Free Master of Craving by Karin Tabke

the soft babble of a stream. Leading the horse, he followed the sound to a small brook. Apollo drank, as did Stefan. Once satisfied, he filled one of the skins before returning to the fire. He pulled the sack of venison and healing pouches from the saddlebags and lowered himself to the ground. With a long sigh, he rested against the saddle and closed his eyes. His thigh throbbed like the devil and his face burned. He grit his teeth and cursed the little hellion for further damaging him.
But ’twas worth it. He’d take it again and again, for the princess was the key to his brothers’ cell in Powys. Aye, she would serve very nicely for what he had in store for her.
    He cast his gaze to where she had disappeared into the wood. And as he stared the thud of footsteps rapidly approached from that direction. He grinned despite his great pain. He laughed when the errant princess burst naked into the camp, her eyes wide, her long hair flying about her like a golden shroud.
“Did you not like the forest?” he mocked.
    Hands fisted, she strode up to him with blood in her eye and kicked at his thigh. He grabbed her foot before it could do more damage and yanked her toward him. With a hard thud, her naked bottom landed on his belly, her breasts bobbing directly beneath his nose. He instantly responded. He yanked her hard by the hair and drew her face down inches from his. She squirmed back from his chest, only to sit upon him in a most provocative way. His cock swelled behind her, and she gasped, her silvery eyes widening. Stefan groaned, his blood quickening at an alarming rate. If she so much as moved back another half a hand he could not be held accountable for what would follow. Even he had his limits. Sensing his mood, she stilled. “Please,” she gasped. “Do not assault me.”
“Then return the favor,” he gritted between clenched teeth.
    She nodded vigorously. Slowly, he smiled again, diffusing some of the heat in his loins, and not minding the pain the gesture caused him. His fingers loosened on her hair and though he meant her no harm, he could not help his hands as they slid down her arms. Though her bracelets had protected her somewhat, small cuts and scrapes marred her smooth skin. She sat perfectly still, her nostrils flaring, her body tense. He brushed a heavy lock of hair from her breast, and she gasped, biting her lip but not moving. The wound from the sword oozed crimson. He pressed a callused fingertip to it and she flinched but made no other move. The palm of his hand rested upon the swell of her breast, and because of the cold or from fear her nipple pebbled beneath him. He clenched his jaw, and his cock grew longer and heavier. Jesu! He was not made of stone!
Stefan cleared his throat, and hoarsely said, “You are bleeding.”
     
“No thanks to you!” She pushed off him and hopped to her feet, moving to the opposite side of the fire. “Do not touch me again!”
    Stefan swallowed hard. She stood in naked fury, glaring at him with full-blown hatred. Her high breasts heaved up and down upon her chest, her smooth thighs quivered, and she made no move to shield from him what made her so different from a man. His gaze fixed there on the soft downy covering the color of candlelight. His eyes rose to hers, and in the soft light of the fire hers burned hot.
“Had you any honor, you would take the tunic from your back and give it to me,” she said.
     
Stefan slowly shook his head. “I have no honor when it comes to women.”
     
She gasped, crossing herself several times. “You are the devil’s spawn!”
     
“I am.”
     
For a long moment, she stood staring at him as if gauging for herself if he truly was. He would not convince her otherwise. “God will see you burn in hell!”
     
He nodded. “I have already been to hell, my lady and did not find it to my liking.”
    When she lowered her body to the ground and curled up into a ball she gave him one last warning. “Be sure, Saxon, to sleep with one