Captive Heroes (15 page)

Or she could simply stop. He held her by the hand so he wouldn’t have a choice but to turn around, and she would look into his eyes and beg.

Just beg.

Fuck me! Hard! Fast! Gentle! Slow!
Oh she didn’t know
how
she wanted him. She just wanted him.

Deep in thought, she crashed right into a solid backpack. He didn’t so much as flinch when she hit him yet his entire body was tense and alert.

Alarm raged through her. “What is it?” she asked as she came to stand beside him.

“Something is out there. Someone.”

She followed his gaze as he surveyed an area to their right. There was nothing but dense green foliage and dark trees.

“Where?” she whispered.

He said nothing. Instead he cocked his head slightly, as if he’d heard something. His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed.

Kinley swallowed, bit back the panic threading through her like a deadly snake.

Suddenly a whispering whipped past her ears, and then Blackie cursed.

“Run!” he hissed. She was about to do just that when he dropped to his knees.

“Go!” he managed to say before his eyes rolled white and he fell into a limp mass on the ground.

Oh my God! What happened?

“Blackie!” she cried out, suddenly more concerned about him than her own safety. Terror ripped through her when he didn’t move.

Before she could blink, they were there. Surrounding her. Women…or make that teenage girls. Maybe around eighteen or nineteen. About ten of them. Blondes, all of them. They wore bone necklaces, straw skirts and no tops, revealing variously sized breasts. And they had very sharp-looking spears. All of them aimed at her.

Oh not good!

“What have we here?” The tallest blonde chuckled as she looked down at motionless Blackie, then back at Kinley.

“A female being collared and led by a male? Highly illegal. I’m quite glad we were able to fill him with Passion Poison and come to your rescue.”

“Passion Poison?” Kinley gasped. She did not like the sound of that.

“Oh he’ll be out until we require his services. We’re on our male hunt and he looks to be our perfect first. Don’t you agree, women-to-be?”

The young women shouted, “Yes!” in a united voice.

Kinley blinked as shock rolled through her in one dark wave.

Their first? Women-to-be?

Oh my God, what in the world was going on here?

“Who are you, female? To which hub do you belong?”

Hub? What the hell was a hub?

“Is the male from Brothel Town?” another asked with excitement.

“He belongs to me,” Kinley said quickly, not liking the inquisitive way these women were bending over Blackie’s prone figure and undoing his breechclout.

They all looked at her, shock splashed on their faces.

“You? He is your male? And you let him demean you in this way?” The tall blonde—whom Kinley surmised to be the leader—looked her up and down, her focus lingering on the collar, leash, chains and other BDSM paraphernalia latched onto Kinley’s body.

“Yes…I was…fantasizing. I ordered him to place all these items on me.”

“Well, I’m afraid he no longer belongs to you. We captured him, he is ours. Those are the rules when commoners venture into Yellow Hair Territory. We thank you for bringing us tonight’s dinner.”

Tonight’s dinner?
Kinley’s tummy heaved.
Cannibals? Oh my God!

What kind of twisted, freaked-out, Alice in Wonderland fantasy was she dreaming? She
was
dreaming? Right?

One of the Yellow Hairs who’d been bending over Blackie lifted his loincloth, revealing his engorged cock. Obviously he’d been fantasizing about Kinley while he led her around by a leash. Gasps and cries of delight reverberated as the blondes huddled around Blackie to get a closer look at his cock.

“He’s so big!” one of the girls cried out with glee, her small fingers not able to circle the width of his shaft.

“He will supply much sacred drink for us. The elders will be pleased at our catch,” another giggled.

Elders. Okay, they must be older women with common sense.

“I need to speak to your elders,” Kinley instructed, trying hard to squash the nasty tremors slithering through her at having so many women ogling her man.

Correct that. He wasn’t
her
man. She had to pretend he was or he would be their dinner tonight. Hope roared through her. Maybe she could talk her way out of this crazy situation yet.

“Outsiders are not allowed to speak to the elders. That is strictly forbidden,” the leader said, shaking her head.

Kinley’s gut clenched and desperation snapped through her like a live wire. She
had
to do something.

The leader nodded to one of the nearest women. “Proceed to place on the traditional cock ring.”

Fuck you!

“Well I’m sorry. I must insist,” Kinley replied. “He is my male and I will not let you have him!”

They ignored her and one of the women removed something from a bag she carried. Yup, definitely a cock ring from the looks of it.

Maybe a little show of force would get their attention. Kinley grabbed a spear from the nearest blonde who was busy touching Blackie’s testicles and brandished the spear at their leader. The Yellow Hairs stiffened, all their attention focused back on the leader who lifted her brows in surprise at Kinley’s outburst.

Spears came up again, aimed at Kinley.

Oh shit!

She was so outnumbered.

“Now that I have your full attention, I will reiterate. This male belongs to me. Either you all get the hell out of here or your leader dies.” To her surprise, her voice sounded decently strong despite her insides shaking like a leaf.

Kinley tensed as one of the Yellow Hairs leaned closer to their leader and whispered in her left ear.

Talk the chick into leaving us alone, please.

The leader frowned, her eyes narrowed with curiosity and she looked at Kinley. Well, actually not at
her
, but at the bracelet Kinley wore on her wrist. The bracelet that was just peeking out below the leather cuff.

“That is the mark,” the leader whispered, her eyes widening with unmistakable awe. “It is the square. It has the white and red stripes and the blue with white stars.”

“Yes, it is the mark,” another blonde chick replied and, to Kinley’s shock, she dropped her spear, got down on her knees and bowed, her arms stretched full out in front of her.

Okay, what the hell is going on now?

Suddenly all the other women dropped their spears. Kinley stiffened as they moved in around her, fingering her medical alert bracelet. They were quite intrigued with the US flag. But why? Why the big deal?

She held her breath as one by one the rest of the women did as the first. They got down on their knees and bowed to her.

“Your wish is our command, Goddess of Freedom.”

Oh my God.

They thought she was a goddess because she had a flag on her medical alert bracelet? Boy, these chicks were out to lunch.

Big-time!

Chapter Eight

Blackie couldn’t move a muscle and that really pissed him off. He had no problem enjoying the women’s hands sensually sliding along his flesh, stroking his cock, handling his balls. They knew exactly how to arouse him with their touches. They knew he was aware of everything too.

Just before he’d gone down, he’d seen the Yellow Hairs. The bitches would want him for their roast.

That’s what they did—ate males. And he’d walked right into their territory. All because he’d been fixated on his captive, fantasizing about taking her up against the nearest tree or bending her over the nearest log and thrusting his cock into her pussy.

How had he been so careless? How had he allowed himself to become so preoccupied he didn’t even see the danger until he’d been hit in the thigh with a dart filled with Passion Poison?

Already his body was heating up. Arousal screamed through his veins. His shaft tightened unnaturally. His breaths came faster and harder.

He wanted to scream. Wanted sex. Sex would be able to extinguish these carnal urges. That’s what the Passion Poison was designed to do. To bring down even the biggest of males and turn his blood so hot he couldn’t think past fucking because he was suspended in a world of pleasure. That is, until the blonde virgins had satisfied themselves upon him and the elders gave the signal to carry out the death blow.

Kinley spoke from somewhere above him and to his right. Pride whipped through him when she called him her male. She didn’t have to do that. She could have turned him over to them and simply walked away. She could be free of him. No longer a captive.

He smiled. Perhaps he had been right. She could be a natural submissive. Or maybe she simply enjoyed his touches? He grinned inwardly at that last thought. Suddenly darkness enveloped him and he had no trouble slipping into it.

* * * * *

Kayla froze as a stick snapped somewhere behind her on the nearby shoreline of the river. She dared not look into the gloomy gray mist or gaze into the forest at every creepy crack or snap. If she looked anywhere but in front of her, she swore the goose bumps she’d been fighting all night would certainly grab hold of her and send her screaming into the dark.

She’d waited too long for Taylor to return. He hadn’t.

Guilt crawled through her, as it had off and on ever since she’d left. Guilt that had taken turns with anger, and then concern for his well-being.

Overhead the sky was beginning to lighten. Thank God, she would soon be able to see the shoreline. Not seeing it in the dark had been another concern as she hoped she hadn’t passed the first meadow, let alone the second one where Taylor had said there would be a shelter.

Getting closer and closer was the rumbling of thunder. The ominous booms were menacing and threatening, urging her to pick up speed in the water. She’d been lucky with her footing. The bottom of the river was mostly sand and the water knee-high. But the water seemed to be getting cooler and so were her feet. The wind blowing against her was cooler too.

She thought about stopping along the shoreline and making a fire. She knew the technique of rubbing two sticks together, but that took time. And with the growling thunder, time was not on her side. With her luck she’d start the fire and it would pour.

No, it was best to just keep moving. But she wasn’t exactly sure what Taylor meant when he’d said it would take a day to get there. Had he meant twelve hours or twenty-four?

A soft splash in the river from somewhere behind her had her stopping again. She dared not look back. In front of her the gray mist spiraled upward like smoke and she found herself thinking about that gut-wrenching scene in the old classic movie
The Ten Commandments
, when Moses’ stepbrother had ordered all first-born males be killed. Screams of mothers as their babies were butchered rang through the air and so had that eerie fog, crawling along the ground just as it was doing over the river and around her. Creepy thoughts like that she could do without.

Kayla shivered at another splash. This one closer. Crocodiles and alligators? Oh my!

Stop it! There are no such things on Paradise. If there were, surely you would have seen one by now.

She ignored the sound and kept moving forward. Goose bumps froze her arms and legs. Some animal was following her. Maybe one of those anaconda snakes?

Oh shit!

Kayla moved faster. The splashing increased, drew closer.

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

Thunder rumbled overhead, silver lightning flashed.

She was so screwed.

Harsh breathing closed in. No, that was her breathing. Right?

Something hot clamped over her right shoulder, squeezing.

She screamed, thought about fighting it off. She tried to run, but whatever had grabbed her wasn’t letting her go.

“Get off me!” she yelled and tried to wrench free only to be pulled against a rock-hard pile of muscle.

“Kayla, it’s me.”

His voice. His scent. Him!

Taylor. Sweet mercy, the guy was alive. She’d never been so happy in her life!

He dropped his hand from her shoulder, allowing her to swing around.

He wore an amused grin and, well, she just couldn’t stop herself. She slapped his face. Hard.

Surprise flashed through his eyes.

Good.
How dare he sneak up and scare her like that? She made a move to slap him again and he easily caught her wrist, stopping her cold.

“That is not the welcome I’m looking for.”

His gaze had grown serious and reality sobered her. He really was here. He was okay.

“Oh my God! I’m so glad to see you!” she cried and began laughing as relief poured through her entire body. She was safe again.

“A slap to my face indicates pleasure?” He looked confused and tired and pale. He was also breathing way too hard. Alarm snapped through her. He was clutching his right side. Blood oozed from between his fingertips. More blood streaked down the outside of his right thigh.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered as she caught his gaze. His eyes shone with pain.

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and forced it away from his side.

She gasped as a wave of shock slammed into her. He had a six-inch-long gash across his side. The wound appeared an angry red and the flesh swollen.

Fuck! Shit! Damn!

“What happened?”

“No time to explain. The storms are upon us. We must hurry,” he said gruffly and pressed his hand once again to his side, wincing as he did so.

He grabbed her hand, his fingers intertwining tightly with hers. Without another word, he began hauling her along beside him in the river. By the grim expression on his face and the increasing blaze of lightning and crackling thunder overhead, Kayla knew better than to oppose him.

* * * * *

It had been good to see her. Too good. The instant Taylor had spied her rounding the river bend ahead of him, something warm and welcome had shifted through him.

Although pain sliced into his side with every step, he’d pushed himself to travel faster. It had seemed like forever before he could clearly see her.

Her tall, curvy figure had been a beacon to him. And her silky tresses, even without sunshine, had shimmered in the gray dawn. As he had watched her generous hips sway with her every step through the water, anticipation at holding her again made him smile as he’d never smiled before.

This female made an unforgettable picture to him. Even now, as fever heated his body and pain speared his side and blackness hovered at the edges of his sight, happiness poured through him at finding her.

When he pointed out the first clearing to the right, the rain began, the wind also. It howled until the trees on the nearby shores crashed in a dark dance of ecstasy, some limbs cracking while others snapped off and fell to the ground with deep thuds. With each crash, Kayla gripped his hand tighter.

The rain pelted them, running over his heated body in rivulets, soaking his breechclout. It grew hard to see as rain fell into his eyes.

Her nervous expression showed she too was worried about the weather, yet she said nothing and kept them at a good pace. If he hadn’t caught up to her, if she hadn’t been here with him, he would have given up, curling beneath a tree to wait out this storm. He most likely would have drowned in the rain or died of the fever.

What kept him going was his need to get her to safety, and then to her brothers so they could search for the missing woman.

When they finally came to the second clearing, he could barely lift his legs. In the haze of excruciating pain claiming his senses, he was barely aware she’d swept an arm around the good side of his waist, keeping him from falling flat on his face into the water.

He stopped at the river’s shore, swaying, trying to blink away the rain and the blueness claiming his eyesight. His arms were too heavy to lift.

“Footprints…need to…clear…no trail,” he managed to gasp.

“The rain will take care of it,” she shouted above the wind. Yes, the rain. It was good for something. It would erase their footprints. Why had he not remembered that?

“Where is the shelter?” she screamed.

He tried to orient himself once again, blinking away the rain spilling into his eyes. It was cold but did little to cool his fever.

“It is well hidden,” he replied. It took a great effort to lift his arm, but he managed, pointing straight ahead, hoping it was the right direction.

“Three hundred…paces inward…then four hundred…paces…right,” he said. He struggled to keep his thoughts straight and hoped he had remembered correctly.

The rain came down harder and the wind brutally pummeled them as they left the river and stumbled into the clearing. Here, without the shelter of the nearby trees, the storm increased in violence and he prayed none of the forks of lightning would strike them before they found the shelter.

Finally, through the haze of pain and past the sheets of silver rain and flailing white birch trees, he saw it. He hadn’t realized he’d sunk to his knees until Kayla wiped the rain from his eyes and hunched down in the tall wavy grass beside him.

She looked so beautiful with her wet, tangled hair straggled around her face. Her cheeks were red from the cold, her eyebrows thin and perfectly arched over a set of sparkling blue eyes. Eyes full of concern.

For him?

“We have to keep going. We have to find the shelter. You can’t rest here.”

She was yelling at him and tugging his arm. Lightning flashed and thunder rocked the ground. She cringed then looked around the meadow uneasily.

“We’re here,” he mumbled.

“Here? There’s nothing here, Taylor. Just grass!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air with obvious frustration.

Did she not see it?

Perhaps the fever raging through him was causing him to see things that he wished? Had he imagined the cluster of white birch trees? Was the shelter even still standing? Perhaps previous windstorms had blown it over?

He and Jarod had built it as solid as possible, but they hadn’t been this way for quite some time.

She wiped more rain from his eyes, allowing him to see again.

“Come on. Get up! We have to keep looking.” She pulled on his arm harder, but he shook his head.

“Look,” he muttered, hoping she would hear him.

With great effort, he lifted his arm and pointed again toward the shelter.

“What is it?” she asked as she gazed around.

“Home,” he replied. The sweetest word the Hero brothers had ever taught him. “It is home, sweet home.”

* * * * *

The guy had to be delusional. Home, sweet home? Out here? In the middle of nowhere? There was nothing but an empty field of swaying green grass and silver forks of lightning zip-zapping through the rain around them. There was no home.

In the area where he pointed were so many trees. Huge, towering, white birch trees. Their green leaves literally shimmered in the violent wind, waving at her and Taylor to hurry on over. Then she spied an odd shadow. Wiping at the wetness blurring her eyesight, she squinted and shielded her eyes from the rain with her hands. The shadow looked like a silhouette. It blended so perfectly with the trees she doubted she would have seen it on her own.

The cabin had been placed behind an alcove in the clearing, unseen from the river if anyone should pass. She led Taylor closer.

Small, maybe twelve feet by twelve feet with a gently sloping roof, the cabin had been made from birch bark. All of it. The sides, the roof, even the large awnings covering the two tiny glassless windows at the front of the building. She’d never seen anything like it.

From this angle she could see no door—perhaps it was on the other side of the building. Gazing at Taylor, she swallowed back a shard of fear at his glassy eyes, his pale face and the fact he was shaking pretty hard.

In the back of her mind, she’d been trying to figure out how she’d get his fever under control without the use of antibiotics, and how to stitch that gash in his side without a sterile needle and thread before he bled to death.