Bloodhunter

by Vonna Harper

  Maybe the same reality enveloped Nacon because although he could have brought her down, he simply matched her pace. They ran as one, breathed as one, laughed in unison.

  Wilderness. They were here because this was where they belonged.

  Dana had no idea how long they’d been pacing each other when she spotted more fencing up ahead. Although she was tempted to make a right turn and continue, the solid wire brought her back to the real world. No matter how exciting the fantasy had been, they didn’t have miles and miles of unspoiled territory to themselves. Still on a high, she slowed and stopped. Only then did she note the burning in her legs. She’d started to rub her thigh muscles when Nacon’s presence slammed into her.

  Head high and nostrils flared, she faced the man. He was doing the same, his chest dripping sweat and his long hair plastered to his damp neck. Magnificent! Wild.

  “What’s the logic in what we just did?” he demanded. “Where’s the civilized man and woman?”

  “They don’t exist.” Hot blood roared through her veins, and powerful need clamped hold of her. She knew one thing and one thing only—she needed to fuck him.

  “Do you want logical explanations? You’re afraid of what’s happening?”

  “I’m not afraid.” How far apart were they, maybe ten feet? Could she throw herself at him and force him to the ground before he could stop her? Only his eyes were telling her that he needed this as much as she did.

  “Good,” he said and reached for her.

  A growl rolled out of her as he hauled her against his steaming body. She met him strength for strength, her own sweat soaking her clothes to bleed with his. Pulling in his exhaled breath, she pressed her pelvis against his hard, ready rod. Yes, this was sex, pure sex, two bodies with the same demands.

  His hands tightened over her upper arms as he forced the fusion, compelling her to widen her stance because he was bending over her. Clamping her arms around his neck, she felt her breasts flattening against his powerful chest muscles.

  He was a rock, her prison—and promise.

  Growling again because she couldn’t hold back the sound, she turned her head and raked her teeth over the side of his neck. Although he jerked away, he didn’t release her. Instead, his grip tightened until she could barely breathe. His legs were spread which made it possible for him to lean even farther over her, and when he released her arms it was only so he could wrap an arm around her back to keep her from falling.

  Running her fingers into his hair, she pulled his head down so she could kiss him. Hard. Hot. Had their lips met before? If they had, she didn’t remember, which said something about the lack of tenderness in what they’d shared so far. But although she wanted to take their relationship in that direction, an even more powerful and primal need controlled her. Giving it free rein, she twisted and again raked the sides of his neck.

  “Damn you!” Although he pushed her away, his fingers on her wrists made it clear that he had no intention of releasing her.

  No wonder he was cursing. So would she if he’d left those red slashes on her flesh. But along with anger and outrage would come an even stronger need. “What’s the matter?” she challenged. “You think you always have to be in charge? Just because you’re bigger and stronger—”

  “That’s right, I am.” With that, he yanked her against him again. Their bodies had barely connected before he planted a foot behind her legs. Using his leverage, he forced her to the ground. She landed on her buttocks and would have fallen back if his grip on her arms didn’t keep her in place.

  “Don’t you try to manhandle—”

  “Try? I already have.” Proving his point, he straddled her hips and dropped to his knees. He easily flattened her upper body against the ground then hauled her arms over her head. Because her knees were bent with her legs under her, she lacked any kind of leverage and had no choice, but to stare up at him. He’d made her his plaything, his toy, his what?

  After imprisoning both wrists in a single hand, he pulled up on the hem of her shirt. Then, watching her intently, he ran his free hand under her right bra cup and cupped her breast. “So you don’t like being manhandled, do you? Then why is your nipple so hard?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

  “I already do.”

  A quick jerk pulled her bra up and over her breasts. She didn’t have to look at herself to know that the fabric pressing against her mounds was exaggerating their size. Fine! Let him deal with that.

  He did, and more. Sliding back so his buttocks now rested on her thighs, he pulled her into a sitting position and yanked off her top. Before he could do more than that, she reached behind her and expertly released the bra fastening.

  Back down again, head lower than the rest of her body because her legs were still under her. Helpless! Deliciously helpless! When he reached for her jeans’ fastening, she cupped both of her breasts, her palms rubbing her nipples. In a moment, please, he’d take over, but for now she’d keep her excitement running in high gear.

  When he’d tugged the zipper down as far as he could, he lifted himself off her, grabbed her ankles and straightened her legs. She could have scrambled to her hands and knees or kicked him, but she’d much rather lay there with her upper body naked and the top of her panties showing and her belly all but lost between her pelvic bones.

  His nails lightly raked her waist as he took hold of her waistband and dragged the denim and panties downward. By lifting her buttocks off the ground, she made it easy for him to expose her legs. Damn her tennis shoes.

  Another quick movement, a little tugging on her heels, and the tennis shoes were history. A moment later she was naked.

  Something stopped—either that or she’d found a way to hold time suspended while she absorbed what was happening. Nacon’s hands were spread over her belly, the tip of a forefinger buried in her navel. Her hands, which not long before had worked her breasts, now gripped his wrists. She was looking into his eyes and yet she wasn’t; what other explanation was there for the feline image implanting itself in her mind. Nacon and Aztec were a great deal alike, but they hardly shared the same mind and body.

  Did they?

  “What do you want, Dana? Say it before I make the decision for us.”

  “You know what I want, damn it! It’s always like this when we’re together.”

  “You don’t like that?”

  “Like has nothing to do with it!” Anger she couldn’t analyze buried her nails in his wrists. “The sun comes up in the morning. I look at you and I want to fuck. Can it get any simpler?”

  The pressure on her belly increased, his strength and heat reaching her core. “All you have to do is say no.”

  I can’t! The last thing I could ever do is tell you I don’t want you. “You say it first!” she threw back at him. “Or better yet, stand up and walk away.”

  When he shook his head, his hair danced, and when he stopped, a lock remained half over his left eye. “I can’t.”

  What was that, desperation? Incapable of thinking that of him, she told herself that his hands were still on her belly because she was the most desirable woman he’d ever met.

  But it was more than that, wasn’t it, something stronger than both of them, something ancient.

  “Neither can I,” she told him. Releasing his wrists, she reached for his neck, but instead of allowing her to press her body against his, he once more positioned her arms over her head.

  She smiled to let him know she was ready to be molded and mounted, arched her back to invite him to handle her breasts. And as she waited for his next move, she wrapped herself around the incredible sensations sliding through her. There was heat of course, and cold. She’d never felt stronger, or weaker. More helpless, more powerful.

  Her legs were being lifted into the air! Making sense of everything took precious time, and before she fully realized it he was resting her feet on his shoulders, his cock at her entrance. Rolling her head to the side, she focused on the powerful inner thigh
pressing against her outer one. He’d maneuvered her buttocks off the ground as well and was on his knees, leaning over her, trapping her legs between his chest and her own body.

  Helpless. Arms still over her head even though he was no longer keeping them that way, him coming even closer, his cock head sliding between her labial lips.

  “Yes! Yes!” Throwing back her head, she rocked her pelvis one way then the other to help his entrance. Deeper, fuller, stretching, claiming.

  Helplessness slid over her to hold her in its grip as surely as Nacon had done. Perhaps she could fight his hold on her legs and free herself, but she didn’t want to. Being turned into a man’s receptacle was something she’d never experienced before, certainly not with thick-growing weeds against her back and the sun heating her hard nipples. Everything was out of her control; as long as his body blanketed hers, he ruled.

  Movement, a long, slow, strong thrust ran his cock even deeper. When a sigh slipped past her lips, she tried to close her pussy muscles around him, but doubted he felt the weak attempt. After trying to create a fluttering sensation, she went slack.

  She became a sponge, blood and skin and barely perceptible bone and no muscle. What did she want with strength? He ruled. She accepted. He gave. She took.

  He came at her again and again, his rapid-fire thrusts so powerful that she would have slid along the ground if he wasn’t holding her legs. Although she didn’t remember bringing her arms down, she must have because her fingers now ran over his straining thighs. She pulled his heat and effort into her through her nails and urged him to repeatedly pummel her by lightly raking the taut, muscled flesh.

  How strange. How remarkable. Nacon had become sex-fueled strength. In contrast she was water flowing out and over and around everything. At the same time, his energy became hers. They rose together, lifted, touched, reached.

  There! G-spot found. Climax. A heartbeat away.

  “No. No, no!”

  “What?” he ground out. He stopped with his muscles trembling and his cock rammed into her, his balls hot against her buttocks.

  Had she spoken? Unable to remember, she shook her head and again dug her nails into him. Even with her up-thrust legs in the way, she could see his sweat-painted chest. The explosion she’d fought off still gripped her so she sucked in air in a desperate attempt to hold it at bay.

  Not that fast! Experience each moment, every heartbeat.

  But Nacon started coming at her again with his relentless strength and speed. Her pussy wept for him, softening and expanding, readying itself for everything he threw at her. Fire-fingers scorched every inch of her body, and her head pounded. She kept saying something that made no sense, loud syllables that spilled from her numb lips. The sounds came faster and faster, louder and louder, and was that him grunting? His legs started shaking, his grip on her helpless legs became vise-like. Could he pummel her into unconsciousness? What if he couldn’t come? Would he continue to thrust, forcing climax after climax out of her?

  There! Quick. Hard. Her sex muscles twitching and a long, loud scream. I’m coming she wanted to sob, but couldn’t remember how to form the words. Wave after wave rolled over and through her and somewhere in there, his body froze and she was skewered on him.

  His prisoner. His everything.

  Yes, yes, that was his come, his essence flowing into hers, his cock jerking, lungs working, sounds without meaning, a man coming.

  And when he pushed down on her so she wondered if he was trying to break her in half, a new wave hit her, stronger than the earlier ones.

  “Coming! Again, I’m coming!”

  Chapter Ten

  Nacon had folded her jeans and placed them under her head as a pillow. Now they lay on their sides facing each other, bare legs touching and his hand on her hip as he traced her tattoo, including what extended beneath her pubic hair and reached nearly to her core. Any other time, she wouldn’t have been able to hold still, but she was gone. Spent. Barely there.

  Eventually she’d have to get dressed and go back to doing whatever sane people did, but not until she’d recovered enough to be able to stand. And although she supposed she should say something, she couldn’t think what that might be. She loved having his fingers on her like that. Even though knowing he was thinking about the unbelievable thing they had in common was less than comforting, that, like rejoining the world, was something she’d face in a little bit. Fortunately, he knew how to keep the pressure firm enough that he was in no danger of tickling her. And, for now, she trusted him.

  “It’s time for you to see my world,” he said softly.

  A chill gripped her heart. Despite her attempt to slip back into lethargy, the meaning behind the simple words remained. “No.”

  He patted her tattoo while jerking his head at his, not that she needed the reminder of the link between them. “I’ve been in your world. Waking up and learning what I can about it. Now it’s your turn to do the same thing.”

  Although the practical thing would be to point out that she had no idea how to time travel—something she hadn’t remotely believed in as little as a few days ago—she didn’t.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why?”

  “What if you’ve selected me to be the next sacrifice?” Even before the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. But something had prompted them, maybe that fear he’d just asked her about.

  “Is that what you think? Everything that’s happened between us has been so I can cut out your heart?”

  Shuddering at the image, she tried to sit up, but lacked the strength. Besides, she hadn’t had enough of his legs wrapped around hers. “I’ve been researching the Aztecs, remember? Can you blame me for saying what I just did? Surely you understand that your people’s sacrificial practices have been on my mind.”

  He sighed. “I do.”

  “If I go there with you—you will be with me, won’t you—is that what I’ll see?”

  “I can’t promise that you won’t. Dana, I don’t know what’ll be there when we arrive, if anything.”

  “You mean that? We would really be going back in time?”

  “I hope so. I pray I can make that happen.”

  “So do I, for your sake.”

  “And for yours.”

  Touched by his intensity, she nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe, if I’m ever going to understand, I need to take that trip with you. But…”

  “I know what you’re trying to say, that you’re still scared.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Now it was his turn to nod; the slow move did incredible things to his unkempt hair. “Dana, trying to appease our powerful war god permeated so much of what my people used to be that if I insulated you from that—if I could—you’d never learn everything about us.”

  Was he really saying he wanted to open the window to that rich, mysterious and incomplete culture? They weren’t just imagining something that couldn’t possibly happen? No; he couldn’t be more serious.

  She might not be a teacher or historian, but he was offering her something no other modern human being would ever experience. Of course there was the tricky matter of how she’d get anyone to believe she knew what she was talking about once she was back in modern times, but the possibilities, the potential.

  If I could return to the present.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “So much that I’m giving myself yet another headache. Nacon, you grew up around violence. You believe in certain things that I find appalling. I’m still having a hard time getting past that.” And other things, like what if I can’t come home?

  “You’re appalled by what archeologists and historians have been telling people, but they don’t have the whole story.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” she admitted. “I was just thinking the same thing, but the sacrifices happened. You can’t deny—”

  “No, I can’t.” He cupped her tattoo as if he was trying to protect
it from this conversation. “I’d never try to do that. What I’m asking is for you to open your mind so you can learn about your heritage.”

  Pain stabbed at her temples. Surely she hadn’t heard him right. “My…”

  She was still trying to find a way to finish what she’d begun to say when he sat up. He was so magnificent in his nudity; how could she think of anything else? “I can’t force you to do something you don’t want to.”

  Can’t you? You just forced yourself on me. But she’d wanted the sex as much as he had. Realizing he was getting ready to stand, she grabbed his forearm. “Where are you going?”

  “Giving you space.”

  No! “Why?”

  “Because you need to be alone with your thoughts, and with what I just said and asked.”

  She’d always hated riddles.

  “You’re part of my heritage,” he continued. Shaking off her grip, he planted his feet under him and rose to his six-foot-plus height. “That’s all I’m going to tell you for now. I want you to think about that.”

  “How can I?” She couldn’t wrestle him to the ground, so why was she trying to come up with a way to keep him with her? “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you?” He jabbed a finger at her tattoo.

  Once again pain shot through her, forcing her to close her eyes. “It’s a design I dreamed up, my imagination and creativity, nothing more.”

  “Then why do I have the same thing?”

  “I don’t know. Nacon, I don’t know.”

  He must have sensed her agony because he helped her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. His cock, his expanding cock, pressed against her middle, causing her own body to respond. It would take so little to drop to her knees and take him into her mouth. If she did, would he stay with her?

  Did she want that?

  “I’m leaving,” he whispered.

  No! “Will you be back?”

  “Yes. And while you wait for me, I want you to research something.”