Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

He could sense her fear, no longer feigned, and it seemed to excite him even more. “Your hands could not possibly stroke me the way the muscles that I have in mind will.” His voice became softer, almost silky, as he spoke into her ear. “I will have you. I intend to take you in every way I can think of, and I am very inventive. I don’t have another bout until the afternoon tomorrow, so we will be engaged for the rest of the night and into the morning.

“Now, you have a choice. You can relax and accept that this is going to happen, and I promise you that it will be like nothing you have ever experienced. You may even come to like it. Or you can continue to fight it; I hope you do, because I will enjoy it that much more. Your muscles struggling against mine—which do you think will win? It will be a rubdown that I will insist on having after every victory.” He took his hand from between her trembling legs and positioned her closer, until his pounding heat was just barely outside her body.

Rhapsody struggled to keep the fear she now felt washing over her from taking control. “I don’t want to fight it,” she said, her voice shaking in earnest. “But you’re too large for me to handle.” Her meaning was different than his interpretation, but her words pleased him. He pushed her hips down again, making her gasp as he probed her once more, teasingly. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me at least use this. It will make things easier. Please.” She held up the bottle. Please let me do this , she thought. She could feel her fire lore bristling beneath the surface of her consciousness, waiting to be unleashed. Please don’t make me kill you .

She looked into his face with real tears brimming in her emerald eyes, and saw the look of cruel excitement temper a little. He seemed to consider for a moment; then he pushed her up into a sitting position on his thighs. “Very well,” he said, his hands moving to her breasts once more. “Anoint me.” His mouth closed around one breast as she uncorked the bottle, her hands shaking violently. His tongue circled the nipple while his hand groped her other breast, pulling it closer to receive the attention of his lips as well. As his head bent to take her second breast into his mouth he stopped and looked up, an unpleasant look on his face.

Rhapsody knew immediately what was giving him pause; the liquid in the now-open bottle had a harsh, astringent odor. Llauron’s voice rang in her ear.

Try and see if you can make him gasp as he inhales it; doubtless it will work better that way. I’m sure you’ll think of something, Rhapsody.

Pragmatism took over. She quickly put her thumb over the opening and took him in hand, his look of concern changing to one of surprise, and then pleasure.

Choking back disgust, Rhapsody leaned forward quickly and kissed Constantin, causing his eyes to close and his hands to move to cradle her head, while her free hand stroked him with a sensuous technique she had learned a lifetime ago.

Rhythmically she worked, using her charms with great success; his mouth broke with hers and he began to breathe hard, spanning her upper body with his hands and running his thumbs over her nipples. As she felt the pressure from his hands growing, she intensified her motions and rested her hand that held the bottle on top of his head, trying to avoid the stabbing movements he was now making with his lower body.

Constantin began to gasp with delight, and he grabbed her hips, trying to delve into her. As he did, Rhapsody doused his head with most of the liquid from the bottle.

His gasping sounds became rasping, then choking as he bucked backward, landing on his back. She grabbed a pillow and held it over his face as he struggled, lunging with his abdomen into the air with her atop him.

His fingers dug into her sides with a strength that made her cry out in pain, bruising the areas that had only recently healed from the thorns of the demonic vine that had tried to bind Jo in life and death. Nauseating sounds gurgled from underneath the pillow, and then his body went limp, his climax grinding to a halt.

Rhapsody stayed astride him for a moment longer, waiting to be sure the liquid had worked, then slowly climbed down, her body trembling violently. She left the pillow in place for a moment longer, then removed it to allow him air. His eyes were closed, and he did not move.

Carefully she leaned down next to his ear. “Towrik,” she whispered. “But you are valuable in more than the arena, Constantin, so now I am making a life offering for you.”

She moved, still trembling, to the floor by the bed and found the remnants of her costume. She donned it quickly, her hands shaking so violently that she was almost unable to tie the bodice scarf. Casting a glance back at Constantin to make sure he was still unconscious, she went to the door and listened to see if anyone had been alerted by the sounds of their encounter. Hearing nothing, she opened the door onto the deserted corridor, looked around, and then silently closed it again.

He waited until his house servants had retired for the evening before climbing to the northern tower of the tree palace where the aviary was housed.

Traversing the palace’s twisting wooden hallways, Llauron stopped for a moment and stared out a diamond-shaped window. He watched the darkening sky as the storm worsened, blowing translucent sheets of snow in twisting patterns across his dormant gardens.

Farther out in the darkness the low limbs of the Great White Tree undulated in the wind, its bare arms writhing in an ominous dance. Llauron sighed; as always, there was wisdom in its warning.

Quietly he opened the door to the tower stairway and climbed the ancient steps, still as smooth and shiny as they had been when he was a boy. Those had been happy times; it was hard to believe now, in the wake of history, that there had been love, or something like it, here once.

The stairs spiraled upward in three tiers to the circular aviary, the place Gwylliam had built to house his lovebirds when the family was on holiday at the tree palace. When her children were young Anwyn had been insistent on leaving the darkly beautiful mountains of Canrif at least once a year, in ro tating seasons, so that her sons could spend time at the foot of the Great White Tree, caring for it and learning its history, developing respect for the lands their grandmother, Elynsynos the dragon, had so long held as her own.

Llauron had loved the Tree from the first moment he beheld it; it was a soul-deep devotion that defied all others over the years of his life save one. He alone understood its significance, and what its loss would mean. The time was coming when he would no longer be able to protect it.

As he ascended the stairs he could see its branches above him through the aviary’s open ceiling. Though the trunk of the tree stood in a wide clearing several hundred yards away, its canopy was so vast that its most distant branches reached above the palace’s roof, intermingling with the boughs of the forest trees in and around which it was built. Even in winter’s bare the white branches stood out from the others, gleaming silver in the dark.

A blast of wintry air swirled around him; Llauron drew the cowl of his gray robe closer around his neck and stepped out onto the aviary floor, which was covered with a thin, frosty carpet of ice crystals.

The cages encircled the center of the room, with the rookery forming a ring behind them. At his arrival a few of the birds began to twitter and trill; they were not accustomed to his presence at night.

Llauron brushed the snow from his shoulders and began to coo a response. At the sound of his voice the birds settled down again. He walked past the open cages, each a marvel of wooden artistry built to resemble one of the great pieces of Cymrian architecture, to the sheltered area where his desk and inkwell sat.