Roped Heat Page 3

  “Saka!”

  His brother remained silent. In contrast, the beast was making loud, tortured gasps. Tarek squeezed even more. At the same time, he bent his knees in preparation for rolling the creature off him; pain sliced into his forearms.

  They were engaged in a deadly battle; Tarek tried to choke the beast that might have killed his brother while the beast fought to tear the punishing arms off him. Although his nerves demanded he release the throat and do whatever necessary to get the claws off his arms, he didn't. Pain was nothing. Pain meant he was alive.

  The creature's movements became more and more frenzied.

  It thrashed from side to side, bringing Tarek with it and nearly crushing him. Tarek shifted his grip so he could press against the windpipe with one arm. With a quick, violent twist, he managed to shake off one set of claws. Relief washed through him, replaced almost immediately by what felt like burning skewers deep in the forearm clenched around his attacker's throat.

  Digging his fingers into a hairy wrist, he ripped the nails off him. Then, before the claws could find his flesh again, he reached around the oversized head. Fangs scraped his bleeding arm, but he twisted free. Even as he pressed his fingertips into the beast's eyes, it began shuddering, sobbing.

  Tarek rode with the monster, one arm still between it and its life-saving breath, the other blinding it. Even when the enemy collapsed, he held on. His own muscles shook.

  Saka.

  Pushing the dying beast off him, he struggled to his knees. Had he ever felt this weak? After repeatedly breathing as deeply as he could, he risked standing. More time passed before he trusted himself to take a step. The monster he'd shot still twitched, but from the amount of blood it had lost, he knew it was dying. Everything he'd been taught during his rigorous journey to manhood demanded he determine whether he was still in danger, but even stronger was concern for his brother.

  Saka lay on his side, his legs drawn up much like a sleeping child. Standing over him, Tarek held his breath and waited. Finally his brother's chest rose and then fell.

  *****

  Tarek stood watching as the Centrois warriors examined the bodies of the two dead beasts. He'd already seen all he needed to—and more. The others might note the mix of man and animal—the naked, hairy bodies with their powerful legs and inadequate chests—and contemplate how many more there might be, but until his chest stopped burning, he couldn't put his mind to the question.

  Until he'd stopped shaking.

  Saka sat on the ground leaning against a large rock. His face wasn't as pale as it had been earlier, hut he still appeared weak. His features were impassive, his eyes unfocused.

  “What Are they?” J'ron kicked the beast Tarek had shot. "Not human and yet more man than animal. I say we leave them here for scavengers to pick apart.”

  "Or for others of their kind to find," someone suggested.

  A'tala, who was Saka and J'ron's age and often questioned the older warriors’ decisions, wanted to throw the creatures in the lake, but Tarek pointed out that that would foul the water. Another young warrior wanted to burn the cAreasses while yet another wondered what use could be made of the coarse hair on their backs, and two debated what their flesh would taste like.

  Although he wondered if his voice or behavior would give him away, Tarek stepped to the middle of those he'd led here. He took a moment to study his companions, seeing in them courageous men who'd all seen battle and who had the fortitude to spend an entire season far from home. They were more than Centrois warriors; they were part of him. "We will leave the cAreasses," he announced. "Discovering where they came from and how many there are can wait."

  Skeptical gazes settled on him. He thought A’tala and J’ron might argue, but they only folded their arms across their chests.

  "Before the attack, we were following the Baasta female. I say we must find her and her people before they have time to prepare."

  "Prepare?" J'ron snorted. "What will they do? Throw sticks at us?"

  "Maybe they'll try to drown us by pissing on us," A'tala offered.

  Tarek studied J'ron and then A'tala. Had he ever been that full of himself, that quick to challenge a warlord? "We've changed since they ran away. I have no doubt that they have too."

  *****

  "Are they ugly? Are their teeth long like the savages', and do they have big asses?"

  Nari glanced at her cousin Reyna hut didn't take her hand off the four-day-old wilding she was brushing. Despite several days of looking, the Baasta men hadn't found the Centrois, and the last thing she wanted was to talk about them. However, what she wanted and what was going to happen were worlds apart.

  "No, not ugly. In fact, they're quite handsome and strong."

  Reyna shuddered and went back to stroking the other newborn. Both women kept an eye on the twins' mother, who had made it clear that she wanted her babies left alone, but a wilding who grew up used to humans was calmer and easier to handle. Besides, Nari couldn't imagine ever getting tired of being around the big-eyed, spindly legged babies. Wildings went off by themselves to give birth, and it had taken her and Reyna all yesterday and most of today to find the little family. Although her parents had objected to their going off by themselves, she and Reyna were experienced in tracking down newborns. Besides, they didn't want savages or night beasts to kill the vulnerable babies before they could bring them back.

  "Strong?" Reyna repeated. "Are they more powerful than Baasta men?"

  "I don't know," Nari started, then decided she had to be honest. "I think so. They carry themselves like fighters, and their weapons—I wish I'd had more time to study what my pursuer had pointed at me."

  "Do you?"

  Still stroking the glossy coat while trying to keep the baby from nibbling on her dress and the waist-length hair she'd put in a single braid this morning, Nari faced her cousin. "I wish I'd never seen them. With all my heart, I wish they weren't here."

  "What do you think our leaders will decide?”

  She shrugged. "The Centrois aren't like the savages, stupid. Our fences aren't enough to keep the Centrois away."

  "Do you think the Centrois are smarter than us?"

  "What?"

  Reyna flushed. "The Centrois treated our parents and grandparents and their parents like animals. Haven't you ever asked yourself why they let that happen? Is it because—“

  "Because next to the Centrois, the Baasta are like the savages are to us?" Nari frowned. "I pray not."

  "When you told everyone what happened to you, I wanted to jump on a wilding and flee. The one who nearly caught you—do you think he would have killed you?"

  Nari had forced her thoughts away from the sharp-eyed man who'd come close to capturing her, but now memories swamped her. "I... I've never seen anyone like him. He made me think of a bear."

  Reyna hugged the baby wilding's neck so tight that the creature squealed, prompting its mother to bump Reyna's shoulder with her nose. "How terrifying."

  Was that what she'd felt? As she tried to calm the twins' mother, Nari probed deep for the answer. Yes, she'd been afraid, but there'd been more than that to her reaction. Insane as it was, she'd wanted him to touch her. And her dream had been about him.

  "He's danger," she muttered. "Excitement."

  “Excitement?"

  "All right, sexual. Please, don't tell anyone I said that." Reyna looked horrified. "You can't mean it-“

  "I don't know what I mean. By the Divine Eternal, I don't know."

  You're insane. Reyna's expression said, and Nari wondered if she was right. From the time of her woman-ceremony, during which she'd learned how to judge when she could get pregnant, she'd been free to have sex with any unmarried Baasta man.

  However, even though her mother and the other older women had told her how much fun sex was, she'd hesitated. The first time had been terribly disappointing, probably because the boy hadn't known any more than she did about how to make sex pleasurable. She now enjoyed spreading her legs, and climaxing was wonderful, but she wanted more. She just didn't know what that more was. Maybe if she could climb on top of a man or fuck standing up or something but—

  “Nari!”

  Nari didn't need her cousin's warning because she, too, had heard the sound. "Run!" Even as she yelled, the wilding and her twins raced past the wildings she and Reyna had ridden, exciting and taking them with them.

  Nari's calloused feet slapped the ground, making her think of drums being beaten. Unable to find a smooth pace, she ran with her arms jerking as if trying to grab something, anything. Her heartbeat increased, then started pounding. She couldn't keep enough air in her lungs. Couldn't hold down panic.

  Not wanting to, she nevertheless looked back over her shoulder. Closer! Five of the things. One ahead of the others and coming right at her!

  “Please! Please, no!"

  Nearly too late to prevent a fall, she turned her attention to where she was going. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her cousin running at an angle away from her. She could no longer see the wildings and wasn't sure which direction she was running. Don’t head for home! Don’t put your people in danger.

  But where if not toward what had always been safety and security?

  The snarling roar filled her, and she raced toward a thicket. The head-high bushes became both her goal and her world. How stupid she'd been to put newborn wildings ahead of caution!

  Arms now tucked close to her sides and her leg muscles burning, in her mind she become a fleet prairie-runner. Prairie-runners bad long, twig like legs and were so slender that they didn't have enough meat on them to make hilling them worth the effort.

  Maybe the Centrois would decide she was worthiest and let her escape.

  Making a lie of her thought, the thing with it
s too-powerful rider overtook her. Him! The one who'd nearly caught her before!

  Her pursuer kept pace, teasing and mocking. Then she abruptly slowed and changed direction. He kept going, and she laughed. A heartbeat later, she stopped Laughing because he'd stopped and spun around, silver hair flying about his face. Catching up to her again, he charged ahead as if leading the way- Once more she swerved. Again he continued on and then corrected, returning to her.

  He smiled at her—smiled! Then he passed, stopped, and faced her. She nearly ran into him.

  Before she could backtrack, he launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground. His greater weight pressed her against the grass. Still, she struggled to turn over so she could punch and scratch and bite.

  “Enough!" He punctuated his command by sliding lower so he straddled her buttocks. Leaning forward, he splayed his hands over her shoulders. Win her arms reaching for nothing and her face buried in grass and rotting leaves, she tasted panic. He began tugging on her thick braid as if playing with her.

  He was going to kill her! Or rape her. Or both.

  Or even more terrifying, enslave her.

  "No!" She bent her knees as far as she could and kicked. Her heels connected with his lower back, but there was no power behind her blow.

  Still holding her hair, he rocked on her, grinding her breasts and belly against whatever she lay on. Her flailing arms found his thighs, and she buried her nails in his flesh. He grunted and grabbed her upper arms, the grip so tight she began to lose feeling. She thrashed her head from side to side, breathing loudly.

  "Fight, Baasta chattel. Fight. It'll do you no good, but at least this way I know you're alive"

  Chattel? Never!

  "Dung!" she threw at him. "Eater of rotting flesh."

  Capturing a wrist, he yanked her hand behind her and up. "I'll teach you what you can and can't say. What you will or won't be allowed to do."

  "Animal dung!"

  He forced her arm even higher. Pain exploded between her shoulder blades, but she fought him and the pain, twisting under him. He rode her as if she were a bucking wilding, prompting her to increase her struggles. Maybe he'd relaxed his hold on her arm, because it no longer hurt as much. Still she continued to tear at his thigh with her free hand, her breath harsh and hard, sweat turning her skin slick.

  Reaching behind him with his free hand, he repeatedly slapped what he could reach of her buttocks. The sharp sting told her that her short skirt had ridden up during her struggle. Thoughts of what he'd do to her once she was truly helpless sent more strength to her failing muscles, and she bucked and thrashed.

  Sweat ran off her sides and throat and between her breasts and legs. Her muscles trembled. He stopped slapping and pulled her other hand up between her shoulder blades. Robbed of what little leverage she had left, she collapsed and breathed in the scent of pass and dirt.

  "That's all, chattel? There's no more fight in you?"

  Again she tried to kick him, but this time her heels barely tipped his buttocks.

  “There. The answer I was waiting for. You're mine now. Do you understand? Mine.”

  Determined not to say anything, she turned her head to the side and panted. He brought her hands down so they rested at the small of her back. After crossing one wrist over the other, he held them in place with a large and powerful hand. Then he released one wrist. An instant later she understood why—he was wrapping rope around the wrist he still held. Although she tried to pull free, he easily looped several strands around it.

  And when he took hold of her other arm again and began lashing her wrists together, her struggles became like those of an old woman.

  Caught. Like a captured wilding.

  "There," he announced once her arms were secured behind her. "Now you aren't going to hurt either me or yourself."

  Thinking he'd force her to stand, she wondered if she had the strength. Instead, he shifted position so he was sitting on the backs of her thighs and took his time removing her knife from around her waist. He threaded first one and then another rope loop around her waist and tied her wrists to that, making it impossible for her to move her arms.

  Only then did he get off her.

  Rolling onto her side a little, she tried to get her first look at him, but sweat and tears blurred her vision. She saw dark bulk. And movement.

  Fear took another bite out of her when he reached for the ankle closest to him. When she kicked, he planted his forearms on her thighs and pressed down. Although she made him work for it, all too soon he'd tied another rope around her ankle, leaving a long length that he held up for her to see.

  "I have to leave for a while." His tone was calm, passing along a piece of information. "And I don't want you trying to get away."

  Gripping her shoulder and buttocks, he rolled her back onto her stomach. She felt him pulling her tied leg up behind her, his damnably strong fingers holding it in place. He ran rope under the loops against the back of her waist and pulled, bending her knee so her heel nearly touched her buttocks.

  Then he stood.

  Desperate to see what he was up to, she struggled to roll onto her side, but although the leg under her was free, the other was useless. When she tried to straighten it, she understood that he'd hobbled her.

  Looking down at her, he folded his arms across his too-big chest. Through her blurred vision, she saw his confident smile.

  Why not? After all, he'd captured her.

  Chapter Four

  An emotion he'd never felt before rolled through Tarek. Despite the sounds of struggle to his left, he couldn't take his eyes off his captive. Although she was helpless, he noted nothing in the way of surrender in her defiant stare. Having survived more battles than he allowed himself to think about, he understood fear, the taste and feel of it. If he'd been hog-tied by someone larger and stronger than himself, he wasn't sure he could remain calm.

  In contrast, her glare spoke of determination and courage, and he couldn't help but admire her. “Tarek, we've both succeeded!”

  J'ron’s triumphant cry distracted him, and he looked in the direction the words had come from. J'ron held the other young woman against him, his arms tight around her breasts and waist. Like the woman at his feet, this captive was still dressed, but her short skirt was hiked up, revealing dark pubic hair. Although J'ron had pinned her arms against her sides, she was trying to kick back at him. The more she struggled, the tighter J'ron's hold became.

  "Stop!" be ordered. "You'll break bones."

  "I'll stop punishing when she's done struggling." J'ron squeezed, flattening the captive's small, high breasts. She cried out.

  "No!" After another glance at his captive, he strode toward J'ron. "You're a Centrois warrior. A man, not an animal."

  The others, who'd all been watching the women's capture, muttered agreement. J'ron relaxed his grip slightly, then shoved his pelvis forward, giving the woman a feel of his cock. “Don't ever call me an animal! By the time I'm done with her, she'll tell everyone what a man I am. Won't you?" He thrust again.

  Much as he wanted to pull J'ron off the terrified woman, she was the younger warrior's possession. J'ron had every right to his prize, and as long as he didn't kill her, no one would protest. "She's too frightened to give a damn about your cock. If you want her to sing your praises, you have to allow her to think."

  Grunting, J'ron asked A'tala to bring him some rope. Once he had, J'ron thrust the woman at A'tala to hold while he bound her arms behind her and lashed her legs together, leaving just enough distance between them that she could stand. "There,” J'ron said. "At least my property doesn't have to grovel on the ground,"

  Careful not to react to J'ron's comment, Tarek turned back toward his captive. Looking down at her, he tried to think of her as property, but the life and energy simmering in her large eyes nude that impossible. Again that strange sensation washed over him. Was his long celibacy responsible? If he hadn't gone without fucking for so long, the sight of her wouldn't have forced everything else out of focus.

  And maybe she simply represented everything he'd come to hate since his father's murder?

  Angry at questions without answers, he walked over to her, squared his stance, and stared down at her. Now, he was certain, he saw more than defiance from her. There was also fear and helplessness.