Blind to Men (10 page)

Her scream froze in her
throat.

Beside her, leaning out,
Xandor had already stretched out his arms. Nothing could be seen but she felt a
warm wave, a tingling on her skin, like a rush of power being unleashed and
directed at the falling body.

A few feet from crashing
to the ground, Kylor suddenly seemed to be suspended in midair, floating for
the briefest of moments before gently landing. He leaped to his feet, sword
unsheathed, ready for battle.

She stood rooted to the
spot while the wizard bolted out of the room, the sound of his running feet
echoing in the hallway. Her heart pounding wildly against her ribs, she gripped
the tapestry on her left, needing something to hold on to. It had all happened
so fast.

She'd believed her
protector dead for an instant and her mind still had trouble registering that
he remained unharmed. Yet there he was, blade brandished, running to the
entrance of the tower. He looked glorious and vengeful, his sword glinting with
every move he made.

"By the mighty gods,
it must be the witch."

King Harfayn stared at
the keep with a deep frown before turning round and striding to the door.

"Stay here, both of you."

"No, I want to see
Kylor."

Her determined tone
halted him. Although unable to wield magic or a weapon, she had no intention of
waiting here without trying to help, without rushing to her beloved.

"Stay here!"

He delivered his command
in a harsh tone as he left them on their own then barked orders to his guards.

Frustrated and scared,
she took her mother’s hand. They watched the wizard race across the courtyard
while Kylor disappeared inside the tower, the royal guard hurrying after them.

Was the witch actually in
the keep? If so, what would be her next move? Did she dare come to Palance to
sink her clutches into her after so many years, to kill Kylor because he was the
son of her enemy, to get back at the king, or simply to hurt the royal family?

In spite of the deep
worry weighing on her, she couldn’t wait for the outcome without telling her
mother the truth.

"Mother, I love
Kylor."

"I know, dearest."

A concerned smile lifted
the lips of the queen of Palance while she squeezed her hand.

"Before joining you
on the dais, I went to the keep. Kylor told me everything. Since you left the
farm, I've prayed you'd see the goodness in him. I'm very happy for you."

"Do you love Father
the same way?"

"I do. He does too,
though I knew his reaction would be out of proportion. Xandor was also aware of
it, so he made sure I could be here in time to quell the king’s temper."

Someone shrieked outside.
The piercing shrills sounded frenzied, almost enraged, and reminded her of
wounded mountain lions. Fear washing over her, eyes riveted to the keep, she
quivered.

At least twenty guards
were piled up at the bottom of the tower as if they had all stumbled down the
stairs and fallen in a heap. They attempted to get back on their feet but their
efforts were impeded and slow, too slow to help Kylor. At least the wizard had
already entered the tower.

Colored shafts of light
spilled outside, hurtled from the top. Bright balls of white, blue, and red
fire erupted from the windows and slashed through air before exploding. They
illuminated the skies like booming streaks of thunder.

The noise was deafening,
the brightness almost impossible to bear. Yet on top of it all, she heard the
witch’s screams of pain and wrath, tearing at her heart and soul.

Then, the world seemed to
come to an end. The ground shook, deep vibrations jarring the castle, city, and
people. Coming from its core, a grinding rumbling turned into a full blast
roar.

A blinding light burst
out of the keep again, shattering its walls, disintegrating the blocks of stone
to mere rubble. As if the mighty gods had violently struck the tower, the top
fell apart and crumbled to the ground.

The keep now looked like
a giant maw open to the ferocious winds, exposed on all sides except the back
wall. As Melisande and Xandor faced each other while destroying the tower, the surging
ground seemed to settle down, its roar lessening to a quiet growl.

Still the witch and the
wizard fought, probably too intent on slaughtering each other to notice their
devastated surroundings. They hurtled balls of energy, ducked and attacked, neither
of them gaining advantage. From the castle, they resembled distant shadows trapped
in sizzling brightness.

She grabbed hold of her
mother's arm when the ground started shaking and pressed her cheeks against her
bosom, eyes wide open As the world around them finally quieted, she witnessed
the ruined tower and the magical deadlock that had to come to an end.

Although she wasn’t a
target, she cringed from the raw power of the magicians’ fireballs, as well as
from the faint sight of Kylor crouched against the last standing wall.

The sorceress hit Xandor
forcefully when she released another of her lethal shooting orb, sending him
sprawling inches from the gaping void. The top half of his body hanging out,
his fingers gripping the edge of the floor, Xandor tried to get back inside the
crumbling keep.

Her mother gasped beside
her as they both realized in a flash that he wouldn’t have time. The witch
wouldn’t give him time. Melisande must have sensed victory because she advanced
on her enemy and lifted her arms in a flourishing gesture to summon her magic.

Still crouched behind
them, her guardian suddenly stood up and leapt. The vengeful sorceress sensed
his movement for she whirled around, but not fast enough. As the witch confronted
him, Kylor thrust his sword forward with all his might. He impaled her.

Melisande hollered, her
high-pitched yell of pain annihilating all other sound. She screamed again when
Kylor wrenched his blade out of her guts, twisting the lethal weapon in the
process. Then he brandished the sword with both hands, and beheaded her in a
clean sweep.

Down in the courtyard,
everybody seemed to be in rapture, staring at the deadly fight in what had once
been the top of the tower. Guards and peers alike gasped when the witch's head
detached from her body and fell down. A stunned silence followed Melisande’s
death, though quickly broken by loud cheers and wild cries of triumph.

Her terror receding, she
let go of the nasty tension holding her body prisoner and let the panic
withdraw. Shivers coursed down her spine. Still hugging her mother, she
glimpsed Kylor help his father to rise.

Both of them headed for
the stairs with careful steps, the wizard leaning on his son's arm. The battle
was over, and she longed for her protector’s embrace. She needed his tender cuddles,
his warmth and strength. Most of all, she wanted to cry out in Kylor's arms.

She dashed outside, but was
promptly halted by her father as soon as she reached the courtyard. Standing
amongst his peers, the king had already sent some of his men to assist the
wizard in his descent from the keep, as well as to retrieve the witch’s remains.

He span round before she
had time to circle past his courtiers, and seized her arm with a warning grip.

"A princess does not
scamper. It's improper. Whatever the circumstance, it is a sign of weakness."

Why did he have to choose
this precise moment to start giving her lessons in ruling? Or did he imagine
she wouldn't run to her guardian so that he, Harfayn, King of Palance, might
hang him until his tongue lolled out of his mouth?

"Kylor rid the land
of the witch. He did you the greatest of favors, Father, so don’t tell me you
aren’t relieved."

The monarch's haughty
expression didn't sit well her. Irritated by her father’s coldness towards the
savior of the day, she stood on tiptoes and leaned forward to whisper in his
ear.

"Or will you bear a
grudge against him forever? I do believe he deserves your forgiveness and your
respect."

Brow furrowed, the king
looked at her without answering. If he didn't yield now, Kylor would never be a
free man.

She had to contain an
exasperated sigh while her father made up his mind. As fast as he had grabbed
her arm to stop her flight toward the tower, he abruptly nodded and released
her.

"He shall have my
respect."

She felt like hoping up
and down with joy at the sound of his words. He'd let her be betrothed to Kylor
now, and she couldn't be happier. As for forgiveness, time might take care of
the sovereign's stubborn attitude.

King Harfayn let go of
her arm just as her guardian emerged from the keep. She bolted at the sight of
him, sprinting to her beloved warrior. Mindless of anything but her, he spotted
her instantly and ran toward her. She didn't slow down until she almost
collided with him.

He hugged her tightly,
crushed her against his muscular chest, and she sighed as moistness invaded the
special place he called pussy. He whirled her around in front of the whole
court, his eyes shining with love. Before she could catch her breath, she was
back on her feet.

Kylor lifted her chin and
his mouth claimed hers. He parted her lips, he filled her with a passionate
kiss. She clung to his neck, oblivious of the crowd, drilling her tongue into
his mouth. Bodies locked, she felt his cock hardening, felt life coursing
through him. He was alive. They breathed the same air and, if she had her say,
they'd soon fall onto her bed.

After that intense kiss,
she had trouble keeping track of time and events. The nobles opened a path
toward the castle for them, clapping Kylor on the shoulder with large smiles.

Once inside the walls of
the grand palace, they all gathered in Xandor’s apartments. A healer was
fetched to tend his flesh wounds, and her mother sat beside the wizard while he
was being taken care of.

As King Harfayn launched
into a boring lecture about ensuring the safety of his people and his
territories, she thought it was a perfect time to enquire about her commitment
to her protector.

"Father, what's a betrothal?"

He drew up his eyebrows
as she cut short his tirade. She believed her question fountain clear, yet she
had to insist when he didn't reply but glanced back to catch her mother's
attention.

"Does it mean Kylor
and I can fornicate anytime we want?"

Indeed, she cut him
short. The king's face reddened while his gaze glinted with outrage. The healer
gasped and paused in midair, the wizard raised big, round eyes to her, the
queen placed a soothing hand around her husband’s wrist, and Kylor grinned at her.

Her father's skin shade
dangerously darkened towards purple while he appeared to struggle to find his
voice. Pointing a finger at her, he articulated for the benefit of all.

"I shall not
tolerate that language in my castle. Daughter, you will go to your rooms and
not come out until I say so."

"She's ignorant of
the rules of etiquette."

The queen stroked her
husband's wrist while her appeasing tone contrasted with his yelling.

"Don't be harsh on
her, Harfayn. She has much to learn."

She silently thanked her
mother while she respectfully bowed to her father before he could say anything
else. He'd just given her the opportunity to do what she had been planning
since the kiss, and she'd seize it.

"Your wish is my
command, Father."

With a last glance at the
company, she retreated to the door with what she hoped resembled a dutiful
attitude.

"I'll go to my rooms
now."

Grabbing Kylor's fingers,
she jerked him out of the room and closed the door without waiting for the
king's next order.

They ran to her
apartments, hand in hand, a mischievous grin on their faces, and raising
curious looks as they crossed path with peers and servants in the vast hallways.
Breathless from their escape, she faced Kylor after they entered her chambers
and scurried to the room at the back.

His eyes on her were
hungry, mirroring the desire gripping her belly. They took off their clothes
without a word, both staring at the other’s bare flesh and craving to be
touched.

"I was terrified
when the witch threw you out of the tower. I thought you were dead."

She shuddered at the
horrendous recollection. Furiously glad he now stood in front of her, she
pleaded.

"Put your cock into
me, Kylor. I need it in me."

The object of her lust
hadn't waited for her desire to stiffen, its glossy head already pointing at
her navel. She put her arms around her protector’s neck. Sliding his hands
under her buttocks, Kylor lifted her with disconcerting ease, his shaft
brushing her open folds.

"Talk to me, my
lady."

His arousing touch made
her tremble. His request quickened her blood as he held her against him.

"Tell me you long
for my affection as much as I long for yours."

"I do, my lord, please
stab me with your big cock."

She slid down on him, taking
her time to place her pussy over his tip and feel every inch of his hard rod. She
went all the way down, fully enjoying the sensation of their flesh melting in
warmth and wetness. He simply held her.

Her motion was unhurried,
allowing him to penetrate her without pressure, to stuff her gaping hole to the
brim. The very slowness of their movement ignited a staggering feeling, so
intense it brought tears to her eyes.

She used his shoulders
for support, keen sobs escaping her lips as she rose up and down his shaft. Yet
she couldn’t muffle the depth of her emotion, for she had never known anything
like it. Even if her father barged into the room this instant, she wouldn’t
stop.

His dick buried inside
her, his eyes unfocused, Kylor began to utter harsh moans as she perceived a
new urgency in him. He tightened his grip on her buttocks, breathing as if he
had been running all the way from the farm, biting his lower lip yet restraining
his rush.

"I wish to lay eyes
on your ass, my lady."

His thrilled gaze showed his
ardor. Shivers streaked the inside of her thighs while she listened to him.

"Would you like to
be ridden like a bitch? Would you display your beautiful rump for me?"

His demand sent her
excitement straight to the ethers. Letting go of his square shoulders, she crossed
the short distance to the bed, jumped on it, and obediently adopted the
requested position.

"Is this what my
lord desires?"

The idea of laying
herself bare to his view heated her pussy as he hissed through clenched teeth.

"By the Mighty Gods,
Anya.

She buried her face in
the pillow and willingly shut out all sight of the outside world. This time,
she craved being blind. She raised her bottom high, legs wide open, nipples
grazing against the sheet.

Her mind keeled over at
the sound of his sharp intake of breath when she revealed herself to him. She
gripped the fresh linen with trembling hands, eyes squeezed tight.

She felt his finger
touching her moistness, probing, closing on her special place and rubbing it.
Mouth in the pillow, she moaned, the astounding sensation she'd experienced
before stirring within her loins.

A soft whimper escaped
her throat when the tip of his dick found her wet folds. With a harsh grunt, he
rammed into her in a single push. She cried out, pleasure raking her body,
ravaging her mind.

Hands firm on her hips,
he shoved his rigid shaft into her, again and again. His powerful thrusts
inflamed her senses, propelled her toward the brink of explosion. She forgot
everything. She forgot her doubts and fears, even her lingering bitterness at
the evil sorceress.

All she knew was the
devastating satisfaction of his iron cock pounding her, smashing her, driving
them both to an ecstasy so violent that they shouted in unison, their bodies
squirting, their souls mating.

Blind to men
she was no more. As she opened her eyes to the world again and Kylor collapsed
on her back, she briefly wondered if she had grasped the full meaning of
betrothal.

Don't
leave the Four Kingdoms just yet, but enjoy an excerpt from BLADE HEART. This
story also takes place in the Four Kingdoms 150 years after BLIND TO MEN.

 BLADE
HEART by Chris Lange

Chapter
One

“Keep on doing
this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

The masculine
voice penetrated her beautiful dream—invaded it. Still, she felt so at peace in
her fantasy that she tried to hang on to the vivid images. Eyes closed, she lay
on her side at the foot of a maple tree in the heart of a bright meadow. Her
head rested on the blanket she held in one of her hands. Birds chirped above,
their song carried by the amorous whispers of a spring breeze.

Far away a cow
mooed, and the bellowing sound seemed to float in the air. Golden rays gleamed
through her eyelids, stroked her arms, and enveloped her body in a warm
embrace. The smell of fresh grass caressed her nose and she inhaled slowly to
capture the verdant fragrance. Her heart filled with an inner peace she didn’t
want to let go of, she kept her eyes shut and curled her hand tighter around
the blanket.

“I said keep on
doing this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

That voice again.
The rough undertone jostled through her wonderful fantasy, weaved its way into
it to dispel the peaceful vision beyond the wavering meadow. God, but she
wished so much to stay there. Lips parted, she exhaled a long sigh before
opening her eyelids.

She didn’t see a
green, grassy field but some kind of brownish cloth very much resembling suede.
Actually what she had taken for a blanket seemed to be the front of a pair of
pants. As if she was an outside observer she studied her hand pressed against
the tight fabric, her fingers splayed over a lump. Funny enough, the hard lump
felt alive.

Her gaze travelled up,
taking in the curious belt around his waist, the light brown shirt opened at
the neck, the square jaw covered with the stubble of several nights, the full
lips, the piercing green eyes regarding her with… What? Certainly not
hesitancy.

She looked down again,
her mind seemingly still caught in the dream and not yet ready to function. As
she tensed her fingers to apprehend reality, the mass hardened under her palm.
Eyes widening, she stared at her hand as if the limb had become an independent
part of her body. Oh, God, she was holding the private parts of a total
stranger.

The shocking
realisation had her rolling over in a heartbeat, landing on her back with a
dizzy feeling. But in doing so, she had pushed against the tight lump to gather
momentum.

“Ouch! That’s not
the way to treat a man.”

Although she
wanted nothing more than to let her mind wander in the blue depths of the
cloudless sky above or maybe dive back into her oblivious dream, she cast him a
quick glance.

He winced, his
back straight against the sturdy maple tree of her dream, his legs spread out.
Notwithstanding the fact that her head had been resting on his hard thigh for
God knew how long, she had fondled his… No, she didn’t want to think about this
now.

A perfect
stranger he was and ‘perfect’ appeared like the precise term to describe him.
As he stood up to do some pulling around his crotch she felt her breath surging
out of her lungs. So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly
gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.

Her heart hopped.
Her stomach swivelled. She sat up in an attempt to brush aside her body’s
impulsive reactions, but the bright rays of the sun cascading down on him and
enhancing his maleness didn’t help. Who was he? Why had she been napping with
his thigh as a pillow? And beautiful as the meadow was, how had she ended up
here?

While trying to
control her erratic pulse, she noticed her own clothes. Leather boots laced
around her ankles and calves, black suede pants and open-necked shirt loose
enough to allow freedom of movement, her outfit appeared similar to his but
with a feminine cut. Hung around her neck, a piece of something shiny rested
between her breasts.

“Time to go.

His sharp tone
interrupted her new discovery. She looked up to find him straightening the belt
around his waist while checking the position of two daggers on his hips. Now
who walked around with that kind of weapon? If he did feel threatened in a quiet
meadow, why not use guns?

When he bent down
to the foot of the tree to pick up the long dark cloak he had been sitting on,
she realised he hadn’t been talking to himself, but he expected her to follow
him.

“I don’t know you
and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Good thing I
wasn’t asking for your opinion then.”

She jumped to her
feet as he flung the cloak over his right shoulder then extracted a piece of
leather string from the pouch at his belt. But she didn’t leap fast enough to
avoid his dangerous nearness. Although he scanned their deserted surroundings,
he seemed focused solely on her.

“Give me your
hands.”

“You’ve got to be
kidding!”

She took a step
back, her attention fixed on the leather string he fiddled with. Did he really
mean to tie her up? Insane as the idea sounded, the stranger’s resolute stance
showed his sudden impatience to be on the move. To go where? And why would he
want her to accompany him? Whatever his destination, she wouldn’t be a part of
it.

“Look, this is
some kind of mistake. I’ve never seen you in my life and I have no intention of
going with you.”

A hint of a smile
lifted one corner of his mouth, but his gaze remained frozen while he reached
out to her.

“Didn’t I mention
I’m not interested in your opinion?”

She took three
steps back this time, a small knot moving up and down her dry throat. A cow
bellowed again in the distance, probably the same one. A light breeze ruffled
her hair and the man in front of her waited. Without daring to shift her
attention she cocked her head.

“God, who are
you?”

“No time for niceties.
I’m dead and we need to find a shelter for the night. It’s getting late.”

In spite of his
rigid attitude and icy glare he looked so damn alive that she almost laughed in
his face. Yet she had been distracted. A single stride and he grabbed her
wrists to twirl the string around them so fast she could only gasp. When he let
go, her hands were fastened up, though not so much as to induce pain. Shifting
her eyes from her fingers to his face, she stammered before swallowing the knot
in her throat.

“What do you want
with me?”

“Let’s go.”

He turned round
and started walking down the gentle slope, crushing grass under his boots. She
stared at his straight back, feeling like he was trampling her beautiful
fantasy. Although she didn’t want to follow him, the thought of spending the
whole night alone by the maple tree with her hands tied didn’t appeal to her.
No, it didn’t.

The sunny warmth
on her skin already felt cooler. Like a heavy ball, the sun had sunk to the
west, its rays no longer brightening the verdant meadow. Also heading west, the
man now didn’t seem to care if she followed. Or he knew she would. Alarmed by
the coming darkness, fearful of hungry, wild animals, she had no choice but to
go after the stranger. She moved.

“Hey, you, wait
up!”

He did stop at
the sound of her voice, but he kept facing ahead. With her wrists linked she
had to find a new balance to manage the slope. Not easy. Step by step she
caught up with him and wondered why he regarded her as if something was wrong
with her. He was the one with free hands, damn it!

Intent on not
falling, she had a hard time shielding a thousand questions from spinning in
her mind. So many interrogations going round and round that she thought she
might go mad.

By contrast the
man appeared to know exactly what he was doing. But where had he come from and
why this peculiar need to fasten her to his side? Had he asked she would have
been willing to go with him anyway, simply to not stay alone in this unknown
land.

Come to think of
it, why had she been sleeping in the meadow? How had she ended up there? On his
lap to top it all! So many inexplicable issues that felt like pinpricks
piercing her brain. Yet as the sun dipped below the horizon, she felt unable to
keep out the most important question of all.

Where had New York gone?

End of Chapter One. BLADE HEART is
available in all major retailers and on
Amazon:
www.amazon.com/dp/B00DELZDTU

About the
Author

Welcome to Chris Lange's fantasy
world where she lives most of the time. She loves alpha males, badass bikers,
sensitive men, hot vampires, angels, demons, cowboys, cops, ghosts, knights and
kings. She's a dreamer and a storyteller. She writes about love, love, love,
and sometimes she leaves her characters' bedroom door open.

Also by
Chris Lange

Blade Heart

Gabriel

A Touch too
Much

Enchained

Visit
Chris Lange

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http://chrislangeauthor.wordpress.com

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