MATHIOR

My little bride is brave. I think of it all through the first of the three feasts, which she does not attend. Her ladies—both Yshremi and Cyclopae—usher her away wearing nothing but my cloak, and that is the last I see of her. All night, people drink and slap me on the back to tell me what a fine bride I have.

I know this. I have always known this.

I’m stunned by her beauty, though. Her skin is as creamy as I’ve dreamt it would be. Her breasts are still high and proud, full, with dark pink nipples that just beg for a warrior’s mouth. Her hips flared gently out to delicious pale thighs and a patch of dark curls over her cunt that makes my mouth water to think of. Most of all, though, I think of the proud, arrogant tilt of her head and the way she demanded the same of me.

I love that. I love how fearless she is. And I love that when she gazed upon my cock, her cheeks flamed bright red and her voice wobbled as she declared me pleasing to her as well.

My bride. My beautiful Halla. I am so close to making her mine.

The next day passes incredibly slowly. I am hungry for the next day’s marriage ceremony, but it will not be held until that evening. I cannot sleep, because Halla haunts my dreams. I cannot spar with my men, because I cannot focus long enough to fight properly. This only makes my warriors laugh; they make crude jokes and tease me endlessly. After a few rounds of this, I give up and return to my audience chambers. I listen to advisors as they drone on and on about crops and trade routes and levies until I want to hit something. This, too, is part of being king, though, so I force myself to pay attention and take in all the advice given to me.

Eventually, though, darkness falls and people gather for the feast. I cannot be the first to arrive, lest I seem too eager. I am still king, for all that I am bridegroom as well. I dress for the feast, and when enough time has passed, I enter the feast hall.

A loud cheer goes up, and I raise a hand to silence them. I am pleased to see that both Yshremi and Cyclops are cheering. There is nothing quite like a wedding and feast to bring people together, it seems. Perhaps I should marry off more cyclops warriors to Yshremi brides. It’s an intriguing concept and one I plan on discussing with Halla once I am alone with her.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, I plan on doing many other things with my bride. Tonight is the tasting, and my mouth waters with the thought of it.

The great hall has tables laid out, and people sit along the benches, waiting for the feast to begin. I move to my throne, still on the dais, and sit there impatiently, waiting for my bride. The food is served, dish after dish, drinking horn after drinking horn, but no one eats or drinks. As custom, no one can celebrate the “tasting” until we do.

Halla arrives in a sweep of lavender skirts a short time later, and the cheer goes up once more. I can tell even as she approaches that she is embarrassed, her shoulders stiff and regal. She keeps a gracious smile on her face as people call out ribald jokes. Only during a wedding are such things allowed. Once the three days have passed, we will be king and queen and the rules of court will return once more. But for now, the excitement of a wedding and feast makes everyone forget.

I want to jump to my feet at the sight of my lovely bride, but I force myself to rise slowly. I take slow, measured steps down the dais and then extend my hand to her. She puts her small one in mine, her movements pretty and elegant, and when she smiles up at me, people cheer.

If nothing else, we have changed the mood at court, and that is something.

I tuck Halla’s hand in my arm and nod at the chaperones that follow her. Penella and Ishera—two of my finest warriors—have been chosen to be my bride’s chaperones. I chose them because they were female, and perhaps it is my own jealousy that makes me choose women for the roles. I want her to be comfortable, of course, and I know our ways are foreign to her.

More than that, though, I do not want another man looking upon what is mine. Yesterday was a necessity. I enjoyed looking at her lovely body, but it took everything I had not to cover her immediately. She is mine and mine alone, and my possessive streak grows greater with every moment that I am in her presence.

Princess Halla belongs to me.

If Halla is aware of my jealousy, she does not indicate it. She smiles and nods her head at the court as if this is any other feast and I am not about to take her to a private room and bury my face between her thighs. Some of the men have knowing looks on their faces, but I make sure that my glare lets them know that I will not have her embarrassed. I escort my bride to the doors of the great hall, and then we turn.

“Let the Tasting of the Bride begin!” I say in a ringing voice, and their cheers—of excitement and catcalls both—drown out our exit.

Then Halla and I are alone in the hall, Penella and Ishera silent shadows a span of steps behind us.

Halla does not look at me as we move through the halls. The sounds of merrymaking in the main hall carry through, echoing with our steps, and I wait until they die away before I turn to look at my bride. I have not seen her since last night, and I wondered if I would wake this morning and find her fled back to the temple.

“I am glad you have stayed,” I lean in and murmur as we walk.

She gives me a startled look, two bright red flags of color in her cheeks. “You thought I would leave?”

I chuckle and pat the hand tucked into my arm. “I wasn’t entirely sure after yesterday. But I thank you for honoring my people’s customs. I know they’re very different than yours, but if you are to be accepted as queen of the Cyclopae, a marriage following the old ways is wisest.”

“Am I your queen, then?” Her voice is soft.

“Did you have any doubt?”

She makes a soft noise in her throat that I cannot decide is agreement or embarrassment. Halla gazes straight ahead, composing herself. “I was not certain of my place…in any of this.”

I wonder how much more plainly I can tell her. I pause in my steps and turn to face her. The expression on her pretty face is practiced, as if she is afraid of showing any sort of emotion. “You are mine. I would not humiliate you with a pretend marriage. Nor do I have plans to abandon you. You are my wife, Halla…or you will be once this ceremony is over. That will make you Queen of Cyclopae, Adassia and Yshrem.”

“And this is what you want, too?”

Frustrated, I grunt at her. “I’m not sure why you are so convinced that I do not know what I want.”

“Because you could have a much younger wife—” she begins.

I groan. Not this again. I grab my regal bride by the waist—she is wearing Yshremi garb today, I see, the colors pale and milky and there are far too many layers—and heave her onto my shoulder, like the barbarian she thinks I am.

Halla squeaks in protest, her legs kicking once. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you just how seriously I take this marriage.” I turn to face Pen and Ishera. “What room has been set up for the ceremony?”

Ishera smirks at me and gestures ahead. “Down this hall. Double doors.”

I stalk in the direction she points, hauling my bride with me. I have dreamed of this moment for years, and to see the hesitation on Halla’s face stirs my temper…and a hint of worry. As a Cyclops bride, she can back out of our wedding at any time if she does not find me to be an amenable groom. I don’t want to give her a chance to think about this and talk herself out of it.

The time to begin the ceremony is now. “Come, Halla.”

“Do I have any choice?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound irritated. Rather, she sounds amused, as if my arrogance and impatience is endearing to her. It’s just another reason why I know we will be a good match.

I storm down the hall and make my way to the chamber that has been established for such a ceremony. In Cyclopae, our people live in tents and so a special tent is used for wedding rituals. We brought such a tent from our homelands, but I do not want Halla to feel even more out of place than she already does. I need her to feel comfortable, because what I am about to do to her is going to be very new. I don’t want her getting skittish and crying off.

I don’t know how much she knows of men, or if she knows anything at all. The thought is both incredibly appealing and intimidating. I’ve never tasted a woman’s cunt, because I wanted to wait for her. I know from talking with other warriors that not every woman responds the same, and so I am prepared to lick and pleasure her for as long as it takes to ensure that she enjoys herself.

The pleasure, I think, will be mine as well. I’ve hungered to taste her.

I push into the room and the doors fly open, banging against the wall. Yshremi servant girls squeal in surprise and hurry out of the room, their heads bent. I glance around at the chamber. It is…well, it is ridiculous. Thick silks hang from the walls like banners of conquest, and flower petals of every color imaginable have been strewn about. In the corner, incense burns under a small altar to Magra, goddess of fertility. A large upraised platform in the center of the room has white furs piled upon it, and above the bed—because I suppose that must be a bed—is the banner that proclaims the unity of our two houses.

“Is…that a cheese tray?” Halla asks.

I turn to look. “Yes, it is.” Along with wine and fruit. Gods above, do they think she’s going to need a snack while I feast on her? Ishera giggles, and I turn to glare at the Cyclops warrior. She goes quiet, her lips twitching. I set my bride down gently, then shut the doors behind us.

The moment the doors are shut, Ishera and Penella move to opposite sides of the room and sit on low stools left there for them. They avert their eyes to give us the proper amount of privacy. Halla and I are alone, in a way. I know Penella and Ishera will say nothing of what transpires in this room. I have chosen them precisely for such a thing. I turn to Halla, who’s fussing with her skirts and adjusting her clothing. She looks nervous. I gather her hands in mine. “Shall I tell you more about this portion of the ceremony?”

“I admit I’m curious,” she tells me, and her face grows pink. “About the ritual of it, of course.”

I grin. “Of course.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, and then breaks off, flustered. “I thought yesterday might be the most challenging part of this marriage ceremony,” Halla admits, her voice soft. “But I viewed that as a battle. This is…different.”

I feel the same, in a sense. This is more intimate. Yesterday was a performance for her people and mine. Today is about her and me. I put my hands on her hips and steer her toward the fur bedding. “The story has it that the first cyclops king, Liandros, searched far and wide for a bride worthy of his line. He was known through many kingdoms as the finest warrior and none could best him in battle. He met many women, but none were able to withstand his fierce personality, and he wanted a bride that would challenge him.”

“And did he find her?”

I caress Halla’s cheek and love that she leans in to my touch. “He did. Right in his own tribe. One of his childhood friends, Siara, had become a warrior and given her eye to the god while Liandros was away on a journey. He returned and was smitten by her, but Siara would not have him. Instead, she demanded to know what he would bring to the marriage bed. He grew angry and ripped off her clothing in front of the entire tribe.”

“He sounds awful.” Her nose wrinkles daintily.

I laugh. “Liandros was not known for his patience. But he swore he would have Siara. She was angry at him after he shamed her, so he demanded to know what would change her mind. She told him if he could please her in bed with his hands tied behind his back, she would reconsider. He agreed and went to her bedchamber, and she refused to take his pants off for him. So Liandros was…creative. And his bride-to-be was very pleased.” I caress her cheek. “So it is tradition for a Cyclops warrior to please his bride in bed before the final ceremony.”

“I see. It is…very different than Yshremi weddings.” She does not meet my eyes.

I can imagine that it is. The Yshremi are a scholarly people who love farming and books. I imagine most of my people’s customs are very foreign to them. “Then I feel sorry for Yshremi women.”

Halla looks up and gives me a shocked glance.

“Shall you bind my hands behind my back?” I state boldly, crossing my wrists in front of her. “Or will you allow me to touch you on this evening?”

“I…what exactly is involved?” My sweet bride looks utterly flustered. “I don’t…I mean…” She wrings her hands. “When I was prepared for the marriage bed, I was told about treaties and kingdoms and how not to cede my power to my husband in an argument. Not much was said about the marriage bed itself other than I should be patient with my husband’s attentions and not interrupt.”

Not interrupt? What a strange thing to teach a woman. But then again, the Yshremi treat their daughters very different than Cyclopae do. “You can interrupt me as much as you want if I do something you don’t like.”

“Very well.” Halla looks gravely earnest.

I caress her cheek and then gesture at the bed. “Let us sit down, then.” When she nods, I guide her over to the edge of the bed and sit, and she sits across from me. I’d hoped she would sit in my lap, but I can be patient. She’s clearly rattled.

I caress her cheek as she watches me. Her gaze flicks to Pen and Ishera. “Those are the chaperones? They’re staying, then?” Her voice is hushed, as if she doesn’t want them to overhear her.

I nod. “It’s to ensure you aren’t pressured or uncomfortable should you change your mind halfway through. Some of our warriors have been known to be overly enthusiastic in the past and ended up with a knife in their gut.” I shrug. “I think they just did not use their tongues correctly—”

Her hand claps over my mouth, her expression scandalized. “We shouldn’t talk about such things.”

We shouldn’t? Perhaps she’d just rather I show her, instead. I move her hand from my mouth. “Shall I start with a kiss?” I press my lips against her palm. After all, nothing says I cannot start with kisses before I move between her thighs. It’s all about giving her pleasure, and I know she likes kissing.

Halla’s expression goes soft, her gaze on my mouth as I nibble at her tender skin. Her hands are soft, but there are hints of fading calluses that remind me that she lived a meager life in Riekki’s temple for the last sixteen years, and I am filled with frustration. She has always tried to do the right thing, Halla. I remember that fateful day well. Instead of letting others murder me, even after she heard of her father’s death at my father’s hands, she protected me, cared for me. She made sure I was safe and returned to my father unharmed. She ordered her Yshremi warriors to stand down, because she did not want anyone else to die. And she gave up her crown so she would save lives. It seems unfair that she should then be punished with sixteen years of solitude. I know Riekki’s peacekeepers. They are a pious order that loves nothing more than hard work and silence.

I think of the poetry book, hidden under the guise of a book of prayers, and cannot help but grin to myself. Even in such a holy place, she dreamed of something more. I plan on giving it to her. “I have always loved you,” I tell her as I push her sleeve up and kiss her wrist. “Ever since I was a small boy, I told everyone who would listen that I would marry Princess Halla of Yshrem. That there was no one as beautiful and kind as her. No one as glorious.” With each word, I press my mouth against her skin, traveling up her arm.

“I wonder how your father felt about such devotion,” she says, and her voice is breathless and sweet, her gaze fixed on my mouth so intently.

“He disagreed,” I say, and lean in to kiss the crook of her elbow. “But he is dead and I am now king, and I do what I want.”

She shivers, and I don’t know if it’s from my mouth or my words. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will change my mind. Halla is and always will be mine from this point forward.

When I can press her sleeve no higher, I nibble my way back down her arm and then give her hand one final kiss. I gaze up at her and she watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted. She looks so ready for my cock that there is a deep, intense ache in my groin.

I slide an arm around her waist and pull her close, until her breasts are pressed up against my chest. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest. Instead, her hand slides up to my nape and she touches my hair, curling her fingers in it.

And waits. She’s so beautiful as she looks up at me with breathless anticipation.

I lower my mouth to hers, and her lips part under mine. The kiss is just as good this time as I remembered, and I stroke my tongue into the sweet heat of her mouth. I love the little moan that escapes her, and the way she clings to me as I deepen the kiss, using my tongue as I want to use my cock, claiming her with every possessive stroke. Our lips meld over and over, until I forget all about who else is in the room. There’s no one that exists outside of the gorgeous princess in my arms. She shifts against me and I hitch her closer, until she’s practically in my lap, and her thigh is pressing up against my cock in an almost-painful reminder of just how very hard she makes me. Panting, I release her mouth from mine with a last reluctant nip, because I could spend all night kissing her, lost in her lips.

Halla’s fingers tighten in my hair and then she presses her mouth shyly to mine. “There’s nothing that says I cannot kiss you back, is there?”

I bite back my groan. “Nothing at all.”

And then the lovely creature takes control of our embrace and begins to kiss me all on her own. Her kisses are small, soft, nipping ones that tease rather than conquer. I am fascinated by this, because I know it’s purely instinctual. This is how Halla works, I realize—with small nibbles and little caresses, unlike my brutal conquest of her mouth. It is another reason we will be good together as rulers.

Of course, my cock could be making me think of all kinds of assumptions, but I don’t care. In this moment she could hold me down and ravage my mouth and I would think she was the loveliest, most delicate creature ever. She could do anything to me and I would willingly submit.

My princess makes a little noise in her throat as she kisses me, her arms twining around my neck, and I realize she wants me to kiss her back. Her playful nips stop once I kiss her back, and then we are using our tongues to dance along each other’s mouths in a sensual alternation of licks that make me imagine her mouth everywhere.

I kiss her softly one more time and then pull away. “Let me lay you back on the bed, love.”

Wariness flares in her eyes, and she gives me a nervous nod. She sits back on the bed and then smooths her skirts down her legs. “What now?”

I see the tips of her slippers peeping out from underneath her skirts. I take one foot in my hand and casually pull the shoe off, tossing it aside. Her eyes go wide and she gazes at me, frozen in place. I can feel her quiver as I caress her ankle, and I remove the other shoe and then just rub her feet for a moment, trying to get her to relax. If anything, my touch only makes her more nervous.

“Tell me about your time in the temple,” I murmur. I’m trying to distract her, and I hope it works.

“The temple?” she echoes, a confused look on her face. Her gaze flicks back and forth between my hands and my face.

“Yes. Did you enjoy your time there?”

Halla looks at me as if I am growing a second head. “Did I enjoy living as a fugitive? Wondering if this is the day that assassins will arrive to kill me and resolve all claim to the throne? Being looked at as an outsider by the peacekeepers because I was not one of them, and them unable to do anything about me because of who I am?”

I should not have asked. “I hate that you went through that.”

She softens at my words and shrugs her shoulders. “It was not what I had anticipated my path to be.” Her voice is low, sad. “I had been trained since a young age that I would make a marriage to strengthen Yshrem. I admit I didn’t know what to do with myself for a very long time when I arrived at the temple. No one wants a spinster once-queen who gave her throne to the barbarians.”

“You did what you had to do to save lives. Surely you see that?” I’ve stopped rubbing her feet, because this is going in a direction I don’t want. Instead of relaxing her and distracting her, she’s growing sad.

“Not everyone understands a decision a ruler makes.” Her smile is small. “I should not complain. You saved my life sixteen years ago when you told your father I protected you. You made it sound like I stood before the sword like the bravest of warriors.”

“Were you not? You faced your men as calmly as any queen.”

“But I was queen.”

“Aye, and it would have been very easy for them to cut your throat, blame my father’s men, and then take the throne for themselves. Instead, you stood up for the enemy because you felt it was the right thing to do.”

“I would never let someone kill a child simply because he had the wrong father.”

“Neither would I.” I grin and slide to my knees, and then I am kneeling on the floor in front of her feet. “See? We are agreed. You saved my life, and I saved yours. We are equals.”

“Mmm.” She doesn’t sound as if she agrees with me. That’s all right. She doesn’t have to agree. Now, I am in a position of power. I am king and I do and take what I want.

And right now, I cannot wait to take my bride.

I lift her foot carefully and kiss the arch.

She gasps, shaken by my touch. Her eyes go soft and she watches me intently.

“Ticklish?” I ask, loving how responsive she is. She can’t hide how she feels, and I love that her normal dignified manner has disappeared and there’s a skittish, fascinated woman with me instead of the aloof, regal princess. She’s both, and I love both sides of her, but there’s only one I want in my bed.

“I don’t know,” Halla admits. “No one’s ever touched my feet like that before.”

“How does it make you feel, then?” I lean in and kiss the arch again, letting my tongue brush against the underside as I pull away.

She sucks in a breath and squirms on the bed, her gaze locked onto me. “I…I don’t know.” She’s breathless. “This is all very…new.”

My bride is very untouched. I can’t help the fierce surge of pleasure I feel at that. “Tell me if you don’t like something that I do, then.”

Halla nods and remains still as I kiss her foot again, then move up to her ankle. She’s silent as I continue to kiss my way forward, pressing my mouth against the soft skin of her ankle and calf. I love her delicate bones and how I can feel every tremor that moves through her. She doesn’t pull away, though, and when I pause, a flicker of disappointment crosses her face until I lean in once more.

Perhaps I’m going too slow to please my bride. I want to take my time to ensure that she is comfortable, but perhaps I should push things further. I slide a hand up her graceful calf and push her skirts back until her legs are revealed all the way up to the knee. She says nothing, but the pink flush brightens on her cheeks. She reaches down and gathers the skirts in her hands…and then slowly pulls them higher, revealing white thighs and a tantalizing glimpse of pantaloons that ruffle just below her hips.

It feels like an invitation. And when she bites her lip and gives me an anxious look, I know it is one.

I press forward and graze my mouth over her ankle again, then begin to work my way slowly upward, just as I did with my arm. She’s trembling, but the soft rasp of her breath tells me that it’s excitement more than fear. I kiss her calf, then her knee, and then move up to the creamy flesh of her thigh. At this point, she gives a little whimper in her throat, and shifts on the bedding.

I kiss higher, caressing her hands before I push her skirts even further up her thighs. Her pantaloons are fully revealed to me and she squirms under my gaze, restless as I stare down at her. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur, keeping my voice low so it feels as if we are the only two in the room. I know Pen and Ishera will be as quiet as possible, but I want Halla to forget that they’re there. I want her to focus on me and only me. “May I take these off?”

And I lean in and bite the ruffle gracing the edge of one pantaloon leg.

Halla’s lips part, and she gives a shuddering breath. “I…should I get undressed all the way?”

“Do you want to?”

She hesitates. “I don’t know.” Her gaze flicks to the women at the edge of the room.

“I can pleasure you under your skirts, too, you know.” I give her my cockiest grin, as if my own heart is not pounding as loud as a blacksmith’s hammer. “No one will see your beauty but me. Perhaps we’ll save the rest for tomorrow night, yes?”

She flushes prettily and bites her lip, then nods.

I smile at her, because she’s beyond beautiful, and then slide my hands up her thighs, all the way to the waistband of her pantaloons. Slowly, I edge them downward, revealing more pale skin and a gently rounded belly. The way she looked yesterday in the throne room has been burned into my mind, and I’m eager to see her naked once more. More than that, I’m eager to taste her. I’ve longed to put my mouth on her cunt for ages. I’ve dreamed of marrying her in the custom of my people, and in my dreams, she reacts with pleasure and is hungry for more. Thus far, the real Halla has surpassed every one of my dreams.

I cannot wait to see how this plays out in comparison.

I gently slide the fabric all the way down to her thighs, and the peep of the curls between her thighs is fully exposed to my gaze. Even here, she is delicate and feminine, and I cannot resist moving forward and pressing my mouth there in a kiss.

The breath rushes out of her, half gasp, half moan. One hand clenches against my shoulder and then falls away.

“You can touch me,” I tell her, grasping her hand and pulling it back against my skin. “Touch me all you want. I like it.”

“Mathior,” Halla whispers, and she caresses my jaw. Her eyes are soft. “Sometimes this feels as if I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?”

“Let me show you how real this is,” I say, and then I rip her pantaloons away. I don’t care that I’m destroying delicate, embroidered fabric. I want her naked and under my tongue right now. I’ve hungered for this for far too long. I push her thighs apart and then my mouth is on her.

She cries out, her hands going to my head. A second later, she twists her fingers in my hair and her hips buck up against my face. I grip one of her hips to hold her as she writhes, and keep my mouth on her flesh. The seam of her cunt is incredibly wet, and I drag my tongue over it, determined to take my time and learn her.

And with that lick, I get my first taste of my woman. It’s musky and intense and my mouth waters, hungry for more. She’s perfect, even here, and I give her another deep lick, pushing apart her folds with my tongue and burrowing deeper into her sweetness. I learn her with the tip of my tongue, tracing the layers of her cunt and learning which touches she likes. When I come to the nub of her clit, the breath explodes from her body. “Mathior!”

“I have you,” I tell her between urgent licks. I don’t want to let her go. Being here, my face cradled by her thighs as I nuzzle and lick the most intimate part of her? I could stay here forever, lapping at her cunt and enjoying every tremor that rocks through her body. “Let me taste you, Halla. Let me taste all of you.”

She whimpers, and her hips quiver in my grip. Her hands tighten in my hair, but I ignore it, because when I lick her clit, her body gives a little jerk and she gasps. I want more of those little gasps. So I circle her clit with my tongue, then lick it directly. Halla arches up against me, and so I do it again, and again. She’s responding, but I have not yet made her come.

And I want to make her come, very much. I will not be worthy of being her husband if I do not give her pleasure.

I flick my tongue against the underside of her clit, then experiment with the pace of my licking, watching her responses. She shudders when I suck and press directly against her clit, but she makes sweet sounds of pleasure when I rub near it, but not quite touch. Fascinating. I focus in on rubbing around her clit instead of on it directly, and when she moans, I grip her thighs a little tighter, my own excitement spurring me on. It takes everything I have not to grab her and frantically lick her to a climax, because she’s not like me. The quicker and rougher I touch her won’t make her come faster. So I continue to give her the teasing touches that she needs, my tongue dancing and flirting along the hood of her clit and never quite touching it.

I love when she starts to pant, her body wriggling against me. “Mathior,” she gasps, and the hand in my hair tightens. “I don’t…wait…I don’t know…”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” I murmur briefly and then lower my head again, devoting more of my attention to her. I want to take her to the next level, to make her wild, and so I slide one hand under my mouth and begin to pet her cunt in the places that I cannot yet devote my tongue to. I stroke a finger against the entrance to her core and when she tightens, I tease the tip of it in even as I continue to lap at her clit.

“No,” she pants, arching up underneath me as if she can press herself against my mouth. “No…don’t stop. Please. Mathior!” Her voice grows more urgent and full of need with every stroke of my tongue.

My cock strains against my leathers and I force myself not to rub back and forth against the edge of the bed, lest I come and not finish pleasuring my woman first. I need her to come, and come hard and so good that she aches to marry me. An unsatisfied female can turn away the man that asks for her hand in marriage, and I aim not to be that man.

I push a finger into her cunt and nearly lose control at how tight and wet she is. Halla moans in pleasure, and I feel a new rush of her honey against my tongue. She’s close, if the flex and quiver of her cunt is any indication. Her gasps and cries increase with frequency and she rocks her hips wildly against my mouth. Her excitement is spurring mine, and it’s taking everything I have not to spill into my leather breeches. I thrust into her with my finger, pumping into her cunt as I want to with my cock. It’s not part of the “tasting,” but I can’t help myself. I’m too addicted to the soft cries she makes and the sensation of her body clenching around my finger. I push another one in alongside the first, and then I’m slowly fucking her with my fingers as I lap at her cunt.

Her thighs quiver and she gives a guttural cry. Her cunt spasms around my fingers and then her honey floods my mouth. She arches up against my mouth as she climaxes, and I keep on nuzzling her, determined to wring out her climax for as long as possible. With a whimper, she shudders and then goes limp on the furs, as if she’s lost all the strength in her body.

I continue to lap at her cunt, unwilling to let this moment end. I feel fierce satisfaction that I’ve made her climax so hard. Halla trembles with every stroke of my tongue, and I keep going until her thighs start to slide together and it’s clear she doesn’t want me there any longer. I still want to do more, of course. My body throbs with awareness of her, and her scent is in my nose, her taste on my tongue. How do other bridegrooms possibly stop when their woman is sprawled in bed in front of them, bare to the waist? I give the inside of her thigh a fervent kiss. “My Halla.”

She makes a breathless sound that might be a response.

I move forward on the bed, crawling over her. My pants are still on and I won’t do anything—not tonight—but I want to hold her, see her face as she recovers from her climax. I move next to her on the bed and caress her cheek, rubbing my nose against her skin. I want to kiss her, but I also don’t want to lose the taste of her cunt on my lips. “My sweet love.”

Halla’s eyes are glazed, her lips pink and plump from biting them. Her hair is disheveled and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her face. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful.

She moans and puts a hand to my face, kissing me ferociously.

I pull her into my arms, slicking my tongue into her mouth, giving her all the urgency I feel. We share hungry kisses and then she pulls away, panting. “That was…I…there are no words.”

“Did I please you?” I rub my nose against hers. I want to stay here forever, I think, and just drink in…her.

“Oh yes,” she tells me, breathless. Her hand skims up and down my chest, as if she cannot stop touching me, either. “But you…”

“Tomorrow.” I close my eyes and press a kiss to her hand. My need for her nearly overwhelms me and I hold her hand to my mouth, breathing deep.

“Did you get no pleasure tonight, then?”

“My pleasure was entirely in pleasing you, my love.”

She pulls her hand from my grip and slides it down my chest, then moves to the waist of my pants. “Can I…touch you? The way you touched me?” And she boldly cups my cock.

The breath leaves my body. “You want to touch me?”

“Is it allowed?” She hesitates, starts to pull her hand from my groin.

I push it back there, because I want her touch more than I want air. “Anything you wish,” I tell her.

Halla’s lips part and then she caresses my cock with a bold stroke. I close my eyes, because her touch is making me desperately close to losing control.

“You’re bigger than I imagined,” she whispers, all the while her fingers tracing and outlining my length, learning it with a touch. “Are you sensitive here?” When I nod, she gives me a fascinated look, continuing to stroke me through my pants. “What feels good? How should I touch you? You knew how to caress me, and this is all new.” She leans in close to me, her lips near enough to brush over mine and whispers. “And I want to learn.”

With a groan, I grip her hand and show her just how to touch me. I don’t use the same gentle touches she does. Mine are brutal and swift, and the sight of her lips parting in wonder as I use her hand to rub myself to climax is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her name is on my tongue as I come, swift and hard. I spill into my leather breeches with an almost-painful joy and then fall back onto the blankets, utterly spent.

Halla caresses my face, fascinated. “That was pleasing?”

I huff out a laugh. “Pleasing” seems too simple a word, too benign. “Completely.”

She burrows into the blankets against my side and rests her cheek on my shoulder. “What now?”

I pull her close and stroke her hair, caressing her everywhere I can. I’m not ready to give her up yet, though I know I must. One more day, I remind myself. One more day and she’s truly mine. “Now you must tell the witnesses if I pleased you or not, and then we must be separated until the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Halla frowns and presses her face against my shoulder. “I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet.”

I love that she says that. “It is only one day more and you will be secluded until the wedding, as will I. This is to allow either of us the opportunity to refuse the marriage at any time up until we are brought before the priests.”

“Ah. And if I decided to refuse to marry you?”

Even thinking of such a thing pains me, but I promised I’d give her a choice. “I would tell everyone that you met an unfortunate death the evening before our wedding and would have you taken to the temple of your choice. If the peacekeepers do not suit you, we will find you another home.” I stroke the hair back from her lovely face. “I meant what I said when I told you that you would always be safe with me.”

A frown mars Halla’s face. “But if I am supposedly killed the evening before our wedding, won’t people assume you have done something terrible to me?”

“Let them assume what they like. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me! The Yshremi people don’t trust you as it is. If you hope for any sort of peace…”

If I do not have Halla, all of Yshrem can burn for all I care. I do not say such a thing, though, because I do not want her to feel obligated. I want her to come to me because she wants me. Because she enjoyed my mouth on her cunt. Because she wants more kisses and caresses.

Because she wants me.

I know that what I ask might be impossible. That her feelings toward me will always be colored by her father’s death and the conquest of her kingdom by my father. But I have always seen her as Halla, the lovely girl who saved me when I was a child. I want her to see me as more than just King of Cyclopae.

So we will see.

I sit up and help her straighten her clothing. I want to lie in this bed with her for hours on end, but I know that will not be wise. I am king, but even a king must bow to custom every now and then. I help her to her feet and then cup her cheek one last time. “I will see you tomorrow, my love.”

“You keep calling me that,” Halla murmurs.

“So I do.” I don’t explain myself. Let her determine what she will. I know how I feel.

She gives me a tremulous smile and then smooths her hands over her hair. As she does, the regal, distant expression moves over her face once more and Princess Halla is back, shy virgin Halla retreating inside her. She gathers her skirts and heads for the door to the room. Ishera and Pen flank her on the way out. They will get her answer privately and then reveal it in the court before those who have arrived for the feast. Not many grooms are humiliated by their future brides before those gathered before the wedding—and that is because every cyclops warrior does his best to ensure that his woman is well pleasured before he leaves her.

I do not think Halla’s answer will be a poor one. However, that doesn’t mean she won’t change her mind before the wedding. For a moment, I hesitate, wondering if there was more I could have done. If I should have pleasured her longer, made her come three or four or ten times. If that would change her mind, if it can even be changed at this point.

But no amount of licking and pleasuring will change Halla’s mind if she decides she cannot marry a cyclops.