“Yes!” she breathed, her cheeks reddening in her chagrin.
He frowned, closing the door. He moved to the table and searched through the bowl there, and came near to put an ambrosia fruit in her hand. She sat down in her chair, her gaze trailing his bare feet that paced the planks while he ate. He was comfortable in his natural state—but she wasn’t. She held the blanket tighter in her fist.
Sarra was confused by her shyness, nervous in the silence. Perhaps, it was because only moments ago they had shared an intimate ecstasy and now they were being nonchalant about it. Or maybe it was due to the fact that he was a commoner and she was a royal. Strangers …
In an effort to appear composed, she tossed back her hair and took a healthy bite of the green tang. Aware of his scrutiny, she rose and went to the bookshelf, hoping that the written word would take her mind off it all. He was inspired by the idea, as well. He strode near … but then he just stood there. She felt his hot gaze, and anxiously pretended to choose which novelty novel to take. She was confident that she could hold the fruit and take a book with the same hand, but in her attempt, they both dropped. As she bent to retrieve them, the blanket fell away.
Raine grasped her soft shoulders, and she slowly straightened.
“Damn!” he rasped, his eyes devouring her bare curves. “What’s a poor man to do?”
She had a good idea about what he meant while he guided her over to the bed. He sank down on it, and the lusty, hungry look on his face prompted her to be the one to start the kiss, one that ended on a fervent pitch. It wasn’t long before she was on the bed above him, her control gone.
Raine’s rational begged him to grow tired of her, but he couldn’t get enough. Although try he did to remember who she was, he couldn’t escape the fact that this was a most uncommon woman, the kind that could drive a man mad and leave him glad to be so deranged. She was created for love, for the touch of a man’s hand, and it unsettled him how it seemed that she was made for his. He’d never quite experienced such natural yet sultry lovemaking, or the potent sensations that raged through him with her slightest, innocent glance.
His stubborn pride had no choice but to surrender to his gentler spirit. Inevitably, the moody day became lost in their sweet, honest emotion.
***
Sarra woke, surprised to find the ropes on her wrists. She had a while to wonder about his absence, and the bright sunlight beyond the windows, before the cabin door opened. Raine broke from the blue sky, holding the baskets they had left out in the meadow. He set them down on the table.
“The storm’s over,” he said brusquely.
She averted her face while he freed her, and then she rose, keeping within the blanket as she went over to see what was in the baskets—his black shirt, and shreds of her pink dress and undergarments. She pinkened, recalling the violent destruction. Perhaps he had retrieved them expecting a FAS ground search? Hopefully they had no sentimental value.
He looked as splendid as always, his golden, shoulder-length hair tied back at the nape and his green eyes startling. He wore clothing she hadn’t seen before, a snug and sleeveless ebony shirt and white leggings cut off at the knees. Even though he had left his muddy boots outside, his muscular legs were splotched with the rain’s effects, a rugged guise that suited him well.
She inspected the pink tatters. “What am I to wear?” she asked, exasperated.
He sauntered over to the bureau near the bookshelf and took a large, dark shirt out from a drawer. She eyed him doubtfully, but went to the bath to dress.
The soft, buttonless material fell to her thighs and swallowed her hands. She pulled the bulk back over her wrists and inspected its round, loose neckline. She wondered about her need for modesty after all that had happened, but tried to adjust the sagging cloth regardless to salvage some of her virtue. She decided not to put up her hair—why should she? It felt better, free and flowing around her.
After their quiet breakfast, Sarra stood in the doorway, watching him while he laid a large, white and woven mat out nearby the pond. He motioned at her and she ventured out on the wet lawn, the muck squishing between her toes. She rinsed off her feet in the pond before she stood guardedly before Raine, who was sitting on the mat.
“Relax,” he chided, pulling her down beside him.
He doffed his shirt and lie down on his back, cupping his hands behind his head and crossing his feet at the ankles. He closed his eyes, worshiping the sun, his wide, tanned breast and flat waist gleaming. Affected, she swallowed hard, and rolled onto her belly, turning her face away.
The spicy scents of the wildflowers mingled with the fresh air, and the rising heat was already beginning to dry the sodden ground. The weather had lasted only two days—like a squall, without the realm of destruction of many infamous Myrrhian tempests. Now that it had past, she couldn’t blame her abductor for having tied her up, for not trusting her. But, if she did run, would she survive? She had no idea where on the planet they were, and there was no point in asking—he’d never tell her.
Since they had left their cozy cocoon, her fears seemed determined to come out, as well. Father … Auntie Alma … They must be worried sick—might even think that she’s dead—and here she was, out sunning. How could she be so selfish? The subjects deserve better from their princess—the shame of it all!
She recalled her aunt’s warning: ‘I sense great trouble. You must guard yourself.’ If the woman only knew! Truthfully, it couldn’t even be said that the Revolutionary leader had forced her; her body had a stronger will than her spirit. What was her future to be as his captive—and why was he so gentle? If he were brutal, then at least she could cry ‘rape’.
Truly, making love to him was a grave mistake, but … Why did she long for him to touch …? He hadn’t yet had her, today. Was he bored with her?
Why should she care? Where was her sense? What was wrong with her!
“What are you thinking about?” he asked drowsily.
She sighed heavily. “Nothing.” She surely wouldn’t share this with him.
He was on his feet and lifting her up. An alarmed sound escaped her and the next she knew was that she was meeting the pond and then was surrounded by it. Stunned, she found her footing on the grainy sand below, rising up to the air and gasping for it, the cool water at her breast.
“Bastard!” she spat at him for scaring her half to death.
He laughed heartily, jumping in and assaulting her with a spraying blast. “Need my help? Can’t the princess royal swim?”
“Of course I can!” she snapped. “I just don’t need any lessons in drowning!”
A sober expression came to his face as he half-swam, half-walked toward her. “You were laying there like the woe of the galaxy was all your own. There’s no sense in that, not on a day like this.”
When he got too close, she glided away in a huff. At the other end of the pond, at the jagged bank, she dropped her legs down and turned around to find him right behind her. He slid his arms under hers and anchored his hands up on the bank, trapping her.
Sarra began to tremble with him so near her, his gaze hot on her breasts. She looked down to see the round tips straining brazenly against the soaked, dark cloth.
He slanted his arm across her waist and treaded them over to a more shallow area.
“A man can’t get a moment’s rest,” he teased.
With the blue water at her hip, he peeled the clinging shirt off of her and flung it up onto the grass. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill.
“No!” she protested, halfheartedly. “We can’t do this!”
“Sure we can. How many times have we done it?”
“Not … anymore!” she tried.
He ignored her, pulling her slender back up against his breast. Powerless as his warm, wet hands caressed the sensitive peaks, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, sighing in her delight. It was simply no use to fight. She was as bad as he was—had wanted him since she saw him coming through the
cabin doorway.
Impatiently, he lifted her out of the pond and laid her down on the mat. Soon he was naked, and breathlessly she arched up to meet him … and he took her, ravenously freeing his lust. He didn’t care that he was the only one sated; he purposely hadn’t given her the time. He lifted her up and threw her back into the pond, to savor her.
Sarra discovered that he was right—there was no sense in worrying on a day like this. The lush and exotic beauty surrounded them, making her vulnerable to good spirits, thirsty for adventure. He loved the ambiance also, becoming freehearted like the balmy breeze. His mood was contagious, and she amazed herself when her laughter came, easy and light. The fire in his eyes brought the flush to her cheeks while she succumbed to his wicked, insatiable whims, letting him use a flower to tickle her most sensitive areas, floating on her back to let him watch her sheen … He playfully tortured her, knowing how to touch her to madden her with pleasure. It was as if they were one beneath the bright sun … and when they could no longer withstand the wait, he took her in the shimmering water, drowning her senses, flooding her with paradise.
It wasn’t until the dusk began falling, when she lay satisfied within his embrace, when reality began to set in.
He sighed and said, “Darius will come for us when he can. You won’t try to run?”
“No,” she confessed. “I’ve nowhere to run to.”
He nodded and drew her even closer.
“But, then will you—” she began, wanting to ask him if, when Darius came, if she would then be set free.
He kissed her, making it clear that the topic was closed.
They made a silent pact, both understanding that they must live in the moment and savor every one. This would end soon—it could at any time.
Until then, if sleep came, his arms would be the ropes that would keep her here.
***
Perhaps, when Sarra could look back and reflect on her abduction, she could see the truth. But now she just didn’t care. Time became a gentle blur, and it rode on …
She simply ignored the warnings that nagged at the corners of her mind—her lack of the contraceptive, who he was … She could forget, becoming lost in his touch, in all the sweet fire. The air was for lovers, the sensuous Myrrhian fragrance enlivening her senses. How natural it was to eat from the garden and give oneself to the sun! The flowers, the serene wilderness … Under different circumstances, this would be like heaven.
But, it was like heaven. She was free—really free—for the first time in her life. Before, she had always felt confined, like she couldn’t breathe with all of her royal responsibilities. Now she could live out her dream of being a commoner, one able to ride the changing winds. Although he wouldn’t let her wander, she had more space to roam than in a long while, and she loved the heat of his watchful eyes.
How strange it was that he had always treated her like his equal, without all of the awe and fear. Odd, that he was her lover and this was all that mattered. Just a few short days ago she didn’t know that sex existed—except in the biological sense—but now she cared about little else. He gave up hoping to tire of her—he was obsessed with making love to her. He taught her ways of passion that she had never dreamt were possible, and she came to crave the feel of his powerful breast and lean waist above her, his smooth and toned back beneath her fingertips. She explored his sensuality, hesitantly at first, yet she became braver seeing how her touch affected him, and by gratifying him, she was made complete. At times it overwhelmed her, wondering how it could be that her captivity had unchained her soul.
As Sarra gazed out at the majestic crystal-rock mountains, the reflective peaks afire in the sunset, she caught herself wishing that her father would never find her.
***
The verdant meadow was in a haze, the sun warm and broken within the clouds. Sarra laughed merrily as Raine’s large hand pulled her down into a bed of fragrant, blue wildflowers. He kissed her, his brutal tongue pleasuring her own. She tangled her hands in his silken hair while his lips came to greedily tease her breasts, searing the hard and swollen tips. She arched her back in rapture and opened her eyes, seeing the misty sky.
The feeling of déjà vu struck her, coming in waves. She was certain that this moment had happened before …
She recalled the dreams she had had on the spaceship. They weren’t her imagination—they were a premonition of the future!
“I saw this,” she murmured.
“Hmmmm?” he breathed huskily, preoccupied while he feasted.
“This dream …”
“Yes,” he whispered as his hot palm glided down her waist. “It’s a dream.”
She strove to collect her thoughts, to explain the importance of this discovery. She had had premonitions before, seeing visions of a convoy of Earthian ships coming even before they contacted Adriel, and she sometimes knew when a guest would come to call, and knew the reason why even before her servants informed her. Those had all been relatively minor. This one was monumental. It meant that it was her fate to be here with him. She had no choice. It was written in the stars.
As his hand slid over her golden triangle, she spread her thighs, eager to greet the flame at his fingertips. Soon the heat became unbearable, the lightning brewing within her …
“Take me!” she demanded softly.
He was upon her, a slave to her desires that had never been so wanton before.
When they basked in the afterglow, he rolled off her, unable to catch his breath.
“Mercy! What got into you?”
“You did. Or weren’t you aware?” she jested.
“Woman, I’m aware of nothing else.”
Her crimson lips curved mischievously as she took to her feet. She stretched lithely and then wrapped her arms around her waist, inhaling the fresh breeze. Her dark-blue eyes glowed while she watched the black songbirds flying within the hazy patches of clouds, ones that spread a fine drizzle across the land. The forenoon sun cast its pale rays sparingly about the petal-splashed meadow, the grass awash with pastel violets, greens, and whites. She sighed in her contentment, feeling like she belonged to nature’s mood.
“I love the rain,” she murmured.
He rose and folded his arms across the swell of her breasts, drawing her close.
“Yes,” he said. “The only sound better is thunder.”
She nodded. He caressed her cheek while they stood there, observing the sky. She began trembling, overwhelmed by the tender moment.
“You’re shivering. You’ll catch cold.”
He took her black shirt from the blanket and slid it over her head, and after she moved her arms into place he pulled her long hair free. He smoothed the satiny gold quite dutifully before he dressed in his white shirt and leggings, and gathered up their makeshift bed.
A rabbit scurried across their path.
“Look!” she whispered excitedly. “A rabbit!”
Sarra was glad that her Earth ancestors had brought these meek creatures along, watching the small brown animal as it nibbled on an ashen flower only a few paces away. She crept toward it with the urge to cuddle it, but when she got too close, the shy, wild spirit scurried away. She followed it a good distance, giving up when it darted into the taller grass.
She pouted, but a smile came to her lips when she saw the grove of rare stellate flowers. She bent on a knee to appreciate the silken, red petals, and debated on whether or not to pick one or to just let them grow.
“You like flowers?” Raine asked from behind her.
“Yes. I have thousands of them at home.”
She winced and bit her bottom lip, realizing what she had said. Any mention of the palace could remind him who they really were.
After an awkward silence, he bent and picked a flower, and she straightened as he gave her the long stem. Nervous about what he might be thinking, she didn’t look at him, absently caressing the perfect scarlet bloom while they walked. When he shifted the rolled blanket into the cradle of his other arm s
o that he could hold and caress her back, she relaxed. The fantasy was safe.
Later, they had quite a playful evening meal in bed, and after Sarra had her bath, she sprawled out naked on the blankets. Alone while he had his turn, she stared into the amber fire that crackled in the hearth and let her mind wander down a pleasant, yet disquieting, lane. She wondered if it was simply an illusion, or real …
His hands were different. At first, his touch had only been sexual—gentle, but portraying no more feeling than his lust. But, she was starting to wonder if he really felt affection for her. He even caressed her when they weren’t making love, on the shoulder, the cheek. And at times he pleasured her tenderly, almost lovingly, without bringing her passion to such a hurtful intensity. Was it all her imagination? Dare she even consider that he might actually care about her?
If he truly did, it would change everything. He would never hurt her—he’d cooperate and return her to her father. But, in all truth, did she really want to go back?
An image of Taylor Gray’s pompous face flashed in her head. The remnants of his image faded as a new presence appeared … the dashing one, with brilliant green eyes. Briefly, she explored her secret wish—she wished that they could be together, that he could be her betrothed. It would certainly make her life easier.
She frowned, knowing that it could never be.
“The moment, Sarra. Live in the moment,” she whispered.
The click of the door sounded and she rolled onto her back to see him sauntering near. Her eyes shone on his ruggedness while he crouched on the black rug before the fire, rubbing his palms together.
“It’s a cold one. Come. Warm me.”
She slid her slender hand onto his large outstretched palm and glided down upon the soft pallet. He nudged her backward and brushed a fallen tress off her face. He appreciated her full crimson lips with his fingertip before he bent to kiss her.
She refused to even acknowledge any bothersome worry. It just didn’t matter now.
***
Sarra was alone on the bed when she woke, feeling incredibly womanly after a night of ardent lovemaking. She searched the cabin, but he wasn’t there. It warmed and comforted her, though, knowing that he wasn’t far away.
Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1) Page 15
