The Barbarians: Stolen Bride

by Angelique Anjou

  She hit the ground hard enough to stun her immobile while she was unwound from her cocoon of fabric and finally found herself blinking through tearing eyes at her abductor.

  Prince Galen.

  What the hell?

  Chapter Six

  Galen didn’t remove the gag.

  Well, and Charly didn’t have a fucking translator even if he had, damn it!

  “What the hell?” she growled against the gag. “What are you doing?”

  He ignored her muffled attempts to talk, cut the restraint around her ankles, and left her wrists tied.

  She glared at him furiously.

  He ignored that, too.

  Pulling her to her feet, he hefted her up onto the beast’s back and then climbed up, settled on the saddle and helped her to sit up in front.

  It beat the hell out of being tied down to the fucking pack animal, but she was damned if she was going to act grateful for a little consideration when the bastard had kidnapped her!

  The question was, why?

  But she didn’t think of that question until her anger began to subside.

  Unfortunately, even with a clearer head and most of her marbles at her command, she still couldn’t think of a damned thing to explain it.

  Maybe because it wasn’t rational?

  She dismissed that. They might be barbarians, but they were sane, and they had motives for the things they did.

  She couldn’t prevent the thought of romance from flickering through her mind, but she didn’t even try to hang on to it.

  Because it was stupid.

  Sure he’d looked her over and seemed to be interested, but she couldn’t imagine him being moved to act on a vague interest.

  Beyond that, he was a prince of the realm! He could have any woman he wanted, almost literally.

  He didn’t have to take.

  Of course, being a barbarian, that might give him a thrill, but then again he hadn’t looked especially thrilled when he’d unwrapped his ‘prize’.

  That did put her brain into gear, though.

  It had to have something to do with the throne.

  The problem was, her info hadn’t been verified regarding that really important subject.

  It seemed obvious from the contradicting rumors that nobody really knew how things stood. She’d heard it said that the realm would be divided between the sons if neither was wed at the time of the king’s death, but if both stood to gain then why would either plot against their father?

  Unless, of course, they were greedy to that.

  Which wouldn’t be that surprising, now that she thought about it, considering they were male and males of all species tended to be highly competitive.

  So choosing her had been the eldest son’s way of making a grab for the crown.

  And stealing her was the retaliation of the younger?

  But would playing ‘keep away’ with her prevent the eldest from picking somebody else?

  She didn’t see how.

  But there was no doubt that he’d had a powerful motive for stealing her. He’d risked death entering her room and then hauling her heavy ass down the castle walls to where he had the beasts waiting. And, since this was a dangerous, night raid, then there was a risk of getting caught.

  Although, she had a hard time swallowing any possibility that he might be killed for taking her. Because from the way things were arranged, it certainly seemed to point to the brothers being virtual equals, regardless of the birth arrangement.

  Some risk, then, she decided, mostly because it was clear they were running and she didn’t think he’d be in a great hurry if there wasn’t a reason for it.

  And something to do with the throne.

  She’d spent a lot of damned time during the trip to their planet learning what she could about the people of Bacsheer, about the planet itself and the customs and the politics. But there was just so much room in her brain and she’d mostly just hit the high points.

  As it had been in Earth history, though, actual marriage, or bonding as they called it, wasn’t widely popular with barbaric males that could broadcast their seed pretty much as widely as they wanted to. So the only time they did it was when it was a matter of financial gain. Money and or property came with the bride.

  In her case, it wasn’t what they expected her to bring but rather the stipulation in the king’s will.

  He wanted legitimate heirs.

  Or maybe he’d just thought that up as a way of handing the kingdom over intact to one son?

  Poor man.

  As if that would prevent civil war!

  Thoughts of power forced her to review the situation, though, and she realized that she might actually be considered a prize—not personally, per se, but because she belonged to a species the Oloote thought of as gods.

  Prince Damek had announced that he was going to bond with the Goddess Charlotte of the Star-Troopers people and make baby half gods.

  She had no idea how the Oloote had taken that announcement because she hadn’t been able to understand it because she didn’t have her translator, but they’d seemed to approve.

  Before she could follow that thought through it crashed over her that she didn’t have a translator and yet she’d understood every word Prince Galen had said to her!

  Which wasn’t actually fucking much.

  But he’s said as clear as day--“I thought you were faking.”—when he’d stabbed her with her own damned tranq and kidnapped her.

  And that meant he’d heard and understood every damned word she’d said when she’d come up with the plot to grab Nldick.

  She was so focused on her chagrin about announcing her plan to him that it was, thankfully, a long while before she realized she’d said a whole lot more in his hearing.

  She didn’t know whether to be glad or worried when she realized she’d been drunk and babbling about how damned sexy he was when she’d danced with him.

  Mortification didn’t begin to describe her feelings on that subject!

  Fortunately, her memory wasn’t terribly clear and he kept going until her entire focus was on the fact that her bladder was going to explode if he didn’t let her off the damned beast long enough to attend the problem.

  She was almost tearfully grateful that he finally stopped the damned beast again and allowed her to fall off.

  She almost pissed herself when she hit the ground.

  She managed to hang on by gritting her teeth.

  And squeezing her eyes shut when he dragged an anaconda out of his pants and took a piss right in front of her.

  It was only by the grace of god, though, that she was so stunned by the size of his tool that she forgot her bladder.

  To think it had even occurred to her to consider letting him come near her with that thing!

  “You should piss if you have the need,” he said with a complete lack of concern, surveying the sky overhead instead of looking at her. “We will not stop again until dusk.”

  “Bastard!” Charly snarled against her gag after several attempts to get up with her damned arms tied behind her.

  For all that he acted like he hadn’t noticed, he strode toward her, grabbed one arm and yanked her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  She did, though—a lot more—and being yanked up by one arm sent pain through her arm and shoulder.

  She winced, struggling to stay on her feet until the pain subsided.

  Then he ‘helped’ matters by untying her wrists.

  Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture since she had no idea how she was going to pull her panties down to take a piss with her fucking hands tied behind her, but her arms were virtually useless by that time anyway.

  She lifted her arms with an effort and struggled to regain the circulation so that they didn’t feel like two dead weights.

  “Don’t go far.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but as tempted as she was to ‘drag it out’ and piss in front of him, she decided not to tempt him w
ith her luscious body.

  He moved to the beast and began to dig through a pack that obviously held supplies—a strong indication that he’d certainly had time to make plans—ignoring her as she peeled the gag off and looked around for a little privacy.

  He’d stopped the beast in a small clearing in the woods, though, and the closest ‘cover’ was several yards away.

  Ignoring him, she headed for the tree.

  She felt his speculative gaze as she neared it and it popped into her mind to wonder what her chances of escape were.

  Probably very low, she decided.

  There was woods for cover, but she was next door to naked and had no protection for her feet. She had no supplies of any kind to hold her if she succeeded in escaping.

  She’d been ‘blindfolded’ when they left and she had no damned clue of what direction the castle, and their ship, was from her current position.

  And her arms and her legs felt like they belonged to somebody else. It wasn’t likely she could outrun him on foot, let alone if he decided to leap on the beast and chase her down.

  That being the case, and all of that having occurred to her, she didn’t have a fucking clue of what inspired her to attempt to escape.

  But when she’d emptied her bladder and saw he was still busy going through the pack, she took off.

  She’d actually managed to run some circulation back into her legs when he tackled her.

  She hit the pile of leaves that covered the ground with enough impact to get friction burn over a good half of her body. She thought she would have anyway, but having his weight on her damned sure didn’t help.

  He was glaring at her furiously when he rolled her over.

  “What?” she growled.

  His lips tightened. “You would do well to watch your tongue when you speak to me. Remember that I am a barbarian … and a prince who will be king.”

  “And a kidnapper.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You wanted to wed my brother? That is not the impression I got. But then mayhap my understanding of your language is faulty?”

  Charly gaped at him in disbelief. “So this is a rescue?” she said skeptically. “Well! I was just stretching my legs.”

  It couldn’t be said that he smiled, but the hardness left his features and there was a distinct gleam in his beautiful purple eyes.

  Which reminded her of at least one comment she’d made to him. That memory made her blush.

  She was pretty sure the blush reminded him of what she’d said to him because his lips twitched.

  Thankfully, he apparently had some sense of fair play. Since he’d been pretending he didn’t understand a damned word she said at the time, he pretended he didn’t remember.

  “By my estimate, you ran a quadrant. I think you have adequately stretched your legs.”

  It was a good thing he helped her to her feet. She wasn’t certain she could’ve managed it with any grace if he hadn’t.

  He seemed to notice she was in distress when she got to her feet. “You are injured?”

  Her lips thinned. “Oh no! Getting body slammed by someone twice my size would never injure me! I’m a fucking goddess!”

  He caught her shoulders and turned her to face him again when she turned away. He scanned her length with his gaze and then brushed the debris of leaves and dirt sticking to her away.

  She pushed his hand away.

  He caught her wrists in one hand and, after daring her with a glare, examined her with his free hand.

  “I see no injury,” he said finally.

  Discounting the bruises and scrapes, there weren’t any. But the damned bruises and scrapes hurt, damn it!

  “Well, I don’t get my jollies off of being bruised and banged up.”

  He studied her thoughtfully for several moments. “No?”

  She felt her face heat. “No. Really, I don’t.”

  He lifted a hand to her cheek and lightly caressed it. “What does thrill you, Charlotte of the Star-Troopers?”

  Abruptly, Charlotte felt the full impact of his appeal.

  She couldn’t even blame it on the wine.

  Heated images filled her mind of stepping closer, of ‘bathing’ in his aura and scent, tasting his lips on hers.

  And then she remembered the size of the ‘weapon’ he was carrying and that burst the bubble.

  “Getting my man,” she said and then blushed harder. “I mean capturing criminals.”

  “Somehow, I had the impression that you would say something else,” he murmured.

  “Really? Well—sorry.”

  “I mean you no harm, Charlotte.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “As it happens, I need to prevent Damek from bonding with you and you clearly had no desire to bond with him.”

  “Soooo … it seemed like a good solution to drug me and haul me off?”

  “Expedient considering the situation. Yes.”

  Arguing certainly wasn’t going to help her case. She wanted to, but she thought she’d pushed him way too far as it was. It was a good thing for her that he seemed to be willing to smooth over their rough start. She was completely at his mercy. He didn’t have to be nice or placating at all.

  For that matter, she realized belatedly, feeling a cold chill at the thought, he could’ve simply disposed of her by killing her and ended his brother’s aspirations to marry a goddess.

  He walked her back to where he’d left the beast and gave her a linen wrapped bundle of food and then helped her back onto the beast.

  They set out again while she worked on the bread and cheese. Charly ate very little. It was good, but she was still vaguely nauseated from the wine she’d had with her supper the night before and the tranq chaser. Maybe also from hanging over the side of the beast for god only knew how long, but definitely the first two.

  Galen offered her a skin with liquid.

  “If it’s more of that stuff that helped me make a fool out of myself, no thanks,” Charly responded dryly.

  He chuckled.

  The sound warmed Charly all over.

  Chapter Seven

  “Water.”

  Charly twisted around to study his expression and decided it was safe to at least try it. Thankfully, it was water. She was dehydrated. She drank as much as she dared and reluctantly handed it back.

  The food worked well as a restorative, especially with the water.

  She still felt hung-over, but not as badly hung-over. The throbbing behind her eyes had eased and so, too, had a good bit of her uneasiness about her captor.

  Not that she trusted him any further than she could throw him, but, try as she might, she couldn’t see that he would have any motive to try to convince her he meant no harm.

  And she had certainly provoked him.

  Not smart, but an instinctual need to test him or maybe a trained need? She wasn’t certain which, but she thought he had exhibited a good bit of patience, all things considered.

  She knew better than to believe for a moment that he wouldn’t kill her if he saw the need, but she didn’t think it was his objective or that he harbored any malice toward her.

  Or that he was inclined to kill only for the sake of the thrill of killing.

  He had removed her from the castle to prevent his brother from using her as a pawn.

  So … did that mean that he intended to use her as a pawn?

  That seemed a likely scenario … or at least a good possibility.

  Having allayed the biggest portion of her anxieties, she was able to turn her mind to her mission.

  Which was now totally fucked up and possibly beyond redemption.

  She had no way to communicate with her people.

  Because she was next door to naked—She’d left her entire defense system lying on the floor of the room she’d occupied.

  Because she’d had way too much wine and it had severely compromised her judgment.

  And she thought escape was unlikely at this point—at any point until an
d unless he deposited her somewhere.

  The Oloote were stronger than humans. The weakest among them was probably stronger than the strongest humans.

  Her suit had been her lifeline—weapon, protection, and communications. Without it, she didn’t stand a chance.

  With it, she might even have had some hope of overcoming him in hand-to hand combat.

  It hadn’t just been the aftereffects of her capture that had doomed her attempt to escape. It was the lack of the suit to at least somewhat equalize her physiology with that of a native of Bacsheer.

  She was going to have to use brains and wit.

  She might be doomed.

  Because she had a bad feeling he was way ahead of her in that area, too.

  Her confidence wasn’t high that her people would be coming after her, either, unfortunately. They certainly would if they could, but would they be able to?

  She’d set the plan in motion to snatch Nldick and hit for home. Neal was to have come to her room to get the tranq and that was a key piece of the plan. He would have, she was sure, because he’d been told to, but what would he have done when he found her gone?

  Ordinarily, she was sure that his first thought would be that she’d been taken against her will but she’d been drinking earlier and not behaving predictably.

  There was a possibility that he would jump to the conclusion that she’d gone off on her own. She didn’t think she’d been anywhere near that drunk, but the key was Neal’s perception of her condition.

  And she’d left her armor.

  That was going to be a puzzle.

  He’d know she couldn’t have been thinking clearly to have removed it, but also that she would have had to have done it herself. So, it could follow that she’d also voluntarily left it and wandered away—with or without someone.

  She felt sure that Galen had left signs of a struggle and kidnapping. He’d bundled her into her bedding after all.

  And he’d taken her out the window, so he’d left the rope he used to repel down the building.

  How much time would Neal have to devote to examining and deducing, though?