Abducting the Princess (4 page)

“Say the word and my hand will be inside your sweet cunt, bringing you the pleasure you seek.”

Oh goddess, no. Oh fuck, yes.

A rumbling purr from deep in her throat should have been answer enough. But he waited for her barely audible, “Please,” before he slipped easily past the loose waistband of her pants, his fingers effortlessly finding and parting her labia.

Her breath came out on a sigh when he massaged her clit, alternating between gentle and slow then firm and hard, causing her to undulate against him even more. Panting. Purring. Needing him with an intensity that would have been scary had she been halfway lucid.

His eyes glowed red, revealing his inner panther. He kneaded her faster and she gasped as heat shot through her clit and into her womb. A sensation that built and built until she had no option but to thrust against him, climaxing under his deft hand with soft little cries of rapture.

Mahaya withdrew his hand, exhaling sharply when he viewed the tear sliding down her face that she tried helplessly to scrub away.

But how could she explain the sense of loss after such pleasure? How could she explain the fear after such joy?

Goddess, he was her enemy and yet he’d made her feel alive just from his touch alone. “Mira. What is it? I didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. Of course not.” She looked up, drinking in the strong sweep of his jaw, the arresting glitter of his green stare. “You were very…considerate.”

He arched a brow. “I guess that’s a compliment.”

“Don’t you see?” she whispered, though her voice echoed off the cave walls. “You were everything I
never
imagined you would be…and more.”

If she could have erased her words she would have, if only to see the gentle tenderness on his face once again.

“You despise
nightmixes
that much?” he asked quietly.

He appeared…wounded. As if her words had cut him sharper than knives. But she couldn’t pretend the very thought didn’t keep her awake at night, fearful that her father’s
nightmix
blood ran through her veins.

She opened her mouth.

Mahaya put up a hand. “Don’t say a word. Please.” His hand dropped to the stallion’s flank even as he looked out the cave opening, his mind appearing to be anywhere but on the scenery outside.

She stepped toward him. In spite of the fact he was her captor, she was desperate to erase the distance between them. Because it truly did seem as though he’d done everything in his power to keep her safe. Yes, he’d taken away her freedom, but he’d also gifted her with a pleasure no male ever had before. Hysteria built in her belly. A
larakyte
princess who’d never shifted shape and never mated. Who’d have thought?

Though she’d never had to worry about her inner panther wanting to take over, she’d maintained strict control. She’d known that one day her beast really might want out. If she so easily gave into its needs, how did she expect to repel the darkness within?

It was past time she made a stand. Past time she listened to her usually sound rationale.

Mahaya turned and vaulted onto Jax’s back. He held out a hand—the one and same that’d brought her to orgasm?—and said in a neutral tone, “The soldiers are long gone, but they’ll be back. We should be on our way.”

She didn’t accept his hand. “Why don’t you just leave me here?” At his scowl, she added quickly, “The soldiers will return and find me, and by then you’ll be long gone. No harm done.”

He blew out a disbelieving breath. “Don’t you understand? You’re not safe. Not anymore. The dissenters are more than aware you’re the people’s beloved princess. With you dead, the kingdom might well fall into chaos. It’s what the dissenters want most.”

People’s beloved princess? The same people who’d let Mahaya drag her away? Funny how that knowledge tore at her more than even the fact the
larakyte
dissenters wanted her dead. She shook off the negative thoughts and instead broached the question that could no longer be denied. “So you’re saying you’re
not
one of the dissenters?”

“My
nightmix
blood doesn’t make me your enemy.”

Clever. An answer without really being an answer.

“Then…you don’t want to destroy me?” She was almost too afraid to hear his answer.

“I want only to protect you.”

Relief and something else, something much stronger, careened through her. She pushed the emotions away, unwilling right then to examine them too closely. Besides, her feelings couldn’t be trusted right then. “And your followers…?”

“Want exactly the same thing—to protect you.”

So he really wasn’t a dissenter then. Those people wanted nothing more than to kill shape shifters, but most especially the royal
larakytes
.

She didn’t move for some long seconds, considering him…his words. Then her hand lifted and she accepted his grasp. Maybe she didn’t want to face the truth? Or maybe she was beyond crazy putting her trust in him?

Either way she didn’t have much of a choice.

Once outside the cave again, Mahaya pushed the stallion into an easy lope that quickly ate up the miles. But the further they put distance between her and her people, the more uneasy she grew.

Even if escape had been an option, she realized it was futile now. The unrelenting heat of the white desert shimmered as far as the eye could see, with interchangeable distant dunes the only reference point.

Her heart sank. She knew so little outside the kingdom walls. All her knowledge and experience had been taken up by her peoples’ needs. She let out a weary sigh, crushed by her own ineptness.

Once again she couldn’t help but wonder if Mahaya did think she was a spoiled princess.

The man in question shifted a little in the saddle behind her, making her stunningly aware of the hard thickness of his arousal. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as an image infiltrated her mind. Both of them naked and Mahaya sucking and licking at her breasts, his impressive-sized cock rocking in and out of her soaking pussy.

Her throat tightened as her inner panther purred. She simultaneously cut off the vocal betrayal and willed the image away.

His voice came out gruff. “So is it true what your people say about you?”

He was baiting her and she knew it. But despite herself she was intrigued. And if nothing else it would distract her from her too vivid thoughts. “What do they say?”

“That the chilled water of an early dawn runs through your veins.” Her breath hissed before he continued, “And that everything you do is for the good of the kingdom, with no emotions involved.”

Her jaw ached withholding the fury rising within. Her once purring inner panther wanted nothing more than to unsheathe its claws and lash out. Or better yet, shift shape and run off some steam.

She’d never allowed herself even that one simple pleasure. She’d inherited her parents amazing ability to withhold the beast and she’d taken advantage of it, exercising a control that’d never been in danger of cracking…until now.

The stallion’s ears flattened, its tail swishing sharply in warning. Seemed even Jax knew of her sudden longing.

Mahaya leaned forward, his torso aligning with her stiff spine. “I know better, Mira. I’ve seen the fire in your eyes, tasted the heat of your kiss.”

Odd, the sense of satisfaction and instant reprieve of anger at his admission. But she had no time to think on the matter when their mount’s shod hooves rang out sharply on the pebbled undersurface of a road, presently hidden beneath windblown sands.

Her relief was short lived however when he untied his
darfe
and slipped it onto her face, covering everything as he murmured, “There’s a sandstorm building behind us. Trust me when I tell you not to take this off.”

She immediately stilled at his words, tension coiling through her body. Sandstorms were all too common in her kingdom, and although she’d been safe enough in the palace, even the near impenetrable stone walls hadn’t kept all the grit outside.

Without any shelter they might well die. Lungs could fill with sand, as could any uncovered orifices. Not to mention the swirling sand would obstruct their vision and cover the sun, turning day to night. Shudders tore through her. They could easily become disorientated, lost and confused.

She could only hope Mahaya could pull them through it somehow.

“My
darfe
is see-through,” he said with all the calm patience in the world as he finished tying it in place, “but it will protect your eyes, your mouth and ears.”

“And what about you?” she asked in a muffled voice.

The roan whickered a little, evidently sensing the approaching sandstorm—or perhaps the tension of the riders. Mahaya pressed the stallion into a fast, swinging walk. A second later she felt Mahaya’s muscles contract behind her as he lifted his arms. And from the rustling of fabric she guessed he’d pulled off his shirt.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you cared,” he drawled at last.

Before she could toss back a denial, he was drawing his shirt over her head, obviously covering her torso to protect her delicate skin from the sharp sting of airborne sand. She didn’t dwell on his thoughtfulness. Not when hot male spice and shifter scent filled her nostrils through the
darfe
, reawakening her inner cat despite the approaching danger of a sandstorm.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper when he drew the hood up and over her head, ensuring it also covered half her face.

“You’re welcome, Mira.” If he sensed her reaction, he blessedly chose to ignore it. He urged the stallion into an easy canter, a pace she suspected the roan could keep up for quite some time. “When I said I’d protect you, I meant it.”

Within minutes she could hear the sandstorm behind them, a howling monster that was evidently gaining ground. But far ahead she could see the pile of rocks Mahaya rode toward, just off the road. Inadequate shelter at best, but perhaps enough to save their lives.

He pushed the roan into a gallop the last few miles, clearly aware they had no more time to spare. When he reined the stallion up sharply and immediately dismounted, she followed right after, clambering into his arms.

His face serious as he looked down at her upturned face, he yelled above the approaching winds, “You know what you have to do.”

She nodded. Lying low on the ground and using the rocks to shield them a little from the storm was their only hope of survival. She swallowed back fear at the huge wall of sand only minutes away. Dropping to the ground, she looked up for a moment to watch Mahaya’s deft movements as he tended to his horse.

The stallion stood obediently still as Mahaya took off the bridle then reached under the saddle to free a stitched skin, which fit over the roan’s head. The mask protected Jax’s ears, nostrils, mouth and eyes from sand while effectively blinding the horse and removing much of its instinctive need for flight.

Mahaya then quickly loosened the girth and tugged the cloth from beneath the saddle. Putting the cloth over his head, neck and some of his torso as a shield, he lay down too, his weight settling around her, sheltering her. And despite the fact he was nothing less than her kidnapper who’d put her in this position, she felt instantly safe.

Almost all her life she’d looked after everyone else’s needs and problems. It was amazing this once for someone to look out for hers.

The sand, a thin, prickling stream at first, abruptly hit hard and unrelenting. A howling frenzy that was thick and suffocating. It was all she could do just to breathe, just to stay calm. She reached for Mahaya’s nearest hand, reassured when his fingers interlaced with hers before giving a squeeze. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he coped without the
darfe
and his hooded shirt.

Daylight became night. Yet despite her fear, with Mahaya’s arms wrapped around her, she was safe.

Even her inner beast lay low.

Seconds turned into minutes, then hours. And as the sandstorm pulsed around them, her thoughts turned inward, drifting to a place she tried not to think too much about.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“He likes you.”

At her mother’s words, Mira turned away and glanced at Jarvias, the silver-haired man who was obviously a
larakyte
and also one of her father’s most skilled soldiers. At his confident and charming smile, she managed to smile in return, though disappointment bit deep with the lack of response from her inner beast.

If she went along with Jarvias’ courting it’d be no love match. It’d barely even be a match at all.

Had she quelled her inner beast and repressed her sexual needs for so long now they couldn’t be roused? Was she really to spend the rest of her days as some sexless woman, never to experience the true meaning of passion?

Better to be an impoverished matron looking forward to each and every night with a loving husband than a lone princess scared of the dark and her own feelings.

“He’s very handsome,” her mother continued. But her sharp-eyed stare clearly took in Mira’s disinterest. “You’re not impressed though.”

Mira dropped her stare from Jarvias, aware of his letdown at her lackluster response. She hated the ensuing guilt that filled her. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t find his attractive good looks…attractive. “He’s okay,” she said dully.

Already she felt weighted down by the knowledge a marriage was needed to ensure the royal lineage would endure. Though her chances of falling pregnant were slim, a
larakyte
mate was her best hope. She’d count herself blessed if she did indeed bear a child. She held much less hope she’d be as lucky as her mother and find a husband she could truly love.

“Then he’s not the one for you,” her mother murmured, a tinge of regret in her voice. “Never mind, you’ll know when the right one appears. Your whole organized life will be set upside-down.”

Chapter Four

The memory dissolved about the same time the storm abated. Mahaya’s weight moved from her and the sand that’d made its home on him cascaded around them. She looked up at his face and her chest tightened as her heart pitter-pattered.