Free Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 by Anitra Lynn McLeod Page A

hair on the rest of his body, especially around his cut cock. At first, Drahka had been horrified that someone had cut Viltori’s cock, but someone had only cut the tip. Drahka had been so fascinated that he’d touched Viltori several times before he remembered men should not touch other men.
    Trying to remain faithful to the true way of his people would be difficult, but not impossible. Like when Viltori had shown him kissing; that was wrong, and Drahka almost hit his teacher, but then he realized Viltori was only trying to show, so maybe that kind of man-to-man touching was permissible. Touching for the purpose of teaching wasn’t against the true way. It wasn’t as if they were doing what had caused Drahka to lose his name. Still, Drahka wanted to be the one to give. When Viltori tried to force Drahka to take, Drahka had fought back. In a most curious way, he’d enjoyed their battle for dominance.
    Kissing Viltori was different from kissing Bithia. They each tasted unique. The feel of their lips and tongues was different too. What was the same were the feelings inside, and that, he knew, would give him trouble. He could not feel for Viltori what he felt for Bithia. Drahka could not have those feelings and hold to the true way.
    When he looked up, something had changed with the cast of Bithia’s face. Her confidence was shaken and Viltori’s seemed renewed. Was it always this way with these people? Just like those in his tribe, they strove to master each other. Switching of those roles could mean great shame. Just as Bithia opened her mouth to speak, Viltori pressed his finger to her lips and silenced her. Her glare said more than words, but she held her tongue.
    “Drahka,” Viltori said, “I wish to teach the empress something new.” He spoke first in Diolan, then translated to Oughunian. “Bithia needs to learn how to take, as I’m sure you discovered last night.”
    Drahka nodded. Bithia had not seemed to understand she should be more receptive to his giving.
    Bithia swallowed hard, her mismatched eyes wide as she considered them. Carefully, they arranged her upon a padded bench so that she was facedown, with her bound arms behind her. The tiny bench was just long enough to hold her body from the top of her head to the edge of her hips. Knees buried in thick carpet, her bottom stuck up from the edge just a bit. Viltori whispered things to her as he draped her crimson robe over her body, covering her completely yet displaying her artfully.
    Drahka would have preferred her in this position nude. When he told this to Viltori, he chuckled, his hand pausing to caress Bithia’s bound arms. “Just as Bithia needs to learn to take, you must learn to give slower.” Each time Viltori spoke, he carefully gave his words in both languages so that he and Bithia could understand.
    “You see, Drahka, a woman like Bithia is used to being in command.” Easing her knees apart, Viltori settled himself behind her. “She knows how to take, but not how to take without a struggle.” Cupping one hand to each of her back cheeks, Viltori leaned very close to her, then said, “I’m going to teach her how to be submissive.”
    Twisting her head so she could see Viltori over her shoulder, Bithia seethed, “Enjoy yourself now, teacher, because once I’m free—”
    “You’ll what?” Viltori asked. His dark brows high over glittering brown eyes.
    Drahka stood silently, trying to understand what was happening between his teacher and his chosen. Bithia seemed reluctant to accept Viltori’s teachings even though over their earlier meal, she’d said that she would learn just as he would.
    Viltori pushed her cheeks apart and breathed long, slow and low against her bottom. Whatever Bithia intended to say was lost when she groaned. Never having heard a woman make such a sound, Drahka knelt beside Viltori and asked what he’d done.
    “This fabric,” he stroked his long fingers over the crimson material of Bithia’s robe, “is