Claimed Page 5

  “Tordax.” I hear my second-in-command—and my closest friend—at my elbow. I turn to look at him and notice him gazing at me with some concern. “Tordax, is everything all right? What’s going on?”

  I don’t answer. I want to tell someone what I think I’ve discovered. Krax, I feel fairly bursting with it. If this is true, it changes everything. But I can’t say yet. Not until I’m certain. To give my men this kind of hope and then find out that it is false… that would be more cruel than never saying anything at all.

  I look around at the gathered warriors. Every one of them has sworn himself to this cause, believing that he will father no children, that he will fight and die in the battle against the Orkun. And if he does not die in battle, he will die of old age with no mate to comfort him, no child to follow him, with the knowledge that all his family, all of his people, will follow the same fate.

  Their only comfort, their only hope, has been the promise that the Orkun will not live to glory in our destruction.

  I have to know. I have to be certain.

  My body burns to return to Roz.

  “Keep an eye on things, Malav,” I tell him, gripping his shoulder. “Make sure it all runs smoothly until I return.”

  “Of course, Tordax.” He nods, still regarding me with furrowed brows.

  But I’m already heading back down the hall, hardly hearing him as I walk briskly in the direction of my new quarters. Roz will be there, waiting for me. I want to see her with an eagerness that startles and frightens me—but also thrills me, because it’s all the more evidence that this is true. That it’s real. That she is my Irisa, the woman fate has chosen for me.

  I’m not entirely sure how she’s going to take the news, or even how I will tell her. Until we reach civilization, there’s no way to give her the means of understanding my speech—or me hers.

  I open the door, her name on the tip of my tongue, only to see that she’s not where I left her.

  Well, of course not. Did you expect her to just stay standing in the middle of the room all of that time, desh-for-brains?

  My feet move without my conscious command again, striding into the room, but just as I step inside, I hear a high-pitched cry.

  And then something large and heavy hits me squarely on the back of my head.

  9

  Rose

  The minute I see Tordax’s bronzed body start to move inside of the room, I lunge forward, screaming a battle cry of my own as I swing my makeshift club at him.

  For all the time I spent searching the room, the only thing I found that could possibly work as a weapon was a golden statue of an Orkun, so heavy I could barely pick it up. But I managed, and as soon as I heard the heavy footsteps in the hall that meant Tordax—or one of his men—was coming back, I took up the spot beside the door, ready to strike.

  I half-expect to miss, but I don’t, and I feel momentarily gleeful, incredibly proud of myself. Brave warrior he might be, but he didn’t even bother to consider that maybe the captive woman he tossed into his bedroom might not wait around patiently for him to return and ravish her.

  Stupid Kalixian, I think.

  He seems momentarily stunned, stumbling forward a little and raising his hand to his head. He groans, and I try to take advantage of that moment to slip past him and dart out the door.

  But like so many other things in my life, I didn’t think this all the way through.

  While I was ransacking the room, I also managed to create something vaguely resembling a covering—the top sheet off the bed, which I wrapped awkwardly around myself and knotted. It felt too ridiculous to hover beside the door, naked and wielding a statue, but as it turns out, I didn’t think about the fact that my improvised robe might impede my movement.

  I drop the statue as I try to get past Tordax, and at the same moment, I feel his hand close on the edge of the sheet, pulling at it.

  The loose knot I tied comes loose as easily as if it wasn’t there at all, and the sheet falls away from my body, wrapping around my feet as I try to run.

  Shit!

  I stumble, almost falling to my knees, and the next thing I feel is Tordax’s strong arm around my waist for the second time today, hauling me backward against him.

  A breathless yelp falls from my lips as I struggle in his grasp, although I have absolutely no reason to think I’ll have any better luck getting away this time than I did the last time this happened. I writhe and squirm, but he’s bigger than I am and stronger than I’ll ever be, and the only result of my struggle is that he maneuvers me backward, away from the door and up against the nearest wall.

  The door slides shut with a hydraulic hiss, but I barely notice it.

  I can’t think about anything.

  Because this massive man has me pinned up against the wall, naked again, and I’m once again perilously aware of the fact that all that lies between me and his own naked body is a thin piece of leather, tied on by cords.

  He’s so close to me. I can smell his skin, the rich, sweet scent of the oil and the sweat beneath it. There’s a faint, metallic smell of blood, and something else.

  That something else sends my heart pounding, makes my blood race as his massive body cages me in, holding me against the wall. I want to escape, and I want to stay here. I want to be free, and I also want him to lean forward and kiss me, to push that scrap of loincloth aside and press himself between my legs, inside of me, so this deep, pulsing ache I feel can be satisfied…

  Wait. No. What are you thinking, Rose?

  I’m horrified by my thoughts. This… this barbarian has me captive for the second time today, and all I can still think about is fucking him? What on earth is wrong with me?

  I start to struggle again, and he easily pins me against the wall, his gaze darkening, his irises shifting from brown toward black. I feel a small shock of fear as I realize that I might have angered him. I remember the behavior of the Orkun, and my body stiffens in terror.

  This is the moment where he’ll punish me for trying to escape, or hurt me so I can’t try it again.

  Gritting my teeth, I raise my chin defiantly as he reaches out to touch me, but when his fingers graze against my skin, the touch is gentle.

  He mutters something in the language I don’t understand, his fingers probing along my sides, and I realize suddenly that he’s checking to see if I’m injured. Far from trying to hurt me, he’s intent on making sure I’m all right.

  The shock of that realization keeps me frozen in place as his broad hands roam my body.

  His touch isn’t sexual, although it makes my heart race.

  It’s clinical. Concerned.

  As he kneels down to touch the ankle that got tangled in the sheets, I stare down at him in wonder. I was expecting violence, but he’s been surprisingly tender. He’s not letting me go—but he’s also not hurting me.

  His fingers graze over my ankle, and I suck in a soft breath. I never knew an ankle could be an erogenous zone, but his soft touch there feels as if it has a direct line up my leg to the space between them. I can feel myself getting wet all over again, that nameless ache intensifying, and as his large fingers slide up my calf, it’s all I can do to keep myself from trembling.

  Tordax raises his head suddenly, the movement sharp. His warm breath brushes over my thigh. He breathes in deeply, as if scenting something, and I realize with fresh, hot shame that he can smell me.

  Oh, god. He knows that I’m turned on, that I want him.

  The corners of his mouth turn up, and he makes a noise low in his throat. His dark, mysterious gaze rolls up to meet mine.

  His fingers tighten on my calf, and my focus is drawn to the tight line of his jaw, the rigid set of his muscles. His loincloth hides what’s between his legs, but I can feel his desire, even if I can’t see his arousal. It radiates off of him, the air between us thickening as his hand slides up to the back of my thigh.

  To my horror, I let out a low moan.

  His eyes gleam with lust, and he shifts toward
me, still kneeling on the floor. His other hand reaches for my opposite leg, sliding up the back of it as he did on the other side, and I know I should fight, try to get away, try to run.

  But I’m frozen in place, wondering what he’s going to do next. He has me at his mercy, naked and pinned against a wall, and he’s staring at me with something that almost looks like… amazement? Wonder?

  I don’t understand it. There’s nothing special about me. Nothing amazing or wonderful. I’m just a girl from earth, on the verge of being homeless before I accidentally fell into a lost episode of the X-Files. And now this bronzed, barbarian creature is kneeling in front of me and…

  Oh. Oh god.

  He leans forward, breathing in deeply as he presses his mouth to the spot at the apex of my thighs, his hands sliding inward to push my legs apart a little and give him better access. I open my mouth to say something… anything… but the only sound that comes out is something between a whimper and a moan, because it’s at this exact moment that his tongue slides between my legs in a long, slow lick that’s more heavenly than anything I’ve ever felt.

  I’ve never met a single man on earth who knew how to go down on a girl. I always assumed there was something wrong with me, maybe, that I just didn’t like it. Most guys I dated didn’t really want to do it, and I didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

  But the moment Tordax’s mouth finds its way between my legs, I realize exactly what everyone has been making a fuss about all this time.

  It’s a pleasure like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s almost more than I can bear, as he holds my thighs firmly apart and delves his tongue deeper into me, licking me in long, slow strokes until he moves upward, focusing on that one spot that makes my knees turn to water. I feel as if I’m going to melt, as if I can’t stay upright.

  My entire body is on fire. I’m burning up, and I clutch the wall behind me, struggling to think through the haze of bliss that threatens to swallow me whole. A familiar feeling knots in my stomach as he holds me in place, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking my clit into his mouth. It’s a feeling I’ve had before, at home alone in my bed, with my trusty vibrator or my hand.

  I’ve never felt this with another person before—and it’s different even from the orgasms I’ve given myself. It feels stronger, more intense, and I’m suddenly afraid of letting it happen. I feel as if I’m going to shatter into pieces if I let go, as if I will literally fall apart, dissolve into air.

  My moans are filling the room, mingling with the sounds of his mouth on me, his tongue lapping at me. I can smell my own arousal, the sweat of his skin and mine, and it’s primal and intense in a way I never imagined anything being.

  In this moment, this last brilliant moment before Tordax makes me come, I realize in wild, half-formed thoughts that I would let him do anything to me that he wanted. He could fuck me here against this wall, here and now. He could do it in front of his men, he could do it on the floor, in the bed, in any part of my body that he chose. I’d do anything just to feel this a little longer.

  And then the wave breaks over me in deep, throbbing convulsions that come from the center of my body and wash outward.

  My legs give way as I clutch at the wall. When I can’t get a good grip on that, I reach for Tordax instead, grabbing a fistful of his thick dark hair. His arm goes around my waist, holding me upright as he keeps licking at that spot between my legs, carrying me through the orgasm. It seems to go on forever, and I shudder and moan, my legs splaying wider to let him have whatever he wants.

  When the last of the tremors have stopped, he picks me up easily, carrying me toward the bed.

  Oh god. He’s going to fuck me now.

  The dim thought pierces the fog of pleasure in my mind, and a new hunger sparks inside me. While the momentary urge to let him have me in any way he pleases has faded, I’m no longer so sure I want to fight this.

  A little of the previous fear returns—what if he’s frighteningly huge? What if he has something strange about him… there? He is an alien, after all.

  Tordax lays me back on the bed, and as his massive body leans over mine, I brace myself, waiting for the invasion of whatever he has between his legs. But instead of pinning me down and plunging his cock inside me, he looks down at me for a moment, turning my face so that my gaze meets his.

  And then he smiles at me again. The curve of his lips has the same sort of dominant, wicked mischief in it that I saw a moment ago, before his mouth found its way between my legs.

  Surely he’s not going to…? Not again. Not when he hasn’t gotten...

  But to my shock, he moves down my body as I lie on the soft, velvety bedspread. He touches my breasts briefly, his fingers sliding around the curve of them as he presses his lips to the space between them, and then the flat plane of my stomach. His mouth drags downward, and my skin shivers under his touch, every nerve still so sensitized that each brush of his mouth against me sends shocks of pleasure radiating through my body. His full lips drag across one hipbone, and then his hands are firmly on my thighs again, spreading them apart.

  “Oh, oh!” I throw my head back, crying out as his tongue slides over that spot again, now so sensitive that I almost can’t bear it. “I… I can’t…”

  Honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say. And it hardly matters anyway, because Tordax seems so entranced by what he’s doing that he doesn’t even hear me.

  Not to mention the fact that we don’t speak the same language.

  He licks me gently, his tongue slowly caressing me, and I feel the slow build of pleasure start again as his fingers slide over my thighs. His groan vibrates against my skin as his tongue slides downward, momentarily inside of me, and then he presses his mouth against me harder, devouring me as the desire builds.

  He’s enjoying this, I realize, and the thought shocks me—and inflames me.

  The idea that this virile creature, this warrior, is being driven to maddening heights of lust by me, that he wants to taste me, to give me more and more pleasure, is both insane… and also the most lust-inducing thought I’ve ever had.

  I look down at him, at his gleaming, bronzed body between my legs… and I suddenly feel powerful. Special. Wanted.

  He reaches up, his palms sliding over my hips and down the outside of my legs as his tongue moves over me, and then his hands are on the inside of my thighs again, and I feel his fingers pressing at my entrance, teasing me lightly as he begins to slide them inside of me.

  I should stop him, I think vaguely, but I don’t want to.

  God, I really don’t want to.

  My body is nearing the precipice of that incredible pleasure again. He’s going to bring me over the edge once more, and I want it desperately.

  I’m aching for him. I keep thinking that at any moment, he’s going to move up my body and plunge himself inside of me—and I don’t think I would argue. But to my continued amazement, he seems perfectly content to stay between my legs, his two fingers sliding in and out of me now as his tongue moves faster over that swollen, throbbing spot between my thighs, seemingly without a care for his own pleasure.

  He curls his fingers inside of me, pressing upward as he strokes them slowly against my inner flesh, and I arch my back, crying out as my hands fist the soft bedding beneath me. I’ve never felt anything like this, a building pressure that only increases the intensity of what I’m already feeling, and my legs splay outward, my toes curling too as he presses his mouth harder against me.

  “I’m… I’m… oh fuck!”

  I cry out, nearly screaming with pleasure as I feel it break over me again, my body convulsing in uncontrollable spasms.

  It’s too much. It feels too good.

  My heart is beating hard and fast in my chest, and I’m sure that I won’t be able to bear it, but he doesn’t stop, carrying me through the orgasm until I can’t breathe or think or do anything but lie limply atop the bed, every inch of me shuddering with pleasure.

  He pulls back the
n and doesn’t move for a long moment.

  I can feel him watching me, but I’m too exhausted to open my eyes. This day has gone on endlessly, and it’s hard to believe that just several hours ago, I was waking up in a cell with all of the other women. Now I’ve been made captive, freed, made captive again, and pleasured beyond my wildest dreams… and that’s just in one day.

  I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I can’t think of it now.

  My eyelids feel like they weigh a million pounds. I try to blink them open, but sleep is dragging at me, shock and exhaustion and sated pleasure all hitting me at once.

  Just before the exhaustion claims me, I feel Tordax’s strong arms slipping beneath me, lifting me long enough for him to pull back the heavy bedding. He lays me on the cool sheets, gently pushing a pillow beneath my head, and I feel him draw up the covers.

  He’s tucking me in, I think in amazement. This barbarian warrior is tucking me in to bed.

  I would laugh, if I weren’t already asleep.

  10

  Tordax

  I’ve never been this hard in my entire life, I think as I lift Roz’s limp, naked body and slide her under the covers of the large bed.

  I can still taste her on my lips, still smell the scent of her on me, and my entire body is throbbing with need, all of it centered on the large, rock-hard length between my legs. It took all the willpower I had not to take her right there on the bed, especially after feeling her climax under my touch, her pleasure flooding my senses as I held her.

  And the second time…

  My cock grows impossibly harder at the memory of the sweet sounds she made. It’s clear to me that no creature has ever touched her in this way before, or at least not with as much skill, and that pleases me.

  The only women I have ever been with have been either ones drawn to me out of curiosity, or ones I have paid. In any of those circumstances, I’ve never been sure of their pleasure, if their cries were real or manufactured, if the way they shuddered and clawed at me was to inflame my own ego or out of real desire. In every one of those encounters, I was always too desperate for release to care.