Patricia
A. Knight - Hers To Command
Verdantia Series, Book 1
♂♀♂ Erotic
Romance, Sci-fi/futuristic, 73+K words; Published by Troll River Productions
ISBN: 978-1-939564-10-8
Blurb:
Conte Camliel Aristos deTano, Ari, has long spurned the marriage
forced upon him. Princess Fleur Constante, his contractual bride and the
beautiful future queen, though young and inexperienced, is willing to risk
everything – including her own sanity – to save her planet.
The inhabitants of the sentient planet, Verdantia, are poised on
the precipice of extinction following a brutal invasion by an off-world,
nomadic horde. Verdantia’s capital, Sylvan Mintoth, must have its failing
energy shield restored, or the planet is doomed. The Elders know the shield can
draw energy from only one thing—a very arduous and grueling coupling of two
specific people pre-chosen by the planet, Herself, and promised by
prearranged marriage contract.
Verdantia draws strength from the duo, but the sentient planet whispers
to Ari that a third is necessary – Ari’s aide de camp, Visconte Doral deLorion,
an angelically handsome, skilled assassin who silently surrendered his heart to
Ari long ago.
The trio struggles to make this surprising partnership
harmonious, pushing through pride, scars of past abuse, fears of inexperience
and distrust. To save Verdantia, they must overcome their individual weaknesses
and realize their full potential. Only the tetriarch and their combined
synergy, can harness Verdantia’s immense power to shield its citizens from
invasion.
Excerpt:
The potent aphrodisiac enveloped Fleur in a dizzying swirl as
she swallowed the last of the jeweled goblet's contents. It tasted of wine, cinnagin
and musk. The heavy door to the ritual chamber opened. A scarlet-robed man
strode through, pulling the door closed behind him. He halted abruptly,
standing motionless, fixing her with a long stare before lifting an ironic
eyebrow.
“You are my partner? You are tiny. I could break you.”
His rich baritone vibrated in her feminine places. Her senses
rioting, she inhaled the clean scent of lingnum soap borne on a waft of
air. Her senses reeled under the masculine assault of the warrior standing
before her. His robes indicated a seventh-level magister of advanced magicks.
His scarlet robe of office loosely draped a tall, broad-shouldered, spare body.
Warrior braids at his temple swept back heavy, shoulder-length, auburn curls,
leaving his high cheekbones and strong jaw in clean profile. His hazel eyes
regarded her with the intensity of a great hunting cat. You are a very large
man.
Fleur stood as tall as her five-foot-nothing would allow. “I am
sturdier than I look.”
Her eyes wandered over the height and breadth of him. Patricio
is right. He has a physical presence. “The docenti told me
that under the influence of cinnagin, I would happily service a
bald-headed cave troll. You, sir, are not a cave troll.” He looked taken aback,
then just snorted.
A sudden flush sent her equilibrium reeling. “This aphrodisiac
is affecting me strangely. I feel a little—dizzy.”
Swaying where she stood, her gaze shot up to him as he moved
silently to steady her. His large hand felt calloused and warm against her
upper arm. A strange course of electric sensation pulsed between them. My
mind is playing games with me.
His other hand held leather cuffs and lashings. She was unable
to hold his amber gaze, unwilling to betray her precipitous arousal and
mounting fear. Trembling, she stepped out of his gentle hold. Without thought,
she rubbed her arm where his touch had sparked that strange electric tingle.
Fleur moved to the glazed window overlooking the profusely
blooming courtyard below. Some young children laughed gaily as they pursued
each other around the central fountain in a carefree game of tag. Such sweet
innocence. It reminded her why she was here. She wanted to give them a
lifetime of carefree days.
“You know we must succeed.” Fleur carefully placed the goblet on
the sill and steadied herself, bracing both hands against the framing, her
heart suddenly racing, her breath coming in short pants.
“Yes. I am aware of the stakes.”
She threw a glance toward him, at his dry, sardonic response.
Her thoughts spun frantically. What do I know about House DeTano? They are
superb horsemen. “I don’t remember seeing you at court,” she said.
“Before the invasion, I lived off-planet for a number of years.
I came back to fight for Her, for the Senzienza, and for my
people.”
Fleur straightened in astonishment. “She has spoken to
you? The Senzienza, Verdantia, has spoken to you?”
He inclined his head slightly. “Yes.”
“I’ve never met—.” She shook her head. “Later.” He is vastly
more than he seems.
Fleur glanced nervously to the leather cuffs held in her magister’s
surprisingly elegant hands. “Being bound is difficult for me. But I will submit
to you.” His head tilted in question, and then his hazel eyes softened.
“Most certainly, you will submit to me. I have performed
the Great Rite many times, my Lady and though I would spare you, the
binding is necessary.”
She could not control her trembling. He moved to stroke her bare
arms in reassurance. Again, that strange sensation pulsed through her.
“Don’t fear me. I’ll take care with you,” he murmured.
Don’t fear him? Heat from
his body engulfed her. Her skin tingled where his calloused hands caressed her
arms. She didn’t understand why his erotic pull was so strong. It must be
the cinnagin.
His hard thighs easily trapped her against the marble windowsill
as he gathered her hair aside to pull at the golden cords holding up her gown.
The firm length of his arousal pressed into her back. She heard the catch in
his breath as he bared her. The warmth of his whispered, “By the goddess, you
are exquisite,” flowed across her shoulders. “Lady, you have no conception how
cruel the next few hours will become. We cannot rely solely upon your
self-control, for in every way you must submit to me.”
His baritone voice rumbled through her. Now it begins.
She would risk anything for even a chance of success. “Yes. I submit.
Everything depends on it.”
“Yes, everything.” He nipped her shoulder then gently kissed the
sting away.
“I am going to caress every part of you and keep you aroused
until the crystals sing with power. The longer you stay at the edge of climax,
the faster the crystals can draw on your energy. Sometimes it takes merely a
day to replenish their power. If you should go over, I will bring you right
back up. As long as you are able, you must deny yourself or tell me when you
approach your peak. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “And when I can no longer discipline
myself? If I am beyond self-control?” She gasped in air, her heart pounding in
her ears. “What then?”
Swaying, unsteady on her feet, her eyes were drawn to the
implements hanging on the far wall—whips, paddles, manacles, bars and others
she could not identify. Her fear spiked upward.
“Then I will bring you back up, repeatedly.” He had followed her
gaze. The corner of one lip quirked up and his amber eyes narrowed wickedly.
“By whatever means necessary.”
At this, her knees buckled. If the conte had not been quick to
catch her, she would have shared the floor with her robe, then all went dark.
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