THE SAVAGE KING - In which a royal princess is stolen from her castle to be used by the beast king at his whim.
I couldn't stand to be between his legs for a moment longer.
The foul savage would not take me. Not without a fight.
The ground raced beneath us as the horse whipped through the night like a demon's beast racing back to its master.
The animal might be beautiful in its graceful speed if not for the symbols painted on either side of its flanks. The white circle intersected with a red cross had been shooting fear down women's spines for years. When a savage took a woman, he never released her.
The brute who took her kept his massive arm wrapped so tightly about my waist I could scant draw a breath. Each time I fought against his hold he only pulled his arm tighter until my ribs felt close to cracking.
So, I counted the seconds for the right moment.
The dark night encased us as he slipped quickly across the country side. The silvery crescent of the moon cast light across the land on this bleak night. A night filled with murder and the haunting screams of the innocent.
The savage beast led his horse over fallen logs, down steep rocky slopes that I never could have traversed on my own steed but he managed it with impressive agility.
I had to choose my timing carefully to make my escape. We were getting close to the Argyllean Sea. My father's docks were there and sitting in the lapping waves were many boats... boats I could sail. My father, King Dion, was a great sailor and had taught me the lay of the sea when I was a young girl. It looked like tonight I would be making an impromptu excursion on the deadly waters.
We ducked low over the horse's galloping form; its fuzzy mane tickling my nose as we raced along low hanging branches.
My heart started racing until the only sounds I heard were its mighty drumming and the hooves pounding into the ground at a steady clap.
We rose once again as we passed through the trees. That's when I struck out.
I reached behind me to the hard male beast stealing me away and quickly snatched the dagger at his hip. He hadn't expected that. The horse veered jarringly as he lost control for a moment.
Good, I needed all the surprises I could get if this was to work.
I swiftly pointed the blade back and stabbed. He grunted. The horse's step faltered and his grip loosened on the reins. With a hard whipping motion I shot my head back. Pain exploded at the back of my skull where it slammed into his face. He let loose another grunt.
I didn't waste another second before I leaped off the horse.
I hit the ground in a violent tuffle. My teeth clanked together and bones popped in my arms as I tried to catch my fall. I heard the horse slowing down and that frightened me enough to get me back on my feet and running for the sea.
I ran as fast as my legs could take me, my long skirt whipping against my legs and the heavy material slowing me down. How I wish I had my swordplay bodysuit right now. The only time I eschewed them was for swordplay where I got to wear a special made bodysuit. Having pants instead of a dress could make the difference in life or death.
My bonnet had long flown off in the wind but now I could feel my braid coming loose as well until my hair gusted strongly in the wind. I raced through the sharp bitter gusts ducking and twisting around tree trunks as I raced for the docks. I could hear the lapping sound of water in the distance. I could do this. I could make it.
Then another sound penetrated my ears. Or rather... the lack of it.
I could no longer hear the sound of his horse. Hope struck. Had I killed him? Oh merciful gods, please let me have killed him.
I to catch my breath and spun around to see how far away I was. However, what I saw sent my gaze frantically scouring the forest. Fear clutched my throat until I was gasped.
His horse was still in the clearing but he wasn't. Oh gods where was he?
He didn't make a sound and yet I sensed him. I froze as the trees stirred gently above me as if the wind blew it. But I knew it hadn't because even the wind had frozen in fear along with me. And then I felt him at my back as he dropped down to the earth without making a sound.
"You shouldn't have run from me, freeja."
I quivered at the sound of his deep rumbling voice. The voice of a beast. Then, shaking like a leaf, I forced myself to turn around.
I met his darkly painted face without flinching. The face of a murderer.
Black paint covered him from his broad forehead to the band of his strange attire. It looked like the bottom of a woman's dress but it stopped at the middle of his thighs. Thighs that were powerful and steely with strength.
Red paint covered the savage's eyes in a mask showing him for the demon he was.
"I like your eyes on me... Dafne." His voice lowered as he spoke my name. He spoke it as if...as if he liked it.
I didn't like that and I didn't like his game.
"Do not toy with me," I said, hiding the quiver in my voice by fisting my hands in my skirts.
Both of his dark eyebrows rose and then he walked into me, backing me up. He didn't stop until my back pressed into a the stiff unyielding strength of a massive sequoia tree. I tried to sidle away but his hands wrapped around my throat, tilting my head up to his.
Fear clutched me by the throat becoming a physical pain in my chest.
All the thoughts of what he could do... would do flooded my brain in panic. He could lift my dress and rape me right here. He could beat me or drown my in the sea. Those options would be much preferred. He could squeeze the life out of me using only his strong hands. It would be nothing to him. So easy.
"My freeja thinks to order me. I like your spirit," he said in that strange way he spoke.
When he spoke he enunciated each word as if savoring it. His accent was heavy as he used my people's language, Torga, and I wondered what his language would sound like—guttural and harsh?
His thumbs stroked the path of my throat. Long fingers curled around the back of my neck. He was so big that he could strangle me one-handed. I had no doubt of it.
"What do you want from me?" I glared all of my hatred at him.
It didn't fathom him in the least. This was a man used to being hated. Surely he loved it by now, or at the very least was indifferent to it. If only I could get a hold of his sword then I could really fight. Very few men could best me when it came down to sword play.
His deep-set eyes were a surprisingly bright blue against the red paint outlining them. They may be nice if they were on anyone else's face. The savage king looked every bit the beast. A beard grew along his face in a wild fashion. The men of my country never wore such barbaric tidings, and his hair... Covered in black, red, and green paint was the worst of it all. His hair was a mess of shaggy locks, some braided and others not. Those that were braided were held tight at the ends by gold or silver colored bands. Surprisingly, he didn't really stink. He looked as if he'd dunked himself in a pile of foul manure and yet he smelled of sweat, blood, and horse. I'd smelled worse before.
His eyes fell to my mouth. "You speak of wants. I like this. Now I will tell you what I want."
I couldn't keep from curling my lips in distaste. This only made a wicked grin curl over his black lips.
He leaned into me taking up all the air from my lungs and making my body feel too warm. I started to sweat and could do nothing to wipe it away. I ducked my head to the side as his lips neared. Undeterred, the brute pressed his lips to my ear. Then he grabbed my waist and pressed himself into me. There was no mistaking the savage's arousal.
I felt a gag curl up my throat.
His voice lowered, deepened into a growl at my ear.
"What I want, Princess Dafne, is to lift your skirts right here and feel your wet cunt squeezing my cock as I take you."
Holy father of the gods. I froze utterly still at his words. Foolishly, a pulse of heat flared between my legs in the very part he wanted to plunder. No one had ever spoken to me thus. Ever. It was almost... thrilling. Under different circumstances I might have pushed my chest into the man who said such words to me just to see what he'd do. But this wasn't any man. This was the King of Kargol, a ruthless warrior. That thought chilled my heated blood.
But then the foul man pressed his lips to my neck. He was so warm where my skin was cold and I shivered as goose bumps beaded across my neck and down my arms. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my skin.
"My Dafne is pleased with this."
"Never in your dreams," I spit out, venom lacing my words.
That smile grew and his hips pressed deeper into mine. The man had to be the size of a horse. Or perhaps he shoved cloth down his drawers to enlarge the appearance, as some men did, for surely he couldn't be that large. He rubbed his hips into me in a thrusting motion and I tried to keep still as if I might eventually turn invisible and all of this awfulness would go away.
"I have not dreamt of you yet, freeja Dafne, but if I do I know what I want to dream of." His hands reached for the bottom of my skirt and started lifting it in a great heaves.
I struck out in panic. I fought, screaming in his face, and pushing against his hands. I drew blood on his wrists and his eyes only laughed at me. He was too strong. And he won.
With one hand he grabbed both of my wrists and slammed them into the tree above my head. His other hand touched the outside of my thigh.
"Don't you dare touch me! I will kill you!"
If anything, his blue eyes turned darker, lower as if that aroused the beast more.
With a growl he dipped his head and ran his tongue up the side of her neck. "Your spirit... I want it. Never thought the Trinadan princess could breathe such fire upon me.I chose well."
