Time Raiders: The Whisper (3 page)

Marisol fought to free herself of his grip, but even if he’d had the wind knocked out of his lungs, he wasn’t letting go.

With a mighty swing, Marisol landed an elbow in his gut.

He grunted and swore, then he flung her to the side.

As soon as he let go, Marisol crab-walked backward, attempting to put space between him and her.

But her captor wasn’t done. He rolled over on top of her legs, his arms wrapping around her middle, pinning her to the hairy softness of an alpaca skin.

Marisol’s legs were trapped, so she swung out with her hands, catching his hair in her fists. White-blond hair. The same hair she’d seen on the Norseman.

“Gunnar? What are you doing here? And don’t feed me any more of your lies. I’ve had just about enough of them.” To emphasize her point, she pulled hard on his hair, yanking his head up so that she could see into his pale blue eyes, while she ignored the effect he was having on her.

A smile spread across his face, even as he winced. “Could you loosen up on the hair?”

With her insides warming at his every movement, Marisol couldn’t afford to let go of his hair or her anger. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I would think that was obvious.” He stared down at her breasts, on eye level with his position across her body. His breath heated her skin beneath the wool dress.

“Humor me and spell it out.” Marisol’s voice wobbled and sounded more breathless than before. Damn the man and his broad shoulders, naked but for the golden armbands around his thick biceps.

“You’ve been given to Inti as a gift.”

“And how do you fit into this picture?” With every breath Gunnar took, his chest rubbed against her belly, sending electrical currents coursing through her veins.

His grin broadened. “Let me introduce you to Inti’s shaman.”

Marisol frowned. “Go on.”

“I am the Inti shaman.”

“What?” The green-eyed beauty pulled harder on his hair.

“Let go of my hair and I’ll explain,” he said.

“Damn right you’ll explain.” Mercifully, she released her hold. “And get off me.”

With his hair freed, Gunnar found he wasn’t in such a hurry to move from his current position between her legs. His cock strained against the fabric of his tunic as though rooting for the prize. He eased his way up her body until he leaned over her, his hands planted on either side of her head. “Who are you, fire angel? And where have you come from?”

“I told you my name.” She expressly ignored his second question. “Now get off me.”

“You seem to forget. You were a gift to me from our emperor, Pachacuti.”

“He’s not my emperor and I am not bound by his word.”

“While in Cusco or any province within the Tawantinsuyu you are subject to the edicts of Pachacuti.” The fruity scent of her hair tantalized him and he dropped low, his chest skimming hers so that he could drink in her fragrance.

Marisol’s hands pressed against him. “What are you doing?” Her words came out in a thin whisper.

“You smell of fruit.” He captured her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled. “I am but sampling it.”

“What if I don’t want you to sample my fruit?” Her back arched, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest, her hands caught between, providing little resistance. “Stop, please.”

“You feel it, don’t you?”

“No. I feel nothing. I don’t know you. You look like a Viking. And as far as I know, Vikings hadn’t explored this part of the world at this time in history.”

His brows rose. “History? You don’t speak as the others of Cusco. Where did you say you came from?”

“I didn’t.”

“Perhaps you can tell me why you behave so differently than most women, and how you appeared before me out of thin air.”

Marisol Vasquez gasped, her eyes rounding. “You saw that?”

“Yes, indeed. At first I thought I’d imagined you, but when you spoke, I knew better. Teach me this trick.”

“It wasn’t a trick and I’m wasting time. I need to get into Pachacuti’s chambers.”

“Why? Just what are you looking for?”

“Who said I was looking for something?”

“It was a guess.” Gunnar lowered himself over Marisol until his lips hovered over hers.

“Perhaps I can help you?”

“No.” Her breath warmed his lips. “I need to find it on my own. Then I’ll be out of here.”

“You don’t understand. Once you enter Pachacuti’s court, you don’t leave. The great emperor has bestowed a gift upon me. If I refuse or…lose…my gift, he will grow angry.”

“But he thinks you are the Inti shaman, in direct communication with the sun god.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, of course not. You just look different.”

“Pachacuti would not keep me around because I look different.” Gunnar frowned. “He keeps me because of my intelligence and magical abilities.”

“Magic?” Marisol snorted. “Really?”

“You do not believe me capable of great magic?”

Marisol’s brows wrinkled, her mouth twisting. “Of course not. There’s no such thing as magic.”

“And what brought you to me on the hillside above Cusco, if not magic?”

The woman with the soft green eyes and the dark brown hair clamped her lips tight, refusing to answer.

“Shall I give you a sample of my magic so that you too will believe me a god?”

Marisol laughed out loud. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Gunnar wasn’t sure what she meant, but he took her answer as a yes. “First I need inspiration.” His abilities relied on nothing other than concentration. But he used this excuse to steal a kiss. His mouth closed over Marisol’s.

Her lips were full, soft and pliant beneath him. His tongue slid along the seam. His body ached to take more than just a kiss. He didn’t let her resistance dissuade him from sampling her. Slowly, gently, he trailed kisses along the firm line of her jaw and down her long, beautiful neck to the pulse beating swiftly at the base.

She wasn’t as immune as she pretended, her chest rising and falling against his as though she’d been running.

Gunnar returned to the lips that had filled his imagination from the moment she’d appeared before him. With his body on fire, he captured her face in his hands and kissed her more firmly this time, enjoying her struggles that grew less with each passing second.

When her hands reached out to weave through his hair and bring him closer, he slid his tongue between her teeth and toyed with her own. He basked in the exotic taste of her mouth as she gave in to the kiss and returned the pressure. The deeper the kiss, the less he was aware of his surroundings, feeling as if he soared above the city, above the heavens, into the vastness of the sky and beyond.

His cock swelled, nudging against the fabric of his tunic, urging him to take more, to press into her, sheathing himself in her warm, wet channel, achieving ascension to bliss.

But not yet, not until she was as hot and willing as he was.

He lifted his head and stared down into eyes so green he could lose himself in them. “Do you feel the magic?”

She sucked in a deep breath and skimmed her tongue across swollen lips. “No.” Her eyes widened with her lie.

Gunnar smiled and traced his finger along her cheek. “Then feel this.” He reached deep inside, concentrating his mind and soul on the earth beneath them.

The tremors started in rhythm to the beat of his heart, a faint shimmy, the ground barely moving. “Feel that?”

Marisol frowned. “I feel you lying on top of me, if that’s what you mean. Is that the best you can do?”

With a frown, Gunner increased the ripple beneath him until the earth rumbled. A clay pot in the corner of his room rocked. He stared down at her, raising his eyebrows. “And now? Surely you feel the earth move?”

Marisol swallowed hard. She’d felt the tremors before but attributed it to Peru’s location on the circum-Pacific seismic belt. Not magic. “I felt the earth move, but this area is prone to tremors.”

“Maybe so, but I called that tremor. I made it happen.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Gunnar’s lips tightened. “Woman, if I shake the earth much more, the walls may come crashing down. What more proof do you need?”

“Okay, okay, big guy, you’ve made your point. Now will you get off me? I have work to do.”

“The only work you have to do is to please me.”

“Spoken like a true man of your time.”

“And are you not a woman of the same time?” He dropped down beside her, his leg trapping hers beneath, an arm looped over her middle. “As I see it, I own you. You are my slave.”

She shoved at his arm. “Get this straight…I am no man’s slave.” The iron band was in place and couldn’t be budged. “Move.”

“You are a strange creature. Do they have warrior women where you come from? Women like the emperor’s Imac?”

“Yes. There are women where I come from who aren’t ruled by men, who have minds of their own and are not afraid to use them.”

“I should be interested in visiting this land. Perhaps we can set out tomorrow on the journey to your home.”

Marisol’s heart fluttered. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you work for the emperor? Didn’t you just tell me that once you entered the emperor’s domain you never left?”

“I seem to recall saying such a thing, but I am a free man, subject only to my own whims.”

“Is Pachacuti in full agreement with you?”

Gunnar’s eyes narrowed.

Marisol smirked. “Or do you plan on using your magic to convince him to let you leave?”

“I could, should I need to. However, I prefer not to harm innocent lives proving a point.”

“Then you are just as trapped as I am in Pachacuti’s palace.” Marisol wiggled her legs in an attempt to shove Gunnar’s brawny thigh off hers.

With each move, her hip nudged against the hard, ridge beneath Gunnar’s tunic, sending jolts of heat throughout her body. Awareness built inside, growing and surging low in her belly. The man’s naked legs against her own only managed to make her want to explore beneath the Norseman’s tunic and see how impressive that ridge was when unleashed.

Thoughts of making love to this large, pale-haired stranger had her gasping more than her effort to gain her freedom. “Please, let me up.”

“You do realize that to move about the palace you will need an escort, do you not? You are new and not a trusted servant.”

“The last time you advised me on an escort, I was almost offered up as a sacrifice. No thank you. I will find my own way.”

“This time, I offer you my services.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Your behavior reflects on me. If I cannot control my ‘gift,’ I will be held in Pachacuti’s contempt.”

Marisol snorted. “I thought you were a god. Why should you live in fear of Pachacuti?”

“I am a god trapped in the body of a mortal. Should my body expire, I too will expire.”

Marisol tipped her head. “You mean if I stabbed you, you would die?”

Gunnar frowned. “Do not get any untoward ideas. I am the man, capable of subduing my woman.”

“I am no man’s woman, and I will not be held as a captive and treated as a concubine. Are you going to let me go, or will you prove yourself a man by raping me?”

She held her breath in fear of the Norseman’s answer, half-afraidhe’d follow through and half-afraid he wouldn’t. She’d never been this confused by a man in her life. In fact her track record with the male gender hadn’t exactly been stellar. She always managed to fall for the wrong guy, men she could easily intimidate and whom she had thought would be kind and gentle. They’d turned out to be weak-willed and spineless.

Gunnar, on the other hand was neither. But as a strong-willed woman, could she remain submissive to a man from a time where women were regarded with less respect than cattle?

Gunnar laughed out loud. “You are a feisty creature. I will prove to you that I am a man, but I will not have to rape you to do it.” He forced her to sit up, one hand on her thigh holding her in place. With the other hand, he ripped her dress up and over her head, tossing it to the corner.”

“Some man you are.” Marisol sat amongst the animal skins, the alpaca pelt soft against her naked skin. She covered her breasts with her arms, wishing she’d disobeyed orders and worn a bra and panties beneath the native costume. “So, rape it is?” Anger mixed with excitement, making her words come out sharp and stinging.

Her heart beat faster, not from fear but more anticipation.

“Stay.” He pointed at her and stood, dragging his tunic up and over his head in one fluid motion. He stood over her with nothing adorning his body but the gold bands clamped around his biceps.

The man truly was a god. Platinum hair fell down in a straight sheet around his shoulders; his skin, though considerably lighter than Pachacuti or any other Incan descendent, was tanned to a rich golden brown. Every muscle bulged in blatant definition, from those in his neck down to the solid muscles of his calves. And the places in between… That massive rod that had hidden beneath his wool tunic sprang free, thick and engorged, raising its head to the sun, giving credence to Gunnar’s claim as a great shaman.

Marisol’s breath escaped her, leaving her light-headed, unable to take advantage of her temporary freedom to make a run from the arrogant man.

When her wits finally returned, it was too late.

Gunnar hadn’t meant to frighten Marisol, but her actions showed that she obviously needed more convincing.

Before she could climb to her feet, Gunnar flew at her, tackling her from behind, the thick cushion of alpaca and llama hides cushioning their fall. He landed on her back, his cock pressing against her buttocks.

Gunnar’s arms wrapped around Marisol’s waist, his hands brushing against the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Let me go.” Marisol’s body hunched beneath him, his effortlessly holding her down.

“You will see that I can be a very gentle lover.”

Her elbow connected with his ribs in a sharp upward jab.

He grunted and maneuvered her arms above her head, pinning her wrists with one of his. Then he flipped her onto her back, straddling her thighs.