“Eat,” he prompted again, and she heard movement, clanking, and shuffling. “I promise you, food will help you get your head straight.”
She glanced up, seeing him holding out a bowl of what looked like rice, beans, and beef. Her stomach growled, and she tentatively reached for it, still not quite believing he wished her no harm. But she was starving as she hadn’t eaten a real meal since before dawn, and she was suddenly willing and eager to take the risk.
He held another bowl and started eating, and that helped ease her mind a bit as she started shoveling in the delicious smelling concoction. Over her bowl, she watched him through her lashes, trying to figure him out even as she continued to appreciate the view. It wasn’t like she had any other option, and even if she hated this man for who and what he was down to her very core, she couldn’t deny that he was insanely attractive.
“Why do your people find it so important to get rid of us?” she asked suddenly. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but it had been her bane since this whole apocalyptic war started. Why couldn’t the Tyrians come and ask for sanctuary the way so many others had? They had at least nine other alien races living in harmony and peace on the planet, and some of them had taken up arms against the Tyrians to protect their own homes and rights. What was so different about this militant race?
His brow wrinkled, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. “Not all of us agree with that mandate.” Again, he avoided the answer, and Sirah grew more disgruntled. Why did he continue to evade her if he was so dead set on keeping her alive and well? None of it added up, and she sat her empty bowl down hard, guzzling the water he provided and doing the same with the empty cup. She knew it was childish, but she crossed her arms and turned away from him in blatant dismissal.
“Do you have a name?”
His question floored her, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Why should I answer any question you have when you clearly aren’t answering any of mine?”
“I don’t have answers to all of your questions,” he snapped. “But I gave you my name and rank when you asked. Couldn’t you afford me that much courtesy in exchange for my help?”
She wanted to rage at him, but his words deflated her. She didn’t have the strength to spare to go toe to toe with this man. And she feared that if she tried, her body would betray her, either collapsing in physical weakness or puddling in the floor in sexual weakness. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes swept over her body, either, and it gave her wayward, unimaginable thoughts she shouldn’t entertain even for a moment. He was a Tyrian, a member of a hated race. And he was a leader in their army. And on top of all that, he had taken her captive, even if only temporarily, and he was maddeningly guarded.
So why couldn’t she stop thinking about tearing those clothes from his body to see what was underneath?
Clearing her throat, she told him softly, “My name is Sirah. I’m a general as well.”
He blinked at her, as if having a revelation. She smirked. “Didn’t know you had someone so high ranking, did you? Let me guess. Your species doesn’t believe in the strength and cunning and strategic intelligence of a woman?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s actually revered when a woman can hold such a position. They just rarely want to. Their drive takes them in other directions.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t change anything. I won’t hold you hostage. But you’re far enough from your camp that you need to stay the night. You won’t be able to make the journey without some real sleep and another meal. And I need to administer another dose of the antimicrobial to assure the poison clears your system completely.”
Looking around again, Sirah tried to weigh her options. She could insist on leaving, make her own camp, and sleep in the woods for the night. But then, she had no idea where she was and didn’t even have her compass to navigate. She didn’t know which direction her camp was from here, and she would likely get lost. She couldn’t take that risk.
That only left her one choice: to trust that she would make it through the night and that Ronan was a man of his word. Her research told her that Tyrians had an unbreakable pride, and she assumed that going against his word would be too much for Ronan, so she didn’t ask for another declaration of purpose. Instead, she took a deep breath and told him, “I’ll stay the night. But I need to get back to my men as soon as possible. They could be searching for me, and that’s dangerous with your men still out there.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll get up with dawn, eat, and leave.”
Maybe the poison had killed her reasoning ability, but Sirah believed him. She said nothing else, and an awkward silence followed. After a few minutes, Ronan stood, taking the empty dishes and dumping them in a basin that appeared to be a makeshift sink. Then, he reached into a chest and rummaged around before coming out with a small package in each hand. Sirah couldn’t see what was in them at first, and she inhaled sharply, nearly flinching when he came over and sat next to her on the cot. It bowed slightly under his weight, and she slid against him, her thigh pressed to his.
Radiant heat poured into her skin, and she swallowed hard against a rising desire that shouldn’t be awakened at all. She fought the instinct as he held one of the packages out to her, and then she burst out in hysterical laughter. “A Twinkie?”
Ronan shrugged, ripping into the plastic on his own. “Human folklore claims these will survive a nuclear explosion, right along with cockroaches. We thought it best to stock up before we realized the jest in the discussion. And they’re delicious.”
Shaking her head in amazement, Sirah stared at the Twinkie for a long moment before opening it, trying to remember the last time she had such a luxury. Since before the war broke out, she knew, but how long before that? She hadn’t taken the time to appreciate these little details in life before, assuming she would never have to fight actively, feeling secure in the planet’s reputation in the universe.
Suddenly ravenous for the unhealthy trinket, she ripped it open and shoved half of it in her mouth, moaning with delight as she chewed the spongy, sugary treat. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let it melt in her mouth before swallowing. She started to take another bite but caught Ronan’s gaze transfixed on her, his pupils expanding, and she froze. Something low in her stomach clenched, and she recognized the sexual stirrings only vaguely. Something else she hadn’t experienced much since the start of the war.
Why the hell did she have to be attracted to the enemy?
Chapter 3
Like some southern gentleman from a worn and torn paperback romance novel that was fifty years old, the moment Sirah started to shiver, Ronan struck up a fire in the small chimney she’d somehow failed to notice. Little more than an iron box with a grate, it held more logs than she would have thought possible and the heat radiated through the small cabin.
She sat close to it, rubbing her arms against the chill she knew had as much to do with the poison, the antimicrobial, and her current situation as it did with the actual temperature. She was still weak, which was the only reason she hadn’t struck out on her own at Ronan’s insistence that she wasn’t a prisoner. At least, that’s what she told herself.
But as she’d watched him build the fire, the ripples of his working muscles showing through the strangely translucent material that still gave nothing but the faintest impression of what you would find beneath, she’d been fascinated, and she’d felt things churn within her that she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager. It was raw attraction that had her on the edge of arousal, but the out of place way that he seemed to care for her intrigued Sirah. There was a small part of her brain shouting at her that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover, that such prejudice had divided nations over the something as silly as skin color in the past.
But then, she reminded herself that Ronan wasn’t just one of them; he was a leader among the Tyrians, an alpha and a general. To rise to such a position, you had to hold the core beliefs upon which all actions are based and all decisions are founded. Tha
t was a mantra in the Human Protective Force. If you didn’t agree with every mandate and every moral the system enforced, you had no place in the HPF; it would lead to questioning authority and motives, which would weaken the infrastructure.
Sirah had risen to her position as a leader because she epitomized those core foundations. She couldn’t imagine the Tyrians, as such a militant race, would elevate such a junior member of their army without proper vetting.
And still, she couldn’t quite make it add up.
She shivered again and rubbed her arms. “Are you still cold?” Sirah nearly jumped at Ronan’s voice so close behind her. She spun to face him, her chest brushing against his and igniting a flame she’d been trying to douse. She instinctively took a step back, but her balance faltered, and Ronan reached out, curling his arm around her waist and catching her. The intensity in his gaze—a sharp emerald green with the reflection of fire dancing in them—halted her breathing, and it took all her willpower not to moan as he drew her a little too close against him.
Seeking the reasoning she relied on most of the time, Sirah opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out, the need burning inside her hotter than the fire at her back. And as she gaped at him, unable to understand the raw sexuality she felt, Ronan captured her lips with his own.
The kiss was shocking in so many ways, the fact that they were strangers on opposing sides of a war the least of them. It was fierce, demanding, and filled with need, but it was also sensual, prying, and soft. As his tongue stroked the inside of her upper lip, she moaned, becoming putty in his hands. Maybe it was ill advised to literally sleep with the enemy, but she was weak tonight, wasn’t she? Coupled with the first real attraction she’d felt for anyone in years, the intimate situation, and the need for some kind of release—not to mention the fact that they would likely never see each other again—had her throwing caution to the wind. She wasn’t going to stop with a kiss.
She’d studied Tyrian anatomy enough to determine weak points and where to inflict fatal injuries. She knew their hearts rested on the right side at the bottom of the rib cage, and that their stomachs were smaller and more efficient, making it difficult to strike them there with a bullet and mortally wound them. But she also knew that certain parts of their bodies rested in the same location and functioned exactly like the human body.
With confidence, she thrust one hand through his thick hair, clamping her fist in it, and the other she lowered to his cock, which was growing long and hard quickly. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to turn down any advances. Of that she was sure. She stroked her palm over his length through the paper-thin material, feeling it pulsing with his own desire, and she wondered when he’d last had sex. She didn’t know much about Tyrian relationships or mating or sex, and she didn’t care. He was rock hard and ready for her.
“Mmm,” he growled against her lips in response, pushing his pelvis forward so her hand pressed harder against him.
“This is dangerous,” she muttered into his mouth, her voice deep and hoarse with desire.
In answer, he took one breast, heavy with arousal, in his free hand, molding it and pinching her nipple through the suede vest she wore. She gasped, arching into him and delighting in the sensation as his fingers worked magic. As if he could read her mind, he shoved his hand beneath her clothes, his warm skin contacting hers and making her shudder.
“Very dangerous.” He spoke against the line of her jaw as he trailed his lips over it and then down the side of her throat. Too caught up in the way his touch awakened so much pent-up need that she hadn’t even realized was inside her, Sirah stopped ministering to him and had both of her hands working the buttons of her vest and then shoving it violently off her arms so it fell to the floor. Then, she reached for the hem of his shirt, and he backed away, raising his arms so she could draw it over his head in one smooth motion.
His skin was mottled with colors, changing with the shadows that played through the room with the flickering flames in the fireplace behind her, and she stared in awe at the broad, smooth expanse of his chest. She splayed her hands over it, flattening her palms over his firm muscles, then scored her short nails over them, making him grunt and bite down on the sinewy stretch of her throat. Sirah cried out with pleasure and worked her hands down to the lines defining his stomach, tracing them as he found her mouth again and delved deep.
His fingers found the waist of her leather pants and, subsequently, the fly, taking his time to draw the zipper down before thrusting his hand inside and cupping her sex. She cried out, and Ronan swallowed it, his fingers sliding over her wet folds as the heel of his hand pressed against her clit, rolling it with a practiced motion that gave her a good idea about the sexuality of Tyrians and his level of experience in particular. Though she might have otherwise been jealous of how many women he’d already had sex with—Tyrian or human—it didn’t matter. She was too willing and ready, and she had no claim to Ronan. This was raw urge and animalistic instinct, not love and devotion.
He dipped a finger into her core, thrusting hard and exploring, searching for the button that would send her on a trip over the moon. And when he found it, Sirah rocked against him shamelessly. If he was going to offer, she was going to take, and she wouldn’t be shy or timid about it. He seemed to enjoy her reaction, his eyes closing and his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
But as good as it felt, it just wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t going to let him stop there. If she was going to do this, she wanted to have it all. She wanted full satisfaction, a release that would stay with her until she found another opportunity to ease so much tension. With bold determination, she yanked his thin pants down over his hips, and they fell to the floor, pooling at his feet. His cock was long, straight, and thick, and she admired him for a moment before wriggling out of her own tight pants so they were both completely bare.
He sucked in a deep breath, the air hissing through his teeth, and dropped to his knees. His hands fell on her thighs, and before she had time to think about his intentions, his tongue flicked out over her clit, drawing a long moan and a shiver from her. Over and over, he struck out like a snake tasting the air, stopping in between to circle the tender mound and alternately roll it gently between his teeth, and Sirah lost track of everything but the sensation before she exploded, the quaking of her body surprising her.
He continued to work her, taking the orgasm as far as it would go before it slid away from her. Then, with a practiced motion, he brought her to her knees and turned her away from him, one hand pressing against her back as the other smacked her ass as if to hurry her into motion. Sirah bent to her hands and knees as Ronan moved in behind her, positioning himself between her calves so he could stroke her from front to back with the head of his cock. Her body convulsed so hard she jumped, and he had to hold her down, his hand splayed over her back.
Then, he found her opening and teased at it, pushing slightly but not entering. Sirah whimpered at his teasing, and he sighed behind her. With one long, sure thrust, he filled her, and she screamed with the sudden connection. It was rough yet smooth, violent yet tender. She felt her walls stretching to accommodate him, the sensation delicious and tantalizing. He drew out slowly, then buried himself balls deep again, and she moaned, feeling the pressure quickly building again inside her. If she didn’t focus, she would come again too soon.
He leaned over her, his chest brushing against her back, and he started to thrust in earnest with maddeningly slow but violent strokes that had her gritting her teeth against the urge to let go completely. Then, he slid his hands up her sides, over her breasts, and he clutched them in his large grasp, using the leverage to draw her up to her knees so she had no choice but to lean back against him. It changed the angle of penetration, and she gasped, her eyes rolling as her head fell back against his shoulder.
He massaged her breast, using his grip to set the rhythm as he lifted and lowered her on his shaft, impaling her with delectable motions. She couldn’t breathe, or think, the moistur
e pouring from her as her muscles tensed in preparation for her release. But she stayed with him, clenching her jaw and feeling his tension mount as well against her. His cock twitched inside her, and that was it. Sirah fell over the cliff and hurtled toward the bottom, the agony and ecstasy consuming her as her orgasm swelled and throbbed around him.
It pushed Ronan into his own release, and he grunted three times, shoving dep and hard. On the final thrust, he held her steady, shrouding his cock entirely, as his body convulsed and bucked wildly in response to his pleasure. It intensified the dying waves of bliss still rolling over Sirah into another full blast explosion, and she thought she might die, the incredible sensation too much for her body to handle.
He rolled to his side, taking her with him so she was still wrapped in his arms, his fingers caressing the sides of her breasts absently as they both fought to find a regular breathing rhythm. Sirah thought her heart might pound right out of her chest before it finally calmed. That was the most intense experience she’d ever had, and whether it was just Ronan’s practice and sexual prowess or if it was related to the danger and the wrongness of their decision to give into physical demands over logical ones, she didn’t care.
Overwhelmed and satiated, Sirah felt her eyelids grow heavy, and soon they shuttered her vision as she drifted off, nearly forgetting that she was going back to the bunker and into a whirlwind of questions upon her arrival tomorrow.
Chapter 4
What had she been thinking?
That was the first thing that came to Sirah as she awoke at dawn to Ronan stirring with his arm draped over her, his body pressed to her back. She shot up, standing and reaching for her clothes, dressing quickly as he sat up and averted his gaze.
Her Strict Captor Page 2
