Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Prisoners of the Wind (7 page)

The plan had backfired on Drae. Along with the gloating pleasure
he got from torturing Neala Acet, he had gotten a rude awakening. In that
awakening, desire had reared its undeniable head and lust had washed over him
in waves of longing he could no longer control. So furious had he been upon
realizing he was having feelings for the young woman he should not be having,
he turned his anger upon her, making threats that he now knew he had no
intention of ever carrying out.

Groaning, Drae brought his hands up and covered his face as
he slid down the wall, hunkering there on his heels, his rump pressed to the
titanium sheathing behind him.

He hadn’t counted on feeling anything, he thought as he
crouched there, his body awash with need. The intense erotic longings he had
tried to instill in Marin had rebounded on him, and now he had been caught in
his own web.

“Stupid, arrogant man,” he said with a sigh, lowering his
fingers so he could stare unseeingly at the opposite wall. “Conceited,
egotistical fool. You didn’t stop to consider the consequences, did you?”

The mental images he had transmitted to Marin had come
straight from his own well of desires, dredging up from his very soul the
things he needed, he craved, he ached to experience. Not once did he question
those midnight transmissions. He had wanted to share them with her and now that
he had, he had to pay the cost.

* * * * *

Still another day passed before they laid eyes on one
another.

The door to her cell opened and she looked up to see him
framed in the doorway.

It was his heavy, shallow breathing that drew Marin’s
immediate attention. Though there was not a discernible expression on his hard
face, she detected the heat of lust simmering in his eyes and she remembered
part of the lecture a few years back…

“Prisoners learned quickly that to keep their tormentors
from hurting them during the rape sessions, they needed to seduce the
violator,”
the aged instructor had droned on, seemingly disinterested in
her topic.

Drae seemed disinterested too, but the swell in his black
leather pants belied that disinterest. Though Marin knew very little of men,
she knew what that bulge signified and she knew she had best use it to her
advantage unless she wanted him to damage her. That he would hurt her was a
given. She understood the breaking of the hymen would cause pain. It was the
degree of that pain she hoped to lessen.

“Another significant lesson learned during their
imprisonment was that it was easier to have one violator abusing them than to
be at the mercy of several. It became vitally important to become the willing
plaything of one guard rather than suffer the attention of an entire
cellblock.”

Without him asking, she put her hand on the jumpsuit’s
zipper and slid it down as far as it would go. She lifted her foot and using
her toes against the heel of her other foot, slipped off one of the canvas
shoes that had been allotted to her and stepped out of it. With one foot bare,
she removed the other shoe in the same manner.

“I have been told I have pretty feet,” she said, trying to
distract him, keep him from intercepting her thoughts, and almost smiled when
he started, dragging his eyes from that portion of her body to her face. “Do
you think so?”

Her question confused him so he didn’t answer, though his
brows had clashed together across his forehead. She was less than eight feet
from him and he could smell the light perfume that radiated from her flesh. It
was that fragrance that held him so still. He had intercepted her thoughts
about rape and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he had no such
violence in mind, but he was caught and held by that soft scent of gardenia,
and it was doing strange things to his libido.

He could also smell the musky aroma of her sex and that
scent made his mouth water and his cock ooze. He looked down at the juncture of
her thighs and saw another swathe of lace riding low in the opening over her
hips. Unaware he did so, he licked his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

Marin reached up to tug the bodice of the jumpsuit from her
shoulders.

Creamy
, he thought as those soft, round corners were
revealed to him and he knew they would be silken to the touch. His cock stirred
when the bodice slid down her arms and she pushed it lower until it bunched
around her waist.

“I am also told men like to suckle a woman’s toes.”

Drae jumped as though he had been prodded with an electric
current. Her words had gone straight to his cock and set it to throbbing. It
was all he could do not to throw himself at her, drag her to the floor and rip
into her like the beast to which he had always been compared.

“In my dreams, you never got that far down my body though,
did you?” she asked softly.

His confusion deepened as he dragged his eyes from the lace
of her bra to the beauty of her face. She was the loveliest woman he had ever
seen and he wanted desperately to take her into his arms, mold his mouth to
hers and claim her as his mate.

Marin saw him shake his head as though to clear it of
forbidden thoughts and it was at that moment she knew she was the one wielding
the power, not him. His lips were parted and his breathing was loud, his wide
chest heaving.

Carefully, Marin,
she mentally warned herself.
Take
charge of the situation. Lead him where you want him to go.

Drae stopped breathing as she wriggled the jumpsuit over her
hips, down her long legs and then gracefully stepped out of it. He had to
remember to swallow for his mouth was flooded with moisture and he risked
drooling like a pre-pubescent cadet. There was no doubt in his mind that she
had taken charge of the situation, was leading him where she wanted him to go,
because he was completely incapable of thinking and doing for himself.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you are a skillful
lover, milord Tiogar,” she whispered, walking toward him. “The dreams showed me
that.”

“No!” he said, and his voice was raspy. “Stay where you
are.”

Marin stopped. She smiled then reached behind her to unhook
her bra.

He could feel the blood rushing through his veins. His cock
was as hard as a rock and straining valiantly to burst through the leather of
his uniform britches. His breathing was erratic, so shallow he felt
lightheaded. Either the room had become unbearably hot or his body temperature
had elevated to such a level he felt sweat beneath his armpits.

“I was always on my belly,” she said, “when you came to me
in my dreams. You never had a chance to taste my nipples.”

His groan shamed him but he had enough willpower to remain
still. She was less than seven feet from him but already he could feel the heat
of her body and his palms began to sweat.

She took another step closer, allowing the bra straps to
slip down her arms. Her breasts sprang free. The tips were dark coral, the
areolas a lighter shade of ginger. Full and lush, beckoning his hands upon
them, those glorious orbs rode high on her chest, the nipples engorged.

“Would you,” she said, taking another step closer, “like to
taste them now?”

Drae’s gaze was locked on her breasts. She was five feet
away. Four… Three… Two…

He looked up and lost himself in her jade green eyes. There
was no fear on her face. No tremor to the hand she lifted to place along his
cheek. Her flesh was soft as down upon his face.

He closed his eyes, then without even realizing he was doing
it, turned his lips into her palm and kissed it gently.

You have him, Marin,
he heard her thinking.
Now
reel him in!

Hell, yes,
his own mind shouted.
Reel me in,
wench. Reel me in tight!

“Do you really want to hurt me?” she asked.

Opening his eyes, he looked at her. He found he could not
speak for fear his voice would break.

“Do you really want to share me with other men?”

He glanced down at her bare breasts, wanting nothing more
than to take their fullness into his hands, to run his thumbs over the turgid
peaks, to taste their sweetness.

“No,” he denied. “Never.”

“Have other men fill me with their seed? Impregnate me?”

“No!” he roared, taking a step toward her. He was standing
there with his fists opening and closing at his side. “The only seed you’ll
receive is mine!”

“I’ve thought about that,” she said
softly, “and I believe I would like to have your child, milord Tiogar.”

Tamping down the fear that rippled down her spine, she
lifted her arms and put them around his neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she
pressed her body to his and—opening her lips—offered herself to him.

It was all he could take and his arms went around her to
crush her to his chest. Lowering his head, he slanted his mouth over hers,
thrust his tongue between her sweet lips and impaled her.

Marin had not expected to feel the arousal that suddenly flowed
through her body. She felt it from the tips of her breasts to the folds of her
vagina and she strained against him, pushing her lower body against the bulge
in his britches. She felt—as well as heard—the low growl that pushed up from
the depths of him. One moment she was draped down his body, the next, his hands
were beneath her rump, lifting her and dragging her legs around his waist.

She locked her ankles together as he hurried to the cot and
fell with her upon the mattress. His weight was exquisite and the heaviness of
him pressing against her lower belly and breasts was a delight she could never
have imagined. The insinuation of his knee between her legs—pushing her apart
and readying her for his plunder—set her nerves to singing.

“Marin,” he mumbled as his lips trailed from her mouth to
her neck then lower still.

She threaded her fingers through his hair as his firm lips
found her nipple. His thick hair was like dark brown silk in her fingers.

His knee rose to press against the juncture of her thighs
and she whimpered, her own breathing becoming as labored as his. When his hand
slid over her hip and his fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, she
arched her hips, thrilling to the sound of the fabric tearing.

He moved over her, trailing kisses from breast to navel,
plundering that little concavity with the tip of his tongue. Her hands were
smoothing over the silk of his black shirt, pulling at the shoulders, needing
to know what it was like to have his naked flesh against hers.

Drae rose up and with eyes as hot as the embers of Hell put
his hands on the front of his shirt and ripped it apart then shrugged away the
material.

Marin ran her hands over his shoulders, down his brawny arms
and over the thickly pelted expanse of his chest. Her fingers stroked his manly
paps and when she plucked at one hard little nub, felt him quiver beneath her
touch.

“Never,” he said, his teeth clenched, “will any man ever
touch you save me!”

A part of Marin knew a moment of relief while the rest of
her rejoiced at his pronouncement. He was hers for the taking and if she was to
make the most of her captivity at his hands, now was the time to see that he
never regretted his vow and held to it.

“Make love to me, Drae,” she heard herself say, and was
shocked at her own words.

All notion of vengeance had long since fled from the
Tiogar’s mind. He wanted the woman lying beneath him. He
needed
the
woman lying beneath him and he would have her.

She gasped as he flung himself off the cot and she reached
out to him, thinking he had only been toying with her, but he was fumbling at
the closure of his britches, cursing it as the black pearl buttons refused to
open as quickly as he demanded.

“Captain?” the vid com interrupted.

“Not now!” the Tiogar shouted.

“Sir, I hate to interrupt you, but—”

“Then don’t!”

“Sir, Admiral Ben-Alkazar wishes to speak with you. It is a
matter of some urgency.”

“Fuck!” Drae roared. He stood there, most of the buttons on
his britches torn off. “Can’t it wait?”

“No, Drae, it can’t,” an imperious voice snarled from the
vid com. “Get your ass on the bridge, Mister!”

Marin watched the Tiogar squeeze his eyes tightly shut, his
jaws clamped together so firmly a white line had formed to either side of his
full lips.

“Aye, aye, Admiral, sir,” Drae snapped. He cast one last
heated look at Marin then spun around, trying to stuff himself back in his
britches, and stalked from the cell, so infuriated he didn’t even bother to
order the door locked behind him.

An amused look passed over Marin’s face. Not only had her would-be
ravager been thwarted, he had inadvertently allowed her a measure of
desperately needed freedom. Quickly scooting to her feet, she hurried to the
cell door, stuck her head out to survey the corridor, and upon seeing no one
about, dressed quickly and went in the opposite direction from her captor.

* * * * *

Drae stood in the shadows and watched his prey moving
stealthily toward the runabout lying in its docking harness. He watched as
eager hands ran along the black skin of the Fiach model runabout, searching for
a way to open the expensive piece of machinery.

Against Fleet policy, he kept the impressive ship built by
the famous Tappas Industries of
an Ghearáin
for his own personal use,
well-hidden—or so he thought—in a far corner of the loading bay. The runabout
had cost him dearly for the Gearmánach were known for building the
best-engineered ships in the galaxy. The Fiach had taken a year’s credits to
buy and he had no intention of allowing anyone to take it from him.

Especially not the potential thief who had—against all
odds—found the code to gain access to the runabout’s interior.