Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Oh yes—she does.” The first guard nodded his head emphatically. “Why, she even chooses a guard each night at dinner to penetrate her as she takes her meal. It is considered a great honor to be chosen for penetration duty,” he added.
“Oh I’m, uh, sure it is,” Lucy murmured.
But T’zaren looked skeptical.
“Forgive me, but I have never heard of a Twainer who was so kind and generous to her guards before,” he rumbled.
“Oh, it’s because Lady Twa’linda’s Light Face has been dominant for so many years,” the second guard told him. “Naturally a Twainer whose Dark Face was dominant would never tolerate such behavior. But here at the stronghold, we are happy to say we haven’t seen our Dom’mesque’s Dark Face in nearly fifteen cycles!”
“How very fortunate,” T’zaren rumbled sarcastically.
“Yes, very fortunate indeed,” the first guard agreed earnestly. “My Sire saw the Dark Face in his time guarding at the stronghold. He told me it was hell for the guards! She made them wear pain collars and leashes—like they do to the bodyslaves on Yonnie Six! Not to mention the forced penetration.”
“Wait a minute—she forced them to penetrate her?” Lucy asked, frowning.
“Oh no, my Lady.” The Guard shook his head, his eyes wide. “The Dark Face of Lady Twa’linda—Mistress Shin’dara is her name—she penetrated them.” He shivered. “How any male could stand that kind of invasion, I’ll never know.”
Lucy would have liked to ask more questions about the fascinating-sounding “Dark Face” of Lady Twa’linda, who apparently had a different name and an entirely different personality, but they had reached the vast double doors by this time. They were two stories high and richly carved from some dark, polished wood—an imposing sight.
“Welcome to the stronghold, my Lady,” the first guard said, as he and the other guard swung open the doors to reveal an opulent interior. “We hope you enjoy your stay with the Light Face of our Dom’mesque, the Lady Twa’linda.”
“Er, thank you,” Lucy said. Inside, she was privately hoping that their “stay” would be short. What she wanted was to get the dimriel and get out again.
She had no idea how difficult that would prove to be.
TWENTY-FOUR
T’ZAREN
T’zaren made sure to keep just behind Lucille—far enough to look like a proper manservant but close enough to protect her if anyone offered her harm.
He didn’t care what the foolish guards said—they were clearly besotted with the Light Face of their lady, but T’zaren would never trust a Twainer. They were too changeable—too likely to say one thing one moment and then reverse themselves completely when the opposite Face came into play. They could also be extremely dangerous so he wasn’t going to let Lucille out of his sight the whole time they were here.
The memory of her trembling in his arms as they rode the cart across the chasm suddenly flashed across his mind’s eye. Her soft, curvy body felt so good against his own that he had almost been sorry when the ride was over. A feeling of possessive protectiveness was growing within him for the little human female—a feeling that was dangerous in its intensity. The same kind of feeling a Stri’vor male would have for his S’rentha…
Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself uneasily. I’m simply doing my duty and protecting her—fulfilling the oath I took before Commander Rarev.
But if that was true, then why had her touch calmed him and brought him out of his Rage? When a Stri’vor male lost his mental balance and went over the edge of sanity into a killing Rage the way T’zaren had, only the touch of his true S’rentha could bring him back. And somehow, though she had never been told, Lucille had instinctively known that.
She had called his name and caressed his Sen Stripe with her cool fingers—she had dragged him back from the darkness that threatened to consume him by offering him her ripe nipples to suck. She had even let him lap up some of her sweet pussy honey—which had done much to bring him back to himself.
How did she know what to do to save me from the Rage? he wondered as they followed the guards down the long, marble corridor. How could she know that the feel of her sweet nipples in my mouth and the flavor of her pussy honey would heal me?
He was certain no one had told her—the effects of sexual healing on a Rage-mad Stri’vor male was a secret known only to his people. She must have done what she did instinctively. Though how she had the instincts of a S’rentha when she looked and acted nothing like one was a mystery to T’zaren.
She cannot be the one, he told himself for the hundredth time. She might have offered me her breasts, but she tried to protest when I started to worship her pussy with my tongue. Clearly it’s not something human women like or understand.