He pushed away from the door and crossed the room. Thick-lashed and expressive, her eyes swirled gently, attesting to her Ontarian heritage. Her gown matched her eyes, a smoky mixture of purple and gray. The rich material hugged her torso, leaving her shoulders and the upper curve of her breasts bare. The ornate embroidery didn’t distract from the generous fullness of her breasts or the contrasting dip of her waist. Who had she been kissing when they penetrated the Mystic shield? Their interaction had seemed playful, as if the man had never touched her before.
She’s a virgin, you ass. No one has ever touched her before.
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, mimicking the man’s gentle touch. She stared back at him, her lips trembling. Could he kiss her senseless, channel her emotional intensity into blazing desire?
Circling around behind her, he found the pins securing her golden-brown hair and began to take it down. She stood perfectly still—debating her options, no doubt, or searching the room for weapons.
“Why are you doing this?” The uncertainty in her voice stirred a place deep inside his heart. He could withstand her anger and ignore her contrary outbursts, but this tremulous vulnerability called to a part of him he didn’t recognize. This was how they did it, how women cast their spell. He must guard his feelings carefully or he’d follow his brother to an early grave.
“I want to spread your hair across my pillow as I thrust between your thighs.” She slapped his hand away and spun to face him.
“Where are your women?” Her breasts swelled into view with each deep breath. “The only reason you would want to make sure E’Lanna isn’t pregnant is if … This isn’t about ransom, is it?”
Echo knew she was breathing too fast. She pressed her hand over her chest and looked away from her captor. She couldn’t think with his piercing gaze focused on her. His hair had come loose during their tussle in the exercise room. The wavy strands softened his angular features, made him almost handsome.
The things he’d described still played through her mind. She pictured herself bound and naked while he aroused her until she screamed. Despite his misconception, she wasn’t a virgin. Her experience was limited, but his erotic threat had sent her senses reeling. Only once had a lover touched her intimately with his mouth. The brief, hurried caress had distracted her, teased her, and made her long for more.
What is wrong with me?
He wanted to mount her, cover her, like a stallion covers a mare. Breeding. This had nothing to do with ransom. She was here to be bred.
Her eyes widened, and she staggered back a step. Icy realization clarified her mind. Stories from her childhood, whispered horrors she’d nearly forgotten, came back in terrifying waves. “We’re in the Shadow Maze.” She held up her hand, as if the feeble gesture could ward him off. “You’re a Shadow Assassin.”
This couldn’t be real! She flung herself toward the privacy panel. His arm banded her waist, bringing her up short. She struggled against his hold, kicking back at him and clawing his arm. She had to escape! Learn everything she could about this place and … No one ever escaped the Shadow Maze.
He wouldn’t just mount her; he’d take her over and over until she got pregnant. Then he’d keep her here until she delivered the child. If the child was male, she’d be released, but the child would stay with him. If the child was female, he might release them both, or he might try again. Either way her mind would be scrambled. Every woman released from the Shadow Maze had only fragmented bits of memory. Some welcomed the oblivion. Others mourned for the child wrested from their arms.
The warlords had been searching for this place for decades to no avail. How could she hope to escape?
“I can’t do this.” She sobbed. “Please, don’t make me do this.” Fear dissolved her anger, and her knees buckled. He swept her into his arms and crossed the room, sitting her on one of the chairs arranged against the wall. She wept, her face buried in her hands.
“The situation is only as unpleasant as you’re determined to make it.”
That brought up her head. “What is that supposed to mean?” She wiped her tears on the back of her hand and glared at him.
“I heard enough of your conversation with the blond man to know you’re curious about sex.” His tone was even, yet under the calm she sensed determination. “Unlike most men, we are trained in the art of pleasure. We have only one mate, and she is often reluctant. So, we learn what will please her most. I know techniques that would make an experienced woman tremble. I will assuage your curiosity as no man in the world above can.”
He’d seen her with Lor, heard their teasing banter. Lor had been kissing her when they attacked. He might believe she was a virgin, but he knew she wasn’t afraid. He stood just out of reach, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m not that curious.”
His lips twitched, and he shook his head, then surrendered to the smile. She crossed her arms over her breasts, her heart fluttering madly. His eyes sparkled when he smiled and distinct brackets framed his mouth. Lowering her gaze to the center of his chest, she gave herself a mental shake. He was ruthless. She couldn’t afford to be drawn in by a charming smile.
“This is going to happen,” he said in the same calm tone. “The only question is when and in what manner.”
“How comforting.”
In an effort to avoid looking at her captor, Echo glanced around her cage. Firestones were inset at regular intervals high on the stone walls. As well as providing light and warmth, the shimmering crimson stones detracted from the endless gray. A rustic table with four chairs occupied one corner, while a massive bed dominated the opposite end of the oblong room.
There had to be something she could do to stop this, something she could offer him—other than her body. She was not without resources. One of the men in the training room had referred to him as commander. He was obviously no ordinary soldier.
Preparing herself for the most important negotiation of her life, she met his gaze. “Any woman can give you a son. Why squander this opportunity on such a paltry outcome? My father is Head Master over all the Mystics, and my mother is High Queen. Surely you can think of something—”
He struck like a coiled serpent, fast and accurate. His fingers tangled in her hair as he leaned down and brought his face close to hers. “My son will descend from the two most powerful Mystics on this wretched planet. What could be more important than that?”
“If you’re bent on this demented course, then you don’t need my sister.” She grabbed his wrist, but he wasn’t really hurting her, just exerting enough pressure to keep her still. “Let E’Lanna go, and I’ll—”
“You’re in no position to negotiate. You will bear my son, and your sister’s master will be chosen as soon as we are certain she isn’t already pregnant.”
He pulled her to her feet and spun her around, unfastening the gown with shocking ease. She reached for E’Lanna, scanning without specific communication. E’Lanna sensed her and expanded the link, allowing Echo to see through her eyes. The holding cell was a stone cube with a bunk, a stool, and basic utilities.
I reached Father, but I didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t know where we are. The thought whispered in her mind accompanied by a ripple of frustration.
Echo waited for her captor to react. His hand stroked from the small of her back to the nape of her neck, but he said nothing. Had E’Lanna figured out who held them and why?
Is he still with you?
Echo answered with a wave of anxiety, unwilling to push her luck. He eased the gown off her shoulders and down her arms. She clutched the front to her breasts as his fingers explored her back and shoulders.
I’m so sorry, E’Lanna whispered.
How was she supposed to respond to that? He pulled the rest of the pins from her hair and raked his fingers through the long strands, unwinding the curls and freeing the braids.
Do you want me to stay with you?
Echo shuddered at the thought. No. There’s nothing you can do.
About the Author
Anything-but-Ordinary is Cyndi's creed and her writing reflects her dedication to the concept. She writes in a variety of genres, but seems happiest in outer space. Her books have been nominated for numerous awards, and Taken by Storm was named Best Fantasy/Science Fiction Romance of the year by Romance Reviews Today.
She lives in Colorado with her high school sweetheart turned husband of many years. With a pampered cat curled on the corner of her desk, she dreams of fascinating words and larger than life adventures -- and wouldn't have it any other way!
Website / Blog: http://www.cyndifriberg.com
Consort (Beyond Ontariese 6) Page 21