Enthralled: The Sex Goddess (5 page)

Through the small hole she could see the blazing fire pit in the center of the village. It must be very late, for there weren’t many people standing around it, and the stars were high and bright in the sky. The forbidding jungle enclosed the small collection of huts, and Jane was once again reminded of the dangers that lurked within.

Escaping into the night, especially without a weapon, would be foolhardy at best.

Then she recognized Jonathan’s tall, slender figure standing near the shadows, only a few feet from her hut. He seemed to be deep in conversation with one of the tribal members; their voices floated in bits toward her.

The other man shifted and his face became illuminated by the fire. Jane recognized him as Cold Eyes, the one who seemed to be the leader—and the one who’d touched and fondled her brazenly in front of his people. The one with the flat, lascivious smile.

To Jane’s surprise, Jonathan wasn’t bound or restricted in any way. And as they talked, she saw Cold Eyes give something to her fiancé. Something like a parchment or a rolled-up piece of skin. Jonathan nodded, satisfaction evident in his demeanor. He unrolled the item and looked at it, then glanced up at Cold Eyes.

Jane felt weak as she watched through the peephole, disregarding the irritating tickle-scratch of the dried grasses against her face. What was he doing? What was this about?
Something didn’t feel right. Jonathan was supposed to be a prisoner too.

You must do as they say, for both our sakes. Or they will kill me.
Wasn’t that what he’d told her?

Straining hard, hoping to hear some of what they were saying, Jane pressed her ear to the hole. Her heart thudded so loudly it nearly masked the sounds outside…but now she was able to hear unmistakable snatches of conversation. In
English
. She could hardly breathe, and clung tightly to the door, listening with all her might.

“…brought her to you…” That was Jonathan; she recognized his clipped British voice. “…kept my promise…”

“…woman…indeed a prize…”

“…cannot tell anyone…release…”

“…map…Darkdale…”

“No, he does not…”

Jane had gone cold and numb. If she were a more fragile person, she would have collapsed in shock and horror. Her heart pounded in her throat, choking her with its force, and nausea surged, threatening to spill her recent meal on the dirt floor.

She’d heard enough. Heard and comprehended enough to understand. Jonathan had
brought
her here? Pretended to be captured and in danger? But he had
given her
to these people…for
a map
?

Her breathing became short and fast, and Jane spun back into the hut, looking for something that could be used for a weapon. Something. Anything.

With a roar of fury borne of deep, dark pain, she found a wrist-thick stick still burning in the fire. Yanking it free, she turned toward the door just as it opened to reveal her guard—presumably to investigate her shout.

Jane was so incensed, so blinded by rage, she swung the flaming stick at the man in the doorway. He was taken by surprise and stumbled out of the way as she burst out of the hut.

“Jonathan! You
foul
, lily-livered, dog-licking
snake
!” she screamed. She managed only a few steps before several hands grabbed her, pulling her up short, and yanked the flaming stick from her hands.

She kicked and fought, bit and screamed like a wild woman; all she wanted was the chance to kill him. To maim and torture him.

To destroy the man who
was supposed to love her
.

Jonathan, for his part, leapt behind Cold Eyes when Jane first came into view, but once she was subdued, he stepped back around.

“Jane!” he cried as she snarled and hissed, determined to get to him.

“How could you? Why would you ever do such a thing?” she screamed, fighting, kicking, even vaulting up so her legs came off the ground, cycling furiously in the air in his direction as she was held up by her arms. Thick curls flew in her face, tangled around her arms and shoulders. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her voice was raw with grief and sharp from pain. “Jonathan…”

At last, she collapsed into the imprisoning hands, still sobbing with fury, shaking with a rage so deep she thought she might never find peace again. Hatred burned in her eyes as she looked at him.

“Jane, I’m…I’m sorry. I—”

“Be off with you,” ordered Cold Eyes in stilted yet surprisingly good English. So he had understood her all along. His gaze glittered as he turned to look at Jane, hot appreciation burning in his eyes. “She will injure herself. But she is right. You are a snake. And she is a most magnificent woman.”

“But…I can’t leave
now.
It’s night…and the jungle…” Jonathan stammered, his face suddenly glistening with perspiration.

“Go! You have what you came for. You are no longer welcome here.” Cold Eyes made a sharp gesture and two of his men stepped forward with crossed spears.

As Jane watched, a combination of horror, rage, and grief fought inside her. With Jonathan gone, there was no one else here from her world. She would be utterly alone.

But she couldn’t bear to set eyes on him—this man who’d betrayed her in so many ways.

Yet if he were sent into the jungle at night, surely it would be a death sentence.

“No!” she cried suddenly. “Let him stay. Send him away at dawn. At least then there will be no blood on my hands…or yours.”

Cold Eyes looked at her with consideration. “You dare to counter my command?”

Jane drew her aching body upright, ignoring the twinges and discomfort. It took great effort, but she managed to lift her chin into a haughty expression. “I am a goddess, am I not? You do not wish to anger me.”

The tribal leader’s expression blazed. “You are indeed some sort of goddess. And I shall soon find out just how much power you do have.” Jane’s insides wobbled unpleasantly at the unmistakable promise, but she held her head high as Cold Eyes turned back to his men. He spoke in their language, and the crossed spears fell away.

Jonathan surged toward her, but Cold Eyes stopped him. After he gave another short, sharp command to his men, Jonathan was led off and taken out of sight. As they took him off, he tried once more to look over his shoulder and call out to her, but she turned away, horribly disconcerted by Cold Eyes’s promise and the fact that she was now utterly alone.

“Now, goddess,” he said, taking her firmly by the arm. “Let us see whether I have made a good trade or no.”

Jane’s insides surged as he led her, not to her small hut, but to a larger structure. She stumbled, trying to slow his pace, trying to delay while she thought of a way to escape, but Cold Eyes merely gripped her harder and shoved her along roughly.

When they reached the building, which was about twice the size of her hut, Cold Eyes spoke sharply to the man who stood in front of the door. The guard hesitated, then reluctantly stepped aside as he opened the door.

Cold Eyes released Jane. “After you, goddess.”

She had a fleeting moment of insanity and almost bolted, but that would be futile, and could result in punishment or worse. Jane knew she must marshal all of her courage and intelligence if she were to find a way to escape. The niggling fact that she’d been able to pull apart the dried grasses that made up the door—and the walls—of her hut gave her hope. If left alone long for a while, she was certain she could make a hole large enough to slip through and escape.

Eventually.

But now…

Jane looked around at her new environment, and immediately recognized its purpose. It was not, as she’d supposed, the home or habitat of the tribal leader.

No. It was some sort of temple or worship space. For some reason, that realization made Jane even more nervous—especially when she noticed an altar with what looked like arm and leg restraints.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought she might vomit. Jane drew in a deep breath and realized the space was permeated with a musky, dull scent of spice and some other unidentifiable aroma. While it wasn’t exactly displeasing, nor was it particularly pleasant. Candles made from empty coconut shells lined the room, casting dancing yellow light on the grass walls.

“Goddess.” Cold Eyes had come in and closed the door behind him. As Jane watched, he placed a large, heavy wooden brace against it, ensuring no one would be able to enter.

What was he going to do to her?

Her heart in her throat, Jane edged away from him, nearly tripping over a stool, then bumping into a table as she staggered away. The crude jars and vessels on the table clunked into each other, and Cold Eyes pinned her with his dark, hot gaze.

“What an excellent idea. Pour yourself a drink from the tall jug. And one for me as well.”

“How long have you known English?” Jane managed to say, her hand shaking as she poured. A dark, thick liquid splashed into their bamboo cups. “You speak it well.”

“I learnt it when I served as a groom for a regiment of your kinsmen’s army, when they came to fight the Berbers.” He took the cup and drank heavily, then gestured that she should do the same. “It will make things much more pleasant,” he said with a cool smile. “For both of us.”

The liquid tasted like bitter, fermented coffee, and was thicker than cream. There was a strange aftertaste that lingered on her tongue, and Jane realized it was likely some sort of hallucinogenic.

“You are in need of a drug to be with a goddess?” she taunted, then immediately regretted her bold words.

Cold Eyes’s smile thinned, and anger flashed in his gaze. “You are a brave one. Perhaps you
are
the one woman who can—” He stopped abruptly, and his expression changed to a determined one. “Take that off. I will see all of you.”

“You’ve already done so.” Jane made no move to follow his command. She didn’t know how or why, but something had emboldened her. Perhaps it was knowing she had no one on which to rely but herself now. Perhaps it was because she didn’t believe they meant to kill her, or even hurt her. Or perhaps she was merely foolhardy, and the drugged drink was making her act thusly.

All at once, the thought of Zaren popped in her mind.
Zaren
. Jane felt weak at the memory of him, and at the same time, she had a brief moment of happiness. With Jonathan exposed for the vile man he was, she no longer must be conflicted between loyalty and…lust? Desire?
Love
?

Whatever she felt for the wild jungle man Zaren, though she might never have the chance to act on it again, at least she no longer must feel guilt or confusion about him.

If I ever escape from these people, I’ll find Zaren.
A warm, comforting quiver shuttled through her.
Oh, yes. I’ll find him
.

And that thought, that bright light of hope, filled her mind as Cold Eyes grabbed her by the front of her tunic and shoved her back, back, back…until she felt something behind her thighs.

The altar.

Jane held to the thought of Zaren—his gentle, tender touch, his powerful sleek body, his kind, hot eyes—as Cold Eyes forced her back onto the flat surface, holding her by the throat. Her windpipe thus muffled, she could hardly breathe. Lights and black spots danced before her eyes, and she had no strength with which to struggle as her captor forced one wrist, and then the corresponding ankle, into the buckle-like restraints.

He finished by attaching her other wrist to the bound one, crossing that arm over her eyes. Spreading her legs wide, he pulled her roughly into place so that her hips and arse were positioned at the very end of the raised table. She was restrained there, precariously at the edge with its sharp angle digging into her buttocks, ankles and knees spread, her tortured red quim open and ready. Even now, she felt a soft little pulse of awareness from her tight little pip.

There was a change in the room; she could hear him moving around, felt the change in the air, the shift of scent. He was moving around her, chanting softly to himself.

After a long moment in which she wondered if he meant to simply leave her like this, he spoke. “Now then.” Cold Eyes’s voice sounded strained and a little high. “It is time.”

Jane jolted as two hands closed over her breasts; she could see nothing, for her arm was crushed against her eyes. But she could hear his heavy, rasping breathing and feel the heat of his presence as he stood between her legs.

He toyed with her nipples, massaging them, rolling them between his fingers until they drew up tight and close. Little tugs of pleasure jolted down to her belly, and turned to a sharp pulse when he closed his warm, wet mouth over one of her breasts. Jane couldn’t hold back a gasp as he sucked hard,
harder
and longer, as if he meant to fit all of her into his hot mouth. She moaned when her pearl pulsed automatically in response.

Cold Eyes’s breath became raspier, and he turned to her other breast, pinching and sucking until Jane could stand it no more and arched, digging her buttocks more sharply into the edge of the altar, trying to find a way to launch herself from the sensation…or to find some pleasant ending.

“No…” she moaned. “Oh, please…”

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Beg.”

She felt him between her thighs, his hands gripping the tender skin there, and Jane held her breath, bracing herself to be filled. She tightened and panted, somewhere between apprehension and need.

He pressed against her—she felt the heat, the roughness of hair…and softness. Soft, squishy
something
, pushing against her swollen, sensitive quim.

Jane’s eyes flew open beneath her arm as she realized what was happening. Cold Eyes smashed himself into her, pushing the head of his cock—a cock that felt as soft and useless as a worm—against her. He rubbed and manipulated, pressing into her wetness, sliding around and against her juices, trying to force it into place.

Jane couldn’t ignore the pressure, the erotic slip and slide, and even while she understood her tormentor’s predicament, she felt her own frustrated need rise as he massaged against her in an ineffective, tortuous tease.

He growled under his breath, something furious and tight, and she felt the tension in his fingers as he continued to hold her thighs in place. One hand released her leg and she felt him move against her, then the sharp motion as he attempted to jerk himself into an erection. She could hear the angry sounds of frustration, gasps of desperation, then suddenly he began to tear at the restraints on her ankles.