The Pleasure Hound: Part One

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The sound of the door slamming reverberated through Khial's arm. He flexed the fingers of his right hand, clenching and releasing until feeling returned. It took a long time for the blood to flow back to his hand, it was still diverting to his dick.

Khial was sure the slamming of the door frightened Chanyn. He'd meant it to, to put some sense into her. What was she thinking, displaying herself to him like that? Showing him her rich brown skin, her firm breasts, her velvety dark nipples.

Her breasts beamed at him like the headlights of a car calling his attention. As she panted, they moved up and down with each breath. The movement drew his eyes to the planes of her abdomen. She was neither flat nor fat at the stomach. Her sculpted curves reminded him of the ocean. Waves cresting here and then there, going flat and then rising once more. Her narrow waist arrowed to the V between her legs. The dark curls like the rich black soil of the farmlands, the soil that bore the sweetest berries. He wondered if the richness there between her thighs mirrored the sweetness of a strawberry.

Khial picked up his pace away from the room. The scent of her arousal followed him down the hall. A woman's scent was an aphrodisiac to men. Khial had never gotten close enough to take a whiff. Now the smell filled his senses, making his mouth water and clouding his head.

For a second, back there, it looked as though she were about to part her thighs in invitation. It was an invitation he would never welcome. He slammed her door to slam the brakes on his desire and any intention she might harbor. More to shake up himself than her. As if he needed more proof that women were manipulative creatures who could end the life of any man who hungered after that place between their thighs.

This had to stop. She had to be made to leave, and sooner rather than later.

He hadn't argued too much when Dain wanted to bring the stray home. No creature under the Goddess deserved to live in such squalor and solitude as Chanyn subsisted.

Khial assumed Chanyn would run when she met Dain's conniving relatives. But she hadn't flinched. He assumed she'd recoil in disgust when she learned of Dain's parents' occupation. But she hadn't even blushed.

She was nothing like the girls they'd grown up with. The dainty, pampered princesses who wore their entitlement like a sash, and wouldn't lift a finger to wipe their own asses. A few tried to catch Dain's eye in their youth. For all Khial tried to protect Dain from his charitable self, Dain could spot a gold digger a mile away. Chanyn wasn't interested in Dain's wealth, of that Khial was sure. Chanyn was interested in the man's heart. In Khial's eyes, that was a far worse offense and a fruitless endeavor.

For all of the goodwill Dain bestowed on the world, his heart was slowly giving out. At this point, Dain was more interested in setting his affairs in order than he was in searching for a way to keep his heart beating. But Khial wasn't giving up. Agreeing to this scheme Dain planned with Chanyn was the exact equivalent of surrender. And Khial would not concede.

Khial had pledged his life to Dain's happiness. After what Khial's mother had done to Dain's family, he owed the man his very soul. Dain's heart was Khial's to care for and protect. Chanyn could not enter his bond with Dain. If Khial allowed it, it would mean that he had failed his bond mate.

Khial entered Dain's office where the monk, robes still slightly askew, stood with his head hung in shame.

"It is my fault," the monk said.

Dain looked the monk up and down, a small smile on his lips. The monk was a handsome specimen of male. Strong shoulders, large hands and a sensual mouth. Khial had never been sexually interested in another living soul besides Dain. But that didn't mean he was blind to the other man's appeal.