The sound of light footsteps woke Ryen. She sat up to face the intruder and knew instantly who the shadow in the dark was. She leaned over a small table to light a candle, then turned her gaze again to him. The flickering candlelight ran over his muscles like liquid gold. He was so powerful, so roguishly handsome. Ropes bound his wrists together tightly behind his back, but he barely seemed to notice as his dark eyes locked on her.
“You requested my presence?” Bryce asked coldly.
Ryen swung her legs out from under the covers and stood. She knew it was wrong to have these feelings for him. Still, she could not help taking a step toward him.
His gaze boldly traveled the length of her body. The light from the candle made her nightdress virtually transparent, allowing him to absorb every curve. She watched as his breath became shallow.
She took another step, and another, until she was directly in front of him. How she wanted him to touch her! The ghost of a smile crossed her lips at the irony. She had finally found a man she wanted to touch her – and he was the enemy. As she looked up into his black eyes, she saw his frown of confusion and irritation. She wanted to comfort and reassure him. Ryen reached out a hand, meaning to stroke the wound on his cheek, but Bryce flinched at her touch and drew back. “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, realizing the absurdity of the statement as soon as it had left her lips. The scar that would form on his cheek would be permanent proof of her harm. She withdrew her hand and took a step away from him.
“What do you want from me? Why did you summon me here?” Bryce inquired.
She looked away from him and stepped back toward her sleeping mat. “You are a handsome man.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Am I here to discuss my looks?”
Perhaps it was ridiculous, Ryen thought. Men never seemed to have a problem with taking what, or who, they wanted. Maybe I’m making this more complicated than it should be. She raised herself up, straightening her shoulders. She boldly took a step toward him. “In a way, yes,” she answered. She watched the frown etch its way into his brow. I am not afraid, she told herself, and approached until she stood before him. He is my prisoner.
“I will tell you nothing,” he snarled. “Even if you give me more of your poison.”
“I do not want to know anything else.” Ryen raised a hand to his arm, marveling at the strength and elegance of his muscles. He clenched his fist and the muscles bunched as she touched them. The explosive power that moved beneath her fingertips amazed her. With her heart pounding, Ryen traced her fingers across his upper arm to his chest.
“What do you think you’re doing, woman?” he demanded.
“Your presence has been a…distraction to me. I sought to cure it.” She looked up and saw those dark eyes hovering over her. His black hair washed over his mighty shoulders. She raised a hand to touch his thick mane.
Bryce pulled back instantly, gazing at her fingertips out of the corner of his eye, searching for the white powder.
Ryen wrapped her fingers tightly in his hair, leaning into his strong chest. “Do you fear my touch?” she wondered in a soft whisper.
Bryce’s black eyes scanned her face, but Ryen could not read his thoughts. His dark look lowered over her neck and down to where her chest pressed tightly against his. She shuddered slightly as if he had touched her there.
Then his eyes rose back to hers. “Loathe is more like it.”
She could felt the lie through his leggings and smiled. “Your body betrays you.”
“Step away from me, witch,” he snarled.
Ryen never took commands well. Especially from one of her prisoners. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against his. At first, they were unmovable, like a rock wall, but suddenly they parted and the hot passion he was trying to hide was released. His tongue slipped into her mouth, warring with hers. His face pressed hard and demanding against her own.
Then, with a groan, he ripped his head to the side, away from her lips.
“Do not forget who is the prisoner here,” she purred. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands over his broad chest. He was like a sculpture carved from pure marble. There was not a flaw. As if molding the marble with her own hands, they followed the curve of his torso down to his leggings. She ran her hands along his clothing. Is the part covered by his leggings as perfect as the part that is bare? she wondered. She wanted to see the rest of him, to touch him and marvel at the exquisite details of his rippling muscles. But she couldn’t. She drew her hands away.
“Afraid?” he taunted.
The dare was enough. Her hands moved to his leggings and untied them. Suddenly she stopped, stepping away from him. She was trembling all over and she knew it wasn’t from anger. She raised her eyes to his, searching for something – guidance, anything!
Bryce took a step and he was touching her again. His black eyes burned into hers. “Untie me,” he whispered.
As if under his spell, she obeyed, pressing herself against his chest, reaching around him to undo the ropes that bound his hands. They fell away, landing in a pile on the floor.
Ryen saw the change instantly. His shoulders straightened in confidence; his eyes sparkled with lust. One hand snaked to the back of her neck, the other to her waist, and he pulled her close to him, slamming her hips into his. Ryen’s breath caught in her throat as his hot breath feathered her cheek. “Is this the cure you were looking for?” he asked in a deep voice.
Ryen felt herself respond to the feel of his hard, muscular body pressed so intimately against her own. Yet the pure animal rage she saw in his eyes paralyzed her. She swore she could see fire in them as his gaze lowered to her chest. Ryen drew in a sharp breath and her breasts pressed against the fabric. She lifted a shaking hand to place it on his broad, naked chest. A fire seared through her lower stomach as he pressed his hips closer to hers, and she trembled. She lifted her head to his, parting her full lips, inviting a deep, languorous kiss.
Bryce stared at her moist lips and moved toward them, then stopped sharply and pulled back, his lips curling into a feral snarl. He placed his hand against her throat again and Ryen felt it tremble. His thumb caressed the side of her neck. She saw his hard look soften, saw a warmth so heartfelt wash over his face that she wanted to throw her arms around his neck. Then, without warning, his jaw clenched and the angry look returned to his eyes. He grabbed the neckline of her nightdress and yanked down sharply. The fabric split easily with a loud rip and he tore it away from her, tossing it to the floor.
Shocked, Ryen tried to pull away from him, but his grip was firm and unrelenting. She saw some kind of satisfaction on his face and knew that she had mistaken the vengeance in his eyes for desire.
Bryce’s gaze swept her body and he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and squeezed it. The flesh was firm, the nipple erect and rigid. He pulled her closer to him, his other hand still at the small of her back, and put his lips to her breast. He sucked on her flesh with an urgent hunger, pulling on her nipple with his teeth.
Ryen arched toward him, sharp stabs of pleasure shooting down to her stomach, adding fuel to the already blazing fire. She felt sensations that she had never felt before, and she wanted to feel more. She wanted him to stop the aching she felt. She knew that he would gently whisper her name before the night was through. She wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him closer, burying her face into his dark hair. “Bryce,” she murmured.
Bryce let his one hand roam lower, cupping the cheek of her buttocks. She groaned and he dipped his fingers even lower and touched the folds of her womanhood. Gently, he bit down on her nipple as he thrust a finger inside her.
Spirals of ecstasy swirled through her mind and she moved her hips to the temp of his hand. Never had she dreamt of such pleasure!
Bryce grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her bare neck. How easy it would be to sink his teeth into the white, creamy flesh and shake her until she was still. He pressed his lips firmly onto her skin, nibbling at her throat.
Ryen was lost in a world that focused on Bryce. His fingers expertly sent waves of ecstasy crashing through her.
He eased her down to the carpeted ground and knelt between her legs.
Ryen couldn’t help thinking of him as a stalking wolf as he crawled over her. She felt something brush her thigh and looked down. The mere size of his manhood shocked her – surely he would split her in two! – and suddenly she felt her nerve failing her. She tried to back away from his advance.
“This will cure any of your ills, Angel,” Bryce said bitterly. He put his full weight on top of her, pinning her down. His manhood throbbed with an aching lust. He reached down to his groin and gripped his member, guiding it toward her.
Ryen squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the worst, and steeled her body against the blow.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
They remained closed.
“Look at me!”
Hesitant, Ryen opened her eyes and saw only the infinite blackness of his loathing.
He thrust his stiffness into her.
Only years of self-discipline prevented her from crying out in agony. She gripped his shoulders tightly, hoping that this was all there was to ‘taking’ someone, hoping he would not move.
Bryce began to thrust, his body rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
She held her body rigid against his assault. With each impalement, more of her fantasy crumbled to dust. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she would never shed them. She put the knuckles of one hand into her mouth to keep from crying out. The other hand pushed weakly against his chest. It could not be like this.
Ryen felt his body stiffen and heard him groan. Finally, he lay still on top of her. She felt relief course through her body and relaxed for the first time since he’d entered her. She stroked his shoulder gently, kindly, wanting the same from him. It had been so brutal! If only he would whisper a tender word…if only he would say her name, then she could overlook his roughness.
He shrugged off her hand and put his face close to her ear.
She knew he would say it now, knew he would whisper her name softly to her.
“Slut,” he said scornfully.
The last remnant of her fantasy shattered into nothingness and she was left barren, shocked, and hurt. She turned to face him, totally vulnerable for the first time in her life. She looked into his eyes hoping to find some sympathy or explanation.
Disdain filled his expression as he saw her expectations so clearly written on her face. He pushed himself up, tying his hose as he rose.
She grabbed the fur from the bed to cover her nakedness and watched him leave. Quickly, so she would not see any more of him, she blew out the candle to hide alone in the darkness.