Sam panted lightly, hating herself for feeling pleasure at his compliments. Sure, men had complimented her before. Hell, some had even tried to buy her from her crew. With a few simple words, Falke did something they never had. He managed to make her actually feel beautiful and desired.
“You’re just saying that to be polite,” Sam dismissed, uncomfortable, as she absently waved her hand. She noticed that a blanket and pillow was now in the cage, though he didn’t use them. It seemed wrong, making him sleep on the floor, especially since there was a perfectly good couch behind him.
“Polite? To my captor?” Falke chuckled.
“Yeah, I see your point.” Sam did her best not to look at him. Realizing she was just standing there, looking clueless, she moved toward the bathroom to change for the night.
“Don’t go.”
When she glanced back, he’d moved from his spot, crouching forward. His hand had reached out as if he could touch her and stop her. He withdrew it back, but not before she saw the gesture.
“Are you trying to negotiate with me?” Sam asked. “Is that what this is about? You think if you lie and flatter me to death I’ll...what? Change my mind? Take it back? I can’t take it back, though believe me, I wish I could.”
Falke didn’t answer. She could practically see his whole body stiffen. He moved back to his place by the bars and stared straight ahead.
Sam pulled open a dresser and grabbed a pair of light blue cotton slacks and a white shirt before moving to change. As the door to the bathroom slid shut behind her, she let loose a long breath. Her hands shook and her knees were definitely weak. She’d hoped that since he was dressed, and since she had her mind back from the rum incident, that he wouldn’t affect her. It was quite the opposite. Now that her senses weren’t dulled, she wanted him more. Her body practically throbbed with need for him. Never had she reacted with such violent force. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
Sam swallowed and forced herself to undress. Going to the decontaminator, she used it as an excuse to delay going back into her quarters. The warm lasers hit her flesh and she trembled. Blessed stars! They only seemed to increase the blood flowing beneath her skin. Her nerves prickled, begging to be touched.
Sam glanced at the door. Dare she? She couldn’t seem to stop herself, as she lifted a finger to her erect nipple. A wave of pleasure coursed through her, and she nearly fell over onto the floor.
“Oh—ha,” she breathed. That had never happened before.
Her hands had minds of their own as they glided down her flesh. She cupped her breasts, massaging the tips. They practically tingled to life. Even as she pleasured herself, she knew this wasn’t a good sign. She’d enjoyed men before, not many, but some. Her Ticara father had always told her that one day her body would awaken to her soul mate. That god-like creature definitely wasn’t a soul mate. But, here she was, nearly helpless as she reached to touch her swollen folds.
Sam refused to believe in soul mates or fate. She believed in making her own destiny. It was why she had left her father’s people and continued to stay away though he’d tried to call her back to him. Her father seemed to think he could pick her soul mate out for her, in fact, he already had.
Sam’s hand stroked faster, making her forget everything but Prince Falke. She thought of his lips kissing her, his serious eyes watching her, his warm breath along her skin, his hands against her body, stroking, kneading, pinching. Her hands didn’t feel like enough, but she couldn’t stop. Suddenly, she jerked, climaxing in spiraling waves. She panted, arms weakly set against the decontaminator’s walls. The lasers kicked on, moving over her body to clean the light sheen of sweat from her skin. She’d barely remembered them turning off.
Her eyes moved to the door, trying to remember if she’d been loud. A blush stained her cheeks. What had she been thinking? There was a man outside her room. Quickly grabbing her clothes, she tugged them on, doing her best not to look flustered.
Outside the bathroom, Falke watched the door intently. He hadn’t meant to say those words out loud, though they were true. He had missed her during the day. Each time the door slid open, he’d hoped it was her. It hadn’t been. Instead, Dev came to him, giving him food, allowing him to take care of his personal needs. He’d even given him a hand-held sanitizer so he could clean himself off. The two of them shared a grudging respect for the other, though they didn’t speak. It was a silent understanding between two men used to conflict and war.
Don’t go.
Had he really begged her to stay with him? When he had seen her turn, the thought had just slipped past his lips.
She’d been in the bathroom for a while when he saw the faint glow of green light under the door. He leaned forward, sniffing. A sugary fragrance filled his head, sweet, tempting, mouthwatering. His whole body stiffened. He felt his gut clench. She was pleasuring herself.
He concentrated on the door. His ears picked up the faint, ragged pants of her breath beneath the hum of lasers. The humming stopped, and the panting became louder. It was pure torture. He heard her whimper, ever so lightly. Closing his eyes, he could imagine her biting her full bottom lip, trying to keep from moaning too loud. The smell of her grew stronger. Falke’s nerve endings lurched with need. Instantly, he was aroused, his member thick and aching for release.
Falke was so focused on her that he could feel the moment she began to climax. Irrationally, anger built in him. She’d deny him only to do it herself? He wasn’t one to brag, but he definitely knew what he was doing in the sex department. The only complaint he’d ever had was that he could go too many times and that the women had gotten worn out, in a good way.
This was one of the reasons Falke didn’t think he’d ever mate to one woman. If he did, he’d want to be faithful to her. He didn’t think he could inflict his appetites onto one woman. He thought of his father. King Attor had never life mated himself. He’d taken many wives, collecting hundreds of them into his harem. Attor’s words of wisdom filled his head.
“To be ruled by a woman is to be ruled by weakness, and kingdoms are only as strong as their rulers. It’s a good thing you lack all emotion, Falke. It makes you a great commander. I know I’ll never have to worry about your heart being lost to a woman, not like I do your half-human brothers.”
Falke tried to stiffen his resolve against his slender captor. He’d been fifteen when his father had first told him that, a young boy bent on pleasing a man who would never really be pleased. Over the years, Attor had repeated the same sentiment, praising Falke for his emotionless cunning and ability to perform any task he must.
It wasn’t that Falke didn’t feel, but that he never allowed it to show. He agreed that emotion only got in the way of strategic planning. Emotion got warriors killed. Emotion was messy, irrational, reckless.
Taura, his mother, was stoic by nature, as was the way of her people, the Roane. She was tough, brave, and strong. In her own way, Falke knew she’d loved his father. She’d wanted to be burned by his side when he died. Kirill had denied her request. Taura chose Attor, despite all his wives and his shortcomings, and came to be his first mistress claimed above all other half mates.
His eyes lifted to the door as it opened. He held onto the thought. After eighty-two years, it wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been to push his desires aside and concentrate.
Violet eyes found his. Her face was flushed with a soft glow and her body wasn’t as tense. Falke snorted quietly to himself. He really wished he could say the same thing for himself. He felt like he had poison in his gut, the way it clenched.
She stared him directly in the eyes, almost too directly. Sam walked across the room, pretending nonchalance as she went toward the couch. He hid his smile. She didn’t think he knew. Unable to help himself, he asked, “Enjoy yourself?”
Sam froze, turning to him. Her eyes rounded slightly. “Wha...what do you mean?”
“The bath,” Falke supplied. When she stayed pale and unmoving, he added, “I was just thinking how I wish
ed I could take a bath.”
“Oh, well...yeah, that,” she mumbled. Then, he detected her whisper, “You’re talking about that.”
Sam continued on to the couch and couldn’t help the embarrassment that threatened to turn her cheeks a bright red. Gathering three pillows in her arms, she moved back to him. “Here, you might want these.”
She kept her distance, passing one forward so he could reach it through the bars. He took it and tossed it aside. She lifted the second one.
“I don’t think I’ve actually said I’m sorry for this whole thing,” Sam began. He reached for the second pillow and his finger darted out to brush against her hand. She felt his touch, like fire through her limbs. Her body lurched back to life. Without thinking, she took a step closer and lifted the third pillow as he tossed the second behind him. His dark piercing eyes never left hers.
Falke reached forward. At the last second, he grabbed her wrist instead of the pillow. Sam gasped as she was tugged forward. The pillow dropped, forgotten, to the ground.
Her body met with the odd combination of cool metal bars and warm flesh. As her breast pressed against both at once, she wasn’t sure which was harder. Instantly, she became damp with need, growing dizzy from his nearness. He smelled good, fresh, masculine. He held her wrist up near his shoulder. His fingers wrapped around her rampant pulse.
Before she could think about reacting his free hand snaked around her waist and pulled her forward. She gasped, feeling the unmistakable form of his arousal between them. His fingers pressed along the small of her back, as he took advantage of her parted lips, and kissed her between the bars.
Sam felt his hand leave her waist, but she didn’t pull back. His tongue darted into her mouth, parting her lips wider with gentle insistence. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move beyond the pressure of his mouth, the mesmerizing warmth of his tongue gliding against hers. A weak, wholly feminine moan left her throat. His rhythm turned from exploring to conquering. His grip on her wrist tightened and his hand reached around to cup a soft round cheek. He squeezed her butt only to glide his fingers down the back of her thigh, lifting her leg up between the bars so he could press his erection more fully to her center heat.
Sam felt the massive size of him on her hips and stiffened in fear, recalling how large he’d looked naked. She made a weak noise, tearing her mouth from his. Her body wanted to stay, but her mind took over once more.
“No,” she gasped. “No.”
“Yes,” he growled in answer, grinding his hips to hers in a slow, rocking rhythm.
“Mm, no, please,” she panted. She was too weak to pull away.
“Are you worried about my size? I know how to wield my weapon, my lady, I will not hurt you,” Falke said. His eyes were liquid pools of desire. “You have my word. Free me so that I may prove it to you.”
“No,” was all she managed to get out.
“Very well,” he answered. His tone lowered, sending chills over her flesh. “As you wish.”
Sam opened her mouth, ready to kiss him again when something sharp poked her in a butt cheek. She struggled against the sting, trying to push back off him. She managed to untangle her leg from the bars, but couldn’t free her wrist. When he drew his hand back, he held the three darts she’d shot him with.
“What did you do?” she breathed, beginning to feel faint.
“If there is one thing I know, dear Captain, it’s weapons,” Falke stated. “It has been my life’s work. My father saw to it that I was well versed in many alien battle techniques and weaponry. These darts don’t inject all their poison the first time. It’s so they can be reused.”
Sam’s vision blurred. Blackness called to her, and she had no choice but to fall into it. Her body dropped, falling limp and only kept somewhat upright by Falke’s hold on her wrist.
Falke let loose the breath he held. His body was on fire for her and when she had responded so sweetly to his kiss he’d nearly forgotten his plan. As the darts had embedded into her flesh, he almost felt sorry for what he was doing, almost. Dropping the darts, he reached forward and scooped her up. Letting go of her wrist, he pulled her close. Her smell was intoxicating and he couldn’t stop himself from taking a deep breath of her shorter purple streaked locks.
It was awkward, but he managed to work her around the side to the front of the cage. Then, once there, he placed her hand on the scanner. The door to the cage clicked open. Falke grinned. He was free.
9
Sam’s mind floated in a cocoon of dark warmth. It was all around her, holding her, keeping her safe. She sighed in contentment, not wanting to leave it. Slowly, her lashes fluttered over her eyes. Her dresser came into view. By the darker lighting in the room, she knew that it was technically night for them. Being in a spaceship, life was lived more in orderly timed shifts rather than by the patterns of sunlight moving over the planet. Without gentle reminders, it was so easy to sleep too long or stay awake too many hours. That’s when space madness infected the crew.
She was awake now, but the warmth was still with her. No, it was more like heat, solid heat, and it was at her back. Sam stiffened. Someone lay behind her on the bed. A massive arm flung over her naked waist.
Naked? Oh, no. Blessed stars, no.
She was completely naked. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she wasn’t the only one.
Prince Falke?
She tried to remember. His smell engulfed her. Heat covered her face as she recalled his kiss. It had felt so good. And his taste? It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Besides, by the girth of the half erect rod pressing into her back, it could only be him.
Knowing that it was his naked body next to hers, her blood stirred. Why was he naked in her bed? She felt her body for violation, but wasn’t the least bit sore, well, except for a dull ache in one of her butt cheeks.
“You darted me?” Sam asked, incredulously pushing up in anger. His hand slid lower over her hip but still held her close. “You actually darted me in the ass?”
There was a light moan, and she watched Falke open his eyes. A victorious smile crossed over his sleepy features, and he yawned. “This bed is so much more comfortable than the cage. Come here, briallen, go back to sleep.”
“But, you darted me in the ass,” Sam said, still groggily stuck on that one thought. He darted her and now he was in her bed?
“Would you like me to kiss the wound to soothe it?” Falke asked, chuckling softly. “Come on, lay down. I was comfortable, and so were you. At least by the way you purr and cuddle in your sleep, I’m pretty sure you were comfortable against me.”
“Am I missing something? Like, say...I don’t know, a week or two? Who in the hell do you think you are, coming into my bed?” Sam wasn’t sure if she wanted to hit him or climb on top of him. Just the idea of leaning over and straddling his hips made a jolt of hot desire dampen her thighs. She became aware of her body and where it touched his. His smell was all around her, dominating her senses. He seemed to radiate heat, hot liquid fire that jumped out at her and consumed her sanity.
“Mm,” Falke hummed, a drowsily seductive sound. He looked more awake now, and she saw his nostrils flare. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted me? I’d miss a week’s worth of sleep for that.”
Sam couldn’t utter a sound to save her life. She tried to sniff herself without being obvious. All she could smell was him.
Falke’s strong hand glided up from her waist to cup her breasts. Since she was already naked, his hand moved easily in long strokes. Sam moaned softly. It’d been so long since she’d been touched intimately, aside from her own hand, which didn’t really count. He lightly traced her collarbone, moving in lazy, haphazard patterns over her skin. The same light torture rolled around her nipples, as he refused to touch the centers.
“You’re so delicate,” Falke moaned in approval. “Like a flower petal.”
Sam was pretty sure that was either the strangest or the nicest thing anyone had ever told her. She didn’t have time to analyz
e as he moved his light caress along the bottom edge of her breasts. Her stomach tensed. Her body was wet with anticipation as his fingers crept to her navel, dipping along her hips.
“You smell so sweet,” Falke groaned. “I want to bury my face in you.”
His fingers glanced over the thin strip of hair guarding her opening. He touched the outer edges but didn’t move any closer. His fingers danced along the crease joining her inner thigh to her hips.
“Ahh, you enjoy that,” Falke said, feeling her tense and jerk. “Your body is so sensitive to the touch. I like that. I like that you respond to me.”
Sam’s mouth was dry, as was her throat. His finger skimmed her thighs again, and again her body jerked with pleasure. She couldn’t control it though she did try to push all feeling from her body.
“Come, lay back down.” Falke’s body shifted, and she felt him drawing closer. “Let me explore better.”
Sam had no idea why her body obeyed the command. She studied his handsome face in the very dim light. His jaw was strong, proud. She could almost imagine the outline of it. It seemed her eyes had already memorized the look of him, because she could almost picture his features perfectly, down to every angle. Lying on the mattress, she rested on her side, facing him.
Falke rolled. His knee nudged forward, and she soon found a large thigh propped between her legs, pressing up at her wet slit. Sam panicked, stiffening her legs and clamping them down tightly to push him away. He didn’t move, save for the gentle rocking of his thigh up into her.
His hands spanned the whole breadth of her stomach as he pushed his palm flat against her. He pushed up, covering her throat in his grasp before moving to cup her jaw. Turning her face toward him, he licked her mouth. His tongue dragged across the seam, pressing deeper with each slow pass. Her eyes closed, as pleasant sensations flooded her.
The Bound Prince Page 6