First Light - Prequel to the Lightbearer Series Page 8

Sabine did not know what to do, what to say. The king of the Lightbearers had carried her into his sleeping chamber, laid her on the softest, fullest feather bed she had ever experienced, and now stood over her, watching her intently, as if he were waiting for something, although she could not imagine what. She had never been in this situation before. It took her shocked brain long moments to comprehend what he intended.

  He intended for them to couple, in the way mates did. A shiver of excitement coursed through her body, warming the pit of her belly so much, she squirmed. His eyes flared and a vein in his neck pulsed.

  “I … Have you ever…” She could not formulate the words.

  His neck reddened, and he averted his gaze. “I have. My fourteenth summer, my uncle arranged it. He said a future king should know how to pleasure his queen in the bedchamber. He said it would likely be the only aspect of ruling I would enjoy.”

  She giggled, thinking of the things her girlfriends had whispered about their experiences with their mates. “I do like the idea of being pleasured, although I am no queen.”

  He dropped to his knees on the bearskin rug next to the bed and placed his hands on either side of her hips. She pushed up onto her elbows so she could look him in the face.

  “You are the queen, remember? I declared you as such.” He touched her arm, trailed his fingers down to her hand. She shivered again. “I would like you to take me as your king, your grace.”

  Sabine laughed and fell back against the quilt. James climbed onto the bed and straddled her thighs, looking down at her with a mock glare on his face. “Are you laughing because you intend to declare another as your mate?”

  She sobered, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. “My mate?”

  “Well, generally, a king and queen are mated. In fact, I have never heard of it otherwise.”

  Sabine turned her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. “I am not a queen.”

  “Must we go through this again?”

  “I can not even gather berries properly. I make a mess of anything I touch in the kitchen. I am not—not worthy.”

  “Then we shall keep you out of the kitchen. We have plenty of cooks in the coterie. What we do not have an abundance of are strong, able-bodied, natural warriors who can summon swords and frighten off shifters and live to tell the tale. By my estimation, that makes you far more worthy than the ability to collect berries or cook.”

  He cupped her face and leaned down, and for a moment, Sabine thought he would kiss her. But he stopped just shy of brushing his lips against hers. Her breath caught in her throat and her body arched, her breasts straining against the bodice of her dress. His gaze darted down and then lifted back to her face.

  “Mate with me, Sabine. Be my queen.”

  She hesitated. “I am afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That I will fail.”

  “You have already succeeded.” He lowered himself to the bed so that his body pressed against hers. She felt the unmistakable hardness everywhere but especially in one spot. Her legs parted, allowing him to nestle between them. He rolled his hips, and his rigid shaft rubbed against the area between her thighs.

  She did not fully understand what it meant, only that when he made contact there, it helped ease the growing ache. She wiggled and he groaned, dropping his arm and clutching her hip, holding her still.

  “And you will succeed far more quickly than either of us is ready for if you continue to do that. Let me show you what it is like between mates, Sabine. Let me show you what it will always be like between us.”

  She could no longer think. She could only feel. Her body demanded a release she did not even understand. “Show me,” she whispered.

  He kissed her. It was featherlight at first, but that lasted only a moment, because she grasped his hair and pulled him closer, parting her lips and silently demanding more. He slanted his lips over hers, thrust his tongue into her mouth, and teased her tongue into a sensual dance she understood to mimic the act of coupling. It was even better than the first time. Would it get better and better each time she kissed the king? She certainly looked forward to finding out.

  While he kissed her, he rolled his hips, a steady, constant action that created friction right where she needed it most. Sabine arched into his touch, finding his rhythm, until they moved together in sync and she panted, her heart speeding up, her movements becoming more and more frantic. James abruptly rolled away, lying on his back next to her, breathing as heavily as she was.

  “Is… Is something wrong? Have I—did I do it wrong?” While the interaction had certainly felt good thus far, she felt as though it wasn’t quite finished, like they hadn’t completed whatever race they had been running.

  “No.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles before saying, “It’s far too right. I needed a moment to regain my bearings. I was about to spill my seed in my drawers, which would not have done anything at all for you. And as I said earlier, this is meant to be for your pleasure.”

  “Why can you not feel pleasure?” Her girlfriends whispered of their mates finding gratification sometimes even when they did not.

  He chuckled. “Pleasuring you gives me infinite satisfaction. I promise.”

  He rolled to his side and tugged at the laces on her overlay. Once he had them untied, he trailed his finger down her chest, plucking at the ribbons like they were strings on a harp, loosening them further, until he was able to pull the garment off. She lay there wearing a white dress with a scoop neck and puffy sleeves, and nothing else.

  She wanted the dress off, she wanted his hands on her bare skin. If they sent her body to tingling when all he did was tug at the ribbons of her overlay, she could only imagine what they would feel like without the impediment of clothing.

  “I want you to touch me,” she whispered, feeling far more brave than she thought she should.

  He arched his brows.

  “My skin. Under the dress. Without the dress.” Now she sounded the fool, blathering, unable to truly explain what she wanted, mostly because she was not sure what she was asking for.

  One side of his lips lifted into a half smile, while his lids dropped over his eyes, giving him a drunken look. “I believe I can accommodate you, my queen.”

  Strange how quickly she was becoming accustomed to that title, although the thought disappeared when he skirted his hand over her dress, down, until he reached the hem and then slid his fingers underneath and cupped her ankle. She hissed out a breath, the touch far more intimate than anything she had experienced thus far.

  When he trailed his hand up her bare leg, she threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body tensing.

  “Breathe, my sweet,” he whispered. Sabine slowly exhaled and her eyes fluttered open. He watched her face while his hand continued to move up her leg. When his fingers danced over her upper thigh, they both widened their eyes.

  “You aren’t wearing pantaloons.”

  “I was in bed when you summoned me.” She was amazed she was capable of speaking at this point, especially since his fingers continued to stroke her thigh, leaving sizzling magic and sensation in their wake.

  His lid drooped again. “Hmm. I like it when you are in bed.” He pushed the material of her skirt up until it bunched at the top of her thighs, and then he dropped a kiss onto her leg. She moaned. He lifted his head and smiled. “I think I will want you here as often as possible.” He returned to kissing her leg.

  “I … You have a coterie to rule.”

  “We have a coterie to rule,” he countered between kisses. “And part of that responsibility is getting to know my mate better. Much, much better.” As he said the words, he lifted her skirts higher and higher, until he revealed that part of her that ached so badly, she could no longer define the line between pleasure and pain.

  Sabine held her breath and watched as he slid off the bed and knelt next to it. He then grasped her waist and pulled her closer to the edge, u
ntil her legs dangled over the side, her dress bunched halfway up her abdomen. Her woman’s area was right in front of his face. She tried to roll to the side, but he pressed his hands to the top of her thighs, holding her in place.

  “I have done this before, and it brought my partner unthinkable pleasure.”

  She watched in fascination as he leaned forward, as if he intended to kiss her where the coarse, curling hairs covered the area where she understood she was supposed to join with him. Her friends had whispered about pain the first time, pain during childbirth, but otherwise, this was the center of their pleasure. The ache, she had been reassured, would be relieved, and it would be beyond any gratification she had ever experienced in her life.

  Then James’s mouth touched her there; his tongue flicked out and licked once, twice, and then probed her, and Sabine cried out, clutched at the bedcovers, and arched nearly off the bed. Magic flared so brightly she briefly lit the chamber as though it were high noon and they were outside in the middle of a pasture, unimpeded by trees or anything else to block the sun’s regenerating rays.

  “Oh—Oh my—Oh.” She gasped when he did not stop. He lapped at her, licking and suckling for a few moments before thrusting his tongue into her again—and again and again. Her hips moved of their own accord, her entire body tensed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in quick, short, panting breaths. And then his hand snaked up her body, under her dress, and cupped her breast. Sabine exploded—or at least that’s what it felt like. Pleasure peaked, pouring up and out of her like a waterfall, leaving her exhausted and sated and gasping for air. She was certain her body could not move at that moment even if the bedcovers caught fire.

  James’s face appeared, swimming above her, and it took long seconds to realize he hovered over her, bracing himself on his hands and knees. “May I?” he said, and without waiting for an answer—which was good, as she was incapable at the moment—he pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the floor, leaving her lying there completely nude, her body tingling and glowing more brightly than it ever had before.

  “I can tell you enjoyed it.”

  “Mmm.”

  He chuckled and shucked his shirt, sending it to rest near her dress. Her gaze dropped to watch as he unfastened his trousers. He paused. “Would you like to help?” Her eyes widened, and she considered it for a moment but then shook her head. She still felt boneless, and besides, she had never undressed a man before. She was not even sure she knew how, although he made it look quite easy. He did it quickly, too, as if he were eager to be in the same state of undress as she.

  Sabine stared at his manly parts. She had seen this aspect of a male’s anatomy before, on various animals, on babes, and once when she and Beatrice had snuck out to watch the men bathe in the river.

  This experience was far different from that one. Sabine had had little interest in the men bathing in the river, and now she understood it was because the king had not been one of them. And while his anatomy appeared not greatly different from the other men she’d seen that day, she was drawn to him, found him almost unbearably attractive.

  “Would you—would you like to touch it?” James suddenly sounded unsure of himself, as if he were afraid she would not be pleased. She almost laughed at such a ridiculous thought.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes.” He was hopeful. She could feel it in her own head, and she knew it was his emotions, not hers.

  Sabine sat up and tentatively reached out, smoothing her fingers over the muscle on his hip that led straight to his bobbing appendage, almost like a guide. He closed his eyes and groaned, and stood so still, he might have been a statue. He liked her touch, and the knowledge made her brave. She touched the tip of him, where a drop of moisture had gathered. His body jerked. She paused a moment, and then trailed her fingers down the length of him, bringing the wetness with her, gradually becoming more and more comfortable until she stroked him, up and down, over and over, because she could tell he enjoyed the sensation. When his hips began to buck in rhythm to her movements, he covered her hand with his, forcing her to stop. She looked up at him, a question in her eye.

  “I need you.” His voice was harsh and cracked on the word need. “I need to feel you. I want to be inside you. I want to officially be mates.”

  It was a silly thing to say, in Sabine’s mind, because if the king decreed them as mates, then they were, whether they coupled or not. But he seemed to genuinely need this to happen, and the ache he had soothed a short time ago had returned.

  “I need you, too.”