Chapter Eleven
Back in my room, once I had revived, I celebrated the small victory with a big, bloody T-bone steak prepared for me by Jamie's mother. My five men winced as I chewed the beefy chunks with relish and licked the plate clean. I had let myself get dangerously weak. Not a smart thing to do among a crowd of carnivores.
I stripped out of my bloody gown and showered, lathering up and scrubbing myself completely from top to toe three times. Too bad I couldn't wash away the stain within me as easily. There was a cruel, sadistic part of me that was emerging that scared me to death.
The dirty gown was gone when I stepped out of the bathroom. Adrenaline still pumped in my veins and the room was suddenly too small; I had to get out. I threw the other black gown over my head and knocked on the adjoining door. Miles opened the door, his eyes wary. "Milady?"
"I'm going for a walk," I informed him curtly.
"We will accompany you," Amber said from behind Miles, towering over the other man.
There was no smell of blood in the forest, just the clean scent of pine and the earthy smell of damp leaves and woods. It should have made me feel better. Instead, I began to cry, uncontrollable sobs that choked my breath and jerked my body. Amber's strong arms swept me up. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and cradled me against his chest. The comfort and bigness of him reminded me of Helen, my human mother, and I wept even harder.
"It's all right," Amber murmured, awkwardly patting my back. The Four Colors, what I called my loaned guards, stood a cautious distance away. Men either wanted me or were afraid of me. No middle ground, it seemed.
"No, it's not," I gasped. "They hurt her because of me."
"You returned the pain doublefold back to the assailant."
"I'm glad," I said with ferocious pleasure. "I wanted to kill him!"
"Next time," was Amber's calm reply.
"I don't want there to be a next time." I sobbed and buried my face against him. "I hate it here. I thought coming here would give me everything I wanted. Instead, it's taken everything away."
A twig snapped, jarring me from my grieving, careless disregard of the area around me. I expanded my senses and heard it—seven, no, eight other slow heartbeats. Amber set me on my feet, drew his sword, and moved silently forward, signaling to the other four guards who surrounded me in a circle as the intruders glided into view. Eight of them armed with knives, dressed with tattered, patched tunics and worn boots. A ragged lot.
"Amber," I said, my voice tight and peculiar.
He glanced back and froze as he saw the silver blade held to my throat over where my pulse beat. Miles stood behind me, holding the knife. Another man, Gilford, I think was his name, stripped me of my knives while the other two held my wrists.
We were outnumbered and betrayed. "Run," I said roughly to Amber. "Get out of here."
Amber hesitated, his face as hard as stone. Instead of running, he came rushing toward us. Damn it! The stubborn gallant fool never listened to me.
"I wouldn't, if I were you," Miles said with silky menace, "or we shall test how fast she can heal silver."
The threat halted Amber.
"Drop the sword," Miles instructed. When Amber didn't move, the blade sliced lightly, professionally, and my blood sang in the air.
Amber threw down his sword.
"Very good," Miles said, praising Amber as if he was a dog being trained. "Now kneel. Lace your hands behind your head."
Amber dropped to his knees and one of the bandits moved quickly behind him, clamping a silver cuff around his wrist. Twisting his arms roughly down behind his back, he fastened the remaining cuff. They'd had it all planned. Bastards.
"Hand her over," said the bandit who had secured Amber so efficiently.
"Patience, Aquila. You shall have her as promised after we have sampled her charms first. It is our Queen's most ardent wish. She greatly desires the ability to withstand the sun." And it seemed the way they were going to acquire that gift was by having Mona Louisa's men mate with me and carry my potency back to her.
Miles yanked my hair back and swiped his sharp blade down my front. My dress parted open almost down to the knees, the fabric yielding like butter to the slicing knife.
"Fancy yourself an artist with the blade, huh?" I gritted.
"Oh, yes." Two more swift movements and my bra and panties fell away. "And I am as much an artist with my other knife."
"See, that's your trouble. Too much emphasis on your dick."
"With good reason, as you shall soon see."
Not liking the sound of that, I started to struggle. Miles squeezed his arm around my neck and hooked a leg around one of mine. Rupert, to my right, trapped my other leg. Arms and legs held open, I was on wide display. At least I was still standing up.
Rupert, the carrot-top, approached me holding a small vial similar to the one I had found in Mona Sera's bedroom. The one thai Gryphon had made me wash my hands three times after touching. Uh oh. I squirmed, wriggled, and twisted, but was held fast.
"No!" Amber roared, lunging. Aquila jerked his chain back ruthlessly, throwing Amber to the ground.
With great care, Rupert opened the vial. Ensuring that none of the fluid touched him, he carefully swiped the stopper over my nipples and between my silt. The men all looked at me with avid expectancy, Amber, with anguish. I swallowed, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did.
"Give her more," Miles ordered harshly.
Rupert looked at him with wide eyes.
"Uh, you really don't have to. I'm starting to feel something," I lied.
"Do it!" Miles screamed.
Rupert jumped, spilling half the bottle onto my chest.
"Sweet Goddess," Amber whispered.
The oily, sweet-smelling substance dribbled down to soak in the hollow between my legs. Nothing for one blissful second. And then heat engulfed me like a rabid fire. I was surprised I didn't burst into flames. It felt as if fiery ants were crawling all over my entire flesh, stinging me, eating me alive.
I gasped and collapsed, held up only by the men restraining me. They lowered me to my knees and stepped back.
"Wipe the excess oil off of her!" Amber said hoarsely. "Quickly!"
Gilford sliced off a chunk of my hem—I guess the dress was already ruined—wadded it up, and wiped it down between my breasts, down my stomach, so close to that area that was suddenly the focus of all that heat and burning fire, a place that throbbed and wept demandingly. I moaned and whimpered. Gilford threw the cloth hastily away from him.
"You feel it now, don't you, whore?" Miles shoved me from behind and I fell forward onto my knees and hands. "Unnatural cunt. Even the Demon Prince lusts for you."
I heard the rasp of his zipper going down.
"That's right. On your hands and knees like the bitch in heat you are." His hand trailed down my back, over the curve of my buttock, and I nearly wept at his touch. It felt so good, so necessary.
"Light up for me, you mongrel strumpet."
I felt the head of him probe me in an unimaginable spot. And it felt so good, stretching me. Pleasure that edged into pain. My body screamed for him. I needed him in me. Now. Any way. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life, to roll onto the ground, away from him, onto my back. To stare up at that beautiful, hard, ready cock that my body so desperately craved. I wept, above and below, shaking with need.
Grabbing me by the hair, Miles yanked me to my knees and jerked my head to the side where he stood waving before me in rampant glory. "Open up." He nudged my lips with his hard staff. "Be a good girl and I might touch you. You would like that, would you not?"
I whimpered. My lips parted and he pushed in a little.
"That's a good little whore. Suck me."
I gathered myself—how hard it was to do so—and slammed my clasped hands up hard into his balls. "Suck that," I panted and fell limply onto my side.