Falcon’s Captive

by Vonna Harper

Before she could think to react, he’d pulled up on her garment until it was against her armpits and her breasts were exposed. He’d released his hold on her arms, but although she might have been able to tug her garment back around her waist, she didn’t try. Either that or she couldn’t pull herself together enough to think how the task was completed.

  Somehow he switched from a kneeling position to stretching out next to her without giving up ownership of her navel. Now, not only did his cock press against her outer thigh, his breath dampened her breasts.

  “I love knowing you’re on my bed. And touching you like this.”

  This wasn’t the first time he’d taken her breast into his mouth; she could survive it, she could!

  But maybe she didn’t want to.

  Not sure which it was, she tugged at her hair and tried to remember how to breathe. Her hips kept lifting off the bed. She kept squeezing her thighs together.

  Ignoring her pitiful attempts at movement, he sucked on her breast, prompting her to arch her spine. Pain from pulling on her hair did nothing to distract her from the awful waiting, the hungry wanting.

  When he removed his finger from her navel, he granted her a full heartbeat in which to try to convince herself she was going to survive. Then that same finger slid between her legs and over her pussy. A tremor dove from the top of her head down to her toes.

  “There it is,” he fairly growled. “Your body revealing itself to me.”

  She was already practically naked so what could he be talking about? He answered by swiping his hand over her cunt while she struggled to blink away the red film that had stolen her vision.

  “Taste yourself, slave.”

  This time the word slave was a caress, a deep voice speaking to her heart and pussy. When he touched her mouth, she gasped, then parted her lips. His fingers tasted of sex, her wet and wanting sex.

  If he’d insisted, she would have sucked him as deeply into her mouth as he’d taken her breast and maybe more. Instead, she ran her tongue over his fingers, wondering why he’d abandoned her core so soon.

  No, he hadn’t. Answering her silent plea, his hand returned to her traitorous pussy and drank from what might be an endless store of heat.

  And then, not soon enough, he was giving her another taste of herself and she was licking, swallowing, licking some more.

  He freed her breast, but she barely gave it thought. How could it matter when he was on the move again?

  Handling her as if he’d been doing this one task his entire life, he spread her legs and climbed into the space he’d created for himself. She’d thought he’d waste no time positioning her for sex, asked herself if she was ready. Instead, he rocked back so his buttocks rested on his heels and rested a palm against her pubic hair.

  So close, not close enough.

  Much as she wanted to meet his seeming indifference with the same, she couldn’t make herself relax. They were going to fuck; she knew it. So why was he making them wait?

  “Some men, sex slave trainers, can condition a female so this is the only thing she wants.” He rubbed her mons, stopped. “I’m not certain how that’s accomplished, probably through a series of lessons. I’ve heard it said that females trained to heed only their bodies’ needs make the best slaves.”

  “I’m not a slave.”

  “But that’s what you’ll become, if it’s what my shaman wants.”

  Why was he telling her this? To make her fear Tau?

  “Maybe you’d like that existence,” he went on, sounding cold now. The pressure on her mons increased, and it took all she had not to howl like some hungry whore. “There’d be a lot of pleasure in it.”

  “But not freedom!”

  “Freedom?” To her surprise, he patted her thigh as if trying to ease her mind. “You’re right, there’s that. But it’s not as if you have any choice in the matter.”

  “Because of you!” Hating him was easier than admitting how much she craved what he dangled before her. “You could let me go.”

  Before she could add that he’d had no right taking her in the first place, he slid another hand under her hips, lifting her. With his upper hand now pushing down on her core, she felt trapped by him, caught in a grip she’d never imagined. Sweat coated her entire body, and she couldn’t have moved her arms if her existence depended on it.

  “You don’t want that,” he said. It took her a moment to remember they’d been talking about her freedom. “You’d much rather stay in here while you discover and experience what you can be.”

  He was offering her an existence she’d never fathomed, one framed by him. Because he’d already demonstrated how much he knew about a woman’s body, she, too, easily imagined night after night of fucking, sex, rutting. He’d take her in ways she didn’t know were possible, each of those ways pulling her deeper into his influence.

  He was right. The trade-off was knowing she’d never fly again.

  Was it worth it?

  The question pounded at her, tore into her, spun her around, and threatened to make her bellow. Red-hot explosions in exchange for ropes.

  “I don’t want—”

  “Don’t say that until I’m done.”

  “Done?”

  “Taking you. Gifting you.”

  By the spirits, she couldn’t think! And because his hands still trapped and cradled her, she couldn’t move.

  “That’s better,” he said, making her wonder what she’d agreed to. Then he drew his hands off her and let her down, and she went back to waiting. Needing.

  “Lift your hips.”

  “What? I already—”

  “On your own, if this is what you want.”

  He wasn’t just offering sex. No, he was pushing her to the edge, taking her places she’d never been. She started to tell herself she didn’t have to do this, that he’d have to force her.

  But because she couldn’t lie to herself, she bent her knees and arched her back so her shoulders bore most of her weight. The strain of holding this position burned through her, but she strained upward, her pussy clenching.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Then, as she’d known and prayed he’d do, he rocked forward. His cock slipped past her wet barrier and into the hot, tight tunnel that had been made for him. Having him inside her filled her with strength and energy, and she stared boldly up at his shadowed form as he stretched out over her with his arms planted on either side of her shoulders.

  He became part of her, his thick, hot rod completing her. The pressure along her pussy walls took her deep inside herself, blinded her to everything except him. They were equals, two halves meshing together and becoming one. Even though he’d yet to thrust, she drank from the gift he’d given her and prayed she was giving him the same.

  Her future would have to wait, as would his. There was only this tent, these moments together, these bodies.

  Soft, quick heat flooded her passage, maybe hotter in front and deeper behind. How strange that one swollen, sleek organ could turn her around and empty her mind.

  Mindless, yes, living in and through and around her pussy, growling encouragement when he pushed deeper, struggling to hold him in place when he pulled back, hissing each time he came at her.

  The quick heat rolled deep and true, set fire to her legs and licked at her spine, shook her breasts.

  She began shaking, her body screaming and threatening to break apart. Sobbing, she sank onto his bed. Moments later the shaking quieted, making it possible for her to again concentrate on being fucked.

  Fucked? Attacked, more like. Her enemy hammering at her and her howling her approval.

  So fast, no slow and exciting buildup. Instead, thunder roared and lightning struck. Half believing she smelled herself burning, she stared at the looming, straining shadow that was Nakos. Her pussy spasmed. Spasmed again.

  12

  Too fast, too hard. Everything out of control.

  Although she’d pulled her garment down over her hips and rolled onto her side s
o her back was to her captor, Jola couldn’t shake off the memory of their frantic coupling. His breathing had labored long after his climax, but now it was stretching out, and she sensed his muscles relaxing.

  Sliding her hands between her legs, she lightly fingered herself. Her flesh there was so tender and yet if he’d come after her again, she would have opened herself to him. Why she’d willingly submit to sex was something she needed to examine and, if possible, walk away from, but how could she begin when her mind insisted on drifting? Night had closed over the Ekewoko camp. A few faint voices reached her, none of the words making sense. Most likely they were talking about her.

  Tau, that’s whom she didn’t dare trust. Shamen had skill and power. They saw things others couldn’t, knew things that should remain secret. From what little he’d said, she half believed he knew who and, most important, what she was. He might turn her into his hostage as his way of getting close to her people or…

  With a start, she pulled herself back. Much as her body craved oblivion, she had to first face what tomorrow might bring. No matter how much she objected and fought, could Tau force her to go to Raptor’s Craig with him and the Ekewoko warriors? True, Tau might not know that Raptor’s Craig was sacred to the Falcons, but she didn’t dare take that chance. Somehow she had to keep not just him but all Ekewokos away from there until…

  Again, she shook off her growing exhaustion. How could she warn her people if she couldn’t get to them? Freedom, that’s what she needed. Freedom.

  Her sex was warm and soft and still moist. That, coupled with Nakos behind her, made it all but impossible for her to fasten her mind around what she’d have to do if she was ever going to be free again. She wasn’t even sure that’s what she wanted.

  Something cold touched her throat. Eyes open but unseeing, she tried to keep the chill from expanding, but it spread over her. Shivering, she struggled to understand why she suddenly felt afraid.

  Although she didn’t want to admit it—not tonight, not with him so close—she reluctantly acknowledged that what she was most frightened of was not wanting freedom.

  Being able to fly and hunt and mate had always defined her existence. Without those things, who and what was she?

  Nakos’s captive. His slave.

  More cold pressed against her throat and spread outward. She tried to step back from it by sliding a forefinger into her pussy, but because of the way her captor had secured her hands, she could only manage an inch. Giving into the strain in her arms and shoulders, she rested her hands against her belly.

  What had she been thinking about, something to do with the Ekewoko shaman and the threat he represented. In the morning, she’d listen and learn, plan and plot. And when her time came…

  Fire. Flames. Screaming, endless screaming.

  Darkness surrounded him, wrapped him in isolation and fear. He longed to curl into a tight, shivering ball, wanted to be a child again, needed innocence back.

  More flames, growing hotter with every second. They crackled and crashed loud enough to awaken the just-dead, but the sound couldn’t destroy the screaming.

  One voice was high and shrill, yet weak. The other rode a deeper river with fear woven into it, the fear of the doomed.

  Forcing his trembling legs under him, he ran toward the screaming. Jumping, leaping, muscles straining, feet shredding on rocks. On and on he went, pounding past night curtain after night curtain. His lungs burned; he couldn’t pull enough air into them and what little entered was hot and tasted of death.

  “Save us! Save us!”

  “Where are you? By the spirits, where are you?”

  “Nakos! Wake up.”

  The voice slipping into his dream was vaguely familiar, and probably more so if he’d been able to concentrate, but he was still too close to the edge. Fighting a familiar foe, he pushed back from the darkness. As he knew it would, the nightmare followed him, sucking at his sanity and insisting he return to the past.

  “No!” he yelled, punching the mist. Instead of fog, however, he connected with something soft and alive.

  “Stop it! Nakos, wake up!”

  Even though he opened his eyes, nothing waited for him. True, it was night, but with horror pressing around him, he needed something, anything to focus on. Determined not to yell again, he struck out.

  “Ah!”

  What was that, a female voice, sharp with pain. But that couldn’t be because his nightmares were never about women. He reached out again, not to ward off the devils this time but to make sense of the unexpected sound. His fingers touched soft flesh, prompting him to grab and hold on.

  “Nakos?”

  The voice penetrated deeper, splintered the dying dream. As reality rushed in, he sat up and hauled the woman against him. Her slight body was warm and alive, which were the two things he needed most in life. Something warned him not to surrender his strength to her, but how could that matter when he owed his sanity to her?

  Her breasts pressed against his chest, and her arms were between them, giving rise to the question of why she wasn’t trying to either push him away or embrace him. As the seconds passed, more memories emerged, and although he didn’t yet understand everything, he knew he was responsible for her immobile arms.

  “Don’t hit me again,” she said. “I did nothing to deserve it.”

  “I—didn’t mean…”

  “You were asleep, snoring a little. Then you started moaning and calling out. It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?”

  Oh yes, that was the explanation he was after and all he wanted to face about why he’d been acting the way he had. Even though he was lying to himself, he ran his hands over her back. With the simple touch, his cock awakened.

  “What was it?” she asked. “Were you being attacked by something in your dream?”

  An attack, yes, but undoubtedly not what she was thinking. “It doesn’t matter. Where did I strike you?”

  “My arm, up near my shoulder.”

  Relaxing his grip, he went in search of her shoulder but found her breasts instead. Fully steeped in reality now, he acknowledged he had every right to touch her there and other places because she belonged to him. She must have accepted the same thing because she made no attempt to stop his exploration Neither, however, did she respond when he rubbed her nipple.

  “It’s getting hard,” he said. “You can’t tell me you don’t like being touched like this.”

  “My body’s response isn’t what this moment is about, Nakos. Your dream is what matters.”

  Damn her for pushing when surely she knew better! He should punish her, give her a lesson she’d never forget. But not only wouldn’t he want to face himself if he did, something told him this wasn’t a woman who could be broken by pain.

  “Why are you hiding behind silence?” she demanded. “Do you think that’s going to make a difference?”

  “What?” He ran his forefinger over the hard nub.

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve had that nightmare,” she continued. “Earlier tonight—”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t you?” She sounded as if she didn’t believe him. “I’ll tell you what I believe. Deep down you know you can’t rid yourself of it. It’s become part of you. You’ve tried to make your peace with whatever stalks you, but it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it never will.”

  “How can you say—”

  “Personal experience.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She sighed and shrugged. “I understand what it’s like to try to get free of something, to try to convince myself that something didn’t happen. It hasn’t worked for me, and it isn’t going to for you.”

  You don’t know anything about me, he wanted to insist, but if he did, their conversation might take him someplace he didn’t dare go.

  “You call yourself a warrior, and yet a few moments ago you sounded like a small frightened child.”

  Anger tore at him, but before he was tempted to unleash it o
n her, he acknowledged that she was trying to goad him. “I doubt that,” he said although she might be right. “No matter what sounds I made, they were nothing compared to you when you’re climaxing.”

  She drew in a slow breath that seemed endless. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you? That’s why you’re trying to change the subject.”

  Damn her! He’d never encountered someone with such spirit and fight. Or who put his secrets at such risk. Disappointed in himself for doing so, he nevertheless pushed her away, grabbing and straightening her legs as he did so she wound up sprawled on her back. Confronting someone he couldn’t see was a strange sensation. He couldn’t decide whether to shove her out of his reach or tease her until her excited cries floated through the camp and she’d forgotten what had awakened them.

  “Don’t,” she warned as he positioned himself above her.

  “Don’t what?” He reached out, grazing an arm with his nails. Remembering that he’d kept her wrists bound, he drew her arms over her head. That done, he leaned close. Holding her in place with one hand, he went in search of her breasts, belly, hips, something.

  “That’s right, treat me like a captive,” she snapped, writhing a little under his touch. “You think there’s nothing to me except a hole for your cock! That I have no other purpose.”

  “You want that cock.”

  “Ha! If you think that’s the only thing I need then you are a fool.”

  She had no right throwing that word at him, none at all! He ground his palm against her navel.

  “Such a fool!”

  He would hurt her! Break her down. But if he did, could he face himself? Maybe even more important, could he ever look this woman in the eye again?

  “Go back to sleep, captive. But before you do, ask yourself what the rest of your life is going to be like. There’ll be me, only me.”

  “What about your lord and shaman?”

  “I captured you. Maybe I’ll keep you for myself.”

  Nakos’s threat settled against Jola’s chest, making her heart ache. From his slow breathing, she guessed he was trying to return to wherever he’d been before the nightmare had begun. She’d been angry at him for the way he’d treated her, but only briefly. What she didn’t understand was why she couldn’t hate this man. If things were that simple, all her energy could go toward two things: surviving his presence and planning her escape.