Free Carnal Sacrifice by Lacey Alexander Page A

them.
    “Ah Ares,” he bit off just as she was easing down from it, and his thrusts  transformed into lunges—hot, powerful lunges that might have hurt if she hadn’t  welcomed them so much, wanting all her man had to give her. “I’m coming!” he yelled.  “I’m coming in you!” And then Laela knew a whole   new   kind of joy, that of taking him  to the same place he’d just delivered her.
    With a mighty sigh, he slumped down on her, chest to chest. On impulse, she lifted  a kiss to his stubbled cheek, even as she sensed him falling into sleep, that quickly.
    Thank you , she thought, looking at him.   Thank you for saving me.   He might have  made her a slave, but she also felt he’d saved her very life tonight, in more ways than  she could even yet comprehend.

    * * * * *

    When the sunlight glancing through the crack in the closed shutters woke Laela the next morning, she lay alone in the bed. All evidence of what had happened the night before remained—her dress lying unkempt around her waist, the bindings from her braid strewn on the fur bed covering—but her lover was gone and a feeling of uneasiness had taken his place.
    Slowly, she adjusted her dress, covering her nakedness, and went to the small wash basin against one wall, splashing a bit of cool water on her face. She glanced about for a viewing glass, anxious to see herself with her hair falling free around her shoulders. But when she didn’t find one anywhere in the room, she remembered that such luxuries were not nearly so common beyond the walls of a lavish fortress. Of course, she’d seen

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    herself with her hair down before, but just never outside her bedchamber, never out in  the world where the loose locks truly signified something.
    Making her way gingerly to the door, she eased it open to find the outer tavern  room in total disarray from the previous night, the tables scattered with half-empty  goblets and covered with spilled ale, not yet dried. Ares, what a mess!
    When the outer door suddenly burst open, both Garon and Baelor walked in,  laughing. Baelor ate a slice of fruit bread so fresh she could smell the fruits and spices  from across the room. Garon toted a small cloth bag in one hand.
    “Glad to see you’re awake,” he said matter-of-factly as his gaze pinned her in place,  just as sexual as the night before. Her pussy spasmed softly beneath her dress, just from  that. “I’ve brought a fresh loaf of bread for breakfast, but you’ll have to eat while you  work. First you’ll clear and wash the goblets, then you’ll need to scrub the tables and  sweep the floor.”
    She blinked. “Me?” So much for sex and spasms.
    He lowered his chin as if to chide her. “This place won’t clean itself, princess. And  we have an arrangement, if you recall.”
    She drew in her breath and tried to look tougher than she felt at the moment. He  might call her a princess, yet just now she felt like anything but. “Yes, of course. I just  thought the other two women…”
    He and Baelor exchanged light grins. “They are both sleeping off a very long night  in Baelor’s bed up the way.” He pointed vaguely northward. “Since   you’re   here, there’s  no need to disturb them, and it will save me what I would normally pay them to do the  job.”
    She forced an awkward nod.   You agreed to this. What he says, you do. You’re not a little girl anymore, nor a royal daughter.   “Of course.”
    Seeming pleased by her simple reply, Garon reached in his sack and drew out a steaming hot loaf, the same fruit bread Baelor ate, and passed it into her arms. “Knives are in that cabinet,” he said, pointing toward the corner of the room. “Slice up our breakfast.”
    Laela felt a bit wooden as she found a blade and proceeded to cut crooked pieces of bread. She’d never performed such a task before—up to now, everything had always been done for   her. And it wasn’t that Garon was being