Misunderstandings (2)

Talia opened her mouth to protest but found it sealed by his own. His tongue quickly followed, thrusting against hers for dominance. She lifted her free arm, intending to wrap it around his neck, but he snatched her wrist and held both her hands pinned to the wall above her head.

Thus restrained, she could do nothing but accept his punishing kiss. A shiver of excitement raced through her.

He broke away at last, and Talia panted for air as he glared down at her. His eyes ran down her body and he scowled.

"What now, hmm?" she taunted, grinning cheekily. "There's layers beneath layers with this sort of dress, and laces, and hooks and buttons as well. You'll not get it off me if you had an hour. Don't even think about ripping it either, I've got nothing else to wear!"

He made no response, but swept her up in one arm, stood and tossed her roughly on the bed.

Talia squeaked in surprise and sat up quicky, just as the Prince dropped to his knees beside the bed.

"What are you do-- OH!" she cried, as he grabbed the bottom of her skirt and tossed it up.

Talia flipped over and tried to scramble across the bed, but he grabbed her ankle and with one firm tug, yanked her back. He ripped off one of her long woolen stocking and tossed it aside.

"Stop!" she ordered.

"No," he replied simply, pulling down her other stocking and tossing it over his shoulder. He lifted her leg and stared appraisingly at it

"I mean it! Stop this now!" Talia huffed and tried to yank her leg free of his hand, but he held it too tightly in his grasp.

"You want to light fires and leave me to put them out," he said in a low voice. "Let's see how well you like it."

"Prince Mikhail, you had better not... not..." Talia watched as he brushed his lips across her knee and traced down the back of her leg lightly with his fingtertips.

A shock went through her body, and her stomach clenched tightly. He continued to trail kisses slowly down her thigh, his hot mouth on her sensitive skin raising gooseflesh as he went.

She still wore her Vezdan underbinding wraps and the ruffled short drawers worn by Unarian ladies to give more volume to their skirts. As long as he didn't try to remove-

"Oh!" she gasped as pushed the fabric of her drawers up and ran his tongue down her inner thigh. It immediately grew warm between her legs and she struggled desperately to clamp her legs together to hide that fact, but he held them apart. He continued to kiss and lick her inner thighs, switching between them until her legs were shaking, and her breathing was staggered.

The area between her legs was more than warm, it was throbbing almost painfully, and for the first time, she wanted him to touch her there, but he seemed intent on ignoring the most wet and sensitive part of her. His hands and lips raked her legs, at times he slid his fingers under her drawers... but never reaching quite far enough.

She squirmed from the discomfort of all that heat and ache and emptiness in her lower parts and a small whimper escaped her lips.

He paused to look up at her.

"What is it, Princess?" he whispered, but from the look in his eyes, he knew already what it was. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She squirmed again, and he grinned cruelly and set her leg upon his shoulder.

She should stop him now. He had already played too much. She'd allowed him to go way too far, and the look in his eyes told her he would go farther still. She was the Princess of Vezda, the last of House Eosin, the ruler of--

"Haaaa!" she cried out in shock as he slipped his hand under her drawers and stroked the wet opening between her legs with one finger. A jolt of lightening shot through her at that brief touch, and every thought fled her head.

He laughed low in his throat.

It was that mocking laugh that brought her to her senses.

She could not move the leg which was hooked over his shoulder but he had let go of her other leg and quickly, she lifted it, bent and kicked out, catching him hard in the stomach. He doubled over as she flipped and scrambled quickly away from him.

Talia got to the other side of the bed and snatched the water pitcher from the side table.

"Dog!" she shrieked, and hurled it directly at him.

He ducked and the pitcher smashed against the wall. Shards flew everywhere.

"How dare you! How dare you put hands on the daughter of House Eosin!" she accused, her chest heaving in exertion as if she had run miles. She could still feel the throbbing and warmth between her legs, and the shock that shot through her when he'd touched the softness there, still lingered in her body.

"The Princess is very sensitive," he smirked.

She knew very well that he was referring to her body and not her anger, and it made her blood rise even more.

"You go too far!" she hissed, glancing around for her daggers. He must have kept them in the luggage. There was nothing else to throw.

"The Princess was the one who--"

"No!" she snapped, cutting off his excuse. "It isn't the same at all as what I did. A kiss on the cheek is not the same as putting your hands up a lady's drawers, you beast! You treat my body as if you own it. As if you can touch or look at any part of it, and you... you... why are you crouched there still? Stand up when a lady is speaking!"

Prince Mikhail still knelt on the other side of the bed. He looked quickly away from her.

"I am... comfortable kneeling," he said dismissively.

"That is exactly what angers me so! You make no concessions! You do exactly as you please with no regard for what I think or feel! In Vezda, we all know what a man thinks of a woman when he doesn't even take his boots off to bed her. You once said that in Unaria a man should never touch a woman unless he's married to her or... well... you never finished that thought, but I know now what you meant. Or unless she's a whore that he's paid for. That's what you meant to say, wasn't it? Prince Mikhail, I am not married to you, and your boots are on, sir!" Talia said and drew herself up to her full height, which was admittedly not that impressive.

The Prince stared at her and though it was impossible to know exactly what thoughts went on behind that expressionless face, she could tell that he was thinking very hard about something.

"In Vezda, it is certainly permissible for men and women to touch each other-- to embrace, to hold hands, even kiss one another, but beyond that... beyond that is reserved for..." Talia paused to consider her words.

"You... you want marriage?" he muttered.

"NO!" she cried. "No, certainly not! That it not what I'm saying at all. I want... I want... between us... I always feel as though... I'm at a loss, as though I am always vulnerable, and you... you hold yourself apart, you don't bare anything at all... you give nothing of yourself... you share nothing... you rarely even speak... you are never vulnerable, and I..." Talia pressed her hand to her forehead as though it pained her.

In truth, she could no longer look at him. She had seen his mask-like countenance slip. The relief on his face was easy to discern when she had said she didn't want marriage.

"That is how you treat a whore that you pay for. It is transactional. It requires no... words... or consideration... or..." She glanced up to see that the Prince had stood up.

He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked, wetting her lips nervously.

He had been shirtless in the village, but it was dark and he was so close to her there, she hadn't gotten a very good look at him. The last time she had seen him without his shirt, she had been a child tending to his wounds. His body was much the same. The groove that ran down his abdomen and the clearly defined hard, musculature of his chest and shoulders were perhaps a little leaner and more defined. The burn mark on his side from where he had cauterized the arrow wound was there, and the dark curling lines of ancient text that ran across his chest and down his arms, was just as mysterious now as it was then.

"What are you doing?" she repeated.

He stooped down, and withdrew a knife from his boot. Holding it by the blade, he took a step toward her, Talia backed away, unnerved by his actions.

"What is this? What are you on about?" she demanded.

He reached out to grab her hand and forced the hilt of the knife into it. Covering her hand with his own, he put the point of the dagger against his chest.

"I-I dont... I don't understand," she whispered.

"You need me... to feel the way you feel. To feel vulnerable, " he explained calmly.

"This isn't what I meant!" she scoffed and yanked her hand free of his. "You can't love someone you're afraid of. You can't love someone you don't trust. You can't..."

Prince Mikhail winced at every mention of the word love. His reaction made it feel to Talia as if he were the one pressing the knife into her chest.

"Nevermind," she mumbled. "Let us not speak of this anymore. I need air."

She pushed past him and went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.