On her moon night, Maddek would pin her hands down so that he heard her every gasp and moan and scream. So that she cried aloud his name with every hard thrust of his cock.
Now it was her legs that he pinned to the furs when her orgasm released her from its devastating grip. Her thighs he pressed apart again, holding her open while she lay boneless and quivering and panting. So wet she was, her cunt flooded with her hot release, and his hunger not yet sated. She flinched now at the brush of his tongue against her clit, so he backed away from it, kissing her slick inner thighs and licking between her sultry lips. This time when he eased a blunt finger inside her, her narrow passage accepted him more readily. The tight clasp of her inner walls stiffened his erection to excruciating hardness as he imagined her cunt clutching his throbbing length in that scorching embrace.
Five nights he must wait for that. Yet he need not wait for more of her sweetness. After a few tentative rocks of her hips, as if she tested the thickness and length of his finger within her, Yvenne’s restless movements renewed. Shallowly she fucked herself against his hand, her muffled moans sharpened by a pleading note until he bent his head to her cunt again.
All teasing was done. More even than her honey, he craved her helpless surrender, her eager response. With a choked scream against her fist, she gave both to him, until the inner convulsions of her sheath snapped the chain of his restraint.
Red lust swam through his vision as Maddek surged over her, cock arrowing to her cunt. The broad crown slicked through her passion-drenched cleft and lodged against her virgin entrance, and all his strength it took then to remain rigidly still, though his instincts roared for him to plunge deep, then roared louder when Yvenne’s ragged whisper filled the air between them.
His name again. Unmuffled, for she buried her fingers in his hair and arched her hips to receive his seed. At that naked invitation, uncontrollable pressure boiled at the base of his shaft and erupted with a single rough stroke of his hand.
Grunting, he came in thick pulses, a brutal release that stole his strength. He was utterly drained when he collapsed onto his side next to her—and utterly satisfied that she was in the same state, her skin gleaming with sweat, her body languid and legs still splayed, as if she had not the power to cover herself now.
Better that way, for they were not done. And by her own suggestion, she was in his bed. Now he would keep her there.
“You will share my furs again each night.” He slipped his hand between her thighs, where his release pooled at her entrance. A soft, shuddering sigh left her as he pushed his longest finger into her sheath, carrying the seed deeper. “For I intend to fill you with my spend whenever we are not upon the road.”
She gave no argument. Only a solemn nod, her moonstone gaze locked on his. Seeing through him. Into him. The eyes that had seen a warrior, not a king. Yet this night he had been Maddek.
Withdrawing his hand, tenderly he gathered her close, pillowed her head on his shoulder. Faint anise perfume filled his senses as he buried his face in her hair.
“Sleep now,” he said. “For my cock will rise with the sun, and then I will ease my need upon you again.”
“It will not rise again until dawn? Perhaps Hanan has forsaken us, then.” Unexpectedly her fingers curled around his softened shaft, which instantly began to swell beneath her touch. Her voice was full of satisfaction when she said, “Or perhaps not.”
He grinned even as fierce possession ripped through his heart. What a treasure she was, a queen and a woman full of purpose and heat. And this night he had made her surrender.
“If that god blesses us, the child you carry will not be Syssia’s daughter,” Maddek told her, voice roughened by his own purpose. “It will be mine.”
As Yvenne was.
She lifted heavy-lidded eyes to meet his. Like her arrows, that moonstone gaze seemed to pierce straight into Maddek and fell him with a single look.
“Ours,” she replied softly, and that he would accept for now, though it seemed not enough. Though it seemed there was more from her that he needed to have, because his chest had been a poisonous open wound at the thought of not having her.
Yet that ache was gone now. Because she lay so close. Because soon she would be safe. And then his vengeance would be had.
All was as it should be.
CHAPTER 23
YVENNE
Though finding passage on a boat that could also stable six Parsathean horses would be difficult, none of the warriors were willing to leave their mounts behind. The horses Maddek had purchased, however, were sold in a village that lay a half day’s ride from Drahm.
They started out that morning with four fewer mounts and with Yvenne once again sharing a saddle with Maddek. They rode Toric’s horse while that young warrior—still weakened but no longer feverish—shared Ardyl’s mount.
Anticipation hummed through Yvenne’s veins. For not only would they soon reach the Boiling Sea, this was also the morning of her moon night, and her nerves were alive with excitement. Such pleasure had Maddek shown her these past nights, that the day ahead seemed more endless than the combined length of all of those that preceded it.
Despite the long night that faced her and the little rest she’d had of late, Yvenne had no thought of finding sleep. Yet lulled by the warmth of the morning sun, by the broad support of Maddek’s chest, and by the smooth rocking of the horse’s gait, sleep found her.
“Yvenne. Look ahead.”
The low rumble of Maddek’s voice stirred her from slumber. They were still mounted, though he’d brought the horse to a halt. The sun was brighter now, hotter and almost directly overhead—and so she had to blink several times before realizing what he’d awakened her to see.
They were at the top of a ridge, with the road continuing down an incline ahead. But Yvenne saw nothing of the land the road passed through, only where it ended, and the shining turquoise that stretched out to the horizon.
Never had she imagined anything as wondrous as the sea. She knew not what to call the emotion that clutched at her throat, but it filled her chest as well.
Maddek said softly, “It is a fine sight, is it not?”
Her throat tight, Yvenne’s nod was her only response. When Maddek had described the sea to her before, he’d described it well—like the sky, but upon the ground—yet still the sheer expanse of it left her reeling and breathless. No matter how far north or south or west she looked, there was only the water. And he’d not spoken of the color, which she had seen before in dyed silks but never had those silks held such depth and warmth. And he’d not mentioned how the sun sparkled over the water as if diamonds were scattered across the surface. And he’d not said that the waves rolled and crashed and frothed like lace.
He’d not told her that Mother Temra dressed herself so beautifully.