Impending Reprisals (27 page)

“They’re being attacked!” Kael yelled. “Call the alert!” Without waiting for a response, Kael launched himself into action.

Barely inside the door, he cut down his first opponent, then another directly behind the first. His breathing hitched, his heart thundered, but he remained focused and driven toward one goal—to reach Anya.

Any man in his way felt his wrath, quickly and mercifully, and yet they kept on coming, one after another. Swipe after swipe, strike after strike, brought him closer to her, nearer to her, until he finally shot down the hall toward her quarters. But as he whipped around the corner, he suddenly stopped short.

Right outside her door stood Merivic, blood soaking his uniform, his hair, and dripping off his skin, his hands. With barely a grunt, he pulled his weapon from the gut of the attacker standing in front of him, and the dead man fell amongst the other bodies with a thud. Kael could not believe the carnage spread from one end of the hall to the other.

The lord locked his hard gaze on Kael. “Glad you could make it,” he said flatly and gestured to the floor. “Clean that up.” He turned to take his leave, then abruptly spun back. “Oh, and Kaelestis,”—he pointed his bloodied sword at Kael—“prepare the sparring room immediately. You will be training Anya on how to defend herself. Starting tomorrow.”

Chapter 38

“I am not happy about this myself,” Anya said, her lip slipping into a pout. “Do you truly think I want
you
training me? I would rather Gerhard did.”

“Well, you had just better face the realization that I am the one training you.”

Kael stuck his face close to hers and she noticed he smelled like wilderness, like danger. His anger pulsed off of him, causing his eyes to darken, and she was quickly annoyed to find that a part of her found it irresistible.

She squared off her shoulders defiantly, causing her chest to swell out and pull tight the fabric of her dress—a dress she specifically chose to tease Kael, and show him what he gave up.

His eyes flickered down and back up. “I cannot teach you how to fight in a dress. Go change.”

“I will not. What do you think I will be wearing if I should be attacked?”

Kael pointed to the tunic and pants he had brought with him, just in case she had arrived inappropriately dressed, though he could not have possibly anticipated this—thin fabric to cling, low cuts to reveal, high slits to entice. “Change!”

“No!”

Anya smirked as he threw his arms in the air and stalked to the weapons. Snagging two sabers, he returned to hand her one. “I am sure your father has taught you the basics as far as how to wield a weapon, so I will start with basic defenses. Now, raise your weapon,” he instructed, backing away a step.

As Kael raised his own sword, Anya deftly twirled her blade along the edge of his, and flung it away. “Do you yield?” she asked, holding the tip of her saber under his chin to nudge it up.

“I see your father taught you well.” He held his chin high to avoid the sharp edge as he paced back.

“He wanted me able to defend myself”—she glared as her tone turned fierce and accusatory—“after you left me.”

Kael retrieved his sword, determined to ignore her seething comment. “Let us try this again,” he stated lightly, and then he pounced.

Their swords struck and sounded repeatedly as Anya expertly parried each thrust. She was good, but Kael knew he was better and it would only be a matter of time before she made a mistake. And then it came—a particularly weak block—and his blade swung hers away as he advanced, holding her arm out wide while his body slammed into hers.

Kael held her close and they stared each other down with matching fury. But his gaze began to soften as he looked into Anya’s fiery eyes, at this woman—the only one he had ever loved—and his body began responding to the svelte form pressed hard against his. He wondered, briefly, if he should kiss her, but he did not have a chance to contemplate it for long.

Anya tipped her head back and slammed her forehead against the bridge of his nose and he released her in painful, and tearful, surprise. And then she slyly danced back and brought her saber up defensively as Kael attacked with a renewed determination.

Strike after strike, Anya began questioning the wisdom of her actions but suddenly came to the conclusion that she simply did not care. This man, her Kael, was all she had ever wanted in life. And if he was to strike her down, then so be it. She would rather be dead in the ground than without him by her side.

The torment flickering across Anya’s face gave Kael pause for a moment, but then he came in forcefully, driving his sword against hers and riding the curve of her blade until their hilts locked. He clamped an arm around her waist, pinning one arm to her side as she squirmed to bring up her weapon. With a flick of his wrist, the saber fell from her grasp and flew across the floor. She struggled fiercely as he pulled her close once more, his own blade clattering to the ground as he tangled his hand in her hair and held her head firm.  

In the instant Kael’s body registered hers, all anger ignited into a raging hunger, a yearning he had never quite felt so intensely before. It was as if every nerve screamed in agony and only her touch, her body, could bring any relief from the pain. Filled with immediate and fierce needs, he pulled her hair back with nary a gentle touch. Baring her neck, he went in hard, pressing his eager mouth to her skin, tasting the salty sheen of sweat glistening across the surface.

Anya resisted, twisting her body so she might find an escape, but she soon came to realize Kael’s hold was uncompromising and her wild movements only seemed to add strength to the muscles restraining her. The only attack she could muster, her only defense, was to reach up and punch him in the side of the head.

Kael growled against her neck in response, a guttural sound briefly softening her resolve. Quick to sense the hesitation in her fight, he released her hair long enough to bring her arm around and secure it behind her back. His face, still nestled in the curve of her neck, prevented her head from snapping forward before he resumed his grip once more.

Rage shot through Anya as she thrashed wildly within the confines of his grasp and Kael tightened his hold as he pressed forward, backing her up. The back of her thigh hit against a table, hard enough for her to be taken off her feet, and she landed solidly on the top of it. He did not let up as he furthered his advance, splitting her knees with his form, her dress riding up her thighs. Thrusting his hard groin against her, Anya finally came to fully realize his intent, for his body’s response was not so easy to dismiss.

Kael’s mouth continued to blaze a path across her skin and his continuing efforts caused a thrill to course the length of her body, coming full circle, and settle as a simmering fire in her belly. Relaxing her muscles, Anya whimpered as she reveled in the contradicting sensation of his soft tongue, and his hard body.

Kael felt her submission and released her at once, hooking his nimble fingers into her collar and tugging it down firmly around her shoulders before kissing, licking and biting his way to her collarbone. She moaned as she knotted her hands in his hair and arched her back, feeding into his anger and intensity. Grasping her hips, he slammed forward, shifting to grab her backside as he forcefully rubbed against her.

But it was not rough enough for Anya’s current tastes.

Anya felt a desperate need for this man to consume her and take all she had to give, to dominate and have his way with her. Only then, when Kael satiated his hunger, could she tap into his passion and draw him to the realization of where his true loyalties lie—with her, and only her. By indulging in his fantasies, and breaking free of his sense of righteousness, he could no longer deny his love any more than he could deny his deepest of desires.

She squirmed in mock resistance to entice Kael to try harder, to draw out his primal urges until there was no turning back. He responded by pressing his mouth harder as it trailed down to tease her breast through her dress, but it was not aggressive enough. He was not mad enough to possess her, to take her as his, to own her like no one else could.

Grasping his hair, she pulled his head back from her chest, preventing him from taking what he wanted. He tugged forward only to be held back again. With an irritated growl he grabbed the hem of his tunic and yanked it over his head, causing her to release him and get her hands tangled in the fabric. As she fought to free her hands, he ripped open the front of her dress, pulling down hard around her shoulders and limiting the movements of her arms as he dipped down to her fully exposed breasts. The scruff on his face scraped and rubbed against her soft mound before he took it in his warm mouth to soothe, then stimulate. Lightly tugging on her nipple with his teeth, it peaked in his wet mouth and his hands began to roam.

Anya’s body quivered as his mouth plundered over her breasts, and he jerked her tight against him while he exploited her body—taking out his anger, frustrations, jealously and yearning on the one woman who caused them all.

She would now pay a dear price.

Anya gasped as he tore her skimpy undergarment off, and his fingers dipped into her wetness, rubbed over her, and ignited a fire, stoking it into a steady burn until it flashed white-hot inside her. He stole her breath, making her head spin with a need to release. His fingers brutalized her, drove her, and she could not get enough. A cry of deep pleasure suddenly ripped through her throat as he brought her to peak, punching a hole in her and leaving a void she craved to be filled. She wanted more, was desperate for more.

Kael pulled her off the table, her loose dress slipping off her frame as she shuffled backwards in his grasp. Slamming her against the wall, he tucked her arms behind her back and pinned her there with his muscled chest. She could have resisted, freed herself, but if this was what he needed from her—restraint and submission—then she was more than willing to give him everything he wanted.

Kael could feel her hard nipples pressing into his skin as he unfastened his pants and tugged them low. Hiking up her leg, he cupped her backside and lifted, angling her hips just right, all the while kissing and nipping at her tender throat. Anya’s body trembled in anticipation causing him to hold still their position. She whimpered as she squirmed, feeling him pressed against her, but unable to take him inside.

Kael knew he could lose himself in Anya—it would be blissfully easy, but too easy for her. He wanted to draw out the torturous pleasure, to punish her and make her suffer for all her tormenting and teasing. She was for him, and he was for her. The knowledge filled him, consumed him. And now he was going to show her, prove it to her, convince her.

Burying his face in her hair, Kael thrust hard and deep and halted, nestled in her warmth while he controlled his urge to hurry. Anchoring himself, he rocked against her, working himself into a steady, pounding rhythm.

Anya braced her palms against the wall behind her as he slammed against her, inside her. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath quickened as he shifted and changed the pace, now taking her in slow, easy strokes to heighten her pleasure and extend his. He commanded her, owned her, and Anya knew it, craved it like nothing else in her life.

Continuing his slow possession, Kael listened to her gasps and felt her pulse vibrate under his lips, and when she tightened around him, he bit into her shoulder to stave off his release. Crying out, her climax rocketed through her, wave after relentless wave, until she had no strength left and slumped against him.

Kael slipped out of her and gathered her close, laying her back on the table. Locking his hands on her wrists, he pinned them at her side as he rose over her, lowering his face between her legs. His mouth took her, abruptly, in furious demand.

“No,” she groaned, unable to even open her eyes. “I cannot—” Her words cut off on a moan as he brought her closer, took her deeper into sensation.

Kael reveled in his victory to punish and abuse her with pleasure. He worked harder, eager to hear her defeat, to feel it ripple around his tongue.

Yes, Anya thought, feeling the tightness in her belly, the nearly painful ache deep inside.

Anya’s body shuddered as she came, the peak of it ripping through her, causing her mind to cloud over and her heart to seize. She strained against the hold he had on her wrists, and what would have come out as a cry of triumph strangled in her throat as a pitiful whimper.  

Kael finally released her arms, limbs that now truly wished to push him back but were too weak to comply. She could not take any more, and if he gave her more now, she was sure she would go mad.

He slid his hard length inside her again, her body contracting with more need as it simultaneously battled against it—the need for passion slowly overriding her need to defend. She tried to resist the gathering of herself, the insatiable ecstasy threatening to tumble over her, to plunder and tear her apart. No one could have this much pleasure and survive it.

Kael watched her face as he took her—her eyes squeezing shut, her lips parting as her body responded to his. There was her defeat, her end, within his reach, to grasp and hold over her. She was bending to his will, his body. His love.

Succumbing to the urgency he had been denying himself, he shoved Anya’s legs back to thrust deeper. Her eyes snapped open while her hips lifted to meet his, her body contorting and yielding to his needs as he pushed her legs to the limit of their flexibility.

Gasping and moaning, Anya struggled with her breathing. Her arms, suddenly finding strength, raised to him and clung, her fingernails digging into his hips as he brought her closer to that tumbling edge. 

“Say my name,” Kael demanded, growled, as he buried his face in her hair and plunged hard into her warmth. He wanted to—had to—hear her admit who had punished her, who had possessed her. Who she belonged to.

Anya’s breath panted, her nails scrapping at his skin.

“Say it. Say it!”

She gasped his name once, and then screamed it as her climax ripped and tore, clawing through her painfully, blissfully, while he jerked and released inside of her, his whole body thrusting and bucking in time with hers.