Chains of Revenge Read online

  With a final snort from his stallion, he turned, called his troops to him and galloped out of the square.

  Devadas still held Lissa and she felt his mouth against her ear.

  ‘Well. No rest for the wicked. We have a marriage to plan and a war to fight, My Lady. We best get busy.’ Lissa pulled away from him.

  ‘He won’t give up, you know. He wants Horvald and he wants me.’

  Devadas’s mouth curved in a slow, tantalising smile. ‘So do I. I’ve survived for ten, long years for just that. I don’t intend to give up now.’ He pulled on the chain. ‘Come. Your punishment awaits.’

  But wait she did. Devadas called together his commanders and proceeded to plan fortifications to Horvald. Lissa listened approvingly as he made his arrangements, occasionally offering a suggestion as to what part of Horvald was the most vulnerable. Devadas listen to her gravely, questioning her and adjusting his plans. When everything was complete, he ordered his commanders to take up their positions with their troops and turned his intense gaze to Lissa.

  ‘Come, My Lady. It is time to retire for the night. Take me to your house, feed me and then we will see to your correction.’

  Anxiety fluttered like trapped moths in her belly. ‘Correction? What is there about me that needs correction? I thought this was about punishment.’

  ‘Punishment is always about correction. Didn’t you know that?’

  He pulled her by the chain, which she’d managed to forget while planning the fortifications. She knew his commanders had looked at her curiously, some with sympathy, like Luc and Alain, and others with lust, but had ignored them in the discussion of how to protect Horvald. And Devadas had not been interested in flaunting her slave status.

  But now, he gazed at her like a predator about to capture a long-desired feed. He motioned her forward so she turned and walked out of the Great Hall, back to the square. The house where she lived with her father was at the opposite end of the square. She’d helped build it and was proud of the stone and wood structure, so different to the dark presence of the Great Hall. The people of Horvald called it the Great House and said it was a reminder of what Horvald would become while the Great Hall reminded them of what it once was.

  Devadas’s troops and some townsfolk were in the square. Devadas did not allow her to walk too far ahead of him, keeping her close with a tug of the chain. Fury consumed her. She wanted to rip the lead out of his hand again, but she knew he’d learned to keep a tight grasp on it now. If he thought she would submit like a whipped dog, he was mistaken.

  Everyone watched her in silence.

  She could feel his gaze on her back like a hot brand. He wanted something from her, something more than just her punishment. He was obsessed. Fear bloomed in her chest, making her lungs battle for air. He said he wouldn’t kill her, but in his state of compulsion, she wasn’t sure what he was capable of. Would his hatred, so intermingled with his lust, push him over the edge?

  As long as he protected Horvald she would do what he wanted. Lissa kept the image of Ris in her mind, and images of all her other people, going about their business, making lives for themselves. That couldn’t be destroyed.

  Through her fear and determination, a small, tight ball of grief pushed its way into her chest. Yes, he lusted after her and wanted her, but through the ten long years she’d loved him. What a fool she’d been. Loving a man who would use his lust to show her how much he hated her. He would ravish her, use her body as a master uses a slave and, she didn’t doubt, reawaken her own desire that had long since lain dormant. He would take pleasure in her craving for his rough touch, for the feel of his cock in her body. But he wouldn’t want her love.

  Lissa reached the Great House and smiled as Ris came rushing out.

  ‘My Lady …’ She saw the chain and glared at Devadas. ‘Do you still continue this foolishness?’

  ‘I do, indeed, Mistress Ris. But now we are at home, I can dispense with the chain.’ He fiddled with her gold collar and undid the lead. ‘Come, my betrothed. Show me your house.’

  With a sigh of relief, Lissa stepped toward Ris and hugged her.

  ‘It’s alright, Ris. I’m all right. The Warlord Death won’t hurt me.’

  Oh, Goddess make that true.

  ‘The Warlord Death needs refreshment, Ris. Could you lay some out in my chambers?’

  Ris frowned and glared again at Devadas. He smiled back at her, cocky and assured. Ris muttered as she made her way to the kitchens.

  ‘This way,’ Lissa said as she led him through the house that she’d come to love. It was her creation, the place where she felt the most at ease. It was grand, grander than she’d wanted, but the townspeople had wanted a house fit for their king and his daughter.

  But she’d made a corner for herself that was truly her home. She led him through the massive dining room which had become a de facto meeting area for the town, then through the corridors to a narrow staircase. Climbing to the top she stopped and pointed to the right.

  ‘The king’s quarters are down there. I’ll have my father’s belongings removed if you want to use them.’

  In the space of a second, the reality of her father’s death came crashing down on her. She was never sure if she’d really loved him, but now, knowing she wouldn’t see him again, a hot, bitter kernel of regret lodged in her chest. She didn’t even know where his body was. Swaying slightly at the top of the stairs, tears clogged in her throat.

  ‘My father… where…’

  ‘We buried him on the battlefield. It’s marked with his shield and sword. You can go and see him.’

  The softness in his voice warmed her. She nodded, unable to speak, then turned left to her own quarters. All she wanted was to light a fragrant candle, say her prayers to the Goddess and sink into her bed, hoping sleep would claim her. Many times she’d done just that, after days of hard work and effort. Her quarters looked out over the town. Sometimes she’d stand at her window, feeling the night air stream in and worry about the days and weeks ahead, worry about the weather, the crops, about if they had enough put away for the winter. Now she worried if she’d survive this night.

  She turned to watch Devadas as he surveyed his surroundings. Through her fear and anxiety, she hadn’t had a chance to really look at him, to take in the reality of the man in front of her. Older and battle-scarred, he was still the man who inflamed her passion and set off a yearning deep inside her soul. That was what confused her. She wanted him sexually; there was no doubt about that. She wanted him to push and pull and wrestle her back into that space of mind-numbing ecstasy.

  But even now, there was something about him that pulled hard at her emotions. He was hurt. He’d always been hurt. As a slave and now as a great warlord, his eyes were like two dark pools of pain. He might look at her with lust and amusement, but behind that lurked pain and despair so deep it was all she could do to not pull him to her, cradle him in her arms and try and erase that pain with her body and her love.

  She was an idiot. Out of her depth like a young girl with her first love, not sure what the rules were. But that’s what he was, wasn’t he? Her first love, the man she’d never forgotten. So much so, she’d never let another man touch her. Now her people saw her as their mother, sexless and dedicated, not wanting the distraction of a man.

  Only this man knew that wasn’t the truth. She was far from sexless, capable of night after night of hard, sweaty sex, of greediness for his body and for her own release.

  He stood there, in her most cherished space and Lissa wanted him. Her cunt pulsed as if coming alive after years of denial. She turned away as Ris bustled in, not wanting the older woman to see the naked lust on her face.

  Ris laid out food on the table that Lissa used as her workspace, glared again at Devadas and left.

  ‘She doesn’t like me,’ he said.

  ‘And this surprises you?’

  ‘Lots of women do like me.’

  ‘Maybe those who haven’t watched you pull their friend around
on a lead.’

  ‘Friend? Is that what she is? Not a glorified slave?’

  Lissa opened her mouth to protest but stopped, turning away to stare at the table.

  She planned and dreamed at this table, toting up accounts and calculating how much wheat needed to be planted to sell and how much they would need to keep. Sometimes Ris and the other women of the household would join her for ale and sweet biscuits as they talked through the events of the day and what needed to be done. They were good times where she’d felt useful with her family around her.

  Now a dark, tormented man sat at her table and gazed ruefully at what Ris had provided, unable to believe that Lissa had changed and Horvald with her.

  ‘Ris is my friend, my mother and my helper. You’re right in that I couldn’t do what I need to without her. Does that make her a slave? You’d have to ask her that.’

  He grunted and sat, motioning her to do the same. He filled a plate with food and ate as if starving.

  ‘When was the last time you had anything to eat?’ she asked.

  ‘Yesterday. Battle was upon us. We had no time for anything else.’

  She looked more closely and saw he was tired and grimy.

  ‘You need a bath and some sleep. I’ll organise both.’

  She rose to do so and found her wrist caught in a vice.

  ‘You don’t want to fuck with a dirty, death-filled master?’

  She wrenched her wrist free and stepped back from the mockery in his eyes.

  ‘Not if I have a choice. I’ve told you I’ll do what you want. You don’t have to behave like a child.’

  He laughed at her. ‘I’m nothing like a child.’

  She snorted. ‘That’s exactly what you are. A child who can’t get the toy he wants so has a tantrum.’ She crossed to the doorway and called down the stairs.

  ‘Ris? Ris, could you bring some water for washing? And see if there are any clothes for the Warlord Death to wear. Just a shirt and some breeches. There should be some of my father’s clothes in the mending basket that would do.’

  ‘Don’t let her do all the work,’ he said when she came back into the room.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I want to see if you are telling the truth about not using slaves.’

  She stood in the centre of the room and regarded him gravely. Then she nodded and made for stairs again, hearing Ris. The older woman was half way up, carrying an empty bath. It was just big enough for a person to stand in while sluicing with a cloth.

  When the house was built, one of Lissa’s ideas was to build a water room onto the house where everyone could immerse themselves in big baths once a week. She’d asked the builders to set up a system of pipes that took the used water out of the house and onto the flower and kitchens gardens. She could insist that Devadas use the room rather than have Ris and the other household members cart water up the stairs, but she didn’t want Devadas out in the rest of the house. There was something about him she wanted to keep to herself. Some element of rage she wanted to protect others from.

  She hurried down the stairs and pulled the awkward bath from Ris. ‘Give me that. It’s too heavy for you to carry on your own.’

  Ris snorted. ‘It’s nothing. I can carry more than this, as you well know.’

  Lissa felt Ris’s piercing stare on her neck where the gold chain winked in the dim light of the stairwell.

  ‘If he hurts you, scream for all you’re worth,’ she whispered. ‘Val and I and the others are just here. We’ll come in an instant.’

  Lissa made her way back up the stairs but threw a grateful look over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think he’ll hurt me,’ she whispered back, trying to sound convincing. ‘Call me when the water is ready and I’ll help you with it,’ she said in a loud voice.

  Lissa carried the bath into her bedroom and placed it in the centre of the room, bending with a grunt. It was awkward rather than heavy.

  ‘The hot water is coming and so are some clothes.’

  ‘I won’t wear your father’s clothes.’

  Lissa straightened and stared at him, considering. ‘Then you won’t wear anything. I don’t have any other clothes that will fit you. Clothes are clothes. They don’t mean anything.’

  He barked out a bitter laugh. ‘That’s not what you once thought. All you wanted was clothes, jewels and my cock.’ She flinched at the truth of his words then forced a shrug.

  ‘It was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then.’

  He kept eating and brooding. She could see he wasn’t satisfied with her explanation. She wasn’t herself. Would she tell him about the real reason? How she’d worked hard to build up Horvald and transform its people from slave keepers and parasites to cultivators with compassion and connection to the earth? Would he believe her? Would he believe that for ten years she’d pushed herself and her people to atone for the past?

  A thump on the stairs pulled her out of her anxious thoughts. She turned to the doorway as Ris and some of the younger members of her household appeared with large buckets of hot water. The two younger women, Ella and Xanthy, looked at Devadas with terror in their eyes, which deepened when they spied the gold chain at the neckline of Lissa’s robe. Both women blushed as they poured hot water into the bath then all but ran from the room. Ris stared hard at Devadas and left more slowly after placing some clothes on the table, muttering all the while.

  Devadas sat at the table, finishing his food. Lissa could feel his gaze follow her as she poured more water into the bath.

  ‘You can stand in it and sluice yourself. There’s more hot water in these buckets and some cloths to dry yourself. I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished.’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘No. I want you to stay.’ He smiled at her confusion. ‘I’m tired, too tired to attend to my personal needs. You must wash me.’

  Chapter Eight

  Pulsing heat poured through Lissa’s body, centring in her aching cunt. Moisture moved inside her, making her want to shift her hips so she could get relief from the teasing sensations inside her.

  ‘If you insist,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘Oh, I do.’

  He held out one boot-shod leg. ‘Take it off.’

  She grasped the battled-scarred leather and pulled. First one, then the other.

  He stood, and unbuckled the leather clasps of the amour covering his chest. Underneath he wore a battered woollen shirt stained with sweat and in one place on his left side, blood.

  ‘You’ve been wounded.’ She could hear the note of panic in her voice.

  He glanced down at his shirt and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’ In one fluid movement, he threw off his shirt, letting her see what the years had done to his body.

  Muscle. He was all lean, brown muscle. Scars criss-crossed parts of his chest and on one bicep an intricate pattern had been tattooed. Lissa couldn’t take her eyes of it. Something about it made her want to fling herself at him and lick and suck his whole glorious body, from the top of his dark, closely cropped hair to the bottom of his solid, oddly graceful toes.

  He caught her staring at the pattern.

  ‘Interesting, isn’t it? I got it in the pleasure halls of Seria. Any man who succeeds in pleasuring twenty-one women in one night was considered a Master of the Night. As well as having earned unrestricted access to the famous whores of Seria, I am marked so anyone can see my talents.’

  As he spoke he undid the belt of his breeches and pushed them down. Finally he stood naked before her, his cock stirring and lengthening as he continued.

  ‘Do you know how I pleasured all twenty-one women, Lissa?’ He stalked toward her while she trembled with lust and fear.

  ‘In batches of three. One on her hands and knees in front of me while I ploughed her pussy, one on a chair beside me while my fingers were buried in her cunt, and one tied onto a frame so my mouth was just at the right height to suck her clit.’

  His hand mov
ed to his cock and Lissa watched, entranced, her body on fire as he stroked his rod until it was proudly erect. He stepped into the bath and moaned, closing his eyes.

  ‘Ah, that’s good. Would that it was a whole bath. Come wash me, Lissa,’ he said, opening his eyes and pinning her like a predator.

  She hesitated, unable to take her eyes off his cock.

  ‘Take your robe off,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t question, just do it,’ he said with steel in his voice.

  Her pussy quivered, but she pulled off her robe. He gazed at her approvingly.

  ‘Gold always did look good on you. Now, start with my head and work your way down.’

  She grabbed a cloth then dipped it in some hot water. Standing in front of him, all she could think of was the gold harness and how it must look against her skin.

  She held the cloth to his face and stared washing. Ignoring the look in his eyes, she made herself concentrate on the task. His skin became a paler gold as the worst of the dirt was removed. Again and again she dipped the cloth in the water and washed further down his body. She moved behind him and washed his long, lean back and buttocks, thrilled at the low moan he uttered as she massaged the tops of his thighs.

  Kneeling behind him, she kneaded the twin orbs of his buttocks, revelling in the muscular strength of his body. She wanted to kiss him, bite him, run her tongue along the smooth gold of his skin. Instead she continued her journey of discovery, reacquainting herself with this body she once knew so well.

  She lingered behind him, reluctant to complete her task by washing the front of his body. She knew how that would end. Acknowledging this to herself, she realised she could do what she wanted. Take what she wanted, just as she did all those years ago. The thought was strangely liberating.

  The fates had abandoned her. She had to find another way to ensure Horvald’s survival. If that meant throwing her lot in with the new King of Horvald, so be it. If along the way she got some pleasure for herself, who would care? Certainly not the man in front of her whose only desire was to humiliate and debase her.