Captive Desires

by Diane Whiteside

  “Can you forgive me, big boy?” She deepened her voice to a suggestive purr. “And will you fly with me again?”

  His innards melted, sending all of his blood far away from his draconic wisdom.

  “Of course we will.”

  Danae swayed in her husband’s arms, her fanciful silk and lace cream wedding dress a thing of the past, thank God. Now she wore a barely-there slip, instead of a confection designed to evoke awe among the multitude of guests deemed necessary to witness Torhtremer’s top general’s wedding and retirement. He’d worn his most magnificent uniform for that, but no mail, thank God. And now he was clad only in bare skin, which was enough to incite any woman’s senses into a riot. His breath stirred her hair and her heart.

  She couldn’t complain too much, though, since Khyber’s wedding present had been Larissa and Nora, plus their families. He’d fobbed off any questions by telling them their attendance was a dream about their dead friend. Apparently she, Alekhsiy, and Turner had passed on during that explosion—as in died. With three bodies missing and a large area to cover, forensic studies were inconclusive but death certificates had finally been issued.

  She didn’t give a damn, especially when lust melted through her skin every time her husband breathed in her hair or brushed against her. She had her man plus the bonus of family. All of his enormous clan, starting with all those sisters and their husbands and their children, treated her as if she’d been born one of them. They hugged, gossiped, offered chances to babysit the little ones . . .

  She smiled into her husband’s shoulder and moved a little closer, inviting his wonderfully muscular thigh to slide between hers and caress her. One day, she’d make the same request of his family but not too soon. She needed time first, time to learn more about daily life with her love.

  The garden sounds were dim and mysterious around them, muted by the rich scents of thick vegetation. Dozens of flowers grew on every terrace leading to the great meadow, while waterfalls slipped and played among the lacy trees. Moonlight glimmered, gentle and evocative, offering its own benediction for the first human lovers to walk here in centuries.

  Alekhsiy lifted her fingers to his mouth and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Did my lady enjoy her wedding presents?”

  “Such as her garden, with the flowers and the trees?”

  “Yes, those. Or perhaps the fortress that guards it.”

  “I’m glad you won’t have to spend all your time at court. Having you responsible for rebuilding our castle is heaven.” She kissed his sword arm, tracing his biceps with her tongue. “You can bring your retired soldiers here, too, if you’d like.”

  “Now that the ghosts are vanished.” His hand circled over her back.

  “Now that the ghosts are renewed and made welcome,” she corrected him. Such as her family’s. She licked him again, in a long sweep up his arm to his shoulder, across his collarbone to his throat and the pulse beating there. Her love and her life.

  A long shudder passed through him, redolent of weakening control. She waited hopefully.

  Then he lifted her up and laid her down on a patch of sweet-smelling, close-cropped starflowers. Great trumpet lilies burst from a vine above a wall over their heads, while a delicate fountain sang somewhere nearby.

  Better, much, much better. She wanted freedom tonight, not the cool precision of a silk-lined wedding bed.

  She delicately scraped her teeth over his throat, marking her possession.

  He twisted his hand in her hair and arched her neck. “But wild beasts walk here,” he pointed out, slow anticipation gleaming in his heavy-lidded eyes.

  Heat caught brighter fire in her veins, flashed lower, and slipped into heated cream.

  “What beasts?” She tried to look innocent, which was damn difficult when her nipples were tightly furled buds, desperate to feel more of his chest.

  “A white tigress, perhaps?” He lifted a lazy brow.

  “Are you sure? Do you see one?” Her voice broke on the last phrase when his fingers slipped under her hem and over her hip. Why wouldn’t he wander someplace directly useful, like her breasts or between her legs?

  “Perhaps I need to look more closely.” His voice darkened to a growl and she closed her eyes, her knees weak. She could never resist that note.

  He raised the silk up, up, up over her head. Her arms lifted to accommodate his silent demand and she was rewarded by his rumble of appreciation.

  “Beautiful.” He gently thumbed one of her nipples, which somehow hardened even more. She caught at his shoulders for support, lust spiking between his hand and her cunt. Somehow even more cream began to flow.

  “Definitely a white tigress, beautiful and lustful.” He fondled her other breast and fire leaped into a great circle within her. Chi roared into life, linking her to the ground below, the fortress behind them—and the man holding her.

  His breathing was rougher than hers, his muscles were tense, harder than steel with his effort to hold back. Dammit, there was no need for that, not tonight.

  “Alekhsiy.” She slid her leg over his and arched to wrap it around his hip, deliberately opening herself in invitation.

  His eyes widened in surprise, as brilliant blue as the pool behind them or the waterfall spilling into it. His cock hardened instinctively even more before his clever mind could deny it.

  “Please, now, my love.” She brought her other leg up and kissed him, linking him through her breath to all the chi flowing through the garden.

  He gasped and kissed her back, immediately sharing himself with her. An instant later, his cock surged into her and he began to ride her. Strong and hard, long ribbons of delight flowed through them both and were magnified by the garden around them. Everything increased it—the heat of their bodies, the heavy pants of their breathing, the wet slaps of their bodies, the heavy musk of their mixed cream. Higher and higher they climbed until nothing existed but the silvery strand between them and the joy that doubled it.

  The ribbons spun together tighter and tighter—and Alekhsiy nipped lightly on her mouth.

  Danae shattered into orgasm, taking him with her. Stars dissolved her bones and floated them away, mixed with his, and reformed them.

  She held on to him afterward, with barely enough strength to play with a few hairs on his brow.

  “Do you see the silver bond between us, sweeting?” he asked, his voice soft with sated hunger.

  Startled, she turned her head against his shoulder and saw the glowing strand floating between his free hand and her throat, pulsing with every beat of her heart.

  “Warrior and sorceress,” she whispered.

  “Aye.” He kissed her, still holding her intimately. “Mine.”

  “As you are mine.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Many thanks to Stephanie Burke and Jean Marie Ward for sharing their vast experience with science fiction conventions. I am especially grateful for the many times they allowed me to weep on their shoulders about recalcitrant characters and plots, then picked me up and helped me find a way out. I also thank Angela Knight, my partner for Captive Dreams, who is a constant joy.

  The locations used in this book were inspired by genuine Atlanta locations.