Demon Lover (6 page)

Chapter Five

“I’m stunned,” the king said, yet again. The first three times, he’d said it as he gazed in wonder around the room filled with gold thread. Now he repeated it in his ornate dining room, where Gwyneth was again eating with him—alone save for the many carefully blank-faced servants who passed in and out. Gwyneth could feel their curious stares on her face, on the back of her neck, but whenever she glanced at them, their faces were expressionless, or even averted. God knew what they thought of her, what rumors had reached them.

But there could be no doubt that the king was delighted with her.

“I’m stunned,” he repeated, setting down his silver goblet. “In two nights, you’ve more than doubled my fortune. A third, and I doubt even the largest kingdom in the world could rival my wealth. And the beauty of it is, you’ll be able to renew it in another eighteen years. Just in time for my middle age.”

Gwyneth found it hard to swallow the delicacies she forced into her mouth. They seemed to taste of ashes and deceit. And the sour tang of her host’s obsession with money. She began to see many similarities between the wealthy king and her poor father and realized for the first time that no amount of gold, or favor, would ever be enough for either of them.

Finally able to speak, she said vaguely, “Who knows what another eighteen years will bring?”

“Very true. But tonight the moon is still full, and so you’ll spin me another room full of gold.”

She’d known it was coming. If it wasn’t, she’d have been at home, telling off her foolish parent. And yet her heart lurched at his words. Because she’d see her dark stranger again.

She knew she should feel ashamed of what she’d let him do to her, what she’d done to him. But the truth was, her skin burned with renewed pleasure whenever she thought of his eyes on her naked body, his lips on her “pearl”, drawing such sudden, devastating pleasure from it that her pussy wept at the memory. She hadn’t known such intensity was possible, and in the long, mostly sleepless hours of her day in bed, she’d acknowledged a desire to know more, much more.

It was impossible, of course. Her demon, like her desires, was wicked fantasy. Reality lay, almost as fantastically, in the king smiling across the table at her.

“I’ll tell you what, fair Gwyneth,” he said softly. “If you do this thing for me, if you give me this one more room full of gold from straw, I’ll marry you.”

Something surged from her stomach. It felt like bile.

“I’ll make you queen,” the king went on, as if her lack of reaction meant a lack of understanding. “The mother of my heir.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered desperately. “I’m not suited to such a life…”

“You will be trained,” the king said, waving one dismissive if amused hand. He sat back on his seat, regarding her with smug satisfaction. “You have enough beauty and wit to carry it off. And let’s face it, I’ll enjoy flaunting you before the noblewomen who’ve been competing for my favors for years.”

Gwyneth’s heart sank even farther. “Is that a good enough reason to marry me?” It came out more sharply than it should, but she no longer cared, and in fact the king didn’t appear to mind.

“Annoying your rivals? No. Your beauty helps. And you have a certain—freshness that appeals to me. I’m told I have a jaded palate, but I shall enjoy tasting you. And then there is your great gift, which is, of course, the deciding factor.”

“Of course,” she repeated bitterly. She laid down her knife and gazed at him directly. “Sire, the gold is yours. You do not need to marry me to own it.”

Her father would kill her for saying such a thing. Even as she said it, she acknowledged the lunacy in trying to avoid the impossibly good match being offered to her. She wasn’t even sure why she did so. Some sneaking feeling that it was all dishonest, distasteful and just plain wrong.

The king laughed. “Of course I don’t. But I need to marry you to have some more in another eighteen years.”

“I could come to you again then…” she began desperately.

“Don’t be foolish. I can’t let you go, let some other man, whether commoner or king, have control of your talent.”

Blood drained to her feet so quickly that she felt dizzy. She realized at last that she had no freedom. She’d been bound by her father’s preposterous claims and her cheating fulfillment of them. Even if the king had released her, she’d have been sought for her supposed wealth-making talents instead of her beauty. No one would have loved her for herself. No one ever would. Unless the king came to.

She glanced at him uncertainly. His eyes gleamed within his handsome face. It might have been lust, but she rather thought it was the lust of acquisition. Could she change that?

The king said, “I’m of a mind to watch you.”

Memories of the dark man watching her naked flooded her mind and moistened her drawers. She shifted in her padded chair. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to see you work. I want to see how you do it.”

“Oh, no,” she blurted. If he did, her demon wouldn’t come, and there would be no gold. More than that, if her demon didn’t come, she’d have no more opportunity to taste the delicious thrills of his caresses. Stupidly, it was the latter fear that drove the words into her mouth. “It is dull work, and in any case, I have this feeling in my bones that it wouldn’t happen if anyone else were to see. More than that, Your Majesty must not be contaminated by such magic. I don’t know where it comes from…”

For the first time, a flash of fear crossed the king’s smug face. Was that her escape? His fear of her magic contaminating him?

He stood abruptly, and Gwyneth, too, stumbled to her feet. “You are right,” he said grandly. “It is not fitting that I attend you at such work. You shall come to me in the morning with your task complete.”

He held out one commanding hand, and there was nothing for Gwyneth to do but cross the floor and take it, sinking into a deep curtsy.

He smiled. “Don’t be afraid, little Buttercup,” he said softly. “I’ll treat you well, and you shall have wealth such as you never dreamed of.”

“And my father?” she managed in a strangled voice.

“Will be taken care of, naturally. Perhaps he can run the royal mills. While you run the royal nursery.”

He laughed at his own joke as he raised her to her full height once more. Putting one finger under her chin, he bent his head toward her and pressed a wet kiss on her lips.

It seemed she didn’t like kissing anymore. Her hand itched to slap the king’s face. Fortunately, before she could lose control, His Majesty drew back.

“Well,” he said softly. “I think it will be a good deal. You have sweet lips, and I can tell you exactly what to do with them…when we’re married. Now go and make me some gold.”

As if he’d been lurking at the door for his cue, Wallace materialized, bowing for her to precede him.

Gwyneth walked through the door without looking back.

Wallace said to her, “You’ve done well, very well, for both of us. One more night, and we’ll all be rich, you and me as well as the king.”

“And the rest of the country?” Gwyneth said with sudden despair. If nothing else, her stay in the palace had shown her that people didn’t need to live in the poverty of those she’d known all her life.

“Prosperity spreads,” Wallace said vaguely. “The whole country will benefit from the king’s wealth.”

Was that true? Was she really doing some good? Or did she just want to calm her raging guilt? She wasn’t even sure what she was guilty of any more. She just knew it had all gotten out of hand. And what she really wanted was to tell her demon so.

Soon she would have the opportunity. As she and Wallace descended the stone steps to the underground passage, her heart beat faster and faster. He hadn’t kissed her mouth last night, despite the other greater pleasures he’d shown her, and now, suddenly, she was desperate that he should. After tonight, there was no guarantee she would ever see him again. After tonight, there was no guarantee she would ever know such pleasures again. She would be lost to a life of duty. A life of unimaginable luxury and wealth for which she should be prostrate with gratitude.

I’ll do it. I will. I’ll marry the king, and as queen I’ll try my very best to look after the people. Surely there are many ways I can help, make a difference… But first, oh, first, can’t I, please…?

Her desperate, incoherent plea trailed off as the door of the familiar room creaked open once more. There was barely space for the door. She had to edge into the room, so packed with straw was it. Even the spinning wheel and the stool, squashed against a high wall of bales, were almost buried in the stuff.

“Good luck,” said Wallace. “And I hope you’ll remember, when honors come to you, that it was I who brought them.”

No, you didn’t. My demon did!

Fortunately, she kept the words inside. The door slammed and bolted behind her, and she was left staring at a solid wall of straw. Laughter caught in her throat.

“This is ridiculous,” she said aloud. Turning, she leaned back against the straw and closed her eyes. She thought of her previous two nights here, of the dark man’s kiss, of his hands on her breasts, on her thighs, of his ecstasy-giving kiss on her clitoris. Her heated body clenched, releasing a pool of warm moisture from her desperate pussy.

One more night with him. And then, then I’ll be good…

“Please,” she whispered. “I need you. I
want
you.”

He shouldn’t have been able to hear. She wasn’t even sure she meant him to. But something stirred in the room. Soft fabric, like a cloak, brushed against her forearm. She found herself smiling. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and there he stood, close enough to touch, tall and black and hooded. His familiar, faint, smoky scent filled her nostrils and her memory, feeding her galloping lust.

“There you are,” she said, and reached inside his hood. His hand whipped up and caught her wrist, but she’d already found his warm, rough cheek. Mutely, she lifted her face inside the shadows of his cowl, parting her lips. She heard his breath catch an instant before she found his lips. And then their mouths met and fused, and Gwyneth drowned in sensation.

She’d been wrong. She still liked kissing, although it seemed it had to be with the demon. She must be very wicked.

His mouth opened hers and his tongue drove deep, flicking back to lick at her teeth. She caressed his cheek, slid her hand round to his head, tangling in the same soft hair she’d felt last night. With her free hand, she found his gloved one and carried it blatantly to her breast, moaning at the first touch. His fingers curled, cupping while his thumb flickered across her hard, aroused nipple. Then he moved, delving inside the neck of her gown to find her naked breast, and she moaned again as he freed it from its constraints.

The demon released her mouth and raised his head quickly to prevent her, presumably, from seeing more than the dark shadows of his face. But his hand did not leave her breast. Instead he gazed at it, as she did, watching his black gloved hand caress her palely gleaming skin, her anxious nipple rosy under the merciless attention of his finger. It seemed to stretch toward his touch every time he left it. Sparks of bliss spread downward from her breast to her pussy, gathering there while her whole body flushed with growing pleasure.

He said huskily, “We haven’t agreed payment.”

“I don’t care. Kiss me.”

He didn’t. Instead, his cowl moved around the solid wall of straw. “You want all this spun into gold?”

“The king does.”

“For which you’ll give me…” He paused, taking a deep breath.

“Everything,” Gwyneth said desperately. “Anything.” She pushed into his body, glorying in the hard ridge of his cock as it pressed against her abdomen. “The king will marry me for this, for a room full of magic gold thread, spun by you. I’m lost, my angel, my demon… Give me tonight…”

He’d stilled, holding himself stiff in her hold, which didn’t suit her urgency at all. “Anything?” he repeated.

Her whole body tingled. In a web of lust and gratitude and grief that she no longer knew how to untangle, she knew she’d hold nothing back tonight. Not even the virginity that should be her husband’s. The king didn’t care for her but for the wealth she could give him and keep from his rivals. Her stranger, at least, wanted her body. That had been clear from the start.

“Anything,” she said huskily and, with deliberation, laid her hand on his crotch.

He let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-groan, and abruptly she was driven back into the wall of straw, his body hard against her.

“You give me your lips,” he ground out, crushing her mouth under his in a kiss that left her breathless. “Your delicious breasts…” He dropped his head to her exposed breast, lashing the delirious nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and rolling it frantically between his lips.

Gwyneth’s head fell back against the straw, her mouth open in ecstasy.

“Both your delicious breasts,” he muttered, freeing the other for the same attentions. His lower body ground into hers, awakening deeper longings that she had no name for. Flames seemed to lick her pussy, melting it, opening it for him, so that when he began to bundle up her skirts, she emitted a little mewl of excitement.

“And this, your sex, your pussy, you would give it to me, too?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” she breathed, trembling as his fingers ran up and down her thighs and swept inward.

“Wet, so wet,” he whispered in her ear. “You are so very passionate for a virgin.”

“Is that bad?” she got out, shivering under his hot breath on her skin, his fingers gliding among the folds of her pussy.

Something, laughter perhaps, shook him. “Not from where I’m standing. Will you be faithful to your husband?”

“When he’s my husband, then yes, God help me.”

“I don’t know who to pity more.”

“What does that mean?”

The finger teasing her entrance slipped inside her, making her cry out with shock and unexpected delight at the cool intrusion.

“I don’t know,” he said. “You take away my sanity, my determination, and all I want is to pleasure you, to make you come on my fingers…”