by Colette Gale
He gathered up his strength and tightened his arms, ready to pull: he’d tear himself from this wall and strangle the man.
But before he could do so, Cold Eyes was there again…in front of him. Zaren gasped a shocked groan as the man knelt before his throbbing cock. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as the man curved his fingers over Zaren’s muscular thighs and pulled his hips closer as he leaned forward.
Zaren’s mind went blank and dark and red as the man’s mouth closed over his rod.
Nooo…
He couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe as he was assaulted by the most unexpected, hot, slick sensation surrounding him. Crying out, he arched forward, then tried to twist away as Cold Eyes slid his throbbing rod deep into his tight, wet mouth, his lips full and his tongue jerking quickly along the bottom of the swollen length. The teasing tongue stroked and flickered along the most sensitive part of him, sending licks of heat and pleasure rushing over him. His cock strained inside that hot cavern, pulsing and throbbing painfully.
Zaren’s knees gave away and he lost his place, nearly pitching forward. Lust and blazing pleasure roared through him even as he tried to fight his way free from the tight grip on his hips. This was wrong…wrong.
Jane. It was Jane he wanted…not this man with the cold eyes and the hot mouth.
But still the man sucked and licked, his lips and tongue fast and hot and hard, and Zaren felt as if he were ready to burst. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers into his palms, panting and shaking while the man held him in place, groaning and sighing against his cock as he worked up and down, up and down, licking and sucking and fondling his sac. The sounds of suction and fluttering licking filled Zaren’s ears, the smell of man and sweat and something smoky and sweet…
He was wet and hard everywhere. Sweat trailed down his spine as he fought through the sensations, and yet spiraled into the dark vortex of pleasure. All at once the man shifted, and Zaren felt something poking him, probing…his finger.
Zaren gave a low, guttural cry as the man slid a finger inside him and sucked his rod even harder, faster, tighter. The finger moved in and out, faster and faster, and the tongue flickered wildly around his turgid cock. He was a puddle of heat and raging blood, and the man’s mouth tightened and pulled, dragged and sucked as if he meant to swallow him whole…and then Zaren went over.
His hips shot forward, jamming his rod deep into the tight heat that surrounded him, exploding with such force that he cried like a dying animal. He pulsed and shook and panted as he emptied himself, hanging by his wrists, his head tipped back, his hair clinging to his damp skin.
The man sucked one last time, swirled his tongue around his head as if in farewell, then pulled back and stood. His eyes were no longer cold, but burned dark and black. His lips were puffy and glistened and he looked at Zaren as if he were about to eat him. Meeting his eyes, he held Zaren’s gaze as he swallowed heavily and thickly, then his tongue came out to lick his lips as if very satisfied. His smile was hot and the message there sent another unexpected bolt of lust through Zaren.
He closed his eyes, mortified and confused. He’d seen men and women in the mating act, but he’d not known men could do the same to each other. He trembled, thinking of Jane…what would she say?
He was still shaking, still lost in the vestiges of lust, when he felt the man standing behind him again. What was this?
The man’s hands were on him again, stroking down his torso and hips, and then Zaren felt the prod of something much thicker than a finger behind him. He tensed, arching forward and away, pulling on the rope restraints.
But he was fixed fast, and the man’s hands held him in place as he curled strong fingers tighter around his thighs. The probing became more insistent, closer, harder, and all at once Zaren realized what was happening.
He let out a furious roar, the sound of a lion attacking, just as the man shoved himself up inside him. Zaren cried out again as pleasure and pain coursed through him. Fury ripped through him as the other man’s hard cock eased slowly in, deeper and deeper. He was full and tight, and the sensation was awful and yet horribly arousing…shocking and hot. His own rod lifted and shifted, beginning to harden once more. Pleasure grew like a starburst, spreading through his belly and limbs.
Zaren struggled desperately, pulling and twisting and trying to free himself of this invasion, but he was trapped and helpless.
The man panted behind him, his breath hot and moist on his shoulder. Full, wet lips brushed along Zaren’s skin, making it prickle uncomfortably as the man pushed himself deeper. Zaren felt hard, hairy thighs pressing against his from behind, and he struggled anew, half sobbing in desperation.
When the man gave a last hard thrust, burying himself deep, Zaren’s vision turned red, and black fury roared through him. He bellowed and pulled with all his strength and outrage, and suddenly one arm whipped free.
Dried grass and bamboo rained down on them, and he reached behind him and dragged the man off him. He flung him away with one sharp movement, still roaring like a pained lion. With another hard yank he had his second hand free, but by then the man was lunging toward him.
Zaren grabbed him by the throat and effortlessly sent him sailing across the room to land in a heap near the fire. He tore off the bindings on one ankle, roaring and snarling. He was leaving this place and he was taking Jane with him.
— VII—
Jane heard the cries, and then the roar of a lion—much too close. She was, mercifully, not participating so closely in the fourth couple’s mating process and merely stood in her position, trying to ignore them—and her body’s response—as they fucked on hands and knees in front of her.
But the sound of the lion nearby, then again closer and more furious, distracted even the man and woman in the throes of passion. They disengaged themselves, bolting to their feet with frightened expressions and speaking in their native tongue.
Now they could hear the sounds of fighting, of destruction, mingling with the lion, and Jane had a sudden stab of fear. It sounded as if the beast was tearing through the village.
Zaren.
Dear God, what if he was in the path of the creature? Unable to help himself, still weak and sleepy?
“Release me!” she demanded of the couple, who looked as if they were ready to bolt. To make her point clear, she shook her arms, causing the bedposts to shimmy violently.
For a moment, she feared they would leave her anyway, but even as the lion roared again—much too closely—the woman leapt over toward her with a sharp command to the man. They had just finished untying Jane’s ankles and had moved to her wrists when the lion roared just outside the hut.
The woman screamed and the door burst open—and there was Zaren.
Jane cried out in surprise and relief, and suddenly he was next to her, naked and glorious and vibrating with fury. He looked at her, his eyes dark and angry, then he tore the bedpost away, cracking it in half. Her ropes slid from it and she was free.
“We go now.”
Jane wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms, crawl inside him, get away from here. “But there’s a lion—”
Zaren roared, and it was as if the lion was standing in front of her…and she realized it was.
“We go now.” He bit the words out and snaked an arm around her waist.
They erupted from the hut into the dark of night. If the villagers wanted to stop them, they didn’t even try, for Zaren roared once more and clambered up a tree with an arm hooked safely around Jane’s waist.
She didn’t see Cold Eyes anywhere, but Devilish Grin peered at them from next to the village fire as Zaren grabbed a hanging vine.
With his bloodcurdling scream replacing the sound of the lion’s roar and her arms locked tightly around his neck, they swung off into the night.
This time, no one shot arrows at them. Perhaps without Cold Eyes—wherever he was—egging them on, or perhaps since Jane had performed much of her “goddess” duties, they let them
go.
Or perhaps they simply feared that the man who roared identically to a lion belonged with a goddess, and could turn into the wild cat himself.
She didn’t care. She was safe, with Zaren, and they were going back to her papa and Effie.
~*~
They swung through the jungle for a long time until Zaren felt it was safe to stop. Or perhaps he simply knew of the massive tree with its trio of branches that made a nestlike bed high above the ground. A safe place to rest for the remainder of the night.
Jane curled trustingly in Zaren’s strong arms, safe and secure at last. His head drooped onto hers, but not before he rained gentle, feathery kisses all over her temples and head.
“Jane,” he whispered. “Jane. Only you. I want only you.”
“Zaren.” She curved her arms around his neck, tears filling her eyes. “I love you.” She could hardly believe she was free and safe and could be with him forever.
She’d take him back to London with her. She didn’t care what those biddies in Society thought.
Or maybe he’d want to stay here, in the jungle? But far from Cold Eyes and his goddess-worshiping people.
“I…love…you…?” The words were a question, as if he didn’t quite understand.
Jane pulled away to look at him, their eyes meeting in the moonlight. She used her hand to make a fist over her heart. “I love”—she thumped her heart—“you. Love.” She thumped again and gave him her sweetest, most emotional smile, trying to get him to understand. “You. Only you. I want only you. Always.”
His smile was a little wavery, but his eyes shone with comprehension. “Zaren love Jane.” He reached out to touch her cheek, his fingers shaking with the same emotion Jane felt. Then he leaned forward to kiss her, ever so gently and slowly, as if to impress her taste upon his mouth.
She felt a warm rush of beautiful pleasure billow through her—so different from the sharp, hard, intense arousal forced from her by the villagers—and she smiled.
Happy.
They slept, or at least she did, and in the morning they awoke with the first birds.
“Now we must go to my papa. Surely he is worried. And Effie too,” Jane said as they drank from a nearby pool of water. Both were still naked, and she was uncertain how her father would react to her arriving at the treehouse nude and accompanied by an equally nude jungle man.
But that was assuming Papa would even notice. If there was a butterfly about, he surely wouldn’t.
“Everett? Effie?” Zaren said. “Papa? Mama?” He pointed to Jane.
She smiled. “My papa is Everett, yes. The short man with the belly.” She made the motions to describe him. “Effie is my—my nurse. The big woman. My helper.” Jane shrugged. How did one describe a maid’s duties to a wild man?
“They worry for you,” Zaren told her. “I hear them talking.”
“Then we must return as quickly as possible. But I should find something to wear.” She gestured to her naked self.
The expression on Zaren’s face—clearly he would prefer her not to cover herself—made her smile, and another streak of warm, squiggly emotion spiraled through her belly. Tonight he would visit her in her bedroom in the treehouse and they would make love wildly and passionately all night.
She smiled at him with that promise, and he snatched in his breath, his eyes blazing blue.
“We go to my nest. Clothes there.”
Jane nodded. She’d been there once before and had noticed the old trunks in the corner, likely from some shipwreck. Or perhaps they had even been Zaren’s trunks—for surely he’d come to the jungle by ship. Perhaps even a shipwreck.
She’d never asked him, for their language barrier was still difficult. But if they went back to London—and even if they didn’t—she would find out more.
It took much of the day for them to travel back to Zaren’s “nest,” which was only a short distance from the treehouse Jane shared with her father and Effie, and their guide, Kellan Darkdale.
When they arrived, Zaren found her an old—very old—shift from the depths of one of the trunks, and Jane put it on. She felt odd being clothed again in the light cotton, despite the fact that it was loose and hung on her like a sack.
“I will go back to the treehouse and tell Papa I’ve returned,” she said. “I want you to come, but I must have some time to explain what happened…and who you are. You come when the sun is…there. Touching those trees.”
She didn’t know how Effie and Papa would react to her return, let alone the fact that she would have a wild man in animal skins in tow. She would ease them into the explanation.
Zaren seemed to understand. “I must look,” he said, a little frown appearing between his eyes. He gestured to the trunks to indicate where he was going to search.
Jane nodded. She could see the top of the treehouse from here, and knew she would be safe traveling there on foot. Aside from that, Zaren would hear her if she cried out.
With one last kiss that brought the heat back into his eyes—not to mention shuttling through her—Jane climbed down from Zaren’s nest and made her way back to the treehouse.
But when she arrived, she found the place in disarray. Everything was strewn all over, as if there’d been some sort of fight or altercation.
“Papa?” she cried, rushing to the window to look out it.
Her heart surged into her throat. A ship! There was a ship just beyond the beach!
“Papa!” she screamed, clambering down the ladder. Was he leaving her? Had he thought her dead? Or had something worse happened? “Effie! Effie! Zaaaaaren!” she screamed as she ran all the way down to the beach.
— VIII—
“Thank heavens you’ve returned!” Kellan Darkdale turned to Jane as she rushed onto the beach.
The ship sat a short distance away, sails at half mast. A small rowboat rested just off shore and two sailors sat in it, ready with their oars.
“What’s happened?” she asked, looking around for Papa and Effie. Something was terribly wrong. “Is Papa on the ship? Was he going to leave me?”
Darkdale took her by the arm. “It’s horrible, Miss Clemons. I—we—feared you were lost for good in the jungle! That some wild creature had—well, that’s neither here nor there. Now that you’ve returned, we have other, more serious problems.”
“Where’s Papa? There isn’t anyone in the treehouse, and it looks as if there’s been a struggle. Is he on the ship? Was he going to leave without me? Did he truly think I was dead?” She’d only been gone for a week!
“I have some terrible news, Miss Clemons. Please, brace yourself,” he said, urging her toward the small dinghy. “We must get to the ship as soon as possible.”
“What is it? Is Papa dead?” Jane didn’t like the grave expression on his face, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but remembering how he’d had his way with her in the hot, bubbling pool…with Jonathan’s permission. “What happened to him?”
“This ship has arrived…to take your father back to London. You see, he’s been convicted of a murder. I am so relieved you returned before the ship left.”
“A murder?” Jane halted on the sand. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Papa? When? How? Impossible! My father wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
“That’s why you must return to London,” Darkdale said, easing her toward the dinghy again. “Immediately. They plan to execute him as soon as he sets foot on English soil.”
“Papa!” Jane cried, terror sharpening her cry. “No. He would never…how could anyone even think that of him?” She no longer needed to be guided to the small boat—she was fairly running. Her father—her gentle, absentminded, brilliant father—must be terrified by now. Had they put him in the brig? Was he chained up?
And what about Effie? Was she with him at least, comforting him in Jane’s absence?
“I will tell you all about it once we are safely on the ship.”
“When did it get here? When is it leaving?”
“It�
��s only by your good fortune you’ve arrived just in the nick of time, Miss Clemons. I had come back ashore one last time to make certain you hadn’t returned—and that’s the only reason we are still here. The ship is leaving immediately—as soon as we set foot on the deck. The captain has already pulled up the anchor.” He helped her into the small boat, which rocked as she climbed in.
“Oh, my poor papa,” she said, wiping away a tear as one of the sailors pushed them off.
Then with a horrified start, she remembered. “Zaren!” Jane bolted to her feet and the small boat rocked crazily even as the sailors began to row. “I must go back! My—there is a man…he’s an Englishman, he must return with us…I can’t leave without telling him goodbye.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late, Miss Clemons,” Darkdale said as the boat sped across the water. The men had put their muscles into the rowing, and the shore was falling away more quickly than Jane would have imagined. “There’s simply no time to go back.”
Just then, Jane heard Zaren’s wild cry echoing through the jungle. He’d heard her call and came to find the disaster at the treehouse.
“Zaren!” she screamed, standing up again in the boat. “Zaren!”
“Sit down, Miss Clemons, or you will overset us,” Darkdale said. “Who is this Zaren?”
“It’s the Englishman I spoke of…please, can’t we wait for him?”
By now—amazingly—their rowboat was brushing up against the side of the ship. As Darkdale urged Jane toward the dangling rope ladder that led up to the main deck, she looked back at the shore.
Just then, Zaren swung into view, landing on his feet in the center of the beach. “Jane!” he bellowed, staring after her.
“Zaren!” she cried, hesitating at the top of the wavering rope ladder. “I love you! I—”
“Hurry it up now,” Darkdale said, pushing her none too gently onto the deck of the ship. She tripped over a coil of rope and fell onto her hands and knees; then he was behind her, nudging her out of the way.
