Chapter 1 - Moonlit Assassin

He woke suddenly from his sleep and jerked forward, supporting himself with his arms behind him. Heart-pounding fear crawled over his skin, the night air cooling the sheen of sweat that covered his naked body. The thin sheet that covered his legs hissed against his skin as he twisted to survey his darkened surroundings.

The shadows lay deep within his tent though the moonlight glowed brightly against the southern corner of its canvas walls. It did little to light the darker recesses where he thought he had heard movement only seconds before. He glared at his possessions, foreboding in the darkness. He hated being afraid and it filled him with a smoldering rage.

After a few moments of nothing, his heart began to slow and the fear that had gripped him so violently was able to be locked away again. He was about to sink back down to his mattress when he felt a warm body press against his back. Before he could react, a petite hand covered his mouth firmly and the cold edge of a steel blade made itself known to his throat. His rage began to swell in his chest.

He felt the movement of air across his ear and a shockingly silky voice murmured, "A light sleeper, hmm? I can remedy that."

His fear had not returned, only the rage remained. Fear of the unknown was understandable but fear of death at the hands of a woman was just...degrading. He did not fear her or her blade and, as she spoke, he began calculating what it would take to overpower and kill her.

The point of her blade dug deeper into his flesh, almost daring to break the surface. He made no movement for she had chosen well in the placement of her weapon. He had to give her that credit where it was due - she knew what she was doing.

He steadied his breathing and examined his surroundings again, looking for any sort of advantage he could use against her. He noticed that almost everything that had surrounded his bed when he had put out the light had been pushed out of reach. His eyebrow quirked in amusement. She did know what she was doing.

She repositioned herself against him and he discovered she was stronger than she had seemed at first. The small hand on his mouth pulled his head back without warning, a strong arm pinning it quite securely between supple breasts. His face was now tilted upward, baring his neck more openly to her blade. His eyes took her in furiously.

He could see little of her face as it was mostly shadowed by a curtain of long, raven hair. One glittering eye stared back and he caught the hint of a smile peeking from its dark hiding place. "Do you like it, Roman? I gave myself leave to redecorate as you slumbered."

His eyes narrowed momentarily above her hand. She was deadly, clever and funny. Any plans he had been forming melted and rebuilt themselves around that information. She hadn't killed him yet which also meant something. She was waiting but for what?

He tried to read her facial expression but with her face darkened, and he being the wrong way up, it proved too difficult. She tilted her head to the other side and the shadow fell away.

She had pleasing features and dark eyes, defined cheek bones and full, curling lips. It was hard to judge her lineage looking at her upside down. Had it not been for her dark hair, he would have guessed that she came from Gaul. She was a barbarian of some sort, no woman of Rome looked as such. It would not hurt his cause to kill her, then.

She was fondly examining the skin under her blade, not seeing that he studied her. She lay the weapon flat against him and he knew then it was a dagger, too thin to be a sword. It made sense. Work in the dark meant work in close quarters and a sword would allow too many mistakes. His gaze flicked back to her face as a smile curled her lips over white teeth. Perhaps he was giving her too much credit.

The flat of the blade slid down over his throat, causing him to swallow involuntarily. Her smile warmed her voice slightly, "Such a beautiful neck you have. Diana forgive me for rending such a masterpiece."

She sighed then, running the razor edge against his skin again as if she were shaving him. It made him tense up and her laugh was as milky as her voice. Her delicate fingers slid from his mouth and caressed the skin on the other side of his neck. His skin prickled from the coolness of the room and the warmth of her fingertips. He was starting to understand her hesitation and his devious heart smiled.

He made no effort to move as her restraining hand lingered elsewhere, her weapon the only thing left to worry about. He made his eyes warm and inviting, his hard mouth softening into what he knew to be a devastating smirk. His eyes caught hers and he resisted the urge to smile in victory as her face, hands and blade fell in awe. She should have killed me before I woke, he thought, for she is forfeit to me now.

She stared at his face much to his enjoyment and he relaxed his body against hers. Craning his neck, he turned his head to the side that he might view her better. He made sure to look inquisitive and innocent, not wanting to give away what he already knew. As his face became more clear to her, she sucked in a breath. "By the Gods."

He was unprepared when she shifted underneath him and pinned him to the bed with her knee crushing his neck. As he gasped for air and grappled with what proved to be a muscular leg, she busied her self with something out of his view. Suddenly, his quarters burst with light and a small brazier at the head of his bed illuminated what had been ominous moments before. He had to shut his eyes against its rays.

Her pressure lifted from his neck and he took in air again, his hand rubbing where her knee had bruised his windpipe. He made an effort to look more offended by her actions than physically hurt. It had surprised him, but besides the lack of air there was nothing left of the momentary pain. He had to make a show of it. He sat up once more, glaring into the new brightness of the room and saw her standing a few feet from the bed, her jaw slack and a pained look on her face.

In the light, her stature was revealed to him and he found it as pleasing as her face. She was shapely, if not slightly shorter than he. She wore a leather armored tunic, tight fitting but bulky. From the way she moved he wondered if she was sewn into it. Rudely belying the body beneath, it broadened her shoulders and waist in an unflattering manner. On her, though, it was an asset.

He saw instantly the advantage in its design, thickly padded to deflect close range blade attacks, but not enough to hinder swift movement. It would not stop an arrow or spear, or even a direct stab, but he assumed she was too subtle to allow those things to be a problem. The fabric was dark to blend into most nighttime surroundings. Again, she impressed him.

Her legs were another matter. She had traded protection for ease of movement, and the thin leather leggings clung seductively to her every curve. Muscular thighs and broad hips accentuated daringly, though they would never be seen by her victims. Her soft-soled calfskin boots seemed to caress her lower legs rather than cover them, their noiseless motions an infinite aid to her purpose. They were both as dark as her tunic, easily cloaked in the night.

He allowed himself a moment to take her in. He reassessed his perception of her yet again. She was not completely unawares as he had thought. She may be a harder target than he had first believed her to be. If she played into his hands, though, he would not be disappointed. He wondered at her sudden withdrawal.

She floundered, her shoulders sagging, her hands making their way toward her head. She held it as if it would fall apart. "That God-forsaken bitch, what has she done to me?"

She turned her face away from him, her body spinning in a useless circle as she began moaning to herself in Gaelic.

"How could she do this to me? How could she send me out here without fair warning? She had to know of his beauty, why would she not tell me? She knew, O, how she had to know! Devious she-vermin from the pits of hell! Forsaken! Hades whore!"

Here she rambled off a stream of curses he was unable to translate the whole of. He worked hard to keep his smile in check. She could not have known that he spoke her language and now was not the time to reveal it. What he did understand was unlady-like, even for a barbarian. He bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Tearing at her hair she began to be understandable again, "...may she be raped and torn limb from limb evermore!"

He covered his grinning mouth, expertly disguising it as rubbing a sore neck. She was barely even looking in his direction. He was growing disappointed with her inattention and tried covertly to slip from the bed.

In a flash of light, her blade was under his chin. She placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back onto the headboard. She no longer looked torn, her face hard and cold. In the dancing light, her dark eyes were almost violet. She leaned away from him with deadly warning in her face.

He obliged, lounging against the great gilded headboard of his luxurious bed, his elbows hanging over the edge. First stretching his legs, he slowly raised the knee farthest from her, the sheet revealing a brief eye-catching view of the expanse of his body before stretching taut, revealing nothing. His wicked blue eyes lit upon hers and he saw her swallow hard before she glared at him.

"Do not play coy with me, Roman."

He watched the slow play of emotions across her face in reaction to his gut-wrenching smile. He knew what he was doing, women were all the same. She composed herself more quickly than he would have liked, but it did not change his plans. She would succumb. These were the battles he never lost. She went back to her semi-private conversation with herself, pacing, her dagger hilt landing in her palm every time she flipped it.

"She planned for me to fail. It is the only explanation. O, how she has betrayed my trust and cast aside my loyalty. All too soon, my treasure. You know not what you could have had." This intrigued him further and he waited patiently as she continued.

"And now she has left me with a decision that may destroy my soul and I cannot think her heart is burdened by it. Send your lowly servant into the jaws of the wolf and see if she returns whole. Wicked creature." Her gaze was continually flitting to him, then away, then back. It seemed to coincide with the turning of her weapon. Every other turn in the air, her eyes were upon him. His focus on her was intense as he watched her lazily, a smug grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

"We had an agreement, damn her blackened soul. Though, perhaps there is a way around that. Think, love, what did she say? Her rotten heart is not clever and it never has been. Maybe she did not mean for you to kill him at all." She shook her head, "Impossible, she said nothing else. Kill the Roman."

She stopped, her hands on her hips and looked over his form, distraught, "The naked, godlike Roman."

He could not stop himself. He laughed, revealing a genuine smile in the process. He could not recall being called "godlike" before and it pleased him greatly. Her shoulders fell as she realized he knew what she had been saying. She put her hand to her forehead, "And he understands your tongue. She forgot to tell me that, too."

She walked toward him, pretending she hadn't said anything. She stood before him her knife pointed directly at his right eye, bringing it even closer when he shied away from it. "Tell me your name."

He blinked and felt his eyelashes brush against the blade point. Perhaps he had underestimated her ability to overcome his allure. It was not the last time he would be impressed, but he began to fear for his life. He laughed, swallowing his fear, following his original plan. It may yet work, but she cannot see your fear. You are Rome.

The vision of his right eye was blurred by the proximity of the knife point. He felt he managed to look as handsome as he ever, despite having a weapon directed at his face. "What kind of assassin are you, who does not know her mark?"

She stepped back as he spoke, her eyes glittering in wonder at the sound of his voice. It was deep and rich, commanding and inviting, a devastating weapon all its own. His smile followed and it seemed to undo her. He reveled in her distress, the rage in his chest swirling and changing into something better - power. It was delicious, he wanted to run his tongue over his teeth and taste it, but he did not.

He smiled softly, despite his urge to overpower her and watch her blood spill upon her own blade. The thought of its cold steel sinking into her flesh, her rushing blood on his hands, the sound of her scream as he hovered, naked and bloodied, over her helpless and dying body stirred a slumbering demon in him. He lulled it back to sleep, saying, 'Not yet. It will come.' The corner of his mouth twitched in anticipation. 'Soon it will be your turn.'

All of this took only an instant, and her face became cold once more. She slid her leg over his and in a moment she straddled his thighs. He allowed her to position herself comfortably between them, his palms running up and down the smooth fabric. He made a noise of appreciation, even as she drew the knife point along his jaw. He felt the sparks of arousal in himself and suppressed them. He was better than this.

She tilted his chin up with her weapon and his eyes were sweet as honey. She surprised him, her mouth inching into a feline smirk. Her voice sent a cold chill down his spine, her words sending another after it, "The six dead men laying in my wake would not think me so terrible at my profession."

He smiled again, keeping his rising pulse at bay, "Perhaps they would, if you were sitting on their lap."

She bit her lower lip in amusement. Her eyes went from black to amber to violet in the wavering light, almost hypnotizing him. She brushed the knife's tip against his cheekbone, following it with her changing eyes. "You do not fear me. Do you?"

He laughed again, the cold metal against his skin making him want to pull away. He fought it, acting as if she did not have a weapon at all. It seemed to infuriate her that she had no power over him. "Nay. I could not fear one such as you."

He brushed his finger along her cheek the way the knife point had. Then he tucked her hair behind her ear, his eyes roving over her face in a display of desire. He thought for a moment he had deceived her, but he was wrong.

Before he could breathe, she became something to fear. Her features seemed to transform her face into pure hatred, her eyes were alive with the fire behind him. She rose up slightly, bearing her teeth. Roughly, her knife was slid into the hollow of his neck, its sharp point threatening to spill his life without a second thought. She sounded other-worldly when she demanded, "Then you should reconsider it. Tell me your name, Roman."

His fear overtook him, it filled his eyes and his face gave away everything. She was terrifying for a moment and his heart beat erratically. He imagined the demon in his chest opening it's eyes to gaze at her awe-inspiring beauty, as horrible as it was, and licking it's lips.

It was then that he suddenly knew his own desires. He wanted, nay, needed to possess her. Completely and in a way that no other in existence could. She would be his, he would let her fire consume him and he would emerge victorious. He had no hopes of taming her, but he saw the potential to claim her, body and soul. He had never desired something so much in his entire life. It made him ravenous.

Seeing him like that, she calmed, her relaxing thighs sliding her closer to him. Arousal nagged at him and he finally allowed it come to him, slowly. She raised an eyebrow and her cat-like grin returned, "That is more acceptable. However, you have not answered my simple question."

His anger-lust made him defiant and he no longer cared if she cut him, "And if I do not wish to tell you?"

Her eyes glimmered and she removed the knife from his throat, "Then it becomes a matter of discovering your weakness." She leaned even closer and brushed her lips against his.

It seemed as if his heart beat for the first time, loud and strong, and he opened his mouth to take hers. She dodged it, teasing his lips with her tongue, then the corner of his mouth with a soft kiss. He played her game, grazing the line of her upper lip with his own tongue. She turned toward him, trying to test him further when he caught the fullness of her bottom lip between his teeth, wetting it before releasing it. She made a noise that delighted him.

She smiled, "See? Every man has a weakness." His eyes flew open in shock as he felt the chill of her steel against his manhood. He tried in vain to crawl backwards away from her, but she had him trapped. He felt the warmth of her thumb brushing the length of him and a sound of pleasure escaped his lungs. He could not help but close his eyes, when he opened them again she had that same pained look on her face.

"That...is...a very large weakness." She withdrew her blade and pulled the sheet back. His need to possess her only increased as she beheld him, and he thought tears welled up in her eyes. She sounded heart broken as she covered him again, "Oh...Gods."

She stood and turned away from him, "Please, tell me your name."

He was breathing quite heavily and his laugh sounded strange in his ears. He turned on his side, elbow resting on the headboard, other arm resting on his knee. He looked into her eyes, his voice thick with desire, "If you will know, I am Gaius Julius Caesar."

She looked crestfallen, and took his left hand in hers. She examined the ring he wore, the official seal of Rome, and lowered herself onto the bed beside him. Her fingers caressed it, the gold glimmering in the firelight. Her voice was sad and heavy with burden, "You are Julius Caesar, Emperor of Rome?"

He scowled, her question hitting a fine nerve. Why would she ask that? What a terrible thing to say in his presence. He held back his anger, but it seeped into his reply, "I am Julius Caesar, but I am no Emperor. There is no Emperor of Rome. " Yet, he finished in his mind.

Her head came up quickly and her face held hope, her voice excited, "You are not the Emperor of Rome?"

He looked away from her, his anger rising, "No, I am not."

She choked out a laugh, her hands going to her face, and she slipped back into her native tongue, "Light of my eyes, you have returned to me! No greater day have I known and be it the end of them, no matter! Such glorious joy leaps from my heart that I no longer care!"

She quickly straddled him again, sheathing her dagger for the first time, and brought her face close to his, her voice a fervent whisper he could not ignore, "I have no reason to kill you as I have been commanded. For though you are the great Caesar, you are not who I was sent after. My heart can rest easy now, and I will lay down my life willingly before you. For I know you cannot let me live, now, and to die at your hand would be a greater victory than any I can imagine."

Her breath was hot in his ear and her hips moved against him as she spoke, her whispers becoming more and more desperate as her hands slid over his bare chest. As she rocked into him he gave up any resistance he may have had, wrapping his hands around her thighs and then underneath. He felt her tongue flick against the flesh of his ear and he pulled her hips to him, his breath coming harshly.

She moaned, then whispered, "Gaius?"

It took him a moment to respond, no one addressed him that way. His voice was close to breathless, "Yes?"

She brought her lips very close to his, he felt them moving as she asked him, "May I taste you?"

So innocent was her question, it made him laugh quietly. His smile remained even as he teased her the way she had him before. After a moment of her pleading moans, he replied, "It would not displease me."

Even as he spoke her mouth covered his. He could not hold back his enjoyment any longer. Her tongue was wild against his and they fought for dominance over the other. He had never known a kiss so passionate, though he had known many, many women. Every time they pulled apart, gasping for breath, they came together as furiously as the first time, their passions only building.

Then she pulled away, her hands on his cheeks. As they caught their breath he looked at her dangerously. She had awoken the beast and it would not be slaked until she was crying his name. His desire for his possession of her was like a drug and it could not be overcome now that it was pulsing through his veins.

Still whispering, she begged him, "Glorious Caesar, grant me one request before you take my life."

He wanted her to stop talking and use her mouth for better things, but humored her for the moment. He hissed, "Ask and we shall see."

She covered his neck in gentle bites and warm air as she relayed her request, "Allow me the pleasure of your body, that I may know true happiness before Charon leads me to the Underworld. No punishment would be greater than to die without knowing it."

He bit hard on her neck and her resulting cry of pleasure was almost too much, pushing him closer to his threshold. Through clenched teeth he growled, "And if I will not kill you when I am done?"

She thrust him away, her face filled with anguish, "But you must! There will be no other after you! I cannot live my life to have and then lose what brings me the only pleasure in it! Beautiful Caesar, I am not so naive to think that you would find use for me. All I ask is one night and a worthy death."

He was beginning to reach the end of his patience. He took a few calming breaths, his hands clasped behind his head. He was glowering at her, deciding if it was even worth keeping her alive long enough to have his way. He thought of how wonderful it felt to be between her legs, her tongue in his mouth, his in hers. He imagined thrusting into her and hearing her scream his name in pleasure and pain. Yes, he decided, it will be worth it.

He was angry, now, and he was quite done with her interruptions. Now, before he gave her anything, he wanted her to beg for it. 'May I taste you?' He would make sure that she did. He needed a distraction. "Tell me who sent you and I will consider it."

She offered the information without any hesitation, and only a little tinge of bitterness, "The she-wolf that hired me went by the name of Xena."

If he was angry before, he was furious now. He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing, and she moaned in pleasure. "You lie! I saw her crucified with my own eyes!"

She accepted his brutal touch, desire pure and unfiltered as she gazed at him, "But, did you see her die with your own eyes, my Caesar?"

His grip tightened as he grit his teeth but she enjoyed it, visibly, so he released her. His anger was only momentary as the information was unimportant to him. She would not submit this way. He would need to lure her with kindness and it would drive her mad. Seeming to calm, he asked her softly, "Where is she?"

She crawled toward him, her mouth pushing his back against the golden headboard. She was between his legs now and the sensation of her fingers trailing down his abdomen was excruciatingly pleasant. He stopped her with his hand on her throat again, but he did not squeeze. Instead he gazed at her lustfully and caressed her delicate skin, a half smile playing at his lips. With his body he said, 'I will let you have me, if you do as I wish.'

She moaned her displeasure. "My Caesar! I can only tell you where she was when I left! There is no chance that she would have stayed and where she may be now, I am unable to say!"

He did not look happy and her desperation to please him made his passion burn brighter. He cared not about that tattered whore who sought her revenge on him. Let her come, she would find it a great challenge to harm him. And he would not mind meeting her again under any circumstances. At the very least, he knew now she was alive and trying to kill him. He covered his delight with false anger.

Pleading with her eyes, she pressed deeper between his legs and ran her palms over over his thighs like he had done to her before. Leaning into him, he allowed her to kiss his neck secretly enjoying her lower affections behind his anger at her. This was how it should be. He smiled to himself.

He went back to scowling as she pulled away from him to see why he would not respond to her. Seeing the anger in his face, she cried, "I was not meant to return to her! She expected me to die at your hand! And if I succeeded in my endeavors, she would likely have found me. In both situations she rid herself of an annoyance."

She leaned in to kiss his mouth and he jerked his face away from her. "I am no mere annoyance."

She sat back slowly, a sly smile spreading across her face, "Do I detect jealousy, dear Caesar?"

He snarled, pulling her to him and taking her mouth brutally. As she started to enjoy it, he thrust her away again. "I envy no one."

Her eyes were lit with realization, "You have known her! You have been with her, have you not?"

Anger and pride colored his voice, "And if I have? What do you care?"

She laughed maniacally. As she wrapped herself around him, her voice dripped with a dark honey, his willpower against it weakening, "O, son of Ares, how it gladdens my heart to see justice come to her." She kissed him viciously before continuing, "To know that she has had you and will not know you again because of her hate for you brings me as much carnal pleasure as your touch, Caesar."

Her tongue played against his and she laughed, "You crucified her, you heartless bastard! And broke her legs! O, how glorious you are! Devious, mortal-god among men."

He found himself laughing with her, "You will kill me with compliments, I think."

She caught him in a passionate kiss that ended with his lower lip between her teeth. His breath hitched in his throat, escaping in a lusty moan. "Even they do not do you service, Great Caesar. More than I should be singing your praises."

He pushed his hips into her and she rocked against it, her pleasure coming in gasps. He didn't want her singing, he wanted her screaming, wantonly. And soon. He pushed her back, her eyes sad as he forced her to stand beside the bed. He slid his legs over the edge before her, looking up into her face as she caressed his cheeks. Tugging on the bottom hem of her thick tunic, he asked her, "Can this be removed?"

Her grin was feral, "For you, my Caesar, anything."

She spun away from him as she pulled the laces that ran up the sides. He leaned back onto his palms, stretching one leg out, the sheet barely covering him anymore. His eyes burned as he watched her unlace and free herself from the ugly armor.

He felt himself harden even more as her breasts came into view, round and perfect. She dropped the covering on the floor behind her and began removing her belt and gloves, discarding them as well. He did not disguise his pleasure as she came toward him, crawling.

She leaned again between his legs, her tongue tracing his hardening nipples, first one than the other. His head tilted back in ecstasy, less from her mouth and more from her breasts pressing against him. She was not ignorant of his arousal and her efforts were made more obvious. She made certian he knew, caressing her soft skin as they surrounded his admittedly large weakness. He lifted gently into them, moaning in spite of himself. She slid the sheet from his legs, allowing him to see what he was doing.

He touched her lips with his thumb, his eyes staring into hers. She licked the end of it, enjoying the smile he gave her. She asked him again, "Gaius?"

"Yes." He said huskily. He knew what she wanted to ask, and it was a command, not a reply. She asked it anyway.

"May I taste you?" Her voice was a honeycomb that drizzled its sweet nectar over his being. Her lips trailed along his thigh and he shivered.

He could barely breathe and his desire was woven in his reply, "It would not displease me."

As her face came nearer to him, her eyes met his and she smiled, "I should hope not."

He lost himself as her mouth surrounded him. So smooth, like wet velvet. Her tongue was silken against his skin and his legs ached to press more of himself into her. She wrapped tender fingers around it to steady him, her nails harshly caressing lesser weaknesses. He held his reigning pleasures at bay, severely biting his lower lip. He had to close his eyes momentarily, for they refused to see the world in focus and swam in his desire. The moan rising in his throat weakened to a sigh through his sheer willpower.

He watched her face as she administered her gluttonous punishment upon him. She was enjoying it almost as much as he, making a show of her tongue against his flesh, her eyes flashing as she watched him watch her. So gently she pulled with her hands, allowing him deeper entrance by small, delicious inches. She did not stop at just the head, instead taking as much of him in her as she could, humming in happiness.

When her lips met her hand she let go, anchoring herself on his thighs, before pulling back and doing it all over again. Each new start brought him closer to the edge and deeper into her, and he was unable to restrain himself any longer. His hand tangled itself in her hair, not to guide or pressure, but to assure himself that she was, in fact, doing exactly this to him.

His arms would not support him and he lay back onto the pillows, still straining to watch her. She followed his repositioning without stopping, her nails raking legs and abdomen. His hips jumped without his consent, forcing him farther than before. She paid no heed, her motions slow and deliberate. He thought he would die in ecstasy. After only a few minutes of her attentions, he could feel his release coming over him like an avalanche.

He thought her mouth would not contain it all, but he was amazed. His body moved without his control, thrusting into her, filling her mouth. He could not watch, it was too pleasurable. He threw his head back, both his hands in her hair now, and bellowed in his climax. Before he realized it, he was coming down from his peak, and yet she still surrounded him, her mouth pulling any moisture or liquid into it rather than spilling even a drop.

His entire body relaxed and he felt at peace for a moment. Then her head rose from between his legs and he saw her licking her fingers. He smiled, and she returned it. She drew her thumb across her upper lip seductively, wiping his essence from her as she said, "Such a sweet nectar! I must sample it again soon."

He bit his swollen lip, smiling, pressing his hands behind his head. He stretched himself before her, and her gaze danced upon what she still wished to know. Taking a liberty, she leaned forward on her knees and left a trail of damp kisses along his stomach and chest. Her lips wove their way around his torso, her tongue joining in the treasure hunt.

She spoke and her voice sounded thick, "My Caesar, you cannot know my joy at pleasing you." She paused, the full of her tongue tasting the skin of his chest. "Tell me now what more I can do."

He decided not to answer, for the moment.

As he enjoyed himself, he brushed his fingertips down her bare back and heard her whimper. He slid his hand down, caressing her full breast carefully at first, playing with her nipple as it hardened, then crushing it between his fingers. She gasped, arching her back toward his hand. He smiled to himself.

She crawled atop him, burying her face in his neck. His hands explored her soft flesh and encountered her leggings. At the crest of her lower back, there was a knot in the laces that held her prisoner. He pulled, loosening them until they were able to slide over and down her hips. As he did, he rolled on top of her and she gave in easily.

He slid the taut fabric down around her knees, his mouth tasting her navel as he pushed them off her feet and onto the floor, boots and all. Free suddenly of their bondage, her legs spread to his hands with no resistance, shaking with excitement. His fingers explored her, finding her slick with anticipation and he felt himself harden again. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

He lifted her hips toward his face, his mouth devouring her most sacred place. She was delicious and earthy, and he buried his tongue inside her. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, supporting and controlling her ecstatic movements. She touched her naked skin, playing with her breasts and mouth, her eyes shut against everything but him. Releasing one leg, he spread her with his fingers and plundered her further.

She revolted, hips shaking, legs tightening around his neck and shoulders. He felt her hands on his hair, his ears, his closed eyes. She was trying to find something to anchor her to reality and he would not let her. Carefully employing his teeth, he found a place quite tender to her and worried it between them and his tongue.

The sounds of her abandon crawled under his skin, his passions becoming harder to resist. Finally, when he was ready to forsake her release for his own, her body shook as she came. She cried out his name, strange to his own ears as she called him "Gaius" again and again. Her legs clenched under his hands, her back stiffening, and he slid his fingers inside her once more.

Her eruption seemed to double and he moved tongue and hand together, not letting her rest for a moment. He did stop, but not before she began cursing in Gaelic. His amusement with her foul language made him linger for longer than he intended. He let her go on for a while before relaxing her body to the mattress and leaving her in the trembling aftermath of her climax.

His mouth found hers, still wet and she made sure to clean him of it. She held his head still as she did, the flat of her tongue teasing him to full arousal. Her knee brushed against it and when he shuddered her hand began to caress him. He kissed her deeply, moving her legs and hips into a better position for him to have her. When he felt himself prepared, he pulled her into a sitting position, her legs around his waist, her arms supporting her from behind.

She could feel the tip of him waiting to enter her and with her hand guided and teased the both of them. He looked her in the eye and stated matter-of-factly, "I will have you. All of you."

His passion and rage built rapidly when she responded coquettishly, her eyes filled with impish glee, "You may try."

To be continued in the next chapter...