Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

MIRELLA

M y heart raced as Andrin returned to the Covenant.

What did he mean, saying I was untouched and telling Rane to change it? Here? Now? He couldn’t mean that. Another surge of power jerked me forward, scattering my thoughts.

“No, you don’t,” Rane growled, tightening his grip on my arms. He dragged me backward, lifting me off the ground as he fought the magic that tried to force me across the Covenant. The world blurred, and then my teeth clicked together as he deposited me into the chair. When the magic drew me forward again, he waved his hand, flinging a thick rope of shadow at me.

It lodged under my breasts and wrapped around the chair, clamping me against it. Another wave of Rane’s hand, and two smaller ropes flew to my wrists and fastened them to the chair’s arms. The hook in my chest tugged, but I went nowhere, shadow securing my body to the chair. Panic gripped me, and I struggled against my bonds.

“Easy, Mirella,” Rane said, stepping behind me and resting a light hand on my shoulder. A contemplative note entered his voice. “Or do you want the ancient lord with the fleshy lips?”

“No,” I said, eyeing Lord Vilgot. He eyed me back, his tongue poking between his plump lips. The tip was so red it was almost purple, conjuring images of sliced beets in my mind. Disgust churned in my stomach, and I looked away.

“I thought not,” Rane said softly. “Your tastes run differently. I didn’t realize how differently until today…”

Unbidden, my gaze shot to Andrin. He faced off with my father at the boundary, his braid like a trail of fire down his back. It had swung with his steps on the long trek through the Edelfen. He and Rane had moved smoothly, seamlessly, their bodies attuned to each other the same way they’d been in the stable. And even with shadows stalking my steps and glowing eyes winking from the forest, my mind had returned again and again to the stable.

I bit the inside of my cheek now, trying to dispel the images from my head. But it was no use. The scenes were burned on the inside of my skull. Andrin had branded me with them as surely as he’d branded Rane with his crop.

“But perhaps I should have guessed,” Rane said above me.

“Wh-What?” I asked, groping for the threads of the conversation I’d lost track of. I turned my head, encountering his black sleeve and the edges of the sigils around his wrist.

“No, no,” he said, gentle chiding in his voice. His fingers were equally gentle as he slid them into my hair and turned my attention back to Andrin. “Eyes on your king, sweetheart. You should know that by now if you want to please him.”

My throat went dry, and my heart thumped faster. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rane kept his hand in my hair, his fingers achingly gentle as he stroked my scalp. “I think you do. I think you’re made for it, Mirella.” He slid his fingers down my neck to the metal around my throat. “It’s why you took so well to Andrin’s collar.”

Heat blistered through me, embarrassment flowing in its wake. Andrin continued speaking to my father. Their voices drifted back to me—a constant reminder that Rane and I were not alone. Lord Vilgot’s eyes bored into me. The knights flanking my father’s tent stared sightlessly, but they had ears. And somewhere behind me, Kassander and his men kept watch.

In a perverse twist, my mortification only fueled the hot, aching restlessness between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together under my yellow skirts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said under my breath. “I haven’t taken to the collar. I didn’t ask for it.”

Rane’s tone was as gentle as his fingers stroking down my throat. “Sweet Mirella. Sometimes, the things we don’t ask for are the things that bring us the most pleasure.”

Ribbons of shadow flowed from his wrist down the valley between my breasts. The black, serpentine mass whispered over the beading on my bodice.

“What—?” I drew a shuddering breath as the shadow grew more solid. “What are you doing?” A little black tongue peeled from the mass and lapped at my nipple through my gown. I gasped, pleasure frazzling through me.

“…unjustified delay!” my father shouted, his face reddening as he argued with Andrin.

“Stop,” I told Rane as loudly as I dared. “You can’t do this.”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he said. “But we both know that’s not the case.” His shadow slid to my other nipple, the little tongue lashing hard against the tender peak. A sweet ache throbbed in my breasts, which felt swollen and heavy above the band of shadow nestled under them. Rane trailed his fingers down my neck, coasting dangerously close to the swell of one breast that rose from my bodice.

“These are lovely,” he said as I stifled a moan. “So plump and pretty, Mirella. I confess I’ve wanted to see your tits from the moment I met you.”

That wasn’t possible. Not after what I’d seen him do with Andrin. “But you…”

“Yes?” He pulled my hair back, exposing the collar and my flushed skin. “Tell me.”

“You like men,” I whispered.

“I do,” he said, indulgence and a hint of amusement in his voice. “But that doesn’t preclude me from liking women. And you might have noticed I have a particular fondness for redheads.”

My gaze fastened on Andrin, who continued to speak to my father.

“Andrin likes them, too,” Rane said. His fingers stroked my rapid pulse above the collar. His shadow teased and taunted my breasts, flitting from one nipple to the other until they were stiff and throbbing. “Redheads,” Rane clarified softly. “I’ve known him a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive, little elfkin, and I can guarantee he wants to know if the curls on your pussy are as red as your hair.”

A moan escaped me. Across the Covenant, Lord Vilgot’s eyes latched onto me.

“Are you wet, Mirella?” Rane asked, his voice whisper soft. The shadow slipped down my waist. I sucked in a breath as it flowed over my knees and descended my legs.

“Please,” I gasped, squeezing the arms of the chair. He had to stop. Everyone was watching.

“I will, sweet,” Rane said. “I’ll give you what you want.” The shadow thrust under my skirts.

Gasping, I pressed my thighs together, but it didn’t matter. Tickling and caressing, the streamer of magic climbed my legs and delved between my thighs. It squirmed through the slit in my drawers and lashed the pulsing center of my desire.

Pleasure struck, parting my thighs as my body sought more. Immediately, the shadow plunged deeper. It wriggled up and down my sex, flicking its little tongue from my clit to my opening. A cry caught in my throat. I dug my fingers into the chair’s arms, squeezing to the point of pain as I tried to block out the shadow’s exquisite, quivering dance. My breaths came in ragged gasps. My heart thundered in my ears as I struggled to maintain control, to keep from crying out at the hot, slippery sensations licking between my legs.

“Tell me if you want it to stop,” Rane said. “Say the word, my lady.”

The shadow licked faster, swirling over my clit. Moisture trickled from my opening and wet my inner thighs. The phantom tongue delved to my core and lapped it up, its movements frenzied and shocking. I opened my mouth to put an end to it. But the words didn’t come.

“No,” Rane whispered. “I didn’t think so.”

My cheeks burned. The shadow returned to my clit. Silky and agile as quicksilver, it slicked tight circles around my pulsing center.

“So wet for me,” Rane said in a reverent tone. He hooked a finger under the collar and stroked my skin. “I knew you’d be this way. You sat so prettily at Andrin’s feet, your collar shining in the candlelight. Do you want to know a secret?” The shadow twisted between my legs, stretching and shifting. Now, instead of one tongue, there were two. One continued fluttering and licking my clit as the other slid to my entrance. But it didn’t lick. It entered , parting my folds with a wet sound that made new heat flood my cheeks. Pressure filled me, the sensation new and exquisite. My inner muscles clamped around it, and I bit my lip against a helpless whimper.

“I wanted you to defy Andrin that first night,” Rane continued. “I hoped you would bite his finger and force him to follow through with his threat. I wanted you stripped and kneeling, Mirella, nude except for a golden collar around your neck. Can you picture it?”

Gods help me, I could. The image blazed in my mind, lurid and forbidden as the shadow between my legs pressed deeper. In my mind’s eye, I knelt naked at Andrin’s feet with a hundred pairs of eyes on my body and the bite of elven gold around my neck. Heat seared my face, and a whimper huddled in my throat as Rane’s shadow continued its wicked dance on my clit. Across the Covenant, Lord Vilgot watched me as if he knew exactly what transpired beneath my skirts…and in my head.

“Do you see it, Mirella?” Rane whispered, his shadow filling me, stretching me. “Andrin is a demanding master. And he would have mastered you, putting you over his lap and swatting your bare bottom before the whole court. But I know how your tastes run, sweetheart, and I think you would have enjoyed your discipline. Imagine all those eyes locked on your red, smarting backside. There’s no hiding in that position. They would have seen everything, including your glossy, needy cunt. Because you would have been wet for it, wouldn’t you, Mirella? As dripping wet as you are now, such a pretty little slut born for a collar and a crop.”

My vision swam, a haze of lust descending before my eyes. The scent of my arousal wafted from my lap. A heady mix of shame and desire engulfed me, the first fueling the second. The shadow licked faster, slipping around my clit. The other end probed my passage, filling me with exquisite pressure.

“Gods,” I whimpered, and it thrust deeper, until a pinch of pain made me jerk against the ropes binding me to the chair. Before the discomfort could register, the shadow pulled from my sex and joined the tongue writhing over my clit.

My lips parted, gasps escaping me until I was certain Andrin and my father would hear. My hips tried to buck, the tickling, insistent pressure between my legs too much to bear. I squeezed the chair so hard it seemed my bones would snap.

“Good girl,” Rane murmured, his finger lodged between my neck and the collar. He put his free hand over my mouth and bent so his lips brushed my ear. “Now be a very good girl and come for me.”

The world contracted—and then flew apart. I moaned behind his hand as my whole body stiffened, moisture flooding me. The greedy tongues between my legs lapped it up as I shuddered in Rane’s ropes, my thighs spreading wider under my skirts. The entire world could have turned its gaze on me and I wouldn’t have cared. Pleasure was all that mattered, and I rode it out, tasting the salt and dark magic of Rane’s fingers pressed hard against my lips.

He kept his hand in place until I went limp, my orgasm receding. The shadow slipped from my sex and slid down my shaking legs. Breathless and sweating, I barely noticed as it traveled up my body and returned to its master. My sex pulsed, my pussy aching and empty. The loss of heat and pressure was like a cruel trick—a delicacy I’d been allowed to taste before being denied the whole meal.

Rane rounded me, his eyes bright and a slight flush staining his cheekbones. He waved a hand, and the ropes binding me to the chair flowed back to him.

Abruptly, I registered that the hook in my chest was gone, the forceful drag of magic absent.

Andrin turned from the Covenant, and the grim purpose in his eyes withered the last of my desire. I slammed my legs shut and sprang to my feet, humiliation coursing through me in a sickening wave.

What had I done?

Andrin crooked a finger at me, the gesture an echo of the one he’d made in the stable. “Lady Mirella,” he called. “Come here.”

My heart beat a frantic rhythm in my chest. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, which was suddenly so dry I couldn’t swallow.

“What is the meaning of this?” my father demanded. He stepped forward, his features twisted in anger. “Enough talk. I have a contract.”

Ignoring him, Andrin extended a hand toward me. “Come,” he shouted, the look in his eyes telling me he was prepared to fetch me if I didn’t obey.

Rane turned from observing the Covenant. “Obey your master, little elfkin, or I’ll?—”

I smashed my fist into his cheek.

His head snapped back, but he absorbed the blow without losing his footing. When he recovered, a wicked light danced in his eyes. “Careful, my lady. You’ll make me like you.”

Andrin and my father waited. With as much grace as I could muster, I gathered my skirts and marched past Rane. I was sticky and swollen between my thighs, the heat of humiliation burning hotter with every step. When I reached Andrin, my father’s glare cut me to the bone.

“Whatever twisted elven magic you’ve dabbled in, girl, you’ll regret it.”

“Lady Mirella,” Andrin said, “remove your drawers.”

My heart stopped. I stared, my mind clunky and uncomprehending. Eyes pierced me from every direction. Dimly, I was aware of Rane approaching from behind.

To cut off my path, I realized. He would stop me if I tried to run. I was trapped, forced to play my role in the malicious game Andrin had created.

“Remove your drawers, my lady,” he said. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

He would. The look in his eyes was uncompromising. The longer I defied him, the more intolerable the outcome would be.

With shaking hands, I bent and lifted my skirts. Layers of underskirts preserved my modesty, but my face still blazed like the sun as I reached up and found the ribbon at my waist. My drawers slipped to my ankles, and I dropped my skirts and stepped away from the flimsy garment.

Red streaked the linen. Blood. Rane had done what his king commanded, taking my virginity with a thrust of magic.

Something icy and hard formed in my chest. It expanded, freezing my veins and filling my lungs until I expected to shatter into a million pieces from the cold weight swelling inside me.

Andrin retrieved my bloodstained drawers from the ground. Turning to my father, he displayed the fabric. “As you can see, Walto, your daughter is no maid. Your betrothal contract is void. If you won’t return the Kree, I won’t return Mirella.”

My father stared him down. Without another word, and without so much as a glance in my direction, he spun and stalked toward the tents. Lord Vilgot gave me a lingering look. Then he turned and followed.

“Come, my lady,” Andrin said. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”

The cold weight in my chest twisted into a burning, pulsing hatred. “You should leave me here,” I said. “Because the first chance I get, I’m going to kill you.”

Andrin’s blue stare was flat and emotionless. “I believe you. But believe me when I say you’ll never get the chance.”