“Please,” she begged him as she drove her touch up over his ribs and as far up as she could reach. “Please give yourself to me.”

  He stood there, legs braced hard apart, and tension locked into every fiber of his being as he stared down at her. Then suddenly he twisted his hand in her hair and yanked her up to her feet. He threw her onto the table, sending missives and paperwork scattering everywhere. His hold shifted, releasing her hair and clamping down on her throat. His fingers tightened, and she felt his body jerk hard as he drew his knife from its sheath at his waist. Panic and excitement warred within her. Would he hurt her? Would he kill her? Or was this more? More than she had ever experienced before?

  The answer came when he thrust the knife between her legs, catching the fabric of her dress with the blade as he swept his arm back and down, slicing through the skirt of her long dress in a single, rending movement.

  Once she was exposed to him, her warm thighs and pussy feeling the cold air of the tent and the hard leather of the belt he wore, he slid the knife up her chest, slicing as he went until her dress was halved and her belly and chest were now also exposed to him. Then with a slam he thrust the knife into the table by her ear, the violence of the act sinking the knife into the wood an inch deep.

  She began to grow dizzy as he tightened his hand around her throat even more. But instead of feeling fear, as she knew she should, her heart raced in anticipation.

  He would not hurt her. She knew it soul deep. He would not hurt her. He had never beaten her in anger. He had always been controlled and thoughtful, and even though it was clear he was none of those things at present, she still believed in him.

  He pushed aside the cut remnants of her dress and exposed her breast to the chill air. The nipple was a tight point, the cause a combination of the cold and the thrill running through her. He bent at the waist and bit her on the rise of her breast painfully. She cried out and responded by kicking free what remained of her skirts and wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. She jerked him forward against herself, and he looked down at her with a hint of surprise ghosting through the temper in his eyes.

  Next he exposed her right breast, and this time it was her nipple he bit down on… but this he did more gently… more controlled… more like she was used to. Then he sucked her nipple deep into the cavern of his mouth, swishing his tongue, swirling around the hard nub. Her head was spinning, her concentration turned to black as his tight hand around her throat cut off her oxygen and made her swim into the land of unconsciousness. But at the very brink of it he loosened his hand, her blood rushing to her head in a resurgence of consciousness.

  She felt his hand thrust into the space between her thighs and knew he was removing his weapons belt. It fell to the ground with a clatter of sheathed swords knocking against one another. He then wrenched open his ties at the front of his breeches and pulled out his cock. He began to tighten his grip around her throat again as he jerked her forward to the edge of the table by her thighs. Dizzy and choking, aroused and gasping, she spread her legs wide, making sure he had all the access he required. She clung to him with her legs as he surged forward with no gentle introductions and thrust his raging hard cock into her.

  Blackness was flirting at the edges of her existence again, and she tried to cling to consciousness with all that she had… but it was only his desire to ease his hold on her throat that made it possible. She gasped for breath as he rammed hard inside her. He shouted out savagely with each thrust, sending thrills of pleasure singing through her. He wasn’t hurting her, he was dominating her, and she thrilled in every minute of it.

  But she wasn’t going to let him think he could oppress her entirely. She grabbed the back of his neck and dug her fingernails into the soft flesh at the base of his hairline until he snarled with approval. He bent over her and kissed her roughly, connecting them in a way he rarely did. She didn’t realize it until then, but his kisses were few and far between as he focused on being dominant over her.

  However, this was about giving her equal place and time. About giving to her as much as he took. She wouldn’t be satisfied until he learned that lesson. She held onto him, keeping his mouth locked to hers, her teeth occasionally snagging his bottom lip. He was so hard and savage inside her.

  “Give it to me,” she rasped against his mouth. “Give it all to me.”

  “I am giving you everything,” he ground out. “What more do you want?”

  “I want you!” She bit down on his lip until he roared in pain, and he reared back. But she gripped him tighter with her nails and pulled him back down to her mouth. “Not what you think I should have, but what I think I should have! Not just your words, but your true heart. Make me your equal in all things, and I will gladly be your slave.”

  “That makes no sense. How can you be equal and a slave?” he demanded.

  “Equal in love and devotion. Equal in ownership. I own you as much as you own me!” She paused to cry out as his ramming body began to send overwhelming thrills through her. “Do that for me and I am all yours to do with as you please.”

  “You are already mine to do with as I please,” he growled.

  “But you will not have my heart. It will grow cold and lonely and will lose the ability to love.” Her hand came around and caressed his cheek. “Do you want that? Or do you want all that I can give?”

  “I… I don’t know what more I can give you,” he said, clearly struggling. “You have me. All of me.”

  “Say it. Say I own you.”

  This went against his very nature she knew. He was not a man to be commanded. He was not a man who gave up power. That was why it was so important to her that he give it to her. Her… and only her.

  “You own me,” he said on a sudden hiss. “Damn you, you own me!”

  She cried out in exultation, throwing her head back and tightening her legs around his waist. He surged into her again and again, his hand at her throat, her body bowing with pleasure. She came suddenly and ferociously, her whole body locking up. He followed quickly after, straining inside her as he jetted his release in violent pulses.

  He gasped for breath and she echoed him. He was bracing himself against her and the table, as if he were too weak to stand. He dropped his head to her breasts, lying on them as he would a fine pillow. She slowly began to stroke her fingers through his hair, and his hand finally fell away from her throat. He pushed up and away from her, leaving her feeling slightly abandoned after finally being so close to him. He redressed himself and stood looking down at her with black fire in his dark eyes.

  “Now you will serve me without question?” he demanded of her.

  “As long as we know between us what we are to each other.”

  “Get up and come to my feet,” he instructed her.

  She stood quickly, her torn dress falling away from her body completely. She was naked as she settled on her knees at his feet. She shivered, her hot body cooling quickly in the chill of the tent. But she did not complain. She was too happy to feel any of it. He had given himself to her. All of himself.

  He reached down and petted her hair, curving his fingers around her cheek in a gesture of fondness and, she knew, love. “My perfect, precious one,” he said softly. “There has never been anyone before you and will never be anyone after you.”

  “There have been many before me, and there will be others after,” she said sadly.

  “No. Not in the way I mean. Not in the way that matters. No one has won my deep abiding love before. I have never given it although I constantly searched for someone who was worthy. You are truly worthy. More than I ever could have hoped for as I sought you out. I am giving you what none before you have ever had… and none after you will ever see from me either. My heart begins and ends with you. Believe that more than anything else. Be loyal to me and love me and you will always have me.”

  “My loyalty and my love are hand in hand and should go without saying, but I understand how hard it is for a man in your position to put his trust and faith in others. I hope you will come to know how devoted I am to you and that you will never have any reason to question it again.”

  “All right,” he said softly, pausing to kiss her cheek with the bend of his waist. “Now, it is too cold for you to sit here naked. Put on your cloak and go back to the women’s tent. Find something warm to wear from amongst Hassa or Daria’s things as we will be on horseback for many hours through the rest of the day and into the night. Once we start this journey there will be little time for rest I’m afraid. Even less time for me to appreciate you as you deserve and as I long to do. Now go. Do as I say.”

  She quickly got up and fetched the cloak, racing to obey him, all the while feeling lighter and more loved than she had ever felt before in her life.

  Chapter Three

  Valerian sat on horseback at the rear of his army observing everything with keen eyes. They had been on the move for the better part of two weeks, barely taking the time to sleep and eat. Tempers were beginning to wear thin and he needed a rested army before he crossed into the heart of Vicktor-occupied Jorku.

  Oh, they had technically been marching in the Jorku nation from the very beginning, but they were about to enter the most densely populated areas, with nobles more likely to be on Vicktor’s side than on Valerian’s.

  Valerian’s spies had come back to him only days before to tell him his women had made it out of the castle safely and were now hidden away in an undisclosed location. They also told him of Vicktor’s rage that they had escaped when he found out from his spies that Valerian was marching against him. It had all been about timing, and so far Valerian had timed things to his best advantage. If he wasn’t careful, that might not continue to hold.

  As his army had moved they had been joined by smaller armies lead by nobles who had no desire to see Vicktor remain in power. Valerian accepted these armies, although with a seed of caution. He wasn’t sure just how far he could trust the noble in question. These troops he kept at the center of his army, surrounded by loyal men on all sides.

  Valerian leaned to one side in his saddle and barked out a command. Within moments runners were thundering up along the army’s outer edges shouting echoes of his orders to all the commanders down the line. The great moving beast that was his army came to a halt.

  Valerian looked to his immediate left where Melena sat astride her pretty bay mare, always at his side. Throughout their travels she couldn’t have made her devotion and obedience any more clear. In return he openly showered her with affection… at least, his manner of affection… and made certain everyone knew how treasured she was.

  It had not been easy at first. He was a private man, unused to others seeing his softer side. He had always thought that he must be seen as superhuman to win the loyalty and respect of his men, but feeling them respond to him with Melena by his side was an entirely different experience. They seemed more devoted than ever. More fiercely loyal.

  When he had announced to the army his intentions to march on his brother he had done so with Melena at his side. He was convinced that her presence had helped keep his army together. She had spoken to the army, most directly toward the Moglu fighters her brother Grulon tended, and spoke eloquently of why they should follow Valerian… and that she would do so even if he led her straight into hell itself.

  She was a compelling speaker… more so than he could ever have hoped for. She drew people in, made them believe her… much in the way he did himself. She was as magnetic as he was. When he thought of her wasting her life in obscurity on the little Moglu farm she had been taken from it made him want to shudder.

  She was his now. There was no going back. She belonged to him… and he belonged to her.

  It was at first a grating idea, that he should be owned by another. He did the owning, not the other way around. However, now that he had admitted that she had a hold over him that no other before her had had, it felt somehow liberating. It felt as though he had freed a part of himself. He had given himself permission to love without conditions. She had demanded it of him, and he had given it.

  Yet she was more his devoted servant now than she had ever been before. She was at his beck and call… followed him everywhere, gave herself to him without question or hesitation. She was like a ray of sunshine following him every way he turned. Between her and the new conviction he had about putting his brother in his place, he had never been happier. It was almost enough to make him forget about the endless aching miles of travel they had endured these past weeks.

  The army had made good time. As a whole armies were not fast-moving creatures, but his army had surprised him. Any day now they were going to come across resistance from Vicktor. The closer he got to the final confrontation with his brother, the more Valerian filled with dread. Oh, he had resigned himself to the inevitable. It would be him or his brother. He had had dreams… nightmares really… about fighting Vicktor one on one, without the buffer of the army. He had practiced at swordplay with Vicktor enough to know his brother’s incredible strength and savagery. Enough to know they were evenly matched. If it ever came down to the two of them fighting it out, there was no telling who would win.

  Clearly Vicktor was confident it would be him. He had sent a runner to meet Valerian’s army with a message proposing they leave their armies behind and fight one on one in order to decide who deserved the throne more.

  Valerian was not that foolish. Vicktor was not a man of his word. Though he swore he would leave his army behind as well, Valerian knew he wouldn’t and that the invitation was a ploy to separate Valerian from the protection of his forces by appealing to his ego.

  Here again he might have to give thanks to Melena. She had made him face the incredible arrogance of his own ego. Had she not, he might have made a foolish choice and tried to construct a way to meet Vicktor one on one. A part of him might have convinced himself that it was the only right way. Instead he was now content to leave such an altercation to his dreams and allow the real battling to take place with the buffer of his extraordinary army.

  Valerian’s network of spies and loyal servants within Vicktor’s household also told him Vicktor had not been able to amass all that big an army to face him… in comparison to Valerian’s armies at least. Valerian’s letters to the nobles winning them over or at least asking them to remain neutral had had the desired effect. Vicktor was left with very few places to turn.

  The army’s progress ground to a halt and Valerian reached out to grab up Melena’s hand. She had been dozing in her saddle and was startled to feel him take hold of her. But her eyes quickly cleared of sleepiness as she met his gaze.

  “We will rest here for a few days,” he told her.

  Relief filtered into her expression and he was able to see just how tired she was. She put on a brave front, fell back on her farm girl strength, but endless days and nights of travel would take their toll on anyone. That she didn’t show her weariness until then said a lot for her.

  “They will pitch the tents and we will have a proper bed to sleep in. I will have a bath drawn for you immediately. Then, after you have rested, I will find the time to pay you the attention you deserve.”

  He watched as she colored, her cold, chapped cheeks warming as she coquettishly looked away from him. “Yes, Sir,” she said. “I think I would like that very much. Oh, but you must bathe and relax at well. Perhaps I can massage away the aches of days in the saddle for you.”

  “I have slaves for that. No. You must rest. I have better uses for you.”

  The promise was a hot one and he could see by her expression that she knew it… and was pleased. She enjoyed being the focus of his attention… and the center of his pleasure. He was glad of that.

  Setting up camp was a long and grueling process, almost as hard as traveling itself. Hunters were sent out into the countryside to gather meat for the soldiers. Fresh meals were few and far between in a moving army. They were often reduced to gnawing on jerky and dry biscuits. The men hunted whenever the opportunity afforded itself and when they paused in their progress they took the opportunity to replenish their supplies.

  At last the command tent was in place, the first to be raised. As soon as the stoves were lit within, Melena unwrapped herself from her layers of bundling clothing. As he watched, Valerian realized how much he had missed the sight of her. She had been covered at times until only her eyes showed, but now she was in a pair of woolen breeches and a heavy knit shirt, both of which clung to the mouthwatering curves he loved so much. The cold had driven her to wear pants while astride her horse to keep her legs warm, unconventional to be sure, but while it might not necessarily be considered the garb of a true lady, she wore it well. Too well. The way fabric clung to the rounds and swells of her body was all too distracting. Perhaps it was best she was swaddled in cloaks and blankets as well to keep warm… and out of sight of his lustful appreciation. If not he might have found it impossible to keep going without stopping every night to enjoy the fruits of her body.

  But he enjoyed them now. After the stoves were set up and warming the tent, the next thing set up was his chair and the table where he wrote and read his communications. He had perused his maps just before setting up camp. If there was one thing Valerian could count on it was the accuracy of his maps. He had chosen the highest ground and the best defensible position. His spies said that Vicktor’s forces were about a week’s march away, closer to the fortress… the place where Vicktor felt he could best defend himself. But spies were only as good as the information they were exposed to. There was no telling what Vicktor plotted in absolute secrecy.

  His brother was not an idiot. He was too cunning and cruel by far. Valerian knew Vicktor’s goal would be to take him captive. He would not want him killed. This way he could satisfy himself by torturing Valerian to death personally.