I’d never made a wager in my life. My sparring partners, all members of the Royal Guard, were in awe of their queen. I had all I could do to convince them to fight me fair and square without holding back. They wouldn’t have dared to celebrate victory when they knocked me on my backside.
“Of course,” I lied. “What sort of wager do you have in mind?”
He fingered the thick silver chain around his neck.
“Draw blood again, and you win. I’ll renounce my title, kneel before you, and present you with this medallion, proclaiming you as the true Warrior of the Seven Stars. But if I manage to take the dagger from you before you can strike again…” He paused.
“Then what?”
His eyes darkened. Bored into mine.
“Then you will kneel before me, call me Master, and do whatever I command – from now until sunrise.”
Chapter Three
Magnus
I saw her eyes widen. The flash of arousal. I hadn’t been wrong earlier, when I thought she’d reacted in a similar way to my remark about being mastered by the captain of her Royal Guards. Though she hid it behind the authority of her title, my queen had a submissive streak.
One I’d enjoy exploring with her.
“That is completely unacceptable,” she replied haughtily. “I could clap you in irons for even suggesting such a thing.”
“Your indignant response couldn’t hide the fact that you took a moment to consider it.” I glanced around the vast chamber. “Besides, I don’t see anyone here who would carry out your order. It seems to me you’ve been coddled far too long. You think you can fight, but you’ve never had to face any real competition.”
She bristled at that, as I knew she would. Melisandre might know a few moves, but she was unskilled at controlling her emotions when facing a foe. Clearly, her training never included learning to keep her cool when being taunted by an opponent, a challenge nearly every male faces while he’s still in the schoolyard.
I pressed my advantage. Not very chivalrous of me. Not the role of a warrior whose code is honor. But when I fought, I fought to win. And I was determined to win a night with my queen.
The oracle said she’d be mine to claim. It was my destiny, part of the role I’d play. Since the moment I first saw Melisandre at the altar and heard the savage drumbeat, one part of my mind had been busy imagining all the ways I wanted to master her. Reluctant though it might be, her submission would be even sweeter if her own code of honor demanded that she obey me.
I studied my queen as she considered the wager. I’d seen her often enough in visions, but this was the first time I’d been with her in the flesh.
She stood taller than I imagined she would, taller than the average female in our world, with surprisingly full tits for her slender frame. Dark-red nipples poked out under the thin white shirt she wore, as though I’d already pinched them between my fingers then sucked them into tight little peaks.
Skin-tight leather trousers showed off a trim waist and curvy hips, and hugged her firm, rounded ass. I hungered to grab it in both hands, pull her close, and pound my cock into her.
Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from her gorgeous ass and transferred it to her face.
High forehead, emphasized by a mass of golden brown hair pulled back into a casual braid that hung nearly to her waist. Skin kissed by the sun. I wondered if the hours she spent training had all been outdoors. Thick brows, darker than her hair, set off warm-brown eyes flecked with gold to match the highlights wound through her braid.
Her shoulders were rigid, her body tense instead of supple and relaxed. I recognized the posture. It came from straining to hold the body erect, never showing weakness even when every muscle was screaming for rest. Though her face bore the tan of a country lass, I could see faint smudges under her eyes, as though she’d gone without sleep for too long. I had a strange impulse to call off the mock battle, take her in my arms, and tell her to lay her head on my shoulder.
Her mouth opened slightly, and I saw the tip of her pink tongue run along her upper lip as she considered my bet. All thoughts of cradling her as she slept flew out of my mind, and my cock took over, filling my head with other plans for that pink tongue and those soft lips.
It was all I could do to wait in silence while she made up her mind.
Finally, she nodded. “I’ll accept that wager.”
“Repeat the terms so I know we are in agreement."
She hesitated.
“I thought you said you were familiar with the practice of wagering. Having both parties recite the terms of the wager is common practice among soldiers when sparring. Then no one can cry foul when it’s time to pay up.”
It sounded reasonable enough but truth be told, I’d tricked her. I’ll confess it. It was clear my queen had never made a sparring wager in her life since she didn’t challenge my statement. I was making up the rules as I went along, just to see if I could get her to agree to my wickedly improper wager.
I carry no shame for goading her into a contest. If the oracle was right, Melisandre would soon be accompanying me into battle. I didn’t want her to be under any illusions about her ability to handle herself in combat. Besides, now that I could feel her warmth when she drew near, breathe in her scent, the male in me hungered to make the visions I’d seen of us come true. I wanted to win, needed to win, so I could peel off those tight leather pants and bury my face in her sweet pussy. Command her to kneel before me and watch that pink tongue lick up and down my shaft.