16. HELPLESS IN DESIRE
Chapter sixteen
HELPLESS IN DESIRE
Emeriel whined, her senses overflowing, hyper-alert to the kiss. Just like the night before, King Daemonikai's kisses rocked her to the core.
She was beginning to realize that, unlike his calm demeanor, there was nothing calm about his kisses. They were stormy. Intense. Hard. Consuming.
His hand firmly around her neck, he tilted her head to the side and devoured her lips, sucking and licking with fervor. His tongue thrust home, another moan escaping her lips.
Emeriel's fingers dug into his clothes, pulling him even closer. The kiss seemed to stretch on indefinitely, as if time and reality had dissolved into nothingness.
At last, he broke the kiss, his tongue tracing a path along her neck.
"Your scent is addictive," King Daemonikai said in a rough tone.
His scent captivated her as well. Though lacking their heightened senses, Emeriel associated a unique, masculine smell. It was distinctly his own, and it drove her crazy.
Strong hands explored her body, gliding slowly from her neck downwards. They kissed again as his hand rested upon her left breast, caressing it with a touch that was gentle yet demanding.
Her nipples were hard, hungry. A sharp hiss escaped her lips as he explored them, his fingers transitioning from a feather-light touch to a more defined pressure.
Apart from slave master Boris, none had ever touched her breasts before. The unexpected surge of pleasure that flooded her when he touched her nipples was startling, coaxing a deep, throaty moan.
"Pretty, little thing," he groaned into her ear, his breath hot, sent shivers down her spine.
"Touch me, please," she whispered into his mouth, her voice trembling with need.
"I am, young one. But I am also attempting to apply control."
Had she spoken aloud, rather than merely in her head?
Emeriel bit her lip, her body alive and shaking with hunger. He had yet to fully touch her, yet she already felt a dampness in her undergarments.
"Please, touch me?" Rational thought abandoned her. Emeriel simply wanted for everything she could receive from him. Her hands, trembling, hastily attacked the fastenings of her clothing.
"Galilea," he growled, his voice strained with restraint.
She hurriedly pushed aside her garments and chemise, revealing a pale, plump breast to the gaze of the grand king and the moonlight above. "Please, please," she could only utter, shyly.
Emerald eyes locked onto that creamy flesh, raw hunger burning in them. The king's hand reached in, withdrawing the other breast.
He merely gazed, as if capturing every curve and contour in his memory. Emeriel's head leaned back against the tree, her eyes squeezing shut as he looked.
"You are beautiful," he murmured. With a noise of surrender, his head descended, and his mouth caught one straining rosy peak.
Emeriel cried out, arching her back. Her hand tangled in his luxurious hair, marveling at its softness. King Daemonikai suckled her, driving her wild with every tug and nip.
Ohhhh... So it could be like this?
Emeriel squirmed, her soft cries rising into the night. His mouth was insistent, every tug sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She felt as though there was a direct link between his mouth and her womanhood, every pull tightening the knot of desire inside her.
Soft, nearly inaudible groans came from him, vibrating against her breast. She was dripping, making a mess in her undergarment.
King Daemonikai pulled back, taking her right breast into his mouth. His fingers poked, pinched, and prodded the left one.
"It feels... it feels," she cried out, writhing. Sensation coursed through her, only heightening with every hard tug of his mouth.
He pulled back, his eyes dark with lust. "Offer them to me,"
"I don't..." Emeriel faltered.
"Touch them. Hold them out," a soft command, his voice filled with hunger.
A thrill of excitement shot through her. With light and shy caresses, she touched her own breasts, something she had never done with such intent before. Always, they had to be wrapped up and hidden away.
Now, under the weight of his gaze following her every move, she ran her hands across her breasts. Fueled by her deep-seated desire to please him, she cupped them, presenting her bosoms to him as if they were sacred offerings to the gods.
Her movements were innocent and hesitant, her face painted with a deep blush that cascaded down to her neck.
Here," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "For you, Your Grace."
The king snarled, attacking them.
His mouth worked ardently—licking, laving, and sucking.
Emeriel sobbed as he alternated his attentions between her breasts, lavishing them with a force that left her crying out breathlessly.
As pleasure pulsed through her veins like a powerful current, tension spiraled within her. Her own breaths were thunderously loud in her ears as her fingers clamped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.
In a torrent of cries and shudders, she fell over the edge, her legs buckling beneath her. But his strong hands were there, lifting and supporting her weight.
"Such a good girl," he praised.
With an obscene pop, he released her red, abused nipples before neatly rearranging her clothing with hurried, graceful movements, restoring her modesty. "Such a good girl," he praised.
Satisfaction surged within her, a warm, heady feeling that made her glow.
But no sooner had he secured her tender breasts back under her garments, his head snapped up, alert. His ears twitched, attuned to a sound only he could perceive.
"Herod is on his way."
Amidst the silence of the forest, save for Emeriel's ragged breaths and the distant hooting of owls, the king gently lowered her to the base of the tree, his face mere inches from hers.
"I must be on my way," King Daemonikai's eyes held a tenderness she had never seen before. "This was not my intention when I sought you out for your scent, young princess. Forgive me."
I am yours. "There is nothing to forgive." Emeriel drank in the sight of him. She could gaze into his eyes forever. "Are you sleeping better now?"
He shook his head, his expression turning grim. "I do not sleep. But some hells are preferable to others."
It was the same cryptic answer he had given her in the garden. A pang of sadness pierced her heart.
"You cannot go without sleep forever, Your Grace. Even beings as resilient as your kind have limits."
He simply stood, a towering figure silhouetted against the moonlit sky. With one last, lingering look, he disappeared into the night.
"Emeriel?" Lord Herod's voice called out, moments later emerging from shadows. “There you are. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."
"Not at all," Emeriel managed a sad smile, shaking her head. As she walked off with Lord Herod, she looked back for another glimpse of her king.
But he was long gone.
Three days later,
The sisters moved through their daily routine with practiced ease. Aekeira tended to the livestock in the ranches while Emeriel nurtured the gardens. Their duties often intertwined, allowing them to work side-by-side.
After a refreshing dip in the nearby stream, they retreated to Emeriel's chambers, the air thick with the scent of lavender and chamomile.
"I am off to Lord Herod's," Emeriel said, standing patiently as Aekeira secured her chest binds. "I promised to assist with his ledgers."
"Very well," Aekeira tightened the knots. "Just remember to return early. Madam Livia wishes to inspect all the slaves tonight."
"Ouch!" Emeriel winced as a knot pulled too tight.
"Sorry," Aekeira murmured, adjusting the bind. "Is it better now?"
Emeriel nodded, a hint of discomfort still etched on her face. Even with the adjustment, her breasts still ached. Remembering what the grand king had done to them, her cheeks flushed.
Clearing her throat, she asked, "Have you seen Hansel since that night?"
"Yes, thankfully. Turns out he ran for help after those... those men took me. But by the time he returned…” she shook her head.
"I still find it difficult to believe Lord Vladya saved you," Emeriel said, her voice hushed with awe. "He killed all those men to protect you."
Aekeira scoffed. "I doubt it was solely for my sake. His beast is nearly out of control. He likely sought the thrill of the kill."
"Oh, please. He spared your life, did he not? Lord Vladya may be intense, but I believe he possesses a tenderness for you, though he would never admit it"
"You speak nonsense, dear sister," Aekeira retorted, her disbelief evident. She finished securing the bind and took a step back, critically surveying her work. "There. All done."
Emeriel beamed with gratitude and embraced her. But, as Aekeira returned the gesture, an inexplicable wave of revulsion washed over her, causing her to instinctively recoil.
Her sister's touch felt... wrong. Unsettling. What was once comforting now stirred an unfamiliar unease within her.
"Em?" Aekeira's voice was a gentle murmur against her shoulder. "You just stiffened. Are you well?"
Emeriel nodded, quickly pulling away from the hug. “Just a little sore from all the work."
The discomfort lingered as she made her way to Lord Herod's estate. Upon her arrival, the guards, who typically offered polite nods, now openly stared at her. Their gazes lingered a moment too long.
One soldier even inhaled sharply as she passed, his nostrils flaring.
Entering the study, Emeriel found Lord Herod hunched over the familiar massive worktable filled with parchment scrolls, leather-bound books, and a steaming goblet of tea.
As he raised his eyes and caught sight of her, his face brightened."Emeriel, you're here."
"Greetings, My Lord," she replied with a respectful bow.
"Spare me the formalities and get over here," he dismissed, adjusting his spectacle. Lord Herod peered at a scroll. "These figures refuse to align. I know not if it is my own error, but I want you to take a look at—" He paused abruptly, his head snapping up. "Emeriel, your scent..."
She stopped short before him. "What's wrong? I'm on suppressants today."
"You are?" Lord Herod's nose twitched, his nostrils flaring. "It's not working then, because I can smell you. A lot." He paused, a look of confusion crossing his face. "And you smell... different. I cannot quite place it, but there's something new."
"Really?" Emeriel frowned. "Maybe I miscalculated the dosage today or something."
Lord Herod's eyes narrowed. "Or your heat cycle is here."
Emeriel scoffed, shaking her head vehemently. "Please do not even joke about something like that, My Lord. I feel fine. I've had mini-heats before, and I can definitely tell you that I'm not in heat right now. I’m not feeling anything like that." She leaned forward, her eyes scanning the scroll before him, desperately seeking a distraction. "I need to look at these records carefully."
Hours passed as Lord Herod observed with growing concern as Emeriel flitted about the study like a moth caught in a lantern’s glow.
She paced, she perched on the cushions, and she paced once more, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she clutched a stack of parchments in her shaky hands.
"You could try rotating crops, My Lord," she suggested, her voice clipped and focused. "Planting legumes in one season and grains in the next could potentially replenish the soil."
"Mmm," Herod murmured noncommittally.
"Furthermore, investing in new irrigation systems might prove beneficial," her words tumbled out in a rush. "Providing water to the fields during droughts could significantly improve their yield."
""Mmm," Herod's eyes fixed on Emeriel's agitated movements.
"And as for the unexplored land," she pressed on, barely pausing for breath, "one could experiment with different seeds and explore the use of new fertilizers—"
"Emeriel," he called softly.
"Yes?" Pausing, Emeriel glanced at him, her eyes wide and unfocused. "The legumes that should be planted need—"
"Emeriel," his tone was more insistent this time.
Emeriel stopped abruptly, her attention snapping back to him. "Yes, My Lord?"
Lord Herod rose from his seat and walked towards her. Kneeling before her, he gently took the parchment from her trembling hands and set it aside. Tenderly, he reached for her hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Have you noticed that you have changed seats seven times since your arrival?" he asked, softly. "From the office chair to the cushions, then pacing, then more pacing?"
Emeriel blinked at him as if her mind was struggling to catch up. "Huh?"
"It is bitterly cold outside, little one. Yet you are sweating profusely." Lord Herod paused, his eyes searching hers. "You are restless. Uncomfortable."
Emeriel shook her head in denial, dread in her eyes. “I know the signs—"
"You have jerked your hands away from mine three times," Lord Herod continued, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. "Even now, your hand practically trembles with the effort to separate from mine.”
He paused, allowing his words sink in. “It means your body is starting to reject touch. By tonight, you will be feeling the full effects. Your full heat is here, Emeriel."