"Anne Bishop - Black Jewels 00 - The Invisible Ring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bishop Anne)

Craft, he could have destroyed the physical lock, could have destroyed the
whole damn door for that matter. But his Sapphire Jewel, even though it was
only one rank below the Red, wouldn't get him through a Red lock. Not in one
piece anyway. His bowels loosened. Afraid of soiling himself, Krelis looked
around frantically and spotted two doors in the wall opposite the bed. The
first one was the dressing room. The second was a small bathroom. Fumbling
with his clothing and not caring if the bitch in the other room heard his
own sounds of distress, he managed to sit on the toilet before the
foul-smelling waste poured out of him. Each time he thought he was empty,
his belly cramped again. When it finally stopped, he flushed the stink away
and just sat there, his elbows on his knees, his head braced in his hands.
To break a witch. Oh, he knew it was done all the time now. It settled down
the troublesome ones all right, and it didn't even take much effort. Make
the sex rough, scare her while you're handling her, and then one hard thrust
to tear through the physical barrier. Ride her hard, each thrust driving her
closer and closer to her inner web until she plunged through it, out of
control. Descend quickly into the abyss, catch her before she fell so far
that her mind shattered, and bring her back up. What was left was a witch
closed off from her own strength, from the Jewels she had worn, from
everything but basic Craft. Simple enough.
But to break a Queen. Blood males were supposed to protect them.
Then again, since it was his duty to destroy the Gray Lady, why should he
flinch about breaking this little bitch-Queen? With that question whirling
through his head, Krelis cleaned himself and returned to the bedchamber.
From the first day he began his training as a guard, his ambition had been
to serve in the High Priestess of Hayll's First Circle. Serving a strong
Lady meant prestige and privileges. Even more important, it meant safety. No
one toyed with Dorothea's males. Except Dorothea. He'd planned to marry in a
year or two. He was tired of using the whores in the Red Moon house. He
wanted a woman of his own, one who wouldn't be spreading her legs for anyone
but him, one he could breed every few years to give him the offspring he
wanted. His family bloodlines were good, his Sapphire Jewels were impressive
enough, and his promotion to Master of the Guard guaranteed he'd be able to
pick almost any witch he pleased. Now all his plans, all his dreams might
end in this stinking bedchamber because an aristo bitch couldn't keep her
mouth shut. Anger stirred in him as he stared at her pleading eyes, as he
listened to the muffled sounds she kept making. Stupid bitch. It was her own
fault she was here. It was her fault he was here. Always mouthing off as if
that would change the reality of living in Hayll, as if anyone would think
she could rival Dorothea. Even if she actually had the strength to rule,
would she really be any different than the others? No matter what she said,
she'd soon be snap--ping her fingers and expecting the males to dance to her
tune. That's the way it was among the Blood now-a game of predator and prey,
played out on a constantly shifting landscape of power: who wore the darkest
Jewels, who had the most social prestige, who controlled the strongest
males, who was the most skilled in Craft, who was the most dangerous.
Predator and prey. Krelis stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed.
The weaker became prey. It was as simple as that.
His fear of failure churned inside him until it became a hot, throbbing
anger. Since he couldn't turn that anger on the witch who frightened him, he