by Alison Aimes
A wilding brought to heel.
Coughing, she landed face up. Staring once more up at the sky—and him.
She had thought she was strong enough to survive anything. She had assumed all the trials, deprivations, and punishments had made her resilient. She was certain she would never look back on what she had done at the Other camp and regret.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
5
Grif stepped back to survey his rope work…and to gain a little distance.
Securing his target was supposed to be quick and impersonal, but the brush of silky skin against his knuckles had fired his blood. A slight break in protocol. Still, he got it. The crisscross of his rope against all that starlit flesh was a nice visual.
Next to the scrape of the ropes between his palms, the look of his intricate knots across skin was his favorite thing. Both beautiful and terrifying. A legacy he couldn’t escape.
It was a good reminder, too. Evil needed to be dealt with, monsters eradicated, and he’d been molded from his youth to do just that.
He straddled his target’s hips.
She snarled, those small fangs peeking out from her lush upper lip.
“I wouldn’t.” He patted the dagger strapped to his thigh. “Bite me again and I’ll remove those pretty canines permanently.”
She flinched.
He gripped the rope where it snaked beneath her ribs. “Tell me what I need to know and there’ll be no unnecessary suffering. Otherwise…” He fell into his usual script, lifting her upper body off the dirt and bringing them nose to nose. “You won’t like what happens next.”
Call him sexist, call him a screwed-up product of his childhood, call him one-tenth decent, but whatever the reason, he wasn’t a fan of using beatings and slicing to get what he wanted from female targets—not even a feral, golden-skinned humanoid bitch who traded in slaves and likely deserved it.
But his way of extracting information from the opposite sex was no picnic, either.
He pointed toward the swirling lines snaking up her flat stomach. “Tell me about these symbols.”
The hostile’s lush lips went flat and tight. Not unexpected.
Up close, the golden shapes, even if smudged and blurred, were fascinating. He was pretty sure he’d seen similar symbols carved on the shaft of her glowing spear. Though it had been swinging toward his head at the time, so there hadn’t been a lot of room for design appreciation.
The hands he’d bound had calluses, along with nicks and scars. More proof that despite her delicate looks, the humanoid wasn’t some coddled princess.
“If that’s the way you want to play it, we will. But this is my final nice-guy warning.” He tapped her lower belly. “Last chance.”
She hissed at the contact.
“So be it.” Guiding her back to the ground, he grabbed the rope between her thighs and tugged upward, the fiction pressing the thin cord against her pussy, hitting her clit like a quick, hard tap. “Rule number one. No shouting.”
Her eyes went wide. Her scream cut off. Shock clear in her iridescent blue eyes.
“Good.” He released some of the pressure, a small reward. It was a relief to know that, though she might look a little different, she was as sensitive as New Earth females in this respect. It would make the interrogation that much smoother.
“Rule number two. You’ll give me your full attention.”
Whatever one thought of his methods, he could almost promise they were far kinder than what Hope and Melody’s mother had suffered.
“You with me?” He flicked the rope so that it rubbed lightly against his captive’s clit, pleased to note he had her entire focus.
Pleasure, when pain was expected, could be an extremely effective controlling tactic. Few could bear the idea of having their bodies turned against them. Another lesson he’d learned personally early on.
“Rule number three,” he let the rope go slack, “you’ll answer my questions or there will be consequences.”
Panting, the hostile stared up at him. Her pointed ears rigid. Her tightening nipples proof that, even after a long stay in the labor mines, his skills in this department were still sharp.
“Now,” he cleared his throat, “be a well-behaved captive and tell me about those symbols.”
Eyes darkening, she opened her mouth.
Strange sound erupted from between her lush lips. Lilting, melodic noises that were pretty, but incomprehensible. Or maybe not totally incomprehensible. They sounded insulting.
He scowled down at her. “Right back at ya, wild thing.”
She only trilled louder. Defiant.
She might look delicate, but there was fire in her gaze. One he’d have to extinguish.
“New English. Speak New English.” He seized the harness between her legs and snapped it against her core, sending blood rushing to the area. Twice. Three times.
She gasped. Moaned.
For a heartbeat, she seemed as surprised as he by the low needy sound. He was an expert at inducing forced pleasure, but even for him, it usually took time to wind a subject up.
This one had gone from zero to sound velocity at laser speed—and the look of confusion on her face was riveting. Almost as if she had no clue what was happening to her body.
He shoved aside the flare of curiosity.
Didn’t matter. Interrogation subjects, even exotic ones, were nothing more than targets to be cracked, dissected, and analyzed.
He snapped the rope once more against her clit. Then, he gentled the pressure, rotating his wrist in the shape of a figure eight. Now that the skin had been sensitized, it wouldn’t take much to shift the burn to arousal, especially given her initial reaction.
Another low moan proved him right. Her thighs strained against the ropes. She was trying to wiggle free of the intense sensations coursing between her legs. Not going to happen. From here on out, he was in full control.
Not interested in half measures, he used his other hand to flick the frayed, rough end of his rope against one pebbled nipple. “I warned you.”
She shook, her head rolling back and forth as those pretty sapphire eyes of hers sank to half-mast and her back arched in supplication. Her mouth fell open, those lips the perfect shape for sliding between, despite the tiny fangs glinting within.
But that was a line he wouldn’t cross. Business was business. Even when no one was looking. Otherwise, he’d be as bad as the monster who’d made him.
He worked the rope faster between her thighs.
Her body trembled, every muscle tightening as her spine bowed upward and her pupils dilated to pinpricks, her nipples elongating and darkening to a deep gold. “P-please.”
New English. It was a start.
He increased the level of pressure. “Answer the question.”
“A-ancient blessings.” Her voice was a keening, desperate rasp. “The se-ymbols are blessings to…to safe me.”
Her accent was intriguing. Her surrender even more so.
“Good girl.” He let the rope go slack.
Her body went limp in the dirt, her eyes glazed with relief as she stared up at him. She had no idea. Soon the lack of pressure against her sensitive clit would be more torturous than no rope at all.
All in good time.
“What did you do with the female slaves from my camp?” His hand hovered over the harness between her thighs.
She stiffened, her gaze locked on his outstretched palm.
“Tell me and this stops.”
Defiance flashed in her eyes, transforming her grim acceptance to calculating—and exposing steel beneath that delicate exterior. “I-I…no understand.”
“Bullshit.”
“We bargain.” She spoke fast, her New English pronunciations off, but still understandable in her honeyed tones. “I have whalh—”
“No bargaining. Answer the question. You already know what happens when you don’t follow instructions.” He was curious about the spear and the metal she’d traded to the
gang, but that would be discussed when the time was right. He had no intention of letting her use his interest as a negotiating chip.
“No. You—” Her words turned to a wail as he gripped the rope once more.
Ignoring her protest, he tossed her over his shoulder, her weight so light he barely had to brace himself.
She growled.
He cut off the threatening sound with a sharp slap to her bare ass. “I told you the rules. Now you’ll see what happens when you ignore them.”
More lyrical unintelligible words that could have been insults or pleas for mercy.
Didn’t matter either way.
He sauntered forward, barely registering her vigorous struggles, his mind returning to the torment in Hope’s and Melody’s gazes as they’d watched their mother being dragged away.
Help me. Another pair of broken eyes flickered through his mind. Another haunting he’d never shake.
At least he could make up for his mistakes this time around.
He’d already taken the liberty of setting up a nice, cozy spot where he and his captive would not be interrupted.
He’d circle back to the pit, pick up his pack, her broken spear, and a few supplies. Then, the real work could begin.
6
Her breath rushed out in staccato pants, the desperate sound bouncing off the cave walls. It might be bright light outside, but in here, everything was shadows.
She balanced on her tiptoes, her bound arms stretched toward the ceiling.
Before leaving the cave, the beast had lashed her wrists and ankles to metal hooks hammered into the rocky walls and floor, forcing her arms and legs wide. Worse, the rope harness remained strapped around her chest, waist, and between her thighs, allowing no relief from the coarse press of the fiber against her heated core.
None of this made any sense.
Others were stupid and mindless, their love for shiny red metal surprisingly easy to exploit. Except this one wasn’t acting like the rest. He’d refused to accept her offer to trade.
He pretended he was actually concerned with locating the females.
It had to be a trick. Others were violent in every way, their respect for life nonexistent. Especially when it came to their own females. She’d seen proof after proof of that.
But the most confusing part of what was happening was whatever dark magic he was working on her.
Touching her might not have destroyed him, but the impact on her was catastrophic.
Somehow, her enemy had conjured the same heat between her legs that flared whenever she’d spied on pack-mates rutting. Those matches occurred by choice, and the sight of the hunter’s thick swollen staff pushing into the kneeling female’s trembling form had always left her weak and achy, longing for what she could never have.
Now, suddenly, she was feeling those same urges with a disgusting, savage Other, proving she was as unworthy and faithless an abomination as her Talg had always said.
A low thump. Her head whipped toward the cave entrance. The massive rock he’d rolled in front of the exit didn’t move. He hadn’t returned.
He would.
The walls of her prison closed in.
In the distance, the faint sound of water winding free echoed through the cavern walls, but there was no evidence of the underground source where he’d chained her.
Most of what she could see was jagged rock. Sparse and undecorated, the cave stunk of savage.
Besides a small pallet in one corner, there was little of comfort. Only a handful of stacked Other containers and dull metal restraints hammered into the walls, ground, and ceiling. Instruments of torture and pain, Others’ known specialties.
The entire space was illuminated by a crackling fire that flickered like the glowing eyes of a beast on a nighttime hunt—or her captor’s gaze.
Her soul shivered. Her thirst grew.
She could not afford to grow weak, especially now that she understood the Other wanted information about Talg’s plans and how to get to pack territory.
That was information she could never tell.
The Other’s touch might make her weak, but to prove herself to Talg and the pack she’d need to be stronger than she’d ever been in her life.
Another rumble. This time, the rock slid away from the exit, the bright light from the suns only emphasizing the darkness within. A hulking outline appeared in the entranceway.
She bit back a whimper.
The beast’s heavy steps echoed through the cave. He turned, gripped the massive rock, and heaved the blockage back into place, the dark slashes at his back rippling as he worked.
Spots danced in front of her eyes.
The pack slid from his shoulder and hit the ground with a loud thump. She jumped, her chains rattled.
“You’ve sins to answer for and information to impart.” Rumbled words as deep and gravelly as a dust storm rolled across her skin. He propped the pieces of her broken spear against the wall. Next, he unbuckled the harness strapped to his hulking chest.
The heavy weapons clanged against one another as he hung the harness on a hook hammered into the wall. The strap at his thick thigh came next. Then the rope at his waist. The dagger in his boot. Weapon after weapon removed and placed far out of her reach, until all that was left before her was slabs of bulging muscle and huge fists.
His message clear: he didn’t need extra instruments to break her. His body would be enough.
Free of weapons, he stalked closer, each deliberate heel strike against the floor a blow to her chest.
She shrank back, but her binds held tight.
The impulse to bare her teeth slammed through her, but she fought it. The threat that he would extract her fangs something she could not bear to test.
“This could be yours.” The savage held up a skin of water and her anazi covering before placing both on a nearby rocky ledge jutting from cave wall. “If you behave.”
Her thirst returned with a vengeance. Thanks to him, she’d been without water for far too long. If only—
A hand closed around her throat.
The shock of rough contact coursed through her, the charge worse than the surge of her whalh spear tip.
She sucked down a desperate gulp of air, fighting to recover her senses. “Dakash tali, Roter.” Let the curse take you now, Other.
“That didn’t sound like a location.” The savage’s frown deepened. “It definitely didn’t sound like New English.”
She spat in his face. It wasn’t much of a rebellion. Her mouth was too dry, but a small drop of liquid landed on his cheek.
She braced for the blow.
Instead, her captor’s lips tipped upward, his shoulders relaxed as he wiped the droplet away with the pad of his thumb. “I’d gag you for that, but then I wouldn’t be able to hear the location, or all the sweet sounds you’re about to make.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, blotting him out. One flat-toothed brute would not succeed where so many others had failed.
“You think you can withstand.” His soft rasp rippled against the shell of her ear as he leaned in close. “You can’t. All you’ll do is make the ache grow. Until you can’t bear it anymore and you crack.”
He had no idea the trials she’d undergone to prove herself. Talg had promised this would be her last. For the chance to prove herself worthy, she would endure anything. Even death. “You kill me now. I never tell.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She braced for the snap of the rope.
Instead, material as light as a targish butterfly wing brushed her collarbone.
7
Shock slammed through her. “No! Not my anazi.”
She twisted to dodge the soft fur.
His hand seized the hair at the back of her head and locked her in place, his nostrils flaring as if he scented blood.
“Anazi?” His gaze never wavered from hers as he skimmed the soft bristles up the length of her exposed armpit and raised arm. “Is that what you call this ragged, nasty
hide?”
Another flash of shame, this one at how easily she’d already given up more than intended.
She clamped her lips shut, determined not to make the same mistake, but the silence only heightened her awareness of the pelt gliding over her skin.
She had worn it for so long that she’d gotten used to the heavy weight of it. In truth, she didn’t know how to be without it. The anazi might be a sign of her shame, but she relied on it as much as she hated it.
Except now this savage was twisting it into a weapon to be used against her. She was prepared for pain. For punishment. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“You don’t like me using it.” His predator eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Why?”
She pressed her lips tighter together.
His smile widened. “It’s as soiled as you.” Eyes locked on her, he grabbed the waterskin from the rocky ledge and poured some onto her pelt, soaking it. “I aim to get you both clean.”
Impossible. A Gazi’s taint could never be fully removed.
The edges of her throat rasped painfully as the excess water dripped onto the floor, taunting her as it stained the ground crimson
“Thirsty, huh?” He caught everything. “Well, you know how to end that.”
She glared at him.
The soft fur, now wet and firmer in texture, danced across her nipple.
To her horror, the golden peak tightened, crinkling into a hard bud.
“Very nice.” He skimmed the pelt along the underside of her breast.
Her flesh tingled, and it wasn’t simply from the astonishing sensation of being dirt free. It was the gentleness of the anazi against her flesh that rocked her to her core.
Her body was used to pain, sharp grabs, and strikes. She had no idea how to guard against pleasure.
“I’m curious about your body art.” He traced the pelt over the Ancient blessings for purity and courage drawn on her stomach, smearing as he went. “It’s very similar to what’s on the glowing spear you like to swing at my head.”
If only she’d swung harder.
