by Anna Argent
She ripped the tape free and gripped the rings in her fist.
Warrian filled the space, giving her nowhere to look that wasn’t filled with hot, wet manflesh. A shimmering warmth flooded her belly, daring her to try to ignore what was right in front of her, naked and eager to please.
She was not going to do this. She was not going to let a bit of naked skin turn her stupid. Their lives were at stake. Warrian had risked himself to save her twice. The least she could do was keep her inconvenient lust under control so that they got out of here before it was too late.
After stepping into the tub, she found Warrian’s hands and put the rings back where they belonged. If anything bad came their way, she wanted him ready to go—drunk off his ass or not.
She ripped open the paper covering the little bar of soap and shoved it into his hands. “Wash.”
He leaned against the tiled wall for support, but did as she asked. While he did, she opened the shampoo and went to work on his hair. The sooner he was clean and out of the tub, the better.
She moved to undo the braid, but he caught her hand before she could untie the blue ribbon.
“Leave it,” he said.
“I’m just going to wash your hair.”
“I can’t allow you to see me like that.”
“Like what?”
“With my hair loose.”
She swatted his hands away. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s just hair. You can’t seriously be upset about that when you’re standing there, naked as the day you were born.”
“Leave it,” he insisted. Some of the bleariness had started fading from his eyes.
“Fine. If it’s that big of a deal.”
“It is.”
She concentrated on scrubbing his hair clean, letting the silky strands slide between her fingers. They cascaded over his broad shoulders, inky black and dancing under the stream of water.
He groaned in pleasure at her attention, letting his head fall limply toward her.
Her gaze drifted south to where his thick erection stood out from his body, huge and insistent. The head was dark. Thick veins ran along the length where she could see his pulse beating through him.
She went still, shocked. Not so much by the sight of his extreme arousal as she was the answering quiver of feminine need that rushed through her. She felt her body soften, felt a fluttering heat ripple through her core.
He was still covered in suds. She knew if she reached out, her hand would glide over him, slick and easy.
Warrian caught her staring.
“I can’t help it,” he told her. “Having you so close, feeling your warmth still shimmering within me… my body doesn’t understand the boundaries between us.”
Her body wasn’t interested in boundaries, either. It wanted her to strip off the rest of her clothes and rub herself against him as the water caressed them both. More than that, she wanted to climb up his powerful body and sink back down until his erection filled her all the way up. As excited as she was, she thought she’d be wet enough to take all of him, but there was one way to be sure.
The only thing in their way was the dainty scrap of fabric between her thighs. All she had to do was slip her panties off. She was certain that Warrian would do the rest. He’d boost her right up, ease her slowly down.
Her thighs clenched together as she fought to remember why that was a really bad idea. Bad guys could find them. They could find them and interrupt what could be the best sex of her life. She didn’t want that. If she ever got his man inside of her, she didn’t want anything to get in the way of her enjoying every second of it.
With what was left of her sanity, she tore her gaze away from his incredible body and took the soap from his hands. “Turn around and rinse off. Then get out and let me finish up. By the time I’m out, you’d better be dressed.” Because if she got out, and he was still beautifully naked, dotted with little drops of water, offering her the opportunity to touch and taste as she pleased, she wasn’t entirely sure her willpower would hold out.
Warrian was steadier on his feet now. She kept a firm hold on his arm as he stepped out of the tub, but he seemed to be able to stand up on his own. Thank heaven.
He wrapped a towel around his hips. Water dripped from his hair and trickled a path down over mouthwatering landscapes until it disappeared into the towel.
Isa was suddenly dying of thirst, her mouth bone dry. “There are clean clothes in the plastic sacks.” She really hoped that what she bought him fit, and that the sweat pants she’d purchased were able to keep his impressive erection contained.
He nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. She made quick work of stripping off her underwear and scrubbing herself from head to toe. Maybe the effort was futile—maybe her scent went deeper than the dirt, fear, and sweat she washed from her skin—but at least she felt like she was doing something. At this point, even a small measure of control felt good.
Avoiding the dirty clothes on the floor so she wouldn’t undo her scrubbing, she dried off and wrapped up in one of the flimsy towels. Warrian sat on the bed, completely covered.
Disappointment warred with relief, leaving her feeling off-balance. “How do you feel?”
His gaze hit her, and even from here, she could see sparks igniting within his eyes. He licked his lips and purposefully looked past her. “Better. I drank some water to help replace the blood lost. I must eat soon.”
He seemed more solid and less wobbly as he leaned forward to lace up the canvas shoes she’d bought him.
“I wasn’t sure what size you wore. I hope those work.”
“They will suffice. Thank you.”
She grabbed her own cheap clothes from the sack and shimmied into panties without losing her towel. Her back was to him, but she was acutely aware of his presence only a few feet away. Part of her wanted him to tug the towel from her body and give her that hot, needy look again, but instead, she heard the door to the bathroom shut.
Isa didn’t know if he’d fled so he wouldn’t accidentally see anything he shouldn’t, or if he was simply giving her privacy to dress. Either way, she was left by herself in the dimly lit room, suddenly feeling lost and alone.
She flung her clothes on, realizing she’d forgotten to buy herself a bra. The baggy sweatshirt hid her completely, but she still felt exposed. Maybe she would have felt that way even with a bra.
“It’s safe to come out,” she called.
Warrian opened the door, his cell phone and keys in hand. His gaze was sharper, clearer, but there was still a sluggishness to his movements that didn’t belong to him. “We will leave our discarded clothing here. With any luck, the Dregorgs will take some time finding us again. The less time we linger here, the better our chances are of not being followed.”
She held out her hand for the keys. “You’re not driving in your condition.”
“The truck will smell of us.”
“Not once I get done dousing it with deodorant spray.” She held up one of the cans she’d purchased along with all of the other supplies.
He didn’t look convinced, but nodded. “We should leave here before adding a new scent that they could track.”
“I got two cans of room deodorizer. I’m going to set one off here and take the other along. They’re different scents.”
“Set one off?” he asked.
“Like this.” She grabbed one of the cans and used a strip of medical tape to shove the button down. A fine mist of sharply scented spray spewed out.
She wet a wash cloth in the sink and headed for the door, outrunning the cloud of perfume filling the room.
Neither one of them had coats. They’d been left behind when they’d been attacked. As soon as the cold air hit her, it sucked the breath from her lungs.
The freezing rain had caught up with them here as the storm spread, leaving a shiny layer on the branches of some nearby bushes. Soon, it would start sticking to the pavement, too, making driving conditions dangerous.
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��How do the Dregorgs get around?” she asked as she opened the driver’s door and began scrubbing Warrian’s blood from the leather seat.
“They walk or use vehicles. I saw a van parked near the camp. No doubt that was how the Raide brought his troops so close.”
As soon as the blood was gone, she tossed the rag and climbed inside. Even with the protection the truck offered from the wind, her hands were stinging with cold by the time she started the engine.
“So this storm is going to slow them down?” she asked.
“It seems likely.”
“Do they know where the window is?”
“Yes.”
“And we can assume that if we lose them, that’s where they’ll head?”
“It seems a logical guess.”
“Where is the window?”
“South of here.”
“How far?”
“Two hours. Longer with poor driving conditions.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. We head north where the storm is worst and hope that we outrun them or that they don’t follow at all.”
“I question the wisdom of your plan, but I’m compromised and not thinking clearly.”
He was right. It wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had, but it was something. The only thing that drove away the screaming fear in her chest was taking action or seeing Warrian look at her like she was something good to eat. And she knew which of those things was going to keep them moving. Besides, she hadn’t decided if she was even walking through that window now that she knew what waited for her on the other end.
“I’ll hit a gas station on our way out of town so we can grab some food and fill the tank.”
“I will be myself once again after some food and rest.”
She really hoped so, because if the bad guys found them and he was off his game, they were both dead.
Chapter Ten
Kemp fumed behind the wheel of his van. A strategic retreat had been necessary, but absolutely unwanted.
Oc lay in the back, groaning in pain from the wounds the Imonite had inflicted.
“I will heal you as soon as I can safely stop,” he told his lieutenant.
“Mine are dead,” said Oc, grief tainting his rumbling voice.
“Yes. A necessary loss. I will see to it that their families are told of this tragedy.”
“No families,” said Oc. “Mine were alone.”
That certainly made things simpler. “Have any of yours found the woman’s trail?”
“Cannot tell. Mine are gone. Too much pain.”
Perfect. Oc’s ability to communicate with his people must have been impeded by his injury. “I need you to try. Finding the woman is vital. To all of us.”
From the rearview mirror, Kemp saw the Dreg close his orange eyes and lie back on the floor of the van. Sprawled out like he was, his body nearly filled the space.
Kemp couldn’t tell if he was concentrating or had fallen unconscious.
Perhaps the Dreg had outlived his usefulness. Healing the damage that had been done to him would take time, and with every minute that passed, the woman was getting farther away—perhaps far enough to access a different window.
Kemp had other Dregs here. Not as many as he would have liked, but enough that he was certain he could find one to take Oc’s place. The only thing that stayed Kemp’s hand was that it had taken him a lot of effort to train the Dreg to behave properly—to cover his stench and act as a civilized creature. He had been motivated to learn fast, knowing that if he failed, his mate and offspring would pay the price.
Oc sucked in a sudden, gasping breath. When he spoke, his voice wavered with pain. “Mine have her scent.”
“Which way, Oc?”
He lifted a fleshy arm and pointed north. Into the growing storm.
Kemp shivered at the thought of delving into the icy downpour, but he had no choice but to follow where she led. It was he who had learned of the children who’d been sent away as the hidden hope of Loriah. It was his idea to come to this world and find them. If he failed in his mission, the leaders of Force Dimas would send him back home to his decaying world. At best he would be ordered to serve as guard over the stinking Dregs. At worst, they’d kill him as an example to others of the cost of failure.
He refused to allow either to happen. He would not fail.
The unconscious Imonite warrior bound to the seat beside him began to wake. He let out a groan of pain, fighting his bonds before his eyes had fully opened.
Kemp had stripped him of his weapons and trinkets and slowed his bleeding so he would survive. A dead warrior would gain him nothing in trade. Though if he did die, Kemp could strip the intricately marked skin from his bones and send it home for study. Most of the Imonite’s technology had been unlocked, but there were still a few secrets left to uncover, and it was possible some of those might dwell within the marks covering the warriors’ head and back.
But discovering new technology interested Kemp much less than gaining access to the weapons they already understood. He needed the daughter of House Loriah, and if either of the men protecting her cared for the Imonite, there was a chance they would give her up in exchange for the warrior. And if not, when they came to rescue him, Kemp would be ready and take her by any means necessary.
Chapter Eleven
As Warrian’s belly filled with food and drink, his head cleared completely. Every humiliating second of his time with Isa in that sleeping chamber came rushing back to him with perfect clarity.
She had seen him naked. Aroused. He’d nearly kissed her. Had she given him even the slightest show of acceptance, he would have. They would still be back in that room, risking their lives for a few stolen moments of pleasure.
He wasn’t completely convinced they’d made the right choice by leaving.
There was no more telling himself he wasn’t attracted to her. Even now, thinking about the way she’d looked under the cascade of hot water, her slender body flushed and wet, he was hard. And these flimsy pants she’d provided did little to mask his growing erection.
He hadn’t seen all of her, but what he had seen was imprinted on his mind, blazing in vivid detail, all the way down to the silvery droplets of water that had clung to her lashes. The way her eyes had darkened as she’d stared up at him. The way her bottom lip had trembled slightly before she’d tucked it between her teeth. The maddening curve of her waist as it flared out to her smooth, rounded hips. Her tiny pants—barely a scrap of fabric over her mound—had become semi-transparent when wet, showing him a glimpse of what lay beneath.
In that moment, he couldn’t remember having ever wanted anything more than he’d wanted to feel and taste what was barely hidden from him.
She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever had the pleasure of touching. And there was nothing he could do to convince himself that he didn’t want more of her. Even his need to restore his family’s honor seemed to wane in importance as his head fogged with lust.
Warrian stole a glance at her as she drove.
Her focus was absolute, her gaze on the path ahead. The roads were growing slicker by the hour. Flashing lights of rescue vehicles became more frequent as they progressed until the area became completely empty of all traffic. Only the remnants of previous collisions were left strewn across the pavement, reminding them of the risk.
“This is dangerous,” he told her. “We should stop.”
“I’m barely moving at all. Even if we crash, neither one of us will be so much as bruised at this speed.”
Scrapers slid over the glass, clearing it of the freezing rain. Her hands were fisted around the wheel, her knuckles standing out in prominent display. Her hair had mostly dried, but there were still damp spots across her shoulders.
If they had to leave the truck, they’d freeze to death. It was his duty to ensure that it didn’t come to that. He’d rather have a horde of Dregorgs to battle than to be left stumbling over the frozen countryside, watching the warmth fade from Isa’s body.
He shoved the rest of his food aside, his appetite gone in the wake of his self-disgust.
“Take the next route heading east,” he said. “We have a camp not far from here.”
She spared him a quick glance filled with skepticism. “No offense, but the last camping we did didn’t end well.”
“We can’t stay on the roads any longer. It’s foolish to be out here, risking a collision, with no way to protect ourselves from the cold if the truck ceases to function.”
Her shoulders sagged with fatigue. “You’re right. Dying of hypothermia isn’t my idea of a good time either. And I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to drive without falling asleep.”
He was weary as well. The healing had taken its toll on both of them. “At least at the campsite we will have perimeter alarms to warn us that anyone is approaching.”
“I guess that’s more than we’d have in another crappy motel.” She sighed.
“Turn here,” he instructed as they neared the road leading to the campsite.
“This leads nowhere.”
“No, there it is,” he said, pointing to the abandoned structure. It loomed against the snowy night sky, inky black and desolate.
“This is a campsite?” Her tone made it clear that she hoped he was joking.
“No one makes use of this place. We monitored it for a time and no one arrived. It has been left to decay, forgotten. That makes it perfect for our use.”
“I hope it has heat,” she said as she pulled up close to the door.
“Stay here where it’s warm while I light the fire. Press the distress button if you see anything.”
“Distress button?”
He pointed to the middle of the steering wheel.
“You mean the horn? You want me to stay here and honk the horn if the bad guys find us? Uh. No, thanks. I’d rather be cold than scared, which I definitely will be sitting alone in the dark.”
Warrian didn’t argue. He preferred her to be where he would see her, just in case their precautions to cover their tracks failed.