Chapter 15: The Beast and the Princess (R-18)

The familiar aroma of campfire smoke filled the chilled evening air as Laris warmed his hands near the flames. Azhret took measured sips of his newly purchased bottle of brandy.

“Don’t drink it all in one night, now.” Ysma seated herself next to Laris, tucking her skirts beneath her knees. “It took a man’s life to buy that bottle.”

Azhret smirked and stole another long draw from the bottle.

“Never one for following instructions, are you?” She poured herself a hearty goblet of a wine she’d also traded for. “A toast. To the throat that offered us such a bounty.”

“Cheers,” Azhret murmured. He touched his bottle to her cup, and they both drank deeply from their reward.

Ysma turned to Laris, fingering the long chain connected to his heavy collar. “Isn’t it past your curfew?”

“Lady Thae, I—” Laris protested, his eyes darting from Azhret to his master.

“I’m sure my bodyguard would love a midnight snack if you’d rather stay.” Ysma’s lips curled into an insidious smile.

“O-of course, m’lady. More firewood is next to the tent, should you need it.” Laris’ complexion paled as he lay a hand on his chain. “And, as always, if you require anything, please call.”

“As always.” Ysma nodded and loosed her hold on his leash. “Til tomorrow?”

“T-till tomorrow.” Laris took his leave with a final wary glance toward Ysma’s subhuman bodyguard.

“Your servant quivers like a girl,” Azhret remarked, scrutinizing her white-haired attendant as he scuttled to his small tent.

“We’ll take all the help we can get, right?” Ysma laughed beneath her breath and offered her bottle to him. 

“I’ll stick to the real stuff, if it pleases m’lady,” He replied, mimicking Laris.

“The ‘real stuff,’ hmm? That’s the kind of drink that brings the dead back to life.” Ysma took another sip from her chalice. “Even if it did ‘please me,’ you would make a terrible servant.”

“Would I now?” His gaze leveled with hers and her breathing caught.

Three words that posed an impossible question. It caused her heart to skip a beat and her thoughts to race. He could never be a servant as Laris was. Even so, she couldn’t help but imagine a similar collar—

“Ysma, did that swill already get to you?” His question interrupted her thoughts, and she shook her head.

“Of course not.” Despite her increasingly obscene thoughts, she drained her goblet and refilled it. Clearing her throat, she continued. “Anyway, what good is a servant that can’t keep his own teeth?”

He grimaced and looked away, his free hand shifting to his remaining tusk. “Sometimes it’s easy to imagine why you were banished from your life of luxury.”

“Banished?” She barked a laugh and tilted her glass toward him. “‘Banishment’ has nothing to do with my absence—”

“As lack of care has nothing to do with my tusk,” he replied, the disdain in his tone palpable.

A long silence passed between them while the fire raged on. The edges of Ysma’s vision were beginning to blur as she stood up to add another log to the fire.

“I apologize,” she muttered, tossing another piece of wood to the flame and stoking it back to life.

“Hmm?” He rewarded her with a curious glance.

She was positive he’d heard her. Every conversation was a game with him. A test. Nevertheless, she continued. “I apologize if I offended you.”

“Ah, our great noblewoman knows some shame.”

“Don’t misunderstand me.” She turned towards him and their eyes locked. Only then did she realize how close she’d positioned herself next to him.

“Misunderstand what, my lady?” Every word was emphasized, as was the sheer size of him as he stood up to his full height: at least a head taller than she.

However, she was not to be bested. “I do not pity you, beast.”

“Ah, pity is too expensive to spare for the great Ysma Thae.” The intensity of his gaze never wavered.

“No. Pity is wasted on a monster like yourself.”

Ysma had expected backlash, harsh words, or rage. She’d certainly seen Azhret at his most deadly and knew the risks of challenging his pride. However, the fingers that stroked her face in reply were neither brash nor angry. His cool touch was tender against her warm skin.

“Then what do you think of pleasure?” His voice was low, barely a growl. “Would that be equally as wasted?”

His words danced along her spine. “Pleasure?” It took every fiber of her being to keep her voice steady.

“Yes,” he replied, closing the small distance between them. “It’s been a long time. But, perhaps it’s better utilized elsewhere?”

She knew what he was insinuating, what he wanted. The firelight danced in hazy circles in her vision, and the edges of her world were blurred. If he knew even half of the thoughts that plagued her since they’d met...the yearning to memorize the lines of his body—

When his lips met hers, she realized her desires must have been written like a missive in her eyes. His hands traveled to the small of her back as she entangled her fingers into his dark hair. He tasted like rain, like the long road, like lust.

Her grip on his hair tightened as his tongue brushed her lips. Without a second thought, she let him in, the ferocity of his kiss deepening with each stroke of his tongue. A low moan escaped his throat, and it set her skin aflame. She could hardly breathe.

With intentions of their own, she found her fingers darting to his cloak, the fastenings of his armor, and shirt. Mirroring her urgency, he moved one hand to unlace the ties of her corset. His lips moved to her throat, and she sighed. She didn’t notice he’d bent down until the sound of his blade against fabric broke her trance. He’d cut a clean line through all of the strings of her bodice. She glared at him.

“I don’t have time for knots,” he stated, taking the now-freed corset and tossing it aside.

“You’ll pay for that later.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“Less talk. And gods-be-damned, less clothes.” He returned her wicked smile and pulled her dress over her head, her sheer slip the only remaining piece barring his hands from her skin. 

The firelight behind her illuminated her silhouette through the delicate silk. His eyes wandered down her figure, drinking her in.

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“I won’t be the only one standing naked in the cold,” she said after a short silence. She took the dagger from his hand and cut away his tunic in one quick motion. “There, now we’re even.”

 He laughed—a sound she rarely heard yet adored. He stepped toward her. She moved to the side, avoiding his grasp and crossing her arms.

“We have a perfectly good shelter for this.” She turned and headed toward her tent.

“Always a princess.” He snickered and followed her. “It is a beautiful night, though.”

“Stay out here and risk waking Laris? I think not.”

“Ah, a loud one, are you?”

She moved the opening of her tent to the side, trying to hide the color that blushed her cheeks in reply to his remark. “Get in, Azhret.”

“As you wish.” He ducked beneath the awning.

She couldn’t help but stare at his bare, strong back, marred in scars from battles he never spoke of. Most were already healed, but some seemed like they’d occurred mere days before they’d met. He turned and caught her watching him.

“You have hands, don’t you?” His tone was softer than she’d ever heard it.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t know what to say. She nodded and let the canvas fall from her fingers. In two steps she’d returned to his embrace, falling again into his kiss. Her hands wandered along his back, mapping every scar and muscle, drifting lightly across his skin. He shivered beneath her touch as her fingers stroked the skin above his trousers.

“Less clothes,” she breathed against his mouth.

He grunted his approval and pulled her slip down to her feet. She tore down his trousers, and for the span of a few heartbeats, they admired each other in the moonlight. 

Before she could react, he lifted her and laid her down on her spread of blankets, aligning himself on top of her. He kissed her cheek, her throat, her chest, until his tongue and teeth played at her nipple.

She gasped, her fingers searching for purchase in his hair. His breath was hot against her breast, her body ached for his touch. Strong, rough hands explored her petite form, caressing the pale, delicate skin of her stomach, hips, thighs, parting her legs, and finding no resistance.

She couldn’t suppress the moans that escaped her as his fingers slid inside of her and his thumb found the point of her pleasure.

“Careful,” he growled, shifting to his knee to move his free hand over her mouth. “You’ll wake him up.”

She took his fingers and sucked at them with a practiced tongue. She challenged him with her gaze, and he groaned. He slipped another finger inside of her and she pushed her hips down on his hand. She wanted more—deeper, fuller. 

He bit and teased at her chest as he moved his hand at a rhythm that pushed her closer to climax with every twitch of his fingers. She eagerly ran her tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, his heavy breathing harmonizing with hers.

He pulled away from her without notice and left a throbbing void. She started to complain, but he grasped her sides and turned her on her stomach, pulling her hips into the air and pushing her head down to the blankets. Parting her thighs, he thrust into her, forcing a cry of surprise and pleasure from her lips.

It was a tight fit that filled her near to bursting. He dragged his fingernails down her back in hungry lines. Each time his hips kissed hers, it was like feeling every inch of him anew.

“Lady Thae, are you alright?” A call from outside the tent. Laris.

She froze in surprise. 

Azhret leaned over her, driving himself deeper than she thought her body would allow. He moved her hair aside and turned his lips to her ear.

“Well?” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

Her breaths came in desperate pants. Her arms were shaking, and she could feel Azhret throbbing inside of her.

“I’m...I’m fine, Laris.” She drew her last bit of strength to try to convince him.

Azhret took her throat in one hand, biting her shoulder as he continued to move inside her at a slower speed. Another moan threatened to escape her, and he was ready. His hand tightened, limiting her breathing.

“I just t-thought I heard something...and I can’t find Azhret anywhere,” Laris continued.

“Wonder where he is?” Azhret growled into her ear, his tongue tracing the lines.

“Gods…” she rasped against the hold on her throat. His fingers loosened, but only just enough. “Laris. It’s fine. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, m’lady. Good night.”

When the footsteps disappeared, Azhret grabbed a nearby pillow and forced it under Ysma’s face. 

“Bite this,” he instructed.

She wanted to protest, but when his fingertips bore into her hips, and he thrust into her with a crazed need, she found her teeth and nails clenched into the satin. Her muffled moans were quick and desperate, escalating as he forced her over the edge. He pulled at her hair as her entire body throbbed in the pleasure of release. His animalistic groans were music to her ears as he pushed through her orgasm to his own climax, his grip tight on fistfuls of her curls as his hips met hers in one last thrust.

When their breathing slowed, he pulled away as she rolled onto her back. He stood without a word and collected his trousers.

“Not staying?” She couldn’t help but continue to trace the lines of his body with her eyes.

“Can’t give Laris any more questions, can we?” He finished dressing and went to the tent opening.

“Azhret—”

“I’ll get you a new corset. Don’t worry.” With one last smile, he left her alone.

Their shared evening continued to play in Ysma’s head until she fell into a fitful slumber.

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