with him.
She was trying to get herself off, even. She was panting now, and he could feel her muscles begin to clench.
He stopped everything he was doing, pulled his hand away from her, and gave her a punishing slap on the ass again. “No you don’t.”
“W-W…What?” she asked, her voice sounding dazed.
He moved his body upward until his shoulders were aligned with the headboard and he could feel her silk hand-tie on the back of his neck. His member was right under her slick entrance. “You don’t get to come until I allow it. If I allow it. You’ve been a very bad girl, Kyra… Denying your husband, striking him, being impossibly stubborn… Why would I let you have your pleasure?”
Her jaw locked tightly, and her eyes narrowed darkly at him. “I don’t even want you to touch me at all!” she lied, turning her head away from him.
Smiling knowingly, he moved his lips to her pink, puckered pearl of a nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Her body was becoming more yielding to his movements, finally relaxing, although she was far from happy. He felt her spread her legs, and her pussy pressed up against his length. If she thought he was going to penetrate her right now, she had another thing coming. At this point, it wouldn’t take much, although she wasn’t the only one in need.
He was as hard as steel; there was nothing he wanted to do more than bury himself in her and fill her with his seed… Nothing, that is, except for make her beg for it.
She squinted meanly at him and stopped her moving. He shrugged slightly, trying to play like he didn’t care how long it took, and continued suckling at her breast like a hungry infant.
She threw her head back. “I hate you!” she groaned, obviously frustrated.
“You’re going to hate me a lot more, wife.” He kissed her collarbone, satisfied already that she so needed her release. “You’re aching, aren’t you? Poor thing.” It was hard to keep the mockery out of his tone. He was remembering that she didn’t want to have sex with him at all about a half an hour ago. He listened to her panting and reached up and felt the muscles in her arm tighten as he continued to nibble at her nipples.
“Yes…” she whispered, and he released her beautiful breast from his mouth. “No!” She continued to make moaning and crying sounds as she pulled back from the headboard with all her strength, reaching with her fingers to untie her binds.
He gave her bottom another firm slap, hard enough that she gasped with pain and shrunk away slightly as he lifted her thigh and moved off the bed. “Where are you going?” she demanded, her eyes an ominous, dark gold like he’d never seen before. “You’re not going anywhere!”
“I’m letting you cool down,” he lied, because he was really walking over to oil his cock.
“What are you doing?” she grumbled when he’d been away from her for a full minute. Her bottom was squirming back and forth anxiously. She was so frustrated that every word she uttered was a pout. “I hate this! Untie me! My wrists hurt.”
“Then stop trying to get out of your ties,” he advised, and came back to her, his fingers covered in oil. He tucked one arm around her waist and then boldly reached into the crevice of her bottom and exchanged the oil on his fingers with the delicate skin on and around her anus, swirling his fingers, playing with her entrance and finally penetrating it again.
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