Текст книги "Barbarian Prince"

Автор книги: Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Six

Noelle was able to clear her mind of everything but impending doom by the time they were halfway between the great hall and the Prince’s suite. Even the distraction of a growling stomach wasn’t enough to focus her mind away from the ‘forced seduction’ she knew was looming before her. Not that she expected a lot of seduction or she had any intention of fighting and making him force her!

She didn’t have a great deal of personal experience with men bent on ‘seduction’, but she knew from sex class that it could be a very tricky proposition even with a man one knew reasonably well who was constricted by the same laws, customs, and moral values. If none of those things were true, all expectation of matching her behavior to the psychology she needed for survival went out the window.

Nothing she’d learned about dealing with human men of Earth was likely to do her a hell of a lot of good here.

Because they were savages beyond all the other things that didn’t match.

Which, unfortunately, brought her mind to other things that might create a real situation if they didn’t match!

Because however unreasonable it might seem that they might not be physically compatible in the right places when everything else seemed to match up, nature could be truly contrary!

What if the males carried the young? Would he have a socket instead of a plug? More importantly, how pissed off and nasty would he get if they discovered there was a physical incompatibility problem?

Of course, it would be completely unreasonable to blame her for that, but could one really count on a savage being reasonable?

He set her on her feet once they reached his suite of rooms.

If he’d stood her on a block of ice, she didn’t think it would’ve been colder than the stone floor! Sucking in a sharp breath at the shock, she looked around for any source of heat.

There was a fireplace across the room but no fire burning. And nothing to burn that she could see, for that matter.

Realizing there was no escaping the torture by chasing the numbing cold with heat, she hobbled over to a fur rug on the floor and stepped on the poor dead beast. It was a relief, she discovered with gratitude, even to put something between her bare feet and the floor.

Trying not to think about the far more comfortable and practical—warmer—clothing and boots she’d had before her encounter with the Amazon women and then the Barbarians from Space, she looked around the room as the Prince bolted the door.

There was a very large bed not far from the fireplace with thick, heavy bed hangings all around—no doubt to cut the gales blasting through the room!

Her goose bumps had goose bumps! Her skin was so tight and pebbled from the cold that it hurt.

The Prince crouched in front of the cold hearth and began clearing the ash by scooping it into a bucket near the hearth.

Well that was a relief! Here she’d thought the bucket must have water in it for heating!

There was a pile of–something that looked a lot like dung—because it was!—by the hearth. The Prince tossed a handful of dried dung in and pulled something from his pocket that he used to make sparks. The shit caught fire!

Noelle was stunned.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know there were flammable components to excrement! But she’d never thought to see anyone burn it to make fire—to heat their habitat!

Were they cooking over shit fires?

She thrust that thought aside as being too squeamish and absurd! Fossil fuels were from rotted vegetation—and animals—and those fuels had been used on Earth until they pretty much got used up and people had to figure out something else. She supposed people—humans—had probably made dung fires, too, but it was one thing to think of what had been done or might have been done in the distant past. It was … just plain horrifying to face living with that sort of thing!

There was a knock on the door that distracted her.

Drak straightened and strode to the door. A trio of young boys trooped in—two loaded down with short pieces of log and the third carrying a tray that looked like it had food and drink on it.

All three glanced curiously at her and then focused on their tasks. The two carrying wood, dropped the pieces beside the hearth. The one carrying the tray set it on a rough hewn table between the bed and the hearth.

The three boys then bowed to the Prince in a quaintly formal way. “I am glad to see your raid was successful, Father, and that you have returned without injury!” the eldest said.

“We thought you wouldn’t be back for hours, Father,” the middle child said, “or we would have had the fire burning on the hearth and been there to welcome you back.”

“Who’s that, Father?” the youngest asked, pointing at Noelle. “You gonna breed her? She looks kinda scrawny. And kinda weird. What’s wrong with her skin …?”

Very likely he would have said more except the eldest clamped a hand firmly over his mouth.

Drak gave the youngest a stern, tight lipped glare that made the child turn pale. “Terl, take Kadin and Jules down to the great hall to eat with the men.”

Noelle felt her throat close at the expression in the little one’s eyes, but she didn’t see that either of the other two boys seemed frightened of their father. Was he harder on the little one? Or was the youngest just not used to his father’s ways?

He didn’t appear to be very old—maybe five or six—although, truthfully, she wasn’t used to being around small children and it was hard for her to judge.

She couldn’t imagine the Prince spending a great deal of time around such a young child, though, and maybe that was why he was uneasy? His father was an unknown entity to him that seemed intimidating for that reason and also because he was a giant of a man and towered over the child.

Or was she just making excuses for him because she didn’t want to think she’d been captured by a monster?

On the other hand, the child hadn’t seemed to be intimidated until he’d earned a glare of displeasure. So maybe he wasn’t actually afraid of his father because he had no reason to worry unless he displeased his father?

When the boys had left, Drak returned his attention to the fireplace. Carefully adding wood to the fire he’d started until it was blazing and the heat began to compete with the frigid air of the room, he straightened, studied his work for a moment, and then abruptly turned and headed straight toward her.

Noelle stood her ground, mostly because she was too startled by the sudden move to command her feet to move in any direction. She stiffened as he grasped her arm above the elbow and led her toward the bed, but she fought the urge to struggle, wrestled with her reluctance, and when he urged her to sit on the bed, she sat.

He knelt, felt around the floor for something and brought out a manacle. He’d cuffed it around her ankle and straightened before she even fully assimilated his intention.

She gaped at the manacle while he turned away with a complete air of unconcern and strode toward the door.

“There is food and brew on the tray. The latrine is through that small door and,” he paused and turned to look at her as he reached the door, “I would not advise you to attempt to leave the room. There were more men who did not capture a female than those who did. And my men are not above filching the spoils of another if they find them wandering the palace alone.”

Noelle turned to gape at him, but his words barely registered.

He was gone before she’d fully assimilated what he’d said—the warning.

And just how was she supposed to escape when he’d chained her to the fucking bed!

As conscious as Drak was of his position and his obligations to his men—even to social obligations—he was not especially in the mood to mingle and celebrate with his men when he left his room. After a brief hesitation, he turned toward the tower stairs rather than the stairs leading down to the gathering room.

A great gust of wind ripped the door from his hold as he stepped out onto the ramparts, slamming the heavy wooden panel back against the stone wall. He grabbed it and leaned his weight against it to shove it shut again.

Not but what the place could use a little airing out, he thought irritably!

He did not think he had ever really paid a great deal of attention to the smells that accumulated in the fortress during the frigid winter months. Either that or the stench was particularly bad at the moment for some reason that escaped him.

Unfortunately, there was not a lot that could be done to remedy the situation—nor did anything come to mind that might prevent the problem at the outset. Once the winter closed in and the snow began to fall, they faced a seasonal battle to the death with the elements that did not let up until spring thaw. It was not fit outside for man or beast and therefore all of them stayed inside unless they absolutely had to go out. And, once they were closed up tight for the winter, the smells produced by so many warm bodies in close proximity began to mount.

Bathing was not a high priority for any of them, even in the warmer months, because it invited pneumonia and added to the work load—carrying in water and fuel to heat it—when it took every able bodied man they had to lay in the supplies they needed to survive the long winters.

Not that anyone objected to the hunts! Or the raids for what they could take from their neighbors to fill their larder!

That was men’s work! He mentally shrugged. Even if it was work they enjoyed, it was still work, and dangerous at that.

Maybe what he needed to do once the snow thawed was to put some of the young men together to clean the place out thoroughly while everyone was out rieving?

He shook the thought as visions of rebellion filled his mind. It might make everyone somewhat more comfortable, at least in the short term, but the resentment could be a long term problem that could escalate into all out rebellion.

In any case, why change? It was not pleasant, but they were used to it. It was the way things had always been.

It was the woman, he decided, who had put such crazy thoughts in his mind.

Her people were different.

They had come from the stars and they were nothing like the tribes he knew.

He had sensed that she was repelled by the filth. But then she was ignorant of the ways of his people and therefore judgmental.

For although he, also, found the foul smells and filth repellent, he knew that there was little that could be done to change the situation. It was all they could do to feed themselves and stay warm. They could not be letting what little heat they had out by constantly flopping the doors open and closed!

He was sure, within her tribe, it went beyond the fixation the women of the plains of K’naiper had with bathing and cleaning.

Anger flickered through him. There were choices in life and many other things that simply were and had to be accepted because they could not be changed!

Shaking his thoughts, he headed back inside to warm his extremities before they fell off.

Drak thought for several moments that his captive had managed to elude him. That thought caused a chaotic surge of emotions within him, primarily anger, although disappointment and even an unwelcome and uncomfortable jolt of fear for her safety was part of it. When he had scanned the dimly lit room, however, he saw the chain led to a furry mound in front of the hearth.

Shaking his head with annoyance, he moved to the mound and crouched down to examine it. He found her ass first. She let out a muffled complaint. He dropped the fur and straightened. Moving to the hearth, he stoked the fire and placed the screen close enough to catch any embers that might explode and fly out. Taking the bed-warmer from the wall beside the hearth, he scooped hot coals into the pan, secured the lid and then moved to the bed to warm the surface.

When he was satisfied he had thoroughly warmed the sheets beneath the heavy wool cover, he returned the bed-warmer to the hearth and bent down to scoop his captive off the floor, an awkward endeavor since she was determined to remain curled into a ball, and then settled her on his bed. She was still curled into a tight ball when he had undressed and climbed into the bed himself.

Sighing his impatience, he snatched the fur off of her, dragged her close, and forcibly uncurled her so that he could fit her against his length. She was shivering, he discovered, her skin cool despite the fur she had been bundled in.

He also made the unpleasant discovery that her feet were like chunks of frozen ice.

Uttering a curse under his breath, he caught her feet and pulled them up. Gritting his teeth, he tucked one foot between his thighs while he worked to warm the other with both hands, using friction and the warmth of his breath. When that foot ceased to feel like ice, he tucked it between his thighs and worked on the other.

She relaxed and began to straighten out as he warmed her feet and when he had managed to thaw both and lay back, she scooted closer and curled around him.

A jolt of stunned surprise went through him.

Which, nevertheless, did not prevent an instantaneous reaction by his body. The blood rushed from his head to his cocks so fast he almost passed out.

He struggled with the urge to roll over and find the spot to plow for several moments and finally managed to cool his ardor with the realization that, as familiar as the female body was that was pressed against him, it did not belong to any of the tribes of Aiper or his sister world and he did not have a clue of whether they were sexually compatible or not.

Beyond the fact that he did not want to chance alienating her by taking something he did not truly need and thereby losing something he did need—desperately.

Those thoughts cooled his ardor enough to allow reason to reassert itself.

She was cold and seeking warmth. He was in no doubt about the reasoning behind her actions, and yet it was the first time in his life a female had actually sought his touch for any reason.

With the exception, that was, of his mother whom he only dimly remembered.

He did recall, though, that he had felt uncomfortable when his mother had tried to embrace him, fearful that his father would consider it weak and hold him in contempt if he allowed it.

And he had avoided her touch as badly as he had wanted to return it tenfold, to hold her so that she could not let him go.

And he still regretted that he had not taken comfort in his mother’s arms when she had been there and willing to coddle him.

After a brief hesitation, he gathered her closer, carefully tucked the heavy fur covers around her to make sure there were no drafts and then settled back once more, staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling and completely unable to find the sleep he had sought when he had headed to his chamber.

There was a halo of warmth around her and ice beyond it that discouraged Noelle from moving. As she came closer and closer to full awareness, however, it began to be harder and harder to ignore the muscles cramping from her position. Finally, she shifted as much as she could while remaining mostly in the warm zone. The minute she touched the cold area, though, it was like her body sucked the ice in and she curled up tightly again.

She was fully awake by that time, however, and with that alertness memories flooded back.

She’d been asleep when Drak had awakened her by dragging her up from her warm spot near the fire and plopping her down on the bed and she’d been unwilling to fully surface. She’d struggled hard, first to stay asleep, and then to crawl back under as quickly as possible after he’d roused her. Discomfort had brought more awareness of her surroundings than she’d wanted.

And then he’d thoroughly stunned her by warming her freezing feet!

She had to suppose the blocks of ice hadn’t been something he’d wanted in his bed to freeze him to death. She couldn’t think of any other motive for what would have seemed like an act of kindness if it had been anyone else, but she’d still been grateful for it.

And she wasn’t completely convinced it had been entirely for his comfort and had nothing to do with thoughtfulness for her comfort and wellbeing. It didn’t seem likely, given that he was a barbarian, but it wasn’t entirely beyond the realm of possibility.

Truthfully, she’d thought at the time that it was a weird sort of warm up for sex.

She’d expected sex to come next. She’d braced herself for it even though she’d spent hours and hours before she finally passed out from exhaustion mentally preparing herself to ‘endure’ and he hadn’t even tried!

But could she put that down to thoughtfulness? Or had he just not been interested?

That was a disturbing thought!

As uneasy as it made her to think about being used as a sexual slave/receptacle for lust and/or brood female, if he hadn’t brought her/captured her for any of those reasons, exactly what were his intentions?

And were they worse than the ones she’d imagined?

Chapter Seven

Considering that he had had an erection all night, his balls felt like they were going to explode, and he had not slept more than a few moments at the time all night, Drak felt amazingly light hearted as he headed down the stairs—Tired, but … pleased. As if he had accomplished something of importance.

He supposed it might have been because of that lighter mood that he had made it downstairs and across the great room to his accustomed place near the east hearth before he noticed the condition of his men.

Most of them slept in the great hall—at least during the winter months—and the celebration of the success of their raid had still been in full swing when he had decided he had had entirely enough celebrating and headed to his bed the night before. It was not surprising, therefore, that the majority of them were still out—or asleep—most likely unconscious from the amount of brew they had sucked down the night before.

He supposed he also should not have been surprised to see that both the men and the great hall bore very distinct signs of battle, but he certainly was not pleased about it. The black eyes, bruises, and missing teeth could have been the results of fights among the men over some dispute or other, but he was pretty sure he could only put the claw marks and missing hair down to heavy-handed romance, particularly since he overheard a number of comments along the way between the men regarding their conquests.

What spoiled his good mood instantly, however, was a comment he caught regarding the ‘pigmy’ he had captured. More specifically, it was the suggestion that he did not bear any of the ‘love marks’ of having had success ‘wooing’ his woman.

He did not know who had made the comment, so instead of confronting them directly, he merely informed them that he had not had to fight for his lady’s favors.

“Yeah, right!” Kirk the red commented. “It don’t count as a surrender if they just scream an’ pass out! And I don’t think I would want to be stirrin’ my sticks in a cold one.”

It was the insult to Noelle that sent him from amused tolerance to rage in ten seconds flat.

Well, and the fact that the bastard had all but called him a liar. He was not about to put up with that even if it was an outright lie. Halting abruptly, he swung around on his heel, slinging out his right arm and balled fist in the same motion, caught Kirk square on the side of the head, and knocked him clean off his feet. “You even think about stirrin’ your sticks in my woman again and I will beat you to a pulp!” he snarled. He lifted his gaze from the man on the floor and swept the room with the same message and then, when he saw Kirk had no intention of getting on his feet and countering, he resumed his progress.

He was still seething when he reached his seat and sprawled in it. He had exercised restraint with the woman because he had a far more important agenda that assuaging physical needs that were ignored far more often than they were assuaged anyway! He had not anticipated the threat that had reared its ugly head, but he knew better than to ignore that and hope for the best.

His men respected him. In general, he could count on their loyalty—their fear if they did not love and respect him as their monarch.

But it was winter and that was a dangerous time. Everyone was cooped up in close quarters, supplies were limited and dwindling far too rapidly, and the men had very few outlets for their energies. The yearly raid on K’naiper was the highlight of the bitterly cold season and the payoff was the supplies to get them through the remainder of the winter and the women to expend their excess energies and/or frustrations on.

It was only half a pie, however. The ship would not accommodate more than a portion of his men—not if they were to have room to bring back what they were going after. So while it helped a goodly portion of the men, it unfortunately increased the frustrations of far more and those who had been excluded from the raid were prone to picking fights with the men who had gone in the hope of relieving them of their booty—the woman.

He was generally exempt from that particular worry—mostly because he was their Prince and few dared challenge him on any issue, let alone something relatively insignificant like a woman. And also because, in general, he simply was not inclined to worry about it. In fact, he had, on many occasions, simply satisfied his most immediate needs and relinquished his woman to another.

Mayhap that had been a mistake that was about to bite him in the ass?

Well, he damned well was not going around with blue balls only to have one of his men thoroughly fuck up his plans!

He scanned the room until he spotted Kulle. Summoning the man with a motion of his hand, he sent him to escort his captive to the great room. She needed to eat, and it seemed as good a time as any to make certain the men knew he had staked his claim to her and they would be taking their lives into their hands if they tried to filch from him.

Noelle actually felt pretty toasty enveloped in the fur coverlet she woke under but the moment she poked her head out it felt as if she’d stuck her head into a freezer. Like a turtle, she immediately ducked back into her warm little ‘shell’, but she was wide awake now. She would’ve been happy to remain where she was—particularly since her situation meant she had no duties to concern her and, in point of fact, couldn’t do anything at all if she’d wanted to—except the moment full awareness hit her the dull ache in her bladder magnified tenfold and refused to be ignored.

Dread seized her.

She’d already ‘experienced’ the facilities the night before. She wasn’t anxious to use them again and she also wasn’t in any great hurry to leave the warmth she had for the freezing temperatures beyond the coverlet.

Not that the bathroom was actually horrible. It was at least clean—in appearance and smell anyway. But it was certainly not as modern as she was used to and was far less luxurious even than the utilitarian facilities in the colony. Beyond that, if it was supposed to have flowing water it must be seasonal, because the ‘bathing’ part didn’t work. The water that should have been flowing through the pipes seemed to be frozen.

However, she acknowledged defeat fairly quickly. Hunger was one of those needs that could be ignored and would, in time, cease to torment. A full bladder wasn’t one of those things that would cease to nag if one ignored it, unfortunately.

Once she’d conceded defeat, she debated whether to try to drag the heavy fur with her and finally discarded the notion with the reflection that it might conserve the heat for her if she left it on the bed. Girding herself, she flipped the coverlet off, scooted to the edge of the bed and hit the floor running with the intention of dashing in, taking care of the problem, and racing back to the warmth.

So much for well laid plans! The moment her butt hit that slab of ice that she laughingly referred to as a seat, everything in her body clenched against the shock—including her bladder muscles. It took an effort to let go and then there was no stopping the damned flow, even when she heard the outer door open. Her eyes widened when she heard heavy footsteps. Realizing fairly quickly that she couldn’t stop, she tried desperately to finish quicker.

Fortunately, either out of politeness or squeamishness (yeah, right!) whoever it was (and she assumed it was the Prince) stopped before they reached the open door to the facilities. She managed to finish her business—not that she had a lot of choice once she’d let it fly!—and then dashed from the room and leapt for the bed, diving under the cover.

Shock ripped through her when she shoved the fur back from her face far enough to peer around the room for the other occupant. There was a man she’d never set eyes on before just straightening from the hearth where he’d evidently stirred the embers and added a couple of sticks of wood to get the fire going again.

He met her gaping, shock slackened look with a flicker of amusement, inclining his head slightly. “The Prince sent me to fetch you.”

Chaos instantly erupted in Noelle’s mind, questions colliding with questions for a chance to escape her. She didn’t ask any of them, however. Caution, she told herself. Male dominated society! They were savages and aggressive. Anything that seemed impertinent might spawn violence.

She lifted the chain and showed it to him. “I hope you brought the key because I’m damned well going to fight you if you think I’m leaving what’s attached to this!” she muttered in English.

An unreadable look flickered in his eyes at her tone, despite the fact that she’d done her best to keep it carefully neutral, but he slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers as he advanced toward her. When he withdrew it, she saw he held something that looked as if it might fit in the hole on the side of the manacle. He gave the piece of metal a twist once he’d inserted it into the hole, the locking mechanism clicked, and the metal anklet opened.

A mechanical key, Noelle mentally noted, curious to study the object. Naturally enough she didn’t get the chance. He shoved it back into his pocket as soon as he’d released her and stepped back, gesturing for her to proceed him.

Noelle was reluctant—for dozens of reasons—mostly because she had no idea where the man might be planning to take her or what was supposed to happen when she arrived.

“The Prince awaits in the great hall. He is not a patient man.”

The comment was enough to galvanize Noelle, and yet she was still reluctant to leave the warmth of the fur coverlet. She climbed off the bed still clutching it and struggled to wrap the heavy thing around her.

Briefly, they had a tug of war. The man was determined to pry it from her grip, however, and although he wasn’t nearly as big a man as the Prince and he seemed a good bit older, she was no match for him. He took the fur away from her and tossed it onto the bed.

She gaped at him for a moment, struggling with resentment, and finally merely curled her arms tightly to her chest and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.

He moved to the door, opened it, and once again gestured for her to proceed him.

More than a little bewildered and frightened, Noelle stepped outside and looked around. The man followed her, turned her in the direction she’d come the night before and gave her a slight push.

The smells of the great hall vied with the sounds as she approached the broad stone stairway she’d climbed the night before.

She hesitated when she reached the top of the stairs. Gazing out over the huge ‘great room’ below, she felt her belly take a freefall at the height and then clench at the sheer mass of muscle bound (savage) male bodies in the room below.

She didn’t think she would’ve been more unnerved if she’d been standing at the door of a cage full of man eating animals.

Her escort manacled one hand around her upper arm and urged her to take the stairs. Halfway down, she realized the volume of noise had lowered considerably. She thought at first it was imagination, but when she glanced over the stone balustrade, she discovered that a goodly portion of the occupants of the room had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

Or maybe the man escorting her, she wondered a little hopefully?

Wasn’t that more likely than her paranoia that their attention was on her?

After all, they’d captured quite a few women—and she saw those women were in the hall with the men.

But of course, she wasn’t like the others.

Because she wasn’t one of them.

She didn’t think it was a good idea to look them in the eye defiantly—even if she hadn’t been too intimidated to feel defiant. She was afraid it might be construed as a challenge, much like looking a wild beast in the eyes!

But she also didn’t think it would be in her best interests to allow them to see just how frightened she was and how unnerved by the sheer size of this race of giants let alone the number of them gathered. So although she didn’t look them directly in the eyes, she also didn’t cower as she was escorted across the great room.

She was so focused on trying to hide her fear that they’d made some progress across the room before she began to notice that most of the men bore signs of violence—cuts and bruises—few of which were bandaged. And a few were missing teeth.

Of course, she supposed that might not be a recent circumstance, but the cuts and bruises certainly were and they looked too fresh to be from the battle with the Amazon women.

Clearly, there’d been a drunken brawl in the hall the night before because it wasn’t just the men that looked the worse for wear. There was debris littering the floor from broken pottery and scattered food and there were broken benches and tables, as well.

The men seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits for all that—it was the grins, after all, that displayed the missing teeth.

She would never have thought she would be relieved to see the Prince, but she was and it took an effort to refrain from racing to him the moment she spotted him sprawled in a giant chair near a mammoth fireplace.