Chapter Seven

Considering that he had had an erection all night, his balls felt like they were going to explode, and he had not slept more than a few moments at the time all night, Drak felt amazingly light hearted as he headed down the stairs—Tired, but … pleased. As if he had accomplished something of importance.

He supposed it might have been because of that lighter mood that he had made it downstairs and across the great room to his accustomed place near the east hearth before he noticed the condition of his men.

Most of them slept in the great hall—at least during the winter months—and the celebration of the success of their raid had still been in full swing when he had decided he had had entirely enough celebrating and headed to his bed the night before. It was not surprising, therefore, that the majority of them were still out—or asleep—most likely unconscious from the amount of brew they had sucked down the night before.

He supposed he also should not have been surprised to see that both the men and the great hall bore very distinct signs of battle, but he certainly was not pleased about it. The black eyes, bruises, and missing teeth could have been the results of fights among the men over some dispute or other, but he was pretty sure he could only put the claw marks and missing hair down to heavy-handed romance, particularly since he overheard a number of comments along the way between the men regarding their conquests.

What spoiled his good mood instantly, however, was a comment he caught regarding the ‘pigmy’ he had captured. More specifically, it was the suggestion that he did not bear any of the ‘love marks’ of having had success ‘wooing’ his woman.

He did not know who had made the comment, so instead of confronting them directly, he merely informed them that he had not had to fight for his lady’s favors.

“Yeah, right!” Kirk the red commented. “It don’t count as a surrender if they just scream an’ pass out! And I don’t think I would want to be stirrin’ my sticks in a cold one.”

It was the insult to Noelle that sent him from amused tolerance to rage in ten seconds flat.

Well, and the fact that the bastard had all but called him a liar. He was not about to put up with that even if it was an outright lie. Halting abruptly, he swung around on his heel, slinging out his right arm and balled fist in the same motion, caught Kirk square on the side of the head, and knocked him clean off his feet. “You even think about stirrin’ your sticks in my woman again and I will beat you to a pulp!” he snarled. He lifted his gaze from the man on the floor and swept the room with the same message and then, when he saw Kirk had no intention of getting on his feet and countering, he resumed his progress.

He was still seething when he reached his seat and sprawled in it. He had exercised restraint with the woman because he had a far more important agenda that assuaging physical needs that were ignored far more often than they were assuaged anyway! He had not anticipated the threat that had reared its ugly head, but he knew better than to ignore that and hope for the best.

His men respected him. In general, he could count on their loyalty—their fear if they did not love and respect him as their monarch.

But it was winter and that was a dangerous time. Everyone was cooped up in close quarters, supplies were limited and dwindling far too rapidly, and the men had very few outlets for their energies. The yearly raid on K’naiper was the highlight of the bitterly cold season and the payoff was the supplies to get them through the remainder of the winter and the women to expend their excess energies and/or frustrations on.

It was only half a pie, however. The ship would not accommodate more than a portion of his men—not if they were to have room to bring back what they were going after. So while it helped a goodly portion of the men, it unfortunately increased the frustrations of far more and those who had been excluded from the raid were prone to picking fights with the men who had gone in the hope of relieving them of their booty—the woman.

He was generally exempt from that particular worry—mostly because he was their Prince and few dared challenge him on any issue, let alone something relatively insignificant like a woman. And also because, in general, he simply was not inclined to worry about it. In fact, he had, on many occasions, simply satisfied his most immediate needs and relinquished his woman to another.

Mayhap that had been a mistake that was about to bite him in the ass?

Well, he damned well was not going around with blue balls only to have one of his men thoroughly fuck up his plans!

He scanned the room until he spotted Kulle. Summoning the man with a motion of his hand, he sent him to escort his captive to the great room. She needed to eat, and it seemed as good a time as any to make certain the men knew he had staked his claim to her and they would be taking their lives into their hands if they tried to filch from him.

* * * *

Noelle actually felt pretty toasty enveloped in the fur coverlet she woke under but the moment she poked her head out it felt as if she’d stuck her head into a freezer. Like a turtle, she immediately ducked back into her warm little ‘shell’, but she was wide awake now. She would’ve been happy to remain where she was—particularly since her situation meant she had no duties to concern her and, in point of fact, couldn’t do anything at all if she’d wanted to—except the moment full awareness hit her the dull ache in her bladder magnified tenfold and refused to be ignored.

Dread seized her.

She’d already ‘experienced’ the facilities the night before. She wasn’t anxious to use them again and she also wasn’t in any great hurry to leave the warmth she had for the freezing temperatures beyond the coverlet.

Not that the bathroom was actually horrible. It was at least clean—in appearance and smell anyway. But it was certainly not as modern as she was used to and was far less luxurious even than the utilitarian facilities in the colony. Beyond that, if it was supposed to have flowing water it must be seasonal, because the ‘bathing’ part didn’t work. The water that should have been flowing through the pipes seemed to be frozen.

However, she acknowledged defeat fairly quickly. Hunger was one of those needs that could be ignored and would, in time, cease to torment. A full bladder wasn’t one of those things that would cease to nag if one ignored it, unfortunately.

Once she’d conceded defeat, she debated whether to try to drag the heavy fur with her and finally discarded the notion with the reflection that it might conserve the heat for her if she left it on the bed. Girding herself, she flipped the coverlet off, scooted to the edge of the bed and hit the floor running with the intention of dashing in, taking care of the problem, and racing back to the warmth.

So much for well laid plans! The moment her butt hit that slab of ice that she laughingly referred to as a seat, everything in her body clenched against the shock—including her bladder muscles. It took an effort to let go and then there was no stopping the damned flow, even when she heard the outer door open. Her eyes widened when she heard heavy footsteps. Realizing fairly quickly that she couldn’t stop, she tried desperately to finish quicker.

Fortunately, either out of politeness or squeamishness (yeah, right!) whoever it was (and she assumed it was the Prince) stopped before they reached the open door to the facilities. She managed to finish her business—not that she had a lot of choice once she’d let it fly!—and then dashed from the room and leapt for the bed, diving under the cover.

Shock ripped through her when she shoved the fur back from her face far enough to peer around the room for the other occupant. There was a man she’d never set eyes on before just straightening from the hearth where he’d evidently stirred the embers and added a couple of sticks of wood to get the fire going again.

He met her gaping, shock slackened look with a flicker of amusement, inclining his head slightly. “The Prince sent me to fetch you.”

Chaos instantly erupted in Noelle’s mind, questions colliding with questions for a chance to escape her. She didn’t ask any of them, however. Caution, she told herself. Male dominated society! They were savages and aggressive. Anything that seemed impertinent might spawn violence.

She lifted the chain and showed it to him. “I hope you brought the key because I’m damned well going to fight you if you think I’m leaving what’s attached to this!” she muttered in English.

An unreadable look flickered in his eyes at her tone, despite the fact that she’d done her best to keep it carefully neutral, but he slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers as he advanced toward her. When he withdrew it, she saw he held something that looked as if it might fit in the hole on the side of the manacle. He gave the piece of metal a twist once he’d inserted it into the hole, the locking mechanism clicked, and the metal anklet opened.

A mechanical key, Noelle mentally noted, curious to study the object. Naturally enough she didn’t get the chance. He shoved it back into his pocket as soon as he’d released her and stepped back, gesturing for her to proceed him.

Noelle was reluctant—for dozens of reasons—mostly because she had no idea where the man might be planning to take her or what was supposed to happen when she arrived.

“The Prince awaits in the great hall. He is not a patient man.”

The comment was enough to galvanize Noelle, and yet she was still reluctant to leave the warmth of the fur coverlet. She climbed off the bed still clutching it and struggled to wrap the heavy thing around her.

Briefly, they had a tug of war. The man was determined to pry it from her grip, however, and although he wasn’t nearly as big a man as the Prince and he seemed a good bit older, she was no match for him. He took the fur away from her and tossed it onto the bed.

She gaped at him for a moment, struggling with resentment, and finally merely curled her arms tightly to her chest and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.

He moved to the door, opened it, and once again gestured for her to proceed him.

More than a little bewildered and frightened, Noelle stepped outside and looked around. The man followed her, turned her in the direction she’d come the night before and gave her a slight push.

The smells of the great hall vied with the sounds as she approached the broad stone stairway she’d climbed the night before.

She hesitated when she reached the top of the stairs. Gazing out over the huge ‘great room’ below, she felt her belly take a freefall at the height and then clench at the sheer mass of muscle bound (savage) male bodies in the room below.

She didn’t think she would’ve been more unnerved if she’d been standing at the door of a cage full of man eating animals.

Her escort manacled one hand around her upper arm and urged her to take the stairs. Halfway down, she realized the volume of noise had lowered considerably. She thought at first it was imagination, but when she glanced over the stone balustrade, she discovered that a goodly portion of the occupants of the room had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

Or maybe the man escorting her, she wondered a little hopefully?

Wasn’t that more likely than her paranoia that their attention was on her?

After all, they’d captured quite a few women—and she saw those women were in the hall with the men.

But of course, she wasn’t like the others.

Because she wasn’t one of them.

She didn’t think it was a good idea to look them in the eye defiantly—even if she hadn’t been too intimidated to feel defiant. She was afraid it might be construed as a challenge, much like looking a wild beast in the eyes!

But she also didn’t think it would be in her best interests to allow them to see just how frightened she was and how unnerved by the sheer size of this race of giants let alone the number of them gathered. So although she didn’t look them directly in the eyes, she also didn’t cower as she was escorted across the great room.

She was so focused on trying to hide her fear that they’d made some progress across the room before she began to notice that most of the men bore signs of violence—cuts and bruises—few of which were bandaged. And a few were missing teeth.

Of course, she supposed that might not be a recent circumstance, but the cuts and bruises certainly were and they looked too fresh to be from the battle with the Amazon women.

Clearly, there’d been a drunken brawl in the hall the night before because it wasn’t just the men that looked the worse for wear. There was debris littering the floor from broken pottery and scattered food and there were broken benches and tables, as well.

The men seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits for all that—it was the grins, after all, that displayed the missing teeth.

She would never have thought she would be relieved to see the Prince, but she was and it took an effort to refrain from racing to him the moment she spotted him sprawled in a giant chair near a mammoth fireplace.

The man escorting her released his grip on her as they reached the Prince. Without hesitation, she moved toward the Prince when he lifted his hand and gestured for her to come to him. Actually, she started toward him before he’d gestured, but then she stopped when she reached the chair and looked around uncomfortably, wondering what she was expected to do. Neel? Bow? Before she could jar any possible answers from her confused brain, the Prince reached for her, tugged her closer, and then dragged her onto his lap.

Surprise didn’t begin to describe her feelings when he did that. Before she could react at all, however, he pulled her close to his chest and dragged the heavy fur coat he was wearing around her. She’d stiffened with shock, but the moment she felt the warm of his body, she moved closer, so grateful for the warmth she forgot all about the discomfort of sitting on a strange man’s lap in front of a room full of savages—aliens.

It wasn’t that she felt no discomfort or embarrassment or uneasiness. It was simply that the desperation for warmth far outweighed every other consideration.

And she was still stiff with discomfort.

Despite all resolve to the contrary, when he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back inexorably, she resisted, refusing to lift her gaze to meet his even when he prevented her from twisting her head aside.

He caught her off guard again.

She jerked all over in reflex when she felt the warm brush of his lips as they coasted along her cheek. A harder jolt went through her when he captured her mouth beneath his. He took instant advantage of her surprise slackened lips and deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to explore the warm, wet cavern.

She hadn’t been forewarned or had any expectation that he would immediately instigate intimacy beyond the very public display of holding her on his lap. She had no time to brace herself to accept or fight, or to analyze her situation for the best defensive reaction. And because she didn’t, she couldn’t, later, tell herself that it simply didn’t happen the way she thought.

She wasn’t just as bowled over by his kiss as she had been the first time. She was more affected.

The uneasy thumping of her heart increased exponentially the moment his scent and taste inundated her senses and set her synapses to firing like a Fourth of July fireworks crescendo. The sense of falling, floating, and spinning dizzily moved over and through her, sapping the starch from her bones so that she couldn’t tell from one moment to the next whether she felt weightless or too heavy to support herself.

Heat poured through her core at the feel of his mouth on hers, the intimate stroke of his tongue. Pleasure spread with the heat, filling her mind not only with enjoyment of the sensations his taste and scent produced but a craving for more.

Alien, foreign, savage, unnatural didn’t enter her mind, though she knew, later, that any or all of those thoughts/reactions should have happened.

The one thing that should not have happened did.

Desire swept her away on a heated tsunami, addling her wits so thoroughly that she wasn’t entirely certain of when he began to strum her body in concert to the kiss, lifting and massaging her breasts, tweaking the sensitive nipples, coasting his large, calloused hand over her belly to cup her mound.

So enthralled was she by the heated desire that flowed from the magic of his touch into her that it was slow to sink into her mind she could feel the heat and roughness of his hand. Not the pressure—the unrestricted touch of no barrier between her skin and his.

And she wouldn’t have been able to if his hand had been stroking over the gown she was wearing.

The question that instantly leapt into her mind was just how exposed was she—completely? Not at all? Or somewhere between the two?

That realization brought her surfing upward toward awareness swiftly, but she wasn’t altogether certain that she would’ve emerged so quickly if not for the fact that he ceased to explore her with his hand and broke the kiss, releasing her, mostly, from the spell he’d woven.

She felt sluggish and confused when he did. It was a struggle to regain some composure, to manage a pretense of being unaffected.

Glancing toward the great hall to reassure herself that the incident had gone completely unnoticed by the other occupants of the hall, she discovered instead that they had the attention of pretty much everybody in the frigging place!

She felt her face turn scarlet with embarrassment as she frantically searched her mind in an effort to determine if she’d been completely exposed when the bastard had molested her or if he’d at least done it under the covers where some doubt might remain in their minds.

She had a bad feeling, though, that she’d been the main attraction and not much, if anything, had been left to their imagination.

Drak rose abruptly, shifting her in his hold as he did as if she weighed next to nothing and depositing her across one very broad shoulder. The pressure against her mid-section instantly divided her focus between that physical discomfort and the anxiety that the back of her gown had ridden up to expose her butt.

It certainly felt breezy back there!

Before she could check with her hand, though, he took a step that drove his shoulder bone deeper into her belly and the air from her lungs.

“Kulle—send Kadin to fetch a pair of his boots and breeches, tunic and cape for my woman before she freezes—enough to keep body and soul together until I can have some things made for her. She’s too small for anything we have stored for the women’s use.”

Noelle heard the command Drak flung over his shoulder at the man who’d escorted her to the great hall, but she was in no condition to even try to make sense of it. She supposed it was something of a blessing that she was also in too much physical distress to worry about her modesty/exposure or feel any of the discomfort and embarrassment she would have if she hadn’t been struggling to control the jarring impact of the Prince’s shoulder against her belly with every step he took as he carried her back across the great hall and upstairs again. But she was in no condition to appreciate it.

When they reached his room once more, he strode inside and dropped her unceremoniously on the bed. She flung her arms and legs out reflexively, landing hard enough to jounce upward and meet the impact of his descending form on the rebound. The collision was a long way from gentle, but so much less painful than being carried across his hard shoulder that it made little impression.

Particularly since he sought and captured her mouth beneath his in a kiss that was filled with so much hunger that it shot her upwards from zero to two hundred fast enough to make her head swim.

‘What the hell???’ did flicker through her mind, but remained an unfinished thought.

Her heart was hammering hard enough to deafen her, flooding her system with so much excess oxygen that she felt like she was going to pass out. He moved restlessly against her as he kissed her thoroughly, acquainting himself intimately with every soft, sensitive surface within the cavern of her mouth. The pinch of one nipple between his thumb and forefinger grounded her even as it sent an electrifying jolt through her. Her throat closed with an instantaneous hunger to feel his mouth there—her nether throat closing in a kneading spasm that forced moisture along her channel.

And then a knock upon the hard panel of the door fractured the moment completely.

Drak pulled away from her, studied her for a pregnant moment from beneath hooded lids and then tossed the coverlet over her and rose from the bed, abandoning her.

Shock rolled over Noelle as the fur landed on her face, blocking her vision until she fought the damned thing off. She sat up just as a young boy opened the door and peered around the room—one of the boys from the previous night.

“Kulle said I was to bring these things …?”

Drak, whom she saw had moved from the bed to the fireplace, jerked his head in the direction of the bed. “You can leave them there.”

Nodding, the body approached the bed and settled the pile of clothing at the very foot of it—a good mile from where Noelle sat, studying him blankly while she tried to gather her scattered wits.

He flicked a curious glance her way and then turned. Drak, who’d crouched beside the hearth to build the fire up, finished his task, straightened, and escorted the youth from the room.

Noelle had no idea he intended to leave with the boy until he shut the door firmly behind him.

She blinked at the closed door when she’d been left alone, struggling with the emotions roiling inside her and trying to sort them.

Outrage was one of them.

She wasn’t entirely certain of why she felt that particular thing, but she had a sneaking suspicion it had a lot to do with the blood still throbbing in places she didn’t want to think about.

After staring at the door blankly for a while, turning the flickering impressions over and over in her mind in an attempt to understand what the hell was going on—what had happened and why it had happened—Noelle debated briefly and finally decided to access her PMAI—personal memory assist implant.

She wasn’t in the habit of it. She’d been very reluctant to allow it to be installed, in point of fact, for although it seemed, on the surface, that it would be handy to be able to perfectly recall anything that happened around her that she’d ‘witnessed’ with any of her senses, the anxiety that her privacy would be infringed upon was never far from her mind when she thought of the PMAI.

That was one of the things that had made colonization appealing—the vanishing privacy of life on Earth because of the many new devices and laws that ‘protected’ everyone by intrusions on their privacy and increasing limitations on freedom.

Unfortunately, it was required of colonists and it was either or—allow the implant or forget about going. And she could concede that there was actually a good reason for having it so long as the ‘powers’ didn’t abuse their right to scan the PMAIs of its citizens.

It was a well known fact, though, that memory was notoriously inaccurate under the best of circumstances because it was influenced by emotions, personality traits, distractions of the moment—numerous internal and external influences that altered the perception of the memory. The PMAIs used the eyes and ears to record, just like natural memory did, but the devices recorded even things you weren’t aware of seeing or hearing—background noises or conversations. Things you saw but weren’t conscious of.

And there were no shadings of emotions, no altering of events by the mind’s interpretation of it. It was a safeguard for colonists in the event that any of the laws were broken by any of the other colonists. It was also insurance for the colonists that if anyone ran into trouble, they could actually use the PMAI to alert colony security to their distress.

They aren’t designed for long range transmissions, however.

Which had dismayed and distressed Noelle when she’d finally remembered the damned implant—until it occurred to her that it had recorded personal events she damned well didn’t want to share!

Thankfully, it would only record what had happened—not how she’d felt about what had happened—so she didn’t have to worry about having her privacy regarding her personal feelings exposed, but she rather thought she didn’t actually want to share even the events.

After she’d pulled the memories up and reviewed them, she was positive she didn’t want to share. She was going to have to demand a ‘wipe’ on the grounds of privacy once she got back to the colony!

If she got back.