Chapter 5 Five

"Cleaning? Just cleaning, Marlon?" Ryker asked Marlon the moment Elaine left the study. "I thought you wanted to make her pay!" He gritted through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing with fury. "This is not enough. This wasn't how we were treated when we were first captured and turned into slaves." He growled.

Marlon glanced at his brother, seeing the fury radiate off him in waves. He let out a breath and continued to write. "Trust me, if we treat her like that, she wouldn't survive the night. Let's introduce her slowly." Ryker pursed his lips, jaw clenched tight. He was clearly still displeased.

Always the volatile one, Ryker. Marlon remembered a time when it didn't use to be so. Dropping the quill, he leaned back on his seat, head tilted to the side. "What would you have us do to her?" He asked, genuinely interested.

Ryker looked away from his brother, his gaze darkening with malicious intent. "Whip her, torture her..." He began slowly, his voice low yet still filled with bitterness. "Hand her to scoundrels who would have their way with her. Anything, okay? Anything to make her suffer." Under his breath, he added, "I, for one, want to have a moment with her. She needs to pay." He growled, his hands balling into fists, veins popping up on his neck.

"You're agitated, Ryker," Marlon said coolly, noting how restless his brother had gotten. "Tell me, when was the last time you had proper sleep?"He asked, and Ryker didn't respond.

He hadn't slept well for months; preparing for that revenge battle had taken all his time and brought back all the nightmares he had spent a decade burying. Marlon gave him that knowing look he hated seeing.

"Do what you have to do to get your rest. You're not thinking with a clear head," Marlon said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Make no mistake, the girl will suffer. But first, she needs to understand the environment she's in so it can last. It wouldn't be fun to start with her only to have her dying in our hands, okay?"

"Yes, brother," Ryker muttered after the longest moment.

"Now go, you need to rest. Stop fussing over me so much. I'm fine," Marlon groaned, picking up the abandoned quill as he began to write.

Ryker watched him for a while before begrudgingly standing to his feet and walking out of the study. He headed straight to his personal chambers, and the instant the door closed behind him, he had a fit. Smashing vases against the wall and pulling apart tapestries, his rage was so hot it was boiling.

Suppressing a roar, he pulled at his hair instead, ripping some strands from the roots, his breathing ragged. If it wasn't for Marlon, he would have begun to torture Elaine the moment she stepped into Novania. But his older brother wouldn't allow it, suggesting they take their time. They had bigger matters to attend to.

Bigger matters to attend to. Nothing is bigger than making that wench pay! He, for one, wanted to hear her scream in agony. He caught himself spiraling into darker thoughts and stiffened. Perhaps Marlon was right; he wasn't thinking clearly. Rising to his feet, Ryker looked around him, noticing the mess he had made. He felt a twinge of guilt.

"Guards!" He called out, and a heartbeat later, a soldier walked into the room.

"Have some maids clean this up and call Xinora for me," he said.

"Yes, your majesty," the soldier responded and quickly left the chambers to deliver the message.

Ryker went to sit down on a couch, but not before grabbing a bottle of strong liquor. Dropping down on the soft cushion, he opened the bottle and took a swig of its content, groaning as the potent liquid burned its way down his stomach.

Cleaning the spillage with the back of his hand, he thought about his summons. Xinora, his favorite mistress amongst all the throng of women he kept. They had the most history together, having met as slaves while still under Thraine.

She had been one of the very few people who had been kind to him during that time, and she was also from a royal family, although all her family, kingdom, land, and people were dead. They had been affected by the plague caused by the use of the moonstone.

Once they had obtained their freedom, she was one of the first people they had managed to rescue at their first battle with King Thraine. He'd remembered how they had met her, frail, malnourished and a shadow of herself. King Thraine had been truly cruel to her. But then again, who wasn't he cruel to?

The maids arrived first, instantly cleaning up the mess he had made, the room looking like he hadn't just thrown a tantrum there, and dispersing without another word.

A while later, he heard a softer knock, and when he gave approval, there was Xinora. She had added weight now, her beauty resplendent for all to see, and most of the scars she'd gotten from that period had faded, leaving behind very few stubborn ones. Dressed in a flimsy nightgown that hugged all her curves perfectly, she gave Ryker a small smile. "Having a bad day?" She asked in a gentle, yet sultry voice. Ryker frowned.

"Yes, get on the bed," he growled, taking another swig from the bottle. He caught her rolling her eyes, but she sashayed towards the grand four-poster bed, her figure an image of pure seduction.

She deftly removed layers of her clothing until she was stark naked, climbing onto the bed and readying herself for him. "At your service, your majesty. Ready for your taking!" She called out in a loud voice, with a deep undercurrent of lust and desire.

Ryker finished the content in the bottle and stood to his feet, swaying slightly. Already, he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, his body starting to grow light. He undressed until he was just in his underclothes and moved straight to the bed, where he met Xinora face down, arched back, and thighs spread wide. Even her core was glistening with wetness. Always prepared, just the way he liked it. Stroking himself, he grunted as he grew harder, lust starting to burn underneath his skin.

Once he felt ready enough, he plunged into her prepared body in one hard thrust, his groans syncing with her soft moan. Excited, he continued, his movements hard and fast, without mercy, the harsh sound of skin slapping skin resounding in the chambers.

Hours later, they both lay sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the room. Ryker felt slightly better, his head clearing. Exhaustion was pulling at the edge of his consciousness, but Xinora turned to him, her breathing just as heavy.

"What's getting you so worked up?" She asked gently, her gaze on him.

"Nothing," Ryker muttered, closing his eyes.

"Is it your new slave?" Xinora asked " I hear she's King Thraine's daughter. What's her name, by the way?"

"Elaine," Ryker growled.

"Oh, that's a pretty name," Xinora muttered, and Ryker opened his eyes, turning to face her. She held his gaze. "What about her? Is she the reason why you're so hot and bothered?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Ryker clenched his jaw again, turning his gaze back up. "Marlon is being lenient with her. He refuses to treat her the way we were treated, saying we need to break her in first. Such bullshit."

Xinora shrugged. "He probably doesn't want her to have a heart attack and drop dead." She began, sounding tired. "If she lived a sheltered life, unaware of the cruelty of her father, there's no way for her to know how bad others had it."

"Which is why I want to show her. Gods, I want to break her into two," he snarled, getting worked up again.

"Take it easy, Ryker. In time, you will," Xinora said, yawning afterwards. She was going to fall asleep soon.

"In time, I will," Ryker repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Well, it better be soon."