BOUND

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Her gaze raked his features. Electricity arced between them—the good kind. And slowly her face came into view. Gemlike green eyes, flawless pale skin. Ruby red lips and the cutest spray of freckles, right over the bridge of her nose. “Tasa…”

  Something dark—something hot—flashed in her eyes, but before he could decipher what it meant, her jaw hardened, and she let go.

  She pushed to her feet. “He’s not to be touched. Do you understand? He’s my prisoner, not yours. Get the fuck out of my tent.”

  “But he’s—”

  “Mine. Now go.”

  A thrill shot through Titus at her words, but when he caught sight of the Amazon’s tightening muscles, it quickly shifted to worry.

  They both straightened as if they’d been slapped. Both reached for swords strapped to their hips. The one on the right mumbled, “We’ll see about that. When the queen—”

  “The queen already knows,” Natasa said in a commanding voice. “Turn around and ask her yourself.”

  The guards whipped toward the tent opening. Titus struggled to see past them. Another female stood in the doorway. But instead of being hard and masculine like the others, she was tall, feminine, and gorgeous. And she was also staring at him as if he were a meal served up on a golden platter, just for her.

  “…Argonaut. The perfect specimen. Mine, not yours, foolish girl.”

  His head was still in a fog. He wasn’t sure who’d thought the words, but he was pretty sure they’d come from the female in the doorway. The one whose eyes were practically glowing with excitement. The one, he realized belatedly, who had to be the Queen of the Amazons.

  Skata. His situation had not exactly improved.

  “Astiria, Lysa,” the queen said, her eyes still locked on Titus, “step back.”

  Both guards did as they were instructed, moving toward the queen and the other guards behind her, but they didn’t look thrilled. And even though Natasa drew in a deep breath as if tragedy had been averted, Titus could see that she wasn’t convinced either.

  The queen spoke in hushed words to her guards, her attention still fixed on Titus. The two who’d stripped him of his dignity filed out of the tent, followed by the two who’d remained stoic behind the queen. After several tense moments, the queen finally dragged her gaze away from Titus and focused on Natasa. “No one will bother you for the time being. Alert us if you need any…help.”

  Her gaze strayed back to Titus, and no, he did not like the flash of lust he caught in her blue eyes or the word that clearly came from her thoughts: “Finally…”

  The tent flap swung closed behind them. Natasa knelt at his side, slid her strong arms under his, and helped him to his feet.

  This time he didn’t tense at her touch. His whole body relaxed, then came to life as if she had some magical ability to ease the aftershocks of the emotional transfer that had—only minutes ago—knocked him on his ass. “Don’t think that one…likes me very much.”

  “I think she likes you too much.” Natasa grunted, pushing him up. “Are you okay?”

  He leaned his back against the tree trunk. “Be fine…in a minute.”

  “Here. Sit.” Gently, she tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the tree and leading him toward the pallet of blankets and pillows against the tent wall. Warmth flowed from her hand into his; then softness enveloped his body, the cotton silky against the bare skin of his back.

  She knelt next to him and rested her hands on her thighs. “What did they do to you?”

  He leaned back in the pillows, closed his eyes, and slowly relaxed as the last emotions seeped out of his body. “Nothing. Just—”

  He drew in another breath then slowly let it out. He wasn’t about to admit his biggest weakness to the girl he wanted to jump his bones.

  “It hurt, didn’t it? I saw the way you reacted when they were tying you to the tree, like you were in pain. Why don’t you react that way when I touch you?”

  His eyes popped open. She knew? For a smart guy, he was slow on the uptake when it came to her. Implications ricocheted through his mind. But the only thing he could focus on was the fantasy he’d been toying with before—the one of her in the black leather outfit, touching him, whipping him, ordering him to do any and every X-rated thing she wanted. “’Cause your touch feels good.”

  Her brow dropped low. “I don’t understand. I mean, considering what I did to that guard back in Argolea, my touch should be worse, not better. Why am I different?”

  “Don’t know, just…”

  Dammit, he didn’t want to think anymore. He just wanted her to touch him again, to chase away the lingering pain, to make him feel alive. He needed it, more than he needed to know who she was or what she was really after.

  “Put your hands on me again, Tasa. You’re the only one who can.”

  Chapter Seven

  Natasa stared into Titus’s mesmerizing hazel eyes and swallowed hard. She tried to resist, but there was something about him. Some pull she couldn’t seem to fight. Some need growing inside her with every passing second.

  She licked her lips. Shifted her knees forward even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her gaze flicked to his bare chest. To his arms resting at his sides against the blankets, the shredded ropes still wrapped around his wrists. To his chiseled six-pack abs, rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

  She wanted to touch him. Wanted to know if he was as hard and smooth as she imagined. As she’d felt pressed up against her in those trees. She lifted a hand, held it out, hesitated over his bare skin, her mind warring with common sense. “I—”

  His hand captured hers, and a cool sensation slid from his fingers into hers. He tugged on her arm until her palm landed against the rock-solid surface of his chest.

  A slow, gentle sigh escaped his lips.

  The air churned around her. A fresh gust that filled her lungs, eased the fever she lived with every hour, and blew a calming breath all across her skin.

  She drew it in. His spicy, masculine scent filled her nose. Tingles rushed over her flesh, soothing her irritable edges. And oh, he was hard beneath her hand. Silky skin over carved muscle and bone. Reflexively, she brushed her fingers against his muscles, loving the texture, the dips and angles of his rib cage, the way he groaned with every tiny movement.

  As if she were the one who could soothe him. As if he needed only her.

  Rough fingertips caressed the back of her hand and sent stimulating sensations all along her flesh. She glanced down, his tanned skin such a contrast with her much paler hand, then looked at his face. His eyes were once again closed, but unlike when those guards had touched him, this time pleasure toyed with his features. And a wicked, tantalizing smile curled his tempting lips.

  That pull to him grew stronger. The irritability she was so used to eased. Normally, around others, she felt boxed in, trapped, and every breath was more stifling than the last. But next to him…touching him…all she could think about was what it would be like to brush her fingers over other parts of his body. What his naked skin would feel like sliding over hers. How thick and exhilarating he would be pushing deep inside her body.

  “Gods,” he whispered. “That feels so damn good.”

  It felt good to her too. She scooted closer and licked her lips again. “It doesn’t hurt?”

  “Are you kidding?” He chuckled, and vibrations zinged up her fingers, shooting straight to her center. “You feel like heaven.”

  Heat grew in her belly. An ache condensed between her legs, sending scorching threads of desire all through her core. The kind that overwhelmed the senses. The kind that begged to be sated.

  His free hand closed over hers against her thigh. The frayed rope tickled her leg. He tugged again, not gently this time but quickly, until her weight shifted out from under her, and she fell against every hard, muscular inch of him.

  She gasped, but the sensations rushing from his skin into hers were so invigorating, so restorative, she couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from he
r lips. And then she didn’t want to because—oh gods—he felt good. The length of his body was flush against hers, easing the burn, calming her frazzled nerve endings, making her want in ways she never had before.

  “You’re so hot, ligos Vesuvius.”

  His sensual voice cut through the haze. Pressure built beneath her ribs. “Too hot?” She tried to sit up. “I—”

  His arms closed around her, and he held her tight as if he didn’t ever want to let her go. “Not too hot. Never too hot.”

  Her lashes lifted. Slowly, she met his gaze, and her breath caught. Energy crackled between them. A sizzle and arc she felt everywhere. His eyes seemed to be looking deep inside a part of her no one else had ever seen. Little warning flags fired off in her mind. “You…you shouldn’t be near me. I’m not what you think I am.”

  “What do I think you are?”

  She had no idea. She just knew she didn’t want to hurt him. Not like she had that guard. And the longer he stayed with her, the greater the chances she’d do just that. “I think…you’re blind to the real me.”

  A chuckle rumbled through his chest, permeated her own, and brought another rush of refreshing tingles to her skin. His hand moved from the small of her back to her hair. His thick fingers sifted through her curly locks. “You know, the ancient Greeks thought having red hair was a sign of being a vampire.”

  She lifted her head to get a better look at his face. “You think I’m going to suck your blood?”

  His whole body tightened beneath her, and a smile played with the edges of his mouth. “At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll suck something else.”

  He was cracking jokes. She couldn’t help it. She laughed. And oh, it felt good to laugh. To smile. She couldn’t remember the last time the pressure in her chest was gone and a lightness like she was experiencing now floated through her limbs. “Titus, I—”

  He lifted his head, and before she could get the rest of the words out, his lips pressed against hers.

  Soft. Cool. Electric. Tingles rushed through her whole body. She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her, should be pushing away right this very second, but she couldn’t. And when he nipped at her lower lip, when she felt the tip of his tongue slide across the seam of her mouth, she gave up the fight. She opened to him, drew his warm, slick tongue inside, and tasted him for the very first time.

  Thought fled. Reason disappeared. All the protests she’d been about to voice drifted out of her reach.

  He was like a waterfall. Like a cool flood of relief, pouring over her skin, easing the burn from the outside in. Rejuvenating her in ways she couldn’t imagine.

  She groaned. Or maybe he did. She wasn’t sure. All she could focus on was the way he cupped her face in both hands. The way he tipped his head and kissed her deeper. The way his lush, tantalizing tongue tasted like sin and salvation against her own.

  She’d been kissed before, but it had been so long ago, she barely remembered what it was like. And she knew it had never been as refreshing and consuming as this. Her muscles tightened against his. Her fingers dug into his chest. Her legs shifted open until his thighs pressed against the insides of hers.

  Desire built, awakened inside her. His hand slid from her hair to her lower back to pull her body tighter against him. And oh, he was hard, and thick, and clearly as turned on her. That excitement grew. Overwhelmed. Possessed her from every angle.

  His tongue probed deep into her mouth, tasted her everywhere, and she returned his kiss with the same enthusiasm, the same hunger. Time seemed to stand still as his mouth plundered hers. As he took what he wanted. As she let him.

  Her head grew light. She needed air. Didn’t want to break the kiss. Didn’t want to let go. He nipped at her upper lip, soothed the spot with his tongue, then finally eased away so she could draw a breath.

  “Gods, you taste better than I’d hoped.”

  She gulped in air and tried to tell him he tasted good too. But before her vocal chords could work, he kissed her again. Hard. Greedy. Deeply. Like a man starved. Like she was his very last meal.

  Her brain turned to mush. Her body a pool of want. All she could focus on was more. But something inside warned she was losing control. That this wasn’t a good idea. That as much as she craved his touch, this wasn’t the right time or place. And if the Amazons outside heard what was happening inside her tent, they’d both soon regret it.

  She pushed against his chest. She didn’t want to let go but somehow found the strength to shift to her knees so there was space between them. “Titus. Wait. Just…give me a second.”

  “No more waiting. I want you.”

  His fingers dug into the cotton at her hips, and he tugged. She opened her mouth to tell him she wanted him too, that she wasn’t trying to stop him, but that they both just needed to be careful. But then she registered the temperature around her. Not cool and refreshing like he’d been. But humid. Thick. Stifling.

  Warnings fired off in her brain. The sexual haze cleared enough so she could listen. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t be just an Argonaut. There was something else about him that drew her. Something she reacted to. Something that told her…she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  “Tasa?”

  She pushed away before his body could press up against hers again and somehow found her feet. The room spun, and she reached for the tree trunk behind her. He sat up, but she held out a hand to keep him from reaching for her once more. “No, don’t. I…I need to think.”

  “Don’t think. Come back. I know you want me. You have no idea how much I want you. Touch me again.”

  Minutes ago, he’d wanted answers as to why she was living amongst the Amazons, what she’d been doing in Argolea, why she’d been following Maelea. Now none of that mattered?

  The air grew oppressive and claustrophobic. Her mind sputtered, trying to make sense of what had happened. She’d been tricked once before, and look where that had landed her. When he moved to his knees, she stepped back again, careful so he couldn’t touch her.

  “Natasa.”

  His voice changed. Tensed. Filled with a desperation that only kicked her nerves into high gear. “Wh-what are you doing to me?”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he said calmly. Too calmly. He held out a hand. “Natasa, come back to me.”

  She didn’t know what to believe, didn’t know whom to trust. He suddenly felt like some glowing, shimmering salvation, and she, more than anyone, knew things that seemed too good to be true usually were. “Who are you?”

  Unease seeped into his eyes. “You know who I am.”

  “No, I don’t.” Panic flooded her voice, and she fought against it but couldn’t keep it away. He was using magic or seduction or something unnatural to scramble her brain. “What the hell do you want with me?”

  He moved to his feet, pushing to his full height. He was gorgeous in the dim light, half naked with his wavy dark hair loose around his face and those ropes hanging from his wrists. But he was also a threat. There were multiple people searching for her. Numerous beings that wanted her. And because he’d once been nice to her, she’d let down her guard. Assumed he could be trusted. Assumed—foolishly—he wasn’t after the very same thing.

  Panic turned to fear. She eyed her dagger on the box next to him. Knew she’d never reach it before he did. “Stay back.”

  “Natasa, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you.”

  There was that word again—help. The same word he’d used in Argolea just before she’d jumped through the portal. But he didn’t really want to help her. He just wanted what she had.

  “I don’t want your help. I told you before I don’t need your help. I—”

  The tent flap jerked open, and they both looked toward the burst of light spilling into the room. Two guards stepped into the space and glanced between them—the same two who had tied Titus to the tree.

  Relief immediately rushed through Natasa—relief that she and Titus had been interrupted—but then she
caught the gleam in the guards’ eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Natasa asked. “I told you—”

  “Ladies.” Titus turned toward the guards and held up both hands in a defensive move. “Let’s not act hastily now—”

  The guards moved up on both sides of him. Malice and heat and triumph swelled in their eyes. The taller of the two said, “The queen is ready for you.”

  Titus stiffened, tried to shift out of their grasp, but their hands landed on his arms before he could get a foot away. And the moment they made contact with his skin, his eyes rolled back, his features twisted and his knees gave out.

  Natasa tensed. Yeah, she’d wanted him to back off so she could think, but not like this. They were hurting him. If anyone was going to hurt him, it was going to be her.

  “Stop,” she ordered. “What are you doing? He’s my prisoner, not yours.”

  “Not anymore,” the other guard said. A malevolent grin spread across her thin lips. “He’s the queen’s now. And the altar is prepared.”

  Oh shit.

  They dragged Titus toward the door. Natasa closed her hand over the shoulder of the closest guard. “I said stop—”

  The guard moved so fast, Natasa barely tracked her. One second she was holding Titus up by the arm; the next she had Natasa pinned to the base of the tree, a sword at her throat.

  “Aella said you might be a problem,” the guard sneered. “Therefore, you are to remain here, where you can’t get in the way.”

  Natasa’s breath caught at the contempt in the guard’s eyes. The guard shoved Natasa’s hands together, cinched a rope around her wrists, and jerked them high over her head. Natasa gasped. The guard looped the rope through the D-ring screwed into the wood and pulled hard.

  Pain sliced into Natasa’s skin. She winced. The guard laughed and stepped back.

  Lysa—Natasa remembered her name now—tipped her head and grinned. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, female, you are not invited to this ceremony.” She leaned close, so close Natasa could smell the earthy scents of dirt and moss on her unclean skin. “The queen thanks you for your most generous…donation.”