The Barbarian Prince (7 page)

Leaning over, Ualan picked her gown from the ground, stroking it several times in a way that made her wish it was her body he held. He then ripped the material apart, tearing it beyond use. Morrigan shivered. Without her clothes, she would not be able to leave him again. She was his prisoner.

Still caressing the material in his large hands, he came forward. His eyes stayed steady on his captive as he laid the material on her lap. Morrigan gasped as it brushed her heated skin. Then, taking a fine strip from the top of the pile, Ualan brought it to her prone wrist. With a few deft movements, he tied her arm to the chair.

When he had tied her other wrist in the same manner, he stood. His naughty smile of pleasure sent chills over her. Morrigan tried to lift her hands to stand, but the bonds were too tight. When she remained where he wished her to be, he nodded in approval of his work.

Morrigan watched, silent as he began to circle around her. Her head strained as she tried to turn, but he disappeared behind the chair.

"Where are you going?" she asked, breathless. "What are you doing?"

Suddenly, a blindfold was placed over her head from behind. Darkness surrounded her as he tied it over her eyes. She listened for him, trying to see where he was, trying to sense if he looked at her. Then, a soft crack of a whip resounded behind her head. Morrigan jumped, thrilled, frightened. Her heart beat in erratic waves. Her mind swam with raw emotions. The whips cracked again, to her side, smacking loud against the wood like a hand to the flesh.

Morrigan tensed waiting for the feel of a strap to her helpless skin. Her eyes closed beneath the blindfold. The whip snapped again and again. Each time she jumped, sure that it drew closer to her anticipating flesh.

Crack!

The loud snap came next to her arm, not touching her. She jumped, straining her arms against her binds.

Whoosh--crack!

It sung through the air to land behind her head. She jolted.

With each hit, her body grew more intense. The wood pressed into her backside--hard and unforgiving. Her body arched, dying from anticipation and fear. Then, gradually she felt a brush against her flesh. It wasn’t the beating she had expected. Her mouth shot open in surprise. She could not see Ualan but she could feel the tickle of his whip as he dangled it over her flesh.

Achingly slow, it was dragged over a nipple. Morrigan whimpered, panted, cried out softly. The fight left her until she was completely under his spell. Nothing else matted but his will for her. She was tired of being in control, wanted to be free from decisions so she let him decide for her. Who wanted to think with the fog that was in her head? From beyond her touch-focused brain she thought to have heard him chuckle--a dark sound, dominating and demanding.

The whip tapped and stroked her flesh. It brushed her thighs, kissed her feet. Then, as he drew it away another smack sounded. A gush of wind blew around her thighs as the whip crashed between them on the wood. Morrigan moaned, liking the vibration this action caused between her legs. She stiffened, too scared to move lest she get in the whip’s way, but eager for him to do it again.

Very pleased with her response, Ualan hit again. Morrigan moaned louder. He watched her body strain and tense and his eyes turned a subtle shade of gold.

When she did not protest, Ualan’s actions became bolder in his game. With a light slap, he hit the whip to her calf. It stung the flesh but did not hurt. Leisurely, he slapped her other leg, moving to hit upon her thighs. The whip’s hard touch brought the blood to her flesh, making it tingle and burn with excitement. Next, the whip snapped her stomach. Morrigan arched her breasts, wanting them to be next. She was not disappointed. The whip snapped her nipples, both at the same time. Its stringy tip was like the slap of countless fingers.

"Yes," Morrigan groaned, past embarrassment, urging him onward.

The whip snapped her breasts again, this time more firmly.

"Ah, yes," she panted, no longer caring who heard her. Let the others hear her cries for once.

The whip struck her stomach, followed by quick successions to her parted thighs. The tips wrapped around her hips to her sides. Her hips jerked with each commanding blow.

"Ualan," she panted.

Hearing his name on her lips, pleading for him to come to her, Ualan paused. It was almost more than he could bear. Unable to resist, he struck her heated center with his torturous pleasure. The blood rushed to the nub swollen with desire. Her hips bucked hard, spasming with the intense scream of a quickly approaching orgasm. Her body trembled. If he struck her again, she would continue up the rocky path of her climax.

But he did not strike. She was denied release. She waited, tense. Her body was poised. Her mouth was open waiting for that climaxing scream. Sweat beaded her flesh the longer she waited.

Ualan sat back to watch her. All Qurilixian knew this was to be a hard night, perhaps one of the hardest in their lives. Self-denial wasn’t something that came easy to a conquering race. He wasn’t finished disciplining her yet. Before he gave her the gift of release, his little bride would know who controlled her.

Sweat beaded Morrigan’s body. Images and bright colors swam in her brain, carrying thoughts of forbidden passion, of thrusting men atop their women, of women riding hard atop their men, of nails scratching into flesh, of Ualan’s fingers curling around her skin. Moisture pooled within her, wet and hot as her body begged for his touch.

Ualan tossed the whip aside. Kneeling before Morrigan, he lifted her weakened foot into his hand. Her body worked absently, trying to get the will to move but unable to. Ualan’s hands found the flesh of her leg, caressing in long strokes. She shivered. His mouth lowered to her foot, kissing her toes before sucking one into his mouth.

His hands didn’t stop. His mouth was insistently tender, soothing the ache he had whipped into her skin. Morrigan writhed, panted, sighed. She was beyond anything but the feelings he gave to her.

Ualan’s lips trailed her flesh, both her legs, her hips, stomach, and breasts, denying their sweet centers. His hands followed--rubbing and stroking. His teeth bit lightly on her nipples, only to soothe them with his lapping tongue. Morrigan strained against her binds. Her head fell back, her mouth gasping for breath. She was speechless.

"Choose," he whispered as he made way to her neck. He paused in his task, his breath hard and heavy, giving away his matching torment. "Choose."

Morrigan struggled for breath. All she managed was a whimper. Ualan’s hands continued a wayward path over her arms and then disappeared altogether. She waited, gasping for air. He did not return. Hearing movement, Morrigan discovered that he had freed her. Her hands wound up into her hair, pulling the blindfold from her features with an exhausted tug. Hungrily, her eyes searched for him.

He was not as she suspected. Sitting back on his heels, again dressed, he studied her, watching with his cool blue eyes through the slit in his mask.

"Ualan," she began in a whisper. Vulnerably, she closed her eyes, reminded that he was a stranger. She didn’t even know his face. The words died on her lips unspoken.

Ualan left her there, waiting for her body to calm from its disappointment. It had been cruel to bring her so far and not give her the release she sought. He was willing to risk a thousand years in the dark dungeon for the memory of her passion laden skin, but he would not risk dishonoring his family name to claim her like he wanted without her permission and the blessing of the council of elders.

Ualan reached to smooth back a tear, curiosity shining in his confused eyes. Without speaking, he stood, motioning his hand for her to do the same. Grabbing a large sheet from the side of the tub, he wrapped her up in its warm depths. Next, he led her to the bed.

Morrigan was too weak to think. Her body could not take another of his punishments. She was tired. Lying next to him, she hugged the sheet to her chest. She lifted herself up on her arm to study his hidden face. He stiffened at her look. Lightly, she stroked the mask, wondering what mysteries it hid from her and almost too scared to find out.

But, she was a journalist and curiosity was her curse. She wished he would reveal himself, wondering why he held back from her, wondering why he denied them both what he had wanted too. Suddenly, she cursed, wishing she had finished her uploads like a good reporter. She honestly thought she’d have time to fill in the blanks on the way back. She hadn’t expected Ualan.

He stiffened in question at the sound of her soft whispering of anger, but did not stop her gentle hand as she fingered the ties by the side of his head. His liquid gaze bore into her. She trembled and hesitated.

Looking him full into the face, she uttered, "You understand that I can’t stay here with you. All the torturing in the world won’t change my mind."

Ualan sighed in aggravation. He had not moved from his place on the bed. His chest rose in even breath. Neither of them noticed that the crystal still glowed, though not as brightly.

He studied her face, before tilting his jaw to her. Whispering, he insisted, "Choose."

"I have a life away from here," she continued, not knowing if he understood her. "Please, don’t touch me anymore tonight. I can’t take your punishments. I need you to leave me alone."

Ualan didn’t move. His eyes grew sad, his breath shallow. Morrigan swallowed. Her life might not be perfect, but it was hers. Falling in love with a man like Ualan was insane, but it was an insanity she was feeling the pinching affliction of. It was hard to explain and rationalize, but she felt as if they understood each other on a basic level. He knew what she needed and had almost given it to her. When she needed to relinquish control to finally feel the depths of her pleasure, he had controlled her.

Better to be trapped away from this planet, than to be trapped next to him as a reminder of this night and these feelings, thought Morrigan.

Maybe she was still drunk from the wine. Maybe she was just too spent to think straight. She hadn’t slept well the last several nights and it was pretty late. Aloud, she said, "You understand, don’t you. Tell me you understand."

Ualan said nothing. Morrigan’s fingers trembled. She pulled the mask slowly over his features. She was not disappointed. He was beautiful. His face matched his body. His nose was straight and strong. His cheekbones high like his people. Morrigan brushed a strand of hair from his enigmatic eyes, pleased that he did not stop her.

Touching his cheek with her palm, she whispered, "Do you understand?"

Slowly, a smile found his lips. It was a pleasant smile, not mocking or demanding, not passionate or harsh. Brushing the back of his knuckles over her cheek, he returned her gentle caress.

"Yes, Morrigan," he whispered, his voice soft. She could detect the slight tilting of his Qurilixian accent. His words were not stilted as before, but flowing with soft ease from his lips. Her eyes took in his face, devouring it to memory as she had his body. He closed his eyes, forcing her to relax next to him. An unexplainable sadness came over her, as she heard him whisper in acceptance, "You chose."

When her body began to settle and her heart to slow, she opened her eyes. Glancing at the stranger at her side, she saw his eyes were closed. He respected her wishes and didn’t touch her. She was glad for it. Her body couldn’t take those emotions again even if it wanted to and, right now, her aching limbs definitely didn’t want to.

Ualan’s chest rose in even breath. His body nestled beneath sheets, which molded to every naked inch of him. The light from the torches had dimmed by small degrees to a softened hue, but still gave off plenty of light to see by. Ualan was a handsome man, breathtakingly so.

Lightly, her hand moved to hover over his unmasked features. They dipped to touch him, but hesitated as she drew them back. She could not risk waking him. It was already clear that she had no power to fight him off and, if she looked into his penetrating eyes, she might be tempted to stay for another round. Instantly, she looked to the bondage throne and shivered.

Ualan was glorious in his nakedness. He was carved firmly in all the right ways--from the intimate curve of his leg and buttocks to the strong man-arms and chest. Morrigan took a deep breath and held it. Everything around her was so surreal, like a dream. Any moment she expected to wake up in her own small cubical apartment on Earth, or in any of the various company space pods she used for travel. The space pod was more of a home to her than her own apartment was.

Looking around, she wondered what it would be like to live in such a place, with such a man. She doubted she could last on one planet, knowing that soon the wanderlust that had obsessed her since girlhood would eventually set in. And what would she do? Lay around waiting for Ualan to come have sex with her--or almost sex?

Though, in the short term the idea had merit, in the long run she would go crazy. She was a writer, a journalist. Her mind craved knowledge and excitement. Her intellect itched for facts, no matter how mundane they seemed to others. Her very nature yearned for more, always more. No, Ualan and this simple tent-sleeping life he led were not for her. She would just have to keep the sensations he caused inside of her as a memory reserved for lonely, deep space nights, when only the stars and endless distance were hers for company.

Sleep was too tempting to her troubled thoughts. Yawning, Morrigan closed her eyes and willingly let rest overtake her.

* * * *

Morrigan awoke alone to the soft humming of a bird. It was an odd sound, soft and long, and very out of place in her dreams. Before opening her eyes, she yawned, stretching her tired limbs over her head. She felt dead, as if she had slept for an eternity. Though her muscles were tight and pulled angrily as she moved, she was more rested than she had ever remembered being. There was a haze to her dreams, a haze to….

"Ualan," whispered Morrigan in surprise. Yawning, she opened her eyes, seeing that he hadn’t been a dream. He was gone, but she was left in his tent. The torn strands of her dress were lying on the ground as proof of the night she barely remembered. The memories were muddled by a cloud in her brain. It was as if she were drunk, without the side effects of a morning hangover.