TWENTY YEARS LATER #2
The fire was nothing but embers now. With a sigh, Caspen set the unfinished glass of wine on the mantel before returning to bed.
The training would begin later today, and it would be uneventful.
Human women were pathetically simple, human men even more so.
It had almost become too easy in recent years to train the young woman to be chosen by the prince.
Caspen abhorred the process. Sex was meant to be wild and free, and there was nothing passionate about his lessons in the cave.
But such was his role, and Caspen accepted it as much as the other basilisks did.
The war had not been kind to them—the truce even less so.
Training the prince’s future wife was patronizing, reducing the basilisks to their most basic skill set and forcing them to have boring sex with humans.
It was an insult. But it was better than war.
Caspen rolled onto his back before closing his eyes.
The day would be a long one, and he was in no mood to face it. With nothing left to do, he fell back asleep. When he woke, he had forgotten the dream, and it was time for the training.
Caspen stood perfectly still in the middle of the cave.
The women were gathering outside; he could smell their fear, and with it came his arousal.
The predator in him awoke, rearing its eager head.
Whoever came into his cave would be nubile, young, and afraid.
A virgin, possibly. Caspen would prefer it so.
It was easier to teach someone with no experience.
That way there were no bad habits to unlearn.
Suddenly, a mind beckoned to his.
The sensation was immediately familiar; Caspen recognized it from the dream—the same sexual allure, the same deep, ancient knowing. Before Caspen could rationalize this, a woman emerged from the shadows.
Her eyes were bright. Determined. It was not a look he was used to seeing on humans, and Caspen had met plenty of women during his time in the caves.
This woman was different. She was new, and she was dangerous.
There was an element to her that Caspen could not understand—an undeniable pull—an attraction he could not control.
Her eyes traveled over him the same way his traveled over her, observing each other in silence.
Caspen was the first to step forward. “What is your name?”
The young woman swallowed. “Temperance,” she managed to whisper. “But I go by Tem.”
Again, her mind beckoned. It should be impossible for her to call to him this way.
Most human minds were dull wastelands. Hers was a nebulous tangle of depth and darkness.
It was like looking into the cosmos. Caspen wanted to be inside her.
But that was not a possibility right now, and for once, he practiced restraint. Instead, he decided to reciprocate.
“My name is Caspenon. But I go by Caspen.”
“Caspen,” she said.
He wished she would say it again. He wanted to hear her say it a hundred times—a thousand if fate allowed it. There could be nothing sweeter than the consonants of his name on her tongue. But she did not speak again. There was a long silence, and in it, he studied her.
Tem’s heart was racing; it sped up every time Caspen’s eyes met hers.
He relished the thought that he could have some effect on her.
It was only fair considering the effect she had on him.
Was this woman aware of the power she held?
Caspen felt an instinctual draw to her that could not be explained, and had no desire to question.
He craved the soft flesh of her body. He coveted the sweet temptation of her fear.
“You are afraid,” he said.
Tem nodded.
He stepped closer. Her heat beat even faster. “There is no need to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Caspen tilted his head. “Then what are you afraid of?”
“Failing.”
He frowned. It was not the answer he had expected. “At what?”
“At…” she started but trailed off.
“Sex,” he finished for her.
Blush crept up her cheeks. “I suppose,” she whispered.
So she was a virgin. It was hardly an issue; Caspen had taught many virgins.
But for some reason, knowing he would be the first to penetrate Tem was deeply tantalizing.
The last thing he wanted was to feel this way.
Human women were not supposed to tempt him.
But Caspen dared any of his peers to resist a scent such as hers.
She smelled of the sea.
Caspen had been many times; it was a rite of passage to visit the place where basilisks originated. There was no rational reason for this woman to smell like his home.
“Do you consider me an incapable teacher?” he asked.
“I don’t know the first thing about you.”
Caspen smiled. There was no possibility of her failure. “The princes have chosen my students for generations. Rest assured I will not allow you to fail.”
Tem’s mouth dropped open.
Caspen savored her surprise. He stepped back, splaying his hands with their palms up. “Please. Whenever you are ready.”
She did not immediately obey.
At her hesitation, Caspen clasped his hands.
“All journeys begin with a step, Tem.”
She still did not move. Her eyes were determinedly holding his, her chin tilted upward in defiance. To his complete shock, she replied, “You first.”
Caspen’s eyebrows shot up, then darted immediately together.
In all his years of training women for the prince, no one had ever told him to undress before.
It was unheard of. Caspen thought he had seen everything there was to see.
But he had not yet seen Tem. A portion of him was offended.
A portion of him enjoyed it. “As you wish,” he said.
Tem’s eyebrows shot up, her surprise a twin to his. She had probably expected him to petrify her on the spot. But Caspen was intrigued, which was no small feat, and he had no desire to kill this unexpectedly extraordinary woman. Instead, he stepped closer before pulling his shirt off over his head.
Tem’s eyes widened, traveling over his body eagerly.
It was an expression Caspen had seen many times.
He waited until her gaze dropped below his waist before pulling his trousers off too, savoring the infinitesimal gasp she let out when he did it.
As soon as he was naked, her scent changed immediately from fear to arousal.
The two were not so different; both required a certain level of adrenaline.
But in Tem, her arousal was sweet, like honey, and Caspen yearned to taste it.
“Now you,” he said.
Tem did not hesitate. She unlaced her dress, letting it fall to the ground so she was standing in her underclothing. Only half of her skin was showing—not nearly enough.
His eyes held hers as he said, “And the rest.”
Tem removed the rest.
As her undergarments fell, Caspen’s center of gravity shifted.
He had seen more naked women than he could count.
But Tem was different. It was a wonder to look upon such a creature.
A gift to be in her presence. She was chaos incarnate; she was salt water crashing against the shore.
Insistent and tenacious and indomitable. A force.
Caspen had not touched her, yet he knew her skin was soft.
He knew she would be warm, like the flames in the fireplace.
He longed to hear the sounds she would make, the gasp she would emit when he brought her to climax.
Caspen wanted nothing but to ravage her.
Instead, he extended his fingers to her abdomen, stopping just short of her skin.
He concentrated on her belly, using his mind to determine whether Tem was fertile.
She was. That was good; every woman who competed to win the prince’s hand in marriage would need to be fertile—it was a fundamental rule of the competition.
Tem’s fertility was extraordinarily strong, as if she were glowing from the inside out.
It did not mean that she would bear the prince a son—such things were unpredictable, even for basilisks—but it meant that she was a suitable contender for his future wife.
“Lift your chin,” Caspen commanded.
She did so.
“Sit down.” He gestured at the rock ledge behind her. “And spread your legs.”
She did so.
The moment her knees parted, Caspen froze.
Ylang-ylang. And sandalwood. They were the pillars of attraction to a basilisk.
How had she known to wear those oils? Ylang-ylang and sandalwood were sacred—they represented the duality of female and male, day and night.
When worn together, they were a powerful aphrodisiac.
Not that Caspen needed such a thing to be turned on.
The sight of the naked woman before him was more than enough to harden his cock.
But Tem’s allure was greater than just the scent of the oils on her thighs.
There was something else at work here, almost as if her heart called to his. It defied reason.
He lowered himself slowly, still staring at the center of her.
Caspen had prayed many times to Kora. But this was undoubtedly better.
It was an honor to kneel at the altar of her body.
He wanted to lean in—to submerge himself in her—to dip beneath the surface and drown in her.
What a plentiful death that would be. An honorable end to his otherwise dishonorable life.
“Open yourself,” he whispered. It was difficult to speak.
“I don’t understand,” Tem whispered back.
“Use your fingers,” Caspen said slowly, concentrating on every word. “And let me see inside you.”
Tem brushed her fingers tentatively down her body. When she spread herself for him, Caspen’s mind went blank.
He was bereft. He was empty.