by Amy Pennza
“Ivar, she still needs a healer,” Annika said, following him as he mounted the spiral stairs.
“Fine,” he snapped over his shoulder, “you and Porter come. Everyone else stays down here.”
Nadia stirred in his arms and moaned softly. He adjusted his hold so his arms weren’t touching her back. “Shhh. I’ve got you.” He wanted to sprint up the stairs, but he forced himself to slow down. As he rounded the last turn, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve got you, Nadia. And I’m not letting you go.”
19
Nadia opened her eyes and frowned. Wherever she was, it was dark. Small, hazy blobs of light shone at the edges of her vision, but they were mostly swallowed up by the shadows. A thought—or maybe it was a memory—teased at the edge of her brain. There was something she was supposed to remember. She closed her eyes and concentrated, struggling to bring it to the surface. It was important. She knew that much. Something about making sure she protected… She protected…
She forced her eyes open. She tensed, braced to feel the searing pain left by the whip’s lash. The scene in the hall flew back to her—the crowd, Ivar, the kaptum links forming in the air before her eyes. After a moment of cringing, however, she realized she was completely pain-free. She was also flat on her stomach—in Ivar’s bed. She blinked as the blurriness left her vision and the familiar surroundings of his private chamber came into view. It was clearly nighttime, which made her wonder how long she’d been asleep.
She lifted her head, once again bracing for pain and once again frowning when she felt absolutely nothing. “Hello?” Her voice rasped. Like she’d been since the moment she’d landed on this cursed planet, she was desperately thirsty. She let her head thunk back on the mattress. If she ever managed to make it off Tolbos, she was going to buy her own damn WADU and take it everywhere with her.
“Nadia?” Quick footsteps sounded from the direction of the doorway, then Annika stood next to the bed, her blonde hair a soft cloud around her face. “How do you feel?”
Nadia tried to clear her throat. “Thirsty.”
Annika smiled. “That’s a good sign. It means we got all of the kaptum. One of the side effects of pulling metal from the body is you end up extracting moisture too, since kaptum likes it so much. It can cause dehydration.” She bustled through the curtain and then returned with a large cup.
Nadia rolled to her side and took it, eager. She gulped the water, which was cold and crisp.
“Careful,” Annika barked. “Slow down or you’ll be sick.”
Nadia ignored her. She could almost feel her cells expanding, soaking up the water like flowers in the sun. When she’d drained the last drop, she handed it back to Annika so she could sit fully upright. She glanced down, pleased to see someone had given her clothes—a man’s oversized shirt from the looks of it. “What happened?”
A shadow fell over them. Ivar rushed through the doorway. He glanced at Annika. “I told you to get me as soon as she was conscious.”
Annika rolled her eyes and stepped back to make room for him near the bed. “She’s been awake for about a minute.”
Ivar sat on the bed and braced his arms on either side of Nadia’s legs. “How do you feel?” His gaze roamed over her. “Are you in pain? What’s your pain like?” He half stood and tried to lean around her. “Take this off so I can see your back.”
Nadia put a hand on his chest to hold him at bay. “I’m fine. Why are you acting like this?” He was once again shirtless—and barefoot. Did the man never wear proper clothing?
He grabbed her hand and held it between both of his. “You took a whip meant for a man, Nadia. A man with kaptum in his body.”
She looked between him and Annika. “I don’t understand.”
Annika crossed her arms. “Rogan has lived on Tolbos long enough to handle that much kaptum coming into contact with his skin—especially in a violent way.”
“The metal takes on the emotions of the person wielding it,” Ivar added. “A kaptum knife will almost always kill faster than a regular blade, and a person with no kaptum in their system is vulnerable because they don’t know how to control it. It’s the reason the Council prizes it so highly for weapons.”
The mention of the Council made Nadia tense. “Rogan told the truth. I needed his help, so I said you forced me to be a bed slave.”
Annika touched Ivar’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Ivar stared at Nadia until Annika’s footsteps had faded. Once she was gone, he reached out a shaking hand and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I know you’re not a spy,” he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. “You were so convinced before. What made you change your mind?”
“What you did for Rogan, putting yourself in harm’s way. He’s no one to you.”
“He’s not no one.”
Immediately, his tender expression transformed into suspicion. “He must have made quite an impression.”
Really? He was going to be jealous now? What was next, an interrogation about her conversations with Rogan? “You are despicable, you know that?” She tried to inch away from him, but he seized her legs again.
“What are you talking about?” he practically shouted. “I’m trying to apologize, dammit!”
“Are you kidding me?” She scrambled to her knees in the middle of the bed. “You asked me to be your bed slave. You forced me to work in filth. You pinned me to a wall and accused me of being a spy. And when I defended myself, you stripped me naked and fondled me in front of the entire mountain!”
He rubbed his jaw. “Not the whole mountain. Just the afternoon mining crew.”
“That was enough!”
He eyed her. “You know what I think?”
“I don’t care what you think!” Her chest heaved.
“I think you liked it.”
Nadia sputtered. “Liked it? Liked it?”
Golden eyes heated. “That’s what I said.”
“You arrogant ass.”
He smiled.
“I want you to leave.” She pointed to the door.
“It’s my room.” He looked at her in a way that was entirely too predatory.
“Fine. I’ll leave.” She walked on her knees toward the edge of the bed.
“Ah-ah.” He pulled her to the center and under him in one smooth motion. “I still need to look at your back.”
She glared up at him. Her nipples poked against his chest. The way he straddled her pressed his penis against her belly. She fought the urge to lift her hips. “It’s fine. Get off me.”
“Let me look at your back first.”
“Annika can do it.”
“I’m already here. Roll over. That’s an order.”
“Master’s orders?”
He nodded. “If that’s the way you want to play it. Now roll over, slave, and let master inspect his property.”
His words sent a thrill running down her spine. His body was hard against hers. It should have been insulting—him calling her a slave. Instead, her mind raced back to the dining hall. His wicked fingers had stroked and teased her…
Maybe if she let him look, he’d go away. Because he didn’t need to know about the heat making her nipples throb and her pussy clench. “I can’t roll over with you on top of me.”
He moved to her side.
She took a deep breath and flipped to her stomach. Cool air hit her back. He bunched the shirt around her shoulders, leaving her bare from the neck down. She tried to lift up to protest, but his palm pressed her flat.
“Shhh,” he said. “Such a disagreeable slave.”
Her cheeks burned. She buried her face in the blanket. If she could just hang on… Her nipples had pebbled to hard points beneath her. “Look and get it over with.”
He stroked his hand from the base of her neck to the small of her back. “Annika did a good job. Everything is smooth here.” His fingers dipped between her legs. “And here.”
She jerked and tried to flip over, but he p
ressed harder. Too late. Electricity rocketed from her pussy to her breasts. He slid a finger along her labia. She groaned involuntarily.
“What’s this?” His voice purred. “My slave is soaking wet.”
“S-stop,” she said, clenching her fists next to her shoulders. His fingers swirled around her clit. Pressure built between her legs. She exhaled on a shudder.
“It’s as I thought,” he said in a wicked, low voice next to her ear. “You liked it, and you want it so bad.”
“I don’t.” Even as she said the words, she parted her legs to give him more access.
He chuckled. “No, of course not.” He slid a long finger inside her.
She moaned deep in her throat. Her skin was hot, like she burned from the inside out. His finger filled her, but he wasn’t touching her clit. Frustrated, she lifted her hips.
He added another finger, stretching her, and then began to slide them in and out in an excruciatingly slow rhythm. It wasn’t enough. Want him there.
“You’re getting me all wet, slave.” The squishing sounds of her arousal filled the quiet room. “What a naughty secret you’ve been hiding, hmm?”
She squirmed. He shifted his hand so his fingers were still embedded in her cunt, but he wasn’t touching her clit. She thrust her hips back at him, desperate for friction. Faster.
He sped up the pace. Reading her mind? She’d wondered before if he had that ability. Don’t care. Just touch me.
He stretched out beside her. He continued pumping his fingers in and out of her. “When I had you naked on my lap downstairs, I could feel your heat on my leg. Did you know that? I could feel how hot and wet you were getting. I could have put you on that table, spread these pretty thighs wide, and ridden you right there in front of everyone.” He withdrew his fingers and rested them on her clit. “Couldn’t I have, Na-dee-ya?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Oh, yes. Please.” She imagined herself sitting nude on his lap in front of the miners, his big hand between her spread thighs. Warmth gushed between her legs. She pushed against his fingers.
He tapped her clit, and the first jolt of the warm, melting sensation she was after spiraled through her. His voice was coarse, guttural. “Not yet.”
There was a rustling sound, and then he rolled her onto her back. He pulled the shirt off her head and tossed it aside. She snaked a hand between her legs, dying to come.
He grabbed her wrist. “I said not yet.”
He’d shed his pants, and he reared above her, the full length of his erection jutting from his hips. “I want you to see my face when I make you mine.” The kaptum in his skin had darkened to black, and it swirled slowly up his chest, which glistened in the torchlight. “Raise your arms above your head and spread your legs—wide.”
She did as he bid, her pussy throbbing as his gaze ran from her breasts to the pulsing flesh between her legs. He stared at her opened sex for long moments, his eyes hot and possessive. She let her legs fall open as wide as they could go. As he looked her over, warm liquid slid from her pussy to the crack of her ass.
He lowered his head and licked a hot path down her labia. His tongue swirled around her clit. The melting feeling built and built. He sucked her clit into his mouth. A coil inside her tightened. His big hands cupped her ass, and he held her to his lips while he devastated her with his tongue, dipping it inside her before circling her clit again.
She tossed her head back, her hips thrusting upward of their own accord. She ground her cunt against his face. Closer. She had to get closer.
He growled against her sex, and the vibration reverberated through her hips. Electric pulses rippled from her pussy to her belly and back again. The desire coiling inside her pulled tight…tighter. He sucked hard, and the coil snapped. Her world condensed to the hot, frenzied waves crashing over her.
She sobbed. She clenched her legs around his head. Nothing mattered. Just this. He lifted his mouth away with a final, lingering swipe of his tongue. Before she could fully recover, he grasped his cock and plunged into her, seating himself to the hilt in a single thrust, filling her with a sweet burn.
She needed more. Couldn’t take more. She reached for his shoulders.
“Arms above your head,” he said in a harsh voice. He began pumping in a steady rhythm, plunging into her with a squishing sound punctuated by his short grunts. His cock impaled her, stretching her to the point of burning pain. He withdrew almost completely, only to bury himself again with a swivel of his hips. His eyes held hers prisoner, and he smiled slightly as he began driving into her in earnest.
She fisted her hands in the sheets as he slammed into her over and over again. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, his face limned in the bluish light shed by the torches. He exhaled with a soft grunt with every rocking thrust of his hips. In one of the sexiest moves she’d ever seen, his bit his full lower lip and held it between strong white teeth, his groans of pleasure deep and intense.
He gripped her hips in both hands, his fingers biting into her skin. His gaze fastened on her breasts, which bounced in sync with his thrusts. Without slowing, he leaned down and captured one stiff nipple in his mouth. He tongue flicked the tight peak. Sparkling, sizzling fire ripped a path from her chest to her pussy. She writhed, struggling to get on top of the waves. He nipped at her with his teeth before turning his attention to the other one, which he suckled for long moments before releasing it with a wet popping sound.
“Such pretty pink nipples my slave has,” he said, his eyes on her breasts, which now glistened from his mouth. “Touch them for master.”
Nadia moaned at his words, her fingers going to her bouncing breasts. She plucked at her nipples. They were so hard and engorged, they throbbed in sync with her heart.
He increased the pace of his thrusts. Splayed wide beneath him, she gripped his shoulders, meeting him thrust for thrust. Sweat sheened his chest and arms, and his tattoos moved freely over his torso, sometimes disappearing entirely under his skin. He planted his fists on either side of her head. Their gazes caught. Held.
“You want more?” His voice was so low, she had to strain to hear it.
She spread her legs so wide the tendons along her inner thighs burned.
He angled his hips and his cock slid along her clitoris. Pressure built again, faster this time. She wrapped her legs around his back, her body jerking as he bucked against her. Her cunt buzzed. Pressure built. The elusive, restless current washed over her. Again.
She had to catch it. She crossed her ankles behind his back and gripped his sides with her thighs. The burning built, higher and higher. The shifting, spiraling ache grew unbearable. He rocked against her clit, and the dam burst. Millions of tiny explosions fired across her body. She flung her arms over her head again and surrendered to the waves.
With a shout, Ivar pistoned into her a final time, flooding her with warmth. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. He lay there a second before rolling to his back beside her, his arm flung over his eyes.
She took deep breaths in an effort to slow her own pounding heart. Her muscles felt like jelly, and it almost hurt to open her eyes.
Ivar let out a groan of contentment beside her. “If I’d known appearing naked in public was going to make you that hot I would have burned your clothes the moment I saw you.”
IVAR HEARD THE smack before he felt it. The sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated off the cave’s ceiling. The stinging followed—a surprisingly painful sensation that made him spring to a sitting position. “What was that for?”
Nadia sat up too, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her small nipples, which were still a deep rose and puckered to tiny points in the middle of her firm breasts. She sat cross-legged, and the glistening pink folds between her legs drew his gaze like a lodestone.
She glared at him, reminding him to redirect at least a little blood flow to his brain, where it was apparently badly needed.
“There is a difference between getting t
urned on by a fantasy and actually living out that fantasy in reality,” she said, her eyes flashing.
He rubbed at the spot on his chest where she’d slapped him. Was there? In his experience, playing out his fantasies was always better than imagining them. “You’re going to have to explain what you’re talking about.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. The movement thrust her breasts closer to his face, and he suppressed a groan. “I might find it a little hot, playing slave and master, but I am not your slave. If you ever take my clothes away again, I promise it won’t end well for you.”
Ah. He sank back to the mattress. “I won’t. Not unless you ask me to.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What does it mean to be canceled?”
“What?” The abrupt change of subject seemed to startle her.
“You said it last night in your sleep. You were begging someone not to cancel you.”
Her face fell. She looked away. A flush stained her cheeks.
“Nadia?”
She cleared her throat. “It’s… Synths are grown in a lab, in an artificial womb.”
“Right.”
“There have been some who turned out…not quite right.”
“What does that mean?”
“Behavioral problems, mostly. It’s something that tends to show up during childhood. The Council does tests at various points of our development. Synths who show signs of having an issue can be…”
His chest tightened. He sensed what she was about to say, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t want to hear it. But he owed it to her to ask. “Can be what?”
“Canceled. Eliminated from the program.”