Page 69 of The Shadowbound King

“Do you see it, Mirella?” Rane whispered, his shadow filling me, stretching me. “Andrin is a demanding master. And he would have mastered you, putting you over his lap and swatting your bare bottom before the whole court. But I know how your tastes run, sweetheart, and I think you would have enjoyed your discipline. Imagine all those eyes locked on your red, smarting backside. There’s no hiding in that position. They would have seen everything, including your glossy, needy cunt. Because you would have been wet for it, wouldn’t you, Mirella? As dripping wet as you are now, such a pretty little slut born for a collar and a crop.”

My vision swam, a haze of lust descending before my eyes. The scent of my arousal wafted from my lap. A heady mix of shame and desire engulfed me, the first fueling the second. The shadow licked faster, slipping around my clit. The other end probed my passage, filling me with exquisite pressure.

“Gods,” I whimpered, and it thrust deeper, until a pinch of pain made me jerk against the ropes binding me to the chair. Before the discomfort could register, the shadow pulled from my sex and joined the tongue writhing over my clit.

My lips parted, gasps escaping me until I was certain Andrin and my father would hear. My hips tried to buck, the tickling, insistent pressure between my legs too much to bear. I squeezed the chair so hard it seemed my bones would snap.

“Good girl,” Rane murmured, his finger lodged between my neck and the collar. He put his free hand over my mouth and bent so his lips brushed my ear. “Now be a very good girl and come for me.”

The world contracted—and then flew apart. I moaned behind his hand as my whole body stiffened, moisture flooding me. The greedy tongues between my legs lapped it up as I shuddered in Rane’s ropes, my thighs spreading wider under my skirts. The entire world could have turned its gaze on me and I wouldn’t have cared. Pleasure was all that mattered, and I rode it out, tasting the salt and dark magic of Rane’s fingers pressed hard against my lips.

He kept his hand in place until I went limp, my orgasm receding. The shadow slipped from my sex and slid down my shaking legs. Breathless and sweating, I barely noticed as it traveled up my body and returned to its master. My sex pulsed, my pussy aching and empty. The loss of heat and pressure was like a cruel trick—a delicacy I’d been allowed to taste before being denied the whole meal.

Rane rounded me, his eyes bright and a slight flush staining his cheekbones. He waved a hand, and the ropes binding me to the chair flowed back to him.

Abruptly, I registered that the hook in my chest was gone, the forceful drag of magic absent.

Andrin turned from the Covenant, and the grim purpose in his eyes withered the last of my desire. I slammed my legs shut and sprang to my feet, humiliation coursing through me in a sickening wave.

What had I done?

Andrin crooked a finger at me, the gesture an echo of the one he’d made in the stable. “Lady Mirella,” he called. “Come here.”

My heart beat a frantic rhythm in my chest. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, which was suddenly so dry I couldn’t swallow.

“What is the meaning of this?” my father demanded. He stepped forward, his features twisted in anger. “Enough talk. I have a contract.”

Ignoring him, Andrin extended a hand toward me. “Come,” he shouted, the look in his eyes telling me he was prepared to fetch me if I didn’t obey.

Rane turned from observing the Covenant. “Obey your master, little elfkin, or I’ll?—”

I smashed my fist into his cheek.

His head snapped back, but he absorbed the blow without losing his footing. When he recovered, a wicked light danced in his eyes. “Careful, my lady. You’ll make me like you.”

Andrin and my father waited. With as much grace as I could muster, I gathered my skirts and marched past Rane. I was sticky and swollen between my thighs, the heat of humiliation burning hotter with every step. When I reached Andrin, my father’s glare cut me to the bone.

“Whatever twisted elven magic you’ve dabbled in, girl, you’ll regret it.”

“Lady Mirella,” Andrin said, “remove your drawers.”

My heart stopped. I stared, my mind clunky and uncomprehending. Eyes pierced me from every direction. Dimly, I was aware of Rane approaching from behind.

To cut off my path, I realized. He would stop me if I tried to run. I was trapped, forced to play my role in the malicious game Andrin had created.

“Remove your drawers, my lady,” he said. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

He would. The look in his eyes was uncompromising. The longer I defied him, the more intolerable the outcome would be.

With shaking hands, I bent and lifted my skirts. Layers of underskirts preserved my modesty, but my face still blazed like the sun as I reached up and found the ribbon at my waist. My drawers slipped to my ankles, and I dropped my skirts and stepped away from the flimsy garment.

Red streaked the linen. Blood. Rane had done what his king commanded, taking my virginity with a thrust of magic.

Something icy and hard formed in my chest. It expanded, freezing my veins and filling my lungs until I expected to shatter into a million pieces from the cold weight swelling inside me.

Andrin retrieved my bloodstained drawers from the ground. Turning to my father, he displayed the fabric. “As you can see, Walto, your daughter is no maid. Your betrothal contract is void. If you won’t return the Kree, I won’t return Mirella.”

My father stared him down. Without another word, and without so much as a glance in my direction, he spun and stalked toward the tents. Lord Vilgot gave me a lingering look. Then he turned and followed.

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