The Hated (Sleeping With Monsters Book 3) (12 page)

I had never felt wanted so deeply before – too bad it was all a lie to teach me lessons.

When he pulled back a minute later I felt light, and he stayed so close that all I could see was him.

“Ready for your teaching?” he asked softly, rumbling the words. I nodded, helpless.

“Good.” He stepped back and overturned his bag. A spool of rope came tumbling out. He took up one end of this, and fastened it to my wrist. “Turn around,” he commanded. I did so, and then watched with innocent amazement as he tied the other end to one of the posters of my bed.

He did the same thing on the other side, cutting off the extra rope with a serving knife. I fought against the ties lightly and found I couldn’t get free. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing to teach you,” he said – and landed the first blow. I heard a whistle through the air and then felt a stinging thud on my ass.

“Ow!” I leapt forward, trapped by my tethered arms. “What was that –“ I twisted, looking over my shoulder to see. He held something – it looked like a whip, like a lot of whips at once.

“I spent today being busy,” he said, stroking where he’d just hit. “Your palace didn’t have what I needed, so I made accommodations.”

“But – why are you hitting me?”

I heard him take a step back. “To teach you to focus,” he said, with a smack. “To teach you to listen,” he said with another one. “To teach you control,” he said, and hit me with a third.

I yelped and gasped with each blow’s landing. “But –“

“Be quiet,” he said, hitting me again. “Is the pain intolerable? Be honest.”

I was breathing faster. I’d never been trapped before – in my own palace, no less – and they did hurt, but…I could take more. “No.”

“Good. Let me know if it becomes so. Until then, though,” he said, landing the next blow atop a shoulder blade.

Each blow landing burned and stung with a sudden wave of pain that disappeared as quickly as it’d come. I had to separate the surprise of being hit with the actual pain of the blow – once I began to expect blows, getting hit was easier, if still frustrating.

“How is this supposed to –“

He smacked across my ass again and I rose on my toes with a shout. My eyes stung, watering, and I hovered, as if trying to get away from him.

“You were saying?” he asked, stepping forward to run his hand over me. My whole body trembled at his touch, frightened there might be more – and perversely frightened that there might not.

“That hurt,” I said, when I could breathe.

“I know.” Zaan’s hand traced the contours of my ass again. “It is supposed to.”

He stepped back and then blows rained down on me, one after another after another. Across my back, down my back, across my ass, across my thighs – I didn’t know what to expect, only that I needed to expect, that there was no escape from what surely was this madman behind me. I cried out and shuddered, twisting this way and that, rising high up on my toes, my whole body looking for a way out involuntarily.

Then the blows stopped and he leaned forward to growl in my ear. “Stop moving.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to learn to ride the pain. Right now, the pain is riding you.” He snapped whatever he held behind me and I jumped. He snorted in disgust. “How can you be the Queen of a people if you cannot rule yourself?”

“I am a Queen,” I said through gritted teeth. He reached underneath one arm to cup my left breast in his palm. I trembled at his touch, and then slowly sank back down into my heels, relaxing my body though my entire back and ass stung.

A second of comfort later, and his thumb and forefinger found my nipple and began to pinch it, hard. I didn’t realize how hard – compared to the rest of my body, it didn’t hurt – and then it did, oh how it did, it was like being burned. I grit my teeth harder and my hands clenched into fists, but I didn’t cry out or move.

When he released me, I sagged forward, making a silent scream as blood rushed back in and different nerves sung.

When I could breathe again, I stood straight. It had hurt, yes, but I’d survived. Me, who lived in this palace full of gilt and cushions, who wasn’t accustomed to pain. I swallowed and looked over my shoulder at him in pride.

“I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking me.”

Zaan stepped forward, his entire body pressed against mine, making all the parts of it he’d whipped sting – he rubbed against me on purpose, and I could feel the jutting stiffness of his cock.

“Don’t worry about me, my Queen. I will be taking my satisfaction in other ways.”

Then he stepped back, and the blows began again.

It was as it had been when I was on the couch before him, with his mouth on the darkness between my thighs. Whereas then he’d made me ride waves of pleasure, now he made me ride waves of pain, seeing how much I could take, pushing me again and again almost to my breaking point.

My pride stopped me from crying out again – but my pride couldn’t keep me still, as my body wisely tried to escape the pain, and Zaan stopped.

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

I sunk down, hanging from my arms, feeling all my blood rush inside. “I do.”

“Good. Hate and power live side-by-side. Burn the candle.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just don’t want to, badly enough.” He hit me with the ropes again, and this time I cried out.

“I can’t even see the candle!” I only knew it was behind me.

“All the better. When you manage it, I will be more impressed.”

“But – my powers –“ I protested.

“They’re still inside you.” He took a step forward and put the palm of his hand on my ass. I flinched and then relaxed as he stroked it down, his fingers in my cleft until his hand slipped between my thighs. “Focus, Ilylle –“ he said, pushing a finger into me. I made a small noise, and tilted my hips back so that he could have more – and his free hand smacked my ass. I yelped and rocked forward, but his hand moved with me, and his body again pressed behind mine, catching me on purpose, scraping his buckles against my welted skin, his free hand pinching my breast, armpits, and stomach, hard, whispering, “Focus, Ilylle – focus –“ as his other hand pulsed in and out of my dark place.

My power was on me in a rush, a thick cloud of it, choking the air around me. Zaan made a primal noise at this, and I could feel his erection rub against my thigh. “Focus, Ilylle. The power is yours – it’s always been yours. Take it inside of you and then set it free.”

I twisted my head and body, trying to get away from his attention or fall into it in turns, riding up and down on his hand, feeling the rubbing of his cock against my leg. I stayed in that moment, on that brink between decision and abandonment and saw the candle in my mind, and called for it to spark as I went off. I shouted, as he pinched, as his hand pressed, as a cold buckle pressed hot skin, and then I roiled as I felt my power consume me. I was the flame I called out, and every piece of me burned.

I went limp after that. Zaan caught me, holding me up long enough to free my hands, and then carefully lay me down atop my bed. I couldn’t move, my arms were sore, my back – there was no part of it that didn’t sting – my calves were cramping and my breasts felt swollen. But despite all that pain, I didn’t feel like I was a part of my body anymore. I’d lifted away from it, moved beyond it. I was finally free from the palace, and from myself. I was spinning.

“Look,” Zaan said, taking my chin and moving my head. I didn’t believe what I saw, not until I blinked my eyes.

The candle was burning. One tiny flame. I’d done that – my magic had done that. I could be like Airelle – Zaan was right –
I
was right. I was a Queen.

Then a zoomer crawled into the chamber, jumped up onto the desk, and reached out with a paw to put the candle out.

#

I lay beside Ilylle, watching her breathe. Now that she knew what she was capable of – I wouldn’t have to take her that far the next time.

Had I ever pushed Airelle that hard?

I didn’t think I had.

I’d always been bound by love for her. What great heights could we have reached if instead we were bound by blood and hate? Too late to wonder, now.

Ilylle’s whole back was a map of red. I knew how fast she healed – my blood-kiss upon her thigh was gone. But even though she wouldn’t see what I had wrought upon her in a day, it’d still be in her mind. She would never forget what I had done to her. For her.

Nor I forget what she had done to me. I’d come alongside her, her magic draining my cock, making my seed wet and stain the fabric by my thigh.

I had always been a man of precision and control – that was what it meant to be a Zaibann. Without it, I would have blown away the first time I ever transformed – or been one of
the Zaibann who chose not to transform, castrated by fear, never attempting to use their own powers.

I hadn’t wanted release – I’d envisioned conquering her fully, then untying her and pulling her head down to fuck her face with my cock. But the call of her magic had caught me unprepared and I’d released with a shout the same as she had, unable to stop myself.

At the thought of her raw power dredging through me, my cock stirred, just as Ilylle twisted her head to drowsily look up.

“Is our lesson done?”

Beastly need flowed through me for a second time. “No,” I said, reaching for her neck.

I spread my legs, pushing apart the fabric that hid my cock from her. “Come here, girl,” I commanded, pushing her head down to my hips. Her body sank willingly under my control, and a second later her lips were wrapped around my shaft.

“Yes,” I groaned, a guttural sound. I took a handful of her hair so that it pulled against her scalp and moved her up and down. She’d taken control away from me minutes ago – now I wanted to take control away from her. Her lips tightened on my shaft and pulled as I raised her, holding her high to suck the head of me, before I shoved her back down, making her gag on my cock, feeling myself bob at the back of her throat.

For her part, she didn’t fight, she let me make her ride me, taking what I gave her as my hips thrust up and my fist in her hair shoved her down. She made small noises, of weakness, of submission, but I didn’t relent because her lips and tongue wouldn’t stop sucking, even when I’d almost pulled her off of me, her tongue pressed against the bottom of my cock, licking against my head, searching out the spot that opened into me – I ran both hands into her hair and made her take all of me, holding her to me as my ass tightened, pushing more of me into her, her spit too much for her mouth, dripping down my balls – I took her like that, three times, head to hilt, hilt to head, and then came hard, spilling the second course of my seed inside her mouth. I spasmed bodily, and kept thrusting, again and again, until my cock started going soft and I released her, hairpins falling out of her tangled braids.

Ilylle looked up at me, her lips red and swollen. “My King,” she whispered, her blue-eyes misted with some emotion, I knew not what.

She’d swallowed my seed. She’d swallowed every drop.

“My Queen,” I acknowledged her, and then let my head fall back onto her bed.

Chapter Eleven

We lay there together, silent. Time passed. Her unreal servants brought in a tray of food. I, however, needed other nourishment.

I sat up, covering myself again, looking down at her welted naked skin. “Are you all right?”

She looked up and gave me a nervous smile. “Are you?”

“I am.”

She tucked her head back down, bringing one hand to her chin. From her position on the bed, she could see the desk and candle. “It worked, didn’t it.”

“It did.”

“What now? Or dare I ask?”

“More lessons – later.” I moved to stand beside the bed. “I need to go back out to check on the councilman’s plans – and I need your blood.”

Ilylle nodded, without raising her head. Instead she offered me a hand.

I took it like I was pulling her to dance, then swung it wide. Hands and wrists were no good if one was concerned with making marks, no matter how temporary. I bowed, like a horse drinking from a fountain, and carefully bit into her inner upper arm.

She cried out softly as my teeth sank through her flesh. At least this time if she fainted, she’d already be lying down. I sucked at the wounds I’d made, working at her with my teeth and tongue, until enough blood flowed that I was sated. This time, I carefully cleaned my mess, licking the last drop up from her and off my lips before rising.

“Thank you,” I said, standing again.

“You’re welcome,” she said, folding her arm back in.

“I’ll be back soon. Do not get into your cradle,” I told her, and she nodded. I walked off down the hall towards the metal-way-out and had a feeling I’d find her in that same spot when I returned.

#

I watched Zaan leave until I couldn’t see him anymore or hear his steps.

Zaan had given me his seed. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, wondering at the salty earthy taste of him, so different from Joshan. He wanted me. Not just keeping me alive and teaching me my powers for his own sake, no, that last part had been all him, him needing me to suck him.

I had never felt so wanted before, and fresh power stirred, not in my hips but in my chest. I was wanted by my Zaibann – he’d needed me so badly that he couldn’t resist. I trailed a hand over my welts and bruises, hips and breasts, and finally felt strong.

Joshan entered the room, coming in to retrieve the tray. “My Queen,” he said, noticing my eyes upon him.

I rolled over on my side to face him. “Am I beautiful, Joshan?”

“Of course, my Queen.”

He would service me and he would feign enjoyment of it, but he didn’t have needs like Zaan – Joshan would never bow my head to make me take him in my mouth.

But my slave did still have his uses. I got up and went to the desk, picking up the candle. “Are there others of these in the palace?”

Joshan looked at it and then nodded. “Yes, my Queen.”

“Bring them to me. Bring me all of them.”

“My Queen,” he agreed, and bowed before walking out.

That finished, I picked up the dress that had fallen and carried it over to my chair, to cushion my sore bottom while I wrote.