He broke it off and gently tilted her head up and gazed deeply into her eyes. ‘Wait, are you sure you really want this?’ She moaned in response and grabbed his hand, pulling it up her skirt. As he pulled aside her panties, fingering her dripping wet cunt she whispered in his ear ‘Now do you believe how badly I want it?’ He pushed two fingers in, savoring the silky wetness of her. With his other hand he reached up her shirt and pinched her nipple lightly. She whimpered with pleasure, ‘God yes, please, harder!’ He pinched her other nipple harder and he felt her climaxing around his fingers, her juices coating them. Her moans were driving him crazy. He pulled off her shirt and dragged her skirt and panties down. He paused to admire her. Finally, naked on his couch. He’d fantasized about her for so long, but the reality was even better. She was beautiful, her feminine curves gleaming golden in the candlelight, her dark hair tumbling in waves down her back. Finally she was his. She. He sat bolt upright with his hands groping about for weapons, curling into fists. He heard a hot, harsh sound, the sound like small wet stones grinding together, slipping and rubbing and hard. After a moment, he realized the sound came from the snarl rumbling about in his chest and throat. Ricard. That bastard. Traitorous. Mad. Deceiving. Dangerous. It was another moment before Rael remembered he’d cut the mad Brother down. His immediate memories were painted with confusion, hate, and even fear. All stemming from the ravings spat and sputtered like bile from Ricard’s bloodied, grinning lips. The Nobleman’s memories came in a slow trickle of recollection. He executed the man. He was defenseless, and viscous, and as dangerous as a cornered viper, small and coiled and ready to strike. There was the terrible, frantic flight through the days that followed. His rapid decline and weakening, though he bent the fullness of his will toward pushing on. He’d known then that his wounds were.
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