Lyra’s trance abated; her eyes were fixed on Kane’s and she sat firmly on his lap with his hardness still buried deep inside of her; the pulses of his desire ebbed from her like a slow tide. Her eyes blinked and he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her beneath him. He was rigid, his passion unabated. His face looked down on hers, and she drew her hands up to stroke him. To her he was the most attractive, beautiful man that she had ever seen. She was his eternally, but she knew that he was also hers. She kissed his lips, cheeks and eyes, whilst widening her legs for him. Kane took her gently, slowly, making sure that she could feel every sensation. Lyra moaned in response to each excruciating movement. He moved his lips to hers and kissed her softly, then pulled out of her. His hands moved to her top and glided it over her shoulders and head. Her bra was delicately unfastened and discarded, followed by her torn leggings and underwear.
Kane climbed from the bed and took in her doe eyes as they stared lovingly into his. He dropped his scabbard, tool belt and clothes to the floor and kissed her ankles; his mouth ran a line of kisses and licks along the inside of her legs. At her thigh he sank his teeth into her flesh and tasted the trickle of blood that came from the wound, running his tongue along the streak and then glided it upwards to the apex of her sensitivity. Lyra moaned and closed her eyes as he licked her delicately, taking in her aroused aroma. The scent of her excited him, as did the knowledge that he was making her feel like this, his true face and true self. He licked her harder, allowing her taste to engulf his tongue. His mouth moved upwards, kissing and caressing her hardened nipples. She wanted him as he truly was, and he could not get enough of her desire.
His teeth grazed her neck and dug into the bloodletting wound. He caught the fluid in his mouth and hungrily fed as she moaned beneath him. The taste of her blood and lust powered his desire. His rigidity ached and as he moved his mouth to her lips, he forced himself into her. Lyra arched and cried out. Kane bit down on his own lip, delving a sharp tooth into his own mouth, and allowed the blood to flow onto her tongue. Lyra licked at the fluid hungrily, her desire to taste him as overwhelming as her growing lust for blood. Her teeth clasped his lip and she sucked hard. His body dragged against her sensuality painfully. The blood and fire within her welled and grew with a horrific force. Kane responded to her moans by tearing his mouth from hers and biting into his own wrist; allowing the blood to flow freely into her hungry mouth.
Once he was satisfied that she had been well fed, he licked the wound and the bleeding stopped. His mouth smothered hers, as his own desire demanded feeding. He wanted to take her completely; the might of his rigidity and the skill with which he moved enabled him to touch every sensitive part of her at once. Lyra moaned and clung to him, her need driving her on. Once he was sure that she was beyond all control Kane slowed his movements down until they had ceased. Lyra attempted to grind up against him, but he used the strength in his legs to still her body and gripped her arms in his hands, so that she was unable to move.
Give yourself to me, his mind commanded. Lyra’s heavy eyes opened, and her lashes fluttered in her lust and confusion.
‘I did,’ she whispered.
You said you had no choice, give yourself to me willingly, he implored. Lyra’s mouth opened; her swollen lips and scent gave her feelings away. Say that you offer yourself to me, forever, he continued. Promise yourself to me, and that you will obey whatever I ask of you. Whatever I ask! The ache between Lyra’s legs was nowhere near as violent as the pain in her heart. Lyra took Kane’s face timidly in her hands and took a breath; her heart palpitated at the thought of it, but she had made her decision.
‘I give myself to you willingly,’ she trembled as she spoke, ‘I promise myself to you, and my obedience to you and…’ The final words jarred in her throat momentarily; she swallowed nervously, ‘And I am deeply, deeply in love with you.’
Kane’s eyes closed as he relished her words. His hands clasped her thighs, enabling him to drive himself deep inside of her. He drew slightly out, pushing against every sweet spot on her body. Lyra shuddered eagerly beneath him; with each sweep of his body he ensured that her need was met, as well as his own. Her stomach grew taut as her orgasm closed in on her. Kane turned her head to the side and as he felt the beginning of her climax drove his teeth into her throat. Lyra screamed out; a combination of pleasure and a pain that caused the pleasure to blossom.
Kane continued to force himself into her as he fed from her. Overcome with sensation, he released himself fully into her as her blood flowed into his mouth. Lyra’s pulse slowed, and her breathing grew shallow as the blood left her. Her pulse thumped in her brain, drowning out all other sounds; she weakened beneath him. As the pulse all but disappeared, he released and opened the wound in his own wrist, allowing the fluid to fall into her mouth. Lyra swallowed in small gasps until Kane pulled away, sealing the wound with his own saliva. Protectively, he covered her with her duvet and drew her close to him, massaging her spent form until she drifted into sleep. As she did, she whispered the words that she had found so hard to say,
‘Kane, I love you.’
Kane lay awake holding her close. No one had ever loved him, not in that way. He had not only heard but felt her words and knew that there was truth in them. He thought of her lying asleep the first time that he had seen her, how her running from him had proved so arousing, as had her desperate pleas. The sadist in him would have to be satisfied regardless of how he felt for her. He wanted her to beg him and to suffer at his hands. That would not change. He thought of how her scent changed when he had punished her; he now had eternity to watch her suffer, and to watch her enjoying it. His mind plagued him further: what if he seriously hurt her? Could he forgive himself? He knew that the beast inside would not be contained. Then, there was her loyalty; would it extend to his depravities?
Kane stroked Lyra’s hair as she slept. Her baby face looked so innocent, so sweet. He examined the initial that he had carved into her. That would not heal; he had ensured that the branding took place before the change and was cut deep enough to leave a scar in spite of her growing abilities to heal. There were deeper ways to hurt her; she claimed to love him; if she loved him, she would accept him regardless of his proclivities; she had accepted much more. He held her close. No one else would ever hurt her, just him, and just as he chose. She was, after all, his property.
Lyra woke with a start. She was in her own bed in her own cabin. Her duvet was draped across her and she was wearing one of her shifts. Light streamed in through the windows, and she realised that the shutters were open and not as she had left them. Harlon sat on a chair next to her sleepily. Lyra rubbed her eyes and a strange confusion fell on her,
‘Where’s Kane?’ she asked. Harlon gulped nervously.
‘You just rest there, and Old Harlon will make you some stew.’ Lyra ran her hands roughly through her hair,
‘Where’s Kane?’ she asked again.
‘Now look, Missy, you just rest, and Old Harlon be right back from the kitchen, alright?’ Lyra nodded and Harlon hurried to the kitchen to heat up her meal.
Lyra looked about her; the room was tidied and everything in its place. She started to climb out of bed, but a heady dizziness forced her back down.
‘Now, Missy,’ the old man muttered whilst wandering in from the kitchen, ‘Your body, well, it’s goin’ through a lot right now, so you gotta take it easy today and tomorrow. If you feelin’ better, Old Harlon will have you training.’ Lyra raked her hair again, and Harlon sensed her growing agitation; an agitation that he had expected.
‘I want Kane,’ Lyra insisted.
‘You need to eat, keep your strength up.’ Lyra raised her eyes to the ceiling, but the hunger pangs in her stomach forced her to take the meal offered.
‘You met Lilith then?’ Harlon asked. Lyra nodded. ‘You goin’ getting’ used to these changes, don’t you worry.’
‘I want to see Kane,’ Lyra mumbled between mouthfuls, sensing something was amiss.
‘Old Harlon’s gonna teach you to use a knife,’ the old man stated, ignoring her comments. ‘To fight and to fight with a knife and throw a knife.’ Lyra became more agitated as he spoke, slamming the spoon into the bowl with each hungry mouthful. ‘Got to get ya ready for your first now.’ Lyra slammed the spoon down and shoved the bowl at the old man. The dizziness drifted over her again, and she closed her eyes as Harlon wittered away about knives. His voice seemed to get further and further away until she was swimming in blackness again.
Lyra opened her eyes again; the day had disappeared, and the night sky had set in.
‘How ya feelin’ now, Missy?’ Harlon asked, still sitting in the chair beside her. Lyra looked around; she was still in her own cabin and Kane was nowhere to be seen. An emptiness churned Lyra’s stomach. She gripped it to try and ease the pain. ‘Still hungry?’ Harlon asked, ‘Guess you would be, you been out for hours.’ Lyra did not respond, and Harlon served her more food regardless. She ate in a cold, frosty silence, irritated with the old man for ignoring her questions. Once she had finished, she shot the bowl at him and lay back down facing away from him.
After a prolonged and fruitless silence, Lyra spoke again; her tone softer and more subdued,
‘I want Kane, where is he?’ Harlon sighed; he knew that he could not dodge the question forever but hated the thought of seeing the girl that he had developed a sympathy for hurting more than necessary. He sighed deeply,
‘The boy says you’re to stay here and not go near his land.’ Harlon screwed his old face up as he resisted the temptation to feel her pain. He had to follow his instructions exactly so as not to incur Kane’s wrath. The old man swallowed and then continued, ‘He don’t want see you no more, Missy, and that’s how it is.’
Lyra stared vacantly at the wall opposite. Her mind slowly replayed the last few weeks; the move, her hopes, the warnings, the disappearances, the deaths, the imprisonment, the chase, the pain, him, his body, his touch, the strange world in which she found herself, him, his touch. The thoughts swirled and poured onto her cheeks as the tears and sobs flooded from her eyes. She had seen hell, and hell was living without Kane. Nothing else mattered; he had stripped her bare of all morality, all understanding and of her own independence. The pain she had avoided for so long had all been served up in one cruel dish. She had surrendered herself fully, offered her love to him. He had left her broken in the most cruel, sadistic manner; used and broken. Her sobs continued long into the night, until she wore herself out and could cry no more.
