Captured by the Dark Lord (8 page)

Beneath her skirts, her
thighs felt hot and sticky with remembered sensation.  She didn’t know if she
could make it through this dinner in one piece.

He smiled, as if he knew the
turn of her thoughts.  His eyes darkened as she licked a crumb from the corner
of her mouth, making her clit throb with awareness.

She had to stop thinking like
a madwoman and ignore the heat he conjured with a look.  Bianca cleared her
throat and toyed with her food, clenching her thighs together as she tried to
ignore the uncomfortable wetness between them.  “I-I would like to understand
what happened to you ... more fully.”

“I don’t remember all that
happened.  It was many years ago.”

She could tell he was lying,
that he just didn’t want to tell her the truth.  God knew she needed something
to distract her from the hollow ache of her womb.  “Perhaps some tidbit?  The
least likely detail could give me some clue.”

“I thought you did not want to
heal me.  You made that apparent today.”

She ignored his reference to
her earlier actions.  Her frustration channeled her thoughts away from her
sensuality.  “If you do not help me, I cannot help you.”

He sighed and touched his
breastplate, his hand over his heart.  “Do you see this hole?”

Bianca leaned forward.  Yes,
now she could see there was a hole bending the metal plate in.  It was a thin
slit, barely visible.  She’d not noticed it before.  “What of it?”

“I was struck with a cursed
blade.  The moment it pierced my skin was the moment my cursed existence
began.”

“Perhaps then if I saw
it....”

“The wound has long since
disappeared.  No, you would do well to improve your powers.  If not, you may
never leave me.”

It was cruel of him to
mention it again, when she had no hope of bowing to his wishes.  “My father
will come for me.”

“Aye, he likely will, but
he’ll not find Helmskeep.  No one can unless I choose to reveal it.  He could
wander this valley for weeks and circle it a hundred times without knowing he
did so.”

He continued talking, but she
refused to listen.  He’d effectively dried the well of her desire.

Never would he reveal his
secrets, yet without full knowledge, he was damning her to fail.  His determination
to shut her out frustrated her, perhaps nearly as much as being unable to heal
him and being unable to escape.  It was odd that years of his existence hadn’t
erased his unfavorable human traits when much of his good had likely long since
departed.  More so than all of that, she felt as though some twisted destiny
had thrust them in one another’s paths, but she was helpless to know why ... or
to do anything about it.

Damian’s attempts to draw her
back into conversation fell flat on her mood.  Would he really let her father
hunt her endlessly?  Did he truly want to keep her that badly?  Her own father
teased her mercilessly about selling her to the lowest bidder, for she was
headstrong and aggravating in her own right.  Damian’s patience was vast, but she
could frustrate anyone, including him.

No matter, she would make it
outside Helmskeep the next opportunity, for certain.

She noticed a sudden silence
and glanced up, wondering what he was about.

“Now who is acting the
child?  You’ve scarce uttered a word in all this time,” he said finally, a
slight smile on his lips as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

She frowned at him, her
attention caught.  He’d made no mention of forcing her to converse, and she
resented his implication.  “Is it any wonder?  I have good reason to.”  She was
not
acting like a child.  She simply ... didn’t have anything to say to
him.

One corner of his mouth
hitched higher, and he arched one brow.  “Come, I did not ... beat you.”

Bianca’s skin heated as she
blushed at the reminder of what he’d done.  What sort of lowborn man would
bring up such a thing at the table?  Never mind the fact that she could
scarcely draw her thoughts away from it.  Just looking at his long, tapered
fingers made her weak inside.  “No, you did not.”

She lifted her glass to sip
some wine, and strangled as something touched her foot beneath the table. 
Bianca coughed and sputtered, near jumping out of her seat.  She patted her
lips with a linen towel and surreptitiously looked down to see his foot disappear
beneath her skirt.  She felt the soft leather slide up her calf.  He stroked it
up and down, moving higher each time.  By all that was holy--she wanted him to
touch her again, wanted him to soothe her ache--but she couldn’t allow it.

Bianca wiggled in her seat
away from him and shook her legs, but he persisted.  If anything, he seemed
more determined now than ever.  Perhaps if she showed no reaction, he would
cease and desist.  Any response he aroused in her only seemed to provoke him
further.

Resolutely, Bianca ignored
him, until his foot slipped up between her thighs.  She clamped her legs
tightly together, and he grinned.  Actually grinned at her!  He was using her
weakness against her.

Her fork clattered to her
plate as she dropped it and glared at him.

“Am I disturbing you?”  His
smile increased.

If she’d not been on the
receiving end of his teasing, she would have laughed.  At this moment, he was
so unlike what he normally projected himself to be.  It gave her hope that
anyone could change, and she found his reversal enormously appealing.

He inched higher between her
thighs, despite her efforts.  He delighted in tormenting her.  That was
obvious.  She would not give him the satisfaction of winning so easily.  She
returned his smile, her teeth gritted as she said, “No, my lord, you are not
disturbing me.”

“That is good, for I find for
the first time in centuries, I’m enjoying myself.”

She felt his toes wiggle on
her sensitive flesh, and wondered how he’d managed to remove his boot.  She
tightened her thighs and smiled at him with death in her eyes.  “I wonder that
your mind focuses so readily on sensual pleasures, my lord, when you deny such
impulses affect you.”

“Perhaps you’ve healed me
after all....”

Bianca startled as he touched
her intimate folds.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out in joy and gripped
the arms of her chair, her knuckles whitening under the pressure.  All hint of
humor had vanished from her mood.  Catching her voice, she said, “Stop that.”

“This?”  He teased her slit,
her own moisture easing the glide of his digits.  “Or this?”  He flicked her
clit, and she gasped, unable and unwilling to move away.

She nodded.  “Yes.  Yes
that.”

He rubbed roughly against her
swollen nub.  She jerked against him, her hips moving forward of their own
accord, grinding against him.  Her nerves danced with burgeoning pleasure.

“I apologize for my
confusion.  You wanted me to stop?”

Bianca bit her lip and
nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again, dizzy and unsure of what she
wanted anymore.  She squirmed in her chair.

He stopped, and she wanted to
cry out for him to continue.  She cursed herself a fool.

“If I disturb you, leave,” he
said.

But she couldn’t.  Not until
she had some assurance she could move about freely, and she’d not even begun to
ask him.  He was a devil for taunting her this way, for distracting her from
her purpose.  “Is ... is our arrangement still in place?  Can I continue to
gather necessities?”

He gave her a dark,
unreadable look.  “You must convince me I can trust you once more.”

“How, my lor--Damian?”

He held her gaze locked with
his own, intense and hot.  “You must please me, Bianca.”

Her eyes widened.  “But--”

“If I feel confident you’ll
do anything I ask, then surely you would not break your word again.  You
wouldn’t, would you?”  He stood, over her, and she craned her head up to see
him.

“I will do ... whatever it
takes, Damian.”

He smiled, and she shivered
at the promise in his dark eyes.  “I had hoped you would say that, my sweet
lady.”

* * * *

Damian swiped his arm across
the end of the table, sweeping away the tableware.  Plates and crystal goblets
shattered as they struck the stone floor, shards scattering like pebbles
skipping over a still lake.  The flames of fallen candles snuffed in the
spilled wine, and thin tendrils of smoke rose in the dimmed room.

Bianca froze in her chair,
startled by his actions.  She was unable to keep her eyes off of him.  “Why are
you doing this?  You can’t derive any pleasure from it.”

He turned back to her and slid
his hand around the back of her neck, digging his fingers into her hair as he
tilted her head back.  He pulled her close, and she rose instinctively, her
skin prickling with the feel of his cool fingers guiding her.

He bent his head toward her,
his mouth inches from claiming her own.  “Your pleasure is my pleasure,
Bianca.”  He leaned closer, so near she could almost flick her tongue out and
taste him.  She realized she wanted him to kiss her, almost as badly as she
wanted him to claim her.

He teased with his nearness,
massaging the base of her skull lightly.  “More than anything, I want to slide
my shaft inside you and watch you come,” he whispered.

Her womb pulsed with each
drawn out word, and she shivered.  She should stop this ... but she couldn’t.

A breathless expectancy
seized her as she waited for his kiss.  He released the back of her neck
suddenly.  A surprised gasp escaped her throat as he grasped her waist and
lifted her onto the table.  She clutched his armored shoulders as he stooped
and grabbed two handfuls of her skirts and lifted the hem high on her thighs.

He pushed between her legs,
forcing them apart, spreading her cleft wide to him.  He rounded her hips with
his hands, pulling her close, and the cool metal of his armor rubbed against
her exposed clit.  She arched her head back, shuddering from the contrast of
cool hardness to her feverish skin.

Bending, he dragged his lips
down her exposed throat, tearing a moan from her as he moved to the curve of
her neck and bit her lightly.  She felt the pull of her laces, a shot of fresh
air on her skin, and then he’d shoved one hand into her bodice and cupped a
breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

“Will ... will you not ...
kiss me?” she breathed, running her fingers through his silky hair, trembling
as he pinched her nipple between his fingers.

He broke away from her neck
to study her.  “Where would you like to be kissed?” he asked huskily.

A hot flood of moisture
suffused her cleft at the smoky look in his eyes.  “Anywhere you will it, my lord.”

Damian leaned forward and
pressed his lips against hers briefly.  She parted her lips, expecting more,
but he pulled away.

“Lie back, my beauty, and I
will give you your kiss.”

Unsure, she slowly complied. 
Her breasts flattened slightly as she lay down, the nipples hard and rosy in
the soft, golden light.  Her hair spread around her in inky pools, clinging to
her shoulders and neck like vines.  She was lovely and open to him, open to
anything he desired.

Damian knelt between her legs
and smoothed his hands up the inside of her thighs.

She started to rise. 
“Wh--what are you doing?”

He pushed her hips firmly
down, forcing her to drop back.  “Shhh,” he murmured, his fingers firm and
demanding.