Mastered By Love

by Tori Minard

  ***

  How had she let him get her outside alone? Just one more dance, she’d said, but somehow they’d ended up in the garden under an arbor covered in climbing red roses. The flowers filled the warm evening air with their perfume. Above them hung the Argelian moon, full and round and tinted the glorious aquamarine that made it famous. It was a nauseatingly romantic spot – if you believed in romance. Tariza didn’t.

  Romance was just a bunch of silly sentimental nonsense thought up by men in order to control women.

  Yet here she was, under the rose arbor with Prince Dario ... her worst enemy. And she was full of the kind of shivery excitement she remembered from her adolescence and her very first time with a man.

  Dario leaned against the side of the arbor with a negligent arrogance that made her jaw tighten even as her heart beat faster. He was so damn full of himself. And he looked so uncompromisingly masculine, even with roses all around his dark head.

  She ought to walk away. She’d been more than polite and accommodating enough to satisfy diplomacy. There was no need to continue playing his game.

  “This is the last night of the summit. We won’t see each other after tonight,” he said in a low drawl.

  “I’m well aware.”

  He smiled in that seductive way of his, the way that made her palm itch with the urge to smack him at the same time as her knees went wobbly with desire. “Kiss me, Tariza.”

  “What? No!” She took a step back.

  Dario caught her hand. “Just one kiss. What could it hurt?”

  He tugged her gently toward him. And Tariza let him.

  She’d lost her mind. That was the only explanation for why she failed to defend herself as he palmed the side of her face, his gaze lingering on her mouth, his other hand splaying against her back. His skin felt so warm against hers, the calluses and strength of his hand giving him away as a fighting man.

  She’d never met a fighting man before attending these talks.

  Mother is overprotecting me.

  The shock of that disloyal thought evaporated as his lips touched hers. The sweet coaxing brushes of his mouth felt much like other kisses she’d received from other men who wanted her approval. This was familiar. Safe.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to pull her closer. Their bodies met, as they had on the dance floor. Dario flicked his tongue along the seam of her lips, asking for entry. She gave it to him.

  His hand slid around to the back of her head as his mouth slanted across hers, tongue plunging deep inside her. His other arm crushed her against him. His mouth, so hot and slick, tasted of wine.

  The heat inside her built and throbbed between her legs and in her womb. She clutched his shoulders, moaning, and he gave a low groan in response. His hips moved subtly, rhythmically against her.

  The suggestive motion brought another moan from her throat. The kiss no longer felt familiar or safe at all. He was so big and powerful, so confident, so much more than any man she’d ever kissed before.

  That second moan seemed to inflame him. His grip tightened, holding her skull in place as he plundered her without mercy. His devouring mouth bit, sucked and licked every crevice of hers. He clasped her ass through the satin of her gown and kneaded with strong, sure squeezes, pressing her up against the bulge of his erection.

  Her whole body flooded with pulsing liquid tingles. She rubbed herself against him, undulating with the need to feel his hands on her bare skin, to climb on top of him and take him inside her.

  She was drowning in him, in his taste and scent and hard, hot body. He’d crashed over her like a great ocean wave and she was drowning. No man had ever – he’d never – Tariza quivered under the rushing sensations that threatened to overtake her, that blotted out all thought, all identity, and stole all desire except one – to be inundated by him.

  No. What in the Goddess’s name was she doing?

  She yanked her head back against his imprisoning hand. He loosened his grip on her and she punched him in the jaw.

  He let go. “Ow. Damn. What did you do that for?”

  He stared at her, fingertips pressed to the red mark on his face where she’d struck him. He was breathing hard, lips parted, eyes still heavy-lidded and sultry in spite of her blow.

  “Don’t kiss me.”

  Dario’s lips quirked. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”

  She rubbed the back of her hand across her lips. “I wasn’t.”

  “So all that moaning and wriggling in my arms was what? Indigestion?”

  “I wasn’t wriggling. I never wriggle.”

  “I see.” He grinned and adjusted the left shoulder strap of her gown.

  “You are insufferable.”

  “I’m sure I am to a woman like you.”

  “Now what is that supposed to mean?”

  Dario merely laughed and shook his head. “Good-bye, Princess.” He turned and walked away into the shadowy depths of the garden.

  Impossible man. She bit her lip against the strange melancholy that loomed over her as he disappeared into the night. Her body still burned with the lust he’d caused.

  Oh, how she longed to teach Dario Saturnios a lesson he’d never forget. Her mind conjured pictures of the proud prince in a slave collar. Kneeling at her feet. Twitching and jerking beneath the lash of her whip. Chained to a bed, his cock rising thick and hard from his body while she straddled him.

  She treasured the imaginary look of desire and surrender on his face as he begged her to take him. She would take him, of course, but only after he’d proved himself sufficiently humble.

  Chapter 2

  Several weeks later

  Dario’s field headquarters was comprised of a single large canvas tent, all red except for black piping along the seams. It was comfortable enough for the summer, while he supervised the beginnings of a fort in a high pass between Concordia and Saturnios, but cold at night, which was why he, Mateo, and the king were gathered around a glowing brazier, drinking wine after a hearty supper.

  “Well, boys, even the Demon Kin couldn’t get those bitches to see reason.” King Grasos belched loudly and grinned.

  Dario said nothing, although his thoughts flew to a certain petite Concordian princess.

  Mateo stretched his long legs in front of him. “Did you really expect Concordia to capitulate?”

  “No.” Grasos took a long gulp of wine. “And I hoped they wouldn’t.”

  “Why?” Mateo grinned. “More slaves for us, with no bloodshed. Sounds like a winning proposition to me.”

  “I like bloodshed,” Grasos said. “Especially when the blood belongs to a bunch of harpies who think they have cocks where their pussies should be.”

  “That wasn’t my experience.” Dario took a sip from his goblet.

  Grasos raised bushy black eyebrows. “Oh? Did you manage to ride one of them?”

  Dario regarded his uncle with cool detachment. How this pig could be in any way related to his father, he’d never been able to grasp. “I played with one, yes.”

  “Played.” Grasos chortled, slapping his thigh. “I like that. So how was she? Dried up like a raisin?”

  Mateo was watching Dario with a speculative glitter in his eyes.

  Dario met his brother’s gaze calmly before shrugging. “Not like a raisin at all. She was highly responsive.”

  “Was she indeed?” Grasos’s smirk turned evil. The glow from the brazier lit his face from beneath, making him look downright devilish. “I’d like to see that. In fact, I plan to acquire a particular Concordian bitch for my own kennel.”

  He couldn’t prevent his muscles from tightening for one telling instant. “Which one do you have in mind?”

  “The little princess. What’s her name? Tarlina? Tamisha?”

  Dario shrugged again, trying to keep his dismay off his face.

  “Tariza,” Mateo said.

  “That’s it. Tariza. A pretty name for such an uptight little martinet.”

  “Why he
r?” Dario said carelessly. “There are thousands of others easier to get to.”

  “Because it would kill Queen Merita.” Grasos belched again. “Her little darling, the jewel of Concordia, bound hand and foot, sucking on my cock while I crop her pretty little ass. I plan to make a vid and send it to Her Majesty as a gift.”

  Dario forced his hands to remain open and relaxed, when he wanted to pound his uncle to the floor.

  “That’s – uh – very inflammatory,” Mateo remarked. He took a sip of wine. “You sure you want to take a step like that?”

  “Hell, yes. That little Concordian scout we picked up last fall is completely broken now. She’d spread her legs for my dog if I told her to. It’s entertaining, but I need a new challenge. And I want to crush Merita. She’ll be begging me to fuck her up the ass if I just let her dear daughter go.” He laughed.

  Dario knew the Concordian scout to whom Grasos referred. The woman – Miri – had endured so many brutal whippings that her back and thighs were covered in a crisscross of scars. She whimpered and flinched whenever any male lifted a hand near her. The thought of Tariza in similar condition made his stomach turn so hard he thought he might vomit.

  “If you make a vid,” he said with deceptive calm, “you’ll be letting everyone on Argelia know we’re using that technology.” Which was illegal on this planet.

  His uncle snorted. “It’d be worth it.”

  “To have the High King digging around in our business?” Dario shook his head. “God knows what he’d find. We might end up just as fucked as Concordia.”

  “He’s right,” Mateo said. “We don’t want the High King coming here.”

  Grasos glared at each of them in turn. “You two are a pain in the ass.”

  “We do our best.” Mateo grinned.

  “All right. I suppose I can give up the vid. But I’m still taking Princess Tariza. I’ve already got some men working on it.”

  Son of a bitch. He didn’t have much time, then.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dario saw Mateo watching him again. He must suspect Dario had feelings for Tariza. He refused to look at his brother. He’d already said too much; if he continued, Grasos might sense that Dario had more than a passing interest in the princess.

  He’d have to move fast if he wanted to keep her from falling into his uncle’s hands. Grasos enjoyed breaking women, especially women from outside Saturnios. Women who weren’t accustomed to their ways and would fight him, giving him an excuse to punish and humiliate them in imaginative and brutal ways.

  “You might want to get a space ready for her ahead of time,” Dario said with a forced smile. “She’ll put up a fight for sure. It would be good to be prepared.”

  “True. That’s a good idea.” Grasos rubbed his scraggly beard, a hungry glow in his eyes. “I’ll see to it personally.”

  And Dario would be unable to do the same. One, he didn’t have enough time. Two, he didn’t want to tip off his uncle or his uncle’s spies. The instant Grasos departed the encampment, however, he’d be on his way to a pre-emptive kidnapping. He’d keep Tariza out here with him, far away from the king and his sickening idea of fun.

  “By the way, Dario, I’m pulling you out of the field,” Grasos added.

  Dario stared at him. “What?”

  “I want you back in Saturnios before snow falls, and the way things feel tonight, that won’t be long. You can leave Baso in charge here for the winter.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. The order made no sense, but Grasos was the king and there was no arguing with him. Besides, arguing would only rouse his uncle’s suspicions.

  He nodded, a brief jerk of his head. “As you wish, Uncle.”

  “You should be happy, lad. You’ll be in town for all the winter parties. Plenty of women. Concerts. It’ll be much more fun than being stuck out here in a tent.”

  “We plan to have the roof on the barracks finished by snowfall,” he said. “It won’t be so bad up here.”

  “Still, town will be better.”

  He forced another smile. “Yes, it will.” Damn. Protecting Tariza while under the same roof as Grasos would not be easy. Better that than allowing his uncle to have unfettered access to her, though.

  Mateo nudged his foot. “We’ll tear up Saturnios together.”

  “You’ll be in town as well?”

  His brother indicated their uncle with a tilt of his head. “My orders.”

  Dario couldn’t prevent a faint frown from creasing his brow. “I see.”

  Did Grasos want them in town so he could keep an eye on them? He must not trust them as much as he pretended to, not that the revelation came as a surprise. There hadn’t been any love lost between Grasos and Marcos, Dario and Mateo’s late father, and there wasn’t much between uncle and nephews either. But they didn’t speak of it. Mateo was Grasos’s heir, since he had produced no male children, and the three of them went to some length to maintain a façade of family loyalty.

  Still, he and Mateo would do well to watch their backs ... even more closely than they already did.

  Chapter 3

  Tariza roused out of a deep slumber to find a large calloused hand over her mouth. A male hand. She flung up her hands, only to discover they were already bound and attached to her similarly bound ankles. Hog-tied. She’d been hog-tied.

  The hand lifted and a rag replaced it, so swiftly she had no time to draw more than a breath to scream. The scream never made it out of her mouth. The man stuffed the rag between her teeth before she could make a sound.

  He tied the gag in place with another band of cloth. Her heart raced so furiously she felt dizzy as he lifted her skull to tie the gag at the back of her head. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. Who was this man? What did he intend to do with her? And how had he gotten past her guards?

  He’d killed them, obviously. It was the only explanation for how he’d gotten into her tent undetected. He must have killed her guards.

  An ache started in her chest for the women she’d known, served with, joked and taken meals alongside for years. They’d been more than fellow soldiers; they’d been friends.

  The man hoisted her up to his shoulder. Tariza jackknifed her body, twisting first one way and then the other. The man swore viciously under his breath as he grabbed her with both arms to keep her on his shoulder.

  “Don’t do that,” he rasped, his voice cold with anger. “Try it again and I’ll knock you out. Got it?”

  She couldn’t answer him because of the gag. And she wasn’t going to let him know she’d heard him or give any indication of cooperation. But she quit fighting. She didn’t want to be clubbed over the head. Sometimes people didn’t survive such a blow.

  Her captor settled her over his shoulders and slipped out of her tent. The campsite was utterly black. No torches or fires were lit. They’d wanted to keep their location secret from the enemy. Well, that had worked out nicely.

  He began to move swiftly and silently through the ranks of tents toward the edge of the encampment. She could smell blood and death on the ground – the stench of her friends’ lives running out into the dirt.

  He was going to take her away from her friends and allies; once he got her far from the encampment, he could do anything to her he liked and there would be no-one to stop him. She had a locator chip – illicit Galactic technology – implanted in the back of her neck, but it might take days or even weeks for anyone to rescue her, and in that time almost anything could happen.

  She wrenched her body again, throwing herself half off his shoulders. Another fierce twist and she was on the ground, thumping her heels against the packed, summer-hard earth.

  “Damn you,” the man growled.

  Tariza attempted to roll herself over, to inch-worm her way from him – anything to get close enough to one of the tents that she could attract someone’s attention.

  Then something hard crashed into her skull and everything went black.

  When she came to, she was f
ace down on the back of a horse. Her hands and feet were still bound, but not to each other. She could smell the warm animal scent of the horse and feel the rhythm of its movements, but couldn’t see anything at all. It was too dark.

  Something hard and warm, covered in tightly-woven woolen fabric, brushed against her cheek as her head bobbed in time to the horse’s gait. It must be his leg. His thigh. Him. The barbarian dog who’d taken her.

  There was something familiar about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Strange she would think that, since she couldn’t even see him.

  Despair crashed over her in a black wave, darker than the night around her. She was lost now. Lost. This man could only be a Saturnian, and women captured by Saturnios never came back. They were swallowed up and never seen again.

  Her mother’s words came back to her, a bittersweet memory. “You play at soldiers, Tariza. If you want to be queen, you must take your duties more seriously. This isn’t a game. You must learn to fight and to govern. To learn to be Queen.”

  That was exactly what she’d thought she was doing as a soldier. But she could never earn Merita’s respect, never do enough to please her mother. And now she never would.

  Still, she was the heir to the throne and she did her best to fulfill her duty. She’d thought she was prepared for the consequences of that duty, but she hadn’t been prepared for this.

  ***

  Tariza staggered dizzily as her captor and another man pulled her off the horse’s back. Three hours draped belly down across a saddle had given her a monster of a stomachache and a head that felt like it was going to burst open. Her bound hands and feet, along with the rush of blood leaving her head, made proper balance impossible.

  She wobbled as the world around her spun in broad circles.

  Her Saturnian captor grabbed her by the elbows before she fell on her face and yanked her back against his hard warrior’s body. He smelled of clean sweat. From somewhere close by came the acrid smell of wood smoke.

  “Easy, there, woman.” His voice was deep and rough, and sounded vaguely familiar.