Then as if by magic she was free and Abdul was there grinning in triumph.
“Now, woman, you do it my way.”
Chapter Two
Freshly bathed, her skin once again smelling sweetly of violets and her hair restored to its shining bell, Alice looked down at her outfit. In what only could be described as transparent, the bra and harem pants tantalized rather than covered. Her sun-kissed golden skin glowed through the white gossamer, and her nipples took on a ripe rosy hue, a visual enticement if ever there was one. She took some deep calming breaths. So this was finally it! She was going to become what her mother called a strumpet. She felt something that was rather like a pain in her heart at the thought of her mother, and her eyes filled with tears. Blinking rapidly she willed herself not to cry. There were many names for girls who slept with men for money, and she silently recited each one as a punishment to what she was to become. Strumpet, whore, slut, streetwalker, prostitute, geisha, harlot, and tart were to name but a few. Which one she idly wondered would her father call her should he ever find out what she had done?
Alice couldn’t deny it, she was scared. Scared as to what would happen. Oh, she knew what he, the man, Faisal, who night after night asked to bed her, was going to do. She wasn’t that naive. He was going to have sex with her, but there were many forms of sex and many positions utilized, and she was scared of all of them. She had heard stories, lurid accounts from the other girls, of abuse, deviant behavior, and worse, she was petrified. Would it hurt? Would he be quick? Or would he linger, savoring her attributes? But maybe, she tried desperately to convince herself, maybe she was doing him an injustice. Perhaps he would be gentle? And pigs might fly. Faisal was a vicious, evil man who tormented the girls and enjoyed being cruel. The questions kept flowing into her head, filling it like a sponge soaking up water, but she had no answers and no experience from which to judge. Maybe, just maybe she would like sex. Women did. Some even loved it. Even several of the ballet troop that were willing had become paid bedmates and enjoyed what the men did to them. But she had closed her ears to the more graphic details, embarrassed by what the girls did and said, and what they let be done and said to them. She was obviously a frigid prude, so surely that would make tonight that much worse? Oh, God, how was she going to bear it?
With a complete lack of respect for her privacy, Abdul entered the room without knocking. Alice turned with reluctance.
“Prepare yourself, woman, ’e ’as paid ’andsomely for the pleasure of your body, a virgin is always worth much.”
“But w–what will he…do to me?” She couldn’t help the frightened words from spilling out of her mouth.
Abdul grinned, showing an array of rotting, tobacco-stained teeth. “’E is going to fuck you, my little virgin, and fuck you hard.”
Alice grew pale at his words but nevertheless lifted her chin as pride fought with fear.
Laughing at her pathetic attempt at unconcern he threw a box of assorted lurid-colored plastic articles onto the bedside table.
“W–what are those?” she asked worriedly.
“Toys, for the little games you will be playing.” Throwing back his head he laughed loudly and headed for the door.
Waiting for the catch to snap down, she then moved slowly toward the box, curiosity getting the better of her. Reaching out a trembling hand she picked up a vibrator, a dildo, an oval object called a love egg, and something that looked like golden balls. Sex toys like the ones the girls had shown her. Dropping them as if they were red hot potatoes, she picked up the box and shoved it under the bed. There was no way she was going to let anyone use those things on her. No way in hell.
The door opening had her quickly retreating to the other side of the bed. God help her just the thought of Faisal’s hands on her body had her gagging in disgust. How was she going to bear it? Would she ever be the same again? Would anything ever be the same again?
Fear dried her mouth and sweat beaded her skin. Wiping the moist palms of her shaking hands down the sides of her pants she swallowed convulsively, attempting to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat.
Convinced she was seeing an illusion, Alice stared wide-eyed at the man who entered the room. However, it wasn’t Faisal’s pugnacious features that stared back at her but the clearly defined clean-cut features of the stranger.
“W–what? How? I don’t understand. Surely you can’t…don’t? What I mean is…”
“I know exactly what you mean, Alice,” he murmured his voice soft and deep, his accent clipped English. “However, you are quite right. I don’t want, or need anything from you but your cooperation. My name is Hawk, Quentin Hawk, and your father sent me to find you.”
“My father? But I mean how did he know I was here?”
“He didn’t. I did. End of story. Now cut the chat and do exactly as I say. That is”—he lifted a wicked eyebrow—“if you want to get out of here and return home to your family?”
“Yes, oh yes please.”
He pulled some clothing out from under his robe and threw it at her. “Put these on and get rid of the jewelry.”
Holding the garments close to her chest she continued to look at him.
He stared at her with impatience. “Well. What are you waiting for?”
“Emm, oh sorry.” Quickly drawing off the numerous bangles and dropping them willy-nilly on the bed she couldn’t help but throw him hesitant looks.
“Now what?” he growled impatiently.
“Could you, err, turn around please.”
“Why? Until two minutes ago you were willing to lie down on that bed, spread your legs, and let that scumbag Faisal fuck you.”
Alice scowled at his crude words and the graphic image he was portraying. Heat running under her skin she lifted her chin, and her eyes remained steadily locked with his.
“That was then. This is now, and things have changed. And I’d like some privacy.”
“Very well.” He sighed, turning from her in irritation. “But what you’re wearing now leaves very little to the imagination.”
Refusing to give him the satisfaction of arguing she quickly pulled the black trousers and T-shirt over her flimsy outfit and then covered them with a kind of all-encompassing robe called a dishdasha.
“You can turn around now.”
Turning, he quickly checked her appearance. “Fine, but we need to do something about that hair. It shines like a beacon.”
She touched her thick luxurious locks. “I could cover it with a scarf.”
“No, once we leave here they will be out looking for you. Looking for a woman and a scarf is a dead giveaway. There is only one thing we can do.” He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Looking at him in surprise she obediently sat.
“What are you going to do?”
“Quiet,” he growled, turning her head this way and that, and then standing behind her he bent her head forward.
Suddenly long tresses of golden hair fell into her lap. Crying out in distress she tried to rise to confront him, but a large callused hand on her shoulder stopped her movement.
“This is the only sure way,” he growled, hacking at more strands with his knife.
Stunned she sat obediently, silently bewailing the loss of her crowning glory.
“My hair!” she wailed in distress, looking in the mirror at the finished style, if style was what it was. Cropped short, it lay unevenly against her skull and just touched her ears and her nape.
“Tuck the rest of your hair up into this.” He handed her a thin cotton hat similar to that of a knitted bobble hat she wore back home in winter.
“Hurry up. We’ve wasted valuable time as it is,” he grumbled, watching as she checked her appearance in the mirror.
Cheek! she thought waspishly. Anyone would think she’d asked him to hack off her hair in great clumps thereby delaying their departure. She scowled at his uncompromising back and just for good measure, rudely stuck out her tongue, not realizing until it was too late that h
e could see her in the mirror.
Opening the window, Hawk checked that the coast was clear. Leaping over the mud ledge, he jumped the few feet to the ground and waited whilst she scrambled inelegantly out onto the ledge.
“Jump. I’ll catch you,” he commanded.
Reassuring though his words were, Alice still hesitated. It seemed an awfully long way down, and she could break a leg or worse. A broken leg or ankle and he would have no choice but to leave her.
“Unless you want me to leave you here you’ll jump,” he ground out almost as if he could read her mind.
Frightened in case he was true to his word, she jumped, throwing herself into the air all flailing arms and legs.
“Oomph!” Hawk’s breath left him in a whoosh as she landed forcefully against him, making him topple backward to the ground with her stretched across his chest.
“You could have warned me,” he muttered.
“Sorry, but I was scared you were going to leave me behind.”
Pushing her off, he held out a hand and helped her to her feet.
“No more buggering about, Alice,” he muttered, his face set into lines of steel. “Stay close, follow me footstep by footstep, and keep quiet and don’t look back. Do you understand?”
She nodded obediently. Of course she understood. What did he think she was—a moron?
Quickly he moved stealthily into the night, and Alice, imitating his movements, followed him like a shadow.
Chapter Three
Silently and stealthily they worked their way through the small village, keeping to the shadows and circling the pens holding a meager amount of straggly livestock. Glancing back he placed a finger against his lips, warning her to be silent. Peering past him into the darkness she quickly shuffled behind him—someone was coming.
Holding her breath, Alice squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hoping as she did as a child that by doing so, she would become invisible.
Time seemed to pass slowly, seconds ticking to minutes and minutes feeling like hours before he touched her lightly on the arm.
“Okay, he’s gone.” Hawk began moving forward, his posture alert, ready to pounce. Frightened though she was, Alice also felt curiously calm. Although she didn’t know this man she instinctively trusted him.
The lights were less prolific as they skimmed the perimeter of the village. Lamps snuffed out as the night drew in, and people retired to their beds. Soon they were in darkness. It wrapped around them like a soft, thick cloak. Alice looked up. The moon was bright, and the stars shone like diamonds against the velvet backdrop. Hawk was picking up speed, and Alice struggled to keep up, her breathing labored and her feet in their delicate sandals slipping in the ever-moving sand. Fit though her dancing kept her, when it came to Hawk’s vitality there was no comparison. Whereas she was wet with perspiration he had barely broken into a sweat.
It felt like hours but was in fact only minutes later that Hawk came to a complete stop. He indicated with a flick of his hand that she should wait behind a large boulder. Wanting to protest she bit back the instinctive words, watching silently as he disappeared into the darkness. Now that Hawk was gone all her fears and worries came rushing back tenfold. How could they hope to get away? Yes it was a small desert village where she had been held, but Abdul was brutally powerful, having some dangerous and unstable friends. They were miles from any civilization, so how could they hope to survive the desert or the mountains with the contingent of bandits? She peered into the darkness hoping to see some sign of Hawk returning, but everything was still and quiet. Shadows were all around, instilling fear, creating tension, and stirring anxiety. The air felt oppressive and her stress levels rose to a breaking point. Where was he? Then her heart sank and nerves churned like a bag of worms in her stomach. Surely he wouldn’t have left her? But no, she attempted to reassure herself. After coming all this way to find her and go to the trouble of rescuing her, he wouldn’t leave her now—would he? Getting even more jittery with every passing second Alice hovered indecisively. Maybe it would be a good idea to go and find him. He could have had an accident, fallen over a rock, and hit his head and be waiting for her to come and find him. Or should she be sensible and realize that this rescue attempt was doomed from the start. If she returned to Abdul now, maybe he wouldn’t kill her. Maybe he would just punish her a little. She was after all a worthwhile commodity still having her virtue intact.
About to turn back for the village she was halted by Hawk’s soft voice.
“Alice, going somewhere?”
Her breath leaving her lungs in a well-felt whoosh, she found herself grinning inanely. He was back. Hawk hadn’t left her after all.
“No, no, just wondering where you were that’s all.”
“Mmm.” Grabbing her wrist he pulled her along behind him. “Come on, we’re going this way and keep quiet.” He stopped and stared intensely at her. “Not a sound, okay?”
Nodding, her eyes filled with apprehension she shadowed him, her feet stepping where he trod.
Suddenly she hit the ground hard as he threw her down onto the sand.
“Stay down,” he whispered.
Lying flat and feeling the sand worm its way into her clothing and into her mouth she remained still, her ears straining, listening for, she knew not what. Her pulse was pounding twenty to the dozen, and it felt like her heart had risen into her throat. She was tense, he was tense. The tension was so high it was made manifest by the shaking of her limbs. Apprehension surrounded and tormented her, enveloping her with its deadly uncertainty. So anxious was she that she involuntarily made a small sound of distress that was quickly muffled by Hawk’s hard hand closing over her mouth. Signing her to stay put, and not waiting for a response, Hawk slithered away across the sand like a sidewinder. Of his objective she was uncertain.
Alone again with only the darkness for company Alice suppressed her rising fears and instead concentrated on listening for Hawk’s return.
Muffled sounds reached her. Straining her ears she stared intently into the darkness, convinced that in doing so it would improve her auditory system. Silence fell, a quiet that was unnerving, and as the seconds passed worry began to creep insidiously into her mind.
Suddenly he was back, pulling her to her feet.
“Run!” he ground out.
Alice ran, slipping and sliding in the undulating sand. Her lungs felt fit to burst, and her legs felt like jelly. Every step was a colossal effort, but she was determined to show Hawk that she could keep up, that she was as strong and as focused as he. Her eyes were fixed on him, a dark shadow running with fierce single-mindedness. She gritted her teeth against the stitch in her side. She would keep going, no matter that she wanted to lie down on the sand and cry in despair, in fear, and in shock. She would keep up even if it killed her. Hawk was risking his life rescuing her and she had to do her very damndest to show him she was worthy.
She was falling behind. Hawk was no longer in sight. She stopped attempting to get her bearings. She was lost! Oh please, God, no. To be lost in the desert meant only one thing. Sure and certain death.
Alice jumped, her heart nearly exploding from her breast in shock as a hand caught hold of her arm.
“I said keep up,” Hawk ground out, his voice dark and dangerous.
Only able to manage a small nod, she gritted her teeth and fell into step beside him as he all but pulled her along.
It was but minutes later, but it felt like hours before he stopped and, stepping behind a cluster of rocks, motioned her to follow.
Exhausted, and with her breath heaving in her chest, her head swam dizzily, drawing her down into a dark vortex. She hung on to reality by sheer force of will only.
Alice could only stand on her trembling legs and stare. It was a Land Rover!
Motioning her to get in, Hawk climbed behind the wheel and turned the key. The engine sprang to life, and with a wide grin he released the clutch. Gathering her wits, Alice scrambled inelegantly into the passenger seat and quickly cl
icked her seat belt into place. It was going to be fine. She was going home. Hawk had saved her. The words kept repeating in her mind. She was safe at last.
“Thank you,” she whispered, blinking so as to keep from crying. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t thank me yet, princess, we’ve got a long way to go before we can say we’re safe.”
“But we’ve got a car, we’ll soon be home.”
Hawk nodded, his foot hard on the gas. “A car we have, but it’ll only take us the short distance to the mountains. From there on in we’ll be on foot.”
“The mountains! But that’s crazy. They’re teeming with bandits. We should go the other way, across the desert.
“Across the desert Abdul’s men will be waiting for us, our only hope, and it’s a slim hope at best, is the mountains.”
“Then we will surely die,” she murmured, swiping a tear from her cheek.
“Oh, princess, such pessimisms.”
Chapter Four
Alice stared dumbly out of the window, not knowing what to say. Hawk was right. It was Abdul and his men or the bandits. There was no choice. Despair sat heavily on her shoulders, and in her heart, they were so near yet so far. For a moment, just for a moment she’d felt safe, but now knowing that there was still so far to go she felt the harsh agony of hopelessness. Tears flowed silently down her dirty cheeks. She felt cold, but not just the cold of a chilly evening. It was the cold of emptiness, of anguish, and of misery. She felt Hawk’s glance but not by a turn, a look, or a word did she acknowledge it but carried on staring straight ahead.
* * * *
Quentin Hawk gazed steadily at the scene unfolding in front of him. The desert lay ahead, a long, lonely stretch of undulating sand, a seemingly easy ride but full of dangers unknown. It would be an hour at least before they reached the mountains and he wasn’t sure whether Alice Dove would be up to the climb. She was fragile, pampered, and scared, a volatile combination. When her father had got in touch with him he’d at first refused to help. He was no babysitter, helping Daddy’s little princess out of a spot. But when he’d heard how she’d disappeared he was angry. This wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with this kind of disappearance, and it didn’t always end well. Alice was a beautiful young woman in her prime. Ten years younger than him she was a very young twenty-two and naïve. That was proven by how she’d been duped into the ballet tour that had taken her from the safe life she knew into the hellhole where she’d ended up. Glancing back at her, his eyes were captured by the tears that ran down her dirty cheeks. They were like pearl drops glistening in the pale moon’s light. She wasn’t sobbing, but the tears kept falling silently, to softly drop onto the black of the dishdasha. The photograph of her her father had given him didn’t do her justice. She was beautiful, yes. That was reflected in the picture, but she had something else, something indefinable. She had a stillness about her, an aura of calm that was restful and somewhat perplexing. Her virtue and her very existence was in danger, and yet she didn’t kick and scream bewailing the fact that fate had thrown a spanner in her life. She just accepted. The fight had been beaten out of her, and now she didn’t know how to battle the demons that chased her. Turning her head she smiled at him, self-consciously wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her smile brightened the night, and it was all he could do to stop himself from hauling her into his arms and kissing her senseless. That was the effect she had on him. And it was most…disconcerting.
Man of the Mountain (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2