Savage Satisfaction (8 page)

One event made her think there was some hope for her future
with Lord William. The nights were growing colder, and Mirela had spent a
miserable evening curled up on her cot, shaking with cold. When he arrived with
breakfast the next morning William had taken one look at her and disappeared,
only to return with a portable heater, which he plugged in and aimed at her
cage. Mirela had since moved her cot to be close to the heat.

What a fool she’d been to wish for a life of solitude—she
hated solitude. A simple room all to herself with a master who occasionally
called upon her to fly but otherwise left her alone had been her wish. No more.
That existence would be a lonely one, and she was tired of being lonely.

At the sound of the key she stood, arranging her hair over
her breasts and folding her hands over her sex. Christoffer entered first,
followed by William. Christoffer appeared happy and he smiled at her. Mirela
returned the smile. She was glad he was happy, he was her only friend, but she
was jealous too. Had he been allowed to call his wolf and run? Had he spent
time in William’s bed?

“Good morning,” Christoffer said.

“Good morning. Are you okay?” she asked him.

He laughed. “I’m fine. You don’t need to defend me.”

Mirela blushed and ducked her head. Christoffer’s loyalty
was to William not to her.

“Mirela, look up,” William ordered.

She raised her chin and met his eyes.
Obedience
, she
reminded herself.

“It is time to begin your training,” William said.

Her heart leapt and she nodded eagerly. “Thank you, my
lord.”

His face was stern. “I doubt you will like what is to come,
at least not at first.”

“I’m here to serve, my lord,” she replied.

William unlocked her cage and, for the first time in ten
days, Mirela stepped out. The urge to flee, to run for the door and take to the
sky, was nearly overwhelming. Mirela curled her arms around her belly and
fought to remain still and calm. She couldn’t fly away, she reminded herself.
She still wore the hated collar.

Take the key, free yourself. Fly away. The sky is
calling.

Her eyes went to the chain around William’s neck. The token
that opened the collar was on that chain, hidden now under his shirt. She was
strong, even as a human. She could take it.

Christoffer stepped between her and William, blocking her
view. His arms were raised and curled forward, his knees bent. He was ready to
fight her if she tried anything. The challenge brought her falcon to the
surface. Mirela narrowed her eyes and hissed. Christoffer pulled back his teeth
and snarled.

She lunged to the right, trying to go around Christoffer. He
caught her easily, spinning her in his arms so she was pressed to his chest,
her face against his neck.

“Calm down. I know you want to fly, but you have to earn it.
You will fly, you will fly again, but you need to earn it. Mirela, push the
falcon down, listen to your human self. Calm down.”

Christoffer’s soft monologue calmed her. The desperate need
to flee ebbed and she relaxed in his grip, resting her cheek on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve been locked up so long.”
Tears stung her eyes.

“Jesus,” William muttered, and then his large hand was on
her back. Christoffer gripped her hips, still holding her but leaving her back
bare so William could stroke her.

Mirela stiffened at his first touch, then relaxed.

“You’re not going back in the cage, not as long as you
behave.” William’s words were as gentle as his touch.

“Truly?” Mirela asked, heart leaping with joy. She turned
her face so she could see William and he smiled softly down at her. She liked
the creases at the corners of his eyes and the gray strands sprinkled
throughout his hair.

“Truly,” he said. There was sadness in his eyes.

Still clinging to Christoffer, she reached out with one hand
and touched the bandage on his face. “I’m sorry.”

William nodded, then looked at Christoffer. The wolf stepped
away from her and grabbed something from the bag at his feet. He pulled out a
robe and a pair of trainers—one of the pairs from her trunk.

She had a million questions to ask but, after a look at
Christoffer, stayed silent. She shrugged on the robe and belted it closed. She
was so used to being naked it was odd to have fabric against her skin.

She slid on her trainers over bare feet and tied the laces.

Once she was dressed, Christoffer pulled one more thing out
of the bag and handed it to William. It was a long scarf and Mirela began to
sweat with nerves. Was that to tie her up?

“Come here,” he ordered.

Mirela nervously moved to stand before William. He raised the
scarf and pressed it over her eyes. A blindfold.

He tied it in place, then fussed with the cloth until it
completely covered her eyes.

He took her hand then and Mirela jumped slightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” William said. “Trust me.”

When they stepped out into the daylight—Mirela felt the
warmth on her face and legs—she ached with the need to look at the sky. Her
free hand twitched toward the blindfold but it was captured by slim, calloused fingers.

“No,” Christoffer admonished her.

Mirela had to settle for tipping her head back as they
walked so the sunlight soaked into her skin.

She shriveled in disappointment when the men led her indoors
once more. They crossed squeaky hard floors and quiet carpet, went upstairs and
through several more doors.

When they stopped Mirela decided they must be in the house
they’d eaten in on the first day. The robe and shoes were stripped from her,
leaving her naked.

Finally the blindfold was removed. The first thing she saw
was William’s smiling face.

“Now we begin.”

The room was sparsely furnished with a bed and one chair,
though paintings hung on the walls, which were covered in elegant striped
paper. There were blue Oriental rugs on the hardwood floor and gold drapes on
the windows.

The windows.

Forgetting herself, Mirela ran to the windows. Though they
looked out over the beauty of the formal garden Mirela’s gaze was on the sky,
not the land. It was a bright day, with only high wispy clouds. It was a good
day for flying.

Her fingertips pressed against the glass until they were
white. That same panicked need to flee began to bubble up inside her.

William grabbed her, turning her away from the window. She
glared at him, but under his steady regard was able to calm herself. She bowed
her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know this is hard for you. I understand that now.”

He led her away from the windows, back to the center of the
room. Behind her, a door opened and Christoffer, holding a wooden box, moved to
stand beside William.

Christoffer set the box at the lord’s feet and stepped back.

William took Mirela’s chin in his hand. “I have done a poor
job training you, but that changes now. My family has a long history of
falconry.” His eyes crinkled with a smile. “My library contains several books
on how to train a falcon.”

She was not a wild bird to be trained. She was able to read
his commands from his lips, so there was no need to teach her to respond to
whistles or come to a pomander whirled on a string.

“But what I have here,” he murmured, stroking the line of her
jaw with his thumb, “is more than just a falcon. I have a woman with the heart
of a falcon, who so loves the sky that she had trouble being obedient.”

Mirela let her gaze slide from his, embarrassed.

“But,” he continued, “it is not the nature of the falcon to
obey a master, as it is with the wolf. My failure was in understanding that. So
now I will teach you to obey me, teach you as I would a falcon.”

“You wish me to change?” she asked, heart leaping.

“Yes, but not today. I will train my falcon while she
remains a woman.” He released her chin and knelt beside the box Christoffer had
brought in. She looked at the wolf in confusion, but Christoffer did not meet
her gaze. He stood with his hands behind his back, feet braced apart, gaze on
the far wall.

“Long ago,” William said, rising, “falcons were trained to
come to the whistle of their lord. The birds were prized above all, eating in
the great hall and hunting from their lord’s wrist.

“The birds had to learn to recognize and trust their lord,
and the lord did that by keeping the falcon hooded and in shadow. The bird was
fed from the lord’s hand. The lord breathed upon the falcon so it knew his
scent.” William circled her as he spoke, his fingers on her belly, hip and
back.

“This is how I will train you,” he whispered, breath washing
over her face.

Mirela’s thighs ached with longing and her heart beat fast.
His words aroused her, scared her.

William held up the thing he’d taken from the box. He posed
it on his fist so she could understand what it was.

The mask was made of hard leather and once on would cover
her face from hairline to upper cheek. The molded nose came to a point, like a
falcon’s beak. Three straps led from the mask, one straight back from the top,
the others from the side. Small chains dangled from the side straps.

Mirela fell back a step. “I will wear that?”

“Yes.”

“But I won’t be able to see.” Her gaze went to the windows.

“Christoffer, close the shutters,” William said.

Mirela whimpered slightly as Christoffer pulled wood
shutters in place over the windows. He latched them with shiny new locks.

When the last window was closed, the only light came from a
single lamp near the door. The twilight atmosphere made the room seem smaller,
more intimate. Mirela looked to William.

“Come here, my falcon.”

She went to him like a moth to a flame, but unlike the moth,
she knew it was dangerous.

“I’m frightened,” she whispered.

“I know.” He stroked her face, fingers flittering over her
brows and cheeks. He held the mask up, flipping the straps out of his way. He
brought the mask to her face, his hand behind her head, keeping her still.

She whimpered as the cold leather touched her face. The mask
fit perfectly, settling into place over her nose and along her cheeks and
forehead. The dim light from the lamp disappeared.

“There is nothing to fear,” William said. “I’m here. Listen
to my voice, that is all you need.”

William held the mask in place as Christoffer joined them.
He carefully parted Mirela’s hair, pressing the straps flush against her head
so that her hair wouldn’t be trapped under them. The straps came together at
the back of her head. Christoffer drew them snug, but not so tight that it hurt.

William released her and Mirela touched the mask. Her
blindness was frightening, and arousing. She was confused and scared, the
emotions rolling slowly through her so that it felt as though her mind were
coated in black velvet.

“These chains will prevent you from removing it,” William
told her, and the chains she’d seen dangling from the side straps were looped
around the collar. She shivered as their fingers touched her neck. She couldn’t
tell whose hands were whose.

Then they left her there, alone in the darkness they’d made.
Mirela rolled her head, testing the mask.

“How do you like the hood?” William asked. His voice came
from far away.

“Don’t leave me,” she gasped out. She stumbled forward,
toward his voice.

Strong hands caught her waist. Mirela buried her face
against his shoulder, breathing deep. William’s hands settled on her back,
stroking as he had in the pen.

“Be calm, my falcon,” he crooned.

Bells jingled and she cocked her head, listening to the sound
getting closer.

“Did you know,” William whispered in her ear, “that falcons
wore jesses from their ankles? The straps were made from soft leather dyed the
lord’s colors. Bells of gold and jewels were added to the jesses of the best
falcons. I have jesses for you, my falcon.”

The tinkle of bells fell silent. Hands stroked her legs and
Mirela danced nervously in place.

“Be still.”

Cool leather was slipped around her ankles. When she shifted
her feet the bells jingled.

Next, leather went around her wrists.

“The jesses had a purpose. They were the lord’s way of
controlling and taming his bird, and rings in the jesses allowed leashes to be
attached.”

Mirela felt the jesses at her wrists. The leather was
studded with small hard objects—the jewels he’d spoken of? A short length of
chain, accented with bells, dangled from each. At the end of the chain was a
ring.

William’s hands flowed down her arms, over the jesses to toy
with the chains, sending the bells dancing.

Her hands were raised, higher, until they were stretched
above her head. Mirela moaned, turning her blind face into her arm, wanting to
hide from the powerful feelings rolling through her.

“She’s aroused,” Christoffer said. It was the first time
he’d spoken and she barely recognized his voice, which was deeper than normal
and gravelly.

“Is my wolf right?” William asked, breath washing down her
cheek. “Are you aroused?”

She shook her head. She would have answered had she known
what to say.

“Hold her up,” William said, and her bells jingled as
ownership of her hands was transferred to Christoffer. She could feel the two
big men looming over her, their body heat warming her.

Thumbs rubbed her cheeks below the mask, then passed over
her lower lip. They were William’s—she was beginning to know each man by his
hands. Without knowing why, she licked his finger.

William chuckled but it was not a cruel sound. “My falcon,”
he whispered.

His lips met hers and Mirela sighed against his mouth. The
kiss started slow, lips soft and tender. Then he deepened the kiss, his tongue
wet and startling against her lips, demanding they open. Mirela moaned when
William’s tongue pushed into her mouth, flicking against her teeth.

His tongue retreated, his wet lips rubbing against hers.
Mirela’s breasts were heavy, her sex throbbing. She pressed her hips forward
against William’s. His hands settled on her hips, sliding slowly upward until
he cupped the undersides of her breasts. He kneaded the firm flesh and Mirela’s
head tipped back, coming to rest on Christoffer, who stood at her back holding
her arms above her head. The scent of woods came to her, so different from
William’s human smell.

William’s thumbs brushed her nipples and Mirela cried out at
the exquisite pleasure. Lips on her neck played with the tender skin behind her
ears. There were more lips kissing their way down her chest, and then her
nipple was captured by warm mouth.

Fingers petted the hair of her sex. Scared by her arousal,
Mirela locked her knees together. That earned her a hard swat on the ass.

“Spread your legs,” William ordered.

Mirela spread her legs, toes curling in the plush carpet.
The sting from the spank fed into her arousal, and when fingers spread the lips
of her sex she started to beg.

“Please, please, please…”

“What do you want, my falcon?”

“I don’t know. Please, please.”

“You do,” Christoffer admonished, licking her ear, “I taught
you the words.”

“I-I want to be fucked. I want to be fucked until I come. I
want to come.”

“Who, who do you want to make you come?”

The answer came without hesitation. “My master, my lord.”

“Good girl.”

William’s fingers slid through the slippery wetness of her
sex. No one had touched her there before and Mirela was glad of the blindfold.
His fingers moved to the top of her sex and pleasure so sharp it was almost
pain spiked through her.

“That felt good, didn’t it?” William asked, his voice heavy
and satisfied. He touched her again and she screamed.

“That’s your clit,” Christoffer told her, his growling voice
warm. His hips were rubbing against her ass.

William’s thumb pressed open one lip of her sex as he began
to rhythmically rub her clit.

“Yes, yes, please!” she begged.

“Relax your body, let it come,” Christoffer said.

William’s fingers circled her clit, then stroked up and
down, the constant rhythm building something low in her belly. William stood,
his fingers still on her clit. He kissed her, drinking in her cries. Mirela
sobbed and cried into his mouth, her hips rocking forward. The heel of his hand
pressed into her belly. Christoffer’s panting breaths on the side of her neck
tickled the soft skin there.

William’s lips were hot and wet against hers, his finger
hard and firm on her clit.

Circle, circle, rub, rub.

Mirela lifted onto her toes as the feeling in her belly
reached its zenith. One last stroke on her clit and she came.

She sobbed in fear and pleasure—her first orgasm. William
and Christoffer leaned into her, pressing her body between theirs, and Mirela
was grateful. If they hadn’t been there she was sure she would have been blown
apart into thousands of pieces.

“Put her on the bed,” William whispered.

She was lifted and carried, then set down on a soft bed. It
was glorious after the hard cot, though that thought was far away, as if
someone else were thinking it. Mirela was still reeling from the pleasure she’d
experienced.

Her hands were drawn up and there was a rattle. Another
rattle and her legs were drawn down toward the foot of the bed.

“My lord? Christoffer?” she whispered, feeling cold and
lonely without their touch.

“I will return to feed you,” William said. A soft blanket
was draped over her. “Sleep well, my falcon.”

“My lord?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“It was my true pleasure.” She could hear the smile in his
voice. “You are beautiful.”

There was a sound of the door opening, footsteps, then a
closing door.

Mirela took a deep breath, feeling terribly lethargic. She
tried to shift positions, only to find that her hands and feet had been bound
in place. There was a small amount of slack and she wiggled until comfortable.

Licking her lips, she tasted William’s kiss. Her last
thought before slipping into sleep was to wonder what William and Christoffer
were doing right now.

William slammed Christoffer against the wall. He met the
boy’s blue eyes, seeing his own wild arousal echoed there.

His head was full of his own power. The submission and
obedience of the falcon satisfied the barbarian inside him. He’d given her an orgasm,
but now he wanted his. Christoffer shivered and William grinned. He would have
this boy.

It didn’t matter that Christoffer was male. What mattered
was that he was William’s. Christoffer wanted William’s touch. Like the falcon,
the wolf craved him, and William would satisfy him.

He savaged Christoffer’s mouth with a brutal kiss.
Christoffer’s hands fisted in his shirt, pressing their chests together.

Grabbing the boy by the scruff of the neck, William broke
the kiss and dragged him down the hall toward William’s own bedroom.

“Strip,” William demanded, slamming the door closed. He
jerked his own shirt open, buttons pinging on the floor. Christoffer’s eyes
were wide but he scrambled to obey, and within moments was naked.

William caught him by the hips, bringing their bodies together
so Christoffer’s cock rubbed over his slacks.

“Take off my pants,” he ordered.

Christoffer dropped to his knees and undid the belt, pulling
it free of the loops. When he started to toss it aside, William took it.
Feeling dark and dangerous, he looped it around Christoffer’s neck, sliding the
free end through the loop of the buckle, keeping it loose.