Lucian spun her around, tired of being ordered about by this woman who had a strange draw on him. He shook her just once, and her head went back as her mouth opened in a cry of surprise and outrage, and then he forgot all reason and pulled her close, kissing to silence the tirade that was sure to come from his harsh actions.
His mouth claimed hers and Natalya stiffened as a jolt sent a shock wave through her and tingled up her spine. It wasn’t sexual, not really, just a sense of buzzing inside as the two became one. Lucian felt it too and wondered at it. He’d never claimed a female, never shared blood, and wasn’t certain how it would feel to take one after the act had been done, but he certainly didn’t find the sensation racing through him now to his disliking.
The kiss deepened as Natalya pushed against his hard chest but he ignored her feeble protests, he could feel their connection, feel the heat. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, closing any distance, the thin wet dressing robe creating only the tiniest of barrier between himself and her bare skin.
His hands entwined in her wet locks, holding her still as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue sweeping back and forth, taking, possessing, then caressing gently urging her to open up for him, to want him, to accept him.
She did, unable to help herself. Unable to resists the passions that flared between them or deny the wonderful tingling sensation she felt everywhere he touched her.
Fire sprung forth deep inside them both as the kiss deepened. Lucian still holding her head but moving his other hand lower to caress her back then cup her bottom through the thin wet fabric of the dressing robe, pressing her against his hard body, letting her feel his desire, as her breasts were crushed against his chest.
She moaned, a cry of longing and pain caught in her throat, sealed deep inside her by the force of his lips. She was so confused. This was wrong. She was married. She was no trollop to be used for pleasure, but his touch, his heady kisses were robbing her of her will, and that was something which she treasured. It was all she truly had.
Danior had taken her freedom, Andor had stripped her power away completely, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t give it up for Lucian either. No matter how she desired him, if she let him take her now, he would become her keeper. It was the way of things.
His hand came up to caress her cheek as his lips moved to place feather light kisses on her neck, and what he felt under his fingertips made him freeze. Tears. Though she was responding to his touch, though there was an undeniable fire burning deep inside her, there were tears running freely down her cheeks as well. This wasn’t what she wanted.
Lucian broke the kiss at once and looked at Natalya, seeing eyes full of accusation and questions. True there was passion and longing, but there was also rage and despair. He berated himself then, knowing he had used her like he’d sworn he wouldn’t. He’d taken advantage of her vulnerability, of her need for comfort, and had possibly crushed a bit of the spirit that made her so very special.
“Natalya, I...”
She struggled as he tried to pull her close again, tried to hold her, to comfort her, to be the tender gentleman he should have been from the start, but she shoved him hard and brought her hand up to slap him across the face, eyes blazing. He raised a palm to his stinging cheek then smiled. Nope, he hadn’t managed to kill her fire at all. It was very much apparent, and of that he was quite relieved.
“If you are quite done with your inspection, Sir, I will ask you once more to leave my chambers.”
Her lips were swollen, her hair gleaming a deep dark shade of wet copper, her cheeks ablaze with indignation, and her body, oh her body was so exquisite in that transparent, wet gown, but alas, he knew he had to leave. To deny what he wanted was a daunting prospect, but at least he had been able to return the fire to her gaze once more.
“Yes, M’Lady. I am quite finished, and very convinced as to the healthy state of your welfare. Will we be traveling together on tomorrow’s eve?”
Natalya swallowed hard, doing her best to maintain her composure. Truth be told her head was spinning and she could still feel the hands and lips of the handsome man before her, and sensation was not an unpleasant one at all. Disturbing yes, never before had she felt such things, but definitely not unpleasant.
“That will depend on the Mistress’s needs and my charges in the village. Rowen should be checked on, but I can do that during the daylight hours if Alliana wants me to tend her and help her with the babes in the evening.”
Lucian let out a low growl. Little fool. She would never be going beyond these walls without him again. True it was his fault that she had been attacked. He should have been there when darkness fell. Had it been light, the peril would never have found her, but never would she venture forth alone, be it by sunlight or by moon.
“Do you have a problem with that, Sir?”
“Tis not safe. I would think you were well aware of that now.”
“I shall ask the Master of the castle. I do not need your permission.”
Again with the supreme stubborn attitude, how was he to deal with such a woman as her? “As will I, Natalya. We shall see who wins this battle. Your welfare is the prize, and I am poised to fight for what I see is the only sensible decision. Have a good rest.”
Natalya said nothing, just watched him with eyes hooded to conceal her thoughts in much the same way he always concealed his. Finally he gave her a small but distinct glare of irritation and spun on his heel, leaving her alone to rest.
She quickly stripped off the wet dressing robe and pulled a nightdress over her head, then went to the bed, knowing her sleep would be troubled. As for Lucian, he stormed down the hall, loins aching, temper flaring, seeking the peace of a restful slumber, praying that visions of the fiery red headed temptress did not invade his dreams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Alliana lay with her babes and her husband, and Natalya bickered yet again with the insufferable Lucian, Marishka sat crouched in front of the small fire inside the cave where Andor had left her, gazing into the dancing flames, looking for her fairies, listening for their sweet voices.
She had stripped bare after Andor had left in search of food, feeling filthy and degraded in the once regal gown that was now no more than a rag, her hair matted, tangled, dull, hanging lank about her shoulders, and proceeded to dance around the fire. Hands over her head, twirling, swaying, trying to find the special place where her mind could be free, Marishka spun and danced, seeking the euphoria of madness.
She’d been without her precious milk of poppy now for a day and she didn’t like it, not one little bit, and the hunger pangs in her stomach annoyed her as well. The cave was dank and dirty, cold and damp, and it certainly wasn’t fit for a Lady such as herself. There were no new gowns, no pretty trinkets, and no fawning fools to pay homage to her beauty. It simply wasn’t right.
Time after time she had teetered on the verge of complete despair, and the only thing that kept these thoughts from overtaking her and driving her down into a deep state of languid depression was the fact that Andor promised he would have her back at the castle soon, that, and the fact that he would be returning with a nice morsel for supper.
He’d promised her a girl. She liked girls. They were so yummy when they were terrified and their flesh so soft under her harsh fingers. She liked how their sweet flesh bruised, how they cried and begged when she touched them in places that made their eyes go wide, and how they babbled out their terror, the scent of it filling her nostrils when she told them she would give them to Andor to rape and torture.
All of it made for wonderful fun and drove away the darkness that filled her mind these days if only for a little while. She missed her Hannah, her sweet little toy, missed her castle and her gowns, missed her regular meals and her dark bloody play, and most of all, she missed her Mikhal.
Her body felt heavy and cold, and she was hungry, but Andor had yet to return. The first rays of the sun were touching the horizon, telling her that if he didn’t arrive soon, she would be for
ced to endure another day alone.
Where was he? He had promised her goodies, and knew his mummy didn’t like to be left alone, bad Andor, bad boy. He angered her so very often now days, but inside Marishka knew she needed him.
Giving in to the hunger that made her skin crawl and her stomach growl, she stretched upward on her toes, intent on capturing one of the bats that had so recently returned to its roost. As her fingers clutched the furry little body she froze, stone still, listening intently. The tower bells were pealing, telling her that the brat had been born.
She shrieked causing the bats to stir, and squeezed the one in her hand, crushing it like a delicate flower, its blood spurting between her fingers as it made a small squeak of pain.
“So it has happened, and so early too. Enid always said we know not what magick will do. I hope the Gypsy whore died in her bed, bled out like a pig stuck for slaughter.”
The image of Alliana lying pale upon the sheets, blood soaking the linens beneath her, cheered Marishka and she grasped another bat, this time snapping its head then bringing the small body to her mouth and biting deeply. It was an undignified meal to be sure, but one had to make due. She would take her fill of the treat Andor brought home but in the meantime she would satisfy her need and think on what the birth of Mikhal’s son meant.
Perhaps the boy who seemed to care for Andor could steal the child and make the Gypsy follow so all would be well. Perhaps things would still go as planned. Just because Hannah couldn’t serve her purpose didn’t mean the boy couldn’t serve his.
Oh she wished Andor had come home. She was hungry and weary of living in this dank hole in the earth, and they had so much planning to do. It was time, it was finally time, and here she was, trapped in a dark cave by the killing rays of the sun, unable to reach the Gypsy who had destroyed her very existence.
Beneath The Shadows of Evil... Torn Page 39
