Moving his chair closer to hers, he began to speak of scholarly matters, of books and philosophy, his voice taking on the warm, intimate tone that had once chard the most sophisticated won of court. His complints were subtle but persistent, praising Cleora’s intelligence, her administrative skills, and the grace with which she handled the complexities of governing her barony.
"You have such remarkable insights," he said, leaning forward slightly.
"It’s rare to find soone who combines beauty with such keen intellect. Most nobles I’ve encountered are concerned only with appearance and wealth."
Cleora found herself responding despite her reservations.
There was sothing appealing about being appreciated for her mind as well as her physical attributes.
Gunter was an accomplished man, learned and experienced, and his attention was both flattering and... stirring.
For a mont, she allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to be courted by soone who truly understood the complexities of power and politics.
But then she caught herself, rembering where she was and why.
With a gentle but firm wave of her hand, she dismissed his increasingly bold advances. "You flatter , Lord Gunter, but I think I shall take so air before we retire."
She rose from her chair and walked into the woods, following the path Jolthar had taken.
What she found there would remain burned in her mory for days to co.
-
Deep in the forest, Jolthar had been successful in his hunt.
A wild boar, caught drinking at a small stream, had fallen to a single, clean shot of his arrow.
As he knelt to field dress his kill, a rustling in the underbrush announced Raayani’s approach.
"Impressive," she said, stepping into the small clearing.
"A single strike to bring down such a beast."
Jolthar looked up, his sword disappearing into the enchanted ring on his finger with a soft shimr of magical light.
"Lady Raayani. I thought you were gathering herbs."
She moved closer, her silk dress sohow unmarked by the forest’s brambles and debris.
"I was looking for sothing else entirely."
Her sapphire eyes t his directly. "You’ve been avoiding , haven’t you? Since we began this journey, you’ve barely looked in my direction."
Jolthar smiled, but there was sothing knowing in his expression. "Do you rember our bet, Lady Raayani?"
She paused, tilting her head.
The bet—made several months ago at the tribal village, she had said that she would make him fall for her.
"I rember," she said softly.
"But I don’t care about that anymore.
I want you now, Jolthar."
Raayani, initially she wanted to marry her daughter to Jolthar and bring him to her Seragilo, but after witnessing what he had accomplished, she had decided to make a move herself. She wanted his attention before he grew even stronger.
The young man had made her feel such emotions, which she seed to have forgotten, so she abandoned her pride and ca herself to him.
The bow and knife clattered to the mossy ground, forgotten.
Jolthar’s smile was a predator’s grin, all teeth and promise.
He didn’t move, just let her co to him.
Raayani felt a thrill shoot through her, a lightning bolt of pure anticipation.
Every step was deliberate, a slow, hip-swaying approach that made the fine silk of her dress whisper against her skin. She saw his dark eyes track the movent and saw the way his gaze heated as it traveled the length of her, from the intricate silver clasps at her shoulders down to the curves she was so deliberately presenting to him.
Her voice was a husky thing, barely more than a breath.
"I want you now, Jolthar."
That was all the invitation he needed.
He moved with a startling, animalistic speed, closing the distance between them in one fluid stride. His hands, calloused and strong from bowstring and blade, ca up to fra her face, but there was no tenderness in the gesture.
It was pure possession.
His mouth crashed down on hers, not with questions, but with answers.
It was a kiss that tasted of the wild forest, of victory, of raw, untad hunger. Her carefully constructed composure and the seduction she had rehearsed—it all shattered into a thousand glittering pieces.
Her hands flew to his broad shoulders, her fingers digging into the tough leather of his vest, holding on as her world tilted.
His tongue plunged into her mouth, claiming her, and a desperate, needy sound escaped her throat.
AHHH!!!
He broke the kiss as suddenly as he’d started it, his breathing ragged.
"I am gonna ravage you, my lady!"
Her eyes, eager for her, glead with lust.
With a low growl, he spun her around, pressing her front against the rough, unforgiving bark of a massive oak. The scent of damp ground and ancient wood filled her senses.
One of his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her hips back against the hard, undeniable ridge of his arousal straining against his trousers. The other hand tangled in her elaborate hair, not painfully, but with an authority that made her knees weak.
"The bet is forgotten," he murmured against the shell of her ear, his voice a dark rasp that vibrated through her entire body.
"There is only this."
His free hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, and gathered the delicate silk of her dress.
With a single, rough yank, he tore the side seam. The sound of rending fabric was obscenely loud in the quiet clearing. Cool forest air kissed the exposed skin of her thigh and her butt, and the sensation was electric against the heat building within her.
He didn’t fumble. His hand was sure as it found the bare skin of her hip, his fingers splaying possessively. He tugged his own trousers open just enough, the sound of the lacings snapping a promise of his impatience.
She felt the blunt, hot head of his cock press against her, and she pushed back against him instinctively, a wordless plea.
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