Читать книгу Falcon's Captive - Vonna Harper - Страница 11

Knowing she couldn’t fight him released some of his tension, but before turning her so she looked at him, he twice fed rope around her waist and then tied her wrists to the makeshift belt. Double-restraining her probably wasn’t necessary, but acknowledging what he’d done might go a long way toward convincing her who was in charge. Besides, he liked the way her arms looked with her elbows bent.

After positioning her on her back once more, he scooted away a little so he could study what he’d done. Having her arms behind her had forced her to arch her back, which prominently displayed her remarkable breasts.

The last time he’d touched them, he’d been rough and masterful as befitted his stature. Now, despite the demands his cock was making on his ability to concentrate, he lightly ran his fingers over the smooth flesh. Women were remarkable creatures, soft where men were hard, filled with moist, sleek passages a man could die in.

He didn’t like that that made him feel weak, damn it! She was a Wilding, a lesser being equipped with a primitive mind in sharp contrast to her magnificent body. It wasn’t fair! An animal-like creature should be ponderous and slow or so fragile he could easily snap her bones.

Still gliding his fingers over her breasts, he glanced around, half believing he’d spot Wilding men sneaking up on him. Surely the men wouldn’t allow her to walk about naked and alone.

Alone?

Maybe they’d deliberately sent this female out to seduce him.

Pondering the possibility, he again stared down at her. Her black eyes were open, but unlike the first time, they weren’t filmed in incomprehension. Judging by the way she studied him, she understood exactly what had happened to her.

It shouldn’t be like this! The poison wore off slowly. It didn’t suddenly melt away.

Warned by the hatred she made no attempt to hide, he expected her to start fighting. Fortunately, he was out of reach of flailing legs—legs he should have already restrained.

Not taking his eyes off her, he picked up a short length of rope. She strained upward, lifting her back off the ground. Impressed by the way the tendons stood out at the sides of her neck, he thanked the spirits for the hand they had in his saving her life. Even with her body full of fight, he felt close to her. There were just the two of them on this deserted stretch of land in a country he might never understand or feel comfortable in. He had no doubt that this resolutely silent woman had no intention of giving up. In addition, she didn’t appear to be at all ashamed of her nudity. Quite the opposite: unless he was mistaken, she was proud of her body.

“You can try fighting,” he said, wondering if she understood a word he said. “But it won’t do you any good.”

Her cheeks and throat glistening from the strain of keeping her shoulders off the ground, she continued to glare at him. She was a wild animal, and more. Savage and sensual at the same time. What would his shaman and lord do with her?

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Maybe you believe I intend to keep you for myself, but if you do, you’re wrong. You have value beyond a man’s need for a woman’s body, value the Ekewoko leaders know how to make the most of.”

He waited for her to react. When she didn’t, he continued.

“Do you know what I’m saying, wild one? I’m speaking the common language of travelers but maybe it makes no sense to you. Maybe my words are beyond your comprehension.” He reached out as if to touch her, only to withdraw his hand when she tried to scoot away. “My shaman says that Wildings are little more than animals. If that’s true, you are valuable for only one thing.”

Fury flashed in her eyes and, although she settled back down, he sensed no lessening in her resolve. Her reaction also told him a great deal about her comprehension.

“I saved your life. If I hadn’t come after you, you would have drowned.”

“You tried to kill me.”

Hearing her voice for the first time caused a lightninglike current to slam into him. Her voice was low for a woman, soft and yet resolute. “So you understand what I’m saying. Maybe I underestimated you.”

“You tried to kill me.”

“No, I didn’t.” The current continued to tease his nerve endings, prompting him to caress the rope he was holding in order to have something to do. “If I’d wanted you dead, you would be.”

“Your arrow—”

“Had been treated with the sap from a bush with the ability to paralyze.”

A blink was all she gave him in the way of a response, but he had no doubt she was waiting him out, studying him to see what he was going to do. Without the use of her hands, she had no option but to react to his actions; but what would happen if she was free? Strange, he didn’t see her trying to run away.

She was a worthy opponent, one with legs designed for running and a secret place where those legs joined. One moment stretched into another as he stared at the soft curl of dark hair standing guard over her woman’s place. He’d soon have access to it and wouldn’t turn her over to the others until he’d rewarded himself for having captured her.

His cock, which he’d been struggling to ignore while taking his measure of her, tightened. Wanting to gauge her response, he adjusted himself under his loincloth. Clenching her teeth, she shook her head.

“Yes,” he countered. “I will have you. When and how I want.”

“Unless I kill you first.”

“You, kill me? With what, your weapons?” He punctuated his sarcasm by sweeping his gaze over her nude form. “Where have you hidden them?”

She didn’t answer, and something in her expression made him wonder if she wasn’t certain what she was doing here alone wearing nothing. Maybe she was even more animal-like than he assumed.

The wind had picked up. It brushed morning cool and sharp over his still-wet skin, causing him to shiver. Certain she must be even more uncomfortable, he studied her, but she gave no sign of being cold.

Damnation, he didn’t understand her!

And what he didn’t understand, he didn’t trust.

Determined to make sure his captive realized how profoundly her life had changed and how much power he wielded, he held up the rope for her to see.

“No.” She scooted back a little.

“No?” he taunted. “How are you going to stop me, slave? How?”

“Do not call me—”

“I’ll call you what I want,” he said as he stood up. Not sure how to best restrain her legs, he loomed over her. If she was afraid, she gave no indication. “Because you belong to me.” For a while.

“No,” she repeated albeit not as forcefully as the first time. “I will never—”

Just then a shadow passed over her face, and she glanced upward. Prompted by the change in her expression, he did the same. A bird, maybe the same one that had alerted him to her location in the lake, drifted overhead.

She muttered something that was either nonsense or in a language he’d never heard, and although he wanted to see what the bird might do, his attention was drawn back to her. The sharpness was gone from her features, replaced by a softness, a love even. Although he longed to know what was responsible for the change, he resented the notion that she wasn’t thinking about him.

Anger driving him, he straddled her so his body was between her and the damnable bird. In the space of a single blink, the softness in her died, replaced by a warrior’s courage and determination.

“No!”

He sank down on top of her until her hips were under his buttocks.

She tried to buck him off, prompting him to press down even more. She continued to struggle. The way her elbows were positioned worked to his advantage because she couldn’t easily turn onto her side. Unfortunately, her flailing legs were behind him and out of reach.

He’d been right. She was strong. Even more important, she impressed him as determined but not desperate. He would have understood terror. All the captives he’d ever seen had been frightened out of their minds, begging and crying, pleading to their gods and spirits to save them—not that begging had ever changed anything. Instead, she seemed to be drawing on her own inner resources, resources that comforted and assured her even in the face of helplessness.

Something gathered inside him, a coming together of his resolve. He was determined to win this one-sided battle, not just because losing was incomprehensible, but because victory led to fucking.

Foreshadowing nothing of his intentions, he leaned to the side and then off her. Instead of letting himself fall, he pushed off the ground, grabbed her sharply bent elbows, and yanked her up and around so she was now on her belly. When she started to turn her head to the side, he grabbed a handful of hair and pull upward, forcing her to arch her back.

Although she tried to jerk free, she put little strength behind the effort, proof that she had no intention of risking having her hair pulled out. When she stopped struggling, he drew her upper body even farther off the ground so her breasts now hung down. The lines and curves of her taut body fascinated him. He longed to cup her breasts, to kneed and tease her nipples back into hardness. At the same time, he imagined stroking her buttocks until she moaned and went limp. He’d run his fingers lightly over the lush flesh while slowly closing in on her ass crack. Not caring how long it took, he’d caress and stroke, teaching and learning at the same time. Eventually her legs would part in primitive invitation and he’d slide a finger into her.

She’d begin to belong to him, only him.

However, instead of sighing in contentment as he’d fantasized, she breathed raggedly, coughing at the end. Realizing he was compromising her breathing, he released her hair. After lowering her head a bit, she turned her head to the side, then rested her cheek on the dirt. That done, she stared up at him. As before, he sensed no surrender in her. Quite the contrary, he had no doubt that she was gathering her strength as she waited for him to make the next move.

A worthy opponent. Maybe that’s why claiming her intrigued him so.

He’d dropped the rope while positioning her on her belly. Now he made no secret of what he was doing when he picked it up again. Mentally calling himself a bastard for teasing her, he trailed the rope over the backs of her thighs and then up and along the rounded buttocks he could hardly wait to get his hands on. She’d started when the end first touched her. Then, every line of her body tense, she’d lain there and taken it.

Only he couldn’t believe “taken it” adequately described what she was feeling.

“This is what’s ahead of you,” he told her. “My touching you every way I want to, whenever I want. Reminding you what it is to be a woman and being unable to shut down that part of yourself.” Teaching you how dependent you are on me.

If she understood what he was hinting at, her eyes didn’t give it away. Thinking to distract her from what he had in mind, he patted her shoulder. “Such a healthy specimen. A little on the skinny side, but your breasts make up for a lot.”

She continued to glare at him. As he was trying to decide what, if anything, to say next, a now-familiar shadow again darkened her features. Eyes wide and nostrils flared, she strained to look beyond him and into the sky.

Seizing the opportunity, he climbed back on top of her but faced her feet this time. She again bucked under him, her fierce movements stirring a cock that didn’t need any more stimulation. Fashioning a loop in the rope took longer than it should have because he had to fight to keep from being unseated. But by the spirits he loved her fight!

When she bent a knee in an attempt to kick him, he tried to snake the rope around her ankle. However, she yanked free before he could tie a knot. In addition to trying to wiggle out from under him, she thrashed from side to side. Her every movement registered throughout him. This was battle, war, strength against strength with the winner claiming everything.

He refused to lose.

Sweat slickened the feminine flesh under him, and he felt the effort every time she took a breath. He half believed he heard her heart beating. He could do this forever, certainly longer than she could. He’d ride her and ride her until she exhausted herself. Then, not for a moment letting her forget how helpless she was, he’d explore every part of her body. And he’d keep his sexual heat under control, somehow.

And he’d exploit hers.

Turn her into his possession.

His forehead pulsed, nearly screamed. His entire body felt as if it belonged to a savage beast. A determined beast.

Growling, he leaned forward and forced the loop over her foot. Then he quickly tied a single knot. Convinced she couldn’t shake it off now, he pulled up, forcing her to bend her knee once more. Keeping the pressure going, he took his time to secure a knot that wouldn’t come loose or tighten too much. His original intention had been to tie her ankles together, but now he wasn’t sure how he’d accomplish that without risking a punishing heel in his face.

She’d stopped trying to yank her leg free, which gave him an idea. The trick was to keep her knee bent. He couldn’t hold onto the rope indefinitely, but if it was secured to the rope around her waist…

“Battle over,” he informed her as he scooted back, not stopping until he could see her waist. Settling onto her back, he was careful to keep most of his weight off her.

Sliding the ankle rope under her waist near her tethered hands took a couple of tries because she kept trying to jerk her leg free, but at length he had her. She was his.