Page 38 of The Huntsman's Heart
I frown at the worried look on his handsome face. “Of course I’m sure.”
I am pleased when I show the wooden member to him and see the first hint of trepidation on Alaric’s face. “Be careful, princess. You rival your stepmother for ruthlessness.”
“If I’m a monster, then who is responsible for that?” I snap. I press the tip of the hard wooden shaft to his ass, satisfied whenhe jumps. “I’ll open up your hole like you did for me. And I hope it hurts just as much.”
Without waiting, I spit on the shaft and spear it forward, smiling when he grunts, forcing it deeper inside him. It’s so tight I have to pull back and shove forward again. This time I push past whatever barrier within him held me out, and the shaft sinks deep inside his ass.
Alaric lets out a muffled moan. I hope it aches deep inside him as I plunge that thing in and out of him. I pull it back only to shove it deep again, over and over until his knees buckle.
Raban, Corvin, and Évandre watch me with fascination, and I must admit, the longer it goes on, the more a wild joy sparks to life within my belly. I love the way the dark wood impales his ass. It drives me on, and I find myself stabbing it into him violently, aware of nothing for a moment but the jab, jab of my thrusting hand.
Finally he cries out. I stop and pull the wooden cock from his body, casting it aside.
“Guinevere?” Alaric’s head hangs down between his arms. He is shaking. “What have you become?”
Indicating to the gargoyles to turn him again, I stand over him with my hands on my hips as he sinks to the ground with his hands bound behind him around the pole. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Alaric swallows. “Beautiful. But by the gods, terrifying too.”
The wild anger leaps at his words, and my smile grows. Is my enemy defeated at last? I hold out my hand, and this time Évandre gives me my sword. “Have you any last words?” I say to Alaric.
“They won’t be my last unfortunately.”
I roll my eyes. Does he think I’ll spare him?
I press the point of the sword to his chest over his heart. “Speak them now if you would.”
He shakes his head sadly. “You are wasting your time.”
Impatient with his nonsense, I take one last look at the face of the man who ruined all my hopes at a future. Has he suffered enough? Probably not. But I’m tired of his whining.
I thrust forward, impaling him now with my blade rather than the wooden cock. The sword sinks deep, the edge so sharp there’s less resistance to my invasion than when I fucked him.
Alaric winces. He lets out a long groan. I hold still expecting blood, but nothing flows from him.
I withdraw the sword, but there’s still nothing. I stab again. Then again and again, but each time the blade comes out with only a thick black smear dirtying its length.
I step back.
Alaric’s laughter is half crazed. His eyes wild. “Do you… believe me now, princess?” He spits upon the dirt.
I stare.
I stabbed him through the heart over and over and yet he will not die. Then a sick recognition fills my belly, making bile rise in my throat. “What are you?”
“What areyou? Did you die when the dire wolves attacked you?”
I blink. “How did you—?”
His blue eyes flash with an eerie light. “No. You did not. Things like you and I do not die so easily, but there is one way.”
I glare at him. “What trick is this? You want me to kill you?”
His wild laughter dies with a sob. “I want you to end it, Guinevere.” With a grunt, he struggles to his feet and presses his chest against the tip of the blade I’m still holding. “After you help me end the one who made me this way.” The wounds have already begun to close, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m staring at him in disbelief.
“Melantha?”
He nods. “Help me do it and you may do what you will with me.”
