Seized & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  “I’m not.”

  Shiloh hooked an arm around his neck. “You are, and I like it.” He guided Lynx to their pallets without another word, leaving her alone.

  Jannike recommenced her prowling, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, edgy fear doing a number on her nerves. The sounds coming from the rear of their cell didn’t help. The two men had wasted no time in getting busy. They didn’t need to worry about death by whatever gruesome method of disposal the widow decreed.

  Royal made a chittering sound and patted her cheek. Jannike halted her frantic pacing and stroked his soft fur instead. “Are you hungry, boy?” She strode to the fruit and nuts the guards had left—food the calibore enjoyed—and selected a nut. Royal sniffed it before crunching the shell with sharp teeth.

  Maybe she should attempt to sleep. No. She’d go through her exercise routine. Keeping fit while waiting for an opportunity to escape made sense. Besides, it would give her something to do during the long hours of captivity.

  * * * * *

  Around four cycles later, Jannike went through her routine, arms flowing fluidly, clutching a pretend sword. She ignored the guards while they carried out their duties, as she did every endless cycle, but overlooking the constant prickle of her skin took a more concerted effort. The crawl of invisible bugs beneath her skin tormented and teased, made her crave physical touches. She halted her routine to scratch her belly. Her tunic felt heavy, the weight unbearable against her breasts. She yanked at her bra, considered taking it off. No. She righted her clothing and centered herself, ready to restart her sequence.

  It took longer than it should, the itch on her belly, on her back a barrier to concentration.

  Royal sat on her pallet, a piece of fruit between his front paws. The two males remained in their corner, arms wrapped around each other. Neither wore a stitch of clothing beneath the light cover, but she tried not to recall the glimpses she’d caught when they’d ripped off their clothes, desperate for full body contact.

  No, no, no! She bit off a pithy curse, drew a sharp breath and forced herself to flow into a sequence of defensive moves.

  Her skin prickled violently, and she faltered, the sensation of claws raking her from the inside throwing her off her stride. She screwed her eyes shut while she rode out the discomfort.

  The pain was becoming worse.

  “You are suffering from the same malady as the males,” a voice boomed.

  Jannike whirled to face the front of their cell and spied the brown man with the rustling green hair. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lynx and Shiloh stand and pull on their trews and tunics. “Who are you?”

  “Kelvin Tremin.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jannike ground out, anger a hot, bittersweet syrup in her mouth. Understatement. Lie. No matter how she tried to twist the facts, the tremin was correct.

  “No point lying to yeself.”

  The appearance of three guards dragging a trolley bearing food and liquid sustenance had Kelvin sliding to the rear of his cell. Lynx and Shiloh joined her at the cell bars, one male stepping into place on either side of her. Immediately, the stinging that writhed across her skin ceased, and she took a steady breath—the first in a long time.

  “What ya think ya doin’?” one of the guards demanded. Not one of the purple ones this time.

  “Just exercising,” Lynx said and retreated to the rear of the cell.

  Jannike and Shiloh followed, and all three turned to face the guards. The calibore scuttled across the floor of the cell and scrambled up Jannike, twinning its arms around her neck and hiding its face in her hair.

  “Six regular guards,” Shiloh murmured.

  “Yes,” Jannike agreed. “Wish we could be sure of the numbers. There will be more who aren’t involved in the feeding and care of their captives.”

  “We need to know how long until we reach Manx Two,” Lynx said in an undertone. “Once we hit land, we need to be ready to move.”

  “Seize any opportunity,” Shiloh agreed.

  “They’ll have shuttles.” Lynx puckered his brow. “If we could get out of the cells, we might manage to take control of one and escape that way.”

  Jannike stroked Royal. “No, they’d set the tracker lizards on us. My leg is still tender where one bit me. We need to gather facts, wait until we land. With other people around, we’d blend better. They couldn’t set the tracker lizards free in the city.”

  “Good point,” Shiloh said and Jannike found herself basking under his approval.

  She shook her head to clear it. Focus. She needed to think. “Once we arrive in the city, they’d need to transport us into the dome. The ships land at the spaceport outside.”

  “They could still set the tracker lizards on us at that point,” Lynx pointed out.

  “More people around,” Jannike said. “Assuming they land at the regular spaceport. They might have a private area. It’s been a while since I left the planet.”

  “But you remember the city?” Lynx asked.

  Jannike watched a guard open the feed slot of their cell and shove in three bowls of some sort of stew. One step up from space rations, but still tasteless. “As long as they haven’t changed it too much. There was always rebuilding.”

  “How much longer do we have to put up with this crap food?” Shiloh demanded in a gruff voice.

  “Not much longer.” The guard’s lips curved into a toothy smile. One of his teeth was broken off at an angle and it resembled a fang.

  “Why?” Lynx barked out the question, an imperial order.

  “Two cycles and we arrive on Manx Two,” he said, and Jannike noticed the matching tooth on the other side of his mouth. They were fangs.

  “Drinks. Females,” one of the other guards added. “Chance to spend our wages.”

  “Hurry up your arses,” the third guard said. “Got to finish feeding.”

  He tugged on the trolley and moved it to the next cell. A rustling sound came from the cell, the grate of the feeding slot. A snarl. The guards snickered and the squeak of a wheel indicated their progress to the next cell.

  “Two cycles,” Jannike whispered, fear sweeping through her in a violent rush. Two cycles until she arrived back at the beginning. She’d wondered about her parents, her family over the cycles. Part of her had wanted to confront them, even though she understood the need to sacrifice one to save the majority. The tiny innocent child cowering deep inside her mind kept crying out, Why me?

  She lifted her chin and forced away that helpless self. She wasn’t that person any longer. Her name was Jannike Hondros, and she was a competent second-in-command. She was a warrior.

  Damn if she’d go down without a fight.

  Chapter Four

  Ursola Verena, widow of the wealthy merchant Neot Verena who had died many rotations ago, strode from her office.

  “Computer, lock door.” She scarcely paused for the central control unit to obey her command, eagerness taking her from the austere business section of her mansion to her more luxurious private apartment. Her slippered feet made no sound on the tiled floor, only the faint rustle of the fabric of her wide-legged white trousers marking her rapid progress.

  A door opened halfway along the passage. On seeing Ursola, the young slave froze. Secs later, she turned to face the wall, her slight shoulders trembling beneath her gray uniform tunic while she waited for her mistress to pass.

  Ursola ignored the slave and continued her ground-eating steps, in a hurry to reach Cayle.

  “Computer, where is Cayle?”

  “Slave Cayle is on the shade deck.” The husky male voice surrounded her, coming from all angles.

  Ursola skipped the remaining steps to the door at the end of the passage. Joy bubbled up inside her, the pressure of business and maintaining her position shoved aside in the excitement of meeting the man she loved.

  “Cayle! Cayle, where are you?”

  Cayle, a tall, muscular blond man with skin several shades darker
than her own pale complexion, stepped from the shadows of a planter box. A green plant resplendent with water-loving scarlet flowers spilled over the synmetal sides. Beyond, a stunning view of the pink sandstone city buildings and the curve of the dome drew attention. Cayle smiled at her, the expression taking him from handsome to stunning and she forgot about the view.

  Hers.

  All hers.

  “I missed you,” Ursola said, a smile forming on her own lips, such was his magnetic pull. Cayle. Her heart beat a little faster, sexual desire stirring her excitement. No matter how many times they were apart or how long he warmed her bed, the heady sensations of first love didn’t retreat. Instead—to her shock—they’d grown stronger.

  She was in love, and that astonished her even more. Humor spurted inside her at the thought. If others of her station discovered her depth of feelings for this slave, she’d lose face. The power she’d struggled to amass since her faithless husband’s death would erode under snide gossip.

  Why did he have to be a slave?

  Cayle went to her, kissed her once, twice. Not enough to appease this ravenous hunger, her appetite for him endless. “I thought you were busy with your empire.”

  “Not too busy to miss you.” She claimed his mouth for the kiss she desired. Deep. Sexual. All encompassing.

  When their lips parted, she fought for breath, her breasts heaving. She gasped, her entire body alight with urgent need. She stared at him, the gray of his eyes. So seductive. Magnetic. Every time he touched her, kissed her, he left her wanting more. He was addictive, this slave, and she knew she was behaving out of character, yet couldn’t stop.

  He made her feel feminine, wanted and desirable.

  For the first time in her life, she felt loved.

  The man accepted her for who she was, what she’d become in order to survive.

  “Have you eaten?” Cayle grasped both her hands in his. “I had the cook prepare a light repast in case you felt hungry.”

  “I’m starving, but not for food. I’m ravenous for you.”

  One of Cayle’s smoke-gray eyes closed in a wink. “Soon, lunaheart. If you want to beat your business competitors, you need to maintain your health. That means good food and rest.”

  “The sex keeps me going.”

  Cayle grinned, and her heartbeat picked up in pace. “Manx residents cannot live on sex alone. Did you have successful business negotiations?”

  He led her inside, away from the heat from the solar-star—the amount the scientists allowed to pass through the dome. “It’s cooler in here. I don’t want you to burn that gorgeous creamy skin.”

  “But I’ve taken my star-pill. I can stay outside on the roof garden for a short time.”

  “I’d rather not put it to the test. Come, I’ve programmed the holo in your suite. I bet you’ll never guess what I’ve designed for us.”

  He tugged on her hand, and with a chuckle, she allowed him to guide her to her suite.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  She shuddered when his touch became more intimate, his fingers pressing into her shoulders.

  “May I unfasten your hair?”

  “Can I open my eyes yet?”

  “This isn’t a business negotiation. Let me direct our private time. Please?”

  Even after all these rotations, Cayle still maintained his place—that of slave. Ursola sighed. His behavior was impeccable, no matter what the situation. She wished things were different. She wished…

  “Ursola?”

  “Of course you can. I trust you.” No less than the truth, yet other merchants, other folks of her social standing would consider him property. Not fit for anything except service. He could come to her bed—of course. She had the right to demand he service her, which was how this relationship had started. He’d pleasured her with competence and skill, yet he’d never taken liberties or tried to benefit over the other slaves.

  He’d be the perfect man—if he didn’t wear the mark of slave.

  The gentle massage of her shoulders continued.

  “I’m going to lead you to a couch, but first, let me make you more comfortable.” Gentle fingers removed the pins from her hair until the intricate braids unraveled. The work of two slaves destroyed in secs. She should be angry, but the dance of his touch across her scalp forced business thoughts away. Soon the heavy black locks tumbled past her hips and the residual tension from the comm she’d taken earlier drifted away. What did it matter if her biggest rival had landed a shipload of new slaves? Her shipment was due in less than two cycles.

  Her lips curved and self-congratulation flooded her mind. She hadn’t succumbed to the temptation to tell Marriot of the imminent arrival of her cargo. Let him discover when her ship docked.

  “Let your mind empty, lunaheart.”

  “Sorry.”

  Cayle chuckled. “Don’t peek. I’m going to guide you to the couch. It’s to your right. Perfect. Time to make you comfortable.” He paused a beat, no doubt waiting for verbal direction. Yes or no.

  “Go ahead, sweet man.”

  Soon the trousers pooled at her feet and the peaks of her firm breasts tightened, ever sensitive against the cooling lifeforce from the conditioning unit. The sensation arrowed downward to sink into her pussy. She ached for him, yet had learned to wait when Cayle took control. The lovemaking was always spectacular.

  “There you go. You were naughty today, going without your underwear.”

  “I was in a hurry to take a call. You kept me in my gel-bed for longer than usual.”

  “Because…” He nipped the pad of one finger and the jolt of awareness layered between her thighs, building blocks of the pleasure to come. “You’re beautiful and sexy…” He bit the fleshy part between finger and thumb. “…and I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered and tried to turn into his arms.

  “No, lunaheart. You gave me permission to do this my way. You can’t take back the reins now.”

  Firm hands pushed her onto a gel-couch and she settled with a sigh, facedown, the gel cushioning her breasts, her hipbones and the rest of her body with supreme comfort.

  “Keep your eyes closed.”

  The warble of birdsong and the rush of a stream filled her sitting room. She drifted on a cloud of bliss as Cayle dribbled fragrant oil down her spine. The scent of herbs and flowers relaxed her further.

  “Where did you get the oil?”

  “I went with Hark to do the marketing. She required aid to carry parcels and arrange deliveries.”

  “You don’t need to do manual work any longer. I’ve told you before.”

  “I enjoy keeping busy. I did check to see if you had need of me.”

  He had, she realized, so she bit back her irritation. No need to spoil this decadent treat of alone time. Once her cargo ship arrived she’d become busier with myriad demands on her time. She’d survey the incoming stock, peruse them herself to make sure the captain was correct with his assessment of the captures. She’d need to arrange for their cleaning and grooming and each captive would require a health check.

  Cayle straddled her body, his hard thighs riding the outer edges of her hips. The slight pressure set her heart racing, each sense hyperaware as she wondered what he would do next, which method of lovemaking he’d choose. An inventive lover, he was generous and appeared to enjoy the act as much as she.

  His hands slid down her spine, feathering then digging into her muscles. A groan slipped free as he massaged and rubbed, the heady floral and herb scent wafting to her as the oil heated on her flesh.

  She craved his touch between her legs, but bit her tongue to halt the begging words that tumbled unbidden to mind.

  He moved down her body, stroked and smoothed his hands over her buttocks. She moaned and he chuckled.

  “Patience, lunaheart. My way.”

  “Too slow.”

  “Slow is best.” He massaged her thighs, skipping over her weeping sex. Instead, he stroked her calves and h
er feet until she throbbed with hunger, yet every muscle sang a relaxed song.

  How did he do this to her when no other male had ever come close? Every other male in her life she’d used to get ahead, to obtain position and power. Never had she experienced the need to linger, to savor, to possess.

  “Turn over but keep your eyes closed.”

  She obeyed, resettled with his help. A callused finger circled one breast, drifted between and then higher until he circled her nipple. Without warning, he tugged.

  “Ooh.” The sharp jolt frisked her nerve endings.

  Warmth surrounded her nipple next. His mouth?

  “Don’t open your eyes,” he warned, the wet heat disappearing with a soft pop.

  Yes, it was his mouth, and mercifully, he returned to his taunting and teasing, the faint suckling that drove enjoyable sensations writhing down to her needy pussy.

  His fingers played with her other nipple before his mouth switched. She floated, drowning in his attentions, business receding until thoughts of her to-do list for the coming cycle was but a faint memory.

  When he lifted his head, she waited with bated breath. A sharp pain at her breast, followed immediately by another, told her he’d placed clamp-pegs on her nipples. She breathed through the wash of pain, allowed the nip and burn to sink its claws into her and emerge at a point shy of pleasure.

  “Should I continue, lunaheart?”

  “Yes.”

  He roughly parted her legs, knowing what excited her. Loss of control. The bite of pain. Both things she dished out and never received in return. Except with Cayle. Cayle…

  The warm stream of air across her sex made her catch her breath. The rougher caress of his hard fingers as he ran them through her slick flesh. A prickle of sensation converged on her clit, the harbinger of climax, and she caught her breath, ready for the next onslaught.

  It didn’t come. Instead, he removed his hand, but kept her grounded with his touch on her hipbone.