Chapter 2

She was feeling a tad dizzy.

Kistle clung to the mane of the airhorse that she was seated on, fearing for her safety. They were gliding along the clouds, much too high and much too fast for comfort. She could feel the horses' flanks contracting and relaxing under her, hear its loud snorts. The big beast's satiny black wings flapped about her gloriously, contrasting against its creamy white flesh. She had never seen such a beast before; it was foreign to her world — just like the giant that was seated behind her.

He hadn't spoken a word to her; she was afraid of his silence, not knowing what to expect from him. In her twenty years on Kierania, she never once had a man touch her or even glance her way. The chapel had shielded her from any encounters with the opposite sex ever since she was naught but a plump pink baby. Her mother had passed on whilst giving birth to her and the chapel had taken her in, raising her to be a servant of the Goddess.

The Goddess's world had been the only one she'd known, up until that fateful moment the Marqs had taken over Kierania. Now she found herself in a compromised state, riding amongst the clouds with a man who probably had dishonourable intentions. If they weren't at a perilous height so high up in the sky, she would have fought him tooth and nail. As it was, she stayed straight and stiff before him, trying to come to terms with her fate.

Will he ever send her back to the chapel? It was the only home she'd ever known and she was missing it already...

Kistle jolted as a cloud whizzed by her cheek and weaved its cottony body into her golden curls. She reached back with one hand to disentangle it but found that his fingers were already seeing to the task. She withdrew her hand with haste when she felt his fingers run along her scalp, tugging deliciously at the thick strands.

His large hands were surprisingly gentle as he let the sliver of a cloud extricate itself from her hair and blow away in the wind. And even after that, his fingers lingered in her hair, caressing her leisurely. His thumb ran along the base of her neck where baby soft curls were nestled against smooth, light brown skin. A shiver chased through her as he rubbed the calloused pad of his thumb there, making small goose pimples come alive all over her body. Then, a source of heat was pressed to the sensitive area, causing her to emit a startled gasp.

She finally found her voice.

"What are you doing?" Oh dear. Her throat was unbelievably dry.

Rade chuckled at her obvious state of arousal. The rumble of his laughter caused the hard wall of his chest to rub against the back of her habit.

"Have you never been touched by a man before?" he asked as he settled her more firmly against him.

He merely sighed when she shook her head.

"You have a lot to learn, freina," he said as his deft hands slid higher up her torso. She squirmed, trying to elevate her body so that his hands wouldn't breach the sanctity of her breasts. It was no use. Her breath caught as his hands slid over the small pert mounds, roughly caressing them, making her slither against him in awkwardness. What should she do? She knew that he shouldn't be touching her like this, but...

Rade let out a loud blasphemy when he felt the familiar jiggle of the Messball in his pocket. He let his arm leave the little one's waist for a moment as he took out the small, round, crystalline globe. It was glowing an urgent red, which meant that he would need to contact King Dominique as soon as possible. There was probably critical news awaiting him. He spurred White, his prized stallion to a faster pace. At the speed that they were traveling, they'd be able to reach the manor by nightfall.

Kistle gasped as the beast under her surged forward in an incredible display of speed. In fear, her fingers instinctively clung to the hard arms that were secured around her waist. Afraid of him, she might be, but she didn't want to die just because she was foolish enough not to hold on to him.

Rade groaned as the small woman wedged herself comfortably between his thighs, her rounded bottom guilelessly stroking his half-ready cock. He had to admit that she was an exquisitely beautiful creature, with her violet eyes, golden tresses and dusky skin ... But some things were just more important than women, Rade acknowledged. He would have to see to bedding the girl later. As for now, urgent news from the King awaited him.

The airhorse landed on the plot of land effortlessly. Kistle remained seated as the man slid to the ground, then reached up to carry her down as well. His manner was brisk and brusque, as been his handling of the airhorse ever since he'd taken that beautiful red rock out from his pocket. He probably had some urgent matter to attend to, and that rock must've been some sort of messaging system between the Marqs. Kistle could only hope that he would take a while with it, for she had a plan that she wanted to put into action as soon as possible.

A large, dark, brooding, Talem manor rose up in front of them. She had heard of it before, the royal house of Kierania, but had never seen it. It was located on higher air, much higher for mere civilians like her to travel to. It was an honour just to be here and yet, she felt nothing but fear and trepidation that spread through her body from the manacle-like grip that he kept on her arm.

He led her up the steep front steps and through the magnificent house. His hand slid down her arm to cup her small hand as he made his way through the various wood-lined rooms. Kistle grew more nervous as room after room slid by her. Where was he taking her? What was he going to do with her? A myriad of emotions welled within her as the giant's feet started to steal up a dark flight of stairs. She barely managed to keep up with his long, purposeful strides and had to heave a sigh of relief when he stopped at the top of it.

The sound of keys jingling in the darkness reached her ears, followed by the telltale creak of an old door. Kistle gasped as she was shoved into the room by strong hands.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for objections. And then with a look of warning should she attempt to escape, he was gone.

It had been twenty minutes since the Messball had delivered the message. Rade's footfalls became hasty as he made his way to the library, where a screen had been set up for the purpose of viewing Messball messages only. He lit a candle as he entered the room, his deft fingers already placing the glowing red ball on the ReadSphere — a flat, tile-like device meant to illustrate the message in the Messball on the screen.

As the globe was placed on the Sphere, a bright golden light spread throughout the room and immediately focused itself on the large screen. It was a letter.

"Sir Rade,

I do hope your siege has been successful. It has been a week since we conversed and I demand a full update on the situation in Kierania. Plans to conquer the rest of it are being made as you read this Mess. The plans will be forwarded to you as soon as they have been completed.

You must continue to do the Marqs proud.

King Dominique the Hundredth."

Rade rubbed the tension away from the back of his neck as he read the Mess. Just the thought of another war made him a little tensed. Perhaps he was getting old for all the fighting and politics. His army had just fought a fierce battle on Lismus, and now, they were being asked to take over the other half of Kierania as well; he knew that the bastard Kieranian king would never give up the rest of his lands without a fight.

Also, being involved in another war was now, unfair to Rade's men, for he knew that they, too, needed a rest from all the violence and bloodshed. He would see to it that they had enough rest before they prepared for another war.

Rade's dark eyes glimmered as the glow of the Messball simmered and died down so that the remaining illumination came from the candle that he had lit. The flame that rose from it was a beautiful gold, which reminded him of his captive's hair. Unbeknownst to him, a smile curled his lips; the remaining thoughts of the King and the war fled his mind.

She would be waiting for him in the tower, a tumble of honey-kissed curls and chubby caramel cheeks. Her allure was undeniable.

In a heartbeat, he found himself striding up the stairs which led his enslaved innocent, an image of her naked and moaning, sizzling through his gut like fine whisky. How would she taste? How would she respond? He would decipher the answers soon enough.

Oh dear. What should she do?

He was gone. The room was dark. She was scared.

Kistle's knees trembled inelegantly as she made her way across the room towards a sliver of light that spilled from a large window. She pried the window open wider with quivering fingers and warm glow from the late night moon bathed the room, bringing to life the non-living occupants of it.

What she saw shocked her.

A colossally large bed graced one corner of the room. It was a fine bed, yes, but it looked as though it would sleep four large men comfortably. She shuddered to think of the mischief that could occur in that bed — she'd once heard a few twitty girls whispering about bedwork at Mass. She had sent them a disapproving frown, but they had just giggled at her. Kistle had learnt quite a bit about what couples do in bed from their conversation, and the remembrance of it made her cheeks burn hotly.