Prisoner of the Island

by Terri Pray

  Ice.

  All that was left to her was the ice.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two weeks of playing the Ice Maiden, the avoidance dance, had passed since her decision to retreat behind a wall of self-made ice. Two weeks and still Steven hadn't given up, though the rest of the court had drifted away from her, thankfully. But Steven Nighthawk wasn't about to give up on her. What was it about that man that he thought she would accept him and kneel at his feet just for him?

  Because he wasn't the type of man to accept no for an answer and it was going to drive her mad before much longer. There was just something odd about him, it wasn't that he lacked in the looks department, Steven was handsome, but his looks weren't enough for Celeste. He triggered her curiosity, not her desire to submit.

  She glanced over at his dark, brooding form as he lingered by the fireplace. The brooding thing worked with some people, not with her, too much of it annoyed Celeste. It drew attention from a few of the more flighty women in the fortress, and the slaves, but Celeste just wanted to slap him silly every time she saw him brooding. He was in his thirties, damnit, not his teenage years. So why did he act this way?

  Because, except for her, it got the reaction he wanted from women.

  Well, it wasn't going to work on her, no matter how long he kept it up. She turned her attention back to the window, watching the waves crash up against the shore. The storms had been battering the island on and off since her arrival, making it almost impossible for any ships to dock, though it looked as though the bad weather was finally easing off. Though she wasn't planning on leaving the island just yet, the fresh supplies would be welcomed by all within the fortress and at least one of the slaves was being sent away to her new owner. At least she would be granted the chance of a new life; a displeasing slave wasn't sold, they sometimes ended up dead after being worn out by the guards.

  She'd seen one slave executed and had been relieved when it had been a simple musket ball to the brain. It had been messy, but the slave had passed on without so much as a whimper. The blood and the body had been cleared away without any fuss from the other slaves, making it all too clear to Celeste that such executions had taken place before.

  Why kill them though?

  Selling them off would have made more sense, unless it was a pride issue. Did they think selling a poorly trained slave would reflect badly on them? That she could almost understand, but there had to be another way of dealing with a poorly behaved slave.

  Wasn't there?

  Damned if she knew.

  “Celeste, may I join you?”

  “Steven.” She turned and looked at him. “This is a pleasant change, you asking instead of demanding.”

  “Perhaps I decided that changing my tactics with you would be a good idea.” Steven shrugged and leaned against the wall, his dark clothing and long cloak trimmed with blood red ribbon, added to his brooding appearance. “I'm not going to give up on you, Celeste. No matter what you say.”

  “Ah, but you've decided that trying to force me was not the wisest idea of all time, well that at least shows you can be taught, Steven.” She let the ice touch each word as she met his gaze.

  “Why do you have to be such a bitch? I'm actually trying to be nice to you.” Steven growled, his hands clenched at his sides. “Now, can I join you, or shall we continue to exchange insults?”

  “I wasn't aware I was trying to insult you, Steven.”

  “Oh, then what was going on?”

  “I thought I was just answering your questions.” Celeste turned to press her back against the wall. “If you wish to sit and discuss something there is nothing stopping you.”

  He scowled, but sat down close to Celeste, his gaze moving openly over her body, lingering on her breasts before he met her gaze fully. “I wouldn't normally pay this level of attention to a woman, so you should count yourself lucky that I haven't just turned and walked away from you.”

  She'd have counted herself lucky if he did move onto someone else. “If you're expecting that to impress me, it doesn't.”

  “What would it take to impress you?”

  “I don't think you really want to know that, Steven.” She kept her voice calm, collected as she glanced from him to the storm tossed sea. “It's not something you would do, not unless there is a submissive side to you that you've been hiding.”

  “I'm not a submissive!” he snapped, tension playing openly across his shoulders. “You know that.”

  “Funny, I keep trying to tell you the same thing about me.” A slight smile touched her lips. “Strange how you don't seem to be taking any notice.”

  “That's different. I know you are. I spoke to the crew of the ship. You were... ”

  “Dominant to them, which you would know if you had actually spoken to them.” Her smile broadened. “Nice try though.”

  “They said you had come aboard the ship running from a man who owned you. That you boarded and traded your body for passage.”

  “If that was true then why was I paid for my services?” Celeste didn't even blink as she looked at him. “Think this through, Steven. If that had really been true why did the crew and the Captain tell Jamezen I wasn't submissive? They could have earned some extra funds by selling me to the island as a slave. No, instead they told the truth. How much did you pay one crew member to get that story from him, and how many others told you that you were wrong, and I'd been dominant?”

  Steven paled.

  “Ah, yes— you now begin to realize how foolish you appear to me right now, Steven. I am no slave, or submissive to drop at your feet at the mention of some scandal that you've paid someone to concoct. I'm no fool, Steven. Neither was Shaun, or his crew. You found one man who prized money higher than honesty, in an entire crew... ”

  “One man brave enough to speak out.”

  “One man led by his need for money instead of his honesty and self respect.” Celeste tipped her chin and looked straight into his eyes, refusing to show one ounce of fear. “You're easily seen through, Steven, at least to me. You seek to trip me up, try to find a lie to wrap me in so I will have no choice but to surrender myself into your care. I fear that is not to be. I did not do anything of a submissive nature on the voyage. And the only man who knew me prior to the ship leaving the dock was the Captain, whom I am certain you attempted to bribe as well.”

  “You're accusing me of... ”

  “Of doing exactly what we both know you tried to do. I am no fool, Steven. Kindly don't treat me as one.”

  He didn't speak, not at first, and looked away from her. His brow creased, the frown deepening with each passing moment. When he spoke again his voice was cool, calm and almost fully collected. “No, you are a woman. And one who would do better on her knees. I don't know how I know this about you, and it's not your random belief that I think all women belong as slaves. It's more than that. I see it in your eyes. A hunger, a craving for something you can't experience here because you're afraid.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Of being named a slave for anyone to use, Celeste. You're the type of submissive who needs a strong hand in private, and occasionally in public. Not the general slut here who needs to be thrown at the feet of any man or woman who wants you.”

  Her jaw clenched, but she tried to keep her voice calm. “You're wrong, Steven.”

  “No, I'm not. You can deny it all you want but I will find a way to prove it. You will make a slip and I will be there to see it.” He leaned closer, reaching out to cup her chin. “I'm going to taste those delights, Celeste. The only question is how it will happen.”

  “Don't touch me.” She kept her voice low and didn't dare make too much of an open fuss. There had already been problems and taking that step in public to cause yet another fight, or disturbance, with Steven would only have her in front of Jamezen again. Not something she was willing to deal with. “You don't know me, Steven. You've no idea what I'm capable of escaping or preventing.”

  “No, I don't. But I'm wil
ling to find out.” He leaned closer, his breath whispering across her lips. “I will push, find your weak point, hunt you through this fortress until you slip and then you will be mine. You could make this easier on yourself. Surrender to me. For one night, that's all it will take, one night to show me you're not submissive and not afraid to go through this.”

  “And why would being with you for one night prove I am not submissive? All it would show is I was foolish and tried to prove something that I don't need to prove to you.” She pulled out of his grasp carefully. “I've known men like you before, Steven. I know the games and I don't fall for them. Call me a coward, try to challenge me, it won't work. I'm no fool and pride is an easy matter to rebuild again if you think to attack me that way. No. I'll not step into your arms for a night, or even an hour.”

  He paled and leaned back from her, letting his hand fall away from her face. “You're stubborn.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You're not the sort of woman who will break easily.”

  “No, I'm not.”

  “But you will break, in my hands when you make your mistake.”

  “That will never happen, Steven.” Her stomach clenched. Cold sweat threatened to break out beneath her dress. She wanted it to happen, damn all her instincts a part of her now needed the darkness she had grown used to. But it couldn't happen, wouldn't happen, not whilst she lived on the Island.

  “Never is a very long time, Celeste. And you're trembling.”

  “I'm cold.”

  “Liar. And not a very good one at that, Celeste. You're not cold, you're afraid and hungry.” He locked his gaze with her. “One kiss would prove that to me, and you know it.”

  “That's not going to happen.” Celeste pushed her hands against the arms of the chair, rising slowly. “And kindly keep your distance from me, Sir. Your presence near my quarters would not be appreciated.”

  He moved without warning, tangling his fingers within her hair as he drew her lips down onto his. His free arm locking about her body, holding her close, against his body, leaving her no room to slip free from his grasp. Celeste forced one hand against his chest, trying to find a way to push out of his hold, but his arm locked like iron about her body. His lips claimed hers, silencing the cries for help that might have otherwise broken free.

  His tongue forced its way past her lips, into her mouth. He delved between her lips, dancing, tasting her, giving her no choice but to respond and yet she tried. She clung onto the ice she had used to protect herself from everyone around her since she had arrived on the island. Her body heated beneath his touch. The grip in her hair reminding her of the strength she had enjoyed with Davien. The strength and dominance she had run from. She whimpered, deep within the back of her throat. This wasn't how she could be on this island. This wasn't where she belonged, not any longer. She had another world, another life ahead of her.

  So why did her body meld to his, even if only for a moment?

  Weak, I'm weak. I can't give into this. He's not Davien. He's a pale imitation.

  She pushed again, finding a way to break the kiss despite the fact that her body wanted more, so much more right now. “Don't you ever do that to me again.”

  “Why, Celeste? Are you afraid that next time you won't be able, or willing, to break free from me?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Steven's words plagued her through the night. Every time she closed her eyes they replayed for her and her body tingled with the memory of the kiss. It didn't make sense. She didn't even find him that attractive. How could she find herself responding to such a man? He wasn't like...

  No, I'm not going there. That man is no longer a part of my life. Nor would he be again if she had anything to do with it. But that wasn't going to stop how her body reacted. Even in her room she hadn't been able to find a way to shut down the heat that flushed through her being.

  Fine, so use it. Use the memory of him. What he did. How I reacted. What's so wrong in that, he isn't here and I'll be in control of the situation. That couldn't be wrong, could it? Even if it was, who would ever know except her? Dominating the slaves on the Island had fed some of her needs, but except for that once with the slave the first night she had used them, she'd found no sexual release. Instead something else took over when she controlled them, used them, punished them, something cool, calm and removed from the world around her. She felt everything, heard everything, saw even the slightest lift of hair across their body. But it didn't arouse her.

  It never truly would.

  So there had to be other options, ones that didn't leave her open and vulnerable to the controlling touches of the men and women of the Island. And that left only one that she could come up with. Her own touch, wrapped in memories and fantasy, behind closed and locked doors where no one else would ever discover just what aroused Celestial Blue.

  She walked across her room, double checking the lock on the door before she pulled the extra bar across it. With the secondary lock in place even if someone had a key they wouldn't be able to get past that. A small touch, but one she was most grateful for. Then she walked back toward her bed, stripping off her clothing as she moved, letting the soft silks slide down her body in a sensual caress.

  She could almost hear him now. The low growl beneath his breath as he watched her, his lips pulled back, teeth bared at her. Yes, in many ways he was like a beast. An animal wrapped in the darkness he loved. That mix of pain and pleasure he knew how to create and play across a woman's body.

  A shiver claimed Celeste's form. One that ran from her head down through to her toes, threatening to turn her into a quivering mass. As the last shred of clothing dropped to the floor she eased to her knees at the side of the bed, recalling just how he had spoken to her, the way he had watched her every move. Nothing missed. Not even how she breathed.

  Her skin tingled at the memory, her body all too willing to fall into that role once more. That of slave. His slave. A woman trained now to obey and serve him in anyway he so desired. Her thighs parted, back arched, her mound, now recovered fully with the soft down of blonde hair, tipped toward the bed. Her inner walls rippled, hunger coating them with a liquid desire. Celeste smoothed her hands down over her thighs before she left them there, resting on her naked limbs.

  He would have noticed everything.

  Her nipples crinkled into hardened points of dusky pink. Her breasts lifted softly with the arch in her spine. Loose and free, her hair now fell over her shoulders, covering her breasts.

  Bare them, shake your hair back. I wish to see what is mine, fully.

  Celeste shivered and lifted her head, shaking her hair away from her breasts until she was exposed, fully, to him. Just as he preferred. She closed her eyes, thick lashes caressing the soft upper curves of her cheeks before she opened them again and stared at where he would have been.

  On the bed.

  Waiting for her.

  Where else would he be?

  But she couldn't just rise and settle onto the bed. No, a slave wasn't permitted such luxuries in their behavior. Celeste took a slow, deep breath, the skin across her breasts tightening. Her body tingling. She belonged here, on her knees at his feet. Under his control. This was where she would always belong no matter how deeply she mind struggled against the idea.

  He stole me. Took me from everything I knew, everything I wanted in life. Why would I ever want to be with such a man, such a beast?

  Because with him she felt whole. At peace. Content.

  That's impossible with what he did to me. What he would do to be again given the chance.

  This wasn't helping her mood, neither was it the time to argue with herself over how things had changed. Or the way her mind argued with her heart and soul, and body. If she wanted to enjoy this moment she had to force the complaints, the doubts, away, and just give into what her body craved.

  She cleared her mind, closing her eyes and focused on the tingling, the soft, growing hunger that washed through her body. That need she had no c
ontrol over when he was around. The way she felt when his gaze swept over her naked and kneeling form. All the little things that had combined to ensure his control over her.

  Her core clenched.

  Heat blossomed in the pit of her being and crept, slowly, through her body, leaving not one inch of skin untouched by its compelling desire. Her cheeks burned even as she opened her eyes and looked up, once more, at the bed.

  His scent tempted her senses. He wasn't here, but she could still smell his aroma. He was here, in ways she had no means to explain. She would never be able to escape him, and no longer wanted to.

  Crawl onto the bed for me, my slut. Show me the depths of the sensual animal you have become.

  He was there. She couldn't see him, but her body knew he was there. Slowly she lowered down onto her hands and knees and crawled up onto the bed. Her breasts swaying with each soft move. Desire rippled through her being. Her body tight, hot and hungry before she brushed against the soft, silken bedding, each light touch sent a new wave of desire through her naked form.

  She dipped her head. Her loose hair brushing over her body. Teasing her form. Her fingers curled into the bedding as she crawled her way onto it. A low moan torn from her lips at the light, stinging slap she felt against her bared backside.

  For a moment she remained in place. On her hands and knees on the bed. Her bottom tightened. He wasn't even there yet she had felt the slap. Somehow she had felt the slap. How was this happening, it wasn't possible. He— no, give into it. He's here, if only in my mind, he's here now and I have the right to enjoy this for every thing it's worth.

  She slipped her tongue slowly between her lips, licking at her lips, feeling how they plumped beneath her touch. Wet and willing. Waiting for his claiming kiss.