Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tuscany
The entire world is layered with black, lacking subtle details, but a streak of dark mesh across my eyes allows me to see clearly enough to navigate my way.
Under the robe, I am wearing one of Ana’s white Silk Girl dresses. If, for any reason, I have to remove the veil, I hope they are a stranger and considering me a House Girl.
With a straight back and a soft footfall, I slip through the secret corridor. My hands ball into little fists at my sides, fingers uncertain what to do or how to behave.
Small wall lamps create dots of illumination, leading me through the dim to another door. Mindful of what or who I may see on the other side, I decide to make a confident entrance.
I push open the door, finding myself in a busy corridor surrounded by Lord Bled’s Hall personnel—a woman in crisp pleated slacks hurrying alongside two men in identical grey tunics, a Guard with his hand resting on his rifle, and a pair of chickens pecking their way across the tiled floor.
Eyes cut to me, and for a moment, I forget I am head-to-toe in a midnight purple veil. They hold me as I hold my breath…
But now they are on their way.
Merging with the wall, trying to slink into it, I follow a fat chicken as it walks in unison with the other residents.
“Oi,” I hear a man call out, and I freeze. “Are you lost?” I would never, not in a million years, have attempted something like this in The Estate. The Guards at home would recognise my voice.
“Yes,” I say softly.
“Follow me,” he offers, looking down on me. “I’ll take you to the banquet.”
Wearing this veil is oddly comforting, empowering, even. I can see them, but I’m anonymous. They can’t judge my bravery, my beauty, my nervous swallows, or the uncertainty in my gaze.
Quietly, I dash after him, his much longer legs unrelenting—another new experience. Do I walk slowly? I wouldn’t know; everyone walks at my pace usually, pauses when I pause, speeds up when I do.
We turn a corner and the end of the convoy of women in the same midnight purple veils comes into sight.
“There you go.”
The Guard disappears back the way we came, and I have to force my feet onward else I will retreat like a rabbit facing slaughter. Slip back into my corridor, beat my fists on the secret door, jump into bed, and hide under the sheet with Eagle Rome.
It is now or never.
I peer down the queue, my gaze locking onto Bled, who stands in the open doorway, his hand raised, counting down the line. He points to a few girls, and they scurry to the end of the line, locking me into the chain.
Then, with a sharp clap, Bled declares, “Alright, my sweets. It’s time.”
Time?
I’m barely at the back of the line when the girls begin to move. I join the throng, my heart pounding violently against my ribcage, my pulse racing in my neck.
What was I thinking?
What am I going to do?
As I turn into the room, the banquet comes into view.
A long, wide table stretches through the centre, adorned with green garlands that run the length of it.
Empty plates and half-empty bottles of liquor are being cleared.
The Guards lounge along the table, relaxed, laughter erupting between them, their crude banter bouncing back and forth.
Beside me, the girls remove their ballet flats, and I kick off mine, mimicking them.
Bled claps again, and I jump. The Guards turn to face him, their casual, lazy smiles transforming into slow, predatory leers as they catch sight of us. Their smiles are greedy, teeth on display, eyes igniting with heat.
I slink backward, hitting a girl behind me.
“Watch it,” she warns.
Oh, my.
“Thank you from me to all of you for serving The Trade,” Bled announces, his voice deep and gracious. “You were Built For Armour, invaluable. So, here”—Bled opens his arms wide, and the women in front of me flitter to the head of the table— “I present your dessert.”
What?
Suddenly, my heels dig in, fear coursing through me as anxious roots pierce into the stone beneath me, into The Crust. I can’t move. What does that mean?
Dessert?
Taking three steps up to stand on the vast table, the Veil Girls stem the centre like purple ghosts. With seamless confidence, each girl stops in front of a Guard, acting merely as another sequence of Bled’s culinary service.
I’m dessert?
Dessert. Honey. Two words collide, and I panic.
Breath plumes in front of my face, heating the space between my lips and the fabric over my head. My eyes dart around the faces of the Guards, desperately trying to find Kong in amongst the men.
A wave of cold nerves washes over me, all my hairs rising to attention, while inside my body a fire starts.
I can’t find him now that the faces are blurring behind a blanket of fear. Nerves sit right in my throat, swelling and threatening. My feet have uprooted themselves, mindlessly following the chain of movement until I am taking the steps up.
My legs tremble.
I don’t know how many steps I take, trying desperately not to collapse and give myself away, hoping I can just continue to the end, jump down, and rush away from the banquet. I’ll take the secret exit, so no one will know it was me. I’ll just be a runaway Veil Girl.
I’m almost at the end of the table when a hand catches my ankle.
I gasp, lowering my gaze to meet the searing tiger’s-eyes of my Guardian.
Kong…
The haze over my vision clears on his stunning face.
I’ve never seen such a beautiful man. His dark hair is tied in a single plait, hanging over his shoulder, down his casual black shirt, the sleeves rolled above his elbows, displaying the black tattoos Brook spoke about.
Oh, this huge Xin De man wears the hell out of a shirt…
A tear of relief slides down my cheek. He can’t see anything, can’t possibly know. Right?
“I can tell you’re nervous, girl.” Kong’s voice is the deepest note I’ve ever heard, rough and startling, plummeting to that place between my legs. “Breathe for me.”
I take a deep breath, noticing the other girls are seated on placemats for each Guard to explore and appreciate.
“Good girl,” Kong purrs.
“Enjoy your dessert.” Bled leaves the room, the lights lowering in his absence, casting the room in moody shadows.
Further along the table, a girl starts to moan, and next to me, a Guard is hastily lifting a long skirt.
“Sit.” I hear Kong say, snapping me out of my paralysis. On trembling legs, I sit on his placemat, setting my feet on his thighs for stability. My hands clasp in my lap, my fingers kneading each other aimlessly.
In my peripheral, a girl throws her head back, though I can’t see her expression, only the bowing of her form. A magnificent midnight purple shape, arching and circling.
Blood drains from my face while hot desire coils like a snake inside me.
“Look at me.” I stare through the dark mesh to meet Kong’s piercing gaze. “That’s a good girl.”
Both big hands circle my ankles, warmth emanating through his hot palms. He glides his hand up my calves, excruciatingly slow.
Two touches…
My mouth parts. Whimpers already fall helplessly as my body responds to him, lifts toward him, wet for him.
Kong’s eyes seem to stare into the black veil, holding my gaze with intense authority, though I know he can’t actually see me.
“Let’s see what’s between these pretty thighs. Good girl. I won’t hurt you.”
Goosebumps race over my skin as his massive hands travel upward, dragging the midnight skirting with them until his big hands loop my hips with bunches of fabric.
Girls moan.
Guards hum.
Kong grips my hips, and I gasp. Three touches. He drags my backside to the edge of the table, dominance rippling from him, hot and fierce.
The banquet hall fades. Narrowing the space, the sounds, the provocative scene, to include only me—and him.
“Lean back.”
My core clenches.
I can’t think. Only obey.
He can’t possibly know it’s me, or he wouldn’t be doing this. Wouldn’t be touching me like this.
Supporting myself on my palms, I arch backward. It might be seconds or minutes, the stretch of time seems long as if he fights an internal battle, but he eventually drags his gaze down to between my legs.
His eyes blaze. I can feel the wet heat gathering in my knickers as he takes me all in.
This is… wrong.
Strange. Good.
A girl cries out somewhere down the line, but Kong is still drinking me in.
He pushes on my left thigh with one hand. More touches. With the other, his thumb slides over my knickers, tracing the slit beneath them, up and down. Up and down.
M-more… touches…
My head spins. Body pulses upward. Kong has to apply pressure to my leg, pawing at my thigh, to keep me still.
“Slowly,” he says, voice so rough each syllable growls from his chest. He squeezes my thigh as he commands, “Stay.”
I do. I stay.
That hand moves to my foot while the other continues to massage my arousal into my knickers with relentless strokes.
It feels so good. Not enough. More. Deeper. My entire body screams deeper.
He plants my foot on the hard plane of his shoulder, then turns his face to pepper kisses along the arch, trailing reverently to my ankle. He hums, and I feel that rumble in every inch of my being. His tongue comes out, dragging up my calf. Oh, my.
There is worship in his fingers and gentle dominance in his kiss.
I’m panting wildly when his lips stop at my knee, his eyes slowly rising to the dark mesh over my face.
“Are you feeling strong?”
A shudder leaves me.
Does he know? Is that what he asks every girl before he… before he…
I nod with reckless abandon.
Painful words fill my mind: ‘I will take no man.’ But I want this!
This is it! We are destined to end anyway, destined for tears and pain and longing.
I won’t stop myself or him. What he is doing couldn’t possibly result in a baby anyway, so it’s not taking a man?
It’s something entirely apart, and I know I’m flustering, compromising, coming up with excuses as he trails his hot mouth down to my centre and growls over the warm wet fabric.
He sounds like an animal, and my body throbs to the rumbling rhythm.
His thumb hooks my knickers to the side, and before I can react, his tongue is greedily lapping the valley at my entrance.
Oh!
I tighten with a whimper as fearful as it is joyous. His tongue is hot and skilled, activating every little nerve ending along that very private place.
A voice inside me says, “Yes. Finally. I am a woman. Free. Desired.”
My hands go into his thick, dark hair, and I hold on as his mouth devours me. His lips suck around my core, his tongue dipping inside, claiming my entrance.
Suddenly, he stands, leaning over me, forcing me to flatten further to the table. He drops to an elbow beside my hips, giving him more dominance, and me more of his weight.
My leg spasms on his shoulder, my hands restlessly grip his hair, my core drips tirelessly as his tongue swirls around. He churns my nerves, makes me feel everything so completely.
Entirely present.
Entirely his.
I gasp at the ceiling, meet his thrusting tongue, scratch at his crown. Want more. More. I’m greedy for a release I’ve never experienced before.
But feel.
Right there.
So fragile.
So elusive.
A bit further…
His tongue somehow understands, masterfully licking me along the belt of ecstasy toward that release, that—
There is it! I arch my body on a cry as pleasure surges through me.
“Oh!” And I’m so present. Here. On this table, with Kong feasting between my thighs. My internal chaos holds no power when his touch echoes through my core with a clash of sensation and release.
I ride the wave…
Moaning and spread.
On the tail of that pounding pleasure, a slow, creeping sense of calm and safety drips through my veins.
I unfurl on the table.
Melt.
“I hope you all enjoyed your dessert.” Somewhere in my satiated daze, the heat in the room dwindles.
I hear Bled, Kong smooths my skirting down, covering me, and girls are climbing from the top of the banquet table.
“Once you are finished,” Bled says, “please collect a bonbon from the door. The instructions for use and care are on the tag. Enjoy and head back to your rooms.”
A warm hand takes mine, fingers encompassing and supportive, somehow gentle and dominant at once. The pressure is ardent, while the possession is entire.
Kong helps me to my feet, and I gaze across to the door, completely lost. Realisation pummels me. I have changed everything between us—forever. I’ve risked his safety should anyone find out. Broken my vows… haven’t I? Does that count?
I’m suddenly drowning in guilt and joy and confusion. As I walk toward the door, I almost miss the display. More women stand by the open doors. These ones are wearing long pink veils, with matching bows around their ankles and wrists.
Bonbons.
Bile rises in my neck.
I gaze up at him as he glares toward the front of the room—at the bonbons. My heart cracks, and when his hand releases mine, it tears in two.
I could command that he does not take one! Then, he would know. I could express my disgust in the entire evening, but that would be a lie. I am not disgusted. Shocked, rattled to my very core, changed forever, but not disgusted.
It was salacious and obscene, but somehow dignified.
The Guards do deserve to be thanked. That is what The Trade stands for, offering hardworking men and women not only security and order, but luxuries for their commitments and loyalties.
I’m quickly learning that women are the most precious and valuable asset to The Trade—they are the prize, the gift.
And Kong deserves to be thanked more than any other Trade man.
Ugh!
I ball my hands into fists at my sides, fingers digging into my palms, and stride from the room without a second glance. Following another girl down the corridor, I heave beneath my veil.
Tears bite at my eyes.
I’m suddenly confounded and all-the-whelms. Completely lost. Shrinking. Feeling little, not strong. I wish it away, wish—
A heavy footstep follows me.
I freeze, and the sound stops.
Lifting my chin in annoyance, forgetting for a moment about the sheath of midnight purple over me, I spin to face the encroaching figure as if they should know better than to sneak up on The Queen of The Cradle.
Relief rushes from me.
Kong stands before me, looking angry, and I arch my neck to gaze into those dark eyes, pupils swallowing colour.
“Show me.”
I clear my throat.
“Show me,” he orders, his deep timbre stroking my skin, “how you slipped past the Guard at your door.”