Hers to Command (4 page)

“Yes,
DeTano. He is much more than he seems.”

The
old man’s voice held a note of apology. “You would know, had you ever met the man. He has a certain—presence.”

The elder gave a small shake of his head
. “The Haarb had just begun their siege of Sylvan Mintoth when DeTano returned to Verdantia. He came with the military power of the LFP at his back. He organized our resistance fighters and rose to command the joint forces, but that is not who he is.”

Rising with difficulty,
the elder pressed the jeweled box into her hands. “For someone your size, my Lady, the smallest grain into the spiced wine is sufficient. Godspeed, my dear.”

She followed him with her eyes, stunned
. With a faint smile and a shaky pat on her cheek, he hobbled from the chamber. She stared at the small, jeweled box Patricio had placed in her hand. It measured four inches by four inches and perhaps three inches deep. The incongruity startled a bitter laugh and then a sob out of her. So small, and yet its contents had destroyed her entire way of life—her entire planet.
Cinnagin.

Chapter
Two

The potent aphrodisiac enveloped Fleur in a dizzying swirl as she swallowed the last of the jeweled goblet's contents. It tasted of wine,
cinnagin
and musk. The heavy door to the ritual chamber opened. A scarlet-robed man strode through, pulling the door closed behind him. He halted abruptly, standing motionless, fixing her with a long stare before lifting an ironic eyebrow.

“
You are my partner? You are tiny. I could break you.”

His
rich baritone vibrated in her feminine places. Her senses rioting, she inhaled the clean scent of
lingnum
soap borne on a waft of air. Her senses reeled under the masculine assault of the warrior standing before her. His robes indicated a seventh-level
magister
of advanced
magicks
. His scarlet robe of office loosely draped a tall, broad-shouldered, spare body. Warrior braids at his temple swept back heavy, shoulder-length, auburn curls, leaving his high cheekbones and strong jaw in clean profile. His hazel eyes regarded her with the intensity of a great hunting cat.
You are a very large man.

Fleur
stood as tall as her five-foot-nothing would allow. “I am sturdier than I look.”

Her eyes wandered over the height and breadth of him.
Patricio is right
.
He has a physical presence.
“The
docenti
told me that under the influence of
cinnagin
, I would happily service a bald-headed cave troll. You, sir, are not a cave troll.” He looked taken aback, then just snorted.

A sudden flush sent
her equilibrium reeling. “This aphrodisiac is affecting me strangely. I feel a little—dizzy.”

Swaying where she stood, her
gaze shot up to him as he moved silently to steady her. His large hand felt calloused and warm against her upper arm. A strange course of electric sensation pulsed between them.
My mind is playing games with me.

His other
hand held leather cuffs and lashings. She was unable to hold his amber gaze, unwilling to betray her precipitous arousal and mounting fear. Trembling, she stepped out of his gentle hold. Without thought, she rubbed her arm where his touch had sparked that strange electric tingle.

Fleur
moved to the glazed window overlooking the profusely blooming courtyard below. Some young children laughed gaily as they pursued each other around the central fountain in a carefree game of tag.
Such sweet innocence
. It reminded her why she was here. She wanted to give them a lifetime of carefree days.

“
You know we must succeed.” Fleur carefully placed the goblet on the sill and steadied herself, bracing both hands against the framing, her heart suddenly racing, her breath coming in short pants.

“
Yes. I am aware of the stakes.”

She threw a glance toward him
, at his dry, sardonic response. Her thoughts spun frantically.
What do I know about House DeTano? They are superb horsemen.
“I don’t remember seeing you at court,” she said.

“
Before the invasion, I lived off-planet for a number of years. I came back to fight for
Her
, for the
Senzienza,
and for my people.”

Fleur
straightened in astonishment. “
She
has spoken to you? The
Senzienza,
Verdantia, has spoken to you?”

He inclined his head slightly. “Yes.”

“I’ve never met—.” She shook her head. “Later.”
He is vastly more than he seems
.

Fleur
glanced nervously to the leather cuffs held in her
magister’s
surprisingly elegant hands. “Being bound is difficult for me. But I will submit to you.” His head tilted in question, then his hazel eyes softened.

“
Most certainly, you
will
submit to me. I have performed the
Great Rite
many times, my Lady and though I would spare you, the binding is necessary.”

She
could not control her trembling. He moved to stroke her bare arms in reassurance. Again, that strange sensation pulsed through her.

“
Don’t fear me. I’ll take care with you,” he murmured.

Don’t fear him?
Heat from his body engulfed her. Her skin tingled where his calloused hands caressed her arms. She didn’t understand why his erotic pull was so strong.
It must be the cinnagin.

His hard thighs easily trapped her against the marble windowsill as he gathered her hair aside to pull at the golden cords holding up her gown.
The firm length of his arousal pressed into her back. She heard the catch in his breath as he bared her. The warmth of his whispered, “By the goddess, you are exquisite,” flowed across her shoulders. “Lady, you have no conception how cruel the next few hours will become. We cannot rely solely upon your self-control, for in every way you must submit to me.”

His baritone voice rumbled through her.
Now it begins.
She would risk anything for even a chance of success. “Yes. I submit. Everything depends on it.”

“Yes, everything.”
He nipped her shoulder then gently kissed the sting away.

“
I am going to caress every part of you and keep you aroused until the crystals sing with power. The longer you stay at the edge of climax, the faster the crystals can draw on your energy. Sometimes it takes merely a day to replenish their power. If you should go over, I will bring you right back up. As long as you are able, you must deny yourself or tell me when you approach your peak. Do you understand?”

“
Yes,” she whispered. “And when I can no longer discipline myself? If I am beyond self-control?” She gasped in air, her heart pounding in her ears. “What then?”

Swaying, unsteady on her feet,
her eyes were drawn to the implements hanging on the far wall—whips, paddles, manacles, bars and others she could not identify. Her fear spiked upward.

“
Then I will bring you back up, repeatedly.” He had followed her gaze. The corner of one lip quirked up and his amber eyes narrowed wickedly. “By whatever means necessary.”

At this,
her knees buckled. If the conte had not been quick to catch her, she would have shared the floor with her robe, then all went dark.

* * * * *

Oh Gods, I ache
. Fleur throbbed. Liquid fire pulsed across her nipples and down between her inner thighs to the place where the burn of her swollen sex was near unbearable. Nude and flat on the
Chambre Cristalle’s
large
diamantorre
dais, she could not move.
I am bound hand and foot!
With an inarticulate cry, she struggled to free herself. Her eyes flew open to an intent hazel gaze, a gaze that while somber and appraising, carried warmth in its depths.

“
Breathe,” her
magister
ordered quietly. “That’s it. Long, slow breaths.” His eyes tracked the rise of her breasts as she inhaled, their fall as she exhaled. “Again.” She obeyed. “Better?”

Afraid that she would start begging to be released,
Fleur could only trust herself to nod.

Hard
muscle and sinew filled her sight. As nude as she, he lay beside her on the padded
diamantorre
dais, monitoring her response as his fingers rolled and teased her nipples, first the right and then the left. He pinched her hard. She choked on the streaking pleasure lancing straight to her core.
Oh Gods!

She watched as his handsome face drew ever closer
. It seemed natural to close her eyes. Warm breath hinting of spices,
cinnagin
and wine wafted across her cheek. Smoothly shaven skin holding the hint of sandalwood and bergamot brushed past her nose. Soft, moist lips caught the corners of her eyes in light, brief kisses.
He does not kiss me on the mouth. Of course not, that is for lovers.

“You are
exquisite,” he murmured.

“
How shall I call you?” she moaned softly as his fingers continued their taunting play. “You will know me in the most intimate of ways. I don’t even know how to address you.”

His eyes considered her
. “Ari. Call me Ari.”

His lack of pretention charmed her instantly
. No “
Magister
Full-of-Himself” or “Lord Stick-Up-His-Arse”.

“
We will start slowly, Princess.”

Fleur
fought to control her breathing when he moved between her legs and brought his tongue to play on the tender skin between her thighs. His arms cupped around her sides, stroking the underside of her heavy breasts in small circles, wandering upward to flick at her nipples, then lightly stroking the tender underside of her arms—whatever was in reach of his talented fingertips. Waves of indescribable sensation swept her. She groaned with the swamping pleasure and settled her mind to harness the erotic sensations created by her
magister’s
well-educated tongue.
He is incredibly gentle.

“
I think I will linger here,” he murmured, nuzzling into the flesh between her thighs.

She could feel his hot breath
against her intimate flesh. “Yes!” She ached for touch, any touch, as the
cinnagin
circulating throughout her system multiplied her arousal a hundred-fold.

T
he morning sun shining through the glazed windows gave way to the afternoon's shadows, a silent marking of the hours she struggled with self-control. His warm tongue and talented fingers continuously tickled and teased her inner flesh. Her arousal mounted feverishly, precipitously, a result of both the
cinnagin
and the devilishly skilled
magister
working her body.

“
No more, no more! Please. I will go over.” Her whispered plea halted the gentle probing of his tongue around her hypersensitive clitoris.

“
You cannot see it, perhaps, but the
diamantorre
dais tells me the intensity of your arousal. The
azzurra
glow of the
diamantorre
tells me you can take more. You can rise higher. I’ll not stop.” His swirling tongue continued her torment.

Her
clitoris had become one raw, exposed nerve vibrating vast pulses of sparkling arousal from the tips of her nipples to her toes. His tongue had become a warm bath, swaying the nerve gently, dangling her over an orgasmic precipice on a fragile, silken strand.

“
Demon. You are demon-spawn,” she spat and pulled futilely against her bindings. His tongue paused. Warm breath pulsed on her labia as he laughed silently.

“
One of the nicer names I’ve heard.” A light nip on the inside of her thigh made her jump.

The warm torture of her clitoris
resumed, augmented by his talented hands stroking up her sides, cupping her breasts, plucking at her erect nipples.

A low moan left her mouth
.
Gods and goddesses, help me.
There was no surcease from the insane arousal. An upwelling surge of vast pleasure carried her, unresisting. The silken strand was fraying. Her climax poised a heartbeat away. She surrendered, succumbed, lost to the incred—

He
stopped.

“
No, no, nooo, nooo,” she begged incoherently. “Don’t stop, nooo, don’t stop!”

She drew in huge gasps of air
and the crescendo threatening to overwhelm her faded marginally. She raged at him. “Gaahh—I hate you!”