The Necklace Read online

  “And probably none too happy about us, right?”

  Tylan opened his mouth to respond, but Marissa glared him into silence.

  Shaking her head, she gazed slowly around the room. Several eyes were fastened on her, and she could sense the disdain seething through the room.

  She might not be able to read their thoughts, but she was adept at reading body language. Some, like Selain and Viccan, even that nice senator from Nylis, smiled happily, waving and bowing respectfully, but the rest looked at her with distrust, pasting false grins on their faces.

  Marissa knew they only tolerated her because of Tylan and fear of his retribution should she be offended. Feeling like the isolated and shunned child from her past, Marissa wanted crawl inside a hole and hide.

  She had thought she might find contentment in Eritrea, but the story of her life continued on unabated.

  Just give it time, beloved. Things will not always be this way, Tylan whispered in her mind, arching his arm around her back, pulling her close.

  Marissa smiled faintly, Tylan continuing to surprise her.

  If she didn’t feel so inadequate she might have basked in the glow of his constant affection.

  Taking some small measure of comfort from his presence, she tensely waited as the tall man drew to a stop directly in front of them.

  “My Lord … my Lady,” he said, bowing low with flourish, his large muscles bunching in his arms, his long red hair swinging forward over his shoulders.

  “Senator Zaron, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Tylan said, his voice sounding tight with control.

  “I am here to congratulate your Majesty on the successful recovery of the delaphin. Plus, I wanted to meet the new Queen. I had heard you were beautiful, my Lady. But words do not do you justice,” Zaron replied easily, raising Marissa’s hand in a courtly, old world gesture.

  “T-thank you,” she stammered, gently pulling her fingers free, trying not to flinch under his scrutinizing gaze.

  Zaron smiled slowly, as he straightened his body, rising to his full height, just an inch shorter than Tylan’s six-foot-five frame.

  “Quite a coup you were able to achieve, your Majesty. The recovery of the delaphin has set Eritrea aright again. Perhaps you will find the time to regale the senate on how you accomplished this feat.”

  Tylan drew his shoulders back, his frame growing larger as he lifted his head. “If I feel the need, Zaron, rest assured the senate will know.” His arms tightened around Marissa and he pulled her closer. “But I have a bride who requires a lot of attention. And I will be meeting with the Committee soon. When I have time, I am sure you will be the first to know.”

  Zaron stiffened suddenly, the friendly posture he been enacting vanishing under a storm of tension. “And you didn’t think it necessary to consult the senate on this meeting, my Lord?”

  “No, I did not, Zaron. I don’t need the senate to qualify my decisions. Remember that.”

  “I will, my Lord.” Zaron gritted, his cold stare switching one last time toward Marissa before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Good Lord, what in the world just happened? I thought you two were about to break out the boxing gloves. I guess he isn’t just unhappy about our marriage, huh?”

  “No, he is disgruntled about a lot of things, Marissa. And he bears much closer scrutiny,” Tylan muttered, his hard eyes switching to Cowan.

  Again Marissa felt the gentle brush in her mind, she knew instinctively Tylan was again conversing mentally with his chief advisor.

  Seconds later Tylan’s gaze landed back on her, and the cold look vanished entirely. “Pay him no mind. He doesn’t concern you, sena”

  “What do you mean pay him no mind? How am I ever to fit in here if you keep me in the dark? Why am I even meeting these people, if you don’t want me to know what’s going on?”

  “I cannot always tell you everything.”

  “Oh, but you get to pick and choose what you want me to know?” she snapped waspishly, her voice rising.

  We will discuss this in private, Marissa. Now is not the time.

  Marissa used her newfound knowledge of mind-speak to respond angrily. Maybe when the time does come, I won’t speak to you about anything.

  Beloved, you will speak to me when my cock is sliding deep inside your body. We both know this.

  She flushed, heated memories from their encounters invading her mind, and she looked away, embarrassed, knowing Tylan could see the images as clearly as she could.

  “Why do you always have to win?” she asked, exasperated.

  Tylan smiled. “I don’t really know any other way, sena. I’d be less of a man and a king if I strived to lose.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to make this so hard for me. I would appreciate some kind of understanding.”

  “I do understand, ca’hill. I understand more than you know.”

  Marissa shook her head. “I would like to be on the same page with you, Tylan. If you want me to accept this…” Marissa waved an arm around, “…all this then you’ll have to work with me. Help me out. But you’re not going to do that if you try and wrap me in cotton wool.”

  Tylan’s chin dipped low, and he stared at her, his gaze piercing and tender. I can only help you with what you will allow me to help you with.

  And what is that supposed to mean?

  When will you attempt to shift again, beloved?

  Marissa’s eyes widened. Jerking away from Tylan, his mental query seeped into her consciousness.

  Over and over the question blazed in her mind—daunting, frightening.

  Marissa didn’t want to transform again. She never wanted to experience that change in her life. If she could, she’d stay on two legs forever.

  I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. She finally responded.

  You cannot continue to deny yourself, deny what you are.

  Marissa flinched visibly, turning away from Tylan to walk toward the smaller of the two ornate chairs serving as the throne.

  Sitting down, her eyes roamed the two hundred or so people milling about. Men and women of all ages cavorted around, most of them sipping on flutes filled with thick green fluid. Riotous sounds of garbled laughter echoed in the air.

  Shifting her eyes, Marissa’s gaze fell on a large pool near the back corner.

  The blue rippling waves of the water glistened from the nearby lights. A young man and a brunette beauty sat on the edge naked, their bodies intertwined in a passionate embrace. The woman’s long purplish fin flipped up suddenly, splashing the couple and they laughed, smiling at each other.

  Gulping, fear seizing her, Marissa stared at the lovers, her eyes wide.

  “Relax, sena. I know you are not ready now.”

  Startled, Marissa turned to Tylan, surprised that he sat next to her in his large chair. “I don’t know. I want to, but … I’m just so scared.”

  He smiled, compassion blazing from his silver-blue eyes. “I know, leethil. Let it rest for now.” Nothing else matters to me but this. He whispered in her mind, palming her face with a large gentle hand.

  Moisture gathered in her eyes, emotion pouring through her.

  Every sound in the large hall faded away, wrapping them in silence, as waves of pure, unadulterated love for Tylan stole her breath away.

  Marissa exhaled slowly, suddenly realizing the direction of her thoughts.

  Turning, looking down toward the richly designed floor pattern beneath her feet, she struggled to push the thoughts away, not quite ready to face up to them, or him.

  Tylan’s long fingers continued to caress her cheek, and slowly he turned her towards him, his gaze piercing straight through to her soul. “One day at a time, Marissa. That’s all I ask.”

  Marissa nodded slowly in answer, her head feeling heavy, weighed down.

  Tylan stared at her a moment longer before glancing toward Meija, who stood near the bottom dais. Raising his hand in a regal gesture, he nodded at her, obviously giving her some c
lue because she bowed low, signaling to several servants nearby.

  “No more of the meet and greet, as you so aptly put it, sena. Let’s get to the entertainment. Let me show you more of what Eritrea has to offer.”

  Marissa smiled faintly, her gaze unconsciously moving back toward the couple, before returning to Tylan’s silver-blue eyes.

  “I’m game for that,” she murmured, wondering just what more the place could offer.

  She already found something she would have never expected.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  An hour later, Marissa was convinced the famed Cirque du Soleil couldn’t have put on a better performance. The dancers, twirling and contorting their bodies, would have made any ringmaster proud.

  Marissa had never seen such controlled, graceful movements synchronized to the rhythm of music before.

  The troupe, composed of fifteen lithe and muscled dancers, moved with a harmony of design, flowing and ebbing like the ocean waves.

  Astounded, she watched the group part for a tall caramel colored woman, resplendent in shimmering red veils with long, curly hair so black it shimmered blue under the lights. The intriguing woman personified seduction and desire.

  “What is this? Eritrean’s version of the seven veils dance?” she whispered, leaning closer to Tylan.

  Tylan laughed, moving his hand to squeeze her thigh. “Not quite, since she has fifteen in place. Shush. Just watch.”

  Snorting at him briefly, Marissa turned her attention back to the performance. She couldn’t deny that the woman was wonderful, an artist who far outshone the other dancers in her company. The exoticness of her fluid movements, the way her hips flowed with the music, was a spectacle of splendor and elegance.

  And when the sheer veils began to fall one by one, floating around like wispy bits of blood-red clouds, she was still moved even though the woman was now completely naked.

  Large, firm breasts with huge dark aureoles bounced with the sway of her body, her skin gleaming under the colorful array of lights overhead. Marissa couldn’t speak, her mouth hanging wide open. Even if she could have formulated words, nothing would have emerged. She was so enraptured the ability to talk had faded away.

  Silence captured the audience like a well-hung exclamation point, punctuating the magnificence of the woman and the style of the dancers surrounding her. The beat of the music flowed through Marissa’s body, heightening her senses to the point of staggering awareness.

  She could swear the feelings of everyone present transferred directly to her, the heady sensations racing along her pores.

  “Kaylelle is a very talented empath,” Tylan whispered, interrupting her heated reverie. “She can project and magnify her desires as well as those of the people around her.”

  Marissa nodded, too wrapped into those emotions to respond. The seduction of the dance moved through her as though she was the one flowing with the music, like she was the one on the dance floor being fondled.

  Glancing down dazedly, the heat from Tylan’s palm began to sear through her clothes, spiraling directly into her skin and shooting straight to her pussy. Her entire body contracted with need as her nostrils filled with his scent. Filaments of yearning unfurled in her belly, descending out of control as she turned her eyes back toward the carnal display.

  When a multitude of hands trailed along the woman’s body—fingers tweaking her breasts, thumbs circling the clit—her own flowering bud swelled with blood and arousal. Spellbound, Marissa's lust grew by the millisecond. Trembles shook her very core.

  Her mate rippled beside her, and she turned her head slowly, lifting her eyes.

  Marissa knew she couldn’t conceal the desire blazing from within, and she didn’t even try.

  Tylan exhaled nosily, his gaze glassy and shiny, the silver-blue orbs sparkling like expensive diamonds. “Look. Look, Marissa,” Tylan urged, sliding his gaze back toward the center floor.

  Marissa slanted her head, helpless, strangled by desire, and watched wide-eyed as a tall blonde man emerged from the troupe, his cock hanging low on his naked body.

  She couldn’t stop herself from looking at the arousing piece of flesh. She didn’t want to, but her gaze remained riveted.

  The erotic dance continued, the other members blending seamlessly with the crowd, as the duo surged to the increasingly frenetic tempo of the music.

  Sweat glistened from their bodies, their feverish movements appearing pagan, forbidden. Suddenly, without warning, the music slowed, the beats and harmony relaxing like the cadence of a beating heart.

  Her eyes widened when the caramel goddess kneeled gracefully before the blonde Eritrean, and Marissa held her breath, knowing what was coming next.

  There wasn’t even a pause in the music before the woman’s—Kaylelle, she remembered the name—pink, glistening lips ravished the large cock inches from her face, her pink tongue caressing and curling around the mushroom head.

  Fire began to scale along Marissa's nerves, licking at her pores with hot, scorching flames. She could feel the arousing tempo of the music pulsing through her soul, and she shifted her hips against the cushion of her seat. The tempo slowed further, in contrast to the rapid bobbing, as Kaylelle suckled the thick cock longer and harder between her lips.

  One lone drum beat … beat … beat.

  Then silence echoed before a loud, harsh groan of pleasure echoed in the air.

  Thick, white fluid spurted against Kaylelle’s breasts, sliding down her chest in long creamy rivulets.

  Quiet encompassed the hall before a thunder of furious applause sounded.

  Marissa pressed a palm against her chest, breathing hard because her heart still raced. The two dancers bowed with theatrical flourish toward the throne, as the ovations rang around them. She stared, unable to remove her gaze, before she felt the gentle pressure from Tylan’s hand squeezing against her thigh.

  “Ohmygawd.”

  “You liked the perfomance, ca’hill?”

  “I-I … It was … ohmygawd.”

  Tylan laughed loudly, drawing a number of gazes towards them.

  “You are being insulting, my love. They’re waiting for your seal of approval.”

  “My s-seal of approval,” Marissa breathed. “Tell them I am speechless because that’s the truth.”

  Rising from his seat, he dragged her by the arm so she had no choice but to stand next to him. Tylan’s voice boomed throughout the throne room.

  “Kaylelle, as usual, you and your companions have astounded us with your grace and beauty. I commend you for a wonderful performance. My Queen would say thanks as well, but she is still in awe of your talents.”

  Chuckles and snorts rippled through the crowd, and Marissa felt the silent rush of blood streak toward her cheeks, heating her face in embarrassment.

  “You know,” she whispered. “You could have told me what that dance was all about.”

  “And ruin the surprise, leethil?”

  Sliding her eyes toward Tylan, Marissa vowed to give him a surprise later.

  And … you’re not winning this time, buddy.

  * * * *

  He had her legs draped over the large, cushioned chair in their chamber as he knelt between her thighs feeding from the essence of her body.

  “Oh Gawd … Oh Tylan…”

  “So, who is going to win, sena? Tell me who you want to win.”

  “I-I want us both to win, Tylan. Oh God! Don’t stop!”

  Tylan rumbled a response against her clit, spreading her legs wider, opening her vagina like a flower greeting the sun. “You taste like sweet fruit ripe from the vine, leethil, like rich honey that’s sweet beyond measure.”

  Marissa groaned, and Tylan could feel the jitters in her body rolling directly to the heated core between her legs. Her slick, dripping pussy lavished his tongue with juice—thick creamy nectar. It was almost too much for him. He wanted to plunge his cock inside her so bad, he ached, sweat beading on his forehead. But he couldn’t draw his mouth away fro
m the richness of her pussy, the delicious taste from her body overwhelming the need to fuck her with his cock instead of his mouth—at least for now.

  Over and over he licked at the sugar coated cream of her pussy, and he lapped his way in a long sweeping line from the tip of her pussy to the tight, muscled hole of her anus. Marissa shuddered and moaned in response. Her legs spread wider, silently, physically begging for more.

  “You don’t want me to fuck you now, do you, sena? You want me to keep suckling on your sweet pussy.” Tylan looked up from his pleasurable task, using a bit of mental persuasion to bring her heated ocean blue eyes toward his gaze. “Don’t you?”

  “No. Yes. Please … please,” she gasped.

  “Please what, Marissa? Tell me, or I’ll have to stop.”

  “I-I don’t know w-what to say, Tylan. I just … just don’t stop!”

  “As you wish, my Queen,” he murmured, before licking between the folds of her labia to the swollen tissue of her clit, savoring the taste, the flavor knocking loose every civilized sense in his brain.

  “Ty-Tylan, someone is at the door. Stop … someone is at the door.”

  He lifted his head, glancing around because the room was spinning. Marissa’s taste still saturated his pores.

  Peering around, every piece of furniture, every painting, even the floor tiles blurred into indistinct shapes, and a low growl vibrated in his chest. Vala help me! I have to be inside you, beloved. Now! I need to feel your tight pussy around my cock.

  The knocking echoed louder in the large chambers, finally piercing his mind. At first, he was tempted to ignore the interruption. However, for anyone to bother him after he specifically stated he didn’t want anyone disturbing them meant whoever stood on the other side had to have a serious, pressing issue.

  They better have an issue, Tylan amended, or heads might just roll.

  Inhaling deeply, another whiff of Marissa’s decadent fragrance assailed his nostrils. Vala! He had to have her now.

  Her dress was bunched around her waist. He’d pushed it up earlier when he sat her down in the chair, not taking any unnecessary time to get to the prize between her legs.

  His gaze repeatedly swung from the door and back again to the alluring sight of her dripping pussy.