Victory, p.6
Victory, page 6
part #6 of Mine to Take Series
“I will let Grulon kill you,” Valerian finished, surprising everyone in the room. Grulon growled in pleasure, stepping forward a half step and placing the tip of his sword on the back of Vicktor’s neck.
“You cannot do it yourself you coward?” Vicktor sputtered, spittle flying from his lips. It was clear the man didn’t know when to shut up.
“I can, but I do not have half as much reason to kill you as Grulon does and he deserves a reward for his work for me. I have promised to free all those you have enslaved in your warmongering march across his country, but he deserves more. He deserves an apology from me for leading the army that decimated his country. He deserves recompense. You will be that reward. You will be that special thing that he so deserves.” Valerian lifted his eyes away from Vicktor and fixed them on Grulon. “Take him to the center of camp. Kill him where all can see. I am hungry and have great appetite, so I will stay behind,” Valerian said as he caught up Melena’s gaze with his. She knew that look intimately and she blushed. She then lifted her head proudly. Valerian would spend this transitional moment with her. She felt honored and blessed all at once. As Grulon pulled Vicktor to his feet and yanked him out of the tent, they held each other’s gazes.
“Coward!” Vicktor screamed as they dragged him away. “You are not fit to rule!”
Vicktor could be heard shouting obscenities as he was dragged to the center of camp. He cursed his brother as they forced him to his knees. He cursed his brother as Grulon lined up his sword to the back of Vicktor’s neck. He cursed his brother until the slice of that sword silenced him forever.
Epilogue
Valerian stood still in the command tent, his gaze never wavering from Melena’s the entire time. He didn’t move until the chop of the sword could be heard and a shouted cheer rose up from all the men watching. All of this was muted by the walls of the tent, but not so much that they could not hear every moment of it.
When it was finally over, Valerian moved, lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her gently at first, but then suddenly with more savagery. His hands dove into her hair and pulled hard until her head was bent far back and her throat was exposed. Then he bit his way down the length of it, gnawing on her wherever he could catch flesh with teeth. When he reached her breasts she grabbed his head between her hands and rubbed his face back and forth against them, his coarse whiskers burning her sensitive skin. He chuckled when she did this, then grabbed the front of her dress and tore it open. It was not made of much to begin with, so the top came apart easily in his hands. He continued on until the dress was torn completely away from her body.
“You know,” she said with amusement, “I can get undressed for you.”
“This is much more delightful,” he said dismissively.
“Mmm. You have a point,” she purred as she rubbed her entire naked body against his. She didn’t even care about the blood that smeared against her skin. But she did have a care for his wound. She would not be the cause of any of his pain.
“Now, Pet, what shall I do with you?” he asked her.
“Anything you want, Sir,” she said breathlessly.
“Good answer,” he replied. Then, after a moment’s thought he said, “Let me express myself the best way I know how. Do you know what that is?”
She thought about it only an instant. She then slipped out of his embrace and went to the trunk at the foot of the bed they shared. She opened it, surveyed all the equipment within, then withdrew the bullwhip she found there.
There were many whips in the chest, most of which he’d already used on her, but this one he had yet to use. She brought it to him and he took it, the pleased expression on his face all that she lived for. She wanted nothing more than to make him happy.
“On your knees Pet. Your back to me,” he said as he let the whip snake down onto the ground and gave it a test snap. The crack of the whip made her jump in her skin, but she did not hesitate to drop to her knees and present him with her bare back.
He came up close behind her for a minute, caressing the nape of her neck with the hard handle of the whip. Then he used it to track down her spine.
“This is a new day for the Jorku nation,” he said softly, seductively. “Everything will change for the better. And you… you will bear me my sons.”
A thrill of anticipation swirled through her. “I will do whatever you desire,” she promised him. “But… I would like to enjoy you for a little while before succumbing to motherhood.”
He seemed to think on it as he fell silent behind her. She hoped she hadn’t offended him or made him angry. Her fears were allayed when he said, “Very well. For a little while. A very little while. I want to see you round with my progeny. I want you to be mother to my heir.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said softly.
“Good Pet. My very good Pet.” He stepped away from her and she tensed in anticipation. Her heart danced in her chest and jumped hard when she heard him give the whip another test snap. This one cracked near her ear, and she realized how deft he was that he could aim the strike so precisely. She went wet with anticipation, holding her breath.
He struck her with a brutal crack of the whip. Her back burned fiercely and she cried out before she could stop herself. Why should she stop herself, she thought then. Wasn’t that what he wanted to hear?
The next lash crossed over where the first still burned on her skin and she gasped. This whip was much different than the others he had used before this. It was harder… more brutal.
And she loved every minute of it.
He only lashed her a few times overall. Enough to burn and swell… enough to barely break her skin… but then approached her again and fell to his knees behind her. He crossed an arm over her chest and kissed her neck savagely. He pulled back and rubbed a hand over the raw marks on her back hard and fast. She cried out with the tenderness of her skin, and the excitement of his fierceness. He slid the hand that crossed her body down the center of her and into the wet, dark area between her legs. He stroked and swirled there as his mouth, tongue and teeth traced each lash mark on her back. She moaned. She gasped, every touch a pleasure and a pain. She felt herself rising up dizzily to a fast crest. She had been ready for so long it seemed. She had been waiting for him for so long that day and so much had happened.
He worked her back to front until she exploded with release, her cries echoing into the tent. Then she felt him jerking behind her a couple of times. She realized he was unsheathing his cock when she felt the warm wet tip touch her back. He rubbed himself over her, but was frustrated by their position.
“Lay flat on your stomach,” he growled.
She did so and he straddled her. She felt his cock tracing over her lash marks then as he painted himself over her, leaving thin streaks of wetness behind. Then he ran that warm heavy weight down into the crease of her buttocks. He burrowed between her cheeks until he was grazing her anus. He spread her apart and found the opening to her vagina. He then thrust into her, hard and fast, and she felt his hot breath spooling into her ear. He continued to stroke over her raw back, keeping the pain alive.
He was near savage as he took her and she knew he was venting demons. He would dwell with them once… only this once… and then he would put them to rest. She was helping him to heal. She was helping him through.
When he came it was with a savage cry, as if she were tapping into his very soul. He gasped for breath and it sounded almost like sobs. But he would never allow himself to show such emotion to anyone. His guilt, if indeed there was any, was his own.
She would share in most of his feelings, but there were some even she would not be able to touch. She knew that. She loved that about him; that untouchable place in his heart. He would forever be a mystery to her. A mystery she would continuously endeavor to solve.
“I love you,” he said, dispelling all mystery for the moment and letting her in completely. “That is all that matters.”
“I know. I love you, and that is all that matters.”
He then sat up and reached into the nearby trunk. He removed something from it and her heart thundered with excitement. Whenever he went into that trunk new and exciting things followed.
But this was not a new thing he came out with. Dangling between his fingers was her collar. She caught her breath and tears formed in her eyes. He gently placed it around her neck and she realized he had had the links repaired. Angry as he had been with her, he had forgiven her just as quickly. But this time she knew the collar would be staying where it belonged.
This time she knew without a doubt that she would be forever his.
“Tomorrow is a new day,” he said, touching her lovingly around her collared throat.
“For everyone,” she noted.
He pulled away from her and turned her over to face him. Her back stung as she lay on it, but his kiss swept all the pain away. When he was through kissing her, he pulled back and met her eyes.
“I can meet anything as long as you are with me.”
The statement touched her more than he would ever know. “I am with you. Forever,” she promised.
“Forever,” he promised in return.
He was wrong about tomorrow being a new day. The new day began for her in that very moment. She would never forget it.
Never.
Jacquelyn Frank
Jacquelyn has lived in the Western North Carolina mountain area around Asheville. After a lifetime of striving to be good enough to be published, she has enjoyed the many blessings her fans have rained on her with their loyalty over the years. With four sisters and other family scattered up and down the Eastern Seaboard, and a history of living all across the USA herself, she still always finds ways to give a nod to her native New York in her work.
Jacquelyn lives with her three “children,” a trio of domestic shorthaired cats whose personalities have often inspired aspects of her characters. A former sign language interpreter and substitute teacher, she is a powerful advocate of reading and writing. She is known for her persistent gifts of books to her nieces and nephews, as well as all the other children in her life, in an effort to see them love both as much as she does. She believes there is nothing more rewarding than the imagination and all it inspires, and nothing more tragic than illiteracy.
Feel free to contact her at jackifrankwrites@gmail.com or visit her website at jacquelynfrank.com and follow her on facebook.com/authorjacquelynfrank and twitter.com/JacquelynFrank.
Jackie’s Changeling Page: changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=206.
Jacquelyn Frank, Victory
