Caralissa's Conquest

  Title Page

  CARALISSA’S CONQUEST

  By

  Reese Gabriel

  Publisher Information

  Caralissa’s Conquest first published in 2003 by Chimera Books Ltd. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

  Digital Edition Converted and Published by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  New authors are always welcome, or if you’re already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

  This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Reese Gabriel. The right of Reese Gabriel to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter One

  Caralissa, queen of Orencia, moved through the enemy encampment like a shadow, her lithe body concealed in garments of black leather, the breeches and vest of a man, her green eyes the only light as she darted from tree to tree. What arrogant fools these barbarians were! A mile into her territory and still they’d posted not a single sentry. Not that it would have mattered, for the moon goddess was on her side, conspiring to conceal her silvery rays behind a bank of clouds until the crucial moment when she must enter the warlord’s tent.

  Caralissa’s heart pounded in her chest as she crouched, now at the flap of it. Even here there were no guards. Drawing from her belt the dagger she slipped through the narrow opening, silent as night. She saw him at once, his body framed by moonlight. Varik, chieftain of the Rashal hordes laying on his back, unclothed, a single layer of fur his only protection from the cold ground. The weight of sleep lay heavily upon his bronzed form, the nudity of him barely concealed by a second fur bunched at his waist. The man was larger than she expected, more formidable. Wasting no time she knelt beside him, hoisting the knife overhead, the pearl handle clutched tightly in both hands.

  Caralissa had never killed anyone before, and she knew she must not allow herself to see this man as human if she were to complete her mission. She must ignore the mane of black hair spilling over his shoulders, the sculpted chest, the softly breathing lips, the hands large and capable of wielding a heavy sword or axe. It was said the Rashal chieftain could fell a tree, or a company of soldiers in a single swipe.

  The moment is now, she thought, now or never. Taking aim above his heart she uttered a final prayer to the goddess, then fell forward against him with all her woman’s strength. Eyes clamped tightly shut, teeth clenched she braced herself for the collision of razor-sharp steel on flesh and bone.

  It was a collision that never came.

  Caralissa cried out in shock as the knife suddenly recoiled and flew from her fingers. There was a flash of pain and then she felt herself hurtling backwards till it was her lying upon the furs and not him. Opening her eyes, blinking in the misty half-light, she saw him: Varik the Invincible, awake, his body lying across hers, his left hand pinning her wrists together above her head, his right clenching the intended murder weapon, the dagger of state her father had left her upon his deathbed.

  He regarded her in silence, appraising, evaluating.

  ‘When you seek to kill a man,’ Varik told her at last, his voice calm and clear, as though delivering a lesson to a student, ‘you must cut across the jugular like so, while holding back the head thusly.’

  Pressing the knife to his thickly sinewed neck, arching it towards the ceiling, he offered her a simple demonstration. This accomplished he thrust the dagger into the ground beside him, sinking it to the hilt with an easy thrust.

  ‘Now perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me why you have invaded my tent,’ he suggested, fixing her with his deep blue eyes.

  Caralissa returned the gaze, unflinching. ‘I will,’ she replied, determined to avoid staring at even a part of his magnificent body. ‘As soon as you explain to me why you have invaded my country.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your country? I was not aware kingdoms in this region of the world were being handed out to comely wenches. If memory serves, we invade a place called Orencia in the morning, the king of which goes by the name of Lysanis. Of course we have invaded three kingdoms in this valley already this week, so I may well be confused.’

  Caralissa pushed out her chin in fury. This Varik was not only a cruel warlord he was an egotistical blowhard to boot. Besides, he was starting to hurt her, with his muscled chest pressing down on her ribcage and his fingers squeezing her wrists. ‘King Lysanis was my father. He has passed from this world and now I, Caralissa, am queen.’

  ‘Queen, you say?’ Varik released her, sitting upright so he was on his knees, straddling her midsection, his thighs on either side of hers. ‘That is most interesting. You do realise, do you not, Queen Caralissa, that despite your rank you are now my prisoner. My slave, if I so choose.’

  Caralissa felt the swell of him against the crotch of her leather breeches, her hunter’s garb. ‘I demand to be treated as a man,’ she declared, attempting to extract herself from under him using her elbows on the soft furs.

  Varik pinned her in place, exercising only the slightest tension to his thickly corded legs against her hips. ‘I see,’ he nodded, folding his arms across his chest, obscuring for the moment his dark brown nipples and hairless pectorals. ‘Well, I suppose we could torture you and have you impaled upon a spike as we would any ordinary assassin.’

  Caralissa felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Good,’ she bluffed. ‘The sooner the better.’

  ‘Of course, there is an alternative,’ he continued, his eyes studying her intently, his emotions unreadable.

  ‘An alternative?’ she asked, trying not to sound desperate as she sought to settle herself beneath him in a manner that was dignified and befitting a monarch.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘An alternative, because you are a female we could treat you as such, making the sentence for your crime entirely different.’

  ‘Different?’ She frowned, giving a slight pout to her naturally full lips. ‘And just out of curiosity, what would that sentence be - for a female, that is?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not impalement or torture, certainly. As a mere female, more than likely, you would simply be spanked.’

  Caralissa laughed without humour. Though her long, fiery red tresses were currently tied back in a ponytail, and though her body was sheathed in acutely non-feminine clothes, she knew herself to be naturally beautiful, the desire of many a thwarted suitor. As for Varik’s so-called sentence, it was a thinly disguised pretext to lay with her, nothing more. ‘You would spank me for attempting to kill you? With such deterrents I am surprised you do not have would-be assassins lined up at your door.’

  ‘Am I to assume, then, that you consider the prospect of my hand disciplining your bare buttocks as pleasurable?’

  Caralissa regarded him with blatant disgust, even as she fought to keep at bay the strangely troubling image of herself naked before him, helpless under his power. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I merely meant that if it were kno
wn in Orencia how lightly you punish, there would be thousands of women eager to attempt to finish you off.’

  Varik pursed his lips. ‘That is a possibility I hadn’t considered. Tell me, are all the female killers in Orencia as eager to crawl onto my furs as you?’

  Caralissa reddened at the implication. ‘I shall see you dead,’ she vowed, her eyes narrowing. ‘I shall watch the jackals pick over your bones as I host a celebration for the thousands upon thousands of innocent people who have lost everything to your demon hordes and who even now suffer in anguish under your despotic rule! As for your insulting and demeaning punishment, I tell you as a “mere female” that you may take it and thrust it to the bottom of your scabbard!’

  Varik shrugged. ‘As I said, the choice was yours. I was merely trying to be agreeable.’

  ‘Agreeable?’ she cried. ‘Well if that isn’t rich, coming from a man who has to sit upon a woman to get her attention!’

  ‘I take it a spanking is not to your liking. I could, as an alternative, give you a kiss.’

  She screwed up her face in contempt. ‘A kiss?’ she mocked. ‘Are you simpleminded as well as brutal and evil? Do you think we are courting now?’

  ‘That is my offer, take it or leave it. One kiss as punishment and then, if you choose, you may go home.’

  ‘That’s it? No strings attached?’

  ‘None,’ he agreed. ‘However, I must warn you, I am a very effective kisser.’

  She bucked her hips, making a futile attempt to escape. ‘At kissing pigs, maybe, but not women. Let go of me!’ she cried. ‘Who are you, anyway? You don’t even talk like a barbarian.’

  ‘My brother was raised in a city. He taught me their ways. I shall now kiss you. Resist me if you are able.’

  Caralissa’s expression dripped venom. ‘Good luck, barbarian. You will find it easier to seduce a rock than to...’

  Varik moved like lightning, employing the same power as when she’d tried to plunge the dagger into his chest. This time it was her lips he wanted and when she tried to squash them shut, like a flattened strawberry, he reached out instead with his hand, placing it full upon her left breast. The caress was firm, pervasive, even through the thick leather. Opening her mouth in shocked protest Caralissa found it quickly filled with the man’s tongue, deep and probing. All along her body she felt him; too late now she realised the folly of wearing the lace-up leather vest and pants with no undergarments.

  Pointlessly then, with no power to back them, she put her hands to his chest. She intended to push him away, but all that came from her body was a moan of protest, small and weak emanating from somewhere in the back of her throat. For agonising minutes he worked her mouth and lips, as though she were a forgotten lover or a complicated puzzle from some ancient land to be solved. At one moment gentle, the next brutal, he plucked her senses, her emotions, her memories, systematically, mercilessly.

  Piece by piece she felt her body betray her; her arms snaking round his shoulders, her fingers seeking and barely reaching across the broadness of his back, legs spacing themselves in subtle unwitting invitation, breasts straining at leather, pressing to his chest, neck arching, slim and delicately submissive, belly heating, softening, boiling in unknown anticipation. Lungs and nostrils sucking at the scents, the signatories of potent maleness, the musk of his skin, the complex aroma of hair, reeking of smoke and sky and the almost imperceptible odour of victory.

  On and on it went - an onslaught, an unspeakable invasion - until finally, eyes shut, muscles collapsing, Caralissa was left no choice but to yield, inviting him as he plumbed from her depths untold secrets, untold possibilities.

  ‘That is enough,’ said Varik, removing himself from her lips. ‘I am satisfied now.’

  She watched in disbelief as he rose to his feet, walked a short distance to the centre of the bare tent and sat down in a cross-legged position.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, her voice uncomfortably shrill as she sat up on her elbows, still breathing heavily.

  ‘I am meditating,’ he told her, reopening his closed eyes, betraying slight annoyance.

  ‘But - but what about me?’ she stammered.

  ‘What about you? Your punishment is done. You may go home.’

  Caralissa blinked in confusion. ‘Home? But the kiss - I mean, I thought...’

  ‘You thought what?’ he asked as her sentence trailed off into nothingness.

  She lowered her eyes, felt the heat rush to her cheeks. ‘I thought you enjoyed kissing me,’ she said softly.

  ‘I was punishing you,’ he shrugged. ‘What was there to enjoy?’

  Caralissa felt the bile rise to her throat. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed. ‘You miserable, cruel bastard.’

  The knife was within arm’s reach. Freeing it from the ground she charged at him, giving little thought to the wisdom of her actions. Varik diverted her easily, landing her on her stomach painfully. Without pausing for breath she picked the weapon up again and stumbled towards him. This time he stood. With a single motion he snapped the blade from the handle and put her on her back, her neck beneath the crush of his heel.

  ‘I think I shall have to impale you after all,’ he decided, towering over her, her life hanging in the balance of his whims.

  ‘I choose another kiss!’ she exclaimed, reciting the words as though she were countering some move of his in a game of skill.

  Varik removed his foot. ‘I do not think so. You are male after all; I see this now. I shall summon my guards and we will be done with this. It will take but a short while to fashion a suitable pole for your impalement. I hope you have not eaten recently, because it will make a bit of a mess.’

  Caralissa’s pulse quickened. The brute was calling her bluff. ‘But you said yourself, I was sweetly breasted,’ she reminded him, choosing for the moment to remain at his feet in the dirt rather than antagonise him by rising. ‘That is not the quality of a man.’

  He shook his head as he reached for the hollowed animal horn that hung from a rope upon one of the four wooden poles, the ones which held the four corners of his squared tent. ‘There is no point to your words. I should have gathered from your clothes that you are not the sort of woman who desires a man. Perhaps you are of the Mirax,’ he speculated, referring to the mythical race of forest dwellers said to possess androgynous body parts.

  ‘No!’ she protested, sitting up so she could reach for the tie of the strung leather that bound the slick vest across her bosom. ‘I have the breasts of a woman, see?’ she declared, having parted the halves of the material.

  Varik beheld Caralissa’s outthrust chest, the twin globes, firm and shapely. They shook visibly from her breathing, which was shallow and irregular.

  ‘A woman’s nipples should respond to a man,’ he observed, bestowing an idle glance at her before putting the horn to his lips. ‘Yours do not. You may wish to cover your ears. The sound is rather loud. Remind me, before your impalement, to allow you to evacuate your bladder. It will simplify matters.’

  ‘Varik, please!’ she cried, leaping to her feet, her hands at her nipples. ‘Mine do respond, see?’

  Caralissa manipulated the rosy pink nubs furiously, her hopes momentarily raised as she saw him lower the horn to his side to observe her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was telling her that he was tricking her, using her own emotions against her to force her self-abasement by terrifying her with images of torture, but she couldn’t think quite so clearly - not now, not with her loins still heated and her mind awash in a thousand competing thoughts and fears.

  ‘You see?’ she whispered, lowering her hands, revealing the evidence of her work. ‘They are much bigger now. I am told they are one of my best features. A man I know has written poems about them, in fact.’

  Varik was silently staring and for a moment she entertained the wild hope that she might yet seduce him, bring him to his kn
ees, or even to his back. Would she have the courage, then, to strike him, not with the broken dagger, but with his own sword, the one that rested in its leather scabbard in the corner next to the dragon-painted shield and the axe, the sword that was nearly her height and probably half her weight as well?

  ‘You have proven nothing; those breeches are not those of a woman,’ he told her, drawing a deep breath for the horn. ‘Who knows what they might conceal?’

  ‘Oh no,’ she insisted. ‘These were specially made, for my - my mission. I wear dresses at home. Men seek what lies beneath them, though none has yet proven worthy. Please, don’t blow the horn! Let me show you more.’

  She was at his arm, pulling with all her might to prevent his touching the thing to his lips, and yet she could not move him a millimetre. The horn was midway now, between his scantily clad midsection and his strong lips. Keeping one hand on him she clawed desperately at the opening to her trousers with the other.

  ‘See?’ she said, skinning the material down to her knees, revealing her bare sex, a triangle of fine red fleece every bit as vibrant as that on her head. ‘I’m not a Mirax!’

  Varik frowned, looking the part of a man whose patience was being sorely tried. ‘What are you telling me, then? Do you wish to be treated as a human female or as a male?’

  ‘Female,’ she heard herself say, her mind racing at the various implications, complicated and dark. ‘I - I wish to be treated as a female.’

  Varik looked her up and down, assessing her in her fevered state of half undress. She blushed, her skin flush and damp with sweat.

  ‘Very well then. Strip off your clothing, female. All of it.’

  Caralissa removed her boots and pants, slipped off the open vest. Was it her imagination, or was there a certain edge in Varik’s voice now, something subtle but hinting of a distinct change in their relationship? Back straight, arms at her sides, her every nerve on high alert, she stood before him anticipating the worst.