The Bound Prince

by Michelle M. Pillow

  His mouth watered, watching the soft globes jiggle at the movement. They were small, perhaps only a handful, but he didn’t mind. They fit perfectly on her slender frame and came with two erect pink nipples. Falke, when shifted to human, was a large man, even for a Var warrior, and her small, almost delicate appearance, nearly sent him over the edge with hot desire.

  He was suddenly reminded how long it had been since he’d taken a woman to his bed. It had been at least a week, perhaps a week and a half, definitely too long a time for a man with his natural sexual prowess to go without release. Looking at her slender hips, he knew her body would make an agonizingly tight fit to his large shaft. If he’d had a human voice in his shifted throat, he would have moaned.

  Being half Roane, his body took much delight in sexual appetites. In all other things, he was a man of complete control. In the bedroom it was the same, until he let the passion inside him go. Once let loose, his Roane heritage made him almost physically insatiable. He could literally last for hours. This often made it necessary to bring several women to his bed at once. Otherwise he’d get complaints.

  The woman yawned again and stumbled across the room. Falke detected the faint scent of liquor on her and realized that she was very drunk. It accounted for the trio’s crazed, uncontrolled laughter before he’d interrupted them, and for the way they all stumbled around. He mentally shook his head in disgust. They went out on a mission to trap him, a great and noble commander, and did it drunk? Their foolishness just might be to his advantage. They didn’t seem very smart at all. Their lack of cunning could be his means of escape. His situation was looking brighter already.

  Then, he noticed the woman’s violet eyes were on him. She blinked several times and appeared to be studying him. Slowly, she walked toward the cage, topless. Falke’s lids fell lazily over his eyes as he stared unashamedly at her breasts.

  “Huh.” She chuckled. “You’re going to make me a lot of money. Aren’t you, big fella?”

  Falke’s eyes shot up to hers, instantly angry again. The lust drained and was replaced by outrage. She wasn’t even paying attention. Stumbling across the floor, she fell toward the bed, turning at the last minute to lie on her back. Her feet hung over the side, still planted on the floor, still in her black boots. A soft sigh left her parted lips, and she began to snore lightly.

  Falke growled, but she didn’t stir. He forced himself not to look at her breasts. Knowing he had to get some sleep, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he’d plan his escape.

  5

  Sam didn’t want to open her eyes. She wasn’t sure she still had eyes. In fact, she wasn’t sure she had a head. Oh, wait, there it was, it was just on fire. Without moving, she stretched her jaw, testing a yawn to see if it would jar her senses back from oblivion. It tasted like someone had poured rocket fuel down her throat. Made sense. They had to start the brain fire somehow.

  When she survived the yawn, she dared to peek through her lids. The lights were dim, just as she liked them. Groaning, she muttered, “Computer, activate personal medic.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the computer’s neutral tone answered. Sam chuckled and then winced as it hurt to laugh. Viktor had reprogrammed the computer, again. Two weeks ago, it had called her Mistress Samantha. Last week it had referred to her as My Most Wanton Sex Goddess. When hearing the word ‘sex’ over and over again showed signs of getting to the male members of the crew, she made him change it. Even the stoic Dev had started eyeing her differently.

  A buzzing sounded to her right and she didn’t move. Without looking, she knew a mechanical arm reached from a slot in the ceiling. The medic unit could be accessed from anywhere in the ship. Sam didn’t even want to know what the Kintok, who she’d won the ship from, did out in deep space with all his gadgets. She could only guess he used it to transport sex slaves, or to indulge clientele in fetish games. The way she saw it, the less she knew, the better. The fact that the medic unit went to all the rooms suggested that sometimes the play got out of hand. The large cage in the room had been his, as were the manacles hanging behind her head. In a perverse way, she liked the look of them there, though she was hardly into such games.

  The medic unit would’ve been expensive to install. Sam was glad that she had it, though, as she ordered, “Computer, get rid of my hangover.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Great, Sam thought. He programmed the computer to say that every time she spoke to it. That was going to get annoying fast.

  Sam braced, feeling the needle enter her arm. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the unit to finish and pull out. From past experience, she knew it would only take a few minutes for the worst of the pain to subside. However, the fatigue and general state of delicateness could sometimes last for a few hours afterward.

  “Ah, that’s more like it,” Sam moaned, blinking as she rolled up. Her legs hung over the side of the bed. The tension in her head eased and her vision cleared. Feeling a draft, she looked down. What had happened to her shirt? Seeing it on the floor, she grimaced and tried her best to remember what she’d done the night before. She wasn’t too worried. Her pants were on, so that was a plus.

  “Torganian rum,” she mumbled, remembering the bottle of stout liquor they’d opened. It was about the last thing she recalled doing, aside from the vague memory of playing cards. Pushing to her feet, she said sarcastically, “Mental note to self. Kill a Torganian for making rum.”

  The metal door next to the dresser slid up automatically as she walked toward it. She went into the bathroom decontaminator unit to freshen up and slipped out of her clothes. She stood still and let the cleaning lasers hit her body. Opening her mouth, it cleaned there too. Feeling refreshed, she walked naked from the bathroom, her bare feet crushing into the padded red carpet.

  Stretching as she moved, Sam flinched. Her back was extremely sore. She turned to the mirror, looking at it.

  “What the…?” She frowned. A large bruise wound down the side of her spine. She reached behind to poke at it. It was a stupid move because poking only made it ache worse. Sam closed her eyes, willing her body to heal itself. The bruise yellowed and then faded completely away. Dropping her hand, she walked across the room to her vanity to do her hair.

  Sam leaned over the back of the chair, looked at her face, and winced. A streak of black makeup stretched out across her cheek from her eyes. The decontaminator unit was set not to remove her makeup. She pushed a button and took out the warm towel the computer provided. Rubbing her features, she cleaned them off and threw the towel back into the bin.

  “Computer, were there any fights last night aboard the ship?” Sam asked, thinking of her back.

  “No, Your Highness,” the computer answered.

  “It’s Captain,” Sam grumbled. “Or Sam.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Ugh. Second mental note to self. Kill Viktor for lack of humor,” she whispered absently. Sam leaned forward toward the vanity mirror, contemplating dyeing her whole head purple and silver for the day.

  “That’s a long list of condemned men, my lady,” said a deep, masculine voice. “Tell me. Am I on it?”

  Sam jumped in surprise, standing up straight. Nerves jolted to life all over her body. Her stomach tightened in knots.

  “Devil, what are you—ahh!” Sam froze, her eyes fixed on the cage. That definitely wasn’t Dev standing there behind the bars. For one, his skin was a dark golden brown, not red. Second, his eyes were the color of dark Lithorian chocolate. Third...

  Sam panted wildly. She couldn’t find a third. She could barely breathe. The man was completely nude.

  Unbidden her eyes moved over him. His hair was brown, darker than his eyes. It spilled in gentle waves down his shoulders. He leaned against the cage, arms relaxed and crossed through the opening in the bars. Every inch of him bulged with defined muscles, from his thick arms to his broad shoulders, his hands, and his smooth chest. This man more than took care of himself. Even his neck seemed thick and stro
ng.

  Sam took her time, letting her gaze move down his chest. Small scars puckered his flesh in spots, proving that he’d been in battle or hand-to-hand combat. By the looks of him, she’d guessed he usually won.

  She frowned when she couldn’t see his stomach and thighs in the dim light. The way he leaned cast a shadow over his midsection. By the look of him, that would be impressive too. His bottom was the same as his top, muscular calves, strongly defined feet. Oh, his feet were glorious, just like his hands. They looked powerful, flexing slightly with tendons. Sam swallowed. She wasn’t a foot person but damned if his didn’t look good.

  Her mouth was dry, and she had the strangest urge to touch him, kiss him, lick him, starting at his feet and working her way up. She blinked in surprise at the impulse. That wasn’t like her. Carnal impulses didn’t drive her. Something was wrong here, very, very wrong. Her wide violet eyes flew up to his face. He was staring at her, smirking.

  “Now that I have your attention again,” he said, unmoving. His grin deepened into a rueful smile that somehow managed to look stern. “Tell me, if you don’t plan on killing me, what do you have planned? Torture?”

  “I...” Sam couldn’t think. Her mouth worked, and she knew in the back of her head she must look like an imbecile, standing there gaping at him. She grasped desperately for a rational thought. What was a naked man doing locked in her room? What was a naked man doing on her ship, well, a man who wasn’t a member of her crew? How did he even come to be there? Thinking the rum had somehow affected her brain, she rubbed her eyes with one hand, willing her vision to clear. When she looked, he was still there.

  “Hum,” the prisoner mused. His voice was so low, so militant, that she felt as if she were about to be scolded. The man straightened completely to his full height.

  Automatically, her eyes went down, finding the largest erection she’d ever seen. Hell, the largest she’d ever even heard of. It was enough to drive fear into her and shake her back to reality. “If the guys put you up to this, they’re going to be so dead.”

  “You threaten death a lot, my lady,” the man answered, calm, collected, and not at all bothered that he was standing naked before her.

  Well, Sam was more than bothered. She was very hot and very bothered by it. Her limbs trembled. She might feel a sudden rush of primal attraction to this man, but she’d never act on it. Not when he brandished a weapon like that around. A woman would have to be insane to willingly take that into her bed. It’d tear her in two.

  “You shouldn’t do so unless you’re willing to carry the threat out.” His eyes were watching her carefully for reactions, and instantly she knew he was sizing her up. Her jaw stiffened with determination. She was the captain here, not he. How dare he try to give her lessons on how to threaten prisoners? For all he knew, she did carry them out.

  “If that’s the torture you had in mind, my lady, please feel free to open the cage.” He motioned down to his arousal. “I’m more than ready for it. By all means, do your worst.”

  Sam glanced down and again forgot her train of thought. For a brief moment, she considered crossing to the cage. Surely with the bars she could at least touch it, see what it felt like, take it into her mouth and taste it. It wasn’t like he could do anything trapped inside. Hearing his soft chuckle, she shook herself. What was she thinking? What in the world was wrong with her this morning? Damned rum! Did she say she was only killing one Torganian? Better make that two. Glancing over him, she gulped. Make that ten.

  Falke watched the slender woman in fascination. Sacred Cats! She was stunning. How could he help but get hard seeing her naked body cross the room? He’d watched her wake up, walk to the bathroom, come back out naked. He had stayed quiet, waiting for her to turn her attention to her prisoner. It was almost as if she’d forgotten he was there. Wanting to see if her eyes were as violet as he remembered, he just had to speak.

  Now, watching her naked form before him, standing motionless, he couldn’t help but look his fill of her. Who was he to miss such an opportunity when it arose? He wasn’t disappointed. Her breasts were still perfect and still made his mouth water, as did the small thatch of hair between her toned thighs. She wasn’t all firm muscle, but she was fit. He liked his women to have a softness to them. Women were meant to be soft, touchable. They were designed to mold to a man’s body, yielding and sweet. He hated when females had a physical strength to rival his own.

  His shaft grew so hard at her attention that it started to throb with need. Her lush lips were parted and he said a silent prayer to all his gods that she would walk close enough for him to grab her to the bars. Insanely, he was sure he could reach the depths of her body through the cage if necessary.

  Closing his eyes briefly, Falke swallowed. He had to get himself under control. It was just that her smell was driving him wild. He wanted a closer sniff, a closer look, a feel, a taste. It had been his intention to throw her off guard, but if she kept silently staring at him like that, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from ripping through the bars and throwing her onto the bed to ravish her.

  “You spoke well enough last night,” Falke said, keeping his voice steady and low. It was the same tone he used when training his men, neutral, so they never knew his moods. Not knowing if he was angry seemed to motivate them more than his actual anger did. It was the element of uncertainty.

  “I...wait. You spoke to me last night?” she asked.

  “No, you spoke to your crew,” Falke stated. “Right before you shot me. I woke up in this cage.”

  “Shot you?” she asked, blinking in disbelief. “Did you raid my ship?”

  “You raided my home planet and kidnapped me.” Falke frowned. She actually appeared as if she couldn’t remember him. As if to prove his point, he rotated his hand. In his palm, he had three darts.

  “How...did you get those?” Sam asked, shaking her head. She was confused. What was this guy talking about? The darts were hers, or at least like hers. Suddenly, a vague image filtered through her brain. She saw a flash of bright blue eyes surrounded by white fur. A wave of protectiveness went over her. Her fingers flexed as if she could feel the soft coat beneath her fingers. Her eyes still closed, she whispered, “We were in a forest. I...I don’t understand. We wouldn’t have left the ship...we couldn’t have.”

  “Excuse me,” he interrupted. “Can you figure out your mistake after we find our pleasure? I’m kind of hurting here.”

  Sam frowned, not understanding, and he motioned down to his shaft.

  “Or at least put some clothes on. Walking around like that is bound to give a man the wrong impression.”

  Sam shivered. His words were unemotional, and she had the distinct impression he wasn’t attracted to her at all. That, in fact, he was merely speaking to throw her off guard with his boldness. Then, his words sank in.

  She looked down her body and shrieked in surprise when she saw her nudity. With the strange interruption to her morning, she’d completely forgotten about it. She was hardly an immodest woman. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen her naked. Her cheeks flamed as she dove onto the bed wrapping herself in her comforter.

  “I take it that’s a no on the pleasure?” the man called, his voice irritatingly mocking and dry.

  Sam wanted to die. What was wrong with her? It was as if her body was slow to react, her mind even slower. Scrambling to the dresser, still wrapped in her comforter, she grabbed a tight black jumpsuit and pulled it on. It took a long time under the blanket’s weight but she didn’t dare drop it. Her legs slipped in and she worked the tank sleeve over her top. The outfit was one fitted piece, hugging tightly to her skin. Then, grabbing a belt, she slipped it low on her hips. The comforter dropped from her shoulders.

  Sam turned, picking up her shoes. Her eyelids fluttered, and she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Instantly, her cheeks flamed. He was still naked, staring at her with an expression of keen boredom. Her mouth opened, trying to find words. His brow ros
e in challenge. All that came out was a squeak. Spinning around, she ran out the cabin door.

  Falke sighed heavily, staring after her in confusion. She’d moved with such confidence and authority the night before, and that morning. Now, she was like a witless female. A rueful smile curled his lips. He’d had many effects on women in the past, but running away speechless had never been one of them.

  It had been much easier to disarm her than he’d first imagined. Escape might not be all that difficult. Too bad he hadn’t paid more attention to his brother Reid. Reid’s charm would definitely come in handy while trying to convince his captor to open the cage and let him out.

  Falke stretched in the middle of the empty cage. The floor was hard and sleeping on it had caused his muscles to lock up. Jumping, he gripped the top bars with his hands and allowed his body to dangle as he stretched out his back. The image of violet eyes swam in his head and he felt the old familiar stir of a challenge in his chest, mixed with the potent reality of animalistic lust. It had been a long time since he was challenged by anything. Falke grinned, suddenly not feeling as restless, as he examined his situation. This adventure might actually turn out to be fun.

  6

  Sam took several deep breaths, stopping in the long metal corridor. Bars of artificial light glowed intermittently to illuminate the hall and, for a moment, she was strangely mesmerized by them. The familiar sounds of her crew in the ship’s dining cabin brought her some comfort and a sense of normality.

  Now that she was out of the naked prisoner’s presence, she wanted to kick herself. She certainly wasn’t on the top of her game this morning, letting him get to her like that. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the cold, indifferent way he looked at her. It contrasted with his actual words. Though, remembering his voice, she realized his tone had been flat and unemotional. She’d just been too busy staring at his naked form to realize it.