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Submitted:Apr 10, 2014    Reads: 8    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   



The warm air hit my skin, candlelight flickering off it in a glorious caramel glow.

I breathed deeply in, trying to contain my fretting nerves.

When would he come? I wondered, staring at the made bed, green and silver silk draping over the plush mattress, a long canopy above, perhaps to conceal the planned act of intimacy.

Did the door just quietly shut?

I didn't dare turn around, a cool, gentle breeze billowing out the fine cotton curtains as it rushed past the open French doors.

Hands slid onto my bare waist from behind; I felt a wall of toned, smooth flesh on my behind, protecting me in a sweet, loving embrace. I tensed with dark anticipation.

Breath on my neck: Warm…calm and even.

It became more focused before lips touched my skin in a gentle, intimate kiss of triumphant relief and pure, unadulterated joy and pleasure.

I moaned quietly as the lips continued higher, caressing the curve of my jaw. My breath hitched, trembles rushing over my skin. His strong fingers held me in an authoritative, firm, but tender grip, the left thumb ghosting over the back of my last rib.

"Oh, my Queen," he finally murmured in contented ecstasy, shifting my hair over to the opposite shoulder. My heart rate spiked, galloping, hotness spreading from my chest, as my newlywed husband kissed the other side of my neck.

I couldn't help it any longer, turning slowly around to meet his gaze, panting quietly. He was even more beautiful naked, sculptured from years of training to a sublime example of the desire masculine. His dark-green eyes and delighted gaze panned very slowly though the length of my figure, hands still on my sides. A beam surfaced on his face, my hands raking thoughtfully through his silky, black hair.

"So beautiful, my bride, Angia," he snarled in hasty desire, impatient, pulling me viciously close, stealing my lips. Arousal tightened within me; before I knew it, he was gently setting me on the sheets, my heart pounding, pumping pure lust through my veins.

Would it hurt? Would he be gentle?

I heaved in a breath, my chest rising. "I love you so much," I whispered huskily, pleasure blooming into my torso like warm honey.

He smiled, gently and slowly lowering himself onto me. Another soft touch of his lips on mine, brief, before he replied, "Rule my heart."

Biting the inside edge of my lower lip, I remembered fondly his sweet proposal and a diamond huge enough to anchor a ship. Barely able to contain the giggle, I looked back demurely into his eyes. "You will be gentle, right?"

This time the kiss lingered, more forceful-Impatient testosterone, I scolded teasingly.

I felt his heart against mine as his tongue traced my mouth. My pulse shot up even more, vibrating shivers racing down my spine. "I will be whatever you need me to be," he replied softly, irises darkening. He smirked, pushing his palms up my parallel arms. "Even an heirless king."

"Girls should be heirs," I whispered, kissing him enthusiastically to silence his argument.

He laughed into my mouth, returning the passionate, intimate embrace. I sunk into the mattress, his lips, his love, and the climax of our intimacy overwhelming me.


A horseman rides hastily in the moonlit, dry plains. The enemy was close-would he reach safety before they reached him?

An arrow whistled past his ear with alarming accuracy. He snapped the reigns, urging the stallion on-its hooves pounded against the arid earth, scooping up dust behind him in a thick cloud.

But them chasing him would only prove their guilt to the warlord, he hoped; powerful and allied with the King he so loathed, yet a framing of correct timing would be his downfall.

Cold vengeance could then be served.

He looked back-a mistake, one horseman barely ten meters away, and gaining, the faint white light reflecting on their silver armour.

The wind was a force now, the stallion honing in on the fortress ahead, the extreme speed making it seem like a solid.

The horseman cursed-he should've been better knowledged on thirrages, supreme in their species. Yet his heart leaped with hope at the sight of an iron portcullis, open, the small specs of guards on patrol.

There was only a dozen galloping strides left-but the city guards wouldn't attack allied soldiers…until they saw the forged treachery.

Suddenly, a steel arrowhead lodged itself into the unprotected back of his knee. He howled with indignation and pain, hands flying down to grip his knee instinctively-another mistake, as he slid off the horse; a miracle he didn't snap his neck and die on impact.

Angered tears blurred his vision as he stared upwards into the night sky; the soldiers protected head soon blocked his view. He prayed to his deities that the warlord would see the message. The soldier's hand snatched up his shirt, dragging him over to their saddled, mahogany horse. His leg flamed excruciatingly.

They pointed to the city, guards curiously advancing with equal caution towards his panting steed. "Quickly, go…explain that."

Please let them find it! He prayed desperately, his leg burning alive in the flames of pain. In his blurred vision, he saw someone calm his horse, while the other reached into a pouch…pulling out the 'royal document'. He broke the wax seal, quickly and smoothly opening it.

Unexpectedly, the guard yelled out an order-the portcullis slammed shut, archers firing down on the soldiers that just missed opportunity. They raced back, their rides petrified after the brush with mortality.

The man thanked those above…except for the soldier who glared down at him. They took off their helmet-surprise at a female, her platinum-blonde hair as if made from moonbeams.

She twisted the arrow-he screamed in pain, his heart aching from the ferocious, vengeful, hating thoughts directed at her.

She leaned down, him squirming, barely able to maintain his pride and dignity. Her warm breath tickled his cheeks, a contrast to the cool air.

"I have a feeling that the text in that lying forgery isn't pleasant," she hissed calmly, fear striking him down. She turned the weapon even more-he wailed, the torture so unbearable that he questioned his likeability to ever walk on this leg again. Blood streamed down in rivers, soaking his pants.

"But be assured," the soldier spat sinisterly into his ear, "that what you feel during your punishment won't be either."


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