by Claire Kent
“Why?”
Riana’s lower lip dropped slightly. “What do you mean—why? Because I have a gaping hole in my shirt, and I’m not going to walk around half-naked.”
Cain looked slightly impatient and gave a shrug with one shoulder. “What’s the big deal? They’ve seen you naked in the cell before. They’ve seen you with my cock in your mouth. What’s the difference?”
A flash of outraged anger overcame her as she stared at his infuriating face. There was a world of difference between the two situations. Yes, some of the other prisoners had seen her in various states of undress and debauchery, but that had all been in the cell. The cell felt like home base. It might not be private, but it was safe.
It was entirely different to parade around the Hold, revealing her body to every prisoner with eyes.
And if Cain had the slightest bit of sensitivity in his brute soul, he would know it.
She could see a glimpse of Thorn from where they stood. Thorn kept his distance from Cain now, but he’d managed to hold onto his power in the prison otherwise. Riana tried very hard not to encounter him, since just the sight of him made her feel kind of sick.
And even Thorn could ogle her now with the torn shirt.
“Of course, it’s different,” she snapped. “What the fuck do you—”
She broke off her words with a jerk, belatedly remembering that she couldn’t make Cain mad.
Swallowing hard, she overcame the urge to bite his head off and instead said, “You’re right. There’s no difference.” Her eyes straight ahead, she let the tear in her shirt fall open and started walking again.
Without warning, Cain grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Why the hell do you do that?”
Surprised by his burst of anger, Riana gasped, “Do what?”
“Cut yourself off whenever you have something to say.” His blue eyes pinned her in place, and his jaw was clenched with obvious tension. “It drives me crazy. If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t act like a mindless, passive drone.”
For a moment, her vision blurred over—she was so enraged and affronted. Her hands fisted at her sides as she tried to keep herself from clawing lines down his face. “Why the fuck do you think I stop myself! Do you actually expect me to challenge you, when you’re the only thing keeping me alive?”
Something on his face changed. It didn’t soften. She’d never seen Cain soft. Instead, his features tightened even more, until his lips were pressed into a colorless line. Finally, he rasped, “You think if you say the wrong thing I’m going to toss you out to be torn apart?”
“What am I supposed to think?” All the suppressed frustration of constantly being on edge for the last month was finally boiling over. Her voice was hoarse with emotion too fiery and thick to control. “That’s our arrangement. You protect me. I please you. We’ve never said it out loud, but both of us know it. I’m sure as hell not going to displease you.”
His eyes cut into her like a blade. “You think I’m that kind of an animal?”
“Of course, you’re that kind of animal. We all are. Look around you!” She made a sweeping gesture, taking in the Hold, the dirty chaos around them, the primitive way all the prisoners lived in this cage. “We eat and fuck and try to survive. That’s what we’ve been turned into. What the fuck do you expect me to do to?” Her voice faltered suddenly, overcome with a terror so deep it almost swallowed her. She might have killed herself here—by finally expressing what she thought. Lashing out at the one man who was capable of keeping her safe. She made a choking sound and looked at the ground. “I’m just trying to survive.”
Cain was silent. But she could feel the shuddering tension in his hard, muscular body, even though he wasn’t touching her. She could also hear him breathe. Loud, fast, wet, thick sounds of inhales and exhales.
She finally darted her eyes up to his face as she tried to keep her hands from trembling.
She’d never seen Cain truly angry before.
But he was angry now.
He was smoldering with it. Shaking with it. Like a volcano about to erupt.
And he was angry with her.
Cain took a loud ragged breath and turned on his heel, away from her. He didn’t move. Instead he stood with his back to her and simmered, as if he were struggling to get himself under control.
Riana stared at his broad back, the rippling muscles of his shoulders and arms, the way his t-shirt stuck to his damp skin, the distinct curve of his scalp.
And her terror almost swallowed her up.
What if, because of her own stupidity, she’d lost Cain for good?
She could hardly breathe, and she suddenly needed to get away. Back to the cell, where she felt safe.
With a muffled sound, she turned back in the direction they’d come and stumbled away. She wasn’t thinking rationally. It was pure instinct driving her to escape. Had she been thinking, she would have remembered that the cell was locked, and she didn’t have a key.
Despite her emotional state, she never once believed she was seriously in danger of being assaulted. Everyone knew she was Cain’s woman. And everyone was scared or intimidated by Cain. Just last week, when a man had tried to cop a quick feel during their morning run, Cain had beaten the man unconscious—in the presence of the entire Hold.
Even apart from him, she still considered herself under his protection.
Which was why she was completely unprepared when someone suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a dim cell without bars.
It happened so quickly she could barely process it. One moment she was stumbling toward her cell and the next she was being thrown violently against a wall.
The impact hurt. It winded and jarred her so much she was too dizzy to react. Her assailant didn’t waste any time. He hauled her up roughly from the floor and then pushed her forward, forcing her to bend over the edge of a metal table. It was the same kind of table as the one in Cain’s cell—small and attached to the wall.
The attack was so fast and brutal that Riana couldn’t even tell who the man was. A forceful hand closed around the back of her neck, holding her in place on the table with so strong a grip she could barely even breathe.
She tried to scream but no sound came out. Either fear or the strangling grip on her neck made any noise impossible. She tried to struggle, but she was helpless in this position, folded and pinned over the edge of the table.
Her consciousness glazed over in a blur of terror and shock. One part of her mind knew what was happening, but the rest of it couldn’t even register the reality.
A brutish hand jerked down her pants and panties until she felt the cold metal against her bare skin.
She tried to scream again. And it was the worst part of the whole experience. Her mouth opened but couldn’t shape any sound at all.
With what was left of her mind, she tried to prepare herself for what was going to occur, even as she futilely kept trying to struggle against the powerful grip.
Then suddenly the hands were gone. She heard a primal growling sound, and the body behind her was pulled away.
She sucked in a desperate breath through her aching windpipe as she managed to push her bruised body off the table so she could see what was happening.
Cain had found her.
He must have torn the man off her and thrown him bodily out of the cell and into the public area in the middle of the Hold.
Riana now recognized her attacker as Asp, the tattooed man who’d confronted her on her first arrival.
But she could hardly recognize Cain at all in the snarling, primitive beast he seemed to have transformed into.
She managed to pull up her pants before she stepped, shaking, out of the cell and huddled by the wall as she watched.
Asp wasn’t a weakling. He was big and violent, and he knew what he was doing.
But he didn’t have a chance against Cain.
Cain had worked himself up into a frenzy. Riana had never seem him—seen anyone—look li
ke that before. He pounded the other man into the ground, never pausing or giving respite for a moment. Soon there was blood. And then the other man stopped putting up a fight.
But Cain didn’t stop his brutal attack until Asp lay in a mass of bloody pulp on the ground.
Riana knew without doubt he was dead.
And she wasn’t even sorry. Part of her was shocked and nauseating by the sudden, violent turn of events over the last few minutes. But part of her—a tiny, instinctive part she didn’t like to acknowledge—thrilled to see Cain react so primally, so territorially, so animalistically.
Over her.
Mostly, though, she was dizzy and dazed—too much having happened for her to keep up.
So when Cain dropped the other man to the ground and stood up with his hands, arms, and shirt bloodied and his skin soaked with grimy perspiration, she still couldn’t bring herself to move.
Cain looked around the prison. The whole place had grown silent as everyone had moved to watch the violent altercation. Cain’s expression seemed to dare anyone else to challenge him.
Or to lay a hand on what was his.
No one moved. No one dared to approach.
Until Cain finally stalked away from his kill.
When he reached Riana, he took her by the back of her torn shirt and used his grip to guide her back to their cell.
His touch wasn’t gentle, and it smeared blood on her shirt, but she appreciated the support since she wasn’t sure she would have been able to walk otherwise.
When they reached the cell and Cain locked the door behind them, Riana crumpled onto the bed, hugging her arms to her stomach.
Cain stared down at her for a moment. Then he made a guttural sound and jerked away. He strode to the sink and turned the water on. He splashed water on his bloody hands and sweaty face.
Water streaming down his skin, he turned back toward her. “Did he—”
“No,” she gasped, the first word she’d been able to utter since the attack. “You got there in time.”
His face twisted strangely, and he turned back to the sink. Leaned down to splash more water on his face.
He turned back toward her—still looking feral and powerful in his visceral tension and bloody shirt—and opened his mouth again. But this time he didn’t speak. Instead, he turned on his heel with a jerk and made a move like he was going to leave the cell.
But he stopped himself. And instead he moved back to where she was huddled on the bed.
But he stopped himself again.
Riana had no idea what was happening, but she could sense Cain’s mood. Adrenaline and testosterone must be coursing through him. He was still on the violent high. Plus he might be concerned about her.
And he had no idea how to channel his primitive response.
He splashed more water on his face. Then he made another guttural sound and paced into the bathroom nook.
Growing concerned now, Riana stood up and met him as he turned back around and walked out.
“Cain, are you all right?” she asked softly, stretching out a gentle hand toward his stained shirt.
She was engulfed by the oddest feeling. Her own fear and nausea had dissipated in the security of the cell, and in its wake was a primal urge that matched his.
She felt all physicality and instinct. Like an animal.
An animal that had just been claimed by its mate.
At her soft touch, Cain’s battered control broke completely. And, as if he’d read her mind, he growled softly and grabbed her by the hips.
He pushed her back against the wall of the cell and claimed her mouth in a hard, rough, urgent kiss.
It was the first time he’d ever kissed her, and Riana responded to it immediately. She still wasn’t thinking rationally, but the horror of the minutes before was mostly gone—with only animal instinct remaining.
She wanted Cain. She wanted his strength and his power and his dominance. She needed to feel all of those things in the most physical way she could.
His body pressed into hers, trapping her against the hard wall. His hands were all over her—feeling her, touching her, stroking her—until he’d pulled off her pants and panties in their haze of frantic need.
With powerful hands, Cain lifted her up then, using the wall for support as he held her bare bottom. She wrapped her legs around his middle and clung to his neck. He was strong enough to hold her easily, and she loved how small and feminine she felt against him.
He didn’t waste any time. As soon as he’d fumbled between their bodies to free his cock, he sank into her. She wasn’t as wet as she usually was—the panic earlier was still having an effect on her body—but she wanted him. Needed him. Desperately.
His cock filled her completely, and he pitched his hips forward, pushing into her, pushing her hard against the wall.
It wasn’t entirely comfortable, and Riana was conscious of sore places on her body where there would be bruises from the earlier attack, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel Cain’s strength as deeply as she could.
He didn’t have much control. His thrusts were hard and erratic, and his mouth on hers was clumsy and ravenous. But it was exactly what Riana needed. And she whimpered in pleasure as he rutted, as he took her hard, as he claimed her as his.
She clawed eager lines down the back of his neck as he grunted roughly and rocked his pelvis into hers.
She wasn’t going to come. She hadn’t had enough clitoral stimulation, and the earlier episode kept her from concentrating enough to reach orgasm.
But she didn’t care.
Feeling Cain this way, watching him release all of his shuddering tension in her at last, holding onto his absolute strength and masculinity, was the hottest thing she’d ever known.
She squeezed her pussy around the penetration of his cock until he jerked his head to the side and held himself still. Then he made a sound like a muted roar and jerked his hips in fast, clumsy spasms until he released himself inside her.
They were both gasping desperately as Cain’s body started to relax at last. Carefully, he pulled back from the wall, helped her untangle her legs, and set her down on the floor.
Her knees buckled immediately, so he picked her up instead and carried her over to the bed.
She curled up in a ball, feeling oddly weak and uncertain now that the surge of adrenalin and emotion had passed.
She desperately wanted Cain to hold her, but he didn’t get onto the bed with her. Instead, he went over to the sink and picked up one of the threadbare towels. After dampening it with the water, he came back over and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
When he’d gently uncurled her body, he removed the torn remnants of her shirt—now stained with the blood from his chest—and then wiped off the smears of blood from her skin.
She watched him in astonishment, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide and round. He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he focused on his hand as he stroked the damp cloth over her breasts and belly and then down farther to her pussy—where he cleaned up his semen.
Riana had never seen him like this before, and the silent care made her belly knot with a nameless emotion she was too afraid to put into words.
“Thank you,” she said at last.
He jerked slightly, wincing as if she’d struck him.
“What’s wrong?” She put a hand on his arm, afraid he might pull back.
“Don’t—” He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Really confused now—and even more confused when she saw the twisting of regret on his face—she tightened her fingers on his forearm. “What are you sorry for?”
His eyes finally met hers. “For just now. I shouldn’t have…You were almost raped, and I…I took you like that—without even letting you recover.”
“Oh.” Her heart hammered wildly, and her breath kept hitching in her throat. “But I…”
He was caught up in a guilt she’d never expected to see from him. “I don’t know wha
t got into me.” He stared down at his hands, which were clenched in his lap. “I was like an…”
An animal. So was she.
“I didn’t even ask if you wanted it.” With a ragged breath, he shifted his eyes to meet hers again.
“I did want it,” she said, her voice breaking on the second word. “I did. I would have stopped you if I didn’t.”
Cain stared at her for a long time. “And you believe I would have stopped if you’d told me to.”
“Of course you would. You aren’t like them.” She made a weak gesture out to the rest of the prison. “I know I said you were before. But you aren’t.”
He finally let out his breath and got up to put the towel in the sink.
Then, to her absolute relief, he came back over and lowered himself into bed beside her. He rolled over onto his side and spooned her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her, exactly as she wanted, needed him to.
Riana almost choked on emotion as she snuggled back against him—feeling safe and comforted despite the incongruous circumstances.
“Are you all right?” he muttered against her ear, his arms tightening around her middle as if he were unconsciously still trying to protect her.
“Yeah.” She adjusted one of his forearms so she could hug it to her chest. “I’m just now fully processing what might have happened. It all happened so quickly. I still can’t really believe it.”
He was silent, except for his warm, heavy breathing against her hair.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For stopping him.”
“I should have been there sooner. I was looking for you but couldn’t find you for a minute. I never should have turned my back on you out there.”
She could hear the lingering guilt in his voice, and that sign of his humanity comforted her almost as much as his strong arms. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who walked away from you. I wasn’t thinking.”
He didn’t reply for a minute, just held her so close it was almost uncomfortable. Finally, he asked, “Why didn’t you scream? Didn’t you think I would come for you?”
Riana sucked in a sharp breath at the implications. “I knew you would. I tried. I just… I just couldn’t get my throat to work.”