6 | Kiandah
Heart Forest
“Crawl, Yaron,” I say to the Lord of the Shadowlands, my idol, my personal, untouchable god, the male of my dreams, the beast of my nightmares, the one who my entire sketchbook is filled with likenesses of.
I watch the surprise and the rage flare behind his eyes and the moment hangs suspended in time. I’m so aware of everything. And nothing. I can’t explain it. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt and it’s nauseating and sickening and I never want to stop feeling it.
My feet throb painfully and I flex my toes while the arches lock. My face screams, so do my nipples, so does my swollen core. Everything feels wrong, and beautiful. So swollen and aggravated and needy, the brush of my fingers causes immeasurable pain, but I know that the brush of his fingers would not.
The mud that slicks my skin doesnt matter. Neither does the rain threatening to bring down the roof of this small house. I’m cold, yes, my nipples hard enough to cut glass even without my heat and Lord Yaron’s presence, but it’s his presence that makes it possible to overcome the pain. It’s his presence and the sight of his naked flesh, broad and massive and shattered and unsure, that makes it impossible for me to remember that he’s the bad guy hunting for my family through the wind and the rain. I can’t focus on any of it beneath his slate-grey stare. Because for the first time since I saw him — met him up close, I mean — he’s not looking at me like a stern, all-knowing Lord. He’s looking at me like he no longer knows anything.
And then, Lord Yaron falls.
The sound of his knees hitting the ground jolts my whole body. A moan rushes out of my mouth and I stroke my clit faster. His fist is around his cock, blocking the sight of his knot from my view. From what I’ve heard, every Alpha has a slightly differently shaped knot, and I’ve never seen a knot before in my life, not in person. I want to see Yaron’s, memorize it so I can draw it again later. If this haze ever clears. But right now, he’s still covering it with one hand as he collapses onto the floor, his other hand holding him upright as his legs lose their thick black fur and morph back into those of a man.
He groans deeply within his chest, his eyes slashing all over my body as if he doesn’t know where to look — my clit, my fingers spreading myself wide for his perusal, my stomach and the padding of flesh beneath my belly button, my thighs and their cellulite, my breasts and chest and throat and face. It’s the fact that his gaze lingers on my face the longest of anything that paints my insides in warmth. Not heat, but warmth.
“Ki…andah,” he says, voice a whisper as he claws his way forward. I inhale and dip my fingers inside my body. A look of fury crosses his face which forms a snout full of angry, dagger-like teeth before reverting. “That’s mine,” he hisses.
I gasp as a horrible pain twists in my lower abdomen. He says my name again, forcing my attention to his face. His full lips are bright red, brighter than before, as he flips his face up to look at me. He releases his erection and it swings down, heavy and weighted and so deliriously thick. It pulses red and blue-green veins stand out all over it, reminding me of his strong, thick and veined forearms as he prowls closer and closer and closer…
That streak of grey hair at the front of his hairline hangs down now, wet, into his eyes. He bares his teeth at me, looking more animal than man — I think he is more animal than man — but I’m not afraid. Not here, injured and naked with my legs spread, in the most vulnerable position one could think of, where my hidden confidence shines.
Closer and closer he comes. The rains beat against the side of the cabin harder and harder, thrashing like their intent is to tear this place down around us. Let them. I don’t care about anything except for the twisted pleasure-pain coursing through me, and the wild and manic look in his perfect sword-colored eyes.
His scent envelops me as he reaches the edge of the blanket. His right hand snakes out to grab my ankle, but I snatch my foot away and place it firmly on his shoulder, holding him at bay but only because he lets me. Most men lack the self-confidence to let themselves be dominated like this. But I knew Yaron wouldn’t. I’ve always known. Maybe that’s why half the pictures I’ve drawn of him have been images of him at my feet just like this. Every fantasy I’ve ever had since I first discovered my own sexuality comes to life, rising around me like a swell of clouds that carry me up into the sky.
“Ah ah,” I say, voice not like my own. This is the voice of a vengeful angel, not a peasant born on the edge of Paradise Hole.
His rage flares again, but he stills. I can see the violent tremors happening underneath his skin, in his heavy, beautiful muscles. He’s built like a statue. He’s built like a god, a private god, one created just for me.
“Would you like to taste me, Yaron?” My words wrench a sound from him that can only be described as an animal’s whimper.
Lord Yaron clenches his teeth and grunts through them, “Yes.”
“Then you’ll need to ask…nicely.” Pain flowers through me, greedy and demanding but quieter than before, almost as if my body senses it’s about to get what it wants and is happy to wait seconds. Not more.
His eyelashes reach for his heavy brows and he chokes out words I know he never thought he’d say. “Let me taste you, Omega.” He surges forward. I press my foot harder into his shoulder and he flashes me his fangs. The canines are coated in silver, like he’s just finished sucking the blood of some mythical creature.
“That’s not what I asked for, Yaron…”
“Stop this. Let me fucking taste…”
My big toe strokes the side of his neck and then slides up the column of his throat to the underside of his jaw. I tip his head up a little further, past the point of comfort. All because he lets me. Because he’s such a good fucking boy. “You’re being a bad, bad boy, Berserker. If you want a taste now, you’ll need to beg.”
“Fuck you…” He roars, his eyes rolling back as he reaches down and grabs his length. He collapses onto his other forearm and roughly tugs at his hair before wrenching back up and grabbing my ankle. He bites the arch of my foot before letting it fall back to his shoulder. He looks up at me. His eyes are glowing, like starlight. “Let me taste you, Omega…please. Kiandah, please…” Kiandah… It comes as a shock, hearing my name in his voice. I didn’t…even know he knew it.
“Such a good boy.” My heart is pounding. Can he hear it? “Come, collect your treat.”
He launches himself forward, the bands holding him back snapping all at once. His jaw unhinges as he slaps my hands violently away from my thighs and latches himself to my core, as if his intent is to swallow all of me, all at once.
Pleasure stabs me in the chest, in the stomach, in the brain, and I collapse back onto the dirty, scratchy blanket underneath me as his tongue strokes me from the inside, hot and strong. It swirls and tugs, way, way longer than the tongue of a normal man, while his soft human lips suck and pull. His fingers dig into the outside of my hips and I distantly register pain as he punctures me with just the tips of his claws. I don’t care, anyway. He can shred me to pieces so long as he doesn’t stop.
“Yaron,” I howl, reaching between my legs and grabbing him by the hair. I tug him where I want him and he responds to every stroke, moving down from my entrance to my ass and eating that, too, before moving back up to my clit. It takes no time at all for me to climb to that first peak. His hot mouth is all over me, tasting everything with the ravenousness of a starving man, a dying man, a wild thing, utterly lost.
I’m writhing across the floor, my body bending and contorting in unnatural positions. He’s pushing me harder and higher with a punishing violence that I try to escape by jerking my hips, but he wraps his biceps underneath my thighs and holds me so that I can’t move anywhere.
“You’re such…such a good…Berserker…such a good…boy…” My voice spirals into an almost embarrassingly high-pitched scream as the first orgasm attacks me like no other ever has. The pain twists first like a knife in my gut before the pleasure rides over it like a horse trampling grass.
My mind spirals out, my thoughts short. Lightning crashes somewhere nearby and I feel a swell of heat at my back. The fireplace. It erupts. Lord Yaron’s arms tighten on my thighs and I feel his body jolt and his tongue pause in its next stroke, but I’m not afraid. I battle my emotions back as easily as I batter the fire. He should know that I’d never let fire hurt him.
“I won’t let it hurt you,” I think that I say, but maybe I don’t. I can’t catch my breath and am still struggling to determine if I’m alive or if I’ve already passed through to the Shallow Plains. If I have, then my time has come early, but to have gotten the chance to experience this, it would have been enough.
I stare up at the ceiling, my heartrate exploding through me blisteringly as satisfaction snowballs into something else. Need. “Kiandah,” comes the strangled whisper as his tongue finally slides out of my body.
I moan wildly, but I manage to struggle up onto my elbows. I look down the length of my body to see Lord Yaron staring at me with an expression that causes my insides to do something dangerous. Something I’m not sure they’ll ever come back from. Because I know I won’t.
He…the Shadow Lord…the man I never thought I’d ever be alone in a room with, let alone…like this…is looking at me after having satisfied me even though I’ve done nothing to reciprocate… He’s watching me with pure adoration and desire while he nuzzles the inside of my thigh with his human nose.
He’s looking at me like I imagine someone would look at another when they are in love.
“Yaron, please…” Fuck. Now it’s my turn to beg. I hadn’t planned on that. I’d planned to kick him in the shoulder, force him onto his back, sit on his face and take his cock in my mouth. But now… His eyes flare. I choke out, “Come take me.”
He growls, sounding appreciative, grateful even, and I haven’t even done anything yet. I drop down onto the scratchy blanket beneath me while Lord Yaron prowls over my body. A momentary spike of panic grips me as I register how completely huge he is — in every possible sense — his presence, his penis, his muscular build, his thick neck. He plants one forearm beside my head and his other hand flits over my body from my neck to my breast, tickling my nipple before skating over my rib and stomach and hip to my thigh. Never lingering, teasing mercilessly, while the pressure of my heat builds, ready for him to sate me a second time.
He hooks his hand beneath my knee and spreads me open wide while I pet his hair and his neck and his jaw. I try to pull him down to me, but he resists, eyes flaring. “I won’t kiss you, Omega,” he says to me, killing the fantasy…which is foolish, really, if I think about it…
I should have known better than to fantasize.
Through my momentary dismay, I just smile. “Yes, you will, Yaron.” I’m not even sure if I care that much if he kisses me, but this is what I like. The power I don’t have and can’t exert in my daily life comes out here in full bloom. He does not love me, and if I used my whole head, I’d remember that I wouldn’t want him to. He’s my enemy. He holds my life in his hands and, more importantly than that, he collared and chained my family. But right now? I don’t need his love. I need him to be a good fucking boy or take his licks.
“You will submit,” he says to me, but his voice is pitched in question.
I can’t help but laugh. “No, Yaron. This time, like every time, you will submit to me. Now fuck me, before I decide you’ve been too naughty to touch me anymore. But kiss me first.”
Yaron sucks in a sharp breath, as if truly compelled by that threat, and rocks his hips forward without another word of protest. His pubic bone rests heavy on mine, trapping me against the floor in a way that makes me want to die just so I can stay here forever. The bloated head of his erection slides between my lips, hitting my clit as he pushes forward, sliding his cock through my slick. I try to stay confident, try not to let my eyes roll back, or to release the crazed wail building in my throat.
Yaron moans first, filling me with vindication. His head flops forward like it’s no longer tethered to its anchoring string. His stubbled cheek brushes my swollen one and he whispers in my ear, “What are you doing to me?”
I whisper back, “Nothing you don’t deserve.”
He lifts up ever so slightly, just enough to tenderly, oh so gently, kiss me. It’s a closed mouth kiss. One might call it chaste if they ignored everything else about our position. But it’s good. So good. Sweet, almost, if anything about him could be called that. To reward him, my hips lift up and roll, massaging his cock and feeling the bulge of his knot at its base. My gods, it’s going to feel so good inside of me… I can’t wait.
I slide my arms around his shoulders and Yaron releases a strangled sound. He pulls back, his giant hand cradling the back of my head. He tilts my face up and kisses my upper lip, tasting it with his tongue and trying to deepen the kiss, but I pull back. Kissing is…very intimate. And he’s good at it. And if he doesn’t really want to be here, I need to protect myself against getting attached.
“You can fuck me now, Yaron,” I say, panting.
But he hesitates. He is still hovering above me, his hand around my face. He’s watching my mouth with his eyebrows drawn together, like I’m speaking in tongues.
“What are you waiting for, Lord?”
“For this feeling…to go away…” he chokes out while one of his great big hands reaches between our bodies. He lines himself up with my entrance, the smooth, rounded head of his erection pushing at my opening. He pushes any harder, he’s going to fall inside of me. I’m slicker than I’ve ever been.
“What feeling?” I ask, though I don’t care. He’s torturing me and I refuse to allow him to unravel me before I can do the same. “Come on, Yaron…”
“You feel like fire.”
Something patters in my chest out of tune with my heart’s beat. “You…”
“And I cannot douse you.” He jacks his hips forward, the movement sharp enough to splinter my concentration on whatever he might have been about to say next. He sheaths himself inside of me and I almost die of a heart attack when I realize he’s only halfway in.
“Yaron, you’re huge,” I whisper.
“And you’re clenching me like you’re trying to ruin any other female for me…” He barks out, “Or snap my dick clean off.”
I can’t help but laugh. My claws rake down his back, scoring him, hopefully. He hisses and pulls up enough to be able to lean back down and kiss me again. This time, he shoves his tongue past the barrier of my lips and drags it over the roof of my mouth. He surges forward just a little further, filling me up so right, so tight. It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. He’s the biggest I’ve ever taken, sure, but this heat is magnifying that pressure. I’m so swollen down there, everything hurts. So tender.
He jerks forward one final time, enough that his not yet inflated knot slams into me, still thicker around than the rest of his penis. Pain strikes at me with its claws and I tense. Yaron wrenches his lips away from me, brows furrowed. My eyelids flutter and I’m aware only enough to know that he’s searching my face with his eyes while smoothing his hand from my forehead back over my bald scalp.
He frowns and manages to sound strangely sober even with red blotching his cheeks and his pupils fully blown. “Are you in…pain?” he clenches out.
I nod feverishly. “I need to come, baby. Please. Don’t you dare stop.”
He thrusts a little further and I seize up. Maybe, I was wrong. Maybe, this isn’t going to work. I thought he was finished, fully seated inside of me. I didn’t think he could be this large. A little of my other self — Kiandah the cook — crawls into my confidence and stirs the pot. I feel restless and struggle suddenly to meet his gaze as water wells in mine. My nose feels puffy and suddenly my swollen eye and puffy red lips and bald head feel scarily unattractive. Holy hell. I completely forgot what I looked like until now. I shouldn’t be here. I can’t take him…
“Kiandah,” he whispers, his fingertips trailing over my cheek successfully snapping me back into the present. “Do not deny me now…”
“I can’t…”
“Must I beg, again? Because I will.” His hips start moving in tiny circles, pumping slowly in and out of me. “Please, Kiandah, please…I am utterly and entirely at your mercy. Please…have me…”
I gasp and lightning comes alive inside of me. The fire crackles viciously and I open my mouth and my back arches involuntarily. A spasm slaps my clit and when his pubic hair roughly rubs against it, I almost detonate. I almost come right there, just from hearing my name in his voice. From hearing him beg, using words so beautiful, I’m never, ever going to forget them.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp.
“Fuck,” Yaron roars at the exact same moment. He grabs my shoulder and, when that doesn’t work, he places his entire forearm across my chest, holding me down. He drops his head and pants, like he’s in a full-out sprint. “Are you going to incinerate me while I’m inside of you, Kiandah?”
“No,” I reply, eyelids fluttering, fingers scratching his back, seeking purchase in his flesh anywhere that I can. My hesitation is gone, that other Kiandah is dead. I can’t find her within me anywhere now. “I’m going to bring you to heel.”
He moans and before I know what’s happened, he’s withdrawn and pushed himself all the way inside of me again. His knot stuffs me full, tickling the most delicious spot at the base of my entrance. I have a sensitive spot there, in addition to one just inside, and my clit, and somehow, with all his unholy parts, he’s hitting all three at once.
Pleasure and panic war within my channel, everything stretching, too big and too swollen and too sensitive. Nerve endings I didn’t know existed alight all the way up to my cervix. It hurts. It feels magical. I can feel tears pressing from my squeezed eyelids like diamonds squeezed from between rocks. I’m taut, tension lacing my body…
“Are you okay, Kiandah? Does it feel good? Tell me. If it doesn’t, command me and I’ll do something else — whatever you want — I’ll stop…” And then his lips touch my lips, just a whisper, just a brush of them, and everything comes apart.
I return his kiss with every ounce of me, my untethered leg hooking around his back while he keeps my other propped open to the side with his knee. The fingers of his left hand are buried in my ass cheek again while his right hand holds the front of my throat, angling my head so he can better devour me while he thrusts. He’s worked back up into a steady rhythm now — fast and hard, not too hard but just enough of both. He’s making animalistic sounds and I’m fucking screaming.
“Yes, Yaron, just like that…don’t stop…” and every time I tell him how well he’s doing, he thrusts harder, changes position, rubs my clit, applies more friction. His hands are scrabbling over me and mine are clinging to him like we’re both trying to climb the same mountain and it’s a competition that we both want to win.
I grab the hair at the back of his neck in both of my fists and wrench his head back, exposing his neck to me. I bite down hard along his jugular, wanting him to feel pain as I work my way up in bites and licks, soothing the places I’ve bitten him, wanting to draw blood.
To mark.
To claim.
To bond. No…
“Omega,” he tries, but he’s gasping for air.
I give his head a rough shake, bordering on cruel, and the behemoth of a male above me shudders. His legs grow taut. “I’m going to come…”
“No,” I practically scream, “Not until I do. You’ll wait or I’ll have to punish you.”
“Gods, fuck you, Kiandah. You’re…already punishing me.” He fucks me harder, pounding into me with powerful thrusts that aren’t safe. He’s much bigger than I am and I’m aware that he’s too big and I’m injured already and haven’t had food or water or rest in what feels like days. But still I say, “Yes, Yaron! Harder.” I order and he obeys.
My breaths start to come shorter and my muscles start to burn with a familiar tingle that feels like it usually does, only a hundred million thousand times more potent. He snakes his massive arm around my backside and slides a finger into my ass. His pubic bone grinds hard against my clit and he bellows out a moan as he breaks first.
“Fuck…sorry…Kiandah…I can’t…hold…” I open my eyes and it’s seeing Yaron’s face twisted into something unrecognizable, losing himself to the feel of me, that catapults me off of that cliff’s unforgiving edge.
I wrench his dark red lips to mine and force my tongue inside to sample the taste that is his, entirely unique, while I fling out into oblivion. Everything vanishes. I fall into the void. I know that the fire has exploded and I can feel a gush of cold air and icy water trying to douse me, but it’s still warm. Everything’s still warm. My legs…the places where they should be…are all raw tingles. My heartbeat is erratic, my clit is a single kernel of intensity, and my inner walls are thunder, but I am aware of a greater pressure expanding inside of me.
He roars, a guttural and raspy sound, and even though my mind is dancing far, far away from me, I can still hear that. I can feel fur under my fingertips and I hold onto it, trying to cage both man and beast. My eyes flutter open and I see him staring at me. His gaze drops and I follow it down and see that he’s fully seated. His knot is inside me and I smile, even as I feel it ballooning threateningly. Everything is right. Almost everything. Just one thing is missing.
I glance at his teeth. His fangs are out, long and shaped like arrowheads and dripping silver venom onto me. It feels warm and pleasurable as it bursts onto my face, my cheeks and forehead and chin. If this were any other heat, he would bond me now. But that can never be and even if it could, neither one of us wants that — to bond a peasant and a criminal, to bond the Lord whose captured her family.
Without the bond, the pain of the knot is cutting through my high. My orgasm has crested and I feel like it might have been able to continue if he’d given me an antidote for the pain. But he won’t and I couldn’t accept even if he had.
His voice hitches as he looks into my eyes and I can sense that he’s on another plane still as his knot swells and he continues to release inside of me. No condom. Fuck. I can’t think about that now.
The swelling hasn’t stopped. I try to pull away, but the sting is acute. Oh no. I want off this train. Now. I whimper and Yaron’s eyes flare with panic. He moves just slightly to reposition himself, but it’s uncomfortable enough that I cry out.
“No,” Yaron grits. He clenches his teeth. More venom spills and a sudden fervor comes over him. He milks his incisors for venom and then reaches between us and uses his venom-coated fingers to stroke my clit. At the same time, his lips alight on my neck. He kisses me everywhere, again and again.
“I can feel your slick,” he says against my earlobe. He sucks on it lovingly, laving it with his tongue while his hands worship my clit and breasts. He toys with my nipples and while I’ve never been exceptionally sensitive there, the dual sensations war and I feel pleasure once again start to take over. “Yes, that’s a good girl. Take my knot. You know you can take it.”
Good girl, he says to me. No one’s ever said that to me before.
I gasp and mewl, whimpering emphatically and encouragingly. I want him so badly I feel my arms fly out and grasp at anything they can. We’re suddenly kissing harder and he’s working me up, building me, taking me higher and higher again.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Tell me what you feel,” he says.
“I feel you, Yaron. I feel you everywhere… You’re such a good Berserker, taking care of your Omega like this.”
“Yes…” His hips twitch and I feel a prick of pain — and then pleasure. It’s a beautiful thing. I lose control, and accept everything he’s offering.
I come for him, and though it’s not as powerful as it was the first time, it’s enough to keep me sated and to fight off the momentary pain of his knot for now, and hopefully, for good. He’s kissing me as I come down from my orgasm, still touching me in my places that are all too sensitive and yet still wanting. I’ve come three times but I still crave him. This isn’t over.
“You’re such a sweet Omega. You feel incredible. Like nothing I’ve felt before. Thank you. My knot will last a while… I’ll let you know when it’s okay to release… But I warn you now, Kiandah. Your heat isn’t over. When I release you, I’m going to want more…”
“No,” I whisper as my consciousness starts to fade and I drift into a strained sleep in the cage of his arms. “You’re going to beg for it.”