Caelan's Captive (Limani Warriors Book 1)

by Faye Avalon

  It seemed the rumors were correct. There were simply not enough females to go around.

  Lahna popped into his head. Indeed, the witch was barely far from his thoughts since he’d pulled her from the sea. Her delicious curves, her long limbs, her intoxicating scent. He imagined doing to Lahna what one of his warriors was currently doing to a female in the corner of the room. Imagined his head between Lahna’s legs, sucking and licking her undoubtedly sweet slit for all he was worth, her legs wide, her ample breasts jiggling as she undulated against the enthusiastic administration of his mouth, her cries echoing across the space.

  “May I offer you private quarters, my lord? Perhaps some company?”

  The Park’s head female gazed down at him, her question jolting Caelan from his most pleasant musings. He hadn’t realized his hand had found its way to his cock and that he was currently rubbing himself.

  He looked up into the woman’s knowing eyes, but kept his hand on his cock. It wouldn’t do for the island’s leader to appear thrown and act like a young boy caught in the act of illicit self-pleasuring. He was a virile man, a man not immune to partaking of the pleasures the Park could offer. Indeed, he had once been a regular visitor. But that was before the weight of rule had been thrust upon him. Nonetheless, it was perfectly reasonable that he would seek release while engaged in watching such an erotic display of sexual pleasure before him.

  “Was Tavi not to your liking this night?”

  Caelan shrugged. No way did he wish to get the girl in trouble. “I simply prefer not to indulge,” he said and now did remove his hand. “I have more pressing matters upon which to dwell. Such as the lack of females in evidence for my warriors this night.”

  “Alas, it is the way of things, my lord.”

  As she began to explain, Caelan waved his hand. He didn’t need further confirmation of his men’s predicament. And as he continued to watch the scene before him, he realized that urgent measures needed to be taken to ensure his men’s comfort.

  He thought of Kassaro’s warning about Lahna, about his men growing uneasy about Caelan’s reticence to offer Lahna as a means by which to swell the ranks of the Doe Park.

  Indeed, Kassaro’s suggestion that Caelan make Lahna his own made perfect sense. It would strengthen his role as Limani’s leader and gain favor with the leaders of the other islands that he wished to rally against Zomotia. And it would serve to provide a solution to the problem presented by her presence here on the island. As a captive in his quarters, she would be unable to roam the island and discover its secrets. He would let it be generally known that he intended to make her his consort. She would become his woman and therefore would remain off limits to any other man, the king included.

  While Caelan had no doubt the king would react forcefully to this state of affairs, the law was the law, and the king could not break his own ruling about a man’s wife being sacrosanct and off limits to the attentions of any other male.

  Kassaro chose that moment to stroll in, his expression one of sated, fulfilled male. He spotted Caelan and joined him.

  “Ah, you missed an enjoyable diversion, my friend. Tavi was most agreeable this night. No doubt, thoughts of you readied her.” He stretched out, folding his arms behind his head. “She tastes like the sweetest of nectar and her heated folds drew my cock in hard and deep.” He sighed, long and contentedly.

  Caelan rolled his eyes. “Your sensitivity never fails to impress me.”

  “I have left her equally satisfied,” Kassaro said by way of retaliation, before glancing at the exploits of some of the warriors in the room. “I see the men are sharing well this night. Perhaps they grow used to the limited pickings.”

  “I’ve decided to send word to the islands. We’ll barter food supplies for any available women. That should appease the men.”

  “And have you made any other decisions?”

  About Lahna. Caelan could tell from the wry look in his friend’s eye. “She’ll stay in my quarters, become my woman. It will be known that I plan to make her my consort.”

  Kassaro looked at Caelan for long moments, then let out a hearty laugh. “I have never seen a man look so despairing as you do at this moment. You are taking a wife, not heading to the gallows.” Kassaro shrugged. “But who can blame you? Given the choice, I would readily take the gallows.”

  Caelan couldn’t find it in him to participate in his friend’s banter. He was too busy lamenting the necessity of marrying a woman just to keep her from betraying him. “As if taking a wife would fill you with joy,” Caelan said, watching as his friend’s cheerful mood rapidly dissolved along with the thought.

  “One of the advantages of not being prince of this land,” Kassaro batted back. “I have no need to select a woman as my life partner. Happily, I will have the pleasure of continuing to sink my cock wherever I please.”

  “A happy thought indeed,” Caelan said with a heavy dose of cynicism, not least because he didn’t want to dwell on the prospect of saddling himself with a problematic woman. But with one problem all but solved, albeit begrudgingly on his part, he could turn his attention to far more pressing matters.

  “You and I need to make plans to travel to the far islands. Speak with the leaders and persuade them the time is drawing near for discussion and strategic planning.”

  Kassaro nodded knowingly, that glint in his eye turning wicked. “But not tonight. There is still time to partake of the meager offerings available here. Or perhaps you would prefer to return to the royal pavilion and give the Zomotian female a taste of what lies in her future.”

  Caelan muttered a curse, then stood and, with a narrow-eyed look at his laughing friend, walked out. He needed to be alone, to mull over the frenzied thoughts hammering around in his brain. He needed to plan strategy, to work out timescales and seek the advice of the elders in order to formulate plans upon which to base his attack on Zomotia. But instead, as he made his way down to the shore, his mind seemed incapable of anything but the implications of what Kassaro had jokingly referred to. That before they made plans to sail to the islands, he needed to seduce and persuade Lahna to consent to being his princess.

  Despite his misgivings, he had no choice in the matter. To neutralize the threat she could pose, both from the king and from the unrest of his warriors, he had to make her his, own her, control her, effectively hold her captive. That way she could never have the opportunity to betray him.

  Chapter Five

  Lahna edged her way along the corridor, now cast in shadow as darkness fell. Perhaps it would have been wise to have waited until morning to begin her explorations, when the light of the day would have aided her investigation of the land in which she now found herself. She knew little. Had heard only scattered information from her countrymen, who spoke of its fierce young leader, its determination to remain independent, its rich topography.

  She intended to find out more. Much more. She remembered her father saying that to defeat an enemy you had to know that enemy from the inside out. You had to know its every nuance. Well, she intended to find out everything she could about Limani and its prince, and she would start now when the household was asleep and its ruler visiting something called the Doe Park.

  She’d gotten that information from the young maid who had brought her supper, and the knowledge had set her on her current path of investigation. When the maid had returned to clear away the remnants of Lahna’s meal, Lahna had told her she was very tired and didn’t want to be disturbed again that night.

  Now, without candle or lantern, Lahna again questioned the wisdom of venturing out so late. But it was her best chance of not being seen, or followed.

  Silently she made her way down the steps and onto a craggy rock face where the sound of water lapping came to her on the gentle night breeze. Momentarily, she was stayed by the sight that met her. It was as if a mountain had been carved away through its center and provided a large tunnel out to sea. The moonlight shimmered on the water beyond and outlined rocky outcrops that
jutted from the sea.

  She wished she could explore this spot for its own beauty, but she had more pressing concerns to attend to. She needed to find the harbor, or better still a small inlet where islanders left their boats tied for the night. It had to be a vessel of a sturdier nature than the Kalisima, but not something too big that she couldn’t handle it. Right then she lamented her lack of knowledge of sea-faring activities, but then, in her defense, she had never expected to be in this position. And certainly not for a second time. Once was by far enough, and her stomach shuddered at the thought of being on the ocean again and at its mercy, but there was no other way.

  She picked her way by the moon’s light and headed along the shore, making sure to keep to the shadows and so not be spotted by anyone. In the distance she saw a group of fishermen hauling in their catch, their muted conversation and laughter coming to her on the breeze.

  A jagged stone caught her heel and she tumbled onto her hands and knees, the sharp scrape along her foot making her mutter a curse. The stabbing along her ribcage alerted her to the still-healing wounds she’d incurred during her escape from Zomotia, but those wounds wouldn’t stop her from escaping another tyrant’s clutches.

  He might set her pulse racing, and do strange and wonderful things to her female parts, but he was just as much a despot in his own way as the king. She hadn’t come this far, endured this much, only to fall foul of yet another bully.

  Despite the rumors that the Limanish prince was filled with contempt for the king, and that he planned to march on Zomotia when the time was right, Lahna knew that the king’s armies were vast and pitiless, and anyone planning to fight against the king’s tyranny needed to plot and plan for many moons, to gather armies, assemble provisions. Marching on Zomotia couldn’t happen overnight.

  The chances were that Caelan was even now planning to send her back. It would buy him time, would perhaps soften the king enough that he would not expect Caelan to be plotting against him. And what reason was there for Caelan to let her stay? She was no use to him. Her only use was as a bargaining tool of some kind.

  She scrambled up on unsteady legs, as thoughts of what awaited her back in Zomotia took root. The king would spare no time in making an example of her. She would never forget when she was eight and had seen the public flogging of a young girl in the market place near the palace. She heard people say that the girl had dared take a knife to the king. People said that the girl was to be executed, but others said he had sentenced her to a life servicing the prisoners in the deepest of the palace dungeons.

  It had been years until Lahna had understood exactly what ‘servicing’ meant and she had been horrified for the girl’s fate. Would something like that await her?

  It was imperative she get away from this island soon. That she sail far, far way and find a place of refuge where she could live freely and without fear.

  Lit only by the moon, Lahna made her way along the shrubbery where the forest met the sea. She made for a little bay where boats were moored, pleased when she saw that the fishermen had now disappeared onto the dock and were busy drinking at an outside tavern.

  Carefully, she approached the boats, crouching so as not to be seen. All the vessels looked sturdy, sea-worthy, and seemed fairly easy to navigate. Her only problem would be remaining undiscovered as she climbed on board her chosen vessel, slipped a mooring, and sailed away from the exposed bay.

  There had to be other bays, possibly more concealed, but she really didn’t have time to explore further. Which meant it had to be a boat from these moorings. All she had to do was escape in the small hours when everyone would be sleeping, hopefully on a night when the moon was not as full as tonight. Careful questioning of the maid had alerted her to there being guards stationed out on the promontory, but if she sailed around the other side of the bay and out into the ocean from there, she would stand less chance of being spotted.

  Mindful of what might happen if someone found her lurking here, Lahna knew that she had to get back to the royal quarters before it was discovered she’d gone missing. She wouldn’t put it past Caelan to march right into her room when he returned, bearing in mind it was his right to do so.

  She edged back along the way she had come, keeping a wary eye on the fishermen as they made merry a short distance away.

  Only when she reached the rocky archway did she breathe fully again. Unable to resist, she glanced back at the sea, marveling at the beauty of the water as the moon cast its glow on the surface. While it might look beautiful, it could be treacherous. This she knew only too well.

  A rustling near her feet gave her a start. The pile of leaves moved, jumped. Lahna stepped back, her heart in her throat. The pile continued to move, the leaves fluttering aside to reveal a tiny rabbit caught in a fierce looking snare.

  “Oh, no.”

  Instinct had her crouching down, shoving the remaining leaves aside until the sharp wires of the rabbit’s trap were clear.

  “You poor thing,” she soothed as she tried in vain to lift the wire from its foot. “Be still and I’ll try to free you.”

  But the rabbit jerked in a frenzied dance that made Lahna’s job difficult in the extreme. She looked around for something to pry open the wire, but found nothing but twigs that would only snap and likely cause the creature more pain. Desperate to help, Lahna stood and pried her foot underneath the wire, slowly and steadily and taking care not to hurt the little rabbit any more than it already was.

  The wire squeezed into her skin but she kept sliding her foot forward until she made a small opening. The rabbit jumped free, but froze as if in shock. Lahna tried to check its leg, but as she bent forward the rabbit sped away.

  She sat back on her haunches, pleased the little thing had survived the ordeal and was now free to roam and play again. “Go safely, little one,” she whispered after it. “Stay free.”

  Her eyes filled and her heart pinched.

  As she stood she became aware of the cut on her foot, but glancing down she saw it was superficial. She began walking back, reaching out for the side of the rocky face and preparing to negotiate the uneven pathway back to the royal pavilion, only her hand didn’t connect with cold stone, but with something warm yet equally immovable.

  She gasped, pulling her hand back from the rock-hard chest, and stared up into the glinting eyes of Prince Caelan.

  Oh, dear Goddess of the Night. He had caught her.

  He stood unmoving, his arms folded across his impressive chest. Dark clothes only added to his forbidding expression “Enjoying a moonlight stroll?”

  Lahna swallowed, but she wasn’t about to let him see her cower. The heavens knew what fate would await her now. The least of her problems would be that he locked her in the room so that she could never do this again. The worst of her problems? She swallowed again. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell further on her fate if he sent her back to the king.

  “I am not accustomed to being incarcerated,” she said. “Is it any wonder that I needed to breathe fresh air away from the confines of your hospitality?”

  Caelan’s eyebrows rose. “So your memory returns?”

  “No. I…” The man tricked her so easily, but then, she wasn’t used to lying. “I simply remember that I do not like being confined.”

  His mouth quirked. “Stop this nonsense,” he said simply. “We both know your memory is far from impaired.”

  “Parts of it have come back,” she agreed, knowing that her timescale for trying to fool this man had long run its course.

  “So perhaps you would like to tell me what you are doing here on my island.”

  What could she do? What could she say? Her mother had always said that honesty was always the best course of action, but then her mother hadn’t likely considered her daughter being held prisoner by a man who could so easily determine her fate.

  Unable to meet his compelling blue gaze, Lahna looked down to his chest. Now her eyes had adjusted she noticed that the tunic he wore did not meet at the center
of his body, leaving most of his chest bared to her perusal. His skin looked smooth, glistening in the measly light, but the hard wall of muscle put paid to any form of softness to be found there.

  She looked away, already fully aware that there was absolutely no point in trying to lie to him again. Besides, she had a feeling that whatever she said, her fate would remain the same. He would send her back. Which meant she had nothing to lose. So why not tell the truth and try to appeal to his sense of humanity? If he had any.

  “I am fleeing from Zomotia,” she said, raising her chin in defiance and making herself look directly into his fierce gaze. “I stole a boat and tried to escape.”

  His shrewd gaze penetrated hers, as if he was trying to work out if she was telling him the truth this time. She had an awful feeling he still didn’t believe her.

  “You have a knowledge of the seas?” he asked wryly. “Experience of tides, currents, and weather patterns?”

  She raised her chin another notch. “Do you think if I had such skills I would have landed on your shores in the condition I was in?” He made no attempt to respond. Just stood there watching her. She gave a defeated sigh. “When you are desperate you do rash things.”

  Still with his arms folded, he rubbed one hand across his shadowed jaw. “And what is it that would make a woman so desperate for escape?”

  He was toying with her. His scornful expression was testament to the fact, while his every word was edged with sarcasm, and the glint in his eye a mocking proof.

  “I did not wish to live the life my uncle had chosen for me.”

  “A life of luxury and comfort?”

  “I was promised to the king.” She looked away from his sharp gaze, unable to confess the truth of it while held subject to his critical assessment. “I consider slavery too high a price to pay for luxury and comfort.”