Then he stopped. “There are thirteen stairs that lead down. If you don’t want to fall and break your neck, I suggest you walk down them like a lady.”
“Tell me who you were talking about. Who do I look like?”
“Move.” His command left no room for question.
She stepped tentatively down, her bare toes searching for the next stair. Her captor held her arm so she wouldn’t fall, and as much as she despised him, she hoped he wouldn’t let go. “Do we have to do this in the dark? If I could see, it would be easier.”
“Easier for you to see where you are. Easier for you to plan an escape. Keep moving.”
She took another step and another with him close beside her until no more steps remained. She tried to pretend her heart didn’t beat faster each time he touched her, but she couldn’t ignore the powerful, pulsing sensations. He was correct. Something propelled her toward him. He’d owned her focus since the moment their gazes had met, the strength of his magnetism unlike anything she’d experienced.
He kept hold of her as he moved her forward again, pausing to open a large, metal door. Once inside, he flipped the light switch.
She blinked, relief flooding her as light washed the room. She’d never been overly fond of the dark.
The spacious room held an ornate bed, the dark wood of the headboard carved with intricate scrolls, reminding her of pictures she’d seen in history books. Luscious red velvet covered the mattress. A bed worthy of a goddess, not this heavily muscled warrior who’d taken her against her will.
The wooden floor cooled her toes as she walked toward the bed, assuming this was where he’d try to force himself on her, where she’d gain her freedom and her revenge, instead.
He caught her arm, shifting her direction to the left as he tugged her forward.
Ahead of her, two shackles bolted to the wall with a pile of chains lying on the floor below warned her of his impending actions and chilled her blood.
Instinct flared, and she shoved against him and ran.
He caught her with an iron grip before she made it through the door.
“No!” she screamed and swung at him with her bounded fists.
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you.” He captured her, wrapping his powerful arms around her and dragged her to the wall. “It’s only for a short while. Until I can locate handcuffs. I hadn’t planned on bringing you here, so I wasn’t prepared to hold you.”
She met his gaze with a wild one of her own as she struggled to be free of his grasp. “What was your original plan?”
His unblinking gaze told her the truth.
“Oh, my God. You were going to kill me.” She studied his midnight eyes, learning more than she cared to. “You still are.”
His conviction wavered, a troubled hesitation swirling in the depths of his eyes. “No. Not if I don’t have to.”
She couldn’t take that chance. She fought him then, final desperation fueling her. She head-butted him, missing his nose and slamming his mouth instead. He cursed, and she quickly followed with another knee to his groin.
“Bitch,” he hissed, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
“Let me go!” She kicked and tried to free her hands as he shoved her hard against the wall. The force stole her breath long enough for him to shackle one hand.
He stepped back and drew the back of his hand over his mouth, coming away with fresh blood. “Hell, woman. Do you have a death wish?”
She shook her head slowly as she stood before the mighty warrior, fear wrapping its icy fingers around her, her brain unwilling to contemplate what might come next. He’d chained her in his basement where no one could possibly find her. Other than some unknown woman who’d summoned her, there would be no one to look for her. Still, she wouldn’t cower.
He cursed again and strode from the room long enough for a tremble to build deep in her gut. When he returned, he carried a sadistically sharp knife, the six-inch blade glinting as though eager to carve its mark on her.
She gave up thoughts of being strong and wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but all she could do was watch, thinking he was a truly magnificent beast, and he would be the last thing she’d see in this lifetime.
She closed her eyes when he lifted the blade. “Make it swift,” she said softly.
He said something in a foreign language that sounded much like cursing, and a sob escaped her lips.
The feel of his hands on her bound wrists startled her, and she opened her eyes as he slipped the blade beneath the twine and jerked it upward. He gathered the cut rope and placed it on the dresser along with the blade.
He approached her again, all massive muscle and hard edges, an electric current of emotion buzzing beneath the surface. He studied her face, gazed deeply into her eyes, his expression trying to tell her something he would not.
“I’m sorry for this. Neither of us chose this destiny. But it is what it is. As much as it seems wrong to be so, you and I are on opposite sides of humanity. I cannot let you wreak havoc on mankind despite your beauty and your courage.”
She stared at him, not understanding his meaning. He seemed sane, but his words and actions cried otherwise. She shook her head. “This makes no sense. I’m not a bad person. I don’t want to wreak havoc on anyone.”
“It’s your fate, your future.” He traced his thumb down her cheek, leaving her shivering from first his touch and then the lack of it. “I will find something less medieval to hold you until I can decide what to do. Are you hungry? I’ll bring something to eat, too,” he said without waiting for her answer.
When he’d gone from the room, she took a moment to breathe. She glanced at the shackle holding her. She jerked it hard, sending pain radiating from her wrist, up her arm. But a speckle of paint fell free from the wall, giving her hope.
Chapter Six
Dru returned to the house thirty minutes later in a nasty mood. He’d lifted handcuffs from an incompetent police officer who’d tried to break up a scuffle where Dru had stopped to purchase sandwiches and beer.
On the way back, he’d spoken to Bane on the phone. With a few carefully crafted sentences, Bane had managed to insult his manhood and pride as a warrior, calling him a pussy because he hadn’t spilt the fire witch’s blood. Yet. Dru had tried to explain about honor and a righteous death, but in Bane’s eyes, dead was dead.
Fuck it all. Dru understood that better than anyone did. But when all was said and done, it did matter how one died. It also matter how one killed a worthy opponent, and he would do this the right way.
He found Claire where he’d left her in the basement, a wild look on her face. Rivulets of blood trickled down her forearm. Pain, fright and anger had mixed into a disquieting concoction in her beautiful amber eyes. He dropped his haul on the bed and strode toward her. “What the hell are you doing?”
She stayed silent, but it was obvious she’d tried to sacrifice her hand in order to be free and now wore the look of defeat. He should have known he couldn’t leave her alone for a minute.
He lifted her shackled hand, observing the damage. She’d worn away the skin in a few places, but she hadn’t come anywhere near escaping.
She watched as he surveyed her, her expression reminding him of a struggling fire on a winter’s night, trying to stay relevant without extinguishing herself.
He shook his head as he left the room long enough to retrieve a medical kit. He was disappointed she’d hurt herself, but he’d have done the same if someone held him.
When he returned and took her free hand to clean up the scrapes from her initial bindings, she didn’t fight. However, she did hiss when he sanitized her abrasions with an alcohol wipe.
“Your other side is going to hurt a lot worse,” he said, discarding the wipe and retrieving a soft, rolled bandage.
She didn’t respond, and he wondered if she wasn’t quite so valiant after all and if the short time in shackles had broken her spirit.
He secured her bandaged wrist with the less-severe handcu
ffs and hooked it to the second metal ring protruding from the wall so he could tend her wounded hand without fear of her fighting.
It didn’t escape his notice that his latest move left her terribly vulnerable to him, with her hands restrained near her head, her body exposed to his whims. If he wanted—and damn it, he did—he could reach out and cup her breast, could strip her bare and see how long she’d fight before she begged for his touch.
A flash of fire lit her eyes, and he smiled. The witch wasn’t broken after all.
Disheveled reddish-black curls fell over her shoulders, the ends coming to rest just above hardened-nipples straining against her thin silk top. A short, black skirt made of some flimsy material. Two slices with his razor-sharp knife would leave them in a puddle at her feet without a mark on her. She really had no idea the amount of danger she’d encountered.
He stepped closer, tipped her chin up with his finger so he could look her fully in the face. Live wires sparked between them, emitting a high-voltage energy he couldn’t ignore. Her breaths grew deeper the longer he stared at her, and he knew their connection affected her as well.
The gods did not play fair to send him such a lovely creature and then expect him to destroy her.
He lifted a curl, slid the silky softness between his thumb and forefinger until he reached the end of the strand. He purposefully grazed her pebbled nipple with his knuckles as he dropped his hand. She inhaled, and his dick hardened in an instant.
Damn.
If he kept her around for long, he’d be the one in peril.
She arched her back slightly, and he wondered if it was an involuntary reaction to his touch, or if she’d invited him to sample more. She moistened her cinnamon lips, and he followed the sweet trail of her tongue, wishing she’d licked him instead. He leaned closer needing to smell the honeysuckle of her hair if only for a moment.
Unknown forces tugged at him, stroking him with sensual fingers. Gods, it would be so easy to let go, to release the heavy burden he’d carried for so long, to let her burn him with her body.
****
The opportunity Claire had waited for arrived. The soldier watched her with a pair of eyes darker than the most scorched embers. Powerful excitement flared deep within, her core a volcano on the verge of erupting. Joining with him would be wondrous, but dangerous and deadly as well.
Regardless, she needed to be free. He’d taken her against her will, and he’d have to pay the cost. It would be a shame to waste such a gorgeous piece of flesh, but the mind behind those intense eyes couldn’t be trusted.
She dropped her gaze to his lips, took pleasure as she traced the curve of his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to have him claim hers. She inhaled deeply, very aware of the rise and fall of her chest, and the slow, burning ache that ended in tight points at the tips of her breasts.
She followed the thick cords in his neck, down to the strong expanse of his chest. His muscles stretched against the fabric of his black shirt, cotton covering a work of art. She’d always enjoyed molding her fingers and her mouth over well-honed muscles, tasting the power that rested beneath tight skin. His was a body beyond compare, one no other man could make her forget no matter how long she lived.
If her hands were free, she’d press them against his groin, trace the heavy bulge outlined beneath the khaki, and erase any doubt of her intentions.
A low growl rumbled from his chest, and she looked up to find her energies affecting him despite the fact she hadn’t physically touched him yet. He stared down at her, his body rigid as though prepared to fight, but heated desire flooded his veins and called to her.
He wanted her. He wouldn’t be able to resist.
“I dare you to take a step closer,” she whispered, knowing she tempted a beast. “Or are you afraid?”
He held her gaze for an unbearably tense moment. “I told you. I fear nothing.” But he didn’t move.
“Don’t you wonder what I taste like?” Her heartbeat raced in anticipation. It amazed her that she could be so afraid one minute and so turned on the next. Facing one’s mortality could do that she supposed. “Don’t you want to know how it’s going to feel when you put your mouth on me?”
In the span of a blink, he moved, his hard body coming up against hers, trapping her against the wall. She fought to catch a breath, fought to keep the agonizing need from stealing her senses.
An ominous promise shadowed his eyes as he lowered his head. She opened for him the second his lips touched hers, eager to take his power. Energy exploded in her veins, dark and infinitely powerful. She fought to accommodate what he unknowingly offered.
Instead of growing weaker like he should have, he demanded her passion, his tongue dancing against hers, leaving the taste of licorice and of danger in its wake. He fisted his hands in her hair as he dominated her with his potent kiss.
Lust pushed away her worry. It would take longer for her to dominate a warrior like him. That was all.
She sucked in air when he slipped his mouth from hers, moving to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Molten need pooled in her core, stealing her strength. She needed him inside her, needed access to the center of his strength before she lost all sense of time and space.
“Take me,” she said, a gasp escaping along with her request.
He stepped back and trapped her gaze, holding her prisoner as his large hands cupped her breasts with a savage touch, molding her to his palms. A delicious shiver rocked her, and she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. The incredible experience of having a man control an encounter for once left her shaking. Excitement and fear swirled through her veins, creating an addictive cocktail.
He would love her. He might kill her. If he didn’t, she’d be the end of him.
Regardless of the outcome, she’d never be the same come tomorrow.
Chapter Seven
Silk hissed as the soldier gripped her blouse and ripped it open in an effortless motion. Claire shivered and strained against her shackles as he devoured her with his gaze. She wanted to reach out, to touch him. That she couldn’t, tormented and teased her.
His roughened hands grazed her skin as he gripped her waist, moved slowly upward over her sensitized breasts until he gripped the top of her red lace bra and exposed her to his view. He captured a nipple, moist heat seeping through her skin. She mentally clung to him as heightened sensations she’d never experienced forced a tortured moan from her lips.
Second by second, her control faded. Primal need battled her previous intentions. His energy still infused her, but it seemed to strengthen him more than it did her.
Somehow, that didn’t matter. She no longer wanted to escape.
She only wanted to feel.
His mouth on her bare breasts. His hands possessing her ass. The cool rush of air as he lifted her skirt. God.
She couldn’t remember him removing her panties, but she caught a glimpse of them on the floor behind him when he gripped her thighs and hauled her upward, pinning her against the wall. She swallowed as the hard length of him pressed against her, promising so much heaven.
Her breath came in pants, and he watched like a predator might before he devoured his prey. “I’m going to take you, Claire, and fuck you until you can’t remember your name. Until you don’t remember why you’re here. Until you want nothing more than to make love and make peace for the rest of your life.”
“Yes,” she whispered, knowing if he walked away now, she’d die. It didn’t matter that his words sounded much like her thoughts before she destroyed a man.
She did her best to hold his gaze as he eased inside her. His size matched the rest of his physique, and she tried not to cry out from pleasure as she accommodated him.
Once in, he moved out and then back in with a powerful thrust. From there, everything blurred. Hot desire tightened her muscles, and she closed her eyes, trying to control the friction building inside her.
So powerful, so fast. She clenched, as a shudder erupted deep within.
He drove right through it, catching her descent, insisting she go higher.
She tried to breathe, wishing she could grip something, praying she’d survive him. He pushed her, surrounding her with a red haze punctuated by two thundering hearts. Her thoughts grasped for some sliver of reality, but there was nothing. Only heat. Only friction. Only…
She cried out as a blinding white fire exploded, sending pieces of her flying in every direction.
Moments passed.
The sound of a heartbeat against her ear slowly drew her back to the present. A breath in. A breath out.
She rested against a massive chest covered in black cotton. The weight of a heavy arm curled over her hip, and her hand lay at the base of his neck. His pulse throbbed against her fingertips as a sated, heavenly feeling floated through her. She had no memory of them moving to the bed, nothing beyond…
The clock on the table proclaimed it morning. But it couldn’t be. She swore only minutes had passed. Then again, without windows in the room, she couldn’t be sure.
She lifted her head, found hard, searching eyes watching her, waiting for her to make a move. She stared back, uncertain what to say.
Neither of the scenarios she’d expected had happened. She was alive, and he seemed to have retained all of his warrior sensibilities. She’d never planned to have to look him in the eye after what they’d…done.
She couldn’t begin to consider where he’d taken her. The heat, the pleasure.
She blinked, trying to focus. Men she’d encountered in the past left in a haze of love, never looking at her with such an intense, determined gaze.
“What?” he finally asked with a sexy rumble.
In the clarity of a single moment, she realized she’d shared her body with a man she didn’t know anything about other than he’d kidnapped her and he was some kind of fierce warrior. Not that she hadn’t had sex with other men she didn’t know well, but that was different. She hadn’t shared anything with them. She’d taken.
Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend) Page 12
