Were Slave (2010) (4 page)

At this moment, though, all she cared about was how he was
going to satisfy her lonely body. She crushed her breasts up against the red
silk padded headboard and braced her hands atop the wooden frame.

The chains rattled menacingly as he followed behind and
sandwiched her between his body and the headboard. His erection was fierce and
moist from her juices as he pressed himself against her back. What was he
waiting for? The foreplay part was over. She wanted more.

He scooped her hair from her cheeks, gathered all her long
locks into his hands and placed them over one shoulder. She shivered from the
intimacy of his gentle actions and how they contrasted with his rough exterior,
deep, penetrating voice and enticing animalistic scent.

His breath was hot against her ear when he said in a low
voice, "You're mine," and wedged his leg between hers, spreading them apart.
"After tonight," he continued, "you'll understand that I'm more man than any
you've had or ever will have."

Her heartbeat sped but she remained composed. "Don't make
promises you can't keep." She turned her head and met his heavy gaze. The blue
seemed to have disappeared from his eyes, leaving only the black of his pupils.
As black as his thick mane of hair that hung past his broad shoulders.

His lips twitched up to a slow, sexy grin and Nayla's entire
body heated. He was more alluring than any man she'd ever laid eyes on, that
was for sure.

"Brace yourself, Nayla," his deep murmur warned.

She quickly turned back to the headboard and pressed her
forehead to the padding. He butted his legs up underneath her. With one arm he
lifted her and pulled her backside to rest against his stomach. His other
reached around, skimming her inner thigh. Curious, she peeked down to see him
grip his cock and guide it to her pussy. Every inch of him was stunning and she
couldn't wait another moment for him to be inside of her body.

He held the hard head of his cock against her clitoris and
then slowly slid it to her passage and out again. "You're so fucking wet for
me." His husky voice rumbled against her neck. "How badly do you want me?"

"Like no one before and no one after. I swear." Her honesty
startled her but she quickly pushed it from her mind when he allowed her to
sink down on him.

She relished each inch as he slipped inside of her, slick
and taut, until his thick cock filled her channel. "Aah," she moaned and her
eyes rolled back, mesmerized by the instant warmth crawling up her middle. She
clenched tighter to the wood but her palms were clammy.

"Don't let go." He clasped a hand over hers. His other arm
still wrapped snug around her waist as his lean, muscular body lodged more
firmly against the silk pad. He encompassed her as he held her there, as if
nothing else in the world existed but him and this moment of passion.

With a feral grunt, he lifted her higher with his hips. His
cock rammed farther in, caressing her innermost walls. He leveraged her there
as he slid out of her just an inch, then thrust back in. Again and then again,
faster and harder, he fucked her from behind.

Warm, tingling pressure built inside her pussy, up to her
womb. Her legs were useless, but she didn't need them anyway as she was so
tightly sandwiched.

"Oh, God, Mace. Fuck me." Her tight nipples slid against the
silk as he drove into her, adding to the pleasure.

He was relentless as he filled her to the hilt, pushing
deeper each time. His force was fierce and unrestrained, as if he wished to
punish her.

But it felt too good to hurt.

His long, slippery shaft arched up and into her heat,
burning hotter as the friction hastened and deepened. This wasn't lovemaking.
No, it was pure lust-driven sex. There was no admiration, no sweet kisses, just
a selfish hunger.

Nayla didn't care.

Nothing mattered. Not when his steady, rapid movements were
setting a fire ablaze in her core. She was losing control. Her mind blurred as
her thighs quaked. The smoldering inside of her had built up too long and now
it was bursting free. She released the dam, allowing it to erupt in her belly
and surge down her legs, rushing through her blood, popping her nerve endings,
slicing off her anxiety and fears. Finally letting go of years of frustration,
of loneliness.

Joyous tears welled in her eyes as a piercing cry filled her
ears and she realized too late it was coming from her mouth.

So what? she thought and smiled to herself. She dropped her
head back against Mace's shoulder as her entire body slackened against his
hold. He held her up, his cock still engorged inside her tingly channel.

"Good girl," he said low beside her ear. He bracketed her
against the headboard as he thrust twice more. A primitive groan escaped his
beautiful lips before he pulled out and released his warm seed against her
bottom.

They fell back onto the bed, their bodies entwined as they
lay on their sides. She listened to his jagged breathing as her senses
returned. She'd miscalculated him. Each second longer she spent with him proved
that more and more.

As he eased her soaked hair from her shoulder and kissed her
tingling skin...as his hand drifted down to her bottom and lathered his cum
across her backside...she knew she couldn't make the mistake again.

No, Mace could never be underestimated.

"Next order of business." Nayla kept her posture straight
and her face solemn as she looked around at the table of men, hoping they
wouldn't guess what--or who--was on her mind.

Mace.

She shifted on her throne, her pussy moistening from the
mere memory of how he'd pleased her the night before. After he'd tied her up
and claimed her with his beautiful cock, he'd softened to her touch. And now
she wanted nothing more than for this day to be over so she could visit him
again.

To imagine a Were had captured her desires so thoroughly
that she could think of nothing else. She pictured him in her mind as she'd
said goodbye, leaving him tangled in bed sheets. She remembered clearly how in
between the glimpses of anger, he'd looked at her as if he'd known her a
hundred years.

Even though there was an obvious war in his mind, his taming
had been easy. She only hoped he wouldn't regret the passion they'd shared. She
hoped he wouldn't regress and give in to the rage.

"My Queen?" Fenton, her appointed councilman from the lower
valley, broke her thoughts. "The coven of witches I warned you about has
threatened to stop the flow of the river that leads to Webster's Farm. They
insist Webster owes them monetary compensation for services rendered."

Nayla held back a sigh. Was there ever a session when Fenton
didn't bring up the witches? Like many of Paqualette's residents, he feared the
power of the coven but for all Nayla knew, the witches stayed to themselves and
never caused any trouble.

"What services?" she asked, more curious than anything else.

"They insist they're the reason Webster's fields are
thriving with wheat." Fenton cleard his throat. "He'd allegedly gone to them
during the drought and asked them to cast a spell for precipitation."

"Ah. And Webster denies this claim?"

"No, my Queen, he doesn't deny requesting the spell, but he
does deny the coven was the reason the drought was broken."

Nayla tapped her foot on the floor. Webster always was a
cheap son of a bitch. "If the coven wishes to stop the river from flowing to
Webster's Farm then so be it. But I ask that they allow it to flow beyond the
farm so no others are harmed."

"My Queen, the coven has no proof--"

"Please, Fenton, the drought lasted for weeks. I'd wondered
myself if the witches had any part in the recent rain. Whether it's true or
not, they'll have to work it out amongst themselves."

"But--"

"But nothing. Is there any other business before I adjourn?"

"My Queen." Saul stepped from the shadows in the corner of
the room.

"Yes, Saul?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem with your
WereSlave."

The image of Mace's naked body popped into her mind. Defined
muscles, tanned skin, sleek build, enticing cock. She tilted her head down,
trying to hide the heat that crawled up her neck to her cheeks. Then she guided
Saul to the corner of the room, for some privacy. "What of him?" she asked,
keeping her voice low.

"He allowed us to move him into your personal chambers as
you requested but he has refused to eat or allow us to properly contain him."
Saul drew his salt-and-pepper eyebrows together. "We've tried to respect him as
your property, my Queen, but it's nearly impossible. He's said he won't eat
until the prisoners in the dungeon are given proper care. And he wants proof of
it."

"Well," Fenton muttered, clearly having heard Saul's words.
Murmurs from the men worked their way around the table.

Wonderful. Nayla shot them a warning glare. "Continue on
with the meeting, gentlemen. This conversation is none of your concern."

The men bristled but they obeyed and began discussing the
next order of business. When she was certain everyone, including Fenton, had
given their attention elsewhere, she turned back to her guard.

"Thank you for coming to me with this, Saul." Lord, how
would she deal with this? "Have any Queens from the past had this problem?"

"No, my Queen. This is new. I'm afraid you may have chosen
the alpha male of the pack. I've heard they're more resistant to taking orders
and are difficult to tame."

"I see." So Mace was their leader. He'd certainly proven to
her he was a clever being. His tongue was sharp and his mind quick. But what
did that say of his pack? Even if they were all intelligent beings, did that
stop them from killing? Or did their intellect help them from being caught? If
the Great War had proven anything, it had shown how savage the Weres could be.
They'd attempted to take over the entire continent, but humans, with help from
the Vampires, had thwarted their efforts and nearly exterminated them. Now,
only a minute number of packs roamed the continent.

Nayla pressed her fingers to her temples. Yes, Weres were dangerous.
She'd experienced that firsthand. But Mace hadn't hurt her last night. She
couldn't deny that. He'd pleased her and then he'd let her slip from the bed
without a scratch.

In any case, she couldn't be certain she was making the
right decision by starving the prisoners. She jutted out her chin, satisfied
with her decision. "Until I'm confident the Weres in the dungeon are a threat,
I want them to be fed and cleaned, starting with the women. If any cause
trouble, their privileges will be revoked. Understood?"

Saul nodded. "Yes, my Queen."

"My Queen?" Fenton stood, interrupting again. The room grew
silent and all eyes looked to her. "I couldn't help but overhear. I don't mean
to speak out of place, but--"

"Then don't, Councilman." Why did the man continually
question her?

"The people will not like your decision, my Queen. Surely,
you must know that."

"I'm aware the people are frightened of the Weres but I'm
not wavering on this ruling. If you want to take issue with it, bring it to the
next session. This one is adjourned." Nayla took a deep breath. She rarely went
against her country's popular opinion but her gut told her she needed to do it
just this once.

And she refused to even consider having Mace taken away from
her. No, not after last night. Not after she realized what she'd been missing.
If the country didn't allow her to have a husband, fine. But she wouldn't give
up her new lover now, or possibly ever.

* * * * *

Nayla put her ear to the door but couldn't hear a sound.
What was he doing in there? In her bed chambers. And what the hell had she been
thinking when she'd requested he be sent here? A moment of temporary insanity,
she supposed. There was a lot of that happening lately.

In her post-orgasm haze, she'd asked Saul to move him to her
room, which was usually her safe haven, not to be shared with anyone. In fact,
she'd rarely even allowed the maids to enter. If it hadn't been for that
fleeting fantasy of having Mace's warm body share her bed every night he would
still be locked up in the transition cell.

Oh well. What's done is done.

Besides, Saul had assured her they'd shackled his ankles to
the floor. But they hadn't restrained his wrists. He was too powerful.
Thankfully, they'd been able to board up the windows so he couldn't transform.
At least there was that.

She held tight to the food tray the chef had prepared for
Mace and nodded to one of the three guards standing nearby. "Could you open the
door for me now?"

"Yes, my Queen. Will you need assistance inside your
chambers?" the red-headed young man asked, his cheeks blushing with each word
spoken.

"No, thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine, just as I was last
evening."

He nodded and removed the multiple locks from the door
before pushing it open. Nayla stepped inside her room and immediately recognized
the new musky aroma mixed in with the usual mild lavender scent. Something wild
and alluring. Something a lot like Mace.

She closed the door behind her and let her eyes adjust to
the dim room. To the left, a lit oil lamp sat on her bedside table. Her bed was
empty, sheets rumpled. Where was he? Wouldn't her guards have chained him to
the bed?

Her heart sped as she took in the rest of the room, only to
feel him, too late, come up behind her and cup his hand over her mouth. His
other arm held her close to his hard body, forcing her to drop the tray of
food.

She gasped and tried to wriggle from his grasp, but his grip
was unyielding.

"My Queen," the guard yelled through the door. "Are you all
right?"

"Tell them you're fine and I won't hurt you," Mace whispered
roughly in her ear and slowly lifted his hand from her mouth.