In the Flesh (15 page)

Katie was hot and tight, so extremely tight Wulf thought he might die of the pleasure. No man could live through endless lust like this. He fucked her like a man possessed because he felt as if he was, trying
to crawl into her so he could see her motives and ascertain the truth about her feelings for him.

“You lie,” he gasped. “You care.”

Her helpless cries spurred him like whiplashes. He rode her with deep, long strokes, growling each time he hit the end of her. It was unbelievable, the coiling ecstasy that wrapped around his spine and burned through his blood. He loved making love to her. He craved the closeness, the feeling of connection he felt only with Katie.

She was fisting the bedclothes and thrusting back at him, fucking him as hard as he was taking her. Her pussy gripped his cock in delicious, rhythmic pulses that took him to the knife edge of climax. He reached beneath her and teased her clitoris, relishing the way she whimpered his name. He timed his thrusts to the movements of his fingers.

“Wulf…it’s so good…so good…”

He wrapped his straining body around hers.

“Katie,” he whispered, wishing he’d never gone to see his father, wishing he had stayed in the room with her, ignorant of outside prejudices and the doubts they created.

This
was real.

He felt her stiffen, then her pussy contracted around his pumping cock. He stilled at the deepest point of her, allowing her body to milk him into orgasm. He shuddered against her back, erupting inside her with a pained groan of pleasure. The pulses were endless and destructive, each spurt of semen followed by a shudder that rocked his entire frame.

Wulf followed her down to the bed, then turned
them both onto their sides. Cupped together, their bodies were still joined.

As his erratic breathing slowed, he noted how her fingers laced with his and held their joined hands over her racing heart. He drew her against his chest, his plans to send her to the concubines’ quarters abandoned in favor of staying deep inside her. Connected.

If she was the traitor his father thought her to be, Wulf risked his life every time he slept with her. She could kill him when he was most vulnerable. His death would send D’Ashier into chaos, and since he was the head of the country’s military forces, his loss could create a momentary vulnerability easily exploited by his enemy.

Strangely the possible threat to his life didn’t frighten him, at least not enough to send her away. Yes, there was no denying that their meeting had been improbably coincidental, but she hadn’t killed him yet.

“If you send me to Sabine,” Katie whispered fiercely, “I’ll never forgive you.”

In answer, he nudged deeper inside her and cupped a full breast in their joined hands.

When they’d lain together in her bed in Sari, he’d thought having her here in his palace and his bed would ease the sensation of being minion to a ticking clock. But instead of the permanence he’d thought to feel, he felt a yawning chasm widening between them.

He held her tighter and knew he would have to keep her until he no longer craved her. Nothing would stand in his way.

Not even her.

Chapter 10

Sapphire sat up in bed with a start, her sleep-fogged mind attempting to discern what had awoken her. She pushed her hair out of her eyes with impatient fingers and was startled to see a man standing before the doors; his legs spread wide and meaty arms crossing an impossibly broad chest.

He was massive, his height easily nearing seven feet tall, his shoulders possessing gigantic breadth and tapering to a narrow waist and thighs the diameter of tree trunks. His skin and eyes were as dark as night, his head was bald, and large gold hoops adorned his earlobes.

She eyed his bright red vest with its liberal weave of gold thread and medals. Smiling, she said, “You must be Captain of the Palace Guard.”

Momentary surprise lit the man’s eyes before he answered in a deep, rumbling voice, “I am.”

“Good morning, Captain.”

He bowed, arms still crossed. “My name is Clarke, Mistress.”

“That’s unusual. I like it.” She gave him a bright smile. The corners of his dark lips twitched.

Wanting to start the day with an exploration of Wulf’s home, Sapphire ran a hand over the fine fabric of her red gown. She wondered if Wulf had noticed her decision to dress in his colors. He might have been too agitated. His father had instilled some doubt in him about her, which she’d expected, considering who she was.

Much as she hated the new tension between them and the desperate edge it had added to their lovemaking, Sapphire knew it was important for Wulf to face the facts—they were together on stolen time.

Regardless, she would always treasure Wulf for following his heart last night. He’d planned to send her away. Instead, he had wrapped himself around her and never let go. A vague memory of a tender kiss before he departed this morning left her defenseless. Heartache was inevitable but worth it. She’d experienced her grand passion and felt it returned. Wishing for the impossible—more time, and less impediments—would only detract from what they did have.

As she slid out of bed, she returned her attention to the captain. “Is there something I can do for you, Clarke?” Seeing the inquiring lift of his brow, she elaborated. “Why are you here?”

“His Highness, Prince Wulfric, ordered me to accompany you today.”

With a contemplative nod, she walked into the bathing chamber and washed quickly, emerging a few minutes later attired in a long white robe. “I need to dress. What should I wear?”

Clarke frowned. “My orders are to follow you wherever you wish to go.”

So…Wulf thought she might flee. Her mouth curved wryly.

“Poor captain,” she lamented on Clarke’s behalf. “What a miserable assignment.”

She laughed at the captain’s ready nod of agreement and was delighted at his answering smile. Perhaps she could make another ally. Security and military stratagems were two of her interests. It would be fascinating to study those aspects of the D’Ashier royal palace—and ascertain ways to escape. Of course, she would have to be careful in her curiosity…“What would you normally be doing today?”

“Overseeing the training of my men.”

“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I love training. What do you think about
me
following
you
wherever you go today?”

Clarke hesitated.

“I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t particularly relish the idea of spending all day in this room, do you?” At his answering look of discomfort, she smiled. “That’s settled, then. I’ll see if I can find a
dammr
-suit in the mass of clothes Sabine brought me last evening.”

Unfortunately, there weren’t any practical garments among the lovely gowns that were set aside for her use. It took almost an hour to locate a
dammr
-suit in her size, but the delay was fortuitous. By the time she was suitably dressed, the captain was positive that he had no wish to take part in
female activities. Whatever doubts he’d harbored about her accompaniment were set aside.

As they traversed the arched stone corridors, Sapphire jogged to keep up with Clarke’s massive stride. She was warmed up and limber by the time they joined his men on the training field, which was located in a large, open-air courtyard.

The captain was quickly in his element, overseeing the disbursement of the guards into several groups, each focused on a specific area of combat training. One group practiced with glaives, another with bio-filter masks, and another with fire readiness. The group that most interested her, though, was the one engaged in hand-to-hand combat. She watched them carefully, noting their strengths and their weaknesses.

She turned to Clarke. “Which of these men are directly responsible for the protection of Prince Wulfric?”

“The men wearing red and black stripes.”

“I have something to show you that you might find interesting. Would you call them over to us, please?”

Eyeing her curiously, Clarke did as she requested. Soon, twenty men stood in a semicircle around them. With her chin lifted and shoulders back, she asked, “Did any of you fight in the Confrontations?”

Five men stepped forward, and she took note of the special braiding on their uniforms that the other men lacked.

Walking the length of the gauntlet, Sapphire inspected each man carefully. “I suppose at least one
or two of you lost your glaive when you riposted like this…”

She reached the last man, grabbed his weapon, and engaged the blade. Lunging forward gracefully, she demonstrated the complicated footwork/attack combination common to the D’Ashier military force.

“It happens to the best of men,” one of the guards said, somewhat defensively.

“True. But I can show you how to make it happen less often. Anyone care to demonstrate with me?”

After a brief hesitation, Clarke nodded his approval, and one of the five guardsmen engaged his blade and faced her. Sapphire bowed at the waist, then attacked. The man parried with restraint at first, then with more vigor as he recognized her skill. Within moments, she knocked his glaive from his hands using a technique she and her father had perfected.

“Damn,” he muttered, wide-eyed as the blade disengaged and the hilt skidded to a halt a few feet away.

Wulf’s guards began to speak excitedly.

“…just like that…”

“…happened to me…”

She faced them. “Since you protect Prince Wulfric, I’d like to show you not only how to do what I just did, but how to avoid having it happen to you.”

Training Wulf’s men in the style of her father wasn’t the most loyal thing she could do, but since she intended to learn how Wulfric transferred them from her palace without a pad, she told herself that it was only fair. The knowledge she imparted wouldn’t
put Sarian troops at any more risk than before, but it would make successfully attacking Wulfric harder. As guilty as her offer to train them made her feel, she was decided. She would acquire valuable information from her lover, but she would also leave a valuable piece of herself behind.

Clarke scowled down at her. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Never ask a woman her secrets.” Retrieving the fallen glaive, Sapphire returned it to the guardsman she’d separated it from.

As the captain internally debated whether to accept her offer or not, the silence lengthened.

Sapphire shrugged and turned away. “If you decide to accept my offer, I’ll be over there relaxing in the shade.”

“Mistress?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

Clarke tossed her his glaive. She spun neatly on her booted heel and caught it.

“Great.” She offered him a wide smile. The thought of reinforcing Wulf’s protection filled her with joy. Perhaps her knowledge might save his life. It eased her melancholy and guilt to think of it.

She threw herself into the training with vigor.

As Wulf strode down the stone corridor in search of his father, his mood was grim.

He’d spent the day catching up on everything that had been neglected in his absence, but his heart wasn’t in the task. Katie lingered in the back of his mind, a sensual puzzle he needed to solve. His con
centration eluded him. Four of the men responsible for the attack against him had been captured and were being interrogated. He hoped that soon he would have enough information to resolve the mystery surrounding his ambush and subsequent “gifting” to Katie.

Rounding a corner, Wulf stepped out onto the semicircular balcony that overlooked the central courtyard of the training barracks. His father stood at the railing, his back rigid.

Flanked by stairs on either side and covered with a canopy, the landing was shielded from the heat of the setting sun, which bathed the guardsmen below in a reddish light. Wulf joined Anders at the edge and looked down, attempting to discern what bothered the king.

“What is it, Father?”

Then he saw her.

Katie was crouched within a circle of palace guardsmen, preparing to spar with one of his personal guards.

“What the hell is she doing?” Wulf barked, tensing at the sight of her in danger, real or otherwise.

His father turned to him, revealing features distorted by fury. “She’s sabotaging us from the inside! She’s been down there all day, retraining the men on the use of glaives. Now she’s going over hand-to-hand combat. She’ll be the death of us all. Her father will come for her and our men will be useless, retrained by that bitch to fail.”

The guard lunged for Katie and they collided in a tangle of
dammr
-suit-clad limbs. The surrounding
guardsmen scrambled out of the way as the two rolling bodies grappled furiously in the center.

“Halt!”
Wulf’s voice echoed through the courtyard.

Everyone froze and looked toward the balcony, except for the two oblivious fighters in the center of activity.

Wulf lunged toward the stairs, racing to end the confrontation before Katie was injured. A dark form darting across the lawn caught the periphery of his vision. His steps faltered as his brother, Duncan, rushed toward the crowd. Charging through the guardsmen, the prince yanked Katie free of the fight by the scruff of her
dammr
-suit and viciously backhanded her across the face before Wulf perceived the threat.

“No.”

Filled with bloodlust, Wulf charged down the balcony steps and across the grass, tackling his brother. Katie fell to the ground.

Wulf drew his arm back and struck hard. The blow was followed by another, then another, both fists raining down in a barrage delivered too swiftly to be repelled.

“Wulfric!” his father roared. “Cease!”

But he didn’t, too enraged to heed the command. A multitude of arms restrained him, yanking him from his prone brother despite his substantial resistance. Duncan cowered in the face of his fury, but the sight of a crumpled and wounded Katie stemmed any hope of mercy.

Wulf shrugged free of those who held him back. “You have no right to touch what’s mine!”

The king gripped him by the shoulder with bruis
ing force. “What the hell is the matter with you? The woman refused to heed a direct order. Discipline was necessary and appropriate.”