Authors: Jaide Fox
She shook slightly as she
obeyed, bending over his knees. The weight of her body and the tilt of her
hips, made him hard, but it was only in his mind--always in his mind. He
smoothed the mass of her hair off her back, pushing the tendrils over her
shoulders and head. She remained silent as he stroked her back in concentric
circles, moving steadily down her spine.
“You agreed I would punish
you, if you broke my trust,” he said softly as he cupped one firm cheek.
She startled at the touch and
bucked against him, pushing her upper body upward to flee. He held her
lightly, controlling her movement, and whispered a single word. Vines snaked
out of the ground at his command, wrapping around her wrists and ankles. She
growled and fought the living shackles until they pulled her legs and arms taut
and immovable. She tossed her head and squirmed against his thighs, but she
could not move otherwise unless he allowed it.
“Shh,” he soothed and stroked
her buttock cheeks through the shift, smoothing a palm down the back of her
bare thighs, then drew up the crease where she had pressed her thighs
together. The fine hairs on her flesh prickled from his touch, pleasing him in
some unnamable way. He inched his fingers under the gathered hem, drawing it
up to bare her completely to his eyes.
He’d intended to spank her,
until her skin pinkened from the palm of his hand, but seeing her naked,
virginal flesh taunted him. He had no desire to inflict pain, not even the
most minute. An entirely different want compelled him now, a desire to possess
and claim filled him, searing his mind to all else. He stroked one finger up
“Do not!” she screamed and
wiggled against him, to no avail.
“I regret that you give me no
choice.” She stilled as he parted her folds with a single finger and stroked
it back and forth, separating her moist layers. Her clit was hard, swollen,
and he nudged it with his fingertip, slipping in an easy circle around the nub.
She gasped and tensed, and he
flicked his finger against her again, near groaning at her reaction, the
delicious tension of her body as she waited to see what he would do next. He
knew then no man had ever touched her this way before, that he was the first to
probe her femininity, and it pleased him to have her this way.
He continued teasing her
clit, never touching it, and moved a thumb to her passage, slipping inside her
tight hole. She shuddered, arching her back as she released a moan.
Damian’s groin spasmed
painfully with the need to impale her, to have her in this position, open and
vulnerable to his every touch. He wanted to release her bonds and wrap her
thighs around his waist, let her ride his cock until they both reached
He wanted her as a man wants
a woman, and wondered if he’d merely denied the existence of such wants these
many years. It was possible. He could detect pressure, the weight of her on
his lap, the clenching of her inner muscles as he thrust his thumb fully inside
and curved it to her passage, but the joy of touch was gone. The electrifying
impulses that spread pleasure along his nerves did not exist in this form.
Damian stroked the back of
her neck, withdrawing his hand from her cleft.
“Don’t...,” she said
breathlessly and trembled. Whether she wanted him to continue or stop, he did
His fingers glistened with
her wetness, pleasing him. He raised his fingers to his face, but he could not
smell her musky desire, nor taste the sweet juices flowing from her womanhood.
Her wetness was evidence of her desire for his touch, whether she admitted it
or not, and it satisfied a need to prove she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d
led him to believe.
“Do you like that, my lady?”
he growled and thrust two fingers deeply inside her. She cried out at his
force, shook as he roughly rubbed his thumb against her clit, back and forth,
faster and faster. He pushed in and out of her tightness, harder and harder.
Her muscles clenched against him, holding him, drawing his fingers in to his
limit. She made small, animalistic noises in her throat ... soft, husky.
“Please,” she begged, bucking
against him, hands grasping the earth for support. She tossed her head,
moaning. He stroked her, saturating his hand, until her juices flowed down the
insides of her thighs. She screamed suddenly, her body spasming in release.
She heaved for breath, and the tension fled her body as she collapsed weakly.
He’d brought her to climax,
to a release he could not attain. His mind could make his cock hard, but no
more. It was the ultimate torment, that he could take her, and yet never come,
never realize that intense pleasure ever again. What would happen if he
resumed human form?
his teeth he banished the temptation, realizing it would drive him mad not to
have her for eternity, to find ecstasy in her arms only to have it snatched
The vines released her, and
she pushed away from him, anger and embarrassment flaring in her eyes.
He could see himself reflected
in those gray depths as the monster he was.
“You beast,” she gritted out
and stood, not bothering to dust the dirt from her legs and hands. She turned
and ran away from him. He made no attempt to stop her.
Indeed. He had never denied
what he was ... but he could regret it.
Damian stood and walked to
the gate’s edge to retrieve her gown. His shaft remained tight and ached with
need, never to be satisfied. It was a torture to keep her here, for she would
not give him what he desired, in any way. He was helpless to refuse this
starved need to keep her near, and helpless to control the awakening of his
soul to the temptation of her body and spirit. He slammed his fist into the
stone wall, receiving not even the satisfaction of pain.
Bianca locked herself in her
room, collapsing back against the door. Her womb ached, and she rubbed a hand
between her thighs, encountering the evidence that this was no dream, feeling
the wetness he’d aroused ... so easily. By the gods, she’d
She closed her eyes, trying to deny it, but her body still quivered, thirsting
How could she face him now?
And would he even allow her to go outside? Chances were unlikely that he would
trust her again.
She’d thrown away her only
chance to leave this place. Growling in frustration, she tore her shift off
and flung it to the floor, then climbed onto the bed and under the covers.
How could he claim he was
only illusion when he felt so real? She punched her feather stuffed pillow and
buried her face in it, hoping to suffocate herself and end her humiliation. It
didn’t work--she still clung to the urge to breathe.
A gentle rapping on the door
reached her muffled ears. She turned bleary eyes to the sound, surprised he
didn’t just open the door and prance inside.
“I wish to speak to you ...
and not through this door.”
“Accustom yourself to it, my
lord.” She turned back on her side and drew the covers up to her neck in case
he decided to break the door down.
Minutes passed in silence,
and she thought perhaps he’d taken the hint and abandoned her. She sat up,
narrowed her eyes, and glared at the door as though she could see through it.
“I want you to accompany me
to dinner,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
Bianca crossed her arms over
her chest, hugging the blanket to her breasts. “What if I decline?”
Another pregnant pause. “I
don’t think you’d wish to do that.”
“My lord, you do not know me
well enough to assume the inclination of my mind.”
* * * *
Damian raised his hand to
splinter the door asunder and banish her argument, then stopped, thinking
better on it.
She couldn’t face him. The
door was a shield to her feelings. He had unnerved her. She was just as
disturbed by her reaction to him as he was to her. Likely she was just as
mystified, as well.
The turn of thought tickled
his memory, and Damian thought back to the curse that plagued him, wrapping his
mind around the words.
healer’s hand and love’s demand, you
will live and love no more....
He’d focused solely on the
healing aspect of the curse, but perhaps in that, he’d made his most grievous
mistake. Bianca was a healer, pure of heart, and she didn’t respond to him
like he was not more than a monster.
Healer’s hand and love’s demand....
Could it mean without both her healing power
love, he would live and
love no more?
Hope pricked the bleakness
with which he’d insulated himself. There could be no other interpretation.
After all this time, it finally made sense, and he’d been a fool for not seeing
the easy solution sooner. All those wasted years ... the unceasing torture of
He could have ended it long
ago. But then, according to her father, there was no one else like her.
Bianca had to be the key to his salvation--the only key.
But could he make her love
him? Gentleness and wooing had been lost to him long ago. He was unused to
humanity, for in the years following his damnation, vile anger had consumed
him. He had embraced his darkness, reveling in the fear he provoked--all in an
attempt to frighten away any would-be visitors. No longer the hero, he’d
despised the flaunting of their life and his lack of it, and one night in a
century was but a brief taste of what he’d had, more hell than heaven.
But Bianca ... she was
different from the others. She did not fear him as a death knight, but as a
man who aroused her hidden feelings. To give him her body was to give him her
heart--he knew that, implicitly. If he seduced her....
Only then would she be
willing to banish the chains of his damnation. Only then would she have the
power to heal.
Only if she loved him....
* * * *
Despite all her arguments
against the folly of going, in the end, Bianca grudgingly conceded to go to
dinner. Not to bow to his wishes and satisfy his belief that he could force
her to his will, but because frankly, she was hungry.
Bianca dressed in the gold
gown because it laced up in the front, and she did not want to give him any
cause to touch her again. She did not like the strangeness he evoked in her.
It was far safer for her to allow some distance between them.
Damian met her outside her
room, giving no indication of being smugly satisfied she’d come out to him. It
was fortunate he could restrain himself. In spite of her efforts to remain
aloof, he took her arm in his and escorted her through the long corridor and
into the great hall to the rear. Near the throne was a door leading to a
private chamber, and inside a long, slender table was set for one. Candelabras
dotted the length of the table, giving off a warm, mellow glow.
“I thought you would be
dining also?” she asked, stopping in the door.
“I have no such needs. I
will enjoy watching you eat and serving you.”
Damian was being very polite,
almost suspiciously agreeable. Had she thought he had another objective beyond
that need for her power, she would have been worried. As it was, she dismissed
it and nodded absently, sitting at the head of the table as he insisted. He
gently pushed her up to it, then poured wine and presented plates for her to
choose portions of baked goose, steamed and shredded potatoes, and vibrant,
brightly colored vegetables.
Damian sat to her left once
he’d finished serving her. She chose to ignore him but he was not one to be
disregarded. She couldn’t help glancing up every few seconds to see why he
remained quiet. Each time, she caught him watching her, following the movement
of her lips and throat as she placed food in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
Rather than feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she found his steady gaze
arousing, titillating in a most basic way. She couldn’t stop thinking about
what he’d done to her outside, how he’d laid her over his lap and controlled
her. He stroked his chin with one finger, that same finger that had parted her
folds and touched a place no man had ever dared. He’d caressed her with a
pulse quickening boldness, as if in that moment, she would belong only to him,
forever and always ... her body was his to master. He’d thrust inside her, so
foreign and hard, she’d climaxed almost immediately.