DarykHunter (2 page)

One breathy moan escaped her throat. “Oh!”

He swirled his fingers over the tiny pleasure center in a tight circle, increasing the caress as her breath puffed between her lips and heat filled her face. She writhed, whimpered like an animal lost to reason.

When he slipped two fingers back into her channel and rubbed, her body would no longer hold back. She screamed as the mind-altering pleasure exploded from deep in her core. Her body rippled over his fingers, clenching him inside, aching for more. She shook and pleaded with gasps, with words that made no sense. He didn’t stop, his magic touch insistent, drawing another shuddering reaction from her aroused flesh.

She drifted in a land of insentient pleasure, and when his hands pulled away from her most intimate flesh, he whispered huskily in her ear, “You are sweet and have pleased me well.”

The insistent probe of his cock against her backside warned her if she didn’t take action soon the Daryk One would also plunder her precious virginity.

Too late. He already had.

Shame catapulted through her.
How could I have let him do this? I do not know him.

She opened her eyes and her vision sharpened on the gray stone wall across the room. Muted light flickered from a candle burning on a nearby table. Heavy, ornate furniture graced the room. She couldn’t take this intimacy any longer and she pulled away from him, practically falling from the soft bed onto a stone floor. She gasped and stood up too fast, and dizziness rolled in a sickening wave in her head. She reached out and caught a table end. The candle on it wavered and she moved to steady it. Light from the candle flickered, sending dancing golden shadows over the room and across the brutish man on the bed.

He rolled onto his back, his eyes closed. The blanket slipped down and tangled around his waist to expose a broad expanse of strong, naked chest sprinkled with auburn hair. The hair stole a tantalizing trail down a muscular stomach. Other than being so obviously large, his overall aura shimmered with dangerous possibilities. She had rarely seen men without a shirt, and his powerful musculature set off stormy heat inside her. And suddenly she didn’t think she liked being here anymore.

His eyes popped open and he sat up.

She gasped in surprise, and that was when she realized the drawstring pants and long white tunic that flowed around her body didn’t belong to her. In fact, they looked nothing like the clothes she wore or had ever seen before now.

His eyes flashed as he blinked, a grin touching his mouth. “I wondered how much longer you’d sleep. You’ve been unconscious two days.”

Two days. Panic threatened. She couldn’t have been here two days when her father wasted away in that rodent-infested prison. She would find a way to slip past this creature—this loathsome seducer—and escape.

His voice rumbled gently, a husky quality that sent heat through her body. His intense gaze wandered along her body with a brazenness that caused her breath to catch. Her face heated—she might be an innocent, but today she had tasted forbidden passion. The insanity racing around in her mind confirmed that the warnings were right. Sexual pleasure was a sin if it could disconcert and fluster a person this much.

“You’re as beautiful as a sleek cat and as responsive as any woman I’ve had,” he said.

“You have not had me.” Her legs trembled with weakness.

“A mere technicality. Your sweet smell and cream are driving me mad.” His smile held a carnal edge and enough arrogance to make her jaw clench in anger.

She ignored his statement. “Who are you and why am I here?”

“Who are you and why are you here?”

His echo puzzled her and she opened her mouth but refused to say a word. Then she remembered she’d already given him her name in a moment of weakness. Damn. Damn the heavens.

He stretched, his body a long length of male animal. Masculinity poured off this mysterious man, and despite the shakiness threatening her, she couldn’t deny her fascination with him. She’d be damned to the four levels of Magon’s hell if she let this strange man take advantage of her any more than he already had. She stood as tall as she could and schooled her face into a frown.

She backed up, her gaze sliding across the room. She shivered with cold, but impressions bombarded her in one huge, painful barrage of memory.

He groaned and then stood in one sweep, the blanket falling away from his body. He wore loose trousers of gauzy blue, but they did nothing to hide his masculinity. He owned powerful legs and between his thighs she noted a thick bulge. She could see how tall he really was—he would tower over her. He advanced toward her, each step a predatory glide.

“Sprite, what’s wrong? Are you afraid?”

“No. Why should I be afraid?”

“Because I am between that door and your escape. Any maiden would be afraid. You are within a man’s abode. A man who isn’t a family member or your husband. There is much danger for women who are left unguarded with a man. What I did to you a short time ago is evidence of that.”

His words shook her. She’d never heard of such a thing on Magonia. Ever. Yes, women were sheltered, but not from danger. On Magonia, the other supercontinent on Croan, only men were allowed to experience the full range of feelings and process them. Only men could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh within the confines of marriage.

All of it was dragon dung of course.

She was afraid and she hated it. Yet at the time he made her feel extraordinary safe. How could she feel both ways simultaneously?

“Tell me who you really are, Daryk One. Or is that a lie?” she asked to distract herself from the unanswerable question of her jumbled emotions. “Perhaps you are no more than an animal herder.”

A smile slid over his mouth, wicked and filled with a heat she understood but had never seen in a man’s eyes for her. “I have herded a dragon or two, but that is not my main purpose. I am a protector of the innocent and the helpless, sworn to uphold our laws.”

“You have a strange accent I’ve never heard before.”

“We have many accents here. An icy, clipped tone in the glacier region of Imekland, a mild and timid cadence for those who survive the Ithycan desert, a hot and slow accent for those who live within these castle walls and outside in the Tarrian jungles.” He smiled again. “A smooth and regular voice for Daryk Ones, who are home to no place at all.”

It was then the truth sailed out to meet her, and she didn’t want to know it or feel the wave of stunned realization. She hadn’t dreamed that she’d crashed on the shores of Dragonia. She didn’t want to believe her ship had drifted that close to Dragonia, and the huge storm had driven her to this forbidden place.

“You don’t know where you are, do you?” he asked.

“Dragonia.” The word escaped as a rasping whisper in her sore throat.

“Yes. You will come to no harm at my hands. If you step outside this room, however, outside this castle, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Hearing him confirm it tightened her throat and wadded her stomach into a knot. She launched into the only defense she knew. “You must think I’m an imbecile, sir, to believe a murderer.”

His gaze turned cool, and the danger she witnessed in his eyes returned. “I’ve murdered no one. Only killed to protect.”

“That man on the beach? You can’t tell me you did nothing to him. I saw what you did.”

He nodded. “Yes, I killed him.”

“Why?”

His expression stayed matter-of-fact. “To keep you safe.”

She’d managed to scrape her way out of a few dangerous situations but had never had a man kill another for her sake. Guilt speared deep inside her, hard and painful. “Murder is never right.”

He grunted. “Is that so? You would rather I allowed him to take you and rape you?”

She couldn’t exactly argue with that, but this arrogant man made her angry in a way no man had made her angry before. “Yet you claimed me for yourself.”

“Only as a way to prevent you from being harmed.”

She frowned, grateful for that at least. Still she couldn’t bring herself to thank him for that when she didn’t really like him. She switched topics, curiosity moving her forward. “Who is Drakus?”

“A rogue Daryk One who has terrorized this region recently. He takes innocent blood to sacrifice to our god. He breeds with Magonian women to repopulate our continent. At least he keeps trying.”

“Trying?”

“It hasn’t worked. None of the women he’s taken have become pregnant yet, so far as we know. He heard that our scientists have a new theory and that started the raids to steal Magonian women. He heads a fleet of slaver ships that are pirating and looting Magonian ships and taking Magonian women. I’m afraid a war between Armen’s men and Drakus’ men will come soon. Other castles in other regions of Dragonia are considering what side they’re on.”

She shivered. “War. I cannot imagine it.”

“Do not try.”

She glared at him. “Everyone in Magonia knows you are stealing our women for sinful passions and yet nothing is being done about it. Magonia has no army.”

His eyebrows winged up. “There are far more lawful men in Dragonia than lawless who have no morals. Or do you think us all heartless?”

Trepidation sizzled up her spine and seized her breathing. “Do you believe you need Magonian women to breed?”

He didn’t acknowledge her question at first. Finally he said, “It’s possible. But there are few who want to mingle with Magonians. After all, Magonian women are all passionless, dry virgins who wouldn’t know how to please a man. What man wants that for a wife?”

She grunted with indignation. “Magonian women aren’t allowed to exhibit passion, which is true. No one is passionate beyond what it takes to bring children into the world. And only in marriage. You act as if you’ve never heard these truths before.”

He snorted. “I see. Magonian women are repressed and cold. Perhaps we’re better off leaving this world than coupling with the likes of you.”

Anger stirred and rose in her throat at the insult. She almost blurted that she wasn’t cold. Her passions, her needs ran as wild as his.

Did they?

Her strong response to him as they lay in bed took the whole concept of passionless into question. She didn’t know all his passions, and if she did, could she handle whatever acts he would demand? Whatever wifely duties he wanted? Her blood seemed to heat as her nipples tightened in reaction at the forbidden thought. She’d enjoyed the passages in her father’s texts that described the sexual proclivities of Dragonians. Part of her had recoiled at the concept while another part wished she could forget what she’d read and forget that she craved a man’s touch. Dragonians were so different. So wild. So…free.

Like her.

Isn’t that what is wrong with you? What everyone says is wrong with you?
She often wondered where her feral streak originated. In frustration, she folded her arms over her chest. Her feet were freezing on the stone floor, and yet she felt glued to the spot by his attention.

“Never you mind,” he said. “Now, is your true name Ketera Aldrancos? Or are you really just a sprite come to haunt me in a long dream?”

“You have my true name. And by the god, what is a sprite?”

“A little thing. A gentle soul. That’s what you are, right?”

She sniffed. “Hardly. I am neither little or gentle.”

He stalked closer. She backed up until the wall stopped her. When he stood in front of her, barely a few inches between them, she didn’t flinch, unwilling to allow him to see how much he affected her.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Dane. Dane Charger.” He placed his hands down on either side of her, so close she could smell his enticing masculine scent. “You need not fear me. I’d never hurt a woman. I much prefer to share my passions with a female. Discover the pleasure we can find together.”

Her heartbeat seemed to flutter as she remembered the amazing sensations he’d produced in her body. “Do you share your body with many women?”

His eyes narrowed. “You speak plainly for a defenseless woman.”

“I’m not defenseless. Women aren’t defenseless or weak.”

One hand slid up to her neck and lodged under her jaw. “A funny statement from a woman who lives in a land where females are pure chattel. You are, aren’t you?”

She tensed. His hot fingers didn’t press, but as he held her there, she knew it would take one squeeze from his strong hand to kill her.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead,” he said. “I could have finished you on that beach. I could have tossed you to that scum and soon you’d beg for your god to take you.” His eyes flashed, his words harsh. “Do you want death now? I could do it so painlessly you wouldn’t suffer.”

Despite her determination to show no more fear, she shuddered uncontrollably. Then she stiffened her spine and lied. “You can’t kill me. I won’t allow it. I have a mission and I will not be stopped.”

Dane’s eyes were icy and dangerous yet somehow smoldering with volcanic heat. “You are a spy sent to lure Dragonian men to their death with your evil potions and wiles.”

His touch along her neck became caressing, and his eyes smoldered with something intoxicating. His eyes burned with that verdant green so lush and deep, the irises encircled by a dark ring. How extraordinary. She fell into their spell, her breath coming deeper and quicker.

She smiled. “Perhaps by touching me, you are already poisoned.”

To her surprise, he didn’t remove his hand.

“Perhaps I am. Magonia women are toxic, no?” He leaned in and took a long sniff, almost touching her neck. “Mmm. You are beautiful. Enough to stir my cock into a pillar again. Perhaps I won’t feed you to a dragon.”

She almost spat at him. “Beast.”

He chuckled, but the sound held hot, erotic tones that sent a new kind of shiver coasting up and down her spine. His eyes went darker, liquid with a sultry passion that sent another coil of craving stirring low in her belly. “I would eat you…but not the way you think.” His fingers caressed her throat gently. “You are a small, thin creature with the slightest hint of womanly curves. Legends tell us Magonian women are large and ungainly. Yet you move with grace. And our scouts and spies tell us there are many ugly women on your continent.”