A Prisoner's Desire Page 3

  She was with them. She had to be with them. It was a trap. They were using her, her hypnotically gentle touch, her sinfully beautiful body, to confuse him.

  Their plan was working, damn them. He was going to die anyway. There was no way they would let him live. What did it matter? His death meant nothing.

  If he could just touch her again, just feel her skin beneath his fingertips once more, sink his cock into her until his balls brushed against the pale flesh of those magnificent thighs, dying wouldn't seem so empty.

  He had no way to conceal the naked lust in his heart, let alone the thick swollen ache of his cock. His body knew it was still mating season. He wanted her. Needed her worse than he needed food and sleep. He shifted the loops of the bulky chain until they covered as much of his erection as he could manage. Still, he hesitated as she let the flap of tattered skins fall shut over her doorway. Hesitated long enough that when he raised the flap, ducking to fit his tall frame through the short, narrow doorway, the room at first appeared to be empty.

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the one-room cabin, he saw her. She was already sprawled face down across a pile of sleeping furs, still naked, that perfect ass laid out before him like an invitation he dared not explore.

  "Bread and mushrooms on the table," she mumbled. "Help yourself."

  Help yourself. Did she not know what he wanted to help himself to? Evidently the flame of desire that burned him to a crisp met no flickering ember within his benefactress. "Thank you," he managed, watching his short-lived fantasies crumble to ashes.

  As simple as that. Already she had destroyed him.

  What did you expect, fool? That she would welcome you into her bed with open arms, shouting Mate with me? Right. You and a dozen other men maybe.

  He was a fool.

  She knew nothing of him. Nothing of the man he had been. He was but an annoyance to her. She'd found a madman buried in filth. Why would she think of him as anything more? Why would she feel anything for him? No other woman had. If he'd been a real bear he could have hibernated right through the entire mating season and no one ever would have noticed.

  He sat on the single bench, his back to the woman, but the image of her dancing naked around the bonfire in the common room while men vied to mate with her consumed him. Hungry as he was, the mushrooms tasted of little more than the dung they grew in. Even the bread was hard to choke down.

  He couldn't stay awake all shift. Not here. Not now. The methods he'd used to keep himself awake had hurt others.

  Neither could he go to sleep. There was no place other than the pile of furs beside her to lie down. Could he lay beside her while she slept and not touch her? Did he have that much control left?

  No. He knew better. If he touched her she would reject him. If he slept they would find him. He might be free of the filthy cell, but he was still their prisoner. If he—

  "Come to bed."

  His already painfully erect cock slammed against his hollow gut. "I dare not, M'Lady. They will come for me if I sleep. They will put me in manacles and hood me to keep me powerless against them. They want me to sleep, so that they can restrain me. They drug the food. I—"

  He heard her move in the bedding and turned far enough to see her from the corner of his eye, pale perfection silhouetted against the furs. What was she offering him and why? Her body? In return for what? His soul?

  His life?

  If she killed him while he slept in her arms it might well be worth the price.

  She sighed, shaking her head as if she could read his mind. "How long has it been since you've slept?"

  He tried to remember, but the past had grown fuzzy. "Many shifts. Cycles perhaps. I do not know anymore."

  She patted the furs beside her. "Come. Put the chain here, behind me, so that no one can get to it without our knowing. Even if one of the guards were foolish enough to enter here, we can take one or two guards between us. No more will fit through the doorway. We will take turns sleeping. Lay down beside me. I will watch your back."

  He felt no deception in her. He would be safe here. As safe as he could be anywhere. Sleep itself was almost as seductive as the woman. He had to trust her. Had to trust someone, and there was no one else. He dropped slowly to his knees beside her, stretching to do as she said and place the bulk of the chain on the floor behind her.

  His hand brushed her hip on the way.

  Mistake. His cock jerked against his empty stomach, threatening to erupt all over both of them.

  Bigger mistake. She rolled to face him at his touch. Her eyes glowed green in the dark, no longer looking quite human. He almost pulled back as she reached for him, her hands looking like claws that might slice him to ribbons. "Are you afraid of me?" she asked in surprise, her voice deep as a daemon's. "Do not fear me, No One. I will not harm you."

  Surely she could not be the daemoness who haunted him. No. He was hallucinating. He pressed his eyes tightly shut, willing the images of fear away. Her hands closed over his cock, and the claws disappeared. They were hands. Only hands. He shuddered beneath her touch.

  "So big. So hard. So hot. I am not sure we will fit together." She traced the length of his cock with one fingernail, watching the eager dance he did for her. "Shall we find out?"

  He couldn't answer. Didn't dare trust himself with words. Didn't trust himself to reach for her, although he wanted to, wanted to with every fiber of his being. How could he tell her her touch meant more to him than his freedom? He didn't have the words. He'd get it wrong. Something inane would come out. He raised his hand to brush the hair back from her face. The daemoness fled his touch. Human eyes looked back at him.

  Her mouth tilted to kiss his open palm. She sucked his finger slowly into that mouth, watching him as she ran her tongue over his knuckle.

  She had accomplished in mere minutes what the guards had not been able to do in weeks. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he broke beneath her touch. "Tell me you're real," he begged. "Tell me I'm not going to wake up alone in my cell again."

  Braunnan woke up enough to roll towards the man, already annoyed. The sleep-shift was far advanced. She was tired, damn it. All she'd wanted was a few hours uninterrupted sleep. Was that too much to ask? Was that…

  "Tell me you're real," he begged. "Tell me I'm not going to wake up alone in my cell."

  He'd fallen asleep almost the moment he lay down beside her. He must have been exhausted. He was talking now in his sleep, tears dampening his thick dark lashes. He'd thrown off the fur she'd covered him with. She glanced down that intriguing line of dark red hair that led like a path down this torso, taking her time in the journey, until her gaze came to rest on a hard-on the size of a pickaxe handle. Well. That explained a good bit. Amazing a man could sleep at all with an erection like that.

  She forced herself to focus on his words. "I'm real," she assured him. "You're not going to wake up alone."

  Damn, how she wanted to touch. Just the sight of him sprawled there beside her had her nerves instantly on the alert. She'd wanted to take him when he came to her bed, and the gods knew his body had been ready enough, but he was so tired he'd been asleep almost before he found his way into her furs. She'd thought to wait, to attempt a mating with him at first light. At the start of the shift they'd both be less tired. Once he was rested she'd be able to tell whether it was her he lusted after, or just some fantasy woman from his dreams.

  But now her body had other ideas, and sleep was no longer one of them.

  "Touch me," he begged.

  Braunnan glanced back to his face, embarrassed at having been caught staring again. His lashes were so thick it was hard to tell, but he appeared to be asleep. Still, it was as much of an invitation as she was likely to get. Granting this request would please her. Braunnan let her hand do what it had wanted to do all along. Her fingertips brushed slowly along the line of hair that descended from his navel and down, combing through the dark tangle of curls that clustered around the base of that tantalizing erection, del
aying the moment of electrical contact until her body screamed with desire.

  A hand rose out of the furs to cover hers. Braunnan glanced quickly toward the shadowed face. Glittering green eyes focused on hers, questioning, yearning. Slowly she moved their joined hands to close over his penis. He made no move to object.

  Hot. He was burning up. Fire like the heat of molten metal. She stroked slowly up, closing her hand around the head, raising the drops of pre-cum to her lips with their fingers.

  "You taste salty."

  He rolled to one elbow to face her, moving slowly, as if he thought she might reject his unspoken offer. He leaned in close to her mouth. She swallowed hard. His tongue traced the path where her finger had spread his taste on her lips. His tongue was hesitant at first, just tasting, then forceful, demanding with the hunger of a starving man's desires.

  She was hungry herself. There was nothing patient or gentle about either of them now. She bit and pulled and clawed, fighting for dominance. He bit and clawed back. He was her equal both in strength and desire. "Yes!" she hissed as his lips fastened over her nipple, pulling, sucking. "That's good. So good." Her hand fisted over his cock again, stroking, pulling, rubbing the sensitive head over her clit as she drove herself to a frenzy.

  "Take me inside you," he demanded as he twisted the ring on her nipple with his tongue. "Ride me, Daemoness. Ride me hard."

  She was a Daemoness, was she? She'd best not disappoint him. Braunnan shoved at him, pushing him onto his back. She crouched over him, smiling in the darkness. She stretched out over him, her weight supported by her hands and her toes, in a parody of first light calisthenics. She was ready. So ready. She'd been ready since he walked out of the lake. She was greedy now, and desperate to feel the power of his cock moving within her. Her whole body shook with desire as she lowered herself onto the length of that thick, burning cock.

  Chapter Three

  Fire. Fire and steel. He was an unfinished sword, and she the blacksmith's burning coals. She swallowed his length until he knew he would combust. He clawed at her desperately, forcing her hips down until she captured even more of his length within that all-consuming fire. Cat-green eyes laughed down at him. Wide lips parted to reveal even rows of sharp, deadly teeth. "Kill me, Daemoness," he begged. "Take my soul. I don't care. I don't want it anymore. Take whatever you want from me. Just fuck me."

  Whatever she was going to do, if she didn't do it faster than this he would break. He clawed at her hips, hammering up into her as hard as he could. He pumped like a madman, trying to take control, but she fought him, taking away what he needed most. He sobbed out his bereavement as she pinned his hands into the furs beside his shoulders.

  "Steady," she warned. "Breathe. Remember to breathe."

  "I—can't—" he managed in ragged gasps. But he did. Because she asked it of him. He pulled in quick lungfuls of cool air, remembering what it was to breathe the air fresh off the waters, uncontaminated by filth and decay.

  "I need—" He had no idea how to tell her what he needed.

  "I know what you need. I need this too. I want your cock riding hard within me. But we're going to take this slow." She reached back into the furs for a small wooden box.

  "Slow," he repeated, staring at the box apprehensively. Slow could be good.

  "Slow. First you're going to tell me my name. Do you remember my name?"

  Her name? At a time like this he was supposed to remember her name? With his cock dancing cold and naked so close to her steaming sheath that he could feel her juices drip against him, tracing their sizzling path over his skin?

  She opened the box and reached in, slowly opening her hand to him to display an ivory cock ring.

  Slow could be very good. He swallowed hard, still staring at the ring. His cock wasn't going to see any more action unless he answered her. He clawed desperately through his memories as she reached in again to withdraw a long piece of soft leather. He wasn't sure what that was for, but his mind thought of a dozen uses that all left him shaking with desire.

  He remembered. "Braunnan," he whispered. "Mistress of the Fifth House of Clan Bear."

  He stared at her fingers, hardly daring to even breathe, as she slipped the cock ring over his quivering penis. His already hard shaft seemed to grow even harder, the ache for her touch almost unbearable. "Braunnan is good enough. The rest is my own self-mockery. There is no Clan Bear anymore. No Houses. No Mistresses. I am but Third Shift Supervisor." She clenched her fist hard around his swollen cock, wringing a moan of both pain and ecstasy from him. "Now. Next. What is your name?"

  Who…the fear built in him again, pulling, ripping at his gut. Who had he been? The blackness, the nothingness, engulfed him when he tried to think back. "Who," he sobbed. "Who am I? Why am I here? Why are you trying to kill me?"

  "I won't hurt you!" she admonished. "No one is going to hurt you." As if to prove the point she rose up to settle her greedy sheath back over him again, sinking slowly until she swallowed him whole. "I'm Braunnan, remember? I'm your friend."

  He blinked his eyes clear. He could still hear her voice echoing down that lonely cellblock. "Braunnan, Mistress of the Fifth House of Clan Bear."

  She reached for the small strip of leather. "Yes."

  In his mind, he heard her feet against the stone corridor, approaching, getting closer and closer, like death marching in on him. "You took me out of the cell."

  "Yes."

  "Are you…" He licked his lips, afraid of her answer, but needing to know. "Are you the Daemoness?"

  Her stern face broke into a parody of a smile. "No. I give you my word that I am not a Daemoness."

  She at least believed she was not the Daemoness. The fangs retreated under her curling lip. "You're Braunnan."

  "Just Braunnan."

  "I need you, Braunnan," he begged in desperation. "More than the bread. More than the water. More than the bath. More than I need to know my own name, I need you. I need to know there is something good left within me. Touch me. Hold me. Mate with me."

  Braunnan swallowed hard. Mate with me. That was different. That was…that changed everything. She wanted to tell him she couldn't. She didn't know how.

  But that wasn't quite the truth.

  Beltaine, the festival that once marked the beginning of their mating season, had once been their most lavish holiday next to Samhain, the late year hibernation festival. But since the cataclysm that had driven them below ground and into the protection of the Dark Ones, such practices were no longer permitted.

  She'd had sex with other men. What woman hadn't? But the mating ritual…though it was forbidden, most women still practiced the old ways, or as much of them as any one remembered or understood. The guards looked the other way, because to do any more would attract too much attention to their failure to keep her people obedient to the Dark Priestesses' rules. And in truth the Priestesses cared little as long as they were not troubled by those below. They cared that they had their ore, and their gems to trade. The less attention they paid to the race who served them, the better for all concerned.

  It wasn't that they were forbidden to breed. Women were encouraged to bear cubs, and were rewarded for successful birthings. No. There were no rules against sex. It was only the mating ritual that was forbidden. The sequestering of a woman with her chosen mate or mates for several cycles while the man or men mated with her, preparing her body for child bearing, had long been a tradition of Clan Bear.

  A tradition which she'd never practiced. Not that she hadn't wanted to. Her body screamed at her every year now that it was time to mate, and she'd tried. She'd sampled several of her clansmen in hopes of finding a potential mate, but whatever it was that made a man more than just a sexual partner had eluded her.

  The man who asked for her now might well be a raving lunatic.

  He was also the first man in ages who'd truly awakened her desire to mate.

  His cock pulsed within her, the cock ring rubbing subtly against her clit in rhythm to his breathin
g while he waited for her answer.

  She'd asked for his trust. She could give him no less than the truth. "I'm afraid," she admitted. "You—I feel things with you—I don't think—"

  "Don't think." He laced his fingers into her hair, gently pulling her down against his chest. "Just feel." He kissed her, soft lips quivering against hers, the contact soothing, sedating, the warmth spreading as her lips parted under his touch.

  His unexpected calm captured her, giving her strength, helping her find her balance again. "I want you," she breathed against his lips. "I would mate with you."

  "I am yours."

  She touched. She sat up slowly, letting his hands slide down to rest on her hips while she explored his body, drawing her knees up beside his hips to steady her balance. She could feel the beat of his pulse throbbing within her, growing ever more intense as her hands traced up, over his chest, stopping to palm his hard little nipples. She moved on, stroking across broad shoulders and down, then back up again, until she framed his face in her hands.

  "Braunnan," he whispered as she bent forward to kiss him again.

  "Yes, my mate." She stroked his lips with her tongue, then slipped between into his mouth to tease and taste. She raised her hips up, sliding them home again, still gasping in surprise as she felt him fill her completely.

  More. She wanted more.

  "Do you trust me?"

  "With my life," he breathed.

  Hardly a ringing endorsement from a man who'd already begged her to kill him. Still, although his eyes widened in surprise, he didn't try to stop her when she slipped the soft leather strap around the base of his cock. The simple quick release knot she used would come off as soon as she pulled on it, but not before. His cock grew harder within her as she tightened the noose around him.

  He took a long, shaky breath as she tangled her hands in his hair, still damp from the lake hours ago, rocking back to expose her breasts as she drew his head to her. Nuzzling blindly, he found her nipple, hard and aching for his touch. He licked and tasted first, sucking gently, then harder as she began to move on him again. His tongue and his teeth worked on one nipple while his fingers found the other, teasing, abrading, demanding. She moved slowly on his thick, swollen length, the pleasure building within her until it was almost painful, the cock ring adding more sensations as she clenched him tightly within her.