DarykCraving (5 page)

Before he could respond, she did something she couldn’t have
yesterday. She’d touched him when she’d half carried him off the slave ship,
but she hadn’t thought of him as a man bent on harm, only as her friend.

She slid closer to him on the bed and touched his shoulder.
“Let me just touch you.”

“Yes,” he said softly, his voice deep and sensual.

She pressed the muscles in his shoulder. Smoothed her
fingers over the cloth of his tunic. “Take off your tunic.”

It had taken everything she had to say that.

Slowly he stood and pulled the tunic over his head, baring
that magnificent chest. Sinew moved in his biceps, a dusting of dark hair on
his forearms.

She followed by standing as well. She smoothed her palm
between his pectorals, feeling the crisp hair and solid muscle. He sucked in a
breath. Following every curve, she tested softness over hardness. Her fingers
slipped over one nipple.

He drew in a sharp breath. “Draconus. What are you doing to
me?”

A small smile found her lips. “Does that feel good?”

She dared look up from the tantalizing view. His gaze was
heavy-lidded and hot. Oh, he liked what she did all right.

“What do you think?” he asked, his already deep voice heavy
with sensual promise.

She returned her attention to his chest. His nipples were
tight points, and as he let out a soft groan, her body reacted. Her breasts
felt larger, her nipples hard points.

Marc’s unmistakable arousal showed in the bold press of his
cock against his trousers. He was full, thick and—by the god—he looked huge.
Granted, she hadn’t spent time studying men’s cocks up close.

A flush burned her cheeks. Her heartbeat quickened but
didn’t pound. Fear didn’t factor into it. Only curiosity and growing
excitement. Excitement because she didn’t feel scared. Apprehensive perhaps. A little
tentative.

“Aknada.”

She glanced up and his gaze tangled with hers. He was
closer. How had he gotten so close? Her hands slipped upward over his
shoulders, testing the tensile strength, the heat burning under his skin. She
leaned in, mesmerized by his eyes. His lips parted.

“Your eyes are flaming,” he said.

As a Daryk One, her eyes would flame red during battle,
anger or sexual arousal. She couldn’t hide her feelings from him, even if she
wanted.

His fingers traced the side of her neck with the most tender
of touches. She flinched, drew back with a gasp.

“No.” Her throat was tight as she stood. “You promised.”

His hands came up in surrender. His chest heaved, a flush
covered his cheeks and his cock still pressed against his trousers. Eager to
take her. Hungry.

For a few seconds, he represented everything she hated.

Men who wanted to hurt her. To subjugate her to their will
for their own needs and pleasure.

“Aknada, I’m sorry.” He rushed the words. “I didn’t realize
I was touching you until it was too late. I—” He cut himself off, lowering his
hands. Dejection and self-recrimination filled his expression.

Fine trembles skipped over her skin. She shivered and rubbed
her arms. But it wasn’t cold from fear but awareness of him as a man.

“Please.” He held one hand out. “Forgive me.”

“It is all right. I know you didn’t mean harm. When Aramus
took his clothes off, I knew it was all over. His cock was small. But big
enough to…” She closed her eyes as tears started to rise. God Draconus, she had
cried too much lately, had felt too much shame. She wanted to be rid of it. She
sensed telling him would destroy the terrible tale lodged inside her for so
long. “He crawled on top of me. They’d pinned me to the cabin floor. It was so
hard and cold. He cupped my neck, but he wasn’t gentle like you. He started to
choke me. I thought he intended to kill me. I fought. I fought hard, but there
were too many men. I was passing out, the edges of my vision going black. Then
I felt his… He shoved inside me and it hurt—”

“No.” Marc stepped forward, pain clearly etched on his face.
“My sweet, please. You don’t have to tell me. You do not have to relive this.”

She shook her head and the tears fell anyway. “I do. I have
to tell someone. I’ve never told anyone exactly what happened to me.”

He stopped in his tracks, so close to her but still at least
three feet away. She saw a horrible answering pain in his eyes, as if it hurt
him to hear what happened to her. “Then tell me everything.”

She turned toward a window and watched the storm. Lightning
flashed so close, thunder crashed almost immediately. Rain lashed at the
building, angry and unrelenting. The atmosphere lent itself to dark memories or
powerful lovemaking.

“Aramus hurt me, but he came with two thrusts. So it was
over quickly.” Her tongue felt thick, a bad taste forming in her mouth as she
recalled the horrible moment. “That was bad enough, but then each man had a
turn. There were six men holding me down. That’s what it took to keep me from
ripping them to shreds. The only reason why I wasn’t horribly injured was that
each one of them came fast. But every thrust hurt.” She shuddered. “They let me
go and left Aramus’ quarters.” She sighed, trying to relate her emotions as
tears rolled down her face. “I lay on the cold floor for a while. I couldn’t
believe that could happen to me. I was angry at them but angry with myself for
not being able to fight them off.”

“There were too many. It wasn’t your fault.”

She nodded. “Intellectually I know that. Emotionally it’s
hard to remember.”

“Of course.”

“I vowed that day I would never allow a man to have sex with
me ever again.” She closed her eyes to the storm.

“That wasn’t sex.” His voice rasped, angry for her. “That
was brutality and punishment. They wanted power over you. A disgusting attempt
to destroy you. But you aren’t destroyed. You’re a whole, beautiful woman. They
couldn’t take your soul from you and your life.”

His words soothed the ache inside her. “I know.”

“I would give everything for you, Aknada. My heart. My
life.”

She heard a break in his voice and it made her turn. Shock
kept her silent for a moment.

Tears glittered in his eyes. And as odd as it seemed, she
felt like comforting him. Touching him so that she’d know his warmth. She
walked toward him, and when she reached Marc, she slipped her arms around his
neck to hug him. Slowly, ever so tenderly, his arms circled her back and waist.
As if he feared she’d balk or break, he tucked her close. She rested there and
moment to moment became acutely aware. His naked chest felt hot against her
breasts, the press of his still hard cock against her belly. She quivered and
he smoothed his hands over her back in a caress. Happiness replaced
uncertainty.

His embrace was gentle and comforting and his arms a haven.
His breath brushed her neck, his lips close to her skin. Heat came off him,
warding away the chill taking possession of her body. Every inch of his muscle
screamed of power. Though she was a Daryk One and stronger than most men, she
would have to fight hard to win against Marc. Yet she knew in her heart she
would never have to. She trusted him with her life.

Her heart… Well, that was another thing.

After what seemed a long time, she drew back.

Deep within she craved deeper association with him, wanted
their emotions to flow back and forth with ease. Determination filled her. She
didn’t want a hollow life filled with regrets.

“If all I had was this with you, I would still be a lucky
woman indeed,” she said. “But I know there is more I could have with you.” She
smiled, the gesture fragile. “I will come to you again and again until you can
touch me and I feel nothing but pleasure.”

Unmistakable relief cleared his eyes. “Whatever you wish.”
She nodded and he returned to the bed to retrieve his tunic. He pulled it over
his head. He strode to the door and stopped with his hand on the door handle.
Caution flickered in those blue eyes. “Did you wear that dress to drive me
mad?”

A laugh flowed easily from her. “Yes. Am I wicked?”

He rolled his gaze to the ceiling for a moment. “Extremely.
I bid you good night.”

After he’d left, she went to the door and locked it. Her
heartbeat thumped hard, but this time with a growing recognition that she’d
turned a corner.

Marc had always dared her. A small portion of her wanted to
torture him, the way a little girl teases a boy she likes. Oh yes. If he liked
her dress, she knew what she wore the next night would drive him mad. Dressing
in an alluring fashion would make her feel more sexual.

Any doubts she’d harbored that he didn’t care for her and
didn’t want her had slid away since she’d left the desert caravan. She wouldn’t
make Marc prove himself over and over. Any problems she had with intimacy
rested on her, and she’d learned that with time. She would banish her fears
somehow. She’d learned that touching Marc brought pleasure, and his embrace
could soothe her pain and fear. By the god, it had felt so wonderful in his
arms.

Perhaps, just perhaps she could ease her own mind about a
more intimate touch.

She slipped off her shoes and lay down on the bed for a few
moments. Although the storm outside gave no quarter, Aknada lay quiet and still
as she reflected. She hadn’t pleasured herself since long before the rapes.
She’d forgotten how to find sensual pleasure. If she learned pleasure within
her own body, in the privacy of her room, she had nothing to fear.

Xandra left the bed long enough to shed her clothes. Without
guilt or worry, she began. At first exploration meant smoothing her hands over
skin. She definitely had curves. She wasn’t as slight as Xandra. She’d never
been considered over her weight, and most of her size amounted to muscle, bone
and height. Her fingers slid over her shoulders, her collarbone and tentatively
to her neck.

Yes, she liked the sensation, the shivery delight that came
with a touch to her neck. She would learn not to react negatively to Marc’s
touch in this area.

Soft and slow she drifted down each arm, touching and
teasing her own fingers and hands. She ignored her breasts—touching there was
far too intimate right this moment. No, she would work up to that. Inch by inch
she toured her flesh. With both palms she slid down her belly, circled her
navel with her palm until the repetitive motion created a new delight in her
belly. Oh yes, she liked that. The sensation was hot, swirling, demanding. She
drew up one leg and toured them with her fingers, removing the twitchy,
startled response that would normally commence if someone touched her legs. She
lowered that leg and then explored the other, up the calf, over the knee. The
thigh.

When she reached her thighs, she quivered. She brought both
legs up, bent at the knees. Touching the inside of her thighs again, she worked
her way to the sensitive, most intimate area. She kept her eyes closed and
dared to hope.

She placed a palm over her mons.

No shock. No fear.

She moved her palm so that it pressed on her clit.

Ah, that felt nice.

Better yet, she was moist between the legs. Either her
encounter with Marc or this personal session had done this to her. She smiled
with delight and continued to travel. She slowly teased the swollen lips,
spreading her own moisture around and around her opening, and the tingling it
created gave her incentive to do more. Using her middle finger, she teased her
clit. A sweet sting of heated pleasure caused her to gasp.

Yes.

She dared to imagine Marc touching her, and when fear didn’t
stop her, she smiled again. Yes. Yes. Yes.

She circled her clit again. More.

Using her other hand, she slipped one finger inside her
channel. She gasped in delight and buried the finger deeper.

Marc was there in her mind, urging her on with words she
somehow knew he’d say.
Come, Aknada, come.

Gasping, she reveled in the quick accent. She swirled her
finger over her clit faster. Faster until she panted and moved on the bed with
frustration. She wanted it. Wanted it. She pumped her finger in and out, played
with her clit, built the ecstasy until she panted and moaned softly. She didn’t
imagine Marc fucking her but fell into the pleasure. This was for her. This was
about pure need.

Oh by the god, yes.

Climax hit.

Trembling, sweet and filled with relief.

As she came down from the orgasm, she sighed and a great
weight left her forever.

* * * * *

Marc didn’t head to his room right away after he left
Aknada.

He prowled like a beast.

He had to burn off this need for her before he punched a
wall or otherwise acted like a dragon on the hunt.

Frustration grinded inside him, but he didn’t blame Aknada.
No, he would never blame her for his own shortcomings. He’d scared the hells
out of her back there, touching her when he’d promised never to do it.

He was dragon dung.

Returning downstairs, he checked every corner of the
compound, making certain all stayed secure. The guards that always kept watch
on the four upper battlements and at the front entrance to the compound had
hunkered down under waterproof tenting. Marc told them to retreat inside. No
sense in them staying up there when it wasn’t likely the encampment would
receive a threat in this mess. Besides, Arcos would keep a watch from his
building.

He even visited Arcos, tromping through the heaviest rain
he’d encountered in his life to make certain the animal fared well. Arcos,
though happy to see his master, didn’t seem distressed by the violent weather.
Realizing Arcos was perfectly fine, Marc returned inside.

Finally, after supervising, surveying and generally
wandering the property with no more purpose, he retreated to his room a
dripping mess. The waterproof cloaking and hood hadn’t worked well.