by Renee Rose
The image of the two of them shoving her into the storage space and taking turns having their way with her flickered through her mind...and sort of turned her on. No, Sten having a turn didn’t excite her, but the crazy image of him holding her down while Lundric shoved his way deep into her—
Sweet Mother Earth! What was wrong with her? Her panties were actually dampening at the idea of being forcibly taken by this huge specimen of masculine power. What had lulled her better instincts into complacency?
It was too much to believe he really saw into her and understood her needs and desires, and yet...he had. He’d given her the dagger. Now he was supposedly finding some safer places for them to sleep, although she still didn’t know whether to trust his plan. But, if it was a ploy, what did he stand to gain? Someplace to get her alone, maybe?
She stacked boxes neatly outside the closet.
“So what did you do to land yourself on the wrong side of Ocretion law?” His question was deceptively casual. Even though his back was to her, she saw the charge of tension run through him, waiting for her answer.
“I killed three guards.”
It was true. But she’d also thrown it out as a threat, and he clearly caught her intent because, when he swiveled with the next carton, the corners of his mouth tugged up. “I have no doubt you did.” He looked almost...proud of her.
Bizarre.
As he handed her the box, his focus dipped to her lips like they had the night before. What did he want to do to her mouth? Kiss it? Claim it?
A shiver ran through her. She didn’t even know what claim it meant, but it seemed to fit the hunger flickering behind his gaze. She dropped the carton and immediately looked back, watching Lundric’s powerful back ripple when he stooped to pick up another box. Sten caught her looking and hid a smile as he looked away.
To hell with him. What did he think was so funny?
When they’d emptied the little storage room of all its contents, Lundric turned to her. “Let’s go get your things.”
Her brows shot up. “This is for me?” Her safety meter spun wildly and landed on no way. She took a step backward. “I’m not going in there.”
Lundric held his palms out, as if to show he had no weapon. “Take it easy. No one is trying to trap you, little female.” He drew his fist back and smashed the palm-activated door lock panel beside the door.
She bit back the involuntary shriek of surprise choking her throat. The power behind that fist was dizzying. She made a mental note never to put herself on the receiving end of it.
The panel sparked and flashed and then died out. He shoved the pocket door open and closed. “See? Nothing I can do from the outside now. I’ll fashion you some kind of clip you can use from the inside. You control the lights inside, too. See?” He showed her the button just inside the door that turned the lights on and off.
Prickles covered her skin. Had he really done all this...for her? To keep her safe? Or—since he already believed he’d protected her the night before—to give her some semblance of control over her own safety? It was too much to believe, and yet, something in the way he watched her, as if her reaction mattered—really mattered to him—made her think it was true.
He took a step closer, his expression going soft. When he reached for her face, she jerked away on an inhale. His hand dropped to his side, all the power and hunger she saw there tightly leashed. Once more, the lips turned up. Instead of inspiring anger, it seemed her resistance amused him.
“Go get your bedroll.”
She nibbled on her lip, still assessing the danger. She tossed her ponytail and tried opening and closing the door herself. He was right—it didn’t lock now. With a single nod, she strode back down the corridor in the direction they’d come.
It would’ve been a better exit if she’d gone in the right direction.
Lundric waited until her steps slowed before he whistled. When she looked back, he wore a broad grin. Obviously, the warrior thought it funny.
She pursed her lips and marched back, her worn boots clomping on the floor, Lundric’s appreciative gaze sending heat creeping over her cheeks. When she reached them, Lundric gave a low chuckle.
“You find me entertaining, Captain?”
“Yes,” he drawled. “I find everything about you entertaining, little female.” The parts he left unspoken seared her skin, made her breasts grow tight and heavy, her pussy damp. He inhaled sharply. She sensed tension from him, as if he only barely held back from grabbing her and throwing her down to have his way with her.
Like a skittish animal, she darted away, out of his reach, cursing herself for showing fear. Only the fear this time wasn’t of physical harm. It was something deeper. Darker. Something that had her body feeling tingly and alive for the first time in ages.
She stomped back to the large hull where they’d slept. Only half the beings remained, huddled in groupings. Her bedding had disappeared, as the entire room had been straightened up, the blankets stacked in a neat pile by the door. One guard led a group of eight past her as she came in. She thought someone might stop her, ask where she’d been, but it seemed a human walking around unattended wasn’t cause for alarm.
Interesting.
She picked up two blankets—one to lie on and one to cover herself, and swiftly rolled them into a bundle. She should wait here, in this room, to see what was happening with the rest of the prisoners. She shouldn’t be spending time alone with the captain, who had clearly taken an interest in her beyond guard-prisoner.
One of the guards pointed at her. “Who are you camping with?”
She looked around, gut fisting up with dread. None of the groups looked friendly. And she already had her own room.
Which probably came with a whole mess of strings attached.
Somehow, she couldn’t muster a great deal of fear of those strings, though, even having seen Lundric’s right hook and the dark hunger in his eyes. He’d shown respect for her—hadn’t touched her, had given her a weapon, had looked after her safety.
Maybe he didn’t have any dark intent.
Or maybe morbid curiosity had her wondering just how it would feel to have those huge arms cage her, that powerful body drag her into submission. He looked like the kind of male who took a female long and hard. Maybe tied her up first and slapped her ass.
She fought back the reaction her body had to those thoughts and cleared her throat. “Captain Lundric has found a closet for me down there,” she said, waving toward the hallway.
She expected more interrogation, or demands for proof, but he merely nodded and moved on. Free, she slipped out the door, taking long strides back to her closet. In the hallway outside it, she met Lundric, carrying an entire cot—yes the whole structure—under one arm.
“I found you a bed,” he grunted.
She willed her giddy little heart to slow back down. They probably had lots of beds lying around the pod. It wasn’t like he was some kind of hero or something. She stepped back to allow him to enter her closet and shove the bed against the far wall, so she’d face the door as she slept. Exactly where she would’ve placed it. He’d already placed a single chair in, as well.
“There you go. I’ll work on a lock before nightfall.” He turned and walked away before she could even say thank you.
Not that she was sure she was going to.
But the point was, he didn’t wait for any thanks.
She shoved the door closed and leaned her back against it, her mind too full of Lundric.
So far, none of the terrible things she’d thought would happen since she was thrown on this pod had occurred. She hadn’t been executed by the Ocretions. She hadn’t been raped, or sold to a new slave owner. Each new turn was stranger and stranger. And this one with Lundric was the strangest yet.
Chapter Two
Lundric woke up stiff in more ways than one. After working long past his shift end ensuring the refugees were settled, he’d slept on the floor of the bunkroom, since he’d carried his cot into
Cambry’s closet. So the aching neck wasn’t a surprise.
The stiff cock could be attributed to Cambry, too. His dreams had all featured the fiery human. The pretty braids pulling her hair back into the bushy ponytail. The flip of that thick tail when she tossed her head. The length of her legs and the sway of her ass as she walked in front of him, a haughty grin curling her lips.
She had so much fight in her, his little rebel. How he’d love to wrestle her to the floor, feel her wriggling body beneath his as the struggle heated them both. Because he knew it would. He’d smelled her arousal that morning, known the irresistible pull he felt toward her wasn’t just one-sided.
He sat up and checked the time. Veck. His shift was about to start, which meant the refugees were bedding down already. He hadn’t had a chance to fashion a latch for the inside of Cambry’s door. He shoved his feet into his boots and tromped down the corridor.
Cambry’s door was shut tight. Was she already sleeping? His cock stirred at the thought of her lying on his bed, just behind the door.
His bed. Exactly where she belonged.
He paused. Should he check on her? No. If he stopped now, he wouldn’t want to leave. Better to make the rounds first and come back. He went to Rok’s office, which served as their headquarters, to meet his guards and assign their duties for the night shift. Rok and his little human, Lily, were nowhere to be found, no surprise there. The two of them spent a great deal of time locked in their sleeping quarters together. Rok had even pierced her with Zandian crystal, marking her as his permanent mate.
A thrill went through him at the thought of adorning Cambry with his gems. He’d do it that night, if he thought it would bind her to him. But their traditions meant nothing to her. He’d be better off buying her as a slave to make himself her master, much as Zander had done with Lamira.
He knew exactly what orders he’d give her, the moment she was his to command. Strip. Kneel. No, maybe not kneel because how would he touch her sweet little pussy if she was sucking his dick? Maybe the first thing he’d do would be to tie her arms and legs wide and spend an entire planet rotation exploring what made her scream in pleasure.
No. Tying her up would be too easy. She liked to fight. Better to hold her down with his body. Or to train her to obey. If you move your hands from this position, I’ll have to whip you…
What he wanted was the assurance she’d be in his bed forever. After his mother’s abandonment, he couldn’t tolerate fickleness. Or flightiness.
His guards gathered, and he handed out assignments, keeping the corridor with Cambry’s closet for himself. Sten hid a smirk, but he immediately quashed it when Lundric stared him down. He counted to twenty-five after the guards dispersed then made his way to Cambry’s closet. The light was off inside. At least, when he peered through the crack, it looked dark. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for the sound of her breathing, but the metal was too thick. He couldn’t hear it.
If she was asleep, he wouldn’t bother her, but if she was awake, she might enjoy a little company. He pried the door open a centimeter then another. He cursed, remembering he’d promised her a lock by bedtime. It was too dark inside to make out her figure on the bed. A flash of movement just behind the door made him throw the it wide, but not before his little warrior had buried a dagger deep into the place where shoulder met chest.
He grunted, restraining his instincts demanding he fight back.
“You stabbed me?”
Her eyes were wide, the whites shining in the light from the corridor. She stood in nothing but her loose, untied tunic—no leggings beneath, a fact that had his brain stuttering, despite his injury.
He grasped the handle of the dagger and yanked it out of his flesh, wiping his blood on his shirt. “With my own dagger, no less.”
“What were you doing sneaking into my room?” Her words held more bravado than her face, which still wore shock. She took a step back into the room, and he followed, turning on the light and shutting the door behind him.
“I wasn’t sure if you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you if you were.”
Her eyes narrowed, but they flicked to his wound and her brows puckered.
He pulled off his tunic and undershirt, loving the way her gaze riveted, not on the bloody gash, but on the muscles of his chest.
She swallowed. “Here.” She picked up her leggings from the floor, balled them up, and reached toward his wound.
“Wait, don’t use your—”
Too late. She pressed the fabric against the gash. He shouldn’t complain if her leggings got soaked in blood—leaving her nothing to cover those long sexy legs with.
She held the cloth tight, obviously experienced enough to know it took a lot of pressure to stop bleeding. Her effort caused her to lean into him, her breasts brushing against his ribs.
He covered her hand with his.
Her breath lifted and lowered her chest in short bursts. She licked her lips—veck—those lips. “I’m sorry. Should you get medical attention?”
He shrugged. “It’s a flesh wound. Zandians heal quickly.”
Another lick. She was vecking killing him with that little pink tongue of hers. “Well, should I—do you want me to clean it and stitch it up? Stop the bleeding?”
He couldn’t stop the feral grin spreading across his face. Veck, yes, he wanted her little hands touching him. With a rough voice, he managed to mutter, “Yes.”
She must have mistaken his raging libido for blood loss because she said, “Is there a med-kit? Are you all right to stand? Maybe you should sit. I’ll go for help.”
He shook himself. “You’re not vecking going anywhere like that. I’ll get it.” Before she could protest, he shoved the door back open, exited, and shut it tight behind him, still holding her leggings to his bleeding wound.
He managed to get to the medical treatment room and back without running into any other beings, thank the stars. He sure as hell didn’t want to have to explain a knife wound to any of his men or superiors. It would make him look weak and put Cambry in danger of answering to someone else for her actions. Plus, he’d have to explain why he’d given her a dagger in the first place.
He knocked this time, muttering, “It’s me,” before he opened the door.
Cambry had the audacity to grin. “Afraid I’d stab you a second time?” She had the dagger back in its holster on her hip.
Dearest Zandian star, her smile dazzled. He loved seeing her like that—rebellious, confident. With one hip cocked, her lean muscular legs jutted out beneath the short tunic. Her nipples steepled the fabric, and he doubted she wore any kind of underclothing. Vecking stars, did she even have on panties? His heart rate ramped up as desire flamed hotter. “I wouldn’t let it happen a second time, little female. But I won’t creep up on you again.”
Was it strange he was proud of her for stabbing him? He was glad his little female could defend herself. He’d glimpsed the warrior in her from the start, and he vecking loved it.
He grabbed the chair and pulled it toward him with a scrape then plopped down and removed the blood-soaked fabric. Already, the wound had clotted.
Even so, she sucked in her breath as she came closer to inspect it. “You aimed too high,” he observed. “Or were you expecting a Zandian?”
She focused on the wound as she doused it with disinfectant then reached for the needle and spidersilk thread. “I aimed for a human. I meant to stab downward from the nape.”
He didn’t like the moment of hesitation before she answered, as if she held something back. He tensed. “One in particular?”
“No.” She answered too quickly.
“That one who slept next to you last night.”
She had to move closer to get the right angle on the wound, and after trying from both his side and standing between his knees, she ended up straddling one of his thighs.
Her delectable scent filled his nostrils. Though she managed not to touch him, her heat radiated through his pants, scorching ever
y place he felt it. He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from grabbing her ass and hoisting it right over his rock-hard cock.
“Yes, that one. Or another. I don’t trust any being here.”
Though he’d already observed her general mistrust, he took exception. She was locked alone in a room with him, wasn’t she?
Her pale slender fingers deft with the needle, she didn’t flinch at poking his flesh and pulling the thread through, doing what had to be done. Her immunity to his pain turned him on, though, by nature, he preferred to be the one who inflicted pain. She tied off the knot and leaned in to bite off the thread, giving him the perfect view of her pert little breasts, bare, as he’d suspected, beneath the tunic. When she pulled back, she caught him looking and her eyes narrowed.
“Enjoying yourself?” Her hands went to the swell of her hips.
Veck, does she have panties on?
“Believe me, baby, you’d know if I was enjoying myself.” His lids drooped to half-mast. “I’d have you pinned down with those sexy thighs spread wide, and you’d be the recipient of all my joy.”
~.~
Cambry drew in a sharp breath, her pussy clenching at the warrior’s crass words. She ought to be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. Instinctively, she knew he didn’t mean her harm. If he hadn’t forced her yet, he probably wouldn’t, especially after what she’d done to him.
“Does that mean you forgive me for stabbing you?” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears—husky. Full of sex. She dismounted from his thigh and attempted to move away, but his hands, which she’d watched strain at his sides with tortured restraint while she’d straddled him, settled on her hips and drew her back between his legs.
“Not quite.”
Her body—unused to touch—jerked, knees trembled.
His eyes burning with dark intent, he rotated her sideways. “Hands on the wall.” He gave her upper body a shove, forcing her compliance before she could decide if she wanted to obey. Her hands flew out to catch herself, and she stood, tipped at the waist, her ass a perfect target for Lundric’s right hand. She had no doubt what he intended.
