The command excited her and had the opposite effect—she wanted to come. She let out a long wail and squeezed her ass cheeks together, hoping to trap him there. It was futile. With her head dangling between her arms, she could see the pattern on her chest and breasts. It was as black as coal dust. The ink hadn’t been wrong. Ga
len was reading her correctly. She felt so close…
He juddered, and with a low groan, he pumped his load.
“Now!” he roared over her head.
Another two thrusts and a squeeze of her ass cheeks was all it took to obey him. She slumped forward, unable to cope with the combination of spasms and his full occupation. He remained inside her, ensuring he felt every contraction, every shudder of her orgasm. Only when she lay flat did he slide out and release her.
She remained there, eyes shut and spread-eagled on the bed. She closed her eyes and floated. His weight on the bed had gone and she heard the patter of his feet.
When she stirred, she turned and opened her eyes. Galen stood next to the bed, looking down at her. He’d wrapped a towel around his waist, his skin and hair glistened with wetness. He’d showered while she slept in a state of bliss. However, his face was set hard, as if it had been sculptured in stone and not flesh.
“You will return to your room, now,” he said with a frosty tone.
“Sir—”
“Now, human. I have delivered on my promise. Now you shall remember your place and suffer the consequences of your wickedness.” He stepped away from the bed and turned away.
What had happened to him while she slept?
She rose, feeling the ache in her hips and thighs. Her inner thighs were sticky and her hair hung in heavy locks. She would have to walk the length of his house looking wrecked and used.
“Sir, I—”
“Tomorrow, you will return to this room and be whipped for my pleasure.” He focused not on her horrified face, but the bedpost. “Here.” He gestured to the sturdy pillar.
“Have I displeased you?” She was close to crying.
He jolted and shifted his steely gaze to hers. “No, you’ve not displeased me. Quite the contrary…” He closed his eyes briefly, as if unable to even look at her. Clearing his throat, he spoke with a bolder tone. “However, the ordeal must continue as the law dictates. You have unduly influenced me, something I did not anticipate. This will end.” He turned away from her again, his fists clenched into balls. “Go!”
She staggered out of the room and then ran to hers, chased there by the pandemonium of conflicting emotions he’d unlocked from deep inside of her. Tears splashed down her cheeks and onto her golden breasts. The tattoo kept the imprint of her last orgasm. How could he stand there, while she glowed, and say she influenced him, when he’d shown such passion toward her and demanded her to come for him?
Slamming the door behind her, she threw herself on the bed. He’d asked her to trust him and she had. He’d shown tenderness and guided her, which were not the actions of a man who’d lost control of the situation. Now he spoke with such coldness. If she was no longer his girl, what was she to him?
* * *
Galen sought solitude in his study, but he couldn’t focus on reading reports. He stared at the blank console. For once, his balls didn’t ache and his cock was quiet. For the past few days, he’d longed for her, and now that he’d claimed her, he was in a state of profound confusion.
She’d fallen asleep on the bed with the tattoo across her back a tangle of fiery reds and eye-catching orange. The loss of her virginity had caused her no suffering, no enduring pain. He’d done as she asked and in the process of honoring his promise, he’d had an awakening that deeply troubled him. The cold water of the shower had done nothing to dispel those feelings. While she slept, he stood and watched, mesmerized by the pattern on her back as the blood red transformed into the yellow of warm sunshine.
She feared humiliation, he understood that, because he feared it too. He would be ridiculed, would he not, if the rest of the judiciary found out he had been seduced by his prisoner. He had to maintain control of the situation and not allow lust and passion to dictate her ordeal. Punishments had to be enacted swiftly, her bottom spanked and whipped. He would demand her submission with stern actions and words, and not seductive ones.
As she stirred and opened her eyes to greet him, he hardened his heart and spoke the words his heart did not want to him say: cold, harsh ones.
There would be tears; he could see them in her eyes. He’d turned away.
With her gone, he’d dressed and tried to work. However, those wet eyes haunted him.
A message arrived, not from Adris, who served him with devotion, but another warrior, his confidante, and a man whom Galen admired—Marco.
He read it. It answered some, but not all of his questions. He leaned back in his seat. So, he wasn’t wrong. She had infected him. His lust for her wasn’t a weakness on his part. Feeling encouraged by the news, he crafted another message, this time his questions were more specific. He wanted to know the extent of her potential abilities and how far he could take her. This man knew more than him about humans, especially females.
He had an idea how to test her submission further. But that would require the assistance of another. Bisma would know whom to ask.
He rose and walked to the far side of the room. Opening a cabinet, he removed the object. The tail of the whip was as long as his arm. As thick as his thumb at the base and tapered to the tip, where the threads of the leather split apart into a tiny flogger. He’d witnessed many men broken by a lengthy whipping and consequently, he had been trained to use it correctly.
The ordeal did not require him to break her. He had read every account of Astra and Brynt, and not one, whether from her or those that witnessed any part of her ordeal, or the man himself, described Astra as broken. She’d emerged from her ordeal stronger, and intact, both physically and mentally. The coupling had resulted in correcting more than a wrong; it had led to a golden age for the Empire.