Taking Karre

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Give me your name,” he said, captivated by the woman beneath him.

  “Karre,” she answered with a gasp. Her eyes flew open as she looked at him, but she didn’t say more as her climax hit her hard.

  Vidar moaned, finally letting his body spill over. He jerked out of her, spilling his seed onto the bed. With an exhausted sigh, he rolled next to her on the small bed. The fur stuck to his hot, sweaty back but he didn’t care.

  “Lady Karre,” he said, smiling. “I will remember that.”

  Chapter Two

  Because right now, in this moment, she was…Lady Karre?

  Karre? Did she actually tell him her name was Karre? What in the idiotic, brain-dead, body-numbing, pleasure-laden hell had she been thinking? Karre?!

  Clearly, she had been taken aback by the way he moved his body. Or perhaps it was the way he looked at her, rather her breasts, with liquid heat in his hazel gaze. The gold flecks tried to lure her in with their animalistic charm. There had to be a reason for her lunacy. Because right now, in this moment, she was…Lady Karre?

  Shit!

  Relax, Karre. No one will ever know it’s your real name. They’ll think it a lie like all the others. Divinity would never believe you were stupid enough to use a real name on their “prison realm”.

  Why couldn’t I have just said Suzetta? Or Majie?

  Shit, shit, shit!

  “Tell me of your world, Lady Karre,” Vidar said, his voice filled with the leisured, sated drawl of a satisfied man. His finger trailed over her arm. “I’m curious to hear of the other realms. Is yours like this one?”

  Shit!

  She pushed up off the bed with an energy she didn’t feel. Survival instinct gave her the fuel she needed to fake nonchalance. Her first idea had been to control him, to make him want her, desire her. That had worked all too well. Why did she have to go and say her real name? Each time he said it, she felt a little sick to her stomach because his voice was low and delicious and rumbled the syllable just right. That word was more intimate than any other because no one knew it.

  “My home world is a plane like any other,” she answered, reaching into her hair to ensure the hidden hairpin was still artfully tangled in the locks. She set to work pulling the locks up off her neck to cool off. “You know how it is. Every plane is just the same world with a different conclusion. People pretty much talk the same—sometimes they look the same. Weather is the same.”

  “But I have heard of some wondrous devices—boxes that talk, fire that does not burn. I’ve even heard tales of how one plane has these contraptions that heat your food within seconds.”

  “You don’t say.” She had stopped listening. Grabbing her gown, she pulled it over her head and made her way hastily for the door. “I think the halls should be clear now. Thanks for entertaining me. It’s been, ah, yeah.”

  “But, wait—” Vidar demanded behind her. She heard him move on the bed. “Where are you going?”

  “Ah, now, let’s not get all sentimental, warrior man.” She pulled the large metal handle. “Have a nice life and a wonderful wedding. May your bride be…yeah.”

  With that half-hearted wish, she slipped from the room.

  “Getting to know the locals, are you?” Winston asked.

  Karre turned, ready to fight, only to run face to chest into her henchman captor. The man stood a head above her but had the broad, medically enhanced physique any thug would be proud of. He grabbed her arms tightly. Her eyes rounded. How had they found her? As if to answer her, the bottom of her foot throbbed. She glanced at the floor. Spots of dried blood led to where they stood. How could she have been so careless?

  She opened her mouth to call for Vidar for help. If anything, he’d provide a distraction so she could get away. Winston grunted. Talbert shoved the needle into her leg. The sharp pain was followed by an almost immediate numbness.

  “He-lp,” she whispered, the plea hissing from her parted lips as she dropped into blackness.

  —

  What exactly just happened? Vidar frowned at the door as he jerked on his clothing. Grabbing his boots, he tucked them under his arm as he went to follow Lady Karre to demand some answers.

  The hall was empty and he went to look around the closest turn. She wasn’t there. Vidar growled and threw his boot against the passageway wall. It thudded hard before falling to the stone.

  You’re a naughty warrior, aren’t you?

  Now, with her disappearance, the once playful words seemed mocking to him. She had demanded he turn over an ounce of control to her and he’d done it—thoughtlessly, eagerly, willingly.

  Naughty, naughty, eager knight trying to bruise my delicate mouth with his big weapon.

  She had definitely mocked him. Was this a game to her? Or perhaps a test that he had failed?

  Here it is the night before you’re to take a wife and you’re in here with me. I’d say that’s very bad of you, my sir.

  Did she consider his succumbing to her to signify lack of honor and faithfulness on his part? But what of her? She was to be married and she had seduced him within moments of running into him.

  Irritation completely overrode the pleasure he’d experienced with release. When she walked out, her eyes had been distant, calculating, nothing like the seductive woman who’d enticed him to her bed.

  Thinking of it, he groaned. He couldn’t get her breasts out of his mind—full, soft, wickedly perfect.

  Naughty, naughty, eager knight.

  —

  “The faster you make them come, the less time you must spend in their presence,” the servant whispered.

  Karre tried not to chuckle. The woman didn’t know how true that was. Or did running out on a man after sex count as an example of what the woman was implying?

  Sera’s white corset top squeezed her healthy waist and thrust up two very generous breasts. Long blue skirts billowed around her legs. She stared at Karre, before turning her attention to the half-dozen other women in the prison cell. The smell of freshly baked bread caught Karre’s attention as she took a loaf and bit into it. Director Tomes hadn’t been big on the feeding of his prisoner.

  “That is all they want—a vessel to find release,” Sera continued with her advice. “Do not expect tenderness, but if you don’t deny them, if you don’t resist, you’ll be treated fairly enough. And if you give them sons, you’ll be greatly rewarded. Life here is not so bad.”

  Karre tuned everyone out, eyeing the guards with Sera. They barely paid attention to her. She really had no interest in life here, or in the other women in her cell, or in providing sons for warrior men. What she did have an interest in was escape. And, as past experience taught her, she would need to get a hold of some valuables to do it.

  A loaf of bread was shoved through the bars, close to Karre’s head. She blinked, glaring at Sera, as the woman talked over her. “I’m telling you how to best survive this place, please, listen. Spreading your thighs is easy enough a task for a decent life. Don’t bring trouble upon yourself. Let them find release. They are not such boars when they get what they want.”

  One of the guards sniffed in amusement. The sound was so soft that Karre didn’t think the others heard it. Apparently, he was well aware of the scam the guys had going in this place. Tell all the women that if they didn’t have sex, the men would become overrun with fierce emotions they couldn’t control.

  Very clever of them in a primitive, completely predictable male kind of way.

  Sera finally left, taking the guards with her. Karre reached into her hair, finding the small hairpin in the upswept mess. A few strands pulled from her scalp as she released it. Giving the other women a once-over, she set her half-eaten loaf on the floor and didn’t hesitate to kneel beside the bars. She reached through them, turned the hairpin so it became a hard lock pick, closed her eyes, and inserted the end of the hairpin into the lock and began feeling her way around to see how the mechanism worked.

  One of the prisoners whimpered and Karre willed her
to keep her mouth shut. They’d already been warned about annoying the guards. Someone leaned close and Karre peeked to see the tall, black-haired lady at her side. The woman carried herself well, as if used to fighting. Like Karre, each prisoner slash assumed bride wore the white, shapeless dress with bare feet. Behind the fighter, a redhead picked at the sleeve of her gown like it contained buried treasure within the thick weave.

  “Put it up,” the black-haired beauty warned under her breath.

  Karre thrust the hairpin back into her hair seconds before a burly man in a hard leather jerkin and dark breeches appeared before them. A long, thin scar traced down the side of his cheek, giving him the increasingly familiar battle-worn look all the other men seemed to favor. She forced the image of a naked Vidar out of her mind. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she allowed fantasies of the knight to penetrate her brain.

  Metal diamonds plated the leather, creating a symmetrical pattern over the guard’s thick chest. Karre considered kicking him through the bars so that he would be knocked unconscious on the blue-gray stone behind him. The pattern made such a nice target, after all. The man crossed his arms over his chest. “The flaxen one and the crying one. They do not carry themselves well. Take them and give them the philter.”

  “What?” one of the prisoners screamed. “No, wait! I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be good. Please, don’t hurt me. Please, I’ll do anything you want. Do you want me to make you come? I will. I swear I will. I’ll do you all!” To disprove her point, her body began to shake and she started bawling anew.

  “Oh, please,” Karre rolled her eyes. Like having sex with a big, handsome man was anything to be afraid of.

  Oh no, please stop, Vidar, her thoughts mocked, mimicking the pleading woman’s high-pitched voice in her head, I don’t want to have an orgasm.

  The barred door opened and four men filed inside. Karre stepped back, out of their way. Two grabbed the now sobbing woman and dragged her out. A blonde screamed, kicking and fighting as tears streamed down her face.

  As soon as the men were gone, Karre went back to work, her face set as she tried to feel around the lock with her hairpin.

  “You won’t be able to open it,” the redhead said, looking up from her preoccupation with her sleeve. “Even if you did, there would be no escape. You’d have to fight through the warriors’ hall, out of the guarded castle gates and run three strikes over open prairie until you reach the forest. Should you survive the wild beasts that live there, you’d soon find yourself prisoner to an even more vicious race of creatures—monsters so fierce and depraved they’ll make you beg for death. Trust me. With the war going on in this forsaken place, we’re in the better of the two sides.”

  “Who are you that we should trust what you say?” Karre inquired. Just a little bit longer and she would have it. If they would all just shut up and let her concentrate.

  “Name’s Paige,” the redhead answered.

  “Lilith,” another said.

  “What do they want with us?” the black-haired fighter added. “Oh, I’m called Jayne.”

  “They want us to be their whores,” Paige said. “They don’t call it that, but that’s what they want—a subservient woman to rub their feet and spread her legs. If you don’t, they get pissed and the whole lot of them stares at you like you are demon spawn incarnate and blames you for your chosen warrior’s bad mood. It’s either fuck them and suck them, or you’re treated like the bottom rung of Starian society.”

  “Again, I ask, why should we trust you? We don’t know you.” Karre didn’t need some stranger giving her advice. “You could be a plant sent here to make us behave with horror stories of what’s beyond the tree line.”

  Perhaps the portal out of here is beyond the tree line.

  “I don’t care if you trust me, but I know what I’m talking about. This isn’t my first time in a cage.” Paige tilted her head back and sighed. “They’ll be coming to get us soon.”

  “What’s your name, locksmith?” Jayne inquired.

  Karre had a rule, one she’d learned the hard way. Never give two names when on a plane. All too often, paths would cross and lies would be found out. “Karre.”

  It sounded strange to say the name out loud.

  Lady Karre, I will remember that.

  An involuntary chill worked along her spine, settling uncomfortably hot near her pussy. The man did have a sexy voice.

  “Well, Karre,” Jayne said. “I don’t think we have much of a choice. If we all work together, maybe we stand a chance. Now, I don’t know how we all got here and at this point I don’t think it matters, but I do know I’m not staying to spend the rest of my life as some guy’s sex toy.”

  “I agree.” Lilith stood, hoping Jayne would have a logical solution they could use. “We need a plan.”

  “Fine,” Karre grumbled, still thinking of Vidar and wondering how she could manage to get him back into her bed for one more go. Seconds wasn’t usually her style, but there was something about the big warrior man that sent moisture flooding out of her pussy.

  Paige shook her head in denial. “Don’t look to me to join your little band. You’re only fooling yourselves. I’ve been to the Hanging Forest. I made it all the way to the Starian borders and I’ve seen the creatures that wait beyond.”

  “What about a dimension jump?” Lilith asked. “Does anyone know if this place has inter-dimensional travel technology?”

  Karre stiffened, pausing in her lock picking.

  “A what?” Paige furrowed her brow in confusion.

  When it became apparent no one knew, Karre answered, “Staria? It’s too primitive. They don’t have the technology here. I got a glimpse of the castle when they brought me to this cell. Through a door I saw servants cart water from a well in buckets and the drive wasn’t paved. No artificial lights or motorized vehicles. Though there were several large horses.”

  “I’ve never been here,” Jayne contributed, “but I’m inclined to agree from what I’ve observed. These prisons don’t use lasers or shocks.”

  “Someone’s coming.” Karre pulled her arms out from between the bars. She thrust her lock-picking tool back into her upswept hair.

  A new guard arrived dressed similarly to the other men she had seen. His nose had a crook across the bridge. He frowned. “Only three new ones?”

  “It’s all they sent us,” said the man who’d ordered the other two women away.

  “How’s it going, Edward?” Paige taunted, her face hardening to hide all emotion. Karre looked at her in surprise. Maybe little red had some spunk after all. “I see the nose is healing nicely.”

  “Lady Paige,” Edward growled, glaring at her as if he wanted to pull the sword from his waist and run her through.

  “Open the door, Eddie,” Paige ordered. “Let me break it again.”

  Edward grumbled but didn’t answer.

  “I thought there were five new,” Edward’s fellow barbarian said.

  “What’s wrong, Brock? Don’t I count anymore in your little ledger?” Paige sneered.

  “You are not new,” Brock stated, frowning at her in disapproval. “Your lord is waiting for you and I do hope his punishment is harsh.”

  Paige’s smirk faltered. Brock grinned victoriously.

  “You already have one of these guys?” Karre hissed, grabbing Paige’s arm. The woman didn’t look at her.

  “Two were not suitable. They were taken away,” Edward answered. “Too weak.”

  “Three will have to do.” Brock sighed. Karre arched a brow, slightly offended by his downtrodden tone. As the two men walked off, he added, “I’ll tell my Sera to make ready.”

  A long silence filled the cell, broken only when Paige whispered, “Ladies, welcome to Battlewar Castle.”

  —

  Vidar pumped his hand over his cock, biting his lip. He couldn’t help it. Images of Lady Karre danced in his thoughts, driving him mad. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to strangle her. He wanted to throw her up against a
wall and fuck her.

  By all the bloody battleaxes in Staria, he just wanted her.

  One taste wasn’t enough. He leaned against the wall, bracing is weight with one hand as he pleasured himself with the other. His guest chambers were sparse, like most of the rooms in Battlewar, containing a trunk, a table an adequate bed, a cushioned chair, a lit fireplace and a wall filled with weapons. There was no need for finery. He wouldn’t be staying long.

  Vidar knew the necessity of the breeding ceremony for their people, but, as the esteemed Lord Sorin often said, “Nothing in the process of prancing women before the warriors, who pick them based on an urge, guarantees a well-made match.” He was inclined to agree. If he chose a bride based on an urge, he’d be taking Lady Karre home with him this night.

  The longer his kind went without the exhausting pleasure of the bed, the more their moods were said to be altered—or so their women complained. He pumped his calloused hand harder and faster, trying to get rid of that base urge. Every logical part told him claiming Karre would be a mistake. She was beautiful, dangerous, manipulative. The more he lay awake the night before thinking of her, analyzing every second of their time together, the more he knew she wouldn’t be the type of mate he sought.

  Vidar switched hands, adjusting his weight. After coming three times that morning, his body wasn’t finishing as quickly. He planned on ridding himself of all desire so that he’d not be swayed by her pretty face.

  He felt the end coming and turned, pressing his back into the wall as he went at it with both hands. Vidar cupped his balls, pumping his tight fist harder and faster. Oh, but how her pussy gripped him. And those soft breasts. Moist, sucking lips. So wet. So sweet. So hot.

  The muscles in his stomach tightened. “Agh,” he cried out roughly, as he came. Breathing hard, he looked at the bed where the silken garments had been laid out by a maid. Tradition demanded grooms dress in the shiny clothing. Vidar sighed heavily. It was an odd reminder of what was coming—silk where he was used to seeing armor.