He carried her off the darkened terrace and down the steps into the gardens beyond without a word. The crunch of his booted feet on the path and their breathing dominated her hearing as the sounds of revelry fell away behind them.

Anticipation hummed through her body, keeping her in a constant state of awareness. Nestled against Jareth’s broad chest, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held her in his arms, she was aware of every hitch in his breathing, and every beat of his heart through the fabric that separated them.

It was a strong beat, steady and sure, if a little raised. His breathing was low and ragged, as though he couldn’t wait to reach their destination. She couldn’t. Tension and awareness stretched out between them as they reentered the palace through another door. Keliana blinked in the sudden light after the twilight of the gardens and cuddled closer as the change in temperature sent goose bumps over her skin.

They didn’t meet anyone in the corridors, even the servants seemed to have disappeared but that suited Keliana down to the ground. A man didn’t carry his courtesan romantically through the corridors of the palace without someone putting a nasty spin on it and she wanted to keep this memory to herself. Keep it pure. Another of the times she hoarded close to her heart in case this all went bad.

The door to his suite loomed large ahead of them and she buried her face against the curve of his neck, brushing her lips over the hair-roughened skin of his jaw. He smelled fantastic, a combination of cologne and under it, an exotic, raw scent that was his and his alone. Her tongue flickered out to brush a line on the underside of his jaw.

“Carry on,” he warned, his voice rough as he pushed the door opened with a foot, effortlessly balancing her in his arms. “And we won’t make it to the bed. I’ll take you as soon as we get inside. Up against the wall.”

A shudder hit her as he shouldered his way through the door. She wanted that. Wanted him to want her so much he couldn’t wait to take her. No refined soulless passion or lounging over the bed with a bored look on his face as she rode him, merely a convenience to stroke him to an orgasm rather than get his hand busy and do it for himself. She wanted a man to want her, Keliana the woman, not Keliana the courtesan.

She flicked her tongue out again.

The growl rumbled up from his throat as he turned and slammed the door behind them. It crashed shut, but she didn’t have time to register the sound before he dropped her legs, sliding her down the front of his body and backing her up against the solid wood in the same movement. His face was a mask of feral need and lust, the blue of his eyes almost swallowed up by darkness as he ran a hand down the outside of her leg to fist a handful of silk.

“Fuck…you’re beautiful.”

His voice was a ragged whisper in the darkness, his breath hot on the side of her neck as he dragged his lips along the soft skin to nuzzle under her ear. The warm heat of pleasure added to the anticipation riding her. She wanted this, needed him to fulfill the promises he’d made earlier when he’d fought for her or earlier than that when he’d pursued her with roses and stolen kisses.

A soft sound of need slipped past her lips, the small movement feeding his response. He nipped at her earlobe, sucking the abused flesh into his mouth as she gasped. The gasp turned to a groan as he suckled, flicking it with his tongue. Liquid heat slipped from her to soak her delicate lingerie as her body prepared itself for his possession. He was big, she knew that, but she would take him. Not because she had to but because she wanted to.

“I can’t wait. Want you now. Slow next time,” he promised, his voice low. Pressing hot, hot kisses along her jaw, he shoved her skirts up and hooked his fingers in her panties. She whimpered as he ripped them from her, the sound of tearing silk competing with their ragged breathing and soft moans. “Sorry…get new ones.”

He claimed her lips as he ripped at the front of his breeches. Any pretense of civilization fell away as his teeth scraped against her lip, clashing with hers as he stroked her with his tongue to demand entrance. She surrendered immediately, opening her mouth with an eagerness that made them both groan as he penetrated her, his tongue slicking and sliding along hers in an erotic dance.

She’d thought their kisses earlier were hot, but they were nothing compared to this as his body shook with the force of holding himself back and his freed cock prodded at her insistently. Still fucking her mouth with his tongue, his big hands closed about her thighs to lift her.

Her back hit the door, his hot body holding her in place as the blunt head of his cock pressed against her feminine entrance. She was wet and slick already, gasping as he slipped against her and thrust his cock halfway inside her with a hard shove. She whimpered, unable to stop the soft sound escaping in a perfect counterpoint to his masculine groan. He carried on moving, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he worked himself inside her with short, sharp thrusts that had her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Lady…you’re tight.”

If she wasn’t so turned on, it would have hurt, but at the moment, all she could think about was getting more. More of the tight friction as he worked his cock into her, more of the slide and glide of the veined shaft over every nerve ending in her pussy. Her hands were claws at his back, digging into the fine fabric of his uniform as she sucked on his tongue, turning the tables and thrusting her small tongue past his lips as he pressed her against the door and started to move.

The pace he set was hard and fast. He was a big man, bigger than most, but his tall frame was packed with the hard muscle of a lifetime spent fighting. A ripped, strong body he dedicated to taking her with the sort of power and determination she’d dreamt about, but never tasted before.

Pinning her against the door, he held her easily as he surged into her again and again, his kiss just this side of feral. No time to think, all she could do was react, wrapping herself around him and holding on for the ride. Hard pleasure rolled through her each time he slammed into her, the wood behind her absorbing the strength of his thrusts as he kissed her as though his life depended on it. She took both his tongue and his cock eagerly, loving the fact he was in her body twice, kissing him back as she ground down on his shaft.

“I want you to come.” He broke the kiss to order, as if the words alone were all she needed to bring her up and over the edge. His hands cupped her ass, lifting her up and then driving her back down over his cock as he slid in and out of her tight pussy. Then, at the end of one sensation-filled slide down his cock, he stopped and held her in place. Starbursts of sensation exploded through her as he ground his hips against hers, trapping her clit between them.

“That’s it, come for me,” he whispered against her ear, lips leaving a hot trail of kisses along her throat. “I want to feel you come, want to hear you scream my name so you know who you belong to.”

The words should have angered her, the arrogance as he proved his ownership of her, but she was too close. Each time he drove into her, he rolled his hips, adding another burst of sensation and sending her closer to the edge. Then it was too much. The tension in her body broke and she gasped, arching her back to drive herself down over him sharply.

“Oh Lady…Yes…” She moaned against his neck as her climax ripped through her, ecstasy cascading through her in long waves of pleasure. He swore and pressed her back hard against the door, all finesse lost as he took her hard. Brutal, powerful thrusts as she came around him. She lost count of how many, each one lengthening her orgasm until she thought it would never stop.

He gasped, his body stiffening as he drove into her one last time. Her name was torn from his lips as he found his own release, cock buried deep as he emptied his seed in long, hot pulses against the neck of her womb.

* * *

She was amazing. There was no other way to describe her. In the early hours of the next morning, Jareth lay full length on his bed with Keliana tucked into his side, just watching her. Behind them the soft light of first dawn stole long fingers through the light gauzes at the windows and beyond them the distant sounds of the city outside the palace as it woke. All that seemed a world away from the peace of the bedroom, the sheets warm around them, and the soft scent of the woman lying next to him teasing his senses.

He’d never considered himself a watcher, the sort to just lie there as a woman slept trying to memorize every feature on her face, every inch of her skin. When guys back in the barracks had mentioned it, describing the peace that stole over them when they’d found her, the fabled “one,” and lay awake counting their blessings, he’d thought they were exaggerating…that or they’d taken one too many knocks on the battlefield and were completely around the twist.

Now, as he stroked her hair back from her temples, he understood. She’d been fantastic, and it wasn’t just the sex. Oh, she’d been good at that, no question about it. From the first time, fast and furious up against the door, and then the hours they’d spend after he carried her through to the bed and stripped her naked to gorge himself on making love to her, she’d kept up with him every step of the way.

He’d had to threaten to tie her to the bed to stop her trying to see to him first. He didn’t care how men normally treated a woman in scarlet, using them as a substitute for a five-knuckle shuffle, but he didn’t. He reveled in his woman moaning and writhing under him as she came, knowing that he’d done that, that he’d brought her to so much pleasure that she clawed at his back and shoulders as she screamed his name.

Keliana wasn’t a screamer; she was more of a moaner. He smiled indulgently as he wrapped one of her curls around his forefinger. That must be the training, she was so quiet and reserved most of the time, but occasionally she’d forget her place, which as far as he was concerned existed only in her mind, and needle him directly with a sharp comment, amusement in her dark eyes. She was sharp, funny and, as he’d discovered last night, naturally giving.

The things he planned to do to her, with her, and get her doing to him made him feel like a pervert. Almost. He would feel that way if he had any morals at all where she was concerned. He didn’t. None whatsoever.

His hand slid around her waist and he pulled her tighter into his side, her back against him as her soft hair tickled his chest. Contentment filled him as he closed his eyes. He’d give her an hour or so to rest, then wake her up so they could start again. Perhaps a long, slow bath so he could soap every inch of her luscious body, then have her ride him slowly in the water until they were both undone.

He sighed happily, and drifted off to sleep, his mind filled with erotic thoughts.

* * *

A week. An entire week had passed since Jareth had become her master, and it had been the happiest week of Keliana’s life. She could barely remember her childhood, but what she did remember wasn’t idyllic. No swings and puppy dogs, or picnics on a summer afternoon. Just endless hours of labor in the fields, her father’s shoulders drooping with exhaustion when he finally made it home each evening and the constant worried look in her mother’s eyes as she tried to feed too many mouths with too little food.

She’d been too young to understand what being sold to the prince’s harem meant. At the time all that had mattered was her mother’s assurance that she’d never be hungry again. Of course, now she realized the look on her mother’s face hadn’t been happiness for her daughter’s good fortune but relief that the money would feed the rest of the family. Better to lose one child to slavery than them all to starvation.

Life in the palace, by contrast, had been a dream. Warm, with her own room, never mind a bed she didn’t have to share, and a glittering array of gowns and jewels, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Until she’d been called to the prince’s chambers and discovered there had been a price to pay for her new luxury. Discovered that all that glittered wasn’t gold, but was tarnished where it wasn’t on show.

Now though, things were different. She paused and looked at herself in the full-length mirror in Jareth’s dressing room. True to his word, he’d bought her new underwear to replace the ones he’d shredded on their first night, and new gowns to go with them. In fact, her hands ghosted over the sumptuous fabric across her hips, he’d replaced her entire wardrobe, throwing out her old clothes with a look of distaste.

Gone were the traditional wrap gowns of the harem, replaced by new dresses in the latest styles. High-waisted and corseted, with flowing skirts and the elegant minitrain that was in fashion this season, they could have passed as the wardrobe of any noble woman. Apart from the color, scarlet for a fallen woman. But still…a small smile curved her lips…he wasn’t dressing her like a whore and, to her, that made all the difference.

Securing her hair with a jeweled clip, she checked her appearance once more and made her way out of the room. This time, when she left his apartments, she didn’t use the covered walkways. Workmen lined the corridors, removing them all on the orders of the princess, a woman Keliana was coming to like more and more. Under her careful influence some of the more archaic traditions of the court were being relegated to history, where they belonged.

Her slippers were silent on the polished floors as she made her way to the prince’s chambers where she knew Jareth would be. Apprehension still filled her as she approached the main doors, her very skin itching as habit urged her to slink to the side of the corridor to escape notice.

At the last minute she straightened her back, her spine pole-arm straight. Jareth had said she didn’t need to hide away or scurry around anymore, that she was a woman of worth. Warmth filled her. If he believed in her, then nothing else mattered.

Her smile was wide and sunny as she reached the doors and recognized one of the guards as the one who was on the door a week ago.

“Lady Keliana, a pleasure to see you again.”

His answering grin was just as genuine as he swept her a small bow, surprising in a soldier, especially one wearing the black.

“Oh…no, I’m not a lady.”

Heat burnt her cheeks as she stopped, flustered at his greeting. Just because she didn’t wear the wrapped robes anymore didn’t mean that Jareth had freed her and she certainly had no claim to the title of lady.

“I’m still a…I belong to—”

He cut her off with a smile and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “Sweetheart, any woman that can mellow that cantankerous bastard out and give us all an easier ride in morning training is a lady to me.”

“Oh…oh. Well, thank you.” She paused, looking for a name tag. True to form, there wasn’t one on the broad expanse of black-uniformed chest.

“Bane. Devil Bane. Major. Master of mischief, mayhem, and charming beautiful women.” He winked, a mischievous light in his green eyes. “They’re in the blue room, said for you to go straight in.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as he held the door open for her, sneaking another little glance before she swept through it in a swish of satin skirts. He really was too good-looking for his own good—in a clean-cut, poster-boy sort of way. Even the scar on his cheek seemed designed, enhancing his looks with a little danger.

She carried on walking, eager to see Jareth again. She didn’t want just a little danger; she wanted a lot of danger. Jareth might not have a rakish scar, but he oozed lethality and the sort of danger that didn’t just tease “tame me if you can” but declared boldly “try it and hold on for the ride.” And riding her long-haired, hot-as-sin colonel was no hardship at all. Heat flared over her cheekbones as she crossed the antechamber, heading for the open door of the blue room.

“And you’re sure these records are accurate?”

Jareth’s voice filtered out to her, his tone crisp and sure even when addressing Prince Sethan. Sometimes it was less so, verging on downright disrespectful, which had shocked her until she’d realized they were actually friends. Seeing Jareth dump Sethan on his ass during an impromptu wrestling match one evening had confirmed to her that this prince was very different from his more traditional father.

“We had the lab run the tests three times. The last test was done by Sedj Idirianna herself, totally clean lab, no one knew who or what she was testing for to be sure there was no contamination. Face it Jareth, your daddy was a prince.”

Keliana froze with her hand on the ornate carving of the door, not sure she was hearing correctly. Jareth was a prince? She forced herself to concentrate as the prince continued to speak.

“Checking with the royal profiles, your father was Prince Riadlor of the seventh house. According to the historians and local gossip he had a habit of frequenting brothels in the lower city. Presumably one of those your mother worked at. There’s no mention of actual establishments, and the seventh have never been good at checking up on possible by-blows…no offense meant.”

Oh crap, she had heard right. Jareth was a prince. Even though she’d known he was a commoner, even knew that his mother was a whore like her…it made no difference if his father had been a prince. Royal blood trumped everything, even minor royal blood like that of the seventh house.

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Jareth’s voice was gruff, but distracted as paper rustled. “Places I grew up, they wouldn’t have wanted to linger for fear of being stripped to the bone. Literally. Back then the place was rife with organ-harvesters.”

A shudder hit the hidden Keliana at the words. There were worse fates than being sold into slavery and the thought that Jareth had grown up in such a place chilled her to the bone. He’d been lucky to make it to adulthood, never mind into the army.

“So, this begs the question, Prince Jareth.” Seth’s voice was smug as he attached the title to Jareth’s name. “You’ll have to marry, so what do you plan to do about Keliana?”

If her heart had stopped at the news Jareth was a prince, then it slammed back into action as her name was mentioned. Unbidden a tiny little hope raised its head, from the part of her heart she harbored dreams of happily ever after and finally being able to remove the contraceptive implant buried deep in her thigh.

To be free to love Jareth because she wanted to, not to stay because he owned her.

“Well, I can’t marry a courtesan.”

With those few words, something snapped deep inside her chest. She didn’t want to hear any more. Couldn’t stand around to have them discuss suitable young women, no doubt a decade younger than she was and noble. Not a courtesan. Pulse pounding in her ears, she turned away from the door and retraced her steps. Misery rose, threatened to overwhelm her. Her body on automatic, she walked past the guards at the door, a small tight smile for Devil.

“They didn’t need me after all.”

Jareth had never needed her.