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The heavy door closed firmly behind her and she swallowed hard.
"Come to me." His voice came out of the dark.
He was Tengri-Khan, Prince of the Provinces of Tartak, Abd Aga Sehzade.
She was terrified, suddenly too frightened to move. She heard the light rustle of his clothes as he moved toward her. "Do you fear me still, lovely Adama?" His voice was low. Somehow he had gotten behind her. "You are wise to do so."
She stood trembling, desperately willing herself to stop.
His arm, clad in a white silk robe, reached up, and she felt his hand caress her face. She cringed away slightly, leaning into his chest--a place she didn't want to be. He smelled clean from his bath, and there was a faint spicy smell to his skin as well.
"If you please me, I will never harm you ... You will be my first wife ... Bear me a son, and I will raise you above all others." He spoke softly in Lyrosian, gently running his hands up and down her arms.
"You've never told me ... How old are you?" he asked.
"I'm eighteen," she managed.
He brought his face down beside hers, nuzzling her ear and her neck. "So young. You are lovely; we will have glorious sons and daughters, my Princess."
He took a lock of her hair between his fingers and stroked it, thinking it looked like fire captured.
"I'm not your princess," she said emphatically. "I cannot do this."
"Adama, we are beyond resistance. I do not wish to take you forcibly." He turned her to face him, but she couldn't raise her eyes to his.
"I know you are not experienced. But I do wish to show you pleasure. Come now, you're no virgin toshrink from my touch."
He pulled her into his embrace and she stiffened. He paid no attention and took her chin in hand, tilting her head up to face him. He bent to kiss her, forcing his tongue between her lips, bruising her mouth. He felt her teeth slightly and he drew back.
"Do not bite me," he warned, and then plundered her mouth again.
Gone was the gentle lover he seemed to be earlier.
She didn't resist, but she decided she would not respond. She would totally close her mind to him, and, she told herself, it would soon be over.
He knew she was trying not to respond, and he could feel her withdrawing. Her youth and inexperience prevented her from knowing that while the will might be strong, the flesh was weak. He'd soon teach her.
He broke the kiss and took her by the hand, leading her to his bed. She hesitated, but his hand was like a vise on her wrist, and he pulled her forward. He had waited long enough. Tonight she was his.
When he reached the bedside, he turned, pulling her around; her back was to the bed and he faced her. "You and I shall spend many pleasurable hours here. The word for pleasure in my language is zevk, Adama," he said.
She didn't reply. She realized there was no way she was going to escape his advances. He was determined to have her. She took a deep hitching breath. It was true she'd been with Christian one time before she was stolen, but he wasn't anything like the Tiger.
They had learned together. Christian had been timid and gentle, and just as inexperienced as she was. This man was a force. She could feel the strength of him, held barely in check by sheer will. He frightened her, yet at the same time, he made her burn.
He stroked her shoulders once again, and then slid the silken caftan down her arms, baring her to the waist. He caressed her soft skin and ignored her frightened moan.
"Your skin is like the finest silk," he murmured and kissed the top of her shoulder. "Soft and fragrant."
He had taken down his braids and his long hair fell across her arm, black as a raven's. It tickled her skin and made her shiver.
Her breasts were large, and that pleased him. In his experience, he found that passionate women had large breasts. He cupped one in each hand, running his thumbs lightly over her nipples, enjoying the way she gasped at his touch.
He brought his hands up to her shoulders once again, and gently pushed her backwards onto the bed. She looked up at him with huge eyes, which aroused him powerfully.
"You are so fine." He marveled as he looked at her. He lay down on the bed beside her, and she stiffened once more. He began to caress her breasts again, and then bent his head to suckle upon her. Her nipples were taut, and her arousal was becoming more apparent. She gasped as he bit her and then suckled hard, enjoying her soft moan.
His hand, which had been caressing her other breast, traveled down her flat belly to her thigh then down to stroke her through the sheer robe she wore. She realized what he was doing and tried to move, twisting away from him, but he held her firmly.
He brought his face up even with hers as he stroked her sensitive places lightly through the fabric of the robe. His other hand had relaxed its grip around her middle, and slid up above her head while he nuzzled her neck and brushed her lips with his own. She lay there trying hard not to feel anything, but beginning to feel a distinct heat where he was stroking her despite her resolve. She shifted again attempting to get away, and felt his hand firmly entwine itself in her hair, not pulling, but the potential was there.
"Do not resist me," he commanded in a low, dangerous voice and she lay still once more.