Split of the Worlds (18+)

Chapter 10.3

She lay on her back and tried to shut out everything with her eyes closed. To concentrate solely on her breathing. She was only too aware of her nakedness and what was about to happen. Under normal circumstances, she was not at all passive, but this time... This time was different.

Think about something else, distract yourself! You'll get through it, your body knows pain from countless fights; this one won't get any worse.

She was lying to herself and she knew it. But if she wanted to have a chance of coming out of all this mentally healthy, perhaps using it to her advantage, then she had no choice. Veidja summoned up images of the White Mountain, its halls and green and colorful gardens. Of the light that shone through canopies of leaves. She thought of the laughter and the singing.

The beautiful memories shattered as the weight of another body shifted her position on the bed slightly. Her senses were immediately stretched to breaking point. The faint aroma of smoke and metal emanating from the demonlord stung her hypersensitive nose. She felt the warmth he radiated against her side, even though he wasn't touching her.

Had she expected him to pounce on her immediately and for it to be over quickly? At least she had almost hoped so. She had seen with her own eyes that he could be brutal.

The longer it went on, the harder she would find it to bear. This time, memories of the green-skinned's touch flashed through her mind. Of his hands bringing pain and humiliation, of his pleasure-filled sounds as he abused her. She clenched her hands into fists, stiffened. She wanted to relax, to make it easier for herself, but she couldn't. Her mind could no longer find the pleasant images, she only saw the red eyes of the demonlord, who feasted on her helplessness and disgust.

Why didn't he finally do it? Why didn't the lord of the fortress take what he thought was his due and then leave her alone again? Was it part of his plan to wear her down? Was he waiting for her to feel safer so that he could inflict even more pain on her? Was he planning the best way to torture her?

She could do something about that. She could provoke him.

"What's wrong? Have you changed your mind?" Her voice was more husky than she would have liked. She could do better than that. With a venomous undertone, Veidja shot back at N'Arahn: "Or was that seducer right after all? Can't you do it? Do you need your shadows for that?"

That hit home, she heard him growl close to her head. She was almost relieved; it would soon be over.

Nevertheless, a fearful shudder ran through her as he reached over her with his arm, pulling her against him. She felt the hard muscles of his chest and stomach on her arm and shoulders, his hair there tickling her particularly sensitive skin. He placed his leg over hers and pressed his hip against her side. She felt a hot pulsing on her trapped hand and couldn't pull away. Her other arm tried to jerk up, but he had it gripped tightly as he pulled her closer. N'Arahn must have had his head propped up on one hand, but he buried his face in her hair. She felt it brush coolly across her scalp as he drew in a sharp breath at the crown of her head. Softly, he murmured right by her so that his lips moved her hair, "Don't say that. Don't think about him."

Despite her best efforts to block out N'Arahn and his actions as much as possible, every bit of skin he touched burned. Everything was overly vivid. His scent intensified as well, smoke and metal mingling with juniper. It confused her, even though, or perhaps because, this scent was so familiar to her by now. She wanted to fight, as was her nature and duty, and yet she had to force herself to endure this abnormal closeness to the demonlord.

He released his hand from her arm, stroking only his fingertips down to her hand, then back up to her shoulder. Continued over her collarbone, traced her neck, placed his large hand on Veidja's cheek. His forearm brushed across her breast, his hair tickling her nipple. When he tried to turn her face in his direction, she hissed involuntarily, bared her teeth and didn't give in. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb, then let his hand slide down so that it came to rest on her throat. Fear crept up in her like ice for a moment, that he could strangle her too, as Tazeel had done to keep her defenceless. But his hand had already moved back to her shoulder.