King Lucien was writing some fresh developments in the lower market to take to the royal accountant on the morrow. The sun had been down for a while, and it was relatively quiet for the night. But sleep eluded King Lucien as usual.
For the past week, he hadn’t been able to sleep as well as he did on that first night with Danika. What was it about her? He’d asked himself countless times in the last week.
Having tasted what a good sleep felt like, King Lucien wanted more and more of that peaceful dreamless state, but he had done his best to make sure he didn’t summon Danika for that.
How could the daughter of the man that took away his sleep become the reason for his peaceful slumber after fifteen years?
The deities would never play such a cruel joke on him. The joke was too expensive. Too merciless.
He’d summoned Vetta and took sexual pleasures from her body and even allowed her to spend the night in his bed. He never slept.
While Vetta slept with the satisfaction of a stallion who lived in a beautiful stable, he’d been wide awake like the birds of night, staring at the ceiling.
Everything was different: the pleasurable feeling he got from his mistress’s body, the feel of her beside him on the bed, the feel of any part of her body touching his in sleep. Everything felt different.
In the end, he’d left the bed and written his scrolls until morning.
Vetta had tried to get into bed from that day onwards, but he refused. He’d summoned her two more times in the last week to take her on the table and sent her away.
Last night, Chad’s sexsomnia had taken over him again. He’d woken him up from a nightmare while pleasuring his body in the middle of the night. As usual, he’d woken, taken his personal guard to the bathroom, and poured a bucket of cold water on him. Chad woke with clear eyes, and the horror on his face was heartbreaking. He’d panicked, but the king calmed him down. They were still looking for a cure for him. The medicine man wasn’t having much luck finding one. But they would keep trying.
Lucien was never letting Chad go. No matter how bad his sexsomnia got, he would never let him go. Chad had been through hell, and the king was determined to help him get better in any way he could. He’d given more funds to the medicine man to keep searching far and wide for a cure.
Tonight, the king’s head was pounding. After a long day in court, he was exhausted. Baski had made him potions as usual, but they only lessened the headache.
The restlessness and sleeplessness were there like marrow in his damaged bones.
“Chad,” he called out, at last, dropping the inked feather to his desk.
The door opened, and Chad entered. He bowed his head. “My king.”
Silence was all that met his greeting—a silence that stretched but one Chad was used to. He stood patiently while the king sorted through his own head. Chad watched him as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“Tell Danika that I summon her,” he said at last.
CHAPTER 37
WHAT IS IT ABOUT YOU?D
anika knocked on the king’s door with her heart hanging around her throat. She’d been sleeping when Chad came to tell her that the king had summoned her. It was almost midnight. The king wasn’t sleeping for him to summon her, and she wondered if it was by choice this time around or if he couldn’t help it.
“Come in,” the command came through.
Danika opened the door and entered the familiar room, and her eyes found him immediately. The king was seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.
“You summoned me, Master,” she whispered with her head bowed.
“Strip and get on the table,” he ordered, his eyes still closed.
Danika swallowed softly. She didn’t know how much she wanted to be in his arms again until this very command. She was panicked because of the pain she knew was on the way, but at the same time, it elated her knowing she would feel his arms around her again.
But the table?
The elation in her heart died. He wouldn’t be touching her on the table; he’d only be drawing his pleasure from her body.
Danika sneaked a peek at his face and saw the hard line of it, the angled set of his jaw. This was a moment he wanted to remind them both of who they were. She was the daughter of Cone, and he was the monster her father created.
Danika started undressing, from her flimsy corset down to her petticoat and underthings. Finally, she stood naked in front of him. Then she walked to the hated table and leaned into it, giving him her back.
Seconds passed. Then he got up from his chair. She heard footsteps behind her. The rustle of clothing.
He closed in on her, his heat surrounding her, but he didn’t touch her. “What is it about you, Danika?”
The cold question sent a chill down her body. “Master?” She didn’t understand it.
She felt his hand on her. He was sticking his liquid inside her, preparing her with his fingers. While her heart was beating faster, her body was wired… sensitive. Why would that be? She asked herself as his rough finger flexed on the bundle of nerves of her womanhood. A moan escaped her throat; she tried to cut it off, but it escaped anyway.
His hand stilled, and he withdrew it. She felt bereft. The feeling confused her. Why would she feel this way?
She was still pondering it when his body caged her in, and she felt his organ pushing against her. She spread her legs a little wider to take in his enormous body. Pulling back and resting the tip of his phallus at her entrance, he slammed into her with so much force she nearly lost her balance.
“Aaargh!” she cried out at the pain that seared through her. She felt unbearably full. Danika squeezed her eyes shut and mentally prepared herself for the persistent rough thrusts to come.
He didn’t move. She was leaning against the table, her body trembling, and he was wedged deep inside her, his hips meeting her body, his hand holding her waist.
Her erratic breathing was in the air, and he seemed to fight himself—his hand clenching and unclenching on her waist showed that. Then he pulled out and stepped back.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded.