Chapter 21 Caspian’s Wrath
Caspian’s Wrath
There was a knock at her door.
It was Caspian, standing expressionless before her. She hadn’t the faintest idea what he wanted—their night together wasn’t for another couple of days.
“May I come in?” His voice was too measured, too calm.
“Er…”
“You’ve expressed the wish to spend more time together,” he said, his words dripping in honey. Something was not right. He continued, “So I have come to—oblige.”
“Right. Sure.” She stepped aside.
No sooner had he strode into her chambers than he ordered, “Lie down.”
“Excuse me?” She didn’t like his tone.
“Lie down,” he commanded, his gaze burning with intent.
“Why?” she asked, her gaze narrowing in suspicion.
“It is a simple request.” He rolled his eyes. “Must you always be so difficult?”
Warily, she eased onto the bed. “Happy?”
He sat next to her. “Please give me your hand.”
She tentatively offered her hand. A metallic snap sounded as metal clicked around her wrist. Her breath caught in alarm—a silver manacle now clipped her to the bedpost.
He looked down at her, his gaze cold and unyielding. “Your other hand, Elizabeth.”
“I don’t think I’ll give it to you, thanks,” she said, clutching it to her chest.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed his hand over her chest, over her heart, the pressure firm and steady. Then, he slid up, wrapping his fingers around her throat. He squeezed, not enough to harm, but enough to claim. She stared at him, transfixed.
He eased off, and her eyes widened.
Amused, he glanced at her hand that was no longer clenched and lay relaxed at her side.
“Good girl.” His smile was razor-sharp. “I bet you liked that more than you’ll ever admit.” His hand squeezed once more, then relaxed. “My hand wrapped around that beautiful throat.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
Her gaze flicked to the beard that covered his strong jaw, then to his broad chest and shoulders that made her feel like he towered over her. She met his unblinking silver eyes once more, and her lower abdomen turned warm and molten. She watched him, wondering what he was going to do next.
He smirked. “Not so innocent, are you?”
“Excuse me? I don’t know what you mean,” she said haughtily, looking away.
“You know exactly what I mean.” His voice turned dark and velvety. “Now give me your other hand.”
She looked at him in displeasure. Intrigued as she was, she didn’t appreciate being ordered around.
A dark expression crossed his features, drinking in her hesitation, her warring thoughts. “Yesterday, you told me you aren’t interested in my company because I never seek you out. I decided to rectify that and spend time with you properly, Elizabeth.” He said her name as if it were a curse.
He leaned in closer. “And while I’m here, we might as well address your disobedience. Running off. Disregarding my orders. Testing my patience.”
She squirmed, warming beneath his gaze. She said with mock humour, “Are you ... Are you going to torture me?”
“I am.”
Before she could protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “I will not feed from you tonight. But I will enjoy my time with you.”
He raised his brows and proffered his hand expectantly.
She half-heartedly lifted her fingertips. He reached for her hand, and she pulled it just out of reach. “I will need assurances,” she said. “I don’t trust you.”
He chuckled. In one swift movement, he wrestled for her arm, pinned it, and shackled her wrist to the other bedpost.
She hissed, “What in the Seven Hells is your problem—”
He tilted his head. “I grew impatient. And I already read your thoughts—you were going to say yes eventually.”
“You—you bastard!” She glared. “How dare you read my private thoughts and use them against me. You utter asshole!”
He smiled and swayed his head back and forth, like he was listening to fine music.
“Ah, cursing. Music to my ears. I’m surprised a noblewoman like you knows even a single curse word.
” He paused, considering. “If you want to block me out, you need to think of something boring. Chant a song. Freeze your feelings and thoughts beneath a sheet of ice. For weeks, you kept me out. But right now?” His gaze swept her body.
“You’re just a bit too … excited. You might as well be shouting them at me. ”
She glared.
He looked down at her and sighed. “Most women follow me around like lost little puppies, vying for my attention, and go out of their way to please me during their stay here. You, my pretty Elizabeth, are a puzzle.”
He held up a glass orb.
“Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s enchanted. For pleasure.”
He nudged her knees apart and glided his hand over her skirts, starting at her knee and moving a couple of inches higher before stopping.
The man had the sin of lust down to an art; she had to give him that.
She stared in morbid fascination as he ran the orb up her thighs—slow, lazy strokes against her skirts. All the while, his eyes locked on her face, as if he were drinking in every wrinkle of her brow, and every catch of her breath.
“Tell me how much you think of me when you think no one is looking, Elizabeth.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “What?” she blurted. “That’s ridiculous. And I have better things to think about.”
His fingers brushed against her legs, gently stroking her inner thighs over her skirts. Slowly, he grazed between her legs and then continued his exploration of her thigh.
She glared. “Are you going to release me? I haven’t given my permission for you to do such things, you know.”
His fingers stilled. “Tell me to stop, and I will stop.”
She pressed her lips together, glancing between his face and his hand.
She said nothing.
“What a lovely little liar you are,” he said, grazing his fingers over her once more. “A. Lovely. Little. Liar.”
He kissed the glass orb, then whispered, “Skaaka.”
It began to buzz like a bumblebee, emitting a deep hum that vibrated up her legs. He trailed the orb over her skirts, her thighs.
“Tell me how much you look at me. How much you want me. Give me that, and I will stop.”
Despite her resolution not to give him what he wanted, he lifted her skirts, teasing her inner thigh with maddening precision. Her body tightened in places of its own accord, squirming beneath him.
He brushed it against her flesh once more, then over her undergarments, before retreating.
Smirking, he pressed it against her harder.
She tensed and lifted her hips, chasing the sensation. He held it against her for a long moment. When he withdrew, she nearly whimpered.
“You are going to come for me. You are going to beg me to let you. And you are going to come only when I allow you to do so.”
It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard of. “Caspian, I—I don’t—”
He pressed the ball firmly against her once more, and she lost her train of thought.
He lifted it away, holding it over her, barely touching her, and grazed her back and forth, drawing a low sound from her lips.
He pressed it against her, driving her to the very edge of pleasure, and then he’d withdraw. Over and over, her pleasure climbed, and he would pull away at the last moment.
He whispered another word, and the whirring grew louder.
He whispered something else she didn’t catch, and every candle in the chamber flickered to life. Caspian’s face became illuminated in soft light, his eyes gleaming.
Keeping his eyes riveted on her, he pushed her undergarments aside—slowly, as if he was daring her to stop him.
With a wicked smile, he licked his fingers and slowly brought them against her. He replaced his fingers with the orb, lightly dragging it over her.
She let out a low sound and closed her eyes.
“Look at me.”
She cracked an eye open, her breathing turning ragged as he stroked her with the orb, and she writhed underneath him.
“I want you to look at me when you come.”
She scowled. “That’s—you have some serious issues.”
His smile was evil. “That I might.”
He pressed the orb against her harder.
She tried to hold back, but her body wouldn’t listen and wanted nothing more than to crown him the victor.
“Come for me,” he ordered. And she did, exploding with pleasure beneath him. She was flung gloriously off the cliff, her legs quivering, mouth parting in a silent cry.
His gaze was intense on hers. “I think you’re not saying anything with that smart mouth of yours because you want me to do it again,” he said, unaware or uncaring that she was throbbing and sated.
He focused on her gently, helping her ride through the wave of discomfort bordering on pain from being so sensitive.
If he was determined to make her finish again and drink her shame at doing so at the hands of a demon, he was about to be disappointed. She didn’t think her body could do that again, anyway.
“I—I can’t again,” she said, breathless.
“I am going to make you think of me when you wake and when you dream,” Caspian said darkly. “And I will ruin you so that no other man can please you like I do.”
He hovered the orb over her flesh, barely touching her, the pressure feather-light.
Her hips twitched, and she tried to take the continued stimulation when her knees ached to close. Caspian, ever so slowly, stroked her with the orb.
Her body tensed and relaxed in certain places, and she writhed beneath him. He pulled back, barely touching her once more, and she lifted her hips, aching to get closer.
He stroked her with it again, reigniting the fire. He held it against her harder, then relented.
“I—I can’t,” she pleaded.
“Hold your breath,” he commanded.
She did, and to her astonishment, she felt her pleasure climb again.
Her head fell back, exhaling. Lost in bliss.
“I said, hold your breath,” he ordered sharply.
She did, holding her breath and tensing all over.
And again, she shattered.
Her body twitched and shuddered.
With a smile of sin incarnate, he worked her slowly, then harder. He seemed to know exactly what her body needed. On the third time, she started riding his hand, moving her hips to the beat of her pleasure, her climax rolling through her like a wave.
He pressed the orb against her flesh a fourth time, and she was gasping, about to protest that she couldn’t go again. But inexplicably, she felt her pleasure climb again.
“Caspian,” she breathed, his name a plea on her breath. “What is it, Elizabeth?” he said softly, pulling the orb away from her flesh.
Her body throbbed from the sudden loss of contact. He rubbed the orb up and down her sex, drawing a whimper from her lips.
“What do you need?” His eyes drank in her body writhing beneath him.
“Caspian,” she pleaded. Her toes curled, fingers tightening around the chains holding her in place.
He licked his fingers and wet her sex again, pressing the buzzing orb against her flesh once more, harder.
She moaned, moving her hips into his palm. His silver eyes of flame stared at her, his gaze intense and unblinking.
“Caspian!” she cried as she came. Her body pulsed around him. He held the orb against her skin, as if he was absorbing every twitch and aftershock her body gave.
“Good,” he said, looking pleased. “Good.”
She jerked and twitched, attempting to close her legs.
To her surprise, he finally let her.
He leaned in, brushing her sweat-damp hair from her temple. “I meant every word,” he said darkly. “You’re going to beg me to fuck you before I am through with you.”
Triumph flashed across his eyes before he unshackled her. She watched as he replaced her skirts over her legs, neatly arranging them.
He gathered her blankets, which had somehow ended up on the floor, and placed them on top of her with care. She flushed as he tucked her into bed with a tenderness that confused her. So at odds with the arrogant bastard he had been just moments before.
Every word he uttered, every move he made, was so contradictory that she could do nothing but watch as he rubbed feeling back into each of her hands and placed a kiss on each wrist. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on contact.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth, my beauty.”
Candles extinguished on his command, leaving her in darkness.