Page 29

Men! Alia stormed into her suite, throwing her mask aside before striding to the mantle to light two lanterns. Her stomach churning. Her entire body shaking with agitation. She badly wanted to go on a hunt, but it was too dark, their attacker long gone. Besides, her main priority was ensuring Talac was okay. He’d been stabbed. Bleeding.

Outside he’d resisted her efforts to tear his shirt off to get a better look. Instead, he’d practically strong-armed her back inside the Palace, reminding her in an annoyingly casual tone to act natural. Don’t draw any attention their way. He could be bleeding to death and he was still determined to protect her reputation, he was maddening. Alia didn’t care about such inconsequential things. She cared about how badly Talac was hurt.

Back in the Palace he’d insisted they go their separate ways. Promising he’d get someone capable and discreet to care for his injury. Going on further to state that considering yet another attempt had just been made on Alia’s life, he thought the best place for her would be her suite. Instructing her to go there immediately.

The way he’d issued that arrogant command had almost been enough to make Alia baulk. But then reasoning assailed. If she did defy him, Talac would feel impelled to follow her, protect her, rather than seek out a medical professional.

Damn him. Alone now in her suite, Alia was fired up, with no one available to vent her spleen upon. No sign of Perri. No messages left by Deacon. All the while her mind whirling as she paced the length of the larger of the two rooms. How badly had Talac been injured? It had been impossible to tell outside. And once they’d returned to the Palace, with him wearing all black and acting stoic, it had been futile to try and gauge the severity of his… Alia’s musings fled, her attention diverted to one of the floor to ceiling windows. Thud. It sounded like a bird had just flown against the glass. Which was ridiculous, it was too late for birds to be flying. At least in this region. The soft thud sounding again.

Taking off the latch she flung the wide window upwards, to let in the warm night air and muted sounds of the crowd off in the distance to the left. What could have…? A dark shadow blocked the moon momentarily. Gryfalcons! Here? She was already moving backwards, heading for her sword, when the dark shape burst into the room, a man… one dressed all in black. “Talac?”

“You were expecting someone else?”

He tied off the rope he’d used to scale down the building. Reaching up to drag off the black head covering and its attached face mask.

“What are you doing here?”

Alia prayed for her heart to stop racing. The man was lucky he wasn’t sporting a knife in his chest right at this moment. She was not fond of surprises.

“I told you I’d get someone capable and discreet to take a look at my injury.”

Seriously.

“You must have a Palace full of capable healers.”

“And what explanation would I give? Especially considering the fact Prince Zariffe is currently downstairs in the ballroom, giving everyone the silent treatment.”

Talac stared down at his bicep, the black material of his shirt clinging wetly to his skin.

“Hhmmm, I appear to be dripping. Perhaps you could just spare a towel… it’s going to be awkward, given the angle, but I suppose I could bandage it myself.”

He was definitely laying it on a bit thick, Alia rolling her eyes to the heavens.

“Sit on the edge of the bed. I’ll be right back. Try not to bleed on anything.”

Heading to the small adjoining room to grab Perri’s medical bag. A little disconcerted to discover upon returning to find Talac had removed his shirt. Smears of blood staining his left arm. Hurriedly Alia grabbed a dark coloured towel and a bowl of water. Cleaning the injury first was always a good place to start. She was no trained healer, but she’d dealt with enough injuries over the years out in the woods.

Determinedly focusing upon the cut. Certainly not thinking about how warm Talac’s skin was. Or how broad his bare chest was. Or the fact that his bicep was pleasingly muscular.

“Do you think it might have been Soutner?”

“Regal? Not him personally, he wouldn’t sully his hands. But… he does have several brutes masquerading as servants working for him. You know… I’m not sure a knife did this. It’s too shallow, too jagged.”

She’d seen zig zagging injuries like this before.

“Yes. I see what you mean. Tearing the skin rather than slicing.”

“The man you grappled with, is it possible he had a hook for a hand?”

“I couldn’t rule it out. You know, this makes the second attempt on your life since we left Gloomenthrall.”

“Are you saying the incidents might be related? If so, then it can’t be Regal. He was genuinely shocked to see Perri and I here at the Palace.”

“Perhaps it’s just a nasty coincidence. Tonight’s incident could be Soutner’s work, or perhaps one of your competitors has taken a strong dislike to you and paid someone to do their dirty work.”

“Which makes it impossible to narrow down whom might have sent a man with a hooked hand armed with a knife after me. He got lucky, given we were walking such a distant dark pathway, away from all the party-goers. I shall see to it that I don’t wander away from the crowd in the future.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t stalk you first in the ballroom. With a hook for a hand and a dark mask, he would have been considered just another guest in fancy dress.”

“From now on I’ll keep one eye on the lookout for a one armed man with murder in his eyes.”

“You’re making light of this.”

Talac wrinkled his nose, watching as Alia applied thick brown paste to the jagged cut on his bicep before proceeding to bind it with a bandage.

“I could assign you a guard.”

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

“Really?”

Talac glanced down tellingly at his injury.

“Yes, really. I had a knife. If my overly eager, overly chivalrous escort hadn’t pushed me aside, I could have taken the attacker down.”

“I was protecting you.”

Talac stood up, absently flexing his arm, testing the range of movement whilst glaring down at Alia.

“I don’t need protecting.”

“You’re not infallible.”

“I’m far from helpless.”

“I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”

“Well, I’m not too happy seeing you bleed.”

“Why are we yelling at each other?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t seem to stop.”

Alia met Talac’s glare with a heated one of her own. Her heart was racing, blood all but pounding in her ears, her stomach in knots. She wanted to scream in frustration. To track down tonight’s attacker, and make him pay for hurting Talac. She wanted answers.

She wanted… she wanted Talac. Gods help her. Taking a step forward, leaning up, slamming her lips against his. His hands suddenly in her hair, tearing down Perri’s careful coiffure, roaming over Alia’s shoulders, down her back, an arm encircling her waist, sweeping her in closer still, Alia’s feet almost leaving the ground. Their lips locked together, tasting, plundering.

The feel of Talac was so satisfyingly solid under her touch. Her hands roaming over the wide expanse of his bared chest. Even more exhilarating was the urgent way in which he explored her body, eager, a little rough, which was oh so flattering. Here was a man unconcerned she was a tall woman, or that she was the Beast of Gloomenthrall. He knew the majority of her secrets now, and his lips, and the way his hands moved over her body, were telling more loudly than words that he admired, supported, and really didn’t give a damn about her past.

Talac was a canny devil, with seemingly magical hands, how else to explain how the hooks at the back of her dress parted so readily under his ministrations. Alia was proud of her body. Still, there was something about unveiling it to Talac that gave her pause. Breaking their kiss, taking a shaky half step away from him, clutching the bodice of her dress to her bosom.

“We shouldn’t.”

She wasn’t capable of putting her thoughts into a more complex argument than two words right at this current moment.

“We shouldn’t.”

Talac agreed, his breathing gratifyingly ragged.

The two of them suspended, gazes meeting and melding. So many obstacles, so many reasons why they should stop assailed them both. Who they were. The mantles of responsibilities they carried. The expectations of everyone relying upon them, weighting them both down.

Neither could look away.

A lone thought bubbling out of the incomprehensible miasma gripped Alia. When would she ever be alone with Talac again? Just the two of them? This was her one and only chance… and she didn’t want to push him away. Her hand, the one clutching her dress, of its own accord flexed, and like a waterfall of liquid fire her costume fell away to puddle around her feet.

“Tonight.”

She wasn’t asking.

“Tonight.”

They were in sync, his voice a harsh low whisper full of need, his gaze roaming slowly down her nude body.

“The Deities above are beyond envious of me right at this moment.”

Stepping out of the pool of material, Alia kicked it out of the way. Appreciating Talac’s control. He was waiting for her to make all the first moves. The gallant idiot probably still willing to walk away if she abruptly changed her mind. Though there was no way in the nine circles of hell she was backing out now.

Reaching out, Alia grabbed the waistband of his trousers, flicking open the top button, then the next, then the next. She wasn’t sure Talac was even breathing at this stage. Glancing up to double check. His expression was one of heat and need. It almost sent her to her knees… there was a thought, abruptly dropping to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Talac growled out the words.

“Whatever I damn well like.”

She grabbed his trousers, pulling them down. Bringing her eye, to… cock. And what an impressive cock it was. Thick, hard, rampant and ready.

“Haven’t you heard, I’m the Beast of Gloomenthrall.”

“And I’m your prey?”

Alia just managed to swallow the words that rose unbidden in response – no, you’re my mate. Gods, where had that thought come from? Ninny, he’s waiting for a reply. Words, put some words together into a sentence. Or, perhaps what was really called for here was action… or more importantly, distraction.

Leaning forward she licked his heated flesh from root to tip before swirling her tongue around the head of his cock. Her name falling from Talac’s lips in a whispered groan was heady stuff. But Alia was just getting started. Suckling on the head now before sliding half his length into her mouth. Repeating the action a few more times, before letting him go, leaning back, casting a wicked smile up at him.

“Alia.”

Her name on his lips was part protest, part promise.

“I agree you’ve primed your trap with some very good bait. But I’m not some simpleton to be led about by my cock.”

“Oh, I haven’t even added the bait to the trap yet.”

Gracefully Alia rose to her feet, giving him a stern look as he reached for her.

“A-ahuh. You stay right there… if you can.”

Taunting, as she backed towards the bed, proceeding to make herself comfortable upon it. Talac arching an eyebrow upwards in a wry impatient gesture. In response, Alia slowly pushed her hair out of the way. Making sure the candle light from the lanterns situated upon the mantel piece spot lit her full breasts, before slowly, deliberately, spreading her legs. Trailing one hand slowly down over her throat, tweaking a nipple before travelling down even further. Over her rib cage, her tummy and then lower still. Parting the lips of her apex core, she circled her clit with a dexterous finger. Her lower body clenching in response.

Alia was no stranger to self fulfillment. When you’re the boss, and more importantly, a woman, you had to be very careful who you allowed bed privileges. Therefore, she was incredibly picky when it came to choosing lovers. Yet there was something about having Talac watch her touch herself that made the act so much hotter, so much more exciting. The way his gaze locked on her so intently. Gritting his teeth. Corded muscles in his chest bunching and unbunching, as if he were tugging on invisible chains.

“Don’t move.”

She reminded sternly. Watching as he slowly lifted one leg, yanking off a boot, all the time his gaze never wavering from Alia. Then the second boot was dropped to the floor. Followed soon after by his trousers. Oh, my, the sight of him naked, ready, rampant, only a few feet away, it made Alia’s breasts ache and her apex grow slicker… needier.

The decidedly evil smile lighting up Talac’s face only fanned the heat within Alia. She began to circle her clit a little faster.

“If you get to make one rule. Then it’s only fair that I get to make one too. Don’t cum.”

She was so close. But fair was fair… reluctantly Alia ceased touching herself. Hah, he thought he’d won, she could tell by the arrogant smile twisting up the edges of his lips. They were locked in a battle. He wasn’t allowed to move. She wasn’t allowed to finish. Last time they’d challenged one another it had been with swords, and it had taken ages before they ceded that they were evenly matched.

Of course, in the challenge ring it was important to adhere closely to the rules… in the bedroom, all bets were off. Alia lifting the hand she’d been touching herself with slowly to her lips, dipping first one finger into her mouth and sucking upon it, then the next finger.

In the blink of an eye Talac was covering her with his body, a rough growl of need escaping him, a corresponding shiver zipping down Alia’s spine. His lips were everywhere. Her breasts. Her throat.

“So damned beautiful.”

Finally, his mouth was on hers, devouring her.

“You taste like mead served at the table of the Gods.”

Heavens, Alia liked the way Talac’s work calloused hands grappled at her a little roughly, she was no delicate flower. Talac’s urgency, his need for her, the press of his cock against her leg, all ramped up Alia’s desire for him. One of his hands sweeping down her body to push her legs wider still. His thick cock settling against her apex. Mindlessly Alia rubbed herself against it. Gliding her clit up and down all that heated hardness, it felt so darn good.

“Cruddy hell.”

Talac was all but panting. Lifting one of Alia’s heavy breasts so he could lave her nipple with his tongue. His other hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her in as close as possible, clearly he was liking the friction between them as much as she.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Alia hissed out from between gritted teeth, fisting a handful of his short chestnut hair, giving it an imperious tug. Already deciding the man was taking too long, and moving to take matters into her own hands. Reaching down, grasping his cock, the heated length slick with moisture from her apex already. Which she was very appreciative of as she fitted the head of him to her entrance, his reaction to surge forward. Driving his cock deep. By the nine circles, that felt good, even better as Talac began to thrust hard and fast, the friction addictive. Alia clutching him to her even closer, urging him deeper, faster, wrapping her long legs around his hips to get an even better angle.

Damnation. If the man finished before she did, she would kill him, this was the best ride she’d ever had. Wanting it both to never stop and at the same time, the building sensations fanned an increasing needy ache deep within her. Craving completion.

She began a furtive silent prayer. With partners of the past, that release had all too often remained elusive for Alia… Talac grabbing one of her legs, hauling her foot high into the air to rest against his chest. Yes… the angle, that was so good… she was so close, clutching him tighter still, Talac growling low in the back of his throat in response. Something about that sound struck her as possessive, her entire body clenching as with his next thrust a battering ram of sensation splintered all Alia’s nerve endings. It was too much, yet the best thing she’d ever felt. Only vaguely aware of Talac releasing a hoarse exalted cry, pumping into her one last time before collapsing off to the side.

Their harsh uneven pants the only sound filling the room for a minute or so. Talac the first to recover, pulling Alia in close so her back was snug against his chest. One of his hands meandering idly up over her almost too sensitive skin, trailing fire across her thigh, hip and tummy, coming to rest across her body, his arm locking her in place against him. His fingers tracing the ridged scar decorating one shoulder.

“I’ve seen many wounds. You’re very lucky to be alive.”

His words low, spoken directly into her ear.

Alia rarely talked about her scars. But here, with Talac, only the two of them, the lights low, she didn’t mind.

“It was the honey in the end, that saved me. Keeping the skin together, slowing the bleeding until we could get to Gloomenthrall.”

“You were, what, eighteen at the time?”

“Just turned seventeen.”

“And still growing…”

“Just ask.”

“Your horses. The keymoats. The size of the gryfalcons that are so honey obsessed. Do you think the honey-”

“Contributed to my height? Perhaps. I was always going to be tall. In truth, I thought I had stopped growing. But after the attack, I grew another half foot or so.”

“That’s amazing. You could create armies of giants with a dose of honey.”

“No. Animals on a steady diet of it are affected, yes. Especially over generations. And whilst our healers have noted small medicinal amounts help the very young and elderly recover faster from illness, as far as we’ve been able to tell, consumption by humans has no discernible impact.”

“You’re saying you’re an anomaly? That having it applied directly to your wounds whilst still of a growing age was the reason? So technically, it could still be useful?”

“Our scholars and healers have run tests. When our youths injure themselves, we’ve applied honey to the wounds to seal them. With no noticeable results. Our Master Healer posits that perhaps the injuries aren’t deep or grievance enough. Not something we wish to emulate.”

“To be honest, that makes me feel a little relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“I had images of me informing my father and him instructing me to take a battalion or two to fetch honey. Now that I’ve seen the adult gryfalcons, I have no wish to renew their acquaintance.”

“Oh, the birds would have been the least of your worries. Encroaching upon Gloomenthrall lands, poaching our honey, we wouldn’t take that lightly.”

“I hear tell of a vicious Beast in those parts. Do you think they would be unleashed upon me for my impertinence?”

“Without doubt.”

“And how exactly would this Beast go about punishing me for my transgressions?”

“Give me a few more minutes and I promise you a comprehensive demonstration.”

“You know, I rarely get to do this.”

“Well, for an amateur, you’re naturally gifted then. I have no complaints.”

Alia felt the rumble of Talac’s laughter throughout her entire body. It was amazingly nice to be snuggled up against him.

“That’s not what I meant… but thank you. No, I meant I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who knew I was both Talac and Zariffe and didn’t care.”

“Same for me. Alia, the Beast. It’s proven almost impossible to find a man who can reconcile that I’m both, and not be in some way intimidated, or secretly plotting to control me and through me, lord over the Lair.”

“Do you ever tire of the role? Think about stepping aside for the next Beast to reign?”

“Occasionally. But I’m not sure I’d be capable of remaining at the Lair and not ruling. And I doubt the next Beast would want me looking over her shoulder constantly.”

“What have previous Beasts done in the past?”

“Married and settled down elsewhere. Become travelling tinkers. Captained merchant vessels. Explored the outer realms, teaching sword play to the children of the wealthy to support themselves.”

“Those are rather narrow choices.”

“Yes. Being a woman, one who is used to being in charge, does not translate to a lot of career opportunities. I’d like to keep busy and be useful. Perhaps I could travel, visit all my female kin, checking in with them personally, ensuring their husbands and his family are treating them fairly. What about you?”

“Me?”

“The Prince thing eventually will become the King thing. Are you ready for that? Do you even want that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, or don’t want. Someday I shall be King.”

“No more running around the countryside as Talac.”

“No, he’ll have to be retired.”

Alia could hear regret in Talac’s voice. Most who craved power didn’t understand until too late that with it came a loss of freedom and the never ending weight of responsibility. She, more than anyone, got it. Huh, Alia never thought there would come a day when she would feel sorry for the Prince of the Realm.

Perhaps Talac had sensed the direction of Alia’s thoughts, because his lips nuzzled the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, sending her dark thoughts scattering, striking a spark to the inferno currently slumbering low in her body. Bringing it back to a scalding level almost instantly with the touch of his lips against her flesh.

“Now, about my many, many transgressions…?”

Rolling over, Alia pinned Talac to the mattress, staring down at the hard planes of his handsome face. His eyes glimmering with heat and the promise of passion. Fanning her inner inferno even higher.

Determinedly pushing aside an insidious niggling thought that clamoured at her, questioning if one night with Talac would be enough to quench the fire that now burned deep within her… for him.

Leaning down to kiss Talac, Alia couldn’t shake the feeling that she had somehow gotten snared in her very own trap. Cruddy hell.