The Stolen Warrior

by Anastasia Rabiyah

  Her heart started to race. What would he do to her?

  Kadley fumbled with his ring of keys when they reached a large home at the first line of the guard houses. He stabbed the key into the door lock and turned it. Hessa thought if she went into his room, she might never come out. She tried again to pull away. He snatched her other hand and dragged her inside.

  “I’ve gone and had too much tonight,” he mumbled. “You’re a kind girl to listen to me as long as you did…” He pulled her along, although she resisted, and soon they were in his bedroom. Moonlight cast from the window bathed the space in blue-gray. “Be a kind girl and stay the night. I can’t sleep well anymore…without her to hold onto…”

  “No,” she said, trying to sound forceful, but he only pulled her down against the bed. She smelled something sweet there, like dried flowers perfuming the sheets. Kadley’s arms wrapped around her body and held her tight. She feared he would do more, but his breathing became steady until he started to snore.

  Crickets sang outside the window. Wind rattled the thin layer of glass that barred its entry. Hessa concentrated as her fear slipped away. Besides the sweet smell, she breathed in the odor of wine and Kadley’s own scent. He wasn’t dirty like most men. He smelled of clean linens and soap. She waited until she thought he was so out he wouldn’t keep hold of her, then she wriggled free of his arms and stood above his bed. The moonlight illuminated the round of keys at his belt. She would have to unbuckle it to get at them. Hessa didn’t want him to wake with her doing that. He’d have the wrong idea for certain.

  She backed out into the main room and paced. This was a chance at freedom, no matter how many ways she looked at it. The keys meant she could release Gunnar. And if he was true to what he had said, he would take her with him—far from this place.

  She should have fed the prisoners by now. The water bearer had already come and gone no doubt. A loud tap sounded on the roof. Then another. Rain pattered down in loud droplets. Hessa fisted her hands and marched back to Kadley’s room. She knelt on the bed and took hold of his belt, unbuckling and unlacing it from his trousers.

  “Not that, little one. Ol’ Kad is tired…too tired for a roll in the sheets.” She closed her fingers over the key ring and slipped it off. The keys hit each other and tinkled, but the sound of thunder rolled across the sky, blotting out the small noise.

  Hessa stumbled when she left the room, and at the open door, she stopped, frowning. Lightning flickered across the sky. It spilled into the main room of the small house, illuminating the far wall. There she saw a sword, a massive sheathed blade on display. She went back for it, and heaved the unwieldy weapon down from its hooks. It would be difficult to get it past the guards. She dragged it out, and shut the door behind her.

  Rain drenched her clothes and hair. Wind blew angry through the streets, cutting past Hessa’s wet clothes to make her skin prickle with goose bumps. She undid the empty provision bag from her belt and pushed it over the sword to disguise it. Half dragging the weapon through the muddy street, she made her way back to the prison.

  The guards had moved under the shelter of the building. One sat in his chair, his eyes closed. The other tipped his bottle at Hessa and slurred out, “You’re late. The water girl already left.”

  She nodded and moved on, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the bulge in her bag wasn’t quite right. Only a few of the prisoners were awake. One held his bloodied hand out to her, begging for food. But she had nothing to offer.

  A low voice permeated the usually silent building. A voice that was singing in a rhythmic tone much like a lullaby. Hessa made her way to the end of the line of regular cells and took the steps into the lower reaches. She paused midway to stare at Gunnar. He stood in the midst of his cell, his hands pressed together, fingers touching his forehead. Air circled him in a whirlwind, drawing up pieces of straw and dust. His loincloth flapped. His hair moved. His voice stirred her body into a frenzied state of lust.

  “Gunnar,” she said and ran down the rest of the way. The sword smacked against each step like a drummer tapping a beat.

  He opened his eyes.

  “Hessa.” With the halting of his song, the wind died. The straw and dust settled at his feet. “I was worried that something happened to you.” He pushed his hand through the bars to touch her face. “The water bearer came…”

  His palm was warm against her wet cheek. She leaned into his touch and smiled. “I’ve come to set you free.”

  She reached into her bag and found the keys. Hessa was cold and nervous. Her fingers quaked. The keys rattled and jingled as she held them out to him.

  He breathed out slowly and took them. One by one, Gunnar stuck each key into the lock of his cell until the metal turned, and with a creak the gate opened. He stepped out of his cell and stood before her. She tilted her chin to look him in the eyes. He was so tall, a giant compared to her. His rough hands closed over her shoulders, then slid down her sides until he gripped her waist.

  She squeaked when he lifted her body up and hugged her tight to his chest. His skin felt so hot. She circled his neck with her arms. Hessa had changed something—done something remarkable and dangerous. As his lips settled on her neck to kiss, she realized he was right. She could do anything she set her mind to. It was a frightening prospect. She could find her freedom, and quite possibly already had.

  His tongue laved her shoulder between hot kisses. Beneath the thin layer of fabric that was his loincloth, she felt his cock hardening with desire. Hessa closed her eyes and breathed him in, thinking this moment was too good to be real.

  Chapter Four

  “What’s this,” he whispered, when he set her down. Gunnar was eyeing the handle of the massive blade she had stolen. It protruded from her bag.

  “I found it in the cell warden’s house.”

  He took the blade and partially drew it, shaking his head. “I thought it was lost at sea when they took me.” He ran his fingers along the handle before slipping it back into the sheath. “This sword belonged to my father. He fought in the three island war with this blade. He never lost a battle.”

  “Neither did you in the pits.”

  He set his arm around her shoulders, turning her to face the stairs. “But I needed no sword to win. We may yet need it to escape.” She felt his warm breath on her neck before he kissed her there once more, Then, he pushed her forth, and they started for the stairs.

  “What about the rest of us?” a prisoner asked.

  The keys jingled when they landed on the ground in the prisoner’s cell. “You be their hero and free them all,” Gunnar said. “Peace be with you and the men you send home.”

  “The guards…” Hessa began when they reached the last step.

  “Distract them.” He was sturdy when she leaned back and felt his body there, bracing her. His scent was like nothing she had ever known, exotic, manly, and wild. “The storm will hide us.”

  “They’ve been drinking.” She felt hopeful. Maybe they could escape easily enough. As they started through the line of cells toward the door, she realized their mistake. The prisoners from the lower reaches were trampling up from behind.

  Gunnar grabbed Hessa’s shoulders and pulled her aside before they could be run over. One by one, the prisoner with the keys unlocked each cell, freeing more, until they became a mob of angry men ready to flee. As one the crowd moved to the door, some so badly wounded that they left trails of blood across the ground. Hessa wanted to melt against Gunnar, to hide in the safety of his arms which enclosed her and held her steady.

  “We wait,” he said against her ear, his voice low and calming. “They are our distraction.”

  As they stood in the shadows, the hoards of prisoners rushed the exit. The guards were little match for men who had been forced to fight man and beast in the pits. A scream rose over the din and was silenced soon after. The men ran out, leaving Hessa and Gunnar holding hands and waiting to be sure it was safe to make their way out.

  The storm out
side pounded the roof. Gunnar started forth, pulling Hessa at his side. She wanted to wait a little longer, but he left her no choice as he rushed forth. Rain slapped against them at the door. The two guards were prone on the muddied earth, their faces downturned and their necks at odd angles to their bodies. She shook her head and tried not to look back.

  “Your room,” he said. “Take me there first. It’s best to let the others escape and then wait until they chase after them.”

  “My room,” she repeated, thinking of the dreams she had of him, of how those torrid dreams had made her wake lusty and heated. She motioned him in the direction of the servant quarters. ‘This way.”

  They traveled along the edge of the cell building and ducked into the darkness of an alley. His long strides kept him close to her despite her trying to sprint along. At the end of the alley, he tugged her backwards and pulled her up into his arms. “No matter what happens,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you for this chance. A man is not a man unless he can be free.”

  Before she could respond, he kissed her hard, stealing her breath. Then they were on the move again, Hessa leading him to the modest room she had spent most of her uneventful life in. As she opened the door and stepped into the darkness, she wondered if this would be the last time she came to this place.

  Gunnar had to duck his head to pass inside. Hessa looked back at him as she lit the tallow candle to illuminate her allotted space. He shut the door and set his sword across the two bars to lock it from the outside world.

  Water dripped from his chin. Droplets clung to his face. “Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” she asked, her mind turning over the idea of what it would be like to lick every last tear of rain from his skin.

  “I’m not sure, but that’s the way of life.” He shrugged and ran his hands through his wet hair. “Being stolen has taught me that everything is uncertain, that every moment must be seized for its full potential.” He licked his lips and wiped his hand across his face.

  She backed to her tiny cot, reached behind her, and found her drying sheet on the bedside stand. Hessa offered it to him. Now that he was here in her small space, she realized just how gigantic he was. He took the fabric and unfolded it, hunger in his eyes.

  “You are my lady now.” He came forward and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “I will care for you for the rest of my days.” He dried her neck and tugged at the laces on her clothes. Her shift fell away. Gunnar patted her shoulders, following the cloth with his lips.

  She closed her eyes. Every gentle stroke of fabric across her cool, moist skin brought her a feeling of peace and bliss. Each well placed kiss let her believe that someone could love her and want her. He dried her entire body, at some times brushing his bare cheek across her skin, but mostly kissing her until she stood naked and pleasantly warmed from his attentions. Only then did he strip away the loincloth he wore to reveal not only his arousal, but intricate tattoo work across his hips.

  “The mark of my family,” he explained. Gunnar touched the brand on Hessa’s neck and traced it with his fingers. “If you want it, I can make my mark upon you as well. It will tell the world that you are of my clan, not of this Omi House that keeps slaves.”

  She nodded. If the mark of the Omi was gone from her body or changed enough that no one could know she belonged to them, then she could be free. She could leave this place and go anywhere in Radaeh. “Will it hurt?”

  “I will make it gently.” He smiled at her and ran the drying cloth over his body. “When we leave this city, I will mix the dyes and find a needle to change what they have done to you.”

  She shivered with anticipation and hope. He took up the blanket from her cot and wrapped it around her. “Sleep in my arms for a time, Hessa. I’ve longed to hold you close to me.” He pulled her down onto the cot, curling his massive body against hers until she was enclosed in his strong arms and cradled by his heat and strength. His lips brushed her forehead. “When we reach Chalois I’ll take you to the islands, show you all the wonders of my homeland. The wind will know you are mine when I sing its name.”

  She breathed in time with him until she slipped into dreams of water that spread across the horizon as far as she could see. There would be great monsters in the sea she rode upon. But his ship would keep her safe. He would protect her from anything that might do her harm.

  * * * *

  Gunnar’s warm fingers trailed across her skin when a hint of sunlight began to light up Hessa’s small room. She lay still and kept silent, curious to discover what he would do to her. He drew symbols over her abdomen, circled her navel, and dipped lower to curl his fingers into the hairs at the apex of her legs. He massaged her body with slow strokes and began to hum. His low voice was beside her ear, his lips soft against the lobe. She arched her back when his fingers dipped lower to slip into her slit. Moisture pooled there, guiding his seduction. She moaned when his index finger brushed over her clit, firing off her nerves.

  He groaned in her hair and stopped humming. His teeth nipped at her earlobe. Gunnar’s tongue darted out to tease and tickle her skin. “It is a beautiful morning,” he whispered. “To wake alongside your body.”

  Goose bumps prickled her skin. His words tickled even more than his tongue had. She shivered and smiled.

  “My bed isn’t so cold with you in it.”

  He laughed softly. “Nor does it have as much room now.”

  His fingers rubbed a little faster, slipping up and down over her hardening nub. She squirmed. He pressed against her ass, his cock demanding at her backside. He nibbled her neck, kissing and sucking until she closed her eyes and gave in to whatever he would do. Her body became tense, hot, as if she had a fever. Hessa did her best to hold still, to concentrate on the rush of sensations placating her womanhood. He pushed his other hand between their bodies, between her legs and tested her opening.

  She whimpered.

  He slid one finger into her tight wetness. She thought it felt so huge inside of her, motionless, filling her up as she had never been. His other hand continued to tease and torture her. With a shuddering cry that forced her to bite at her bottom lip, she felt everything inside of her implode. A wave of pulses shot off in her womb, ticklish to the point of being unbearable, but so pleasurable she lost herself in the bliss of it all.

  The finger inside her pushed in even further, then tapped at her insides. Another wave of sensations swept through her. She clenched her teeth and held her breath. She knew she must be quiet. If anyone heard her, they might come to investigate. Then he would be discovered.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Breathe, Hessa. Let it out.”

  She took in a deep breath and exhaled, her body, her legs quaking from what he had done to her. His finger pulled out, leaving her empty. Then he positioned her body, turning her face to the grass stuffed mattress, bending her knees so that her backside faced him. The thick, round head of his cock slid up and down along her slit, once, twice, three times. He guided it down to her clitoris, already so sensitive from what he had done, then to her entry where he circled and pushed in a small amount. This part of him was bigger than his finger had been.

  “Breathe,” he told her again. “Relax.”

  She did as he commanded. His length pushed into her achingly slow, stretching her to accommodate his girth. And even that felt good. She scooted back to take more of him. He took hold of her hips and began a quick thrusted dance. Deep into her he pressed, then out, then in. His body slapped against hers. The cot creaked faster and faster.

  She fisted the mattress hard and gasped. His hand swept beneath her body to her abdomen and he began to pound her pussy, burying himself deeper and deeper until she thought she might be torn in two.

  He groaned behind her and grunted. She felt a flood of hot moisture erupt inside her body. Gunnar stilled, his cock still penetrating her. She was afraid to move when the orgasm hit her body. This one was not as strong as the first. Hessa felt exhausted. Sweat beaded her body. He thrust one final
time, filling her. Then he withdrew from her body completely, leaving her to collapse on the cot. She lay there, struggling to catch her breath.

  Hessa was vaguely aware of him moving through the small room, of the splash of water in her washbasin, of the sounds of fabric being pulled together. The cot strained and creaked before she felt the shock of a cold, moist cloth come between her legs.

  “Your maiden’s blood,” he said in a soothing voice. “I shouldn’t have been so rough.” He lay down beside her and kissed her shoulder, gathering her backward against his body.

  “That was…not as I expected it would be,” she whispered. “So powerful.”

  She felt his cheek rise on her shoulder as he smiled. “But I should have waited. It was wrong of me to take you like that.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up into his dark eyes. “Will it always be that way when you take me?”

  He frowned for a moment, pondering her question. “First times are not always like this. I hope it will be something you look back on without regret. Did I hurt you?”