Awakening The Warriors Read online

  Did that little smile mean he enjoyed my touch? Was it possible Relia’s plan could work? I quickened my pace, now swiping long strokes over his well-muscled arms then onto the curvature of his wide chest. His physique reminded me of an athlete somewhere between a boxer and a runner: grace and strength. An image popped into my head of him sucking the folds of my sex into his mouth and my skin tightened. I snuck a peek at the Darkon on the next table, my gaze travelling over his heavy build, lingering on his bulky shoulders and the thickly corded legs like sturdy tree trunks, and swallowed. How I’d love to ride those strong thighs into sexual bliss.

  Holy moly. I stopped my ministrations and stared down at my shaking hand. What was happening to me? I never acted like this around strange men; actually, I never felt like this around any man. So much so, I had long ago decided I had been born frigid with only a cursory interest in sex.

  “It is the pull,” murmured Jerrell, and he flexed his chest muscles, a fascinating movement that rippled beneath my stationary hand.

  When I raised my eyes, I met his intent stare. How long had he been watching me? His body, that only moments before had been supple and still, had tensed. An energy pulsed in the air about us and, heaven help me, beckoned—no, demanded—I lower myself onto him.

  “There is nothing to fear, sweet one.” His voice as smooth as hot honey sank into my soul, arousing a sharp hunger I knew had nothing to do with food. “You must continue. You alone have the power to release our Darkon lust.”

  From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I shuddered.

  He moved his arm and chains rattled. “You are our only hope.”

  I remembered Margaret, Relia and the others and who knew how many more imprisoned here and nodded, my mouth dry. My gaze settled on his groin and stayed. His long cock which had lain as if asleep now stood erect between his swollen balls, a triumphant flagstaff. Like the rest of his body, his skin here was a dark bronze colour and just as smooth and inviting. My mouth watered and I had to swallow my urge to slaver my tongue up and down that pulsing length.

  If I could bottle this ‘pull’ thing and get it back home, I’d make a fortune.

  Two steps and I was at the end of the table. I cleaned his feet, wiped blood from his grazed knees and three seeping wounds, two near his shin bones the other on his thigh. Blood still oozed from one, a dark red and I leaned closer.

  “I think this cut needs to be stitched,” I said and looked up.

  Lines of pain were etched into his face, his mouth twisted into a grimace; a pulse ticked a rapid beat one side of his temple. “Do not stop; continue,” he grated.

  Rolling my eyes at his order, I rinsed out the cloth again and moved onto the next area. Contusions of blue, red and purple marred the skin of his lower stomach and lower, perilously close to his sex. Higher up, I saw what looked like a complete boot-print on his rib-cage and white-hot rage burst like a sun flare in the back of my mind, blinding me.

  When I could see again, the warrior was staring at me. Golden flames leapt in his dark eyes and he said, “It is time. Quick. Remove your garments. You must mount me.”

  His words sent liquid heat flooding my body and I almost came as I imagined sheathing myself onto the long length of his cock. But first, I wanted something else. So I tossed the rag into the bloody bucket and rinsed my hands, drying them on my pants.

  I had to taste him. The need filled my mind, blanketing out any other thoughts I might have had. When I placed my hands on his balls, cupping them, feeling the tight pulse of energy they contained, I whimpered. Leaning over, I took him deep into my mouth and sucked, drawing him into my mouth before releasing him.

  My tongue swirled over his rounded tip, lapping up the juices of the salty cum that trickled from his cock-head. His body bucked beneath my hands; chains rattled; his muscles shook like a tree in a hurricane. I released him from my mouth, grazed my teeth down his long length, rubbed my cheek against his cock, felt his sudden tense. And popped his cock back into my mouth, drawing it deep into the back of my throat and renewed my sucking, but now quick and frantic.

  He pounded the table with clenched fists, his buttocks rose driving his cock further into my mouth. Over the thump of my heart, I heard his breathing heavy and hoarse as he pushed upwards again and again. He sucked in air, his body stiffened and with one final pump, he found his release. I drank it down, every last salty tangy drop, my hands gripping his balls, sweat beading my hairline. Until finally I drew back, allowing his cock to slip free. With awe I stared at his sex. I had expected to see it flop back into a flaccid state, not to still be half-aroused as if at any moment it would spring into full erection.

  When I looked up, the young warrior was grinning at me; the heat glowing in his eyes made me redden and shuffle my feet. My gaze flittered from his. If I had taken any time to think about it, I would have expected him to look smug. Certainly not gaze at me with a warmth that twisted my heart and made me suddenly harbour stupid thoughts. It means nothing, I’m only doing what has to be done.

  “I await your attention, female,” rumbled a deep voice.

  Quain was awake and looking at me, his gaze locked onto my face and I felt my stomach fall away into an abyss. In his tautened features, I read raw hunger and the power of his life-force slammed into me, obliterating any objections I might have uttered.

  Feeling as if under a spell, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, picked up the bucket of clean water and walked to his side. Behind me I heard the rattle and crash of chains as Jerrell worked on freeing himself.

  Wordlessly, I dampened the cloth and moving carefully set about removing the blood from his body. His body was a medley of bruising and from the blood that had pooled about his torso, I suspected this warrior had borne the brunt of the whip.

  “Why are they beating you so badly?” I said as I sopped up as much of the drying blood as possible. “If you can move or roll to one side, I could tend to your back.”

  “It is not necessary.”

  There was an arrogant aloofness to his voice that sent my hackles rising. “You might want to re-think that attitude pal.” I smirked and snuck a look at him, from under my eyelashes as I added, “I’m not the one bound in chains. Apparently, though god knows how, I’m the one who can get you out of here.”

  A smile deepened the corners of his wide mouth, a long slow smile that fired my imagination in a way none had ever done before. “It seems we need each other.” His gaze dropped to my chest and he slid his tongue over his lower lip. “In more ways than one.”

  His voice dropped an octave and my toes curled when he added, “Hurry.”

  I cleaned my hands and placed tentative fingertips on a stomach with muscles so hard I could have scrubbed clothes on it. A current zapped through my veins, tightened, and I leant closer. As if possessed, I trailed a gentle touch up over his rib cage to his pectorals, careful to avoid the areas of damage when all the time I longed to grip and mould every square inch of his dark rough skin. I wanted the feel of those short hairs rasping against my tender palms and yet I knew to do so, would inflict more pain upon him.

  “They have hurt you so much,” I whispered, appalled to find tears stinging the back of my eyes.

  “And I will heal if I leave here. You know what you have to do,” Quain said.

  I nodded, my hands leaving his chest. With fumbling fingers I unlaced my boots, pulled them off then unzipped my flight pants, pulling them down over my legs before shaking them over my feet. I grasped the edge of my panties, hesitated, my glance flying to Quain’s face. A starving wolf could not have looked so desperately hungry. Even though a part of me reeled from my actions, the knowledge it was me inflaming this strong man made my heart swell with a mixture of emotions I didn’t dare name.

  “I scent your desire for me,” growled Quain.

  And he was right. I was so hot for him I was burning up, my body shaking. I had never felt so alive. I took a deep breath and pushed my panties down to my ankles and stepped out of t
hem. His gaze was fixed on the brown curls that covered my mound; his breathing was deep and quick, the muscles in his arms, chest and legs tense and bulging as he waited.

  I climbed onto the table, knelt, my eyes glued to the most impressive cock I had ever seen. The man was built like a bull, with balls that would overflow the palms of my hands, his cock stiff and so thick I’d have difficulty in my fingers meeting if I gripped it. Could I do this? Of average build and my weight at least five kilos more than what I should have been, there was no way I could be a match for this massive man.

  “I’m too small.” Disappointment pitched my voice high.

  “Take it slowly.” He gritted his teeth.

  Chewing my lip, I shot a look at him. His teeth were clenched and an orange light glittered like molten lava in his black eyes as he stared at me, his forceful aura demanding me not to stop.

  And god help me, I didn’t want to. My pussy throbbed to take everything this warrior had to give and I could feel my muscles moistening, preparing for his entry.

  I straddled him, my knees spread wide over his lower torso, my hands pressing on his stomach balancing me, keeping me poised just above his cock. My gaze fused with his, I lowered myself. The rounded knob touched my sensitive skin, frizzled my nerve ends into life and I rubbed against it.

  Quain flung his head back, the muscles in his neck like corded rope and I felt dizzying power rush through me.

  A little lower his cock pushed further into me, stretching me. Chains rattled and Quain thrust his buttocks up off the table, the movement driving his cock further into me, stealing my breath. He paused, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut. And I pushed my body down, wallowing in the fullness between my legs and the slight burn of pain searing my passage. I pushed up, then down again until I was fully impaled.

  Was it my imagination or did his cock throb and pulse within me, sending charges of tiny electrical shock waves tingling into my womb? Need built like a storm surge lashing against a hapless ship, each wave bigger, more powerful than the previous. My body moved and I rode him, my hands gripping his boarded stomach, even my soul desperate for release. He shuddered beneath me, his cock stiffening even further, shooting scalding fluid into me. I exploded over the edge, continued to push myself up and down with that hot muscle of ecstasy pumping so furiously within me I could have died from sheer bliss.

  My shoulders slumped; my head dipped towards my chest; tingles of sensation still flickered through my trembling body.

  “It is done,” said Quain.

  Fingers tilted my chin and I opened my eyes to stare uncomprehending for a few long seconds. Quain was inches away, sitting upright and so close his breath puffed against my face. He shook his hand and chains no longer rattled. I looked from him to the table and back again.

  “The force of my release gave me the power to pull free of the shackles. For that I thank you,” Quain said.

  His touch left me, reluctantly or so it seemed. Something flared in his eyes. A quick flash before he shielded it by half-closing his lids. I wondered what it was, what he’d been thinking. One thing I did know was it had made me feel flustered, unsure, like I was a school girl. He leaned back sufficiently to gaze down to where we were still joined and his voice reeked of satisfaction when he said, “We will do this again, and soon. But slower. Now we must make haste.”

  Chapter 3

  We crept along the rock-paved passageway in single file. Ahead, Quain led our little band with Jerrell bringing up the rear. The other prisoners trotted behind Quain. Relia and I trudged in front of Jerrell with the body of Finnan draped over the stretcher the Darkons had fashioned out of the bench that had been in our cell. I was in front, my arms pulled back to grasp the stretcher’s crude handles, and my muscles screamed for relief. My teeth sank into my lower lip and I swallowed my whimpers.

  But the need for stealth was paramount.

  The faintest sound could alert the Elite soldiers of our whereabouts. And we had still to locate any other prisoners before we made our rush for the shuttle bays. Even now I found it hard to recall those last lust-filled moments in the Darkons’ cell. With my body throbbing in climax I had been oblivious when Quain had broken free of his chains. But when he recalled me to reality with the touch of his hands on my face, I had scrambled off him with more haste than dignity. My face burning, I had tugged on my clothes and boots and by the time I had finished, Quain had released his other two companions. I had glanced round just in time to catch Quain and Jerrell clasp each other’s upper forearms and lean their foreheads together. Relief? Their usual act of greeting? Or something much closer? Considering what I had just been doing with the both of them, maybe I didn’t want to know.

  Alas, there was nothing we could do for Finnan, and the other warriors had refused to leave him behind.

  Precious time was spent making the stretcher amid voracious complaints from Ana and her friend, quickly doused by Quain who immediately made it clear who was in charge. So far, luck at been on our side, although every cell we had passed had been empty.

  Not for the first time did I wonder about the brutality of the guards. What had they hoped to achieve with such methods? Questions buzzed like crazed March flies inside my head and I wished there had been time to query Quain or Jerrell. Probably Jerrell, because when he regarded me, his features softened. Not so Quain, who had hardly spared me a glance since I had jumped off the table.

  Quain held up a hand and we halted. I craned my neck and saw him disappearing around a corner. Barely three minutes had passed before he returned, striding past us to confer with Jerrell in low tones. He marched back to stop beside me.

  “You and the others will remain here until we signal the all clear.” Quain grasped the handles from me and after nodding to Relia to do the same, lowered the stretcher to the ground. The next instant he was rubbing my arms, working his fingers into my sore muscles to release the tension. Head bent, he took my hands in his, massaging my stiff fingers and I sucked in a breath, staring down at his dark hair, taking a moment to admire the glints of silver highlighting the blue black depths. He glanced up, snagged my gaze and held it. His expression was all male, dominant, possessive and proud as he stared at me.

  Heat crawled over my face and down my neck to settle somewhere close to my heart, and I trembled.

  “As soon as we’re out of here, I’m on the first ship back to Earth,” I stated loudly.

  Challenging Quain was not a good idea because he dropped my hands, cupped my face then pressed a hard, thorough kiss on my lips. And desire exploded deep in my belly. I thrust my hands into my pants’ pocket before I wrapped them around his neck and pulled him into my arms.

  “Do as you are bid,” said Quain.

  No hint of any raging desire for me in his cool voice, a fact that made me shuffle my feet and wrench my gaze from his hooded eyes to stare at the wall. Quain swung away and stalked off. My gaze followed him, as if magnetically linked. The sight of the deep slashes criss-crossed over his muscled back and taut bare buttocks was a horrific reminder of the pain he still must feel, and yet whatever agony he felt was buried while he concentrated on ensuring our escape.

  “You will become accustomed to him,” said Jerrell, passing his hand over my head and fingering some strands of my bob-cut hair. Dipping his head he nuzzled my neck, his lips moving in a gentle caress over my skin before he turned aside and followed.

  By sheer effort of will, I stopped myself from running after them. My vision blurred. Stupid to feel as if I’d been abandoned.

  “I find I am envious,” murmured Relia stepping closer to me. She indicated the disappearing men with a jerk of her chin. “To have two such magnificent specimens sniffing after you, what I would not give to be in your shoes.”

  Pulling my hands from my pockets, I tucked my chin near my chest, staring at my boots while I flexed my cramped fingers. “Any time you want to trade places, give the word.”

  “You do not mean that?” she said.

 
; “Trust me, I do. There’s no room for a couple of sex-starved blokes in my life at the moment. My focus is solely on getting out of here alive,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. Head high, I met her eyes, hoping the hungry bite of lust that still prowled in my veins could not be read from my expression. Or worse, the softening of my long-guarded heart.

  Relia tapped a finger against her chin and opened her mouth, but the crack of plitza fire had me brushing past and running to the end of the passageway. The others surged in my wake and I waved them back.

  “Stay where you are,” I hissed over my shoulder. My body plastered to the wall, I inched forward. Holding my breath, I peeked round the side and my eyes widened as I took in the scene.

  In the guards’ resting station, Quain was doing some serious hand to hand fighting with two guards while I caught a brief glimpse of Jerrell as he ducked behind a desk, a plitza shot whizzing past what must have been a mere hair’s width from where he had been standing. Three guards lay unmoving on the floor. I snapped my gaze away from the one with blood and greyish-gore leaking from his smashed-in head. Four more guards ran into the room, firing a volley of shots in Quain’s direction. Bending from the waist, he flung his upper body backwards, sank into a crouch, slammed a punch upwards into a guard’s gonads. He leapt to his feet and lashed out in a wide swing with his left leg, knocking the other guard off balance. It reminded me of a Cossack dance movement. A blast seared across his chest; a trail of blood spurted from the new wound but Quain didn’t flinch. He launched himself onto the guard still teetering about in his clunky militia boots and I heard the thudding of fists pounding into flesh.

  The next instant Quain rose to his feet and advanced on the remaining soldiers, a fulon weapon in each hand. I flinched as the rapid fire of mini plasma streams screeched through the air. So much for being quiet. Through the haze fogging the small room, I saw Quain and Jerrell, guns in hands, race out the room chasing the retreating guards.