Page 11 of Heirs of the Cursed

“Sit down, father. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, but hurry up. I don’t like to eat breakfast alone.”

Darcia approached the door, afraid that Conrad had forgotten something. Maybe he’d changed his mind and was coming back to drag her into the stables and beat her unconscious.

But when she opened the door and saw who was on the other side, her heart stopped and the world tilted slightly on its axis. She recognized the shaved hair, the scarred face, and the menacing grin that was plastered on the visitor’s face when he and Darcia made eye contact . . .

It was the Chaser.

4

Bellmare

Naithea hated it when men thought they had the right to embrace her after tasting every inch of her body. But the soldierhad paid twenty gold vramnias, so he’d certainly earned such a luxury.

After a long night of trying to get information by all sorts of persuasions, the soldier had fallen limp upon fucking her against the bed and cleaning up the mess he’d made on her stomach. The arrogance she thought to have seen on Leonel’s face had rapidly disappeared when she closed the bedroom door and tossed her dress aside to reveal her figure.

“So . . .” Naithea plopped down on the mattress with her breasts bouncing and attracting the soldier’s attention.

Perfect, she thought with a haughty smile.

“Unsatisfied, sweetheart?” Leonel raised an eyebrow and hurriedly kicked the sheets off his body, ready to climb on top of her again. “Do you want more?”

Naithea laughed, disguising the sarcasm in her voice. The hours they’d shared had been better than she’d expected, but none she wished to repeat.

“No, sir.” She stopped him with one hand on his chest and dug her fingers into the blonde hairs. “You pleased me well enough.”

She batted her eyelashes as she drew her lips closer to the skin of his chest. The lump in Leonel’s throat rose and fell repeatedly, as if he wondered to himself what he’d done to deserve her attention.

“I did,” he replied, his eyes lost in her body.

“It’s my turn to please you.”

Leonel’s head fell back on the feather pillows, yielding to the seductive caresses of the hetaira.

“I would like to see you again, if the feeling is mutual,” Naithea whispered against his manhood. Her breath made the soldier shiver and groan in response, and only then did Naithea dare to ask, “How long will the Royal Army delight us with its presence?”

“It’s difficult to say. It depends on the time it takes to accomplish the mission.”

Mission.

The word echoed in Naithea’s mind.

She rewarded him with a gentle caress of her tongue over his manhood, and Leonel gasped in response.

“That sounds intriguing,” she purred and closed her hand around his shaft to make him moan again.

The soldier plunged his hand into Naithea’s raven mane, intensifying the moment. “Sometimes intrigue can cause the darkest nightmares of all, Ausra.”

“Test me.”

His body tensed at her words, and Naithea cursed herself inwardly for being so blatant.

She didn’t want to think of the kind of punishments they could inflict upon her if anyone found out she was snooping. One hesitation and the Royal Army would be knocking on her door. They would beat her, hang her, or worse, disfigure her face so that no man would pay for her and doom her to slavery forever since Madame Dimond would never let her leave if her debt wasn’t settled.

Naithea lowered her mouth again over his erection and increased the movement of her hand to distract him.

“Ausra . . .” Leonel moaned.

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