The Breaker's Concubine (15 page)

interest everywhere she went. With a quiet personality and a shy demeanor, the maid was just

beginning to open up to Melania.

Melania glanced at her in the mirror as she scrubbed her face with an icy washcloth.

“Leave the tea on the sitting table.”

“Mistress, your novice is here requesting an audience with you.” A look of fear flashed

across the maid’s face, gone too quickly for Melania to be sure it was ever there.

With a tired sigh, Melania dabbed some cooling gel on her swollen eyelids. “I’m not in the

mood.” The words sounded petulant even to her, and her grimace deepened.

The maid fidgeted and cleared her throat. “Ah, I’m afraid he’s already here.”

Melania clutched the front of her worn periwinkle blue robe as it gaped open. “What is he

doing here?” she said in an angry whisper and glanced over the maid’s shoulder. Sure enough,

Devnar examined a pastel painting on the wall of her bedroom. Dressed in a pair of loose black

pants and a plain white shirt, he rubbed a thick scar on his jaw when he caught her staring at him.

A gleam lit his dark eyes, and her body responded with a sudden surge of heat. His nostrils flared

as he took in a deep breath, and the corners of his lips lifted in a small smile.

“Salina brought him, Mistress.” Cekina turned and gave Devnar a quick look of approval

before returning her gaze to the floor with a pretty blush flushing her cheeks. Jealousy and

insecurity tightened Melania’s stomach into a hard knot, and she hunched her shoulders.

Keeping her voice as calm as possible, she rinsed the washcloth out with shaking hands.

“Always check with me before you admit anyone to my rooms.”

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“My apologizes, Mistress. Would you like me beaten?” The eagerness in Cekina’s voice

turned Melania’s stomach. Taken from an abusive Master, Cekina still craved the beatings she

associated with love. Nothing Melania had done could break the deep-seated association.

Turned from her own despair by the need to serve, Melania studied the maid. “As I’ve told

you before, I do not beat my servants.”

Anger and despair flashed through the maid’s eyes before she lowered her gaze to the

floor. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Go and tell the staff I’m not to be disturbed for the rest of the night. I will be dealing with

my novice.”

Cekina fisted her hands in her skirt and hesitated, clearly contemplating doing something

to earn punishment. Melania decided to take the option away from her with a direct order. “Go.”

With a quick curtsy, the maid left with a sway to her hips that made Melania grit her teeth.

She scolded herself for letting Cekina get to her like this. Tales had reached her ears of Cekina

picking fights with the other servants and then barely fighting back when they beat on her. It

wasn’t fair to her staff that she kept the woman around in hopes of rehabilitating her. Cekina had

needs that were never going to be met here.

Tomorrow she would have to contact Pimina and see about her getting reassigned. A little

voice in her mind whispered about needing to get Devnar reassigned as well, but she ignored it.

She could feel him standing in the other room, and could taste a hint of his musk and hormones

in the air. Already her body craved the chemicals he gave off, and her core clenched in

anticipation. Hands resting on the cool marble of her sink, she watched his back in the mirror. It

still thrilled and confused her that she called forth desire from his body. That he wanted
her
.

Tossing the ice-cold washcloth into the sink, Melania tied back the tangled knot of her hair

and examined her reflection. Pink blotches still covered her face, and her eyes were red and

swollen. She would never be one of those women who looked beautiful when she cried. As she

cleaned out her hairbrush, she delayed facing him. If there was a secret escape in her bathroom,

she would have used it.

Dangerous, he was so dangerous to her hard-won self-control. The situation was spiraling

out of her hands, and she felt helpless to stop it. Any option she looked at had either her alone

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and spending the rest of her life watching Devnar love another woman, or her dead and Devnar a

tortured shadow of himself suffering for an eternity beneath Lady Grenba’s bloodlust.

Since the moment he’d told her that he wanted her as his concubine, she couldn’t stop

thinking about his words. He couldn’t know he had paid her the ultimate compliment, but that

didn’t stop her heart from aching every time she imagined spending the rest of her life serving

him, loving him, and being loved in return. If the regulators knew she was even dreaming of such

a thing, she would be publicly whipped and stripped of her breaker status.

“What do you want, Prince?” She tried to keep her tone cold and formal, but a hint of

sadness peeked through. All she had thought about over the past hours was the hurt on Devnar’s

face, the impossible dream he had planted in her head.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

She brushed past him and poured herself a steaming cup of tea from the tray in the small

seating area. The steam curled from the delicate white cup as she stared at the amber liquid

inside. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You performed well, and I have every confidence

you will attract the empress’s eye tomorrow.”

The soft brush of bare feet on carpet made her aware of his movements a moment before

his warmth brushed against her back. Instead of embracing her like she feared—wanted—he held

the cup to her lips and gave her a drink. After taking a swallow of the bitter tea, she clutched the

front of her robe while he set the cup back down. Now he would take her in his arms, and she

would have to punish him. Punish herself.

Once again he surprised her, taking a seat in the large cream leather chair next to the small

table. Utterly relaxed, he leaned forward and tugged the edge of her robe until she was standing

between his legs. Such a big man, even seated he seemed to fill the room with his presence.

“Take off your robe,” he ordered, and she tried to pull away.

“It’s time for you to go.” Her struggles were less than enthusiastic, and his laughter at once

shamed and aroused her. Damn him.

“Take off your robe, Mistress.” The front of his shirt gaped open, showing a square of firm

chest and the corded muscles of his throat as he leaned forward. Holding her gaze, he gave the

belt holding the fabric in place a gentle tug.

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Anger filled her and blended with her rising passion. It was impossible to think around this

man, to keep her mind and body from hungering for him. Her hand moved to touch her bracelet

controlling his collar, and he made a low growl.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice was low and deadly.

Fingertip hovering, she cleared her throat to dislodge the sudden lump of fear. “Why not?”

“Because if you do, I’m going to tell everyone you orgasmed with me.” He flattened the

palm of his hand over her mound and rubbed gently. “That you lost control and took your

pleasure with me repeatedly.”

“You wouldn’t.” Her words came out in a breathless whisper, and she didn’t resist him

when he pressed his thighs against the outsides of her legs, trapping her. “Yes, I would.” Serious

dark eyes gazed at her. “I will do whatever I have to in order to convince you you’re mine. That

we belong together.”

His words ran through her mind, and her body responded with a low throb. “Prince—”

“Call me Master.” He grinned as she made a strangled noise, and nuzzled his face against

her stomach. “Let me do whatever I want to you when we’re alone, and I’ll keep your secret.”

She twisted her hands together, and her lower lip trembled as she fought back tears. Gods,

she wanted what he offered so badly. She was trapped, caught as surely by her own desires as her

body was held by his hands.

“We will pretend I am your Master and you are my beloved concubine.” The intensity of

the emotion in his stare was too much for her. She lowered her gaze and stared at his big, scarred

fingers pressing into her hips. “Say yes.”

Just this once, just for a few hours, she could have what she wanted. What choice did she

have? He had complete control of the situation. Complete control of her. That thought made her

pussy clench, and wet heat trickled down her inner thigh. Taking in a deep breath, she whispered,

“Yes.”

His grip on her hips tightened until she made a little sound of need. “Yes, what?”

She looked at him from beneath her lowered lashes and said the words she had wanted to

say her whole life. “Yes, Master.”

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A tear trailed down her cheek and another followed. This was too intense, too much. Every

fantasy she had ever had revolved around those words, and now she was saying them to a man

who was destined to break her heart. The irony of the situation was bitter enough to choke on.

He pulled her down onto his lap and rested her face against his chest. His scent and a hint

of the herbal soap he used filled her. Strong arms wrapped around her and held her close,

cradling her as she cried. Confusion, desire, and the feeling of being cherished tore at her heart.

Great sobs racked her body, and he held her, stroking her back and arms as her sobs tapered off

to sniffles.

“I know this is hard for you.” He tilted her head and gave her a kiss on her temple. “I’m

proud of you for being so brave, my Concubine.”

His words seared a path through her sorrow, soothed her pain, and made her heart ache

with an emotion she dared not name. With slow movements, he kissed his way down her cheek

until his lips brushed against hers in a soft kiss that tasted like her tears. Her breath came out in a

soft gasp, and her body started to warm beneath his hands.

He must have felt the change, because his strokes along her back and arms slowed and

grew teasing. “Can anyone get in here without your permission?”

Unable to speak, her throat raw from crying, she shook her head. He nodded and easily

lifted her in his arms as he rose from the chair, carrying her to the bathroom. She stole a glance at

herself in the mirror and winced. Her eyes were almost swollen shut from crying, and her nose

was red and raw.

He sat her on the edge of the giant tub and turned on the faucets.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking care of my property.”

“Oh,” she said in a soft whisper. It was the only answer she could come up with. As he

fiddled with the temperature, getting the water right, she found herself becoming more and more

aroused. The way he was taking such care with preparing the water for her made that emotion

she wouldn’t name surge inside her. She parted her thighs slightly as her body responded to his

nearness.

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The tub quickly filled, and he pulled her up by her hands. He stripped off her robe with an

efficient tug of her belt. She trembled as his hands skimmed down over her shoulders and traced

the outer curves of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled into stiff peaks, and her heart thudded as his

hands continued to circle her breasts.

“Into the bath with you,” he said in a rough voice and picked her up as if she weighed no

more than a feather. The warm water embraced her and did nothing to dispel the arousal his

touch had built within her. Her breath came out in a soft moan of need as he pulled off his shirt.

Muscles, big and firm, covered with scars and tan skin. The soft, dark hair on his chest narrowed

and led down to the impressive bulge of his erection behind his black pants.

A deep sense of satisfaction filled her as she sank into the water up to her neck. After a

lifetime of never being good enough, beautiful enough, it delighted her to be with a man who

obviously found her desirable. Even in her current tear-streaked state.

Reminded of her appearance, she quickly grabbed a washcloth and squeaked as his hand

closed over hers. “Lay back.”

Her body complied even before her mind processed his words, and his dark gaze warmed

with satisfaction. He wet the washcloth with a bar of rose-colored soap and worked up a good

handful of suds. He took her arm firmly in his calloused hand and rubbed the cloth over her neck

and shoulders.

The soft scrape of the cloth over her sensitized skin had her wriggling, and he chuckled.

“Stand.”

She hesitated, then scrambled to her feet when his soapy fingers closed over the bump of

her nipple and squeezed hard. The shocking pain blended with her desire, and her clit grew hard

and erect. Wet and dripping, she stared down at him as he ran the washcloth over her thighs and

hips.

“Spread your legs.”

She moved her legs slightly apart. It was so different being on the other end of the

commands, seeking to carry out the orders rather than give them. Her small burst of defiance

quickly came to an end when he yanked her out of the water and over his knee.