Taken by Storm

by Anna Argent

  She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit her so hard, she felt plastered to the seat. Spidery monsters filled her vision, so close she swore she could smell them. She tried not to gag—tried to sound commanding, rather than as weak as she was. “Stop it.”

  The vibrations shook her harder. Heat built all around her. That familiar feel of having energy sucked out of her started slow, but built faster than she could control.

  The machine was going to fire, with or without her consent.

  Suddenly, it hit her what was going on—why the device was demanding that she act. Somehow it knew how bad things were, and that if something didn’t happen soon, the palace was going to be overrun.

  The device knew it was in jeopardy. It was trying to save itself.

  Before Isa could even digest that concept, the weapon fired, sending a surge of electric agony ripping through her. Her cries of pain echoed against the metal, bouncing back to stab at her ears. She felt like she was being torn in two so that the device could dig deeper, scraping out what it needed from her.

  She couldn’t make it stop. She couldn’t even find enough air to beg for help. As each heated pulse of light burst through the sky, a little more of her bled away.

  It struck her in that moment that this must have been how her mother had died. Screaming in pain, helpless and weak. She’d probably sent Isa to Earth in part to protect her from her birthright, but hadn’t done any good. Isa was going to die just like her mother had.

  As she gasped and shuddered in pain, the only solace she could find was that least she hadn’t left behind a child of her own for the device to kill. The torture ended with her.

  *****

  Pretor stood in the hidden, little room off to the side of the weapon chamber and listened to the empress’s screams long enough to calm his fury. As soon as he was more in control of himself, he readjusted the defense settings back down to more moderate levels. He didn’t want to kill her, but teaching her a valuable lesson was his duty—one he enjoyed more than he should have.

  Utral lifted his hand from the panel. It took two councilmen to make the adjustments, but both of them agreed that the risk was necessary. The empress was in need of an adjustment in attitude herself, and this was the only way.

  “I think that will suffice,” said Pretor.

  “You won’t be able to cleanse her willfulness away, no matter how high you set the weapon’s power.”

  “Perhaps not, but if she’s too weak to be spiteful, it will be just as effective.”

  Utral shook his head. “Your efforts never worked with her mother. What makes you think they will work with her?”

  “Her mother was smarter than she is. The empress has no idea what we can do to her.”

  “Which will only make her more assertive. If she has no fear, she will be bolder, braver.”

  “Unconscious women are never brave. Now go to her and sire an heir.” He tossed Utral a small, cloth bag that clinked as it landed.

  He looked inside. “Garala rings?”

  “You do know how to use them, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then use them. And try to do a better job of impregnating the girl than your brother did with her mother. You and I both know that the reason the empress is so willful is bad blood. Her mother bedded a warrior, and that poor breeding shows all the way down to the empress’s bones.”

  Utral’s thin mouth pinched in anger. “My brother always suspected Isa was not his. He never spoke of it publicly. I think the shame of his failure was too great for him to face.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Pretor. “I found the warrior who sullied our previous empress and had him put down for his crimes. Your brother’s honor remains unstained.”

  “You know. I know. It makes me wonder who else knows.”

  “All you need to worry about is doing your duty. I’d do it myself, but I already fulfilled that duty with her grandmother.”

  Utral frowned, then went still as he figured out what Pretor had just said. “The empress is your granddaughter?”

  Pretor nodded. “And I’ll be damned if I let that warrior who found her dilute our bloodlines any further. The way she looks at him, you’d better fill her belly soon, or he’ll beat you to it.”

  Outrage turned Utral’s face a dark red. “He wouldn’t dare touch her.”

  “If my guess is correct, he already has.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Warrian ignored the arching shocks of electricity stabbing through his skin as he climbed the machine and wrenched Isa out of the seat.

  As soon as her limp body was no longer in contact with the device, the metal contraption shook hard, and then fell eerily silent, almost as if it had died.

  His clothes were scorched in spots, and his toes felt like a thousand needles were shoved into them all at once. But Isa was in his arms, still alive.

  Her breathing was fast and shallow. The pulse at the base of her throat jumped in an unsteady beat. She was limp in his arms. Silvery paths of tears disappeared back into her braided hair. Her lips had a faint bluish tint that scared the life out of him.

  “Is she alive?” asked a female warrior with pale, wild hair. She knelt next to him, a genuine look of concern on her face.

  Warrian nodded. “Yes. But she is not well.”

  “She’s been worse than this before. Let me care for her. I know what to do.”

  He gripped Isa a bit tighter, pulling her more firmly against his body. “I will see to her care.”

  The woman stared at him for a moment. “You are the one who found her. You are Warrian.”

  “I am.”

  “Rohra,” said the woman, naming herself.

  He recognized the name now. “You sent word to Earth that Isa was in trouble.”

  “Isa?”

  Warrian had used her name—a dangerous thing to do. No one could know how he felt about her, or that they’d been intimate.

  “The empress,” he corrected. “Tell me what she needs and I will provide it.”

  “Rest. Water. She likes the heat of the bath. But mostly you must guard her sleep. She rests poorly if she thinks she’s unguarded. She worries about… visitors.”

  To say more would have been unwise, but Warrian knew exactly what she meant. “I will see to it that no one disturbs her rest.”

  Rohra nodded and stood as Warrian lifted Isa to his chest. “The empress’s command for a bar on her door has been followed. I saw to it myself.”

  “Thank you, Rohra. I will inform Her Imperial Majyr of your service as soon as she wakes.”

  He lifted her up and headed for her chamber, cradling her close. He needed to feel her pulse, the rise and fall of her chest, reassuring him she was alive. He’d witnessed torture before. He’d heard her scream as the Raide’s sight attacked her mind. But he’d never before heard sounds of pain quite as raw and ragged as those Isa had made while inside the weapon. The sounds had ripped at him, clawing their way inside until he was sure he would never again be rid of the terror they’d caused.

  His footsteps echoed on the stone, along with two armed guards who followed along behind him. The halls of the palace were nearly empty, making Warrian worry about just how well Isa was being guarded. He knew most of the service staff had been sent away for their own safety, and that the ranks of warriors had been thinned by casualties. But until now, he’d never thought they would be so weakened that they would not protect such a valuable asset.

  Without her, the palace and the weapon within it would fall to their enemy. From then, it was only a matter of time before they learned how to operate it without Isa’s cooperation.

  The guards stopped as he reached her doorway. “Will you stay here?” he asked them.

  “Yes, sir,” said the younger warrior. “We go where the empress goes.”

  He nodded and pushed the door open with his foot. “She will be sleeping. Refuse entry to all. Especially Pretor and his men.”

  The guards shared a
n uncomfortable look.

  “Consider it an order from Her Imperial Majyr.”

  “You speak for her?”

  Warrian looked down at her pale face, creased with signs of lingering pain. He would not let anything happen to her, no matter how many rules he had to break. She needed him, and he would not fail her. “I do now.”

  The guards shut the door behind him. Warrian laid Isa on the bed and went back to inspect the work Rohra had done.

  The bolt she’d installed was far too thick and substantial for the job of keeping the twin doors shut, making it perfect. No one was breaking through this heavy, hardened wood without everyone in the palace knowing about it.

  He bolted the door and went back to Isa’s side.

  She looked small and fragile—too delicate for the task laid at her feet. Rohra had said that she’d been worse than this. The mere thought sent a killing rage sweeping through Warrian. His limbs shook with it, but there was nothing he could do. There was no enemy he could slay for her to stop her torture. The burden she faced was hers alone. All he could do now was ease her and guard her rest until the next time he had to let her climb inside the belly of the beast.

  His fingers worked to untie the ribbons and free her hair. The job was tedious, his hands too big and clumsy for such a delicate task. But he persevered, methodically freeing every knot and strand until her hair was flowing in sandy colored waves across her pillow.

  Her eyes fluttered weakly, never quite opening. He pulled her atop him, draping her over his chest so that the sound of his heart would soothe her. If she woke, she would feel him here and know he watched over her.

  A cool breeze swept in from the balconies, swirling over the bed. The night air was scented with the sea, and burning things. Faintly, over the sound of the waves, he could hear the sounds of battle raging below.

  The need to go fight beside his countrymen warred with his need to stay here, by Isa’s side. It was more than mere duty or patriotism. He needed to kill the enemy—to cut the Raide down so that they could never again harm a soul.

  Sparks formed between his fingers, and he pulled his hands away from Isa, taking deep breaths until he was once again calm enough to control his raging emotions.

  She did this to him. She made him ache to slay the enemy, cleansing the world of all threats so they could never touch her. Until now, he’d only felt this way about his blood and those who fought by his side, and yet for some reason, this small woman had slipped inside, winding herself around him until he was no longer sure what his life would look like without her nearby.

  The short time he’d spent on Earth after she’d left had felt empty, hollow, as if something vital was missing from his life.

  He didn’t know what she’d done to him, or how, but whatever it was, it was too powerful to fight. All he could do now was accept this fundamental shift and do whatever it took to keep her close.

  He felt a delicate shiver race through her. She curled into his warmth, nuzzling her nose against the side of his neck. Her slender arms tightened around him. He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it over her body, willing her to relax again once more into deeper sleep.

  Moonlight slid across the stone floor as the night passed. Warrian dozed on and off, waking every few minutes to ensure that no one had gained entrance. The sounds of battle died down. The rhythmic crash of waves grew louder as the tides rose. Isa’s even breathing and steady heartbeat soothed him, allowing some of the tension to drain out of his body.

  There was peace in the simple act of holding her, of knowing she was safe and well. He’d never known such peace existed, though he’d seen it in the faces of other men speaking of their wives and children.

  Warrian had always considered them overly emotional. Weak. But here, in this moment, he realized his mistake. Contentment like this didn’t make a man weak. It made him strong. It filled him up and gave him the strength to do whatever was necessary to ensure that more moments like this would come. Both for him and for others.

  The men fighting for their wives and children were always the most deadly. They were the first ones into a fight and the last ones standing. They pushed themselves beyond the point where other men fell. They were tireless and relentless. And now Warrian knew why.

  There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman. There wasn’t any battle he wouldn’t face or any pain he wouldn’t endure for her. Whatever it took, whatever sacrifice was demanded of him, he would not fail. For as long as he drew breath, he would fight for moments like these, stolen in the dead of night, when she was in his arms and nothing else mattered.

  Isa’s lips brushed against his skin. At first he thought it was simply a parting of her lips as she breathed, but then he felt the hot glide of her tongue flicking out for a taste.

  His muscles tightened involuntarily, clenching in an unexpected fit of lust. He held still, waiting for her to settle back into a deeper sleep. He would have given his braid to know what it was she dreamed about in that moment, and whether he played some small role in the workings of her mind.

  Instead of going still again, her mouth became more aggressive, kissing him, sucking gently against his neck as she blazed a hot, wet trail over his jaw.

  She wasn’t asleep. She wasn’t dreaming.

  Warrian’s blood pounded hard through him. He grew hard and thick in a painful rush. Isa pushed her body over his, straddling him. The pale blue gown she wore rode up along her thighs, revealing a smooth swath of moonlit skin.

  She stared down at him with solemn, hungry eyes. There was no mistaking her need. Even though her arms shook with exhaustion as she held herself up, even though weariness hung below her eyes, the look she gave him now was of a woman determined to have her way.

  She sat up and pressed herself down against his erection. The heat flowing from her, through his pants, scalded him, making him twitch and throb with eagerness. He wanted to feel her wet heat glide over him, so tight and slick he was sure he’d go mad from the pleasure.

  Isa leaned down and tugged his bottom lip open with her thumb. He opened his mouth at her silent command and accepted her kiss as her lips met his.

  Her breathing sped as her mouth moved over his. Her tongue plunged inside with imperial demand, claiming the space as hers.

  Warrian let her do as she willed, enjoying the odd feeling of being conquered. Her hand wiggled between them as she undid his belt and opened his pants to her questing fingers. Slick proof of his excitement welled from the tip of his erection, helping the easy glide of her fist over him.

  He sucked in a breath, gathering his will so that he did not spill himself into her dainty palm. He wanted the pleasure to last longer than a few exciting seconds. He wanted to draw it out, make her cry out as he gave her all he had to give.

  Her hand disappeared. She squirmed above him for a moment, but his head was too fogged with lust to figure out what she was doing. All he could concentrate on was the taste of her mouth his and containing himself long enough to see to her needs.

  His hands undid the fastenings at the shoulders of her gown. The straps slithered open, baring her to the waist. A moment later, she lifted herself and guided the tip of his erection to her slick opening.

  Warrian froze, gritting his teeth to keep his hips still. He wanted to thrust upward, to hold her hips and drive himself within her until she could take no more of him. It was only through sheer force of will that he remained in control of his baser urges and allowed her to do as she pleased.

  Her eyes fluttered shut. Her head fell back. Her thighs shook as she worked her body onto his erection, taking him with maddening slowness.

  Warrian lifted the hem of her gown and watched as the tight, hot grip of her body glided around him. His flesh seemed too thick and blunt for her slender body to accept. Only knowing that she had taken and enjoyed him before kept him from pulling her away. As much as he wanted to be inside of her, the idea of hurting her appalled him.

  But there was no sign of pain o
n her face. All he saw was the strain of need and the hungry heat of lust flushing her skin.

  His finger brushed across the tight knot of nerves between her thighs. She let out a sharp gasp and quivered above him.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “What do you call this?”

  “Sex,” she said, breathless.

  He gathered some of her wetness and slid his finger over her again. “No, this. This part of you right here. What do you call it?”

  “My clit?”

  “Such a small word for such a wondrous thing. I like to taste you here, to kiss you and make you squirm.”

  She groaned, and he knew the sound now as one of approval. “Later. Right now I just want your cock.”

  Another strange word, but one he would definitely remember for future reference.

  Her whole body was shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was from excitement, exhaustion or a combination of both. “I will give you all you want.”

  He gathered her up to roll her beneath him, but she pressed her hand on his chest, stopping him. “No. I want to do this. I just wish I’d done it back home where everything wasn’t so freaking heavy.”

  Back home. She still didn’t think of this world as hers.

  Warrian refused to worry about that now. Later he would try to find a way to convince her that she was home so she wouldn’t try to leave. But right now, there wasn’t enough rational thought left in his mind for any such puzzles.

  Instead, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up, helping her move. As the tight clench of her body glided over him, she grew wetter. Her breathing sped, and the flush over her face and neck fell across her breasts.

  He sat up, drawing her nipple into his mouth. She arched against him, letting out a soft whimper. Her fingers dug through his hair, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She held his head there and moved her hips against him until their bodies were sealed together.