CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

INISFAIL COURT

AZAR

Azar arched and writhed under Fechin’s unending sensual assault. He’d never tortured her so well or for so long before. She was a sweaty,, desperate mess. Caught thoroughly in Fechin’s silk bindings and seduction, every one of her nerves thrummed with unmet need.
Biting her lip to keep silent, she was torn between the need for relief and pride — hers as much as his. So far, she’d managed to remain mute, afraid if any sound escaped her, Fechin would have his reward. She didn’t want to give in, but it was clear he had no intention of stopping his game, and she readily admitted to herself that she was not nearly as skillful a player as him.
She craved his touches and smiles, and wanted to marry him, but some part of her still resented how she’d ended up here, and the lack of choices ever since. As she tried to decide if she wanted to die or kill Fechin more, he rose over her and rubbed his erection against her sex. Reflexively, her hips jerked, trying to take him inside.
He relented at least that much and filled her, giving her slow, deep thrusts that only stimulated her more. She was right on the edge of bliss, again, when he pulled out, leaving her body empty and her eyes full of hot, frustrated tears she refused to shed. As he sat back on his knees, she raised her hips, seeking his touch. His hand slid up her inner thigh before going straight to where she ached most.
Still, he didn’t give her what she needed. “Marry me. Azar.”
She still refused to answer. The only way to deny him anything was to offer him nothing. In all the time she’d been at his castle, she’d yet to win an argument or debate with him. It was always all or nothing between them.
Fechin moved again, giving her long deep strokes. Azar moaned at the blissful friction of his body rubbing against hers. Something inside her was perilously close to crumbling. Her thoughts turned treacherous.
What would it hurt to say yes? To give him what he wanted? In this, anyway. It took months to plan a wedding ceremony, didn’t it? There would have to be a reckoning for his behavior today, but her body and mind were too fractured to fight this war she couldn’t win. She felt only contradictions.
Pleasure that hurt.
Love and hate.
Need and lack.
Desire and regret.
She wanted to weep. The part of her that was crumbling gave way, and a tsunami of sweet surrender swept her up and away.
“Yes!” Azar shouted. “Yes, I will marry you.” Anything to get this over with. Please just make it stop.
Fechin’s smile of triumph was nearly blinding. And insufferably smug. Seeing it, Azar wished she could take her words back. Like he detected her rebellion, he went utterly still. Inside her, his thick cock was a throbbing presence. Above her, his black eyes were deep wells that drew her in and kept her falling. All around her sleek muscles caged her. When she breathed, his enticing make scent mixed with sweat and the smell of sex filled her nose. When he breathed, his exhales brushed over her skin in delicate caresses that heightened her awareness.
There was no escape. He was everywhere. Wanted to be everything. At her limit, Azar screamed in displeasure and yanked on her restraints. Unmoving, he let her thrash until she exhausted herself and lay panting beneath him. Her skin felt like it was burning, and he was the only one who could soothe her. His hands dug into her hips for a moment, then she yelped when his fingers found the small nub at the core of her, rubbing it with a touch that was at once harsh and gentle. It was too much.
She was sensation stretched too thin. A deep tug of desire grew, but she resisted. She no longer wanted actual pleasure from this. His actions were about power over her. However, Fechin was not a man who would abide her resistance.
He redoubled his efforts and moved within her. His sudden, hard thrusts were too much after he’d driven her to the edge so many times.
“No more,” Azar pleaded. “I can’t —”
“You. Can.” Fechin punctuated his words with thrusts. “You. Will.”
Between his body slamming into her and his fingers adeptly manipulating her, Azar had to give up. When she finally reached that peak again, Fechin, merciful at last, let her go over. The climax, so long denied, felt like lightning from head to toe, and she shook with the force of her release. From the tips of her toes to the tingling in her scalp, every part of her burned with the raw passion coursing through her. Her body arched off the bed and she felt frozen in time and place as she waited for the wave to crest.
Fechin’s movements turned erratic. One hand slid over hers, leaving the Raven ring in place before he intertwined their fingers. He thrust in one last time, shuddering as he came deep inside her and shouted something in a language she didn’t understand. His head dropped to the crook of her neck, both of them sinking bonelessly and sated into the mattress while their breathing evened out.
“I could stay like this forever,” he whispered into her neck.
“You’re crushing me.” In more ways than physically.
Fechin rolled off her and released the silken knots, massaging her arms and legs. He gathered her close, stroking her hair as he murmured to her. She let his quiet words lull her almost into sleep until he switched to a language she understood and his words made her heart beat wildly. Surely she couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“What did you say?”
“We’ll be married this afternoon,” he repeated.
“So soon?” She should have known he wouldn’t waste any time.
“Now that you’ve agreed, there’s no reason to wait.”
Her father wasn’t here. That was reason enough to put off the ceremony, wasn’t it? “But I don’t have a dress. No one to walk me down the aisle. Bridesmaids. I haven’t planned anything!”
He pulled her closer, wrapped her in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “This will be a short, informal ceremony. We’ll have a more elaborate wedding after your father arrives. Guests will want to come from all over Inisfail to attend a formal ceremony, but I don’t want to wait.”
And, once again, she was bested.

With Fechin gone to arrange things, Azar examined her palm and wrist as she bathed. Shisti had healed the wounds perfectly, and there was no sign of their deceit. The plan to escape the wards was taking so long, and Fechin was wearing down Azar’s resistance. She still longed to find her father, but now there would always be a part of her that belonged to Fechin. Must she always be torn between places and people?
A small, annoying part of her whispered she should tell Fechin about the plan to escape the wards, now that she’d agreed to marry him. He should know about the hole in his defenses. And shouldn’t there be honesty between a husband and wife? Somehow, it felt like a coerced wife was entitled to keep a plan for freedom to herself. Azar would not forget her wrists were bound when Fechin put the ring on her finger.
But he’d worked so hard over the last month, and they were happy. Well, Fechin was happier than she was, but she was learning to live a life here. At least, she was until today. Much of the goodwill and trust Fechin had built up had vanished this afternoon. It wasn’t hard to muster resentment when Fechin wasn’t near her. If she told him she’d been plotting to leave him with Shisti’s help this whole time, while he’d done nothing but try to please her, she would destroy any chance of their new-found happiness. He’d lock her away in the tower again. And he might punish Shisti for trying to help.
No. Azar had to keep that one secret from him. When Shisti’s magic did work, Azar could decide whether to use the opportunity or not. Maybe by then Fechin would understand. He’d promised over and over he would bring her father to court, and she wanted to believe in him.
But what if he couldn’t? It was better to keep that option available for herself. If she needed to leave, it would be because he hadn’t kept his word, and if she never left, he didn’t ever need to know she could have.