All the King's Men (9 page)

“No.” Kirel moved to her side and gently pushed her back on
the mattress. Her breasts quivered, the extended peaks throbbing for his touch.
“Most importantly, she must be able to share herself body and soul with the
king…and with the people.”

“You mean she’ll—
I’ll
—have to fuck other men in front
of an audience?”

“The Guardians,” he confirmed. “We’re the only ones allowed
to touch you. By sharing yourself with us as you give your body and your heart
to the king, you’ll prove to the Council you’re ready for the responsibility of
ruling Aris. And you’ll bring the blessing of the Tradition down upon us all.”

“And if I fail?”

Kirel hesitated. “You won’t.”

“
If
I fail,” she repeated, “what happens then?”

“The Fates hold your future in their hands, as they do all
our destinies. If you refuse to go through with the Trials, or if you don’t
complete them to their satisfaction, they’ll choose your punishment themselves.
Whatever they devise, you can be sure their retribution will be two-fold. Not
only will they discipline you for your failure to obey them, but they’ll also
want to deter all other women who may one day be granted the same privilege you
seem to care nothing about.”

She pressed her lips together, unable to reply. She needed a
moment to process everything he’d told her. The information he’d shared hadn’t
changed her mind about what she had to do. If anything, it only reinforced her
goal. She had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

There was no way she’d go through with this mating ceremony,
no matter what the Fates decreed. The last thing she wanted to do was marry a
virtual stranger even if he was king!

Kirel lifted her skirt. The movement of the fabric caused a
light breeze to stir the curls at the apex of her thighs. It felt cold against
the slickness that had gathered between her pussy lips and she trembled
slightly.

She pressed her thighs together, though she knew he couldn’t
make out much in the darkness. Besides, he’d already seen much more, though she
doubted he remembered most of it. Memories of their lovemaking had probably
fled his mind as quickly as memories of her. She couldn’t fool herself into
thinking otherwise.

And if everything he’d told her were true, unless she could
find a way out of the castle, she’d have to endure acts much more humiliating
than this at the hands of the king’s men.

Her pussy fluttered. Gods, the thought was much too
arousing! Her stomach muscles rippled as she fought to keep a shiver from stealing
up her spine. How perverted was it that she craved the dark, lustful things of
which Kirel had spoken?

As if reading her thoughts, Kirel let his hands travel up
the inside of her thighs, his fingers questing amidst the crisp curls that
masked her damp arousal. He found the heat hidden within her core and probed
the pouting lips of her cunt. Her slippery juices coated his skin as he dragged
his fingers through her slit.

Gods, he must know how badly she wanted this. Wanted
him
…and…and
the others.

Her heart hammered a steady beat against her chest. Blood
roared in her ears, drowning out everything but the sound of her own panting
breaths. Parting her legs wider, she arched her back and instinctively pushed
her hips forward, seeking the stimulation of those long, tapered fingers deep
inside her ultra-sensitive passage.

Kirel’s sharp hiss filled the room when he delved into her
tight channel. Her pussy squeezed down on the intrusion that filled her. It
grasped the long fingers and pulsed around them while Nelina panted and
squirmed, matching the determined thrusts with circular movements of her own.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Tell me this is all for me.”

The words lodged in her throat. She dragged in a breath then
another. “Think what you will.”

His soft chuckle slid through her body like a caress. “Fair
enough.”

He pushed inside her and then withdrew, varying his rhythm
until she quivered, perched on the edge of climax. When he pulled out of her
completely, she cried out, her pussy fluttering madly with intoxicating need.

He thrust into her again, this time with the dry fingers of
his other hand while he brought her cream up to her lips and slipped it into
her mouth. She savored the musky taste of her wetness on his skin and sucked
greedily at the fingers he slid between her lips.

She imagined it was his cock she devoured, though her pride
wouldn’t let her ask him to turn the fantasy into reality. Oh how she’d loved
to suck and lick every inch of his erect shaft. With languid strokes, she did
it again now, transported back in time by the fevered probing between her legs
and the fingers in her mouth.

He had only to touch her swollen clit lightly and the
pleasure that had been steadily building inside her expanded and burst. The
climax poured through every part of her with a fury she couldn’t remember ever
experiencing. It spread outward, rushing from her groin through to her
extremities with waves of delicious agony.

Her pussy contracted, spasming with eager, desperate need,
convulsing in ecstasy. The fingers slipped from her mouth, allowing her to
scream her pleasure.

“Kirel! Gods, yes!
Yes
!”

Her cry echoed off the stone castle walls and reverberated
in her ears along with a second groan—a heady, masculine one. The pressure on
her cunt eased as Kirel’s fingers slipped out of her. She felt the mattress
shift and knew he’d risen.

“Good night, Nelina.”

A moment later, she heard the door open then slam shut.
Silence dampened her senses. The remnants of her climax pounded in her ears as
she lay there panting and thoroughly spent.

Regret swept through her, leaving behind a lonely agony she
knew too well. Though she couldn’t figure out what she’d done to drive him
away, she knew what abandonment felt like well enough to recognize it for what
it was.

Nelina briefly considered removing the blindfold but decided
she wasn’t ready to face the reality of her situation. She kept it in place and
groped for the blankets in the darkness then curled up around her memories of
another place, another Kirel. One who worshipped her and showered her with
words of love.

Words that meant nothing.

Tears slipped from beneath her eyelids to soak into the
blindfold. As darkness claimed her, she swore that was the last time she’d ever
let Kirel Turion get the upper hand.

Chapter Four

She’d made him come in his breeches like an untried youth.

Kirel grabbed a fistful of bed sheets and wrung them between
his fingers, recalling the way Nelina had screamed out his name as a powerful
orgasm overtook her. Her desperate moans had been his undoing. Before he could
control the urge, his balls had quivered and he’d spilled himself in ragged,
violent spurts.

What had he been thinking? He wasn’t able to contain himself
around her. His duty was the farthest thing from his mind when she writhed and
mewled low in her throat, wringing every last drop of self-control from him.

She’d driven him wild with desire as she’d bucked beneath
his touch. Her body had been a pliant instrument and he an expert musician.
He’d plucked and strummed, tweaked and pinched until he had her exactly where
he wanted her—squirming for him, eager for his touch.

Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hard.
His cock had ached with an intense, simmering need to fuck her. He’d wanted
nothing more than to slam his rod between those flushed pussy lips, to feel her
nails dig into his back as she cried out with release.

But he hadn’t.

He’d known that if he’d taken her then, he wouldn’t have
stopped. He’d have marched out of the castle with Nelina’s legs still wrapped
around his waist and her pussy clinging to his cock, dragging desperate spurts
of cum from his needy body.

Thinking back, he had no idea how he’d been able to keep
himself in check.

Except he hadn’t maintained full control of his base
impulses. Not entirely. When she’d trembled beneath him and her pussy had
squeezed down on his fingers, he’d known he was lost.

His balls had drawn up tight into his sac and before he
could do anything to stop the cascading lust from pouring forth, his cum had
jetted all over the inside of his
skella
.

And then, as though an orgasm had been the only thing
standing between him and clarity, the full impact of the night’s events had
slammed into him. Bewildered and more than a little embarrassed by his
inability to control his too-eager cock, he’d bolted before Nelina could do
more than cry out his name.

With his damp crotch sticky with spilled cum, he’d somehow
made it back to his room unseen. There, he’d rinsed his breeches in a basin of
cold water and then collapsed into bed. The remainder of the night had passed
fitfully as he wrestled with fragmented glimpses of a past that continued to
torment him.

Pulling free of the tangled sheets, Kirel gave up all
pretense of sleeping. Late-morning light flittered through the windows, casting
a cheery pink glow over the interior of his chambers, mocking him as he
dressed. The day should have been dark and dreary, as filled with turmoil as
his soul.

Shivar enjoyed sleeping late in the mornings and had
standing instructions not to be disturbed until noon. Thor, Domenic and Kirel
met in front of the king’s chambers. Once they arrived, servants flung open the
king’s chamber doors and proceeded to serve lunch.

As Kirel had expected, the rest of the day passed
agonizingly slowly. He moved at Shivar’s side from one meeting to the next as
though drifting through a thick fog, his limbs laden, his reactions sluggish.
Even his finely honed Guardian instincts had been dulled by the edge of lust
and raw desire until by the time night fell again, he felt stretched tighter than
a bow string and ready to snap.

“Go. Get out of here, all of you.” Shivar flicked his hands
in their direction, the wide sleeves of his robe slipping to reveal a
sprinkling of dark curls on his forearms.

“It’s early yet,” Thor said. “You’re sure you won’t be
needing us again?”

The king removed the golden crown from his head and laid it
on a plush velvet pillow then locked it away in a crystal case. “I’m having
company this evening. And I don’t need you to hold my hand or any other part of
my anatomy.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Shivar scowled. Kirel glanced at Thor and saw his lips thin
beneath the fabric of his face mask.

It was an old argument, one both men should have tired of
long ago. Thor insisted that Shivar needed protection at all times, even—no,
especially—when engaged in intimate acts that would leave him vulnerable. For
his part, as much as the king valued his safety, he valued his privacy more.

Kirel couldn’t blame him. “Stay if you must,” he said to
Thor and Domenic. “I’m with the king on this one.”

Domenic shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His
gaze darted from Thor, who stood his ground, to Kirel, already standing at the
threshold to the king’s chambers. The uncertainty in his narrowed eyes would
have been comical if Kirel didn’t understand the feeling all too well.

Having to constantly choose between duty and everything else
grew tiresome fast. Even though Domenic had only been part of the Guardian trio
for a couple of years, he’d been around long enough to experience firsthand the
dichotomy that ruled a Guardian’s life.

With a bow to the king and a nod to his fellow Guardians,
Kirel left the chamber. Every muscle in his body ached with tension, every
nerve desperate for release.

His footsteps carried him in the direction of Nelina’s room.
Images of her delectable body had haunted him all day. Instead of banishing the
thoughts and concentrating on his duty as he should have done, he’d found
himself wondering how she’d respond to Thor and Domenic. Would she give herself
to them as eagerly as she’d opened for him? Would she scream their names when
she came?

His insides cramped as a hot stream of jealousy knotted his
stomach. He fisted his hands at his sides, his fingernails digging hard enough
into his palm to send a jolt of pain up his arm.

This had to stop. He knew as well as anyone how important
this mating was to Aris. Nelina would provide the people with renewed
confidence in their king. Threats from abroad came closer to home every day,
making the people’s faith in their ruler imperative.

Nelina could give them that. She could give Shivar an heir.

Kirel’s gut twisted as though someone had shoved the blade
of a knife below his navel and wrenched it hard. A few feet away from the door
to Nelina’s chamber, Kirel turned right.

Last night, he’d learned how impossible it was for him to
maintain his composure around her. Thor had made it clear her training had to
begin in earnest, and if they didn’t proceed tonight, they most certainly would
get started the next day.

One way or the other, Kirel had to get Nelina out of his
system. Fucking her wouldn’t do it. In fact, it would have the exact opposite
effect. The more time he spent around her, the worse the craving became, until
touching her, tasting her, being inside her, became all he could think about.

Clenching his teeth, Kirel took another right turn and found
himself facing the mouth of a shadowy passageway that led down into the deepest
recesses of the castle. Hesitating for only a moment, he plunged inside the
dark corridor. His boots struck the stone of a narrow set of stairs. The cool
scent of wet stone and earth tickled his nostrils and the sound of a torrential
downpour intensified as he continued to descend.

At the bottom, the passageway opened into a deep cavern.
Flickering torches ensconced in emerald-colored shells had been affixed to the
volcanic black rock from which the bowels of the castle were carved. Golden
firelight glistened off the surface of a deep, dark pool. Mist rose in thick
billows from the back of the cavern where two identical waterfalls spilled
their contents into the rippling water.