“Is that what you call this? Taking care of yourself?” Ronen snorted in disbelief. She looked at him, her eyes wide. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d deeply hurt her feelings by pointing out her capture.
“I…” Jayne looked at the pole where she’d been tied. He could practically see her mind ticking away in her skull, trying to decide what to do, how to react.
“Get on the horse, my lady.” He lowered his tone to a deadly pitch, hoping to jar her into action. Men would not disobey such a harsh command. This lady did.
“No,” she stated loudly. Her eyes moved from him to the dead bodies on the ground. He’d seen that look before in young soldiers—the shock, the disbelief. Dazed, she said, “I can walk.”
“Do not refuse help for the sake of being stubborn. Get on the—” Ronen jerked her hard, trying to get her to focus, needing her to snap back to her senses.
Jayne pulled her arm roughly from his grasp. Her voice rose as she yelled him, “Stop telling me what to do. I’m tired of people telling me what to do. Because I’ll tell you right now, I don’t take kindly to being commanded or tied up or made to…”
“Ronen!” Sorin yelled. “Get her out of here. Now! We scout the forest and will meet you at Widowrock.”
“I am not commanding you, I am protecting you.” All right, so that was half true.
Jayne frowned. Despite her bruised and bloodied body, and the fact she stood in the aftermath of a miniature battlefield, she managed to look defiant. “I’m not yours to protect. I’m not your mate.”
“Fine, breeding partner, wife, whatever you wish to call yourself.” How was it he wanted to pull her to his chest and strangle her at the same time? Why did she fight him so hard when all he wanted was to hold her? Protect her? Emotions warred within him. He’d searched for her with little rest and all he wanted to do was lock her away in a room with him where she would be safe. Maybe he’d leave the collar around her neck and tie her to a bed until she saw reason. “You are mine. I am yours. We are together.”
“You can hang yourself.” She began clawing at her neck, trying to get the leather off. It was then he realized what was truly happening. She fought with him because she didn’t know how else to react. It was as if accepting his help admitted some kind of failure on her part. The reasoning wasn’t logical, not by Starian standards. It was then Ronen also realized he knew so very little about his wife’s past. He trusted the gods, trusted fate, but there was something more, something deeper to Jayne.
Was it possible he’d found a woman whose instinct to fight was stronger than any Starian man’s? Ronen wouldn’t pretend to understand tender, romantic feelings, but he knew women by nature were not usually so unwilling to accept friendship. But with the way Jayne was looking at him, it appeared she would be much more comfortable facing death than being with him as a wife.
“I belong to no one and the only thing we’ll be doing together is—”
Ronen refused to listen to any more. Understanding her nature a little bit better did not lessen the danger of their situation. He grabbed her and tossed her across the back of his horse so her stomach lay over the saddle. The animal pawed the ground, snorting softly. Until Kar and Sorin had a chance to secure the surrounding woods, he couldn’t risk keeping her out in the open.
He swung up behind her, perched uncomfortably on the saddle’s edge. Jayne growled in protest, trying to push up with her one good arm. Pressing his hand to her back, he kept her down as he spurred the mount into action. It was a short ride to Widowrock and so long as she didn’t struggle she wouldn’t be dangling for too long.
“Let me up, you son of a whoring cat!” she screamed.
“We ride to safety.” He kept his hand on her. “And my mother was a gracious and good lady. You’d do well not to insult her again.”
Jayne mumbled an answer, but he didn’t make out the words.
Chapter Six
“Tell me something. Battlewar Castle, it’s not a brothel, is it? A whorehouse? Gathering place for prostitutes?” Jayne stared at Ronen, willing him to fight with her. She could handle fighting. Being weak was another story. Besides, if he fought her, she wouldn’t have to face that protective, almost gentle look on his face. How was a woman supposed to react to that? No one in her entire life looked at her the way he did. No one made her feel the way he did. Death she could manage and face. But this tenderness? It terrified her like nothing else had.
Ronen frowned, pausing as he swung from the back of his horse to look down at her. “No. It’s the king’s castle. The king doesn’t stay there as there is always too much to do by the borderlands, but we use it for ceremonies and such.”
So much for that theory. I think I might prefer a brothel to marriage. When Jayne looked at Ronen, she wasn’t so sure she really believed that.
“You know, where I come from a man goes through certain rituals before asking a woman to marry him and then they only cohabitate for ten years. If, at the end of that time, they want to file for another ten they can.” Jayne hated feeling weak, but she’d pushed her body hard the last several days on little food. She could take the pain, even the hunger, but she couldn’t take the fact that it had all been for nothing. Ronen had caught up to her. So what if he’d saved her life in the process. It didn’t mean he planned on letting her go.
No, he thought she belonged to him. What was worse, he didn’t consider her to be a slave or prisoner. No, to him she was a mate, a breeding partner, a wife. Out of all those names, wife scared her the most. Though, breeding partner did take a close second. Too bad for him, the biogeneticist assured her she would never have children. Divinity wouldn’t want a pregnant boxer waddling around the ring.
“Here we mate until death,” he answered. He turned his back on her and busied himself clearing a spot on the forest floor. He wore a different tunic than she’d last seen him in, but his eyes belied his exhaustion. The barest hint of whiskers textured his jaw, darkening the already tanned flesh. Bloody misery, the man knew how to move—from the strength in his chest and arms to the almost graceful rhythm of his walk.
Jayne went to a big boulder standing by itself in the middle of the forest, completely isolated from other rocks. Widowrock, they’d called it. On impulse, she braced her shoulder against it and tried to push it in his direction, grunting, “If you insist.”
The boulder didn’t budge. Ronen gave her a bemused glance, dismissing her idle threat. “Come sit before you hurt yourself. Let me take that collar off your neck.”
“Shouldn’t you go check on your brother? What if he is hurt?” She stayed against the rock, leaning against it. Even with tired eyes, Ronen was a stunning man. Their joined fantasies were never far from her thoughts. Though unreal, they felt quite the opposite. Funny how she’d made love to him more in her dreams than in real life. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to wait right here.”
“For me to consider his defeat would be a dishonor,” Ronen answered, crossing to her.
Argh! She hated his calm tone. She wished he would scream, yell, punch. That language she understood.
“Turn. I’ll free you.” He urged her head to the side with a gentle shove before taking the knife to her neck. The sharp blade soon had her free.
Jayne grabbed her neck, stretching the muscles. He stepped back and she watched in silence as he gathered dried leaves, branches and twigs to build a fire. Within minutes, a soft firelight cast over them.
“Let me see your arm.” He stood, reaching his hand out for her to join him.
“It’s fine.” Jayne didn’t like the softness in his gaze. Why wasn’t he yelling at her for running away?
“You’re wounded. I should bind it.”
“It’s already healing.” She refused his comfort.
“Why must you make a battle of this?” he muttered, more to himself.
Jayne answered anyway. “If you don’t like it, let me go.”
“What is it that makes you want to fight and face death r
ather than accept me? You chose me. I was content to not claim a woman. It was you who bewitched me with your kiss.” He strode toward her, closing the distance. Placing his hand on the rock, he leaned into her. “It is you who has been plaguing my mind with thoughts of taking you. We are connected. We are meant to be.”
“We are joined by defective nanobots.” She sighed heavily, letting him hear her frustration. “When I cut my finger on your sword and stuck it between my lips—”
“I remember,” he interrupted needlessly. His tone dropped to a low whisper.
Jayne continued, trying to ignore the sultry dip of his lashes and the parting of his firm lips. “When we kissed—”
“Yea.” His breath fanned over her cheek.
“One of them left my bloodstream and somehow took up residence in you. Since they’re programmed to work as a team with my body, they’ve decided to talk to each other from inside our bodies.” She leaned away from him, but the small distance did nothing to quell her growing arousal. “I was warned that it might happen, but it was supposed to be a one in a million chance. Bloody misery, perhaps even one in a trillion.”
Jayne frowned. It was why boxers took a special supplement before a fight so they didn’t risk transferring their technologies.
“See, we are blessed by the gods.” He tried to press his lips to hers.
Jayne jerked back another inch. Her resistance didn’t seem to faze him. “How is it you hear about a scientific catastrophe and think it’s a sign of true love?”
“I confess, I have no idea what manner of spell a nanobot is or what purpose they serve. But if it proves my point that we are meant to be, then I agree with them.”
She scowled. “I’ve got news for you, warrior man, true love doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion.”
“I agree.”
That surprised her. With all his “mine” mentality, she just thought he’d be a romantic of sorts. He spoke of the “will of the gods” and “meant to be”. She wondered why she felt disappointment at his cold, logical admission—an admission she said first.
“It is not in our nature to seek romantic love. Marriages are unions, partnerships. Women must be cared for and protected, provided for. Men need sons and,” he brushed his finger over her cheek, “the pleasure of a woman’s bed.”
Jayne swallowed nervously. She didn’t necessarily like the life he laid out before them. What if she couldn’t escape it? Or him? Or this barbaric place? What if she didn’t want to?
“It is my hope we will find a mutual affection in time,” he continued, not taking his eyes from hers. “Marriages seem the better for it.”
“I want you to listen to me, Ronen,” she said, quietly, reasonably. Mutual affection? How could she make him understand that everyone who felt any kind of affection for her was dead? That it was better for both of them if they went their separate ways? “Do you really want a woman who was sent here as a punishment?”
“Punishment?” He dropped his hand. “You are a criminal? Traitor?”
“I’m a loser,” she stated flatly. For all Divinity cared, it was the truth. She’d lost her fight, even if it was fixed.
“What did you lose? Something important? A king’s missive?” He furrowed his brow, as if trying to think of all the lost things that warranted a punishment.
“My championship title to the cheating, son of an ape, Big Bobby Bishop in the gladiator rings on dimensional plane 241.” Jayne felt angry all over again and pushed off the rock. “His gangster father tried to make me throw the fight, but there is no way I could take a dive to that no-talent buffoon.” She paced across the forest. “They threatened to kill my family if I didn’t fall. Well, my nonexistent family but they didn’t know that. And the son of a whoring cat hits me with a whammy?! I let him beat on me for a half of an hour to make a good show and to let him have a little dignity when he lost, and he drugs me. Me! Jayne ‘The Sweet’ Hart.”
“I do not understand what this has to do with you as my wife.” Ronen hadn’t moved.
“I don’t lose. I never lose. Divinity Corporation banks on that and they’ve paid a lot of doctors a lot of money to make sure of it. When Big Bobby hit me with his drugged fist, a lot of money was lost by a lot of powerful people. Divinity would not have been happy about it and they were my way home. But instead of hearing my side, they packed me up and shipped me off to this forsaken…” She paused, trying to think of a description that wasn’t as mean as the ones filtering through her head. “Ah, place.”
“So you fight for money?” He looked over her in disbelief. “You do not look like a warrior. I have seen your body. The skin is smooth. There are no scars.”
“Bare-knuckle boxing.” Jayne looked down at her arm where the deep gash already began to heal. She held it up to show him. “I’ve been bioengineered to heal fast and not to scar. It keeps my face pretty for the fans.”
He looked down at his body. “I have that thing. I will no longer scar?”
“Nano-robots are these tiny, microscopic, self-sufficient army of machines designed to replicate and act on a specific level of function while they travel around my bloodstream to heal my body. They’re engineered to only work on me. But somehow one of my nanobots jumped ship and is inside of you. It should have deactivated.”
“But the gods willed that we—”
“Ah,” Jayne held up her hand stopping him from saying it. “Scientific mishap. With any luck you’ll bleed the bugger out and the air will deactivate it. Then it’s bye-bye shared thoughts. Or your own immune system will attack it and shut it down.”
“No part of me could attack you, Lady Jayne.”
Jayne got the distinct feeling he didn’t understand half of what she said.
Ronen grabbed her hand and jerked her forward into his chest. The hard press of his muscles formed a solid wall. He turned her back against the boulder, trapping her. The unmistakable press of his erection made itself known. “I enjoy the shared thoughts.” He rocked his hips. “And when I feel your sex clutching my cock as you finish, I know you enjoy them as well.”
“I don’t deny that there is, ah,” she chose her words carefully, “sexual lust.”
“We have time before the others arrive.” He rocked again, swaying his hips back and forth. “And it is said any lady who makes love to her husband against Widowrock will never be named a widow.”
“I don’t believe in legends.” Her breathing deepened. Every part of her body tingled, from the top of her head, the pointed buds of her nipples, the tight pearl of her clit, the slick folds of her sex, to the very tips of her toes. She couldn’t think or reason, not when his delicious mouth was so close. Sex wouldn’t change anything between them. He’d still demand she was his wife. She’d still try to find a way to escape.
Jayne grabbed his face and roughly pulled his mouth down to slam against hers. She bit at his lips, kissing him with a potent force. Ronen didn’t seem to mind when she raked her hands over his tunic, jerking it up so she could free his thick cock. When she couldn’t figure out how to unfasten his breeches, he helped her, tugging them so they loosened enough for her to reach down the front. She grabbed his rigid shaft, pumping it in a tight fist.
Ronen groaned, squeezing a breast. He whispered hotly against her throat, “Lift your skirts, my lady. I would take you now.”
Jayne wanted to be in control. She let go of his cock and pushed him down. “On your back so I can mount you, Knight.”
“Yea, my lady, whatever you wish.” He scurried to obey, his breathing deepening in his eagerness to be ridden. Ronen pulled his breeches down, exposing his cock in readiness for her.
“My wish is to ride you.” Jayne was hardly embarrassed by such admissions. She climbed over him, lifting the long tunic to bare her pussy. “Hard and rough until you beg me for mercy.”
“I am not accustomed to begging.” He gripped her bare hips, forcing her up against his cock. “But my lady is welcome to try.”
Jayne grabbed him by the hair
and lifted him up to meet her mouth. She kissed him hard, sawing her lips against his. The heat of his thighs teased her sex and she squirmed, undulating her hips.
Something about him drove her to distraction and she lost all logical thought. Knowing this was real this time and not just an overactive fantasy, spurred Jayne on. She needed him. Now.
Jayne dropped his head, lifting her body over him. Ronen took his cock in hand, guiding it to her as her fingernails dug into his tunic. She impaled herself on him, gasping at the pleasure of his thick probe. Warm, strong hands skimmed her thighs and hips, touching but not controlling.
Ronen moaned. Jayne found herself going slow despite her earlier decree. She savored each thrust, each sway. Rocking her hips in small circles, she found the perfect rhythm. She ran her fingers along his chiseled face, across the rough texture of a whiskered jaw. He trapped one between his lips, sucking gently.
Tension built, propelling her onward. Ronen managed to find her naked breasts beneath the shirt and cupped her so her erect nipples flattened against his palms. Jayne quickened her tempo until she slammed into him. Pleasure crashed over her, making her tense and shake. She inhaled deeply, her pussy quivering violently around his cock. Ronen still moved beneath her, taking shallow thrusts before finally exploding to join his release with hers.
Jayne rolled off him, falling onto her back. Her muscles still ached, but sex had done wonders to relax them. Inside, it felt as if her bones turned to water and every nerve was numbed with the euphoria of the aftermath.
Ronen tugged at his breeches next to her, lacing them along the hip. “I am glad you have accepted your role as my wife. I promise you will not regret it.”
His words caused an ache deep in her chest. Didn’t he understand what this was?
“I don’t need a man’s protection,” she whispered. “I can take care of myself.”
Fighting Lady Jayne Page 8
