It wasn’t right!
Then it was. It was cedar and fire against her, roaring against her shoulder as he kicked her thighs wide. Shoving them wider still, making her hips groan under the strain as he tore at the fastening of his pants to enter her. Back arched, she thrust the roundness of her backside up against him, purring her delight at his coarseness. Reveling in the painful nips he littered across her soft skin.
“Majesty, you must let her up.”
Sage and herbs, thick with dust and the greenness of living things surrounded her. Calmed some part of her mind for Aida to realize that many men were tearing each other apart around her. That Er’it was about to mount her in front of all of them and they fair salivated to see it. All of them waiting to be the next.
Except Maruk. A rock of sheer serenity in the chaos jumbling through and around her, he offered Aida a pitying smile though he made no move to touch her. Didn’t smooth back her hair as he had done so many times while tending her wounds.
“Out,” Er’it managed, more growl than speech. Having freed himself, he wasted no time in sinking into her. Thrusting hard, skin clapping as he wrapped his arm beneath her chin. Pinning Aida to his chest so she could not escape his next invasion.
“Majesty, you are not in control. You must stop now.”
Aida lost the thread of her sanity as Er’it shoved deeper still. Sweltering heat building into an inferno that pulsed through her limbs. Stealing her breath, shoving it from her lungs on a faltering cry of sheer bliss as he gave her the violence her body craved.
Lost in the sensations of him driving into her depths, of his low grunts and snarls, Aida’s hands scrabbled over the rug. Searching for some purchase to push back against his slowing thrusts. Her feminine growl answered with a final thrust that made her wail in anything but pain. A sound that turned to one of loss when Er’it wrenched away.
“No, no, no,” Aida whined as she shoved to hands and knees to crawl after him. Another crippling pain sending her to the floor where she shrieked into her arm, a rush of slick staining her thighs. Lurching forward to go to the source of the glorious scent that would make her whole.
Cold wind battered her face, the light blinding. Leaving her blinking into the dim shadows for long moments before her vision cleared, and she saw he was gone. Maruk stood to the side, lips sad and tight.
Aida screamed. In loss, in hatred, in need, and then in pain. Whole body twisting up in agony while her middle tried to turn itself inside out. Blackness blotting out the scene of bloody spatters staining the roof of the tent.
Bolting up with a gasp, Aida’s head swung around to take in her surroundings in the darkness. The barest illumination filtering through canvas and thick coverings, she knew she was no longer in Er’it’s tent. Fat and bitter, tears scalded the backs of her eyes, spilling over the crusted rim of her lashes where the long hours’ worth of her pain had dried to a murky film.
“Shh, Lady. All is well,” Maruk whispered. Gentle light filling the space with delicate shapes thrown against the heavy curtains. A scattering of stars across fabrics dyed with rich swaths of blues, orange, reds, and purples, a mythical night of some fabled kingdom.
Scoffing laugh as bitter as her tears, Aida scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of a hand. Shrugging deeper into the thick fur covering her as she turned red-rimmed eyes to Maruk waiting by a table of dried fruits and meats, water and bread.
“It was not your fault, Lady.” Voice as dry and dusty as his clean scent, Maruk shuffled over on his knees to settle the laden tray beside her knees. Daring to reach out and adjust the lush furs as if she should be cold.
Her skin still ached and burned, stretched too tight over bones and sinew until she thought she was snap at the smallest touch. Looking down, Aida saw someone clothed her in one of Er’it’s tunics, the fabric torn at the seams, frayed edges showing at long tears. More tears slipped free, a quiet sob shattering the stillness of the tent. Maruk’s dry, smooth palm pushing the damp tendrils of her hair from her face where they clung to wet cheeks.
All Aida could remember was the need. That and the smell. Er’it. Close and thick, making her blood burn too hot, making her ache. Others too near, hating their touch and wanting his, yet ready to accept them as pale substitutes just to end her pain. Aida gave another laugh, one that turned into a sob she buried in upturned knees. Hiding her shame even as she pressed her nose into the furs and fine linen of the tunic. Taking in the faded scent of Er’it lingering in the threads.
“Eat, Lady. Your body is weak, and you must strengthen it for what is to come.” Maruk filled the rough-hewn wooden cup with cool water, wrapping Aida’s slack hand around it. Holding it firm until she brought it to her lips.
Wanting to gag on the small taste of it, Aida grimaced and swallowed it down. Eyeing the tray, her lips pulled down at the corners even as her eyes devoured the simple spread. With her stomach acting so volatile, she didn’t dare to do more than wet her lips with the water, turning to stare into the dark shadows.
Full night must have fallen. An entire day of travel lost because of her. Because of what Otaso named her, what she’d incited in all those men. Sniffling back a fresh wave of tears, Aida tried to firm her resolve. Failed as
