by Tara Nina
Cait took the opportunity of this distraction to look around for anything she could use as a weapon. She hurriedly backed her way to the front of the van. What she was going to do, she had no idea. If she made it into the driver’s seat, she might be able to use the van to threaten to run the group over. Donnell could jump in and they’d make their escape. It was a flimsy plan at best but it was all she had for the moment. Her hand didn’t make it to the door handle before a fireball shot across the hood and exploded. Cait stumbled backward and fell onto her derriere.
A person dressed in the garb of a monk limped toward the van. The dusky skies of early morning haloed his head, giving him a spooky, emissary-of-death appeal. The only body part showing was his bony hands. His fingertips glowed. Remembering what the guy at the bar had shared with her, Cait guessed the man beneath the robe had to be Brother Leod. Her informant insisted this Leod person had an arsenal of tricks he used to convince his followers he had magical powers. One of these being he somehow managed to produce fire from his hands.
If this Brother Leod weren’t crazy, she’d find that interesting if he wanted to be a magician instead of ridding the world of the MacKinnon brothers and seizing control of some mythical book of black magic spells. All this she wasn’t sure she’d believed at the bar but seeing this magical monk wannabe in person put a bit of reality in her current surreal situation.
When she jumped up, spun around and hurried toward Donnell, several men were restraining him and wouldn’t let her too close. Now along with a growing bruise on the side of his face and a cut under his eye from earlier, he was sporting a bloody lip. She never saw anyone move as fast as the oversized goon named Roy. Roy was at the monk’s side immediately. The leader from the warehouse stood stoic beside the rear of the van with a gun pointed at Donnell. From the looks of Roy’s face, Donnell had gotten in a few decent punches.
The monk didn’t get close enough for Cait to get a good look at him. The hood hid his face. His voice sounded weak and gravelly. “Take them to the holding cell.”
The hooded men jumped at the command and were ushering them toward what looked like a huge mound rising from the earth. Cait and Donnell both tried to resist. The leader from the warehouse stepped in front of them and landed a hefty blow to Donnell’s gut with his one good hand. His other hand was clutched to his chest, obviously severely discolored and swollen from being broken by wheelchair guy at the warehouse. Donnell tried desperately to break free of the men holding him.
“Ye coward,” Donnell spat. “Face me in a fair fight and see if ye win.”
With a maniacal laugh, the man pulled the gun from where he’d tucked it in his waistband and hit Donnell in the side of the jaw with the butt of it. Donnell’s head snapped to one side before it hung low and he shook it as if trying to gain his bearings. Cait broke away from her captors and cupped his face in her hands. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and his gaze had a dazed and confused look, much like a boxer’s after several rounds in the ring. She turned and took a step toward the crazed monk.
“I want a word with you, Leod,” she demanded. “I want to know why we are here and what you plan to do with us.” A pair of strong hands banded above her elbows from behind immediately halted her.
The monk’s head lifted but the dark kept most of his face concealed within the hood. All she saw was a sinister smile right before he turned and limped toward another large mound. Roy kept pace at his side. He opened a hidden door. Light poured out, showing what appeared to be some sort of underground bunker. Before she got a better look, she and Donnell were shoved in the opposite direction.
The bright floodlights gave Cait enough light to see the area a little more clearly. She saw several more mounds located at regular intervals across the distance. Where the hell were they? Some kind of mole man community? She didn’t get much of a chance to look around before one of the men opened a hidden door in the side of the mound. The light from within made her blink. Three men stood inside the narrow hallway, waiting for them to enter.
Their escorts handed them over and slammed the door closed.
“Where are we?” Donnell asked. His words were slurred and Cait was worried he’d been severely injured by that last blow. No one answered. One man simply shoved him. Donnell rose to his full height and glared down at the smaller person, who backed off, then fell into step behind a man carrying a metal ring loaded with keys. It amazed Cait that he could walk, much less hold himself upright and stare a man down.
Cait hurried to keep pace. But she doubted the guy bringing up the rear would have let her linger. As it was, he was following a little too close for comfort. She swung her arms as she walked, bringing them farther and farther back each time until one fist made contact with his crotch. The direct hit instantly got her point across without a word being exchanged. He gasped as he cupped himself. She shot him a warning glare over her shoulder and he didn’t move again until there were several long strides between them.
From the gradual declining slope, he knew they were going underground. The temperature decreased and it seemed as if the corridor never ended. Or it could just be because his head spun with every step, upsetting his orientation. He dug deep for the strength to hide his discomfort. It wouldn’t do to let his enemies know they’d injured him even the slightest bit. He attempted to stretch his jaw but the shooting pain stopped him from trying. Licking his lip, he tasted blood. In a fair fight, that never would have happened. He snorted.
Donnell hated not being in control of the situation. There was so much he didn’t know. So many questions. When they finally reached the end of the corridor, they stopped and the man in the lead shifted through the keys until he found the right one, inserted it and opened the door.
It pushed inward, showing a large, circular room. Once inside, the door was closed and locked behind them. Something brown and soft covered the floor. To him it looked like a huge pelt. Bright magical lights hung from the ceiling. The walls were made of dirt with wooden beams and supports outlining them. A U-shaped sofa was in the center of the room with a round wooden table in the middle of it. A deck of cards was sorted into three hands. Obviously, the men had been gaming prior to retrieving them.
Donnell counted three more doors distanced perfectly apart from one another around the room. The leader walked to the door directly across from where they entered. The other two maintained a vigilant stance behind him and Cait. Donnell did his best not to show how much it disturbed him to be so out of his element, not only in place but also in time. He sensed these men were dangerous and he’d need every faculty he possessed if he was to keep his promise to Cait.
“Welcome to your new home,” the man behind Donnell said. He flicked something on the wall and a light came on.
The guy gave a hard shove in between Donnell’s shoulder blades, sending him stumbling into the room. Cait entered quickly behind him. He gained control before falling and turned around in time to see the door slammed shut. The sound of the lock resonated and his gut twisted. He definitely didn’t like the caged feeling flowing in his veins. Anger brewed at his inability to fix this situation but he forced it to a simmer. Cait needed him to be strong and not an anger-driven idiot unable to think straight. If he succeeded, his brathair Gavin would be proud.
For a second, his brathair’s image flashed behind his eyes. Fear of not knowing what happened to his family clenched his heart but he waged a battle to contain it. Escape and keeping Cait safe was what he should be focused on, not the past and the long-gone people from it.
With the substantial spin of his brains, it was impossible to focus. There had to be a way out of this. He steadied himself as his gaze fell upon a scared, trembling creature and his heart sank. Though she put on a brave front, he sensed she was anything but. Taking a breath, he concentrated on Cait. He wanted to help her. He did his best to sound calm and aimed to soothe her angst even though his jaw hurt and his head ached.
“Are ye okay?”
“Yeah,
” Cait replied, “just pissed off.” She gently touched his chin and shook her head. “We’ve got to get your wounds cleaned.” She turned to the sink in the far corner. A towel and a washcloth lay neatly on the shelf above it. “Let me wet one of those, then we can take care of you.”
Donnell snorted. The woman had spirit. He liked that. When she sat on the only cot in the room, he lowered to the floor at her feet and got comfortable.
She cupped his chin and gently touched the cloth to his bloody lip, then carefully brushed it along the cut under his eye, removing the remnants of the fight. He tried not to grimace even though it hurt each time she swiped the cloth to his wounds. “You’re going to have a nasty bruise, but I don’t think the cut needs stitches. Any wider and it would’ve.”
He grinned as an image popped into his head. “I like the way ye dispensed of the idiot following a wee bit too closely in the hallway.”
Her face brightened and her eyebrows rose as if surprised. “You saw that?”
“Aye.” He nodded. Covering the front of his kilt with his hands, he teased, “Remind me never to piss ye off, as ye say.”
He liked the sound of her laughter as she let loose. Donnell was pleased he’d given her a moment of happiness during this drearily taxing event.
Cait wiped the water from her eyes as she sobered. “With the prize you have between your thighs, you needn’t worry about me hurting it.” Her eyes widened and he knew she hadn’t meant to let it slip just how much she’d enjoyed their coupling.
He inched closer. “So ye think mi shaft to be a prize, do ye?”
A flush of light red filled her cheeks as a sensual smile crossed her lips. Lips he wanted to kiss. “Aye. Your cock is worthy of a blue ribbon.”
He leaned in, readying to take that kiss. “Blue ribbon?”
“First place. The best of the best,” she replied right before his lips met hers.
Cait’s mouth tasted sweeter than he remembered from earlier. Granted, he’d savored the flavor of her sheath and planned to sample it again, but her kiss ignited his lust in a way no other wench ever did. She returned the pressure of their connection, lip on lip, tongue twisted with tongue, driving him crazy. He wanted more even though his jaw was tender and sore. Kissing her wouldn’t be enough to shave even a sliver from the intense need growing in him for this woman. And no amount of pain would stop him from enjoying her kiss.
He had to touch her bosom. It made him smile against her mouth when she guided his hands directly where he had wanted them in the first place, as if she had a magical insight into his mind. For a split second a thought speared his brain. Was she a witch? But it was instantly washed away when she cupped his bawls. Her aim was precise, even through the thick kilt. Her expertise in rolling them carefully, but with enough pressure to shift his cock into a solid rod in a matter of moments had him moaning in delight.
“Och,” he groaned, pulling from their kiss. “Ye be a master of mi shaft. Cait, I need to be between your legs.”
The sexy smile that split her lips made him even hungrier for her. She stood, straddling him since he was so close to the cot she had little room to maneuver. He had no intention of giving her any space as he helped her out of her clothes. With each item removed, he tasted her flesh, kissing and nipping a delightful trail directly to her sheath. He grasped her buttocks, kneading the supple fleshy globes in his hands as his tongue speared between her folds, delving for her hidden bud.
“Mi brèagha neamhnaid,” he whispered breathily against her clit then licked it, suckling it between his lips, tugging until she moaned his name.
Donnell shoved his finger into her heat and found it perfect. He looked up at her as he nuzzled her mound. “Ye are as ready for me as I am ready for ye.”
He bunched his kilt around his waist, revealing his cock pointed heavenward. Carefully, he guided Cait into position and held her poised for entrance. He kept his eyes on hers, watching her face as she lowered, taking him into her until she was fully seated on his lap. Her pupils dilated with desire and her eyes brightened with heat as he set a slow pace, fucking her.
The way Cait rocked on his shaft sent intense shock waves to his bawls, tightening them into a constricted sac, desperately in need of release. Och, the lass knew how to control his pleasure. Each movement drew him to the edge only to keep him hovering, wanting for more until she was ready to shove him into the abyss and not one second before she deemed it to happen. Donnell buried his face between the haven of her luscious breasts. Aye, he loved a full-bosomed woman and Cait’s were the right size for him. Plump, round nipples suitable to suckle and full of flesh to nuzzle his face between. Cait’s were the picture of perfection to him.
Donnell held her breasts in his hands, enjoying the way they danced as she rode him. He bobbed from one nipple to the other, toying and tasting, flicking the points with his tongue and loving her subtle gasps of joy. He could do this all night, but he knew his cock wouldn’t last. Not with the way her sheath massaged his taut flesh with every stroke, every sensual shift. Her pace increased and her nails dug into his shoulders.
He released the wondrous globes he cherished and gripped her waist. The lass was close to release and so was he. He speared into her over and over, sweat trickling down his spine. The tease of her nipples doing a bounce-and-swirl sort of thing in his face was more than he could bear. Donnell latched on to one nipple and tugged it hard with his teeth. Cait squealed in delight and shivered from head to toe as the rush of pleasure rolled over her, taking them both over the edge. His shaft shook, releasing his essence, combining it with hers as it coated his flesh. Nothing felt more heavenly than a satisfied woman in his arms, especially this woman.
Donnell’s face was pressed against her breasts as she clung to him. A rush of phenomenal sensations flooded him, stirring his emotions to a new height. He held her close, breathing her scent, taking his fill. He’d had women before and he’d given as much as he’d taken. But with Cait it was different. The thought burrowed itself deep in his brain and wouldn’t let go. He liked his cock resting inside her. The tremors of her sheath coaxing every last drop of his cum out of his shaft until his bawls were but a fleshy sac between his thighs. Being with Cait gave him a moment of peace in this awakening to a new world, a one he knew naught about.
Though he liked where he was, he knew it couldn’t last. Not if they didn’t escape this prison. He kissed his way from the valley between her bosoms to her neck, to her jaw, then tenderly touched her lips.
“Milady, though this be heavenly, we need to devise a plan of escape.”
“Aye,” she conceded on a hushed breath against his brow. “You’re right.”
She stretched then slowly stood. Instant cold surrounded his shaft and he regretted their separation but it had to be done. He had no intention of being a prisoner forever. Donnell straightened his kilt and cocked his head to get a better view of Cait as she cleaned herself and dressed. She was a vision of womanly beauty. Full breasts, nice round bottom and a sturdy build strong enough to handle the likes of him, not to mention her sensual brown eyes that hid nothing if one took the time to look. She shot him a coy smile and he couldn’t help but smile back. He’d been caught staring and he didn’t care.
“Do you not give a lady a moment of privacy to dress?” she teased as she turned her back to him.
“Ye are a feast upon which mi eyes shall never get their fill, Cait.” Donnell playfully gave her a light slap upon her arse as he laughed. She jumped and gave him a pretend look of shock as she took a step away and continued to dress.
Donnell shifted onto his knees with his hands upon his thighs as if to stand but froze. An ungodly pain shot through his heart. Heat filled his soul and his skin seemed to burn. Argh. Had his opponent hit him harder than he realized? Something was wrong. He couldn’t take a full breath. His chest constricted. His body refused to move and suddenly became lifeless. A pain-filled scream lodged in his throat, then all went dark.
Heat sizzled down
Cait’s spine and filled the air. She spun around. Fear froze her to the ground. Her eyes widened.
“Holy mother of god,” she whispered, stunned by what greeted her gaze.
When she finally found the strength to move, she slowly circled the solid-rock form of Donnell. How could this be? She touched his face, read the pain in his eyes and sensed his distress. Whatever happened hurt him. Anger boiled to the surface. This wasn’t right. Who did this to him and how? Why?
Cait stumbled to the cot and landed hard as she sank against the wall. She couldn’t take her eyes from the statue of Donnell. One moment he had been this hot, sexy man. The next he was a solid wall of stone.
She closed her eyes and let the tears flow. This was the best and worst night of her life. Confusion spiraled through her thoughts. She and Jenny had tailed a suspect to a warehouse. They saw a crime being committed, then got dragged into a fight. She ended up in a van with a hunk. Had sex with the hunk, twice. And now he was an inanimate object.
Ancient words whispered through her brain. She couldn’t remember them all, but she remembered it being beautiful. Opening her eyes, she directed her gaze to Donnell. Somehow the old woman freed him from a curse. At least that’s how she envisioned it as having happened.
Did she believe in curses?
Looking at the statue, she decided she did. That had to be the only explanation. Now what? She struggled to remember the words spoken that set him free but couldn’t. Damn. Did she need to speak them again to break him out of that prison or was it a one-time deal?
Totally confused, she curled into a ball on the cot. Unstoppable tears rushed her. She needed to rest. No. What she needed to do was think but at the moment she couldn’t as her thoughts convoluted into a taut bundle of pain that sent short bursts of fiery spikes throughout her head. The forthcoming migraine couldn’t be stopped. The events of her night combined with her exhaustion equaled a massive headache. She reached for his hand, hoping he was somehow alive in that strange stone prison. The light became too much to bear and she lost the battle to keep her eyes open.
