Starr woke to an unfamiliar sensation beneath her. Soft, sweetly
scented silk bunched under her fingers.
Where the hell was she? She bolted to a sitting position,
wincing when a sharp pain knifed inside her head. It was pitch
black, but no stars overhead. No blistering hot dirt under
her body. She was inside, but inside where?
The last thing she remembered was fighting the Raynar, clods
of dirt spraying from the hooves of the balons and mixing with
the spit of flying steel as sword hit sword. She remembered
a dark presence blocking the sun from her eyes. A Raynar warrior
had come at her wielding his sword over his head. Then her
world went black.
Until now. She shifted to the side, feeling her way to the
edge of what she assumed was a bed. She couldn't be in the
Dognelle kingdom as her people didn't own fabrics like this.
Rough, scratchy wools and linens made up their stiff-boarded
sleeping beds, not silk as soft as rainwater.
Raynar. She was in the Raynar kingdom, she'd bet her last
Dracol on it. But how, and more importantly, why? By rights
she should be dead now. If she'd been struck by the Raynar
warrior, he'd have run her through. She'd seen many of her
warriors lying lifeless on the ground, something she'd mourn
the rest of her days.
Why could there be no peace? Why did one kingdom have everything
and they had nothing? Where was the equality in that?
Because of that monster, Lycan of Raynar, her people were
dying. His refusal to share the kingdom's goods resulted in
many of the surrounding clan going to war to eke out what little
resources were available on this godforsaken planet. And yet
Raynar's people lived the life of luxury, judging from the
soft, silken bed she'd just slipped out of.
Oh, he'd offered to open up the gates of Raynar and take in
the Dognelle. But no woman in Raynar was free, and no Dognelle
woman would agree to become a slave just to wear fine clothes
and have plentiful food. They'd rather starve in the desert
than live under any man's rule.
Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she could make out faint
shapes in the room. Why was she in this room, not even chained,
instead of their prison? None of this made sense, but she wasn't
going to stay here long enough to find the answers.
She'd kill whoever got in her way, but she'd make her way
back to Dognelle this night.
Starr spied a tall vase sitting on a pedestal, and shuffled
slowly toward it, her toes sinking into the thick rug in front
of the bed. Her fingers closed over the bottom of the vase
and she lifted it.
Heavy. Perfect to clout a hulking Raynar over the head.
She froze at the sound of creaking floorboards in the next
room. A light shone through the crack in the door. Starr hurried
into position next to the door, hoping that whoever came through
didn't see her lurking there before she had the chance to split
their skull.
The light brightened as the door opened, and she hefted the
object, prepared to strike.
Suddenly the vase was pulled from her hands and a pair of
strong arms circled her waist, squeezing the breath out of
her. The stranger pulled her against his massive chest and
she was roughly pulled through the doorway. She squinted in
the bright lights, trying to fight off whoever had a death
grip around her middle.
"Let go of me you fucking barbarian!
I can't breathe!"
He whipped her around so her back rested
against his chest. "Good.
Now listen to me," he whispered, his breath warm against
her cheek.
"You have nothing to say that I'd be interested in hearing." She
leaned as far forward as possible, giving her leverage to kick
her foot up to smash against his balls. But he countered by
shoving one strong thigh between her legs.
She struggled, and she was by no means physically weak. But
her strength was no match for the Raynar warrior. Finally,
she gave up, sucking in a huge gulp of air when he relaxed
his grip. He turned her around and held on to her shoulders.
She glanced up and finally got a good look at the beast who
held her.
Only he was no beast. Broad shoulders were centered by a wide
chest covered in a dusting of dark hair. His narrow waist and
slender hips rested on well muscled thighs encased in very
tight leather breeches. He was so tall she had to crane her
neck up to see his face.
Brilliant blue eyes shone from sun darkened skin. Raven black
hair surrounded his face.
By Lal's halos, he was gorgeous.
While she was filthy and smelled like balon shit. And why
the hell did she care? She never noticed men, didn't care for
them, had never had a man and had no intention of lying down
with this one.
Clearly, she'd suffered a head injury of sorts. What else
would make her react this way to the heathen in front of her?
"Are you quite though ogling me?" he
asked, amusement dancing in his wicked smile.
"I never ogle," she said. Not
until just now, anyway.
He let go of her arms and walked over to a table against the
wall. She eyed him warily while plotting her escape through
the double doors on the other side of the room.
"Don't bother," he said nonchalantly, his back still
turned to her. "There are guards on the other side of
the door."
"Do you read minds?"
"No. You're just obvious."
Bastard.
He turned and walked toward her, holding
out a cup. "Drink
this."
"Fuck you."
"Not for a Kingdom's jewels. You
stink."
Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks
and she was thankful for the dirt covering her face. She
couldn't even tell him
he smelled just as bad because he'd obviously bathed. "Sorry,
I haven't had time to primp in advance of our meeting," was
all she could manage.
One corner of his mouth lifted. "Drink
this. It's water. The physician said you suffered a head
injury and you were
to drink water when you woke."
She eyed the glass suspiciously. No way was she going to drink
some liquid that could be poison.
Until he took a sip, then held it out
to her. She licked her lips, barely able to swallow from
the grit scratching her throat.
The urge to take the glass from his hands and gulp down its
contents was nearly overwhelming, but she'd be damned if she'd
accept anything from him. "I don't want any."
He shrugged and set the glass on a table
next to them. "Suit
yourself."
She was dying for a drink, nearly ready to pass out from the
thirst, but she'd never show weakness to this barbarian.
"I've also ordered a bath for you."
He walked toward the door and opened it, whispering something
to the guard standing there. While his back was turned she
grabbed the glass, gulping the liquid so quickly some of it
dribbled down her chin.
A bath. She'd give her right arm for
a bath right now. "I
don't need a bath."
He came back to her and stopped in front
of her. Arching a brow, he sniffed loudly. "Oh, hell
yes you do."
Well aware of how she smelled, she crossed
her arms, defiantly lifting her chin. "You can't force
me to bathe."
His height towered over hers. She'd never considered herself
small. But next to this warrior, she felt like a child.
"I can force you to do whatever
I want you to, and you will obey."
She sneered at him. "Perhaps you've
mistaken me for one of your concubines. I am a free woman,
not a slave."
"Not any longer. You are in the
Raynar kingdom now, and as a female that puts you under our
protection. Whatever freedoms
you enjoyed before are gone."
She pushed aside the fear that knifed
through her at the thought of her freedom being taken away. "Then
run me through now. I'd rather be dead than be a slave to
any man."
He tipped her chin with his finger. She
refused to pull away, daring him to treat her like one of
his concubines. "What
is your name, woman?" he asked.
"My name is Starr, and I am Queen
of Dognelle. You will return me at once to my people."
His eyes widened for a moment, and then
he laughed. "You
are no queen. No leader of people could be a slight little
girl with more dirt than weight on her."
This lower than scum warrior would definitely
have to die. And soon. "Bring me before your king. I
want to discuss terms of my release."
The tall warrior's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms,
widening his stance. The position made him appear all the more
imposing.
"I am Lycan, King of Raynar, and
there will be no discussion of your release. You are my captive,
my slave, and I'll do
whatever I wish with you."
Starr let her eyes drift shut for a second, praying to the
gods that this wasn't true. This man, this savage, lived a
comfortable life behind his opulent walls while the people
of Dognelle went hungry. Ending his life would be her greatest
wish.
