Chapter Twenty-One #3
I expect a call to stop, some signal that I can finally rest—but when it doesn’t come, when the music carries on, I open my eyes and feel sharp pain grow low in my belly when I see they’ve all gone back to eating as if nothing has happened.
My feet ache and my legs tremble with exhaustion, but none of them seem to notice or care. I’m merely part of the ambiance, background entertainment to accompany their meal, no more significant than the music drifting through the air.
“Fucking bastard.”
Reth holds up his hand and the music stops.
“What did you say?”
Oh Gods, I said that out loud.
Reth crooks his finger at me, beckoning me forwards. With each step, my heart pounds harder, until I’m standing beside him, heart hammering against my ribs.
In one quick, fluid movement, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me onto his lap, one arm holding me in place so he can stare into my face.
“I repeat. What the fuck did you just say?”
“Fucking bastard,” I reply through clenched teeth, bringing my palms to his chest and pushing myself from his grip.
He roars and grabs my wrists with both hands, his grip so tight they instantly burn from the pressure, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force.
He shakes me, jerking me back and forth until my head snaps forwards and backwards, my vision blurring with each aggressive movement.
The pain radiates up my arms as his grip tightens, and I can feel my pulse throbbing beneath where his thumbs press into the delicate bones of my wrists.
“Touch me with those dirty Earthbound hands again and I’ll cut those fuckers off, Little Wildie,” he hisses at me, spraying spittle across my face.
He throws me from his grip, and I topple backwards onto the ground, pain shooting up my back.
Ceira looks down at me with a nasty sneer. I rise again, and Domanikk holds out his hand to help me. I keep my head down and I join him, sitting in the empty chair next to him.
For the rest of the meal, I silently eat whatever Domanikk puts in front of me, tasting nothing.
As early evening turns to night, the Equitae grow louder with each jug of Fae Wine consumed.
They dance around the fire to Tahani’s songs and break off into groups to talk, to fight, to fuck—inhibitions abandoned.
Domanikk tries to talk to me, and I reply politely to avoid angering him. I drink the endless Fae Wine until I can’t see straight, floating in my own oblivion when I feel Domanikk gently pick me up and carry me back to his tent.
He places me down on the bed, and I snuggle into the warm blankets. When I feel his hand stroke my cheek, I stir and roll over to stare at him.
“You enjoyed that?” I hiss at him.
“Infinitely. Your body is exquisite and finally I have it all to myself” he drawls, continuing to stroke down from my cheek.
His gentle fingers trace my throat, over my shoulders and down to my breasts, where his expert fingers tease my nipples until they perk and harden.
Heat kindles in my lower belly, and I push his hand away.
“This isn’t right.”
“With punishment comes pleasure, Alaya. Did you know that when a mare matures in the Herd, the stallions are tasked with breaking her? Only then can she find her mate. Reth is an expert in pain and punishment, while I’m a master of pleasure. It’s our duty to teach you, to break you.”
He reaches back and unbuckles his chest leathers, which fall to the floor with a thud.
As I lie there holding my breath, he crawls over me, his palms either side of my hips.
I can smell Fae Wine and sweat as he brings his face closer to mine.
I try to wriggle out from under him, and he lets out a low laugh, his hot breath on my face.
“You know, the more you jiggle those hips, the more you turn me on. So please, keep it up,” he whispers.
He crushes his lips to mine, his desire urgent and painful.
I keep my mouth tightly closed as his tongue keeps pushing.
A small growl escapes his lips, and he shifts as his hand dips between my thighs, his fingers searching for my heat.
I fight desperately against it—the fire threatening to spark to life.
Yet as his finger finally swirls gently around my clit, coaxing and tender, the flames spring to life and my desire takes over.
My mouth opens as I moan, and I feel his body relax as his tongue finally enters me. I kiss him back now, my own tongue finding his and joining his lust. My hand snakes over his smooth back; his muscles tense below my palm as I pull him closer into me.
His hand continues its masterful teasing between my legs, then Domanikk breaks away from my mouth and kisses his way slowly down my body—down my throat, over my chest, a quick swirl and nip to my hardened nipples, my stomach fluttering wildly as his lips skim my belly and continue further down.
His hot breath joins his hand, his long black hair tickling the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and my heat builds surprisingly fast, that white-hot ball of flame threatening to explode. I moan and writhe, seeking that release.
He gently blows on me, his breath sending a new wave of sensations over me, and I’m almost there at my orgasm when he suddenly pulls away, standing up abruptly. He stares down at me, lying below him, panting in shallow breaths, holding his wicked stare.
“Slowly.” He chuckles. “I’ll break you slowly, relish in your almost until you beg me for your everything. Then you’ll learn of true pleasure.”
He walks over to the wooden chest, rummages through it, and brings out a black shirt. He throws it across to me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“While I deny you yours, I need my own release. I’m going back to the Gathering to find a willing mare to bury myself in. Sleep well, my love.”
And I’m left there holding his black shirt to wallow in my own frustration. The silence is deafening now that he’s gone. I clutch the shirt tighter, my knuckles turning white, as all the words of protest I should have said but didn’t replay endlessly in my mind.