The Ravager Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Sara Page

  Striker shakes his head in disagreement. “No, I did not want to keep anything from you, that was Prince Drek’s decision. I gave you the truth when you asked. With me, you can trust there will be no secrets.”

  “No secrets?”

  “No secrets, I promise, Ameia. You have accepted me and I will allow nothing to become between us.”

  But there’s already something between us, Beast.

  “Why do you resist?” Striker scowls, his fingers digging as I frown at him. “Do you not believe me?”

  “No,” I say at first, meaning it’s not that. But as his eyes narrow, I quickly say, “I mean yes, I do believe you. It’s not that. It’s just that…”

  “What? What is it?” he asks with desperate frustration. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know!” I cry out, just as frustrated by all of this. “This isn’t natural for me. If I accept you, it feels like I’m giving in or giving up. Okay?”

  Striker stills, head cocking as he regards me. I squirm beneath his gaze. It feels like he can see right through me.

  “Would you feel better if you fought me?”

  My jaw drops. “What?!”

  Striker grins. It’s that cocky grin of his that sets me on edge. “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? Fight me, Ameia. Push me away.”

  I roll my eyes at him. I’m so not in the mood for this. “You’re crazy.”

  Striker grinds his hips into me. “Push me.”

  “No,” I say firmly then bite my lip as he grinds his hard bulge into my belly.

  “Oh? So you like it then? Push me.”

  Stars, but I can feel that he’s hard and thick, and he’s as big as Beast as he grinds into me again. I feel a spike of desire. I reach out and give a half-assed push, trying but not really trying to shove him away.

  I don’t necessarily want to hurt him, even if he’s a big dick.

  Fuck.

  Big. Dick.

  A big dick rubbing against me.

  “No,” he smirks and leans his face close. “Like you mean it.” He rolls his hips and I go up on my tiptoes.

  I feel an ache awakening between my thighs. I wish he was pressing against me there, grinding into my sex.

  I place both hands flat on his shirt-covered pecs and shove this time as if I mean it.

  He takes a small step back and makes a pleased sound deep in his throat. “Good girl.”

  Suddenly he’s upon me once more, grinding, hips rolling. Heat fills my belly and my eyes want to roll into the back of my head.

  “Do it again,” he commands.

  I don’t know why, because I actually quite like what he’s doing, but I shove at his chest. I guess the horny part of me wants to obey his command while the stubborn part of me still wants to fight him.

  “Yes,” Striker hisses and rocks his hips. “Again.”

  He’s really getting off on this.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I shove at his chest because not only is he turning me on but he’s also making me angry.

  I’m the one who’s fucking crazy now.

  Striker takes two steps back and laughs. “Not bad, for a little princess.”

  Oh, he so did not! I glare at him and take two steps forward, thrusting my arms out and shoving him until he rocks back.

  “Oh? Are you angry, princess?” he asks, the tone of his voice mocking me.

  “Yes!” I snap out, ready to shove him again but he captures my wrists.

  “Good,” he smirks and pushes me now, walking me back until I’m up against the wall.

  “Why is it good?” I ask as he lifts my arms, pinning my hands above my head.

  “Because you’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

  I snort but then the snort turns into a groan as he presses all of his hard body against me. He has so many sharp ridges and pointed edges. His knee doesn’t nudge at my knees this time, it barrels on through them. My thighs part just as his lips crash against my lips. As his tongue meets my tongue, I remember we shouldn’t be doing this.

  I shouldn’t have let him make me forget.

  He pauses for a second, sensing my resistance. Then his tongue continues to prod and stroke against my tongue anyway.

  When Beast kisses me, it’s overwhelming. It’s as if the whole of his will is coming down on mine until I’m swept up in his passion. Fighting it is as useless as fighting a raging storm.

  Striker’s tongue strikes at my tongue as if it’s a fight he’s seeking. His tongue taunts my tongue, daring mine to come out and meet his. And when I do, I’m rewarded with a dueling tangle that scratches some deeply buried itch.

  Striker breaks the kiss. His eyes glow so red, so bright, it hurts to even look at him.

  “I’m going to give you one chance. One chance to get away from me.”

  “What?” I ask, dazed and confused from the kiss.

  “If you can get away, I’ll let you be.”

  He must close his eyes because the red glow disappears momentarily. I can hear him breathing deeply.

  “What if I can’t get away?” The thought alone makes my heart pound heavy in my chest.

  His eyes snap open and he directs their intense glow at my face.

  “If you can’t get away, I’ll shove up your dress and fuck you where you stand.”

  All the blood rushes from my brain. I feel lightheaded and dizzy.

  “You can’t be serious,” I tell him. He did not just say he was going to fuck me.

  But a part of me, a dirty part of me, hopes he did.

  His fingers release their grip on my wrists and my arms drop like heavy weights. He takes a step back. “I’ll even give you a head start. You have until the count of three.”

  “What? This is silly.”

  “One.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Aren’t we a little old for these games?”

  Striker smirks. “I’m being serious, Ameia. Unless you want to save me the trouble and lift your skirt for me right here?”

  I gasp at him. The nerve. But I can actually picture myself lifting my skirt. It would be so easy to just bend over…

  “Two.”

  He takes a menacing step forward and I panic.

  I don’t even think to tell him no, that if he doesn’t stop, I’ll just get Beast to make him stop.

  No, he’s offered me a game and for some reason, I want to play it.

  The hallway. I make a dash for the hallway. I run for my bedroom door. I’m pulling it open just as he calls out behind me.

  “Three.”

  I run down the hallways, thankful that they’re still empty. I turn a corner blindly, not really caring where I’m going. I get an entire minute of running in before it’s quiet and stupid me stops, listening to see if he’s even coming. He’s pursuing me right? This isn’t just some trick?

  Then I hear him, it’s a rustling, it must be just around the corner. I feel a thrill of excitement and take off running again.

  I turn another corner but I’m so turned around, I still don’t even know where I am. I’ve never run around the palace like this before, I would have had my bottom swatted as a child if I even attempted it.

  I sense him behind me.

  Something about it is both terrifying and thrilling.

  “Ameia,” he growls and yanks me back. “Did you even try?”

  I thought I did. I’m panting but I’m panting because of the running, right? It’s not because I’m excited. Or dammit, maybe it is.

  He lifts me up as if I weigh nothing and throws me over his shoulder. I screech and he slaps me on the ass. Oh, I how I hate him, and I tell him that as he carries me back.

  “Why did you even do that?” I ask as the bedroom door shuts behind us. I must have run in circles or something. We’re in my bedroom in less than a minute. His grip around my waist loosens and he slides me down his body until my feet touch the floor. “What was the point?”

  Perhaps it was his sneaky way of getting me to waste even more of my energ
y? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

  I feel his mouth against my ear and then his warm breath as he breathes. “To give you what you need.”

  Down, down he takes me. It feels like the more I resist, the more strength it gives him. He covers my body with his body. “What do I need?”

  He grins with wicked amusement. “You want to be conquered and claimed.”

  “No,” I deny it immediately and shake my head. That’s not what I need. I need… I don’t even know what I need.

  His chest rumbles then begins to vibrate. No, oh no. My breasts tingle. My nipples tighten. I’m so damn weak.

  “Yes,” he insists and once more he grabs up both of my wrists and pins my arms above my head. “And if I had more patience, I would have let you run and run to your heart’s content. I do enjoy the chase.”

  “But you wouldn’t let me get away. You lied,” I accuse him and his free hand begins to push up my shift until the skirt is above my waist. I stiffen as the cold air hits me. I’m so wet and he knows it. His eyes darken with hunger.

  His voice is strained as he says, “If you wanted, you could get away from me.”

  Is that true? Could I get away from him?

  Something about the doubtful look on my face makes the corner of his lips curl, all knowing and smug.

  His hand touches against my thigh, my leg twitches. He begins to drag his palm up and up. I clench my teeth together, resisting the urge to squirm as my insides clench with longing.

  “All you have to do is tell me to stop.”

  That’s it? That’s all it takes? Haven’t I already said that? I search my brain, racking my memory. But no, I haven’t asked him to stop yet. I haven’t told him to stop because I don’t really want him to. I feel like I should want him to stop, that I shouldn’t like what he’s doing…

  But the truth is I like it.

  I like the way he’s pushing me. I like pushing him back, trying to fight him. It’s terribly exciting. My blood is pumping through my veins, heat is pumping to my sex. I’m all worked up and panting from exertion. From the thrill of the chase.

  Even now, after what little we’ve done, I’m soaking wet as his fingers move from my hip to the folds of my sex. Dragging, slipping. Then those thick fingers of his are thrusting up, pushing their way inside me.

  He growls and my hips lift. Just like before, his fingers curl but there’s only one stroke, one deep pump, and then he attempts to pull back his hand.

  I slam my knees together, trying to keep him trapped inside my clench.

  “Ameia, open for me.”

  I whimper and it takes every bit of will I have to pry open my legs, to show that I’m not that damn weak. But really, I am that damn weak, I just don’t want to show it.

  He removes his hand and I feel empty now without him inside me. I bite my lip to keep from saying something stupid.

  Striker’s eyes glint and he reaches down, pulling down his pants. I look down, my eyes slipping between us. His cock is just as long, just as dark and just as hard as I expected. That is going to feel so good inside me.

  I can’t breathe. All the air rushes from my lungs as I watch him take himself in his hand. He guides the head of his cock to the folds of my sex and then swirls it in small circles. He’s so dark compared to my pink.

  “Ameia,” he growls and I lift my hips off the floor but it only makes him pull away. Damnit, of course he won’t make this easy.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  No, no, I can’t.

  “Stop fighting me, Ameia. You’ve accepted me, now join with me.”

  He groans and shudders. I watch his hand pump up and down his stiff length.

  I want him.

  “Tell me,” he growls then he’s pushing his head against me once more. He swirls and swirls, so close. Such a tease. I clench down in frustration and shake my head.

  I will not. I shouldn’t.

  “I’ve killed for you. I’ll die for you. What will you do for me, Ameia?”

  He smashes the slick tip of his cock against my throbbing clit.

  “Tell me,” he demands more forcefully. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you!” I cry out with a shudder as he stops.

  Gods help me but there it is. I’ve wanted Striker even though I shouldn’t have wanted him. I think it’s why he makes me so mad. Some deep part of me has longed for him since he was stroking my hair on the Harpy’s Talon. I’ve just been too ashamed to let myself admit it.

  The throbbing between my legs is so strong, I feel the force of it resonating through all of my limbs. I’m twitching and clenching with need. He’s stripping me inch by inch of my resistance.

  “How do you want me?” he asks, his features pulled into a painful expression.

  Why is he torturing himself? Why is he torturing me? I stare hard into his eyes and see the resolve there. He’s not going to stop until I give him everything.

  “I want you inside me,” I admit, giving in. That’s it, I’ve said it. Now I can be free of it. Now I’ll have to live with the consequences. This is going to happen, I accept it. Fighting it is only prolonging it.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs and his head dips down, his mouth tastes my lips. He kisses me deep, he kisses me until I start to forget.

  Then he slams into me in one thrusting stroke.

  Stretching me, filling me, pushing all of my limits.

  “Fuck, Ameia,” he shudders as he buries himself deep.

  My fingers curl, my nails dig into the flesh of my palms. I lift up off the floor because I want, I need every velvety inch of his cock.

  “Does this feel wrong?” he asks, pulling back and then slamming into me so hard my breasts bounce.

  I thought it would feel wrong, I thought it would feel like a sin. But it doesn’t feel wrong, it feels like heaven.

  I writhe, straining against the restraint of his grip on my wrists. “It feels so fucking good.”

  And it does. Not only does he fit inside me as if he was meant to fit, but every spot where his skin touches my skin crackles and pops with sparks of sensation.

  “Yes,” Striker hisses. He pulls out and slams into me harder, over and over.

  The friction, it’s filling me with something hot, something electrical. Something oh so very wet.

  “Yes, yes,” he grunts as the head of his cock meets the barrier of my womb and tries to keep going past it.

  “Striker,” I gasp. I hate that he has me trapped. I want to move my arms, I need to touch him with my hands. I need to grab him because I need something to hold onto as his thrusts push me further and further into a mindless oblivion.

  His grip only tightens, pinching my skin. “Mine,” he growls as I begin to moan.

  It hurts so bad but it feels so good. The pain seems to be enhancing the pleasure. I’m not sure how much I can take before I break and shatter into a million pieces.

  His teeth nip at my bottom lip, tugging at it, pulling until it will no longer stretch.

  “Mine.” His teeth scrape their way to my neck and he bites me hard, marking me while his cock pummels the walls of my swollen sex.

  All at once it happens. The combination of pleasure, pain and possession is my undoing. White flashes behind my eyes as I explode with the first burst of my orgasm.

  And then the world goes black.

  “Ameia,” he growls and I feel him pulling, tugging me back.

  Another burst, another flash. I’m drifting and drifting, but this time we’re drifting together. Riding a tide of wetness. Lights flash, so many pretty colors.

  The tide recedes and I’m aware I still feel connected to him. I can feel him panting against my neck. I can feel his cock, twitching and pulsing, fighting the tight grip of my sex.

  I shudder, mindless, helpless as I come again, quivering and mewling another release.

  Striker rears back and lets loose an earsplitting roar. His muscles lock up as he jerks and twitches above me, all the while I feel myself being fil
led with warmth as my walls milk him for every hot spurt.

  I don’t know how long we remain like that, locked and connected, joined together before we come back to our senses.

  “Ameia,” Striker purrs, going limp against me. The grip of his fingers relaxes and I pull my arms down before wrapping them around his back.

  I hold him. I hold Striker and ask him while my palms stroke down his back, “Is this real?”

  Did that just happen?

  Or am I dreaming? Perhaps I’m still stuck in space, in that awful little escape pod. This could all be delusions, this could all be inside my head. Full-blown space madness.

  Striker’s head lifts and he chuckles. He grins at me, his red eyes warm with happiness. “I’m that good, eh?”

  Ugh, I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. His ego is unbelievable. He snickers before stealing a kiss from my lips. Suddenly, I feel myself being stretched. Is he still inside me? Yes, yes that must be it. He must be growing ready again.

  Striker groans and rolls his hips, grinding against my clit as he swells.

  This feels so good, he feels so good.

  I don’t even care if it’s real.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Ameia?” Beast rumbles, waking me from my slumber.

  After another bout of rough sex, Striker carried me to my bed and we both fell to sleep, still dressed and on top of the covers.

  “Beast?” I ask, blinking the sleep from my eyes. Sunlight streams through my curtains though my room is only dimly lit by the light. It must be growing late in the day.

  I’m snuggling up against Striker’s back for warmth and he’s snoring softly, still deep in slumber.

  Beast walks to my side of the bed and reaches for me. I sit up and hold out my arms for him. Beast lifts me easily, pulling me into his warm embrace.

  “I missed you,” he rumbles, squeezing me and kissing the top of my head. “Want to take a bath?”

  I look up, peering at him through the fringe of my lashes. He literally just pulled me out of bed, and out of the arms of another man, but he doesn’t appear to be the least bit upset.

  I nod my head yes. I could definitely use a bath and a few minutes alone with him.

  Striker grunts and grumbles, rolling over and peeking an eye open. “Prince Drek?”