Alaskan Fury (40 page)

“Oh?” she asked, boldly sliding
her hand down his shaft.  She had a sly grin on her face.  “What is it, then?”

“Pleasurable,” he whimpered, his
whole body shuddering under movement of her tiny hands.

For a moment, the Fury hesitated,
a tiny frown on her face as she peered down at his manhood, obviously having
expected some other response.  Then, in complete, clear-faced innocence, she
looked up at him and said, “You mean, if I…play…with this, I will be able to
make your body contort around you as you did mine?”  She hefted his shaft and
nuts curiously.

“Ahhhh,” ‘Aqrab said, trying to
find a way to weave his way out of this particular pitfall.  “There will
probably be some contortions if you continue, yes.”

For several heartbeats, it looked
as if she would drop his sensitives with all the regard of a rotting viper. 
Then, a slow,
wicked
look spread across her face and ‘Aqrab felt his
heart stop.  “You’re going to show me how to do that to you,” she said,
tightening her fingers on his shaft, almost in a threat.  Her grin filled with
evil glee, she looked back up at him and said in a low, husky tone, “And then
I’m going to make you beg me to stop.”

‘Aqrab’s mouth fell open, his
blood burning like hellfire in his veins.  Transfixed by her intensity, trying
not to babble in mingled elation and anxiety at the cool feel of his mistress’s
tiny hand around his member, he managed, “Ah...but the bargain…”

She gave him a sultry look
through her lashes, a smile playing on her lips.  “
Burn
the bargain. 
You’re
mine
tonight, djinni.”

The force of her words, combined
with the feel of her powerful hands around his delicates, left him feeling so
thoroughly
claimed
that the risk involved suddenly sparked that
adrenaline rush of flirting with danger, that heart-pounding thrill that djinni
simply could not live without.  All he could say was, “Yes, mistress.”

“Now,” she said, her voice a
seductive purr, “What do I do?”

Shuddering at the way her cool
hands slipped across his skin, he tilted his head back against the stone and
whispered, “It’s…simple…to give a man pleasure, mon Dhi’b.  You run your hands
down his…length…in a rhythm.  Aside from that…” his breath snagged in his
throat as she immediately began doing as he suggested, and the rest of his
words came out in a strangled, “you’ll have to experiment.”

“Like this?” she asked, gripping
him and sliding her fist along his shaft.

“Just,” he managed, finding it
hard to breathe.  The throbbing in his loins was building, superheating his
skin, making the contrast in her cool fingers all that much harder to ignore.

She giggled.  “You’re getting
hot.”

‘Aqrab groaned, tightening his
hands into fists under her ministrations, grinding the dimension-anchors into
the wall behind him as the heat began to rise into an uncontrollable, searing
wave, bringing him dangerously close to the brink.  “Please, mon Dhi’b,” he
gasped.  “It’s been too long.  I don’t have the stamina…”

She grinned up at him, slowing
her rhythm to more manageable proportions.  “Mercy?”

“Mercy!” he begged in relief,
knowing he was about to produce a problem to which the wolf might take offense.

But a demonic smile played upon
her face.  “I don’t think so.”  And she renewed her efforts with even more
vigor.

Realizing he was being given no
choice in the matter tipped ‘Aqrab completely over the edge.  Crying out, he
reflexively reached out and fisted his hands on her shoulders as his back
arced, digging his shoulders into the stone.  Even as he struggled to keep
himself in check, he felt his hips thrust of their own accord, and heard the
magus’s startled gasp.

Oh Goddess,
he thought,
after spasm upon spasm of that ancient, long-missed delight flooded his system,
heating his blood, tightening his balls, bringing sweet release in the bounty
of her hands,
she is going to kill me.

When he regained enough control
to open his eyes again and glance down at the magus, she was looking at her
shirt.  “‘Aqrab,” she said, all-too-carefully, “what is that?”

‘Aqrab coughed, feeling his face
flushing even over the frantic pounding of his heart.  “That looks like my
seed, mon Dhi’b.”  It wasn’t just on her shirt, either.  Wincing, he noticed it
in…other…places, namely her hair.

“Your…seed.”  Ominously, she
still kept a death-grip on his delicates.

‘Aqrab started to ease to the
side, but her hold remained firm.  “Ah,” he said embarrassedly, when it became
apparent he was not going anywhere.  “Did I not warn you about that?”

“No,” she bit out.  “You did
not.”

Clearing his throat again, he
said, “Well, ah, I suppose I could offer you the small boon of cleaning you up,
since it was my mistake.”

“You would be wise to do that. 
Now.”

‘Aqrab hid a grin.  “As you command,
mon Dhi’b.”  Then, embracing that dance-of-risk that was so addicting to a
djinni, he harnessed the power of the Fourth Realm and removed the stains he
had created…along with her clothes.  Her clothes were, after all, utterly
filthy.

Instantly, the Fury’s grip on him
tightened.  Very evenly, she said, “What do you think you’re doing, ‘Aqrab?”

“Your clothes were filthy, mon
Dhi’b,” he said, with all the innocence he could muster.  “I was merely
fulfilling your request.”

Staring at his belly-button, her
grip on him like iron, she growled, “Bring me back my clothes.”

He crossed his arms and peered
down at her over them.  “I burned them.”  She had ripped apart his sirwal, so
it was only fair.  He’d
liked
that one.  He’d gotten the color just
right.

Very slowly, his magus lifted her
gaze to his face, and the yellow glow in her eyes yet again sparked within him
that reckless inner thrill of playing with fire.  Utterly evenly, she said,
“You burned them.”

“I did,” ‘Aqrab said.  “I figured
if I was to be naked during tonight’s entertainment, you may as well share the
experience.  Further…”  He uncrossed his arms, “Since fondling my delicates
wasn’t part of our agreement, I think perhaps there might be more to the
experience you may need to share with me.”

“
…
I think perhaps there
might be more to the experience you may need to share with me.”  ‘Aqrab’s voice
was like a low rumble in his chest, the sound of a ravenous leopard.

More to the experience…?
Kaashifah thought, in alarm. 
Oh no, he can’t mean…
  But, looking up
into his intense violet eyes, she knew that he did.  As ‘Aqrab raised his hand
to her face, Kaashifah felt a stab of panic, but had the presence of mind to
tighten her grip.  “That,” she growled in warning, “is not going to happen.”

“Oh?”  He gently traced a hot
finger across her cheek.  Kaashifah shuddered under the rush of sensation from
the touch, but held firm.  When she did not relent, he grinned and began idly
tracing his thumb across her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone.  Her heart
began thundering in her ears at the feel of his gentle touch, so intimate, so
tender, so
wonderful
…

“Mercy,” she whispered, dropping
him and backing away.  Biting her lip, she met his eyes, which were watching
her much too closely.

“You like my touch,” he
commented, sounding surprised.

Kaashifah quickly found something
else to look at.  Her gaze caught on the winds blasting across the mountain
outside, flinging snow across the entrance to the cave, burying their tracks. 
She winced, thinking about how uncomfortable it was going to be marching across
the snow without protection.  Unlike the djinni, she did not have an inner fire
to keep her warm, and her shields were already straining her resources. 
“Gods,” she muttered.  “Did you
have
to burn my—”

But the djinni stepped forward,
with speed and intent, and just as she was frowning, turning to face him, he
ducked his head down, wrapped his arms around her, and swept her up in a kiss.

Feeling his hot body enveloping
her, Kaashifah’s first instinct was to knee him in the groin, punch him in the
solar plexus, and then stomp a heel into his throat until his head came off.

Her second instinct, once the
first passed in a moment of absolute rigidity, was deeper, more carnal.  She
groaned and felt every inch of her exposed skin as if it were electrified, felt
the press of her breasts against his rippling torso, felt his big hands at the
small of her back.  Given no other alternative in the delicious prison of his
big arms, she melted under his tender kiss, her body molding to fit his of its
own accord. 

Her first shuddering wave of
pleasure came a few moments later, when his fingers started tracing themselves
up her sides and back, no longer needing to pin her to his chest to keep her
clinging to his embrace.  Panting, not about to allow the djinni to get the
upper hand, she once more found his shaft—hard as stone and almost too hot to
touch—and began stroking it in the manner he had shown her.

She grinned as his lips stiffened
against hers in a groan. 
Oh yes,
she thought.  She could enjoy this new
weapon.  He seemed so…helpless…when her hands touched him there.  Feeling his
body tighten against hers, her grin widened. 
Deliciously so.

But instead of spasming under her
attentions, as he had before, the djinni reached out, put his big, hot hands to
her sides…

…and tickled her.

“Manuke khara!” she laughed, falling
to the ground to get away from him, even as the exhilaration began building in
her lungs. 

As he fell with her, the djinni’s
body stiffened, and with it came a rush of Fourth Lander magic that suddenly
wrenched Kaashifah’s world upside down and spun it like a top.  She flattened
to the floor to convince herself she was still solidly upon the earth as the
violet magic swirled around them and the very stone vibrated as ‘Aqrab boomed,
“You have reset your seven days.”

There is so much power there,
she thought, stunned.  Like the very universe itself was at the djinni’s
disposal.

Then he was above her, tickling
her again, his arms, legs, and torso acting as a cage, keeping her squarely
within reach of his fingers.  Kaashifah screamed and writhed to get out from
under him, thrashing gleefully at the djinni’s renewed assault.  Forced to use
the strength of the Third Lander, she crawled out from underneath him and went
on the offensive, lunging onto his back before he could scamper off.  Anchored
to the First Realm, the djinni shrieked and tried to throw her to the side, but
Kaashifah wrapped her legs around the base of his torso and pressed her
advantage.

Sometime during the hours of
struggle that followed, the djinni wound up atop her, their arms and legs
entangled, both of them breathing wildly, sweat slickening their flushed
bodies. 

“Do you…” the djinni panted,
‘pinning’ her to the floor of the cave, “…surrender?”

Kaashifah grinned up at him. 
They both knew she could throw him off with enough force to probably bury him
in the wall, but she’d given him the ‘advantage’ several times in the course of
the night.  “And if I refuse?” she asked, raising her chin with faux
imperiousness.

“Don’t…” he gasped above her,
“…refuse.”  While Kaashifah could continue for days with the assistance of the
wolf, his head was hanging down in exhaustion.  “If you…get on top…again…I
think…I’ll just…pee myself.”

She grinned as she felt his arms
trembling where he held her down.  Softly, meeting his eyes, she whispered,
“And if I surrender?” 

‘Aqrab perked up immediately,
grinning.  “You become my captive.”

She bit her lip around a smile. 
“I’ve never been a prisoner of war before.”

“You should try it sometime,” the
djinni said, his impish grin widening.  “It takes a little getting used to, but
in the end, it’s not that bad.”

Kaashifah had to laugh.  “And
what would you
do
with your prisoner of war, djinni?”

“Oh,” the djinni said, cocking his
head as if he had to think about it, “probably this.”  The djinni lowered his
head and kissed her again, deep and passionate, his lips questing against hers,
hot and seeking.  Her heart already singing from the play, this time, Kaashifah
had only a moment of surprise before she was melting into him, groaning under
his touch.

‘Aqrab’s big, hot hands began
moving in gentle paths across her body, and it wasn’t much later before
Kaashifah lost herself, her skin becoming like a sizzling arc of pleasure, just
waiting for release.  Within moments, his dark fingers, sliding down her tawny
body, left her shuddering with the same uncontrollable, full-body contortions
that had left her begging him last time.  This time, however, the touch was a
thousand times more delicious, with his great body stretched out above hers,
hot and hard, solid and resisting as she clung to him, gasping.

“Mon Dhi’b,” he whispered against
her neck, still tracing his fingers against her ribs as he kissed her shoulder
and collarbone.  “Do you want this?”  His voice held a note of desperation, and
for the first time, she felt the hardness touching her core.

Kaashifah’s world suddenly
slammed back into focus.  The sensitivity of her skin instantly abandoned her
and, in the face of cold, hard reality, she froze. 
He would take me.  Like
a man to a woman.

Finally, and completely,
destroying her Fury.

She had no temples with which to
purify herself, no altars with which to offer her blood for forgiveness, no
priestesses to hear her confession.  She had
nothing
to bring her back
from that kind of despoilment.  Her pendant, her robes, her sword…all of it was
lost to her.  There was only her, the djinni, and three thousand years of
silence.

And, she realized, as he
tentatively lifted his head to meet her gaze, in three thousand years, she had
had but one companion, one person who had been
there
for her, throughout
it all, and it had taken a brush with death before she had been able to see it.

“Kaashifah?” he said, his voice a
whisper.

She’d been fighting that fact for
three thousand years, ever since that first moment at the oasis when he’d
looked up and met her eyes, smiled, and offered her a date, and her heart had
started to hammer at his beauty.  She’d been fighting it right up until the
day, with his stubborn djinni passions, he had bargained his way into touching
her, caressing her.  When he had willingly spread himself out for her perusal,
when he had contracted her to draw his form.  When he had taken her breath
away, given her
pleasure
.  It was then that the tides had turned.  That
very first touch, his hand against hers, just as he must have known it would. 
He’d opened her eyes, allowed her to
see.
  She loved, she realized,
startled, the feel of him, the look of him, the smell of him.  But, most of
all, she loved what he’d given her.

Joy.  Fun.  The ability to
play. 
Things she hadn’t felt since she’d immersed herself in the mantle of a
Fury.  Things that, as he slowly peeled that heavy cloak from her shoulders,
were opening her heart every time she looked upon him.  Things that, once her
soul had been reminded of what she had given up, it had latched onto with the
anxious desperation of a starving thing.  Secretly, she had come to look
forward to his touch, to his bargains.  It was why she had made that final
effort to break free, to grab her mantle and yank it back around her shoulders
before she lost it forever—somewhere in their bargains, somewhere along the
journey, he had
won
.  She wanted to feel his passion as much as he
wanted to give it.

The silence was a hum between
them, the djinni’s hardness throbbing at her core, his violet eyes full of
need.  Outside, the winds started to pick up into a roar.

The djinni smiled gently and
kissed her chin.  “I can wait, mon Dhi’b.”  He started to roll off of her.

Kaashifah grabbed his arm in a
spasm.

The djinni hesitated, a slight
frown on his brow.  “What—?

“Just stay,” she commanded.  “I’m
thinking.”

Cocking his head at her, after a
moment, the djinni gradually lowered himself back atop her.  “Don’t think too
hard, mon Dhi’b.”  When she said nothing, only continued her deliberations, he
began kissing her gently upon the neck, then down her collarbone.  While the
sensations would have driven her completely over the edge before, now Kaashifah
was too torn, caught between her past and her present, and barely felt it.

Here she was, a Fury, thinking
about surrendering to a
djinni
.  She felt the first rush of shame
slither through her gut as ‘Aqrab’s mouth found her breast, but she savagely
shoved both the feelings back down.  She’d spent countless years devoid of
passion, devoid of every emotion that gave her any fulfillment, her soul any
nourishment.  Even the enjoyment of the
kill
had been hollow, a meting
out of justice, nothing deeper.

In just a few brief weeks, the
djinni had shown her something that had her excited about waking up each day,
looking forward to his devilish, word-twisting schemes, finding pleasure in the
simplest things.  She was
not
going to go back to that emptiness.

And where was the shame, really? 
Billions of other women shared a man’s embrace every day.  It was
necessary
for reproduction, and a Fury was no exception.  And, as the djinni had
delighted in pointing out, she had the same needs as every other woman on the
planet.  As far as she could remember, her Lord had given no
exact
words
forbidding the embrace of a man.  At least not directly.  There were plenty of
texts, plenty of commandments written out by intermediaries that explained the
taboos and punishments associated with such.  But direct command, from her
Lord’s mind to hers?  She could think of none.  Something so essential to the
nature of a Fury, and she’d received no instruction?  What if there had been a
mistake in the translation?  What if her Sisters had been
wrong
?

“You said,” she whispered,
completely unfazed by the djinni’s lips around her nipple, “that once there
were male Furies?”

“Once,” ‘Aqrab said, breathing on
an areola.

The hot fire of his breath was a
distant feeling that she ignored, her brow tightening in thought.  Male
Furies.  Half the children born to a Fury were male, but they were always
killed as ‘abominations.’  It was Law of the temples.  Males were unclean.  It
was in the scriptures.  It was
known
. 

But why would her Lord have given
his warriors the ability to birth male children if he never meant for them to
survive?

The djinni had moved his
attentions down her stomach, tracing his lips around her navel.

“What happened to them?” she
asked.

‘Aqrab hesitated, eyes on her
abdomen.  “Well, I was not yet a denizen of the First Realm, so all I have is
bardic stories to go by, but I can sing you one, if you wish.”