Authors: Denise A. Agnew
DarykRogue (2 page)
Her throat burned as she managed to croak, “Don’t touch me.”
“I won’t harm you.” He frowned and his gaze landed on her
hand, which she held up toward her throat, rubbing at the sore flesh. “You’re
hurt.”
She shook her head, afraid any sign of vulnerability would
set these men on her like a predatory animal. “No.”
He stared at her with a mixture of vexation and curiosity,
and that’s when she made a rash decision. At least this man seemed decent
enough that he didn’t want to hurt her and he had some authority.
She found her voice. “I hear that if a Dragonian man kisses
a woman, then she is his and no other man is permitted to touch her.”
The man smiled, but his eyes burned with a raw heat that
she’d never seen in a man’s eyes before. “That is true.”
“Very well then.” She leaned forward, aiming for his right
cheek.
Her savior had other ideas.
He snatched her into his embrace. Banded to him by steely
arms, she couldn’t move. His eyes burned into hers, and then his mouth touched
her lips. Not softly. Not hard. But with swift, enveloping, amazing skill.
She’d been kissed twice, but never like this. His mouth was tender, tasting,
brushing, and then—
His kiss sealed firmly and his tongue plunged deep and
rasped over hers. Shock raced through her. She never knew—had never heard that
kisses could be like this. She shivered, moaning as a spark of pleasure danced
in her belly and raced straight to the softness between her thighs. One thrust.
Two. His tongue stroked hers with a drugging intensity. She gripped the front
of his tunic, dazed. He released her, his hands clasping her shoulders.
Amazed and indignant, she gathered her remaining strength
and swung. Flesh contacted flesh as her hand caught his cheek with a resounding
slap.
His head jerked to the side under the force, but he kept his
grip on her. His eyes didn’t blaze with anger as she expected, but with a heat
that seared straight through Xandra.
Men nearby laughed, their guffaws loud and raunchy.
Her legs wouldn’t hold, and as her stomach tossed around
with the ship’s motion, she sagged against the doorframe.
No. Don’t fall.
Don’t.
“Whoa.” The man reached for her, lifting Xandra into his
arms in one swift motion. “Easy, my beauty.”
Dizziness turned to darkness.
* * * * *
Xandra’s world floated in comfort and security. Other
sensations eased into her awareness. Warmth. Flowers scenting the air. The give
of a bed beneath her.
She smiled as she remembered a man’s powerful arms cradling
her, his voice deep and seductive as he whispered against her ear. “It’s all
right. You’re all right, my beauty. No harm will come to you.”
Pain in her throat had pulled her under until she’d forgotten
why she needed to awaken and why she didn’t care.
Her mind jumbled as she tried to recall the how and where
and when. When had a man ever spoken thus to her? Never that she could recall.
Then it must be a dream. Perhaps she’d returned home and never
taken the trip on the huge passenger ship or the ship with the evil men. Maybe
the wave that had pummeled her, tossing her and her friends into the air,
screaming, gasping as water dragged her over the side of the ship and under to
murky depths—maybe that had never happened.
All a bad dream.
She sank under for what surely must be the last time.
A door opened.
Footsteps, heavy and commanding, entered the room, and that
realization made her understand she wasn’t being tossed like a piece of flotsam
in the ocean anymore. Thank the god. She would have smiled if she could have,
but everything on her body felt stiff. Rigid with remaining cold, so cold.
Shifting, she felt the ease of a bed under her and a covering. Still, it wasn’t
enough. The footsteps stopped next to her and internally she shrank back. Who
could this be?
“Where?” she croaked her question through a parched, sore
throat.
“Easy.” Rumbling deep, the man’s voice held gentleness under
hardness.
Familiarity comforted her. Hadn’t she heard this voice before?
Assuring her all would be well? Part of her wished to believe the voice while
the other part didn’t. How could it be all right when she’d been tossed into an
ocean and half-drowned? When her quest had been dashed?
A hand brushed over her forehead. “You’re not feverish.”
“Cold.” She managed another word, but her throat felt raw
and sore. “Where…”
Her head was floating and would take off on its own any time
now. Light filtered through her eyelids. More footsteps, and then the soft and
comforting weight of a blanket settled over her. Groaning, she enjoyed the
warmth.
“More.” Her eyelids flickered but didn’t open. “Sleep.”
A hand brushed over her forehead again, big and warm. “Rest
easy. You’re safe.”
The man’s touch felt so good. So right. Inhaling deeply, she
savored a heady, masculine scent. Awareness returned only in segments. He’d
taken her boots off but left her socks on, and she was grateful for the warmth.
By the god, would she ever be warm again? She shivered and dragged her eyelids
open with effort. Xandra needed to see who touched her with such gentle
attention.
A big man hovered over her, kneeling by the bed. His fingers
brushed aside her fringe of bangs in a gentle caress.
The man who’d saved her from Farcam and the old geezer.
And kissed her until she couldn’t think.
Memories returned with a rush. “You.”
He nodded. “Me indeed.”
She’d never seen a man this wicked-looking. Earlier on deck
she’d been bombarded by impressions of him, but now he was close, so close, his
handsomeness took her breath. A few-days’ beard gave him a scruffy appearance,
a rogue if she’d ever seen one. His long nose, chiseled jaw and wide mouth
complemented his large, dark eyes. He blinked and thick-as-sin dark eyelashes
gave his too-tough face a slight softness that only added to his
attractiveness. He shifted, staring at her with those haunted eyes, and for a
moment she saw tenderness flicker through a stone-cold and dispassionate
expression. He ran a hand through the thick black waving tangle of hair around
his head.
“Who are you?”
His question should have been easy to answer, and she knew
the answer. She hesitated, as if giving her name might mean a victory for him.
“Xandra.” She cleared her dry throat. “Xandra Shorenus.”
“Pretty name.” He smiled, and the wicked glint gleaming in
his eyes sent a sweet tingle through her stomach.
“Who are you and where am I?” she managed to say with
difficulty.
“Rest your voice.”
“Answer my question.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “She commands obedience.
Very well. My name is Rayder Tyrus, and you’re on the
Beast
.”
“Your ship?”
“I am the captain and second-in-command. Karman Aramus is
the ship’s admiral.”
She frowned because his answer didn’t tell her anything. “Is
it a Dragonian ship?”
“Those cretins who attacked you were partially right. We
belong to no country. We are Dragonian, but we are much more.” He smiled. “We
are slavers, and you my beauty, are my prisoner.”
Chapter Two
Xandra’s temples pounded.
Though she’d known what he’d say, she rebelled. “No.”
She surged upright, desire to escape strong. The slaver held
her down, his hands on her shoulders.
His eyes narrowed. “Take care. You’re not well, and even if
you did escape me, there’s no way you’ll leave this ship short of jumping in
the water. I think you’ve swallowed enough for now, don’t you?”
She tried to inhale slowly and calm down. “I’ve heard of you
miscreants. You plunder ships and steal Magonian women. You sell them to sex
fiends in Dragonia.”
Rayder laughed, and the genuine pleasure warming his eyes
surprised her. If she wasn’t so angry, she could have appreciated the handsome
curve to his mouth and the deep, smooth sound in his laugh.
She turned on the full force of her glare. “It is not a
laughing matter.”
His smile remained. “I’ve never personally sold a woman to a
sex fiend or any other type of fiend.”
“You kissed me!”
He shrugged. “It was necessary to show that you’re my
woman.”
“I’ve heard about that vile practice.”
He chuckled. “Is that why you tried to kiss me first? I’m
flattered that you chose me to perform the vile practice.” Humor and something
forbidden glittered in his eyes. “Perhaps you’d like me to try again?”
She sputtered. “I was only going to kiss you on the cheek.
You…you took it much further than necessary.”
“I was claiming you and now no man would dare touch you. On
this ship, it could save your bloody life. You should thank me.”
She didn’t care to listen and she certainly didn’t trust
him. “You ruin women’s lives. Chaste women who hoped to keep their virginity
for a husband.”
His eyebrows winged up. “I’ve never had a virgin.” Slowly he
reached for her hand and drew it to his mouth. “But I could always be persuaded
to consider it.”
A flush filled her face, and the back of her hand tingled as
he kissed it. A hot spiral of sensation danced low in her stomach at the
shocking intimacy, but it was sinful and not to be borne. She jerked her hand
out of his grip. “Stop touching me.” Her ire rose, rushing away all fear in the
face of indignation. “Do you deny that you take women against their will and
transport them to Dragonia?”
He shook his head. “I don’t deny that I’m on a slave ship.”
He stood and reached for a large cup on a stand near the bed. This time he sat
on the bed. “Can you sit up? You need to drink water.”
Her mouth was beyond parched, and she slowly eased herself
into sitting position. Relinquishing the cup slowly, as if he expected her to
drop it, he watched as she gulped down the water.
“Easy. You’ll make yourself sick. Slow down.” She did as he
requested, and the delicious water was cold and slaked her raging thirst.
“Here, I’ll take that. There’s a pitcher with more if you
need it.”
Reluctantly, she said, “Thank you.”
“I’ll bet that hurt you to say.”
“It did. Very much.”
Smirking, he dragged the chair from the corner over to the
side of the bed and turned the chair about so he could straddle it. He folded
his arms on the back the chair. “What surprises me is that an innocent like you
has heard of slave traders.”
She sniffed in contempt. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“From what I hear, Magonian women are sheltered against all
outside news lest they get strange ideas about thinking for themselves. Cloaked
with protection to keep their minds as pure as their bodies.”
Now far too warm, she pushed the blanket down to her waist.
“Some women are cloaked in this way. Not all. My family was fairly open and
liberal in comparison to others.”
Xandra didn’t mind lying to the man. After all, it wasn’t
any of his business.
He leaned in closer, gaze speculative. “Really? How
liberal?”
“Do not get any ideas. Sex is a sin, as any Magon-fearing
person knows.”
She didn’t believe that and never had. Yet she’d done a
great job all her life of covering up that belief. Stating it might save her
from this man.
One corner of his mouth turned upward, but sarcasm laced his
voice. “Why are Magonians afraid of carnal pleasures between a man and woman?”
Her breath hitched at his impertinent question no
Magonian-fearing man would ever ask. “Because it is decried by the religious
leaders. It is written in the Chronicles of Magon.”
He snorted. “Therefore it is so?”
“Indeed.”
“Humph. Perfect bollocks.”
She glared. “Do you specialize in making fun of people’s
religious choices?”
“I specialize in making fun of as many things as I can.”
His gaze dipped to her bodice, and that’s when she realized
the tie at the top had come loose. Her face burned. By the god, she could feel
his touch even though he only looked at her. A man had never stared at her like
this, but she’d seen men devouring women with their eyes when they thought no
one looked. She’d wondered what it would feel like and now she understood. She
licked her lips and his gaze snapped to her mouth. Heat gathered in his
expression and continued that treacherous yearning in her belly. Still, feeling
anything other than contempt for a slaver was out of the question.
“Be that as it may,” she said as she hurried to retie the
bodice on the tunic, “the Truth and Order Police and scribes cannot keep all
truth from emerging. As hard as they’ve tried, I have learned much over the
years.”
“Such as?”
“Women tolerate sex for a man’s desire and to beget
children. Pleasure is not a part of it. The Truth and Order Police say sex is
still a sin in marriage, but a tolerable sin. I believe within marriage it is
no sin at all.”
“Amazing. And here I thought only Dragonians had bizarre
notions about sex.”
“It’s not bizarre. It’s truth.”
“You mean to tell me having children is produced from
committing sin?”
She nodded and licked her lips. “A necessary sin.”
“Would the god Magon have made it a sin to perpetuate the
species?”
Wondering why he insisted on pursuing this conversation, she
answered, “It appears so.”
When his eyes snapped up to hers, she saw eager interest in
his eyes that confused her with its intensity. Shaking his head, he peered at
her as if she’d become a dreaded three-headed lizard said to reside in the
Magonian underworld. “Fascinating but utter bollocks.”
Patience snapped. “You are nothing more than a sin-laden—”
“I know.” He held up one hand and added a long slow look
that traveled over her face in an intimate and searching fashion. “I’m a slave
trader. A defiler of women. Best you remember that, my beauty.”
