Wild, Wicked & Wanton

by Tawny Taylor

  Why didn’t he change back to a man? Was he waiting for her to do something? Say something? What had happened in the book? She was too terrified to remember.

  Bastien stretched a front paw forward, softly brushing it against her thigh. Out of sheer instinct, she jerked backward, slamming her spine into the wall.

  Blasé about her reaction, the powerful feline withdrew his paw, flopped onto the floor at her feet and proceeded to give himself a tongue bath. A low purr rumbled through the room’s heavy air as he worked. His soft fur brushed against her knee when he curled his body to give his hind end some attention. The tip of his long tail curled and uncurled.

  Unable to do anything but stand pinned to the wall and shake, she watched and waited.

  Oh so slowly, over the course of minutes or hours -- she had no concept of time -- her terror faded. Evidently, slightly curvy homo sapiens were not on Bastien the tiger’s menu. Instead of ripping her apart with those long claws and teeth, he sat at her feet, the model of feline grace and beauty, and tended to more mundane things, like grooming his magnificent coat and cleaning his ears.

  She even managed to find the guts to reach down and touch the tip of an ear. Soft.

  He stopped licking his leg and lifted his gaze to hers. And in a blink, he was a man again. A naked man, who looked hungrier than the beast, his eyes devouring her from chest to thigh and back up again.

  Resuming her ramrod posture, she pressed her back into the wall and whispered, “Bastien?”

  * * *

  Bastien had heard the other knights talk, had known to expect his bride to be frightened and resistant. Some brides were more fearful and subdued by nature, others more independent and headstrong, fighting their Masters like wild beasts. His bride seemed to possess a little of both -- the submission he expected and the fire he desired.

  But what he hadn’t expected or been prepared to deal with was the overwhelming hunger he felt for her. Her scent, sweet and musky, ignited a burning ache inside his chest the instant he had changed into his tiger form. The pain increased a hundredfold when he’d shifted back. Take her now. That’s what his every muscle and nerve insisted.

  He would not, could not.

  How cruel was the law, to put him in this position. In the room with the woman who made his blood boil -- the only one who had fired his passions so intensely -- and yet deny him the relief his body demanded.

  Standing now, looking down at her beautiful, heart-shaped face, he cursed the law and Xander, who had insisted he make the initial steps toward the claiming without him.

  “Y-you’re real?” She staggered toward the cot, staring up at his face. Her teeth were chattering, yet a strength shone in her eyes. “Wow.”

  He had to admit, his regard for his new bride was growing quickly. She not only had accepted the truth about her Master and his kind -- something that took some brides several days to accomplish -- but seemed to be somewhat fascinated by it. While he had caught the tangy scent of her fear when he’d taken his feline form, she hadn’t screamed in terror and run from him.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t be forced to endure the pain of his hunger for too long.

  He nodded, unable to keep from smiling. “Most definitely real.”

  “I can hardly believe it.” Full lips parted slightly, she shook her head. “All of it, Alyria, you… the tiger. This is the book I read? Over and over? Will the whole story come true, exactly as I read it?”

  “I can’t say, since I do not know yet how the story progresses. It’s complicated, how the magic works.”

  “Oh.” Her arms still semi-shielding certain parts of her anatomy from his feasting eyes, she puzzled over what he’d said. She started pacing, her gaze on the floor. “How confusing. Hmmm… from what I remember, the heroine was kidnapped and woke up in a dark place…” She lifted her eyes in a sweeping glance that curved around the room in a wide arc. “Yes. I don’t know why I hadn’t recognized it right away.” Her soft blue-grey gaze found his face again. “And you. I should’ve recognized you immediately too.” A warm pink tinted her cheeks. Her gaze dropped like a lead weight and an adorable crease crinkled between her eyebrows.

  At the vulnerability he read in her body language, the heat in his blood inched up a few hundred degrees, from simmer to boiling. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He forced his hands behind his back and clasped them together.

  Sweet like honey and more intoxicating than the finest wine. That’s how she would taste. And her cries of pleasure would be more melodic and moving than the most stirring music he had ever heard. Her hair, skin, would be more pleasing, softer and more luxurious than the rarest silks.

  A rare treasure, she was. They had indeed been blessed by the goddess in a bride.

  “So, uh,” she stammered, still staring at the floor, “will there be a claiming?”

  “Most definitely,” he answered, not able to disguise the raw, unbridled hunger in his voice.

  She shuddered. “And there are…” an audible gulp cut her sentence in half, “… two Masters? Xander is my second?”

  “Yes.”

  Her lips drew into a tight line, and she slowly raised her chin. “Well, then where is he? He should have been here with you now, for my…” another gulp, “… erm… training.”

  “He had another, more pressing matter to attend to.”

  “Then he’s really the head of the security agency or whatever it’s called?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re probably a little uncomfortable right now? ’Cause in the book, the bride creates some kind of chemical reaction in her Masters… just like they do in her…” Her gaze slowly dropped to his groin. Her eyes widened and her lips rounded into an O of surprise.

  “I am most definitely uncomfortable. Which is why we will now begin your training.” He closed the distance between them in two lengthy strides, caught her wrists in his fists and swept her arms up until her hands were clasped together over her head.

  At the contact of his hands to her skin, the fever wracking his body cranked up another notch. The weight in his testicles increased to nearly blinding intensity. Yet he could not back away from her and break the connection. Instead, surrendering to the call of the beast within him, he forced her back until she was flattened between the wall and his body.

  He swallowed a roar of frustration, battled the instinct to take his mate, and squeezed his eyes shut. Her scent. He couldn’t get enough.

  Closer.

  He kicked her feet apart and wedged his legs between hers, making sure there was no break in the contact between his burning body and her soft and feminine perfection, not from the floor to the tops of their heads.

  A soft whimper slipped between her lips, the sound nearly driving him mad. How could he wait when his body was betraying him?

  He ground his pelvis against her, creating a delicious friction between her softly curving abdomen and his rigid cock. It would be so much better for them both if he was clothed. Easier to resist the temptation of those honey-scented lips. He stilled, afraid to move, knowing he would never be able to resist the compulsion blasting through his body in relentless waves if he didn’t.

  As soon as he had gathered up some self-control, he tipped his head to nuzzle her neck. The lingering aroma of lilac wafted to his nose, released when he combed his fingers through her hair. He tasted her skin, salty-sweet. Delicious.

  More.

  He nibbled his way up to her ear, encouraged by her little gasps and moans.

  “How many times did you read our story?” he asked, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “Did you read it only once? Or many times?”

  She tested his grip on her wrists, slightly twisting them. “M-more than I can count right now.”

  “That pleases me.” He tightened his hold and stopped devouring her neck long enough to level a warning glare. “However, I warn you, you must not move -- not even turn your head -- without permission. This is for both our safety.”

  “Yes, M-Master.” Her i
nstant acquiescence earned her a single stroke between her legs. She accepted her reward with a groan and shudder.

  “Yes, your submission will be rewarded.” He mapped the line of her collarbone with an index finger. “We will soon see what else you learned in your reading.”

  “I didn’t expect… ahhhh…”

  Her breasts were absolutely perfect. Full. Heavy. Natural. Tipped with a pair of the most luscious nipples he’d ever seen. Small nipples, the perfect shade of soft pink.

  He had to taste them. It wasn’t a question of wanting. It was a question of perishing if he didn’t.

  He flicked his tongue over one pink tip then blew a soft gust to harden it to a tight point. His heart hammered against his breastbone. The air blasted from his lungs in a whoosh.

  Eyes closed, she rocked her hips back then forward, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest. He instantly withdrew from her, grappling with the nearly overpowering lust pounding, hot and steady, to his groin.

  Control. This first time with a bride was both an exercise in discovery and a test of control. Both for Master and mate.

  His self-control was definitely failing.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. Once he’d recovered his ability to speak, he lifted his eyelids.

  She was still standing in place, but she’d lowered her hands and was staring at him quizzically. Her chest rose and fell quickly, making those glorious orbs bounce slightly with each inhalation. He stared, unable to stop himself. His throat went dry.

  Finally, he shook away the lust. He would get through this first session without fucking her. If it meant he’d have to leave before they were finished, to seek out relief in another way, so be it. Now that he thought about it, he had been cautioned by another knight to take care of that issue before he went to his new bride.

  Wise words he had not heeded. More the fool, he.

  “Why? Why’d you stop?” she whispered. Once again, her arms were wrapped protectively around her body, shielding her breasts from his view.

  “I told you, you must not move. And yet you refuse to listen.” He motioned at her with a nod. “Your arms. Where do they belong?”

  “Well, you --” Her lips thinned as she snapped them shut. A spark of anger flared in her eyes. She lifted her chin.

  He narrowed his gaze and turned his back to her, an appropriate punishment for her willfulness. If he had to leave her here for the night, so be it. He wasn’t a patient man, but he sensed she was very close to accepting her position as his mate and submissive.

  No woman who was experiencing her first relationship as a submissive was going to slip into the role without facing an occasional challenge, nor without testing her new Master’s position from time-to-time.

  Her world had taught her to be strong and independent. It had been a matter of her survival. To unlearn something so ingrained -- a frame of mind she didn’t even think about it, that shaped her every reaction -- would take time.

  Who would’ve thought the training of his bride would be so damn painful? For them both?

  * * *

  Alone. Again.

  But now Maggie was horny, on top of confused and frustrated and scared.

  Sure, Bastien had cleared up a few things. She now knew where she was and who he was. And she had a rough idea of what she could expect from him -- some very wicked pleasure delivered by a gentle yet powerful man. Yet, there was still a horde of questions left to be answered.

  Like why she’d been sucked into a book.

  And how would she go home?

  And what would the reality of Xander be like? Would he be as gorgeous, dominant and heroic as she’d imagined?

  She fingered the choker, mapping the location of each sparkling gem.

  Yesterday, she’d been a self-sufficient girl with a job and an apartment and a life that was predictable and ordinary but also very nice. And now… predictable and ordinary would hardly describe this new life.

  A flare of heat blazed up her chest, followed by a pang of homesickness.

  That so-called training session had made her so aroused, she could hardly keep herself upright. The vulnerability of her position coupled with the knowledge of his expectations had made it all the more erotic, thrilling. That same powerlessness also made his withdrawal that much more painful.

  She couldn’t help moving her arms, or questioning his reasons for stopping. It wasn’t like she’d done this kind of thing before. Didn’t help that she’d never been so swept away by passion, so consumed by the need for a man’s touch.

  She wanted him so bad, her teeth ached.

  Why had he stopped? She still didn’t understand his reason. Although she did know why he’d left the room.

  She was being punished for giving him the mean-eyes. Imagine that.

  She hadn’t been so much as reprimanded since Jack had died. Until today. But who could blame her for getting ticked off? Darn it, she’d been frustrated. It was easy to fall into old habits. Especially since this whole submission-slash-domination thing was so new to her. What did he expect from someone with a past like hers? Perfection from the very beginning?

  That was plain stupid.

  Would he stay away long?

  It annoyed her, how smartly it stung when he’d left. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Like it or not, there was a powerful connection between them, one that defied logic in its intensity. They’d met a few hours ago, exchanged even fewer words, and swapped a little spit, and she was practically in a clinical depression.

  She padded barefooted to the door and pulled it open, peering down the dark hallway. She heard no screams now. In fact, she heard no sounds whatsoever. But she did note that there were other doors dotting both sides of the hall.

  Were there other women in those rooms, like in the book?

  Oh wait, maybe there hadn’t been other women? Strange. She couldn’t remember anymore. The details of the book seemed to be fading from her memory, like a dream. Would she eventually forget everything? Should she write it all down, just in case?

  She glanced around the sparse room. Of course, there was no paper and pencil handy. Oh well. She’d just have to take her chances and trust her memory.

  Now what?

  Should she pay a visit to her neighbors, if there were any to be found? After all, Bastien had not demanded she stay in her prison cell. He hadn’t locked the door. Left to her own devices, he had to expect she’d get out and wander a bit.

  As the old saying went, misery loves company.

  She had to assume that any woman in her position would also be naked and confused and scared, just like she was. As long as the other ladies weren’t six feet tall with a body fat content in the low teens, she supposed she could handle being naked. Sure beat sitting in this crap-hole, feeling alone and rejected and miserable.

  She headed right, thinking the scream she’d heard earlier might have come from that direction. As she made her way down to the first door, a whisper from behind caught her attention.

  “This way.”

  It was a male’s voice. Didn’t sound like Bastien, but it might be Xander. If it was, why was he hiding? Not sure what to expect, she wheeled around to face whoever was lurking in the shadows behind her.

  Chapter 4

  His prey was on the move again, so close Xander could taste the sharp tang of its terror in the air. A scuffle in the dirt drew his attention.

  There. Behind the tree.

  In feline form, he pricked his ears and crouched lower, relying on the tall grasses for camouflage.

  Ahh, the thrill of the chase. It was his only relief from the frustration of his work. For a short time he could lose himself in the feral side of his nature, the predator.

  The patter of paws on the ground signaled his quarry approached. His muscles coiled, preparing for the strike.

  Soon, he would kill. Soon, he would eat, satisfying his need for sustenance. And then he would find his bride and partake in an entirely different k
ind of chase.

  It hadn’t been fair to any of them, his suggestion that Bastien complete the training without him. He had denied himself, Bastien, and their bride long enough.

  * * *

  At first, Maggie was petrified of the masked man. If the guy wasn’t positively evil, or trying to hide his identity for some other nefarious reason, why cover his face?

  But when he uttered the words, “I want to help you go home,” she was reluctantly prepared to put aside her knee-jerk reaction.

  “My identity cannot be revealed. This is the reason for the mask,” he explained as soon as they were safely inside one of the rooms neighboring her own. He motioned toward the cot, indicating she should sit.

  Too nervous to even think about sitting still, she chose to remain standing.

  “The portal between our world and yours is protected by a magical barrier that only a bride and her Masters can disable,” her masked companion stated. “And then only if she has summoned her Masters of her own free will.”

  “Which means I ‘summoned’ Xander and Bastien somehow? I wanted them to come to me?” She instantly recalled the paper cut and saying something about them finding her. Of course, when she’d mumbled those words, she’d assumed she was talking to fictional characters, not real people. Not in a bazillion years had she expected they’d come to life and haul her away to some alternate world on the other side of a magical portal. “I remember now.”

  “Excellent. This is a good sign. The longer you remain in Alyria, the quicker the memory of your world and everything in it will fade. Do you still recall the details of your Masters’ story? The book you read?”

  She searched her mind, reaching for the descriptions and plot twists she’d enjoyed over and over, the fictional characters she’d met and fallen in love with. Some of the details had indeed grown hazy. “I remember some things, only a few. I’m forgetting a lot. Quickly.”

  He nodded. “You have very little time left. Once all your memories are gone, there is no hope of escape. We’ll have to work quickly.” His dark eyed gaze pierced hers. “You do want to escape, don’t you?”