“I think you are feeling inside my underbriefs instead of the inside of my leathers,” he said in a harsh, somewhat strangled voice.
“Oh, uh…sorry,” Charlie muttered. Feeling like a fool, she pulled her hand mostly out and started again, this time being careful to reach between the leather trousers and his underwear.
But it seemed that the process she had started couldn’t be stopped. Though she tried to be careful not to touch “it” again, she could feel his hardness growing as she fumbled for the release catch.
“It feels like a small, smooth metal button,” he said in that same strangled voice and shifted uncomfortably. “Could you please hurry?”
“I’m trying.” Charlie was every bit as embarrassed as he was. She was just about to call it quits when she finally found the button he was talking about and pressed it firmly.
At last the trousers parted—although it might be more accurate to say they popped open. The garment he called his “underbriefs” was black but even so, Charlie could see the long, thick ridge of his heavy cock. It looked painfully erect, pressing as it was against the thin black fabric and framed by the open leather flaps of his trousers.
As embarrassing as the sight was, at least the job was done. Charlie gave a little sigh of relief and stepped back.
“There.”
The Kindred just looked at her, one eyebrow raised. She saw with surprise that he had bitten his lip—there was a thin trickle of blood running down one side of his strong chin. Clearly he was just as embarrassed as she was but he was bearing it stoically. Charlie wondered if he even knew he had bitten himself.
“The job is not done yet. You’ll have to help me pull them down too, you know,” he growled.
“Great. Just great.” Grabbing one of his belt loops, she began to tug while still keeping the gun trained on him. He shifted slightly and she gave a quick jerk. “No funny business now! Not while I’ve got my Glock pointed at your family jewels.”
“I was simply trying to help you,” he bit out. “And why would I carry valuable family jewelry in the crotch my trousers?”
“Never mind,” she grunted, still tugging. “It’s…an…expression.” She gave little short jerks as she talked, trying to peal the black leather off his long legs. It wasn’t easy—he had extremely muscular thighs and as she had noted earlier, his trousers looked painted on. “Why do you have to…wear them so tight…anyway?” she demanded, finally getting them down to his knees. “Just to show off your package? This is ridiculous!”
“I assume that “package” is an Earth euphemism for my shaft,” he snapped. “And I am not trying to ‘show it off.’ Having tight clothing that cannot be caught or twisted by an enemy is an asset in battle.”
“Right and it has nothing whatsoever to do with showcasing your ass,” Charlie muttered as she finally got the trousers down to his ankles. The ass in question was extremely firm and muscular, she couldn’t help noticing. Not that she cared.
“I’m not—” he started to protest.
“Here—step out of them,” Charlie commanded. She was still tugging at the waistband, attempting to pull the trousers off his feet. He tried to help and overbalanced. With an exclamation in strange, guttural language she didn’t understand, he fell backwards.
Luckily he landed on the bed with his feet, still tangled in the leather trousers, sticking out.
“You all right?” Charlie asked with concern. She might not like him very much but that didn’t mean she wanted to trip him or hurt him.
“Fine.” He glared at her. “Nothing was injured but my dignity. When are you going to loosen these bonds?”
“Right now—as long as you behave.” Briskly, Charlie finished pulling off the leathers and dropped them in a heap on the floor. She didn’t know much about cleaning leather but she thought they should rinse right off with no problem. The boots too.
She turned back to the big Kindred who had managed to sit up and was watching her from the bed. He was so tall that they were almost eye-to-eye, even with him sitting and her standing. Charlie tried not to notice the way those midnight blue eyes followed her as she came towards him.
Luckily she had some spare pairs of cuffs though they weren’t the Kindred kind so they might be a tight fit on his wrists. Still, cuffs were cuffs and once he was chained to the thick oak bedposts, she didn’t anticipate any problems.
Once she had the cuffs fixed on the posts with one metal bracelet dangling on either side, she got on the bed behind the big Kindred and finally released the metal restraints.
He gave a great sigh of relief and began massaging his arms as well as he could with hands that were obviously numb. He eyed her speculatively and she knew what he was thinking.
“Better not,” she said, keeping the Glock trained in the center of his broad chest. “I couldn’t miss even if I tried at this range. Blow a hole the size of a barn door right through you.”
He growled deep in his throat but allowed her to position him so that he was leaning against the headboard. Keeping the gun on him, Charlie fastened first one wrist and then the other to the oak bedposts.
He glared at her as she worked.
“More restraints?”
“How else am I going to keep you in one place?” Charlie demanded as she checked the fit of the cuffs. As she had suspected, they were tight but not enough to cut off circulation. “Unless you want to give me your word you’ll stay right here like a good little lamb.”
“Would you take my word even if I gave it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Nope.” Charlie finished checking the cuffs.
“I didn’t think so. I wouldn’t give it anyway since I intend to escape at the first opportunity,” he growled.
“Huh. Well at least you’re honest about it.” Charlie was feeling increasingly weary and the cramps were starting to come back but there were a few more things she had to do.
She went to the master bathroom, rinsed off his things and took care of business, using a tampon though there wasn’t much need for one. The strange thing about her “migraine periods” was she hardly bled at all but it was good to be prepared just in case.
After washing her hands, she got a clean washrag from the small stack over the sink. As she wet it, she reflected that she never would have believed she’d be using it on an alien male handcuffed to her bed the last time she’d done laundry. Then again, she hadn’t been thinking anything about having a big alien in her bed. The whole situation was bizarre.
Make the best of it, Charlie, she advised herself. Just get through the night and if Purvis won’t hear reason tomorrow you can always go over his head and call somebody in Washington.
Who exactly she might call her tired brain wouldn’t tell her at the moment but she was sure she would figure it out if she could just get through the night.
Weariness dragged at her but she forced herself to go back in the bedroom. She reached out to dab at the big Kindred’s chin but he jerked away.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning you up. You bit your lip while I was, uh, trying to get your trousers undone.”
“I did?” He frowned. “I never even realized…”
“Well, you had your mind on…other things,” Charlie said tactfully. “Now hold still.”
She reached for him again and this time the big warrior submitted. He watched her warily as she dabbed the blood from his chin but didn’t say a word. That was fine with Charlie, she was so weary now she was nearly swaying on her feet and she could feel her period circling like a big, ugly bird coming in for a landing. Oh yeah, this was going to be a bad one. She had no idea how she was going to deal with the debilitating cramps while trying to guard a huge prisoner cuffed to her bed—only that she had to manage somehow.
More than anything she wished she could go in the spare room and lie down but she knew that wasn’t an option. Even though he looked secure, the big Kindred had admitted he was going to get away if he could. She had to make
sure that didn’t happen. She had to stay and keep watch over him.
Using the last of her strength, she dragged herself into the walk-in closet and changed into a pair of comfy black yoga pants and a soft pink v-neck t-shirt. The outfit wasn’t haute couture but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the tight-ass suite she’d been wearing for over twelve hours. She wanted a shower but she didn’t feel she could leave her prisoner alone that long and besides, she was so tired and achy she might slip in the tub and bang her head. She compromised by letting her hair out of the tight bun she’d had it in all day and combing her fingers through it. There—that felt better.
She dry swallowed a couple of ibuprophen, knowing full well they wouldn’t touch the cramps once they were in full swing, and took a deep breath.
Well, here goes—this is going to be a long night.
Chapter Five
Stavros watched his captor closely as she came out of the small dressing area. She walked slowly and deliberately and positioned herself on a large, overstuffed chair that sat in the corner of the room, diagonally across from the sleeping platform he was cuffed to. Though he could feel her physical weariness, she sat up straight, still holding the projectile weapon in her hand. She pointed it at him and made a slight motion.
“Okay, it’s just you and me and Mr. Glock, big boy. So settle down for the night.”
“I am well settled,” Stavros growled. “You saw to that yourself.”
“Yeah, well…” She shrugged her slim shoulders.
“Are you well?” he asked, knowing full well she was not. He had felt the intense, stabbing and grinding pains that tore at her lower abdomen at intervals. Indeed, the pain was so bad it was difficult to block out even when he gave the effort his whole concentration. Clearly something was wrong with her—he just didn’t know what.
“What do you care if I’m ‘well?’” she snapped. “If you’re waiting for me to pass out so you can get away, give up now, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I was just…concerned about you,” Stavros said stiffly. Strangely, it was true. He was still furious that she had captured him—but more at himself than at her. After all, he had been distracted and allowed her to get the drop on him. He also didn’t like being restrained but he understood why she had done it—clearly he represented a threat to her. Despite the fact that she had him cuffed to her sleeping platform and was holding a loaded weapon on him, he found himself interested and worried about her.
Clearly, though, she didn’t believe him.
“Concerned. Yeah, right.” She made an incredulous noise in the back of her throat.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “It’s obvious you are in some kind of pain or difficulty.”
She frowned. “No, it’s not obvious. Or it shouldn’t be.”
“Then what—”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’m fine so drop it.”
It wasn’t true but he let it pass and simply studied her instead.
Now that she had changed out of the tight suit and jacket she had been wearing, she looked more approachable. The soft pink of her shirt emphasized her creamy complexion and the black, elastic trousers she had put on clung lovingly to the curves of her full hips and ass. She had let her hair down as well and it fell in silky waves around her heart shaped face. Despite the fact that she was pointing the weapon at him, Stav found her distractingly lovely.
There’s something about her…but what?
Whatever it was, it had caused his body to react. And not just his cock, which was still semi-hard from having her slim little hand down his leathers. It had also caused his fangs to sharpen—enough that he had cut his own lip without even knowing it.
Stavros ran the tip of his tongue delicately along the still-sharp edges. All Blood Kindred had a double set of fangs where humans had their canine teeth. Though he was one of the Cursed, his physiology didn’t differ much from the others of his kind which was why his current state disturbed him greatly.
A Blood Kindred’s fangs didn’t grow sharp enough to pierce flesh until he met the female he wished to claim as his mate. Stav’s had remained blunt and dull his entire life…up until the little female got close to him and put her hand down his leathers. Then they had suddenly become razor sharp and they showed no signs of dulling again.
This is ridiculous, he lectured himself. I cannot claim a bride. It would not be fair to form a permanent soul bond with a female—not when I know I will not live past my fortieth cycle. And even if he would allow himself to form a bond, he certainly wouldn’t pick a female who had taken him prisoner, bound him to her sleeping platform, and was currently holding a projectile weapon on him—would he?
His body seemed to think otherwise. His fangs throbbed and they weren’t the only part of his anatomy that was interested in the human female. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing his underbriefs were made of a thicker material— like solid plastisteel—so his interest in her wouldn’t be so obvious.
Look away, he told himself. Stop thinking of her. Stop remembering how soft her little hand was as it brushed against your shaft. But somehow he couldn’t.
Though he knew he shouldn’t, Stav studied her some more, taking in her delicate features and the full curves of her hips. Her hair was a silky wheat colored cloud around her face and her eyes were the deepest, truest brown he’d ever seen. Her lips were pink and looked kissably soft. Gods, she was lovely and she reminded him of someone. Someone he had seen once, though he couldn’t quite remember where. She was like…like something from a dream. Which was foolish since he never remembered his dreams. But I’m sure I would have remembered if I dreamed of her! Just looking at her made his fangs grow even sharper. And the warm scent that came from her… He sniffed, frowning.
The warm scent had a hint of blood.
Was she injured somewhere? Was she bleeding? Could a wound be what was causing those horrible pains?
A sudden panic surged through him—a wave of protectiveness that made no sense. He wanted to take her in his arms and demand what was wrong with her—force her to explain her illness, whatever it was.
Without thinking, he surged forward, the metal cuffs that enclosed his wrists giving a muffled clink as he strained against them. The silver metal itself was ungiving but he thought with some time he might be able to break the wood. It was already creaking as he pulled against it. If only—
“Hey! None of that!” She half stood, pointing the weapon she had called her “Glock” at him. “Settle down. I don’t need this crap tonight!”
Stav relaxed back against the bed. Don’t be a fool, he lectured himself. She’s your captor. Any illness or wound she has is none of your concern. The only thing you ought to be worried about is getting away from her as fast as possible.
“That’s more like it.” She was still looking at him sharply.
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant though inside his protective instincts were in high gear.
“You can’t blame a male for trying.”
“Oh, yes I can,” she snapped. “So don’t do it again.”
“I will refrain from trying to escape if you tell me something about yourself,” he said, seeing an opportunity to find out about her.
She made another incredulous noise. “Fat chance.”
Stav frowned. “I do not know what that means but if you do not talk to me I’m going to continue to try to escape. I dislike being restrained—I need something to take my mind off the fact that you have me chained to your sleeping platform like an animal.”
She sighed wearily. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“What is your name?” What he really wanted to ask was what illness she had or where she was wounded but he knew that would shut down the conversation before it even began. He raised an eyebrow at her when she didn’t answer. “Well?”
She ran a hand through her hair and blew out her breath.
“Fine. I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Sayers,
officer in the EPB.”
“I am Commander Stavros Rii,” he responded, though she hadn’t asked. “I was in command of the warriors staffing the HKR building here in Asheville before the war between our peoples began.”
“I figured it was something like that. Why else would you hang around down here when all the rest of your kind went back to the Mother Ship?”
“I refused to leave my post,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t think I should have to—this war between the Kindred and the humans is ridiculous and will be soon over.”
“Don’t bet on it, buddy,” she snapped. “Human girls are tied of being forced to have sex with you big bastards to pay you back for saving the planet from the Scourge.”
“You think the warriors that claim human females force themselves on their brides?” Stavros was horrified. “That is absolutely untrue!”
“Oh yeah?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And what do you call having to give it up by the end of the so called ‘Claiming Period?’ Because I call it rape. They may have legalized it by putting it into one of those Goddamn contracts they make all single girls sign, but it’s still rape.”
“No Kindred warrior would ever rape a female,” Stav said firmly. “We worship the Goddess—the Mother of All Life. We revere all that is feminine. Such an act would be unthinkable—blasphemy as well as brutality.”
“Then why is it in the contract that the girl has to have sex with the Kindred who claims her by the end of the month?” she demanded, leaning forward. “You can’t deny that’s in there—I’ve heard all about it from a lawyer who specializes in Kindred matters. My parents hired him when—” She shook her head. “Never mind. The point is they have to have sex whether they want to or not.”
“It’s true the contract specifies sex but not bonding sex,” Stavros said. “How else could the warrior and his bride see if they were physically compatible and be able to make a decision about their future together?”
“Oh, I don’t know—how about by talking?” she said sarcastically.
Cursed Page 4
