DarykRogue (25 page)

His mouth buried in her throat as he growled his next answer
and thrust hard. “You are mine. Never forget it.”

“Then you can’t ignore me. You can’t pretend that I didn’t
tell you that I can’t have children.” She said it with anger and force and
watched his eyes widen. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

He growled. “Don’t push me, Xandra. You don’t know what I’ll
do.”

Her hips lifted into his next push and powerful waves began
to build from her womb and in the hot, wet folds that caressed his cock. She’d
wanted to hold off. To defeat him at his own game.

Pleasure slammed her so hard she wasn’t ready for it. She
screamed.

“Yes!” His triumphant yell didn’t stop his motions, his
thrusts sure and steady and powerful.

He bucked, cried out gutturally as his cock spewed hot
liquid into her.

Shivering, she lay there in a mindless pleasure, her pussy
continuing to convulse around his thickness. As the throbbing pleasure finally
subsided, he withdrew his cock.

Before she could speak, he slid his fingers into her pussy
and drew out the sweet cream. He spread it between her butt cheeks, inserted
one finger and then another with slow deliberation into her back entrance.

“Rayder, what—”

“Tell me you don’t want this.” His eyes were fire, his lips
parted. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

She opened her mouth but it wouldn’t come. He waited, but
his fingers still plied her back entrance. He slipped another finger into her
backside, stretching, preparing her for what he wanted next. Two fingers
plundered her body.

His breath came quickly as he hooked her knees over his arms
and tipped her buttocks up. His cock touched her back entrance. All the while
he kept his gaze on hers. A second later he nudged into her.

“Open to me,” he said softly.

She relaxed, wanting this as much as him, hating that she
did.

His hardness took her ass, sliding with slow deliberation.
She’d expected it to hurt in this position, but he’d prepared her well. His
thickness pushed forward until his entire cock filled her ass.

Without more hesitation, he began to move, thrusting in and
out. “Touch yourself.”

Puzzled, she didn’t speak.

“Touch your little button,” he said.

So she did, as heat filled her face. As she caressed her
button, excitement rose higher and quicker. The forbiddenness, the luscious
desire forced its way into her and required more.

He whispered harshly as he moved faster, his cock working
inside her ass with steady strokes. “Come on my cock.”

At his demand, she writhed, gasped and refused. “No.”

He moved faster and picked up speed. “Come.”

Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as she roared another
answer. “Damn you, Rayder!”

Her flesh was hot and out of control. Her mind refused to
think, all sensations melded together until only pleasure mattered. Thoughts of
anger only fired desire to bigger heights.

This wasn’t seduction. This was animal need, a potent action
of body to body, of need against need.

Her desire for him wouldn’t be destroyed, no matter what she
thought or said or did in defiance. She trembled, her body betraying her as the
heady, sweet tingling shot out from her womb, throbbed in her pussy and pulsed
into her clit. She cried out sharply as her body shuddered around the cock
still moving in her ass. He thrust one last time.

He growled as his cock shot his life force into her body.

Chapter Seventeen

As harsh animal voices made a cacophony, the jungle parted
for the contingent of four men, two of them Farcam and Oscan, one a sailor
named Conto and one Rayder.

Perspiration ran into Rayder’s eyes and he swiped his
forearm over his face. Menacing clouds gathered directly to the east, and
Rayder’s gut told him they’d barely make it to the encampment before the storm
burst. But he had more pressing matters to worry about than threatening
weather.

Rayder knew he couldn’t depend on these men if anything
happened in this god-forsaken jungle, but Aramus had insisted Rayder take them
as a so-called show of strength. Rayder stayed at the back, supervising and
making sure no man could come up behind him. Rayder refused to take women with
him this trip even after Admiral Aramus tried to demand it. Rayder had argued
they couldn’t guarantee Drakus Fina’s ally Marc Gampia would want their slaves.
These things had to be negotiated. Aramus had reminded him that he’d failed
miserably to negotiate with Drakus. Rayder hadn’t apologized, and Admiral
Aramus made a threat Rayder knew he couldn’t ignore. Aramus said he must
negotiate a successful meeting with Marc or Aramus would sell Xandra.

“Over my dead fucking body,” Rayder muttered under his
breath as Oscan and Farcam used swords to cut swathes through the jungle. “He
will not touch her.”

Rayder’s blood came up at the thought of Aramus touching
Xandra. Rayder’s anger had surged when he’d learned Xandra would have offered
herself to Aramus to save him. He couldn’t abide the thought. At the same time,
indefinable emotions had swamped him. Warmth. Gratitude. Lust. Staggering
affection. Feelings he’d never experienced for another woman. Magonian or not,
it was clear Xandra had feelings for him. Rayder had found his reaction to her
seduction overwhelming and had fucked her with an intensity he couldn’t have
imagined with another woman. Few women pursued a Daryk One with the boldness
she had, but she was his wife. He’d wanted her so badly, so fiercely it had
seemed like a feral force out control.

Still his mind reeled from the realization she couldn’t have
his children.

He still didn’t know what to feel about that. All his life
he’d been decisive. Sure of himself except for when he’d let down his sister.

Now another woman made him doubt himself and what he wanted
and needed all over again. Damn Xandra and the powerful force driving him
toward her. He didn’t like needing someone so fiercely, and it shook him to the
core.

He turned his thoughts back to what had happened before he
left the ship.

Rayder had also argued with Aramus that if he took women
with him, they would make slow progress through the jungle. Rayder had catered
to Aramus’ incorrect belief that women were weaklings and also said once the
party reached Marc’s encampment, Marc might try to take the women away from
Rayder. Aramus had agreed and reconsidered. Telling the greedy bastard they
could lose money made all the difference. Rayder knew enough about Marc, who he
had known since childhood, that Marc wouldn’t harm a woman. But he didn’t want
Aramus to understand that.

“Let me bring Marc and his men to the ship. We can turn the
women over to him at that time,” Rayder had said. “This puts us in a more
powerful position.”

Of course Rayder’s plan would fail if he couldn’t convince
Marc to agree. Knowing what he did about Marc, Rayder suspected he’d get what
he wanted. Marc’s greed, his connections and his attitude would assure that.

Aramus had finally relented, and brimming over with relief,
Rayder had left with the other men. Rayder had ulterior motives. He’d meet with
Marc, arrange for Marc to come to the ship. Marc was also known as the least
nefarious slave trader, a man with more scruples than the ordinary and a sense
of fair play. Unlike Drakus, Marc had a huge dislike for Aramus. Marc would
relish any plan to bring Aramus to his knees. Rayder couldn’t help but feel on
the edge of victory. Gaining Marc’s trust would go far toward Rayder’s ultimate
goal.

They’d passed Felican Castle’s farthest south boundaries and
came near the desert sands. In between the castle and jungle and the desert,
Marc had created a territory where slave traders and free people came and went
unharmed. It was live and let live to the fullest extent anywhere in Dragonia
could be. As far as Marc was considered, only Magonian women could be traded as
slaves, and only to men who had proven they would take care of the women and
treat them well. It was a dichotomy Rayder found odd.

As the jungle parted and they came to Marc Gampia’s
encampment, Rayder couldn’t help noticing the huge difference between this
encampment and Drakus’. A large stone structure, an almost exact replica of
Felican Castle only considerably smaller, stood several miles from a break in
the jungle where desert sands stood stark cream and black and white. Along the
area outside the moat and drawbridge was a full market of people selling wares.
Even women operated some of the stands, selling fruit and other foodstuffs
travelers would require if venturing into the stark and hazardous desert
beyond.

Beyond Marc’s compound another huge building held something
else most people didn’t know about. The large building behind his complex
probably housed a tame dragon. A dragon Marc could use as a weapon if need-be.
Whereas Daryk Ones could fight and kill hostile dragons, Marc had a way with
the creatures no other man on Dragonia seemed to have.

Except maybe Daryk One Eryk Gauth, who had been known to
tame a dragon here or there. Eryk had learned it from his father, but Marc was
the only non-Daryk One any could recall having this same skill. It was a
mystery few understood.

Felican Castle and its lord Bellrus Famila tolerated Marc,
but only because he’d proven less problematic than people like Drakus. Unlike
Grimnald Castle’s lord Armen Helnak, Bellrus was politically aware that many
people in this area at jungle’s edge didn’t want direction or rule. They were
wilder than most, less harsh with judgment. Bellrus was the least autocratic
ruler Rayder knew, and also less likely to join the burgeoning call for war
against Drakus and his slave trader rogues. When Rayder had ventured to
Grimnald Castle after being almost killed at Drakus’ camp, Rayder had noted how
edgy everyone seemed. Of course his old and former friend Dane might take up
arms against rogue Daryk Ones soon, and so would Eryk Gauth, another Daryk One Rayder
had been friends with before Rayder decided to infiltrate the rogue faction.
Rayder often wondered if that was why he found this region more home than
anywhere. Here he could be everything he was, both good and bad, and no one
gave a shite.

As the slavers with Rayder stood watching activity outside
the three-story abode, Rayder thought of Xandra alone at the ship. Visions of
the torrid sex he’d had with her earlier in the day haunted him. He wanted to
be with her now, thrusting inside her wet cunny until his life force planted
within her and bore fruit.

His gut clenched as he instantly remembered it couldn’t
happen. He still had the smell of sex in his nose, taunting him, making his
lust burn higher and hotter. All the tales he’d heard about mating hadn’t
included the driving desire to fuck until the female was with child. No one had
told him that. Perhaps they assumed it should be a foregone conclusion. Part of
him rebelled that any person should have such a hold on him. That any woman
should twist him into knots the way she had. Yes, a small part of him was angry
that Xandra had changed him.

A low rumble came from around the side of the building, the
unmistakable guttural and threatening sound of a dragon on the prowl. Rayder’s
lustful thoughts disappeared as the creature stomped around the side of the
complex.

Although it was small as far as dragons went, the creature
had a uniqueness that made it positively beautiful in comparison to most.
Delicate wings unfolded, fanning outward in a combination of blue, purple, pink
and green dazzling to the eye. The body was solid black, the eyes a jewel
green. The dragon’s long muzzle and sharp horned crests at the top of the head
looked fierce.

“Sir, do we move forward?” Conto asked, raising his sword
slightly.

The other men stepped back, and Rayder liked the fact they
were afraid. Good. He’d let them think the creature was far more dangerous than
it was.

“We move forward,” Rayder said. “But cautiously. Arcos is
Marc Gampia’s pet and patrols this encampment as its guard.”

Conto’s eyebrows went up. “Are you sure, Sir? The beast is
eyeballing us like he’s considering us for his next meal.”

“Arcos is very tolerant as long as we show no aggression.
The beast seems to read minds. If it thinks you are a threat, it will eat you
in a second.” Rayder layered on that last bit of bollocks, but it wouldn’t hurt
if these men believed it.

They proceeded with none of the caution one employed
approaching Drakus’ camp. Marc’s men wouldn’t harm Rayder or anyone with
him—most of them saw Rayder as a fellow rebel, a man going against the rules of
conduct placed on a Daryk One. At the mouth of Marc’s abode, he saw a figure
who looked familiar. A man he hadn’t seen in many months but would recognize
anywhere. Marc’s long blond hair fell almost to his waist, but was tied back
today in a neat queue. Marc didn’t have a special guard surrounding him, and
Rayder knew the ruler didn’t need one. People respected him too much. It was
doubtful anyone would attempt to harm or kill him. Rayder headed that way,
eager to speak with the man.

Oscan and Farcam muttered to themselves, but Rayder could
easily hear them.

“There’s that Marc fella.” Oscan’s voice was gravely and
filled with disapproval.

Farcam laughed. “Bugger me. Would you look at his fancy clothes?”

Fancy clothes? Rayder almost said something to Farcam but
realized it wasn’t worth disagreeing. Marc’s bright red tunic and black pants
looked more pristine than the workers hawking wares or otherwise engaged in
labor, but Rayder wouldn’t have considered Marc’s clothing more than
extraordinarily bright.

Conto grunted. “Looks damn right ordinary to me.”

Conto threw a grin at Rayder, and Rayder returned it. Conto
wasn’t always the sharpest knife in the drawer, but of the three slavers, he
was the most trustworthy and useful.