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CHAPTER FIVE

Myra

I should have known I couldn’t run away from him a second—third? Fourth?—time. Those other times he’d let me go.

But now?

Vartok’s hand closed around my wrist before I made it out from the open building. I could have fought him; I could have swung on him; I could have hit or screamed, or all the other tricks my mother had taught me when we lived in town with men who saw us as weak and available to slake their needs.

And I knew if I’d done that to Vartok, he would have released me immediately, horrified that I thought it necessary.

But I didn’t do any of those things. Because, truthfully? I liked the way he held me .

And I hated myself for liking it.

“What?” I snapped as he swung me around, irritated at my response to him.

“We werenae done speaking, my pretty little pet.”

See? That’s all I was to him.

“I am not your pet ,” I snarled at him.

“Aye, ye are.”

His grin was irreverent. Charming. Annoying as hell.

“Ye growl. Ye moan.” He leaned down and his breath tickled my ear. “Do ye bite as well, love?”

I couldn’t help it; my throat had gone dry, my stomach tight with anticipation at the promise his nearness implied. And, lower, my core pulsed until I had to push my thighs together to hide my reaction.

From his wicked smile, it didn’t work.

Humming, he nuzzled at my ear. “I think ye need another lesson in pleasure, dkaar .”

He was too close for me to think straight.

“That word,” I demanded, stalling. “What does it mean?”

Ignoring me, Vartok’s mouth moved to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. Not kissing, just…speaking. Against my skin.

“I think ye need to learn to let go, that ye dinnae always have to be strong. Allow someone else the control.”

Last night, I’d done that.

And it had felt remarkable .

Is that what he meant? Could I do it again?

Only if you remember you are becoming just another one of his conquests.

How did I feel about that?

“Myra…” He murmured, as his hand ran up my arm. “Let me teach ye about pleasure.”

I couldn’t help the way I whimpered, the way I swayed toward him. I suppose my decision had been made, and I swore to myself that if he mocked me in victory, I would kick him.

He didn’t.

Instead, Vartok straightened, moving away from me, and I’ll admit I felt a moment of loss before he took both my hands in his…and dropped to one knee.

Startled, I stumbled a step backward.

But he didn’t let me fall. And his gaze…’twas serious. Serious, with a spark of green in the middle of each of his eyes. Had that been there last week? Last month?

“Myra, I want to teach ye everything ye’ve ever wanted to ken. ‘Tis why ye came to me.”

I wasn’t sure what he was expecting, so my nod was jerky, uncertain.

His hands squeezed mine. “But only if ye’re comfortable with it, lass. I might tease ye, and I might demand ye relinquish control to me, but I want ye to ken I willnae do aught to make ye uncomfortable.”

Since he seemed so intense, and seemed to be waiting for me to respond, I swallowed past my dry throat.

“Aye,” I croaked.

Slowly, he stood, holding my gaze and my hands. “So I’m amending our agreement. Ye’ll seek pleasure only with me, and I’ll be the one to determine when and where ye experience it.”

Oh God, just the memory of the way he’d demanded I climax last night had me quivering. The thought of him doing that again?

“But there’s more, lass.” His voice was deep, intense. “Ye will tell me when ye’re uncomfortable. When I’ve put too many demands on ye. When ye’re not ready to continue. Do ye understand? Ye need to be comfortable telling me nay , and ye need to trust me to stop.”

The power he was giving me…

I realized I’d stopped breathing somewhere around Ye will tell me .

He was…

He was demanding I relinquish control to him, but still allowing me ultimate power in this—this—this tutoring .

“Myra,” he prompted, one corner of his lips twitching. “Breathe.”

I sucked in a breath so quickly I think I went light-headed, and his grin grew just slightly. I realized he wasn’t mocking me, but, instead, was pleased.

“Will ye tell me if ye dinnae like something I’m doing, lass? If there’s something ye dinnae want to do?”

He didn’t seem like he would accept less than verbal consent, so I sucked in another deep breath and gave him the truth.

“Aye.” I couldn’t imagine any other male doing such a thing for me.

“And…” He lowered his chin just slightly, sending his beads clacking as he held my gaze. “Do ye trust me, lass?”

“Aye.” The word slipped out before I had a chance to consider it, but…I realized ‘twas the truth, and slowly, the band around my chest loosened. I did trust Vartok.

Mayhap not with my heart, but with my body? Aye. A thousand times Aye .

He must’ve sensed the unspoken words, because his smile bloomed.

“I’m going to kiss ye now, love. Remember our agreement.”

That I would tell him if I was uncomfortable with something, and trust him to stop.

Except…I wasn’t uncomfortable with this. I wanted this.

I wanted him .

So I pulled my hands from his and threw them around his shoulders, surging up to meet his lips.

My first kiss?

‘Twas spectacular.

His tusks didn’t get in the way at all, despite my assumptions, and felt cool and smooth against my cheeks.

His lips were thick and soft, and his tongue?

His tongue! ‘Twas ribbed, and when he teased me with it, I remembered the way he showed it to me last night and demanded I imagine it caressing my nipples.

Feeling it against my own tongue had me shuddering at that memory as my core flooded with liquid desire.

Vartok made a noise of approval—or mayhap surrender—and wrapped his arms tighter around me, pulling me to him. I rose upward on my toes but he swept me up, my feet leaving the ground as I gave myself fully to the kiss.

I trusted him to keep me safe, even if it was just for this moment.

The kiss was distractingly wonderful, aye, but even I noticed when his hands fell to my waist and he hoisted me. When my arse hit the top of the little half wall that connected two of the Hall’s supports, I shifted backward, glad to be able to reach him more securely.

And oh God did I need to reach him!

Because my blood was pounding, my core was aching, and every inch of my skin was attuned to him, thrumming his name. Vartok Vartok Vartok , over and over, until my mind was consumed with the feel, the scent, of him .

No wonder he was so popular with the ladies.

He growled, deep in his chest, as he moved forward. My legs parted on their own, and suddenly he was between my thighs, pressing forward, pressing against me. I whimpered with need as the bulge in his kilt lined up perfectly with the warmth of my core.

Last night, naught had stood between our sight of each other .

Tonight, I cursed the many layers of my dress and the wool of his plaid for keeping him from my skin. But all the same, I couldn’t imagine it feeling any better than it did.

Because Vartok’s hands hadn’t remained still. As his lips worked their magic, he was touching, caressing me. And I discovered that nudity wasn’t necessary for pleasure. Wherever his fingertips caressed, my skin burned with need, even if that skin was covered by wool and linen.

See? He is the perfect tutor .

I was learning much already.

For the first time, he cupped my breasts, and I shuddered, realizing how much better it felt to have his large palms on me than just his gaze. And he remembered what I liked, pinching and tugging at my nipples through my bodice.

As his lips moved over my skin—my jaw, my throat, my cheeks—he murmured things to me.

“Ye did this, Myra. Ye showed me what ye like. Aye—like that,” he whispered as I moaned and arched into his hold, offering myself like a meal to a starved man.

“I couldnae have kenned what yer body craves, had ye no’ taught me. Och, lass, ye are so fooking perfect. Gods below, ye feel so right.”

I’ll admit that while I heard the words, I paid them little heed. All I knew was he was praising me and my body was responding to him.

It wasn’t until he murmured, “Aye, dkaar , use me. Fooking use me, Myra, take yer pleasure from me, lass,” that I realized I was gyrating against him .

Nay, not against him . Against the long, thick hardness pressed against my mound. My core throbbed in need and each brush of his cock—hard as the metal he forged—against the bud of my pleasure shot me closer and closer to the edge.

And so I sat there on that half-wall, my legs spread like one of his conquests, and humped him, rocking back and forth against his hardness, gasping with each movement as he plucked my sensitive breasts and kissed my temple.

How could he make me this aroused, this close to climax, without caressing my bare skin? He hadn’t even touched my cunny—not with his hand. And yet, I was ready to explode just from the pressure he was providing.

“That’s the way,” he murmured, thrusting forward as his hand rose to my neck. “Let it go. Let yer body tell ye what ye need, Myra. Ye need this.”

I loved the way he understood exactly what I was feeling—understood what I needed , as he said. I needed him, my body needed him…

His fingertips pressed against the base of my throat, the power in those calluses undeniable. He was so much bigger, so much stronger than I was, and I was allowing him control. Over me .

I moaned, my fingers digging into his sides as I ground against him, and I felt his lips curl into a smile against my temple.

“Use me, pet,” he rasped, rocking his cock forward. “This is why I’m here for ye, and ye’re so good at it.”

With that, I felt his claws extend .

They were the same smooth coolness of his tusks, except they were pressed into the hollow of my throat, my most vulnerable spot. He was most definitely in control of my body, but the things he was saying to me?

“Come for me, dkaar ,” he murmured as he dragged his claws gently down my throat.

At the sensation, I shuddered, pressed forward…

And exploded.