by Tori Minard
Tariza made a protesting sound under his hand.
“She must be punished, Dario. If you won’t do it, I will.”
“Oh, I’ll punish her, never fear. In my own way.”
“I want to see it. Now.”
***
Tariza continued to struggle in Dario’s arms. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, even though it did no good and she had no idea what she’d do if she succeeded in getting away from him. She had no weapon. Killing the king for his heinous treatment of her countrywoman would be impossible without a weapon.
Grasos stared down at her, his black eyes hard, his nostrils flaring. At his sides, his fingers flexed as if he wanted to put them around her neck and strangle her.
“Guards!” the king bellowed. “Get in here!”
The doors burst open and boots pounded on the floor as three uniformed men ran into the room. Where had the extra come from? There had been only two when she and Dario had entered.
“Take this woman.” Grasos pointed at her.
The men’s faces loomed over her, grim and ugly, as they bent to wrest her from Dario. His hold on her tightened until she could hardly breathe.
“She’s mine,” Dario snarled. “Don’t touch her.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” one of the guards said.
Two of the men grabbed Dario’s upper arms, pulling them sharply backward.
Their cohort took her around the waist and yanked her from the prince. She threw herself back. He almost dropped her. His meaty hand clamped painfully around her upper arm. Tariza dangled in his grip, her feet scudding on the floor.
“What would you have me do with her, Your Majesty?” Her captor bent to grab her other arm.
“Hold her while I beat her. She attacked me.”
“No!” Dario yelled.
Grasos bared his teeth at his nephew, an expression that looked more like a grimace than a smile. “You can’t control her. I will.”
He removed his belt and slapped the leather against his palm as he turned his gaze on her. “Turn her around.”
The guard turned her so her face was pressed against his chest. He smelled of stale sweat.
“Sit down and get her over your knee,” the king said.
The guard dragged her backward to an empty chair. Sweat bloomed all over her body. The guard sat and forced her face down across his lap, with her legs and buttocks dangling on one side, her head on the other. She couldn’t move, couldn’t free herself with the guard’s heavy arms pinning her to his knees. Someone – probably the king – grabbed her skirt and tore it all the way up the back, exposing her to everyone in the room.
“If that buckle touches her skin,” Dario said in a deadly voice, “I’ll –”
“You’ll what?” Grasos sneered. “I’m the king. I can do what I like with her.”
“Even kings have limits.”
“Are you threatening me, Nephew?”
There was a pause from Dario. “I will not allow a slave of mine to be so abused. She has my name on her. Even the king may not damage another man’s slave without that man’s leave. And I do not give you leave. We have three witnesses to this.”
“I have no intention of damaging her, dear boy. Just teaching her a lesson.”
The first blow hit with no warning. Pain seared her naked ass. She jerked against the guard’s knees, her lips pinched hard together to prevent herself from crying out.
“It seems she’s going to try to be brave,” the king said in an amused tone.
Another strike landed right over the first one. She jerked again. Tears blurred her vision. He struck her on the other side. A cry tried to escape her throat and she clenched her teeth to keep it in.
The blows came fast and hard, sending explosions of pain through her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She bit her lip and tasted blood.
Dario made a strangled sound. The king laughed.
He struck her thighs – more blistering pain – then her ass again and back to her thighs. The guard’s fingers dug into her back. Tariza bit down on her lip, tasted more blood. The belt landed square on the first place he’d hit her and this time she couldn’t keep herself from screaming.
“Finally,” Grasos said. His fingers burrowed rudely between her legs, drawing another cry from her. “Dry as a bone. I knew you bitches were all frigid.”
The sound of a scuffle drew her attention to the watching men. One of the guards had dropped Dario’s arm and was on the floor, groaning, his hand pressed to his head. Dario head-butted the other guard. The man released him. He leaped toward her and Grasos.
“Stop!” Dario’s big, warm hand came between her and the king’s depredation. “No more.”
How had he gotten away from the two guards holding him down?
“I’m finished anyway,” the king said. “Have you learned your lesson, Concordian?”
“Yes.” She forced the word out through clenched teeth.
Dario lifted her from the guard’s lap and cradled her against his chest. She closed her eyes, turning her face into his body so she wouldn’t see the other people in the room.
“I expect you to teach her correct behavior,” Grasos said. “Now get out.”
Chapter 11
Without another word, Dario turned and carried her out of the room. He said nothing as he descended the stairs and walked the long, grand hallway to his chambers. He took her inside and deposited her gently, face down, on the bed.
Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. She’d never been beaten in her life. Until now. She’d never known anything so painful or humiliating as that. It made her want to claw at herself, to rip the images out of her brain so she wouldn’t have to look at them ever again.
The bed dipped slightly as Dario climbed up and stretched his body next to hers. “Look at me.”
“Please –”
“Look at me, Tariza.”
She forced herself to meet his somber gaze.
“Why did you hit the king? Do you not understand your place here? You could have been executed for it.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just so angry.”
“I was angry too.”
Her brows came together. “You were?”
“Yes. But I didn’t hit him. Even I could be executed for striking the king. I think the only reason he didn’t insist on killing you is because you’re worth more to him alive and enslaved than dead.”
Enslaved. The word seemed to repeat over and over in her mind. This, more than anything else that had happened since Dario had kidnapped her, brought the destruction of her life home to her.
The sobs came without warning, rocking her body with their force. Dario made a low sound and drew her against him and she let him do it. She let her enemy comfort her because she had no-one else.
He felt warm and solid against her. His arms cradled her, made her feel protected, not imprisoned. It was wrong. She ought to despise him. But at this moment, he was all she had and she let her own arms creep around his narrow waist.
“It’s going to be all right,” he murmured. “I know it doesn’t seem possible, but it will get better.”
Tariza shook her head.
“Yes, it will. I’ll teach you. It will get easier.”
She couldn’t answer with the tears still flowing. Goddess, she was being such a baby. Her mother would be ashamed to see her weeping like a little child.
“He provoked you deliberately,” Dario said. “That’s why he had Miri there. To make you angry. He was looking for an excuse to beat you.”
“W-why?”
“You’re Concordian. He loathes your people. He planned to have you kidnapped for himself, so he could use you the way he uses Miri. I didn’t want to see that happen to you, so I got to you first.”
Is that how he justified his actions? He’d been protecting her?
“I h-hate him.”
“You must never say that aloud. It isn’t safe. Not even here in my quarters. Unde
rstand?”
She nodded.
“We all have to do what we can to survive,” he said. “Even me. Even Mateo. We all must be careful.”
Was he saying that he and his brother weren’t safe here? That made no sense. The king was his uncle, for pity’s sake, and Mateo was the heir to the throne. Why would they be in danger?
Grasos was an evil man. Maybe that’s what Dario meant. He was so evil, perhaps, that even his nephews weren’t safe from him.
He’d touched her. Goddess, he’d touched her pussy. She could still feel the roughness of his fingers digging into her most vulnerable flesh. Tariza shuddered. Would she ever be able to tolerate the intimate touch of a male again?
Dario’s arms around her, his body pressed against hers – this didn’t bother her. His presence, the heat of his body, his scent, all were strangely comforting. It must be an illusion. It wouldn’t last. He’d punish her again and the sense of safety she’d found with him tonight would vanish.
He used the hem of his shirt to dry her eyes. “We’ll have a hot bath and some dinner. You’ll feel better.”
“Why are you being so kind?”
Some emotion flickered in those dark eyes of his. “You’re mine. I care for what’s mine.”
He could have abandoned her to his uncle’s abuse. He’d risked his own safety to defend her. Tenderness welled up in her, surprising her with its force.
Tariza lifted her hand to his face. “Thank you.”
There was something almost sad in his expression. “For what?”
“Defending me from your uncle.”
“I should have kept him from beating you.”
“No. It was my fault. I lost control of myself and I know better.”
He cupped the side of her face and brushed his thumb gently back and forth across her lower lip. “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met.”
Her lips curled up a fraction. “Is that a compliment?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never met a man like you either.”
Dario bent his head and kissed her on the mouth. “It’s time for a shower.”
Her forehead creased. “What’s a shower?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.”
She climbed gingerly off the bed and followed him into the most luxuriously appointed bathroom she’d ever seen. The floor and lower half of the walls were tiled with beautiful gray and white marble, the upper walls painted sky blue. There was an enormous tub that almost looked more like a small swimming pool.
Tariza gazed at the tub with longing, but Dario led her to a small enclosure instead, almost like a tiny room within the larger bathroom. A pipe with a flaring nozzle on the end extended from the glossy marble wall. Was this the shower?
He turned some knobs and water shot out of the nozzle, spraying down over the whole enclosure. It was probably Galactic technology, forbidden on Argelia, but then what should she expect from the Saturnians?
You have a locator chip. That’s Galactic technology, too.
“Stand under the water,” he said, beginning to peel off his clothing.
Tariza walked under the deluge. The water splashed over her head, her shoulders, ran down the sore flesh of her back, washing away some of the violation she felt. The heat drove the chill from her body and relaxed her muscles.
Dario stepped into the enclosure with her. He rubbed soap into his palms and lifted them to her shoulders. “I’m going to wash you.”
She flinched away, her back hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. “That isn’t necessary.”
He clasped her shoulders once again. “Shhh. I want to do this. I want to take care of you.”
“Why?”
“Because.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “You’re mine. It’s my duty and privilege to care for you.”
She snorted, trying to hold at bay the weird shivery feeling his words aroused in her. “Care for me the same way you do your horse?”
He smiled and kissed her again. “No. You’re much more important to me than any horse.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I know.” His hands stroked slowly down the length of her arms. “It gives me great pleasure to touch you everywhere.”
He followed up by cupping her breasts, spreading soap over the curves and up to her collarbones. She trembled when his thumbs passed over her nipples, but he didn’t linger there. He continued washing her in long strokes across her back, down her thighs to her calves, over her feet.
She stared down at him, kneeling before her under the spray of the water. She’d dreamed of a moment like this, with him on his knees, but in the dream she’d been in charge. He might seem to serve her at the moment, but she was not in charge of anything, least of all him.
Dario stood, reapplied soap to his hands, and touched her lightly on her bruised ass. Tariza flinched again.
“Turn and let me see the damage,” he said in a low voice.
She turned.
He sucked in a harsh breath. “It’s worse than I realized.”
“It hurt when you touched it.”
“Then I won’t touch it again. You do need some ice, though. We’ll wash your hair and then I’ll call for ice and food.”
“What about you? Aren’t you going to wash?”
“That, too.” He lifted his soapy hands to her wet hair.
His fingers felt delightful on her scalp, the pleasure distracting her from the pain in her buttocks and thighs. Yet he stopped all too soon to reapply soap. His hands sped downward, caressing her inner thighs.
“I missed a spot,” he said.
“He touched me there.” She shrank away from Dario.
“I know. Did he injure you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“Let me look.”
“Goddess, no.”
He cupped her face, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. “Tariza, let me look.”
She swallowed. Took a deep breath. “All right.”
“All right, what?”
“Um. . .all right, Master?”
“That’s better.” He lowered his head to hers and captured her mouth in a hot, wet kiss.
Tariza melted against him. Her arms came up and wrapped around his neck as she returned the kiss. She had no self-control where he was concerned. All he had to do was touch her, kiss her, and she was ready to spread her legs for him. She ought to be ashamed of herself.
He pulled back. “Face the light so I can see better.”
With a sigh, she obeyed. He dropped to his knees as she opened her legs. Ever so gently, he spread the folds of her pussy.
“I don’t see anything.” He traced along one fold with his forefinger. “Does that hurt?”
“N-no.” He did it again and she gasped at the sudden pleasure. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Good.” Dario rubbed soapy fingers all along the crevices of her sex. “You’re so beautiful here.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Don’t argue with your master.” He rinsed his hands, then her pussy. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“How many women’s pussies have you examined?” An unexpected pang of jealousy hit her as soon as she said the words. She didn’t want to think about him with other females – which was simply ridiculous. She’d had plenty of men in her own life; why should she be jealous of other women in his?
“I mean you’re beautiful everywhere. Not just here.” He leaned in and kissed her between her legs.
He was beautiful too, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t stand here and tell her master – her captor – how beautiful he was. She couldn’t tell him how much his perfect lips enticed her, how she longed to run her hands over his muscled chest or how much she liked to look at the way his thick, black lashes framed those remarkable dark eyes.
And then it didn’t matter because he was licking her and she couldn’t speak a
nyway. Her eyes rolled up as he tongued her hungrily. She braced herself with her hands on his shoulders, helplessly moaning, nails digging into his perfect skin.
Climax crashed over her without warning, leaving her limp and relaxed under the warm stream of water. Dario stood, a pleased expression on his face. His cock stood out from his body like a signpost, rigid and eager.
Yet he turned away from her and began to wash himself.
“Aren’t you going to ...?”
“No. You’re hurting too badly.”
She frowned, watching him as he scrubbed his body. He wasn’t going to take her because she was hurt. That was ... unexpected. Incomprehensible. Why would he care? It wouldn’t injure her to have sex, although it would probably be uncomfortable to have any pressure on her rear end.
He is a good man.
The thought was as unwelcome as it was shocking. There were no good men. Only men who were under various levels of female control.
She rubbed her forehead. In her heart, she quailed. This captivity was changing her, and she didn’t like it. Goddess only knew where she’d end up or who she’d be at the end of it. If it ever ended, which was unlikely.
Already, she hardly recognized herself.
Dario finished washing and shut off the water. He snagged a towel from the rack on the wall outside the shower and blotted her dry as carefully as if she were made of glass. After wrapping another towel around her hair, he rubbed the water off his own skin.
“Time for food,” he said, smiling.
He offered her a hand. She took it, because if she didn’t he would only insist and she’d have to hold hands with him anyway. The reason she clasped her fingers around his was not because she enjoyed the feeling of their skin touching, their hands entwined. If she’d had a choice, she wouldn’t ever touch him again.
What a load of horse crap. You know you’d do almost anything to touch him.
She ignored her inner voice.
The bedroom had warmed while they were bathing. A fire burned in the hearth and trays of food were laid out on the table.
Dario lifted his brows. “They got here already. I’ll just call for ice.” He went to the wall and pulled a bell hung on an embroidered ribbon. “We’ll eat while we wait for it.”
