Petal #2 (Thrall, #2)

By Willow Nonea Rae

The days following Selection night in the Halls of Thrall are more disorienting for Pia than the infamous eve itself, but she holds her head forcefully high, even still.
Through all of the pageantry of the Wards' exhibitions, and the strain of denied pleasure during her "training," she refuses to lose her head - even as she aches for Ward Xaven's attentions and claim.
When he and the Iron Ward challenge one another in power play, Pia lands in the crosshairs, and Ward Xaven is forced to hide her from the Hall, quickly finding himself lost without a sufficient mask to deny his affections for her.

The second installment of this bdsm, paranormal erotic romance contains --- pages of artfully written erotica.
The third and final installment will release in the Fall of 2014.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WNR Media
• Release date: Aug 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502216106

Book preview

The days following Selection night in the Halls of Thrall are more disorienting for Pia than the infamous eve itself, but she holds her head forcefully high, even still.

Through all of the pageantry of the Wards' exhibitions, and the strain of denied pleasure during her training, she refuses to lose her head - even as she aches for Ward Xaven's attentions and claim.

When he and the Iron Ward challenge one another in power play, Pia lands in the crosshairs, and Ward Xaven is forced to hide her from the Hall, quickly finding himself quickly lost without a sufficient mask to deny his affections for her.

The second installment of this bdsm, paranormal erotic romance contains -—pages of artfully written erotica.

The third and final installment will release in the Fall of 2014.

1

––––––––

The making of a thrall begins with adoration.

I learned this not from the poems of old, but from Ward Xaven himself. He taught me without words, even as his words taunted me, sparing as they were after the selection dinner. Though he seemed to draw into himself, his presence was constant, even when it didn't fill the room I'd found myself sent to for one purpose or another.

When the High Ward did see fit to share a space with me, his majesty filled the room like a cloud that obscured more than it darkened. His mystery drew me like moth to flame, even as I was forbidden to go to him without first being called.

At times a sort of agony welled up in my gut and pulled my attention to him, making me wait for his commands with an ache to be informed of whatever whim drew his attention at any given moment – all while the fear that he might want nothing from me at all underlined my desires with a palpable haunt.

And you will beg me for your name.

His words were phantoms that assured me I could trust his sense of his own power, even it meant relinquishing the only thing I still possessed from my former life to give into him. As he stared at me now with eyes drawn like white almonds and dotted with inky night at their center, his fingertips pinched and released the fruit-like protrusion of his lower lip with a contemplative rhythm.

I was simply his to observe.

Even the sisters who were claimed seemed aware of it, even without the confirmation of the tell-tale thrall key around my neck.

Everyone's questions seemed to be answered, all, save my own.

The Ward who had yet to make an official indication of any desire to possess me and drape me in the luxury of his name, shifted with stretching, svelte legs in the chair he'd taken by the long window, and a breeze came off of the waters in the lagoon room next door in answer. I watched it tussle his hair just so, leaving him as artful and slightly disheveled as he was even in a state of complete order.

His gaze traced my curves as his keen-eyed fitter took my measurements, and I held as still and graceful as I could, my arms upstretched like that of a wind dancer with billowing skirts. Only, my skirt was composed of long, dark strips fashioned as petals hanging from the bodice fitted tight to my mid-section. It cupped the mounds that would otherwise spill out in the full swell of new maidenhood without the wing-like, petal protrusions holding them back, one each, in place.

I shivered, just slightly, but I was careful to veil it with the usual forced grace under his penetrating gaze.

He rose a few moments after that, his eyes never leaving me, still revealing nothing of his thoughts. His circling inspection of me made me feel very much the mouse under the attentions of cat.

It was all I could do to keep still in my skin.

I found the anticipation prickling my arms very hard to shake.

He took a long, drinking look at my wet-lipped innocence and tilted up my chin with the hard-soft of his ringed index finger and a grin that only just touched his eyes and curved up his cheek. The stinging, woody scent of him tickled my senses, enveloping me as easily as his casual glances often did.

I couldn't have begun to read the searching stillness in his eyes, and truly, I wondered if it was possible for me to read him at all.

If, indeed, I'd ever be able to.

Merel will deliver you when you're well assembled, he told me with an easy tone and soft words I found hard to swallow, even still.

~

When you're asked to attend an unveiling, and you accompany the party of a high Ward without a key  hanging from some bound part of your person, you tend to draw more attention than you might care to. All sorts of questions arise from this sort of thing. And the subject of those questions soon becomes a topic of interest. If my intended Ward wasn't careful, his actions might inspire another to claim me in the spirit of competition.

Those who retained high positions played all sorts of games in the Halls of Thrall.

I had no way of knowing if that was his actual aim. So much of this place was rooted in power. I might easily have become a pawn in a