The Alpha's Willing Captive (Historical Paranormal Werebear Steamy Romance) (2 page)

Bears? In the Highwater Forest?

The forest had been scoured clean of predators for more than a century. This was a civilized countryside, not the wilds of the north. But try as she did to blink them away, those two bears continued to advance on them.

Ginny moaned and sank to her knees, her mouth moving in silent prayer. Delia stepped in front of her quickly and knelt down, closing her fingers around a rock.

"Go away!" she hollered, aiming carefully before letting the rock fly.

There was a surprised grunt and for a moment, Delia felt a rush of pride. The rock had hit the closest bear square between the eyes.

Then there was the sound of wind rushing through a canyon. Delia looked up at the still trees in confusion as the sound of a storm filled her ears. She looked back at the two bears.

They were...changing.

Ginny's eyes were still closed in prayer, so she did not see it, but Delia watched everything, her mouth agape as the forms of the bears in front of them grew fuzzy and indistinct. Their features melted and melded as they rose up onto their hind legs and twisted and shrunk down until they both stepped forward.

As men.

Delia heard a small sound escape her lips, but that was all fear she would allow herself to show. "What do you want?" she demanded loftily, lifting her chin to meet both sets of amber eyes.

The first man chuckled softly. "You are a fierce one, aren't you my lady?" His eyes raked lasciviously down her body, but Delia forced herself to keep her eyes forward and not let them wander down.

Both men were completely, unashamedly naked.

The realization was making her blush in spite of herself. Aside from Geoffrey, the only naked male she had ever seen had been a young stableboy cooling off in the water trough. He had shown the same lack of shame as these two grown men in front of her.

Very grown men. Men who looked like they had been painted or sculpted by one of the master's, with muscles that rippled in the shadows. They faces were hauntingly beautiful, all chiseled angles and blazing eyes. She swallowed, feeling that strange clutching in her belly again. Dancing slightly to dispel the misplaced desire, she raised her chin defiantly.

"I am Lady Cordelia Wainwright, of Wainwright Arms, and I demand you let us pass unhindered," she declared, punctuating her speech with a small stamp of her booted foot.

"And I am Byrn of the Highwater Clan, and I don't give a fuck," the first man growled, stepping towards her.

Delia made a small sound and backed up against her horse. Ginny whimpered, her eyes still tightly shut.

"What do you want?" she called again, her voice a little shaky.

"Why don't we see what you have, first?" The second bear man said, his voice rough. "It will help us decide.

"Tristan here is an awfully greedy fellow," Byrn smiled. He lifted his finger to Delia's cheek. She turned away quickly, but not before he traced the line of her jaw. He laughed quietly. "I'm feeling greedy myself."

Ginny whimpered again, a sound that pierced Delia's heart. There were two men and two of them. There was no way they could both run, they would easily be outrun and overpowered. And Ginny was in her charge.

"I will make a deal with you," Delia said loftily, lifting her chin and looking Byrn square in the eye. The beauty of his face took her aback, but she shook her head, to clear her thoughts. "Let my serving girl go and I will willingly go with you."

Tristan laughed a little, kneeling down in front of the still praying Ginny. "Such a pretty, freckled thing. Why would we let her go?"

"Because you'd have me," Delia said. "And all the wealth I have brought with me on our journey. Just allow my servant to leave unmolested and it's all yours."

Byrn made a low noise. Tristan looked up from where his eyes were locked on Delia's face and made a low noise in return. Somehow Delia understood that they were talking to each other.

About her.

Tristan looked down to where Ginny was babbling. He knelt down, his face strangely gentle, and tipped her chin upward. "Little girl," he whispered. Ginny opened her eyes and squeaked in fright. He smiled, showing a mouthful of pearly white teeth. "There you are," he murmured soothingly. Ginny seemed entranced, her lips slightly parted as she stared at him. "Little girl, I need you to do something now."

"What...sir?" Ginny breathed.

Tristan smiled wider. "Run."

Ginny shrieked, the spell broken. She gathered her skirts in her fists and ran, stumbling, pell mell back the way they had come. Delia watched her get smaller and smaller in the distance before the trees swallowed her and she was gone.

And Delia was all alone.

"You are brave, my lady," Byrn nodded, a note of admiration in his voice.

"Get on with it then," Delia muttered, looking down at her shoes. "Whatever you've come for, do it, and be quick about it."

"Oh I don't know if you want us to be quick," Tristan chuckled.

Before she could ask what he meant, Byrn seized her roughly by the arm, squeezing her just to the point of pain. She yelped and stared daggers at him, but the man seemed unperturbed as he led her towards the huge boulder that overhung the road.

Delia felt her heart thumping throughout her whole body.
They mean to murder me and dump my body in a crevasse
, she panicked.
Or eat me,
she realized, remembered their bear shape. She whimpered and yanked futilely against Byrn's iron grip, but he was as immovable as the rock that now formed a roof over their heads.

Delia's eyes widened as they passed into the shadow of the arch. What she thought was merely an overhang was actually the wide mouth of a cave. Hidden torches cast pools of light, sending them dancing against the smooth walls. Tristan walked ahead, carefully leading the horses down into the blackness below them.

"At least have the grace to tell me what is to happen to me," Delia said gruffly, stopping short.

Byrn stopped and turned to her. The weak light filtering in from the mouth of the cave did nothing to dim the fire in his amber eyes. The dancing shadows sent his features into high relief, all light and shadow like he had been carved from the stone of the cave itself. Delia was able to see the sensuous sweep of his lips. They looked impossibly soft for such a rough man and her anger flared anew to see them. How dare he be so handsome?

"My lady," Tristan spoke from the depths of the cave. "Please come in. Make yourself at home."

Delia tore her eyes from Byrn's gaze and stepped helplessly down the carved stone steps. Each step brought a new gasp of wonder to her lips.

It was like a palace down here. The floors were dry, here and there covered with a sumptuous skin or a swatch of rich velvet. Her boots sank into the carpeting and for a moment she worried that she was tracking dirt onto their floors. She heard the slight trickle of water far below them, and the noise of it echoing off the high ceiling. "Where are we?" she breathed.

"Our den," Tristan said, watching her reaction with approval. "We are glad you have come."

"Oh?"

"May I offer you something to drink?"

Delia swallowed. Her mouth was like dust, and she would be dead soon anyway, she figured. Why spend her last moments parched? "Thank you."

Tristan disappeared for a moment, returning with a carved bone cup. The liquid inside smelled sweet and was heavy on her tongue. It flowed like nectar down her throat, quenching her thirst and lighting a fire in her belly. "What was that?" he exhaled, greedily licking her lips to suck up every last drop.

"An old family recipe," Byrn called. She saw him squatting, tending to a fire that danced in the center of the great chamber. Once more her traitorous mind took note of the way his thigh muscles bunched as he squatted low, and for the first time she allowed herself to glance at the area between his legs.

"It was delicious, thank you." At the very least, she could be civil, she supposed, though their friendly ways were making her antsy. But that nervousness seemed to be quelled somewhat by the liquid in her belly now spreading its warmth through her limbs. She found herself stretching lazily, without meaning to, relishing the feel of the fire that was coursing through her body.

She looked up and startled to see Tristan's eyes fixed on her heaving breasts. Her hands fluttered to cover herself, but he stepped forward and caught her by the wrist. "Delia," he said, speaking her name for the first time. "You shouldn't be hiding those. Modesty does not suit you."

"Oh it doesn't?" she spat archly. "How would you know what suited me?"

"I know exactly what would suit you," he growled, his eyes raking over her flesh again. "It's why we were drawn to you in the first place. Your need is practically written across your face."

"How dare you!" she lifted her free hand to slap him, but he caught her, his iron grip now circling both wrists.

"
You
dare me," he said, arching a cocky eyebrow. "My lady," he added sardonically.

Her eyes darted down again, and she was startled to find his cock standing rigidly at attention. Her lips parted, and she gasped, unable to wrench her gaze away from his huge, swollen member. A quick glance at Byrn revealed him to be in a similar state. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, and a different kind of pounding beginning in her nethers.

She swallowed, understanding flooding through her. The game was clear to her now. This was not a robbery. They did not want her wealth, they wanted...her.

And she had gone with them, willingly.

"Yes, willingly," Byrn said, answering her thoughts. She looked at him startled. "We're not in the habit of taking without asking.

"And if my answer is no?" Delia asked, trying to regain mastery of her aching, throbbing body.

Tristan looked her up and down again, the heat in his gaze nearly scorching her skin. She had never felt so naked in her life and she found that she liked it. "Is it?" he smiled.

Delia closed her eyes and her hands went to her bodice. "No," she whispered, as her fingers went to the laces, fumbling and trembling. "It isn't."

The ache to be touched, the desire for a man, the rapt attention they were paying her, it all combined into a heady, desperate turmoil in her head. She opened her eyes. "I usually have help unfastening my corset," she sighed, dreamily.

Those words were all it took to bring the two men to her side. She found herself suddenly sandwiched between two granite chests, her swirling skirts and tight corset a barrier that prevented her tingling skin from brushing against their scorching heat. Delia closed her eyes again as a pair of lips found hers.

Three years. Three long years since she had last been kissed, and in spite of the strangeness, in spite of the roughness, in spite of the surreality of the whole situation, Delia found herself melting as Tristan's mouth covered hers. She sagged into him, her small hands pressing against the rock hard chest that crushed into her as his tongue pried open her defenses and began a thorough and expert sweep of her mouth.

As Tristan's mouth mingled and melded with hers, she felt another pair of lips, Byrn's, begin tracing a line down from the nape of her neck. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity rippling down her spine, the energy collecting into a spreading warmth that began building in her center. When his fingers began unlacing her stays, she sighed a huge sigh of longing wrapped up in the flood of ecstasy that was now taking her.

When her bodice and skirts were stripped away, she took a sudden, gasping breath. It was cool in the air of the cave and she was clad only in her chemise. It felt indecent to be outdoors in such a state of undress. It also felt incredibly freeing.