DarykRogue Read online

  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, a
nd 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.”

  Rayder reached out to touch her throat, and she flinched at his audacity and the soreness.

  She grabbed his big hand and pushed it away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I wouldn’t move much if I were you. You’re hurt more than you know.”

  “I’m well enough.”

  “You almost drowned. A little longer and you would’ve slid into the ocean for the last time. Farcam is a brutal man. He could have crushed your throat if he’d wanted to.”

  “I know.” She swallowed around her sore throat. Thinking about how close she’d come to losing her life iced her heart. “Why didn’t you let him?”

  He grunted. His eyes grim and mouth tight. “He’s dragon dung. Filth who should have died long ago.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what she expected him to say. She switched subjects to avoid thinking about almost having her throat crushed. “You rescued me from the water because you saw me as slave material?”

  “Yes. We watched your ship get hit by the wave and go under and figured there couldn’t be survivors. When we arrived at the location, we found you and three other women floating nearby.”

  Her heart leapt. “I was with two friends. Mia Griffi and Ketera Aldrancos. Are they on board?”

  The slaver shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Disappointment and grief threatened, but curiosity stifled stronger emotions. “I demand to find out for certain.”

  To her surprise he said, “I will check the names of the slaves already on board.”

  “One other thing. Did you pull a man from the ocean as well?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No. Why? Is he your betrothed?”

  She swallowed hard, relief flowing through her. While she normally would never wish death on anyone, she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if Taris Elian had made it onto this ship. How much should she tell this man?

  She made a quick, perhaps rash decision. “His name is Taris Elian.” She added acid to her voice. “He was my husband. That is all you need to know.”

  “You have a husband?” Rayder’s mouth firmed, hardness entering his eyes. “I see no grief in your eyes for him.”

  Magon, she wished she could manufacture grief for the man.

  “I wanted nothing to do with him. My parents arranged it. I escaped him in Opali after—” She stopped herself. He didn’t need to know the sordid story. “He caught up with me at the Hydrasoseles and was taking me back to Opali.”

  His eyes narrowed, keen intelligence and curiosity sharpening his gaze. “So you were as much a slave in Magonia as you are on this ship.”

  Damn him for pointing that out. She nodded reluctantly. “In a fashion.” She knew the answer to her next question but asked it anyway. “Why did you save me?”

  Xandra thought she saw concern and a very human emotion in his eyes. It flickered and died. “In my former life it was my duty to protect others. I’m an exceptionally strong swimmer and I jumped into the ocean. The men threw me a line.”

  Unless he lied about his heroics and this former life, she couldn’t help but admire such bravery…even if it belonged to a slaver. “Thank you for…saving me. From the water and from those odious
men.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her thanks, but his expression filled with a smidgen of admiration. “I’m amazed, my lady. You show more courage than any Magonian woman I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and maybe most Dragonians.”

  Xandra’s throat tightened as she noted that she’d placed herself in jeopardy speaking to this man so boldly and engaging him in conversations about sex. Drinking ocean had apparently disrupted her common sense.

  “What…what time is it?” she asked, hoping to divert his thoughts from carnal actions.

  “You’ve been unconscious a night and day. It’s morning now.”

  She sighed, perturbed. “How was I to know I was on a slaver ship?”

  He leaned closer, and this time his fingers traced down the side of her cheek. Hot skin against skin contact sent a wake of response rippling through her skin. Part of her liked his touch, and that shocked and scared her.

  “Soft. You’d fetch a pretty penny in Dragonia,” he said softly, his voice a rumbling deep purr that stroked her skin as wonderfully as his touch.

  He leaned in closer, his heat and warmth seeming to surround her. Rayder’s eyes weren’t as black as she’d believed. Hints of green and gold flashed within, and as she stared, red flashed.

  She gasped and her heart froze. “What are you?”

  His lips parted, coming closer. “I told you. A slaver.”

  Nearer. Nearer. Was he going to kiss her?

  She couldn’t move.

  For a few seconds more they hung in limbo until he moved back abruptly and stood. “While you’re on this ship, you will do as I say when I say.”

  “But—”

  “Follow my direction or there will be hells to pay.”

  “Why am I here in this cabin? Do you house all slaves in such generous accommodation?”

  He strode toward the door, and her gaze snagged on his broad shoulders, slim hips and the obvious strength in his body. Rayder turned to look at her. “No. We have slaves belowdecks in far less comfortable conditions than you are enjoying.” He gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze challenging her to do or say anything untoward that might incur his wrath. “The only reason why you’re here is because I claimed you with that kiss.”