Awakening The Warriors (2 page)

I was still the sacrificial goat.

The Jurians were still unrepentant re failing to declare the existence of this handy little tool they'd pocketed when one of the night guards dropped it outside our cell yesterday. As they told me repeatedly, unlocking the gates was not the problem. The problem was overpowering the guards and getting off the planet unscathed.
It can only be you
, Relia's words knocked about my head like marbles in a bathtub,
of the other two of your kind, one is too young and the other, terrified. She has not spoken since yesterday
.

So here I stood outside the other cell, my hands bunched into balls so tight, my nails cut into my palms. Unlike our prison, this one was secured by way of a thick metal door with one square cut out close to the top. The square was covered with a kind of Perspex or glass.

“It is done,” said Ana, stepping aside. She ducked her head, not wanting to look me in the face. “We will wait in our cell, in case the guards return.”

Yeah right
, leaving me sticking out like a snowman in a desert. They scurried back down the corridor and I stared at the lock, wishing for a pair of Dorothy's red shoes, doubting my ability to do the task ahead of me. In the silence, my heartbeats pounded a marching tune and I knew time was ticking against us. If I was going to do this, it had to be now. Experience had told us the guards rarely returned for several hours after one of their beating forays. But I no longer took anything for granted.

My hand shook so badly it took me a few precious minutes to grasp the handle and turn back the lock. Holding the edges of the door with my fingertips, I pushed inch by inch until a large enough gap appeared and I poked my head round. No movement. I opened the door wider and stepped into the cell.

On three walls of the room, close to the ceiling, a torch burnt throwing a wavering light over the occupants. My breath caught. I forgot my fear, when I smelt the metallic scent of fresh blood.

Three Darkon warriors were staked out on top of metal tables. None turned to look at me as I hurried forward, my footsteps sharp in the silence. Were they dead? Was I too late? Some of my panic receded when I spotted the slow rise and fall of the massive chest of the closest soldier. My foot slipped from under me and I lurched against the table's side. When I glanced down, I gagged at a shallow blood-stained open drain running along the length of the table to a grate-covered hole. My gaze slid to the warrior laid out before me. So hard to tell the extent of his injuries as blood and bruising smeared his naked body. To the left, I spied a metal post bracketed to the rock floor. Shackles and chains dangled from the loop at the top of the post. The guards must drag these poor blokes to the post, chain them and then beat the crap out of them.

The slow burn of anger seared away the last of my anxiety.

My skin prickled and I looked back to find the warrior's eyes open, his gaze fixed on my face and my heart skipped a beat. So intent on his injuries, I hadn't paid any attention to his physical features til now…

Back on Earth, he would have had a very lucrative career as a male model. The perfect image of a young romantic warrior with chiselled features, bronzed skin and velvety black eyes that made me think of bedroom antics. A light flickered in his eyes. I reared back. Nervously I sneaked a peek at the other two soldiers.

“Finnan has passed to the other side,” rasped the warrior.

My gaze jerked back to his.

He licked his cracked lips and added, his words becoming hoarser as he spoke, “Quain is in his soporose zone; it assists our healing process.”

“I'll get water.” I touched his shoulder with three fingertips, then snatched my hand away as the contact sizzled my skin. I rushed to the door, yanked it open, stared one way and then the other checking the corridor was empty. Seconds later I looked through the bars into our cell.

“You are finished?” Relia hurried towards me, her thin dark eyebrows arched into twin upside down V's on her forehead.

I shook my head. “Give me those two buckets of water and I'll need some kind of cloth.”

A minute or two later, Relia followed close behind as I returned to the cell but she refused to enter. After shoving a bucket through the doorway, she gestured to the end of the corridor. “Should I hear the guards return, I will run back and warn you.”

“Thanks, Relia,” I said and smiled.

I closed the door behind me and hauled the buckets to the closest table. First, I scooped water into a metal cup then eased one hand behind his head, lifting him before I offered him a drink. He gulped it down, closed his eyes and sighed; a mere whisper of sound but I sensed this small concession had cost him greatly to utter.

“I give you thanks, sweet one, and you may call me Jerrell,” he muttered.

No need for them to know my name, I decided and closed my mouth over the words I'd been about to say. Once we were free of here, I'd never see these blokes again.

After re-filling the cup, I scurried to the side of the next table, my heart pounding like a galloping horse. This warrior, Quain as the other had spoke of him, was older, his features harsh and blunt, his skin weathered. I guessed him to be not more than ten years older than myself. Not that it mattered. I eyed the grim line of his compressed mouth, his square jutting jaw and knew by the aura of power that even in repose vibrated in the air about him; here lay a leader of men.

I repeated my actions and although he drank with deep, long swallows his eyes remained closed and no sound passed his lips. With care I slipped my hand out from behind his head and hurried back to the first table, not daring to look in the direction of the bloodied mess that was all that remained of their companion.

Using the strip of cloth Relia had ripped from her tunic and given me, I dipped it into one bucket and set about wiping off the blood and grime from the young soldier.

I tried to be as gentle as possible as I cleaned his face while he remained quiescent beneath my touch. His stoicism impressed me and I could not deny the flutter of sexual interest tingling in my belly at the sight of his exquisitely cut lips curving into a tiny smile.

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.