Read SurrendersMischief Online
Authors: Alvania Scarborough
SurrendersMischief (2 page)
Think, Riana. Think!
“Since you are an offworlder, I will explain this one time.
You broke a rule, therefore you must be punished.”
“What rule? Damn you, make sense!” Maybe the damn translator
was messed up after all.
“You tried to escape.”
His voice, dark, rich as chocolate, made her think of warm
beds and hot sex.
She’d lost her mind. That was it. Knocked senseless from the
rough landing, she was hallucinating some weird kind of capture fantasy. Her teeth
slammed down on the tip of her tongue as the ’cycle hit a pocket of air. Pain,
sharp and immediate, made it clear this was no hallucination.
“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding. Of course I
tried to escape. I woke to you shackling me. What did you expect?” she demanded
as it sank in her captor was serious. She tried to twist so she could see his
face, but he moved his chin from the top of her head and rested it on her
shoulder, preventing her.
“You must learn such actions are unacceptable.” His lips
tickled her ear, but it was the calm, even tones that riveted Riana’s
attention.
One large hand left the handlebars.
Riana tensed.
He toggled a switch on the dashboard, putting the ’cycle on
autopilot.
Riana couldn’t tear her gaze from his leather-clad hands,
watching them the way a trapped
gizal
watched a water serpent.
Both hands now free, he removed the black leather glove from
his left hand and then his right, the action slow and deliberate. On the back
of his right hand a ragged scar started at his middle knuckle and snaked its
way past his wrist to halfway up his arm.
Fear chased up her spine.
His hand bumped her bound wrists as he tucked the gloves
into his belt.
One large hand came around to cup her right breast, the heat
from his calloused palm after the cold wind was exquisitely painful.
She bit back a moan. “Don’t.”
His thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple.
Riana gave a startled yelp and tried to lean away from his
touch. He hadn’t really hurt her, but the threat of pain was just below the
surface.
His touch eased and he rotated her nipple, pinching and
pulling at her sensitive flesh. He covered the distended nipple with his palm
until her flesh heated, creating an oasis of warmth from the cold. His left
hand cradled her other breast, mirroring the erotic action of his right hand.
Riana felt her breath quicken. Fuck, she was beginning to
respond. She straightened her spine with a snap and tried to scoot backward.
All she succeeded in doing was lodging herself more intimately into the vee of
his spread thighs. She shot forward again. Captive, unable to evade his touch,
Riana waited for his next move, her heart beating in a harsh, staccato rhythm.
Her captor removed his right hand from her breast, only to
return almost at once. He circled her nipple with his wet forefinger.
A muffled cry of protest slipped past her hard-won control.
The bastard had wet his finger. The cold air rushed over the now-wet flesh,
causing her nipple to pucker painfully.
“No,” she moaned, wriggling desperately against the icy
chill.
He removed his left hand and treated that breast to the same
sensual torment.
Riana tried to brace herself, but it was useless. A half sob
escaped her clenched teeth.
He smoothed his palms down her ribs, outlining each ridge
with a delicate precision. He paused halfway down her side then retraced his
path.
Chills chased over her skin as the rough tips of his fingers
explored a scar—a savage reminder of a run-in with a Delvidian snakebird—with
surprising delicateness. The slow seduction after the pain was enough to begin
to drive her from her mind.
His hand began moving again, lower, lower, until he grazed
her stomach with a light touch.
The nerves beneath his palms fluttered, setting off sparks
that went straight to her core, and to her horror, she felt her sex grow wet
with desire.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Don’t think about what he’s
doing to you
, she mentally chanted over and over, only to be distracted by
a heated moan. The betraying sound had come from her lips.
Focus, Riana.
Focus on what you’re going to do to him once you get your freedom.
She’d kill him. A slow and horrible death. She savored the
thought of taking her time, enjoying each second of his demise. Maybe she’d
feed him to a snakebird when she was done.
He slowly, erotically separated the swollen folds of her
labia, shattering her concentration. The cold wind became an icy whip that
flicked her clit to greater arousal. Her lower body became a study in heat and
cold.
She was going to die from the pleasure.
The wetness between her legs became a flood. She lifted her
hips, frustrated to the point of screaming when she discovered she was too
tightly bound to move far enough to brush her throbbing clit against his
teasing fingers. “Oh Zethra, help me,” she moaned as a relentless tide of
desire rushed over her.
His roughened fingertips moved a fraction of a centimeter
closer to her clit.
“Please.”
He moved his fingers over her clit, caressing her, stroking
her distended tab of flesh, using her juices as lubricant to smooth the way.
“Yes. Oh yes,” she hissed in unbearable relief.
He shifted behind her, placing his mouth on the side of her
neck and bit gently.
A shiver slid down her spine, heightening her enjoyment. A
part of her was stunned at her reaction, her response, amazed at her lack of
protest at having a complete stranger take control of her body. He began to
suck on her neck and his hand moved up to cup her breast, ensnaring that
shocked part of her in passion.
Riana arched her spine, throwing her head back, encouraging
him to continue.
He pressed his thumb against her slit.
She began to burn deep inside. She smelled her own arousal.
The light, musky fragrance embarrassed her as nothing else had, not even her
nudity.
He moved his thumb only to slip a finger inside her, thrusting
it in and out while his thumb flicked against her clit.
The burn became a furnace as he slipped another finger
inside and stretched her, testing her tightness.
Colors shimmered behind her closed eyes. “More, please,
more,” she breathed over and over. Her hips lifted and fell, matching the
rhythm of her captor’s invading fingers.
He removed his hand and leaned back until he was no longer
touching her.
Dazed, it took her a moment to realize the meaning behind
his action.
“No!” Her scream ripped through the night, only the vast
indifference of space hearing her cry of rage. “Damn you! Why are you doing
this to me? I did you no harm. All I did was crash on your planet. On my world,
we help stranded visitors. I’m a trader, dammit!” she stormed, only half aware
of what she was saying. Inside, the fire of passion burned, outside, the wind
turned the proof of her arousal icy, mocking her uncontrolled response.
“You are no longer on your world. You are in Nexar.”
They were the first words he had spoken to her since he
began teasing and tormenting her.
Riana sucked in a breath and forced herself to regain a
modicum of control. “You will pay for this outrage. I swear I will make you
pay.”
Her overheated body began to cool off, and shudder after
shudder ripped through her.
“No. You will learn your place. How difficult you find your
adjustment is purely up to you.” His hands slipped between her thighs again.
“No!” Riana screamed.
He ignored her.
Her nerve endings roared to life. The muscles in Riana’s
stomach clenched in protest. This couldn’t be happening. The folds of flesh
between her legs, soft and moist, plumped with immediate arousal. Riana slammed
her legs together, but it was a futile gesture as the saddle of the aircycle
kept them obscenely wide. Fury and panic hit her, laying waste to any semblance
of control. She jerked, this way and that, struggling to rip her bonds loose.
Her captor let her wear herself out, his hands between her
legs the entire time.
Sobbing for air, awash with humiliation, Riana breathed brokenly,
“Who are you? Answer me!”
He remained silent.
“Damn you, the least you could do is tell me your name.”
His response was to slip his finger, slick from her body,
inside her.
Time lost all meaning. Her captor brought her to the brink
of fulfillment time and time again, only to deny her release. Her own broken
sobs and pleas rang in her ears.
Lost in the sensations he had aroused, Riana was only
vaguely aware of the aircycle slowing to a stop. Every nerve in her body
quivered with influx of sensory overload. Even the touch of the breeze was
painful.
“Please…no more,” she begged as she felt movement behind
her.
He freed one of her hands and placed it on his groin. He
wasn’t the slightest bit aroused.
It was the final humiliation.
He leaned forward. “I am Darias. Your master.”
Chapter Two
Darias, Supreme Chief of Nexar, the largest of the
country-states on the planet Tarbos, leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb
separating the bedchamber from the smaller sitting room. One hand went to the
back of his neck. Damn, he was getting too old to sleep in a chair. He glared
at the woman in his bed. She stretched, and a small frown formed between her
eyes when her head turned on the pillow. A residual headache, he knew, from
being stunned.
He rubbed the knot on the side of his head before his
fingers trailed down to the bruise on the side of his face. Served her right.
She was just damn lucky he let her sleep in the bed at all. In his father’s
day, slaves slept on the floor or in their quarters when not serving their
masters.
She shifted again, and this time a tiny groan leaked free as
she moved her shoulders. An unexpected jolt of guilt slugged his gut. He
straightened, his aches and pains forgotten.
He’d kept her arms tied in the awkward position far longer
than he’d originally intended. But once he touched her, he couldn’t seem to
stop. Her skin was so soft, like the finest spidersilk cloth. She’d needed a
lesson, but he feared he was the one who paid the price. Something that wasn’t
supposed to happen.
Males punished females, but they weren’t moved by it.
Detachment was imperative to drive home the seriousness of the infraction so
the female didn’t repeat the offense.
He scrubbed his fingers against the sides of his leather
breeches, but the sensation of liquid silk and the heat of hidden depths
remained. His hand clenched on his thigh. He inhaled a slow breath and, damn,
caught the elusive tang of her arousal.
The hard, heavy beat of blood in his groin, the same one
that’d made a good portion of his night miserable, jumped. His father’s
disdainful laughter rang in his ears. He’d never understood his son’s distaste
for sex after a punishment. One time, determined to erase such softness in his
only son, his father had locked him in the women’s cells with the woman Darias
had punished just hours before, during his training. The scent of her wild
arousal and the blood pounding through every cell in his body had been sheer
torture for a young man barely past the cusp of manhood and barely in control
of his emotions. Old fury tore through Darias. Never again had he allowed his
father to manipulate him, but he’d still lost much that day and some things
just could not be regained.
Darias shoved both the memory and the ache in his groin to
the back of his mind. He was no longer that boy.
No, now he was a man besieged by problems on all sides. Not
the least of which was his impulsive decision to take the offworlder as slave.
What the hell had he been thinking? To find surcease in her shapely body? Hah!
Already the woman proved to be more troublesome than a pack of firekits turned
loose in the keep. Talk about defiant. Even exhausted and hyper-aroused from
her punishment, she’d refused to acknowledge him as master, much less herself
as slave.
A soft knock at the chamber door pulled him from his
thoughts. He opened it to find Bryta, his first-in-command’s woman. In her arms
were several silken outfits. She aimed an uneasy smile in his direction. Darias
repressed a sigh when her gaze skittered away from his. He wasn’t a monster for
Quaral’s sake.
“Gaith said you had need of these.” She held out the
clothes, still seemingly fascinated with a spot somewhere below his chin.
“Thank you.” He took them, resisting the urge to see if
she’d jump if he said “Boo”. Gaith’s woman was too damn timid for his taste.
But then again, most women were timid around him. Hopefully she was more
outspoken with his friend. Curious now, he studied her closely, perhaps for the
first time. Wild blonde curls capped a face made up of gentle lines. The soft
curve of a cheek, full bottom lip, a gently rounded chin, all spoke of a woman
whose nature was to please.
He couldn’t ever imagine her attacking a man, not even
during the most extreme circumstances.
So unlike the redheaded hellion he’d claimed for his own.
A thought occurred to him. “Bryta?” She jumped and he again
repressed a sigh. Darias consciously gentled his voice. “My new slave is an
offworlder and unfamiliar with our ways. I would deeply appreciate it if you
would take her under your wing and make the adjustment easier for her.” He
waved a hand, inviting her in. With Bryta keeping his slave busy and out of
trouble, he could engage Gaith or one of the men-at-arms in a satisfying,
exhausting bout of training. Gods knew, he needed something to take care of the
annoyingly persistent awareness plaguing him. When Bryta just eyed him,
trepidation in her dove-gray eyes, he tried out a reassuring smile, only to let
it die away when she took a step back.