Her Strict Captor

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Her Strict Captor Page 7

by Heather Holden


  In fact, it responded hard in that instant, and she clung to him as her body shook and writhed, his cock pounding against that perfect spot inside her, still stroking her inner walls as they squeezed around him, wanting to milk his orgasm out and feel it spill into her. With a plea in her eyes, she stared up at him through hooded lids and the glaze of ecstasy, locked gazes with him, and felt something stab her in the chest. She never cried, but a single tear slipped from one corner of her right eye, and then that tender, caring expression he wore shattered her all over again, sending her reeling as Ronan thrust into her twice more before finding his release.

  They sweat mingling and making leafy crumbles stick to them, Sirah fought for consciousness, though all she wanted to do was sleep. Right here, in this lonely place, with Ronan at her side. It was in that moment she recognized that she had a problem—a rather large one—without a solution. And that problem was far deeper than having to sneak back into her camp unnoticed, her absence completely ignored.

  Ronan lay next to her, his eyes lightly shut and one arm and leg draped over her possessively. She didn’t move, she didn’t want to push him away, and for a brief instant, she imagined what it would be like if they could end the war, find a peaceful compromise, and maybe explore something beyond a quick roll in the leaves that they had to hide.

  But when he shifted and brushed a kiss over the tip of her nose, her heart stuttered, and she heaved a deep, bolstering breath. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered, afraid she wouldn’t sound so sure if she spoke out loud.

  “I know,” he whispered back. “When can I see you again?”

  Sirah bit her lip as she sat up and tried to brush the leaves from her hair and body. How would she explain her state of disarray, even if she slipped back in undetected? “Send a formal message, arrange a formal meeting. We’re supposed to be discussing the possible terms of an actual treaty agreement, right? The sooner we can get that on the roadmap, the better it will be for everyone involved.” She didn’t mention their situation particularly. She couldn’t think about how involved she’d already become and the consequences if things didn’t work out to end the war.

  He nodded, helping her to her feet as he righted his breeches. Then, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip and told her, “I’ll send word tomorrow. We’ll move fast.” He stepped closer, speaking in a lower, more desperate tone. “I don’t think I can wait very long to see you again.”

  Chapter 10

  Sirah paced back and forth across the office at the local bank, where the manager had graciously offered to host the negotiation attempts. Pacing had become a habit, and right now, she didn’t care how neurotic it was. It had taken three days—two days too many—to get the meeting with Ronan arranged, and this time, they had each brought only three men. It was a much calmer and less intensive meeting, with greater respect exchanged between their groups.

  Of course, she’d presented herself with the utmost professionalism, despite the fact that everything between her thighs tingled whenever she met Ronan’s eyes. They were both careful with their expressions, but she still felt the heat course through her, able to read the veiled desire and emotion he shared with her through those looks.

  And this time, he brought an offer to the table that she could work with. While it was still too much, she could at least take this back to her side and have a starting point. The council consisted of fifteen members, and the Tyrians were now asking for three seats instead of demanding a complete takeover. They wanted a very large area of land, tantamount to their own country, in northwest Canada, and they had a few other minor caveats. She didn’t think it would fly, but it was much less outlandish than the last request.

  Now, everyone had left, including her men, since this suburban sprawl was considered safe at the moment, and the supermarket where they’d been camping out was just across the street. She had asked to stay back to formulate her message to the leaders of the resistance, the few who outranked her and made the final decisions regarding such matters. She would have to draft the message carefully and offer quiet but firm recommendations that they not just staunchly deny working with the Tyrians. But she also couldn’t even hint at another reason she might want things to change, couldn’t reference any personal feelings or beliefs beyond the experience she’d had in the negotiating room. Well, she could probably mention that Ronan had saved her life and returned her to her troops without hesitation, but how much could she say without getting flustered about the rest of the story?

  She wasn’t surprised when the door opened and Ronan stepped inside. She’d been waiting for him to find an exit to leave his men and come find her. The shades were drawn tightly, but still, she waited for him to hit the blackout mode that frosted over the windows of the office for absolute privacy, and then she stepped into him and let herself melt against his chest as his arms came around her. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a soothing tone, stroking her hair. “I thought we’d taken another step in the right direction.”

  Sirah nodded, pulling back to stare up at him. “I’m just tired of tension, tired of fighting.” She couldn’t bring herself to discuss what was really on her mind. If she said it out loud, it would validate her feelings and make them real. She wasn’t sure she could live with that.

  “Tired of hiding,” he said softly, pressing down on her bottom lip with his thumb. “Is it as bad for you as it is for me? The waiting, the wanting?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said suddenly, trying to pull away from him. But he was far stronger, and he held her captive. “Please, Ronan.”

  This time, he pushed away from her, raking a hand through his unusually mussed hair. It showed the stress he’d been under that he wasn’t so carefully put together, and Sirah felt the guilt settle over her. “Dammit, Sirah, why can’t you just be honest about what this is? It started out as something necessary, just a quick release for a couple of people who crossed paths and happened to feel attracted to each other. But you and I both know there’s more to it now, and it’s going to get harder to deny. Harder to hide.”

  “And what more is there?” she demanded. He’d alluded to so many things, but she certainly wasn’t prepared to throw her heart at his feet without knowing what he meant. “We’ve had more sex? Had real conversations? I owe you for saving my ass more than once? Tell me, Ronan, what is this ‘more’? I can’t make any judgments or informed decisions unless I know what we’re discussing here.”

  With a ferocious snarl, he reached for her, and Sirah’s breath caught in her throat at the possessive hold he took, the hunger in his expression. “I don’t take my commitments lightly, Sirah, and whether you realize it or not, I’ve made a commitment to you already. I don’t know what it is that drives me, but I want you in every sense of the word. I want you for myself, and it’s driving me insane that I can’t share that with the world, that I have to lock it behind closed doors and shove it aside for a ridiculous war that could be so easily resolved.”

  She would not cry, Sirah told herself as she looked into the depths of Ronan’s open, honest eyes. If nothing else, Tyrians were fiercely loyal, and when they addressed something important, their word was as good as a blood oath. But it didn’t matter what words came out of his mouth; his expression alone, his body language spoke volumes. Taking a shuddering breath, she nodded and moved to him again. Instead of speaking, she threaded her fingers through his mess of dark hair and pulled him down into a kiss that she hoped spoke more than any claims of devotion she could offer.

  When she finally pulled back, she offered him a shy smile. “I’m overwhelmed, Ronan. I’ve never had any feelings for anyone, and the circumstances here are less than stellar. It scares me, and it confuses me. But I do want you, and I want everyone to know just how much I want you. But what are we supposed to do, just throw ourselves out there and hope that our status gets us enough leniency to share our story in hopes of changing everyone’s minds?”

  “Maybe,” he said with a sad
grin. “That may be a last resort sort of plan. But in the meantime, we made leaps and bounds in progress this time. You take the terms back, see if there’s a compromise we can make. Once that’s in place, it won’t be so difficult. So, the sooner the better, right?”

  Reluctantly, Sirah shrugged and nodded. “What exactly is this, Ronan? What’s happening here?”

  He stared at her for a long moment before answering. “I’m not sure, but I think it might be something like love. With some incredible sex mixed in.”

  It brought a smile to her face, and Sirah rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s nice to know that the focus men have is the same across species.” She barely finished the statement before he kissed her with such fervor and compassion it blasted the thought right out of her head.

  He winked at her and said, “If that doesn’t prove otherwise, I don’t know what will. I’ll message you later.” And he left.

  She was still staring after him when her communicator buzzed—not the private one but the one connected to her men. Fumbling in her pocket for it, she pulled it out, recognizing the code. “Yes, Bishop?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I was hoping I had caught you before you contacted headquarters. I wanted to talk to you.” It sounded urgent, or else Sirah would have put him off. At this point, she wanted to finish her job, go back to the supermarket, and catch up on some much-needed sleep. But duty called, apparently.

  So, she closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m still working on my approach. You can meet me in the office at the bank.”

  Less than five minutes later, Bishop stepped into the room, a strange expression on his face that she couldn’t read. “What’s going on?” she asked, impatient to finish her business and move on.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Bishop frowned. “I have some concerns I need to express to you about our strategy.”

  Sirah quirked a brow at him. She couldn’t remember a time when he’d questioned a move they made, and she was interested to hear what bothered him now, when they were finally making progress.

  “We have a perfect opportunity to take hold here, and you’re throwing it away,” he spewed, the words bursting forth without filter. “We can take them. They’re here, in front of us. Their top leaders. All we have to do is act, and instead, you’re sitting on your hands and doing nothing.”

  Sirah gaped at him. “Bishop, we’re negotiating a truce. I’m sorry if it’s not an instant gratification sort of situation, but this sort of thing takes time. And in the interim, no one’s dying or getting hurt. Or haven’t you heard that the word is spreading and fighting is coming to a halt across the planet?”

  “It’s not good enough,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re pandering to them. If you call in this offer, and you don’t get laughed at, you’ll have the council and everyone else considering actually meeting some of these ridiculous demands. The Tyrians don’t belong here, and we need to send them away. We’re just starting to destroy their presence, to shake them up, and you’re backing down instead of running with it. You’re making a terrible decision.”

  She jutted her chin out defiantly, offended at his tone. “You do realize you’re dressing down a superior. And let me assure you, there’s a reason I rank higher than you. I know what I’m doing, Bishop. We’ve never had a dispute with another alien species, and if we can overcome this one, we’ll be stronger for it. Hopefully, it’ll put us in a positive light that keeps us from ever having to do it again. Besides, if we did encounter another hostile species, we could really benefit from the strength, technology, and organization the Tyrians can offer as an ally.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” He shook his head again. “The only way to prove our strength and our determination to hold onto our way of life is to take them down. Do to them what they came here to do to us. And I’m not going to stand by and let you throw that opportunity away because you’ve suddenly developed a bleeding heart like some wayward politician.”

  She started to protest, but there was a pop, followed by a hissing sound. She watched in horror as Bishop placed a mask over his face, and then her head grew fuzzy. The last thing she remembered was the room tilting and then crashing onto her side on the floor.

  Chapter 11

  Sirah woke groggy, her head in a fog from the poisonous gas that she knew had knocked her out. She wanted to gather her consciousness quicker, but she couldn’t fight the lethargy as her limbs seemed to awaken inch by slow inch. It might not have hit her so hard had she not already been so recently compromised by the poison dart. As it was, she could barely open her eyes.

  She tested her range of motion and discovered she wasn’t tied down or anything. She could move, though it was hard to lift her arms. In fact, as she regained her vision, she realized she was in the manager’s office at the supermarket. Her first instinct was to look toward the door that led out, but it was bolted shut with several screws. She cursed herself for not seeing this coming, and then she cursed Bishop for thinking he knew better than her. What was he even planning? How many people were involved?

  The door opened, and she managed to turn her head despite the slight pain it caused. Her mood darkened further when she saw Bishop and Beaver enter the room, shutting the door behind them. “The sleeper has awakened,” Bishop quipped jauntily. She wished she could spit in his face, but her mouth was too dry. “I apologize for having to take action, but I knew you wouldn’t change your mind. And we had a perfect plan, which we executed without a hitch. Now, we can all get back on the same page.”

  Forcing her body to bend so she could sit up, she realized they’d been prepared; they’d dragged a cot into the space for her. “I doubt that,” she said, her voice hoarse from the desert in her throat.

  Beaver handed her a water bottle, averting his gaze, and she took it, hoping that they hadn’t drugged that, too. Bishop tsked at her. “You don’t really have much choice in the matter, ma’am. You see, we already reported your victory to your superiors, as well as your bravery. Which nearly got you killed, by the way. In fact, you’ve been recovering for nearly 24 hours.”

  Damn. She hadn’t realized she’d been out that long. It meant wheels had been set into motion, and she didn’t know where this was going. The best option would simply be damage control, but she needed information first if she was going to do anything. “Really? Maybe you could clue me in on this heroic act of mine.”

  Bishop practically glowed, his chest sticking out with a pride that made her want to throw up. “You’ve captured the leader of the rogue Tyrian faction. And let me tell you, once the rest of those beasts find out you have such a prominent figure, they’re going to be begging us to set whatever terms we want to settle this dispute in order to get him back. We’ll be able to send them packing and never hear from them again.”

  That would be news to Ronan. At least she’d be able to help him identify the traitor in his midst. But she had no intentions of sending all Tyrians away. There would still be negotiations, though for the moment, she played along. “I’m sure that will please them. Who is it?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t realize from the start. It’s your good friend, Ronan. Although I admit, I didn’t realize it immediately, either. He puts up a good front.” Bishop’s triumph disgusted her, but Sirah felt a cold dread wash over her. They had Ronan, and they were accusing him of treachery. It was a death sentence, whether by the hands of humans or his own people.

  She shook her head. “You must be mistaken.”

  Bishop’s whole demeanor changed, and he sneered at her. “You’re such a bleeding heart these days, Sirah. Your parents would be so disappointed with the way you catered to these monsters.” She flinched at the mention of her parents. She knew they would have approved of her choices, even if they didn’t understand her feelings for Ronan, because they had always taught her that she had to play fair. She had to give the benefit of the doubt sometimes, or she might make a grave and unforgiveable mistake. This was one of those cases. Still, she hated that he had th
e nerve to bring them into this.

  “Alright, Bishop, agreed or not, I guess I can’t refute the evidence you have here. So, what’s the plan?” If she could get the information out of him, she might be able to rectify the situation.

  “It’s the same as it’s always been,” he said, lifting his arms in a grand gesture. “We ask for a full confession, going back on a logged ceasefire agreement. We tell the Tyrians they can have him back if they agree to evacuate immediately and never return. And then we celebrate our win.”

  Through all of this, Beaver had stood sentinel by the door, not speaking and not making eye contact with anyone. If she knew anything about the kid, Sirah would bet he was an unwilling participant in all of this. He had been with her in the negotiations. He knew the situation was in hand, and he wasn’t fond of violence. He also seemed to have a great deal of respect for Ronan. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

  “And if they don’t take the bargain?” she asked. Raising her hands in a sign of surrender, she added, “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here.”

  Bishop clenched his jaw. “We’ll convince them,” he stated with conviction. “And if for some reason it doesn’t work, we’ll stage a public execution for your friend.”

  A wave of nausea nearly had Sirah on the floor, crouched and doubled over. But she controlled herself, training her expression into a cool, confident one. “I see you’ve thought all of this through pretty well.” With an air of strength she didn’t possess, she pushed to her feet. “So, where is the prisoner?”

  “That’s not your concern,” Bishop snapped.

  “It is most definitely my concern,” she countered, angry now. “I need to speak to him, find out exactly what he has to say about the situation and what condition he’s in so I know what story I’m telling, or this whole thing falls apart and blows up in your face, Bishop.” She gestured to Beaver. “He’ll take me, make sure I don’t do anything stupid, like try to release him. Right, Beaver?”

 

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