Kingdom of Yute: Tor's Betrayal Read online

  At any rate, I had her up against the wall. I’d waited a long time for this fuck and I wanted it badly.

  I told the girl I loved her. I figured I’d turn my high number first. It worked in ivories and I figured it would work with her. She seemed willing, if inexperienced, and I soon had her panting for me, pushing her warm little tits into my chest. Getting my hands under her kilt, I lifted her and spread her legs, knowing she would be small inside—tight—hoping she would be able to take me. All of me. I slipped my cock inside her shorts. She was damp at the hood of my dick and I breathed a sigh of relief then forged on ahead until I came up against a barrier.

  Mithra Fucking Ishtar on Her Knees! She was a virgin! The little slagbit was a fucking virgin!

  Success, acceptance, and more importantly—at the time—release and satisfaction were mere inches away as I hesitated, the tip of my cock buried just inside her warm, wet lips. At the same time, she trembled against me like a new little mare, excited and ready, waiting to be mounted.

  One thrust was all it would take—one thrust of my hips.

  It was as hard as shifting a pyramid, as hard as admitting you are wrong—but I pulled out of her and slid her body slowly down mine. The damp, smooth silk of her shorts licked my length as I returned her to her feet.

  Apparently hot for me and obviously disappointed, the girl argued with me. I don’t think she realized how close I was to banging her up against the wall, pulling her legs open and fucking her four inches into the stone. Somehow she got her lips on mine again and the next thing I knew her shorts were bunched in my fist as I prepared to wrench them from her body and drive up into her. By that time, I was damp behind my ties, my cock head streaming, desperate to get on her. How I pulled away from her at that point, I’ll never know.

  I had never been so hot for a woman before in my life—to the point where I thought I might flash inside my leggings if she so much as lowered her eyes to my crotch. To the point where I was nearly oblivious to her needs and so wrapped up in my own that I was contemplating something very close to rape. But a woman—any woman—deserves to be done right her first time. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself as I pulled away from her and held her at arm’s length.

  It would have to wait, I told myself and listened to my own groan originating from deep within. “Stop it, Spark,” I growled at her. “Stop it now, you little minx.”

  I probably got a little impatient with her in the end but, if I was a little abrupt with her, I had cause to be. I knew my balls would soon be cramping with disappointment.

  Taking her hand, I led her through the dark alleys to a yard where a low garden shed was built up against the wall. After lifting her to the shed roof, I followed her. Soon, we were over the wall and back to what she considered the real world.

  Making our way back to the cellar, I pushed her through the door, then turned and stumbled down the block where I found a dark corner behind a building. With my back against the wall and my chin on my chest, I pulled out my cock, cased the taut flesh in my fist and pumped myself out.

  * * * * *

  Spark

  “Where’d you learn ta ride?” Ayden asked him after he returned to the cellar.

  Everyone turned to look at Tor. He gave Ayden a cool look. “It’s not exactly alchemy. I’ve watched the nobheads ride, seen how they direct their horses with the reins.”

  Ayden didn’t look convinced. But several of the guys nodded, wanting to think they could ride a horse too, if they had to. Wanting to be like Tor Harnesson. And after the incident at the wall, the guys started listening to Tor. He argued that our cause would never draw much support while we were forced to steal from city merchants in order to survive. From now on we would steal from the nobs.

  “Too dangerous,” Ayden said with a reined voice. “It’s too dangerous for us inside tha walls.”

  “I know at least one place nobheads visit outside their walls,” Tor countered. “Nob men, anyway.”

  Ayden glared at him, knowing the part of town he was suggesting and guessing at the rest of it—the candlelight district, where a man could buy slagbit and a rougher ride than he’d find within the walls.

  Tor tore open a package and threw a handful of red silk on a stool. Every girl gasped and made a grab for it.

  At the same time, Ayden put his arm in front of me to hold me back. “Not Spark,” he started, “she’s too—”

  I kicked his shin.

  “Little,” he squeaked. “Little.” He turned to me. “I was going ta say little.”

  Ignoring both of us, Tor tore open a second package and pulled out a long length of black velvet. He put it in my hands.

  It was gloriously soft and lush and for several moments I stood stroking the fine stuff before I came to with a start. Dodging behind a row of barrels, I wriggled into the black dress that was just shy of being too tight and pushed my fingers through my hair. Jerra had the red silk on and everyone was making a great fuss over her as I stepped out from behind the barrels. The room was suddenly quiet as everyone stared at the black velvet dress. Frowning at the silent reception, I checked the dress with my eyes, wondering what I’d left out, then poked a finger at Jerra and told her she looked fabulous.

  She bobbed her auburn head and smiled shyly back at me, her green eyes wide and pleased.

  “So, what do you think?” I finally asked Ayden, shoulders raised in a shrug, hands out, palms turned upward.

  Ayden nodded slowly as he stared at the dress. “I think that ought ta work, Spark. What do you think, Harnesson?” There was a taunting edge of challenge in Ayden’s voice.

  Of all those present in the cellar, Tor alone watched my face. His eyebrows were drawn together in revelation, as though he’d just hit on some disastrous realization and it had taken him a bit unawares.

  “Harnesson!”

  Abruptly, Tor shook his head, then answered Ayden. “That will definitely work, Spark.” He frowned and smiled at the same time and I shot him a huge smile of appreciation, then watched his smile flatten and unravel as he cut a troubled look at the other men in the cellar.

  * * * * *

  They’d send us into taverns to lure out rich, old nobs. Our guys would roll them after we’d led the men outside. A little bit of nob money went a long way in our world.

  And gloves were the first thing Tor bought with the money. Thick elk-hide gloves like his own. And made everyone wear them. It wasn’t long before the guys were wrapping their forearms as well.

  Eventually we came to be recognized by our gloves.

  Our cause.

  We came to be known as The Glove. It’s a point of irony that has caused me no end of chagrin in my lifetime—the fact that our rebel cause was named for Tor Harnesson’s gloves.

  Chapter Three

  Spark

  “I’m going with you,” Ayden announced curtly.

  “You are not!” Dressed up and made up, I placed myself between Tor and Ayden. I was set on spending the evening alone with Tor. Even though we’d be “working”, I saw the planned trip across town as my chance for more. More of Tor Harnesson. It would be almost like a date!

  He’d taken to rolling his mat out beside mine every night, which had gotten me nothing more than several sleepless nights. And I longed for more. “I don’t need that much protection,” I told Ayden. “One man was good enough last time.”

  “One man were good enough when it were me,” Ayden growled. He glowered at me—it was easier than glowering at Tor. “If anything happens,” he threatened, “I’ll kill him, Spark.”

  And I’m sure he would have. Or at least tried to. Ayden was telling me to be careful, telling me he didn’t trust the man at my back. And, in his own way, telling me he loved me. I shot him a reassuring smile as I slipped out the door with Tor.

  * * * * *

  I didn’t have much choice about the two men who followed me out of the inn. I’d only poked my head in for a quick look and left almost immediately when I found the pla
ce nearly empty. But there was a great lump of a fellow standing next to the door and he squeezed out the door behind me. His friend followed.

  Hoping to lose the men in the dark, wet night, I hurried away and made a left into the first alley. It had rained on our way across the city and I had thought it fine at the time to have a reason to snuggle inside the shelter of Tor’s thick wool cape. But now my feet skidded on slick, black pavers as I hurried on. Both men were too young and too strong to be easily rolled, and one of them was just too damn big. I wouldn’t have chosen to mark either of them, let alone two of them at once, even if Ayden had been with us.

  But my hope to evade the men without involving Tor died as I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and the big guy’s words. “How much?” he demanded.

  His companion—the handsome one with the black hair and dark eyes—followed us into the alley where I heard him laugh. “Tor’s Slagbit,” he uttered with delight, then pulled at his friend. “Hold up, Hugo.” His eyes scanned both ends of the alley. “Where is he?” He directed this question at me.

  His large friend still gripped my arm tightly.

  “Who?” I asked, with what I hoped was wide-eyed innocence.

  “Your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, feigning more innocence, but beginning to feel uneasy.

  Hugo clutched my breast in a meaty fist and crushed me against the wall.

  My gaze ducked into the dark end of the empty alley.

  He jerked on Hugo’s shoulder. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he repeated. “You know, the big guy who’s supposed to intervene about now, rescue you, and relieve us of our pouches.”

  As his dark, unyielding eyes bore into mine, my heart pounded into Hugo’s big, sweaty palm and I watched his lips curl in a smile of contempt—a smile I would one day learn to resent. Again, my eyes shot to my left, into the blackened alley.

  The contemptuous smile turned into a laugh. “Perhaps a scream would be well-advised at this point,” he suggested.

  Firmly, I pressed my lips together and glowered at him as he laughed again.

  His hand was still on his friend’s shoulder, only just restraining the man. “Perhaps I should let Hugo, here, take you,” he intimated ominously and, with this encouragement, Hugo attached his lips to mine like a leach. His thin, lank hair, the color of cheap candles, scraped against my face and for some reason the dank touch of his yellow hair filled me with revulsion.

  As his thick, slippery lips slid against mine, I fought for repossession, wondering where Tor was. “My price is three gold,” I declared boldly, as I broke free from Hugo’s mouth, hoping to put them off with this staggering price.

  The dark one tsked as he raked my body with his eyes. “A bargain by any standard,” he murmured. “But who will require us to pay?” Again, he looked down the alley.

  I stuck my chin out. “I assumed you were gentlemen,” I declared.

  “And so we are, most of the time. But no man is a gentleman when he’s fucking slagbit up against a wall in a dark alley.”

  In response to these words, Hugo pulled my skirt up to my hips and reached for his ties.

  I didn’t exactly scream, but I imagine I squeaked a little at the prospect of Hugo fucking slagbit—the slagbit being myself. I gulped in air, squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for deliverance. I prayed for Tor—at this point long overdue.

  “Put it away, Hugo.”

  Cautiously, I peeked out through the screen of my eyelashes as Hugo turned on his friend, disbelief and disappointment pulling his mouth downward.

  The dark one shrugged. “It won’t be any fun if she doesn’t scream.”

  “I could make her scream, Whit,” he said with casual brutality.

  Whit laughed. “I’ve no doubt you could, old friend. And,” he muttered, “I’ve no doubt it would be your last act. Put it away,” he repeated. “I’ll buy you another girl. A fancy girl in a big, warm bed.”

  Hugo groaned, obviously torn between cold slagbit in a dark alley and hot fancy in a warm bed. Fortunately for me, warm and fancy won out. Hugo released me and rumbled toward the mouth of the alley.

  “How much do we owe you?” Whit asked brusquely.

  Staring at the gleaming pattern of wet stones on the cobbled ground, I mumbled something as I edged away from him.

  He opened his purse and shook several coins into his palm.

  Hands at my sides, I watched the gold in his palm.

  Lifting one of my hands, he closed my fist around the coins. “I’m sorry your boyfriend didn’t show,” he said, and backed toward the mouth of the alley.

  As he disappeared at the building’s edge, I slumped against the dark stone, relief making me weak for the moment. Something brushed my shoulder and I jumped. Tor stood beside me. “Are you all right?”

  “Where were you?” I almost shrieked.

  He shrugged. “I wanted to see what you could do on your own. I was ready to intervene if necessary.”

  I shoved past him. “I did well,” I said tightly. “Made three,” I looked into my palm, “four gold, spreading my legs for nobs…in case you’re interested. Perhaps you didn’t hear my screams of pleasure.”

  His hand wrapped around my wrist in an iron grip and he snapped me back toward him, against his chest. “Don’t dick with me, Spark,” he grated in a voice like steel. He lowered his lips to mine but I pulled my face away from him.

  “Ayden would kill you if he found out. If he knew you weren’t there for me.”

  “Is he going to find out?” He held me tightly against him. “Are you going to let Ayden kill me, Spark?”

  Grinding my teeth, I glowered at his chest. “No,” I answered. “But I’m not going out with you alone again. Next time there’ll be two men with me. And one of them will be someone I trust.”

  He thrust me away from him.

  * * * * *

  Tor

  I pushed her away.

  She’d never been in any danger! Whit wouldn’t hurt a spider. Hugo would, but Whit wouldn’t have let him. Whit knew why I was there and exactly what she meant to me.

  To say I loved Whit like a brother wouldn’t be fair since I couldn’t stand my brother. But Whit was the brother I would have liked to have had. I trusted him without reserve. Despite Whit’s taunting, Spark wasn’t in any danger when he threatened to let Hugo take her. And I couldn’t let Hugo see me. Hugo was as dumb as a pile of rocks.

  She didn’t know that.

  But I was angry that she hadn’t more faith in me. She should have known I’d have been there in an instant if there were any real threat.

  She remained cold and silent all the way back to the cellar, where she smacked the coins into Ayden’s palm and stalked across the shadowed room. Ayden looked at the gold in his hand then at me, knowing something was wrong and looking as though he’d like to kill me, good reason or otherwise.

  After Jerra ladled out two bowls of soup, I took mine to stand beside a very angry Spark. The cellar was long and low and dark, crowded with the innkeeper’s casks and barrels. Light filtered down through the floorboards above along with the tavern’s harsh noise, chairs scraping and loud, rough conversation. Our own words were softened and damped by the thick stone walls that enclosed us as well as the hard earth floor beneath our feet.

  Thinking a little conversation might normalize the tension that stretched across the cellar, I thanked Jerra and told her the soup was good. Then I asked Spark why she never cooked. I saw her eyes connect with Ayden’s while her lips ticked up at the corners.

  “You wouldn’t want to eat Spark’s cooking,” Ayden delivered eventually.

  “And why is that?” I asked him.

  He snorted. “She burns everything.”

  Tilting my head, I frowned at him as I addressed my next question to Spark. “You can’t cook, then?”

  “I can cook,” she told me, without looking at me. “I’ve a few good recipes from my grandmother.”

  Ayden started into
snorting laughter and I watched both Jet and Thane grin, feeling I was missing something.

  “They’re good recipes,” she added, with a smile for her companions that didn’t include me. “Just a bit hot, is all.”

  At this, her three friends dissolved into laughter and, although I didn’t appreciate being left out of whatever joke they were sharing, I smiled into my bowl. At least the laughter had worked to loosen the tension in the room, and softened the edge of her anger. Glancing around the room, I noted puzzled expressions on several faces, revealing that I wasn’t the only one in the dark about Spark’s cooking.

  Chapter Four

  Spark

  Burro was Tor’s pet project. He’d found the small, skinny boy underneath a heap of scrapping youngsters. Wading into the fight, Tor kept pulling boys off the pile of humanity until he got to the bottom of the matter. And there, he found Burro at the root of the problem.

  He was too young, really, to join us. Thane and Jet argued against his induction. But Ayden took pity on the homeless little street lad who apparently couldn’t speak. He couldn’t eat much, Ayden pointed out, and it wasn’t as though he could tell anyone any of our secrets.

  It was just as well he felt that way, because Tor meant to keep him.

  We called him Burro because he was small and because, while he couldn’t talk, when he was amused he let go with a loud braying cough. Though he couldn’t have been more than nine, a white streak sprang from his right temple and slashed into his straight black hair like a flash of lightning. Perhaps it was malnutrition that had caused the peculiar aberration but I’d never before seen hair like his. I’d heard that Slurians were known to have a white streak in their hair but the race was extinct, or thought to be extinct. The ancient Slurians were able to sense others’ emotions and as time rolled on I began to wonder about Tor’s young protégé.