Chapter 14

King Martane and Queen Nathalie were indeed very pleased when told of the upcoming wedding. They sent out riders to the rulers of the other kingdoms, opening the gates of the Seventh Kingdom to royalty as well as dignitaries. The day was planned down to the smallest detail, a day that would not only herald the wedding of the prince to his princess but would celebrate Magnus's downfall.

Nathalie had her seamstress and the woman's many assistants rushing about in a tizzy, for not only did they need to make a bridal gown fit for a princess and the Descendant, but they had to make the queen's gown as well. It was second only to Luria's, as it should be on the bride's big day.

Luria sighed. She was tired of being poked and prodded, of watching the seamstress watch her at every meal to see if she would over eat for fear of having to take the gown out. She was sick of this whole thing and wanted only to be able to relax, to live again after being on the run and scared for so very long. She rose from the table, wandering to the fire in the big common room of the palace. Her nose twitched, for a strange smell emanated from this part of the room. Turning, her eyes caught on the green of Isobel's and she started.

There was something in those eyes, something feral and vicious. "Isobel? You are well?" she asked quietly and a little uncertainly.

"What do you care?" the girl snarled, her voice kept purposefully low. "You've usurped my position here but you shan't take him away from me. Not again."

"Who, Isobel?" Luria asked, her hands reaching for the girl's shoulders. "Who shan't I take away again?"

A sly smile covered the pretty face and Isobel turned away, staring blankly into the fire.

"Why must you bother my poor mistress, my lady?" Mathilde asked her. "Hasn't she been through enough?" Mathilde went to Isobel's side and stroked the silent girl's long dark hair. "Now you're having this wedding which is like openly saying that my lady isn't good enough to be Prince Balor's wife and leaving her here to have to face the stares and the comments without protection. My poor little girl, my poor little dove." She continued her stroking.

"None of it was meant..." Luria began, but the older woman turned her back, tuning her out as she hummed to her mistress. Luria lifted her hand then changed her mind, walking away from the fireplace. She headed for the doors, needing to be outside of the palace and away from the strangeness those two had left upon her soul.

The door opened easily under her hand and she stepped out into the bailey, going up the small steps that led off to the left and up into the battlements. She followed the wall down and around, going past the gate to the village and breathing deep of the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining gloriously bright and she couldn't help but lift her face into its rays. The heat sank into her skin, burning off the coldness left their by Isobel and her maid.

Rowan's roar caught her ears and she turned, scanning below her until she found him. Her grin turned into a smile and she laughed, watching as the village children took turns scratching his ears and rubbing at the big lion's belly as if he were little more than the newest mutt in town. Rowan grumbled, but then purred, content with his role for now. Even when the littlest of the bunch pulled his mane, he stayed compliant under their fingers.

"He's a big baby," Balor said close to her ear.

Luria shrieked and turned around, almost falling into his arms. "Gods!" she growled when she caught her breath, gazing up into his amused eyes. "Do you find it fun scaring me like that?"

"Fun, no. But I do enjoy this part," he said, pulling her closer into his arms.

"I do, too," she said, snuggling against his chest and breathing in his scent. "You've been fighting." She sniffed at his shirt scenting the sweat of a hard workout upon him.

"Not much use for training now, but I think we should stay ready, nonetheless." He tilted her head back, his eyes picking up on the stress upon her face and the tension that she felt. "Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested the ceremony?" he mused, his fingers tracing the small line between her brows that her angst had brought.

"No," Luria said quickly. "I want to marry you again, in front of our people and your family." She reached up and touched his cheek, brushing at a streak of dirt upon his temple. "I just wish that it was over so that we could begin our sequestering. I cannot wait to have you at my mercy." Luria wiggled her eyebrows at him, making him laugh.

"Perhaps I'm the one who should be worried," he teased, bending his head to find her lips. She tasted sweet, with the hint of the preserves she'd used upon her bread at the breaking of the fast. "Mmm ... Yes, I should definitely worry. You and I sequestered at my father's hunting lodge for the banding time. Whatever shall we do to while away the time?"

"Cards?" Luria suggested softly as his hands slid down to her hips and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer to his loins and the bulge that protruded there. "Perhaps, oh," she gasped as his mouth, hot and needy, found her neck, "we can go for walks." Her voice was unsteady, growing more so as he growled against her throat, his tongue lapping at the pulse that beat so hard and fast in her neck.

Turning with her still in his arms, he hurried down the battlements, slipping through the bailey and into the stables. Finding an empty stall filled with sweet smelling hay, he dropped to his knees, pressing her down into the soft pile. A tug on the bodice of her gown had her breasts popping into view, her nipples hardening under the heat of his stare.

"Here?" she mewled when his lips closed over her nipple, suckling the hard treat deeply into the heat of his mouth.

His answer was a growled moan and he began to tug at her skirts, pulling them up her long legs, his hands caressing the silkiness of her flesh as he went.

Luria's fingers were busy, too, tearing at the sash that held his sword and stashing it at his right side, within hand's reach. She struggled with his breeches, tugging the plain white shirt he wore out of the top of them. Her hands grasped at his naked skin even as she arched under the sweet pressure of his mouth.

Sensation coiled into a bubble of almost angry desire, forcing her loins to move against his leg, begging for more. Luria didn't want sweet. She didn't want slow and loving. She wanted flash and fire. She wanted him between her legs, thrusting with almost primal force, filling her, fucking her. She cried out when his lips left her nipple, moving to the other, his hands finding the soft muslin of her pantalets. He grasped them in his fists; ripping the soft fabric easily until only the pretty red ribbons were left, surrounding her thighs and one at her waist.

"Gods!" she cried out, her excitement zinging even higher by his loss of control. "Fuck me," she ordered, her hands in his hair, yanking him away from her breasts.

Balor's eyes were hazy with his need and he stared at her for a moment as if unable to comprehend what she'd said. They grew sharper as lust fueled his desire. "Say it again."

"Fuck me," Luria said, her soft lips forming the crude words.

"You want to be fucked?" Balor asked, slipping out of her embrace to finish undressing. She sat up, helping with the wide lacing of his boots, pulling them off of his feet while he fumbled with the ties to his breeches. She laughed wildly when he took his dagger, cutting through the tangled ties and then pushed down on the breeches, exposing his lean hips and the long length of his cock to her eyes.

There was a grin on her lips, one that shone with wicked intent. Reaching out, she took his cock in her soft hand, hearing him moan at the first touch of her fingers. She stroked it slowly, drawing him closer until that gorgeous erection was close enough to touch and taste with her lips and tongue. Pulling him into her mouth, she rose to her knees, her skirt falling to cover her hips and legs

Balor groaned at that first sweet touch, the sensitive head of his cock coated in the warmth of her mouth. His head fell back and he trembled. She held him in her control, suckling down the length of his shaft, bobbing her head over him, her lips stretched taut around him. His chest heaved and his hands found her hair, tearing the pins from the long tresses of her white blonde curls so that they hung heavily around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, her eyes telling him of the excitement she felt, of the pleasure she got from giving it to him. She watched as his eyes held a wickedness of their own and then she felt the dagger at her back, the sharp blade cutting through the ties that held her gown to her body. The pretty red gown fell to her waist, held up only by the thin sleeves that were caught upon her elbows. Under it, she wore a shift that was tucked below her breasts as well as a corset. Thick white petticoats were trimmed with red ribbons that matched the ones on the pantalets he'd already torn from her.

"You wear too many clothes. I think I liked you best in the gown that Magnus would have married you in." He jumped as he felt the scrape of her teeth against the sensitive head of his cock then heard them click together as if she would have nipped him.

Dragging her up, he used the dagger on her corset and then on the ties of the petticoats, laying them over the rough hay to cushion her body. "Now vixen," he said as he laid her down on the makeshift bed, "what is it that you had in mind?"

She grabbed at him, yanking at the shirt he still wore and pulling it over his head. Her hands were on his body, roaming over the hard, sweat covered flesh, undulating against him, pulling him down against her. "Fuck me," she whispered in his ear as her hand slid down his stomach, finding the hardness of his cock. "Now!" she demanded, spreading her thighs wide for him.