Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Kaitlyn bit her lip. So when the Empress had said she wanted more time to observe them, she’d been deadly serious. She was going to be watching them—not just in public at the banquet tonight—but when they were alone together as well.
She glanced up at Braze, wondering what he was thinking. Again, his face was impassive—she wished he wasn’t so hard to read!
“Thank you for the warning,” she said to the Mistress of the Wardrobe. “We’ll certainly keep your advice in mind. Er…do you know if there are listening devices in the suite as well?”
“Oh, no! Of course not!” The Mistress of the Wardrobe looked scandalized by the idea. “Why, the Empress would never listen to anyone’s private conversations—that would be shocking.”
“More shocking than watching them in the privacy of their suite?” Kaitlyn asked flatly. It seemed like a strange distinction to make.
“Well, of course! Now, now—don’t be worried, my dear,” the other woman said, patting her arm. “Just be sure you give her a good, spicy show every night and you won’t have any problems.”
“Uh, give her a show?” Kaitlyn asked, feeling shocked all over again.
“Well, of course—she’s not putting you in her best Royal suite without expecting some entertainment,” the Mistress of the Wardrobe said, laughing a little, as though the idea of the two of them having sex—or whatever a “spicy show” entailed—for the Empress’s entertainment was amusing.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.
“Ah—that will be the servant coming to take you to your suite,” the Mistress of the Wardrobe said. “Let me just bundle everything up for you so your husband can carry it.”
“Oh, I don’t mind carrying some of it myself,” Kaitlyn protested.
“Of course you mustn’t carry anything yourself!” The Mistress of the Wardrobe sounded shocked. “A wife must never carry her own things—that is the function of her husband!”
“Oh, well…all right, I guess,” Kaitlyn said uncertainly. She glanced at Braze, who nodded.
“It will be my honor to carry your burdens, my goddess,” he rumbled.
“Thank you, Braze.” Kaitlyn nodded.
She wondered if he was just playing a part but he didn’t seem to be. His golden eyes didn’t look troubled or upset—just sincere. Also, his shaft was still hard when she glanced down. Did the idea of serving her turn him on, or was he just still hard from the way she’d “mapped” his shaft?
Kaitlyn didn’t know and no answers to any of her questions. She supposed she would find out eventually.
She had no idea how complicated things were about to get between her and her Protector.
8
BRAZE
The servant in the golden livery moved like a silent flame through the deepening opulence of the palace’s upper levels. Braze followed, his senses on high alert, but his mind was a riot of sensation and shame.
Every step sent a fresh throb of agony through his cock. It was still rock-hard—trapped now not just by silk panel covering it but by the memory of Kaitlyn’s touch.
He could still feel the ghost of her small, soft fingers—the tentative exploration that had quickly turned into a firm, decisive stroke. He felt the way her palm had cupped the heavy weight of his balls…the delicate pressure of her fingertips tracing the prominent veins along his shaft…the hot, possessive way her fingers had moved around his swollen knot…
His body burned with the imprint of her touch. He wanted those soft, small hands back on him with a desperation that was a physical ache in his gut—a hollow need that threatened to swallow his control whole.
Gods, what he needed was a release—he needed to come—probably more than once, since Kindred males were all multi-orgasmic. If he could just get rid of some of this fucking sexual tension, it would be easier to think—easier to move.
But touching himself was now an impossibility. Not after the Mistress of the Wardrobe had shown Kaitlyn how to fasten the non-contact manacles. They were a deceptively simple pair of thick, velvet-lined cuffs, each locked with a tiny, intricate mechanism around his wrists. The moment they’d clicked shut, a low-level energy field had hummed to life around his hands.
The field didn’t hurt as long as he didn’t touch his shaft, but it delivered a sharp, startling zap of static shock the instant his fingers moved within six inches of his own groin. An instinctive attempt a few minutes ago to adjust the maddening pressure in his cock had resulted in a jolt that made his teeth click together.
The message was brutally clear—only she could touch him there now. His “wife.” His Mistress.
Which meant Kaitlyn would have to be the one to put the thick cock ring on him before the banquet. And later, she would have to be the one to lock him into that small, gleaming silver cage.
The thought of the ring didn’t bother Braze—it was familiar, in a dark, shameful way. His old Mistress on Yonnie Six had favored such displays, parading him before her guests with a similar band around the base of his shaft emphasizing his arousal—making him a living ornament of her power.