Page 97 of Heir to His Court

“What is my name?” His fingers tightened, then relaxed enough to allow a strangled reply.

“Renaud,” I whispered, my veins pulsing under his hold.

He cut off my breath as my orgasm built, built, and didn’t release me until the moment my body exploded. Pleasure and the onslaught of air formed a rollercoaster inside my head; I closed my eyes and lay there as he gripped my knees, spread them wide and leaned into me with all his force. Roared above me, a rapid succession of bestial thrusts and then his release; long, hot, endless streams.

Eventually he withdrew, his seed running down my thighs along with my come and—from the scent—traces of blood.

He allowed me to crawl away, my skin coated in a sheen of sweat, dirt, and fine scratches, aching with finger-shaped bruises. I curled into a ball with my back to him and shivered in the evening air; it was cooler tonight than it had been even a week ago. Almost, the chill worked as a balm to my pain.

I floated in the aftermath of the high, the drugging, mind bending, soul-numbing release. He would keep watch; he would allow nothing to hurt me other than him while I was defenseless.

For all of ten minutes he was content with my reverie, walking to the pool and crouching down to drink his fill. He rose, came and lifted me in his arms to take me to the side of the pool.

He brought his cupped hand to my mouth. “Drink.”

I hesitated. “Ran—” his gaze slashed into me “—naud.”

Water dribbled down the sides of my mouth, but he brought me handfuls until he was satisfied.

“You need to relieve yourself,” he said, and helped me to my feet and a tree, hands steady under my arms as I crouched down.

I was too drained for embarrassment; besides, this male was thousands of years old. He'd seen everything.

Renaud stared down at me with glittering, alien eyes. “Are you recovered?”

“No.” A moan of denial; I lifted an arm as if to keep him away.

The Prince smiled and lay me back down. “Good.”

* * *

I wept. The birds—having decided we were a threat only to each other—returned and with the rising sun, sang.

“Please, no more,” I whispered, voice almost gone. We rested, spooning with my back against his chest, his leg and arm flung around me in a protective barrier.

He’d broken me.

I—I’d played with the idea before like it was mere sexual fantasy, and now dread swam deep inside as I came to understand Raniel’s warning.

This was what Renaud could do to me using mere physical power. Just strength, and experience, and exquisite, unchecked cruelty.

Realms.

He pressed a gentle kiss on my shoulder. I flinched.

“Do you submit?”

Brief hesitance, then, “Yes.”

“What is my name?”

“Renaud.”

Silence. “Whatis my name?” Fingers between my thighs, on my clit, sinking into my pussy. No, no more, I couldn’t take—

“Master.Please. Master.”

The hand withdrew, shifted to gently cup my breast. Soothing, not sexual. “Good girl. We warned you.”

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